#my only complaint is that he said he never had a family before and like girl? the ponds?

[selfindulgenceisthekey]

𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚞 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚞 𝚗𝚘 𝙼𝚒: 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A/N: I have never written for One Piece before. In all honesty, I just started watching the anime. I’ve watched the live action, and I loved it, and I have read a lot of fanfic. Then my brain made this. So here we go.

“We have guests.”

It wasn’t a sentence you were unused to hearing, but normally you were given more time to prepare. You nodded, remaining quiet as Kurozawa stared silently for a beat, before stepping out of your room. One of your handmaids came in after he left, carrying whatever garment he wished you to dress yourself in tonight.

It was golden, as it always was. Thin straps on your shoulders, tight fitting and long, a slit along your leg. You’d look like treasure— his treasure.

You heard a little hum as the maid left, Eimi’s golden eyes, bright and wide, staring up at you questioningly. You smiled at her, running a hand through her hair, playfully poking the tip of her nose.

“Will you be okay by yourself for tonight?”

She shrugged, and that was enough confirmation. She had her papers and pencils, the one raggedy bunny you had managed to convince Kurozawa to buy her. If you played your cards right you’d even be able to bring her back some dinner.

Though, neither of you got your hopes up for that. You changed quickly, the typical routine engrained in your memory. Golden dress, golden jewelry, hair out of your face, minimal makeup, his brand on your bicep always uncovered.

Eimi tapped your hand, pulling your attention to her. She studied your face for a moment, before smiling, signing pretty in her own little language.

“Thank you, my dear,” You leaned down, kissing the crown of her head.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” You headed towards the door, trying to keep a brave face as you turned to her, “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

She huffed, but nodded. She never argued with your directions, brushing her teeth twice a day, bathing without complaint, never staying up too late.

The guards outside said nothing as you stepped out, locking the door behind you, and leading you down the halls. They were covered with art, paintings of the Kurozawa family, pottery far too expensive to look as cheap as it did.

You wondered who the guests this evening would be.

Marines? No, he would have made you dress just a bit more decent.

It wasn’t a fellow warlord, there would have been more gossip whispered through the halls.

You knew better than to ask the guards, the pair taking their place in the dininghall as you entered. You were momentarily surprised to see the guests were already seated, plates full of food before them.

Kurozawa was seated at his usual space, the head of the table, your seat to his left open, the plate, as usual, empty.

“There she is,” He grinned, and years of being accustom to him were the only thing keeping you from recoiling in disgust.

You kept your face stoic, head lowered as you took your seat. He continued to the guests.

“My song bird, ladies and gentlemen,” He introduced you to the group, and you could feel their curious gazes upon you.

Your eyes remained forward, the air of elegance as you sat, back straight.

“She doesn’t look like a bird.”

The sentence had you blinking, fighting the urge to look at whoever said that. Kurozawa snorted, amused yet annoyed at the stupidity.

“It’s merely a pet-name, strawhat.”

Wait.

Strawhat?

You glanced over, heart stuttering in your chest as you made eye contact with one Monkey D. Luffy. He was eating, looking back at you rather curiously. What—

What were the strawhat pirates doing here?

Kurozawa continued to speak, and you broke the staring contest that was going on between you and the pirate captain.

“Now, I am very grateful that you all have chosen to come visit. To be quite frank, your reputation exceeds you all. A powerful crew such as yourself.”

Ah, okay. That makes sense. He wanted to work with them; which meant he wants them to work for him. He’d hired pirate crews before, having them do his bidding. Pillaging and stealing, being the ones to be in trouble with the marines while he sat back and watched his gold pile up.

“With that being said; I’d like to make a deal with you.”

You watched with morbid curiosity, and mild disgust, as the strawhat captain continued to pile food on his plate. His stomach seemed like a never ending pit.

“What’s that?” Crumbs littered his mouth, and you had to fight the physical recoil.

His other members didn’t, the red headed woman, cat burglar Nami, you believe, wrinkled her nose at him, watching as crumbs littered the table before him. She looked like she was seconds away from scolding him. The blonde man, black-leg Sanji, shared an equally annoyed looked. They seemed to have manners, refraining from scolding the man for the mess he’s been making.

“I wish to hire you all, create a contract between the strawhats and the Kurozawa-family. For the foreseeable future.”

He sat back in his seat, cocky and confident as he always was, “Money is no issue, truly. You name your price, and I’ll set you up with weapons, men, and maps, so long as you do as I request of you.”

There was silence, the pirate crew all looking between each other, silent conversations being bad.

“Hey— is there any more of this stuff?” The captain waved around one of the bones from the lamb legs.

You saw the way Kurozawa’s eye twitched, his question being ignored entirely. He cleared his throat, clearly fighting to keep his temper in check.

“Of course.” He snapped his fingers, and a few servants hurried forward, more plates of food being placed on the table, taking away empty trays.

At the rate he ate there would be no leftovers to bring Eimi. That thought alone was the most disappointing part of this evening so far.

“Are you not going to serve your lady?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Kurozawa’s attention turned to black-leg, eyes narrowing at the question thrown his way. The blonde man’s head tilted your way, “Your songbird, her plates still rather empty.”

The gazes of the crew turned to you, and the rapt attention made your face heat up. Kurozawa laughed, a forced sound.

“She eats in the comfort of her own suite, she prefers her privacy. Now, back to my offer—”

The blonde man stood from his seat, the chair scrapping against the floor. He walked behind the others, who shook their heads, moving close to you. Your plate was soon filled with different items: meat and veggies, sauteed potatoes and toasted bread. The scent alone had your mouth watering.

“A lady should always be served first, especially one as beautiful as you,” His words were directed towards you, and you for once, found yourself silent, because you were unable to response.

Kurozawa slammed his fist against the table, cutlery rattling, and you jumped in your seat, tearing your gaze away from the pirate.

“Now,” He was seething, black-leg returning to his seat, “My offer. I—”

“Nah.”

The silence following the response nearly had you choking on your spit. Kurozawa was frozen where he sat. “Nah?”

Luffy shrugged, “Nami told me what you do. I don’t wanna work for you. Plus, helping you isn’t gonna help any of us get to the grand-line.”

You could see the vein popping out of Kurozawa’s neck. He wasn’t used to being told no, not so bluntly of course. Face red, he sat back in his seat, trying to force an aura of nonchalance.

“I can offer you a new ship, something better. Far faster.”

“No. I like my ship. She’ll get us where we need to go.”

He huffed, gaze turning towards you, anger and demand clear in his gaze. You held your sigh in, glancing down to your plate. You turned towards him, trying to will that feeling back into your chest.

“You won’t consider helping Sir Kurozawa?”

Luffy looked towards you, as did the others. This was the first time you’d spoken, or even looked up really, since entering the room.

“If he really needed help then sure, but he doesn’t. The only reason we came was ‘cause the invite said there’d be dinner!”

You could feel Kurozawa’s heated gaze on you. It didn’t work. That was fine, you could do it, you had to.

You tried again, “You should consider helping him, it’s rather important to him.”

“Look lady,” The swordsman spoke, voice gruff and startling, “You already have our answer.”

You could feel the panic growing in your chest, but you clamped it down. Panicking wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“You should consider helping him.”

You could see the words take effect, pausing his motions, eyes glazing over as your powers worked— finally. Kurozawa hummed, a pleased sound from the back of his throat.

“Alright,” You heard the unsheathing of swords as his crew reacted.

Oh no— you were so focused on ensuring you got to the captain your focus ignored the others. Guards in the area all stood at attention, swords and guns drawn.

“Now now,” Kurozawa spoke up, and you sat back on your seat, trying to curl into yourself as best as you could, “Let’s not act too hasty.”

Luffy’s eyes were clear now, staring at you with curiosity.

“That was so cool— how did you do that?”

“Luffy!”

“I—” You clamped your mouth shut, so fast your teeth clacked painfully.

You heard your name be called— barked almost. An order. You knew what that meant.

You stood, the same guards as earlier moving to your side to escort you back to your room. The full plate of food remained on the table, untouched. You were taken quickly back to your room, hearing voices back in the dining hall as you left.

“Hey wait— how’d you do that?”

“Luffy we have bigger problems than that!”

“Strawhat, you’d do well to not continue to deny my offer.”

You did your best to block out the noise as you got back to your room, the door unlocked and you stumbled in. Eimi was curled up on the bed, not asleep, and looked over at you curiously.

You were back far earlier than you normally were.

You smiled at her, “I wanted to make sure I got back before you fell asleep,” You hated that these little white lies came to you so easily when speaking to her.

She pouted, not entirely believing you, but she sat up, watching as you changed into one of the few sets of pajamas you owned. You slipped into the bed, her small frame hurrying to curl up in your arms. You hummed, a low tune, a simple lullaby you had made up for her.

She huffed, leaning back to look at you. You okay?

“I’m fine, Kurozawa wanted to talk business with his guests. Boring stuff.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, and you pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, distracting her. “Shush now, it’s time to sleep, okay?”

Despite your hope that she’d nod off, she stayed wide awake, as did you. It was hard to sleep, with all you could hear. Even muffled, you could hear that fight that had started.

There was yelling, orders being barked from Kurozawa, no doubt throwing his men forward to hide from the fight himself. You could hear guns going off, the sound of swords clashing against each other. You wanted to scream into one of your pillows— but you knew you had to remain calm for Eimi.

God, you knew how greedy Kurozawa was, how horrible of a person he could be. But to go and make enemies of the Strawhats? What was his next goal— challenge Dracula “Hawk Eye” Mihawk himself? Sure, Kurozawa collected swords, beautiful and strong, but the man had never even held one.

Where he may lack in strength and brains he made up for in numbers. The amount of people under his thumb; indebted, paid, bought, rivaled almost any group you had heard of.

You felt the hairs on your arms stiffen, and though you weren’t sure for what, you sat up, hurrying to pull Eimi into your arms. She made a panicked noise, no doubt eyes wide as she stared up at you, but your attention was on the bedroom door.

The fighting sound was quieter but still there, but that wasn’t what caught your attention.

The guards outside were moving, calling out commands. Loud, metallic sounds echoed in the hall before there was silence. The door handle jiggled, and you moved quickly.

There weren’t any windows, Kurozawa was worried you’d try and escape anyway you could, just as there were no items you could use as a weapon.

Not without proper planning, at least.

You deposited Eimi in a corner, her little arms reaching for you broke your heart but you pulled away, quietly telling her to stay put. You opened a dresser drawer, frantically sorting through the stupid items before you found what you needed. It was small, and in a real fight would provide nothing for you. But in a moment of panic or surprise it could at least buy you time. A piece of sharpened, broken pottery, tied tightly to the end of a makeup brush.

Both items you had scored through “clumsy acts”, and both had resulted in punishment, but they at the very least gave you chance to form your own, mini scalpel type weapon.

The moment your fingers wrapped around it, the door flew open. Quite literally. Annoyed or frustrated with the lock, the person took to breaking it off the hinges, and you reared back, eyes wide as it fell to the floor.

Through the debris you saw him step in, hat still in place. Monkey D. Luffy walked in, eyeing the room curiously, before his gaze turned to you.

You were trembling, you could see it, less feel it, holding the sharp end of your weapon out towards him. You had moved so Eimi was behind you.

“Hello!” He sounded so childishly cheerful, as if he didn’t just knock out the guards outside your room and break the door down, “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, I’m gonna become the king of the pirates. I never learned how you did that at dinner— it was so cool! Did you eat a devil fruit?”

[squish--squash]

This is gonna be quite a personal post about how important a blorbo from my show (Sakura from Wind Breaker) is to me personally, so if that’s not your style and you prefer straight analytical type essay posts, please skip this read more and continue on

(lil disclaimer before I begin: I'm about to talk about some personal stuff from my childhood, which include descriptions of bullying. If you're sensitive to that, please be wary)

I recently had a friend of mine get into Wind Breaker, and told me after the first few episodes that in all honesty, they couldn’t stand Sakura for the first episode. They just couldn’t understand why he was so mean, they said.

But I understood. I understand.

It’s painstakingly obvious to me.

It’s laid out in both episode and chapter one that Sakura’s been judged for his appearance extensively. He’s used to unkind comments about the way he looks. He’s used to people assigning attributes to him because of how he looks (delinquent, dangerous, bad) despite his actions showcasing otherwise (picking up and returning wallets people have dropped, bringing an older gentleman something he’s forgotten, protecting a stranger from true delinquents). He picks up fighting as a defense mechanism partly, but also because it’s been expected of him. He becomes what people rumor him to be, becomes a strong fighter, because he wants those types of people (the ones who judge him, the ones who can’t keep their fucking mouths shut) to leave him alone.

He hasn’t given up on people, no, his kindness and purity remain strong. But he has to hide it behind a wall, a front, in order to protect himself.

Like a hurt and abused animal, scared for its life, he bites the hand that reaches out to him, expecting the slaps and punches he’s received back to back to back to back; he doesn’t stop to think about “what if this time, it’s gentle?”, because if he stops and hopes, he’ll only get hurt again.

He can’t take compliments or praise because he doesn’t expect it. He’s not used to it, it’s a foreign feeling. He doesn’t expect people to recognize his kindness. He doesn’t expect people to help him if he needs it. He doesn’t think to even reach out until his peers (his friends) ask him to.

Because he never thinks it’s something he has the choice to do. He never thinks it’s something he can have.

Growing up, I was made fun of for my appearance. It was pretty much, from my memory, an everyday occurrence. I was chubbier than my peers, taller than them, and they didn’t like that. Unkind things were said to me, too many to count or repeat. I was compared to whales, to hippos, to elephants. I was called inhuman, dubbed “too ugly to be human”. I got spat on once, got my glasses broke before.

If anyone is familiar with the Cheese Touch…I was the cheese to a certain group of people.

People thought that because of the way I looked, I only ate sugary things. Only desert foods. They thought I didn’t go outside and run around like the rest of the kids. They thought I was lazy.

(I wasn’t. I loved fruits and vegetables as much as I did chocolate. I ran around and played like the rest of the kids. I did my chores and my work without complaint.)

But because of the experiences with those peers, and from my own extended family (commenting about my weight to me in faux concern…I was just a kid), I started becoming what they thought of me. I stopped going out so much, hiding away in my room where they couldn’t get to me. I became mean to people despite not wanting to be. It was a combination of already being ostracized for my looks and wanting the words to stop that left me alone growing up. Sure, I had my parents, and a few friends at school and in the neighborhood, but I never told any of them what I was going through. I never thought it was something I could do. I was alone. It was lonely.

Sakura, from what we’ve seen so far, doesn’t hate the way he looks. Instead, he seems angry that others judge him so much for it.

I was the same way, as a kid. I didn’t have a problem with how I looked, but I was tired and angry that others had rude thoughts about it (the amount of times I screamed at people to be quiet, to stop talking, when it got to much).

Sakura can’t take compliments and praise, he’s used to them. He skirts around them by default, says something to try and make the positive words shine less.

I’m far from a child anymore, and I still struggle with accepting compliments from people, especially aimed towards my appearance. A stranger said I looked cute two years ago and I almost cried in public from it.

Sakura has trouble relying on people. He’s used to being on his own, fending for himself, that it’s something he doesn’t consider even when he finally makes close friends. It’s something shaped into his bones, part of his low self-esteem.

And I didn’t realize it until reading the manga, but I have similar issues even currently. I’m still used to relying on myself. I rarely ask of things from my friends, and I feel bad when I do; a part of me always expects a “no” when asking for favors, despite knowing that my friends are good people.

Everything about Sakura to me screams that he was alone and ostracized because I was like that too. A lonely child, put away from the rest of their peers, perhaps even family, because of how they look.

I understand him to a degree that makes my chest ache sometimes.

When Kotoha, in chapter/episode one, says to him “I said you were alone, but I can tell you didn’t choose to be”, I had to temporarily stop watching because that line hit me so unexpectedly hard.

Because how much of my lonely childhood was a product of me truly choosing being alone? How much of the loneliness was nothing but an escape mechanism of the people around me, how much of it was because I found being alone as a solace against the constant stream of rude things said to me? I don’t think it was much of a choice, to me or to Sakura.

Sakura is so important to me because so many things remind him of myself, or a younger version of me. And seeing him changing for the better, seeing him receive the unconditional kindness and acceptance he’s needed for so long, seeing him make strong and lasting connections, seeing him plant his roots around people that truly adore him…it’s cathartic to me. It’s therapeutic in a way, presses down on lasting scars and bruises with a calm, healing touch.

It’s all things that a younger version of me needed, and never got (or didn’t get enough of, or didn’t get exactly). It’s an acknowledgement and showcase that someone like me exists, and deserves good things that they can, and should receive. The backbone of Sakura’s character, to me, is a “I see you, and what you dealt with. You deserved better, and I’ll show you all of what you should have received”. 

I feel seen, I feel heard and understood, and it’s so healing to watch Sakura be able to grow and bloom and be cared for and care back.

[buttercups-song]

Oh I’m never recovering from this episode (but for once in a good way!) before it aired I was thinking about how unfair it was that fourteen was given so little time, I was obviously excited for Ncuti but at the same was thinking about how the Doctor views regeneration a bit like death (especially ten) and how he was given so little time between one traumatic event and the next one and even if his last line ended up being “I’m ready to go” or sth like that it wouldn’t feel right. And what about Donna? She wouldn’t travel with fifteen but also in character the Doctor wouldn’t ditch her so I was so scared for her. And then! And then the ending was perfect!

I don’t care if it’s deus ex machina! It’s sweet and hopeful and most importantly kind! Fourteen wasn’t ready to go, hell they were still so so messed up by what they went through as thirteen! And it wouldn’t make sense for fifteen to be so upbeat (and not just pretending like eleven) so I love the explanation that fourteen gets better and it helps fifteen! And so fourteen gets a happy ending! He gets to recover and live with his family and just live! That is such a kind ending that also leaves the door open for more adventures!

I genuinely can’t express how happy it makes me that they were given the chance to live and get better

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Kiss and Make Up

Summary: You used to get along with your brother’s best friend, but at some point, it all changed. Lando’s rude comments frustrate you to no end, and your brother is fed up with your complaints. Max only sees one solution: you need to make up.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader (enemies to lovers)

WC: 5.0K

Warnings: cursing?

Masterlist

You heard the keys jiggle in the door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening, and your brother stomping through the hallway of your parental home. You finally have some time off from school after the insane amount of deadlines and exams that filled your last couple of weeks and decided to visit your family. You like studying and university, but it’s nice to come home and be taken care of instead of doing everything on your own. However, you’re still in charge of dinner tonight. You can never make it back home without being forced to make your famous lasagne at least once and tonight’s the night your family will be blessed with your famed, home-made dish. 

Max smiled when he saw you standing in the kitchen, chopping up the veggies for tonight. Although he’d never tell you directly, he had missed you. Max still lived close to your parents whereas you had moved further away for school. It made it difficult to see each other regularly, especially since Max had started Quadrant with Lando and didn’t make the effort to visit you anymore. Seeing you in person had become a rare occurrence, something that would only happen in his parents’ house.

Max put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned forward to watch what you were doing. “Hey sis, are you making lasagne?” He said with a smile.

“Hello Y/N, I’ve missed you. How are you doing? – I’m doing well, Max. Thank you for asking.” You mumbled as you continued to cut vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t see it with your back towards your brother, but he smiled at your antics. “Hello my dear sister, I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I do wonder how you’re doing.”

You turned around and smiled when he pulled you into a hug. “It’s your own fault. You never come to visit me, but I’m doing well now that the exams are over,” you tell him with a chuckle.

Max decided to ignore your complaint, instead redirecting the conversation to what you were busying yourself with. “So, lasagne?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Max. I’m making lasagne for dinner.” 

He silently cheered at your response. A cheeky smile made its way onto his face when he asked, “Is there enough for one more?”

“Depends… Who’s it for? P?” You said, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as you cut up more veggies.

“Does it matter who I invited? You won’t let anyone else eat your lasagne?” He said with a laugh, but you knew the question was serious. He knew you didn’t particularly get along with some of his friends – actually, one of his friends, Lando. To say your relationship with Lando isn’t great would be an understatement. Max didn’t know why exactly you didn’t get along, you’ve never indulged him, but the dislike is clearly noticeable and has been going on for ages. Max had tried to improve the relationship in the past, but nothing had worked, only making it worse. He doesn’t understand why Lando, specifically; you don’t seem to have any issues with his other friends. 

You looked at Max pointedly; he was asking for something he already knew. Of course, you’d let people other than P eat your lasagne. There’s only one person that you wouldn’t allow.

Max sighed at your seriousness, “Yes, I’ve invited P,” he told you.

You smiled triumphantly, “Good! I’ve missed her; more than you, actually,” you said with a snort.

Max rolled his eyes at your comment. “I should never have introduced you two. You’re suspiciously close,” he mumbled as he shook his head, leaving the kitchen.

You grinned at his comment and continued to prepare dinner. You carefully cut the veggies, made the sauce and built the lasagne before you covered it with cheese. After you finally put it in the oven, you went to your room to freshen up. Of course, you cannot cut tomatoes without getting juice on your shirt, so clean clothes are a necessity. You quickly changed your shirt, reapplied your deodorant, and fixed up your hair before you heard the door opening, footsteps and voices following soon after. You smiled as you walked down the stairs, excited to see Pietra after months. You walked into the room, ready to hug your brother’s girlfriend, only to see his boyfriend making himself comfortable on the couch.

Your smile dropped from your face in an instant, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Lando,” you said in a low voice. What on earth was he doing here? Your brother told you he’d invited his girlfriend, your friend; was she not here yet? Lando must’ve come to pick something up, right? He wouldn’t visit around this time unless he came to pick something up… Or come for dinner… Judging by how comfortable he had made himself on the couch, you doubt it’s the former.

“Y/N! How are you?” Lando said, getting up from the couch to properly greet you. You scoffed and folded your arms as he moved closer.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Nice to see you too,” Lando said with a smirk.

“I hope you’re not here for dinner,” you continue.

“I am here for dinner, actually. Max invited me.”

You shifted your eyes over to Max in anger. He’d told you P would be coming over, not Lando. The little bitch. 

“I take it P’s not coming, then?” It was evident in your voice that you were upset.

Max looked at you with apologetic eyes, like a child being scolded, as he avoided your gaze. At the lack of response, you turned your attention back to Lando.

“There isn’t enough food for all of us, and even if there was, it probably wouldn’t match your fancy diet anyway. Go buy a salad or something,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at your response. “Such hostility,” he said, his hand resting on his chest in fake hurt, and a teasing grin on his face that made you want to slap it off.

You gritted your teeth at the teasing – God, this man frustrated you to no end, and he was enjoying it, too. 

“Fuck off, Lando. You’re not welcome here,” you said before walking away.

Lando was about to follow you into the dining room, unable to resist teasing you further, but Max stopped him. “Come on, man. Don’t provoke her. She’s already annoyed, especially because I lied to her.” 

You paced the dining room in an attempt to calm yourself down while the lasagne cooked in the oven. You grabbed the plates from the cabinet and started setting the table. You'd cooled off until you realised you’d have to set a place for Lando. You frowned as you stared at the last plate. Why couldn’t Lando just leave you alone? He should know not to bother you, you’d shown him before how petty you could be when he frustrated you, so why did he have to try again and again? Should you act like the bigger person, get over yourself and set the table for Lando, or should you 'forget' about Lando and set only four places? Your parents would be upset for sure, but the urge to retaliate is so strong. You stood still for at least a minute as you weighed your options. 

A smile crept its way on your face when you spotted the kids’ table in the corner of the dining room. Usually, it’s only used for big family events, when your much younger cousins would come to visit. They don’t properly fit at the adult table and have their own tiny table in the corner of the room. A normal-sized human wouldn’t properly fit on one of the seats, but then again, Lando’s short, right? Besides, if he acts like a child, then he can sit at the children’s table. You grab the children’s cutlery and plate from the cabinet and set a special place for Lando. You can barely keep your laughter back at the thought of Lando sitting at the small table in a chair that’s way too tiny for him.

When you heard the timer beep, you tried to neutralise your expression. You placed the lasagne on the kitchen table before calling your family (and Lando) for dinner. Your parents were, unsurprisingly, the first to join you at the table. The boys, naturally, were still finishing up the game they started before dinner was finished. Your parents were already seated and provided with drinks before the boys came walking in. Although your parents hadn’t noticed the table in the corner or the missing chair, your brother noticed straight away.

He looked at you disappointedly as he said, “Y/N, did you seriously not set a place for Lando?”

“No, I did. It’s right over there,” you said, pointing to the kids’ table.

The boys looked in the direction you were pointing, and Max started laughing immediately. Meanwhile, Lando was shocked at how blunt you were being. So far, every retaliation you’d ever taken wasn’t that obvious. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and disappointment as he stared at the table – did you really dislike him that much?

“Where’s the other chair?” Max asked, still chuckling as he stood at the empty spot by the table.

You didn’t look up when you responded, “I don’t know,” shrugging your shoulders as you casually continued to divide the lasagne.

Lando sighed as he tried the chair, his knees pointing out above the table. Max only laughed louder at the image, and your dad couldn’t resist chuckling either while Lando pouted.

“I can’t eat like this.” 

“Then don’t. I told you you’re not welcome.” 

“Y/N!” Your mum scolded you before turning to Lando. “You’re always welcome here, darling. Ignore her,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where did you put the chair?” She questioned you.

You sighed, “They’re just in the pantry,” you admitted.

Your mum stood up and grabbed the chair for Lando who was still sitting in the tiny seat, while Max took pictures to post on his story, laughing. Lando smiled thankfully when she came back with the chair and grabbed a normal plate to serve him a generous portion of your homemade lasagne.

You couldn’t help but glare at Lando when he took his first bite. He was undeserving of the food which you had put so much effort and love into. You couldn’t even enjoy your own portion with the boy sitting across from you, although it tasted great. But Lando couldn't enjoy it either with the glares you kept sending him. Your resentment made him uncomfortable, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d be afraid that you’d poisoned his dinner. That was not your style though; he knew exactly how you liked to take your revenge. After all, he had experienced your wrath many times, and he had to admit you were very creative in creating your retaliations. He could never be entirely sure, or prove that you were the cause, but everything about the weird situations he’d been in the past years screamed your name.

There was one time that he’d gotten tens of phone calls every day for a week about a missing key. Even now, he occasionally gets calls about a key that was found. It seems quite innocent, but Lando’s phone was blowing up the entire week at the most inconvenient times: while he was in important meetings, when he was spending time with friends, even when he was streaming. Another time, Lando’s Netflix was completely messed up. All the recommendations on his home screen were for kids’ TV and romcoms. This, too, seems innocent enough, but after he had watched Netflix together with Daniel Ricciardo, and his homepage was filled with Cocomelon, The Kissing Booth, Riverdale and other films and series of the same genre, he had to hear about it for years to come. Some other time, Lando’s clothes mysteriously fell apart after only a few hours of wearing them after he’d stayed the night at Max's place at the same time as you. He didn't know how, but he was sure you had something to do with that too.

Although your reactions were very petty and often childish, Lando did admire your perseverance, resourcefulness and creativity. If he wasn’t always the victim of your crimes, he would have loved them, and perhaps even encouraged them, because, let’s be honest, it’s impressive if you can make someone’s clothes fall apart when you’re not even near them.

Lando didn’t really understand why he was always your victim, though. When you were younger, you’d gotten along fine, but as you’d gotten older you’d become meaner to him. He didn't know where things went wrong, and whether it was his fault or you just decided you were done with him. You used to tease each other, yes, but that was always mutual and lighthearted. Neither of you minded the comments that were made because you both knew it was all in good fun. At some point, you just started doing things like these, and Lando still doesn't know what initiated it.

You know exactly when it started, though. Everything was fine until Max and Lando hit puberty. Suddenly, they were ‘too cool’ to hang out with you, and you were excluded from all of their activities. The teasing didn’t really feel like teasing anymore, but rather mean comments that hurt you. Lando never caught onto your change in perception; he thought you still saw it as teasing. But the comments became more rude over time, and it felt like the boys who were your friends once, were now making fun of you.

Like when you were invited to apply for Honours College at your university. You were extremely proud that your grades in your regular courses were good enough to be admitted, and that you’d been invited to apply. But Lando just called you a nerd and laughed before continuing to talk about his own achievements, as if what you’d done was nothing important or impressive.

It wouldn’t have mattered much if it were any other friend of your brother, but Lando was important. You’d known him for about ten years, and he was basically a part of your family. What didn’t help either was that you had developed a small crush on him over the years. By the time he turned twenty, he’d gone through a glow-up. He finally learned how to deal with his curly hair and his face had matured to that of a handsome man. You were attracted to him, but his ugly personality distracted from his looks – most of the time.

Nevertheless, you wanted to impress Lando; to make him like you so he would stop with the off-handed comments. Though you weren’t necessarily good at sports or karting like he was, you excelled academically. You thought by showing your intelligence, you could gain his respect. Unknowingly, it made Lando feel dumb. He’d never even finished secondary school, and you were taking on extra classes in university without any troubles. He reacted differently than he would have liked to, but he thought you’d understand it was a joke.

Another time, you organised a last-minute surprise party for your brother. You had made sure there were decorations, music, food, and most importantly, drinks. You were happy with what you had managed to do in the time available, but your mood significantly worsened when Lando jokingly said you could have put in a little more effort. He was smiling when he said it, but it felt like he was making fun of you; of the amount of effort you had put in to make sure everything was organised as perfectly as possible. Despite his intention to tease, it didn't feel that way to you.

The comment that you believe triggered your best revenge was on Pietra’s birthday. She celebrated her birthday at Max’s apartment, and of course, you’d come to visit and celebrate with her. A few months before her birthday she’d shown you a top she really liked when she was online shopping, but the colour wasn’t right. So, for her birthday, you decided to crochet the top in her favourite colour. It was a bold choice because you didn’t have much experience crocheting, nevertheless, you tried. If she didn’t like it, you would just buy it from the store after all, or get her something else. You thought it looked pretty good, especially for your first try. Regardless, there were some mistakes and uneven shapes.

Pietra was completely surprised and elated with the present, especially when you told her you made it yourself. She knew how much time and effort it probably cost you to make it, but Lando didn't consider that when he commented on the piece.

“You made it yourself? Maybe you should practice a little more, huh?” He said, laughing, before handing it back to P.

You felt the smile drop from your face at the hurtful remark, but Lando was oblivious to the fact he hurt your feelings. Max turned to Lando in shock, while Pietra assured you that she loved the top, and couldn’t wait to wear it. You plastered a smile on your face, but it was obvious (to anyone but Lando) that it was fake. That night, after drinking your feelings away, you tore the seams in Lando’s clothes. Not every single one, but enough so it would fall apart after too much exertion; the punishment should fit the crime.

The anticipatory pleasure at the thought of Lando’s clothes tearing at an inconvenient moment was enough to satisfy you. When you heard about what happened a few days later from Max, you could barely keep your laugh back.

More recently, you had gone clubbing with your brother and his friends. It was an unusual event because your brother didn’t want to see you flirting or dancing with random boys in the club, but this time it was different. He knew you’d been stressed from school, and he’d rather you let loose when he’s there than when he’s not there to keep an eye on you. 

You were dancing with your brother and his friends when a cute boy came up to you, asking if he could buy you a drink. You said yes, of course. You would never refuse a free drink, especially in good, handsome, company, and you wanted to get over your small crush on Lando. You don’t know why or how, but he always seemed ten times hotter in a club, and you needed to get away from him. The longer you stayed near him, the more his pretty face and well-dressed body seemed to distract you from his unattractive personality, and that couldn’t happen. 

You followed the man to the bar and ordered a drink as he flirted with you. His attention was completely focused on you, but you kept getting distracted by the feeling of eyes on your back. It wasn’t until you were dancing in the middle of the large crowd that the feeling faded. You felt free without the supervision of your brother, and without Lando to distract you.

The man pulled your back closer to him, and you let him. You swayed from side to side with your arms in the air while he kissed his way down your neck. It didn’t feel right, but that didn’t matter; it was good enough. You liked the feeling of his lips on your neck and felt yourself get lost in the moment until suddenly there was a tug on your arm.

Your eyes opened in shock as you felt yourself get pulled away. The man you were dancing with didn’t seem to mind much and moved on with another girl standing nearby as you stared at Lando confused and disoriented.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him as you struggled to pull your arm from his firm grip.

“I’m taking you back to the group, you need to be more careful,” he explained.

You scoffed, “What? I was perfectly safe! Let me go!”

“Were you? He seemed untrustworthy,” Lando continued as he pulled you through the club.

“I was just having fun! God, you’re so annoying!” You say with a huff before walking back to your brother.

Lando watched you as you walked away. He didn't want you to dance with that man, or any man for that matter, even though he would never admit it. However, you had misunderstood his intentions. To you it seemed like he was interrupting your fun, cockblocking if you will, and it frustrated you to no end. 

For days to come, you complained to your brother about what happened, insisting that it was none of Lando’s business and he should’ve left you alone. However, your brother grew tired of your complaints really quickly and couldn’t deal with your issues anymore. Your ongoing dispute with Lando had dragged on for too long and it needed to be resolved, soon, before he went insane. During your next fight, Max would force the two of you to repair your relationship, whether you wanted to or not, because he simply couldn’t take it any longer.

It didn’t take long until your next fight. You were looking at pictures of Lando and Max on Instagram from when they went golfing a few days back when you spotted something. In one of the pictures, Lando was taking a photo with a camera, a camera which he had seemingly ‘borrowed’ from you without your knowledge. 

The second you saw him enter your parents’ house, you targeted him.

“You stole my camera?”

“Hello to you, too, Y/N,” he responded with a grin.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where is it, Lando,” you continued, stepping closer to him.

“I gave it to Max. He was supposed to give it back. He hasn’t yet?” 

“No, he hasn’t. And you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

Your gaze shifted to Max, who walked in behind Lando.

“Where is it, Max?” 

“In my room somewhere, I think.”

“Can you go grab it? Please?”

The words you said were much kinder than the way you said them. Max sighed before walking up the stairs to his room, you and Lando in tow. He looked around the room, getting on his knees to look under the bed.

“You put my camera under your bed?” You asked angrily.

“I’m not sure if I did, that’s why I’m looking, Y/N.”

Max thought this was the absolute worst. He had gotten himself pulled into one of your arguments again, and now he was being yelled at by you when it wasn’t his fault to begin with. He sighed before getting up. 

“I’ll just go grab my phone for the flashlight,” he said before leaving the room.

You merely nodded in response as you continued to look around the room in search of your camera when you heard the door close, the lock falling in place.

“Max? Did you just lock the door?”

Lando lifted his head from his place on the floor, where he was looking under the dresser, at your insinuation. He quickly changed his position to sit up, staring at the door with you.

“Yes, I did. The two of you need to make up. I won’t let you out until you get along. I can’t handle the two of you fighting anymore. It’s really fucking annoying,” he said through the door.

You looked at Lando in shock, to find him already staring back at you.

“Max, you can’t do this! What the fuck is wrong with you! Let us out!” You yelled as you knocked on the door.

When he didn’t react, you hit the door again, “Max!”

You looked at Lando at the lack of response, “Do something!” You said, but he merely looked at you.

“What am I supposed to do? Knocking the door won’t help. I actually think it might be a good idea for us to talk everything out.”

You looked at Lando in shock. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged while he stared at you, and you shook your head in response.

“I’m not doing this,” you said, pacing around the room while Lando followed you with his eyes as he sat on your brother’s bed, an amused smile on his face.

“I’m leaving,” you said, opening the window.

“What are you doing?” Lando asks, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I’m leaving,” you repeated, sitting on the window sill, throwing one leg outside.

“What have I done to you to make you this angry? I can’t believe you’d rather fall out of a window than talk to me,” Lando frowned.

You let out a choked laugh, mouth open in shock. “Are you serious? You don’t know what you’ve done?” You said as you sat on the window sill, one leg outside the window, the other still on the floor.

“Yes. Please tell me, because I’ve obviously missed a lot if you’re willing to climb out of a window. By the way, stop climbing out of the window!” Lando said, all but running to prevent you from dangling your other leg out of the window too. It was already halfway there, leaving you in a very uncomfortable position when Lando grabbed your leg.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Y/N!” 

“No, I’m not,” you grunted out as you tried to kick him away. You leaned away from him, losing your grip on the windowsill at the exertion. Lando could barely catch you before you fell out of the window. 

“Fuck, Y/N! I told you to get away from the window!” He yelled as he pulled you away from it and back into the room before quickly closing the window. He stood in front of it as if he was trying to block your way from the window, trying to block your escape.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t be such a baby, I’m fine.” 

“Only because I was holding your leg.”

“If you weren’t holding my leg I wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.” You stepped closer to him, huffing in defiance. 

Lando sighed, but he didn’t respond. He kept silent while he stared at you, challenging you as you crept closer without breaking eye contact. The tension in the room was palpable, and it only increased the longer you stared at each other. Your breath was shallow from the adrenaline of your near-fall, and your glare was met with a look of annoyance. Lando’s hands hung limply by his sides, the complete opposite of a mere moment ago when he grabbed you with such urgency.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Lando's voice was low, strained with frustration.

"Me?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You're the one who's always so demeaning, so... so infuriating!"

"Infuriating?" Lando repeated, scoffing. "Coming from the girl who sabotages my Netflix and sets up kiddie tables for me?"

"You deserved it," you retorted, folding your arms and looking down. "You always mock me and belittle everything I do, every achievement, every effort… Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Lando’s confidence faltered at your confession. His eyes softened, and he took a small step closer, stroking your arm softly. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I thought... I thought we were just joking around, teasing. I didn't realise-"

"Didn't realise what?" you interrupted, eyes brimming with tears. "That your words actually affect me? That I care what you think?"

Lando's hand reached out, tentatively brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost adoring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know."

You closed your eyes, breathing out through your nose as you let the apology sink in. When you opened them again, the regret you saw in his eyes made you believe him. But it was the love and adoration in his gaze that convinced you.

"Lando..." you began, but your voice caught in your throat.

Before you could finish, Lando closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was longing. Slowly, almost apprehensively, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in an uncertain kiss.

Your initial surprise was quickly replaced by the warmth spreading through your body. Almost automatically, your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The kiss deepened, filled with your pent-up frustration and unspoken feelings. Your hands slid up Lando's neck and you ran your hands through his hair, pulling on it softly. The sensation of Lando's hands on your body, and his lips against yours felt right, making everything else fade away.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Lando’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, and you were certain your eyes showed the same.

“What… what just happened?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was now slightly tousled from your fingers. “I don’t know. But it felt… right.”

You swallowed, trying to make sense of all of the emotions running wild inside you. “We can’t just pretend this didn’t happen, Lando.”

“I don’t want to,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. 

You laughed softly at the situation, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder. Lando wrapped his arms around you straight away. 

“This is not what I expected to happen,” you whispered.

Lando chuckled softly. “Me neither, but it’s not so bad, is it?” 

You snuggled into his neck, sighing contently once you were comfortable. No, it wasn't bad at all.

[getosbigballsack]

Random thought! - Husband Gojo x Wife Reader-chan #inside the diary

Hear me out! Gojo read your thoughts in your diary and came to realize that he was a terrible husband to you.

He knew he was a good lay, hence the reason he managed to knock you up three times. But as of lately, he came to realize that you weren't interested in having sex with him.

At first, he thought it was just because you were too tired, having to take care of the kids while he works, all day by yourself (in which he understands, and he praises you for being such a wonderful mother).

But that wasn't the case. He just happened to come home early from work while you were out shopping with the kids, and he got a hold of your diary.

Interestingly, he took it upon himself to skim through the pages of your book, just to see what's inside your little head. Nothing out of the ordinary, just little notes and reminders to yourself about the task you had to complete and a few words of encouragement here and there.

He usually doesn't read through your thoughts, always thinking that if you had an issue you'd come and talk to him, so he was about to put your diary back where he found it because he didn't want to pry further into your thoughts, but that's until one page in particular caught his eye.

I find it difficult to enjoy sex with my husband nowadays and I don't know why?

Words in blue handwriting are written beautifully on the paper. He kept on reading, and as he continued to move further down the line, he felt his heart break.

It’s just me, but I don't think I'm attractive enough to have sex with my husband.

I wanted to suggest the last time we had sex [that was a month ago], but I didn't wanna ruin the moment for him because he looked like he was having fun.

Satoru came home today and wanted to have sex. I told him no. He never forced himself on me. He only kissed me goodnight and left to go sleep in the guest room. I know he was upset but did he really have to leave?

It's been 2 months, and Satoru hasn't tried touching me since that night. Am I not worthy of loving anymore? He doesn't even buy me flowers anymore or take me out on dates.

He doesn't compliment me anymore, doesn't tell me that I'm beautiful. He doesn’t even call me baby girl, doll or even honey.

No more I love you, only kisses to the forehead and peck on the lips before he leaves for work in the morning.

He comes home late, I'm always alone with the kids, no more family dinners, no more kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom conversations. No more late-night kisses, no more holding me tightly in his arms while he sleeps.

Does he not want me anymore?

Sometimes I wanna visit his office with the children but I’m afraid that he’ll find my presence a bit annoying. I feel lonely without him here with me.

I should've said yes that night and spread my legs for him,

That's my duty as his wife.

To have fulfilled all my husband's needs without complaint.

But it hurts to have sex, I'm just not in the mood. I'm too tired, I just need my husband to hold me, but he's not there.

I can't complain, he's the reason I don't have to work.

But is it so bad to ask my husband to love me without having the need to touch me?

The last entry to your diary reads.

I'm going to do it today, bare the pain and have sex with my husband, just so that I can feel his love once again. 

Now he knows the real reason you won’t have intercourse with him, or let's say the reason you don’t enjoy having sex with him. You feel as though he doesn’t love you anymore, and he needs to fix that. So, until he can figure out a way to prove to you just how much he loves you, he’ll have to deprive himself of your warm loving touch. 

Later in the day when you came home with the kids, you saw your husband cooking up a storm in the kitchen. “Hey baby girl, want something to eat? It’s been a while hasn’t it.” too stunned to even say a word, you just watched as your kids, ages 3, 4 and 6 ran over to their dad and engulfed him in a big hug. He giggled and stopped whatever he was doing to bend to his children’s height and kissed every single of them on their cheeks. “Hey boys. Did you all take your mom out shopping today?” Oh, that’s right you’re a boy mom. You managed to pop three boys, all of them came out looking just like their dad, especially your eldest son. 

The boys chatted away with their dad until he excused himself and walked over to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your body. You're in a state of shock, unable to move for a moment until he whispers, “can I get a hug back?” and you did give him a hug. 

“Welcome home, have a seat, dinner’s almost ready. I cooked vegetable curry today, I know it’s your favourite,” and indeed it is your favourite. For the rest of the day, he spent time in the kitchen cooking while chatting with his kids, not without taking small glances at you. You all ate dinner together, got the kids ready for bed when night falls, before preparing for bed yourselves. 

You remembered that you wrote in your diary that you were about to try and have sex with your husband, all for the sake of feeling his love again, but that didn’t happen. Instead, you found your husband already waiting for you on the bed, fully dressed in pjs, a cup of your favourite tea in his hand and a warm loving smile on his face. 

He immediately started up a conversation with you, asking you about your day and your trip to the shopping centre. You had no clue what was going on inside your husband’s head, but it’s been a while since he last sat down and had small conversations like these, and you weren’t about to miss this opportunity. 

So with a smile on your face, you told everything that happened today and even the fact that you had to buy a bag of grapes you had no intentions of buying, but you did so because your 3 year old son stole and ate a few while you picked up a bag of oranges. The conversation went all a while until he sighed. 

“Y/N,” he whispered in a serious tone. “We need to talk. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I can’t bear the fact that my wife would be going to bed with doubts about our relationship and my love for you.”

You swallow thickly and rest your now empty cup against the nightstand before turning to face your husband fully. He reached his hand out for you, and you gently placed your left hand in his. He wrapped his large hand around your finger and gently pulled you until you were straddling his lips. You swallowed that thick lump yet again, before whispering, “So what is it that we need to talk about.”

“Why do you always refuse to communicate your feelings with me?” he asked as he let go of your hand and wrapped both hands around your waist and rested his head up against your chest. “I know I haven’t been a good husband to you these past few months, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you or that you’re not worthy of loving.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He sighed heavily before taking a deep breath. “I found your diary in the living room when I got home, and I read through your notes.” Your body tensed up in his lap, your mind immediately racing towards negative thoughts. Is he angry? Why did you have to carelessly leave your diary out in the open for him to see. 

“Oh!”

“I’m sorry for reading through your diary, but I’m happy that I did because my wife won’t communicate with me,” he said with a frustrated sigh. 

You frowned, “Would you have listened even if I tried?”

“I would’ve dropped everything and listened to whatever it is that you have to say. I know it's my duty to ensure that my wife is living her best happy life, and that it’s also my responsibility to take care of your wellbeing, but I can’t always know what's going on with you if you don’t communicate with me.” 

Communication on your end has always been a big issue in your relationship with your husband. It bothered him and he’d hope that after a while you would’ve grown out of your bad habit, but he guess he’s wrong, because here you are now after 8 years of being a relationship total and that includes the four years of marriage, and 3 kids later, you still struggling to figure out a way to communicate your feelings with him. 

“I broke my heart when I read that you thought that as my wife, your duty is to only provide for me sexually or even the fact that you don’t think that you’re attractive enough to have sex with me. What hurts me the most is that you have so many doubts about my love for you. Y/N you know that I love you right?”

“I do,” your voice trembled slightly as you answered. 

“Then why are you doubting my feelings for you? I apologise for leaving you to sleep in the guest room that night, it was wrong of me to be upset all because you told me no.” There was a moment of silence, you figured he was waiting for a response in which you never gave.

“I know I don’t say this as much as I need to, but I love you. I LOVE YOU so very much. I love you as my best friend, my wife and I love you even more as the mother of my children.” Tears started to obstruct your vision as you stared off at your wedding portrait that was above your bed and listened as your husband poured his hurt out to you. 

“I need you to stop thinking that you are not worthy of loving because you are more than worthy. You’re an amazing woman, an amazing wife, and an amazing mother to our children. Just the fact that you're a mother makes you worthy of loving.” 

“Satoru… I- I,” you stuttered, trying to formulate the words inside your mouth, but even if you did, what are you going to say to your husband? You had not one clue. 

“I’m not a mind reader Y/N, so you need to start communicating your feelings with me, because if you don’t tell me, I’m not going to always know,” he said to you as he snuggled his head against your chest. 

“I- I’ll do better.” 

“I’m happy to hear that, and I promise to show you just how much I love you and do whatever it is to ensure that my wife is happy, because your happiness means the most to me. I’ll get you those flowers you want, and I’ll try my best to buy you loads of flowers in the future. And about visiting my office.”

“Yes?” you said. 

“I would love for you to pop up at my office one day with the kids and surprise me. My workers have been dying to meet my beautiful wife and children. And about the late-night work meetings. I can’t promise you that there won’t be any more late-night meetings, but I'll do my best to get home as early as I can to be with you and the kids. I don’t want you to feel as though I’ve abandoned you with the kids. I’ll take a few days off from work too and take the ends out. You’re right we barely have family time.”

“Thank you,” you said smiling as you allowed those tears to run down your cheeks. 

“I’ll do better as your husband. It wasn't my intention to not cuddle and hold you tightly while we sleep. Baby you know you can always smack me in the head or do that cute silly little thing you do and crawl underneath my arms if you want to cuddle with me,” he said to you, and you let out a small giggle. 

He chuckled too as he removed one hand from around your waist to cradle your cheek. “Lastly, this is about our sex life. If I make you feel physical pain, or uncomfortable at any time during intercourse you need to let me know because the last thing I want to do is hurt you. In your diary you said that you wanted to suggest the last time we had sex. I want you to tell me what it is.”

Your face heated up immediately, why would he have to bring that up now. Couldn’t he have waited until a better time. But nonetheless despite the obvious look of embarrassment on your face you whispered, “I was wondering if… if…”

“Yes?” 

“I was wondering if we could try something outside the usual vanilla sex,” you said to him, and he cocked his eyebrow towards you. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy vanilla sex, I love having vanilla sex with you and you know how to be rough when you need to be. But I thought it would be nice if we could do something different.” 

“What do you suggest?” he asked with a sunning grin on his face. 

“Maybe we could try using some sex toys.” 

“Sex toys heh?” he said, and you quickly covered up your face with your hands. “I’m open, I don’t mind getting a few sex toys here and there for us to use. I can order us a few online on another day.”

“Ok…”

“Good girl. I love you.” he whispered as he kissed your lips. "I promise I'll be a better husband for you."

“I love you too, Satoru.”

[blueicequeen19]

Something Borrowed

Warnings: non-con, forced marriage, creampie, cheating, unhinged Rafe

I lean back in the chair, my eyes locked on the swells of her ass as she screams at her father while he signs the contract. She probably thinks her life is ending with the swipe of a pen but I'll prove to her that it is just beginning.

The moment I saw her was enough for me. The fact that she was born with a backbone and an educated smart mouth were just added bonuses. I didn't want to treat her like a piece of ass but that's all I could think about currently.

I adjusted myself as my cock hardened painfully in my slacks. I was half tempted to check if she was wearing any underwear under her skin tight pencil skirt when the pen dropped on the desk and all the air seemed to evaporate from the room.

"Done." Her father said, his eyes staying on the desk.

"This is not done." She shouted, snatching up the contract as I stood. She'd meant to rip it in half but I grabbed her wrists before she could, pinning her against the desk with my body. Fire and disobedience radiated off her as she glared up at me like I didn't have six inches on her even in her heels.

"Rip it up if it makes you feel better." I leaned in close, making her arch her neck as her nostrils flared. "But nothing is stopping me from making you my wife." An adorable growl met my ears and I couldn't help but smile smugly.

"I'll never marry you." She spat, rolling her lip in disgust. I shifted so my erection was pressing firmly against her stomach. I watched the realization dawn on her and how her eyes tracked down my body before she released the contract to shove at my chest.

"Ugh!"

"Pack your shit or I'll do it for you." She opened her mouth to argue but I held up a finger, silencing her. "And if I have to do it for you, I'm taking the bare minimum and you'll ride in the trunk." I glance back at her father but his eyes are still downcast, his shoulders hung in defeat. I couldn't leave without her knowing that he'd sold her off. I didn't want to be the only one she hated.

"You should know that you did your father a great service." Her brows raise just as her fathers head does, his eyes wide with fear. "Thank your lovely daughter for paying back your debt. Why sell a couple vacation homes when you could just offer up your daughter?"

"You said--!"

"Are you--!"

I lead her from the room just as the shouting starts. I motion for someone to get her stuff as the office door slammed shut. I let her call me every name in the book while attempting to hit me as I navigated us to the car waiting out front.

"I don't want this!" She cried, shoving me again in the chest.

"Too bad."

"Are you so desperate for a wife that you'd blackmail someone into getting one? Is your dick that small?" I barked out a laugh as I pushed her back against the car. I seized her wrist in my hand and made her feel how hard I was. She resisted, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Would you like to drop to your knees right now and find out how small I am?" Her nostrils flared as her hand tightened on my shaft. I flexed the muscle and she jerked away, an adorable blush heating her cheeks.

"Do you think I've had any complaints about my size?" I ask, licking my lips as she avoids looking between us. I cup her chin, forcing her to look at me.

"I bought you because I wanted you. I could've had anyone on the island but I chose you."

"I don't care."

"Maybe you should. Your family would be bankrupt if not for me. I could’ve liquidated everything, leaving you and your mother in the gutter with your loser father but I didn’t.” Her eyes widen as she sniffles.

“Maybe you should be the one thanking me. With your lips around my cock.” I lick my lips, loving the way her eyes track the movement before she blinks, ruining the moment with a shake of her head.

“If you think I’d ever let you—.”

“Let me? Baby, I own you now.” I fist her hair and slam my mouth down on hers. A startled noise leaves her, allowing me to slip my tongue inside. I kiss her like I’ll die if I don’t. All but fucking her with my tongue. She tries to keep up, humming against my lips when a slap suddenly meets my cheek. I laugh, breaking the kiss to see her panting and fuming, her lips wet and swollen from our kiss.

“Trunk it is.”

The weeks before the wedding are nothing short of amusing. Her temper tantrums seem to be the most exciting part of my day even if they cost me thousands of dollars. I’ve decided to surprise her with her wedding dress since she’s destroyed the last two I’ve given to her. Not to mention flushing an engagement ring that cost enough to buy a house.

Now the wedding day has come and it’s taken more threats to ensure she gets down the aisle than not. Especially since she revealed she had a Pogue boyfriend that she would not give up. I warned her what would happen if I ever saw them together.

The very thought has me seeing red and I’m taking off down the hallway to her en-suite before I’ve had time to reconsider. The door is locked but I quickly slip in a master key. I can tell immediately that something is up. The room is empty and quiet. I move past the bed and to the bathroom as my heart starts to race.

She’s fled. I’m sure of it.

A whimpered moan from the other side of the door has my body flooding with rage and I’ve thrown the door open without a second thought. They both jump away from one another but it’s the white lingerie that she’s wearing that makes me snap. That was supposed to be for my eyes only. And now he’s had his filthy hands on her.

“Oh no.” The words barely leave her lips before I’ve grabbed Maybank but his shitty cutoff and landed a fist to his gut. I hit him again and again. Unable to squash the memory of his mouth on hers even as she hits me. I finally stand, blood on my sleeve as I guide him by his hair back towards the bedroom.

“Damnit, Rafe, stop!”

I shrug her off as I yank the handcuffs from my pocket that I was planning to save for our honeymoon. Her eyes widen as I secure one of Maybank’s wrists to the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing!?” She cries as I start to strip out of my tux and down to my boxers. I don’t even care anymore as I secure my tie as a gag around Maybank’s mouth. He’s bleeding and dazed but he’ll quickly come around. I don’t want him to miss a thing.

“Wake up.” I smack him across the face and he groans, blinking at up at us.

“Rafe, stop! What are you doing?”

“Giving you your something borrowed.” I snarl, fisting her hair and shoving her to the carpet on her knees. My cock grows painfully hard in record time as she struggles, her doe eyes pleading up at me. Her hair and makeup are ruined and I’m past the point of caring if her cheeks are streaked with makeup in our wedding pictures. This is her fault.

“Open up.” I free my cock, letting it spring free in her face as she fights my hold.

“I’ll bite it off.” She spats.

“Do it and they’ll never find his body.” I warn, drawing her closer by the hold I have on her hair and pressing the tip to her lips. JJ grunts angrily behind his gag, yanking on the cuffs.

“I’m going to ruin your life for this.”

“Looking forward to it Mrs Cameron. Now suck.” I force my way into her hot mouth, groaning immediately as she takes me deep. Her throat contracts as she gags but she doesn’t stop or resist as I begin to fuck her face. It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt and for some reason Maybank’s anger only makes me enjoy it more.

“She’s pretty good at this.” I say allowed, not taking my eyes off her as Maybank yanks harder on the cuffs. I’m on the verge of cumming too soon already as my attention lock on the swells of her tits, bouncing with every rough thrust down her throat.

Just as I’m about to unload.. I pull free to immediately wrap my hand around her throat. She’s an absolute mess but she’s mine.

“What—.” I force two fingers down her throat to cut her off.

“If you want to act like a slut then I’ll treat you like one.” Her eyes narrow even as she gags, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth.

“If you want to spread your legs for someone then by all means, spread them.” I pull my fingers free and shove her onto her stomach on the carpet. The crotchless thong she’s wearing gives me a perfect view of her pretty pussy and the arousal that’s coating her thighs. I’m immediately even more pissed off that the fucking Pogue was so close to what’s mine.

“Goddamn.” I pull her hips back and line myself up with her entrance.

“Rafe.. wait..” I slam forward to the hilt, earning a cry of outrage from her and the Pogue.

“Face down.” I shove her head to the carpet as I pull half way out only to shove back in again. She’s so wet that I glide in and out with ease but she’s still so fucking tight. Feeling the way she opens up only to choke the life from my cock might be my new favorite thing.

“Fuck, baby.” I grunt, not slowing my pace as her moans fill the air. My balls are drawn up tight and I don’t stop myself from releasing inside her wet cunt, not caring if she gets hers or not. She glances at me over her shoulder with a look of pure sexual frustration. I’d think she was on the verge of begging until Maybank yanks against his restraints, attempting to kick me.

“One more thing.” I sink two fingers back into her pussy, showing my cum in deep as she sighs in relief before yanking back out and smearing my cum across Maybank’s face. I step on his knee as I stand, making him thrash in pain and anger.

“You wanted my sloppy seconds so bad so there you go, fucker.” I yank back on his hair, making him look at me. “Come near my wife again and I’ll feed you to a gator.” I snarl, rearing back and decking him one last time for good measure. I turn just as my pretty little wife makes a beeline for the door despite being in lingerie.

“Nope.” I snag her around the waist and toss her on the bed before turning towards the garment bag on the back of the door.

“You’re insane!” She shouts, looking even more delicious when she looks freshly fucked.

“No, insane would be making you walk down that aisle in your crotchless panties with my cum running down your legs. I’m at least letting you put the dress on.” I toss it at her but she doesn’t move, glaring at me under her matted lashes.

“I’m not going out there like this. I’m a mess.”

“You had your chance to do this the easy, clean way.”

“My father will kill you.”

“And what will he do to you if he finds out you’re fooling around with a Pogue on the side?” Her eyes widen for a moment because narrowing back into her perfect scowl.

“You embarrassed me so I’m embarrassing you. Now get dressed. I want to be able to look back on our wedding pictures and see how beautiful you look after being fucked for the first time by your husband.”

[johnbrand]

True Test

My nephew Brandon grew up in a deeply conservative household, where masturbation was strictly forbidden. He had been raised just like his father and I had been by our own parents, and their parents before them. We were built by traditions, maintaining them as they had maintained us throughout our childhood and adolescence. Certain words were never said in the house, certain ideologies never acknowledged. 

It had been my brother’s hope for Brandon to never see a naked woman before marriage. Everything had appeared to have been going to plan, for by the time Brandon reached his 22nd birthday, he was still exceptionally shy around the whole topic. My brother and I had been so proud; his little boy had made it through all of college without being tainted by “progressive” ideas or gone astray from our values. Unfortunately, that image was shattered when I arrived at  Brandon’s room to fetch him for cake, finding him jerking out a quickie to hardcore gay porn on his laptop.

Both of us stood in shock for a moment, unable to move as the realizations hit us. I had discovered his secret, he believed his perfect facade was about to collapse. Brandon opened his mouth to explain but I had already left the doorway. By the time we got downstairs, everybody had been waiting for us. They had no idea what I was about to tell them.

“Before Brandon blows out the candles, I have one last birthday gift to give him.” Brandon rushed in behind me, his face red with embarrassment. My brother eyed me, caught off guard by this sudden announcement. “After college, he will stay with me out in the country for a few months to learn some more physical skills. All expenses covered by me, just one last hurrah before Brandon’s adulthood begins!”

Brandon’s eyes grew wide as the room cheered. My brother gave me a solid pat on the back, laughing and thanking me for such a great opportunity, insisting it was too much. I argued the contrary, watching as my nephew hesitantly paced over to his cake.

———

What none of my family knew, not even my brother, was that my property out in the country also doubled as a conversion camp. My institution had stayed afloat for three primary reasons. First, my property was an exclusive institution. I worked one-on-one with my clients, meaning my property was truly intimate. This tied in my second aspect, privacy. It was not special that no one in my family knew of my alternate career, as I kept my side gig well under the wraps of a decent, average country farm. Finally, I had never had a complaint. All my clients converted perfectly to my standards.

When Brandon had arrived at my farm for the summer, he had assumed there would be a combination of heavy farm work and awkward conversations. To be fair, at the surface level this was true. I had my nephew working from dawn to dusk every day, filling him with hearty, animal protein-heavy meals that along with the exhaustion would knock him out immediately after dinner was served. 

There was no time for anything but labor and my conversations with Brandon. I also allowed no devices beside my work computer, which was off limits anyway, meaning not only did my nephew have no time to jerk off, but nothing to jerk off to. Eventually, Brandon’s brain became too overworked from the constant tug of war between exertion and exhaustion, forcing his will to fall back in line. It became easier to just listen and absorb, to sponge up my opinions rather than react to them.

Over the summer months, I watched as my nephew’s slim, faggy form bloated into that of a man. He grew taller, broader, muscles slowly piling on thanks to the proper diet and obnoxious amount of exercise and training. One by one I replaced his articles of clothing with more appropriate attire: cheap tees that could get dirty, thrifted jeans, my old boxers already stretched to fit his thickening size. Brandon had not made any comment when his razors had disappeared, nor when his shoes were replaced with much larger, well-worn boots. His growing feet had needed them anyway.

The mental changes were harder. Our conversations, which eventually became nothing more than lectures, where discussions focused around the family's values. I spent the majority of our time peeling back Brandon’s progressive ideology, stripping down to the traditional conservative roots. In between it all, I would constantly scatter in mentions of girls, vulgarly tossing tits and pussy language so that it became all my nephew heard. At first it pissed him off, but once Brandon began to simply ingest it all, I knew the conversion had already begun. 

By our last week together, Brandon had become an entirely different man. The 22-year-old now physically resembled our family pride, his masculinity now at par with the textbook definition. As a final test of my work, I brought my nephew into my office and sat him next to the sole computer on the property. I instructed Brandon to open the screen, stepping away as the old monitor booted up a lesbian porno I had already booted up.

“Like what you see?” 

I chuckled as Brandon’s cock hardened, completely mesmerized. Thanks to the lack of exposure, my nephew’s brain was flooded with waves of sexual pleasure forgotten to him, now redirected with my instruction. With his instincts realigned, Brandon’s former life would be no more. I reached over and quickly turned off the monitor, knowing his aching cock threatened immediate release.

“You’ve passed the test,” I announced. “You’re a real man now, Brandon.”

I motioned towards the open bathroom, Brandon's massive cock still throbbing for the opposite gender. I offered my permission without saying a word, grabbing for the door. To my surprise, and delight, my nephew cockily questioned my expertise.

“I disagree, uncle,” his voice was deep and authoritative. “The true test will come after I lose my gold star.”

[puck-luck]

Forever yearning for a jealous, dominant Luke Hughes. I mean spitting in your mouth, edging, mirror sex, etc. I need the filthy, down bad luke.

Scenario: maybe you’re becoming close with one of the other players (completely innocent-just forming a friendship) but Luke doesn’t see it as that way…

👉🏻👈🏻

warnings (in no particular order): spit(!!), jealousy, dom!luke, edging, mirror sex, one (1!) slap to the face just for the enjoyment of my friend jo, spanking, drinking (technically underage hiii luke turn 21 already stop being lame), beating yourself up, pet names and nicknames as FUCK (always bro do y’all even know me), road head, face fucking, unprotected p in v, dare i say breeding kink, implied subspace, allusion to size kink (probably established size kink to be fair), I THINK THAT’S IT BUT I’M NOT SURE! pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when luke gets jealous at the bar and doles out a bit of a punishment (code: luke is insecure about his performance on the ice, so when his gf starts talking with another teammate who is her friend, he gets jealous and feels like he has to prove himself by making her feel good, but he’s still a dom bc HOTTTT) wc: 6416

The Devils’ last game of the season was at home this year. There was no chance that they would make the playoffs and Jack was out in Colorado for his shoulder surgery, plus Luke’s parents weren’t able to make it from Michigan for his final rookie game. He was depending on you to be there, so there you were. You were cheering, you were yelling at the officials when they missed a call, you were laughing at Luke when he took a trademarked Hughes spill on the ice with barely anyone around him. Yeah, you were disappointed at the end of the game when the Islanders won (and it wasn’t even close), but it was just one game. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was a disappointment, but it wasn’t life-changing.

Luke, however, was much more upset with their performance when you met up with him after the game. He drove the two of you to the bar where the team was meeting for one last celebration before the off-season and he tried, he really did, to keep his complaints inside. He was stewing, just letting it well up inside of him and fester in the silence between you, until it spilled over.

“It should have been a better game,” Luke finally said, the harsh edge in his tone rubbing you in all the wrong ways. “We could’ve done more. If I had just–”

“Lu, baby,” you interrupted, voice soft. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was out there the longest, other than Jake,” Luke argued. “They depend on me and I let them down.”

“You were only on the ice for one goal, Lu. You couldn’t have done anything about at least the other three.”

Your statement was not something he wanted to hear. Your boyfriend, sweet as he was, always saw the best in everyone else and the worst in himself. Where he could have been blaming Brendan for the loss, since Brendan was on the ice for three of the four goals, he was instead blaming himself. He was never one to hold a grudge against his teammates or his friends or his family, which was part of the reason why you were so in love with him.

He grunted instead of giving you a real response, but you knew it was coming from a place of knowing you’re right but still feeling hurt.

“I love you,” you told him, just a reminder that his performance would never affect your affection towards him. 

“I love you too,” Luke replied, and you two fell back into silence. It was less tense this time, but his shoulders were still tense and he was frowning, almost pouting. He was so pretty, even now, but you hated how this expression marred his face.

When you pulled up to the bar, you were met by Luke’s teammates. While some of the men had gone home after the game, it was mostly the ones who had families. You knew their wives and girlfriends would have encouraged them to go out with the team rather than stay home with the kids, but you understood. If Luke had wanted to go straight home after the game, you would’ve gone with him and cuddled him until you fell asleep.

“Do you want to get out and get me a drink, baby, while I find parking?” Luke asked, always so considerate. 

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, leaning over the center console to peck his lips before you left the car. 

Waiting outside the entrance of the bar, Nico and John smiled as you got out of the car and walked over to them. You hugged each of them before entering the bar, Nico walking in ahead of you and John following you with a hand on your back. 

It didn’t mean anything to you or to John, but when Luke watched John guide you into the bar before he drove away to search for a parking spot, something sharp and green poked at his heart.

Luke finally made his way into the bar about ten minutes after you walked in, and your face had lit up when you saw him like it had been much longer. He didn’t see you at first, so you had the chance to watch him scan the room. His brow was furrowed as he scanned each person’s features. You knew that he was trying to spot you without looking for the other boys at first, but it was proving difficult with how crowded the room had become.

Timo appeared at his side and patted Luke’s shoulder in greeting. Luke talked to him for a minute before Timo pointed your way. Luke’s face split with a smile when he saw you and he gave Timo a pat before beelining towards you.

You looped your arms around Luke’s neck when he joined you, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Gross,” Nico complained from next to you. “It’s only been a few minutes since you’ve seen each other.”

“You’re not in love,” Luke replied, snarky and sarcastic like he tended to be when it wasn’t just the two of you. He then turned to you. “Where’s my drink?”

“What a priority,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. He pinched your side. “I sent Johnny to go get it.”

Luke’s expression changed for a split second before he schooled his features. You wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t so in tune with his emotions, experience that comes only after years of dating a person. 

You let it go, knowing that it can’t be too important, or Luke would have said something. He knew you were friends with guys on the team. After being around them for almost a year, having moved out here with Luke at the start of his rookie year, it was bound to happen. Plus, Luke wasn’t the jealous type. He knew that you loved him and you’d love him forever, saying yes in a second if he chose to propose.

But to him, there was something about the way you said “Johnny” instead of John. It was that and John’s hand on your back as he guided you into the bar, on top of an already hard night, that had Luke questioning himself.

“I asked him to get you a rum and coke,” you said, tilting your head up to poke Luke’s nose with your own. “Is that okay?”

“It sounds good, thank you,” Luke replied. 

You resume conversation with Nico, turning to face him but staying tucked into Luke’s side. He had a hand on your hip and the other accepted the drink that John handed Luke when he returned. He nursed it quietly for a while, engaging in conversation here and there, but mostly just enjoying his time with his friends. 

The game was the last time that his whole team would be together like that, but this night out was the last time that his team, his friends, would be together in the way that mattered. Even if no one was traded, if no one changed in the slightest (except Jack, coming back from injury), things still wouldn’t be quite the same. It wouldn’t be his second year, his presence wouldn’t be new or exciting. He would have to try harder, do better, and be consistent to show that he wasn’t just an example of beginner’s luck.

He clutched you a little tighter to his side at that thought. He was comforted by the way that you melted into him, moving to lean back against his chest. Your hand covered his and the other polished off your drink. He took the empty cup from you and kissed your cheek before pulling away to toss your cup, and his, in the trash can behind him.

When he returned, he was taken aback by the sight before him.

You had stepped forward and were carding your fingers through John’s curls and Luke saw red before he saw the thoughtful look on your face. John had just said to you and Nico that he thought his hair was getting too long, too unruly. You didn’t agree– it was a good length, the curls were just settling into their shapes.

“I don’t think you should cut it, John,” you were saying before Luke grabbed your other wrist and yanked you towards him. “Luke!” You exclaimed, startled by the movement.

“Time to go,” Luke announced, loud enough that the other boys could hear. He clutched your wrist, not your hand, your wrist, and pulled you along as he stomped toward the exit.

“Luke, what is going on?” You asked, voice resounding in your ears like it’s much louder than it actually is. 

Luke kept walking like he didn’t even hear you, pushing through the door and leading you down the block to the car. He opened your door for you and helped you in, but he slammed it shut once you were buckled into your seat. He rounded the car and opened his own door, glaring at you in a passing glance before settling into the driver’s seat.

“Lu,” you implored, pressing your hands against the top of your thighs. 

When he didn’t reply, you tried again.

“Babe, talk to me–”

“I don’t want you to speak unless you’re spoken to,” Luke said. He refused to look at you. “You think you can touch John’s hair the way you touch mine? You’ll let him guide you into the bar the way I would? I’m not enough for you, huh, baby?”

You blinked, suddenly shifting up to sit a little straighter. Luke, your sweet angel Luke, the baby of his family who would never hurt a fly, who avoided hockey fights at every cost, had flipped his switch.

“Answer me. I asked you a question.”

“No, sir,” you said. Your eyes flickered down to where Luke’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You inhaled sharply as you made eye contact with the veins decorating the back of his hand.

“No?” Luke repeated, mocking. “I’m not enough for you?”

“No! Lu, you’re more than enough, you know you’re the only one I need.” Your words came out scrambled and you tripped over them. 

Luke clicked his tongue, disapproval written all over his face. “Can’t even speak, can you?” He scoffed, reached down with one hand, and popped the button on his jeans. “Let’s put your mouth to a better use until you can find your words.”

“You’re driving,” you pointed out, casting a worried look at the road ahead of you.

“It wasn’t a question,” Luke threw you a glance. He looked back at the road, then back to you, this time holding your gaze. He cocked his head to the side, eyes softening for a moment. “Was it?”

“No,” you breathed out. 

“Good girl.” A smile spread over Luke’s face and he turned back to the road. “Get to it.”

You clenched your thighs together and unbuckled your seatbelt so you could twist towards Luke and lean over the center console. You reached out to unzip his pants, but he knocked your hands away.

“I didn’t say use your hand. I said,” he paused, grabbing your hair and tilting your head up so your eyes met his, “Use your mouth.”

The noise that escaped you was involuntary. You moved forward that extra inch and carefully took Luke’s zipper in your mouth, dragging it down. His boxers were revealed by the action, but that was the extent of it. 

“Come on,” Luke encouraged, growing impatient. What you couldn’t see from your position was the smug tilt of his mouth, knowing there was no way to get his cock out of his pants with just your mouth. “Take it out.���

“Can’t,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you can’t?” Luke mocked, feigning sympathy. “Poor baby needs my help, yeah?”

You nodded and hummed an agreement.

Luke’s grip tightened on your hair and he gave it a sharp tug. “Use your manners.”

“Please, Lu, help me,” you conceded.

“Help you what?”

“Help me take your cock out so I can suck you, please, sir.” Your voice was close to breaking, you were itching to get your mouth on him and make him feel good. 

Luke obliged, revealing himself to you. You opened your mouth and he pumped himself twice just to tease you before slapping the lip of his cock on the flat of your tongue. He fed you his cock, returning his hand to your hair when you had taken as much of his length in your mouth as you could. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail with his one hand, the other still on the wheel, and began to guide your head up and down. 

You gagged when he guided you to his base, nose touching the fabric of his boxers around his cock, but the groan he let out made the discomfort worth it. It was low and desperate, just pure relief.

“Wanna fuck your mouth,” Luke breathed out, pulling you up so just the tip of his cock remained in your mouth. 

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, swiping your tongue over his slit and relishing in the taste of his precum in your mouth. 

He moaned aloud, the sound seeming to echo throughout the car. You could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. You let out a sigh, suddenly overwhelmed with contentment for your situation. Luke was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, whether he was his soft and cuddly self or this dominant version of him that wasn’t afraid to tell you what to do, to communicate what he wanted. 

“Would if I weren’t driving, too,” Luke mumbled, mostly to himself. “Fuck, baby, make me come. You know how.”

Luke returned both hands to the steering wheel and allowed you to move your head freely, to go at your own pace. You bobbed your head with enthusiasm, spit dripping down his shaft and soaking the fabric around him. You gagged at times, but the tight squeeze of your throat around him just added to Luke’s pleasure. He wasn’t shy about telling you how good you felt, either, making you more determined to make him come.

“Fuck, pull off,” Luke said, his voice a little shaky.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t, not when he was so close. The idea of having his come in your mouth, on your tongue, the manifestation of how you made him feel, was too alluring. 

“Y/N, pull off,” Luke commanded, reaching down to yank you off of him by your hair. He clenched his jaw as he held you just far enough off his cock that you thought, with just one bump in the road, you could capture it again. He steered out of the lane and parked on the side of the road. “You don’t want to listen? You’re so cockdumb that you can’t follow my orders?”

All you could do was look at him, eyes wide. 

He spoke through his teeth, never once blinking or breaking eye contact. “Since you want me inside you so bad, I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I come. You’re gonna take it. Even if you gag, even if you cry, I’m not going to stop until I come. Then, you’re going to sit back and buckle yourself in and I’m going to finish driving us home. You will not swallow. You’re going to hold my come in your mouth until I say so. Do you understand?”

Your jaw dropped at the words, the tips of your ears growing hot. “Yes, sir.” It’s nearly inaudible and you can feel your panties growing damper with just the thought of it– minute after minute ticking by, Luke’s come coating your tongue, not being able to speak or swallow. You’re completely under Luke’s control.  

He leaned back in the seat and motioned toward his cock. 

You allowed him to guide you onto his length again, getting comfortable with its size. You hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, pausing your movements and staying statue-still.

A smirk took over Luke’s face. “That’s my girl.”

He took your head with both hands, keeping your hair out of your face and keeping you from moving an inch, and began to thrust into your mouth. It was sharp and hard and you tried to create a vacuum-type suction around his cock, as tight as you knew he liked it, but it was hard with the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat with every buck of his hips. You ended up gagging, and crying, and drooling all over his cock, just like Luke had said, and he fulfilled his promise that he wouldn’t stop.

“Look at you, making such a mess of yourself,” Luke scoffed. “Such a mess all over my cock, just to make me feel good. You’d let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t you, baby? You’d never let anyone else take you like this, just me, yeah? No one else gets to see you just leaking all over my cock because you’re mine.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that and the moan you released around Luke’s length caused his hips to stutter, made him unable to hold back his orgasm any longer. He came in stripes all over your tongue, some of it leaking down the back of your throat before you could stop it. He pulled you off of him and crashed his lips against yours, a close-mouthed kiss because you wouldn’t dare disobey, couldn’t handle the idea of disappointing Luke.

“My good girl,” Luke cooed when he pulled away.

You offered him a lazy smile, head foggy and bones mushy. You were sated, an elevated version of just happy, and so, so comfortable. You loved him. He was everything.

“I’m not done with you yet, am I?” Luke asked softly, thumbing over your bottom lip. 

You shook your head.

“Open,” Luke said. “I want to see my come on your tongue.”

You hesitantly opened your mouth, pushing your tongue out so he could see the milky white substance coating the muscle. 

Luke captured your cheeks with one hand and leaned in with the other holding your head in place. You stared at his eyes, which were watching your tongue as a line of his saliva mixed with the come in your mouth. When his eyes rose to meet yours, it was the embers of desire that made your head roll back and the instinct, the pure instinct of having something in your mouth, that caused you to swallow.

Your head snapped forward, eyes wide and not doe-eyed, not purposefully innocent to make Luke’s heart jump. No, your eyes were wide with worry because you disobeyed him. It wasn’t something you did to spite him or push him further over the line. 

“I’m sorry.” The words leaked from your mouth and you scrambled to take Luke’s hand in yours, clutching his right with both of yours. “Luke, it was an accident, you know I’d never–”

His mouth was open in shock, briefly, before it snapped shut and his eyes twinkled with something downright predatory. His hand was limp in yours (though not pulling away) and he was still.

“But you did,” He interrupted. “You did.”

“I didn’t mean to.” You were trying to reason with him, but you knew the damage was done. Whatever he had planned for you when you got back to the house, it was going to be ten times worse now.

Luke just shook his head and removed his hand from your grasp, pulling back onto the highway and resuming the drive home. You weren’t far, the area around you looking more and more familiar with each passing second. The minutes stretched for what seemed like hours with Luke’s silence. You held your own hand nervously, pinching at the skin of you knuckles and avoiding Luke’s face. You couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment etched into his features.

Luke pulled into the garage of the apartment complex after just about five minutes. Suddenly, it hits you– you have the apartment all to yourselves tonight. There’s nothing to stop Luke, or you for that matter, from being as loud or as public as he wants. There’s a window in the living room, one that Luke mentioned after your last session. A spark traveled up your spine when you realize that tonight might be the night that he fucks you out in the open, for anyone to see.

When he shifted the car into park, Luke turned to you expectantly.

You apologized again, softly, once he looked at you.

His features softened then, seeing your apprehension. He reached out and took your hand. “Are you okay?”

“I feel bad that I didn’t listen,” you replied. Your eyes fell on your shoelaces, which were an off-white color after plenty of use. You made a note to yourself that maybe you should wash them soon. You wondered if they’d return to their original color. The shoes were much more interesting than looking up at Luke and meeting his eyes.

He tilted your head upward with a guided hand anyway. “You’re still my good girl,” he reassured. “Are you okay to keep going? Or do you want me to stop? I won’t be mad. Whatever you want, we can do it. We can leave this in the car and I can take care of you, baby.”

You could cry at his words, how great he is about your slip-up. You did want him to be sweet, but you knew that he needed this. He needed to work through whatever was going on in his mind and if he could just be in control of this, just for a little while longer, it would be so much easier for him later.

“I want to keep going,” you admitted.

“You know your word?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me?”

“Flower.”

“That’s right, baby.” Luke pecked your lips, but when he pulled back he was back to business. “Now, are you ready to listen to me?”

You nodded, eyes trained on his. Neither of you blinked, a silent contest that he ended up losing (something that would normally cause you to gloat, but now doesn’t seem like the right time).

“When you get to the apartment, you’re going to strip. You’re going to sit on the edge of our bed. You’re going to touch yourself while you wait for me and I want you to watch yourself in the mirror. If you come, and you know I’ll know if you do, you’re not going to come at all tonight. I want you to bring yourself right to the edge and stay there. Can you do that for me?” He spoke slowly and clearly, his voice gravely and dominant. He didn’t stumble over his words or pause and “um” like he did in interviews. No, this was when Luke was at his surest. This was when he knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say.

“I can do that,” you agreed, unbuckling your seatbelt and gathering your things.

“I’m going to give you a five minute head start.”

You nodded at Luke, opened your door, and left the vehicle. When you got up to the apartment, you didn’t bother to hang your coat or purse on the hooks Luke put up just for you. You didn’t put your shoes neatly like the door like you normally did. Instead, you dropped your belongings and kicked the shoes off one by one on your walk to the bedroom. You shed your clothing in a similar manner, leaving a trail behind for Luke to chuckle at when he walked in the door. 

Fully naked, you stared at yourself in the mirror that faced your bed. You read once that it was bad luck to have a mirror face a bed, that your reflection could like… capture your soul, or something, but you kept the mirror there anyway because if there was anything Luke enjoyed, it was seeing himself fuck you in the mirror. He liked to watch you ride him in reverse cowgirl, so he could see your ass jiggle as you bounced on his cock with his own eyes and your whole body in the reflection. 

Sometimes, his hands would drift up and he would hold your tits, watching how he could envelop them in his palms. You tilt your head to the side, watching your own hands slide up your body to do the same. 

For everything you could imagine Luke doing, there your hands were trying to satisfy yourself. If you closed your eyes, you could convince yourself that it was him instead.

His cock would disappear into your pussy, thrusting in and out and causing you to whine. His fingers would circle your clit or pinch your nipples. He would palm your ass, or reach up to wrap his hand around your neck. He would reach just that spot…

You didn’t ever hear it when Luke opened the door and joined you in the room. He thought you knew he was coming, with the way you were whining his name and begging for him. Your eyes snapped open as he closed the door behind him and you quickly pulled your fingers out from inside of you.

Luke walked over to you and sank onto his knees between your legs. “Gimme a taste, love.”

You offered him your fingers, which he took into his mouth. He sucked on them softly for far too short a time, in your opinion, with the way his cheekbones became more prominent as he cleaned your fingers of your wetness.

“Tastes good,” he told you with a smile when he was finished. 

“Thank you,” you replied, practically a whimper. Your chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing your heart in your chest. You were waiting, just waiting, for Luke to tell you what was next.

He rose to sit on the bed next to you, guiding you to shift over so you were sitting on his lap. “I’m going to spank you,” he whispered against your lips. “Just ten times. That’s all. It’ll go fast, but I’m not going to go easy on you. I know you can take it.” Luke kissed you again, snuck his tongue into your mouth for a quick, far too quick pass, before pulling back. “Turn over, baby, and lean over my knee, yeah?”

Your movements were slow, your brain turning foggy again like it was in the car. Luke helped you over his knee, still clothed. The contrast between how clothed he was and how naked you were almost made you drool. It was nearly embarrassing, being this down bad for Luke when he seemed to be completely fine, unaffected.

Luke snapped you out of your thoughts with a spank. The pain was only there for a split second before Luke was rubbing soothing circles over your skin. You shivered when he dipped his hand lower and trailed a finger through your folds.

“So wet,” he murmured.

You clenched down and he pulled away, only to deliver a second slap to your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps rising over your arms.

“So, baby, tell me,” Luke began, bringing down his hand again. “Why am I spanking you?” He waited for you to answer before bringing his hand down again. “Because I swallowed– oh– when you told me not to.”

“Mhm. Why else?”

Another spank. Now, it was starting to sting. Your ass had turned a pretty shade of pink that caused Luke to bite his lip and run his hands over your skin, feeling the heat radiate off the surface.

You were quiet. You weren’t quite sure. Holding his come in your mouth had been the punishment for not pulling off when he told you to. You had been slow to say please in the car, but that wasn’t ever something Luke would punish you for, just something he’d remind you to do. “For, um…” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

Luke scoffed and spanked you three times, harsh enough that his handprint stayed imprinted on your body for longer than it normally did when he spanked you. You cried out, your head dropping and tears welling up in your eyes. 

“‘For, um,’” he mocked. “You don’t know? You’re that fucking dumb that you can’t remember what happened less than an hour ago?”

“Lu, please,” were the words that escaped your mouth instead of an answer to his question. They were teary and he almost stopped, almost, just because of how your voice shook. 

“Please what?” He spat, another slap echoing throughout the room. 

“I don’t know,” You sobbed. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

“Five more,” Luke warned you and you nodded. 

It took a lot out of you, agreeing for five more, but Luke wouldn’t do anything he didn’t think you could handle.

“How about this, baby?” Luke said. Slap. “For touching John’s hair the same way you touch mine?” Slap. “For letting the boys guide you into the restaurant like you’re their girlfriend, not mine.” Slap. “For sending John off to get me a drink when I told you to do so?” Slap. “For not listening?” Slap. “For being a fucking brat?”

You wailed, slumped against Luke. He got a good look at you in the mirror, boneless over his knee. He took in the red skin of your ass, tracing the line of his raised handprint. 

“You’re mine,” Luke continued, sounding off. You turned your head towards the mirror, eyes hazy but still able to make him out. He was waiting for you to look at him, for your eyes to meet his. “You can’t– you can’t treat him like he’s special.”

And suddenly, it all clicked. Luke was jealous because he was scared of the same thing you’d skated around in your conversation right after the game. Luke wanted to be special, wanted you to see him and need him. He needed you to need him, to let him take control and take care of you and decide things for you, all because he didn’t want to be the person who lost everything because he wasn’t good enough. Even the idea that John could possibly take Luke’s place, as preposterous as it was to you, sent Luke into a spiral.

“Fuck me, Luke,” you said, voice shaky and light because of the headspace you were in. “Take me. I’m yours. Prove it.”

Gently, so gently in contrast to his prior actions, Luke helped you up and lay you down on your back on the bed, placing a pillow under your hips. You lay there for a few minutes, blinking slowly and watching as Luke shed his clothes and rummaged through his dresser drawers for something. His back was to you and you smiled to yourself, too fucked out to let out a giggle, at his backside. When Luke turned around, two of his gameday ties in hand, he cocked his head to the side at your smile.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked.

“Boy butts are so funny,” You answered. “They’re just so small. Like… where are your hips, Lu?”

Luke blinked a few times, then shook his head. “Oh my God, you’ve lost it.”

“I’ve been thinking it. We need to get you in the gym.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“And your butt is small.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Luke scoffed. He had walked to the bed and was tying one of your hands to his headboard.

“I’m waiting.”

Luke huffed out a laugh at your response. “You’re making it hard to dom you, baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was the road head not enough?”

Luke shushed you, moving to your other hand and tying that one with the other tie.

“What about the spitting in my mouth and spanking me?” You continue, goading him. 

Luke crawled up your body, kissing up your stomach and chest and neck as he went. 

One more sentence, and he wouldn’t find it so difficult to dominate you for this final stretch. 

He’s hovering over your lips, his breath fanning out over them.

“I bet Johnny could do it better.”

Luke pulled back, jaw dropped. His mouth returned to a strait line and his eyes turned murderous. There it was, there’s the dominance that he thought he lost.

 You smirked at him, proud of yourself for the comment you made, until Luke’s palm made contact with your cheek. Your head turned with the impact and you swore your heart stopped. You were too surprised to say anything. As the seconds of silence passed where you and Luke just stared at each other, same shocked expression on your face, you realized: huh. That’s not so different from when he spanks me.

Then, another second after that: That was kind of… hot.

“Are you okay?” Luke breathed out. He’s practically frozen in place.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Oh my God, Luke, yeah.” You pulled on the restraints above you, itching to get him inside of you. You circled your legs around his waist and raised your hips, trying to make contact with him. “Fuck, Lu, that was so hot, please fuck me.”

Luke blinked twice and searched your face for any discomfort, anything that would show him that you were upset or hurt by his slap. He hadn’t even done it intentionally, just driven by the pure rage of you mentioning John, saying that John could be better for you than Luke was.

It wasn’t until your wiggling hips caused his cock to make contact with your weeping pussy that he began to move.

He started by pinning your hips down.

“Greedy,” he chastised. 

“I need you in me, don’t treat me like I’m made of glass,” you whined.

Luke positioned himself at your entrance and snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one fell swoop.

It knocked all the breath out of you. Even after dating Luke for ages, his size still surprised you.

“How’s that, huh? Can you feel me? Do you think I’m treating you gently?” Luke asked, grinding his teeth as he fucked in and out of you. His skin was slapping against yours and he moved one of our legs so your knee was thrown over his shoulder. “You think Marino could fuck you like this?” He practically spat out John’s name, disgust coating each syllable.

“Probably,” you quipped, your voice snarky. You were itching for Luke to slap you again, or something, because he wasn’t giving it everything. He was still shaken up by the fact that he hit you at all.

“‘Probably,’” He repeated, incredulous. “You’ll never know, will you, baby?” He snaps his hips harder, faster. “This is my pussy. It only gets wet for me, you only spread your legs for me, you can be a slut all you want but only in the confines of these four walls. You can be bad, only right here… where I’m able to fuck. it. out. of you.”

You moan, wanton and long in the back of your throat. Your hands are aching to grab his hair, to twist the curls between your fingers. “Lu, my hand,” you told him.

“What about it?” He asked, not slowing his pace.

“Untie it, please!”

Luke looked down at you, confused. “Why?”

You whined, keening as your back arched and you squeezed his cock. “Need to get a hand on you, Lu, fuck. Wanna pull your hair. So pretty, so much prettier than John’s.”

“Oh,” he whispered, his stomach turning. He reached up to undo the knot, trying to continue to fuck you and untie it at the same time. When your hand came free, it immediately found purchase in his curls. Your fingernails scraped his scalp and his eyes rolled in the back of his head as he bucked into you with uncoordinated thrusts. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. “Gonna make me come.”

“Please,” you begged. “Inside me, inside me–”

Your vision went white and your pussy was like a vice around him as you came.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke agreed, voice strained. He watched the bliss wash over your features and whined. “Fuck you til you’re full, show everyone you’re all mine.” 

It’s the thought of pumping his seed into you, making you round with his child, that sends Luke over the edge. No one would think to take you from him then, not that you’d ever go. No one would ever be able to call you theirs like he could call you his, not when he’s fucked you full, not when you’re carrying his baby.

“So perfect for me,” Luke mumbled in your ear, collapsing on top of you as he came down from his orgasm. 

“Just for you, Lu.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You paused, rubbing his back. “You know we have to talk about this, right? You’re more than enough and I don’t want you to feel insecure anymore.”

Luke pulled himself out of you, wincing at the sensitivity. “Can we talk about it tomorrow? I think we could both use some rest.”

He got up from the bed and walked into his bathroom, grabbing a towel and coming back to wipe you clean. 

“Can it wait that long?” You fixed him with a look of concern.

“Baby.” Luke cut his eyes at you, then finished wiping you down. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

You shrugged. “Okay,” you agreed, then made yourself comfortable, pulling the covers over your body. You turned over, back to Luke, and spoke like it was an afterthought. “I loved it when you slapped me, you know.”

Luke groaned, leaned over to give you a kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“Mmm, mean Luke gets me hot just like sweet Luke,” you replied. You turned your head and kissed his lips. “I like sweet Luke more, though. Sweet Luke cuddles me while I’m asleep.”

Luke laughed, going to toss the dirty towel in the dirty clothes hamper. “Sweet Luke will be back to cuddle you after he brushes his teeth,” he said.

When he returned, your breath was even and you had already fallen asleep, the ghost of a smile still gracing your lips. Luke bit his tongue, joined you under the covers, and threw his arm over the curve of your waist. Within just a few minutes, he was fast asleep next to you, softly snoring with his nose pressed into your hair.

notes: so, I, uh..... got a little carried away. I just kept having ideas. And I hope it worked out for me, to be fair. Hiiiiiii anon I hope this was good for youuuu love you bigggg I felt so awky-tawky writing some of this because as much as I would looooove a man to treat me like this, it feels so silly to write. Anyway. Loving y'all.

SEND MORE REQUESTS! I'LL GET TO THEM EVENTUALLY (they might not all be this long LOLLL)

[shanastoryteller]

Happy happy birthday 🎂🎉🥳 As always, I’d love some more of thee MDZS Identity Porn (with the masks and LWJ getting jealous of all of his husband’s “husbands”) (Or JC traveling back in time?) Thanks!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Lan Wangji wouldn't have categorized Jiang Yanli as chatty, but tonight there's really no other way to describe her. She talks at length about Lotus Pier, about the Jiang clansmen and her immediate family. That would be one thing, but she seems to forget that they don't have the same familiarity with these subjects that she does, mentioned names and places carelessly, as if they already have context for these things.

He doesn't know why Wei Wuxian would care about the minutia of Lotus Pier, but Jiang Yanli holds his complete attention. More than that, there are several moments when he has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing and at various points his smile can only be equaled to what he looks like when he's holding his children. If his husband looked at him with a tenth of that adoration, Lan Wangji doesn't think he'd have a complaint.

He prompts her to continue whenever she trails off, because as much as he wishes that he held Wei Wuxian's heart, he can't deny him the bittersweet happiness that conversing with Jiang Yanli seems to bring him. Lan Wangji should not be greedy. He knows the Patriarch's face, his voice, his affection. He's his husband and helping raise his children. It is not appropriate for him to want more than the abundance he already has.

It's nearing the end of the banquet, where mingling and drinking will take place and propriety won't allow Jiang Yanli to hold Wei Wuxian in place. She looks at him with a desperation that makes Lan Wangji feel bad for Jin Zixuan. "You know," she says softly, "years ago, before the war, before - a lot of things, I lost my younger brother."

Wei Wuxian goes completely, utterly still. Lan Wangji stares - as far as he knows Madame Yu has only ever had two children and Sect Leader Jiang is notoriously faithful, regardless of the state of his marriage.

"He wasn't mine by blood," she continues, as if answering Lan Wangji's thoughts. "But we grew up with him and A-Cheng and I couldn't think of him any other way. He was our first disciple and he and A-Cheng used to go off together all the time - but on our way to Cloud Recess, they got in trouble, and he led that trouble away so Jiang Cheng could escape and we never saw him again."

Lan Wangji remembers now. He heard about this then, remembers how Jiang Cheng's attitude had been near intolerable that summer. His heart sinks.

His husband can reanimate the dead, but not like this, there's nothing he can do for Jiang Yanli's long dead little brother.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says to her.

She glances at him for only a moment, but when Wei Wuxian maintains his silence, her shoulders drop and she says, "Thank you," but it comes out more subdued than anything else had tonight.

Later, when they've retired to their room and he hopes Wen Qing and Meng Yao have done the same, and they're lying in the same bed with the darkness and the quiet between them, Wei Wuxian says, "He wasn't Jiang Cheng's younger brother."

Lan Wangji, just on the cusp of sleep, blinks several time until he feels more awake. "Excuse me?"

"The - the first disciple, of the Jiang," he continues, sounding very awake himself as he lies with his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling. "The way she said it, it sounded like he was younger than Jiang Cheng, but he wasn't. He was older. Jiang Cheng was the youngest one."

"Ah," Lan Wangji says finally, "I see."

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian answers nonsensically, then looks over and offers him a weak grin. "Sorry. Never mind. Get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow."

"Yes," he says, but it takes a long time for either of them to get to sleep.

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[yandere-sins]

Underneath the Christmas Tree

You and König got into a fight when you realized what time of the year it was. He tries to make it up to you.

Characters: Yandere!König x Reader Fandom: Call of Duty Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Violence, Building Stockholm Syndrom, Mentions of being tied up/ropes

a/n: Late as can be, but my little present to you guys! I hope that everyone got to eat yummy food and experience joy regardless of celebrations last year ♥ (Translations to the German words are below!)

"Mein Herz... are you awake?"

Sometimes, you wondered how a man of his stature could make so little noise. You were never able to notice him until he had already crept up to you. It had always been this way. You felt like you had only just closed your eyes, barely dozing off, when he startled you with his presence next to you. After all the screaming and crying, you had managed to scare him off, but it felt like only minutes had passed since he left.

The rope around your wrist tightened as you stirred, startled by his voice and the touch of his palm at your cheek, his thumb caressing you gently as you were torn out of your sleep. You felt groggy and tired, but almost instantly, the irritation with him returned to your mind, mixing with the pain as the rope cut into your skin.

However, even with your eyes wide open, your mind needed a moment to focus, the room having turned darker than it was a few minutes ago. Had it really been minutes? Or hours? Did you fall asleep for the whole day, exhausted from your outburst?

You cursed under your breath, your mouth dry like sand. More pain shot through your arms as you tried to move, your expression twisting when König's chest suddenly hovered over you, his gloved fingers dancing all over your hands and arms, too anxious to touch but too scared to keep you in pain.

"Here, let me," he mumbled, concentrating on the knot he made. Even he had to focus when undoing his own work, his methods too skilled for even his own good. But the relief, as your arms sacked to the mattress of his bed, was almost too good; your body lulled back into relaxing now that the strain subsided. Your eyes were already closing when he spoke up, alerting you to the danger you were in.

"Better?" König asked, almost sounding smug about it like he expected to hear praise from you for doing the right thing. It would have almost shown his compassion had it not been him who put you into the restraint in the first place.

"Guess," you contered, and you two fell into silence as you stared at each other. The fabric covering his face made his eyes all the more piercing in the moonlight shining in through the window. He was the first to avoid his eyes—a meaningless victory with a man who went from Colonel to shy schoolboy at the sight of your face on the regular.

"I thought about what you said, and I think you're right."

"The bit about Christmas? Ugh..."

Pulling your arms to your chest, you felt the heaviness that had settled into your muscles, which had been a few hours long enough to make them stiff as boards. You examined your bruised and swollen, at times bloody, wrists as good as you could in the moonlight, but feeling the wet smears on your fingers and the burn of pain when you inspected them, you eventually resigned to sitting up and resting them in your lap.

It wasn't long before König reached out to have a look at your wrists as well, gently turning them over a few times to take note of all the damage he had done to you, every fiber of your being blaming him and refusing to take even an ounce of it despite the fact you were the one fighting against the ropes that he put you in. Everything was his fault, and you had no problem telling him that at every chance you got.

"Yeah... about your family and traditions."

This was new.

Usually, König would try to change the subject as best as he could when it became uncomfortable for him—and all your complaints and demands, reasonable as they were, were uncomfortable. König always found ways to try and tell you how much better this situation was without really confirming or denying your feelings, even though his attempts at convincing you otherwise were fruitless. So, hearing him talk about what he desperately tried to avoid... was new. Progress.

"So you'll let me go?"

Silence. Wringing his hands in his lap after releasing yours, König stared at the floor beneath his feet, sitting on the edge of the bed like a scolded puppy. "No..." he mumbled, and you felt the surprise turn back into anger, your body finding the strength to straighten up and get ready to argue again.

"But!" he intercepted, noticing the changes in you and holding up a finger to silence you before you could explode at him again. "Schatz, hear me out before you say something, bitte!"

"Go on then..."

It was hard to keep your composure when what you really would have liked to attempt was to tear his head off in any way possible. Somewhere under the obvious shirt he was wearing, there must have been a head you could either curse at or try to break the neck off. However, you refrained, a small part of you still hoping to find a peaceful solution that would let you escape unscathed. You were at a physical disadvantage, and hurting his feelings had never been a very wise choice either. For someone who quickly became overwhelmed and shy around you, König was an expert at kidnapping and stringing you up, knocking you out, and putting his hands where they didn't belong. Even if he seemed to regret his outbursts afterward.

"I can't let you go, I just... It's not possible. It's not safe. I hope you can understand that I can't do it."

Opening your mouth was all that was needed to have König scramble, his words tumbling over each other as he tried to form his thoughts into a sentence. One that would soothe you. One that would put him into good graces with you. Sometimes you wondered if he forgot how to be the scary guy that kidnapped you. Who stood still and menacing by your side, watching you sleep without an ounce of shame or manners. But then again, you were glad that bruises and self-inflicted wounds were all you had to suffer from. Even if he tried to be gentle, you knew his hands could cause more harm than good to you. The thought of what all they could ruin was more terrifying than being kidnapped was.

"But- I- Well, I thought we- I'm your family now, so... About today— Scheiße... Christmas, I can give you that."

"Christmas?" Cocking your eyebrow, you watched him nervously crush his thumb in his palm, unable to maintain eye contact with you even though König kept glancing at you from the corners of his eyes.

"It's been a while for me, so it's probably not much. But I... I want to show you I care—about you! About us. I didn't consider that these holidays would mean so much to you, and I'm sorry."

König got up before you could think of a reply. He barely turned towards you, his body tense, hands curled into fists. Nervous. You knew all the telltale signs of his anxiety, considering there was nothing better to do in his apartment than to study him when he was around and you two weren't fighting. But this time, as secretive as he was, it made you almost curious as to why.

"If you want to, you can come to the living room. I'd be happy if you did."

With that, he left the bedroom, leaving you behind with the door wide open. You knew the layout of his small apartment, but you were contained in this room most of the time without the chance of walking through this door without König. Apprehensive, you got out of bed, feeling the cold floor underneath your feet, causing you to tense. Your soles tingled, almost burning from the cold, and you hesitated. It felt wrong to walk around freely, even though it was what you desired most. Freedom.

You had to cross the hallway to get to the living room, passing by the bath and entrance door. This all felt unreal. Like König was going to stand behind you any second now, asking where you were going and dragging you back to his bed, chaining you up and leaving you there to scream and cry. But he wasn't. You could hear him moving around in the living room—probably pacing—wondering if you were going to come.

There was much to consider. Did you need to use the toilet? Take a shower? Was the front door unlocked?

Your brain was screaming Idiot! at you for even thinking you could make a run for it. But you'd never give up the fight, you swore yourself. Even when you knew he'd easily catch up to you, knock you out, and tie you up, dragging you back to the apartment. You still reached for the door handle, pushing it down and giving it a firm tug!

...

The sturdy lock held on tight to the door, and you wondered what you were expecting.

Your hand fell to your side, and you took a step back. The disappointment and frustration were mere zaps going through your body, not even enough to sway you. What did you expect? That König would leave it open? After all that he did to you?

When you looked up at the living room door, your eyes met his, sparks of hurt hiding in the shadows over his face, disappearing the second König turned away, returning to the living room and leaving you alone again. As if he couldn't bear to watch a second more of your betrayal. There was no need to speak about what happened, about the feelings going through both of you. Neither of you talked about the taboo that the front door upheld—you, the prisoner, and he, your kidnapper and stalker. A love leading to nothing but suffering and destruction. He left the scene after making sure you were safe. That was all that mattered, even if your attempt to leave cut deep into his heart.

A quiet, surrendering sigh escaped you before you turned towards the living room once more. The bath was still an option. You could have gone there, locked the door, taken a shower, and hid from your captor until he couldn't bear it anymore and removed the door that separated you two. But fighting him this morning had worn you down, so provoking and refusing something seemingly harmless like an invitation to the living room seemed silly even to you. Certainly, it would have hurt König, and you liked that idea, but what about yourself? Could you have lived with what hurting him would have meant for you?

Deep inside yourself, you realize you were just trying to justify your curiosity. Escaping would always be your number one priority, but at the same time, you couldn't help being curious about what he had prepared. Being locked in the same room day in and day out was so boring, and even if it was a setup for disappointment, it was still better than pouting by yourself in the bath, trying to fight him for no other reason than spite and hurting both of you in the process.

But you didn't tell yourself that. You told yourself it was an order from him, and you didn't want to be punished for disobeying. That was enough to justify your actions to yourself rather than admit that you were curious about something he did. You led yourself along the wall, hesitant but complacent with König's wishes—at least for now. Just for today.

Warm lights enveloped you the moment you stepped into the doorframe. Christmas lights - green, yellow, red - twinkled from a string of lights pinned to the ceiling, while the old (although decorated with fake greenery) lamp added a cozy, warm glow. The table was decorated with a table runner, candles, little pine cones, and a big wreath with burning candles, plates and cutlery set like you'd see in a restaurant.

Most surprisingly, however, was the Christmas tree set up next to the couch. Given it was barely the size from the floor to your hips. But König had perched the tree on a little stool and hung it with baubles and little figure ornaments like a nutcracker and Santa Claus' hat. It was nowhere near tidy or uniform like you knew from home, with different colors mixing and not always going well with each other. It seemed like it had been hastily put together with whatever he could grab. But in its odd way, it was an endearing sight to behold.

Underneath it, wrapped presents in various shapes piled, their wrapping paper glistening in the lights. Some were easy to figure out, like books. But others had a generic box shape that wasn't very precise on what the present would be. Honestly, you were astounded, barely able to say anything with your mouth open in surprise. König never had a lot of decoration around his home, and standing in an all-out Christmas wonderland was almost uncomfortable after getting used to white walls and unintentional minimalism.

On the other hand, König looked so out of place, like a black hole in the middle of a Christmas market. He stopped pacing—moving, entirely so—the moment your presence came into view. There was a moment of awkward silence between you two, his hands tensing and relaxing, ever so often curling into fists as he waited for you to say something.

"So, do you like-?"

"Wow, that's-"

More awkward silence followed as you both started and stopped your sentences. But eventually, it was König who broke it, stepping aside and inviting you in with a slight wave of his hand. "I hope you like it. I didn't have much time, so it's messy. Probably not how you'd do it, but next year, we can do it how you want to. We could go shopping or—"

Cutting himself off, he seemed to be biting his own tongue. There was no guarantee that you'd have a next year. That you'd go out with him to buy decorations or you two would be close enough to celebrate like this again. Nothing was truly certain in this weird relationship you had.

But he tried. He really did.

And it almost made you cry.

"I... uhm," you quickly turned away when you heard your own voice shake, wiping at your eyes and praying that this strange feeling of happiness that overcame you would pass, returning your anger and defiance to you instead. "It's... alright. It's fine."

That was a lie. It was not fine; not alright. It was wrong. Downright awful and manipulative. You should have been hating on it, cursing him out for trying to take advantage of your longing to make himself look better. It was cruel and heartless, and you liked the feeling of normalcy so much that you wished it would stay forever. At that moment, you wished he was your boyfriend that you loved, and you were just a couple celebrating the holidays. A moment of normalcy was worth more than your defiance. And it made you hate the person you felt yourself becoming in that stupid Christmas room.

König's shoulders lost some of their tension, his equivalent of a smile. This time, when he waved you closer, focusing on the tree he had put up, he seemed excited. "Komm!" he said, and you felt your heart leap with the same excitement that swung in his voice, his happiness contagious. Saying "it's fine" seemed to have been enough for him, König being ever so undemanding when it came to your affection.

König knelt next to the tree, still just as tall as it despite being brought down a notch, patting the couch beside him. You tiptoed your way around the man, half expecting him to jump up and attack you as you passed by his back, but he didn't. Taking a seat, you curiously stretched your neck to see what he was doing. After briefly combing through the presents, König picked out one wrapped in green, glittery paper, handing it to you before sitting down on the floor at your feet, watching you expectantly.

You could feel the book's hardcover without seeing it, glancing at König briefly before unwrapping it. Forthcame the cover of the last book you had been reading before your life went downhill. It wasn't the same copy, still smelling new, and its spine wasn't broken from being read in awkward positions. For a moment, it felt unreal that he would know how much you had longed to learn how it ended, thinking about it a lot in the most boring of afternoons. But then it reminded you of how he tore you out of your life and destroyed it with his actions. How was this a small compensation for all the bad things?

But you'd still read it.

Pressing it to your chest, you swallowed back the tears, giving a fake yet confident nod of approval. Your body language was good enough for König, even if he noticed the hints of tears in your eyes, and he handed you the next present with an encouraging hum. You went through many more wrapped presents like this—more books, movies, sweets, a back warmer and a teddy bear, and so many more things you enjoyed. You eventually ended up on the ground next to König, your knees touching while you were occupied with opening and awing at all your presents.

It was just you two, and the apartment was quiet but peaceful, unlike the constant screaming and pain that usually resided in it. The bitter truth was that despite being unusual, things could almost look normal.

So when he slipped his hand over yours, and you didn't flinch away, the silence felt more awkward than it felt right. It was like two lovers exchanging a moment of gentle togetherness in a world that was so cruel to them—a world you weren't in voluntarily but a world that König wanted this way. You couldn't bear it. Bear the thought of this being acceptable.

So you pulled away, hugging the teddy bear in your lap and looking at the pile of gifts. "I've got nothing for you," you commiserated, politeness being the only thing you could procure to avoid destroying the peace you two had for once.

"I've got all I need," König replied gently, and you forced yourself to look back at him. His gaze was soft, lights sparkling in his eyes as they moved from you to his hand, reaching out to you once more. He was getting greedy, pushing your boundaries for just one more touch. "Just you and me, right here. Under the Christmas tree. I'll not ask for more than that from you."

It would have been the perfect moment to rebuke him, to hurt him and stab the figurative knife into his heart by telling him you didn't feel this way. It would have been enough to tell him how you felt truthfully that you still hated him. But for some reason, you remained silent, allowing him this moment of disillusionment that you two were finally warming up to each other.

It was simply too painful to admit to yourself that you were.

"Are you hungry?"

König snapped out of it faster than you. Unusual as he could be quite stuck in his lovey-dovey ways. "I got us takeout; just have to reheat it. I hope you like Christmas food because I got us everything."

Heaving his body forward, he got back on his knees but hesitated for a moment before standing up. You didn't look at him or say anything, tensing when you heard his breath next to your ear. His actions made you want to fight him again, every fiber of your being rejecting him and his ideas of love. But not on that day. Maybe you didn't want to ruin it, no matter how disgusted you were with him and yourself.

The kiss that fell on top of your head lingered for seconds too long. It was as if he was trying to get on your nerves, though more realistically, he was merely basking in the opportunities you granted him. His lips felt gross despite your hair and his mask being in the way. Yet you let him.

"Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz," he uttered into the kiss before finally pulling away, standing up and heading straight for the kitchen. Soon, the room was filled with the smells of a roast in the oven and sides cooking on the stove while you remained where you were, sitting there like an unopened present waiting for him to return.

Your face burned as your heart swelled with affection for the man you hated the most. The man who gave you what you wanted despite having to scramble to pull off a Christmas like no other. Who loved you unconditionally. Loved you so much despite all the bad things you said to him. Who would move the world to make you happy, even though he refused to do it under normal circumstances. The only person you had left who cared so much about you, stalking you to the point of knowing the kinds of books you liked, movies, treats, and your favorite things, presenting them all to you for just a moment by your side in return.

You were disgusted and appalled by everything and yourself. But without realizing it, you started to question your feelings for König as you hid your face in the soft, plush body of his gift.

And what more could he ask for as a present than you—in doubt and foolishly falling in love with the idea of him in your head—underneath his Christmas tree?

Mein Herz - My heart Schatz - Treasure (Equivalent to nicknames like Dear/Darling/Love) Bitte - Please Scheiße - Shit Komm - Come (in this context like “Come here”) Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz - Merry Christmas, my Love

[hairyjocktf]

Spring Break

Noah was pissed. Today was supposed to be the beginning of the best spring break ever. He’d planned a week-long trip with his college friends to New York City. They’d had it all lined up- museums, restaurants, sightseeing, it was perfect. But about a week before, Noah’s mom had called and delivered devastating news. They were having a family reunion that week. In rural Florida. Attendance was not optional. She’d bought his ticket already and there was no way out.

The day had arrived, and he solemnly made his way to the airport and flew to Tallahassee. They were meeting at his relatives’ place in the Florida panhandle, in the middle of nowhere. He’d been once as a kid and vowed never to go back. After a two hour drive from the airport he made it, driving up a dirt driveway to the massive, yet ramshackle, house in the forest. The next hour was a blur of greeting extended family, most of whom he barely remembered since they tended to stay out here in the country. After that settled down his mom came up to him, clearly very excited about something.

“Noah! You’re not gonna believe this, but since it’ll be a few more days before everyone’s here, your cousins Chevy and Logan are gonna take you out on a hunting trip! Just for a couple days,” she was nearly bouncing off the ground.

Noah groaned. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He had nothing in common with his cousins, and certainly did not want to spend time alone with them out in the swampy wilderness. His mom was not hearing any complaints from him though, and she dragged him out back to reacquaint him with his cousins. Chevy and Logan were chatting with each other on the patio, beers in hand, decked out in the camo hunting gear Noah assumed they lived and slept in. They were only a couple years older than Noah, but looked quite a bit older compared to the baby faced city boy.

“Ayyy Noah! What’s up, it’s been a while man,” Chevy walked over and gave him a bear hug, spilling some beer on his back.

“Hey Chevy, nice to see you too. I heard you guys were uh, taking me out camping,” Noah said unenthusiastically.

“Not just camping my guy!” Logan butted in, “We’re talking full on country backroads hunting boy’s trip! We’ll show you what you’re missing by being cooped up in the city.”

Noah’s heart sank; it was worse than he’d thought. They were gonna drag him out there and make him hunt? He didn’t like killing anything and worse, having to deal with the aftermath. He put on a forced grin since his mother was right there.

“Wow, that sounds real great guys, I can’t wait,” he said through gritted teeth. His subliminal messages to them were entirely lost.

“Hell yes bro! Here’s a pack with some of our extra hunting clothing, you won’t want a whole suitcase out there,” Chevy said, handing Noah a backpack. “We’ve got some extra gear that should fit you, it’s already in the truck. We’ll leave in 30 minutes, so get yourself ready.”

30 minutes?? That was immediate, he wouldn’t even have time to plead his case to get out of it. Begrudgingly he went back inside to get his stuff together. The next thing he knew, it was time. The boys were out front in their pickup truck, the back full of tents, camouflage gear, and who knows what else. Logan laid on the horn.

“NOAHHHHHH! It’s time to scram, let's get outta here!” Logan shouted over the blaring horn. 

Noah groaned, this was setting the tone for the whole trip. He looked at himself in the mirror, the camo pants and hoodie just looked wrong on him. He for sure didn’t want his clothes getting covered in mud though, so he sucked it up and headed out front. Chevy grabbed his bag and tossed it in the back before climbing in shotgun, leaving Noah in the cramped back seats. And with that, they were off.

“There’s a real nice game area ‘bout an hour, hour and a half from here,” Logan said. “We’ll get in, set up a nice camp, then relax. Then at sunrise we’ll start you off with somethin easy, maybe a deer or boar,” he turned and looked at Noah, grinning. 

Noah bounced around in the back of the truck as Logan drove through the forest on bumpy dirt roads. Chevy had put on some country music up front, and they were practically yelling to have a conversation over it. They tried talking to Noah about what he’d been up to, but Noah was sulking and gave only short answers. The sun was starting to hang low in the sky when they pulled off, offroading through some clear land towards a spot they’d clearly been to before. They stopped at a neat little clearing near a creek. It was objectively a beautiful little spot, but Noah was not in the mood to appreciate it, already swatting at mosquitoes swarming him. 

“Alright man, you ever pitch a tent?” Chevy asked Noah. 

“Uh, no, I haven’t”

“Well here, I’ll help ya out,” he said earnestly. “We’ve already got a well used spot here, so first we just lay out this footprint, and here let’s have you start with the poles.”

Noah fumbled around with the metal poles before eventually getting them together. He was frustrated, why would he ever need to know this? Chevy took the poles and got the tent up while Logan was still unloading the back of the truck.

“Alright we’re nearly done, just gotta secure it with these stakes,” he handed them to Noah. “Just stick these through the corner, make sure they’re deep in the ground now.”

Noah took the stakes and tried pushing them into the dirt, but they only made it about an inch in. He tried scraping the dirt away with his hands but that didn’t help. Chevy tapped his shoulder, holding a mallet as a suggestion. They’d just gotten here and already Noah was annoyed despite his cousin’s encouraging attitude. His hands were covered in dirt too, he hated being dirty! And he had no escape from all of it. He stormed off to the water’s edge in a huff while the other two finished putting their site together. The sun was really setting by then.

“Ey Noah!” Logan called, “Come have a beer with us man! We’ve got some chili cookin’ too, ya gotta eat somethin,” he laughed. Noah sighed. There was no point in sulking the entire trip like this, even if he wanted to. He walked back over and pulled a beer out of the cooler they’d brought and sat down.

“It seems his highness has decided to grace us with his presence,” Chevy mocked. Noah chuckled. He’d make it through this, even if it took all the beer in that cooler. The boys ate dinner and talked as the sun dipped below the horizon, with Noah actually giving some substantial answers this time. He was exhausted, having flown in and driven all day. He climbed into his tent to hit the sack. If he’d had a mirror in there, he would’ve noticed what looked like some dirt smeared on his face, just on his upper lip and the sides of his face by his ears.

Noah was abruptly awakened by Chevy shaking him. “Hey bro! It’s just starting to get light out, let’s get moving.” Noah groaned, it was his vacation and he was getting woken up at five something in the morning. He crawled out of his tent, banging his head on the pole; was it really that small last night?  The boys were up and moving already, and Chevy handed Noah a granola bar to eat. “It’s a light breakfast I know, but we don’t wanna miss the prime time of the day,” he said softly.

Despite being exhausted, Noah’s annoyance was fading quickly. Maybe this would be a little bit of fun; at the very least it would be something different from normal. He scratched at his chin, his fingers brushing through the smallest bit of stubble that had sprouted overnight. Noah had never been able to grow facial hair, but for some reason this didn’t alarm him, it felt natural even. He put on his hat to hide his messy hair and began to chow down on that granola bar. As he did, that small amount of stubble began pushing out more, giving Noah a shadow across his jaw. It grew thicker, sticking out further until he had a rough, patchy beard. It made Noah look more natural in his hunting gear, aging him up just a hair. His clothes had also grown less baggy on him, attributing to an extra inch or two in height and some mass he’d never been able to pack on before.

Within a few minutes, they were off, trekking through the tall grass into the brush. Logan guided them to a denser pocket where they set up watch and waited for some wildlife to show up. Logan had told them he knew there were deer that tended to feed nearby, so they just had to be quiet and wait. The tension grew as time passed, and before he knew it, a buck had shown up in the clearing. Chevy had prepared him for this, and he took the shot. The deer went down, and Chevy and Logan cheered.

“Hell yes dude! Nice shot, especially for your first time,” Logan patted him on the back.

Chevy gripped him with joy, “It must be in your blood bro, you’re a natural.”

The adrenaline was coursing through Noah’s veins and to his surprise he was actually having a good time. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t wanted to spend time with his cousins, they were chill, and this was turning out to be better than being cooped up in the house. The three of them carried the animal back, working together to hoist several hundred pounds. The sun was fully up now and it was humid. Sweat ran down Noah’s back, and he could smell the putrid stench coming off Chevy in front of him. He didn’t mind though, after all, that’s what a working man smells like.

The sweat was clinging to Noah’s damp skin, beading on his forehead. As he slogged ahead, carrying this massive weight on his shoulders, his body began to adapt. His twig like arms expanded with new muscle, his thighs exploded with size, and his chest produced an impressive set of pecs before softening with a layer of fat. The sweat and smell really began to soak into his skin, and under his sopping shirt small brown hairs poked up around his nipples. Those soft, small hairs didn’t remain so for long, sprouting from his chest, covering the expanse in a curly rug that was slicked down with sweat. Noah’s stubble was not to be left out, pushing further out of his face. Hairs wriggled out in the gaps between old ones, leaving him with much better coverage on his cheeks. Around his chin it even started to fluff up a little, coarse hairs puffing out.

They finally made it back to their camp, dropping the load and slumping into the chairs they’d left around the fire pit. 

“We’ll have to gut and clean that in a minute, but here champ,” Logan handed Noah a beer. It was cold, and exactly what Noah needed against the oppressive humidity. “Here’s to many more,” he toasted, before chugging his own down. Noah was finally able to take a breather, and thats when he noticed.

He STUNK.

He raised his arms back behind his head, airing them out. The sweat drenched pits aired their stench to the world, but to Noah, he just matched his cousins now. The exposed pits had a few hairs plastered to the skin. As he sipped the beer and relaxed, more wisps of hair shot out from his skin, growing thick and wiry. What started as a few extra hairs quickly blossomed into a thick forest of hairs, tangling together and poking out of the sleeves of his t-shirt. The hairs itched as they grew in, prompting Noah to dig his fingers in there, scratching through the sweaty, smelly hairs. He didn’t question it, as far as he remembered he’d had hairy pits since middle school. The hairs spread out of his pits, connecting to the dense coating on his chest. The rug on his chest had started creeping upwards, reaching with thick tendrils of hair towards his burgeoning beard.

After a short reprieve Noah was back on his feet, jumping at the opportunity to learn from his cousins how to clean their kill. They were eager to teach him, to fold him into their ways. Noah’s distaste for his cousins, the country, hunting, all of it was evaporating. He felt like he had so much in common with them now, how had he never realized? 

The rest of the day Chevy and Logan took Noah on a whole laundry list of activities they’d planned. Fishing, mudding, you name it. All hesitation had disappeared, Noah was in deep now. He kept drinking with the boys, not noticing that his gut was pushing tight against his shirt. In fact, his whole upper body was stretching out. His shoulders pushed out, growing broader. His frame was massive now, bigger than either of his cousins. He stood out on the edge of a pond in the harsh sunlight fishing, his shirt absolutely soaked with sweat that dribbled down his massive back. As it reached his waistband, it began fertilizing the growth of a new patch of hair right above his plump ass. The hairs sprung out of the wet skin, shooting up his spine in minutes. Before long the hairs had spread out across the wide expanse of his lats, pressing against the tight shirt. The fields of hair were thick, dense enough to darken the shade of his skin, and definitely didn’t help with the sweat situation. The hairs continued to spread, climbing over his round shoulders and down his arms, coating him with a wild fur that cemented his place out in the country. He was really starting to look like his cousins now, between his camo gear, hairy body, and beer gut. 

When the three of them returned to camp that night, Noah was exhausted. He grabbed another can from the cooler and cracked it open. Putting up to his mouth, he tilted it a little too far, spilling foamy beer down his face and into his chest hair. He chuckled and half attempted to wipe the foam off. Where it sat in his beard, the hairs began to thicken and sprout. His mustache grew incredibly thick, making itself known above the rest of his scruff. His chest fur also took to the growth, turning into a real carpet that climbed up and out of his shirt collar. Noah let out a massive burp in response.

“Yo Chevy, we really gotta head back tomorrow? Shit rocks out here,” Noah said with a deeper voice than he’d ever had previously.

“Yea bro, Ma will skin us if we miss the reunion. But don’t worry man, I know you’ll be back out with us in no time,” he flashed a grin at Noah. 

Noah went and dug through their bags, finding a lighter and pack of cigars. Now that the sun was going down, it was cool enough to enjoy being outside. He lit it up and took a hefty puff, his huge, hirsute body taking it in like a champ. Any thoughts about his old spring break, his old life, had been dragged through the mud and stamped out. All he wanted to do now was relax, listen to the sounds of the crickets, and spend time with his bros. 

[seniswriting]

Compliqué | LN4

Pairings: Lando x Secret Friend!Reader & Lando x Girlfriend!Magui

Summary: Lando was known for his playboy reputation and people thought he just enjoyed being the center of attention, and the thrill of going from a woman to another. In the end, rumors are just rumors and they were never completely true. But such manners can only ever be detrimental to one's life...

Warnings: cheating, a little bit angsty, mentions of drinking and inappropriate themes

Note: This derived so far from what I initially intended to write...

"Don't look at me like that, please..."

He said with a pained expression as he sat on the tiled floor of his bathroom, leaning against the wall. He looked like a wreck. Not a human, but a shell.

I was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, resting my elbows on my knees, with a glass of water in my hand, while looking down on him with a frown. I hated the sight even though it was nothing too unfamiliar.

I knew he despised it when I gave him those eyes. It felt like a reprimand to him. He knew I was judging him in the slightest, but I didn't mean to make him guilty for having fun. He just pushed it too far tonight. As far as Max Fewtrell having to call me to pick him up, even though he has never even met me before.

"Don't you remember what we talked about? No more using alcohol and sex as means of escapism. Yet, look at yourself."

The words came out harshly, showing just how exasperated I was due to his behavior. Just a month ago, he had promised to never fall into excessive drinking again. But surprise! After weeks of not communicating, the first thing I hear about is him getting shit-faced drunk at Jimmy'z?!

And like every time I have called him out on his attitude and lack of clear judgment, Lando simply glared at me in apparent annoyance. We spent a few minutes staring at each other. The silence was heavy. It was weighed by unspoken complaints from me and baseless excuses from him. As if to make peace, I just gave him the glass of water and stood up.

"I will call Margarida so she can come over and take care of you."

I knew he wouldn't want her to see him like this, but I couldn't just leave him alone and neither could I stay over. And like I knew it would, the protest came out of his mouth the second I mentioned his girlfriend.

"What?! No. Why would you do that!"

I hit the nail. He didn't want anyone to see him in a vulnerable state. He wanted everyone to think he was just a reckless fun guy, not a broken mess hiding behind prodigal tendencies. I didn't know exactly why he drank so much yet. But I had my idea because it was always the same thing. He was lonely. He didn't know why but he was. Despite having so many friends to hang around, he never felt attached to most of them. It were as if all he could make were fleeting connections. As if nobody ever reciprocated his feelings. So he shut most of them down from the public and kept anything too sincere at an arm's length.

How did I figure it out? Ever since we met a year ago, Lando kept me as far as possible from his usual group of friends. I never met them and we rarely talked about them. He rarely sought out for me but when he did, he became a very distinct person from whom he was on the racetrack or whom he was with his friends and family.

He wasn't the sunshine to my shadow. He was as empty as one.

"You can't be left alone like this, and you know it. Have a good night."

I finally stated. I didn't wait for his response. I just walked out of his apartment and if I expected him to chase after me, he didn't.

It wasn't new. It was normal for us. We were the closest sometimes, but most of the time, we were just two people who knew of each other's existence.

I used to want to keep us constant and stable but he told me it was unnecessary. That we weren't meant to be pressured to maintain communication. That we were the best kind of spontaneous, even though it wasn't all that joyous.

We were us, but we weren't together. I was hurt. I didn't let that deteriorate our connection though.

If I called, he would be there. If I didn't, he wouldn't be there. It was simple.

If he called, I would be there. If he didn't, I wouldn't be there but I would always have him in the back of my mind.

That's what I told myself until I couldn't help it. I returned back to my old ways. He didn't question it. He just went with it.

He was right when he said I overcomplicated everything. But didn't he do the same too by running away from his emotions?

A few days following the night I picked Lando up from the club, I sent him a text to check up on him.

He didn't even call me once after I had helped him, but it was normal. We always needed to let things simmer before talking it out. And usually, I was the one in charge of initiating the impending conversation.

"Hey, are you okay? The hangover must've been terrible..."

The key to getting a response from him was to start off sweetly, as if I were sorry for whatever had happened. Then, I would only have to wait for a few minutes before getting a reply.

I was proud of our communication pattern, even though it wouldn't be ideal for anyone else. I cracked the code and I took pride in it. Lando was still a man. He left most women on 'delivered' for several hours before responding; but not me.

I always tried to talk to him at the same time on Friday nights, when I knew he couldn't be drinking. He needed to be sober for his races and time zones were mostly in my favor as it was broad daylight wherever he was.

He was also aware of my texting routine, and it became a silent agreement that he needed to reciprocate my effort of keeping in touch every once in a while, when we weren't pushed together by misery.

However, the latter part never worked because the only thing we could bond over was our personal suffering. And there was no one to blame for our ephemeral status, apart from ourselves.

"Yeah it was bad. Cant believe you left me"

The notification made my screen light up and I was met with the very answer I had expected from him. I didn't believe in matching the energy of your interlocutor, so I stayed true to my typical wording. That was the charm in our relationship, after all. Together, we were ourselves. We didn't need to walk on eggshells. We could set the temperature as we wanted.

"Don't be dramatic. Magui helped you, didn't she?"

"She didnt even come home"

"Oh... Uhm, sorry... Do you want to hang out?"

"Meet me in 5?"

"How do I even get there in five minutes? But sure, just for you xx"

He didn't need to tell me where I was supposed to go. We were familiar to the point most things were unspoken and natural - whether it was bad or not, I didn't care much, we weren't committed anyway.

I arrived at what I had secretly started calling my second home. A place etched with memories of us. A place of comfort for my loneliest moments. It wasn't exactly mine though.

Lando was already there, scrolling on his phone while laying on the large sunbed on the

front dock of his yacht. I quietly went up to him to lay down by his side. He didn't acknowledge my presence for a second, but then he put his mobile down to finally look at me.

We stared at each other in silence before his gaze flickered down; that was when I felt the need to speak up.

"What's happening with Margarida?"

He grimaced at the cold interruption of what he probably wanted to do for quite some time. I was aware of his physical attraction to me, but I didn't want to indulge too much in what a man who had a partner and a million fans had to offer. I was not going to stoop that low; being his friend already seemed scandalous enough for us to keep ourselves in hiding.

"Don't even bring her up right now, love."

Love? That must have been a slip-up but it sounded quite natural to him. But who was he kidding? He was reputed for being a flirt. I wasn't going to let myself be one of his generic victims; so I told him off on the inappropriate use of the nickname, which did not faze him in the slightest. Instead, he joked about my princess side coming out again.

He slowly wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me close to him. I knew where this was going and I didn't know if I hated or loved it. I felt his hand inch lower and lower, until I stopped him once again despite the tension that had built up in the air. His hand was right on my inner thigh as I looked at him with suspicious eyes. He knew I wanted this though, and the only thing that held me back was my conscience. I wasn't the kind of girl who took any chance she got, especially if the man she loved already had another waiting for him somewhere.

I gently pushed him away and sat up to watch the beautiful sunset view offered by the monégasque coast. He didn't resist it, neither did he complain. He simply mimicked my movements and silently watched as the sky painted the end of another day, of another story.

When the night had completely fallen, a unified sigh escaped our minds. We knew we had to end our journey there. We knew there was nowhere else we could go; that caring so much from the start was a mistake.

We held each other tightly for a moment. We held onto whatever there was left of us.

A tear encapsulating every conversation and every emotion we had ever shared slid down my cheek. It landed in a loud thud on the leather. It felt like a bucket of cold water. We were not what we used to be, and reality finally caught up on us.

It was not about being lonely together anymore. It was not about confessing our deepest pains anymore. We were about to cross a line that shouldn't be crossed. What we thought was sympathy had somehow turned into more than what we could both handle. We started seeking for salvation in each other.

Lingering glances. Crippling tension. Bottled attraction. Little touches. Things we pretended never happened. Everything we ignored slowly burned us down into nothing. And if we didn't want the world to fade away with us, we had to let go.

"Always so damn complicated."

"Only with you."

That was our goodbye. Just like how we started, we ended with no real closure. We walked into each other's life like it was a hotel and checked out, paying the price of a separation that was overdue. It was thoughtless and casually intimate, until it went bordering on the edge of something.

I knew I would fall when he approached me, and I bet he knew he would eventually join me.

Knowing doesn't mean anything though. The theoretical loses on the material. And in reality, the socialite never commits to the prettiest loner.

-

Note: I liked this when I first finished it, but it kind of feels lacking now that I've read it again... I don't know how to feel about it, but I really enjoyed writing this. Don't hesitate to share your opinion, I would love to get some feedback ^^

[milkloafy]

THE DUTIES OF A BODYGUARD — JIYAN

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: jiyan never does an assignment half-assed. accepting a job as your bodyguard means being there to protect you at all times.  ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: bodyguard au, modern au, fem!reader, reader is a rich gorl, spoiled but like aware?, almost nudity, 17+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.2k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: inspired by creativepromptsforwriting’s bodyguard prompts :> red flag!reader kinda LMAO she’s very diff compared to how i normally write them but yk what don’t we all wanna pretend we’re a spoiled rich bitch with a hot bodyguard sometimes?this reader would 1000% drive jiyan crazy but like in the best way yk vibes u.u 

There were few individuals who truly needed bodyguards, in your humble opinion. 

Not the president of whatever country, not the elderly monarchs that should be abolished, not billionaires who made their money exploiting the vulnerable. For all you cared, most of those people were entitled assholes who didn’t need to be protected. 

The only people who deserved bodyguards were those under great threat. And sure, the powerful and influential people could be in danger as well. But frankly, you still didn’t care about them. 

And, naturally, when your wealthy father told you he hired a bodyguard for you, you were suspicious. As far as you knew, you weren’t under any threat. Your family wasn’t even multimillionaire status. Just a few millions… 

Certainly not enough to warrant much attention or animosity that your safety was in question. You were only the heiress of a multimillion dollar company. Most of your friends were as well. It was nothing too out of the ordinary in your circle.

You thought having a personal bodyguard was useless and immediately spoke out against your parents when they mentioned they would hire one for you, though none of your complaints were listened to by your family, of course. 

Unfortunately, those complaints melted away when you saw your bodyguard. 

His long, blue hair was tied up in a ponytail on the back of his head and you immediately thought of how fun it looked to play with. His golden eyes drew you in with his serious stare. The tight black fit of his clothes hugged every defined muscle on his arms and abdomen, and you felt yourself staring for just a little too long. 

You met his gaze and the corner of your mouth quirked mischievously when you saw him eyeing you as well. 

“This is your new bodyguard, Jiyan,” introduced your father. “He is to accompany you everywhere, understood? And please, do not try to scare this one off.”

You smiled dryly, shrugging in response. It wasn’t as if your words mattered much around here. At least this time, your bodyguard was handsome enough to look at. Maybe you could even have some fun with him. 

At least, that was your thought before you realized Jiyan took your father’s words very literally. 

He accompanied you back to your apartment—up to the penthouse suite, of course. And you showed him an open guest room for him to stay at if need be. However, he didn’t stop at the living room or common areas like you had expected. Jiyan followed you even as you entered your room. 

As he slid through the door behind you, you gave him a questioning look. 

“Can I help you?” you asked, voice higher than normal. 

He shook his head. “No, I’m only here doing my job.”

“Your job?” you echoed. “Does being my bodyguard entail you being with me no matter where I go?”

Jiyan nodded without the slightest bit of hesitation. “Yes. As your father said, I need to be in the room with you at all times.”

He said that with such sincerely you almost giggled. You were certain he was taking the job too literally, but as you noticed the darkness outside your window, you decided you could mess around with him for a bit. 

“At all times?” you asked with a raised brow.

“That is correct.” 

With an exaggerated sigh, you shrugged. “Suit yourself.” 

When Jiyan didn’t reply, you began taking off your shirt, unfastening the pearl buttons adorning the front. With each button, you revealed more and more skin, from the curve of your breasts to the softness of your stomach. Without turning around to hide yourself, you slipped the sleeves off your shoulders and let the light pink, tweed jacket fall to the floor. 

Jiyan’s expression did not visibly change, but the color of his ears sure did. They were tinged a pretty red and you felt almost bad for teasing him. 

“Are you sure you want to stay in my room at all times, Mr. Bodyguard?”

He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you but ensuring his gaze never dropped below your face. The self-control of a true bodyguard, you complimented in your head. 

“Is this what your father cautioned against when he said not to scare your new bodyguard off?” retorted Jiyan, answering your question with one of his own. “Is this a common recurrence?”

You shook your head and made a face. “Ew. Never. The last guy was too old and not my type.” 

Jiyan’s lip quirked up—the first time you ever noticed his expression change—before it returned to its normal position. “As opposed to me…?”

“Someone who doesn’t look old enough to be my great-uncle and is very much my type,” you confirmed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have to finish getting undressed for bed.” 

You stood there in front of him in only a bra, a tweed skirt—matching your top that was discarded on the floor, naturally—and thin stockings. Slowly, you unzipped the side of your skirt and paused before it actually fell to the ground. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to step away now?” you said, hesitancy creeping up on you for the first time as your fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra. While you didn’t mind Jiyan seeing you like this, you didn’t actually want to make him uncomfortable. You had some morals, after all. “No one is forcing you to go this far to protect me. I promise, you’d still be an amazing, father-approved bodyguard if you just stayed outside my room and only came to check in on me frequently…”

“I never do my job halfway,” he said firmly. “Unfortunately, with the information your father briefed me with, you never know what could lurk outside, and I am here to ensure your safety at all times. Still, I assure you I do not feel forced to watch. I could have offered to turn around while you changed. If I wanted to.”

“So you’re just being a pervert, then?” you teased. 

“Says the one stripping in front of a stranger with no hesitation. Perhaps next time you should reconsider such actions.”

“You’re not a complete stranger,” you said, finally letting your short skirt fall to the floor. Innocently, you bent over to collect your dirty clothes and place them in the hamper for the maid to take care of. “You’re my bodyguard now, and a hot one at that.” 

Jiyan closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to rid his mind of any indecent thoughts he may have. “Do you need to say bodyguard in such a way that makes it sound…salacious?” 

Moving closer, you batted your lashes as you peered up at him. “That’s just how I normally say it.” 

He sighed and muttered under his breath, “I’m here to protect you from any danger, but what about the danger you’ll pose to me?”

You laughed, not disagreeing with his words. Instead, you placed a gentle hand on his bicep and Jiyan straightened in surprise before reciprocating with his own palm on your exposed lower back.

“It’s a good thing my father will never have to know.”

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura

Summary: This was supposed to be a Rhysand x Reader Calanmai One Shot and boy oh boy did it spiral into a whole, multi chapter AU fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ It’s now a what if Rhys’s mate was someone other than Feyre and they both end up Under the Mountain together fic

Content Warnings: Eventual Smut, Some Suggestiveness because Rhys is here, I mean look at him everyone wants that male; canon typical violence, UTM. Each chapter will have listed content warnings.

Part Two is here

————————————————————————-

“Stay inside, away from the windows. Make sure the doors are locked.” It’s the same speech every year, the same frantic, worried rant about staying away from those types of parties and the trouble they could bring. Never mind that you’re an adult, have been for awhile, and are perfectly capable of making the decision on your own and had decided years ago that Calanmai wasn’t really your scene. A party in a library sure, but an outdoor orgy in what was basically the High Lord of Spring’s backyard was about as opposite of you as you could get.

“I’ll be in the attic, organizing my books,” you swear and your uncle’s graying head bobs with a heavy sigh of relief as he shuts the door. Some of the livestock have gone missing--most likely the result of several visiting fae whose scene definitely is Calanmai--but he couldn’t make complaints to the High Lord until he was sure they hadn’t simply wandered out of the padlock on their own. He’s taking all three of the farmhands with him, leaving you alone in the house.

It would be a blissful couple of days. The house quiet. You plan to make tea and practice the new bread recipe you’d found tucked into one of your carefully preserved books from two centuries before. You’ve accumulated quite a collection of things in the years of your uncle’s ceaseless wandering. He’s never stayed anywhere long.

If you could focus on it, that is.

Calanmai might have never been your scene, but it did something to you every year you couldn’t explain. It had started a couple years ago; a strange whispering on the wind at first, a voice begging you to “Come. Come and see.”  The next year, after being ignored the voice had come with phantom drum beats, an echo of the ones that would sometimes crest the hill between your farmhouse and the High Lord’s estate; the voice more urgent, the drum beats like a pulse in your skull. The following year the visions started. You’d go to sleep and find yourself drifting through the air, wings beating above you, shadowy hands holding you as you flew over the bonfires and beating drums, bodies writhing and merging beneath you, before depositing you in the darkness of what you could only describe as some sort of ancient cave. When you’d woken up you found yourself half way up the hill in your sleep clothes, unsure of how you’d even gotten out of the house. You’d never mentioned it to your uncle, he was prone to worry, but it was becoming clearer and clearer every year that there was something out there that wanted you out on Calanmai. True to form, you’d started hearing the drum beats upon waking this morning, their beat a steady pulse in your temples.

Still, whatever beckons, you're not interested in meeting. You’d seen a couple priestesses and gotten a sleeping tonic that would knock you out for the night, all you needed to do was pass the time until nightfall, take the tonic, and in the morning, all would be right again. Never mind the ache in your chest you’d feel in the morning, the blaring loss a living thing in your soul, as if your decision to stay away had torn something apart in you. It was a manageable wound, for your family’s sake. Memories of your parents had been hazy at best, it had always just been you and your mother’s brother. He’d said something had happened in your home court, that he’d had no other choice but to take you and run, never any other details. Your powers were a strange, unmanageable thing that prowled beneath your skin, a restless beast you couldn’t tie to any court to try and figure out where you’d come from. They weren’t seasonal, not ice or flame or wind; you’d imagined as a kid you’d gotten them in the Night Court, the darkness that sometimes sparked from your fingertips unruly enough to make it plausible, but there was nothing definitive. And your parents, for all the good things your uncle said about his sister, had never tried to find you, leaving all questions unanswered. Left you alone with your uncle and your constant moving with his job. He worked hard to make a life for the two of you, you owed it to him to not cause any trouble, to stay inside and cook and read and help him with his trading business as best you could. Whatever it was out there that beckoned, it was not worth seeing the pain on your uncle’s face. He’d escaped something, that much was clear, you would not damn him to something else, even for your own peace of mind.

This year feels different though, and you can’t deny it. The voice more urgent, the drum beats louder. You find yourself rubbing your temples, a headache building, as you try and fail to read the recipe in your hands. The words blur, a swirl of indistinguishable colors and shapes. You pinch you eyes closed, shake your head as if to clear the voice, trying again and again to make the words make sense, but the drums won’t stop beating.

You hurl the book across the room, knocking a picture off the wall, glass shattering on impact.

“Leave me alone!” You hiss at no one, teeth bared. Talons form at your fingertips, dark shadows whispering over your skin.

“Come. Come and see,” begs the voice.

You draw a breath, then another, and another until the shadows disappear and the talons retract. If you blow the roof off the house, like last time, you’ll have to move again. Beyond your uncle’s disappointment there’s the issue of… her. The war bands, the bogge, the Attor, always a threat looming over your travels, pushing you further and further away from busy cities, all enough on their own, but the Blight adds another layer. Your Uncle said the war she helped wage against the humans was devastating, but the one she could bring here? Sometimes you wonder if she’s the reason you move so much, as if your uncle has been trying in vain all these years to escape the war path closing in on Prythian. He’d never dare delve into the Human Lands, but Spring is one of the few places she has yet to ravish. You can’t risk another move.

You focus on controlling your breathing as you sweep up the glass, and leave the picture of you and your uncle on the table. You’ll find a new frame tomorrow, for today, it’s best if you take that sleeping tonic and avoid any further outbursts.

You make quick work of double checking the locks before changing into your sleep clothes and climbing into bed. It’s only just starting to get dark, the last few rays of sunlight fighting to break through your worn curtains. The priestesses didn’t mention how long it would take to work, or how long it would last, but the drums are still so loud, and the voice won’t stop pleading. It’s a nice voice, if your honest, but you can’t go out there. You won’t.

The vial in your hand is cold, the glass pitted like it’s been used before, it’s contents a bright blue color that glitters even in the darkness. You down it in one gulp, the taste like bursting, overripe fruit. The effects are immediate, you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillows.

  The house is strange, twisted; the wooden walls thorny, gnarled like old tree trunks, the wind howling through the gaps of what used to be the windows. Fire light flickers through the gaps, casting shadows across the space as you stumble from the bed, bare legs caught in sheets suddenly made of vines.

It’s wrong, all wrong.

You stumble on legs that don’t quite work right down the stairs, slashing yours hands open on the thorns that had sprouted out of the railing alongside dark, night blooming flowers.

“Come. Come and see.”

The flowers bloom at the sound of the voice, the violets petals glowing in the darkness, leading you like wisps out the front door, now covered in vines and leaves. Disoriented, you follow the flowers out into the night, the stars dazzlingly bright overhead.

The world outside is not the one you know, the rolling hills now scorched and burned, the trees gnarled and twisted. Dark shapes with glowing eyes sit on the dying branches, starring only at you, some growling, others hissing.

There’s a single line of flowers, twisting away from the leering eyes and you race after them.

“Come. Come and see.”

You’re running before you know it, scooping up flowers as you go.

Something behind you still growls, it’s footsteps rattling the ground behind you. No matter where you look, you can’t see it, like it’s wholly veiled in the darkness. It has your heart pounding in your chest, the beat steady like drums. You push yourself faster, following the flowers over the ruined hills.

The flowers lead you into another wooded area, the trees still barely clinging to life here, their fallen leaves crunching under your bare feet. Branches tug at your shift, tearing the thin materiel, clawing at your exposed legs. Still, the thing behind you prowls closer, it’s breath hot as flame as it chases you.

The flowers wind around trees, deeper, deeper, into the dark, the only light the stars and the flowers; it’s your only chance at escaping. You push, going as fast as your legs can carry you, the drum beats of your heart still echoing in your ears. Soon enough the flowers direct you in a straight line, directly into the mouth of a cave. It feels wrong, going into a cave with some sort of beast snapping on your heels but what other choice do you have?

You reach the mouth of the cave, hand brushing the rough rock, gasping for breath. The darkness beyond beckons, “Come. Come and see,” but there are no flowers here. No stars to light the way, only the darkness of night and shadows.

The thing beyond you roars in challenge as you set one foot in…

You jerk awake like your soul is coming back into your body.

Maybe it is, because you’re not in your bed. There’s half a dozen cuts across your bare legs, staining the bottom of your torn shift, mud splattered across your legs. It feels like you’re wading through soup as you assess yourself, your mind muddled, unable to process where you got the glowing, violet flower in your hands. When you finally have the presence of mind to look up, you are in fact starring at the cavernous mouth of a cave you’ve never seen before.

Somewhere in the distance, the drums pound. Firelight dances among the treeline behind you. You’d gotten outside. On Calanmai. The tonic not only failed, it had left you so horribly vulnerable and queasy you were shaking. You need to get back home, back inside where it’s safe.

From somewhere in the shadows of the trees not far from you, a voice says, “I’m pretty sure I saw her go this way!”

Ice shoots through your veins, feet freezing in place.

The flower seems to warm in your hands, as if reminding you it was there, of the dream that had brought you here. You glance at the cave, the darkness beckoning. It might be a safe place to hide, if those voices are in fact looking for you. They are clearly male, and a few of them at that, and alone in a shift on Calanmai…

The cave might be a terrible spot, you’re pretty sure you had heard something about High Lords and caves, specifically on Calanmai, but the drowsy effect of the tonic has not entirely worn off, and with the voice drawing closer you don’t have time to try and remember what it was.

You step into the darkness, praying it isn’t the worst mistake of your life, and the darkness envelopes you like a caress. It’s almost as if it… moves, shadows and night itself twining around your legs, your arms, brushing along your spine with feather light touches. As if darkness is acquainting itself with the feel of you. You shiver, nervous, but the touch is not unwelcome.

Voices sound outside, but they are muffled, veiled.

Another step, then another, the flower still clutched in your hand blooms, glowing a little brighter. The scent of jasmine and citrus flows from it, fills all your senses.

The cave descends, the ground sloping a bit, and then you have to duck to follow the worn path. There should be loose rock along the path, but it is smooth, like sand beneath your bare feet, like someone had come along and swept out the debris. There’s nothing there to hinder your progress towards what you can only assume is the heart of the cave.

Perhaps this is all a part of your strange dream, that would certainly explain the flower, but what other choice do you have no but to keep going? From behind you, those voices from the woods sound again, as if they have stepped into the cave too.

“You’re sure she came in here?”

“Where else would she go out here?”

“Do you think Mistress will let us have a little fun before she gets her hands on her?”

Its that that makes you freeze, all thought eddying from your head.

The flower shrinks in your hand, the light dimming, even as the darkness of the cave twines itself around you, the caress like a cat rubbing against your legs, as if it’s trying to soothe you, calm you. You can’t move.

The sudden shift in the air of the cave is palpable. Goosebumps raise on your arms as the temperature drops, as the darkness deepens.

“What the fuck?” One of the men hisses.

And then the screaming starts, the blood curdling cries rattling the walls.

Still you can’t move, can’t see, can only stand there in the company of the shadow still rubbing soothing circles into your back while the earth trembles and dust rains down from the cave roof.

Just as quickly as the screaming starts, it stops, the only sound know the subtle drip of something wet hitting the floor. Your senses are sharp enough for you to scent the cooper tint of blood in the air, but even your keen senses can’t pick up what caused it. You can’t hear anything either, no footsteps, no fighting. It’s over.

You exhale a shaky breath, hands still trembling around the flower. Until it suddenly dies, the petals falling from your cupped hands. You’re strangely attached to it now, hands scrambling to catch the petals in the dark when that same glow appears around the bend in the cave.

Another flower, a way out!

You step towards it, not stopping to ask yourself why this one is smaller, so far away from the ground. Its not until you’re nearly upon it, nearly slamming into it, that you realize it’s not a flower at all. It doesn’t truly click into place until a firm set of hands grabs hold of you, stopping you from slamming right into the owner of that glowing set of violet eyes.

You might have screamed, were it not for the voice that says, “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

The world tilts before you as it clicks into place that you know that voice. It’s the one that called you out here.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 1

Azriel x Cassian x Reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 5k

Super angsty IC dynamics, little bit of violence/blood. Injured reader.

--------

“It was my right!!” Your voice was shrill, breaking from the volume – but you couldn't care less.

“I understand that Y/N, but I have a duty to my court. And to you, to keep you safe.” Your Highlord was unmoved, professional and stoic, your anger washing over him like water against stone.

The thud of your heart was in your ears, the tips of them hot, and you were sure the rest of your family could hear it too. You tried to breath, to think, to let yourself see the logic in Rhys’s decision to let Azriel make the kill over you.

But it was all bullshit.

“He was mine to kill,” you seethed, your voice unrecognisable, an almost growl from the deep part of your throat that strained at you not to cry.

“Try to understand–”

“No!” you spat, marching up to the High Lord, your finger pointed at your chest. The rest of your family stiffened as you approached, untrusting of what you would do next. You could see Azriel’s shadows run down his frame, even though the male hadn't moved from his formal stance by the door. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, still unable to look you in the eye since the moment you had barged into the room. Feyre was biting the nail on her thumb, her face pained and distressed as she watched you march up to her mate. But it was Cassian who showed the least amount of trust, taking a step closer, ready to jump in if - or rather when he had to.

“She was my sister Rhysand, MY SISTER! Not yours, not anyone else's here. He took her in innocence, and his death was mine to mark.”

Rhysand’s brow clenched. “It had to be this way,” he offered softly.

You scoffed, running shaky hands through your hair as you paced backwards. “You expect me to believe that?” Sarcasm oozed from you as easily as the aggression. “I’ve only ever asked you for one thing Rhysand, one thing! Meryl’s murder was unjust, and you promised to train me to avenge her! You promised I would be the one to kill that male!”

Rhysand took a deep breath, his violet eyes pained, but his head remained high. “I’m sorry Y/N. It’s as I said, you’re not ready to execute a mission this big, and Alvar had intel on our court that we could not risk exposing.”

“I have worked my ass off for years for you Rhys. I have trained in hail, rain and shine, I’ve completed mission after mission with no complaint. I have fought for you, lied and stolen and killed for you. I have given my life to avenging Meryl, and you have the audacity to tell me I’m not ready?”

“I know it’s hard to hear. There’s no changing that you didn't have clearance.”

“From who?”

“Cassian and Azriel.”

And that was the last thing you heard before your heart broke in two.

The males you trusted most in this world, the two that had broken your walls, taught you to trust again, trained you and nurtured you, the very beings you loved most in this world,– had not only known of the task, but had been the ones to stop you from fulfilling your life’s mission?

They knew the depths of your reasoning for joining the Inner Circle, for training as a Velarian spy. They had known your one true desire to find Alvar Ashwood – Hybern’s lead assassin – and make him pay for the innocent life that he took.

You looked between the two of them now, your mouth agape as you tried to find the words, or even a sound that could come close enough to the anguish you felt. But no sound found you, even your shaking had stopped. Rhys was saying something, but his words were a world away, muffled and muted as heart-wrenching shock consumed you.

Cassian looked back at you with broken, pleading eyes. Azriel's head hung low in shame.

You would never forgive them for this.

“I-I.” You stopped yourself, gulping. You had nothing left to say. Nodding slowly, silent tears of realisation rolled down your cheeks. One thing was clear – there was no one left that you could trust.

“I’m sorry you’re hurt Y/N, truly. Please, take some time to rest, to process. We’ll discuss this further when you’re ready, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Rhys’s stance had softened at your tears, his palms open as he dared to try and slip through your mental shields to sooth you.

Gritting your teeth, you slammed your walls up as high as possible, shutting him out and throwing him from the outskirts of your mind. You whipped your head back to your High Lord, a snarl ready at your lips as you took another stride towards him.

Cassian jumped into action then, stopping you with two large hands on either of your shoulders, his back to his Rhys as he blocked your path.

“Hey, hey, how about we go talk about this outside, ok?”

“Get off me,” you spat, shaking off his hold as you tried to eye Rhys over his shoulder.

Feyre had joined her mate now, their arms linked as they stared at you with pure shock. Neither of them had anticipated just how deeply this decision would cut.

Giving up against Cassian’s hold, you looked between both of them, their figures becoming a blur as tears welled in your eyes. “How could you do this to me?” you broke, your face crumpling. “I trusted you, all of you!”

Cassian pulled you close to his chest as he walked you from the room. “Shh, its alright, c’mon, come with me.”

You had nothing left to give. No energy, no fight, certainly nothing that could resist Cassian’s strength as he dragged you from that room, weeping.

You weren't even sure how you made it to the gardens, but the bite cold of the night shocked you enough to push the General off of you.

Bending at your waist, you held yourself up by your knees, your breath shaky and uneven as you struggled to breath in between sobs. Bile rose in your mouth, and you were unsure if you were going to be sick.

“Shh, its alright Y/N. Just breath.” Cassian’s large hand framed and soothed your back.You wanted so badly to give in to him, to throw yourself at his chest and let him hold you while you cried. But no – he had betrayed you, just like the rest.

“D-don’t touch me,” you managed to gasp.

“Alright sweetheart, alright.”

“And don't call me that!” Having regained a steady breath, you straightened to look at him, disgust seeping from your expression as your eyes darted between his. “You knew?”

Cassian sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head slightly. “Yeah, I knew.”

“How could you not tell me?”

Another sigh from the General. “We knew you’d go after him if you found out.”

You blinked back at Cassian, biting your lip as you shook your head in disbelief.

“I know it might not make sense right now doll, but we did it for your own good.”

You shook your head faster, your frown deepening as you stepped further away from your once friend. “No, no no Cassian! No! There is no excuse!”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting Y/N, really, I am. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love, to need to avenge them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s right Cass, you do. So where was our family to lie and deceive you all those months you spent slashing and killing to avenge your mother?”

Cassian’s eye softened as he took a deep breath. “You know that is the deepest regret of my life.”

“At least the decision was yours,” you spat, turning your heel for the gates at the back of the gardens.

Cassian was on your tail. “Please, Y/N. We did it out of care for your safety, try to understand.” You kept a stubborn chin forward, picking up your pace as you sought any kind of exit from this Gods-forsaken home that had once been your haven.

You had finally reached the gates, magic willing them to open on their own accord. You steered straight ahead – to the thick of the woods that bordered the house

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.

You didn't answer the General. Before you, your destination lay clear.

“Y/N. The woods are dangerous.”

You scoffed, your pace and direction unchanged. A strong hand caught your wrist.

“Get off me Cassian,” you snarled.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can't let you.”

“I said get off!”

Cassian snatched his hand back, a sharp breath drawn as he winced in pain. Your power – that unpredictable, uncontrollable current of energy now swarmed your skin like an electric coating. It was moments like this that your gift found you, unpredictable and dangerous, much like yourself. Surely part of the reason your family had decided you weren't good enough to find and kill Alvar on your own.

You had no room in your heart to care if you hurt Cassian. This was your window to flee, so you did, escaping him and heading to the depths of the woods.

————

The woods were crisp and dark, the usual brilliant array of stars hidden by tree tops. But you didn't care, your own discomfort numbed from the sheer rage that fuelled your every step.

Your breath was a smoky puff against the cold, twigs and branches crunching underneath the stomp of your boots while circular thoughts reeled in your mind, over and over again.

Rhysand had ordered Azriel to kill Alvar. Cassian and Azriel didn’t give you clearance and kept the mission a secret. Alvar was dead. You would never avenge your sister.

It was done. It was over. The last tether to your sister, buried forever. Everything you had worked for, the one motivation that kept you from falling apart at her death, that got you out of bed on those days when grief was an excruciating ache on your stomach – gone in an instant. And the people you loved the most  were to blame.

Deep within your turmoil of thoughts, the shadows that slinked over your footprints went unnoticed, and the figure that flew overhead amiss.

The sound of a bubbling brook pricked your fae ears. You decided to follow it – perhaps a sip of cold water, or running your hands through a stream might calm the energy that still zapped at your skin.

Sure enough, not a short walk away was the brook. The water trickled down into a large pool, the tree tops cleared as moonlight danced in the reflection of the water. Under any other circumstance, you would have found this setting to be beautiful.

You bought shaking hands to cup at the stream, wincing as the cold stung at your power. But the liquid was quick to sooth you, and your spark began to fizzle as you bought your hand to your mouth, drinking intently.

After a few more sips, you sat back at the bank of the pool, closing your eyes as heavy breaths pushed through the ache in your chest. The sound of a small splash of water had you opening your eyes, and you jumped as unfeeling, black ones stared back at you from the centre of the pool.

A sickly pale face watched you unblinking, its figure still beneath the water from the nose down. Adrenaline was quick to fuel you to get the hell out of there, but you also knew better.

This was a kelpie. And it was too late to run.

The kelpie moved silently beneath the water, wading its way towards you. You took the few moments you had to scramble to your feet, patting yourself for anything to defend yourself with. Fuck – you hadn't a weapon on you.

Reaching the edge of the bank now, it stood on its long limbs, water trickling off its sickly figure, its own long black hair blending with the reeds that clung to its frame.

“Are you a royal?” it grinned, its pointed teeth yellow and rotted.

You forced a steady voice, calling on your power you so often stifled. “No,” was all you said, staring the creature down.

The kelpie ran an insidious tongue along its teeth, churning a nauseous feeling in your stomach. “Then why do you smell of it?”

You blinked – you hadn't realised you carried the scent of your family with you too. Perhaps a kelpie’s scent was more heightened?

“They are my family. Unrelated.” you explained, buying yourself more time for your power to gather. “They’ll fetch for me soon,” you lied.

The kelpie hissed and grinned at once, walking closer towards you. You took a few steps back, keeping your distance.

“You smell…,” the kelpie paused, its awful nostrils flaring against its face. “Delicious.”

“You best leave. They’ll kill you if you harm me,” you replied quickly, cursing yourself for the fear that you knew now tinged your scent. The kelpie caught it too, its grin growing wider.

“But I’m starrrrved,” it drawled, lowering its look to you. “I’m afraid I cannot contain myself, even if I tried.” A sickly chuckle racked through its chest.

You gulped, sizing up the creature in front of you. Ordinarily, you knew you could take down someone of his size. But you were without your weapons, and your power was unreliable at the best of times. If it took you in the water, you were sure as dead. Begging to the Gods, you clenched your fists, willing your power to find you in any shape or form.

“Any last words, non-royal?” it cackled, readying itself to attack.

You didn't have a chance to respond as shadows flooded around you, blue siphons glowing among them. The kelpie yelped and howled, and as the darkness cleared you saw its pale figure pinned to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Azriel was before you, his hands gripped at both your arms. Your eyes were wide with shock as you took him in. He had followed you?

The kelpie was deceivingly strong, and fought against his shadows, freeing itself quickly. It screeched as it lunged for you both, a darkened claw swinging for Azriel’s back. You shoved the Shadowsinger aside, the kelpie’s claws slashing across your arm as you yelped in pain. Blood began to pour from your new wound, and the kelpie hissed too, having being struck by your power on contact.

Azriel was on the kelpie in an instant, a blur shadows and muscle before you spotted the glint of truth teller. The next thing you heard was the kelpie’s final howl.

Its mouth agape, the kelpie bled black blood, crawling back to the depths of the pool, choosing to die in its element. Neither you or Azriel stopped it.

Azriel was panting, his breathing loud as the final sign of life from the kelpie bubbled to the surface of the water. You stayed still with shock.

Hazel eyes were before you now, scanning you over.

“Your arm,” Azriel said, touching you gingerly.

“I’m fine,” you said with a distant voice, your mind still with the hideous creature that attacked you. Your forearm was warm with your own blood as it gathered at your fingertips before dripping to the ground.

“Let’s get you to a healer.”

It was that instruction, that order, that snapped you out of your trance. You had heeded and trusted that voice for far too long. And in the end, it had betrayed you.

You snatched your arm away from Azriel, scowling as you met his eyes. “Do not tell me what to do.”

Azriel levelled a look at you. “This is not a regular wound, Y/N. You know a kelpie’s claw is laced with poison.”

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the burning sensation quickly spreading across your body, or the reel in your vision. How convenient that you so desperately needed his help.

“I’ll see to it myself,” you snapped, glaring deep into the Shadowsinger’s eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw, Azriel’s tell-sign of irritation. He was far less patient than his brothers.

You made to step around him, before a strong arm circled your waist, pulling you back. Too weak to fight him off, a scarred hand covered your mouth to mute your yell of protest. Instead a quick rush of air filled your lungs as the forest folded around you, quickly revealing an infirmary wing.

Shoving yourself from Azriel’s hold the moment you landed, you stumbled forward, finding balance by clinging to the edge of an empty cot. A set of healers rushed to you, grabbing your arms and holding you up.

“A kelpie’s claw,” Azriel said before either of them could ask the question, one of the healer’s dashing for the antidote. “Where is Madja?”

“She does not work nights,” the healer’s voice was loud in your ear as you clung to her, barely able to stand. A small groan escaped you, the fire from the kelpie’s poison burning through your veins, your mobility slowing with every second.

“Fetch for her, please,” Azriel instructed, taking your limp body from the healer and placing you in the cot. A vial was bought to your lips then, the contents inside giving off a putrid smell. You jerked your head stubbornly, but the vial was tipped further against your mouth.

“Drink,” Azriel ordered, his cold hand lacing through your hair and pushing at the back of your head. You had no chose, swallowing the liquid while you still could. The fire in your veins began to dull, and you breathed, thankful for the quick relief.

“Good,” the Shadowsinger said approvingly. You hated that affirmation, but were too weak to show it.

The healers dotted around you, placing cold rags on your face and stitching your wound. Azriel watched, his arms folded and face etched with concern. Uncontrollable shakes racked through your body, your muscles jerking with pain and exhaustion.

Falling in and out of consciousness, you were too dazed to note Madja’s arrival, and with her, Cassian.

“What happened?” Cassian asked his brother, his eyes panicked.

“A kelpie,” Azriel said tightly.

Cassian clenched his eyes shut, punching the bridge of her nose. “She got away from me. I didn't want to chase her, she was already distraught.”

“I was tracking her too. I should have intervened sooner,” Azriel responded, his eyes not leaving you as a deeper frown settled on his face.

After a quick check of your vitals and words with her healers, Madja approached the two.“The antidote is working. She’ll recover soon.”

“She still looks sickly?” Cassian questioned, looking past the healer at your sagged and sweaty body.

“That is what I wanted to talk to you both about. Y/N is carrying symptoms of something else I can't place. Do either of you know if she was involved in a foreign mission lately, perhaps something of high risk or stress?”

The brothers shared a look before Azriel responded. “Not exactly Madja, but she… received some bad news today.”

“She was very upset,” Cassian added.

Madja nodded slowly, tutting softly. “Whatever has happened, it’s manifesting physically. She’s weaker than usual, and will need to rest for a few days. I suggest keeping her here, where we can tend to her.”

“Perhaps we can bring her home Madja. Would you see to her there?” Azriel asked, his arms crossing tighter. Illyrian’s being preternaturally possessive, he preferred you at home where he could keep a closer eye on you, help even.

“The choice is Y/N’s really. Let me do what I can while she rests, I’ll call for you when she wakes.” The brother’s nodded, making to leave the wing.

“Madja,” Cassian half turned, grabbing the healer by her arm. “Please, just, tell her we’re sorry.”

With a small frown, Madja reluctantly agreed.

————

When you awoke, you expected it to be light. Instead, the infirmary was dim, the soft glow of fae light warming the medical wing around you.

Memories from the night before returned, your stomach churning at the thought. The kelpie, hurting Cassian, the fight with your family. Your heart clenched as you were reminded – they had betrayed you, and you could no longer trust them.

Groaning as you turned to your side, you felt around for anything to catch the bile rising in your throat. You luckily landed on a pan, what little remained in your stomach hurled up as your gut clenched and heaved.

Madja entered at the sound, rubbing soothing pats on your back and taking the pan away when you had finished.

You fell back onto the pillows, your body clammy and weak. “What’s wrong with me?” you asked her as she checked your breathing.

“You were struck by a kelpie. Although your wounds are healing well.”

You looked at the ceiling, nodding as you recalled the horrific event. It was hard enough to almost die at the hands of a creature like that, but your heart ached at the thought that Azriel had saved you, yet you never wanted to see his face again.

“It would seem there is something else that plagues your mind, child.”

You looked at Madja now, blinking away the tears that were quickly building.

“Your family mentioned some kind of distressing news?”

Closing your lids, a silent tear rolled from each of your eyes. You merely nodded, your hands quickly brushing away the evidence.

“Its none of my business, but the General was eager that I relay their apologies.”

You froze, flashing a broken look at the healer you had known for many years. How many wounds and ailments of yours had she patched and cured in your career? But emotional wounds – this was new territory for the both of you.

As if finally in safe hands, your face crumpled, your anger and anguish overwhelming as you began to sob. Madja was ordinarily tough – she had no time for foolery and was unsympathetic for injuries of your own fault. But she comforted you now, hushing you and patting your back in a motherly way.

“What do you do when you no longer trust the people you love, Madja?” you asked through shallow cries.

She gave a small, tight smile, squeezing your hands that she now held in hers. “You spend eternity learning to forgive them.”

You bit the quiver in your lip. “I’m not sure I can,” you admitted.

She sighed softly, nodding with understanding. “You have the rest of your existence if you choose to try.”

Madja’s wisdom comforted you, your eyelids turning heavy and you fell to another bout of sleep.

————

Azriel, Cassian and Mor were eating breakfast at the House of Wind, none of them speaking as the weight of last nights events hung heavy.

With a sigh, Mor looked between the males. “She’s going to forgive you eventually, you know that right?”

Cassian gave her a sorry smile, while Azriel kept his eyes on his eggs. He gripped his fork tighter, his jaw clenched. “You didn't see the way she looked at us.”

“She just needs time,” Mor said. “This was her life’s mission after all.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, an icy cold glare fixed upon his face, a blanket over the sheer guilt he felt at Mor’s statement. “You don’t think I know that?”

Mor blinked at the Shadowsinger in shock – it was so unlike him to lose his cool.

“Easy Az, don't snap at Mor for things out of her control,” Cassian frowned at his brother, before shovelling another mouthful of oatmeal.

Azriel let out a sharp breath, clenching his eyes shut, ignoring the sting from the lack of sleep. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, still unable to unlock his tight jaw. Mor waved him off, assuring him it was no big deal.

A gust of foreign wind blew as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into the dining room. The High Lord disregarding pleasantries, his hand clutching a letter, its broken seal the unmistakable symbol of the infirmary.

“I have received news on Y/N.” The High Lord’s tone was to the point, cold even, like he was only interested in discussing the facts.

“Is she alright?” Cassian asked urgently. Azriel’s grip tightened on his knife and fork as he held his breath.

“Madja says her recovery is slow, but she is making progress. One or two more nights at the infirmary and she should be strong enough to be discharged.”

“I asked Madja about attending to her here. Has she written about that?” Azriel asked.

Rhys’s lips tightened before he loosed a deep breath. Feyre, her face pained, jumped in. “Madja has also written that at this point in time, Y/N does not wish to return to home.”

The others fell silent.

“What does that mean?” Azriel gritted.

Tears welled in their High Lady’s eyes, and Rhys slipped his hand over his mates.

“She no longer wishes to live here,” he said, his violet eyes saddened and dim.

Mor gasped, and Cassian shook his head. “Where will she go?” The General stood, his chair scraping as he pushed it out behind him.

“It’s unclear at this stage. Madja has asked that we respect her privacy while she heals. I’m hoping we can talk to her when she’s feeling better. Perhaps even convince her to stay.”

“She won't come back.” The rest of the group turned to the Shadowsinger, his gaze darkened and his shadows building to his neck. “I could sense her rage, the hate she held in her eyes. To her, what we did is unredeemable.”

“Don’t say that Az,” Feyre begged, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

Azriel’s pounded the table with his fist, his knife now stuck upright in the mahogany wood. “Would you prefer I lied? She’s worked her whole life to avenge Meryl, and we shattered that dream. I wouldn't forgive us either.”

“Surely there is something we can do,” Cassian looked between his brother’s, eyes desperate, almost pleading.

But Azriel kept his cold glare on the couple before him. “You asked me to find Alvar first. So I did. And now we’ve lost our girl.”

Rhys’s power coursed through the room as he bought his mate closer to his side. “Watch it, Azriel,” he warned. “Alvar had intel on our wards, our home would be forever exposed if he got away. I tried my best to give Y/N the opportunity. Let’s not forget the decision you and Cass made to keep her grounded.”

“She was going to get herself killed,” Cassian muttered, not defensively, but as pure fact. “The desire to kill him – it makes her power unpredictable. She would have hurt herself, or died trying.”

“We all did what we had to do,” Feyre said softly, bringing sense back above the tension of the room. Pained, guilty expressions reflected hers.

Azriel stood now too, making his way around the table and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Rhys asked.

“To go get Y/N.”

“She’s asked we give her some space Az,” Feyre reasoned. “We have no right to go barging in while she’s trying to recover.”

“I don't care. She’s angry, but that doesn't mean she knows what’s best. She’ll heal better here, with people that care about her. I’ll go–”

“Sit down,” Rhys interrupted the Shadowsinger, the air thickening with his power as he pulled rank.

Azriel’s shoulder’s tightened at Rhys’s order, halting his steps yet refusing to take his seat. “She belongs here, with us,” he gritted.

“We can't force her to do anything Azriel,” Mor whispered, her eyes soft as cast a sympathetic look at her friend.

There was silence in the room again, none of them knowing what to say next.

“This is my fault,” Cassian swallowed, his gaze distant in a deep frown.

“No one is to blame,” Rhys said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The situation is unfortunate, but I’m certain it will get better in time.” He breathed deeply, offering a broken smile to his mate before casting a stern look at the others. “We’ll keep you updated if we hear anything further.”

With a few quiet goodbyes, the High Lord and Lady winnowed back to their River Home.

“We–“ Cassian began.

“Don’t Cass,” Mor interrupted knowingly. “You need to leave bad enough alone.” She stood then, leaving the males to their breakfast.

Cassian cast a look to his brother, who was already looking at him. “Are we leaving now?”

“Not with all eyes on us. Wait until dark. Then we’ll go get our girl.”

“Deal.”

--------

Part 2 >>>>

AN: Ok, here’s that angsty piece I was telling you about.... 

I HAVE MISSED YOU GUYS!!!

Also I’ve been slack with my tag lists, very sorry! If you’d like to join a generic acotar one, drop a comment.