#now we’re at the ~getting into a character~ mode about it

[unganseylike]

i feel like u guys wld appreciate. today our geiger counter kept beeping above normal background so me and my coworker immediately both went “what is it boy!! what do you smell!!” like fully in that character.

(we later learned what he smelled was radioactive contamination across the room)

[motherismotheringggg]

rhythm & heat

summary: you and nicholas are co-stars in a fun and innocent PR relationship, the chemistry was already there so it just feels natural but something shifts when you, him and cast go out.

type: fem! reader x nicholas (i tried add some of Nicholas’ POV per my friend’s suggestion, it’ll be in red to stand out)

tags/warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex (wrap your willy yall) and creampie

author’s note: i’m having sooooo much fun writing again so thanks to everyone who’s been encouraging me to do it. i used to write in college and now that im 27 (almost 28 in january) it’s good to get back into it. i wanted to do something while im working on slow burn pt. 3 so i hope yall like it!!!!

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

The bass pulsed through the club, sending ripples of heat and sound through the packed dance floor. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an electric glow over the scene as bodies moved in sync with the music. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made everyone buzz with energy, like something wild could happen at any moment.

You and your co-star, Nicholas Chavez, were out celebrating the wrap of the second season—a well-deserved break after months of filming. The first season had been a hit, with fans and critics alike praising your performances and the chemistry you brought to your characters. And of course, that chemistry hadn’t gone unnoticed. Rumors about the two of you had been swirling since the first season, with fans speculating about what might be going on off-camera.

And they weren’t completely off. Your and Nicholas’s teams had decided that hinting at a romance would be the perfect, harmless way to build buzz for the next season. You weren’t usually one for gimmicks, but you both thought it’d be fun, and honestly, with the chemistry you two shared on screen, the idea didn’t feel far-fetched. Playing at “dating” off-screen just felt natural.

There were moments on set where the boundary between acting and reality seemed to blur. In one particularly intense scene, you and Nicholas’s character finished having sex and his hands roamed in a way that made sense for the character but caught you off guard, you leaned in to commit to the scene but you remember leaving the set that day with your heart fluttering.

Off set, at interviews and press events, the playful banter you shared made the rumors almost impossible to deny. During one red carpet appearance, when a reporter asked what Nicholas liked best about working with you, he leaned close and, in a low voice, said, “She makes me forget we’re acting.” The reporters loved it, and you could feel your cheeks warm under the spotlight.

Even your off-duty moments seemed to fuel the rumors. You remembered the night you and Nicholas went to see Sabrina Carpenter in concert and to avoid the crowds, you were escorted through hidden elevators in the arena. One of the elevators was especially small, so when you were pushed inside with security guards and crew, space was tight. Somehow, you ended up in the back corner, pressed chest to chest with Nicholas, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer.

When you joked about it later, he laughed, claiming he was just “making room” for everyone. But you couldn’t ignore the way his hand lingered at your waist during the two-minute ride—or how, when you shifted to get more comfortable, you felt his hardness through his jeans.

There were countless other moments and with another press run coming up, it just felt like you were still both “in character” all the time but for tonight, you just wanted to dance, let loose, and get ready for another thrilling media cycle. You, Nicholas and a few costars decided to go out to a boiler room club in the city. None of you had planned on playing into the rumors tonight, but as the crowd grew, Nicholas slipped into “boyfriend” mode without a second thought. His hand found your waist, guiding you through the crowd; he held your hand, lingered close, and let his touches drift to intimate places whenever you danced or laughed together.

The night felt electric. Drinks flowed freely, adding a warm edge to the pulsing bass that reverberated through the walls and floor. Your group had claimed a private section overlooking the dance floor, with a perfect view of the swirling neon lights below. Fans would catch glimpses of you and the cast, looking up with wide smiles, waving, and cheering to show their love. Some even made heart shapes with their hands or mouthed “We love you” as they danced. Every now and then, Nicholas would slide his arm around your waist, pulling you close for a quick fan photo or to lean in as he spoke over the music, his breath grazing your ear.

Nicholas could hardly keep his eyes off you. Even in the chaos of the club, you stood out—like a spark in the dark, drawing him in. The energy around you, the way you moved, the way you threw back your head to laugh at something your friend said… it made his chest feel tight. He’d been watching you for a while now, unable to shake the feeling that tonight was different.

At first, it was all casual, harmless fun. But as the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, you couldn’t help but notice a shift. Nicholas’s touches lingered a little longer, his fingers resting at your waist even when the picture was done or the conversation had shifted. The way he looked at you changed too—his gaze softened, his words slower, and his attention focused entirely on you, despite the crowd around you both.

When the group began to dance, he stayed close, his hand brushing yours, fingers grazing along your arm, almost as if testing the waters. As the music thumped, he moved nearer, his chest pressing lightly against your back, his hand slipping down to rest at your hip. Every touch, every shared laugh, felt charged, and you could feel the tension building in each small gesture. You’d been close to him before, but this was different—the alcohol, the music, the night itself seemed to bring out something more raw.

His thoughts became a blur of want, fueled by the subtle way your lips parted as you looked up at him. The pull was irresistible, drawing him closer as he traced his fingers along the small of your back, letting his thumb graze your hip in a possessive but tender gesture. He was intoxicated, not just by the alcohol but by you, by the way you felt so effortlessly right in his arms.

As you danced, his heartbeat quickened, his breaths shallow and erratic. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him—how just being close to you made it feel impossible to think straight. Every touch, every whisper, was like fuel to a fire that had been smoldering since the moment he’d met you. He couldn't ignore it any longer, the way you’d somehow slipped beneath his skin. He wanted all of you—the quick wit, the mischievous grin, the soft vulnerability he saw in your eyes in quieter moments on set. And tonight, he wanted you in a way that left no room for pretense or careful boundaries.

You two were dancing face to face, the music vibrating through your chest as you moved in sync. Nicholas leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a jolt of heat through your body. His voice was low and smooth, a touch playful, as he whispered, “How’s my girl feeling tonight?”

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you in closer, pressing your bodies together as if there was any space left between you two. You could feel the solid muscle of his chest against yours, the strength in his arms as they wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment. The heat of his touch lingered where his fingers gently grazed the curve of your waist, sending a wave of electricity through your skin.

You were attracted to Nicholas, no doubt about it. Up close, he was all intense, striking features that seemed made for this low, pulsing light. His deep-set brown eyes held a mischievous spark, the kind that always kept you guessing and a little on edge, even when the cameras weren’t rolling. His jawline was sharp, almost sculpted, and as he looked down at you, the soft stubble along it caught the neon glow, adding an edge to his otherwise boyish charm.

As you looked up, his tousled dark hair fell a bit across his forehead, framing his face in a way that softened his piercing gaze. His lips, full and inviting, curled into a subtle smirk as he looked at you, as though he knew exactly what kind of effect he had. You felt his fingers shift at your waist, his thumb tracing small, almost hypnotic circles against your hip, bringing a flush to your skin.

Despite the undeniable attraction, you hesitated to lean into whatever Nicholas was offering. Playing “relationship” was fun, but you knew getting involved with a co-star was a risky move. You flashed him a playful smirk, your voice teasing as you responded, “Your co-star is doing fine.” You took a small step back, creating just enough space to break the intensity between you two. But it wasn’t enough to stop the flirtation—you secretly hoped he’d pull you right back in.

He wasn’t having any of it. “Stop playing with me,” Nicholas groaned, his voice taking on that low, almost dangerous tone you couldn’t ignore. He leaned back down, his face just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You know I want you.”

His words sent a thrill coursing through you, the heat of his breath making your pulse race. Despite the hesitation, you could feel your body betraying you, urging you to close the space between you two again. His head lingered by your ear, his lips brushing against your skin, just barely a touch, sending a spark through you. Before you could pull back, his lips grazed the sensitive spot near your neck, planting soft, lingering “innocent” kisses.

The kisses were feather-light, almost teasing, yet each one felt like a jolt of electricity. They were gentle but purposeful, just enough to make your knees weaken and your womanhood tremble. His closeness, the warmth of his skin against yours, was intoxicating, and with every soft kiss, you found yourself craving more.

With a few sharp breaths and low moans, he knew he had you. The sound of his name on your lips, barely above a whisper, was all the confirmation he needed. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your neck, giving him full access to your skin. His hands, on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against yours.

He didn’t hold back. His lips moved with confidence now, kissing the delicate curve of your neck with more urgency. Each kiss was deeper and more insistent, the pressure of his mouth leaving a trail of heat and need in its wake. His tongue darted out, tracing the sensitive skin beneath your ear, sending a shiver of desire straight through your body.

You could feel him smiling against your skin, sensing the way your body responded to his touch—how you instinctively leaned into him, drawn to the heat between you. His hands, bold and sure, roamed lower, the pads of his fingers grazing the curve of your back, sending a shiver of pleasure through you. The sensation was soft at first but quickly turned more intense, his touch growing bolder, more confident with each passing second. Every moment between you two felt like a slow burn, the anticipation building as his lips trailed over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Then, when he shifted, you felt it—his hardness brushing against your thigh. The contact sent a wave of heat straight through you, an electric shock that heightened every nerve in your body. It was enough to make your pulse race, enough to make you realize how much you wanted him in that moment.

Without thinking, you reached down, your fingers gently grazing over the fabric of his pants, feeling the outline of him. The pressure of his body against yours, the growing heat between you two, made you want more—made you want to make him feel just as desperate for you as you felt for him.

You could feel the quickening of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell against yours. A low groan rumbled from his throat as you continued to trace his length, every brush of your fingers sending a thrill through both of you. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer, as though he couldn’t get enough of you either.

Without another moment passing, Nicholas grabbed your hand, his fingers tight around yours, pulling you through the crowded space. He moved with purpose, guiding you down the secret hallway the cast used to get into the club, away from the prying eyes and flashing lights. Each step seemed to quicken the pulse between you, the anticipation building with every turn. You felt his grip firm on your hand, but also the heat radiating off him, as though he couldn't wait any longer.

With just a few more steps, you found yourselves in the private dead-end hallway. It was dim, secluded—perfectly private. Before you could process what was happening, Nicholas had you pressed up against the cold wall, his body pinning you in place. The urgency in his movements left no room for hesitation as he slammed his lips onto yours, the kiss fierce, demanding. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, lips moving against each other as if he couldn’t get enough.

His hands weren’t idle either. One moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as if to keep you exactly where he wanted you, while the other traveled lower, finding its way to the waistband of your panties. His touch was deliberate and heated, and in an instant, his hand slipped beneath the fabric. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin just above them, the contact sending a shock of heat straight through you.

You gasped into his mouth, the electricity of his touch overwhelming, making every part of you ache for more. His fingers continued to tease, moving with slow, deliberate pressure, testing the limits of your restraint. He continued to rub and massage your sweet spot while you moaned and squirmed against his kiss. He pulled away just enough to watch you under his power.

From his vantage, you were a vision—utterly captivating in every response. He loved the way your eyes fluttered closed, only to open halfway, trying to find his gaze but faltering under the intense pleasure he was giving you. The way your teeth sank into your lip, trying to hold back the sounds you couldn’t suppress, only spurred him on. Each flick of his fingers brought a fresh wave of moans and whines, soft and breathy, laced with his name in barely-contained pleas. Hearing you beg him to take things further, to lose himself with you completely, made him feel invincible. He knew he had you right where he wanted, and he was savoring every moment.

You planted one last, deep kiss on his lips before sinking to your knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Nicholas’ gaze darkened, his breath catching slightly as he watched you with a mixture of anticipation and hunger. Your hands moved with urgency, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, your fingers grazing over the heat radiating from his body. As you freed him, he let out a soft groan, his gaze fixed on you, filled with both awe and impatience.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, tangling in it gently as you looked up at him, the connection between you electric and unspoken. The way he was watching you—intense, with a mix of excitement and restraint—made your pulse race. His pupils were dilated, his breathing uneven, and you could see the anticipation building in his expression as he waited, every part of him attuned to your next move.

As you leaned closer, he tightened his grip, his fingers brushing against your scalp, guiding you but letting you set the pace. You started slow, savoring every moment, every reaction, feeling his muscles tense and hearing his breaths turn to low, needy moans. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought to keep control, his head tilting back slightly as he surrendered to your touch, murmuring your name in a rough, breathy tone that only made you want him more.

Every time you paused to swirl your tongue around his tip, Nicholas' whole body tensed, his breathing turning shallow as he let out a low, drawn-out hiss. The sound of your name on his lips, mixed with whispered curses, filled the air. He couldn’t help himself, alternating between breathless moans and deep, husky praises. “God, you’re such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw, admiring intensity. “You look so beautiful taking me like this.”

With each word, his grip in your hair tightened just enough to keep you where he wanted. His hands were steady, yet you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers as his need for you grew. Finally, he held your head in both hands, his gaze locked on yours, guiding you with a slow, deliberate motion. He pushed himself deeper, filling your mouth as his hips rocked in rhythm, pressing him to the back of your throat. The sounds escaping him were desperate yet controlled, each ragged breath carrying his satisfaction.

“Look at me, baby,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a breathy, gruff murmur, thick with desire. “Let me see those pretty eyes.” His gaze was commanding yet filled with an undeniable admiration, and as you met his eyes, he let out a deep, shuddering breath, fully captivated by the sight of you. The connection between you was intense, wordlessly conveying his appreciation for everything you were giving him, every shiver and sigh pulling him closer to the edge.

Your throat tightened slightly as you tried to take all of him, a small gag escaping despite your best efforts. Nicholas chuckled softly, a low, satisfied sound, and his hand moved to gently tap your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a subtle affection that made your heart race. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, pride evident in his tone.

His hands slid down to your shoulders, pulling you up to meet him, and the moment your lips touched, he captured you in a deep, consuming kiss. It was passionate, full of hunger and appreciation, and he groaned against your mouth, relishing in the taste of you. He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes filled with a soft, smoldering intensity. “You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender. “You looked so perfect, taking me in… just like I always knew you could.”

Each word sent a wave of warmth through you, and his hands stayed on your hips, grounding you, his gaze never straying from yours. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, still swollen from your efforts, his gaze filled with both desire and genuine admiration as he traced your features, savoring every moment and every breath shared between you.

Nicholas could feel the anticipation radiating off you, your body responding to his every touch and move. He knew just how much you wanted him, and he wanted to give you everything you craved. With deliberate slowness, he turned you around, pressing you gently forward. His hands slid up your thighs as he lifted the hem of your dress, savoring the soft, heated skin beneath. In one fluid motion, he pulled down your panties, his lips still trailing along your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warm, lingering kisses that made your breath quicken. He groaned into your ear, his voice low and thick with desire, reveling in the way your back arched, your body silently pleading for more.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roamed over your hips as he positioned himself behind you, letting his tip trace over your folds, teasing you until you were trembling in his grasp. The first sensation of him entering you made your breath catch, a shudder running through both of you as he filled you, slow and deep. You instinctively moved in sync, bodies finding a perfect rhythm, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you.

Nicholas buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in rough, heated gasps as he lost himself in the moment, savoring every pulse and movement of your body against his. You reached back, threading your fingers into his hair, giving it a gentle tug, and he let out a breathless whimper—a sound that only made you ache for him more. His need to be in control fueled you, but there was something thrilling in the way he let you pull him back, every now and then, giving you the slightest taste of control.

You guided one of his hands from your hip, pressing it down between your legs. He understood immediately, his fingers finding and massaging that sensitive spot, adding another layer of intensity to your connection. He quickly obliged, his touch skilled and deliberate, and you felt yourself unraveling under the dual sensations, every nerve heightened, every thought fading into pure, unfiltered bliss.

Nicholas’s pace quickened, and with every movement, he brought an intensity that made you lose yourself further with each second. His hands roamed your body, seeking out every place that could make you unravel under his touch. One moment he’d slap your ass, and in the next, his fingers wrapped around your neck, adding a delicious pressure that only heightened the sensations. He reached between your legs, his fingers brushing against your heat, before gently tilting your head, exposing more of your neck so he could plant hungry, open-mouthed kisses there. The air around you both grew hotter, more electric, and you could feel that familiar pressure building, bringing you both to the brink.

He leaned into your ear, his voice thick with need, a hint of desperation woven into it. “I want to cum for you, baby,” he breathed. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, overcome by the sensations he was giving you. “Let’s do it together. I’m so close,” you pleaded, feeling yourself hovering right at the edge. His thrusts stayed steady but powerful, his head buried against your neck, breaths hitching and moans deepening. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your body to match his rhythm perfectly, every stroke hitting deeper, more intense.

Nicholas, always the performer, could feel just how close you were, but he wanted to hear it. His voice was a low, teasing growl. “Tell me how much you want me, baby,” he commanded. “Tell me how good this feels… tell me who you belong to.” With each demand, his movements became more forceful, every stroke making you lose control a bit more.

He was close too, a raw intensity filling each thrust, and just before the finish, he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back to make sure he felt every shudder of your response.

“Are you ready, baby?” he gasped, his tone shaky as he was right on the edge. You tried to say his name, but the feeling was so intense, it came out as a breathless, pleading sound. You nodded, barely able to form words as your body responded, every nerve lit up as you both finally reached your climax.

As he spilled into you, the sensation sent waves of warmth through your entire body, making you moan out, your voice just barely above a whisper but full of satisfaction. Your body shuddered, every nerve still singing from the overwhelming release.

Even as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you a few more slow, teasing thrusts, drawing out every last tremor until you were completely undone. Each lingering movement kept you in the moment, his body still pressed firmly against yours, leaving you weak and trembling beneath him.

A satisfied smirk played across his lips as he felt you react, your legs shaking as his hands traveled slowly up your sides, grounding you through the aftershocks. He murmured in your ear, his voice low and full of pride, "You’re so fucking hot when you cum...just like I always imagined" His fingers traced gentle circles along your waist, savoring how soft you felt under his touch.

With a final, breathless sigh, you turned to face him, pressing your forehead to his as he caught his breath, his thumb grazing softly over your cheek.You both stayed like that, basking in the warmth between you, as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, leaving soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, his way of savoring every last moment.

[solxamber]

I really love your writing. If it is possible could you write about an ignihyde reader that has a crush on Rook, and leaves him flowers, poetry, and stuffed animals. As Rook is an excellent hunter, it shouldn’t take him long to find out who the reader is, but there’s a catch. The readers UM is shape shifting. They can change everything about their appearance. Thus, puzzling Rook to no end. How long till he figure it out, and what does he do when he finally catches the reader?

Rook x Shape-shifter! reader

Ahh it's my first request!! I hope you like this!

Your love life has always been like an unfinished video game: full of potential but perpetually stuck on “pause” because talking to people is hard and you have a knack for turning invisible (literally) whenever you get nervous. But lately, you’ve found yourself in a completely different sort of situation—one that involves Rook Hunt, the most poetic hunter of Night Raven College and the object of your not-so-secret, shape-shifty affections.

And when you say not-so-secret, it means you’ve been leaving a trail of gifts that practically scream, “NOTICE ME, YOU HANDSOME WEIRDO.”

It all started innocently enough. A flower here, a cute stuffed animal there, and, of course, the occasional badly rhymed poem you stayed up way too late crafting. You know, typical middle-of-the-night crush behavior. The thing is, you didn’t sign your name. Nope. You decided to go full stealth mode, and using your Unique Magic to shapeshift every time you left a gift. One day you’re a tall, mysterious student from Pomefiore; the next, a shy sophomore from Savanaclaw. It’s the perfect plan!

Except… this is Rook Hunt we’re talking about. He’s a hunter, a tracker. He could probably find a needle in a haystack with his eyes closed, blindfolded, and reciting French poetry. So it didn’t take long before Rook realized someone was very much into him—and that someone was playing hard to get (catch?).

But here’s the twist. You’ve made yourself the ultimate puzzle. Every time Rook thinks he’s close to figuring you out, you shapeshift into a completely new person. One day he follows the scent of roses, thinking it will lead him to his admirer, only to find an Ignihyde student carrying around a bouquet of tulips. The next, he tracks down a trail of tiny stuffed animals, only to spot you as an unsuspecting Idia lookalike casually sipping tea in the courtyard. (You panicked, okay?)

“Ah, mon amour, you are like the wind—impossible to catch, yet always present,” Rook muses one day as he stands in the middle of the school courtyard, staring wistfully at a lone stuffed squirrel you’d left behind. Meanwhile, you’re hiding behind a hedge, shapeshifted into a first-year Octavinelle student, silently praying he doesn’t sniff you out like some kind of love detective.

But you can’t help yourself. Every time he gets close, your heart pounds, your magic flares up, and—poof!—you’re someone else again. It’s been weeks of this now, and Rook is officially stumped. He knows it’s you, but at the same time, he doesn’t know it’s you. It’s both thrilling and terrifying.

One day, you think you’ve outdone yourself. You leave Rook a stuffed owl—because, you know, symbolism—and a particularly sappy poem about how his eyes are like “two radiant moons lighting the darkness of your soul.” (Cringe-worthy, but heartfelt.) You shapeshift into an Ignihyde student again and casually start making your exit, congratulating yourself on a job well done.

But then, as you’re about to sneak back to your dorm, you hear it: “Ah, I see you at last, my elusive muse.”

Oh no. OH NO.

You freeze, half-transformed between yourself and the random character you picked that morning. Slowly, you turn around, and there he is. Rook. Smiling. Not just any smile, but that knowing smile, the one that says, “I’ve been onto you this whole time.”

You’re caught. And not in the cool, romantic way. More like the “rabbit caught in a snare” kind of way.

“I must say, you’ve been quite the challenge, mon cher,” Rook says, walking toward you with the confidence of someone who’s won every game he’s ever played. “But even the most skilled of hunters can’t resist a mystery. And what a mystery you’ve been!”

You try to play it cool, but your brain is currently doing the equivalent of the Blue Screen of Death. Do you transform again? Disappear? Fake your own death?

Nope. You’re paralyzed.

Rook stops in front of you, tilting his head slightly as if sizing you up. “I’ll admit, it took me longer than expected. Every time I thought I was close, you slipped away… like a wisp of smoke.” He steps closer, and you feel your heart about to explode. “But now that I’ve found you, I must ask—why all the hiding, my chérie?”

He knows. He knows.

With a nervous laugh, you finally drop the act—literally. Your transformation fades, leaving you standing there, fully you, cheeks burning. “Uh… surprise?” you manage weakly.

Rook’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Ah! Magnifique! I knew it! My instincts were correct, but what a splendid revelation!” He takes your hand dramatically, and you swear he’s about to launch into a sonnet. “All this time, it was you—you—my mysterious admirer! The one who leaves me such lovely tokens of affection! And yet, you kept me in the dark, playing this delightful game of cat and mouse…”

You’re still trying to process the fact that Rook actually figured it out, while he’s over here going full monologue.

“I must say,” Rook continues, still holding your hand, “your talents are impressive. To evade me for so long—c’est incroyable! But why, mon cher? Why not reveal yourself sooner?”

“Well, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck, completely flustered. “I thought you’d think it was weird?”

“Weird?” Rook blinks at you, clearly baffled. “Why would I think that? You have done nothing but shower me with affection in the most creative ways! Why, I am honored by your attentions!” His grin widens. “And now that I’ve found you, I can return the favor, oui?”

“Return the—wait, what?” You blink at him, your brain short-circuiting again.

Rook leans in closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Did you think the hunter would not also become the prey? My dear, you’ve caught my attention as well… and I must say, I’m quite taken with you.”

Your heart skips approximately fifty beats. “You… what?”

“Ah,” Rook sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “You truly are a marvel. But now that I’ve caught you, I won’t let you slip away so easily.”

You’re still standing there, trying to process the fact that Rook Hunt, Rook Hunt, the walking poetry machine, is flirting with you. And not just in a casual way.

Wait why is holding his bow like that? Is he trying to serenade you with just his bow as his accompaniment?

“So,” Rook says, his smile widening, “shall we continue this game of ours? Or perhaps… a new adventure, together?”

You stare at him, your face about to combust from sheer embarrassment and disbelief. “Uh… sure?”

And just like that, Rook laughs, a joyous, carefree sound, and pulls you into a hug. “Magnifique! The hunt is over, but the journey has just begun, my chérie.”

As for you? You’re pretty sure this whole situation is a fever dream.

But hey, at least you finally got your guy. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll survive his endless poetic declarations.

Maybe.

Masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Santa

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You get an unexpected gift from your boss.

Character: Pete Brenner

Day Fourteen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - "um, I don't think this gift is meant for me" 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“You got this for me?” Pete asks as he pushes his hair back. He seems surprised by the simple present. It’s not much. All you could spare from your budget.  

Working at a startup doesn’t offer much more than what pays the bills, sometimes less, and with the holiday season, funds are even sparser. You shrug and clasp your hands behind your back. You were nervous enough to give it to him. Pete can be nice, but he can also be an utter nightmare. 

“Sure, uh, it’s nothing big,” you assure him. 

He takes the small gift bag and looks inside. He rustles the tissue paper with his fingers and leans back as he tugs the stuffing free. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his forearms tensing as he pokes inside. He pulls out monogram cufflinks. They weren’t very expensive but the Etsy seller handmade them. 

“Wow, these are... nice,” he says. 

“I wasn’t sure... you might need them soon, right?” 

“Sure will,” his eyes sparkle at the golden cufflinks. “We’re gonna hit soon, sweetheart.” 

He drops them back in the bag and sets it down. You lean back on your heel. He doesn’t call you ‘sweetheart’, no, only the women he tries to sell too. He’s snagged a few to keep the startup going but he’s chased just as many away. 

“Just remembered, I got a thing,” he checks his watch. 

“Oh?” You shy away as he unrolls his sleeves and buttons them. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before closing time,” he assures you. 

And when’s that? Each day ends later and later. 

“Okay,” you utter. 

“Hold my calls,” he shrugs into his jacket and shoves his phone in his pocket. 

“Yes, sir,” you turn and retreat out of his office. 

You sidle behind your desk and sit. There’s not many calls you need to field as it is. You don’t know if he’s optimistic, deluded, or something more concerning. His ‘vision’ seems more and more like a shell. Or as your friend Evie called it, ‘a front’. 

“Good girl,” he praises with a wink as he follows you out.  

He snatches his coat off the rack by the door and stomps out without another word. You’re relieved at the solace. You like those times when you can just piddle around. Trying to look busy when there’s nothing to do is surprisingly hard work. 

You lean your head in your hand as you scroll through your phone. Your family chat is blowing up and you continue to flick away the notifications. You’ve given up trying to mediate the ongoing argument about the Secret Santa. It never works out. 

You glance up now and again at the computer. There’s a few emails, most phishing, and the phone remains dormant. You feel more and more like a placeholder; or a dupe. You blame Evie for making you so paranoid. 

The windows dim with the evening hue and you swivel in your chair impatiently. You twiddle your fingers and stare at the minutes ticking by in the corner of the monitor. You lurch back as the door opens in a bluster and Pete stomps in with a paper crinkle. 

You look over at him, taking a moment to flip back into social mode. 

“Oh, hey, everything okay?” You ask. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he turns his back to you and sets something by his feet before he strips out of his coat. He hangs it over yours and bends to pick up the item you can’t see. “You know, I couldn’t just... you went to all that trouble.” He spins and struts towards you, lifting the white paper bag with a wiggle, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Oh, uh, Mr. Brenner, you didn’t-- I didn’t expect you to--” 

“Yeah, well, I’m a bit of an idiot sometimes.” He holds the bag out over your desk. “Kinda a jackass too.” 

“Right, um, really it’s--” he drops the bag on the desk and you swallow. “Thanks, uh, that’s so... sweet.” 

You stand slowly and reluctantly take the bag. You feel awkward and a bit guilty. You didn’t give him a gift to get one. You just did it because it felt expected. 

“Go on,” he stays where his is, one hip jutted out as he grips it, “I think you’ll like it.” 

You sniff and push the top of the bag open with your fingers. There’s a box inside. You reach through and lift out the white cardboard adorned with a pink ribbon. You set it down and carefully untie the bow, intensely aware of his gaze. 

You pull the lid off and reveal the neatly folded tissue paper. You pause and glance up at Pete. He smirks as he watches you. Something about his expression makes you nervous. 

You push apart the tissue and reveal the bright red sheer fabric trimmed in white fur. Your lashes flutter and you squeak. You giggle and look up at Pete as you try to line up lid with the box and cover the lingerie. 

“Uh, sir, I don't think this gift is meant for me. It must be for your wife--” 

“It’s for you,” he insists. “Wife’s gone. Ex, soon enough.” 

“Oh, I didn’t-- I’m sorry, sir. That’s awful.” 

“Yeah, pretty down about it,” his lip thin and he reaches to brush the stubble around his chin. “So why don’t you help cheer me up.” 

He winks again and it crawls over you like a shiver. He can’t be serious. You laugh again but his intent gaze doesn’t falter. 

“Sir, I can’t-- that’s...” you can barely think or breathe. He can’t be serious. 

“Come on, let’s have some holiday fun,” he purrs and leans forward to put his hands on your desk. 

“Uh, oh, that’s... sorry, sir, but I’m not... I’m sorry to hear about your wife but I can’t... do that.” 

“You can’t?” He tilts his head and pokes his tongue into his cheek. “You know, I can’t return that.” 

“Um, I’m sorry,” you try to slide the box across the desk and he catches it, his large hands covering yours. 

“Just put it on for me, please,” he squeezes, “I just wanna look. I’ve been so lonely.” 

“No, sir, that’s not--” your heart pounds behind your ears. You can’t believe this is happening. “That’s not appropriate. I... I gotta get going--” 

He doesn’t let you go. Even as you try to tug away. His grip is unbreakable. You whimper and stare up at him helplessly. 

“I know you got no one to go home to, sweetheart,” his voice deepens, “but I’ll give you a choice, huh? You can go put that on or you can get naked. Up to you.” 

“Sir,” you try to yank free again. “Stop--” 

He hooks his hands around your wrists and wrenches you down. Your stomach crushes the box beneath it as he releases one of your arms and grabs the back of your neck. He holds you, bent over the desk, as your toes slide on the floor. 

He steps closer as he balls your hair in his hand and forces your head up. He pushes your face into his pants, wiggling his hips as he rubs his rigid bulge against you. You whimper and grab at his grasp helplessly. 

“I got another gift for you right here,” he growls. “So be a good girl and I’ll let you unwrap it.” He twitches and groans as the roots of your hair burn. “What’s it going to be, hm? You gonna sit on Santa’s lap or is he gonna have to bend you over his knee?” 

You sniffle and press against his stomach, “please sir, I’ll be—Ow! I'll do it,” you murmur, “please, you’re hurting me.” 

“That’s it, you better be nice, baby,” he lets you go and stretches his hand across the front of his pants. “You don’t wanna get on my naughty list.” 

You recoil and slide back onto your feet. You rub your head as your scalp ripples hotly. He bites his lips as he eyes you up and down. 

“Go on, get yourself all wrapped up for Santa,” he grits. 

You flinch and stare at him, begging with your eyes. Your eyes flit to the door and back to him. You have no choice. You shakily take the box and turn away. 

He shifts as you come around the desk and as you pass him, he taps your ass. You trip but keep going. You scurry into the tiny bathroom on the other side of the office and hide behind the door. 

You toss the box onto the small counter and stare at your frightened reflection. You can’t believe this. Why?  

You sway on your legs and wring your hand. What do you do? 

“Sweetheart, don’t keep Santa waiting,” he taunts from outside. You can hear the friction of his hand on the door. 

You squeak and grip your head as your panic swells. No, no, no. You cringe and brace yourself. You’re going to do this. Because you’re weak. Because you’re scared. 

You undress, piece by piece. You open the box again and clumsily unfold the body suit. You shimmy into the sheer fabric and hook the straps over your shoulders. You step back to see yourself in the mirror. You can’t! 

You spin away with the vision of your reflection seared into your head. The fabric is so sheer, you can see your nipples, and even the slit of your cunt. You hug yourself as your eyes wet with horrified tears. 

“Come out and play, baby girl,” Pete wiggles the handle from the other side. 

“Please,” you plead through the door. “I can’t--” 

The handle jerks up then down, “get the fuck out here!”  

His voice cuts through and makes you wince. Your lip trembles as you reach to flip the lock up. Your body moves from fear. He pushes the door open and you step back. 

“Mm, baby, come out here,” he reaches for you and tugs your wrist away from your chest. He takes both your hands and unbends your arms as he draws you out into the flourescent lights. “Damn, who knew you were hiding all that? Keeping that all to yourself.” 

“Please, I... I’m scared.” 

“I know, baby, that’s why I’m so hard,” he snickers and yanks on so you fall against him. He snakes his arm around you and cups your ass in his hand. “Why didn’t you give me this for Christmas, huh?” 

“Sir...” 

“Mmm,” he leans in and inhales your scent as his nose tickles your temples. “Don’t worry, Santa’s gonna give you everything,” he grinds his pelvis into you, “a nice fucking yule log to fill you up.” 

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. homemade love.

about. katsuki takes the pain of his middle-born daughter to heart, and does anything he can to fix it.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up, bakugou is a girl dad of three, reader is referred to as ‘ma’, their daughter is quirkless like deku lol, he makes her pasta, pro hero!bakugou, fem!reader, … a draft from a long time ago!! enjoy please <3

katsuki who cooks and makes his middle daughter her favourite pasta recipe whenever she’s down.

she comes home from middle school with scraped palms and knees, teary eyed and with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“they don’t like me ‘cause ‘m quirkless.” she says as soon as she’s through the door — the authentic bakugou twang thick in her shaky voice. her face is pressed into your torso when you make eye contact with katsuki, who’s emerged from the kitchen down the hall and to your left.

you see it all flash before his eyes — his childhood, his high school career and the day he died. the way he treated the number one, uncle izuku, for so many years. it’s all reflected in the familiar red of his middle child’s eyes and it kills him.

“c’mere squirt,” katsuki calls to her, drying off his hands with the red riot tea towel slung lazily over his shoulder. he’d been washing dishes before she got home. “we’re makin’ dinner together.”

“but i—“

“i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” the older blonde nudges his head towards the kitchen, reaching a hand out for his daughter which she tenderly takes. when she sniffles, bakugou tucks her into his side as if to protect her from the horrors of the world. you let them go without interrupting, knowing the importance of this moment for the two.

it’s not easy, being a bakugou when you’ve got dynamight’s reputation to live up to. he’s fearsome and fiery, confident and calculated. your husband and the father of your three beautiful daughters is one of the main reasons why japan is safe today. the burden and weight of his reputation that your children carry is unimaginable — only made worse by the fact that your middle is quirkless.

and yet, dynamight’s love for her doesn’t falter. since the moment he first held his baby girl she’s been his entire world, his moon along with his sun and now his stars. he’s adored her before she even became a twinkle in his eye — no amount of power or special ability would change that for him.

she’s katsuki’s girl, not just dynamight’s daughter. he’d tear the world apart to find anyone who ever hurt her.

“hold the knife properly. you cut your finger off ‘n yer ma will have my head.” his gruff voice, holding no malice, makes your sweet girl snort with laughter — a change from her earlier wobbly bottom lip and teary eyes. “we’re tryna mince garlic for the sauce, not yer little hands, squirt.”

she sticks her tongue out at him, bright blonde curls bouncing when she narrowly misses a playful swat from her father. “i’m trying,” your middle child wails with faux upset — her nose scrunches all too similarly to how yours and it sends an arrow of love straight through katsuki’s chest. for a moment, the kitchen falls to silence and the elder of the two turns his attention to the pasta dough in his large floured hands — focusing on shaping them into little bow ties just how his daughter likes, on occasion adding them to a boiling pot of water.

“i’m trying,” she says again, but quieter. “but daddy, everythin’s so hard.”

and like pot simmering away on the stove, her emotions start to boil over — tiny hiccups forming a sad symphony with the sounds of a working kitchen.

bakugou instantly springs into dad mode, dropping everything that he had been doing to take your daughter’s hand in his. despite how messy it may be. “hey now gorgeous, don’t cry…tell me what’s wrong, yeah?”

“i-i don’t want to disappoint you by not havin’ a quirk n not bein’ a hero…” she manages to get out through her blubbering — digging the heal of her palm into wet eyes. “i jus’ wanna make you proud!”

katsuki’s face softens, everything except for love for his daughter melting away. “‘nd i am proud. fiercely fuckin’ so…ah, shit, don’t tell yer ma i cursed, kay?” he stumbles over his words, he’s never been the best at comforting people but when bakugou’s child needs him, he’ll be damned if he leaves her in any pain. “from the moment y’first came into this shitty — i mean — crappy world, i’ve been proud of you. you’ve always pushed yourself beyond anythin’ i could achieve, you’re kind to people when they don’t deserve it, you smile whenever things get tough…”

taking a moment from his passionate rant, katsuki slows his breathing and composed himself — squeezing his little girl close. “yer the best thing that’s ever happened t’me ‘n yer ma. my proudest moment… i love ya so much. you’d never disappoint me.”

“really, daddy?” your baby sniffles, rubbing at her snotty nose.

bakugou nods with a gentle smile, cupping her face between his two floury hands before kissing her forehead z “really.” he affirms. “now get yer choppin’ skills together, this pasta sauce ain’t gonna make itself.”

the two blonde’s return to cooking, a comfortable silence settling in your family kitchen, also full of love. that night, your family of five sit together munching on homemade pasta bow ties in a sauce that your middle daughter had worked so hard to make. she grins brightly between her sisters, staring at her father with her shining red eyes thankfully.

in that moment, she knows that she is loved no matter what the status of her quirk is.

you link your fingers with bakugou’s under the table. “you did good, dad.” you whisper to him, stabbing through your pasta with your fork. “

“so did you, ma.” he whispers back gruffly, thumb running over your wedding band as he eats his pasta too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[artsarasp]

What do the others think about SQH in the possession AU? He seems like he’s doing the bulk of the emotional support and and keeping things running, does he try to explain the system like “yeah it’s the narrator of the story that we’re all unwilling characters in and we hate it but if we try to fight back it subjects us to the Horrors but it’s fine lol just — nope, can’t say that, but we’re fine! Totally not being forced to speedrun villain arcs!!” While everyone is forced to reevaluate everything they thought they knew about the resident hamster man

They are definitely worried about SQH too but they are trying not to ask him too much, they are in this situation in the first place because they were too insistent with SQQ. They wouldn't be able to deal with two of them. SQH can't just say whatever to them. His system allowed him to speak just enough to share the plan, he's not allowed to keep talking after that unless the system deems it necessary. Maybe his system will have to go into hibernation mode too after a while so he could try sharing more, but he probably wouldn't, afraid of getting hit with a bunch of penalties once it goes back online.

SQH probably took care of the logistics of moving out all the Qing Jing disciples from the mountain quickly, cause he's the logistics man!

Also, he and his system want to stay as far away from SQQ's System as possible and that was an opportunity to avoid it for a while. The peak lords didn't let him leave with the disciples however, they didn't trust SQH's system even if it gave them a plan. Now, since the way SQQ's System gives his missions causes a "qi deviation" or at least what looks like it, earlier MQF was taking care of the peak lords when they got back, but now MQF started doing missions too! So SQH is the one playing doctor, he's not great at it but he's the only one who won't get any missions.

[moviesismylife]

Overprotective mate (Azriel x f!reader)

Summary:

You offer Azriel a place at your house, to get away from Nesta and Cassian’s lust. You get injured on a mission for Rhys, and Azriel goes all mother hen mode.

Warnings:

Mentions of intimacy

Blood, injury

Mentions of alcohol

Tropes:

Who did this to you?

Friends to lovers

Note:

Hey lovelies, this is my first fic on here, so please be nice. I really enjoy writing and drooling over fictional characters, and I know you do too. So let’s feed our delusion together. I know y’all are thirsting over Azriel as much as I am.

Enjoy x

Y/n

I knock on Nesta and Cassian’s door, clothed in my fighting leathers.

The door knob twists and the door freaks, as I spot Nesta’s head poking through the door.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” She asks as he opens the door fully.

“Coming to see you, and also to talk to Azriel about something” I tell her.

She steps aside to let me in, and I do. The door closes behind me, and the warmth of the house hits my body.

My back is facing her, so she walks around me to face my front.

“Sorry about the mess, I was going to clean it up, but I got a little distracted” she says, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Okay ew, I did not need to know that” I say, making a disgusted face, and she just chuckles in response.

“Nes who’s here” a male voice says, as it enters the hallway we’re standing in.

“Cassian” I say smiling at him.

“Y/n!” He squeals, and runs over to hug me.

He lifts me off the floor easily, and spins me around.

I laugh, as I hug him back.

He lets me down, and stands next to Nesta.

“Where’s Az?” I ask them both.

They look towards the living room, and I take that as a hint.

I leave my weapons in the hallway, and head into the living area.

As I enter I can’t spot him, but I hear some noises coming from the kitchen, so naturally I head towards them.

When I enter, I spot Azriel with his back to me.

He has a towel slung over one of his shoulders, and the water is running in the sink. He’s clothed in his Illyrian fighting leathers, sculpting his body like a god.

“You just got done with your morning workout?” I ask, to make him aware of my presence.

He turns around, not at all startled, and just leans against the counter.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” He asks, as he sips from the water bottle he must have been filling up.

Fuck he looks insanely good. His hair is damp from his workout, and his cheeks are slightly tinted. His skin is glowing from the sweat, but he still manages to smell absolutely divine.

“I’m actually here to talk to you” I say, as I place my elbows on the kitchen isle in front of me, leaning forward.

“Okay…about what?” He asks me, putting down his water bottle.

“Well I have an offer for you” I tell him.

“What kind of offer?” He questions.

“To come live with me, instead of the two horndogs you’re living with right now” I answer him.

He raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“Look I have a spare room in my little cottage on the edge of the city, and I’m barely ever home. So do you need somewhere private and quiet to stay, my place is open” I explain to him.

“Oh uhm, are you sure?” He asks.

Honestly I’m kind of shocked he’s agree so quickly. I mean I would want to get away from Nesta and Cassian’s fucking too, but I expected him to mull it over more.

“Yeah of course. It’s no trouble. Besides as I said, I’m almost never home, so you’d basically have the place to yourself” I tell him.

“That’s generous of you, but I would have to talk to Nesta and Cassian about it first” he says, as he puts his towel down on the counter.

“Yeah, no of course” I say, and he gives me a slight nod, before walking off to find them.

*about 15 minutes later*

“Why do you have to leave us Az? I liked having you here” Cassian whines, as me and Azriel are standing in the hallway, ready to leave.

“It’s okay babe, we’ll have the house all to ourselves now” Nesta grins at him.

That makes him shut up, and grin back.

I roll my eyes and pick up my weapons.

“You’ll be free to visit anytime” I tell them both, and they nod at me.

“Okay you ready?” I ask Azriel, as I offer up my arm.

He links his in mine, and I winnow us out.

——————

We land in my own hallway, and I let go of his arm.

Again, I put my weapons down, and he does as well.

“Okay, you want me to show you around?” I turn to look at him.

He just nods. Not exactly a man of many words.

I walk left and into the living room.

“Okay, so here is the small living area, and in there is the kitchen” I say, pointing to an archway leading from the living room.

Then I walk back into the hallway.

“That door leads to a small bathroom” I hint to the door on the right.

“Okay that’s everything downstairs, so let me show you upstairs” I start walking up the stairs.

I can hear him following me as I lead us both up to the second floor.

As we reach the top of the stairs, there is a little hallway, with several doors on each side.

“Okay so uhm, this door leads into my room, and a private bathroom that connects with it” I say as I hint for the door on the left.

I walk in a little further, until I reach the first door on the right.

“And it’s basically the same in here, but you can feel free to explore it yourself” I continue.

He just nods in understanding.

I walk further until I reach two glass doors. I open them and walk out into a little balcony.

“So this is just a little comfort place, but I mostly use it for reading, drinking, and a landing spot for when I fly in” I explain to him.

Then I turn around to face him.

He’s just looking around him, studying everything.

“Okay well, I have to leave, but I’ll be back sometime tonight. I’ll try not to make a sound” I say, and he snaps his head to mine.

Again he just nods, and I take that as a hint for me to leave.

I turn around to walk back into the house when he speaks.

“Y/n?”

I turn around again to face him.

“Thank you” he smiles softly.

“Of course” I smile warmly back, before turning back around again, and walking into the hallway.

*hours later*

I winnow into my room, and land on the floor with a thud. I try to be more quiet as I stumble back steadily on my feet.

The wound on my hipbone is throbbing, and I need to attend to it now.

I promised Azriel I’d be quiet when I returned home, but I’ve not done so well this far.

I make my way over to my bathroom, grabbing some rubbing alcohol and a cloth. Then I stumble back into the bedroom, and take a seat on the bed.

I drop my weapons and every other thing I was carrying on the floor, as I try to unbutton my corset.

Fuck why does it have to be so difficult. I try not to moan out in pain, as my wound keeps on throbbing.

I was attacked by several water wraiths on my mission for Rhys. And I made my way out fine, except for the open wound on my hipbone.

But luckily I achieved what I wanted, and I was able to retrieve the item he sent me for.

Although that would be no help if I couldn’t deliver it to him in the morning. And right now, by the looks of the wound, I needed some serious healing.

There was some kind of poison in my wound and I’d try to extract it with my magic, to no avail.

I’d have to go to a healer tomorrow, but now I just wanted sleep.

I finally pull off my corset, and throw it on the floor, as I lift up my white linen shirt to get better access to the wound.

I grab the cloth and rubbing alcohol, pouring some on it, as I press the cloth to my flesh.

I scream in pain, as the alcohol connects with my open and fresh skin. Blood is already dripping everywhere, and I bite down on my lip to refrain from screaming again.

The last thing I want is to wake up Azriel.

The someone bursts through my door.

“Y/n!” Azriel says panicked, as he flings the door open.

I snap my head to him, and curse myself for waking him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you” I apologize as he heads over to me.

“What happened?” He asks, avoiding my apology.

He bends down in front of me, and kneels as he takes a look at my hand pressed firmly on my wound.

“Let me see it” he demands, as he looks up at me.

“No I’m fine. Go back to bed” I argue, as I wave him away.

“There’s no fucking way I’m leaving you like this” he curses, and I’m shocked at his sudden angry tone.

He notices and softens, as he speaks again.

“Just let me help you” he pleads, looking into my eyes, and I give up.

I raise my hand and cloth from the wound, revealing to to him.

“Who did this to you?” He ask as he removes the cloth slowly from my hand.

I let him.

“Water wraiths” I answer, as he moves his hand to my shirt.

He lifts it slightly higher, and I shiver as his fingers grazes my skin lightly.

He looks up into my eyes asking for permission to tend to my wound.

I just give him a slight nod, and he presses the cloth carefully onto my skin again.

I wince, as I grab onto his shoulder in reaction.

He cleans the wound thoroughly, and patches me up. He even uses some of his own magic to soothe out the pain.

As he’s finished I immediately feel relief wash over me.

“You’re gonna have to see a healer tomorrow” he says a he takes the alcohol and cloth into the bathroom.

“I will. After I talk to Rhys” I tell him.

“He sent you on this dangerous mission?” He questions as he turns around to walk back into my bedroom.

I don’t answer him, and use my magic to change from fighting leathers into a simple nightgown.

I let my hair stay in the messy braid it already is, before I crawl into my bed.

“Goodnight Azriel, and thank you” I say as I get comfortable.

He sighs and heads over to my door. He halts before walking out.

“Anytime you need me, I’m here. No matter what it is” he says, and I don’t get to respond before he vanishes out of my room, closing the door behind him.

I try not to think about it, as I close my eyes, waiting for sleep to pull me in. And eventually it does.

*next morning*

I open my eyes to sunlight beaming through my curtains. I shift to sit up in my bed.

As I lift my nightgown, I notice that my wound has worsened overnight. Although the throbbing sensation isn’t as bad as it was last night. Thanks to Azriel.

I get out of bed, and pull on some pants, as well as a red loose linen shirt, also pulling on a pair of simple black boots.

I look in the mirror to spot my hair a mess, so I take out the braid, and twist my hair into a messy bun, using a large hair pin to secure it.

Then I decide to head downstairs.

As I walk down, I hear some grumbling and clinking of metal, sounding from the kitchen.

I walk into the living room, and further into the kitchen, where I spot Azriel, cooking food.

That’s something I never thought I’d see.

He must notice my presence, because he turns his head slightly to the side, sliding his eyes over my body.

I can’t help but feel tingles as he roams his gaze over me.

“You feeling better?” He asks as he turns his head back around.

I debate whether I should tell him about the spreading of the wound or not. But I do, as he’s probably gonna demand to see it anyways.

“A little yeah, your magic helped a lot with the pain. But the poison has spread” I say, sitting down at the small kitchen table.

“Let me see it” he demands as expected, turning his full body around to face me.

I sigh, and lift up my shirt to the expose the infected wound.

He curses under his breath, and strides over to where I’m sitting.

“I’m gonna kill Rhys for letting this happen to you” he says angrily.

“Az it’s fine. I chose to go. Rhys didn’t force me” I explain to him.

“You got hurt y/n. Badly” he looks into my eyes.

He’s standing in front of me, making me look up at him.

“I told you, I’m fine” I say again.

He lifts my chin up slightly, placing a hand under it.

“I’m coming with you to the town house” he says and walks away, back to whatever he’s cooking.

I sigh, knowing I won’t be able to stop him. If he wants to come, he’s gonna come.

——————

Me and Az are standing in the living room in the town house with Rhys.

“Why did you let her leave when you knew how dangerous it was?” Azriel asks Rhys mad.

He’s been cursing out Rhys for the past five minutes now, for letting me go on a mission with him. I’ve been trying to stop Az but he won’t listen to me.

“Azriel. She wanted to go herself. And I’m sorry she got hurt. But you can’t put this on me” Rhys says calmly, trying to reason with Az.

“I don’t fucking care! This IS your fault! If it was Feyre that got hurt, how would you have reacted then huh?” Az argues, but Rhys is just standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Do not bring Feyre into this” Rhys warns.

“Bring me into what?” A soft voice asks from behind.

We all turn our heads to spot Feyre, Mor, Nesta and Cassian all standing in the hallway, looking at us.

“It’s nothing guys…” I try to tell them.

“Then why does Azriel look like he’s gonna rip Rhys’s head off?” Cassian asks confused.

I sigh heavily, taking a deep breath.

“Rhys sent y/n on a dangerous mission and almost got her killed. And then he doesn’t even care” Azriel explains to them, and they all turn their heads to Rhys.

“He’s being over dramatic. Y/n wanted to go herself” Rhys tries to explain calmly to the others.

“Over dramatic? Have you seen her fucking wound?” Azriel curses, very angry.

Everyone looks shocked at Azriel’s swearing. He’s the quiet type, and rarely gets angry in front of others. Especially angry with us.

“Az…please calm down..” I say breaking the silence.

“I won’t calm down when you could have died y/n” he yells at me.

“Why are you yelling at me? I’m just trying to talk to you” I answer a little annoyed at him for yelling at me, when it’s Rhys he’s actually angry with.

He doesn’t answer and just tries to steady his breathing instead. Then Cassian walks over to me.

“Let me see your injury y/n…” he tells me quietly, to not trigger Azriel.

I lift up my shirt to show the infected wound, spreading more and more over my body.

He slaps his hand over his mouth, as he looks at it, and the girls run over to see how bad it is. They too look scared as they inspect the wound.

“Rhys this is not a normal wound. I think she’s been poisoned” Feyre says as she looks at her mate.

He walks over to me to see it for himself, and raises his eyebrows in shock as he sees it.

“Fuck. I’m sorry y/n. I shouldn’t have let you go on that mission for me” he apologizes.

“No it’s fine, I wanted to myself” I tell him, and he gives me an apologetic smile.

“Azriel please don’t be mad at him for this…” I say as I look over at him.

“Az come on man…we’ll take her to a healer” Cassian adds as well, trying to get his attention.

I sigh, moving away from the others and walking over to him.

He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and I move my hands to them, to untuck his tight grip.

As I touch his arms, he rests a little into me, letting me touch him.

“You promised you’d go with me to the healer…” I say at a desperate attempt to get his attention.

Finally he looks up at me.

“Fine. But we’re leaving now” he agrees, but doesn’t show any emotion.

The others don’t say anything as he strides to the front door to leave as fast as he can.

I wait to follow him, turning my attention to the others.

“I’ll talk to him alright? He’ll be fine, he just needs to calm down” I tell them.

They nod their heads, and I move the front door, to leave with Az.

——————

We arrive at the healer, and a kind fae named Victoria inspects my wound.

I am sitting on a medical bed, while Azriel is standing in the corner, arms crossed over his chest.

“Your wound has been poisoned” Victoria says as she touches my skin slightly.

“Yeah we kind of figured that part out ourselves” I joke slightly.

She touches my wound and I wince.

“I’m sorry” she says, pulling away.

“It’s fine, just help me please” I say, stealing a quick glance over at Azriel.

His face is blank, watching every movement.

Victoria walks over to a little table, grabbing some herbs and medicine, before walking back over to me.

“I’ll put these herbs on your wound, and it should heal in about a week. I will also give you these pills for the pain. And I would highly advise you to take it slow, and not do anything to livid, so it can heal faster” she tells me, putting the herbs on the infected wound.

I nod my head in understanding.

“I’ll be careful, and postpone any energetic exercises until it’s fully healed” I tell her.

She smiles warmly at me.

“Should anything go wrong, you come to me alright?” She asks as she bandages up my wound again.

“Of course” I smile at her, standing up from the bed.

I walk over to the door and Azriel follows me.

“Oh and remember to change your bandage daily” she adds quickly, and I nod again, before walking out of her little office.

Me and Azriel walk into the sunny streets of Velaris, and a light breeze blows by.

“See I told you it was fine” I say, trying to lighten Azriel’s mood.

“You got lucky” he answers coldly, and I roll my eyes.

“Are you still in a mood? Stop being so over dramatic” I say as I turn to look at him.

“I’m not over dramatic. I’m just being protective. I hate seeing you hurt” he tells me and I feel my heart jump a beat at his words.

“Well I’m glad you care about me Az, but I don’t want you to flip out on everyone because I got hurt” I say, as I cross my arms over my chest.

He doesn’t say anything, and just looks down at the ground in silence.

I sigh.

“Can we go back to the town house now? And can you please promise me that you won’t stay mad at Rhys?” I ask him, and he looks up at me.

“I promise to try” he answers me, and I sigh in defeat, knowing that’s the best answer I’ll get.

Then we walk back, heading towards the town house.

——————

“We’re back!” I yell as we enter the town house.

I take off my shoes and coat and walk into the living room, where I find all of them chatting amongst themselves.

“Y/n how’d it go?” Rhys asks as Azriel comes up behind me.

“It went fine actually. The nurse put some herbs on my wound to kill the poison, and some pills for the pain. But it should be healed in about a week” I say smiling softly at him.

“That’s great y/n” Feyre tells me, and I smile at her too.

Rhys looks at Azriel staring behind me, and guilt flashes his face.

“Az…can we please squash it. It’s my fault I know. I shouldn’t have sent y/n on that mission” he says, looking at Azriel.

I hear Az sighing behind me, placing a gentle hand on my back, before speaking.

“Just don’t do it again” he says, accepting Rhys’s apology.

Rhys smiles contently.

Then I spit Cassian looking at the hand Azriel’s placed on my back, and he smirks.

Azriel notices Cassian too, and immediately pulls his hand back.

Cassian just chuckles at his reaction.

“Why don’t we go to Rita’s tonight? I think we all need it” I suggest.

“Can you drink with your injury?” Mor asks looking at me.

“Yeah as long as I don’t drink too much I should be fine. Tell you what I’ll be the responsible parent tonight” I answer.

“You know I could actually get down for that” Feyre agrees.

“Me too” Nesta adds.

“Me three” Cassian says, agreeing with everything his mate says.

The others nod in agreement as well.

“Okay great. We leave in thirty” I say, and walk towards the stairs, to go upstairs and get ready.

——————

I’m wearing a short, black, backless glitter dress, with some black heels. I’ve got my hair hanging down in loose waves, and some golden hoops in my ears.

I head downstairs to where the others are standing. Mor is wearing a red, satin, slit dress. Feyre is wearing a midnight blue, strapless dress. And Nesta is wearing an all black one, with long sleeves.

All the guys are clothed in the same black dress pants and shirts. The top buttons undone to show their muscular chests.

”Mor I love your dress” I smile at her.

“Thanks babes. You look hot ” she winks back.

“Yeah you look beautiful y/n” Azriel adds as well.

I look at him, kind of surprised at this sudden compliment. The others have the same reaction, as they look between us.

“Thanks Az…” I say awkwardly.

Feyre spots the obvious tension, and decides to interfere”

“Let’s go shall we?”

Rhys nods his head and opens the door, and we all leave.

——————

Azriel

I watch y/n as she dances and laughs with the other girls. She looks absolutely stunning, I can’t tear my eyes away from her.

I should have never anything earlier, although she didn’t seem to bother.

“Hey Az…you might wanna avert your gaze somewhere else for a while” Rhys says from beside me, in our little booth.

“What�� I turn to look at him.

“You’ve been watching y/n like a hawk for the last thirty minutes now” he answers, smirking a little.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, even though I know he’s right.

“Az you’re completely eye fucking her” Cassian says as well, and I roll my eyes.

“I am not” I snap at him.

“Whatever you say” he grins.

I roll my eyes at him again, standing up.

“Where are you going?” Rhys asks confused.

“To get a drink” I answer shortly, and stride for the bar.

Y/n

“I’m tired can we sit down?” Feyre asks as another song comes on.

“Yeah I’m tired too” Mor adds.

“Yeah okay” I say, and we walk out of the crowd.

I head towards our little booth, where Cassian and Rhys are both sitting. No Azriel though.

“Hey, you guys done already?” Cassian asks as Nesta sits down next to him.

“You try to dance for an hour straight” she snaps at him, and he just laughs, placing a hand on her thigh.

“Hey where’s Azriel?” Feyre asks, taking a seat next to her mate.

Mor moves next to Feyre and I move next to Nesta.

“He said he was getting a drink, but he’s been gone for a while now” Rhys answers, looking out in the crowd for him.

“Azriel never drinks” I say, as I take a sip of Cassian’s from the table.

“Hey” he snaps at me, but I just glare at him.

“Maybe you should go looking for him y/n” Nesta says, looking at me.

“Why me?” I ask her.

“Because no one else wants to” she answers shortly.

“Fine…” I sigh, and get up.

I walk over to the crowd again to see if I spot him. I try to look over all the dancing bodies, but I can’t see him. Instead I take a quick look over at the bar, but I don’t find him there either.

I stand up on my tiptoes, searching for him, when I feel a pair of two large hands on my waist.

I turn around quickly, to find two drunken hazel eyes staring at me.

“Azriel” I say in surprise, as he’s standing very close.

We’re in the middle of the crowd, with several sweaty bodies pressed up against each other, making very little space for us.

He keeps his hands on my waist, while trailing his eyes all over my body. I blush slightly at his gaze, but try to hide it.

His grip tightens, and he pulls me into him, making my hands go to his chest in support.

Then he angels his head, moving his gaze to my lips. His fingers trace the bare back that’s not covered by my dress, and I slightly shiver.

“Azriel what are you doing…” I say lowly, as his fingers trail over my bare skin.

He doesn’t respond and instead moves his head to my ear, whispering.

“You look beautiful my love…”

I feel heat rise to my cheeks again at his words.

“You’re drunk” I respond slowly.

“I still think you’re absolutely divine” he speaks again and I don’t move.

He moves away from my ear, only for his face to be inches from mine.

My breathing gets heavy and I struggle to keep eye contact. What is happening to me?

“We should head back to the others…” I tell him.

“Should we?” He questions, looking at my lips again.

“Yes…” I breathe out, pulling away from him hesitantly.

He lets go of me, and I turn away, walking away from the crowd once again.

I can feel him following me, so I don’t stop.

As we reach our booth, the others turn to look at me. And Azriel, who comes up next to me, placing a hand on my waist.

“I see you found him” Rhys says, gazing towards the hand on my waist.

“Uh yes I did” I respond, moving to sit next to Nesta again.

“I can’t believe I’m even saying this. But is Azriel drunk?” Mor asks, grinning a little, as she looks at him.

“Mhm…” I nod in reply.

Her grin turns even wider, and I see the others mouths turning up as well.

Then Azriel decides to move next to me, despite the also empty spot next to Mor, and sits down.

He doesn’t seem embarrassed, as he moves as close as possible to me.

I shift in my seat nervously, as his body heat and scent radiates onto my own.

“Hey buddy, why are you clinging to y/n so much huh?” Cassian asks, a wide smirk plastered on his face, and I glare at him.

“Yeah Az, please elaborate on this sudden infatuation with our dear friend y/n here” Mor adds, and I shoot her a glare too.

“What do you mean sudden…” Azriel responds shortly, as he turns his head to her.

Feyre and Mor gasp in shock, and Nesta chuckles as I blush badly.

“She’s so beautiful…” he mumbles, pushing some hair off my shoulder.

I sit completely still, as I feel his piercing gaze on me.

I hear Cassian struggle not to laugh his ass off, and I see the others grinning like hell.

“Hey Az…maybe we should go back” I say, turning to look at him.

“No don’t leave yet” Mor whines.

“No it’s fine, I’ll take him with me to my cottage. I promised to be the responsible parent right?” I say smiling a little.

“Maybe she’s right. I think Azriel needs to go to bed” Rhys agrees.

“Fine…” Mor sighs in defeat, and I smile a little.

Then I turn to Azriel again, moving to stand up. He rises from his seat, and I follow.

“Come on big guy…” I say as I link my arm in his and walk for the exit.

“Have fun!” Cassian winks and I flip him off.

The others laugh as I lead Azriel out of Rita’s.

——————

We arrive at my small cottage and I stumble us inside.

I flip off my heels and drag Azriel with me upstairs. Then I lead him into his bedroom and sit him on the bed.

As I try to walk away, he grabs my waist, pulling me in between his legs. I steady my hands on his shoulders in response.

He then rubs circles with his thumbs in soothing motion, and I tug my hair behind my ears.

His hands move up to my waist and up to my bare back again, pushing me closer to him. My thighs are touching his, and my hands have moved to rest comfortably on his neck and shoulders.

“I’m sorry for making you angry” he apologizes.

“I’m not angry Az” I answer him.

“You’re not?” He questions.

“No. I was annoyed with you, but not anymore” I tell him, as I move a hand to stroke his cheek.

He smiles slightly.

“Good”

One of his hands move to my neck, pulling it down towards his face. I follow his lead, leaning down.

He moves my face slowly towards his, before brining his lips to mine softly.

I’m taken back by surprise, but don’t hold back, as I get more comfortable. I decide to sit on his lap, and he immediately places his hands on my waist to keep me in place.

I kiss him passionately, keeping my hands on his face, to cup his cheeks.

But then I realize what I’m doing and pull away.

“Shit I shouldn’t have done that” I say, standing up from his lap.

“No y/n wait-“

“No you need to go to bed Azriel” I cut him off, striding towards the door.

“Y/n please” I hear him beg behind me, but I continue to walk out and into my own room.

When I get into my own bedroom, I shut the door closed, and throw myself on the bed.

I slip off my dress, and put an oversized t-shirt to sleep in. Then I force myself to go to sleep, pushing away all my feelings. And also the fact that Azriel is my fucking mate.

——————

I wake up and walk down into the kitchen. Azriel hasn’t woken up yet luckily.

I decide to grab some juice from the fridge, and drink straight from the bottle, before I hear steps entering the kitchen.

I don’t even turn around as his presence fills the room.

“Good morning…” he says quietly, heading over to where I’m standing.

“Morning” I respond shortly, not turning around.

He reaches the fridge and I turn around to face the counter, as he moves past me.

“Y/n about last night…I’m sorry” he starts to apologize.

“For what?” I ask boldly, my back still facing him.

“For leading you on, and making you kiss me. It was foolish of me” he admits, and I can feel him standing close.

“I wanted to kiss you” I say turning around, and leaning my back against the counter.

He only raises his eyebrows in shock and confusion.

“You were drunk, I just didn’t wanna take advantage of you” I continue, sitting up on the counter, my feet dangling off the edge.

My t-shirt is only long enough to cover my ass, so when I sit, it rises up my thighs. Azriel takes a notice of this and steals a glance at the bare skin of my thighs, before speaking.

“Well I appreciate that but uhm…actually I…” he stutters as he talks. Unusual.

“You what…” I urge for him to keep going.

He only walks closer to me, placing his hands on my thighs. I shiver at his touch, knowing his shadows can sense it.

“Say it Azriel…” I tell him as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“You’re my…” he hesitates.

I pull him closer to me, so our noses are barely touching.

“Mate” I finish for him, smashing my lips onto his.

He doesn’t think twice as his hands move to my waist, pulling me closer to him.

I keep my hands on his neck, running my fingers through his hair, as I kiss him passionately.

He’s so fucking good at this. His hands dig into my sides, and he opens his mouth, so I can slide my tongue in. And I do.

He kisses me more roughly, pulling and tugging at my shirt. His teeth graze my bottom lip as he slightly nibbles.

I pull away to catch my breath, only for him to crash his lips onto my neck instead.

I push my hair to one side, as he trails his tongue over my skin. Then he decides to start sucking instead. I let out a silent moan as he bites into my neck.

With that he pushes into me even more, making our lower abdomens graze each other.

“Y/n…” he groans, and I wrap my legs around his torso.

I pull his head up from my neck, so we’re face to face.

We make eye contact, and I move my hand to push some hair out of his face. Then I cup his cheeks, and lean in to place my forehead on his.

I close my eyes, and breathe in his scent and presence.

His hands rest on my hips, with my legs still wrapped loosely around him.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers.

I raise my head and open my eyes.

“For what?” I ask confused.

“For being such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let you get hurt, but I definitely shouldn’t have lashed out like I did. It’s just that you mean the world to me. If you get hurt, I get hurt. If you die, I die” he answers.

I can’t help but feel bad for him. He’s genuinely hurting because of this.

“Azriel…you mean the world to me too. Believe me, I wouldn’t have held back if you got inured either. It just upset me that you didn’t listen to me when I told you it was fine” I say, stroking his cheek soothingly with my thumb.

“I know love…and I promise I’ll listen you next time. Can you forgive me?” He asks, regret shining his eyes.

“There is nothing to forgive…” I answer, leaning in slowly to give his lips a comforting kiss.

He doesn’t stop me as I kiss him. This time the kiss is not filled with lust and hunger, but pure love and longing.

As I pull away again, I keep my hands on his neck, and he keeps mine on my hips.

“Breakfast?” I ask him softly, trailing fingers through his hair.

“Mhm” he nods, and leans in to give another quick and loving kiss.

We both smile through the kiss, and I feel every part of my body relaxing at his touch.

——————

“You know we’re gonna get bullied for centuries for this?” I say, as I take a bite of my fried egg toast.

“Oh trust me I know…Cassian is going to be a big pain in the ass to say the least” Azriel replies, as he eats too.

“As long as I get to have you all for mysel” I say, a hint of seduction in my voice.

He just cocks an eyebrow at me knowingly, and I take another bite of my food.

“We don’t have anything important planned today right…” he asks, not looking up at me, as he sips his juice.

“No I don’t think so…why?” I ask curiously.

He just shrugs, and I give him a playful look.

“I’m glad you moved in here with me…” I say, finishing my food.

“Me too…” he trails off as he also finishes up.

I grab my plate and cup, heading over to the sink to wash it. I hear Azriel following me from behind.

As I wash my dishes, he comes up behind me, placing his own in the sink. I wash his too, as his hands start to roam my body.

Still wearing my t-shirt, he presses into my back, running his hands up my thighs. I can already fell my body aching for him.

I truly underestimated the whole mating thing. When Rhys and Feyre told me they basically fucked each other with no breaks for a week, I only laughed at them. But now I want nothing more than to let Azriel do the same to me.

As his hands smoothes over my bare skin, a shiver runs down my spine. He lifts my t-shirt up to my waist, exposing my underwear.

One of his hands trail under my shirt, up towards my breast, while the other goes to my ass.

I lean my head slightly back, closing my eyes. His lips move to the bare skin of my neck, licking and kissing.

When his hand finally reaches my breast, he cups it, running his finger smoothly over the already hardened nipple.

I let out a slight moan, as he touches the sensitive spot. He just smirks into my neck, as he starts to suck it.

My hands find their way to the counter, grabbing it harshly, my knuckles turning white.

I continue to let out several whimpers and slight moans, as his hand and tongue devour me.

Then his hips grind into my backside. His bulge grazing into my ass. With that we both let out loud moans.

——————

“I thought we had nothing planned today…” I breathe out as Azriel’s head in between my legs.

“We didn’t. But apparently Rhys did…” he murmurs into my skin.

“I’m gonna kill him” I say, thinking about the dinner we have to attend in one hour.

“Me and you both” Azriel agrees, before sliding his tongue into me, earning a loud moan.

——————

“Geez I can practically smell what you’ve been doing from over here” Cassian says, putting a hand over his nose jokingly.

Me and Azriel just landed in the front veranda of the House of Wind, all dressed up for the dinner Rhys insisted we have.

I shoot Cassian a death glare, bumping into him on purpose as I walk past him.

“For your own sake. Keep your mouth shut Cass” I hear Azriel tell him as he follows me inside.

Everyone is seated at the dinner table, all dressed up. I take a seat next to Nesta, Azriel sitting next to me. Cassian comes in a moment later, sitting himself beside his mate.

I suddenly notice everyone staring and grinning at me and Azriel. Of course they know. They’re our family.

“You enjoyed yourself today?” Rhys smirks widely.

“I will literally murder you” I threaten him, but he just laughs.

“Your bond is really fucking strong. It almost makes me dizzy” Mor adds, looking over at me and Azriel.

I knew the mating bond was strong, but not as strong as they’re implying.

“It enhances itself once it’s been fulfilled. That’s why we can sense it so easily” Amren explains, looking between me and Az.

“Well I wanna say congratulations y/n and Azriel. You both deserve it” Feyre smiles at us both.

She is way too kind to be mated with the arrogant, baby high lord, Rhys.

“Thank you” Azriel smiles slightly at her.

“So how did it all happen? What made you finally give in?” Rhys asks, as he pours himself some wine.

“Do you need to know all the details?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

He just smirks at me, taking a sip of his drink.

“It was me” Azriel speaks up from beside me.

Everyone turns their heads to him, including me.

“What do you mean Az?” Mor questions.

“My stupid drunken ass kissed her when we got home from Rita’s” he tells everyone.

Several gasps echoes through the room. I myself let out a little sound of surprise.

“Damn Az…I don’t expect that. How did you handle that y/n?” Cassian asks me.

They’re all looking at me. Awaiting my response.

“I kissed him back. Only for a few seconds though until I got my shit together” I say.

“And then you just went to sleep?” Nesta ask confused.

I nod my head at her.

The other seem kind of confused as well, looking at us weirdly.

“And then when I woke up, I kissed her again. But she didn’t resist me that time” Azriel smiles proudly.

I roll my eyes, and hit him in the arm playfully. He just stifles a laugh.

“And then what…” Feyre asks intrigued.

Rhys raises his eyebrows at his mate’s sudden interest. But she just keeps her gaze on me and Azriel.

“And then the bond snapped together. I think you know what happens next…” I say, grinning a bit at the last part.

Azriel goes red out of embarrassment at my slight exposing. Cassian just throws his head back with laughter, and the others snicker as well.

“Well I just lost my appetite” Amren says, pushing her plate away.

“Please like you were gonna eat any of that anyways” Mor tells her, still kind of laughing.

Amren just rolls her eyes and glares at her, but Mor doesn’t seem a tiny bit bothered.

As the laughter quiets down, everyone starts pouring food onto their plates. Except for Amren. And the conversation flows back to other things.

Azriel puts his hand on my thigh, letting it rest there. And I don’t feel a tiny bit uncomfortable, as I let it stay there for the rest of the dinner.

[jinx-xxed]

Supreme Leader

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; The motivation for this one legit came out of nowhere but I can’t even complain 🫶 this is the best smut I’ve done to date I think

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; You come back to find Snoke gone… and Kylo Ren has taken his place.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander Reader, aftermath of TLJ, angst to sad fluff, original characters, you get promoted!!!, Kylo’s mean, Kylo gets a lightsaber pulled on him, you have a saberstaff, throne room confrontation turns into throne room sex, fucking on the throne, tension, you’re still not Kylo’s biggest fan lol, helmet on, gloves on, calling Kylo by his proper title, orgasm denial, overstimulation, inappropriate use of the Force, very dominant Kylo, fingering, unprotected piv sex, riding Kylo, humiliation, degradation, praise, talking about feelings

Wc; 6.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

There’s a sharp ping that comes from the device imbedded into your metal arm cuffs, overriding the silence mode you have it set on and making you startle. You grumble to yourself, pausing your work to tap a few things on the screen and project a smaller screen above it. There it reads the message: all troops involved with mission-76653 cease operations and return to base immediately. There’s coordinates to the Steadfast attached and not the Supremacy, you note.

“Are you serious?” You snap to yourself. The members of Fleet 74 who came along with you on this expedition stop at your voice, looking back at you curiously. You sigh, lifting a hand and making a circular motion with a finger. “We’re heading back to base, I guess. Direct orders.”

Jaharah begins to protest. “Now? But we haven’t finished-“

“I know. I’m not happy about it either.” You say, a scowl settling nicely onto your features. You traveled all the way out to some planet in the Outer Rim to basically have to go right back. You turn, starting the journey to the speeders you’d left behind that’ll return you to your ship that’s even farther away. The others reluctantly follow. “I hope whatever bastard demanded this realizes we’re still two weeks out.”

Lyra’s hands wring together nervously. “Do you think something bad happened? Maybe the resistance-“

You scoff sharply. “The resistance couldn’t hope to do anything against Snoke’s ship, not as things stand now. This is something else.” Or you’d think so.

You won’t admit that you’re worried about what that ‘something else’ could be.

» ☆ «

The trip back to base was just as annoying as the trip out to the assigned planet was. Traveling in a cramped transport ship for two weeks isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world. But finally, there’s a familiar beeping of the sensors and the filter of hyperspace fades away to reveal the massive Star Destroyer that is the Steadfast sitting amongst the blankness of space.

The ship is brought into the hangar and you immediately get the feeling that something is off. A tension in the atmosphere, a shiver running up your arms beneath your uniform. Stormtroopers stand about in a more stiff manner than usual, and the lower workers of the Steadfast seem to have become as meek as mice. There’s also a tinge of leftover smoke in the air, like something blew up within the Star Destroyer. You glance back at your Fleet members as they exit their ships; they feel it too, but Jaharah shrugs, just as lost as you are.

“General,” comes a sudden voice. You snap back around to see a trooper standing before you. “Your presence is requested in the throne room immediately. And the Fleet’s.”

The throne room? What would Snoke want with you now? And what would he want with your Fleet?

You nod, following the Stormtrooper as he acts like some guide through the Steadfast. You’re sure you could find your way faster than he ever could, but you follow along to be nice. The walk there is long, of course, since the ship is so ungodly huge. The hall turns colder as the throne room doors come into view, and it’s like the tension you felt in the air before becomes about ten times heavier, threatening to weigh you down and prevent you from going forward. There’s Sith Troopers guarding the doors, and you see the members of Fleet 74 who stayed behind waiting there as well.

You look to Chief, your second in command. “What is this about?” You demand in a whisper.

“You’ll see.” She mutters. You don’t like that.

The Fleet gets in to a close formation with yourself at the head. The doors open and you’re led inside. You nearly freeze in your tracks with the sight you’re met with.

Snoke is no more. Instead, sitting in a newly made, imposing throne, is Kylo Ren.

He wears his full uniform, hood pulled over his helmet adorned with the red veins that stick the shattered pieces back together coursing through the black metal. His Knights fan out on either side of the throne, still as statues with their weapons held tightly in their hands. Kylo himself is clearly trying to be every bit as intimidating as Snoke was, with his boots firmly planted on the ground, gloved hands clutching the arm rests, back straight as a board.

You kneel before he even gets the chance to tell you to because somehow, initiating it yourself is less humiliating. You hear the Fleet follow suit behind you. The cold, reflective metal of the floor bites into your knee as you stare at it.

There’s an unnerving silence and you feel his eyes on you. Then, “welcome back, Commander.”

You perk at the title, your head shooting up. “Commander?”

“It seems we’ve both gotten promotions.” Kylo drawls. “Snoke is dead, killed by the Jedi girl in his own ship.”

Liar.

He knows that you know, and he also knows that you know it’s better to keep your mouth firmly shut. The discussion you’ll have later should be interesting.

“I’ve taken his place, and I believe it’s most logical to make you my Commander. Fleet 74 will remain as it is. I’m sure you can handle the extra duties, correct?” He asks.

You dip your head again. “Yes, of course. I’m honored, Com-“ you clear your throat, correcting yourself, “Supreme Leader.” It feels wrong.

He taps a finger against the arm rest. “Then you’re dismissed. You and I will talk later.”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

You rise with the Fleet, leading them out of the throne room with tense muscles. As soon as the doors close behind you, a few of them clap you on the back, congratulating you on the new position. You can’t share in the celebration, unable to ignore the itch in the back of your mind that you can’t quite get rid of.

What the hell happened while you were gone?

» ☆ «

You’re called back to the throne room an hour later.

You know you don’t have a choice in the matter, the message was very clear in that sense. You either go willingly or you’re sure someone will come along to drag you there. So you put away the report you were filing on your forcefully failed mission and push yourself from your chair. You walk down familiar halls, you try to ignore the tremor in your hands by clenching them into fists.

The path to the throne room is void of life, as if it’s a radioactive zone that nobody wants to enter. The description isn’t far off; it feels like you enter into a cloud of smog that chokes you when you get near and it sends a shiver down your spine. The Dark is heavy, threatening, and thick in the area. It parts for you when you pass through, ever so willing to obey your commands even if it doesn’t belong to you, but you feel it pressing in on every side. You take a deep breath when you see the doors leading into the throne room finally appear around a corner, looming like a beast waiting to pounce.

You push them open without pause, steeling yourself and the nerves that buzz beneath your skin. Your face is set with hard lines, your brows slightly drawn over your eyes and your lips positioned with a small downturn. Cold air and the sharp tang of polished metal hits you when you step inside, the click of your heels against the ever-so shiny floor the only sound.

You quickly take note of the fact that the room is empty. There are no Guards, no Stormtroopers, no Knights. Only him.

There is only Kylo Ren, sitting on a false throne.

You feel his eyes behind that mask trained on you as soon as you enter, crawling along your form and taking in every bit of you. He looks as he did before, his body cloaked in black robes with his hood framing his helmet, hiding it from the light. The throne isn’t the same as Snoke’s, this one has had to be built from scratch like many things after the utter obliteration of the Supremacy. This new chair has clearly taken inspiration given its size, but the energy surrounding it has changed. It isn’t as Dark as people would believe it to be.

You stop a healthy distance away from the dais, your perfect reflection along the floor mirroring your movements. “You requested me, Supreme Leader?” The title feels wrong and foreign on your tongue when referring to him and you struggle to hide the mockery in your tone, though he hears it all the same. There’s a seed of unease that burrows itself in your gut, eager to bloom into something bigger as you stare at the man you’ve worked with for most of your life. All of this was unexpected, and that’s where your problem lies. Kylo did this, he got himself to this position—and you don’t understand it.

His gloved hands brace against the armrests as he stands. You watch him intensely, your body feeling like it’s pulled taut as a bowstring, ready for something that you don’t know about yet. Your breathing stutters in your chest, it quickens with your heartbeat. He walks down those steps, one after another with the grace and power of a leader that knows his strength. There’s a brush against the shields in your mind, a familiar Force signature that’s taunting you, playing a game that you’re not interested in. You recoil from the touch, quickly forcing it away from you and out of your head. It can’t be trusted.

He reaches the same level you’re on but when he tries to take another inch of the space between you, you find your lightsaber in front of you. It screams to life, red beams of plasma coming from either end. It lets out a steady hum through the handle clenched in your palm—a threat, a promise. Kylo pauses where he is and you glare at him over the weapon, the red bouncing off the silver on his helmet.

“What did you do?” You demand, words spat from between your teeth.

“Don’t be stupid.” He sneers, deep voice crackling through the vocoder.

He moves towards you again, unfazed by the deadly lightsaber you have pointed directly at him. His pace is unrelenting and you move yourself backwards, eager to keep the same distance. You bare your teeth, twisting to follow him as he circles you like a predator. “What happened to Snoke?”

There’s a minuscule shake of his head as he observes you. “I told you-“

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Kylo. What did you do?” You say again. You want a straight answer, you want to know what the fuck happened when you were gone. You want to know what happened to the man you were beginning to trust. You remember the hunger he’d had in his eyes when you’d first met him, the insatiable desire for power and to prove himself to whoever dared doubt him. You wonder how that young man would feel seeing himself now like this, standing at the top of the galaxy. And you wonder how much farther he’ll go, if this is where you make the stand for your life because you’re a threat.

“I did what I had to.” He says coldly with nothing but conviction. “You’ll understand.” He got himself behind you, now forcing you to walk in the opposite direction to stay away from him. There’s ripples in the Force, the darkness swirling around you both. You feel him at the shields you keep up, but he’s not trying like he should be to get in. He’s basically just sitting there, occasionally reaching forward to remind you that he’s waiting. It’s a silent plea to be let in, but you won’t listen.

“Snoke was a worthless coward. He was incapable of fighting his own battles. Why do you feel such remorse for him when he’s the one who’s caused you so much pain?” Kylo demands, angry at the idea of you sympathizing with Snoke. You don’t. You never would. You’re glad to see that he’s gone, that you’ll never again have to experience dread when returning back to base. Snoke tortured you both but after knowing of him ever since you were a child, hearing him in your head, that seed of unease blooms into fear. What will happen now? What kind of leader could Kylo Ren possibly be?

You don’t have the chance to ponder it further. The backs of your legs hit the seat of the throne after having been forced up the dais by Kylo who now comes so close it causes you to fall unceremoniously into the chair. Your lightsaber is still active, poised at his throat even as he slams both hands on either armrest, caging you in. “I saved us,” he snarls, “and this is how you thank me?”

Even as Kylo’s presence threatens to rob you of breath, his darkness trying to choke you, you don’t cower. Your lightsaber reflects in your eyes in the same way it does his helmet, the heat from the plasma an uncomfortable presence between you. “How am I supposed to trust you?” You practically throw the words in his face, and you can see the way they make him recoil. It’s barely there, so very slight, but he draws back just a fraction of a centimeter and you hear the creak of his gloves as he grips the armrests tighter. It hurts him, it brings you satisfaction. You feel the flinch in the Force, betraying his true emotions to someone like you who’s more attuned than he realizes.

And then it’s gone. He brushes it aside and replaces that emotion with bristling anger. He reaches past your arm, past your lightsaber without a care, and he grips your chin. You want to thrash against him, want to fight against his hold; it would be so easy with the saber you have against his neck. But you can’t bring yourself to. You let him hold you there as he makes sure you’re looking at him, his fingers digging into your jaw.

“He was going to have me kill you.” Kylo says, tone quiet and blunt as he brings forth information he’d been holding inside of himself for so long, letting it consume him. “That’s why I sent you away.” Scenes flash in your mind, brought to you by Kylo so that you can see exactly what terrified him, to see what caused that sense of fear he had that day he gave you your mission.

Snoke would’ve had you both come to the throne room, and you would’ve thought nothing was amiss. But then he would reveal that he wished to further Kylo’s training after his recent failures, and that you were the key to making him stronger. That key was your own death. Snoke would admit as such, that he wants Kylo to kill you. You could feel it—the rage inside of you, the despair. Snoke had always favored Kylo over you because Kylo had a name behind him, he had a legacy. You were just a kid with a meaningless family that he picked up off a worthless planet that turned out to have more potential than anyone could’ve ever dreamed. You’d surpassed Kylo in more than enough trials to prove that and yet… it didn’t matter. You were to die to push someone else forward.

“You would’ve fought,” Kylo murmurs, briefly breaking you from the vision, “but you would’ve lost.”

You see what he means. You turned on Snoke, you lashed out with everything you had in you as the Praetorian Guards advanced. You killed all of them, your will to live greater than their own strength, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough against Snoke, who forced you to your knees even as he struggled to do so from your protesting. You could’ve been something, you could’ve been more, but you were just fodder for the machine. You at least looked Kylo in the eyes with your chin held high when he lifted the hilt of his lightsaber. The vision cut out directly after that, and you find yourself heaving for breath.

Your own lightsaber is gone, taken from your grip by Kylo while you watched your death play out. The anger that boils in your gut almost feels misplaced because that future never came to pass, and it never will. Because of what Kylo did. He sent you on a convenient mission to the Outer Rim, as far away from Snoke as possible. Then he took his chances back here, trying to figure out some way to save you, and then the perfect opportunity was laid at his feet.

He keeps his hold on you, forcing you to watch through his own eyes and learn of what he’d gone through. Rey had shown up. The young Jedi girl actually had the gall to deliver herself right to her enemy. She definitely has guts, you’d give her that. She tried and failed to get Kylo to turn away from the Dark Side, trying to make him see the Light. But it didn’t work when his thoughts remained on you and keeping you from Snoke’s grasp. He was too focused on the fact that if the future he saw came to fruition, he knew he’d lose himself entirely. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

So he used Rey in his schemes, used her as a distraction of sorts. He used her to finally kill Snoke, to free himself and you from his reign. He couldn’t believe it actually worked, that Snoke was truly lying on the floor severed in half. It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, a ghoul finally banished from the corners of his mind. It was peaceful, but only for a moment. Him and Rey fought the Guards, and then he tried to get back his grandfather’s lightsaber once more to no avail. The memories from then on are bright flashes, fuzzy images, and explosions—nothing you can make out.

You’re pulled from Kylo’s memories, your jaw slack and your heart racing. It feels unreal, something you can’t believe because you weren’t here to witness it. But if you had been here, you would’ve died. “Now you see, don’t you? I told you that you’d understand. Yet you still can’t bring yourself to trust me. It just disgusts you, doesn’t it?” He says lowly, jabbing at you. “How could you ever bear to trust someone like me?” Someone who saved your life, he wants to add with his mocking tone.

There’s a moments pause where you stare at each other, unsure of what to think or say. You wish you could see him, could see his eyes and his face. Your nervous hand reaches up, attempting to get the latch on his helmet to take it off, but he stops you abruptly. He grips your wrist firmly in a leather-clad hand. You try and fumble for words. “Kylo, I-“

“No. You’ll address me as Supreme Leader. You need to get used to that title.” He snaps, forcing you all the way back into the throne as he comes even closer, his boot sliding between your own and forcing your legs apart. Your breath hitches when he takes both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head so you can’t do anything stupid like trying to shove him off or drawing your lightsaber on him again.

The rise and fall of your chest quickens when cold air kisses the skin of your stomach, your layers shoved up by his free hand. The leather of his glove is rough as it skates along the newly exposed area on its way further down. His fingers catch on the waistband of your pants and they don’t hesitate to slip beneath the fabric. Your body feels like it’s been set on fire, your spine pressed so firmly against the back of the throne that there’s nowhere else for you to go, even as you try to scoot away from his burning touch.

You jolt when he grazes your clit, your teeth digging so sharply into your lip that you think you taste blood. He’s moves slow and with purpose, knowing exactly what he’s doing when a low groan rumbles from the back of your throat. You can tell by the way he’s so willing to taunt and tease, by the way his huge body covers your own and boxes you in, that this isn’t going to be good for you. The pad of his index finger traces slow, tortuous circles around your entrance while the heel of his palm makes occasional, light taps against your clit to keep you aware, to keep you anticipating.

“You love to say how much you hate me, and yet you’re always so eager for me.” Kylo spits, his voice guttural when it comes through his helmet, struggling to get past the vocoder as more than just lustful static. He can feel how wet you are, how easily the dark leather of his gloves slides between your folds. His finger finally plunges into your waiting cunt not a second later, a gasp rattling your body. It’s a welcome feeling, one that finally gives the throbbing of your walls something to focus on instead of just aching, empty space.

The thrusts of his finger are lazy, staying at the same easy pace even as you squirm. He’s more generous to your clit now at least, his palm staying firmly against it, providing the friction of rough leather and stitched seams with each in and out of your hole. You whine in pleasure when he finally adds a second finger, the thick digits filling you more completely. They go farther, sink deeper into your heat, finding and pressing against the spot you’re never able to get on your own. Your hands struggle against the hold he has on them, your attempts at freeing yourself as your body writhes having been unsuccessful. You know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers across your wrists from the strength of his grip.

Kylo enjoys seeing you like this, completely under his mercy and so, so very compliant. It’s rare when he gets what he wants from you—your submission—so he’s relishing in it now while it lasts. His enjoyment is obvious from the erection creating a tent in his pants. You have to avert your eyes from it, trying not to think of the way he’d use it, the way he’d ram into you again and again and fill you with his desire. You can feel your own mounting, a knot in your gut that grows bigger with his ministrations, threatening to come undone.

You’re almost there. You’re standing on the ledge, leaning over the side, ready to fall off into bliss. Just a few more thrusts of his fingers, a few more circles around your clit, and your orgasm will be washing through you. But it never comes despite the way he continues to fingerfuck you, despite the way you can feel it right there and so ready to burst. It’s like something’s blocking it on purpose, a dam built with the sole mission of denying your release. Your eyes snap open, finding Kylo. He huffs a laugh. “What, you think I’d let you cum that easily?” It pisses you off how much he’s liking this. “I’ve barely even started.”

You practically growl at him, lip drawing up to reveal your sharp teeth, but you know he just finds it amusing. Especially when you try to grind your hips down onto his fingers as if that’ll be enough to break the Force hold he has on your body. You can’t move much beyond that with the way he looms over the throne, his legs pinning yours and your hands still stuck above your head. An involuntary whimper rips from your throat when he moves his thumb to your clit, rubbing at it with more purpose and ferocity and a third finger managing to slip into your eager cunt. Your feet scrabble against the floor, trying to find some kind of purchase as the denial of an orgasm makes you dizzy. You try and swallow the drool pooling in your mouth, the breath of your panting fogging the metal panels on Kylo’s helmet from your proximity.

You give in to begging once tears prick your eyes. Your words are barely more than a whisper. “Please- please, Kylo, just-“

There’s a harsh thrust up into your cunt that has your words falling silent, instead replaced by a sharp, high pitched yelp. “What did I fucking tell you?” He demands, pressing even harder against that spot along your walls that has you seeing stars. You feel like you’re about to explode from the built up tension in your body. “What did I tell you to call me?”

You glare at him, your eyes full of all the fury you can’t manage to get out with your voice. You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to bend to this man who’s held such a ridiculous amount of power over you for what feels like your entire life. Your teeth grind together in defiance, even as your face burns. He hums at that and seems almost happy that you’re going against him. He does love a good fight.

His fingers stall and begin to slowly slide out of you, ready to leave you completely empty and with a simmering need that won’t be taken care of. You jolt, eyes widening. It’s in that moment you find you don’t actually give a fuck about defying him, you just need him to stay in you. “Supreme Leader!” You practically shout, so sudden it even startles yourself. Your next words are quieter, more restrained. “Supreme Leader, please..”

You moan in relief when his fingers take back their positions deep inside your cunt, the sounds of your slick sloshing around filling the empty throne room. “Good,” Kylo says roughly, clearly struggling himself. Your obedience is music to his ears and it does nothing to soothe the ache of his cock still restrained by his pants. It just makes it worse. “Say it again.”

You hate him. You’re probably going to kill him. “Supreme Leader, please-“ you have to choke back your humiliation and death threats, “please let me cum.”

This time Kylo groans, the desperate sound crackling through his helmet. He thrusts his fingers one more time, swiping his thumb along your clit, before he lets you go. The release is instant. Something akin to a scream comes from you with your orgasm, the world around you feeling like it’s shattering. You can barely breathe, pure pleasure wracking your body and sending lightning through your limbs. The dam finally broke, and it feels so fucking good. The unbearable pressure is gone, bliss washing through you like a wave from the ocean as you cum around his hand. “See how nice I am?” Kylo says with heavy breath, barely able to contain himself. His eyes are locked on to where his hand disappears into your pants; he can feel your cum pooling on his glove. “How well I reward you when you’re good?”

It’s all you can do to nod dumbly, too blissed out with your ears still ringing to really comprehend what he’s saying. You don’t resist when your pants are pulled off, your underwear entirely soaked through and baring your sensitive, wet cunt to the cold air. You shiver. Your cloak is tossed aside, your top layers undone to reveal your upper body. You’re barely more than a rag doll when Kylo braces an arm against your back, using it to scoop you out of the throne so he can take your spot. His zipper is pulled down, his boxers lowered so his cock is finally freed, painfully erect and dribbling precum.

He sinks you down to the hilt without hesitation. All the air is punched from your lungs, your body tensing as his length fills you to capacity. Kylo’s appreciative groan is loud and throaty, his fingers digging bruises into your hips. You have to pause for a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, feeling so full it’s like you’re not allowed to breathe. Your lips are parted, your nails digging into the ribbed sleeves on his forearms for purchase. His body is warm and muscular beneath your hands.

You struggle to move, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm, your limbs weak and trembling. Kylo makes no effort to help you, his helmet instead tilted up towards you expectantly. “If you want it you’ll have to work for it, Commander.” He says with some twisted amusement. You briefly consider how easy it’d be to reach forward and wring his neck.

But you put that aside, swallowing your broken pride. You unfortunately want his cock more than that. The first thrust is bliss, pleasure filled shocks coursing through you like a live wire. You and Kylo moan in tandem, both of you finally getting some form of relief. Your movements are slow at first, trying desperately to get used to the feeling of his cock splitting you open. His hands travel up your sides, his left glove still soaked in your juices and leaving a trail along your skin. He finds your breasts, encompassing them with large, warm palms that have your head tilting back and your eyes closing. He pinches your stiffened nipples between his fingers, rolling them experimentally as you whine and arch into his touch. Your pace on his cock is steady now, finally having figured out a rhythm.

“Touch yourself.” Kylo orders suddenly, words sounding choked.

Your gaze snaps to him, brows furrowing slightly. “What?”

“Touch yourself.” He snaps again. “If you’re smart, you’ll listen to what I say.”

You glower, your face burning even hotter. He knows you don’t enjoy doing it, which is giving him all the more reason to make you. You hesitate, both not wanting to do as he demands and also not wanting to see whatever repercussions will come if you don’t. Your shaking fingers reach down and find your clit, the bud still sensitive and aching from Kylo’s earlier abuse. Your lip is between your teeth, trying to keep back your moans as you run circles over your clit. The stimulation quickly builds and you can feel that familiar knot forming in your gut again.

Kylo’s helmet tilts up and you can feel his eyes on you. You try not to meet them. “You look pretty like this, you know? Finally fucking listening to me.” He rumbles, giving your nipple a particularly hard pinch and making you writhe in his grip. “Say my name.”

You try to ignore him, ignore his stupid power trip and ego boost. But then he makes his move—one hand comes down to grip your wrist and the other is firm on your hip, completely stalling your movements and messing up your concentration. Your climax steadily begins to fade, a loud and frustrated groan coming from you. “This is stupid.” You snarl at him.

He doesn’t back down. “Say it.”

A harsh breath blows through your nose. You move your head so you can look past him, not wanting to admit that this is what he’s bringing you to. “Supreme Leader.” You mutter, your hips shifting to try and get friction with his cock still hard inside your cunt. He puts a stop to that quickly with a harsh squeeze.

Kylo lets go of your wrist to instead grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Again.”

“Supreme Leader.” You grit out.

“One more time.”

You grab his forearm, your nails digging deep enough and with such fury that they’ll leave marks. It’s the least you can do. “Supreme Leader.”

“Good girl.” He murmurs, thumb running along your lower lip. You want nothing more than to sink your teeth into it until you taste blood. “You’ve done so well.”

His following thrust up into you has you forgetting what insult you were going to say. Both of his hands rest on your hips now, keeping you steady as he fucks you mercilessly. You bend forward, gripping his shoulders as some kind of anchor, punctuated moans spilling endlessly from your mouth. His helmet is downturned, the forehead of it resting against your sternum as he watches his cock disappear inside of your cunt, slick smearing along the front of his pants. He uses his Force to swirl against your clit, creating a sort of buzzing sensation that quickly brings that knot back and sets your blood ablaze.

“A commander reduced to a fucking cocksleeve. So good for my dick, aren’t you?” He breathes, words made even more gravelly by his vocoder. “Fuck.” You can only nod along and whimper, your brain fucked into useless mush.

You grip him tighter when your second orgasm finally bursts, your walls spasming around his cock and making him curse even louder. Cum gushes from you, dripping along your folds and making a further mess of Kylo’s pants. You cry out when he keeps thrusting into you, everything throbbing and overly sensitive for his harsh pace. You can’t think straight, you can only dig your teeth into the padded armor of his shoulder as tears well and threaten to fall.

His cock twitches, his hips stuttering. He gets in a few more thrusts before he’s cumming at last, a slew of cusses mixed with grunts and groans falling from his mouth. You hum in pleasure when you feel his warm spend filling your cunt to the brim, effectively coating your walls white.

Neither of you can move for a couple of minutes after. You don’t know how long you sit there for, your body finally relaxing and your eyes closing. He doesn’t pull out, his cock softening inside you and making sure you stay plugged full of his cum. You’re tempted to fall asleep before Kylo’s hands are leaving your hips and instead coming up to undo the latches on his helmet. There’s a hiss of air as the mechanisms slide out of place and he’s able to take it off. His black hair falls around his face, sweat drenching the ends.

You struggle to lift yourself up, but you want to see him. Your hands shake from exhaustion when they reach forward, taking his cheeks in your palms. He looks so tired. His sigh tickles your skin, his eyes closing at your touch. He seems significantly more relaxed now, his body letting go of its tension and his Force signature becoming something calmer. You can feel the weight shift as he leans into your right hand. His arms circle around your back, somehow pulling you even closer.

He swallows before speaking. “I was… afraid.” He mutters. “Afraid without you here… and yet I had to do it. Otherwise I’d lose you.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips gentle as they brush along your collarbone. “I was afraid that I would fail. That it would’ve all been for nothing.” He continues. He sounds so quiet, quieter than you’ve heard him in a while. You run your fingers through his hair. “I just… I’m glad I sent you away.”

“Me too.” You mumble, your eyes trained on the back wall as your mind runs. You’re finally coming to terms with the fact that your death had almost been set in stone at the hands of Snoke. Coming to terms with the fact that your lifelong teacher was going to have you executed by his star pupil, and the fact that Kylo decided to save you and possibly get himself killed instead. The fact he did everything he could to make sure you wouldn’t come back to a death sentence. You swallow thickly. “Thank you.”

He stills at those words. They’re the last thing he expected to hear from you and it makes him uneasy. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s okay. You know he can’t. Besides, it’s easy to gather what he wants to say from his Force in this moment of vulnerability. An apology is at the forefront; an apology for taking things out on you again. He doesn’t regret it, but he didn’t mean for it to happen. Then underneath that there’s longing that’s still lingering from when you were gone. He wanted nothing more than to see you, to know you were okay. He’s more than happy to have you in his arms now.

You pull yourself out of his thoughts, blowing out a tired sigh and resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his cape around you to protect your mostly-naked form from the chill of the throne room, his warmth bleeding into you. You’re content to just sit there in his lap, and he seems content to let you. He relaxes back into the throne, cradling you against him with his soft breathing ruffling the hairs on the top of your head.

You’re together. You’re alive. That’s all you need in this moment.

[kunasthiast]

Blackmail

Playing boardgames and Stardew Valley are your and your husband's favorite pastimes. But, do you really have to take it so seriously? Even going as far as blackmailing your husband?

a/n: i've just been SOOO addicted with playing Catan and Stardew this holidays that i actually "craved" for some wholesome, crack Sukuna fic playing these!! also, if u don't know, Catan is a classic boardgame where u really need to strategize LOL (and i always take games so competitively serious) >.<

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Husband AU, Gamer AU, board game playing Word Count: 882 Warnings: cursing, laughing hard (please) All characters are of age.

“Oh my God, I needed that fucking ore! Come on, here’s 3 sheeps for 1 ore.”

Your husband then laughed at what you just said. You both have been playing Catan for the past 3 hours, with all 3 games owned by your husband. And now, you just need 1 point to win but instead he rolled a ‘7’ on the dice and stole your one and only ore resource – to upgrade your settlement into a city (which is worth 2 points, by the way). Thank God, you still have your 2 hay resources.

“No can do, babe.” Sukuna continued snickering at your misfortune. “This is a game of luck and I’m one lucky guy,” he continued and winked at you from across the table.

Groaning, you rolled the dice for your turn and landed on a ‘4.’ And you got a sheep resource, again. For the 5th time. “What the fuck am I gonna do with 5 sheeps?”

“Make ‘em steak,” Your husband said as he collected the dice to roll them, landing on a ‘7.’ Laughing at this, he said “Told ‘ya, the Catan gods are with me today.” He then moved the robber from your mountain territory to your wood territory – making you give up all your lumber resources, which amounts to a total of 3 by the way.

“Oh come on, why are you sabotaging me? I thought you love me?!” You’re overreacting at this point.

“Who else am I gonna sabotage? Me?! You just need luck today, babe,” Sukuna answered with a fucking boisterous laugh that makes your ears bleed.

“If I don’t fucking get a ‘9,’ I’ll be ignoring you for a whole week,” you said and rolled the dice. Sukuna laughed at you so hard with your dice ending up at the number you said. “Aww, see? The Catan gods love me so much that they wouldn’t allow you to ignore me.”

 With a ‘9,’ you got a brick resource. Not the ore. Please, Catan gods – just two more ores.

Glaring at your smug husband, “You know what? After this round, we’re not playing this game anymore. Clearly, this isn’t for me. I’m just gonna play Stardew Valley and water all my seeds there – thinking about how that made me happier than ever playing this game.”

“Babe, it’s just a board game. Why are you taking this seriously?” Sukuna stared at you and yes, he’s still laughing. But, this time. Hard laughing.

“No. This is betrayal!” You said so seriously. How you said it without laughing made Sukuna fell down the chair and now literally rolling, laughing at you from the floor.

“As if you can play long enough at Stardew without bothering me,” he said in between his laughs. And yes, you two play Stardew Valley in co-op mode because it gets boring when you play it alone – so you always, always play it with Sukuna. He does the mining, fishing, and other heavy works there and you just water the seeds.

Crossing your arms and glaring down at him who is laughing like he just won the fucking lottery, you then said, “Keep laughing, ‘Kuna. When we’re done here, I’m selling all the gold ores you mined. Every. Single. One.”

That finally shut him up. He sat up so fast, you swore you heard his back crack, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s sabotage! Let me remind you that it’s our livelihood. You can’t sell that – they have to be gold bars before we sell that!”

“As if you didn’t sabotage me here. Stealing my ore and lumber?!” You leaned closer, poking his chest for emphasis. “Not just that. I’ll also marry Elliot just to spite you.”

Now Sukuna was actually frowning as he sat back up on his chair. “Elliott?! The poetry guy with the flowy, long hair?”

You grinned. “Yep. And I’ll make him recite me sonnets every morning.”

Sukuna grabbed the dice, clearly forgetting it’s his turn and now desperate to shift the power dynamic. “Roll. Right now. You’re not marrying that Shakespeare wannabe.”

You picked up the dice, shaking them dramatically before dropping them onto the board. And lo and behold—a ‘7.’ 

“YES!” You screamed, throwing your hands in the air as you finally get to move the robber and drop it on Sukuna’s mountain territory – robbing him off all his fucking ores. Sukuna groaned, throwing his head back.

“No! No, no, no!”

Looking at him, you stick your tongue out, “Oops, I think the Catan gods had a change of heart, babe.” You then upgraded one of your settlements into a city. “And now? I’m building my city. Suck on that!”

Sukuna looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline, “This isn’t over.”

“But, it is,” you leaned over the board and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You just lost to a girl with five sheeps and one brick.”

As Sukuna sat there, counting all your victory points and comparing it to his for ��fairness of the game’, you added, “Also, Elliott and I are getting married this fall.”

That’s when Sukuna lunged to tackle you—and the game board—straight onto the couch, laughing so hard that you almost forgot why you’d been mad in the first place.

Almost.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' ⟡ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹

⟢ james potter x black!reader (fem)

⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. your first day goes very poorly . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 5.1k

⟢ warnings: there is talk about the reader's previous hostile home environment, although it's not pictured. walburga black is implied to be mentally unstable. a theme here is the lasting impact growing up in that environment has on a person: reader fears becoming like her parents, longs for a more loving environment, doesn't handle her emotions very well, and picks fights. both anger and sadness are dealt with unhealthily by different characters. if there is anything i should add here, please please let me know.

⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ masterlist

note: well! yikes! angst! i'm not sure i like the vision but i’m trying to remind myself this is a hobby and doesn’t have to be perfect <3

“A walk?” You questioned with a raspy voice.

“Mhm,” James nodded, “Just around the yard. Think it’ll help you feel better.”

You let James lead you to the back door, hand and hand. When he opened it, you discovered that “yard” was a bit of an understatement. The Potters’ property was larger than you knew— enormous, really. Lush garden beds thrived nearest to the house, and the grassy green beyond was surely where James practiced quidditch over the summers. The large trees scattered around the outskirts of the property made you picture a younger James climbing them.

James led you into the grassy landscape, taking notice of your awestricken expression as your eyes fall on Euphemia’s garden.

“I knew you’d like it out here.”

“It’s beautiful,” you mused, stopping to admire a bed of flowers. James dipped down and plucked one from the ground.

He fit it behind your ear and winked, “Don’t tell my mum.”

You frowned, reaching up to remove the flower from your hair. You twirled it inbetween your fingers.

“Your mum must think so poorly of me now,” you muttered, staring down at the flower.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“The first thing Sirius and I did after we were invited to stay is have a screaming match in the dining room. We sure know how to make ourselves feel at home,” you laughed bitterly. “And now she knows we’re together. Didn’t even get to properly tell her. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me.”

“Hey, look at me.” James said in a stern but gentle voice. You wonder how all the Potters can sound so kind even when they’re working up to a lecture.

You peered up through your eyelashes. James sported a pretty smile, and that alone made you feel a little better.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said, “My mum’s not one to jump to any conclusions. She trusts me, alright? And don't worry about your fight with Sirius. No one's expecting this to be easy for you. For either of you."

James continued, “Besides, we all let our emotions get the best of us sometimes, yeah? We’re human. My parents will understand.”

James could tell you over and over again that it’s okay to be angry and it’s okay to slip up, but you didn’t think any amount of it would ever make it feel okay. You wondered how he could even believe it.

It surprised you, actually, how mature and level-headed James could be. We’re human so it’s just okay if our emotions get the best of us sometimes? Who actually thinks like that?

At your house, you had to be nothing short of perfect at all times. Now that you’ve seen Fleamont and Euphemia in parent mode, you can see where James learned it all. You never had anything like that, and it was difficult to wrap your mind around it.

Especially because it wasn’t too long ago that James was one of Hogwarts’ biggest trouble makers—his pranks were the epitome of immature. Evidently, he's grown up a lot recently.

Stupidly, you felt bitter about it. Which was completely absurd, you thought. Because surely you were not jealous of your boyfriend because he learned how to regulate his emotions better than you did. Because he was growing up, maturing? And you… well you don’t know what you’re doing. You felt stuck, like you’d always be a scared little kid who needs her older brothers’ no matter how old you got.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said, not really knowing what else to say. You were compelled to change the subject, “I’m worried about Regulus.”

“I know,” James began leading you around the garden again. You dropped the flower back where it came from, not wanting to be caught red handed with a freshly murdered flower from Effie’s garden.

“We have to get him out of there,” you sighed.

James looked at you through the corner of his eye. Apprehensively, he said, “From what Sirius told me, you guys barely got out of there.”

“Yeah, so we’ll need a really good plan so that we don’t get caught.”

James turned his head to look straight at you. He looked at you like you had two heads.

“What, you want to break him out or something? You want to go back there?”

“We have to. Regulus–“

“Regulus made his choice.” James interrupted warily.

You felt your heart sink into your stomach, “Please, not you too.”

“You heard what Sirius said. Regulus was given the option, and he chose to stay behind,” James tried to reason.

James knew how much your twin meant to you, it wasn't a surprise that you'd be worried about him. But to go back to that house? That was a step too far for his comfort. The moment that Sirius admitted exactly what his mother had done to him, James knew he'd never let either of you near her again. Something must've snapped in Walburga Black— she has been teetering on the edge for years, but she has unmistakably gone from being a cruel mother to an outright unstable woman.

The though of Regulus still being around her made him sick. Even though James didn't know him that well, he still found himself caring about him. It was likely an extension of your love for Regulus manifesting in James, who cared for you so deeply that your concerns became his. But that's just it— you're the one who he really cared for. Above all else, it's you he wanted to protect.

“He did not choose to stay behind,” you raised your voice, offended that James could ever think so.

“Love...”

James didn't mean to, but he looked at you with pity in his eyes, as if he thought you were in denial.

Anger flared up in your chest when you registered his expression, “No, don’t do that. Just because Sirius said so doesn’t mean it’s true. Regulus wouldn’t just choose them over us. Sirius– he doesn't have his facts straight.”

James didn’t say anything. What could he? It sounded like you were implying that Sirius was lying and James knew Sirius wouldn't do that.

For the record, you didn't think Sirius would lie either. But he was absolutely capable of missing something.

“You don’t believe me,” your mouth hung open after your words.

“It’s not that.” James rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “I believe you, but I believe Sirius too. And Sirius said that Regulus refused to come. Whatever the reason, that's the choice he made. I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger for a– a lost cause.”

His words stopped you in your tracks.

“A lost cause?"

You had never been so affronted by James. He might not know Regulus nearly as well as he knows you or Sirius, but the fact that he could easily tag him as a lost cause was unbelievable.

"Don’t be an idiot, James. How could you say that?”

James had kept walking for a couple more paces, so he had to turn to face you. He tried to cover the way the venom in your voice made him flinch.

“You can’t force him to leave,” he said, sounding as understanding as he could muster, but he needed to get through to you.

Phantom alarm bells were ringing in his ears, his desperation for you to hear him growing. You were stubborn and you'd do anything for your brothers, James knows this all to well. But not this. He couldn't let you do this. He wouldn't let you go back there.

“Merlin, you’re siding with Sirius!” you accused, giving in to the anger burning in your chest.

James tried to remain calm as he spoke.

“I’m not siding with anyone.”

“Yes, you are! How could I be so stupid? Of course you’d choose Sirius over me!"

James features twist in anguish, "Love–"

"This is what I get for falling for my brother’s best friend. When there's a choice, it will always be him, won’t it?” You spat, glaring at James in a way that almost knocked him off his feet.

He was completely taken aback; you two had never fought like this. He tried to take some semblance of control over the situation, “Okay, you’re angry right now, and that’s okay–“

“Oh, would you stop that!” you shouted. A small part of you hoped the sound wouldn’t travel back to the house, but a bigger part of you was consumed with a growing rage. That part didn’t seem to care.

“Stop what?” James knitted his brows.

“Being some master of emotions all of a sudden! I’m accusing you of picking Sirius over me! I’m raising my voice at you! I’m calling you names! Why won’t you fight back? Yell at me, do something!”

James took a deep breath, “I’m not going to do that.”

He sounded completely calm and collected. Somehow, that pissed you off.

“Oh, you’re so perfect, aren’t you?”

“What?” James felt like he was going crazy, unable to decipher what he could possibly be doing wrong.

“Perfect James Potter, wouldn’t hurt a fly these days! You could never–! never lose your cool, could you?” you shouted.

James gaped at you. He couldn't be mad even if we wanted to; he was just confused. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? You yourself didn’t even seem to know what you were saying, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you said things even you knew weren’t true.

It’s not like James never lost the reign on his emotions. He throws his quidditch gear around when he loses a match, he can’t control his frustration when he doesn’t do well in class, he isolates himself when he’s sad instead facing it, he does a whole lot of things that he’s not proud of.

And you’ve seen it all before, but for some reason, you’ve chosen not to remember those moments. All you can think about is how you were so angry and scared, and he was so understanding and level-headed. And how you grew up with screaming matches and unfair punishments, and he probably got to grow up with calm discussions and soft spoken apologies. And it all felt so unfair.

“Are you–? Sorry, you're mad at me because I'm not getting mad at you? I’m sorry, I guess?”

“I don’t want you to be sorry I want you to yell at me! Be mad at me, fight with me!” You felt the familiar sensation of tears welling up in your eyes.

James looked shellshocked. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to deal with you like this, he’s never seen this before. Sure, sometimes you bicker— all couples do— but this was reaching an uncharted territory.

"I'm not going to yell at you for wanting to keep your brother safe–"

"Then yell at me because you think I'm naive for thinking I can get him out of there. Fight with me because I think you're an idiot for thinking Regulus is a lost cause!"

You were trying to rile him up, James knew this, and he so badly wanted to not let if affect him. Not because it was making him angry, no, it was making him sad.

But he couldn't fight it.

And James always does the same thing when he's sad.

“I think we need to take a step back from this conversation. Why don’t we go inside?” James offered.

He sounded like he stole that line from some therapist's book on navigating conflict. It made you want to scream.

“You go inside! I’m going to keep walking.” You pushed past him, deliberately letting your shoulder collide with his as you stormed away.

James let the blow knock him back a step, too thrown off to do anything else. He listened to your receding footsteps and he wanted to be the type of boyfriend who runs after you when you’re upset. Who holds you and listens to you until you can work out the problem. Instead—

“Just stay by the house, okay?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, whatever.”

A few hot angry tears slid down your face. You aggressively wiped them away and willed any more tears to dry up. You were tired of crying.

You stomped around the gardens and grass, thinking of Regulus and how he deserved better than siblings who left him behind to find refuge with a boy who wouldn't think twice about rescuing him too.

Leaving that house was something you'd always dreamed of. But you had imagined both of your brothers by your side. No one was ever supposed to be abandoned.

Sirius just didn’t understand how horrible being alone in that house was. You and Regulus had already experienced a taste of it when he went off to Hogwarts a year before you two. Not to mention, Sirius was always the strongest of you, so without him, navigating that house was a whole new terrain.

Maybe that’s what Sirius senses is different about your relationship with Regulus. Those nine months were probably the worst of your life, and Reg is who you went through them with.

And maybe that's why you were so adamant that Regulus can’t be left there alone while everyone else seems ready to abandon all hope. Your parents had never been more furious than when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor all those years ago. You suspected that they would be worse, angrier than ever after the departure Sirius orchestrated for you and him. You couldn’t let Regulus face that alone.

Somewhere along the line, worry for Regulus took precedence over the anger that held your gentle love for James hostage. By the time you came to a large trees on the outskirts of the lawn, the anger from the previous argument had simmered.

As you plopped down in the dirt and sat against its trunk, you tried not to be annoyed that taking a step away from that conversation really worked.

You took in your surroundings to distract yourself. It was to no avail, as a nearby shed caught your eye. Through its open window, you could see James’ broom and other quidditch gear.

“You idiot,” you chastised yourself aloud. You let your head fall into your hands as a million nasty thoughts about yourself raced through your mind, the most prominent being you’re just like your mother.

It was just like her to pick fights. You couldn’t breathe in that house without her telling you that you were doing it wrong. She always found something to yell at you for.

How could I act like that, you winced as you recalled the fight you just walked away from.

Poor James, who you yelled at for not being mad at you. It really was just like her to get upset over something so irrational. You felt ill over the similarity, and you were overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom.

You couldn't let yourself be doomed to your parents' fate. You wanted to be kind, reasonable, rational. So, what wouldn't they do in this situation?

A safe assumption would be that they wouldn't feel bad, so you're already on the right track it seems.

They also wouldn't apologize.

Okay, yeah. Apologize. You could apologize.

You have to apologize.

Just go apologize.

But you just couldn’t get yourself to move. You were frozen in shame for your behavior, the only movement was the rise and fall of your chest from your labored breath.

James Potter did not like feeling sad. It was unsettling, uncomfortable, so utterly unlike him.

Whenever it happened, he tried to hide from it. He'd lock himself away somewhere before he'd dare face it head on— or admit that it's there at all.

The last time he was sad, he let himself fall asleep in the common room just so he wouldn't have to face his friends back at his dorm. And when his childhood pet died, he didn't mention it for months, only alerting his friends to his cat's passing when Peter asked how old his cat was again.

It's not that James thought there was anything wrong with being sad. He definitely didn't believe in any of that nonsense that real men don't cry. In fact, he was always the first to offer his shoulder if any of his friends were upset, back pats and let-it-all-outs at the ready.

But when it was him, when he was the one with the lump in his throat and a pit in his stomach, he couldn't handle sadness anymore. It made him feel vulnerable, and he wanted to be the strong one, the brave one. The one who lights up a room with the force of the sun and brings humor and fun into everyone's days.

So, when he couldn't be that, he'd rather be alone. He'd rather sit isolated in a dimly lit room where the darkness can't touch anyone but himself.

His bed creaked under his weight as he shifted in place, the only movement he has made in several minutes.

He was trying to be still and let his mind focus on nothing but his breathing. He was especially trying not to think of your argument.

He counted out his inhales and exhales, just as he had learned years ago in divination class.

James took divination for one year only. It wasn't for him, but one thing from that class did stick with him— the lesson on mindfulness. Something about mediation and a clear head opening your mind to frequencies you may not normally be able to comprehend.

James wasn't sure about all that, but he quite liked the calmness of the exercise they did in class that day, even if he felt a bit silly doing it.

He finds himself repeating the meditation from that class when he's down. He much prefers a clear head to one with racing thoughts that give him that choked up feeling in his throat.

He was broken out of his feeble attempt at a meditative state when there was a knock at his door.

Hope swelled in his stomach. Maybe you've come to talk. Maybe he could smooth things over with you. And then he could stop feeling like this.

He tried not to look disappointed when Sirius walked through the door.

Sirius gave James a once over as the door clicked shut behind him, "What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" James forced a chuckle, "Nothing's wrong with me."

"You're sitting at the foot of your bed, starin' at the floor, shoulders slumped," Sirius' hand swept towards James' hunched form, "I know what upset looks like, Prongs."

"I'm not upset," James insisted still, "I'm just thinking. Is being lost in thought a crime these days?"

Sirius shrugged, plopping down on the bed next to James. His legs hung over the edge as he let his back hit the sheets, his arms sprawled at his sides.

James listened as Sirius puffed out a long, exhausted breath.

"You alright?" James asked, not bothering to look back, letting his sad eyes remain fixed on the floor.

"Ah, I see. Worried about me, are you?" Sirius guessed.

James seized the opportunity to excuse his demeanor. Besides, he wanted to talk about what Sirius had said earlier anyway.

"You did have a pretty nasty spat with your sister. And then you nearly collapsed."

There's a lull in the conversation for a moment as Sirius thinks.

"Your parents fixed me right up again. Gave me some nasty potion to help with the dizziness. Tasted like sewage but 'm good as new. They're off now, by the way, picking up some herbs they want to steep and feed me for these spasms I keep having in my hands."

James winced. Spasms, a potential side effect of being under the Cruciatus Curse.

"Sirius... about what you said happened. Your mother–"

"I don't want to talk about that," Sirius spoke quietly, somberly.

After a moment, Sirius added, "I don't want to think about any of them ever again."

James felt a pang in his heart, knowing Regulus was included in 'them'. You wouldn't have stood for it if you'd heard Sirius say that.

James' mind wanders back to your earlier argument, his earlier attempts to avoid these thoughts futile now. You were so adamant that you needed to go back for Regulus, ready to dive into some sort of escape plan, and that still scared the hell out of James.

He considered telling Sirius about what you wanted to do. One on hand, he knew Sirius would be on board with keeping you the hell away from there— keeping you safe. On the other hand, it felt like tattling on you to your brother.

James thought about the betrayal written across your face earlier. How hurt you were when you suspected James was choosing to believe Sirius over you. Confiding in Sirius now would surely, surely make it worse. And James didn't want to hurt you.

And yet—

"Thing is... I have to talk to you about something. About your sister... and about Regulus."

A flinch finally broke you out of your statue-like state when a sudden and distinct fluttering sounded above you. You expected to see any mundane bird when you looked up, but there was nothing there. You leaned around the tree to try to locate the source.

Instead of any random creature of flight, it was a familiar owl. And he was not in the tree, rather next to it, in a designated perch located on the other side of the thick trunk.

"Oh. Hello," you greeted the owl. He stared at you blankly, of course.

You've met this owl before. His name was Glory. You didn't know why, but James had named him, and you supposed that it was a name that James would have thought of.

You've received countless letters from James, all delivered by Glory. There were the long ones, which you mostly received during the times you were apart. Glory was good at discretely delivering them to your window. And if James also had mail for Sirius, he knew to deliver yours first.

James was always checking up on you over the holidays, making sure you were okay and telling you stories of his own time at home that would take your mind off of whatever horrible things were going on at Grimmauld Place.

When you were together, back at Hogwarts, James still sent you little notes whenever you weren't near. He knew how much you loved receiving notes from him, so he made it a habit. He would send notes about things he saw that reminded him of you, expressions of how much he missed you even if he'd seen you mere hours prior, declarations of love that he couldn't keep inside until the next time he'd be alone with you.

Oh, your sweet boy.

"I really messed up, didn't I?" You asked Glory. You chided yourself for continuing to try to talk to an owl. Not that owls weren’t smart. In fact, they were very intelligent, especially the magical sort. Glory could understand you, but it’s not like he had the ability to respond. 

You imagined that Glory would tell you that you messed up big time if he did, though.

You pushed yourself up to your feet, wiping dirt and twigs off your pants when you rose. As you walked back towards the house, you wondered if your mother ever felt sorry like this, if she ever wanted to apologize sometimes. Surely, at some point she did. James' words come back to you about how we're all human, and you want to believe that maybe there was a memory lost in your mind of her apologizing to you.

You'd have been a wide-eyed little kid at the time, snot-nosed and teary-eyed after she yelled at you for spilling milk or leaving a toy in the middle of the floor. She'd wrap her arms around you and apologize for raising her voice. Then she'd shush and coo soothingly until your tears dried up and you could show her all of your baby teeth in a wide grin.

It was unnatural, the image of her in your mind like that, but your heart burned for it to be real. As sick as it was, you still yearned for your mother's love, even if it was a thing of the past.

Maybe your house really was a poison. Because if she had ever been gentle, one way or another, Walburga Black got colder and harsher over the years. She spiraled so deep into darkness that she seemed to want to be cruel. After all, to cast the Cruciatus Curse, you do have to really want it.

Each step you took was invigorated with a new sense of determination. Apologizing to James now, owning up to your mistake, it was only the first step of doing everything in your power to never be anything like that woman.

It felt like no time passed at all by the time you arrived outside of James' door. You didn't feel ready to face him, but you raised your fist anyway. Just when knuckles were about to meet wood, you heard a muffled voice from inside.

"What do you think?" James' voice asked softly. Then, after a beat of silence, "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, James, I heard you," Sirius said. He had that far away kind of tone in his voice he gets when he's trying to distance himself from his emotions.

"And?"

"And I'm bloody tired of talking about him!" Sirius barked. Even from the safety of the other side of the door, you flinched.

"She doesn't get it. She'll never get it because it's him," your brother continued. "If she had known he wasn't coming she probably wouldn't be here either. If it's a choice, it'll be him over me in a heartbeat. He could've done the bloody spell on me himself and she'd still choose him. Merlin, she could've done the bloody spell if he asked her to."

If felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You bit your tongue until you drew blood, fighting the urge to cry out, as if Sirius' words physically wounded you.

Rationally, you knew that Sirius was just angry, that he didn't mean it. But the rational side of your brain hasn't been winning many battles today.

You vaguely heard James tell Sirius not to say things like that as you backed away from his door until you met the wall behind you with a thump.

There was silence from inside James' room for mere seconds before the door was ripped open. Sirius stood in the doorway, James behind him. You couldn't read your brother's expression, there barely was one. How typical of him to hide behind a blank stare.

You, however, were wide eyed with a hand clamped over your mouth, leaning against the wall behind you, sure you'd collapse without its support.

Sirius began to say your name and suddenly your hand was gone and the words were tumbling from your lips.

"How could you say that?" Your voice was strained, "I wouldn't ever do that– He wouldn't ever do that!"

Sirius' eyes bore into yours but he didn't say anything. You wished you could tell what he was thinking under that stupid mask of his.

"I shouldn't have to tell you over and over again that I love you both. You are both my brothers, you both mean the world to me. It's so irrational and– and foolish to worry about a choice that I'd never–"

You cut yourself off. The irony of being so hurt by Sirius' words were not lost on you. You had only just been accusing James of choosing Sirius over yourself.

"No, that's not true," Sirius bit back, "because that choice is upon you now. So, go ahead. Let's see if you can surprise me."

"What?"

"Choose me, stay here where it's safe. Choose Regulus, go right ahead and try to be his jailbreak. But when you can't convince him to leave, when he refuses, I won't be surprised when you choose to stay there too."

Your eyes flashed to James, who looks way too shameful for you to not put two and two together. You were conflicted; feelings of regret over accusing James of choosing Sirius over you were mixing with feelings of betrayal that James had ran right to Sirius with your words.

You'd let the guilt and betrayal sink in and shred you to pieces later. You had Sirius to deal with first.

"What is wrong with you?" you hissed. "How could you be so dim? Wanting our brother to be safe does not mean I'm choosing him over you."

"Color me unsurprised!" Sirius yelled, looking smug.

Your eyes began to burn, "Fuck you, Sirius!"

James tries to interrupt, "Er, hey, maybe we should–"

"Don't you dare tell me we need to take a step back from this conversation, James!"

James' mouth clamped shut.

"Don't yell at him!" Sirius squawks.

"You want to talk about choosing one person over another? Let's talk about it. Don't pretend you haven't given up on Regulus ever since you met his shiny new replacement!"

You'd feel real shitty about saying that in front of James later; the look on his face at your words was already burned into your memory.

"Don't turn this on me!" Sirius shouted.

"You're such a hypocrite. And an imbecile for thinking I care about you any less than Regulus. Of course I care about you both the same. And you may not believe it, but Regulus cares about you too!"

"That's–"

"I don't want to hear it," you interrupted, "I'm done. Say it James."

James looked like a deer in headlights, "What?"

"Say the thing!" you shouted.

"We need to take a step back from this conversation?"

Your arms flew up, gesturing towards James as you stared Sirius down with an exasperated look on your face. Your brother scoffed and stormed down the hall, disappearing to anywhere else in the Potters' home.

For a moment it was just you and James in the hall. Your eyes met and he looked anguished and far too apologetic. You knew that you were supposed to be the apologetic one, and you felt your heart begging you to let the sorrys loose.

It was too bad that the betrayal started settling in before the guilt.

"Sirius was right before. You are a snitch."

With that, you slipped back into your room and let the door slam shut behind you.

James remained in the hall for a moment longer, not knowing who to follow. He should follow one of you.

Instead, he decided to retreat back to his bedroom.

James wanted to be alone again.

[saetgvia]

genshin boys when you’re sick

characters: lyney, wriothesley, gaming, xiao, alhaitham

established relationship, nicknames (sweetheart, missy, etc)

tw: mentions of food, mentions of snot (is that a tw??), lmk if i forgot anything

———————————————————————

lyney

- *sniffle* ‘GET INTO BED RIGHT NOW MISSY’

- cares abt u very much

- a lil TOO much sometimes

- he just doesn’t want you hurt

- so the moment you show signs of sniffling you’re magically transported to the bed to get some rest

- he will FAWN over you

- kinda frantic ngl

- cooking

- magic show to cheer u up

- ‘i know the medicine tastes bad, but it’ll help you get better’

- older brother mode ACTIVATED

- lynnette and freminet are so weirded out by their usually chipper brother being like… this

- will take care of u until u get better

- whatever you need, he has <33

wriothesley

- tea

- he makes u tea

- and is overall a funny person

- like lyney he’ll want you to get as much rest as possible and yk cook for u and stuff

- ‘i’ll use my cryo vision to make the cold leave your body!’

- gets sigewinne to check on you because he has a MELUSINE DOCTOR so ofc he’s gonna ask her to check on youu

- lots of forehead and cheek kisses

- always makes sure you take medicine!

- cuddles!!! to make you warm!!!

- yea <3

gaming

- cOOKS FOR YOU THE MOST

- i think all the boys would cook and clean and take care of you

- but NONE better than gaming

- except maybe thoma

- but we’re talking about GAMING here

- he knows like 50000 people so you can bet he’s calling in favours

- ‘hello? yes remember that time a killed a bunch of hilichurls for you? yea can you make me soup? my partner’s sick.’

- tries to keep your energy and spirits up

- walks to get fresh air

- unlike the others he doesn’t really want to keep you in bed all the time bc he knows it can get irritating

- so he’ll spend time with you :))

- does the chores so you don’t have to worry about them

- overall i love gaming gaming best boy

xiao

- ‘…tf’

- ‘[NAME] DON’T MOVE A SLIME IS POSSESSING YOu- oh. it’s called a cold? and your body mAKES SLIME TO KEEP IT OUT??’

- humans are weird

- poor boy doesn’t know what to do

- you can bet he’s feeding you almond tofu

- and going to zhongli and cloud retainer etc. for advice

- ‘i can kill demons and protect teyvat… but i can’t help you feel better’

- sad boi

- so ofc you comfort him and everything

- makes sure you take your medicine all!!! the!!! time!!!

- doesn’t wanna leave your side

- caring and slightly confused bf but so sweet :(

alhaitham

- he’s so calm

- lyney’s total opposite

- cooking, chores, he does the lot

- provides better alternatives than the store antibiotics and they help u get better so much faster

- rare unserious alhaitham moment he claims it’s his love

- maybe it is!!

- reading sessions together!!

- u both reading books or him reading to you

- such a perfect bf

———————————————————————

a/n: hope you enjoyed this one <33 smashed it out today after some depressing valorant LOL be back with more soon and pls reblog so more people can see my work!! my taglist is now open so if you want to join just drop an ask <3

[felassan]

Patch 3 for DA:TV is now live on all platforms. It includes bug fixes and quality of life updates. "It is now possible to map the Arrow Keys, and we added new filters to Photo Mode!"

Under a cut in case of spoilers and due to length.

"Dragon Age™: The Veilguard Patch 3 Release Notes Hey everyone, We’re happy to release another patch today! This one has multiple quality of life changes and many bug fixes. We’ll have another patch to talk more about soon. Till next time! Quality of Life Changes:  - Arrow keys can now be bound to input mappings. - Filters added to Photo Mode. - Screenshot file names from Photo Mode have been simplified, showing the date the photo was taken. - The File Path where screenshots are saved is now shown in game when a screenshot is taken through Photo Mode. - It is now easier to identify where an Enchantment has been applied to a companion’s equipment. - Adjusted the Glint option description in Settings.  - New rings can now be compared against both equipped ring slots. - A notification now appears when the Crossroads’ Spirit Merchant is available. - Added new icons for some weapons."

"Bug Fixes:  - Eliminated the causes of a small number of crashes. - Rook's body shape no longer changes unexpectedly after a cutscene with Emmrich. - Adjusted an odd facial expression when Rook first meets Emmrich.  - Fixed a rare issue where some of an existing Rook's settings got unintentionally reset after making and saving a new Rook. This fix is now also on consoles and retroactively affects saves on all platforms. - Adjusted the volume level of Spite's voice in some scenes. - Fixed some instances where music would incorrectly stop playing. - Fixed some instances where unintended music or sound effects would play. - Antaam Champions now correctly do slightly more damage. - Mage Rooks no longer shift to the right awkwardly after performing an extended dodge. - The Rogue Skill "Underdog's Bite" now correctly lists “Enhanced Damage” instead of “Empowered Damage.” - Fixed some instances where enemies could get stuck or were unreachable in some areas. - Fixed some instances where companions could get stuck on balance beams. - Bellara can no longer endlessly charge Rook’s Ultimate outside of combat. - Emmrich's attack stat is now displayed correctly at the start of the Where the Dead Must Go quest. - Fixed a bug where Emmrich was sometimes not available on the ability wheel during the Where the Dead Must Go quest. - Companions’ revives are now correctly refilled at the start of The Last Gambit quest. - The Kataranda now has its correct unique coloring."

"- Fixed an issue with the critical hit and penetration modifiers on the “Twin Edged Pick” Warrior weapon.  - Taash's cape on the “Rivain’s Legacy” armor no longer stretches in cutscenes.  - The Grey Warden “Recruit’s Simple Tunic” appearance no longer clips uncomfortably through Rook’s neck.  - The “Mythals' Light” Mage weapon now does the intended amount of physical base damage (0). - The “Mythal's Light” Mage weapon now does physical damage to enemy health if a physical damage enchantment is applied. - Fixed instances where stat bonuses from some Treviso valuables were applied incorrectly. - Fixed instances where valuables with stat increases were not all visible in merchant stores. - Improved textures on various characters and environment objects. - Fixed an issue where VFX could become extremely bright. - Fixed several distance “pop-in” issues. - Fixed an issue that caused the camera to stutter when closing the eluvian interface.  - Fixes several instances where quest objectives would not update correctly during some quests. - The On Deadly Wings quest can now be completed even if the A Slow Poison quest has not been fully completed. - The Mayor of D’Meta’s Crossing no longer appears in two places at once during the Lives Spared quest. - One of the Revenants will no longer fail to appear in the Crossroads.  - Fixed an issue where a door would not open during the Heights of Athim memory in the Regrets of the Dreadwolf quest.  - The intended 2D cinematic scene now plays after the Shadows Crossing quest. - Fixed an issue where the path forward could become blocked in the A Murder of Crows quest. - Fixed a blocking issue during the In Entropy’s Grasp quest.  - Companions are now present when loading the first autosave made in the Isle of the Gods quest. - The HDR Calibration setting is now saved correctly between game sessions. - Prevented multiple instances where Rook could get stuck while exploring Thedas. - One of the "Watcher's Robe" appearance variations is now correctly granted after completing the Disrupt and Conquer memory.  - Fixed a place in Arlathan Forest where Rook could get stuck in a drowning loop.  - Fixed instances where Rook forgot they already had the lyrium dagger and could not interact with treasure chests and altars. - Codex entries that were already read will no longer be re-marked as unread. - Fixed an issue where the scrollbar could get stuck in the Codex screen. - Enchantments on abilities are now reset correctly when Skill Tree nodes are reset. - The Crossroads’ Spirit Merchant now shows the intended faction reputation gained for whichever city was blighted when selling valuables. - Fixed a rare issue where some Skill Tree nodes were sometimes unable to be unlocked. - Some adjustments to the game credits."

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

[thebennsofdallas]

WWDITS S6 - What we thought we knew vs. what we know now

I’ve been struggling to string some words together about this season thus far. I think, with the exception the episode where Laszlo was forced to relive the abuse of his father, every episode has been wonderful. But two episodes I keep rewatching — Nandor’s Army and March Madness. Because in those two episodes, much was revealed about all these characters. We’re learning that these vampires care, about each other and other things, too. But this season, Nandor has especially been laid bare. No subtext, no wordplay, no wink and a nod.

Hey, Nandor? All those feelings you hide so poorly and hate so much? Too bad, buddy, they are coming out and they are gushing all over the place, like a recklessly pierced vein. Better get a towel because it’s gonna be fucking messy.

The first big thing we’ve learned in Nandor’s Army is how devastated Nandor was about losing the janitor job. So much so that the poor guy went a little mad. For over 700 years, Nandor has survived enumerable hardships and setbacks but Guillermo rejecting him is the thing that ruins him. 

Nandor only took the job at Cannon Capital to be close to Guillermo, to watch over him as he had been doing for 15 years. And that was the second thing we learned about Nandor. He perceived that he had been protecting Guillermo. “Raising him” were his exact words. And once Guillermo decided against being a vampire and separated himself from the vampire world, Nandor felt abandoned. He lost his purpose and in doing so, he lost his mind.

The confrontation between Nandor and Guillermo in the husk of the Hancock and Sons factory was the most honest they’ve ever had. Usually, it’s Guillermo who makes himself vulnerable and Nandor who pretends like he doesn’t care. That night, though, their pent up feelings came spilling out, from both sides. That night, Nandor caved but stay tuned because I don’t think that argument is done yet.

Because, then, in March Madness, the truth bombshell dropped. The foundation of and the motivation for the dumb, sometimes cruel shit Nandor has done is finally revealed.

Nandor knows he’s going to lose Guillermo. He is painfully aware of it. For most of their time together, Guillermo believed that all he wanted was to be a vampire. It was his dream from childhood, as Nandor heard umpteen times. But when it finally happened, in the fucked up manner which no one saw coming, Nandor was gutted by the betrayal. But still, he was willing to turn backflips to make sure Guillermo got what he wanted.

But once he did, once Guillermo chose to go back to being a human, Nandor’s future with Guillermo — or what he thought was their future — was gone.

Nandor was always careful about putting the affection he has for Guillermo on display. He kept that under wraps and rarely allowed himself to let it show. He ignored the tenderness he has for Guillermo and judging from solely from his behavior, it seemed like Nandor was just a big, selfish jerk.

But surprise, surprise, it turns out that Nandor is not so much a deeply delusional asshole as he is a secret soft-hearted sap in self-protect mode. Because Nandor knows Guillermo is human and Nandor knows that humans get hurt and eventually die. In 760 years as a vampire, this is what he knows. He tells Laszlo there’s nothing special about humans. They will leave so a vampire is a fool to get attached to them.

Oh, really? Well, sorry, Mr. Supreme Viceroy/Warlord, you’re too late. That train has already left the station. we know that’s bullshit because whenever Guillermo leaves him, Nandor is totally lost. Through the Djinn and Marwa, we know that Nandor doesn’t know what he would do without Guillermo.

You can run. You can run far because you have those awesome long legs but you can’t hide anymore, big guy. The truth is out. The die is cast.

Nandor. You’re a dead man.

[pumpkennpie]

mistletoe and ivy

landoscar ficlet, 867 words

i was wrapping christmas presents earlier and Received Revelation about stressed christmastime landad needing everything to be perfect for his little one, so here we are. bone apple teeth

Oscar’s first thought when he walks through his front door is that the apartment has been burglarized. He’s got his phone halfway out of his pocket to dial 999 when Lando’s face pops up from behind the couch, red and pouty, but unharmed.

Now that he’s not in panic mode, Oscar takes a second to pause and survey the scene. 

To be honest, it looks like a Christmas themed bomb has been detonated in their living room. There’s wrapping paper everywhere, ripped to shreds and crumpled up into little festive balls. The couch is completely covered with unwrapped presents, and there are small, sticky bows strewn all over the grey suede. 

Then there’s Lando. Oscar can only see him from the shoulders up, but every square inch he can see is absolutely coated in glitter. His cheeks are rosy, and he’s sporting a deep frown that can only mean one thing: he’s truly, unequivocally frustrated.

“Hi, love. Is there…” Oscar knows he needs to choose his words carefully. “Did you drop something behind the couch?” 

Lando’s bottom lip quivers. Fuck.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’ll help you. Just tell me what you need, yeah?” Oscar soothes. 

In his haste to get to Lando, he drops his overcoat and bag to the floor. He can hear the glass container Lando packs his lunch in clatter around in his bag, but that doesn’t matter right now.

By the time Oscar gets behind the couch and kneels in front of Lando, the first tears have already fallen. He takes Lando’s face between his hands, smoothing his thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away the wetness.

“I can’t get the corners of the paper to fold right, and the stupid bows aren’t sticking, and I didn’t buy enough gift boxes-” Lando cries, growing more upset by the second.

Oscar does the only thing he knows will work to get Lando to slow down and focus on anything else, if only for a moment. He leans forward and slots their mouths together, a chaste little thing that serves its purpose.

When Oscar pulls away, Lando’s eyes are still glassy, but not just with tears. There's a piece of cello-tape stuck to the tip of his nose.

“I just need this to be perfect,” Lando finishes, his voice barely a whisper. He’s smiling, but Oscar can see the desperation in his eyes.

That’s when it finally hits him.

It’s Ivy’s first Christmas. 

The wrapping paper littering the floor is not red and green, nor does it have Santa or snowflakes on it. It’s pink and glittery, and Oscar can see a few pieces with Bluey characters here and there. The unwrapped presents on the couch are sensory toys, soft blankets and plushes. There’s a few new outfits folded neatly on the cushions, sized 12-18 months. 

Everything around them, the entire mess that their living room has become, is all for their little girl.

“Lando, it won’t matter if the paper on her presents is creased, or if there aren’t any bows because they won’t stick. Ivy’s here, and she’ll be surrounded by people who love her, and that’s all that matters,” Oscar says, trying to reassure Lando. “Plus, she’s not even a year old yet. She’s not going to remember this.” 

One big tear falls from Lando’s eye, running down his cheek to catch in the dimple Oscar has his thumb pressed in.

“She won’t, but I will. We’re not going to get another first Christmas with her.” Lando looks up at him in a way that tells Oscar everything Lando can’t put into words. This is more important to Lando than Oscar will ever know.

“Ok,” Oscar smiles, pushing himself to stand. He holds a hand out to help Lando to his feet. “Then let’s figure out how to fold some wrapping paper.”

______________________________________________________________

Hours later, when the presents are perfectly trimmed and stacked neatly under the Christmas tree, Oscar realizes something.

“Lando?” 

Lando looks up at him with a smile. His head is in Oscar’s lap, and Ivy is sleeping soundly on his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Why were you behind the couch when I got home?”

Lando flushes a pretty pink, nearly the same color as the velvet-soft blanket draped over their daughter’s back.

“Oh, uh. I was trying to hang some mistletoe, and I dropped it back there,” he replies, his smile turning bashful as he points to the ceiling. 

Oscar tilts his head back, and sure enough, hanging from a piece of string that’s shoddily taped to the ceiling is a tiny sprig of mistletoe. Oscar can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes him.

His laughter only grows when Lando reaches a hand up to swat playfully at his stomach.

“Lando, we’re married. You don’t have to trap us under mistletoe to get me to kiss you,” Oscar teases.

“It’s for the tradition, Oscar!” Lando chides. Ivy stirs on his chest, whining softly in her sleep. “Now kiss me before she starts crying.”

The second their lips meet, Ivy lets out the loudest wail her little body can possibly produce. Oscar and Lando break away with bright, joyous smiles. 

There’s no other place Oscar would rather be than right here.

[carowleysposts]

90 Minutes.

Although I am glad we’re getting SOMETHING, it still hurts that we’re getting so little. We deserved better, our show deserved better.

But, as a film major, I do believe it’s doable. Here’s how I would use the time we have to make GO 3 make sense and be satisfying for the fandom.

Structure: 90 min is about the length of 2 GO episodes. So let’s count on no filler scenes, focus on the main cast and on tying up the main conflict of the narrative.

In 90 minutes we need to have:

1- Reunion of the two protagonists;

2- A basic understanding of what the event is that brought them to meet again (probably the second coming);

3- At least ONE flashback from old times, (hopefully 1941, cause that story is not over);

4- Conflict, climax, resolution.

What I think it’ll look like:

- Something Big is gonna happen all at once: if in seasons one and two we got anticipation, in season three we’ll be in the eye of the hurricane already, the intense, chaotic, dramatic and climactic moment will happen with no warning or preparing for the characters.

- During the chaos, Crowley and Aziraphale will have to join forces, and throughout the events of the episode they will have to talk, which will lead to their reconciliation, while they try and save the world.

- Side characters will appear and have their big moments, but since we have little time, it’ll mainly focus on C and A, switching from action mode to talking through the madness.

- In the end, the epilogue, if you will, we’ll get South Downs Cottage, and an overall vision of what the world looks like now for them and for the other characters, hopefully.

Is it doable? Yes. Is it ideal? Far from it.

But it’s all we got. 90 minutes. Fuck Neil Gaiman.