#real life responsibilities had me in a chokehold

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "Heart Song"

Anyone remember this poll? After a thousand years I finally finished the story, it just needs a bit of editing and polishing. The full version will be up this Sunday, so until then, have this preview!

*.*.*

The world was full of music and to you, that was beautiful. Everyone you met was surrounded by a melody, some louder and some quieter, some sad and some joyful, some struggling and changing tunes as they tried to find themselves and others marching forward, no matter the mismatched tones and half-broken sounding lyrics.

It had been difficult, growing up, to not get lost in the music constantly. Your parents hadn't understood what was going on, dragging you to doctors and trying out different medication, until you had been old enough to find the words, the proper explanation, to tell them how you saw the world. 

A gifted child, your lot were called. People born with abilities that showed as early as when they were infants or sometime late in their adulthood. But the powers always revealed themselves and very, very rarely were not put to use.

You had found yourself responding to melodies that had wanted to be heard and seen and recognized even before you understood what they were, singing back at them clumsily until they had lost a hurt edge, until they had found meaning, until the song surrounding a person's heart rang like clear bells with the sounds of hope-relief-healing.

Becoming a hero had, in a way, been the only sensible conclusion. You wanted to help and you could help, so why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you help sand down rough edges, help people over a bump in their road, help someone hurting find the strength to reach out?

Your parents had thankfully been the sensible ones and had cautioned you against accepting just any hero gig, any contract that was extended to you. You had been so excited you had nearly accepted the first offer without question.

Hero contracts, as you had quickly learned, were rather intense. There was so much red tape surrounding everything and your parents really hadn't liked some of the wording of some of the passages and with great reluctance and perhaps a couple of tears, you had tossed the offers into the trash.

Right up until Redemption & Recovery had reached out to you. They had been a comparatively tiny organization back then, doing their best to help others with the funding they got. Almost all members were volunteers and the contract they had extended had, admittedly, looked pitiful compared to the promised salary of the big hero offices.

But their offer had been just what you had been looking for. Next to no red tape and your values and theirs aligned. The moment your parents gave their tentative green light you had called them straight away, telling them you wanted to work with them.

In the years that had followed, you had made quite the name for yourself and the organization, which had grown in members and funding until it was one of the biggest. You were so proud of everyone and their hard work. 

While you had become the face of R&R, fighting and going to interviews and fan meetings and doing your best to be present online, everyone else had been hard at work behind the scenes. Networking and outlining and signing contracts, choosing sponsors carefully and keeping the unyielding desire to make the world better alive, no matter how big the organization got.

Redemption & Recovery focused heavily on not only offering recovering villains all the tools to keep healing and improving, but they also offered services to the public to help people stay away from the villain business in the first place.

You still didn't have much of a salary compared to other famous heroes, but that worked just fine for you. You rather donated as much as you could feasibly give to R&R, to help finance the services they offered, the therapists and doctors they had on the payroll, as well as housing aid and financial advisors and lawyers to help people get back on their feet.

You still received offers from the big offices, who hoped to poach you from R&R and the latest offer had you choking on your breakfast when you had seen the salary and other perks they had offered. It had still gone into the trash, because the red-tape situation had been as bad as ever.

Besides, you were perhaps a bit...unique, among the heroes. The big offices would probably find working with you rather headache inducing.

You raced around a corner, heart in your throat at the sound of hurt-terror-helplessness that filled the air ahead of you as thickly as the dust and smoke from a collapsed building that had yet to settle. You leapt over rubble and debris, your breath catching when you heard another bit of building crumble somewhere to the left.

And among the injured civilians, the panicked people, one melody rang louder than the others. Loud enough to drench everything in agony-hatred-despair like a wailing siren.

You had heard bits and pieces of this particular melody in the past and you knew exactly who it belonged to. Eclipse, a high-level villain known for laying waste to entire city blocks whenever he appeared. 

He was one of the villains who broke heroes left and right if they weren't strong enough to stand up to him and who had endangered many a civilian carelessly. No death count yet, but he was getting closer and closer to it every time he appeared. 

Even now he had been lucky that people had gotten out of the building in time before it had started to collapse.

Official sources weren't sure if he even had full control of his powers, considering the often haphazard destruction and his at times openly visible frustration. Whatever was going on, however, everyone agreed that he needed to be stopped before he ended up killing, no matter if it was intentional or not.

Eclipse's focused face turned into a mask of fear the moment he noticed you from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to stare at you.

His heart song drew you unerringly to where he was in a showdown with two other heroes, newbies if you remembered correctly. The heroes were bleeding and limping but determined-angry-hurt and they would not stop until they could no longer get up.

You saw Eclipse raise a hand in your direction and you felt his power in the air, heavy like a yoke dropping onto your shoulders, with a sharp underlining that told you it was barely-controlled. The ground beneath you starting to crack, glass shattering further, steel beams yanking out of the rubble to hurl at you.

But you were close enough now. You closed your eyes for a moment, senses honing in on his heart song and you took a deep breath and began to sing. You answered the anguished melody of his heart, desperate and with a hurt so deep it had stained every part of his life for far, far too long.

You were only peripherally aware of all the ammunition clattering to the ground, steel beams scraping to a stop, glass grinding into shards so fine they briefly resembled glittering snow.

The two heroes backed up, relief making their songs brighter as they turned to rush to the aid of the injured civilians, among them two officers who had gotten pinned by fallen concrete.

Eclipse collapsed to his knees, a keening noise escaping him, wounded and terrified and he burst into tears. His heart song was nothing but pain and hurt that was finally set free for the first time, like a wound that had needed to be drained of infection. Painful but necessary.

You hurried towards Eclipse as he helplessly sobbed in a way that reminded you of a child that had been abandoned by everyone, confused and terrified and so terribly alone.

Before you could reach him however, still singing, for you hadn't completed the melody yet, a different song sliced through the air like a serrated blade, sharp and cutting and jarring enough that it made you jolt to a stop. 

You had just one moment to drag your focus away from Eclipse and back to the world around you, when Vision leapt out of the settling dust and rubble, his heart song a deep, echoing drum of vicious anger-determination-worry.

The sleek black metal helmet covering his head was faintly reflecting some sunlight and you dodged back just in time to avoid a kick to the middle. Two quickly and precisely aimed blows forced you to focus on the fight entirely and you had to cut off your song even as it felt like you were suddenly walking on spiky stones in your shoes. 

Cutting songs short hurt and the rest of the melody still stuck within you started to claw at your lungs, demanding to be released. To be completed.

You managed to dodge around Vision, realizing that his heart song filled with righteous fury and blade-sharp worry gave you...nothing. It was rare, granted, but sometimes there were people who didn't want to be saved. Who didn't want or perhaps need your songs. They wanted to be their own saviors.

You hadn't clashed with Vision before, but then again, heroes rarely did. He was a villain capable of seeing into the future and his ability to predict the outcomes of battles ahead of time, knowing the moves and abilities of heroes ensured that no one had ever won against him. 

No trap had ever worked and he was one of ten villains who managed to keep everything about themselves private. He was also pretty much all over the place when it came to his MO, he seemed to enjoy dipping his fingers at least once into every pie.

That he was here, now, getting involved with you when you had never so much as seen his shadow fleeing his crime scenes made you think of the rumors you had heard recently. Of unexpected villain alliances and joint attacks.

You ducked out of the way of his next attack, sliding around his guard to trip him up. Vision was skilled, however, easily as skilled as you were in hand-to-hand combat and smoothly turned his fall into a drop and roll, avoiding your sweeping kick by a hair. 

One thing however, became clear within even that short exchange of blows: He was willing to hit a lot harder than you.

You hated fighting. You loathed being the reason heart songs changed for the worse.

Fighting caused hurt and deepened the songs of pain-anguish-hate-loneliness. It filled the world around you with the sound of strings snapping and keys being smashed, as though an orchester had decided to get shitfaced drunk and now they were playing their instruments so hard they ended up breaking.

Hurting others was the ugliest song you knew and it made something in your very teeth ache like biting onto a bar of icy metal after drinking hot tea.

You managed to hold your ground, always peripherally aware of Eclipse who was gasping sobs into his hands and the unfinished song scraping your ribs raw, right up until another villain joined the fray. She appeared so quickly you had no chance to react in time, not with Vision viciously on the attack. 

Silver was a tough woman with the fiercest heart song you had ever heard, strong enough to crumble mountains like cookies and with such a drive forward that her melody could sweep anyone up in her rhythm, driving them to reach for the stars relentlessly.

Silver flicked out a dagger and the knowledge that she didn't kill didn't help one bit when she was well known for leaving heroes with career-ending injuries. She was so damn precise it usually only took her one hit to take heroes down. Even the powerful ones couldn't afford to slip up around her and they only ever took her on one-on-one, because even an inexperienced second villain spelled their doom. 

Vision already had you fully occupied and you had no chance to dodge, never mind counterattack.

You saw the flash of the blade, braced yourself for the pain, the songs around you suddenly too much, too loud, too – a sharp pop filled the air, followed by one of your favorite melodies in the world. 

From the corner of your eye you saw the sweep of a night-black cape and a night-black gauntlet came up to parry Silver's blow, as Areth appeared at your back out of nowhere.

"Yo," Areth said with a sharp grin, a mask covering the upper half of her face.

"Lo," her twin Sorrel answered as he leapt out of her shadow and at Silver, tumbling her to the ground with a snarl.

"Is someone bullying our Cloud?" Areth asked as she whirled past you, striking out at Vision, disappearing and reappearing behind him before the hit landed, but it had the desired effect – he had reacted to her feint.

It left his flank wide open and her kick landed solidly, throwing him off his feet and he tumbled into the dirt and rubble as Areth took up position at your side. "You good, little Cloud?"

The twins had nicknamed you Cloud since they thought you lived with your head in the clouds, always listening to things no one else could hear, humming and smiling or frowning at nothing.

"Give me cover?" you asked, already running for Eclipse and picking his song back up, relief flooding your lungs and Areth's melody resonated protective-care-determination, turning her usually pleasant heart song into something beautifully fierce. 

Her twin's song echoed hers as he dipped in and out of shadows, disarming Silver at last – not that that stopped her from being dangerous – while Areth moved to keep Vision occupied. Her teleportation skills were honestly some of the few abilities that could stand up to Vision's future-predicting powers.

She seemed to move too fast for him to reliably predict where she was going to end up next. Which didn't mean that she had an easy time against him, but she at least was one of two people in the city capable of even landing a hit on him.

Eclipse's desperate melody took a metaphorical breath as your song rose over the sound of battle and you did your best to soothe him back out of the storm, to guide the hurt and bitterness and abandonment that drenched every single part of him towards release.

You had just barely finished the song, Eclipse's sobs slowly petering out as he sat sagged on the ground, utterly exhausted, when Areth appeared at your side, grabbing you. Sorrel slipped into her shadow and then you were gone. For just a split second, your world was...quiet. Quiet in a way it never was.

And then you stood a street over, sound and color and smell and taste filtering back and you needed a moment to reorient yourself before you turned around to where the battle had been, only for your breath to catch. A strange shimmer filled the air a few houses behind you, moving up and up at a rapid pace to create a massive dome.

"White Rabbit showed up," Areth said and her and Sorrel's melodies overlapped now, like two people singing the same song in perfect sync. They always sounded like this when he hid in her shadow and you were about the only person who had known from the beginning that Areth wasn't walking alone whenever she had shown up in costume.

You were about to hurry forward, when her hand found your shoulder. "Don't go, Cloud, you know that time's not on your side in there. Besides, the big league heroes are already on the way, though I doubt that by the time they break the dome they're going to find anyone but confused civilians."

You grimaced and reluctantly backed down. Your powers were absolutely and completely useless when it came to Timeless, who only needed to catch you up in either a time-freezing dome or had to rewind the last couple of seconds once you appeared to ensure you could be avoided. You had to get close enough to people after all for your powers to have the desired effect.

"Thanks," you said. "For helping me."

"Always, little Cloud." Areth gave your shoulder a gentle nudge, her and Sorrel's combined heart songs mellowing out into affection-kindness-protective. "You're one of the few actually, genuinely good eggs that we know." She paused looking up. "Aw, shit, bye!"

The teleported away and not a moment too late. Rescue heavily impacted where Areth had stood, having leapt from who-knew-where, straightening on powerful legs. Rescue was a grizzled, old hero, one of the oldest and she rarely left her office these days, preferring to guide and teach the younger generation.

That she was here meant that Timeless' dome needed to go down stat.

Rescue tipped her head politely at you. "Anything you can tell me?" she asked, voice rumbling. "I saw the mess from my window and I'm sick and tired of meetings."

Or she had gotten bored. Rescue was more than established enough that she could get away with pretty much anything. You got her caught up to speed and she nodded before tensing and leaping away, asphalt cracking in her wake.

You hurried forward too, lingering near the shimmering glass-like dome until it shattered apart and then you were dashing forward. You could sing if there was no specific heart song to focus on, but those songs tended to have more of an area effect and they were a little softer and gentler. They were also more than enough to soothe and calm the civilians and ease the tension of the newbies.

"No one's left," Rescue muttered. "Fucking villains, they've been getting really damn bold lately."

"Do you know why?" you asked her. Rescue was pretty knowledgeable, there had been a few instances over the years where she had given you pretty damn useful advice.

She frowned. "Not a damn clue." Her phone started to ring and she pulled it out to glance at the screen. With an eye roll she added, "Gotta bail, these adult children need me to hold their hands. Becaus god forbid they just do what I say."

With a quick salute, she was gone and you frowned at your surroundings. The villain activity was bothering you quite a bit if you were being honest.

Things always shifted, people grew in power or lost power, but it was an ebbing and swelling that was visible on both sides. There was a strange symbiosis between villains and heroes, a flow of power and control. 

Usually, a new arrival made waves on both sides for a bit, a new villain or new hero upsetting the previous balance. It was like integrating a new instrument to an orchester that hadn't expected any arrivals in the middle of a play and now they had to improvise quickly on the spot.

But this, this was different. Whatever was going that had villains uniting who usually didn't work with each other, it had them antsy and downright worried.

Only villains were antsy and worried. This upset among the villains was not reflected among the heroes, which meant...

You finished helping with the rescue efforts and went back to R&R, allowing the resident medic to check you over like they always did after a fight. All the while you kept turning things over in your mind.

Vision was a loner, as was Eclipse. Silver occasionally worked with other people, but that was only temporarily and Timeless was an enigma on the best of days. Two of those villains teaming up you could have explained away, but all four of them? And they weren't the only ones.

You went home and booted up your computer to start noting everything down. Aside from today, you had other villains working together who should not have anything to do with each other. Tide and Meteorite had been seen aiding each other and Skull Crusher and Bard had teamed up with Ultimatum, who they had a notorious rivalry with.

Before you knew it, you had nearly twenty villains who had recently been seen either on downright friendly terms or actively helping each other. Picking up your phone, you started to make calls, hoping to get a foot in the door before whatever was going on would come crashing down.

There were plenty of villains who actively liked you after you had helped them with your singing. While most people feared your powers deeply – even heroes and plenty of civilians to your great sadness – the ones you had sung to tended to seek you out.

Healing hurt, but afterwards...well, they were doing better afterwards, taking better care of themselves, seeking out therapists or other aid. You were probably the only hero around who could ask villains to poke into the business of their brethren and report back to you.

Only...for the first time, you got no answers.

You sat awake for hours, searching through the internet and online newspapers. You scrounged through the cesspit of social media, trying to find the red string that eluded you.

*.*.*

Full version will be up on Sunday! Let me know if you want to join the tag list!

[gigabyte-flare]

At Your Service

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: You are the daughter of a wealthy family in New Eridu. Lycaon has been your loyal butler since you first moved out from your childhood home. You're about to find out just how far Lycaon is going to go to prove his devotion to you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Mild Yandere, implied r@cisim (not by reader or Lycaon), domestic violence (not by Lycaon), attempted SA (not by Lycaon), graphic violence, dubcon, oral (f receiving), pet names, playful biting, unprotected p in v, knotting, breeding kink, creampie

A/N: Just when I thought Jiyan from Wuthering Waves had me in a chokehold (he still does), Hoyo literally said "hold my beer." Does being down bad for Von Lycaon make me a furry? Probably. Do I care? Nope. He's hot and I can't get enough of him.

"As you can see, we had record profits this month. The campaign with the promoters definitely made a huge difference in our profit margin--"

You can't help but let out a loud sigh, resting the side of your face in the palm of you hand as your elbow keeps your head up as you stare into the webcam at your office computer. This is your last meeting of the day, heck, of the week. Unfortunately with the finance department of your family's business: a publishing company for video games and video tapes. Given how popular consumable media is in New Eridu, the business had taken off, you and your family now set for life. This also meant that your parents expected you to take over once they retire; you were still struggling to come to terms with that fact.

"-- that concludes this week's financial overview, I hope everyone has a good weekend!"

You waste no time turning off your webcam and shutting down your work computer. You couldn't get out of the office building fast enough. Getting into your car, you make the drive home to just beyond Sixth Street.

You live in one of the larger homes on the outskirts of New Eridu thanks to the success of your family's company. You park your car, getting out and approaching your front door. Before you even have a chance to dig your keys out of your pocket to unlock the door, your front door opens and you are greeted by your tall, imposing wolf Thiren butler: Von Lycaon of Victoria Housekeeping.

"Welcome home, my lady. I already have dinner started. I trust your day went well?"

"Hey Lycaon… it was alright," you reply as you step through the doorway, Lycaon stepping aside to let you through, "what's for dinner?"

You feel his deft clawed fingers help you take off your jacket before walking it over to the entryway closet to hang it up, his steel mechanical legs echoing in the entryway as he walks.

He answers you while hanging up your jacket, "roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and broccoli, my liege."

You chuckle, "you've been here for years, yet I still cannot get used to you addressing me like someone who's important."

Lycaon turns slightly just as he was about to shut the closet door, his red eye scrutinizing you, "but you are important, my lady."

You feel your cheeks tingle at his response, but quickly shake your head to compose yourself, "Do you… need any help with dinner?"

"I do not require any help. Not that I would trouble you with such trivial matters," he replies, walking away from the closet to head back into the kitchen.

"If you insist…" you hesitate; even after all this time, you're not accustom to having someone else doing all the house work, "I'll be in the living room watching TV. Come get me when dinner is ready, alright?"

Turning to you once more, Lycaon gives you a nod and a subtle smirk before walking into the kitchen. You don't realize your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away; watching the intricate parts on his prosthetic legs move as he walks, the way his right arm his bent behind him, his fist clenched, the way his large bushy tail wags gently as he--

You blink a few times, once again shaking your head and bringing your hand to your forehead.

Fucking hell, girl, get a hold of yourself. He's your freaking butler.

You turn and walk into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. Leaning forward, you grab the remote off of the coffee table and turn the TV on, mindlessly scrolling through the channels before settling on some talk show. You don't focus on the show, instead, you pull out your phone and check your notifications. You notice you have a Knock Knock message from someone, so you open the notification bubble to check it.

"Hey! It's Steve, are we still on for dinner tomorrow?"

"Oh… that's right… I'm supposed to have dinner with that guy Mom hooked me up with…" you say to yourself, rolling your eyes before you type out your response.

"Yeah. Did you still want to pick me up from my house?"

You see the typing ellipses pop up a few times before his response comes through, "if you're comfortable with that, yeah!"

Normally, you would never let some strange man pick you up from your house to go on some blind date, but you know for a fact Lycaon wouldn't let anything happen to you; those mechanical prosthetic legs weren't just for show. You've witnessed first hand the damage they can do a handful of times in the years you've known him.

"My lady," you hear Lycaon call to you from the threshold of the living room, startling you from your thoughts, "my apologies, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no… it's fine. I'm guessing dinner is ready?" you reply, turning around to face him while still seated on the couch.

"Indeed. Would you like to eat in the dining room or here, my lady?" he asks as he straightens his posture.

"We can eat in here. Come watch TV with me Lycaon, I insist." you reply, waving him into the living room.

"As you wish, my lady, I shall plate dinner and bring it in here, one moment."

You watch as he gracefully turns around, walking out, the metallic rattle of his legs echoing as he returns to the kitchen. He returns promptly with two plates of food and utensils. He hands you your plate first before taking his own and sitting in a nearby chair. He crosses his legs, his large tail then settling onto his lap as be began to eat his meal. You waste no time digging in; you absolutely loved Lycaon's cooking and tonight was no exception. You're so focused on your meal that you almost miss your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing another Knock Knock notification.

"I take it you don't want me to pick you up at your house…?"

"Oh shit…" you curse to yourself, having forgotten to respond to Steve.

You quickly text him to that it's fine and send him your address before gently setting your phone onto the coffee table.

"What was that all about, my lady?" Lycaon asks, as perceptive as ever, even while eating dinner.

"Oh nothing," you say, tucking your legs up onto the couch as you continue to eat dinner, "I'm just making plans with someone to go to dinner tomorrow night. I forgot to text him back."

"I see, should I plan to make dinner just for myself then?"

"No, set aside a plate for me… just incase the plan falls through…"

"As you wish, my lady."

The two of you continue to eat dinner in silence, your gaze unconsciously wandering over to him, lingering on his mechanical prosthetics before moving to the mask he wears on his face, which covers one of his crimson eyes. You've always wondered what had happened to him, but Lycaon never talks about himself and you didn't want to pry into something that is probably really painful for him.

Sensing your gaze on him, he clears his throat before speaking, "Is everything alright, my lady?"

"Oh--! Sorry, I was just zoning out…" you quickly retort before returning your attention to your meal.

Once the two of you are finished with your meal, you switch channels and watch the latest episode of Starlight Knights while Lycaon gets absorbed in a book. Exhaustion sinks its teeth into you suddenly and you fall asleep on the couch. Noticing this, Lycaon sets his book aside, standing up and scooping you into his arms before carefully carrying you to bed upstairs, his tail wagging gently the whole way there.

The next morning, you are pulled from your sleep by the smell of bacon. Your eyes slowly open and you stretch your arms out over your head, letting out a loud yawn as you do so. You glance over at the clock; it's nearly 10:00 in the morning. You're shocked Lycaon had let you sleep in this long. Upon setting your arms down in front of you, you come into contact with a breakfast tray. The food on it is still hot, Lycaon must have just brought it in. He made your favorite: waffles with fresh berries, syrup and bacon. You can't help but smile as you grab the nearby fork and dig in.

As you're eating, you suddenly realize you don't recall getting into bed last night, you were still wearing the outfit you had on yesterday. Lycaon must have carried you to bed… again. That's been happening more and more frequently, you feel terrible that he felt obligated to carry you to bed. Still, you feel a warmth in your chest thinking about him taking care of you; you guess that's only natural given he's been your butler for so long.

Your parents had insisted on hiring someone from Victoria Housekeeping when you decided to move out after buying a house, mainly for protection. Being the daughter of a prominent publishing giant came with its risks as you soon learned. As unnecessary as you found it at first, you were very grateful for Lycaon's protection and companionship. Even so, you were hesitant to admit you've caught feelings for the enigmatic butler; could anyone blame you though? Von Lycaon was legendary in both his services and his physical prowess; hence why your family hired him specifically. Only the best for their daughter.

Despite your complicated feelings for Lycaon, your mother insisted on playing match maker. This latest man she picked out is the first one you've entertained going on a date with, mainly to shut your mother up. You honestly had no desire to date anyone; you have everything you could possibly need right now, even with how you feel about your butler.

The rest of the day is uneventful and before you know it, the sun is setting, casting orange rays into your windows. Lycaon is in the kitchen doing up dishes when he hears a loud knock on the door. He stops, his gaze shifting to the front door as whoever is out there continues to knock. Letting out a low growl, he takes his hands out of the dishwater, drying them off before putting his fingerless gloves back on. Tucking one of his arms behind him, he approaches the front door, opening it. He is greeted by short human male, his brown hair greasy and slicked back with a red goatee that is haphazardly trimmed and rectangle glasses. The man's eyes widen upon seeing Lycaon, who is glaring down at him with a furrowed brow. The man tries to speak, but finds himself at a loss for words.

"What business do you have with my Master?" Lycaon asks, his tone dark, his threatening gaze unwavering.

"I… uh… I'm here to pick up… uh…" the male stammers, checking something on his phone.

"It's fine, Lycaon! I'm expecting him, his name is Steve!" Lycaon hears you call from within the house.

Upon hearing you come down the stairs from your bedroom, Lycaon turns to look at you as you approach the front door. You suddenly stop in your tracks upon seeing the man at the front door, your eyes wide.

He looks nothing like the photos your mother sent of him.

Sensing your unease, Lycaon goes to you, giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder as he shifts to stand behind you, standing tall and puffing his pectoral muscles outward; almost as if he's asserting his dominance. You banish the thought; that'd be ridiculous, he's your butler for crying out loud!

"Is this the person you mentioned you were going to dinner with, my lady?" Lycaon asks, his crimson gaze still locked on Steve.

You nod, swallowing hard as you struggle to get your anxiety under control. Your mother probably sent an outdated picture. Everything will be fine.

It wasn't fine. Steve took you to some dimly lit dive in Lumina Square; you didn't even think a place this dingy could exist. You are not a vain person, but this place is absolutely abhorrent. Steve was rambling on and on about god knows what, you stopped listening awhile ago; wishing desperately to be home where a beautifully cooked meal would be waiting for you. You're glad that you had Lycaon make a plate for you.

"-- so, what's with the Thiren living with you?" Steve asks, ripping you from your thoughts.

Realizing he's asking about Lycaon, you sit up straight, setting your hands onto the table, "he's my butler, why?"

Steve scoffs, giving you a sly smirk, "he's awfully jacked to be just a butler. I've never seen a Thiren built like that."

"He is able to protect me if needed, if that's what you're getting at," you reply, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice.

"You won't need him anymore," Steve says, that stupid smirk still on his face as he leans forward, resting his chin on one of his hands as he rests his elbow on the table.

You lean back, crossing your arms, "and why is that?"

"Because you have me now."

The silence that follows after Steve's statement could have been cut with a knife. You discreetly pull out your phone, opening the Knock Knock app and send a single message to Lycaon.

"Lumina Square please come."

"I don't recall telling you that we're dating," you finally break the silence as you look up at Steve, your heart pounding in your chest as your anxiety heightens.

"You didn't have to, you let me take you to dinner. It's clear you're now my girlfriend," Steve says, gazing at you like you're a slab of meat, "and I want you to get rid of that butler. I don't need some disgusting Thiren third wheeling us."

He's one of those people. Fucking great.

"Lycaon isn't going anywhere, thank you very much," you reply as you suddenly stand up from the table, making your way to the entrance of the restaurant, "this date is over."

Steve stands up, rushing over to you and grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you to him, "you're not going anywhere, sweetheart!"

The small handful of people in the restaurant just stare at the two of you as you struggle against Steve's grasp; no one makes a move to help you.

"Let go of me you greasy asshole!" you yell, spitting in his face.

Steve scowls, wiping your spit from his face before slapping you across the face. You cry out when his hand makes contact, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. One of Steve's hands grasps your back side, squeezing so hard that you know for certain it's going to bruise later. The other hand grabs your chin, forcing your head so it's facing his and he tries to kiss you.

The front door of the restaurant suddenly gets kicked in and you feel a familiar chill in the air. You don't need to look to know that your loyal butler has arrived.

"Get your filthy hands off my Master," Lycaon growls, his heavy steps quickly advancing.

Steve sucks in a breath, his eyes widening as he lets go of you, shoving you away. You can see that he's trembling, frozen in place. You notice a wet spot on his pants, right between his legs.

Oh my god… he's pissed himself.

You stifle a laugh at this realization as you watch Lycaon approach him. The individual parts on his mechanical legs popping out and coating in ice, cooling the air around him. You pick up the chatter around you.

"Isn't that the owner of Victoria Housekeeping?!"

"Yeah, that's Von Lycaon!"

"I wouldn't want to be that guy right now…"

Steve stumbles backwards as Lycaon stalks towards him, his posture confident and his right arm tucked behind him.

"Dude I'm sorry! I was desperate ok?! It won't happen again!"

"You're right," Lycaon growls, his eye shifting up at Steve, his gaze like a crimson dagger, "it won't."

Within a blink of an eye, Lycaon rushes forward, punching him in the gut. Steve hunches over, a splatter of blood coming out of his mouth. Lycaon brings up one of his legs, kneeing Steve in the face before bringing his other leg around to give him a roundhouse kick. You cry out along with the other patrons as Steve is hurled into the back of the restaurant, crashing against the wall so hard, it leaves a large indent in the wall where Steve's body made contact before crashing to the floor. For a moment, Steve doesn't move and you start to fear that Lycaon might have killed him; that is until Steve starts groaning, staggering while standing up.

"You… You hit like a bitch…" Steve groans, wiping the blood coming from his mouth.

You spot a subtle smirk form on Lycaon's lips as he walks towards Steve, ice once again gathering on his mechanical legs, several different parts starting to glow. He stands in front of Steve once more, who is now laughing nervously.

"Say that again, cretin. To my face."

Not so tough now that Lycaon is inches in front of him, Steve remains silent, his legs wobbling as he fights to keep himself standing up. You watch Steve swallow hard, seemingly building up his courage.

"You hit like a bi--"

If you had blinked, you would have missed Lycaon kicking straight upwards, causing Steve's head to violently snap backwards, an audible crack reverberating in the restaurant. Steve drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Lycaon takes a moment to brush himself off before turning around and walking up to you.

"Don't worry, my lady, he's not dead," he says, as if reading your mind as he gently takes your arm to lead you outside, "let's get you home."

The first thing Lycaon had done once the two of you had gotten home was start the shower for you. You have no idea how much time has passed since you stepped inside, letting the hot water fall on you as you silently cry. You should have listened to your gut when you realized Steve looked nothing like the photo your mother had sent you. That is the last time you let your mother play match maker. You felt awful that Lycaon had to basically come rescue you. There's no doubt your father is going to catch wind about what happened, especially considering the amount of damage Lycaon had caused in the restaurant.

You'll worry about that later. Right now, all you wanted to do was get cleaned up and go to sleep. You turn the shower off, pushing the shower curtain aside to step out, but you stop yourself. You find one of your bathrobes folded neatly on the counter next to the sink, but that's not all. A single red rose is placed on top of the folded robe. You carefully step out of the shower, approach the bathroom counter, gingerly pick up the rose and twirl it in your fingers slowly; the rose having been meticulously de-thorned.

Lycaon…?

Another spot of red in the corner of your eye catches your attention. Turning to look, you see that there is a trail of red rose petals on the floor that leads out of the bathroom. You take the robe and put it on, wrapping it around your nude body and tying it before you follow the trail of rose petals. Upon opening the bathroom door, you are once again stunned, too frozen in shock to move. The rose petals lead straight to your bed, the plush white comforter not only covered in petals, but with whole roses like the one you found in the bathroom; there's at least twenty of them, if not more.

You hesitantly walk towards your bed, your heart pounding in your chest. Did Lycaon do this? He must have, who else would have, you're the only two people in the house. But why? What does this mean? Your breaths are heavy, causing your chest to heave as you look down at your bed. You place your hand over your heart in an attempt to calm yourself. Surely, he's just trying to cheer you up after your horrific date. That must be it.

"My lady."

You suck in a breath at the sound of Lycaon's voice, slowly turning around to face him. Standing in the doorway, you immediately notice he's not wearing his signature vest, but just the white button up shirt he typically wears beneath the vest, the sleeves still rolled up to his elbows along with his black pants. The shirt is unbuttoned halfway, a tuft of fur spilling from his shirt. You feel your mouth hang slightly agape as your eyes run up and down Lycaon's form.

"If I had known you were going on a date with that… filth, I wouldn't have let you go."

He slowly approaches you, the sultry look in his eye erasing any doubts of his intentions; the sound of his mechanical legs walking across the floor echoing in your head as he approaches. You unconsciously take a step back away from him, the back of your legs hitting the foot of the bed.

"My liege," he whispers, the backs of his fingers gently caressing the side of your face, "there is no need to be alarmed. Unlike that disgusting drivel, I would never hurt you."

His fingers gently dance across your jaw line, moving downwards until he reaches your throat. You swallow hard as his fingers gingerly wrap around your neck, "that is unless… you want me to hurt you."

You watch his eye darken, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as his fingers delicately squeeze the pulse points on your neck.

"Lycaon we… we shouldn't do this. If my father finds out--"

"To hell with your father," he growls, stepping closer to you, "I've seen how you look at me, my lady; the way your eyes linger on me when you think I'm not looking."

His hand moves from your throat, sliding down to rest onto your chest, right over your racing heart, "I know you want this as much as I do."

Your head is spinning, being pushed and pulled between all your complicated feelings. You do want this. As much as you want this, he's your butler under your family's employ, you know it's wrong. You hesitantly shake your head.

Lycaon lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I can smell your arousal, my lady. You should know more than anyone that you can't fool me."

Wrapping one of his arms around your waist, he tenderly coaxes you to lay back onto the bed, his muzzle buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he cages you with his body. His hands grasp onto your thighs, gingerly spreading your legs apart so he can settle himself between them. You can feel him grazing his teeth along the side of your neck, to your jawline until his lips linger just in front of yours.

With a deep breath, you finally give in to your desires, kissing him deeply as your hands run up his chest. Your fingers find the buttons on his shirt and begin to unbutton them, his shirt falling open once you undo the last button. As your hands massage his chest, you can feel the toned muscle under his soft fur. Letting out a groan, Lycaon deepens your kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours.

You feel like the kiss lasts an eternity and let out a soft whimper when he breaks the kiss. He lets out a low chuckle as he leans down, kissing your collar bone as he unties your robe, pushing off you. Once your body is exposed, he trails kisses between your breasts, over your stomach until you can feel his warm breath over your folds.

"From this moment on, I will be the only man touching you," he states, his gaze locked on yours has he runs his tongue through your folds before continuing, "if a man so much as breathes on you, I will snap him in half like a twig."

Between his ministrations on your cunt and his words, you're completely overwhelmed by pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you lay your head against the mattress; your pussy walls fluttering around nothing. You hear another low chuckle from Lycaon.

"Oh? Do you like that, my liege? Do you like it when I protect you?" he asks with a playful tone.

He doesn't allow you to answer, however, because he immediately seals his lips around your throbbing clit, gingerly taking it between his teeth and caressing it with his tongue, reveling in the sound of the loud moans coming from you as he does so. You dig your heels into the bed as your hands grip the sheets. Your legs trembling, a strained cry comes out of you as you finally come undone on his tongue. Lycaon eagerly laps up your release.

"My lady, you're as succulent as the sweetest fruit," he says softly, licking your release from his lips as he begins to climb back on top of you.

He hooks both of his arms under your thighs, draping your legs onto his shoulders as he looms above you. Staring down at you longingly, he begins undoing the belt on his pants with one hand. Your eyes widen when he pulls out his member. It's massive, easily the biggest you've ever laid eyes on. You can't help but also notice the large knot at the base, causing your heart to flutter.

Is he going to fit?!

Leaning back on his haunches, he spits on your pussy, using his fingers to massage his saliva into your folds before leaning back on top of you. You can feel his cock prod at your entrance, causing your heart to race in anxiety and anticipation.

"Tell me if it's too much, ok?" he whispers as he moves his hips forward.

You nod, sucking in a breath as you feel him penetrate you, his girth filling you up perfectly. As he begins to thrust, you watch his tail begin to wag back and forth, teasing a smile from you. His lips once again lock with yours, kissing you deeply as he fucks you with steady and even thrusts. Moaning softly into his kiss, you run your hands up his chest, then up the sides of his neck before settling on each side of his face, your hips moving in time with his.

He feels absolutely heavenly inside you, your walls squeezing his cock as it bullies its way deeper and deeper. He abruptly stops and pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach before lining his member back up with your throbbing cunt.

"I'm going to breed this beautiful pussy." he says, sheathing himself back inside you up to his knot, "fill you up with all my pups. Would you like that, my liege?"

He begins to thrust again, more aggressively this time. Each thrust forcing his knot into you, stretching you. You nod weakly as more moans spill out of you and before long, his knot is finally fully inside, creating a seal. It's a little painful at first, but that is quickly replaced by the intense pleasure coursing through your body as he pounds into you. Letting out a growl, he bites into your shoulder as his thrusts become sporadic.

You cry out is name, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you claw the sheets with your fingers, your second orgasm barreling towards you. With one final thrust, he pushes himself as deep inside you as he can possibly go without hurting you, shooting his load straight into your womb, painting your insides white with his seed. Your whole body is trembling from your release, your walls squeezing him as his cock continues to throb inside you.

You feel Lycaon's tongue lap where he had bit into your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek with his, his powerful arms wrapping around you, "are you alight, my lady?"

You turn to him, kissing him on the cheek unable to get the huge smile off your face, "more than alight, Lycaon."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

[vampzworld]

the one on which he worships you seonghwa x fem reader

MINORS DNI || this is a work of fiction, f i c t i o n. this isn't a representation of seonghwa in real life. || otherwise enjoy, and please dont plagiaries my work.

this is also my first time posting something on here so... idk how this is gonna go, but my friends said this is too good not to share so.. imma share. :) mwah :3

OH THERES A PLAYLIST I GATHERED TOO LET ME JUST :

summoning by sleep token

Chokehold by sleep token

Right here by chase atlantic

Candy by doja cat (PLAY THIS WHEN IT SAYS)

Wicked games by the weeknd

Renegade by aaryan shah

Earned it by the weeknd

Best friends by the weeknd

Im yours by isabel la rosa

----------------------------------------

“A sign from god ? the gods? You are an angel. I am enraptured by your everything.” genre: friends/lovers, sexual tension. idk what else just enjoy <3 luv, mother. word count: 1757... ---------------------------------------------------

You just got off work and it was late at night, not too late where anyone was concerned but enough to get Seonghwa to text you and ask where you were. You guys worked under the same company but have been friends for years. You just broke up with your boyfriend so he had a reason to text and be concerned. You ignore his text and get in your car, you were an hour away from home. The drive home was peaceful until your phone was going off every other 2 minutes, you didn’t bother to check because you already knew who it was. You shoot Seonghwa a quick text, reassuring him that you are okay. The texts stop for a while, 8 minutes later you get a call from him. “Yes, Hwa how can i help you ?” you ask, rolling your eyes as you get on the last highway home. “Where are you?” he asks in a monotone kind of voice. “On the highway, can i finish my drive home in peace?” you retort. Lowkey regretting it, can he get a little demonic ? overprotective. Yea but he just cares about you that's all and needs you to be safe. “I’ll be waiting” he hangs up. THE FUCK is that supposed to fucking mean. You push it aside and the drive home goes by faster than you expected. You had no worries or regrets about the call, if only you knew what you were going home to. You get home, park your car and get in the elevator on the way to your apartment. Everything feels fine, so you calm down. Still pondering what Hwa meant as you walk to the elevator, you reminisce on how he growled his last sentence to you. You squeeze your legs in response to butterflies moving into your abdomen, no that's not right. Hwa is your friend and bitch get a grip you just got out of a relationship. That can't take away from what your body needs. 

You need to be fucked. You need Seonghwa. It's wrong. It is downright sinful, but you love it. Pressure further builds up throughout your entire body. You shake your head as you exit the elevator and begin the trip to your apartment. (candy by doja cat) You unlock your door and are taken aback by who you see sitting on your couch. Seonghwa is spread out on your couch with a look on his face only the devil himself can recreate. “What are you doing here Hwa?” you ask, setting down your things and making your way towards your couch. “ What.. how the FUCK did you get in?” you ask sitting down. He doesn’t speak, he just looks you up and down. Studying you like the mona lisa, his gaze is ravenous and you are matching the energy without even knowing. “You want me huh ?” he asks in a low tone. You gulp, wondering how he knew that. He moves near you slowly, hands gently tracing your legs and moving further. “Tell me you don’t want this” he says as he moves his hands to your thighs. “Tell me this is a sin, tell me this is wrong” he says as he moves up to your face, his breath tingling your neck sending chills down your body. You shudder as he nips your ear, “Tell me you don’t want this and I will stop” he says placing soft kisses on your neck and he unzips your jacket. You stop him and he looks you in your eyes with a look that is ravenous yet innocent. He is begging to experience you, taste you. He is ravenous. Is this wrong ? yes. Have you wanted him since the dawn of time ? yes. You nodded yes and he takes that and turns into someone you never knew existed. He starts at your neck placing rough passionate kisses on your neck, ones that will leave a mark. He slips off your jacket with a swiftness, and takes his hands down to your waist gripping it tightly like he is gonna lose you. He takes your shirt off revealing your boobs, he b-lines and latches on like a breastfeeding child. Playing with your nipples in his mouth, you arch your back in response to the pleasure. He takes note of that and massages your thighs and continues onto the other boob. You moan at the sensation, a heat building up between your legs. 

This is wrong so wrong, but it feels so right. 

He lays you down on your couch, taking your pants off slowly, never breaking eye contact. “So pretty baby, look at you so beautiful” he says as he places gentle kisses on your legs as your pants are finally off your legs. He makes eye contact with you before he gets up on his knees towering over you, the look he gives you makes you wet beyond belief. “Baby, you’re wet for me aren’t you?” he asks you as he makes his way to your underwear. He plays with your clit from the outside, you want him inside. You try to get more friction and it doesn't work. His free hand flies to your throat pinning you down, “Stay where I fucking have you” he growls making himself level with your pussy. He slides your underwear down so slow, you moan in angst. He goes even slower than before making you ache. Your ex could never make you feel like this. “You are beautiful” he moans as he kisses your inner thigh. You get wetter each tender kiss he lays on your body, blissful moans fill the air. LUST lingers all around you two. You moan as he kisses your clit finally. “A sign from god ? the gods? You are an angel. I am enraptured by everything.” he says before he latches onto your clit. A new sensation possesses you and he goes harder against your clit. His tongue dives into your pussy as his nose rubs perfectly against your clit. Sending you into overdrive. “You are perfect baby” he moans into your vagina as he carries on to eat you like you were the last meal he was going to have. He continues to hit every spot perfectly, making you moan uncontrollably. “I-I’m gonna cum” you moan as you try to squirm out of his death grip. He swiftly moves you so that you are sitting on his face. “Drown me baby, I don’t care if you think I can’t breathe.” he says as he rubs your clit with his thumb stimulating you perfectly. “You are a goddess who deserves to be worshiped, if I die between your legs I will have died a happy man. Now fuck my face” as he yanks you down onto his face moving your hips. Sending you into a bliss where you swear you can taste the stars. You finally come back to earth and start to ride his face, the vibrations from his moans send you to heaven and back. You start to ride out your high and he moans louder into your pussy. You cum and he holds you down, drinking from you like you are the fountain of youth. You ride out your high and get off his face. Revealing a drenched Seonghwa, you feel like you need more. 

You work your way to his waistband, unbuckling his belt and moving onto his pants.  Seonghwa looks at you with nothing but love and lust in his eyes. He helps you take off his pants. “You know I have been dreaming of you for years” he says as you climb onto his lap as you grind on his dick making him stutter. He hugs you tightly as you continue to grind on his dick, making him rock hard under you. “ Please fuck me, please I beg” he whimpers igniting something in you, something you didnt know but liked. Liked all too much. You tease him furthermore, watching him throw his head back. Unable to control himself. “Please, Please fuck me. Ride me, Use me. I NEED you” he begs. You slide yourself down slowly onto his dick, making him whimper and grip your waist so tight, you know it's going to bruise in the morning. You go slowly at first, driving him insane, enjoying how his eyes are rolling back. You brush his hair out of his face, and grab his face forcing him to look at you as you go faster. “You are the bane of my existence, I dream of you day and nigh-” he manages to get out before he’s a moaning mess due to you going faster. You are slowly losing yourself too but you want to watch him unravel more. You gather yourself as you force him to look at you as you ride him, he keeps eye contact with you. Then his switch flips, he grabs your hips tight and brings you up and slams you back down on his dick over and over again. Causing your tits to bounce, he sucks on one then continues to slam you on his dick over and over. Finally giving you a break. “Cute, you thought you were in control, sit down and take this dick” he says as he fucks into you harder, hugging you he slams into you harder with each thrust. “Good girl, taking this dick like you should have been when you were with that lame. You belong to me.” he says and he lets you go and lets you ride, “say you’re mine” he says as he chokes you. “I'm yours hwa, im yours” you say as you moan nearing the edge. “Whose pussy is this?” he asks, looking you in your eyes pushing you closer. “Yours, it's yours” you cry out. Seonghwa rolls his eyes and throws his head back, “I’m gonna nut in you” he moans as he comes back to your face, fallin in love with the person he is seeing. “Do it” you say with a smirk. You guys cum at the same time, moans fill the air. The smell of lust fills your apartment. You guys ride out your high together making eye contact, nothing else matters. Fuck a noise complaint.

You guys come back down to Earth, he looks at you “ You are a goddess and I cant wait to fuck you everyday after this” he says as he places a kiss on your forehead. 

This is downright sinful but what does it matter? You're his finally and you don’t care who knows.  ----------------------------------

this is my first time posting anything on here of this nature, so enjoy ?? i guess idk, im super shy and anxious forgive me. if you liked it please leave a comment or wtv tf tumblr calls it and reblog. tell a friend or a neighbor. if you'd like to be tagged in the next thing i post (possibly)

i will link my little uh form for you guys to fill out.

https://forms.gle/toC2XbXfXLzzbPmZ6

good night my batz !! until next time..

mother.

[greatasexualattorney]

so @c0stiffen's blind arven au has me in a chokehold so i had to add my player avatar and her emotional support mon based on my cat who is my ESA in real life when i'm on campus.

the whole ordeal with my ESA is really funny because she's having unrelated chronic health problems and couldn't come with me this semester and i miss her a lot :( so quite literally her existence is emotional support

talia doesn't use hazel in battle due to her condition, which is advanced enough to cause malformation of the pupil and suspected visual impairment.

talia herself doesn't have many physical health issues other than stress-induced discomfort and migraines. her obstacles are mostly mental. she has a handful of depressive and anxiety disorders as well as neurodivergencies.

without responsibilities, she will isolate herself in her room and never leave, seldom even standing up for more than maybe an hour each day. having her emotional support pokemon requires her to not only get out of bed and keep her place orderly, but improves her state of mind and quality of life.

she has a lot of fairy, psychic, and steel type pokemon as her main partners, including a tinkaton, espeon, sylveon, metagross, hatterene, and her ace being the speed form of deoxys with psyhic as its tera type.

she is from hoenn.

[pseudowho]

IDK why but I was just thinking but I noticed I like all the stressed out working men in jujutsu kaisen nanami higuruma shiu kusakabe ijichi and I think I know one of the reasons why is because all these men in some type of way are extremely intelligent and capable especially on intelligence like maybe it's just me but I find smart men so attractive like sir please like I noticed all the people I have had feelings for in real life were also of high intelligence so maybe it's just my type honestly smart men that are capable and responsible and mature are my type for real like all these men are shown to have high intelligence like higuruma being a prodigy lawyer nanami with him being a former salary man and kusakabe being highly perceptive and fast when it comes to jujutsu like how when he started analyzing the fight between gojo and sukuna amd shiu being a former detective like all these men got me in a absolute chokehold honestly

I can't deal with stupid men, honestly, so I'm here for this. Smart men = SPLOOSH.

@mrhaitch can you keep up? 😌😎😏

-- Haitch xxx

[kilistina]

hiii just wanted to say i love ur posts so much. ur so good at writing pls never stop😫 i just finished reading punk 57 and the whole “tell me something true” line has me in a CHOKEHOLD. pls pls pls write about assholery being cold and distant with y/n out of nowhere even though they’re friends. can the reader be fem and have bunny as a nickname too? it’s been on my miiind and i just know you’ll write it to perfection <33

i fucking ADORE this suggestion sm. whoever you are, message me pls bc i wanna rack your brain for more lmao

lmk if you wanna be tagged in part 2 when—if—it comes out <3 i hope y’all enjoy this part though bc it’s truly one of my favourites so far.

i recommend listening to these two songs while reading: wet dream - wetleg, desire - meg myers

•••

dirty dancing. pt1

word count: 4.4k-ish

disc. nsfw content ahead. mdni. brief coke mention—in passing, includes fem! reader n harry styles, bold ass language, kinda slow burn but not really, some sexy dancing ig n aaaangst. enjoy my whores <3

•••

Things have been weird with Harry for a while now. You’re not exactly sure how or why the rift even started, but it did. And it’s only been getting worse.

You’ve been friends for what—two years now? Never too close, but close enough to be able to communicate about any issues you’ve had with each other. You and Harry don’t really argue, he’s not the confrontational type. Not with you, anyway. And not when he’s sober.

You aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation either. When things get too heated or overwhelming, you cry. It embarrasses you—being unable to handle your emotions. You know that you’re only human, and you’d never judge someone else for crying in the middle of an argument, but because it’s you, because you know yourself so well, you judge yourself over it. Weird pattern, but hey, it’s real.

Right now, you’re out at a bar with your friends—the same group you’ve been hanging around since high school. Mitch and Sarah have been highschool sweethearts for as long as you can remember, they’re like the parents of the group. The cool parents. The parents everyone secretly wishes they could have. Niall and Lewis are attached at the hip, too—platonically. Been best friends since the day they met.

You’re the closest with Niall since you’ve been living with him through college, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You have other girlfriends but they’re not as close to you as Niall and Sarah are. Sarah’s like a diamond you’ve always loved. They all are. They’ve always been by your side when you needed them—Harry included. You got lucky, sure. Not everybody has the luxury of picking the good ones before college and life gets in the way.

The bar is slowly coming to life. People who came for a meal are leaving, and people in the mood for a night of drinking and dancing are all piling in. You’re excited. It’s been way too long since you’ve let loose. You’ve been too stumped with work and college lately, you’ve barely had any time to breathe without someone breathing right there with you. And of course, you enjoy the company of others. But when you have to be sober for it all? Eh.

Harry’s similar to you in that sense. He loves socialising. Absolutely adores it. He’s an extrovert. But after weeks of constant company, he gets burnt out. The only thing that helps toughen the blow is alcohol. Or coke, but he’s stopped that for a while now.

You prop your elbows up on the edge of the bar and lean against it, looking around for the bartender. He has his back to you, mixing someone else’s drink. You clear your throat and he turns his head to the side, catching sight of you and nodding his head to let you know he’ll be a moment. You nod back and wait, turning to face your friends.

“Anyone wanna shot with me?” You arch a brow at your five friends, and they all smirk and nod their heads. Harry included. “We all good for a vodka?”

Everyone nods a second time in response, and you turn back to face the bartender.

“What can I do for you, gorgeous?” He shoots you a warm smile.

“Five shots of vodka, please.” You smile back at him and he nods.

“Straight?”

“No, gay,” You murmur a witty reply and he laughs, beginning to fill five shot glasses for you. You swear you can hear Harry coughing back a laugh from behind you too, but you don’t pay him any attention.

You double tap your phone’s off switch, activating the apple pay, and you hold it up to pay for your drinks.

“No need, beautiful,” The bartender holds his hand up, “This round’s on me.”

You shrug, exhaling dramatically, “I won’t try and convince you to let me pay.”

“I wouldn’t let you try.” The attractive bartender plays along, smirking at you.

You mouth a quick thank you to him and he gives you one final wink before turning his attention to the small group of girls next to you, catering to them now. You grab the shot glasses off the counter and hand them out to everyone, and you all hold them up and clink them together before downing them in seconds.

“Fuck,” Sarah sticks her tongue out as if that’s going to help the taste in her mouth, “Never gets easier does it?”

“Doesn’t need to,” Niall grins proudly, setting his shot glass down on the counter, “You’re just weak.”

“Yeah we fuckin’ get it, you’re an Irish heavyweight. We should all bow down at your feet, you’re a king and we’re peasants who can’t handle a measly shot.” Lewis rolls his eyes and pretends to worship him.

Niall frowns in confusion, “Who you calling a heavyweight?”

Harry snorts at the two men bickering. They’re like two peas in a pod, and typically, people who are so close tend to argue every now and then.

The group has that dynamic. Sarah and Mitch, Niall and Lewis, you and Harry? You’re not sure if you and Harry count. You’re not as close as the others. You wouldn’t call him a best friend. A friend, yes. A good friend? That’s pushing it, but still, yes. A best friend? No.

It’s not that you wouldn’t like to be closer. You’ve just never really been given the chance. Harry’s always kept a safe distance from you. You’ve hardly ever spent time alone, always speaking and engaging with each other the most when others are around to witness it. Sure, a part of you wishes that Harry would pay you more attention, but the other part of you doesn’t think he deserves it. If he wanted to, he would, right?

“And aren’t you Irish too?” Niall questions Lewis, continuing on with their unserious bickering.

“Yeah like a third,” Lewis shrugs, “From my dad’s side, but you already knew th—stop deflecting. Y/N, tell him to stop deflecting from how much of a cock he is.” He points towards you and tries to get you involved.

You giggle and shrug your shoulders, “You are a bit of a cock sometimes, Ni.”

“Both of you can suck me, honestly. I’m fuckin’ great.” Niall flicks his hair dramatically and you and Lewis snicker.

“I’m with Niall,” Harry lightly nudges Niall’s chest with his elbow, joining in on the joke, “Both of you can suck him.”

“You fucking weirdos,” Mitch shakes his head at the lot of you, not surprised in the slightest by your antics, “Miss Jones and I are gonna go dance, you lot can either keep bickering or come join us. Choice is yours.”

With that, they both head for the dance floor together, holding their hands in the air and laughing.

“I’m joining those twats,” Lewis gestures to them, looking at the rest of you, “You three game?”

Niall nods, “Course. Harry, Y/N?”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” You nod towards the bar, “I feel like some more drinks.”

Everyone’s attention shifts to Harry. He clears his throat as he thinks for a moment, “Yeah, me too. Be there in a bit.”

Lewis and Niall both nod at Harry and beeline for the dance floor, already beginning to bicker again on the way. You giggle at the sight of them and shake your head, turning to face the bar again. Harry joins you, standing by your side. Neither of you look at each other, you keep your eyes in front of you at the neat array of liquor set along the counter.

“Nice night, don’t you think?” You break the awkward silence threatening to form between the two of you.

You catch sight of Harry nodding his head, “Always a nice night with this lot.”

Dry as fuck. You might not be close with Harry, but you aren’t stupid. You know the way he speaks to people, you’ve seen it. Harry could have an hour long conversation with a tree. But with you, it seems like a fucking chore.

You want to scoff. You want to scoff at how fucking childish Harry’s acting with you. Why can’t he look at you or have a normal conversation with you?

You sigh, not wanting to overreact over such a minor reply and ruin the night for yourself. Although Harry seems to be doing a decent job of that himself.

“Can’t argue with that.” You murmur.

“Mhm.” Harry murmurs and you wait a beat for him to say something else, anything else.

He doesn’t.

That’s it.

“I feel like I don’t know you.” Your words spill out before you can stop them.

Harry’s taken by surprise. He turns to face you. Now he’s looking, at least. “Sorry?”

“I feel like I don’t know you.” You sigh, repeating yourself.

“What is there to know?” He furrows his eyebrows at you, gesturing to the bartender that he wants a glass of something.

“You tell me, Harry Styles.”

He sighs, running a hand through his curly hair, “Y/N, what are you trying to get at here?”

You shrug, “I dunno, I feel like I click with everyone else. I’ve got a connection with everyone, H. Everyone but you.” Your words come out harsher than you intended. You’d feel a little guilty if they weren’t true. But they are.

“That was unnecessary.” Harry murmurs so quietly that you almost don’t hear him.

“You asked me a question and I answered it.” You stand your ground, sick of Harry’s half-assed efforts to conversing with you. You’re a catch, your friendship is amazing, and you’re great to talk to. What the hell is Harry’s problem?

He laughs, scoffing at you in disbelief, “Fuck, you’re such a bitch sometimes.”

You almost choke on your own saliva, “Excuse me?”

“You fuckin’ heard me, Y/N. I called you a bitch. Because that’s what you are half the time when shit doesn’t go your way.” Harry doesn’t know where this is all coming from, but it’s coming.

He doesn’t mean it, obviously. He’d never mean that. He doesn’t think you’re a bitch. Again, never. But he’s angry. He’s angry and you’re angry and you’re both speaking without thinking it through properly and you’re both making an absolute mess of the situation and each other—

“What the fuck?” You stare at Harry in shock, your eyes wide with disgust.

He’s confused by your offended reaction, “What, are you surprised or something? Come on, Bunny. You know better than that.”

“You don’t have to be such an ass,” You scold him, “We used to get along. We used to be closer. We’ve never been as close as the others but at least we used to speak. At least I was able to walk into a room knowing you were there and look forward to it.”

His face relaxes at your words. He knows you mean well. You’ve both been hotheaded for a moment but now you seem to be calming down. You’re bringing your point across well and he can’t fault you for it.

“But what now? What fuckin’ now, H? You never speak to me when we’re alone, and then when you finally do, it’s this. It’s an attack on my character. Does this shit get you off or something?”

Never mind.

Harry scoffs at your sudden change in tone, feeling agitated again, “Fuck you.”

You slam your hand on the counter, “Fuck you, Harry!”

He glares at you as you continue scolding him, “What the hell are we even doing here? Go spend time with your actual friends.”

“Hey, wait a second. What?” He leans his head to the side in confusion, not knowing what you mean, “We’ve known each other for years, Bunny.”

“I don’t know a single thing about you.” You point out, making him roll his eyes. “Don’t roll your—“

“Where’s my favourite place to eat?” Harry cuts you off with a question. A question that you know the answer to.


“That’s not—”

“Where do I go when I’m upset?” Again, another question you can answer.

“Harry—”

“How did I get the scar on my chin?” That’s a special question. You gave it to him the day you met.

You sigh, knowing where he’s going with this. He’s not understanding what you’re trying to tell him and it infuriates you.

You tap the tips of your fingers on the countertop, feeling anxious, “That’s not what I—”

“You do know me, Y/N. we don’t need to speak every two seconds or braid each other’s hair to know each other well.”

Your eyes begin to prick with tears. That isn’t what you meant and he knows that.

“That’s not what I meant.” You lower your voice as it threatens to crack.

“Then what did you mean, Bunny?” He crosses his arms and stares at you, waiting on an explanation.

You groan, throwing your head in your hands.

The truth is, you can explain. You can explain everything you’re feeling well. But is that going to get you anywhere right now? Maybe. Maybe not. You have a better idea.

“Do you consider me a friend?”

Harry’s face drops. You can tell that he’s upset and borderline offended that you’re even asking that question.

Of course you’re friends. You’ve been friends for years. He adores you. Why can’t you see that he adores you?

“Bunny..” He takes a step towards you, and you take one back.

“Do you?” You insist on getting a solid answer.

“Of course I consider you a fr—”

“Don’t lie.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m not—”

“Tell me something real, Harry. Please. God, please just tell me something that isn’t base level for once,” You beg, “Tell me something true.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. He’s taken back. He wasn’t expecting that from you at all.

He stays silent.

“You can’t, can you?” You scoff at him, not knowing why you expected anything to come from this conversation. You should’ve known better than to be hopeful about how things were going to go with Harry..because it’s Harry, “I don’t know why I thought you’d—“

“I still smoke cigarettes.” Harry cuts you off, blurting out an admission. He tenses his jaw in realisation—he’s just as shocked as you are.

Oh.

Your eyes widen at his confesion. Harry’s been gloating to everyone about how he so easily quit smoking three months ago. You’re all so proud of him, considering how difficult it is to quit something cold turkey the way he did. The rest of you haven’t been able to shake the bad habit. Apparently, neither has he.

“You do?” You question.

He nods, “Less. But I do.”

“Why?”

He almost smiles at your question, “Why do I smoke?”

“Why did you lie about it?”

He sighs, looking down as he answers you, “Everyone’s got something, right? Sarah and Mitch have their relationship, Niall has his singing, Lewis has his stand-up every Friday, you have your double degree. I just wanted something that everyone could be proud of. Felt like something small like that would’ve been manageable to keep hidden from everyone.”

You frown, “Harry..”

“No,” He shakes his head, refusing to let you feel sorry for him, “No. Seriously, no. We’re not about to do pity. That’s not what we do with each other.”

“Okay,” You clear your throat and agree to let it go, grabbing a now filled shot glass and handing it over to him, “Drink?”

He smirks at you, silently thanking you as he reaches forward and takes the shot glass from you.

“Sorry for calling you a bitch.” He murmurs, offering you a small, sincere smile.

You give him one back, “Sorry for being one.”

His small smile turns into a grin.

“To the truth.” You hold your glass up to cheers his with.

“To the fuckin’ truth.”

You both down your shots and tap them down on the counter to gesture for the bartender to refill them. He complies and neither of you waste a second to down the next ones. Over and over, shot after shot, you continue to drink until you’re buzzed.

You’re both good at handling your liquor, and you know how much you can take. By the time you’re done with your shots, you’re over the moon. Buzzed and aware. Aware of what you feel, aware of where you are, aware of who you’re with. Aware.

Harry leans down, his face dangerously close to yours. He’s never been this close, you don’t think. You’ve never seen his face so clearly, you’ve never seen his chest tattoos so well, his necklace dangling, his—

“Should we go dance with the others now, you think?” He speaks into your ear and you feel your stomach beginning to erupt with nerves.

“Yeah,” You inhale sharply, nodding, “Sure.”

Harry grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd, keeping a hold of you even when you reach where your friends are. The contact is strange but you welcome it, liking the new barrier that’s being broken between the two of you.

Over the years, you’ve noticed how touchy he can get when he’s under the influence, so you have an idea of what you’re getting into. You like being on the receiving end for once. You could get used to this side of Harry. You like being his friend. His real friend.

Once you get to where the others are, you quickly gauge what they’re all doing. Mitch and Sarah are in their own little world as usual, dancing together as if it’s their wedding night. Niall’s dancing with a random girl he’s probably going home with later tonight and Lewis is making a fool of himself in the middle of them. Ah, friendship. You love to see it.

“Nice song, yeah?” Harry leans over to your ear, speaking over the music. The song playing is one of your all time favourites—Wet Dream by WetLeg.

Anyone who knows you, knows the way you feel about this song. It’s become tradition to play it everytime you carpool. A fine tradition, you think.

“Oh, the best.” You start bopping your head to the beat of the song, singing along with the lyrics you know and love.

“I was in your wet dream driving in my caaar, saw you at the side of the road, there’s no one else around you’re touching yourself, touching yourself—“ You start yelling out the words along with everyone else on the dance floor, shaking your head side to side and dramatising every word. Harry watches you and smirks, letting you have your moment.

“You said—“

You’re about to keep singing the next part when he beats you to it, “Baby do you want to come home with me? I got Buffalo ‘66 on dvd!”

You let out a surprised laugh at the fact that Harry even knows the words to the song, loving that you’re seeing this side to him. You’d never expect to have something as simple as loving a song like this in common, but here you are.

Beam me up—beam me up!

Count me in—count me in!

Three, two, one—three, two, one!

Let's begin!

The song continues and you realise that you’ve both been staring at each other for a good ten seconds in silence, just taking in the sight of each other. Harry really is beautiful. The way his hair hangs perfectly below his shoulders. The way his dimples show at the smallest hint of a smile. The way his eyes burn into yours. You never want to see anything else. Just him. Just Harry.

“I was in your wet dream, driving in my caaaar!” Harry’s voice breaks you out of your daydream, and you laugh as he grabs your hands, dancing with you to the beat of the song.

“What makes you think you're good enough to think about me when you're touching yourself?” You continue the song and he pretends to be shocked, acting out the song with you.

“You climb onto the bonnet and you’re licking the windscreen! I’ve never seen anything so obscene!” You both sing the next part together, leaning in close to each other’s faces and practically screaming with the biggest smiles on your faces, “It’s enough! To make a girl blush! It’s enough! It’s enough to make a girl blush!”

The rest of the song plays and you both continue to scream out every word, making the most of the moment you’re having and hoping it never ends. Neither of you are sure what’s going on but neither of you are complaining. You’re both witnessing a new side to each other and you’re enjoying it. Perhaps you were made to be best friends like the others. Maybe it was meant to happen like this.

The song eventually comes to an end and you both let out a deep sigh, catching your breath for a moment as another random song plays.

Harry looks down at you with parted lips, “Nice singing, Bunny.”

“Could say the same to you, H.” You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The move is natural and you don’t put too much thought into it. Neither does Harry.

His hands find their way to your waist and you both sway in time with the music, singing the lyrics into each other’s faces and having the time of your lives.

“I haven’t had sex in 5 months!” His voice is just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

He leans closer to your face, “I said—I said I haven’t had—”

“No I—I heard you H,” You chuckle, “I’m just a little—”

“Surprised? Yeah me too.” He grins at you, suddenly seeming to be completely comfortable with you in a way you never expected, “I stole that chocolate bar from you last week by the way, it wasn’t Niall.”

You laugh for a moment at his strange confessions until you process what he just told you, “Wait that was you?”


“Loud ‘n proud, bunny.” He grins proudly.

“You—you fucker!” You gasp, playfully hitting his chest with one of your hands, keeping the other where it was around his neck.


He chuckles, playing along, “Did you forget what I just—”

“Shut up!”

You both laugh, continuing to move your bodies together.

“What about you? Tell me something true.”

You purse your lips together, trying to come up with something to tell Harry. There’s a million things you could tell him, but you want to catch him off guard. You want to see an honest, raw reaction from him.

“I think you’re really pretty.” You finally say, shrugging your shoulders.

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, unsure if you’re being serious. “Pretty?”

You nod.

He tilts his head for a moment, “Weird choice of words.”

“I don’t think so,” You smile at him, “You’re a pretty boy.”

He smiles back, “You’re a pretty bunny.”

“We’re pretty.”

“We are.”

You both smile at each other and share a brief moment. A moment of what—you’re not sure. Two friends being supportive of each other? Two friends suddenly becoming closer and making the most of it? Two friends two friends two friends—

The next song begins playing and your heart begins to pace more. Desire, Meg Myers.

The two of you exchange a look, knowing that you won’t move together to this song the same way you have been for the others.

You know that you won’t be singing along with this one. You’d rather feel it. Feel Harry.

You move your hands away from around Harry’s neck, and he keeps his on your waist, holding you close. You move your hands down and place them over his, feeling electric all of a sudden.

Baby, I wanna fuck you

I wanna feel you in my bones

The song is loud and the coloured lights are flashing red. The atmosphere has changed—not only in the bar and on the dance floor, but between you and Harry. The way he’s looking at you is different. The way you’re looking at him is different. The way he’s touching you is different. The way you’re touching him is different.

I’m gonna tear into your soul

You begin to sway your hips to the beat of the song, holding your eyes over Harry’s. Neither of you dare to look away. You wouldn’t dream of it.

How do you want me?

How do you want me?

You begin to turn your body in time with the music, turning your back to Harry. He leans his head down, resting his head on your shoulder and keeping his hands by your waist as you continue to move against each other. You feel a surge of confidence—you’re not sure if it’s the song, if it’s the alcohol, if it’s Harry’s random confessions, if it’s the feelings you’ve been suppressing from him for years—but it’s here. It’s here and you’re about to make the most of it.

Yeah I gotta hurt you, I gotta hear it from your mouth

Boy, I wanna taste you, I wanna skin you with my tongue

I’m gonna kill you

You lean your ass back, moving it against Harry’s crotch. He sucks in a breath, and the only way you know it is because you feel his teeth graze the skin of your bare shoulder. Your eyes close at the feeling and you grow bolder, moving the same way a second time.

He tightens his grip on your waist. You can feel the bulge of his cock against your ass and you can only imagine how much it’s straining against the band of his jenas. You almost pity him. Almost.

I wanna feel you

I want it all

I wanna feel you

I want it all

You continue moving against Harry, enjoying his little reactions to your touch. To the way you feel. He begins trailing kisses down your neck, applying pressure and sucking on your skin. You still. You can’t focus on anything but the way his lips feel against you.

What’s going on between you both? What the fuck is happening? Why the fuck has it taken so long? Why couldn’t it happen sooner?

So many questions.

“Bunny,” Harry groans against your shoulder, placing one last kiss to your neck before moving his mouth to your ear, “Tell me something true.”

You know exactly what you want to say. Again, there’s so much you want to tell him. You want to tell him how good he feels against you, how much you love the way he moves his body against yours. You want to tell him that you feel the connection now. You want to tell him that you know he can feel it too. There’s so much to say, but you settle for the most simple thing. The most important one.

“I want you.”

•••

aaahhhh!!! i’m sososo proud of this one. idk why but this shot has a special place in my heart. the smut will be included in the second part. and believe me, it’s gonna be SMUT. i’m such a whore for angst n this friendship trope is just chef’s kiss.

anyway enough chat. i hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 if you liked what you read then please reblog n comment. feel free to suggest ideas for new posts too.

have a good day or night wherever you are n stay safe, always <3

- k

[allfoolsinluv]

Closer

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You and Joel grow closer after you arrive in Boston.

Word Count: 5.4k

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Minors DNI.

Warnings: canon-typical violence/death, assault, lil bit of angst, lowkey pining, getting together, fwb-to-lovers, soft!Joel Miller, alcohol consumption and drug use, explicit sex (fingering, unprotected p-in-v, f receiving oral, lil bit of consenual somno, dom/sub vibes, dom!Joel, sub!reader, teasing, rough sex, spit play, come play, dirty talk like WHOA, soft aftercare, i thiiiiiiink that's it idk i might have missed something bc there is A LOT here ok)

A/N: ok so i saw this gifset and the last gif took me OUT then I heard Closer by Nine Inch Nails on tik tok and my inner whore took over and she wrote this. The chokehold this man has on me is REAL and MIGHTY. anywho my first pedro boy fic! huge huge HUGE shoutout & thank u to @pedrito-friskito for looking this over for me 🥺💗 luv u bby

masterlist

Things between you and Joel had started out simple enough.

You’d met him not long after you’d arrived in Boston, during your first shift disposing of infected bodies. He kept to himself, not interacting with you beyond a curt nod of acknowledgment when you introduced yourself at the beginning of the day. But you hadn’t missed the way his eyes stayed on you throughout your shared shift. His gaze was curious, almost, like he was studying you. You hadn’t blamed him for it, even though he did kind of make you feel like a bug under a microscope; you were a newcomer, and newcomers often meant trouble. He hadn’t seemed like the type of guy that took too kindly to trouble.

The next few shifts you’d spent beside him went much like the first. He’d barely speak to you—if he even spoke at all—and kept an eye on you as you worked. As your time in Boston went on and as you continued to work more shifts with him, the intensity he watched you with seemed to lessen. For whatever reason, Joel Miller decided you weren’t a threat.

He’d warmed up to you after that, as much as it was possible for him to warm up to anybody. He would no longer ignore your greetings, offering you gruff heys and hellos. He’d sit with you in silence whenever you were allowed to take a break from working. He'd even started to walk you home after your shifts. When you'd asked him why the first time it happened, he'd told you that your apartment was on his way home. You wouldn’t have called yourselves friends, per se, but you both were definitely more agreeable with each other than you were with anybody else in Boston.

He was with you the first time you saw a public execution take place in the city center. One of your neighbors had been caught outside past curfew one too many times, an offense she would pay for with her life. You hadn’t known her very well, but hearing her name be called out and watching her life end before your very eyes was enough to break something in you. You’d been delusional to think that things on the inside were going to be any better than they were on the outside. 

Joel watched you watching your neighbor hang, taking note of the way your eyes widened and your breath drew short at the sight. When her body stopped flailing and the life had finally been drained from her, he placed a rough hand on your shoulder. When you startled at the contact and turned to look at him, he nodded his head in the direction of your apartments.

“Come on,” he’d said. You’d simply nodded in response, following him out of the crowd and away from your dead neighbor.

The two of you walked side-by-side in silence, not much different than when he’d walk you home any other day. When you got to your apartment building, though, he didn’t stop like he normally did. He kept walking until he realized you were no longer next to him.

“You coming or what?” he asked, head cocked and a hand on his hip. You’d looked between him and your building in confusion.

“This is my apartment.”

“Yeah,” he said as he approached you once again. “But we’re making a stop at mine first. Got something for you.” 

The thought of Joel Miller having something for you sent a flurry of nerves and butterflies swirling in your stomach. It’d been so long since you had any kind of companionship, it was nice to be thought of by someone else. You tried not to let your emotions show as you nodded your head.

“Okay, then. Lead the way.”

You weren’t sure what to expect when Joel had told you he had something for you, but whiskey and some pills weren’t it. Not that you were going to complain about them, though—it’d been too long since you’d had or done anything to turn your brain off. He didn’t say anything as he poured each of you a glass and put a pill in your hand. You’d swallowed the pill and the whiskey in one go. Joel poured you another glass without question.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while, side-by-side on his couch as you drank. The whiskey had burned as it went down your throat and settled into your stomach. It felt good.

After you’d polished off your third glass, you put the cup on the table in front of you with a heavy sigh. You sunk back into the couch and closed your eyes, saying softly, “This place is a fucking nightmare.”

The feeling of Joel’s hand on your thigh made your eyes pop open. You’d looked down at his hand on your leg, your breath hitching at the sight. When you looked up, you found him already looking at you, the pain in his eyes evident. “It is.” 

You fucked for the first time on his couch that day. The whiskey and the pill and the vulnerability had loosened you both up enough to just let go. He’d pulled you into his lap, shoved his hand into your jeans, and made you come on his fingers before he pulled your pants down your legs and fucked every thought out of your head. 

When it was over, after he’d made you come again and pulled out to finish in his fist, you’d climbed off of him and sat back, catching your breath. He’d cleaned his hand off and silently reached over to help you pull your jeans back into place. He’d stood from the couch and held out a hand to pull you up. It went without saying that he’d walk you home.

It went on like that for a while. Whenever things became too much for either of you or the thoughts in your heads got too loud, you’d find each other and drown out the noise with whiskey, pills, and sex. It was far from romantic—you never stayed long after it was over, it was never soft or sweet, he’d never even kissed you —but it didn’t need to be. There was no place for romance in the world you lived in.

Things changed, though, the day you were jumped and nearly left for dead on the street.

It’d been one of the rare days in which you worked a shift without Joel, the availability of jobs just not lining up to pair the two of you together. You were cutting it close to curfew, the sun steadily setting as you made your way back to your apartment. You were only a couple of blocks away from home when it happened.

You hadn’t noticed you were being followed until it was too late. Large, rough hands grabbed your body and pulled you roughly into an alleyway. You tried to push the guy off, swinging your elbow back into his gut, kicking your feet out to throw him off balance. It was no use, though—he threw you to the ground, hard, as if you’d weighed nothing to him.

You hit the ground with a huff, the shock and pain of it dulling your reflexes enough to allow him to get on top of you before you could pull yourself up and scramble away. You finally saw his face, the light gone from his eyes as he gripped the lapels of your jacket and shook you.

“Give me your ration cards, bitch,” he seethed at you. You didn’t even know this guy and here he was, shaking you down as if you owed him something.

“Fuck you,” you spat in his face. 

He hadn’t taken too kindly to your disrespect, letting go of one side of your jacket to punch you in the face. The feeling of his knuckles connecting with the skin of your cheek and taste of blood on your tongue made you groan. He’d pulled his arm back to throw another punch, but before his fist even had the chance to come into contact with you again, the weight of his body was thrown off of you.

When you’d looked up at the scene unfolding in front of you, the last person you’d expected to see was Joel. There he was, on top of your attacker just like he’d been on top of you, delivering blow after blow to his face. You’d never seen him like that before, lost to the violence, although you’d known he was capable of it. It didn’t scare you like you might’ve thought it would. It was almost comforting, in a way, to know what he’d be willing to do to protect you.

Just when you’d begun to think that Joel wouldn’t stop until the man was dead, he’d grabbed him by the collar and brought him close to his face. “If I ever see you around her again, you’re a dead man. You understand me?”

Weakly, the man had nodded his head, a wet cough bubbling out of his throat. Joel released him roughly as the man spit up blood onto the asphalt below him. He turned to you, the fury leaving his eyes in an instant as he took in your disheveled state.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, rushing over to help you up. You stood with a wince, grateful he was letting you rest most of your weight against him as he held you and guided you out of the alleyway. “Need to get you off the streets before curfew.”

He guided you to your apartment, getting you both inside and locking the door behind you with just a few minutes to spare. You plopped down onto the couch with a groan while Joel grabbed your bottle of whiskey and the only rag you had to clean up your busted lip and the cut on your cheek. It was silent as he worked, save for the initial hiss of pain you’d let out when the alcohol first touched your open wounds. He was gentle with you, gentler than you thought him capable of.

When he finished, he dropped the rag onto the ground and cupped your face in both of his hands. The two of you had stared at each other for a long moment before he’d sighed, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours. Your eyes had fluttered shut as you felt his breath fan out against your face, your hands coming up to take ahold of his wrists.

“I should have been with you,” he whispered roughly. You shook your head at that, opening your eyes to find his screwed tightly shut. He kept talking, “I was outside your door, waitin’ for you to get back, but when you didn’t show up, I knew something was wrong. I should have just fucking been there to walk you home, to keep you safe.” Your hands moved up his arms to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling lightly in the curls of his hair.

“You were, Joel,” you whispered back, his eyes opening to meet yours, seeing the sincerity in them. “You saved me. Protected me. You were there when I needed you.”

He kissed you, then. He pulled you in close to him, softly pressing his lips to yours, mindful of the cut there. Your eyes had closed again, and you couldn’t have stopped the soft whimper you let out at the feeling of his lips against yours even if you had tried. 

Sex with him was different that night. He carried you to your bed and stripped you slowly, taking in the sight of your body underneath him. He hadn’t been rough or hard or fast. It was soft and almost syrupy sweet, the way he held you and made you come apart with his fingers and his cock. His lips never strayed too far from yours, as if the thought of not kissing you while he fucked you was too painful to bear. You hadn’t minded it, though—you’d felt the same way.

When it was over, he cleaned you up and helped you re-dress. After he put his own clothes back on, he crawled back into your bed and pulled you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head as you slowly drifted to sleep with your head against his chest. As you fell asleep, you knew in the back of your mind that things between the two of you would never be the same come morning time.

You became his and he became yours.

Nearly eight months had passed since that night. Now, you’ve abandoned your apartment for someone else to take over, having moved all of your meager belongings into Joel’s place. You spent most of your little free time there anyways, and he felt more at ease knowing that you were coming home to him, instead of by yourself.

It’s a rare day in which neither of you were able to pick up a shift, all of the work slots for the day having been filled before either of you had gotten a chance to sign up for something. Not that either of you mind it, though—sometimes it’s nice to have a day off to spend together.

Joel, apparently, has been planning on making the most of your day off. He wakes you up with his tongue between your thighs and his hands holding your hips down on the ratty mattress. You come quickly, nearly reaching your peak while still half asleep, and the force of your orgasm hitting you fully wakes you up. He places soft kisses to the insides of your trembling thighs, looking up at you with an almost boyish glint in his eyes as you huff out a soft laugh.

“Well, good morning to you, Mr. Miller,” you say with a smile, one of your hands drifting down to cup his cheek. 

He grins at you—a rare sight these days—as he turns his head to place a wet kiss to the inside of your palm. “Mornin’. Nice wake-up call?”

“The best,” you giggle, moving your hand up into his hair and giving it a tug. He groans at the feeling, his eyes going a little glassy. “Now come up here and kiss me.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He moves up your body, placing soft nips and kisses to your skin over the thin t-shirt you’re wearing. When he reaches your mouth, you kisses you fully and deeply, wasting no time in letting his tongue trace your bottom lip. You open up to him eagerly, moaning into him at the feeling of his tongue against yours. 

He kisses you until you can’t breathe, only pulling away when you tug harshly on his hair. A thin string of saliva connects your lips to his, and he watches with rapt attention as your tongue pokes out to wipe it away. When his eyes finally flick back up to reach yours, you hit him with a playfully questioning glare.

“How’d you get my pants off without waking me up, anyways?”

He grins at you again as he grinds his own denim-clad hips down against yours, the rough material catching against your clit just right to pull a soft, needy moan from your lips. Joel bends down to kiss you again, laughing softly when you chase his lips as he pulls away.

“I have my ways, darlin’.” He plucks at your shirt and asks, “Can I take the rest of it off now?”

With a nod, you lift your arms above your head, allowing him to pull the fabric from your body. Once your shirt is off and on the floor, Joel moves to unclasp your bra, but you playfully swat at his hand and shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you gotta take somethin’ off first. You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Joel rolls his eyes at you but complies with your request, deftly unbuttoning his shirt and pushing both his jeans and his underwear off. You can’t help but bite your lip at the sight of him, gloriously naked in front of you. His cock is hard and flushed red, a pearl of pre-come beading at the tip. You sit up on the bed, preparing to lean forward and take him into your mouth, the thought of tasting him practically making you drool. He stops you though, pushing lightly on your shoulder until you’re laying back down, allowing him to crawl over you once more.

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, mocking your earlier tone. “Now who’s wearing too many clothes?”

You huff and quickly remove your bra, throwing it to the ground with the rest of your discard clothes. Once you’re finally fully naked, you try to reach out and take him in your hand. He’s faster than you though, taking both of your wrists in one of his and pinning them above your head. 

He bends down to nudge your nose with his, angling your mouth just right for him to kiss you. It’s so sensual, the way he easily slips his tongue into your mouth and takes your breath for his own. You could kiss him for hours. He pulls away and starts to pepper soft kisses across your cheek and down your jaw, until his lips reach your ear.

“I’ll give you what you want later, baby, I promise. I’ll put my cock in your pretty little mouth and let you suck your fill,” he rasps into your ear, the roughness of his whisper and the promise of his words sending a shiver down your spine and whimper out of your mouth. “But that’s not what I want right now. D’ya wanna know what I want?”

He sits up to look at you, his pupils blown wide as he takes in your trembling figure. You let out a soft yes as you nod your head.

“Right now, I wanna feel your pussy come all over my fingers. Then, when you’re nice and wet and fuckin’ gagging for it, I’m gonna slide my cock inside of you, real slow, and fuck you until you cry. When you just can’t take anymore, I wanna pull out and come all over your pretty tits. Can I do that to you, darlin’? Will you let me?”

You’re uncomfortably wet, can feel your slick practically leaking out of you and sliding down to wet the sheet underneath you. The arousal his words have stirred up in your belly is nearly unbearable, and you almost headbutt him with the force in which you nod your head.

“Fuck, yes, Joel, you can. You can do it all, whatever you want.”

He chuckles at you and leans down to kiss you again, quick and dirty. “Barely even touched you, and you’ve already gone cockdumb. My needy girl.” His eyes flick up to where he’s still holding your hands above your head. “If I let you go, are you gonna behave?”

“I’ll be good, Joel, promise,” you say quickly. 

He nods once and lets go of your wrists, looking pointedly at you to make sure you keep them there. Once he’s sure you’re not going to try and get ahead of yourself, he lets himself touch you. His rough hands drag down your arms and to your ribcage, his thumbs lightly stroking your skin. He slides his palms up to cup both of your breasts, his thumbs now working over your nipples in light strokes. The moan that you let out would have embarassed you if you weren’t so turned on. You start to squirm as Joel gets a little bit rougher with you, but you obey his silent command to keep your hands where they are.

You almost grab at him when he leans down to take the hardened bud of one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling sloppily around it while he rolls and pinches the other between his fingers. You catch yourself at the last second, though, stopping yourself from winding your fingers into his hair.

Joel lets go of your nipple with a lewd pop and kisses his way back up to your mouth while his hands slides down your body. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth at the same time he cups your pussy, sliding his middle finger through your wet folds. He chuckles darkly at the way your hips buck against him and how you struggle to keep your hands where he told you.

“Messy girl,” he murmurs against your cheek, pecking you there. “Let’s see if I can make an ever bigger mess a’ya.”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he easily slides two of his fingers inside of you. Your cunt clenches at the feeling of him working you open, his fingers move in slow, even strokes.

“Feels good, don’t it, honey?” Joel teases. “You like the way I fuck you with my fingers?”

You whimper in response, nodding your head weakly. He angles his hand to rub against the spot that nearly knocks the breath from you, his palm grinding against your clit. Your back arches off the bed with a hoarse shout of Joel’s name. He groans against your skin at the way you tighten around his fingers.

“Oh fuck, Joel, please,” you whimper, trying to move your hips in time with his fingers. He uses his free hand to push you back down against the bed, keeping you from moving further. Joel leans down to nuzzle your throat, nipping lightly at the delicate skin there. He looks up at you, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Please what? Use your words for me, honey.”

You can’t help the whine of frustration you let out as you squeeze your eyes shut. It’s hard for you to find words when he’s fucking you so well with his fingers.

Joel slows his fingers nearly to a stop and your eyes pop back open in a panic. His face is stern as you rush to say, “Wait, no, no, no, please, don’t stop, I—”

“Use. Your. Words. What do you need?”

You take a deep breath and nod your head. “Can I touch you? Please? I promise I’ll be good, I just… I wanna feel you.”

Joel smiles at you now, leaning down to place a quick kiss to your lips. “Hands in my hair, honey. Keep ‘em there, understand?”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. As soon as the words have left his lips, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him down to kiss you again. It’s filthy, all tongues and teeth. Joel starts to move his fingers inside of you again, gradually picking up the pace until he’s back to his original speed. You moan into his mouth, your brows furrowed in pleasure.

You can feel your orgasm building in your core, the coil winding tighter and tighter as Joel’s fingers work inside of you. Joel pulls away from your lips, letting you guide him to rest forehead against yours. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open, but you force yourself to, wanting to watch the way he watches you. He looks almost as far gone as you feel.

“I can tell you’re close,” Joel rasps. “Your pussy’s squeezing my fingers. Can’t wait to feel you do that around my cock. You gonna come for me, sweet thing?”

He starts to move his fingers a little faster, rubbing against you a little bit harder. The extra friction tears a sob from your throat. You can’t help the way a few tears well up in your eyes, the pleasure Joel is giving you bordering on overwhelming. Your orgasm is so close, your body tightening against him while your thighs starts to shake from the sensation. You nod your head, a whispering chant of yeses falling from your lips.

“Go on then, baby. Come for me.”

Joel's words send you over the edge, coming hard around his fingers and pulling almost painfully at his hair. Your moans are obscenely loud, and if you had any wits left about you, you’d be embarrassed by your volume. But you don’t and you’re not. The only thing you care about in this moment is the feeling of Joel’s fingers working you through an earth-shattering orgasm, the pleasure flowing all throughout your body. You don’t even notice the tears that have fallen from your eyes until Joel’s kissed them away.

You whimper as Joel slowly pulls his fingers from you once your body has settled back down and your breathing has returned to normal. You release the grip you have on his hair, letting your hands drift down the sides of his neck to curl around his shoulders. He holds his hand up for you to see, his fingers wet with you. You watch, mesmerized, as he spreads his fingers, your slick webbing between them.

"Look at what a pretty mess you made of my hand," he murmurs as his eyes move from his fingers to you. "Better clean it up, yeah?"

Silently, you nod your head and Joel begins to lower his fingers to your mouth. He starts softly, running his fingers along your bottom lip, coating it with you. When your mouth falls open with a pant, he takes the opportunity to push his fingers inside, rubbing along your tongue. Your lips close around his fingers with a whimper, relishing in the groan he lets out as you suck them clean.

He’s panting almost as hard as you are by the time he pulls his fingers from your mouth. You can tell he’s reached the end of his rope, has worked himself up almost too much teasing and playing with you. He takes his cock in his hand, hissing as he strokes himself a few times.

“Gotta fuck you now, honey,” he says roughly as he lines himself up at your entrance. 

“Please, Joel,” you whimper, attempting to lift your hips to pull him into you. “I want it. Please.”

Joel practically growls as he pushes into you, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt. Your nails dig sharply into the skin of his shoulders, your back arching off the bed and a broken moan falling from your lips. Joel is big, and no matter how much he preps you, how wet he makes you, the feeling of his cock pushing inside of you is always overwhelming.

“Fu-uck,” you gasp, your walls clenching around him. His breathing is ragged, and you know it’s only a matter of seconds before he loses control and fucks you within an inch of your life. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. He meets your eyes, takes in the way you can barely keep them open, how your mouth is open as you try to catch your breath, the way your lips are a little swollen from the kisses and bites he’s given you. When you sluggishly blink back him and give him a blissed-out smile, he’s done for.

He pulls out nearly all the way before snapping his hips forward, hard, the force of it making you yelp and cling to him even further. The pace he sets is brutal, and you feel your body moving up the mattress with every stroke. Joel grunts above you, reaching one hand down to grip your thigh and pull your leg up higher on his torso. It allows him to hit inside of you even deeper, almost impossibly so, the change in angle making you clench around him.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re—” Joel grits out from behind his teeth, cutting himself with a shout when you clench around him again. “Fucking hell, you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

He trails his hand from your thigh and up the side of your body, the feeling of his hand moving against your skin making you break out in goosebumps. His hand grips either side of your jaw, and with what little brain power you have left, you’re captivating by how big hands are. 

Your train of thought is broken, though, by Joel’s face coming closer to yours. You think he’s holding you in place to kiss you, but instead his fingers squeeze, forcing your mouth open.

“Stick your tongue out,” he pants at you. When you don’t comply right away, his order taking a moment longer than it normally would to process in your brain, he squeezes you harder, nearly snarling, “Now.”

You stick your tongue out and when you do, Joel leans down and spits into your mouth. Your eyes go wide at the feeling of it on your tongue, a wrecked moan slipping out. He lets go of your jaw and instead shoves his fingers back into your mouth, his digits moving in time with his hips. You gag a little on his fingers, a few more tears building and falling from the corner of your eyes in quick succession. 

When Joel pulls them out, a trail of your spit connects his fingers to your lips. He grumbles a rough “fuck,” before moving his hand down to where your bodies are connected. His spit-slick fingers begin to rub fast circles against your aching clit, the shock of it making you shout and tighten around him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Joel,” you cry out. “Fuck, don’t stop, please, I’m so close.”

“Not gonna stop. Need to feel you come around my cock. Come on, baby. Let me have it.”

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you moan with a nod. Your orgasm had been building steadily, each of Joel’s rough thrusts dragging perfectly against your walls to send you higher and higher. With his slick fingers now on your clit, you felt you could snap at any moment.

Joel must’ve felt it before you did, yours walls tightening like a vice around him, making his hips stutter and pulling a low groan from his chest. Your whole body tenses up beneath him, the air knocked from your lungs, before everything releases. The waves of pleasure rolling through your body are intense and overwhelming, a wailing moan falling from your lips. You’re practically sobbing beneath him, unable to hear him talk you through it over the pounding in your ears.

He works you through it as best as he can, only managing to stay inside of you for a few more thrusts before the feeling of your fluttering cunt becomes too much for him. He pulls out of you abruptly and takes himself in his hand, working his cock as he lets your legs fall back down to the bed and quickly shuffles up your body to straddle your torso.

“Look’it you, all pretty and fucked out for me,” Joel grunts, his fist working his cock faster and faster. “You always take me so well. Let me use you how I want. God, you’re fucking—” His hips stutter and he moves to grip the base of his cock as he lets go, coming over your tits. You moan as the feeling of his warm spend hits your chest. A flicker of arousal lights in your core at the sight of him marking you.

“Perfect,” he finishes with a groan, stroking himself a few final times. When he’s milked his cock dry, he turns and flops down next to you on the bed, gathering you into his arms and pulling you against him. He doesn’t care that his come hasn’t even finished drying against your skin, that it’s getting all over him. All he wants right now—knows all you need right now—is for him to hold you in his arms. He leans down to press a few soft kisses to the crown of your head.

The two of you are silent for a while, taking the time to bask in the after glow and let your hearts and breathing return to normal. You snuggle down further into Joel’s chest, feeling your eyes growing heavy with fatigue. You blink slowly a few times, letting them fall shut.

“You fallin’ asleep on me, honey?” Joel asks you, the soft rumble of his voice lulling you even further.

You hum wordlessly, too exhuasted to try and formulate a response. His soft chuckle jostles you a little, but he settles quickly, pecking your head once again.

“Get some rest while you can, baby. ‘Cause it’s still early, and I ain’t done with you yet.”

It’s going to be a long day off for you.

[somerandomcockroach]

Okay-okay-okay, I really need to put out some silly thoughts from "Autocracy" IDW and sleep peacefully Of course I liked it ha-ha, it is filled with revolution, double revolution, triple revolution Autocracy spoilers, I guess?

• They call each other old-timers if they are older pffht • Firstly, help, Soundwave's kids are CRAZY, I mean I saw them fighting good against autobots but when Soundwave was running away, he was just "Go, my pokemon", and his kids were absolutely destroying everyone on his tail • OH I ABSOLUTELY LOVED all dialogues between Megatron and Orion Pax, from future I got that they were friends, so they know each other, but somehow Megatron is much better at guessing how Orion will act. Megatron thinks as a real tactician, using bots as his weapon, having a backup plan even if it required lifes of other bots. Orion, even from his origin, never seemed a person of "plan b", he improvise but he relies a lot on his comrades, they are a strong team, they are his plan b, and while this whole corruption situation was irritating him more and more, he became more violent and less considerable about proper plans, it goes as it goes. I guess that's why Megatron was underestimating him plus added the fact of how much power he got. Yeeeet~ Orion is using what Megatron did write, quotes it, and I'm sure he meant it in the right way, while Megatron's way is violent. "Criminal posing as a revolutionary and revolutionary posing as a cop" is my fav ship. He is using Orion in his plans in pretty curly and good ways ○ OKAY, a little note, but Megatron finds Starscream as very useful and trustful liege, it started amazing me from Megatron's origin where they were coming up with plans on spot without discussing. Then Sterscream really is good with his talking, responsible for many-many things and achieves them successfully. It is so surprising for me after all the jokes about them pfffht

(Megatron in his happy dreams happily holding hands with Orion and destroying autocracy together, but then he wakes up because remembers he will have to kill him then)

I'm cackling again. "Protect autobots at all cost!". Decepticons "Huh, how worthy these bots must b- "*sees Orion* "Ah, no more questions"

When you want to get your beloved you must push to the very end pfffffht

• I KNOW RODIMUS. I know him from future series and AHAHHAH OH MY EMOTIONS WHEN I SAW THAT HE WAS THE BOMBER, and played a big part in this story, the absolute opposite side of his character! I remember reading fic by @/lush-specimen where Hot Rod was helping EVERY bot in need, decepticons or autobots, taking everyone in need. AND NOW I SO MUCH SEE IT. He was another kind of revolutionary, he was the middle, oppressed kind of bots. He is a pretty young one, he lived in golden era, in alive city, now bots are dying on his eyes yet he protects and stands for them. He DIDN'T join decepticons yet he was fighting against cops. BUT he saw that maybe Orion can help since he was against government. He helped decepticons to show the truth to the ones who could change something, because he saw that it can help them, not decepticons. He isn't that funny ha-ha boy I saw in mtmte and ll. He had to burst his own "family" so that they will not become the fuel for Zeta Prime's destruction tools. Their deaths were on him. He became the leader to get out his people and did bear their deaths on his shoulders. No wonder he became a good even if silly leader in the future, he knows the price of life.

Writers: "Let's leave a hint about him being the new ruler. BUT LITTLE DID THEY KNOW WHAT HIS CHARAcTER WILL BE AHAHHAHA"

• "Till all are one". The matrix. THIS IS WHAT KEPT ME IN CHOKEHOLD AHAH. This phrase come from here, the change of Orion come from here, it all is in here. LISTEN. THA MATRIX LET THE HOLDER FEEL SPARKS. HE FELT SPARKS OUTSIDE THE PLANET. I wonder if he feels when someone's spark fades/dies, does he feel something about it or he got so used to it. I was wondering how exactly and from what point Orion changed to his serious Prime. He could NOT NOT change. The matrix gave him an ability to feel everyone, gave him an understanding of the concept of what unity of bots is. He could never become his past again because he bears this burden of lifes that he will never be able to get rid of now. But what made me sad is that Metroplex recognised him as his "old friend". He didn't call him by name of that friend. I guess it is because he had decades of such friends. They all have pretty similar ideas and characters. They get matrix and the same idea gets in their head. They become someone who already was there, real side of you erasers even if not completely. PFhegfheg. Even the name he got. He himself can't get used to it, meaning he has to get used to it like he is forced to his new self

• Prowl ~ There are earlier times and I don't see that great tactician that I used to read about him. He is a good soldier, who follows orders, he trusts Orion, he follows his orders, he isn't the one coming up with plans. He still is more groundly on the "rule" side, but he understands what is bad for bots, he listens to Orion more, he is the one who gives final orders. He ends up going against government, siding with these dissidents, even siding with decepticons to get rid of what could have destroyed them all. It's just a bit unusual for me to see him be "in team", follow, don't have his own side plan, don't be beaten up wheeeeze

• That's a bit.... sad to see them like this, knowing who Shockwave was before. And now it is this.

• Oh, they yap at each other, shipped

• Don't look, kid, parents are fighting

Okay, ahaha, I feel like I've wrote something too messy to understand or too silly to be real, my only thoughts left are described by tsche-chu-chu-che-tsche

[fatuismooches]

hi :) i see your responses to my asks :) i see your reblogs :) i am absolutely not about to add sodium to the tea i am having rn :)

in all seriousness though oh my goodness smooches ;; i am glad i decided to take a little break from writing for now and be greeted with an influx of notifications alongside your responses to my asks and reblogs to the little thingies i published, just the perfect obliteration my heart needed to perfect my night <3

in response to your excitement about my kabuki series, ME TOO !! good god you don't know how over the damn moon i am just thinking about tomorrow like .. i should probably get a breather because this much excitement, while not new to me because i'm always excited, is about to annihilate my heart lmao

and now in response to your reblog of my fatui kuni drabble, yes. fucking yes. sorry excuse my language BUT. I GET IT. dearest when i tell you it's something i think about a lot — that drabble is actually what i wrote back when i was taking a walk near the seashore about i believe two weeks ago! but that aside, walks around snezhnaya with scara are like everything to me. like imagine him accompanying you to town or along the outskirts — very and i mean very attentively listens to you musings about everything and nothing because he doesn't have much to offer in comparison to what he wholeheartedly believes to be heaven in your eyes as you talk about very simple things ( i shall cut my rambling there because i have a whole series for fatui kuni that is primarily themed around that concept hehe ).

as for the 'nushi thesis...............

oops ~

no but this bitch had me on a chokehold for SO LONG, that i ended up writing not only lore but many, many other things as well from the small to the big deadass ended up being a presentation because i have arranged a design sheet and even chose a fucking theme for him. but king deserves it so (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

there is so much i could say right now, so much i can express but bloody hell i like, can't because i have successfully melted into a puddle out of sheer joy :')

YOUR HCS FOR KABUKI BTW ARE SO SO REAL !! SPEAK YOUR TRUTH QUEEN !!

goodness .. dear smooches, dear mutual, dear fellow tea addict /lh lover, to say that your responses have made my night would be one of the biggest understatements i've ever made in life :') like omg i am thinking of a way i could respond to every little thing you mentioned in your responses to my asks and in your reblogs, but i think the bright smile painting my puffy face rn is more than indicative of how genuinely thankful and happy i am 🤍

thank you and incredible lot. i hope mundanities with kabukimono hits in all the right ways and you get to enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing for it. i cannot wait to walk this journey with you and many others <3

— signed with much ( platonic ) love, ayame.

( don't tell kuni that i almost cried because tumblr ate the ask i previously sent you, please and thank you :') ).

the way i am actually about to cry because tumblr keeps having the ask i sent you just a minute ago as a meal............. i swear to god if this one gets sent unlike the other i am going to swallow a biscuit whole /j /nsrs

AYAME NOOOO IM SO SO SORRY TUMBLR CAN BE AN ASS LIKE THAT SOMETIMES 😭😭 But i am so glad to have received this ask from you omg, i love it sm ❤️ And you don't even need to thank me, I'm always happy to support and gush over your writing :)) I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND ABOUT BEING EXCITED TO POST there have been a bunch of times when i wanted to just post something at that instant instead of waiting (kabukimono series was an example when i literally posted back to back instead of spacing it out, i was SO READY 😭)

AND NGL YOU LITERALLY OPENED MY MIND TO SNEZHNAYAN WALKS WITH KUNI... i never thought about it before but. MWAH. i love the idea because i love walks and the cold especially if Kuni will be there to keep me warm hehe. Him being a silent listener is so so cute and real because you think he doesn't listen but then he brings up something random you said weeks ago and your heart just goes boom. (I propose to you now, you and Wanderer visiting Mondstadt/ Dragonspine and walking along the snowy path there too! Wanderer just has so much overflowing memories of the two of you doing the same thing in Snezhnaya, but you don't remember :( but at least he has a second chance with you to make new memories)

OH MY GOSH THE KURONUSHI STUFF EBWDBEWF bro. i so understand because when i saw him there i was excited beyond words. like FINALLY we were getting some Scara lore after like a year or something?? i also remember being sad that the furniture for the teapot wouldn't change to his picture :( but omg i love your dedication to him sm ITS SO SWEET I CAN'T WAIT TO READ MORE ABOUT YOUR THOUGHTS ON KURO BC IM SO INTERESTED.

AGAIN IM REALLY GLAD MY SILLY RAMBLES MADE YOU SMILE!! *HUGS YOU* AND I TOO CANT WAIT TO EXPERIENCE YOUR KABUKI SERIES!! ILY TOO!! ❤️❤️

[mslevbiascorner]

KOKUTO NEJI (JACK JEANNE)

Who is Kokuto Neji?

Kokuto or Kuro is one of the love interests (LIs) in the otome game titled Jack Jeanne. He is the Boss/Leader/Director/Playwright/Lyricist of Quartz Class, he is also one of the third year students alongside Kai and Sarafumi.

Profile:

Before we proceed I just want to warn you that this is going to be a long ass post because this dude got me on CHOKEHOLD and second, WHY THE FUCK DID THEY MADE HIM SO FREAKIN' HOT?!

Okay, I have standards in otome games y'know? I like smart, kuuderes, serious/villain characters, with that being said, Kokuto is the COMPLETE EXACT opposite, he's so freakin' loud, whimsical and eccentric for my taste.

When I started playing the game I was aiming for Mutsumi Kai, I was attracted to him because he is a classically handsome otome LI, and definitely exudes kuudere vibes lol. Despite the urge of playing Kai's route first, I decided to stick with the reviews, I've played Suzu, Fumi and Kai's route.

Wait whut? So where is Soshi and Mitsuki?

Okay, okay, believe me I really wanted to finish all the routes first before Kokuto but GODDAMN I just can't take it anymore I had to skipped Soshi and Mitsuki for him (I'm so sorry). I was so drawn by him, I felt like he's watching me from behind and telling me to PLEASE DO MY ROUTE ALREADY, you have no idea how daunting it is and how hard it is to resist the urge of playing his route because WHAT THE FUCK?

Why he got me on CHOKEHOLD [May Contain Minor/Major/Out of Context Spoiler]

Character Design: 10/10

Yeah I know, some of you will probably attack me for this rating because some players hated his hair, but let's not talk about that, I love his hair it suits him perfectly, period. I like his uniform a lot! He looks so neat and likes wearing long polo sleeves which I sooooo fuckin' love! I like his aesthetics because I can definitely do his style. I actually realized that he really does look like a film director. Also, those jaded eyes dude, those freakin' eyes, he looks like a CAT and I love cats! I think he deviates to the "usual" otome handsome LI due to his design that is very Tokyo Ghoul(ish), but nevertheless he is very very handsome and attractive, 100/10 would smash, lol.

Talent: 10/10

LISTEN y'all, Kokuto Neji is INSANELY TALENTED I'm telling you that! This is not even an exaggeration. His forte is writing and directing, but I was at complete shock that he can also ACT, SING, DANCE, and even WRITE A SONG! And oh, the fact that he can play both Jack and Jeanne roles is a major WOW to me. At first, I was not taking his acting seriously because he picks a role that is so so so random lol, often times he has been outshined by other characters but not until he played as Domina in Oh! Rama Havenna! like urgh! His acting is superb, there's already a foreshadowing about his personal story there. His singing voice is so gooooood as well, I love Ghost Party and Intense Confessions at the Confessional, he ate those songs up!

Kisa's inner monologue (same girl, same)

Yep he did that!

Personality: 9/10

Fuck my life and why I haven't met a person like him in real life? Haha! Kokuto is too complex since you'll never know what's going on inside his head, in fact, Kai mentioned that Kokuto doesn't know how to communicate very well despite his eccentricity, but Neji can be very very serious especially if it's related to the projects he's doing and I think he can be cold asf, iykyk. It's a no brainer, Kokuto is a gifted one, a genius as called by many but because of that he tends to be selfish, inconsiderate, unreasonable and brutally honest at times, I think this is a conundrum with intelligent people in general. I also believed that the writers (Sui Ishida and Shin Towada) perfectly convey the word "genius" through Neji. While I admit that he is quite self-centered I think Neji just wants the best for the members and for the Quartz, he is the class leader and has the responsibility over them. He wanted to push everyone because he believed that they are more than capable of what they can offer.

Neji realizing that he went overboard, lol, he is so precious huhu

This hit me like a train

Of all LIs Kokuto's dialogues are my favorite, they are deep but at the same time very sensible, this is because I like introspective people in real life. Aside from that, Kokuto is so freakin' FUNNY! Oh good lord, you have no idea, there were no dull moments with him! I had to admit, his role as Crowley in their final performance almost got me so emotional but his comedic lines ruined it for me I ended up laughing instead, LOL! Despite being a troublemaker to Quartz and to his previous class I love how his teachers acknowledges his talent and even waited for him to finish the final script when they can just use the Univeil archive but they opted not to (Neji best boy >.<).

LMAO! This is probably one of his unforgettable dialogues!

STORY: 10/10

Despite all the spoilers I've read, his story still surprised me to a great extent. Okay, perhaps the main reason why I liked Kokuto is because his story and my personal story is similar even his contemplations/sentiments are the same as mine. Of course, unlike him I am no genius, just an average person but I also like doing things that piques my interest, we have the same blood type and love over food especially rice lol. I've read reviews about his route being lackluster or Kokuto being irrational, some even said that his route has a great potential but went down hill for some reason. I'd say Neji's route is not for everyone, of course he has flaws. With his experience with his father Kokuto formed a certain defense mechanism channeling his emotional burden to somebody else. Despite the trauma, Kokuto still respects his father, admired him as an excellent director, and even inspired him to become an excellent playwright. My mind and heart were so conflicted when Neji got his writer's block because huh? Why he can't accept the fact that he's inlove, of course he cannot think of anything duh? I emphatize with Kisa like it's not her fault to begin with, however I can't also invalidate Neji's feeling because after all he's protecting himself from potential heartache and because of his past experience *sob*. Moreover, it so refreshing too see Neji in stage acting as a lead actor, and bringing his own script to life. He's always been working so hard behind Quartz and let other members shine. Also, I am convinced that Neji purposely wrote the Sissia of the Central Nation for Kisa even without his route, I say this because I've played 3 routes before him and to think that the final play was actually based on Kisa's story is quite a mystery, perhaps he knew her secret after all?

Yes Chui, I agree.

ROMANCE: 100/10

Hoo boy we’ve come this far, aren’t we? Yeah, I mentioned that he deviates to the classically handsome otome, at first I was like “this character is so random, What's with the hair? Can he romance me tho? What is it going to be like?” Those questions became the driving force for me to finally give in! Also BRUH?! Kokuto’s affection events left me in awe, my heart really went “doki doki” did I also mentioned that I liked Kai?! Yes, Kai’s affection events were good but Neji went TRIPLE! He got me kicking my feet, giggling and twirling my hair, I had to put down my switch in order to process my emotions because goddamn what was even that for?! He was such a tease like I didn’t even expect those.

KYAHHHHH!!! This one left me in SHOOKT! Yep this is not an acting anymore lol

Despite JJ's limited romantic offerings, Kokuto's affection events can compete with Piofiore or other similar games I've played even without kissing CG or 18+ CGs, that's how impactful his route is. I'd say his route had a right amount of romance. His antics and exaggeration makes him even more adorable his lines were the best! I guess it all boils down to him being a writer and an actor, gosh he knows exactly how to play with words! My favorite line of his is probably during the Univeil Performance, the scene where Sissia (Kisa) and Crowley (Kokuto) where about to perform the final song: Sissia: I can’t understand 80% of what you say. Crowley: Though it may be trouble for you, I absolutely love the time I spend with you, speaking feverishly on the 80 percent you don’t understand DUDDDEEEEEEE this line particular is so touching! :( please help me to hold all these feels. After playing his route I can say that Kokuto and Kisa really fit and compliment each other and could make a power couple! (Me to myself: you wish that was you huh?) which actually make sense since Kokuto has always been looking for a "gear" as he claimed himself as the "mechanic"

That's it for my Kokuto Neji appreciation post, I am officialy brainrotting but I have to keep going I have like 9 otome titles to play with lol. I will be thinking about him until I'm 40. Ciao!

[lavosse]

untitled winner's room fic

pairing: danny garcia/brody king, implied HOB polycule

wordcount: 1333

tags: dub con (winner's room, canon-typical HOB magic) blowjobs, voyeurism (julia's there), self hatred (?) the sex is not good and danny's not having fun

When he sees Brody hanging around outside the Room, Danny snorts. “You guarding her? That’s lame.” He can’t say he’s surprised to run into Julia’s guard dog, but he is a little annoyed — both at the interruption, and the implication that they think he’s — a brute. A monster. As if Brody isn’t one, hulking here in the hallway like some kind of wolfhound.

Brody just lowers his eyebrows and gestures Danny through the door first.

Julia’s stretched out in a long armchair — is that a chaise lounge? Danny’s never seen a lounge in real life, this arena is weird — reading a paperback. She shoots him a close-lipped smile when she sees him. It’s scary.

“Congratulations on your win,” she says, rising to her feet smoothly. Her dress flows with her. She’s so small, and yet she seems so confident.

Danny won. He’s the one who’s in charge here.

So he goes for it. Julia seems like a person who appreciates directness. “Thanks. You got a safeword, baby girl?”

And she sneers at him. Danny takes a step back. It’s almost a snarl, teeth out and sharp. “Excuse me?” 

Maybe Malakai didn’t tell her. That’s…mean. Then again, no one had told Danny, back then. “You’re the rookie.” He tries for a grin. “That means you take the fall when your team loses. Is that news?”

Julia gets this look in her eyes, and her face goes flat and empty. “Daniel, Brody failed in his duty, so the Room stipulation is Brody’s responsibility to fulfill. If I had failed, it would be mine.” There are her teeth again, a silver glint in the low lighting. “But I don’t lose. Do you have any more stupid questions?”

Danny has a lot of questions. Danny has six or seven trips to the Winner’s Room in Chris’s or Sammy’s place “because you’re the rookie, kid,” to think about. 

Brody drops his heavy paw on Danny’s shoulder. “She isn’t the rookie, she’s a member of the House,” he rumbles, “and you shouldn’t speak to her unless she tells you to. Sorry, ma’am,” he adds to Julia, who inclines her head. “Forgiven.”

“Sorry ma’am?” Danny asks, too astonished to shut himself up.

Julia and Brody ignore him, and Julia settles back onto her lounge, and Danny’s supposed to be in control but it doesn’t seem like he is at all. He doesn’t know how to take that power back.

“Brody’s safeword,” Julia emphasizes, “is camo. I’m just here to make sure he behaves for you. You may answer.”

Danny clears his throat. “Okay?”

Brody slings a threatening arm around his shoulders — one that could become a chokehold with a movement. “Wrong answer.”

“Thank you, Julia?” Danny squeaks.

“Better.”

After a long moment, Danny takes a breath and squirms out from under Brody’s arm. Brody tracks him with his eyes, but says nothing; Julia’s reading again. Danny goes to check out the bureau. 

There’s all sorts of toys in there, but lube, condoms, and other protective items take up the first drawer. There’s towels and wet wipes too, which is really smart. Pretty well stocked, in Danny’s experience, but they are in Winnipeg, and the arenas that see a lot of hockey tend to keep a better Room.

There’s nothing in here he’s really curious about tonight — maybe with someone else. He’s just stalling. 

Brody grumbles behind him, low and impatient.

Danny knows he’s gotta have a deer-in-the-headlights kinda look. “Listen, I thought I was gonna be in here with her.” He jerks his thumb in Julia’s direction. “I got no idea what to do with you.”

“He takes it beautifully,” Julia interjects. She’s studying her shiny black nails, book open on her lap. “And his mouth comes highly recommended. But —” and her eyes snap to his. “You seemed like you enjoyed his chokehold, didn’t you, Daniel?”

She’s really mesmerizing when she talks. It takes Danny a while to parse her words, and he finds himself moving toward her, although he’s not sure why. And it’ll be easier for her to talk to him if he gets on her level, so he kneels by her feet next to the lounge. 

Hair falling forward to frame her face, Julia takes his chin in her hand. “You’re a menace, Daniel, and yet you seem like what you really want is for a big strong man to hold you down, is that right?”

Agreement rises like bile in Danny’s throat; he fights it down and tears away from Julia’s grip. “Fuck is wrong with you? Get off me.”

Julia — chuckles, a low, dulcet thing. It makes Danny’s blood boil. “Get over here and blow me,” he tells Brody, suddenly furious and exhausted at once. He’s already wrestled tonight. He’s ready to be out of here.

Brody bares his teeth as he sinks to his knees. Julia clicks her tongue. “No biting.”

Christ. These two really are freaks, huh. Danny can’t help but wonder what the rest of the House gets up to — it’s gotta be crazy to be in a faction that actually gets along. The dynamics within the JAS are touchy on the best days, forced together by Jericho’s power and distaste for the rest of the roster, not that Sammy’s gotten that memo lately.

He cannot afford to be thinking about Sammy right now. Boner-killer of the century.

Danny combs through Brody’s hair, tries out tugging on it. Brody goes willingly, letting Danny move him where he likes. It makes Danny feel powerful in a way he doesn’t usually feel outside of the ring, and it makes him feel…bad. Not guilty, but…too-visible, exposed, ugly. 

He shoves down his trunks and his feelings unceremoniously. 

Chris has taught him how to entertain a crowd, but Julia seems to have been taught to enhance her natural strengths. Danny had seen her when she was the Blonds’ little cheerleader, sparkly and useless; the House — Malakai? — has taught her something that makes Brody King call her ma’am. Her confidence makes Danny angry.

When Brody wraps his hand around Danny, slow, long pulls to get him hard, his hand swallows Danny up — he’s just that big. Danny hmms back in his throat — it’s good, nothing special but solidly good like popping his back or post-workout endorphins. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Brody leans in to take Danny into his mouth — but to Danny’s surprise, he just lets the tip rest on his tongue, kneels there waiting. He makes a low noise when Danny’s dick kicks, spitting precum onto his tongue.

“You want me to…?” Danny asks.

“Go ahead,” Julia interrupts, without looking up, and Brody whines. 

Again, Brody doesn’t resist when Danny pushes into his mouth, lets his eyes fall shut and just goes where Danny wants him. It’s not doing nothing for Danny, having the big man on his knees, but as he moans at the press of Brody’s tongue he’s thinking about what Brody must be like on his knees for Julia. Is he gentle like this? He must be. Julia doesn’t seem like she has the patience for disobedience.

Danny feels disconnected from his own dick, weirdly, half wishing it were over already, half imagining a Room he’s not even in. It does feel good, jolts up his spine when his dick butts up against Brody’s soft palate, but the thing that gets him there is the thought of Julia doing this, taking her pleasure from Brody’s mouth like he’s a toy for her to use, like — “Oh fuck—”

Brody spits afterwards, which is fair. He doesn’t say anything, just goes to sit at Julia’s feet. He’s hard; Danny’s not interested.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be coming to play with us again,” Julia says. She sounds a little affected, actually. She probably got more out of that than Danny did.

She’s right, too. Danny won’t be taking anyone’s place in the Room after this. He’s not Chris’s whipping boy, Jesus. “We’ll see. Send some more’a your boys after me and see how it turns out for ‘em.”

[dominimoonbeam]

Don’t Run - 1

tags: mobsters, dark themes, bad childhood, arranged marriage, reference to past violence, reference to past murder

DON’T RUN - ONE

Freya Morgan had the long drive down to Everton to think about her life, but all she could think about was the graveyard stretching farther and farther from her back.

She hadn’t known that clearing at the back of the property, near the base of the mountain, was a graveyard when she was a kid. There were no markers. She had played there, and no one had ever said.

She hadn’t known until the night her momma tried to run and her daddy dragged her home.

The Morgans didn’t bury their dead in that clearing, they buried their living there.

It was the final resting place for traitors and fuck ups. Her aunt had a space picked out for Freya since she was ten, right next to her momma.

But Freya wasn’t going into that ground.

Freya hadn’t run.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get away. She just had to be smart about it.

If she played her cards right, Everton would be her chance. She had never been this far from the mountain—this far from her family.

The car slowed just inside the city and pulled up in front of a hotel.

Freya grabbed the handle and tried to open the door, but it was still locked.

The driver didn’t look but the guy next to him did. Paul. One of her aunt’s thugs. He raised an eyebrow like she was going to rabbit and he would get to chase her down.

Freya sank back into her seat with a roll of her eyes. She wasn’t going to give him the pleasure. She folded her arms and put on her practiced bored face.

The locks popped but before she could even think about trying the door again, it was opened from outside the tinted window. Roger, her aunts personal guard, held the door.

Freya scooted over.

They hadn’t driven together but it seemed they were going to arrive together. Were they presenting a united front? Her aunt, the kind but staunch matron of a crime family, and Freya, her aunt’s beloved only niece to be sacrificed at the altar of peace.

It was all lies. Her aunt was a blood-thirsty terror and Freya was a pawn. Not even the peace was real. It was about a deal, agreed upon boarders, and new trade between the northern counties and Everton. The Ellises had a chokehold on the city and the port, and Aunt Sybil wanted access. The problem was their long history of deception and murder. The Morgans could only be trusted to do one thing—whatever the fuck they wanted. And the Ellises would do whatever got them the most money.

Her aunt settled in beside her, not acknowledging her until the car was on its way again. Her salt and pepper hair was in a thick braid over one shoulder, steely eyes fixed ahead, and coat collar high. She had a wicked scar on her neck from the time her husband tried to garrote her long before Freya was born, and she wore high collars and scarves to hide it when she left the homestead.

“Are you plannin’ to give me trouble?” Sybil asked, voice steady but with a flutter of amusement at the idea.

Freya turned forward, subconsciously imitating her posture. “No ma’am.” The car rolled slowly through traffic and she fought the impulse to turn her head and study the busy night streets.

“We’ll hand you over tonight, sign the papers, and be back for the officially party in two weeks.”

Freya pressed teeth into her tongue to keep down her initial response, and the one after that. Finally, she asked, her tone carefully devoid of accusation. “This was always your plan for me?” She couldn’t help but think back to all the stupid classes and lessons she’d had that no one else in her generation had. Why she could never cut her hair. Why her aunt was so angry that time Wyatt nearly broke her nose when they were teens. It had been an accident and it wasn’t like her aunt to care about her wellbeing—but it was about her face. He could have busted her face.

“It was always a possibility. Do this right, and I’ll let you walk away.”

What was terrifying was how honest she sounded when she said things like that. Sybil Morgan was a woman who had played soft and foolish many times. She enjoyed lower expectations. She liked when her prey thought they were going to get away.

Freya knew it was a lie, because she was a Morgan too.

Her aunt had no intention of letting her go, not even if she did everything she was told, but she also knew that her only options were the Ellis family or that graveyard without markers.

 #

 Adi Ellis had spent the last thirty minutes pitting his parents against each other in hopes of creating one of those perfect storms where they broke shit and everyone had to leave. Dinner would be called off and maybe the stupid marriage would be postponed.

Adi had tried reasoning and even refusing, since all of that had failed, he figured why not let Rebecca Ellis have at it?

It wouldn’t be the first time his mom burned a business deal for his dad.

Harmon Ellis drained his glass and refilled it at the bar along the wall. Most rooms in this house had a bar. Adi used to empty the decanters and refill them with water and apple juice when he was little. He would serve his siblings and they would all take turns pretending to be their parents. “I mean, if you’d really rather not marry the Morgan girl,” his father began, addressing him and not his mother with that reasonable tone that suggested he would be anything but. “We can hand one of your sisters over to them.”

Adi stared back at the old man. “This is archaic and stupid,” he said, but it was the fifth time and not likely to change anything. “What about Grayson?” he suggested, just being a shit about it now because they both knew that wasn’t going to happen. “He is your first born. Make him get married.”

Adi shouldn’t have said it and knew it the instant his mother pressed a smile into the lip of her glass.

“He’s not blood,” she said, as if speaking the words into her wine would keep the two men in the room from hearing them.

Adi curled his lip at her, and Harmon did the same, exhaling a sharp, “Careful.”

There had always been rumors about Grayson’s parentage, cultivated and spread with a vengeance by Adi’s mother. It wasn’t that it wasn’t possible. Grayson had never resembled their father, and all of Harmon’s romantic relationships had been fraught with affairs, break-ups, and some very questionable overlaps of time.

Harmon and his first wife, Stephanie, hadn’t exactly been divorced when Adi’s mother got pregnant with him.

Over the years, he’d heard plenty about it over dinners gone to dramatic shit when the two women collided. Ellis family holidays were particularly explosive.

But Grayson, for all the rumors, was family. Their father had never asked for or allowed any conversation about a paternity test, no matter how Rebecca had pushed when her kids were still young, and she was still his wife.

Harmon had remarried his first wife a few years back, going back to the familiar in his old age maybe, while Rebecca seemed to prefer her position as the hostile ex and mother to Harmon’s heir.

She had mostly dropped her remarks about Grayson’s parentage a decade back when he rebelled hard and made it clear he wasn’t going to be taking over shit.

It had all fallen to Adi and Adi was pretty fucking happy about that.

Except for today.

Today he was pissed because he really didn’t want to marry a stranger—let alone a stranger likely to try to kill him.

Rebecca gave up with a dramatic sigh, kissed her son’s head, and then flowed out of the room to check on the dinner party like this was still her house. There was a possibility that she and Steph would clash and bring the night to an early close with tossed wine and maybe a few soap opera slaps.

God, Adi really did love his family.

He got up and buttoned his jacket. His father lingered by the door, watching him. They were photos of one another on a timeline that would never catch up. Adi was just a little taller, a little broader in the shoulders and slimmer at the waist, but it wasn’t far from how his old man had looked at his age. Only his suits had been less flattering.

“You’re the only one I can trust with this, Adi,” Harmon said, voice rough like he’d spent too much of his life yelling rather than whispering. “Grayson can be…empathetic and rebellious.”

Adi fought down a smile. That was one way of putting it. Grayson would either fall in love with the treacherous Morgan woman or collude with her against their father, if he was the one forced to marry her. Grayson was loyal to the family—the siblings—but the love between him and their father had twisted into something that hurt both of them after the incident. Nothing had been the same after that and though Harmon and Steph had spent a lot of time and money trying to get Grayson back to the person he had been before, Adi thought who he was after was who he had always been, just set free.

“And Evan would be an easy mark. He’s too trusting.”

“I’m not sure this is flattering to me, old man…”

“You’re sharp. You’ll see whatever plan she has before she strikes.”

Adi stared back at him, suddenly not amused anymore. “And then what?”

Harmon Ellis stared back at him with the cold eyes that none of his wives or girlfriends had ever seen. Neither had his younger children. And that was why, though his mom had spread those rumors about Grayson not being his father’s son, Adi knew he was, because he had seen that look on his brother. Harmon would do anything for the kingdom he had built, just like Grayson would do anything to protect his siblings from it. And what would Adi do? What would he protect or burn?

Harmon finished his second glass and put it down on a bookshelf before leaving the room first.

[glossyybabie]

freedom

part 11 || part 12 || part 13

Summary: Missy gives you a confusing choice.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Torture, as usual. General Missy cruelty to be honest.

Word count: 904

Notes: Took me ages to write this, but mostly because I was procrastinating for two weeks straight, and by procrastinating I mean sitting on my arse and watching The Good Place, teehee. Enjoy.

Missy didn't let go of your hand, you noticed. She simply wouldn't, even once you had loosened your own grip to subtly signal that you were capable of walking on your own. The only response you received was her grip tightening.

You wondered what kind of punishment this would lead to. You hadn't done anything wrong, you thought, but Missy didn't simply do nice things. She was not nice. On the contrary, unpleasant was a far better word to describe her, and unpleasant people do unpleasant things.

For a fleeting moment, you considered what would happen if you spoke up and asked about where you were going, but you disregarded that idea instantly. Silence was safe, silence stopped her from hurting you as badly. If that was all it took for the woman to loosen her chokehold of your life and safety, you were fine with that.

You quickly recognised where you were. It was that circular room you'd found yourself in on only one occasion, twice if you included that one unexplainable nightmare. You still weren't entirely sure what purpose it served; Missy had yet to explain a lot of things you'd seen, that included.

Your eyes quickly locked on a spot on the floor. Any bloodstains had been cleaned since, but that was far from enough to erase the event from your mind.

Missy steered you around the other side of the room. You weren't even given a moment to dwell on it before she slid open a set of doors, something you'd somehow never even taken notice of before. And now that you were seeing it in full, it was so clearly obvious, but nonetheless a frustrating thing to miss.

The light genuinely hurt your eyes for a few moments. Missy stepped aside and let go of your hand, which made it a little easier for your pupils to adjust. You shielded your eyes with your hand until your vision was clear enough to lower it.

You didn’t know what to think. In front of you was St James’s Park, London. You’d been there a few times before, you recognised it quickly. It was already dark out, with no noise but the distant sound of traffic signifying there was anyone nearby at all.

Your feet were glued to the doorway. You couldn’t move.

You turned to Missy. “What?”

Missy nonchalantly motioned to the open door. “You’ve made it very clear you want to leave, so go on. Give it your best shot.”

A soft breeze touched your face. You hadn’t felt anything like that in years. And when the smallest of raindrops fell onto the back of your hand, you nearly passed out right there and then.

But you swallowed back your hope. “This is a trap.”

“It might be,” Missy agreed. “It might not be. I’m a deranged lunatic, remember? I might’ve just, I don’t know, gotten bored and decided to set you free, sweetheart.”

You stopped to think about it. It would be a risk to take, but you had no idea how great. It was a gamble, and you weren’t sure how you felt about playing with your own life. It would be all too easy for Missy to pull out the rug from beneath you in the worst way possible.

But one foot was already out of the door. Quite literally, and then the other. And then you were standing outside, the light rain wetting your hair and dripping onto your clothes. The ground beneath your feet was so real, as was the cool night air that filled your lungs.

You didn’t look back. You broke into a sprint the moment you were consciously able to. It immediately hurt — your muscles ached from lack of use and the wound on your thigh still hadn’t fully healed — but the pain was incomparable to the adrenaline that kept you moving forwards.

But the pain suddenly grew worse, and it was no longer isolated to just your legs. Your whole body convulsed, and you collapsed under your weight, the side of your face scraping against the cobbled pavement.

“Look at you, Speedy Gonzales.” You heard footsteps, and when you opened your eyes a pair of black boots came into view. “You made it a whole 10 feet from the door.”

Your instincts had you crawling forward against the soreness, but then you were back down with another shock, this one felt right through your abdomen. Your hands curled into fists as the wave of searing pain ripped its way through your side. You were gasping against the ground for air.

Missy made a noise of disapproval. “Don’t be naughty. That’s all you’re getting.”

There was an ongoing urge to try again, but you just felt numb. No matter how much you focused, you could barely move your body by even an inch. Crawling forward was impossible.

Your voice was nothing but a hoarse splutter. "Why?"

Her shoulders moved in a loose shrug. “I'm a deranged lunatic. You thought so yourself," she reminded you. "Come on, poppet, back inside.”

Your body protested as her arms wrapped around you, scooping you up helplessly from the pavement. You were too weak to feel pathetic. The rain was starting to worsen, water dripping from your eyebrows and catching on your cold lips.

Missy had no trouble walking you inside — her strength was as inhuman as she was. Because that’s exactly what she was: inhuman.

[seraphseye]

glass sword , chapters one thru seventeen thoughts n highlights. ( spoilers under cut )

starting off strong ok ! ! the trust issues this has given them both is so insane bc maven really said if i can't have her i will make sure she doesn't trust another soul ever again but especially u

it is all hers now , just like he always was . . ouch. u didn't have to say all that but u did. no matter how many times i read this i will always be devasted by mare realizing the boy she loved was never real and never hers

she's in her believing she is unworthy of literally anything era and it makes me so sad like

i rly do feel like sometimes ppl be forgetting just how Bad this was on cal , too , and on such a deeper level than Just maven betraying him. plus mare betraying him too. it's that ofc paired with elara forcing him to kill his father w his own hands , and made him still be present in his mind while he did so. like the way he later has to remind himself that she Forced Him ? ? that he had no control over it ? ? ? plus learning that she was responsible for his mother’s death all along bc he had never wanted to believe it. everyone he has ever known , cared for , grew up w , etc. turns on him all bc maven plays this forgotten son act. everything he has ever been trained and taught is ripped away from him , his future that he has spent his entire life preparing for just gone like that. his world is in ruins in like thirty different ways and the only thing keeping him alive is his desire for vengeance

" letting her tuck me in like she never has before " bitch i'll cry about it tf ? ? ?

the trust issues going CRAZY ! ! not that i blame her but damn girl

cal is so funny for dragging her taste in men i cannot lie. but also me forgetting so much of what happened in this series was extra bad bc the way i forgot kilorn's betrayal was like fake ? shit had me seething i was abt to be a menace in the worst way possible

touches pool.

mare barrow u will always mean the world to me ( this made me so mfin sad god bless )

" he is real again " girl no he isn't ! ! but her just wanting back the maven she thought she knew . . cal just wanting his brother back from before elara ruined him. i will literally cry

" and i said i would save you " , " he will save me , in his own twisted way " . stares at wall

i am so sorry for not appreciating marecal as much when i first read these books but damn y'all got me in a chokehold tn

HIS MOTHER HOLDS HIS LEASH BUT NOT HIS HEART ! ! i am absolutely not prepared for king's cage w this shit gyat damn i am so emotionally devastated

these lines absolutely eat every time but perhaps this is also a fitting place for me to leave off for the night

[sunshinechildskywalker]

20 questions for fic writers

Hi, friends! I was tagged by the forever-incredible @ladyvader23- thanks for the tag, my friend!

1. How many works do you have on A03?

I have 12 works and counting!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

67,866 words (woah! More than I realized!)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write primarily for Star Wars, but also write for Harry Potter, Hunger Games, and believe it or not, the Simpsons! Sideshow Bob sparked something in my bestie and I that kicked off a year of non-stop Google Doc sharing and squee comments on each other's works XD

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Grounded (578)

L & V One Shots & Ficlets (554)

Convalescence (278)

Tortured Soul (191)

Come With Me (159)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I sure do! I always try to respond with a least a "omg thank you!!!" or something of the like to show my appreciation. I wish I could go more in-depth for them all, and I do for the really long ones, but I end up not always having the time or energy to pay each comment the response it deserves. As always, thank you to everyone who has commented on my stuff!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's actually one I haven't posted yet (nor finished, and that's one I def want to be done before I post it). To give you context without too many spoilers, basically it's an alternate ending to ROTJ in which Vader doesn't die...but Luke does. I've been writing it on and off since my freshman year of high school and am excited about it, but damn, it's so hard to write because it makes me so sad!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Grounded! That was the first one I ever posted (during my first week of senior year of high school!) I feel like that one wrapped up nicely.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Once in a great while. Most of the hate comments I receive are digs on my characterization of Vader. One time I got a negative comment on a oneshot that I specified was part of a larger story I would recommend reading beforehand, and the commenter didn't understand why Vader was written the way he was, when in actuality, it had a lot to do with his development in the larger story. That one was a detailed hate comment and was hard to shake, but I'm learning how to let them roll off my back.

On a side note, this is partly why I don't ask for constructive criticism; I have OCD and fixate on even little comments people make that could possibly be construed as negative, real life included. I'm working on how to let them go and look at the facts before I run off with some wild tale about how someone hates me for sure. I'm growing and learning how to manage, but like I said in my AO3 A/Ns, OCD is a bitch ;)

9. Do you write smut?

Sure do XD It's pretty much all Skysolo (which you will see in an upcoming Skysolo story I'm almost done with *wink wink* ;))

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't before, but I'm entertaining the idea of some kind of Star Wars/Harry Potter type thing. To be completely honest, it's inspired by the Sims I made in Sims 4 lol XD. I had my HP Sims meet my Star Wars Sims and it was so funny to see how they all interacted. Luna immediately grabbed a book off of Leia's bookshelf, Anakin began cooking dinner, and Harry and Luke were talking privately in a separate room from the group- I like to imagine they were talking about how hard it is to be "the hero" and have the world literally depending on you. If I do end up writing this, I'll be sure to post XD *cue Spongebob's "when worlds collide" lol*

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, so hopefully that answer is no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but would be open to working with someone to translate!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Nothing I've posted, but I co-write Simpsons stuff with my real life bestie. Sideshow Bob has us in a chokehold XD

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I love Skysolo and always will, but I think Finnick and Annie from Hunger Games takes the cake for me. I could go on, but the way they've both been through similar trauma and care for one another gets me big time. And Finnick is one of my all-time favorite characters, so I'm a little bias XD

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Tbh, both of my Whumptobers lol. I bit off more than I could chew both years between that and school, work, life. Hopefully I'll plan a little better this year and will be able to finish!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I write hurt/comfort well, and it sounds weird, but I write crying pretty well too lol. I think I'm getting better at imagery and sentence structure too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with writing action, and I tend to write run-on sentences. I'm hoping to work on this for future fics!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I haven't done this personally, but I have a lot of respect for others who do. I think it's wild people can speak a whole other language period, but using that language in all its differences stylistically to tell a story? Absolutley amazing.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Hunger Games! I wrote Finnick becoming like a big brother for Prim after the war (flash back to me furiously typing out hurt/comfort scenes on my ipod notes in middle school LOL XD)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I have a special place in my heart for Convalescence; I live for that kind of hurt/comfort and angst, and I'm excited to finish it.

Thanks for reading if you did! I'll tag @spell-cleaver and @starr234, but don't feel obligated if this doesn't interest you!

May the Force be with you, friends!!!

[qbluster]

A Lack of RACK

RACK. Risk Aware Consensual Kink This is the absolute barest standard you have to reach during sex. Like most bare standards, Quinton failed to get even close.

M/M, general grappling sort of violence, some biting, undernegotiated kink is the biggest factor, unsafe choking, normal amounts of crude language and slur usage for my blogs. Best way to describe it is that if you have ever spoken to me before you understand what is in here.

What comes to mind first is justifications, he was drunk and otherwise inebriated, he didn’t read the social cues correctly, he got caught up in the moment-.

What comes to mind second, once the world stops spinning from an open handed slap to his face, is that he deserves that. And at least this had happened with a stronger man, so there was never any real danger.

He tries to scoot back and off of the other man, but the side of his head hits the mattress before he can make a move, Struggling now, and with a very deep understanding that there is real danger, he goes as far as bite the mans forearm hard, but hes shaken off and the same arm snakes around his neck, and hes face down in a chokehold.

Quinton is accustomed to violence in many senses of the word, but he had never been choked with this sort of intent. When sparring for work or wrestling with Krissa he could always, somehow, get air. Whether it was just a matter of waiting a few seconds for the ref to call, or the hold not being strong enough to actually cut off his air supply. But he’s really choking, he really cannot breathe.

His vision blacks out fully before hes let go, collapsing into a wet pile under his partner, taking short wheezing breaths and trying to ignore exactly how hard that made him.

His partner thankfully unfortunately, does not ignore this, scoffing and in just an oddly mean gesture, flicks the exposed head of his dick. He feels worse about the whining noise he made in response than just about anything else in his life.

“Don’t pull Dahmer shit on men stronger than you, fag.”

and like that, his gentlemen caller calmly gathers his things, pushes over one of Quintons shelves, and just leaves him there.

The front door slamming can be heard from his bedroom, and his first regret, tellingly, is getting quiet instead of begging the guy to come back.