#suddenly the three orders that he made make sense.

[abigailspinach]

Heists!

F: And there’s an entire scene, which I love, which goes by in about, what? Three pages? Where, once they’ve crossed the river and they’re invading this city, and the whole point is that someone has discovered that Emhyr is under sex/romance pollen and has kidnapped Geralt to hold as hostage, and they’re going to get him back. And there’s this scene where Emhyr gives like three orders and they keep going— and you’re in Ciri’s point of view, which is really effective because you can’t be in Emhyr’s point of view. Which I think we’ve talked about lots before. If you’re writing the Machiavellian mastermind, it’s much less effective if you’re seeing what he’s thinking.

A: Yes.

F: So you’re either seeing Geralt’s point of view or Ciri’s point of view through the entire fic. And this entire series from Ciri’s point of view, you just see him give like three different orders that just seem a bit weird, and then two pages later he turns up in front of this thing and is like, “As you can see, we have conquered this city!” and suddenly the three orders that he made make sense.

[M cackling delightedly] 

F: Because he is literally bluffing his way into invading an entire city with a very small force, and you see it all fall into place. 

A: Yeah.

F: That’s where you’re just like, “astolat...why.”

A, sobbing: Whyyy?!?

F: How?!

M: He orders the ships in the harbor burned and the main square torched, but not actually fighting with the troops who are stationed there. He kind of just goes around all of the fires.

F: And then he finds some extra horses and puts some people on the extra horses, so it looks like— 

M: So he’s running around like, it’s like Birnam Wood has come to Dunsinane, you know?

A: That’s exactly what it’s like, actually.

M: And then he’s like, “As you can see, if your eyes are sharp, my ships are coming to reinforce me,” and everyone is just like—

F: Then he just gestures to this cloud of smoke.

M: Yeah. [laughs]

A: It’s so good. 

M: Ciri is just sitting there with stars in her eyes because, you have to understand, she is an imperial heir but she doesn’t really know her father. She’s been on the road stabbing zombies for most of her life. And is like, “Why can’t I stab it?” And Emhyr is like, “Because politics.”

[ittybittyfanblog]

Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man.  Anyway, enjoy!  This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar? 

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were. 

But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.  

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack. 

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle. 

“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip. 

 “I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.” 

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur. 

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you. 

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin. 

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips. 

-

-

-

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen. 

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City. 

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn. 

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval. 

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.” 

All in reverence. 

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference. 

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters. 

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.” 

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.” 

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to. 

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger. 

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection. 

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial. 

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear. 

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

_

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust. 

Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience. 

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?” 

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.” 

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you. 

In short, you have no idea where you are. 

Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own. 

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–

Wait a minute. Sylus. 

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore. 

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin. 

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.” 

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” 

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity. 

And here, the opportunity presents herself.” 

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.” 

You feel it before you hear it. 

“Perhaps not.” 

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room. 

Suddenly– 

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise. 

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness. 

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction. 

You meet his eyes. “You came.” 

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.” 

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud. 

“Luke. Kieran.” 

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

 The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.” 

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly. 

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least. 

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer. 

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin. 

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.” 

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out. 

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?” 

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.” 

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.” 

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look. 

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.” 

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three. 

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake. 

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor. 

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for. 

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him. 

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from. 

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of. 

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel. 

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets. 

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.   

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them. 

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM. 

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.” 

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.) 

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed. 

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh. 

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe. 

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler. 

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.” 

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes. 

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?” 

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly. 

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.” 

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian. 

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his. 

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose. 

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender. 

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.” 

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.” 

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.” 

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”

[eddiesxangel]

So High School | E.M x Reader

TJ's 2K Request Celebration

@ilovewomen0099 Request: So High School - Taylor Swift. I hope it’s what you wanted 🩷

Cw: tooth rotting FLUFF, making out, date night, allusions to smut.

wc: 1.2k

And in a blink of a crinkling eye

I'm sinking, our fingers entwined

Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

“Babe, look!” Eddie points to the rickety wooden Ferris Wheel that didn’t look all that trustworthy.

“I don’t know about that one?” You hold back.

“Why? Are you scared? He taunts you as he pulls you in closer.

You’re in the middle of the fairgrounds, but you don’t care; the other people can walk around you.

“No.” You counter back, but it’s not very convincing.

“Don’t worry I’ll protect you.” He catches you off guard by peppering your face with so many kisses you’ve lost count.

Nothing made you feel as light and airy as Eddie had. Nobody could ever compare. You know he is in it for you, even if you’ve just started dating, you can feel it; he’s the one.

“Come in, scaredy cat,” he grins before pulling you to the line.

Eddie admired the twinkling lights that reflected off your skin as you gripped onto him for dear life. Somehow, he convinced you to come up with him.

“I might loose circulation in this arm but it was worth it.”

You snort in response at his lame joke. “Tell me how this is worth it.”

“Because you look so beautiful.” He tucks a piece of hair caught in the wind behind your ear, and you swear your heart skips a beat. Suddenly, you feel like you're sixteen and back in high school. Any time Eddie looks at you, you act like a schoolgirl all over again.

Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Walking together, fingers not daring to let go of one another’s, even if Eddie’s chunky rings were digging into your skin.

“You know the first time I saw you I ran and hid.” Eddie admits sheepishly.

“What?” you giggle, confused by the admission.

“God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this; you just bring it out in me, baby.”

“Please tell me” you give him the good old puppy eye look that you’ve figured out that he can’t resist.

“Ok, um-well, Dustin and I were getting coffee before Hellfire because, you know, we need our energy, and you were in line ahead of us. I didn't see you at first, but when you turned to your friend- I think you were with Tara? I'm not sure I wasn't really focused on her because when I saw you...you made my heart skip a beat, I swear. I didn't know how to approach you, so I told Dustin to order my coffee and hid in the bathroom." He rambled.

"Eddie-"

"Dustin busted my balls the whole night about it, too."

"So you saw me before?"

"Yes, and I let you slip away so you could imagine how grateful I was when I saw you again that night we met." Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, never wanting to let you go. He couldn't believe what his life would have been like if he had lost you in the crowd at Steve's party that night.

You felt an infectious sense of giddiness, reminiscent of a schoolgirl, every time you were with Eddie. Even though you knew it was the honeymoon phase, you cherished every single moment spent with him.

"Well, I first saw you at Steve's part and knew I had to have you. Your bad boy metal thing really got me going," you giggle.

"All a part of the brand, baby"

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

It's just a game, but really

I'm bettin' on all three for us two

As you were walking to the fairgrounds, you stumbled upon the Fortune teller's tent. Eddie gives you a knowing look, but you pull him along anyway.

"If you made me get on that Ferris Wheel, we are so doing this."

Before Eddie could argue how much of a scam this would be, you tugged his jacket sleeve and pulled him into the red and white striped tent.

The inside of the tent was a mesmerizing sight. Colourful fabrics and intricately designed rugs adorned the space, creating a warm and mystical atmosphere. Glittering crystals hung from the ceiling, catching the light and casting prismatic reflections across the interior. In the center of the tent, a small circular table stood, its surface adorned with intricate carvings and holding a clear crystal ball that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. Seated at the table was an elderly woman with long, faded red hair that cascaded down her back. She was dressed in a dark green robe that seemed to blend with the surroundings, and her nails were painted black and extended six inches, adding an air of all-knowing.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" she sheepishly grinned.

"Hello, this is my boyfriend, Eddie, and I'm Y/N."

"Shouldn't she know that?" Eddie scoffed under his breath.

"Welcome, non-believer and his lovely girlfrined."

"See, she knows!" You nudge his side with your elbow.

"Babe, are you kidding me?"

You ignore him, plop him down, and sit in his lap, seeing only one chair.

"What is it you seek?" She quirks a brow.

"Nothing specific; tell us what you see for us.

"Baby, I don't think that's a good idea?"

"Hush." You shush him, and Eddie holds his tongue. He loved when you took charge, but this was a bit much even for Eddie.

You turn to the wise-looking woman across from you and watch as she examines you before taking out the tarot cards. She shuffled messily and flipped over three onto the table. You looked intently as you saw the lover's car, the three cups and the empress.

"What's the verdict? She going to marry, kiss or kill me?" Eddie jokes, and you playfully smack his chest.

"I see all good things here; you have a strong relationship with a potent feminine energy. Your friends support this union as do your family."

"Does that say lovers? Am I getting banged tonight?" Eddie whispers in your ear.

"Not if you keep it up." ou wiggle your ass into his crotch only to tease him more.y

"I feel confident in this power dynamic; you can keep him in his place while submitting when needed."

"She submits alright." Eddie snorts, and your eyes go wide with mortification.

"Edward!" you cry.

"Exactly my point. That will be thirty-five dollars."

Get my car door, isn't that sweet?

Then pull me to the backseat

No one's ever had me, not like you.

"M'lady," Eddie's oh-so-grandiose display of chivalry didn't go unnoticed as he swung open the back of the van door so you could put your giant plushie he won you in the back.

"Thank you, kind Sir." you present curtsy and reach into the van to place your giant teddy bear on the floor.

Eddie brushes past you, popping himself into the van before pulling you in after him. Quickly, he shuts the door and sits you both in the back bench seat pulling you into a needy kiss.

"Waited to do that all damn night." his hands find your ass cheeks as you're sat in his lap.

"We made out on that death trap you call a ride," you mumble into his mouth, and Eddie sees this as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue enters your mouth, and you sense the urgency in which he needs you.

"Okay, big boy, let's take this party home."

"What, you don't want to fuck me in the parking lot like a couple of hory kids?"

"Please, that's so high school."

Tagging some of my swiftie mooties : @andvys @taintedcigs @ghost-proofbaby @ceriseheaven

[justaz]

ygraine gives birth to a quiet child. the babe does not scream, cry, or wail when it is born. one of the midwives take the bloody babe and holds it against her chest and she rubs its back and urges it to breathe. gaius is hidden beneath her dress and he tends to her wounds that sap her strength with every gush of blood. nimueh sits beside her, holding her hand as she takes in gasping breaths, recovering from the painful and exhausting ordeal of birthing a child. nimueh’s hand is running through her hair as she whispers praises in her ear that she cannot hear.

the room begins to darken as she leans against nimueh. her vision tunnels to a golden scene hovering in the air above her. she sees a young man with golden hair and bright blue eyes. he sits atop a throne with a golden crown nestled on his head. beside him is a figure that is obscured, their features hidden from her view but she can tell they are powerful. the image in the air shifts between the two people, flipping like a coin in the air, the golden king on one side and the cloaked figure on the other. the coin slowly picks up speed until the two figures blur together.

from the distorted image, three women appear and whisper a prophecy to her, a familiar one that has been told for millennia - more a fairy tale now than the words of a seer. as the women speak each line of the prophecy, one after the other, their voices combine into one as they whisper to her “behold the once and future king, arthur pendragon”

“do you see that?” she feels herself mumble as the three women disappear and the coin begins to slow once more. the two men come back into view, now side by side, “oh, its beautiful,” she murmurs, “look at him, nimueh. my son, my son…so beautiful.” arthur shifts his gaze to meet her own and suddenly the golden visage begins to rot. his regal robes fall apart, his crown rusts, the castle around him begins to decay and collapse into rubble.

arthur begins to cry like a child, unfitting for a man of his age. he shrinks to a young boy, perhaps seven, and stands next to his father, uther, as he addresses a crowd. he stands tall and proud though it is clear something has happened. his expression is cold and unfeeling until his gaze shifts down to someone in the square and pure hatred fills his eyes. the vision moves back and allows ygraine to watch as a young woman is tied to a pyre, screaming and crying and begging and pleading for her life.

“this woman has been found guilty for the crime of sorcery,” uther’s voice commands attention though his words make no sense to her. sorcery a crime? what nonsense. uther continues, “for such a crime, the punishment is and will always be death.” he nods down at the executioner who ushers forward and lights the wood of the pyre. knights follow suit and soon the woman is screaming in agony as flames engulf her.

arthur lowers his head and averts his gaze but uther grabs his chin and pulls his face up, “watch,” he orders him, “they killed your mother. they deserve this.” young arthur has tears in his eyes but he does not let them fall. he squares his shoulders and stares down at the woman as she is burnt to a crisp. when the screaming finally stops, young arthur shifts his gaze up to hers.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “please, save me.”

ygraine can hear her cries as the vision dissipates, her wails and denials. nimueh holds her close and whispers how she needs patience, her child will breathe yet. ygraine feels even more of her strength sap away and she understands. the deal uther made with nimueh, it called for a death to create a life. she knows now that it is her life that will be reaped in exchange. she does not have time to weep.

she turns to nimueh, “protect him,” she squeezes her hand, “you have to protect him.” she pleads. nimueh does not understand. how could she? ygraine squeezes her hand harder than she had in childbirth, “promise me, nimueh. you won’t let uther corrupt him. you won’t let him harm my son.” nimueh looks down at gaius who peeks over her dress, sorrow in his gaze and shakes his head. ygraine sobs once more, “promise me, nimueh!”

the high priestess turns back to her, “i promise, my lady, but rest assured king uther will not harm a hair on your child’s head.”

ygraine shakes her head, her body has gone numb, “you don’t understand. he will never be the same. you have to protect him. you have to protect arthur.”

nimueh nods, her expression trouble, “i promise, ygraine. i will protect arthur.”

ygraine smiles through her tears, the pain and sorrow fading as she grew weaker. nimueh’s expression grows panicked but the last thing she hears is her beautiful son’s cries.

nimueh didn’t understand ygraine’s wish until uther learned of his wife’s fate. she had expected sobbing, falling to his knees, or begging the gods. she didn’t expect the rage, though it was understandable, and she definitely didn’t expect the vitriol he spat at her, blaming her for ygraine’s passing. despite the protests that fell from her lips, she knew he was right. it was her magic from a deal she offered him that took her life.

her magic claimed ygraine’s life in her chambers. she held her in her arms as she died and could do nothing to save her. the last thing she saw when she died was nimueh, helpless to do anything to stop what she had put in motion.

uther called for his guards to round up all magic users and have them punished. gaius, a man who was always a bit selfish, surrendered to uther, denounced sorcery and magic and was forgiven for his past “treachery”. when he turned to nimueh, she knew even if she had denounced magic, he would never forgive her for what happened. he ordered his guards to have her taken to the dungeons in cold iron and spat that she would burn in the morning.

it didn’t take much magic to disappear from the throne room and reappear out in the halls. she strode through the castle up to the nursery where little arthur was to reside. something in uther shattered in that room, he cursed magic users and called them monsters, beasts meant to be hunted and killed. she wouldn’t know if he truly meant to go through with it until the first execution but she was not waiting that long.

ygraine’s last wish had been for her to protect arthur, to protect him from his father. when she had said that, she had assumed the queen was delirious from pain and blood loss. now she understood. the triple goddess had blessed her with knowledge before her passing. and with that knowledge, she begged nimueh to protect arthur from uther. nimueh would not wait until it was too late, she would not sit back and let fate have it’s way, she would not let ygraine down again.

nimueh greeted the wetnurse with a smile. the woman smiled kindly up at her and she politely requested arthur and asked her to leave. the woman was hesitant but a subtle spell over her mind guided her out and away from the room. nimueh stared down at little arthur’s face. he had thin strands of white hair that was sure to thicken and darken as he grew. he had ygraine’s nose and lips. when he blinked his eyes open it was like she was staring down at the late queen.

the sound of guards pounding down the hall alerted her of her precarious situation once more and she did not waste another second before fleeing. she held arthur tight to her chest as she fled the castle and wormed her way through the citadel. no one looked twice at her, the average citizen unaware that their queen had had a child and died just that morning.

nimueh traveled as fast as she could back to her island. she warned her sisters that resided on the island of what uther meant to do. they did not take his threats seriously until they scried and saw uther slaughtering hundreds of magic users in the coming weeks. nimueh and her sisters helped raise arthur until an attack was launched on the isle itself. she and arthur remained under the castle while the other high priestesses fought back against the armies storming their home. one of her sisters stumbled down into the room, beaten and bloodied.

“they’ve won,” she slurred, “the isle of the blessed has fallen. you must go, protect the child. do not let him fall into uther’s hands.” she cast her magic to form a gateway for nimueh and arthur, “i do not have much strength to hold this, sister. go now.” nimueh left her home behind. she heard two weeks later that the castle had been burnt and crumbled to rubble.

nimueh and arthur traveled the land, hopping from place to place and never settling for long as camelot knights were soon to follow. arthur grew quicker than she thought possible and she knew she had to settle down somewhere, yet she knew that if she were to settle in a village or town, it would only be a matter of time before camelot found them.

it took time and energy and lots of magic, but she created a cottage in the woods, hidden by wards to divert any visitors. she and arthur both learned to live off the land, to grow what they needed and survive on their own. he always found her magic fascinating and loved to watch her cast spells. since he was born from a deal she made, his very being was fused together with her own magic, marking him as hers.

he called her mama and she called him son. she told him of his other mother, ygraine, of how she gave birth to him but perished before she could meet him. she told him that she knew ygraine was proud of him because she was proud of him. arthur always wished to explore the world outside of their haven but nimueh’s paranoia kept him close.

it wasn’t until one day when arthur was ten that something changed. nimueh had been on her way out to tend to their crops when she heard arthur laughing and playing. she smiled to herself as she continued on her way. until she heard another voice, a higher voice belonging to what sounded like a child.

nimueh dropped her tools and rushed around the lawn to find arthur on the edge of their haven playing with a boy a couple of years younger than him with a mop of black hair and wide blue eyes. the boy was also inside their haven. he had gotten past her wards. he was dangerous. nimueh dashed forward and grabbed arthur, tugging him behind her as she assessed the boy. arthur complained behind her and begged her to let him stay. the boy stood up on shaky legs and didn’t bother dusting off his trousers.

“hi!” he waved a hand, a goofy smile on his face, “my mom’s busy at the market so i came to play in the woods. arthur and i were just about to play will and i’s favorite game, knight and princess. will always makes me be the princess but arthur wanted to be the princess this time so i really, really, really wanna play with him. do you wanna join? you can be…the dragon guarding the princess!! oh, you already are. are we playing now? hold on, let me get a stick so i can-“

“who are you?” nimueh finally cut off his rambling. she wasn’t sure how a child, or anyone for that matter, could talk so fast and endlessly without taking a breath. her fear eased as she recognized that he truly was just a child, but she still remained wary as he had somehow found his way past her wardings.

“oh, sorry! my mom always says i have to be more polite but i always am so i never understand what she means.” he blinked and shook his head before grinning up at her, showing off his missing tooth in the top corner of his mouth, “i’m merlin!”

[teddiesworldd]

muffled moans and whiskey kisses.

is it morally okay to fuck a customer? (2.4k words)

a\n: thank you for all the love on my first posts! i hope you love this one just as much! also, if it wasn't made clear, ghost is wearing a mask with a cut-out for his mouth. enjoy!

pairing: ghost x female waitress!reader

tags/warnings: nsfw mdni!!, just a regular ol' bathroom hookup with the biggest guy you've ever seen, porn with plot, hickeys, a little choking if you squint

it was one of those shifts where the hours just dragged on and on. the day felt like it was never going to end as you wiped down another table and laid out the silverware neatly on top of a napkin. your mind wandered off somewhere else, but you snapped back to reality when you saw 4 huge guys walk through the pub doors and stroll over to the bar. one looked a little older than the others with a thick blonde moustache and cream bucket hat. two of them were a little shorter, a scruffy mohawk on one and the other with tanned skin covered by a blue jacket. however, it was the fella trailing behind them who made your hairs stand on end. he was absolutely giant. he was wearing a tight black t-shirt that showed off the thick, red scars which ran down his massive arms. and just to add to it, his whole face, except for his eyes and mouth, was covered by a worn-out skull mask. you realised you were staring when his dark eyes met yours and you shifted your glance back down to the table you were tending to. you could feel his eyes burning onto you as he walked past.

it was only when all 4 men were seated that you realised your colleague was still out the back and you'd have to go over and make their drinks for them yourself.

no biggie.

you make drinks for people all the time.

you desperately tried to calm your own nerves as you walked over to the bar, suddenly aware of how tight your clothes felt. the sweat on your palms. the loose hairs that had fallen from your ponytail and were now tickling your neck.

not people like this.

you were a confident person most of the time, but this skull-face guy was intimidating as hell. and the way he looked at you like a piece of meat earlier, like he wanted to eat you up. yikes. you pushed the little door open and walked behind the bar, smoothing down your waitressing apron and putting on your best customer-service smile.

"what can i get for you?"

the first three were relatively nice. the older chap was quite charming, really, making polite small talk and asking about your day. the guy with the mohawk tried cracking a few jokes which made you cringe a little but it was sweet regardless. and you noticed the military badge on the blue jacket of the third man, which made a lot of sense as the bar was right next to the military base. you had soldiers and the likes come in often, trying to drink away the stress of their day. but these guys were different. high-ranking, probably. after you had served the three, you moved down towards the fourth and asked the same question. it was only now that you realised how dark his eyes actually were. they were like dark pools of chocolate. like an empty street at night. and his pretty blonde lashes were like the stars. how could someone so big and scarred be pretty? you wondered.

"a whiskey, please."

his voice was so deep, and he had a bit of a manchester twang to his words. something about him, though frightening, was sort of attractive. the way the corners of his mouth turned up when he spoke to you. the way his huge hands rested on the bar, twiddling and fidgeting with his thick fingers and rings like he was nervous. the way he looked at you said otherwise. you wondered what those hands would feel like on you. in you. he didn't break eye contact with you the whole time he ordered, licking his lips with a sparkle in his eye. you poured the drink, then turned back to him and placed it in front of him. he thanked you and sipped it slowly.

the men stayed for a while, chatting about their recent missions and such, laughing and ordering more drinks. but the masked guy kept looking at you, sometimes at your face, sometimes at where your flesh spilled out over the buttons of your white shirt. he wasn't exactly trying to hide it either, the perv. you couldn't help but look at him too, shamelessly. he even caught you a few times looking at the way his muscles moved as he brought the glass up to his lips.

when he excused himself and walked over to the bathrooms, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, the tension between the two of you was almost suffocating. however, this was the complete opposite of a break from him.

he stood in front of the door like, well, like a ghost. his finger beckoning you to follow him. you questioned your life up to this point and scanned around the pub, it was pretty late on a weekday so it was completely empty except for the group at the bar. you put down the glass you were polishing, took off your apron and excused yourself to the three men who remained in front of you. luckily, none of them payed much attention, going straight back to their conversation.

you know what he wanted from you, of course, it wasn't like he was bringing you into the bathroom for a conversation. but still, a part of you just couldn't believe what was about to happen. he was probably a whole foot taller than you, and twice as wide.

he must be absolutely packing. he'd probably spilt me open.

you tried not to think about it.

you pushed the door quietly, your manicured nails tapping gently when they made contact. you barely even pushed the thing open before he was pulling you by the wrist into the nearest cubical, and locking the door behind him. he didn't say a word. he just pressed his lips to yours. the kiss got heated pretty quickly. you could taste the whiskey on his tongue. the way your mouths fitted together - it was like you were made for each other. it felt so perfect. so addictive.

he pulled away and moved his head into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking and leaving dark red marks across your collarbone. you couldn't help the moan that left your lips, earning a quiet "shhhh, lovie" between kisses. his voice was gorgeous. he soon reached your cleavage, planting bites and kisses all over. there was something so refreshing about him. most guys you'd been with didn't care about any of this stuff, they just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. not him, he took his time marking you, like you were something rare and precious. like you were something special. he moved his hand up to undo the buttons of your shirt, looking up at you with lust filled eyes.

"do you want this? hm? do you want me?" he growled.

you couldn't believe he was teasing you already. of course you did. "mhmm" you nodded frantically, trying to speed him up by undoing your buttons yourself, but he stopped you at the first one.

"ah ah, no. be patient, doll. tell me. tell me you want me." he asked nicely this time, waiting for your response.

"please," you whined out, a little more desperately as you intended, trying to retain a little bit of your dignity. you were still fully clothed, you didn't want to seem too needy. yet.

after hearing your response, he placed another kiss to your chest and started undoing the buttons. so slowly. it was like torture. you placed you small hand onto the back of his head, guiding him down, which he must of liked because it made him look up at you with the most devilish glint in his eye. oh, this man was about to ruin you. he hooked his fingers into the waist of your skirt, pulling it all the way off and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. what a gentleman, he didn't want your clothes getting all dirty on the floor of the men's bathroom. gross. after spending a second admiring your pretty lace panties and matching bra, he asked you, "you always wear underwear like this, love? what a little slut you are." something about the way he spoke to you made you absolutely wet. he looked gorgeous at this angle, knelt down in front of you, shoulders broad, inches away from your heat. part of you wanted to just pull his face into you, but he was definitely much stronger than you, so unfortunately you'd just have to wait it out.

he kissed the inside of your thighs, then over your clothed clit, making you beg for him again. then he pulled your underwear to the side, finally pressing his mouth to your soaked pussy. he felt amazing. he must be pretty experienced because he knew exactly how, when and where to make you whine and pant at every movement. the way his tongue swirled in little circles around your clit made your head spin. and the way he looked at you, never breaking eye contact, he was intoxicating. you knew if you made too much noise then his friends would definitely hear you - the walls were pretty thin. but it was so hard when he was sending you towards the edge so quickly. and when he pushed two of his thick fingers inside of you, you had to cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet. he curled it just right to hit the perfect spot inside you over and over. just his hand was stretching you out, and hitting spots that had never been hit by your own fingers. you knew you weren't going to last much longer at the brutal pace he was moving inside of you. you hooked your leg over his huge shoulder, and when he started sucking you could feel the knot in your stomach twisting. he knew this too and when you clenched around his fingers he pulled away, leaving you a panting, sweaty mess and depriving you of your orgasm.

"don't worry, doll. i'm not done with you yet," he said, standing up and turning you around so your chest was against the wall with your back to him. "want you to come on my cock, not on my fingers."

you could hear him undoing his belt and his cargo pants dropping to the floor behind you. he grabbed your hips and pulled your ass back towards him, lining you up nicely. you just knew it was going to be the biggest you'd ever taken. his tip prodded at your entrance, and he pushed slowly into you. he was huge. you hissed as he pushed inside, and he immediately stopped, checking if you're okay before carrying on, splitting you open. once you had adjusted, he started moving at a more regular pace, fucking you deep and slow. your tight pussy gripping his dick like a vice. he managed to find that spongey spot inside of you pretty quickly, hitting it over and over and causing you to let out a pornographic moan. he brought his hand over your mouth in response, muffling your slutty noises.

"is that good, lovie? yeah? you like it when i fuck you like that?" he groaned into your ear, bending over to kiss your neck and bare shoulder.

your eyes rolled back in response, bouncing back into him, which he didn't appreciate very much. with a deep grunt, the hand that remained on your hip tightened its grip, keeping you in place as he pounded into you. your head fell back into his chest in pure ecstasy, the pleasure being almost overwhelming. you could feel like knot building inside you again, getting close to your orgasm once more. his hand moved from his hip down between your legs, rubbing your clit just right, causing you to shriek into his hand. your legs began to shake as you were hurtling towards your climax. when you finally came, he had to move his hand from your clit to under your waist, holding you upright as your orgasm rocked through you. you cried out into his palm, tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

when you finally fell back down to earth, he brought you to your knees and pushed his huge cock into your mouth to chase his own orgasm. it was the first time you'd managed to get a proper look at it. it was the perfect shade of baby pink, your own juices gleaming on his tip. a thick vein ran down the shaft all the way to his firm, full balls. he had a decent amount of blonde hair that trailed upwards towards his bellybutton and disappeared under his t-shirt. you happily took him into you mouth, taking him as far as you could and stroking the rest with your hand. his hand found its way around your neck and squeezed gently, feeling so small in his massive hand. you looked up at him and noticed how he was biting his lip, trying to keep himself quiet. the way his eyes rolled back when you chocked on the sheer size of his dick was so hot that it almost made you want to turn back around and ask for round two. but before you knew it, he was holding your ponytail in his fist and thick ropes of cum were filling your cheeks and running down your throat. his grip on your neck and hair tightened as he let out a grunt, which was loud enough for the boys at the bar to hear for sure, but you didn't care anymore. this man was truly something else.

he helped you get up, dressed and clean afterwards, returning your skirt and carefully wiping your mouth with his thumb. he smiled at you as he did this, telling you how pretty you were and how he just had to fuck you. you went back into the pub one after the other, as to not raise suspicion. but your makeup was all ruined and he had sort of a pornstar sweat-glow to him, so it was pretty obvious regardless. he finished the last mouthful of his whiskey and left with his boys.

it was only when you'd cleaned up their glasses and locked up the pub that you realised you didn't ask for his number. or even his name, for god's sake.

but you were sure that this wouldn't be the last time that giant of a man would stumble in for a drink on a wednesday afternoon.

˚✧. thank you for reading!

˚✧. please reblog to support me <3

˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

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[msbigredmachine]

You Again (Roman Reigns) - Part 2

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series.

Pairing: Bully!Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: Smut, stalking, bullying

MASTERLIST

The mirror was very good to her today. It was as though it knew she was in dire need of extra positive reinforcements and affirmations. She liked what she saw. Hair on point. Makeup on fleek. Body tea. Her favorite Black-owned swimwear brand came through with an outfit that was sure to turn heads at a gathering as important as this one. Evelyn looked amazing and felt powerful, a far cry from the timid, naive little girl that Joe exploited all those years ago. 

Still tried to exploit only a week ago, with his bullshit talk about wanting her. Disregarding all the damage he’d inflicted on her self-esteem that took her damn near a decade to overcome. It was clear he hadn’t grown out of his childish mind games and she would not stand for it today or any other day. At least that’s what her brain kept telling her, repeating it over and over in her mind.

If only her body could show the same resolve, because it didn’t seem able to rid itself of the feel of his hands and his lips…his fingers...It was all she’d thought about all week, and her dildo was paying the price…

Aboard the superyacht, it was easy to find him, tall and striking, a drink in his hand as he conversed with Tessa and Khadijah, Wow’s CEO. Evelyn embraced the two ladies warmly and tried to keep her interaction with Joe as brief as possible. Of course, ever the one to take a mile from an inch, he pressed too close when they hugged, his hand on the small of her back, lingering dangerously above the curve of her butt. 

“Can we talk?” he whispered; she could have sworn his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

“No.” Her answer was immediate, a fake smile plastered on her face as she smoothly slithered out of his grasp. Suddenly craving a drink of her own, she made a beeline for the nearest bar and ordered herself a Blue Margarita. If she was going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few hours, it was wise to make the most of it with a strong drink or two. Or three, depending on her level of anxiety which she fervently prayed would not be through the roof by the end of the day. 

From her vantage point, she watched him be the center of attention, everyone clamoring to be in his presence. A slew of conflicting emotions she wanted nothing to do with rushed through her as several women threw themselves at him, eyeing him up like he was a big juicy T-bone steak. All the girls in school had fawned over him like this back then, and even now she couldn't stop the sharp thorn of jealousy from stabbing her insides. Some things had not changed after twenty years. 

“I’m sorry, but I gotta be a fangirl right now. He is so fine,” Faith swooned, fanning herself. Evelyn wanted to hurl, and not from seasickness. “This is probably a personal question, but Tessa said you and him went to high school together. What was he like?”

Yeah, no one needed to know the truth about them. “He was alright,” was her curt reply, changing the subject before her assistant could pry some more. 

As the party dragged on, she noticed to her chagrin that he was almost always in her line of sight. This big ass man was lurking, hovering around her vicinity under the guise of mingling with other guests. Each time he edged closer, she was quick to extend the distance, caught in a ridiculous game of cat and mouse that she was not enjoying. She sought refuge again at the bar, indulging in three tequila shots the bartender placed before her. She knocked back the first without a breath, followed by the second, letting the alcohol burn her throat and numb her senses. She was reaching for the third when a huge hand suddenly swiped it out of her reach.

“You might wanna slow down with that,” said Joe.

For fuck’s sake!

She could only look on with annoyance as he consumed the shot for himself and slammed the glass on the table. “That was mine,” she griped. 

Ignoring her, he rested against the woodgrain with a huff. “So this is your plan, huh? You gon’ keep avoiding me?” 

Evelyn scoffed. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”

“You can’t even look me in the eye right now. The minute I come near you, you take off. Someone must’ve told you I like the chase.”

Her laugh was bitter and cynical. “Typical N’Stink Joe Anoa’i. You think everything revolves around your arrogant ass. I ain’t checkin’ for you, okay? I’ve leveled up.”

“I can see that,” he acknowledged, his tone deepening as his eyes slowly swept down her body. The intensity of his stare had her shifting in her seat. “You’re the most beautiful woman here, Evie. You always are.”

Flustered, Evelyn crossed her arms around herself protectively. "I don't know what you want, but—"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sidling closer.

"What, to harass me some more? You didn't get enough in school?" she ground out, a gasp escaping her when his face neared hers, their lips a hair’s breadth away. That familiar feeling of helplessness she thought she’d conquered long ago overwhelmed her once more, and for a brief moment, she was fifteen years old again, smothered by his domineering presence. He exuded this aura of raw power and heat, branding a sickening cocktail of loathing and longing into her skin. 

"No. I didn't just not get enough," Joe replied. His eyes flickered to her full lips, mouth watering at the memory of their softness pressed against his. "I never got any of you. That was always the problem."

At a loss for words, Evelyn shook her head. She didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. It was clear he had no plans to make this comfortable for her. Wordlessly, she slid off the stool, sidestepping him and making yet another escape. Despite being in the lovely outdoors, she felt short of air, of breath. Her stomach had twisted in a painful throbbing knot; any more tension and she was going to lose her shit.

She pulled away from the general population and walked around the deck to the rear of the ship. The lower deck took her down a hallway where the guest cabins were situated. Tentatively, she opened one door, grateful to find an empty room. It was much quieter down here, with the music reduced to muted thumping, a welcome respite from the noise outside and the turmoil she’d been plunged into ever since that infuriating man reappeared in her life. She sat down on the small bed and blew out a few breaths, her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes to help her reclaim her composure.

Get your shit together. You’re Evelyn fucking Ashton, one of the most powerful women in fashion. Don’t let nobody play games with you, not even that asshole. He’s nothing to you anymore. Now go back out there and be the boss bitch everyone knows you are!

The door suddenly swinging open startled her. Her stomach dropped as Joe entered the cabin, his massive frame engulfing the door he quietly shut like some kind of horror movie monster. She leapt to her feet, panic swelling inside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she stammered, her eyes widening as he approached her slowly, deliberately. She scrambled backwards, unwittingly boxing herself into the corner of the room. 

“I’m not letting you get away again, Evie, not this time,” Joe asserted, still advancing. A warped sense of deja vu overtook her as she was transported back in time to just a week ago, in the break room where this mess began.

“Get out or I’m gonna scream,” she threatened, swallowing hard as he stood impossibly close now, their chests touching. 

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Go ahead. As long as you hear me out when you’re done.”

Evelyn stood frozen, numb for a millisecond. Then, rage tore through her; ugly black rage that swept across her mind like dark thunderclouds. Her hand flew up, slapping him hard across the face, the impact rocking him a few steps back.

“Fine! You wanna talk, let’s talk!” she exploded. Struck him again. “You motherfucker! Who are you to demand anything of me? Do you have any idea what you did to me? What you put me through? I was a kid, Joe! A kid just like you and you made my life fucking miserable! Why? Why did you hate me so much?” 

She raised her clenched fists and beat them against his chest over and over. Joe didn’t move, his arms at his sides as he let her lash out. He deserved every blow; his actions had pushed her to this point. He took it even as her strikes became more aggressive, wincing as her nails raked his collarbone at one point. At the first sign of her tiring out, he gently gathered her into his arms, feeling her body tremble against him with sobs that tore at his heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” he declared softly, cupping her chin to tilt up her tear-streaked face, praying she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Evelyn. I was wrong to hurt you.”

It was bad enough that she was crying in front of him. Now her whole body was warm and her loins were pooling from the desire that blazed in his irises. Why was this happening? Why did he still have such an effect on her after so many years?

In a move she both hoped he would and would not do, he dipped his head, brushing their lips together. It made her heart skip and drew a sultry moan out of her as she pressed against him, leaving not even a sliver of space between them. Backing her up against the wall, he licked at the seam of her lips, her sigh giving him the opening to slip his tongue inside her mouth. She could feel every hard plane of his body including the hardness that was growing against her belly, the sexual tension reaching seismic proportions.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, her voice small and pleading.

Joe's expression softened as he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. "Because I can’t help myself around you,” he confessed, his breathing as ragged as hers. “I've never wanted anyone the way I wanted…want…you." 

Those words loosened something inside her. He was telling her what she’d wanted to hear for years, what she’d never thought was possible, and the feeling was surreal.

“And I know you want me, too,” he added, a low groan accompanying his kiss on her cheek. “Tell me. Say it to me.” 

Fuck it. Why tell him, when she could show him?

She pulled his head down for another kiss, their lips parting, tongues tangling with every turn of their heads. He wrapped his arms around her body, almost crushing her against the wall as he released her mouth to kiss her neck, suckling her soft brown skin. Evelyn closed her eyes and tilted her head with a soft bite of her lip, captive to the sensations bombarding her. She was only aware of him, of this moment of bliss and what was coming next.

Joe lowered himself to his knees, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her exposed skin on his way down. He gathered her pants in his fists, pulling them down her legs. Her matching bikini bottoms were next, already damp from her arousal, pushing the skimpy material over her hips and past her ankles before honing in on her bare mound. He made a sound of approval as he circled his thumb over her moistening folds, admiring the puffiness of them, and smiled when Evelyn squirmed, sensitive to his intimate touch. He palmed her leg before slinging it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady.

Evelyn bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming as his tongue lashed against her delicate, velvety folds. He devoured her like he was famished, his mouth giving long, suckling licks to every crevice and every spot it could find. Grabbing his shoulders, she cried out as he slid his middle finger inside her, right along her g-spot, her back arching against the wall from the dizzying sensation. Another finger followed shortly, her wetness immediately coating both digits as he thrust them in and out of her gushy pussy with ease. 

“You taste better than I imagined.” Joe watched her closely, enraptured by the way she licked her lips and her eyes fluttered. He pumped his fingers faster, sucked her pussy a little harder, making nasty sloppy sounds with his warm, fat tongue that had her grinding into his face. It blew his mind how tight and wet she was; he couldn't get enough of her. 

It was with the strength of Samson that Evelyn managed to shove his head away, stomach clenching at the sight of her nectar glistening on his thick beard. “There’s no time, just fuck me,” she scowled. 

The big man’s eyes lit up at her demand as he made his way back up to kiss her, earning another moan from her taste coating her tongue. She pulled away long enough to yank his shirt over his head, her hungry stare fixated on his exposed muscles, the chiseled abs and chest tattoo her hands couldn't resist exploring. She allowed herself a small smile as his eyes shut briefly at her touch. He backed her towards the bed and dropped her flat on her back with him hovering above her. His hand cradled her thighs, spreading them and pressing his erection to her center. With his mouth back on hers, he pulled her right thigh around his hip, grinding against her, with her grinding with him, her fingers embedded in his muscled forearms.

"Please," Evelyn breathed. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew crossing this line would never resolve her past trauma. But she also couldn't help the way she felt, like her world would crumble to pieces if she didn’t feel him on her, in her; if she didn’t finally give in to the urges that he’d awoken after two decades of slumber. 

Joe tugged down his shorts with one hand, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of his dick protruding from a manscaped tuft of pubic hair. It was long and thick with a slight curve, and her eyes began to water when he pushed it against her soaked opening, entering her inch by inch. Despite how wet she was, she was equally as tight, and he had to work to fit into her. 

“Oh my god.” She had expected this. Almost. The stretch of him, this delicious and this full, inside of her. She knew he would go deep, but here he was reaching her in that spot no one else seemed able to locate. He hooked her other knee over his arm, rolling his hips until he was fully sheathed inside her. He rested his forehead against hers, cursing as her inner muscles clenched around him with each thrust. Their eyes locked as his hands pressed down firmly on her thighs, holding her open to take him balls-deep. Their pants and moans mingled with slaps of bare skin echoing in the tiny cabin, all of it blocked out thankfully by the music blaring obliviously outside.

The haze of pleasure had Evelyn squeezing her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure ravaging her body. Her hands moved up his muscular back, her nails scraping his taut, bronzed skin as he switched up with faster, deeper thrusts. She felt his fingers tighten around the back of her knees, felt his mouth cover her throat with wet, breathy kisses as his voice, low and gruff, penetrated her sex-fogged brain. 

"I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured against her neck, "I couldn't believe you left me.”

"Bull…fuck…bullshit,” She could hardly think straight with his thick dick buried in her, her legs pinned to the bed with no chance to wriggle out. “You hated me, you—fffuuck," Her words disappeared in another groan when he circled his hips, nudging his dick several inches further inside her.

"I never hated you. I hated how you made me feel." One hand came up to yank her bikini top down and knead her breast. "Unsure of myself. Out of character. Weak for you," he continued. “I jerked off to you countless times…I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It broke my heart when you left. For years, I missed you. I fuckin’ named my daughter after you-”

Evelyn gaped at him in shock. “Your daughter’s name is Evelyn?!”

“No. Amara. Your middle name.”

There was no time to react to this revelation as his big hands lifted her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, forcing her mouth open in a soundless cry as he slammed breath after breath out of her with gloriously deep, plunging strokes. The force and power of him made her thighs tremble as her pussy finally gave in, gushing all over his groin. She wanted to cuss him out for making her come so hard, but all that came out of her mouth were pathetic, pitiful moans. Joe's eyes shone with excitement at the mess she was making, relishing every moment of her losing control to him. He gifted her a toe-curling kiss before flipping her over, smacking her bare ass. 

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Too worked up to argue, she positioned herself on all fours and looked back at him expectantly. It was hard to deny how hot it was, seeing this big, sexy ass mountain of a man naked, big hand on his equally big dick, massaging it with her juices. Chuckling at the lust in her eyes, he nudged her thighs further apart and rubbed his palm along her gushy entrance, smearing her mess all over, making her moan.

“Mmm. Pussy drippin’ everywhere. You been needin’ me, huh, baby?” he said.

“Put that dick back in me,” she rasped, bumping her ass against him, eager for more. She felt his tip forge inside her, a tortuously slow entrance that had her chin scraping her chest as she moaned out in pleasure. Inch by inch, his own jaw clenching at the greed with which her pussy suckled him in. As she writhed on his dick, his mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the delicate lobe as he slid in deep from behind with his big body hunched over her. He felt huge from this angle, and Evelyn gasped, her mind spiraling from the fullness of him. 

“Since I left your office, I haven’t thought about anything else but you. All my fantasies from years ago returned and I had to have you…Fuck, Evie, you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He leaned back and yanked her hips higher, deepening the arch of her back. The slap of his heavy balls against her clitoris caused her velvety walls to ripple around the length and girth of him. The shit was so good that she dug her fingers into the sheets, throwing her ass to catch his backshots as she whined his name. The husky growls that escaped from his throat gave away how good he was feeling just like she was, the sounds flowing through them both like beautiful music. 

“You takin’ this dick like a champ, baby. Is it everything you dreamed of, huh?" Joe grunted, his fingers clinging to the meat of her thick hips, bewitched by the sight and feel of the big, round cheeks slapping against his pelvis, the mesmerizing recoil leaving him in a heady trance. Even in his nastiest dreams, it never looked this good. 

“Fuuuuck, yes. Ohhh…” she whimpered, her voice cracking from complete bliss. He seemed determined to bury his dick in her stomach and was succeeding, nestling himself in the tight warmth of her cunt and keeping her in place as she gasped from every inch he made her take. He trailed his hand between her thighs, using two long fingers to strum on her clit, and hissed as she tightened around him right away. “Mmm, this little pussy squeezin’ my shit, you boutta come all over my d-”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Evelyn? Are you in here?”

They both froze as Faith’s concerned voice sounded from the other side of the door. Evelyn’s heart rate accelerated; the door wasn’t locked, so Faith could easily walk in if she wanted to. Her career and her reputation flashed before her eyes, her life ruined yet again because of Joe fucking Anoa’i. She started to scramble out of the bed, trying to get away, but his strong, inked arm locking around her waist put a stop to that. She cast a panicked glance back at him but only received an amused wink in response.

“She asked you a question,” he said for her hearing only, kissing her cheek.

Fighting off her rising anxiety, Evelyn called out as casually as possible, “I’m here, Faith. What is it?”

“Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yes…yes, I’m fine. Just a little seasick-” Her words evaporated when his fingers twined into her hair, gently pulling back, his nose nuzzling the crook of her extended neck. Incredulously, he started thrusting into her again, rolling his hips slowly so as to not make any noise. Her agitation levels were at an all time high, battling with the warm burn he was inducing in her tightening stomach. 

“You sure?” Faith was saying.

His other hand cupped her breast, groping generously as his dick nudged right up against her g-spot. The nerve of him, trying to make her climax again even with Faith mere feet away! “Positive,” Evelyn called out, her pussy clenching when Joe angled her face and slyly tongue-kissed her mid-sentence. It took all of her strength to keep talking. “I’m fine, Faith. Go on. I’ll be out in a minute,” she ground out, praying that she would listen.

“Alright. Will do. You’re missing a great party though, so hurry back!”

The second Faith’s footsteps faded, Joe struck, his big paw on the back of Evelyn’s neck pinning her face-down as he upped his tempo, pounding her out with fierce, needy ruts of his hips. “Good girl, you did so good. Now nut on my dick again,” he encouraged with another hard spank to her ass, breathing out soft moans of his own as his own climax beckoned. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” Evelyn moaned helplessly into the mattress. Fireworks burst behind her eyelids, her entire body quivering as it exploded from blinding pleasure. Her pussy pulsed and leaked all over his dick, finally dragging him over the edge as well. She’d never heard anything as sexy as his hushed, almost strangled groans as he released inside her, big dick throbbing, emptying his essence into her soaked depths.

For a long moment, neither could move, recovering from the shock of the last several minutes. His hand lightly smacking her ass caught her off guard as he withdrew from her with a satisfied groan. The warmth of his body disappeared, the weight of the small bed easing as he climbed out of it. The ruffle of heavy fabric was loud in the stunned silence of the room as he picked up his shorts and put them back on. Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, horror dawning as she emerged from her desire-induced stupor and realized what just happened.

Joe cleared his throat awkwardly. "Evie..."

Ignoring him, she rolled out of the bed, hating that her legs wobbled as she stood. She hunted in her purse for a wet wipe, her back deliberately turned as she cleaned up the evidence of their tryst off her body. Without a word, she threw the wipe into the small trash can in the corner, adjusted her bikini top and slid her underwear and pants back on.

"Evie wait, hold on…Evie…Evelyn!" His deep voice rose, more demanding as he sensed her about to run off again. He was quicker, blocking her path to the door before she could. Despite her shame, her ego couldn’t help but swell at how deliciously rumpled he looked, knowing she did that to him. He ran a hand through the strands of hair that had escaped his once neat ponytail. "Look, I still think we should talk," he said.

It took everything in her to not laugh and cry at the same time. “Talk? After this?!” she exclaimed, "I don't know what I was thinking, but this was a huge mistake." More humiliation shot through her as she realized she'd not only let her high school bully fuck her, but they did it raw on a boat filled with her colleagues! Her assistant had almost caught her, too! The embarrassment was suffocating and she needed out asap.

She moved around him but he stopped her again, his hand catching her wrist. "Baby, hear me out." His jaw clenched, his voice hesitant. "I've been beating myself up for a long, long time for what I did to you." He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “I wanna make things right. Please…let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t. It’s…it’s too late,” Evelyn argued, painfully aware that she was in a losing battle with her emotions.

"No, sweetheart, it ain’t,” Joe insisted. “I leave town in two days. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I got a lot to apologize for. Give me a chance, Evie. Please."

Her sigh was tired and resigned, recognizing that he was not going to drop this. So she took the easy way out. "Fine. And after that I never want to see or hear from you again."

Joe chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist and drawing her close. This time she didn’t push him off. A good sign. “You already forgot we’re working together soon. Besides, is that really what you want, baby girl?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You sure?” He leaned down and kissed her softly, his soft lips moving sensually against hers. Like butter next to heat, she was melting into him again, kissing him back once, twice, three times, before she jerked away abruptly. “I ain’t your toy no more, Joseph,” she warned, a frown tainting her beautiful face. “Dinner and that’s it. Text me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I’ma make you change your mind about me,” he vowed, the arrogance in his baritone reverberating around the room and caressing her skin.

Meeting his eyes dead-on, a defiant smirk crossed her lips as she opened the door. “Oh, I highly doubt that. See you around, N’Stink.” 

How she got back to the upper deck in one piece, she wasn’t sure. It was as though she was floating on air, her body light as air for the first time in ages. Despite her elation, a part of her still worried about this new, interesting step she had taken and where it would lead her. Confusing. Conflicting.

Faith perked up when she returned. “There you are! I was gonna come find you again.” She peered closely at her boss with a concerned expression. “Hey, are you okay? Feel better? You do look a little flushed,” she observed.

“I’m fine.” Evelyn snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and gulped both of them down in record time, ignoring Faith’s bewildered gaze. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” said Faith, eager to help.

“When we get off this boat, get me the sluttiest dress and stilettos you can find in my size, and a box of Plan B.” 

THE END.

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

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[satorusugurugurl]

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Three)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of, stalking, panic attacks, language, violence, character death, tiniest mention of blood

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Now were getting into it! I love me an enemies to lovers story! 😮‍💨

Part One Part Two Part Four

“I-I’m going to stay with you? I don't even know you!” Your cheeks burned as you took a step back. “B-Besides, I don't want to put you out!”

“If you were going to put me out, I wouldn't have suggested it.”

“I-I—!! Satoru!” you turned your head towards your PR manager. “T-This isn't good for publicity, right?”

Much to your horror, your managers looked at each other, sharing that annoying silent communication look. How their eyes communicated told you everything you needed to know. Deep down, you knew you didn't have any other options. The best way to keep your friends and loved ones safe is to stay away.

Which is how you found yourself in a small SUV with your bodyguard. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his navy eyes focused on the road. You swallowed hard, gripping your leggings as you tried to think of something. Even though he assured you weren't imposing, you still felt the lingering anxiety of being a burden.

What was his wife going to say?

He was bringing home some popstar, a girl who had a psychotic stalker. A stalker who was obviously dangerous, and Toji had been kind enough to invite you to stay with him, even when he had seen the damage that your stalker had done.

But in a strange way, you also felt comforted. You hated to impose, but for Toji to tell you to stay with him meant he was confident in his skills to protect you. Maybe Nanako wasn't exaggerating when she told you the Shiu Kong Security Company was the best.

“If you keep biting your lips like that, you'll make it bleed,” Toji spoke up finally, breaking the thick silence.

“Huh?” You prodded the tip of your tongue against your bottom lip, wincing at the sensitive spot you had made raw with your teeth. “I didn't even realize I was doing that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been chewing on your bottom lip like it's jerky since we got in my car.” he snickered, “am I that scary doll?”

Your cheeks felt like fire as you sank lower into your seat. “I don't think you're scary; I’m just nervous.” Which was the truth: staying with a family you didn’t know had your entire body tied in knots.

“You’re nervous?” Toji laughed, leaning back in his seat as he stopped at a red light. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. I mean, you heard what your manager told me, right?”

“Oh, I heard.”

The streetlights overhead illuminated his handsome features. His scar stretched out as he laughed softly, and his dark brows knitted in confusion and humor. Seeing him like that made you realize he was quite pretty, especially when he wasn't making broad assumptions about you or barking orders.

“He was very colorful—”

“Yeah, I don't know how he'd take a chuck of your side out.”

A visible shiver rushed over Toji, drawing out a giggle from you. “Yeah, well, good thing I'm not an asshole.”

“Hmm, debatable.”

Toji turned his head, mouth slightly agape as his eyes met yours. His navy eyes glittered with disbelief before a smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred lip. You sank back into your seat, biting your bottom lip, not driven by anxiety, but to hold back a laugh from the shock on his face.

“Oh, you suddenly have a voice and an attitude?”

“Hey~ you thought I was a pampered spoiled brat.”

“Yeah, well, you're still a brat.”

You weren't going to argue with him on that because, in a sense, he was right. Instead, you focused your attention on the road. “So,” you swallowed, feeling the need to keep the conversation going instead of wallowing in the silence. “Is uhm—your family isn't going to have an issue with me staying?” The street lights above illuminated the inside of the car as Tojo turned right on a street.

“Nah, my kid won't mind.” Toji glanced from his peripheral vision. He was good at reading body language and how your back straightened, and you quickly looked over at him before turning your attention back to the road, clued him into what you were thinking. “What? Is it that hard to imagine me being a dad?”

“W-What?! No, I-I didn't say that!”

“But your body language did.” Your bottom lip got sucked between your teeth again. “You’re pretty easy to read. Makes my job easy.”

“I am not easy to read.”

“Oh, you are.” Toji grinned, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest. “See, it’s all in the body language.”

Your head shot back in his direction, and Toji could feel your eyes practically burning holes into his skin. “Okay then, Mr. Expert. What am I feeling right now? If you’re so confident in your skills.” The car made another left as Toji pulled into a parking lot in front of an apartment complex.

“You aren't going to like it.” He said in an almost singsong voice as he parked the car.

“I already don’t like this whole situation, so let’s just put the cherry on top of the fucked up sundae that is my life right now.”

The air in the car felt thick as Toji unbuckled his seatbelt, allowing him to turn slightly to eye you thoroughly. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, his shirt straining against his chest as he draped his arm over his seat. As his eyes roamed your body, you could feel the trail they left, like a gentle caress over your skin. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you shifted, keeping your arms crossed.

You were beautiful but also very tense. You kept shifting your weight in the seat, and your eyes looked anywhere but at him directly. In a way, it was kind of cute seeing you like this. Where you weren't masking or giving him attitude, he was begging to realize this was some of your natural personality—not some persona you made, apart from playing in front of cameras and an audience. The sharp tongue, stubbornness, and anxiety seem to be the real you.

But he had a feeling he was only grazing the surface of you.

You had gone through so much lately that you probably layered yourself in different coats of wax. Hiding the version of who you were before, you became an Internet sensation. Toji was only seeing the top layer of who you were, and he was given time, he would be able to peel back the first layer of wax to reveal a new color, a new trait of yours. But even if he didn’t know who you were or what you were like before the fame, you were still relatively easy for him to read.

“Okay, you keep crossing your arms; that could be due to several things. It could be that you are uncomfortable, feeling slightly defensive, or insecure. Or it could also mean that you’re subconscious is telling you that yoy need to protect yourself because you have a certain distrust in me, which is fair because you don’t know me.” From the way your eyes widened, Toji knew he was right. “Then there’s the lip.” Promptly, you released your lips from your bottom teeth. “Biting your lip is a nonverbal gesture. And it could mean a couple of things. could be that you have something to say, but you’re preventing yourself from saying it, or it could also mean that you secretly want me and you’re trying to be flirtatious.” You barked a laugh, your eyebrows furrowing together as a faint flush dusted your cheeks. “But I know that it’s because you’re having anxiety; that’s one of the most common reasons. People bite their lips like that. Anxiety, stress, overwhelming emotions.” He leaned back in the driver's seat. “And from the way you’re furrowing your brows at me, which usually means that you’re annoyed in deep conversation or thought I can cross you being flirty with me off my list of options.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead and mark that off several times with a marker.”

Toji shrugged a shoulder as he turned towards the door, opening it. “No skin off my nose; I don't care.” He got out, headed to your side of the car, and opened the door for you.

“Wow, you proved your point; you can read body language. Congratulations.”

“It's all part of the job.”

A job that he was now bringing home. Toji carried your bag for you and led you into the apartment complex. With each step you took, your mind reeled more. What did a pop star tell her brand-new bodyguard’s family? Sorry for imposing on you all; I'll take the couch. Would they be cold? Feeling like you were pitting them out? Or would they be overly fanatic with you, persistently making you feel at home and treating you like a celebrity?

No matter the outcome, one thing was sure: you hated being a burden to others.

Aside from the tests and clinical work, things were easier when you were a nursing student. When you were in school, you didn't have to stress over putting on a face for the cameras, dealing with a stalker, and not worrying about the safety of your loved ones. You would rather take vials of blood from a senile patient rather than have someone destroy your home.

A twinge of pain shot through your lip as you sank your teeth into the raw spot on your lip you had made. Toji watched as your hand shot up, delicate fingers brushing against blood that dribbled to the surface—pulling your hand back to look at the crimson-stained tips of your fingers.

“I told you you were going to bite it so hard it would make it bleed.”

“I know—I just—I hate this.”

Toji’s gaze focused on the numbers blinking as you headed to another floor. “Unfortunately, you don't have many options.” His tone was soft, almost hesitant in a way, one you hadn't been expecting to come from him.

“I just hope your wife isn't too upset.” When the elevator reached the third floor, it dinged before the metal doors slid open. “I'm really sorry for imposing you both.”

“She’s not gonna mind.”

“Oh, and what makes you so sure of that?” You question incredulously, following him out of the elevator down the hall. “I’m a stranger. I would have issues letting a stranger with a stalker into my house.”

The tall man didn't say anything as he unlocked the door to one of the apartments. “Trust me, it ain't going to be a problem. This is something she would have supported.”

Toji held the door open, allowing you to step inside first. The television was playing somewhere inside, leaving you feeling awkward as you stood off to the side. Clearing your throat as Toji took his shoes off, you followed his lead, inching close behind him as he yawned, walking through the entryway.

“Megs? Hey, I'm home.” The pitter-patter of feet against the floor had you looking around Toji as a young girl, maybe sixteen, and a small boy hurrying around a corner. “Hey Tsumiki, sorry I’m late.” he reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a wallet. “I’ll pay ya’ dou—”

“Oh no! You're okay, Mr. Fushiguro. I live a few doors down, and Megumi’s a good kid.” The teenager beamed politely as she ruffled the head of the younger boy. “Plus, my mom made us dinner.” Her eyes drifted behind Toji, and she met yours. She tilted her head slightly to the side before you could see the realization hit her like lightning. “O-Oh—wait! Wait! I-Is that?! Are you?!”

Toji hissed through his teeth, pushing you back behind him. “Tsumiki—don’t.” His words went wholly ignored as she screamed.

You couldn't help but smile; seeing your fans react to you was one of your favorite things. Tsumiki jumped up and down, grabbing hold of the little boy who stared at her in confusion and annoyance, which was nearly comical on a young boy's face. But not a lot of six—and seven—year—old boys came to your concerts.

“You're too loud, Tsumiki.”

“I love you! I love your music so much!!”

Without so much as a word, you stepped out from behind Toji, taking your baseball cap off. “Thank you; I appreciate your support.” You opened your arms, but Tsumiki hesitated, looking up at Toji, who just huffed a sigh before nodding and motioning toward you with one hand.

“Go ahead.”

Tsumiki squealed, throwing herself into you and hugging you as tightly as possible. “Oh my god, it's you!! I can't believe it!” She pulled away dark strands of her hair falling in her face. “What are you doing here? And with Mr. Fushiguro on top of that? Are you two dating?!”

Much to your surprise, you and Toji barked a laugh before glaring at each other. “Hello, no.” Your bodyguard remarked with a sneer as he walked towards Megumi, lifting him. “She ain’t my type.” His words didn't sting; if anything, you felt slightly relieved that he thought the same way you did.

“Ditto.”

“Mr Fushiguro, every guy wants to date her!” The wildly enthusiastic Tsumiki shouted, finally breaking away from her hug with you. “Look at her! She's gorgeous! How could she not be your type?!”

“Well, for starters, I don't date my clients, and secondly—”

“He’s married.” You added, winning a surprised look from the younger boy whose navy eyes mirrored his father’s.

“Since when did you get married?”

Toji ruffled the boy's hair, blatantly ignoring his question before focusing on Tsumiki. “Hey, you can't tell anyone about her being here, okay? It’s for her safety, so don't go blabbing off to your mom or your little girlfriends, okay?” You felt some ease settle over you as Tsumili nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Of course! I won’t tell a soul!” her big doe eyes darted back at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. “I know the line of work Megumi’s dad is in, so you’re in good hands.” Her words trailed off as she bit down on her bottom lip, much like you had done throughout the night. “But, uhm—”

It was clear that she wanted to ask you for it, but it was also clear that she wasn't going to ask for it straight out. “Tsumiki, right?” You asked, drawing her attention back to you. “Would you like an autograph? A thank you for keeping my secret?” Her eyes sparked as she nodded her head up and down. “But that doesn't seem fair enough.” you pursed your lips together in faux thought. “How about two backstage passes to my next concert?”

“For real?!”

Toji huffed a sigh, watching to see that mask you had perfected slip on. But it didn't. You were nice but not overly perky and bouncing with energy like you had been at the concert. No, this was just you being genuinely nice to a kid. You were smiling softly, taking in Tsumiki’s reaction, savoring the joy and shock on her face.

It was that look that had Toji in a sort of haze as he walked Tsumiki back to her door. All her excitement was like white noise to him as she hurried inside her apartment, bouncing on her feet as she bid him goodnight. You were something. You couldn't handle being in a car with a stranger you barely knew, but you had no issues giving out backstage concert tickets to a stranger who was a fan.

Toji shook those thoughts out of his mind as he returned to his apartment. He found you standing in the kitchen, looking around. “Do you Need something?” he asked, sitting Megumi down on the counter.

“Oh no, just looking around.”

“Ah, well, I’ll give you a proper tour later. But first,” Megumi groaned as his father's large hand ruffled the top of his head, making his unruly hair even messier. “This is Megumi, my son.”

The little boy puffed his cheeks out, running his hands through his hair as you smiled, introducing yourself. “It's nice to meet you, Megumi. Thanks for letting me stay with you and your family.” Megumi shrugged a shoulder, his cheeks slightly flushed, as he looked up at his dad.

“Yeah, you're welcome.”

“When does your mom get home? I want to thank her properly, too.” A heavy silence fell over the kitchen as Megumi’s features softened his attention, focusing on his father, who rubbed at his neck. “Oh, you haven't told her yet?”

Toji shook his head, lifting Megumi off the counter before placing him down. “Nope, but I'll let her know now; come with me, and I’ll introduce you while I’m at it.” His words were strange, but you followed him to the living room. Toji walked towards a corner and slowly got down on his knees, his eyes focusing on the incense floating up in the air as he reached out, straightening a picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair. “Hey honey, this is our house guest for a while. Do me a favor and don't get all possessive poltergeist on me.” Your bodyguard turned back to you, watching the flush in your cheeks fade as he tilted his head toward the altar. “This is my wife, my late wife.”

Forever Tag List:

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Til’ the Day Tag List: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO MDNI)

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[hajimesh]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐skyfall. suguru geto

part two. sunset (him)

⥅word c. 2,656

⥅warnings. suguru's pov, heavy angst, main character death, mentions of drinking and smoking, depressed suguru, hurt/comfort (?)

𝄢♭turning page ‐ sleeping at last / let her go ‐ passenger

Suguru will never forget the morning you came back to him. He distinctly remembers it was right after a slow night at the bar, the air felt chiller than usual, and the streets were too quiet. He couldn’t wait to get home, already dreaming of his bed and the leftover pizza from two nights ago.

But the sleep vanished as soon as he saw you sitting by the window.

At first, he thought someone had broken into his place until he realized it was you, which scared him even more than the thought of a thief. As soon as he heard your voice, it was as if he felt everything and nothing all at once—it also made him realize he had started to forget the sound of it without noticing.

It was the sight of your cheeky smile, the little wave as you teased him like you used to, that got him out of his stupor. Suddenly, he was on a high, something he hadn’t felt in months.

Gone was the tiredness from working all night as he ran up the stairs to the apartment while his heart beat wildly against his rib cage. However, nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight that awaited him: sitting by the window, the curtains blew behind you as the sky shone with pinks and lilacs, clouds that looked like cotton floating in it. But even such beautiful scenery couldn’t compare to the sight of you, your beauty or the gentle smile on your face.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he felt his soul come back to his body as soon as he had you in his arms. The feel of your fingers carding through his hair immediately relaxed him, your voice soothing the dull pain that had settled deep in his heart.

He feared his heart would not make it through that morning, your presence and laugh — god, how he had missed your laugh — more than enough of a threat to his battered heart. 

That morning, Suguru Geto came back to life after living like a zombie for three months without you, the pain pushed to the back of his mind as he only focused on loving you.

—

He often wondered if he should quit his job, it messed up with his sleeping schedule and mood. But that bar was where he first met you, he still remembered how you walked up to him to order a round of drinks for your friends, and by the end of the night you had left right after saving your number in his phone.

Somehow, it felt wrong to leave a place that held such beautiful memories.

“You’ll be late for work,” he heard you say, light kisses covering his face as they traveled from his lips to his jaw before focusing on his cheeks.

He could tell it was dark outside, which meant that yes, he was most definitely running late. But he was a prisoner of your kisses, he would be out of his mind to push you away.

“Shower with me.”

Suguru was enraptured the whole time, watching the water dripping down your body as you sang each song that played from the speaker you had in the bathroom. The only thing that could stop you were his lips, kissing you nonstop until he had to physically hold you so you wouldn't fall to your knees. 

At that moment, he felt like he fell in love with you all over again.

He really didn't want to leave, but if you were there with him, then it meant that everything was back to normal. It made sense, right?

“See you at sunrise!”

And when he saw you by the window the next day, and the day after that, suddenly he was looking forward to each morning, hoping to see you sitting by the window where you belonged. 

The world could end tomorrow, and he wouldn’t care. As long as he had you by his side, nothing could ruin his happiness.

The rush hour was at its peak, college kids flooding the small bar on a Friday night—finals were over, so Suguru kind of expected it. After all, it was something he used to do just a few years ago.

He worked as fast as he could, lining up the shot glasses and filling them with liquor so Satoru could take them to the right table. It had become part of their routine, both men realizing that they worked well together after two days of being on the same shift.

Satoru placed his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, squinted eyes staring suspiciously at Suguru.

“You seem… livelier,” he paused, “chirpier?”

Shrugging, Suguru continued pouring drinks, “why wouldn’t I be?”

Still looking at him weirdly, Satoru dropped the subject once the raven-haired handed him another round of drinks, turning on his heel and continuing to work—he could always ask him later.

Meanwhile, Suguru’s mind strayed to your conversation from earlier that day. It had been two weeks since you were back, and it was impossible to get you out of his mind. Before he could stop it, he was smiling at the memory, his heart fluttered at the thought of spending all of your weekends cuddling and watching movies. He hoped that one day, a little version of you both could join the tradition.

At that point, he couldn’t hide his smile.

With a push of his hips, Satoru tried to snap him out of his daydream, signaling with his head to the girl that stood in front of him. 

Suguru stared at her, she seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until she reminded him of her name that he remembered who she was: an old classmate from high school. They had dated briefly during their senior year before he met you.

“I haven't seen you since we graduated,” she smiled at him, “I never thought I would find you here of all places!”

The atmosphere felt awkward, it was as if an elephant sat in the room and everyone could see it but him. He didn’t like that feeling one bit.

“Yeah, I work here.”

The girl hummed and shot Satoru a polite smile, her long nails tapping loudly against the granite.

“I-I was actually wondering if,” she paused, looking bashful as she switched her weight from one heel to the other, “we could go for a cup of coffee one of these days? You know, like, to catch up?”  

Suguru instantly tensed up, “catch up?”

“Yeah! Uhm… like a date?”

He never liked it when people put him on the spot, both Satoru’s and the girl’s eyes set on him as they waited for his answer.

“Sorry, but I have a girlfriend,” he offered her an awkward smile.

Satoru sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around Suguru’s shoulders and pulling him against his side.

“I don't think she’ll mind,” he winked at Suguru before turning to look at the confused girl, “he’d love to go on a date with you!”

Pushing him away, Suguru looked at him in disgust, “are you out of your mind?”

Both men were too busy staring at the other down to hear the girl excuse herself and leave.

Satoru scoffed, “I should be the one asking you that.”

“The fuck you mean by that!?” Suguru was fuming by now, attracting the interest of a few patrons that happened to witness everything.

“Hey, hey!” a third voice intervened, Nanami placing himself between them, “you two need to calm down.”

Suguru ignored the recently hired waiter, continuing to stare down at his best friend. There was no way he was going to stand there and let him treat you like that. 

“I asked you a question: what the hell was that!?”

“Sorry for trying to get you a date with a cute girl,” Satoru said sarcastically, “one date won’t hurt, and you know it.”

Fed up with his words, Suguru pushed Nanami to the side and stepped closer to whom he had to call his best and closest friend. He had had enough of Satoru’s shit. 

“Disrespect my girl again, and I'll forget you’re like a brother to me.”

With a sneer, Satoru reciprocated the look.

“Suit yourself.”

—

They barely talked again for the rest of the night.

Suguru could feel a migraine coming, the faint palpitations at the back of his head increasing as the minutes passed. All he wanted was his shift to be over, so he could go back to your arms.

He took the trash outside, staying there a few minutes as he leaned against the wall. His lips wrapped around the cigarette as he took a long drag, and unconsciously began to smile once he noticed the sky starting to lighten. 

The sound of the door opening and closing took him out of his daydream.

“Spill,” Satoru stood before him, arms folded in front of his chest with a serious look that Suguru hadn’t seen in weeks, “what’s up with you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Don’t you dare push me away again,” the white-haired jabbed a finger on his chest, “you were finally recovering, and what? You’re letting her control your life again?”

“I would watch my mouth if I were you,” Suguru warned him, his features hardening again, “and she isn’t controlling anything.”

Groaning, Satoru ran a hand down his face, “when are you going to get it through your thick skull?!” 

“Get what!?”

After stepping on the cigarette, Suguru started making his way inside, getting tired of Satoru’s complaints. Only to stop abruptly once he heard him speak again, his blood turning cold. 

“That your girlfriend is dead.”

Suguru never believed in those weird conspiracy theories that Satoru liked to feed him, and even years later, he still managed to come up with the craziest stories.

He believed there's a rational explanation for everything, not entirely a man of science, but if you could prove what you said, then he had no reason to doubt.

Every rational thought told him it couldn’t be possible, and yet there you were, holding his face between your hands as he heard your voice, and smelled your perfume. 

You were supposed to be gone.

He had to hold back from breaking down as soon as he got home, your silhouette standing by the window as if you truly were there, waiting for him like you always used to. He couldn't bear to see you smile, to hear you talk about a future when you no longer had one. He could barely keep it together when you cupped his face in your hands and made him stare at you, something seemed to have switched in your eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“It’s time to let go, Suguru.”

“I can't,” he whispered in a broken voice, “I don't want to.”

Three months without seeing you, feeling you, there was no way he’d let you slip away from his grasp—not again.

Tears ran down his cheeks, his heart pressing heavily against his chest as he fought the need to crumble down to the floor. He could see your eyes glistening with tears, but your pretty smile remained, giving him all the time he needed to compose himself. 

“I'm so sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault,” you whispered, rubbing your thumbs against his cheekbones, trying and failing to stop the tears, “I could never blame you, I never did.”

Unwanted memories from that day swarmed his mind: the loud screech of tires against the pavement, your body next to his, the sight of your beautiful face covered in cuts and bruises mocking the peaceful look in it. The memory haunted him for months.

What was once the face of an angel, as he liked to call you, twisted into a gruesome memory.

If only he hadn’t convinced you to accompany him to the party, or if he had paid more attention to the road so he could’ve avoided the drunk driver that hit the car as he drove home. You’d still be there, with him, holding him just as you were doing right at that moment.

“I'm going insane,” he sniffled, resting his forehead against yours, “aren’t I?”

“No, no, you’re not. But you aren’t taking care of yourself,” you kept smiling through your tears, your voice gentle as if you were talking to a child, “you either sleep too little or too much, and you haven’t been attending your lectures.”

Rocking you side to side, he dismissed your comment with a nonchalant hum, “but I’m happy now, isn’t that what you want? Just… stay? Please?”

The lack of words on your part was his answer.

“Will I see you again?” 

“Of course,” your smile broadened, “even if the skies fall, or a huge wave takes over the city, you’ll never get rid of me.”

Suguru’s hold tightened, your face hiding in his chest as you both tried to calm yourselves down. He didn’t dare to close his eyes, wanting to see your face for as long as he could. And even with tears clogging up your eyelashes and wobbly lips, you were still as gorgeous as he remembered.

“You’re my sunrise, and I'm your sunset,” he whispered in your ear, “never forget that.”

Not like you could. You had found your very own sunset, only yours to love and admire.

“I would never.”

Even with puffy eyes and tears wetting your cheeks, Suguru still thought you were the most beautiful woman that ever walked the earth. He helped you wipe your tears, watching you sniffle and laugh right after.

“Baby?” you spoke after a few minutes of silence and holding each other, basking in his warmth until it made you sleepy. 

His lips kissed the crown of your hair while his fingers combed it away from your face, admiring your face with love brimming from his eyes, “hm?”

A lump blocked your throat, tears welling up in your eyes before quickly cascading down your cheeks as you ingrained his face into your memory.     

“Look for me in the sky, I promise I'll be there.”

Suguru never saw you again after that day.

It was as if the grief took over his life all over again, the sorrow suffocating him with each breath he took. His body and soul crumpled even lower than the first time, however, with each passing week, the heaviness in his heart became lighter.

It took him a while to open up to Satoru, and when he finally did, the tears were unstoppable from both sides. Satoru felt for his friend and you, you two had had a close bond too after all, and after seeing Suguru shattered after your loss, he knew he had to be his rock.

There wasn’t a place in the city that didn’t have your name, filled with memories of your dates as Suguru and you explored the world together. But it was time to turn the page, with your memory inked on the corner of it and in Suguru’s soul.

He would never be able to forget you, and he didn’t want to.

Sitting by the window, Suguru took a look at the late spring afternoon. Living in a world without you would always be painful, which is why he found himself staring at it from your eyes. That window was your spot; he would always find you there before the sun was up, and right before it disappeared behind the horizon, waving him goodbye as he drove away to work.

The usual bustle of the streets quieted down for a moment, it was as if the world went still. Orange tinted the sky as usual, only this time, hues of blue and lilac blended across it, the wind cold and refreshing as it blew against his warm skin.

Suguru peered up at the skies with a nostalgic smile, a wave of peacefulness making its way into his heart.

“There you are, my love.”

[waitingonher]

hiii!! I saw your Percy x Hecate reader and was wondering if you could do a percy x Aphrodite reader?? 🫶🏽🫶🏽

percy jackson dating a child of aphrodite

pairing: percy jackson x reader

content warning: coupley things

word count: 916

author's note: hi!! sorry this took so long (finals r around the corner) enjoy tho! i also put my own gas station order in this LOL

you and percy have got to be the most attractive couple on the planet. honestly, it’s an unspoken camp rite of passage to have a crush on at least one of you two. everyone literally has their own story about how they have/had a crush on either you or percy (or both) it’s crazy. 

percy is such a green flag!! 

HE FOLLOWS THE SIDEWALK RULE. no matter where you are, you WILL be walking on the inside. 

you could be on a super dangerous quest being chased by monsters and percy would still make sure he’s running on the outside. like i’m pretty sure being ran over is the least of your worries… but it’s still cute.

percy is actually so obsessed with the fact that you can speak french/other romance languages. he’d make up any excuse just to hear you speak them.

all of a sudden he’s paying attention in his spanish class and he needs your help pronouncing certain words!! 

or one day he’d randomly come up to you and would start speaking to you in french??? turns out he’s been secretly learning it without you knowing?? percy’s 387 day duolingo streak is all because he wanted to hear you speak your language more. he’s definitely dedicated!

sometimes when you’re talking, percy would suddenly be like “wow, she’s so pretty???” and he’d (accidentally) zone out, just completely admiring you. he knows that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, but sometimes he just has to take a moment to take it all in. 

shopping dates with percy!! 

you’d ask him which top looks the best on you and then he’d tell you all of them?? he really thinks you can afford all 10 shirts you showed him.

“perce, between those three pants, which one looked better on me?” you ask, holding one of the pairs against your body.  your boyfriend looks deep in thought before coming to a decision, “all of them,” he declares. “babe,” you groan, “you can’t choose them all, choose one.”  percy looks genuinely worried when he realizes he has to actually decide on one, because he thinks that you looked absolutely gorgeous in all of them. so he comes up with the only other idea that makes sense, “well i don’t mind buying them all for you. besides, you looked super great in them.”  you immediately shake your head, “percy, i’m not about to let you drop $150 on three pairs of pants. that’s actually insane.”  “but-”  “no percy.” 

HE KNOWS WHAT COLOR JEWELRY YOU WEAR. percy absolutely refuses to be one of those lousy boyfriends who don't even know what kind of jewelry their girlfriend wears. 

he’s been patiently waiting for the day when someone asks which color you prefer.  

this guy has your gas station order down to a tee! 

percy walks up to the passenger door with a plastic white bag in hand. he opens the door and begins to take out its contents, “thanks perce! you got my-”  “i got your arizona, the green tea flavor, and your hot fries. and yes, i made sure to shake all the bags to make sure i got the one that was optimally filled,” he responds, a smug expression spreading across his face.  with an impressed look, you nod your head in approval, “wow babe, you’ve really got my order down.”   percy nods his head pridefully, “i know.” 

dates where you two have to dress up are one of his favorites!! 

him seeing you all dolled up…whewww…someone call 911 for him. 

despite how much percy hates dressing up, he’d do it if it means he gets to see you all dressed up. 

percy makes you flower bouquets!! 

they’re always so unique and special every time?? you didn’t even know that camp had such a wide variety of flowers until he started making you bouquets. 

and he always makes sure to keep a flower in his cabin so he knows when it’s time to make you a new one jdfsklds

one of percy’s favorite things to do with you are little skincare nights! 

you’d come over to his cabin and you guys would light some candles and make tea. overall it’s a very calming ambience! 

even though it’s terrible for his skin, percy has an affinity for peel-off face masks. every single time, without fail, he’ll make some sort of joke about how he’s shedding. LMAO 

you look over in the bathroom mirror to see your boyfriend applying the very thing you hate, a peel-off face mask, “love, why can’t you be normal and use a sheet mask for once? or even a clay one like mine?” you point to your face.  percy takes a quick glance at you in the mirror and shrugs, continuing to apply the mask onto his skin, “those ones are lame, and it’s not fun if i can’t peel it off,” he responds, very concentrated on spreading the mask around. you cringe when he gets a glob of the mask onto his fluffy headband.  “well the formulas aren’t really good and it’s super irritating for your skin, babe,” you tell him, hoping that the thought of a damaged skin barrier scares him out of using peel-off masks.  “y/n, you can have the good skin. i’m fine with a damaged skin barrier or whatever,” percy replies, trying to remove the mask from his headband.  you roll your eyes, “whatever, lizard face.” 

you two are actually a match made in heaven <333 

[hollisxwrites]

heyy

i was wondering if u could write a percy jackson x reader ??

flowers in your hair

(percy jackson x child of apollo reader)

thank you for the request today guys! please keep requesting, i'll keep writing (lol)! thank you for all the love on "as long as i'm with you, hero"! again, please keep requesting, i'm loving doing these! see my introduction and who i write for here!

tv! percy jackson x child of apollo! reader (I think the reader remains gender neutral throughout the fic)!

i do not own this gif or the song!

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mr. d is kinda an asshole, kinda a mention of violence, a few swear words, some slight angst and jealousy, percy is a sweetheart, a few mentions of the l word 🤯 (love), making out, possible innuendos, idk how to write warnings.

summary: based on the lumineers song flowers in your hair. percy and the reader fall in love over time spent together in camp halfblood, but they refuse to admit it in order to keep their precious friendship, until one day the reader finally cracks. this is on the longer side! sorry!

I was twelve years old when I first came to Camp Halfblood. I was scared, cold, and completely alone, running from a horrific monster that was something out of my worst nightmares. The cold pellets of rain showered over me as I ran, until suddenly, the monster wasn’t chasing me anymore, the rain stopped, and I was in the middle of a clearing, staring directly up at a house, a big, sky-blue house. It was beautiful, to say the least. Close to the house was what looked like a... volleyball court? Down the path a little, I could make out the shape of smaller houses built with Greek architecture. I was intrigued, but also frightened. Had I come across some cult? My hair was drenched and I’m sure my shirt was see-through due to the peltering rain, but when I thought about it, the rain had stopped when I got within feet of the house. Curious (and desperate for someone's help), I walked up to the door of the big blue house and knocked on it. Minutes seemed to tick by until suddenly, the door burst open and a man, about middle age, holding a set of poker cards, came to the doorway.  

“What the hell do you want kid? Can’t you see I’m busy? You know Campers aren’t allowed out past nine P.M. Now I would suggest you get back to your cabin before I kick your...” 

Suddenly, the scary man was pushed aside by an even scarier man, a man with a horse bottom-half and a man-top half. I blinked once, twice, three times, and the man was still a horse. “Mr. D! This is not one of our campers! I told you to be kind.” The horse-man said to who I guess was Mr. D. “Come on in, young one. It looks like you may be a new camper.” 

Mr. D took me into the house and gave me a change of clothes, black pants and an almost nauseating orange colored shirt that said ‘Camp Halfblood’ on it. I was still interested in finding out what this was all about, but I was even more worried about my safety. These random scary men were taking me into their house in the middle of the woods after being chased by a scary monster.  What else could go wrong? I was gestured to sit by the fireplace, and the horse-man explained everything to me. I was in disbelief. The gods of the Greek myths are real? I was only able to access this camp because I was one and I was in danger? My mother slept with a Greek god? My life, at this very moment, was altered forever. It finally made sense why my mother hated me. I was, not only, the result of her ‘dumb teenager decisions’, but I also was the result of her being with a god?  

The horse-man, who I found out was named Chiron, after explaining everything to me, took me to one of the cabins I had noticed earlier, and he told me it was Herme’s cabin, which is where I would stay until my godly parent claimed me.  

When I entered the cabin, most of the kids were asleep, because it was gods know what time of night, except two boys, one with dark curly hair and a scar running down is face who I assumed to be at least sixteen, and one with the prettiest blonde curls and green eyes that I have ever seen who seemed to be about my age. The boys were sitting on a window seat looking out to another large, Greek looking structure, discussing something that seemed to trouble the younger boy. Chiron called the two boys over, and they came to meet me. Chiron introduced the older boy as Luke Castellan, Herme’s cabin counselor, and the younger as Percy Jackson, another new camper who has only been here for a day. Percy and Luke shook my hand, and Chiron left them to help me navigate the cabin and find somewhere to sleep.  

“Nice to meet you, {reader}. It’s not every day we get a new camper, but when we do, I am always excited to meet them!” Luke Castellan said. He scared me a little, with his scar, and his height. His overall demeanor was slightly frightening, but I liked him all the same. He seemed to be welcoming and kind enough.  

I smiled at him, trying not to catch the eye of Percy, who seemed to be looking at me a lot. “Nice to meet you too.” I said in a monotone voice. I didn’t realize how tired I was until this moment. “I’m sorry, I’m so tired, getting chased down by a monster and finding out I’m some god hybrid thing that sends demons out to get me all within two hours. Where am I supposed to sleep?” 

Percy giggled. “I know how you feel. I watched my mom get killed by the minotaur last night, and here I am, not able to sleep cause of the nightmares. I should get some sleep too.” 

Luke glanced around the cabin. “I’m not sure where you’re going to sleep. All the cots are occupied, unless you want to sleep on the beanbag chairs over there.” He pointed to the pile of frumpy beanbag chairs in the corner of the cabin.  

“No, no. They can take my bed. I doubt I’m going to sleep anyways, y’know, nightmares and all.” Percy chimed in, probably noticing my disparity to sleeping on an uncomfortable looking beanbag chair.  

I shook my head. “No way. You were here before me. It’s okay, I can take the beanbags, you take your space. I hope my dad claims me before too long, so I can take a couple nights.”  

“I’m not letting you; you look too tired.” Percy said, in a voice that sounded almost threatening. “We can switch out if we’re both here for a while. I mean...if you want to.”  

I smiled at the boy. He seemed kinder than anyone else I knew, even though that wasn’t saying much. I didn’t know many people. I did take Percy’s bed that night, and that developed our friendship that would eventually become the most invaluable thing in my life. I sat with Percy at every meal, he showed me around the camp to the best of his ability, and we decided to train together, as we were both new outcasts to the camp. Even after he was chosen to go to the Poseidon cabin through the game capture the flag, and I was chosen by father to go to the Apollo cabin, our bond only grew closer, and we still managed to find time in our busy schedules to spend time with each other. 

One day, several months later, in these rare moments we were both free, I was lying on the ground in the strawberry fields that became my favorite part of the camp with Percy. We had a long day of training and decided to bask in the warmth of the camp, savoring the warm late summer days. I was picking dandelions out of the strawberries and weaving them together the way I used to do with my older sister. I was slowly making a crown out the buds, and it was turning out quite beautiful. It kept my easily distracted mind focused on what Percy was saying. He was going off on some tangent about Grover and his disloyalty to the camp and to Mr. D, something that Percy found alarming, as he was worried about his best friend’s safety.  

“I’m just glad I have you, {reader}. You really have been a good...friend all these months at camp.” Percy said, grinning at me through the strawberry bushes.  

My eyes twinkled when mine met his, and I placed the now completed dandelion crown in his blond curls that drew me to him the moment we met. “I’m glad I have you too, Perc. You made me feel a little less crazy.” 

He smiled at me, the dandelion crown slipping down his face. “You’ll always be in my heart.” He blushed a little, as we are not usually this compassionate for each other. 

“So will you!” I said, moving to put the flower crown back on the crown of his head. My fingers tingled under the small touch to his face, but I didn’t realize that it was love, at the time, at least I didn’t realize it was romantic love. That’s something I know too well now.  

... 

Five years later, Percy and I have not grown farther apart with age, we’ve grown closer. He saved the world, and I was always by his side through everything. He only grew more beautiful with age, too, his hair growing a little longer, eyes getting a little darker, scars from battles littered his arms, legs, and chest. He was always attractive to me, but now, it was even more so. He had also grown more physically affectionate towards me, brushing my hands with his, leaning on my shoulder during campfires, and even going as far to giving me kisses on the cheek when I saw him first thing in the morning and late at night when we left for the day. Sometimes, he snuck into my cabin or I into his if we had nightmares just so we could be with each other. His smell of sea salt and something else I couldn’t quite name (probably the blue candy that he ate daily), and it always comforted me during hard nights.  

All of this to say, though, we were just BFFs. Best platonic bros. Nothing more, nothing less. I loved him, I had realized over the years, loved him a little too much it was unbearable sometimes, but he was rumored to be with other people all the time, even though I knew he wasn’t. He would tell me, right? Right? He spent pretty much every waking minute with me and every minute asleep most of the time, too, so I would know. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t jealous of every person he came across. I loved him, and he was my sea boy, and I was his sunshine.  

That’s why, when we found ourselves in a very similar predicament to what we did all those years ago, during our first couple months at camp, I made a very risky move. 

I was sitting, face angled up to the sunlight, weaving a dandelion crown in my trembling hands. Percy had grown, so the flower crowns I made him now were twice the size of the ones I made him all those years ago. I delicately made a pattern with the dandelions again, and I looked up at Percy from time to time to nod or make a comment on whatever he had to say, but it was mostly silent, him humming and picking at the ground below us, and me, weaving my crown. 

Percy paused his picking at the ground and looked at me. I could feel his gaze on my face, and it made my cheeks heat up. I prayed to the gods that he thought it was just from the sun. “Do you remember when we did this, what, five years ago now? I would say we’ve grown a little, and we know more than we did then.”  

“What do you know now that you didn’t then?” I said, eyes not leaving the project in my hands.  

I assumed he shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I know more about the gods, about the world, about you.” 

Laughing, I finally tore my eyes away from the completed crown and I moved to place it on Percy’s head, settling it gently in his curls, careful not to mess up my handiwork. I let my fingers linger longer on his face than I did last time. “You know more about me, sea boy?” I asked him teasingly, finally meeting his eye that hasn’t left my face this entire time. 

“I guess I do, I mean, I feel like I do. I feel like I’ve barely spent a minute away from you since that day.” He leaned into my hand that was placing feather-like touches on his face. “I mean, I know that your favorite color is yellow, you love the same music I do, and you hate when I call you sunshine.” 

“You do know me, don’t you, Perc?” My hands dropped away from his face, and he pouted at the loss of contact even though our legs were centimeters from touching. I could feel electricity buzzing on my skin where our limbs were about to meet. That was something I always felt when I was close to him.  I always assumed, back then, that his love language was physical touch, and so he was just being a good friend by how affectionate he was to me. How delusional I was. 

“I sure do.” He flipped his body so that he was no longer facing me, instead he laid himself down on my lap. My hands instinctively went to his pretty hair, making sure to be mindful of his crown. “Y’know, I think I love you, {reader}.” 

My heart, in this moment skipped a beat, but then shattered at the same time. He loved me, but in a friendly way. “You don’t mean that, Perc. At least, you don’t mean that the way I want you to.” 

His head shot up from my lap, nearly slinging his flower crown from his head, and he turned back to face me at an alarmingly quick rate. “What do you mean, the way you want me to?” His hands met mine that were laying in my lap. He interlaced our fingers, and my entire body felt alive. 

I blushed and looked back up to the boy I have loved since we were pre-teens. “I love you, Perc, but I love you, like in a romantic way. I hope it’s not too late, cause you’re so damn attractive. You have always been to me, always will be. I think I’ve just been scared. I value you so much as a friend that I didn’t want to lose you.” I refused to look up from our intertwined hands, embarrassed and saddened by my confession. I was half expecting Percy to scoff and walk away, kicking pebbles up at me.  

Instead, he unclasped our hands and pulled my face up to look at him, his eyes shining in a way that I’ve never seen them shine before, his face glowing with a humongous grin. “I never thought you’d say that. You know that I have loved you all this time, too?”  

My heart skipped several beats this time. I’m not kidding; I was about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you kidding? You’re pranking me right now.” I hid my burning face on his shoulder.  

His laugh vibrated underneath me, making me giggle, too. “I guess we’re both idiots.” 

I hesitantly pulled my face off his shoulder and asked him the scariest question I have ever asked someone. “Can I kiss you?” 

Our faces were inches apart when he whispered, “I thought you’d never ask.” The kiss was everything I could have ever asked for. At first it was gentle and loving, our noses bumping into each other, until eventually my hands found his hair and his found my waist. It was warm, and passionate, and everything I could’ve dreamt of. 

He slowly pulled away from me, both of us panting, foreheads touching. “That was...perfect.” 

I smiled. “Just like you, sea boy.” 

His face met my neck now, and he pressed warm kisses to my exposed skin, his hair tickling my jawline. I squirmed under him, trying to suppress a groan. He lifted his head up, his eyes met mine. I thought he never had looked better. The flower crown I made him was lopsided now, diagonal across his head, his lips were red and bitten, his face was perfectly flushed, and his pupils were blown out. “How did I get so lucky?” He said to me. 

“I am asking myself the same damn thing.” I smiled, keeping eye contact with him. He connected our lips once again, and that’s when I knew I was a goner. I had been all those years ago, but we have grown a lot since then. Percy being in my eyes and in my heart all the time harbored the feeling that I have been carrying, and now I get to express. 

Years from now, I hope he still gets to be in my heart, and I in his. 

[harrystylesfan2686]

Alone Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader finally has someone's attention but at what cost...

Warnings: Minor Mentions of self harm

A/N: thank you so much everyone who read and loved Alone! I love you all so much!!! Hope you like this🫶 Also! Here's a surprise for the readers who did not want Azriel as endgame😏

Masterlist

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It has been three days since your last mission, the very mission that got you hurt and made you realize just how fucked your head is. Three days since you left the fight that left you with a big tear at your waist which will most definitely leave a scar.

It's half healed already, so is the cut you gave yourself but you didn't realize how deep you hurt yourself because it's left a thin white line that's fully healed but can be easily recognized.

You are preparing to go to a high lord meeting. When Rhys informed you of this, you thought of protesting but then agreed to go at the end because not going would cause unwanted attention from everyone else.

You are currently in your bathroom, trying to replace the bandage thats been drenched in your blood, it's on the edge of leaking out. You hiss in pain while unwrapping the gauze, it shouldn't hurt this bad. And it should be healed until now, shouldnt it? Though you weren't sure about that.

You made sure to remove you dagger and put it out of reach while removing your shirt before, after all you didn't want unnecessary temptations distracting you as you were ordered to leave in the next fifteen minutes.

While you were focused on your task at hand, you didn't realize soon enough, that someone had walked in on you. You hear somebody inhale loud enough for your ears to catch and freeze. Your eyes snap to the mirror in front of you, catching the reflection of the shadowsinger looking at you with wide eyes.

"What the hell happened to you?" His face filled with worry and horror. You open your mouth to reply but can't think of anything as you watch him in shock.

Why is he so worried for you?

"What–," His hand rises as if to touch you but you turn around to face him and take a step back, the back of your thighs stop against the sink. The movement causing a jab of pain from you injury and you wince.

"What are you doing?" You finally say.

"What– I'm asking you. What happened to you?" He exclaimed, his eyes surveying you from head to toe. You are at a loss of words, you've never seen Azriel without his calm exterior, seeing him so, unhinged, has put you off gaurd.

He called out you name again but you don't answer. "For fucks sake, you're bleeding." He goes around you to take the clean cotton and gauze, you are still so strattled that you don't protest at all when he kneels and puts a hand on the right side of your waist and holds the piece of cotton to your wound, taking the other hand and wrapping the gauze around you waist, attaching the bandage tight enough and wiping the blood that came out with a cloth.

You're still watching him with wide eyes as he stands and catches your eyes. You are suddenly very aware of how close you both are standing, facing him in nothing but an underwear covering your chest. You clear your throat.

"What happened to you? Please tell me." His voice suddenly so soft, all the anger leaving his body.

"I– I got hurt in my last mission."

His eyebrows meet, "When?"

"Three days ago." You answer and he frowns.

"How and why didn't you tell anyone?"

You scoff, finally gaining your sense as you glare up at him. "Like you would've cared."

His eyes flash with hurt, "of course I would've cared. You got so deeply hurt that you still haven't healed in three days, how would I have not cared? Why would you think that?"

"Why would I think that?" You mock his words, your anger slowly rising with each second. "I think that because you've made it very clear that you don't care. That none of you care. Of course I wouldn't tell you, you never listen!" You practically yell at his face.

"What makes you think that?"

"You! All of you! You never listen to me. You never ask. You don't even care if I'm with you or not. You are all too busy with your friends to even notice if I'm in the room! I haven't been you any of you in months and none of you have even asked me why I've distant myself!"

"I don't know about others but I haven't asked you that because I thought you didn't like being with us anymore. I thought you didn't want us anymore. I was respecting your choices." His voice hurt.

You clench your fingers to the counter behind you so that you don't accidentally punch his stupid face in anger, though the idea sounds tempting.

"Respecting my choice? You have been glued to Elain the second she walked in our lives, ignoring me every time I tried to make a conversation and when I finally accept that you don't like my company anymore, you don't even try to voice your feelings and you think you were respecting my choice!"

He has the nerve to look heartbroken. Gods you want the beat the hurt out of him.

"I got close to Elain because I thought you didn't want me. At least not the way I want you." He avoids your eyes. "I've cared for you from the moment I've met you. I thought you didn't prefer my company so I distracted myself from my feelings and went to elain instead but then I realized that I'll always want you, Y/N." He finally meets your eyes, begging you silently to understand him.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to calmed down and gaze at him.

"Alright, if what youre saying is true then why are you telling me this now? Why not before?" The look you level him with scares him to the core.

"I was an idiot. I'm truly very sorry. I thought you'd never want me. I was wrong I admit, but please give me one chance to show that I truly love you." He pleads.

You flinch, "Love me?"

"I do. I love you. I always have." He dares to put a hand on your cheek.

"It took you seeing me hurt to admit that you have feelings for me?" You scoff and rip his hand off of you.

"Y/N, please." He begs, taking your hand in his, "I am a morron for hurting your feelings. You're right, it did take me seeing you hurt to admit my love for you and I am so sorry. But please, dont push me away, please give me one chance to show you just how much I love you. I can not see you hurt again."

The tears in his eyes leaves you dumbstruck. Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe he does have feelings for you.

"I-," You try to protest but he beats you saying,"Please, one chance is all I want. Just one to show you that I really care for you. I promise you I will never hurt you again."

You swallow a lump. You are sure an idiot to even consider agreeing to this but would it really be that bad? Haven't you always wanted love? Haven't you always wanted someone to love you, to care for you with everything they have? This is it. Azriel is standing here, in front of you, promising you the happy ending you've always wished for, he should get at least one chance to redeem himself, right?

"Ok." You whisper. His eyes widen and his face splits into a huge smile.

"Thank you. I promise you, I'll show you I'm worthy of you." He kisses your forehead and wraps an arm around you. "And I've just told Rhysand we aren't going." Your eyes widen.

"Azriel–,"

"Don't. Please just let me take care of you right now." He pleads resting his head to your shoulder and breathing in your scent.

You sigh and finally hug him back, wrapping your arms around his waist, wondering if you've made the best decision in your life or the worst.

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Tag list: @kalulakunundrum @optimisticbabydreamer @esposadomd @ineedsometherapists @witchymomfrien @thelov3lybookworm @fantasyandshit

[vidavalor]

The Devil's Elevator & The Three Travelers

Maybe I'm the last to learn this but did you guys know there's a card trick in magic wherein decks of cards are made into metaphorical elevators and chosen red cards (representing "good") are progressively put into positions within a pile of black cards (representing "evil") as if falling to Hell... but the trick is that all of the chosen cards always return to the top of the pile?

And did you know that this trick is called The Devil's Elevator?

And that it has a sister trick called The Three Travelers that actually involves four cards getting into metaphorical elevators-- three red cards and one black one...like Gabriel, Aziraphale, Muriel, & Crowley...

...as God would say in S1:

Watch carefully... Round and round they go...

Let's start with The Devil's Elevator...

This trick just uses four red cards and four black ones. The black ones form "The Devil's Elevator" by representing Hell. The pile of black cards is the elevator with the elevator button being represented by the magician tapping the top of the pile to "press the elevator button" to complete the trick by seeming to magically moving the cards from one position to another.

One at a time, each of the red cards is then slotted between cards in the black card pile while the spectators watch. The magician then presses the "elevator button" atop the pile and the red card that had been placed between the black ones -- and metaphorically "fallen"-- suddenly appears at the top of the pile, rescued from The Devil.

The spectator's response is naturally one of bewilderment. They saw the red cards be placed in with the black cards... so, how did they then get back up the top? What in the bananafish gorilla shoelace is this card sorcery?! How does this trick work and what does all of this have to do with where Good Omens' story might be going?

If the red cards symbolize angels, then, metaphorically, in our story, the magician (Aziraphale) keeps helping push those fallen, red cards (Gabriel, Muriel, etc.), one by one, back up to the top of the pile...

...and, eventually, at the end of the trick, all of the cards-- "good"/red and "bad"/black alike-- are then spread out to reveal them to the spectators as equal, individual cards... just all members of the deck... which we see a bit already in the story and which would then be where the story is headed overall by the end of S3... but, we still have a big question...

...how does our magician do it?

How does he get all the fallen cards away from Satan and back up to the top of the pile and then reveal the full pile of all of the cards as an equal deck by the end of this? What can learning about how the literal card trick is done tell us about how Aziraphale might achieve something like this for the characters in the story?

Quite a lot, it seems...

You see, in the card trick, the magician successfully fools those watching and pulls off the trick with a certain bit of sleight-of-hand... something that is in view of the spectator but which the spectators-- distracted by the falling red cards-- do not fully notice...

...it turns out that the magician pulls off the trick by having been secretly holding one of the black cards close in his hands the entire time...

There actually are not four, aligned black cards in the pile... there only appears to be. The magician has separated one black card from the rest and woven it back in with the red cards. The magician uses this card to help protect the red cards and to show the spectators that they all belong at the top of the pile.

Pulling off the trick involves repeated showings of all of the red and black cards alike to the spectators in order to convince them that there is not secretly a black card involved in the magician's trick... but, to most eagle-eyed spectators, this is a deception. It already seems unlikely that the magician doesn't have his hands on his preferred black card because the trick's success doesn't actually make sense without that being the case.

The only way for the magician to pull off upending the social order of these "cards" and eventually blowing up The Devil's Elevator (and Heaven) alike is if one of the black cards only seemed like he was part of the demonic pack but was actually partnered with the magician.

Neither of them can do any of this on their own. They're a team. A group. A group of the two of them, one might even say lol... one that rescues, supports, and protects one another.

The magician rescues the selected black card by offering him an escape from the legions of other black cards through the magician's prized care and favor. It is this black card that then comes to the magician's emotional rescue, enabling him to feel secure enough to pull off the trick with confidence...

...and, together, they save the fallen cards by spreading the deck out and revealing for the spectators that, while individually unique, the cards are all fundamentally made of the same stuff...

...but, before we get there, there's another, sister elevator card trick to this one that is equally relevant to this story that we should look at...

...it's called 'The Three Travelers' but there are actually four cards on the move that "go into the elevator" during the course of the trick.

Three of the cards are red or "good" cards while the fourth is a black/"demonic" card...

...and have I mentioned that... making things more interesting... one of the red cards actually "gets in the elevator" with the black card?

...is this beginning to seem a bit familiar? 😉

This isn't The Marvelous Mr. Fell's magic trick here. Aziraphale isn't our magician in question on this one; this is an overall narrative magic trick. The Three Travelers card trick aligns with some of the story structure in S2 and into S3's set up in a way that might suggest it partially inspired it. So, let's look at how this kind of elevator card trick works and how it differs from The Devil's Elevator...

This one involves a full deck of cards but only four of them are actually used in the trick: three red and one black card, as we said above. The deck of cards is the elevator and on what the magician will tap to "push the button" for the elevator to make the magic of moving the cards around.

The trick has three stages, with four different cards total "getting into the elevator": First Red Card, Second Red Card and Third Red Card/The Black Card.

This maths out, as we'll look at, into this:

First, Red Card: Gabriel...

Second, Red Card: Aziraphale...

Third, Red Card and The Black Card: Muriel and Crowley...

This trick, though, does not result in all of the cards going Up...

...which is why it's the one that we're in the midst of currently watching unfold in the story rather than the endgame The Devil's Elevator that will be what Aziraphale and Crowley manage to pull off to bring the story to a conclusion.

What's the result of The Three Travelers trick in our story? It's to shake some things up and move these characters around in surprising ways that have only just begun to be fully seen by us so far...

The magician begins the trick with the deck stacked and with what seem like only three, red cards separated from it and shown to the spectators. These red cards, symbolically, are Gabriel, Aziraphale and Muriel in our story. However, the magician has really separated out a fourth card as well-- a black one, who is Crowley in our story. The spectators do not see that this card has been pulled from the deck as the magician has pulled it at the same time as they did with the Third, Red Card (Muriel) and keeps them together for a future twist that the spectators will see at the end of the trick.

Part 1 of the trick? The First Red Card-- Gabriel.

The First, Red Card (Gabriel) is shown to the spectator as being on the top of the deck... but is then placed by the magician at the very bottom of the deck.

The magician then "presses the Up button" on the deck of cards by tapping the top of it and telling the spectators that that's what he's doing. He then turns the top card of the deck over and reveals that it's actually the First, Red Card that the spectators thought that they just saw put at the bottom of the deck.

From a story perspective, we might sense this coming already. We saw Gabriel fall in S2 but we also know that Crowley and Aziraphale have discovered that Heaven can't actually strip angels of all of their powers. It would not take much for Gabriel to learn this information in S3 and Crowley is now willing to share it, as we saw him basically begin to tell Muriel this in 2.06 when he opened the file on Gabriel in front of them. Gabriel was The Supreme Archangel of Heaven and it seems likely that he is going to learn in S3 that, in terms of personal power, he still really is... all of which will be very helpful to Crowley and Aziraphale as their story results in winding up overthrowing Heaven to stop Armageddon for good.

Part 2 of the trick: The Second, Red Card-- Aziraphale.

Next, The Second, Red Card that was separated from the pack goes into the elevator... but with a really big twist.

The Second, Red Card is shown to the spectators to be-- I kid you not-- the next to take the same position of The First, Red Card.

The magician shows the spectators that The Second, Red Card (Aziraphale) is going to be placed on the top of the deck of cards-- the place formerly occupied before by The First, Red Card (Gabriel) before the start of the card trick-- and makes the spectators believe this to be the case...

...and the magician then places The Second, Red Card on top of the deck of cards, saying it's "gone into The Elevator"... because, remember... the point of the trick is actually to unexpectedly move the card from one place to another...

...and then the magician "pushes the button" on the deck of cards, symbolizing pushing the elevator button to move The Second, Red Card...

...the thing is, though, that the magician actually says he's pushing the opposite button to that of what he pressed for The First, Red Card...

In the magic trick, The First, Red Card comes from the top of the deck, is placed on the bottom, the button pressed by the magician is then the "Up" button, and The First, Red Card winds up on the top of the pile...

...all of this is actually reversed for The Second, Red Card in the trick. That card is placed on the top of the deck, the magician actually says he presses the elevator button of "Down" when he taps the deck of cards, and The Second, Red Card is revealed to be on the bottom of the pile of cards.

In Good Omens, all of this tracks for Gabriel and Aziraphale... with the exception of which button is pressed for which character. Gabriel goes down in the elevator but comes out on the top of the pile in the card trick while Aziraphale seems to be going up in the elevator but, we are seeing, looks like he's actually going to the bottom of the deck of cards. All of the cards eventually, though, are reunited with the full deck and become equal to them after The Three Travelers trick is complete... just not yet in either of the tricks or in the story itself.

While Gabriel was placed on the bottom and will surprise in S3 by still having the power he had on top and being able to use that to help everyone, Aziraphale-- The Second, Red Card-- is given an inverse of The First, Red Card/Gabriel in the trick. Aziraphale is placed on the top of the deck, as far as the speculators are concerned. He's given all the power. If the magician is to be believed (lol a big "if"!), Aziraphale is supposed to be The Supreme Archangel.

This is the deceptive part of the trick, though, because then the magician presses the elevator button-- the opposite one to what was pressed for Gabriel-- and, even though that button for Aziraphale is Up, well, something's going down in The Up. It's the opposite button to Gabriel's so it means the opposite thing because, in The Three Travelers magic trick, it's then revealed to the spectators that The Second, Red Card?...

...it's now actually moved to the bottom of the deck...

...but we're not done yet. One more part of the magic trick to go...

We can't forget about Part 3: our Third, Red Card (Muriel) and The Black Card (Crowley)...

The magician throws a big twist into this part of the trick...

While the First and Second Red Cards are largely about inverting expectations-- moving the cards into opposite positions of the top and the bottom of the deck of cards from where they were placed-- this part of the trick involves splitting the deck and changing the notion of what being at the top and the bottom of the decks actually means entirely.

By this point, the spectators are wondering what the deal is going to be for last element of the trick-- for The Third, Red Card that was presented at the start of the trick. The first, two Red Cards have largely moved up and down on the deck. One went top-bottom-top while the other went bottom-top-bottom. What new thing then can then happen with The Third, Red Card?

The magician shakes things up for the spectators by offering up this twist: what if we split the deck of cards in half?

The magician then lifts the top half of the cards off of the bottom half and separates them into two piles. The Top Half? We'll call it Pile A while The Bottom Half, we'll call Pile B. There is no deception here-- it's just literally halving the deck into two piles as close to evenly as can be eyeballed.

At this point, The First, Red Card (Gabriel) is now sitting atop Pile A while The Second, Red Card (Aziraphale) is now sitting at the bottom of Pile B. Collectively, this is still one deck of cards in total-- just visually split into two-- but what happens here with The Third, Red Card splits the power structure in an unique way for the sake of the story, which you'll see in a second.

What we now have by having Pile A and Pile B are two different portals-- new destinations to which the elevator can send the cards besides the up/down of the first two parts of the trick. Instead of putting a card on the top of a pile or the bottom of a pile and having it appear in the opposite spot, The Third, Red Card is about to travel sideways with the help of The Black Card... who also gets a new position of his own.

The magician puts what appears to the spectators to be The Third, Red Card down atop Pile B. (As a reminder: Aziraphale will be at the bottom of Pile B after getting into the elevator.)

The magician then sends The Third, Red Card into an elevator with, secretly, The Black Card riding along with them. In the card trick, the spectators do not know about the presence of The Black Card at this stage but, on our visual tv show paralleling this, we have to know this. So, we see Crowley and Muriel get into the elevator together.

The magician then "pushes the elevator button" on the top of Pile B. We spectators just saw what card the magician wants us to believe they just placed atop Pile B-- The Third, Red Card (Muriel). If Az is in Hell at the bottom of this pile and if we leave Muriel about here, more or less, at the end of S2...

...we think we know what's happening with Muriel-- that they've swapped with Aziraphale and have taken over the bookshop...

...but we haven't seen the magic trick actually fully performed yet, have we? Because the magician put The Third, Red Card down on the top of Pile B but he hasn't actually done this part of the trick yet... so, we think we know what's happening for Muriel but the whole point of the trick is that the card has to move now that it's been put into place and gotten into the elevator, right? So, it can't actually be in S3 where the magician first put it down in S2...

I don't think as a whole that we are even thinking about the possibility that Muriel is not actually running the bookshop in S3. None of us are, right? Has this crossed anyone's mind at all? I know for sure it didn't cross my mind until I just recently found myself on a devil-themed card trick rabbit hole and writing this meta lol... But, the thing is, if The Three Travelers theory is correct here... Muriel is actually going to be on the move. Let's look at how...

So, the magician puts The Third, Red Card atop Pile B and "presses the elevator button." The spectator knows, intellectually, that this means that The Third, Red Card (Muriel) is going to travel somewhere, as that is the point of the trick, but this happens quickly and, initially, we're just shocked by the fact that, when the magician then lifts that top card off of Pile B... which we just saw him make The Third, Red/Muriel Card before he "pushed the elevator button"... it's not that card.

The Third, Red Card has seemingly vanished from the spot it was just put in by the magician... so, come 3.01, Muriel might initially, for a moment, seem to make like Aziraphale's farthing in 1941 and not be where we expect them to be...

...but the twist is that, when the magician lifts the card atop Pile B and shows it to us, we spectators are shocked to realize that the card that is actually there is one that the spectators didn't consider a factor at all and never knew was a possibility for this role:

The Black Card.

So... Crowley...

Immediately upon the reveal of The Black Card atop Pile B, the magician flips over the card that is now atop Pile A...

The Third, Red Card has now teleported sideways in the elevator and has gone from the top of Pile B to the top of Pile A... which is the top of the deck of cards.

So, to recap... Muriel and Gabriel are now the top two cards in Pile A, which makes them the top, two cards in the entire deck as a whole... with Muriel actually now somehow slightly eclipsing The Supreme Archangel in power... while Crowley is topping Pile B and Aziraphale is at the bottom of it. In this way, even if they travelled sideways, Crowley and Muriel also both actually flipped their own positions from top to bottom, in a way kind of like that of Gabriel and Aziraphale. Crowley went from being a demon of Hell to being in charge of Angelic Embassy X while Muriel went from being in the bottom two ranks of Heaven to being up at the top (traveling alongside Gabriel a bit there, as well.) Most surprisingly?

Crowley has taken Muriel's place from where they were left in S2, which means that Crowley has the bookshop.

How does any of this work and make sense for S3? I think there's actually a lot here that does, surprisingly enough...

If you were The Metatron and Gabriel had thrown a monkey wrench into your Armageddon: Round Two plans, the absolute last thing you'd do is put anyone in charge of Heaven who you think would actually be good at being in charge of Heaven. You don't want someone who is an effective leader-- you want someone who will do what you tell them to do.

You want to make sure that you maintain absolute control and power so you might not put in charge anyone like, say, Michael or Uriel, even if they'd be logical choices to fill Gabriel's shoes. Especially because both of them-- especially Michael-- worked with Gabriel closely over the years and you might not trust that they won't flip sides. You would need someone with no known relationship to or specific loyalty towards Gabriel who seems like they're eager as all get out to do whatever it is you tell them to do.

You would actually be more likely to give someone like Muriel the position of Supreme Archangel... and lolololol do we think The Metatron would have any idea what kind of trouble he'd unknowingly actually caused for himself in doing that? His biggest mistake ever might be underestimating Muriel, right?

Muriel is amazing and far from dumb. They are not going to want to end all life on Earth. Muriel would make sure there was no issue with Crowley having the shop and would be the first to go to him for help. Maybe Crowley has no idea, even, that they're the Supreme Archangel for awhile because maybe Muriel didn't know at first and just said they were being recalled to Heaven.

Maybe the jumping off point for S3 is Crowley then finds out that Aziraphale is not in charge of Heaven when Muriel goes to him for help with Armageddon and, in the process, Crowley discovers that Aziraphale-- whom he hasn't seen since Aziraphale got into the elevator, x amount of time ago-- has fallen. Crowley eventually goes to Gabriel and Beez for help, bringing them into the story and now there is a group of like-minded angels and demons working together to save Aziraphale and stop Armageddon?

This actually would help set up something I've wanted for awhile and theorized might be the case but wasn't sure how it would work after the end of S2... which is for 3.01 to maybe be a bit like 1.01 and its 2008 minisode... only, this time around, the angel-ish being who lives in and runs the embassy bookshop is Crowley and the demon with a plan saying they need to work together to stop Armageddon is Aziraphale? 😊

[moonbaby26]

Title: Before the Storm

(Chapter 17 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, binge drinking, vaginal sex, toxic relationship, dubious consent, depression

Chapter Synopsis: The very night of your official engagement to Doflamingo, you are also made to sign your life away to Dressrosa’s king.

You spiral, punishing yourself as he plans to change your past even further. While others still move as distant pieces in the even larger game. 

Author’s Notes: For those that do follow this story and read as soon as it updates, I’m so sorry you had to wait 5,000 years this time! I wish there was more here as a reward for that patience. I’m sure there are still typos too. Please proceed with caution! It just needed to be out of my drafts. I’ll proofread after I sleep again. Maybe. 😅

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5, 6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

——————————

—————————— 

Something was going wrong with the submarine again. Nothing catastrophic, but it could always progress to that if they didn’t take the time to investigate and repair as they went. Pieces became worn and overtaxed easily. Noises that weren’t even there yesterday would suddenly manifest, anxiety inducing, so many fathoms deep in the darkness.

Law was sure there was a metaphor for their lives in there somewhere too. Just like he and his crew. How much this craft could really endure, until one day it just wouldn’t anymore.

He’d still felt that mental weight on himself as well. Fresh and nagging ever since Doflamingo’s name had been put back to the forefront of his mind with those first reports from Scylla just days ago.

Ghosts of his past had churned up enough that Law was almost glad when that bearing in the engine room had started making a newer, awful whining sound.

It was excuse enough to breach the surface and focus on anything else as they’d headed for another island to both look for parts and avoid the heavier than normal marine patrols in this region of the North Blue.

There’d been a pirate attack on a nearby island called Orlinde. At least that’s what Law had heard. Some shithole port town there, with no real wealth or industry of its own had been burned to the ground. And it hadn’t made much sense as to why. Seemingly foolish to risk the ire of the navy when there’d be no treasure or significant beri to even be had in a place like that.

But whatever the reasoning for those other pirates, their actions there had the marines now swarming. To the point that it funneled anyone actively trying to avoid arrest or other harassment further east.

To an unaffiliated island chain that Law had ordered his crew to then disembark at. All save for Bepo anyway, as strolling through the center of town with an overly nervous ball of white fluff wouldn’t have helped much in their bid to keep a low profile.

They had intended to be here just long enough to find what they needed and to make repairs. But every other outlaw in the area had much the same idea. Crew after crew camping out here as an easy stopover while waiting for the larger marine presence to die down nearby.

And this many egos all right on top of each other became a perfect powder keg for disaster really.

Shachi and Penguin were now on either side of their captain, trying to look as unbothered as he seemed while all three boys stuck tightly together.

They walked past the crowded stores and food stalls. With drunken cursing, and all other sounds of debauchery already going on this soon after sunset.

An old man at the harbor had said there was a store in this direction that sold supplies for ship building. It was worth a try to start there first.

But that unsettled feeling was still in Law’s mind. He was too inexperienced to fully understand it yet. The unnamed intuition which had more to do with what would be happening rather than just what could.

“Hey, Spots!”

And there, a male voice had called out loudly. The first inkling of trouble just this soon.

Law’s eyes had flitted up to an open doorway of one of the bars farther up the street. But the teen kept walking, silent to show his crew he expected much the same from them.

Yet the stranger’s second try to get their attention was even louder than the first, as the owner of that voice stepped into the muddy street in front of them. “Hey, I’m talking to you, you prick!”

And Law did stop reluctantly then, not in fear, but in annoyance. He knew an immediate waste of his time when he saw one.

The man that’d been yelling was about his own age though. Young and snide with a grinning girl under one arm. The man’s other hand held a large blade that now pointed towards Law and his crew.

“Are you hard of hearing? I mean that’s what’s on your hat, right? Black spots? You all look damn stupid I think. But my girl likes your hat. So how much do you want for it, kid?”

The stranger sounded a bit drunk actually. And the girl ribbed him in her reaction. “Fur is in fashion, Sarquiss! So don’t be so stingy. Make them an offer! You know Joker’s gonna pay us good this time regardless.“

Sarquiss? Joker? Those were just two more names that Law had never heard before. They meant nothing to him as the idiots continued to talk.

“This kid’s pretty skinny though. What if he freezes, baby? It’s awful cold out here.” The man smirked down at her, flirting abruptly in return as if he hadn’t just been the one that’d started this whole confrontation.

What kind of fool ever looked away while in the middle of threatening someone though? 

These dolts would have been eaten alive in the ways Law had originally been taught. Because seeing the first opening only meant that the first move was his.

It would have been the first kill too if Law had still been that literal to those old teachings. But he left his own sword sheathed against his shoulder.

As it was now, he had no interest in making a scene. Law had planned to initiate a room and simply swap the blade that man held for some of the fresh horse shit he’d already noticed piled up along the street’s edge.

The resulting shock and disgust would have caused plenty of distraction for him, Shachi, and Penguin to quickly be on their way.

But that heavy feeling within Law had somehow remained, even as his hand and lips had begun to move with that whisper of a room.

A dread in him that was not explained until the moment that stranger’s coat had opened further with his playful movements against the girl.

And Law’s eyes had widened as he finally saw the distinct tattoo across that man’s chest. That feeling clicking in him as he knew the absolute mistake he was about to make even before it happened.

No.

He could not stop himself.

He didn’t want to.

“Takt.”

Shachi and Penguin’s surprised gasps were drowned out as the girl’s resulting scream met Law’s ears. 

Her boyfriend’s body had been ripped away from her without warning. And flung like a ragdoll, straight through the bar’s long window and all those wooden slats which supported it. 

It was a terribly loud crash, so many eyes then looking to Law and his friends from both sides of the street.

The Heart Pirates didn’t hesitate either.

“Go!” Law yelled. 

And all three of them had doubled back, beginning to sprint for the harbor.

——————————

Sarquiss had landed hard, stunned and sprawled on that barroom floor to the brief silence of so many other pirates inside. His own crew was chief among them.

The circular tattoo on his chest now smiled to the ceiling. Its left eye struck through, and its wide grin becoming accented with fresh red as blood began to seep from so many cuts dealt from that broken window.

“I don’t…I don’t know what happened.” Sarquiss stammered, bewildered and in pain as another pirate’s boots came to stand near his head. 

“Somebody got a cheap shot in while you were buzzed on this shit liquor. That’s all.” The owner of those boots scoffed indignantly. “They’re trying to ruin our party.” But Bellamy still grinned in a practiced copy of that now scratched up jolly roger on his first mate’s chest.

He motioned for his other crew to help Sarquiss up off of the floor while he strode for the door. “It’s fine. I was getting bored of this place anyway. Gladius said we only had to lay low for a day or so after Orlinde before we could put our flags back up.”

Bellamy stood in the doorway then, just seeing the backs of those other young pirates disappearing behind a building further down the street as they ran.

“So meet me back at the ship.” His legs were already coiling as he readied to jump and start clearing right over those buildings to catch up with them. “I’ll get us some fresh meat, and we’ll have a little fun while we wait on Joker’s next instructions.”

——————————

The return to the palace had come soon enough. And you were drinking whiskey straight by that point, no ice, no mixer. Right out of a fancy cabinet of top shelf bottles that likely weren’t meant for anyone but the king himself. 

You were still in uniform, but long off duty in your own mind. With one of your legs crossed over the other, and an arm over the back of Doflamingo’s couch in his office. 

Whatever anger remained in you for your lack of choice in all of this, was enough to keep even the three executives away. That danger must have been exuding in your body language still. Though you felt their eyes on you intermittently regardless.

They were here to witness your defeat, and to congratulate their master on his success in spinning this into exactly what he wanted it to be. 

But you were staring at nothing while they talked. Your gaze on an empty corner currently, and miles from this well appointed room as you drank yourself away just as you’d wanted to do on that dark beach earlier this evening.

You were quietly furious for this treatment. But you also believed you were every bit as responsible for how quickly this relationship had escalated.

No one had picked up or dialed your phone for you the night you’d first called Doflamingo and asked him to meet you in Scylla.

No one had actually put a gun to your head and drug you into that beautiful church to wait for him alone.

No one had told you to fall for him.

Regardless of any blackmail he’d used to this point, you could have been less willing to let it work. You could have told the truth from the beginning and hid behind your betters. Tsuru, Aokiji, or likely even so many others who would have at least tried to help you.

The truth would set you free.

Wasn’t that the old saying? What an optimistic mismatch of words.

More like the truth would cut your heart out and feed it to you with a smile.

“(Y/N).” And his voice did easily rise through that other chatter.

He was the only one here that still would make you pay attention as you looked back to Doflamingo’s desk. Where he now sat, binding you to him for life with each additional swipe of his pen.

“Answer the magistrate’s final questions. It’s required.” The warlord ordered you then, yet with a veil of patience not yet fully undone.

Besides yourself and Doflamingo, the only others in this room were the executives and the government official that had arrived with all those stacks of paperwork and questions.

Questions for you too that you’d mostly ignored, especially once you’d been several glasses into the whiskey.

While peasants may just do a quick hop over to the local justice of the peace and call it a night, anyone becoming property and consort to a world government endorsed king seemingly had far more to worry about.

And when your gaze did go back to that thin little government busybody, he reminded you only of a small rat. Fussing with his hands in such a nervous way as the papers shuffled through them. Like wringing little paws, frightened and stuck between all the monsters now in this room.

“Why can’t you answer everything for me?” You exhaled back to Doflamingo though, the accumulating burn of the whiskey making your body feel so warm at least as you finally responded to the pirate.

“Because that’s not how this works.” Doflamingo replied, still tolerating you even then somehow. 

Your eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Since when? Because that’s all I’ve ever seen here.” You answered. He always spoke for you. He chose for you. He was the perfectionist. He was the control freak.

And you were the idiot.

A depressed woman who’d attempted to bury all her problems with a devil, just to be as surprised as anyone when she’d inevitably woken up in hell for her efforts.

“What’s the next question?” Doflamingo just asked the official directly then, all while looking back down to the papers he was still signing.

That warlord didn’t explode, he didn’t even raise his voice that time.

And you didn’t dwell on it as you went back to drinking, having gotten what you wanted if even for a moment in being left alone.

It was only the executives that seemed to take notice, subtly surprised as Doflamingo allowed that little pushback.

“Ah, well…” The official still stammered. “Sire, the next section was about the verification of her birth status. She was born on the island of Orlinde, correct? Within the North Blue?”

“Yes. That’s already in her marine record.” Doflamingo’s tone was notably shorter with the official too, further confirming the clear difference in treatment you had just received.

“Well, there’s a slight discrepancy…a clerical error I’m sure.” That small man produced the weakest chuckle you’d ever heard. “I just needed her to say it was indeed an error.”

And Doflamingo did look back up at that, those facial muscles of his tightening in a way which never meant anything good. “What error?”

“The more discerning background check required for unions of this, um, level. It…it noted her name on the registry for Orlinde as being born to a…well, to a slave woman, sire.”

You felt the room change.

The official became even shakier too, horrified really as an inhuman growl came from that desk before the magistrate could say anything more.

“She was never born of a slave. So your first assumption of that being bad data was the correct one. Is that understood?”

And you were just watching. Observing these further lies as Doflamingo told them.

His lips were pulled back from his teeth in an expression you fully recognized too.

Note anything different and I’ll gut you where you goddamn stand. 

That’s what that energy so clearly said. 

“Of course, your highness! I’m fixing it now! I’ll correct it all immediately!”

You knew how fucked up it was for you just to be an observer to such bullying of the weak. You were supposed to protect others, even when they sniveled and whined like this man now was.

But you didn’t feel that guilty either as you uncrossed your legs and shifted on the couch.

And Doflamingo’s head turned the moment you had moved even that much again. 

You knew he had to do that, to properly see you at this angle. But something about that instant attention made you look at him even longer in return.

Because what did he think you were going to do?

What did he want you to do?

“King Doflamingo and Ms. (Y/N), that only leaves the oath itself…” The official’s fully uneasy voice interrupted those additional odd thoughts.

“Then go ahead.” The warlord commanded him just as quickly. “Read it to her.”

The official nodded, with a pen clutched in one of his sweating hands. And the final pages of all of that paperwork in the other as he looked down to read it.

“Ms. (Y/N)…do you hereby agree to loyalty until your death to King Donquixote Doflamingo of Dressrosa? Do you also understand the legal bindings of this union? And the consequences of non compliance, up to and including charges of treason against this aforementioned monarch and our World Government via his status as a sanctioned vessel beholden to our Holy Land of Mariejois?”

You really were too far gone for this shit.

So what? If you got into another fight and decked him when he deserved it, that’d now be the same as rebellion against the Red Line itself? Just because he was a government backed dictator?

Was arguing with him treason too? What about ever leaving this island? Was that desertion and dereliction of your soon to be wifely duties? 

Even signing your marine recruitment papers hadn’t felt this restrictive. And that’d been you literally agreeing to march to your own death if your commanding officers simply said to.

“Yeah…what else am I supposed to say?” You knew you weren’t going to be let out of this room otherwise. And you did want out as you stretched your legs away from you, still seated on that couch. 

Things were starting to feel too much for you again, like everything was closing in once more. “Fuck it…yes. I guess I do.” You forced another couple of breaths as you brought the whiskey glass to your lips again.

Or at least you’d tried to.

The strings that then looped around your wrist had jerked your hand hard enough to splash that liquid down the front of your shirt instead. Right before you were being pulled up and onto your feet.

“I already said yes, you-” You started to bitch at him immediately. It was hard enough to catch your balance when this inebriated without Doflamingo also pulling you so roughly to his desk.

“And I accept your agreement.” He laughed abruptly, cutting both you and the official off before any other response could be given.

It hurt you as your hips hit his desk. And with him already seated, he didn’t have to lean as far down to reach your mouth across that desk either.

Doflamingo got to taste the full brunt of that alcohol you were now hiding behind as he kissed you.

While you got to taste his still enduring desperation for any piece of you that was left for the taking.

It was going to be a very long night.

——————————

The paperwork was done and sent. Clothes were scattered across the floor, and Doflamingo was already back over the top of you in his massive bed.

A large glass of his best cava was in his hand as his hips pumped against you slowly while he drank. He was savoring the drawn out pressure of you around him, mixed into that chilled feeling of the sparkling wine now flooding down his throat.

He swallowed again, then moaning as his mouth came back off of the glass.

“You fucking lush…you’re such a bad influence.” He laughed a little after, running his thumb firmly over your parted mouth while his cock continued to move in and out between your legs at that languid pace.

He could nearly get off on just the sound of his own voice by now though. He was so stimulated. Everything felt good. Everything felt right.

Because he’d done it.

You were his in every legal way that mattered. 

And you were still somewhat conscious this time. The alcohol metabolizing enough by now to mostly take your voice. But you were watching him as he fucked you. His every action slow and deliberate as he fully enjoyed himself and this renewed lack of your resistance.

You even gave a few little moans and gasps as he rewarded you again by angling himself just right.

“Good girl…such a good girl for me. It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” He panted a bit anyway, his lust driving up his body temperature regardless of the careful pace. He reached briefly to set his now empty glass back onto the nightstand.

“I want this all the time…all the damn time. You know that right? I can’t stop…not when it’s you.” He just kept on, using that steady, long lasting rhythm.

He did try to keep his full weight off of your wounded thigh at least. Mindful of where he moved your leg as he took you. But this was still a celebration after all. He also wanted to feel you under him in all the right ways.

“Doffy…” You did grimace a little as the tip of him kissed against your cervix again.

He smiled at the plea of his name from your lips though. You were so pretty like this. And all of it was for him.

Maybe tomorrow your brain would be back to functioning well enough for him to explain your other wedding gifts as well.

Ever since the two of you had first sailed from Scylla together, he’d gotten busy with moving his chess pieces all over the board for you.

The nearest loyal mongrels Gladius could assign for him to your home island of Orlinde, had already razed that brothel you’d been born in to ash in a much needed cleansing of your pedigree.

While another official on Doflamingo’s payroll had just as recently planted forged documents of your revised parentage for Big News Morgans to find instead. 

Doflamingo had already teased you with the idea of gifting that Scyllian villa to you. The villa that became the first nest the two of you had ever slept side by side in, would of course now be important to him as well. It was not leaving your and his new family no matter what now.

But that was still not enough.

With the machinations he had going, your bloodline was going to be from Scylla.

Any children you could give him would then have both Dressrosa and Scylla to their credit.

Which, that was now another thing he needed to follow up on starting tomorrow. Caesar had had well enough time to deliver.

Doflamingo smiled again though as you shuddered quietly beneath him. 

“Still with me?” He hummed, seeing your eyes close then as he rubbed his hand down your side and you stilled again. “Or have you forgotten your own name, dear, while that poor liver of yours cries out from abuse?”

The moonlight highlighted his entertained expression as his lips pulled back from his teeth again. His hand had moved up to your throat as he gripped it in his continued pleasure.

He watched as your breasts rose and fell a little harder with those deeper breaths your body was then forced to take as he gradually restricted your airway.

It made his cock twitch so well inside of you.

“Forget your name anyway.” Doflamingo growled as he felt himself nearing that edge of climax when you finally coughed beneath his ever tightening hand. He was beginning to choke you, and it only made him want more of that feeling. “Because you’re a Donquixote now.”

Or at least the property of one as he felt your own hand then move to close on his larger wrist weakly.

Your body was too drunk to stop him, but that reflex of self preservation still flickered up in you all the same.

Doflamingo moaned loudly too as he saw your eyes reopen, half lidded to look at him in that new, pitiful way.

That helpless look is what did send him over the edge. As you tried and failed to breathe in his grip, he only bucked his hips that much harder as he spilled himself out into you yet again.

This is what it meant to truly own you.

——————————— 

“She hasn’t called?” Aokiji asked as he’d entered the other admiral’s office without warning.

But Kizaru looked unbothered as usual even at the surprise visit, just glancing up from a mission report that Sentomaru had submitted for sign off.

“Well…hello to you too. You’ve been off base quite a while.” He did comment though, watching Aokiji through those amber tinted glasses. “We were starting to think you may have gone rogue actually.”

It was said so calmly, but with just that hint of a smirk. “Sengoku wouldn’t have liked that.”

“I went patrolling on my own for a few days. That’s nothing new.” Aokiji frowned, and not taking a seat as he continued to stand. “But did Captain (Y/N) call today? Akainu’s got the Fleet Admiral in a meeting, and no one else seems to know.”

Kizaru shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her.” He looked back to his paperwork, but with noticeable disinterest in it now. “Why don’t you just call her yourself if it’s really become that distracting to you?”

But the resulting silence did make Kizaru finally look up again. That slight amusement was clearer on his face now. “Oh? Are you afraid to call her?”

Aokiji’s arms were crossed, his whole demeanor looking incredibly stern. “This isn’t about me. So get that stupid look off of your face.”

Wasn’t this his normal face? Kizaru thought to himself. Regardless, he didn’t seem insulted. “Hmm. Think you might say something unprofessional if you did call?” He mused to only add to this instead. “I guess that could be embarrassing for someone of our rank.”

And a cold palm did slam down onto the desk then. Aokiji could hold back much longer usually. But that cool composure was seemingly less and less lately. Especially when it came to the subject of you.

“Enough. I’ve told you so many times…” The ice admiral still warned.

Yet Kizaru barely reacted to that flare of temper, just glancing to the now frost covered hand and then back up into the frustrated eyes of its owner.

“Yeah? …You think you’ll just endanger her if you make any obvious fuss, don’t you? Doflamingo is quite an unstable man. But how many years have we known each other now? I’d say you’ve already made your move if I was to bet.” Kizaru nearly smirked again. “Where have you really been these past few days?”

“You’re no help at all. As usual.” Aokiji grumbled, just stepping back from the desk at the accusation.

He didn’t deny this either.

But Kizaru simply watched him, rather expressionless once more. “Did you ask for my help? I don’t recall that happening.”

Aokiji’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at him. “You’d be in Akainu’s ear in a heartbeat if I did.”

“And so what? We’re all comrades in arms…aren’t we?” Finally there was that minuscule trace of a frown on Kizaru’s lips. 

They were supposed to work together.

But that look of disappointment was just for a moment before he set his pen down and grabbed the receiver from off of the large transponder snail on his desk.

Aokiji’s eyes widened slightly at this movement, surprised and untrusting as Kizaru leaned back in his chair while the operator connected.

“Yes, admiral?” HQ’s switchboard girl answered kindly.

“Hello, Miss,” He said with a new, slight smile. “I need you to ring someone for me.”

“Of course, admiral. Who do you want me to connect you to?”

“Pull the warlord numbers if you please. I want Donquixote Doflamingo’s most direct line.”

There was just the briefest pause there too. Her voice changing a little. “The Fleet Admiral has put a restriction on that line, sir. No non-emergency calls. Is this considered an emergency?”

“Sure.” Kizaru was patient as anything, almost relaxing in his chair. “Let’s say it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, sir. Then I’m connecting you now.” Her nervousness gave way to dutiful obedience quickly enough as there was a click followed by momentary silence.

“The hell are you doing!?” Aokiji snapped at him in that brief delay before the line began to trill in new ringing. 

Kizaru looked back up at him, unfazed.

The phone continued to ring.

“It’d be pretty late in Dressrosa right now wouldn’t it?” Kizaru just thought out loud instead of giving a proper answer, glancing at the multiple clocks across his wall which denoted the different times across  the seas.

But Aokiji was not amused at all, starting to reach to hang up that transponder snail himself before a loud click had both admirals pause.

“This better be good.” Came the noticeably sleep hazed voice. A sharpness to it already though, with that transponder snail scowling up at them now.

“Oh…did I interrupt your beauty rest, pirate?” Kizaru responded, watching that snail as Aokiji went fully silent.

“Huh…” There was that moment of thought and maybe even a bit of surprise on the other end of the line. But the real recognition didn’t take long. Because there weren’t many men that would have been so casual as this. And those that would, didn’t sound like that.

“Admiral Kizaru is it?” Doflamingo recovered quickly, dark voice sounding more interested now.

“Yes, I’m calling from HQ.” Kizaru drawled. “Seems our captain that you appointed to your island recently hasn’t reported in to us today. And you wouldn’t have had anything to do with that little lapse in her communication, now would you?” 

The implied threat didn’t even have to be overt. It was well enough for any of the three navy admirals to take a personal interest in anything like this of course.

And this would now be the second admiral to do so in your name if the rumors of Aokiji’s previous visit to Doflamingo’s house in Sabaody were to be believed.

And Kizaru did believe it.

What he was surprised by was that it hadn’t been enough. 

A pirate that didn’t have the sense to back down for even an admiral.

It was a problem.

And the snail had quieted for a moment, its serious expression seeming to consider the weight of this new questioning from the admiral.

But Kizaru was exactly correct. Doflamingo understood the threat.

Doflamingo chose not to heed it.

Because the snail smiled then, wide and cruel as the warlord’s decision was made.

“Well…it is late. But if you insist, then why don’t you ask her yourself, admiral? It really has nothing to do with me.” Doflamingo replied with an all new goading.

And there was a sound of a bed creaking. 

The warlord’s voice became slightly quieter as he’d moved away from the receiver.

“Captain…hey.” It almost sounded gentle. But that snail was still grinning, Doflamingo’s dark voice still close enough for his real expression to be picked up. That smug pride radiating even as the intentional softness continued. “No…you need to wake up. You’ve got a colleague on the line…come here.”

The two admirals stared at that snail.

“…what?” A confused female voice finally protested.

“The phone, darling. It’s your work. Already not respecting your off duty hours at all it seems…”

The temperature now plummeted in Kizaru’s office at that vulnerable sound of you, as well as the full implications of what this truly meant.

But Kizaru cut in before Aokiji could. Even as both admirals’ breaths were then coming in trails of vapor within the room.

“Captain.” Kizaru said louder and firmer than he ever normally would to you.

And you heard it. Also recognizing his voice that you’d heard far more times than any warlord ever would.

There was more noise of the snail moving then. Like you were now picking it up from off of the bed. “…Admiral?” You asked in delayed surprise.

But there was more to it than that. You didn’t sound right, even in just these couple of words.

“Yes. Checking in, Captain. You didn’t give your status to anyone today.” Kizaru answered.

“I…” You tried. “There was…” Yes, they could fully tell now. You were trying so hard, but slurring every brief word none the less.

You were fully drunk. 

And you finally gave up, starting to actually plead in that humiliation of being ambushed in this way. “I…I’m fine. But I can’t…debrief right now. Sir…I’m…I’m sorry…”

The snail trembled, its eyes heartbreakingly defeated.

It was worse than any of them had ever thought then.

This was not the woman they knew.

Aokiji was about to snap. And Kizaru considered transmitting himself towards Sengoku’s office here and now.

But their shared enemy still most running this show wasn’t ceding his spotlight yet either.

“Admiral.” Doflamingo’s voice came back, shamelessly calm in contrast to your now evident emotions. “The Captain can speak with you later. I’m sure you’d agree that there’s nothing wrong with a little over indulgence when off the clock…we’ve all been there.” 

And he even made a noise as if he was comforting you beside him. Hushing you with a mimicry of affection before he spoke again. “…I’ll have her touch base with you tomorrow. Once she’s sobered up of course.”

Yet that snail also showed its teeth again before it was done. The harsher expression forming which didn’t match that measured tone at all.

“But tomorrow we’ll be very busy as well. Some news will be coming out, and her work for Dressrosa will be taking priority. The mission always comes first, correct? And she is one of your most dedicated.”

The snail’s tongue moved across those teeth. One final jab then added like a garnish on the heap of bullshit already being presented.

“This king is certainly glad to have her services at least.”

And Kizaru was forced to make a choice. 

He disappeared in a flash of yellow light, taking the snail with him as Aokiji had reached for it to speak.

No one could match Kizaru’s speed. And Aokiji had then turned, the purest rage within those dark eyes as Kizaru now stood all the way out in the hallway, holding that snail.

It was already back asleep as Kizaru had disconnected the call even before he’d moved.

“I’ll kill him.” Aokiji breathed, ice having already overtaken half of his face.

Kizaru was initially silent. His eyes had narrowed as well behind his glasses.

But then he spoke to his peer, blunt and sure. “They’d order me and Sakazuki to erase you for treason, brother. And that wouldn’t help anybody. Now would it?”

Aokiji gave him a look of disgust. Words seemed pointless by now. They both knew how wrong this was.

Yet Kizaru did begin walking back to him. A show of continued trust really. Because they were not enemies.

“Whatever you already did…” Kizaru started. “Is that going to help her?”

Aokiji’s shoulders sank ever so slightly, but his ice did not recede.

“Temporarily…but I came back here to do the rest of it. I am going to get her off of Dressrosa. No matter what that takes.”

——————————

Borsalino had actually hung up on him. The least passionate of all three admirals, and Doflamingo was certain he’d still gotten under that man’s skin.

Were you really that important to all of them then? Doflamingo’s own ego was happy to believe that you were.

Because it made you feel even more hard won if so. His marine treasure, stolen straight from the top and now further slipping through the hands of even the world’s greatest soldiers.

And how interesting that they didn’t seem to know about your public betrothal yet. Kizaru was a hard one to judge though. He hadn’t mentioned it at least.

Hopefully this really did mean that there were no marine spies left on Dressrosa to call and tattle to HQ. None outside of the toys working in his underground port anyway.

And he’d taken your own phone away immediately after the incident with Crocodile. You’d only been allowed to make calls right in front of him now.

Morgans’ reporters were likely playing things close to the vest too, to not share anything until those newspapers went to press. They wanted the first and only scoop for tomorrow’s worldwide release.

But there was nothing Sengoku could possibly do to reverse this either once he would find out. You were still a marine, just as Doflamingo had promised he’d let you remain. But you were also now his wife, with all of the added immunity that provided for you.

You couldn’t be fired, or even demoted. Not unless Doflamingo wanted you to be.

The five old men on the Red Line had reluctantly agreed to this in his stipulations. No doubt just humoring the traitorous brat that they still thought he was.

If they believed he was distracted, it made their lives easier. Less trouble he could cause for them.

Perhaps you’d actually thank him some day though. He was a generous master after all. Pulling his strings all the way from heaven to hell in this whirlwind of a love affair with you.

But tonight you were still too upset. Still too close to it all to realize how lucky you actually were to have his attention this deeply.

Your head was on his chest once more as he rubbed your back idly in the dark.

He could feel that dampness against his bare skin. Your silent tears as you surely thought your career was now dead and gone.

You were crying yourself back to sleep like the pitiful, broken thing you still were.

But he didn’t mind. 

Doflamingo kissed the top of your head as that new whim overcame him.

You were his responsibility now.

His prize and his companion to defend. 

Dawn would come again tomorrow, and with it the world’s reactions to what he’d done to you. But he welcomed that challenge and whatever new enemies it would bring him.

Because he’d bury them all like the good mate he was. He would protect you. This was his nest and his woman. 

He nuzzled his face back down against your hair. Hiding his scarred eye as the other eye watched the room for a bit longer before also drifting closed.

Your arms were tight around him. It felt right. But even in all his intense possessiveness that this inspired, there was something else so wholly new as well.

He felt safe.

He felt needed.

Until death do you part indeed. As that would be the only possible way for anyone to ever carve you from him now.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

[stayteezdreams]

Let Me Love You

Plot: You and Wooyoung are meant to be, at least he thought so. So why are you so determined to refuse him?

Pairing: Idol!Jung Wooyoung x Make Up Artist!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Request: Wooyoung + “Why wont you let me love you?”

Requested by: @hanni-bae44

Warnings/Notes: Use of Y/n multiple times. Kissing. Angsty/Emotional for most of it.

Words: ~2.8k

"I like you Y/n, like I really, really like you."

"...I know."

"I don't think I've ever met someone so perfect for me."

"Wooyoung."

"You know we're meant to be together right?"

"I- I cant, we can't."

"What do you mean? You feel the same as me...don't you?"

"....No."

Wooyoung chest was tight as the memory replayed in his head. Your words and actions didn't match, it made no sense. It was tearing him up inside. Because he knew you liked him, you had too. If you didn't then what was everything the two of you had been through?

The hours spent together, the flirting, the stolen glances, the unspoken conversations, the moments of eye contact that lasted way too long, the dates you labelled as "hang-outs". The gentle touches both of you pretended didn't happen.

Pulling out his phone he read over the last text he sent you asking to meet up three days prior. You saw it, but hadn't replied.

Tossing his phone onto the table he let out a frustrated sigh. What was going on?

Biting the inside of his cheek he shook his head, standing and grabbing his phone again. Determined to figure out what was going on.

Your apartment was quiet as you scrolled through your phone, your mind constantly returning to Wooyoung's message. You wanted to see him, but you knew it was a bad idea. It was best to distance yourself before things got too serious.

Others at the company began getting suspicious about your relationship with Wooyoung. Any time you were together others eyed you, many giving you dirty or disappointed looks. Whispers followed you anytime you were near him.

Things were often tight-lipped at the company. If an idol was dating a staff member, other's wouldn't be allowed to say anything. But that didn't mean they always followed those rules. And a scandal was the last thing you wanted to cause for Wooyoung and the company. He would deal with the backlash and punishment from the company, and you would probably be fired, or transferred. And it would be your fault.

Wooyoung didn't seem to be bothered by the idea, by the conflict it could cause. The problems for him, or for you. So you had to be the one to deal with it, you had to be the one to protect him, by hurting the both of you. So you pushed away your feelings, and pulled away from him.

You had already started to distance yourself when Wooyoung suddenly confessed to you. It broke your heart to walk away from him, to reject his confession, when you wanted nothing more than to tell him you felt the same.

Looking at the nearby coffee table you smiled to yourself at the stack of boardgames. Wooyoung came over a few nights a week when he could, for game night. You would often spend hours playing games, sometimes the other's would come as well, turning it into a slumber party.

On the nearby mirror, polaroid photos were pinned around the edges. Many of you and your friends, many of you and Wooyoung. Everyone assumed you were best-friends. But you weren't, not really, you were something...else. Something between best-friends and lovers, but neither. An 'almost' something.

You jolted when a sudden knock echoed through your apartment. Glancing at the clock, you frowned. You hadn't ordered any food, why would someone be here at seven in the evening?

Walking to the door, you checked who was there and your heart skipped a beat. Wooyoung was standing outside your door, obviously antsy as he seemed to bounce around on his feet.

Taking a step away from the door, you brought your hand to your chest as your breathing became uneven.

He knocked again and you held your breath. You heard an audible sigh from the other side of the door.

"Y/n, open up! I know you're in there I heard you walk up to the door!"

You closed your eyes and cursed to yourself. Did he actually hear you, or was it a bluff?

He knocked again. "If you don't answer I'll stay here all night!" As his voice got louder you internally groaned, not wanting him to disturb your neighbors.

Reaching for the door, you pulled it open just as he was about to knock again. Wooyoung let out a breath as his eyes fell on you and your disgruntled face.

If he wasn't upset he would find it adorable.

Without letting you speak he walked past you and into your apartment. You closed your eyes briefly as you took in a deep breath and closed the door.

"What are you doing here Wooyoung?"

He spun around and let out a deep breath. "Why are you running from me?"

You remained silent, unsure of what to say. He let out a frustrated sigh as he began pacing.

"I don't understand how we could go from being so close and obviously interested in each other, to you distancing yourself and rejecting me as though you hate me."

You flinched at his words. You would never hate him, you could never hate him. But maybe it was best if he thought you did.

"I'm sorry I made you think I felt the same."

Wooyoung stopped and stared at you his eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"We ar- were friends Wooyoung. If you thought I had feelings for you, you were wrong, and I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you think I felt the same as you. But I don't."

He stared at you as his face slowly dropped, making your heart ache. Shaking his head he walked up to you, setting his hands on your shoulders and staring into your eyes.

"You're lying, I know you are. I just don't understand why."

You let out a frustrated sigh, "Why come here if you aren't going to listen to anything I say?"

"Because I know you feel the same! I know it."

"You know nothing!"

He jumped at the volume of your voice, he had never heard it so loud, so angry. There were tears edging your eyes and he frowned. Why were you lying to him? You knew he could tell you were lying, but why were you being so persistent? What happened?

Pushing his hands away from you you grabbed your door handle and opened the door. "I think you should leave Wooyoung."

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when your eyes seemed to be pleading to him.

He let out a sad sigh, his own eyes burning with the threat of tears. Walking past you and out into the hall he looked back at you one more time as you closed the door, your broken voice sending him away with heartbreak.

"Don't come back here again."

Wooyoung stood outside your door for what felt like an hour, tears eventually falling as he realized he had lost you. The confusion and hurt made his chest tight with pain. What had happened? Why did he confess? Why did he ruin what you had? Why were you so determined to lie about your own feelings? Did someone say something? Someone at the company?

Eventually walking away, his heart was heavy and heartbroken, but his stubborn determination still clung on. He was not giving up, not on you, not now, not ever.

Wooyoung's eyes were following you around the room as you set up your makeup station. Everyone was preparing for a shoot and it was the first time Wooyoung had seen you in a week.

His heart ached as he watched you, refusing to even look in his direction. His heart leapt when someone told him to got to your station to get his makeup done. He shouldn't have been surprised, you were always the one to do his makeup. You were often referred to as 'his' makeup artist, even if you did the other's makeup as well.

He saw your disdained reaction before you got back to arranging the makeup. As Wooyoung sat down in your chair his eyes never left your face, watching as you refused to look at him.

Over the last week, he had heard whispers about the two of you. You hung out a lot at the company, but hadn't so much as looked at each other in a week. Everyone was wondering what had happened, but no one was willing to ask.

"Y/n." He said your name softly, noting how you paused for a second before continuing to grab products.

"Y/nnnn" his voice was a bit more whiny this time making you close your eyes and sigh.

Finally looking over at him you saw how pleading his eyes were. Why wasn't he angry with you?

"Just because you don't like me doesn't mean you have to ignore me."

Your chest tightened at his words. You hated how much you hurt him, but you needed to be resolute. You couldn't be as willing to risk his idol image as he seemed to be.

Wooyoung tilted his head slightly as you remained looking at him. He could tell you were battling your own thoughts and feelings. Before he could talk again, you cleared your throat.

"Don't talk anymore, I'm going to start."

He smiled softly as you began doing his makeup, at least you spoke to him, even if it was the politely tell him to shut up.

Your job had never felt worse as you did Wooyoung's makeup. His eyes never left your face, as he scanned your eyes and even your lips multiple times. You knew he wanted to speak, but there were too many other's around you.

You were also aware of the eyes and quiet whispers around you. You and Wooyoung were never this quiet, especially when you were together. His makeup always took the longest because of it. But this time he was the first done.

Finishing up, you set your thing's aside, "You're all done."

Wooyoung leaned closer to you, speaking softly, "Y/n."

Standing up, his voice causing goosebumps, you turned away, "I need to go clean the brushes."

Wooyoung let out a sigh as he watched you leave, he could feel Seonghwa watching him from nearby. He, along with the other's were aware of what happened, and they were just as confused as Wooyoung.

After the shoot, and with some encouragement from the others, Wooyoung walked around the company looking for you.

Finally finding you as you began to leave for the day, he took the chance to steal you away.

You let out a gasp of surprise as Wooyoung sped past you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you along with him as he went.

"What are you doing?" You whispered with a obvious surprise as you looked around to see if anyone saw what was happening.

Entering into a stairwell no one used, Wooyoung cornered you against the door and stared you down.

"I'm not leaving this time. And I wont let you. Not until you explain to me what's going on."

"Wooyoung."

"Why did you lie?"

"Lie about what?"

"That you don't have feelings for me. I know you do, and I know you lied. I just need to know why. Tell me why you wont let me be with you."

You opened your mouth to speak, to push him away harshly, to tell him you weren't lying, but your words died on your lips.

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath as he caressed your cheek with his hand. "You know how I feel. You know I adore you, I'm head over heels for you. I want to be with you more than anything, so why wont you let me? Why won't you let me love you?"

Your felt your lips tremble as his words shook you. You did know those things. You knew he adored you, and you knew you adored him too. You wanted him to love you, and you wanted to love him.

You let out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes briefly, giving in, encouraging yourself to finally tell him why you rejected him.

"It's because you want to be with me more than anything that you are blind to why you can't."

He frowned and you shook your head softly.

"How could you not understand Wooyoung? It doesn't matter that I have feelings for you, or that I adore you too, that I want to be with you too. You hear it all the time Woo. Idols can't date."

Realization hit Wooyoung like a truck as he stared at your sad eyes. That was why? Because of the risk?

He lowered his head and let out a breath. Of course that was it, how could he be so stupid. Even if they didn't have a dating ban, even if you hid you were dating, if you got found out, it would still cause a scandal. It would cause issues for everyone. Him, you, the company. But you would only care about him, about what it would do to him.

Looking up, he met your eyes again. "You rejected me to protect me didn't you. Because you knew I wouldn't care about the risk?"

You remained silent but the way you avoided his eyes told him it was true.

You spoke again, your voice soft. "If we were to date we have to keep it a secret. I don't particularly care about that part, but, it would be stressful wouldn't it? Always having to hide, never getting to go out together easily. And if we got caught? You know how bad it could get. We would be ridiculed, bullied, insulted, we might even be forced apart. Is it really worth it to you?"

Even though your eyes showed your sadness, and your words your concern, Wooyoung couldn't help but smile.

Gently grabbing your face, Wooyoung leaned in, pausing briefly as he met your eyes, before pressing his lips to yours.

Your breath caught as you moved to push him away, but stopped short as he deepened the kiss. Closing your eyes, you found yourself gently grabbing at his arms.

When he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. "Yes, it's worth it. Anything is worth it if I get to be with you."

His name left your mouth as a whisper, "Wooyoung."

He shook his head softly. "Y/n. You are focusing too much on the bad that could happen. Don't forget all the good things. Even if we have to remain a secret, we would still be together. We could have dates at home, or groups dates where it would look like we're just hanging out. We could find a hundred ways and reasons to be together. And if it was found out, even with all of the hate and ridicule, you know there are those who would support us, defend us, and protect us. Focus on that."

He caressed your cheek again, "I am serious about how I feel about you Y/n. I already talked to the others, I had a meeting with Hongjoong and the managers. They would be blind if they didn't see how I felt about you. Yes it might be hard, but it would be worth it if we could be together, even in secret. Because it tears me apart not being with you at all."

Wooyoung's words shook you. He had thought about it more than you gave him credit. You bit the inside of your cheek as you pressed your forehead against him.

"But what if you regret it?"

"I wont. I promise."

"You don't know that."

He cupped your face, making you look into his eyes. After he gazed at you for a few second, he leaned in, pressing another soft, quick kiss to your lips.

Pulling away he smiled softly, "Maybe I don't know for sure. But what I do know is how I feel about you now. And I know that those feelings wont go away easily. I have enough love for you now, to last a lifetime. So please Y/n, be with me. Let me love you."

You stared into his eyes for a moment, the silence between you so loud your ears were ringing. A small smile finally graced your face as you nodded slowly.

A grin spread across his face "Yeah?"

Giving in completely, your smile widened as you nodded again, "Yeah."

Wooyoung pulled you into a tight hug, you wrapped your arms around him in return. Your heart was pounding and a thousand thoughts and worries rushed through your head, but you didn't care as much about them now, they didn't scare you as much. Not now that Wooyoung understood, and was willing to protect the both of you as best as he could.

Stepping away from you, Wooyoung looked into your face with a bright smile as tears brimmed his eyes. You were sure you looked the same, as he gently cupped your face again before leaning in to kiss you once more.

The future might have it's moments of struggle, but you were confident now, that you would get through it together.

xx End xx

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[floralpascal]

Taking Care of You

Summary: You've been stressed out and working like crazy lately. John finally has enough and devises a plan to take care of you and make you forget all about your work.

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors do not interact)

Warnings: stressed reader, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), orgasm denial, praise

A/N: This one goes out to all my stressed and busy babes out there! This is 100% self indulgent since I've been working day and night recently. We all need us some Price to take that stress away

You knew that you had been distant for a while. Work had been piling up on you, responsibilities pressing in from all sides. It seemed like all you did was work, work, work these days. 

Your husband, John Price, was as supportive as he always was. He, of all people, understood that sometimes you just had to put your head down and get work done. When he was home with you, he always made sure that you ate and stayed hydrated. He limited your caffeine intake. He made sure you took breaks. In all, he was the most supportive, understanding man on the planet. 

…which was why his reaction now was so surprising. 

You saw him approach the makeshift office that you had set up at your kitchen table from over your laptop screen. In a soft, even voice he ordered, “Close the computer, love.”

Continuing to type, you spared him a questioning glance as you shook your head. “I just took a break like… an hour ago.”

“Three,” he corrected. “It’s almost eleven at night.”

You whipped your head up to look at the clock that hung on the wall behind him. Sure enough, he was right. Dread spread through you, your brain already kicking into crisis mode. “Shit. God, I’ve got to get this done.”

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” he countered. “You’ve been workin’ like mad all weekend long. I’m not gonna let you run yourself into the ground. So. Shut. The. Laptop.”

He stressed each word, and suddenly you felt what it must’ve been like to have John as a Captain, calm but commanding. Your eyes met his, your mouth open to fight him on the matter, but you found him ready for it, a testing eyebrow raised. It was rare that he would ever tell you what to do, but it always came when he was worried about you and trying to take care of you. Any time you had gotten a significant injury, he had made sure that you stuck to every word of the doctor’s orders. 

You huffed and leaned back, already sensing defeat. Instead, you tried to plead with him, “John, I won’t be able to sleep unless I get this done. I’ll just keep thinking about it.”

He put one hand on the table, leaned toward you, and pushed the laptop closed with the other hand. With his face barely a breath from yours and his eyes darkening, he rumbled, “I can fix that.”

Your body reacted to his sultry insinuation immediately, your heart rate jumping in an instant. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “And how’s that?”

“I’ll make it so that you can barely even think anymore. I’ll wear you out so much you’ll fall asleep without even a thought about this,” he said, tapping the closed lid of your laptop. 

At times like this, you hated how easy it was for him to get you riled up. He knew exactly how to play you, exactly how to make his gravelly voice even more enticing, exactly what to say to get you squirming in your seat for him like you were now. 

You pressed your lips together, thinking for a moment. You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t want this. You were so tired of all the work and John knew exactly how to play you. But if he was going to have some fun, then so were you. With a provocative flit to your voice, you challenged, “Then prove it, Captain.”

For a moment, all he did was let a sultry smile pull at his lips. Then he was on you, his hands guiding you up from your chair and his lips finding yours. It was all fire and passion, but yet not too rushed. No, John never rushed this early. He loved to work you up slowly and leave you begging for him to just touch you already. He followed that playbook now, walking you backwards to press you up against the wall, his hand guarding your head from hitting it. 

As he tilted your head to give his lips access to your neck, he rasped against your burning skin, “Never too stressed to tease me, are you?”

Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive part of your neck, your hands clawing at his back and tangling in his short hair. After a moment, he moved back up to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours for a long while. 

Eventually, his hands on your hips guided you to walk with him towards your shared bedroom. You took turns pulling at the other’s clothes, leaving a trail haphazardly in your wake. By the time you both passed through the doorway, John was only in his boxers and you in your plain black bra and panties. As he laid you back onto the bed, he eyed you as hungrily as he did when you wore lingerie for him. 

“D’ya know how fuckin’ sexy you are, love?” His hands pressed against your stomach before roaming up, up, up as slowly as possible. Your eyes fluttered shut as he ghosted his hands over your bra, arching shamelessly into his touch. Still drinking the sight of you in, he rasped, “Gotta take care of you. Gotta make sure I get rid of all that stress, all those worries.”

“John…” you whined, already needy and falling for his plan. One side of his mustache raised in a smile, clearly understanding that he already had you right how he wanted you. “Just touch me, please.”

John chuckled, giving your breasts a quick squeeze before placing a kiss just over your heart. “I am touchin’ you, baby.”

“Fuck, John, you know what I mean.”

He pressed the faintest of kisses up your chest and to your neck. Against the skin of your neck, he teased, “Maybe I don’t. Tell me. Use your words, love.”

Despite his insistence, he gave you no time to answer. Instead, his lips found the sensitive column of your neck, the touch no longer feather-light like it had been before. Now, he kissed and nipped with a passion that had you gasping beneath him. 

“Hhm? I didn’t catch that. Gotta speak up,” he mumbled next to your ear, the heavy timber of it sending shivers down your spine. But you could feel the curve of his lips against your soft skin, his beard prickling you as he did. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you grumbled halfheartedly. Even now, though, you couldn’t resist him. Giving in, you begged, “God, just fuck me, John.”

He made a sound of appreciation, deep and reverberating, the kind you could feel in your own chest. Leaning up over you, his icy blue eyes came to meet yours. “Now, was that really that hard?”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing your own smile as you grabbed his neck and leaned up to give him a bruising kiss. Returning the heat immediately, he dropped the act for a moment. Lips moving in tandem with yours, urgency lacing every movement, you felt him get lost in it. Surely enough, as he adjusted over top of you, you felt his hard-on graze your lower stomach. You chased him, hooking a leg over his hip to roll your hips against him. He groaned into your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. 

“So impatient today,” John chided. He pulled away and sat up, his hands coming to unhook and discard your bra on the floor. As he went to do the same with your underwear, you breathed a sigh of relief thinking that the torture of his teasing was finally over. 

Settling between your thighs, a man in heaven, he brought his mouth close to where you needed him. However, at the last second, his breath dusting your sensitive skin, he turned and brought his lips to the inside of your thigh instead. He still couldn’t hide his smile when you groaned in frustration. 

You were in for a hell of a ride. When he got in a teasing mood like this, there was no stopping him. 

Beard and mustache picking deliciously against you, he kissed up one thigh. Then, when he almost reached your center again, your breath hitching, he switched to the other thigh. There were some days when he did this that it felt like heaven — days when you were already losing yourself to the feel of him before he even got going. While you tried to conjure up that more present, more patient version of yourself, it didn’t seem possible now. You needed him so badly it ached. 

When your fingers found their way into his hair and gave him a light tug in the direction you needed him, he finally let you have your way. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, a small chuckle shaking the broad plane of his back. As he lowered his head, his hooded eyes meeting yours, he purred, “If tha’s really what you want, love. Have it your way.”

With that, he finally brought his tongue to you. Ever so slowly, he licked into you, drawing a gasp from your chest. Sliding his hands up from your hips to hold the sides of your stomach, his tongue made a twin journey up to your clit. He flicked his tongue a few times, slowly testing you.

Though it was all too slow for your liking, he steadily built up the pace. The scrape of his beard. The flick of his tongue. The reverb of his moan as you tugged on his strands. It was a delicious cycle, speeding up each time through. 

You let your head tip back into the pillow as you finally felt that tension in your stomach — a coil winding tighter and tighter. Your breath was ragged now, your legs already bracing around John’s head. 

“Yes,” you panted, eyes squeezed shut. “Just like that. I’m so- I’m so clo-”

Right as you were about to crest that hill, John pulled away all at once. Your orgasm dissipated like a wave against the beach — there one moment and gone the next. 

You whipped your head up to look at him, disbelief and righteous fury in your eyes. You were met only with a hungry, conniving smirk from the infuriatingly sexy man between your thighs. In this moment, even with his beard and the signs of age on his face, he didn’t seem a day older than the first time you had seen this smirk. The John Price that smirked in triumph at you now was the same as the John Price who had done it for the first time nearly a decade earlier. Had you not just had euphoria ripped away from you, you probably would’ve been more sentimental about this revelation. 

“Jonathan Price, I swear to god-”

You were cut off by another one of his chuckles. He licked his lips slowly, making sure you watched as he tasted you. “Still too stressed, love. Don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“You teasing asshole,” you huffed, but the edge was lost to it. 

It only made him smirk even more. “Fine,” he acquiesced, leaning back down. “Let’s try this again.”

At the same time that his mouth found your clit again, one of his hands traveled down to slip a finger into your dripping entrance. A small moan escaped you at the new sensation. As he started to build you back up again, his mouth and finger moving in tandem, you couldn’t help but forget his past transgressions. All that mattered now was the buildup leading to the big drop, the wonder that John could work between your thighs. 

Suddenly, he slipped a second finger into you, drawing a surprised whine from your lips. “Ohh… oh, fuck…”

He groaned in approval, the vibrations of his mouth against you only upping the unbearable pleasure. 

You were there again, so close to the edge that you could practically see it. Your body tensed in anticipation of the drop like a rollercoaster. It was just-

John pulled away again, shattering the buildup to your orgasm for the second time.

You let out a pained hybrid of a groan and a whine. Now, rather than annoyance coursing its way through you, all you had was desperation. “Fuck! John, please!”

“Hmmm, there we go,” he mused. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

“Please let me come, baby,” you pleaded. “I need it so bad.”

Pushing himself up, your heart sunk at the thought that he might keep teasing you and leave you hanging. Though he was never, ever one to leave you wanting, you were too far out of it to think straight anymore. All you knew was that you needed him and he was holding that just out of reach. 

Instead, he climbed up to lean over you. With a gentle hand, he cradled your jaw, making you look at him. Your slick glistened on his chin and beard. His pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of them nearly lost to it. With how much self control he had, his eyes and the tent in his boxers were the only indications that he was as affected by this as you were. 

“D’ya think you’re ready for me, beautiful? Think you can take me?”

You nodded immediately, still breathless. “Need you so bad, baby. Please. I can take it.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding. “That’s my girl.”

Finally, he stripped off his boxers, revealing his red, leaking cock. You couldn’t stop the small whine you made at the sight, your need for him overriding any coherent thought.

John pushed into you in one swift stroke, drawing your nails to scrape across his back. The stretch was delicious, tearing you apart and soothing the insatiable ache in your core at the same time.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he praised. If the feeling of him seated inside you wasn’t already enough to set you ablaze, his praise was. It always was. 

His arms came to rest by either side of your head as he leaned down and stole a heated kiss from your lips. Then, he drew himself slowly out of you before sharply driving back into you again. Your body shook with the force of it, forcing you to break from his lips as you let out the most lewd moan of the night. 

But, of course, that was just the beginning. John continued like that, fucking you harder with every quick snap of his hips until the only sound in your bedroom was the slap of skin on skin and both of your grunts and moans of pleasure.

“This what you needed, baby?” John asked, voice gravelly and breathy. “You needed to get fucked this good?”

Your voice caught in your throat, a strangled sound coming out in place of an affirmation.

He sped up his pace, his cock hitting so deep within you that you had to squeeze your eyes shut. He groaned, “My good girl. Always workin’ so bloody hard. You deserve this — deserve to just let me take care of you.”

Your pussy clenched around him at his praise, drawing groans from you both. You clawed at his back, searching for some sort of tether in the tidal wave of pleasure you were trapped in now. For the third time tonight, you could see the salvation of your orgasm on the horizon. Having been denied it so many times, its immensity and force was almost alarming. 

Though you were too lost in John to think clearly, you were able to gasp out one plea. “Don’t stop! Baby, don’t- don’t stop!”

Rhythm growing sloppy, John assured, “Not gonna stop this time. Been so fuckin’ good for me. Come for me, love.”

That’s all it took to have you falling apart on his cock, the tension in your stomach snapping in an overwhelming flood of euphoria. Breath catching in your chest as you rode out the high, John continued to fuck you through it, murmuring deep praises all the while. 

Just as you were coming back down to earth, your body finally feeling like it was yours again, John was nearing his high. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned, head lowered by your ear. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he was burying himself to the hilt in you, his warm cum coating your walls. You gasped at the feeling as he ground his hips into yours a little.

Still propped on his arms, he sagged down over you, his breath ragged like yours. You dragged a hand up from his shoulder blade and into his hair, letting your fingers card through the soft strands as John came back to you and pulled out. Then, he lifted up enough to meet your gaze again. He took you in for a moment before leaning down and giving you one last heated kiss. 

The two of you clearly spent, he leaned his forehead against yours after he broke away. He brought a large, calloused hand to brush against your cheek. 

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mused. “I love you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

“Feelin’ better?”

“So much better,” you answered. The stress and pressure you had felt for days was gone now, replaced only with the feeling of John. For the first time in a long time, you truly felt relaxed. 

“I told you I could fix it,” he said triumphantly, wiggling an eyebrow at you.

After taking a moment to clean you both up, John crawled back into bed and shifted to spoon you from behind. With his strong arm over your stomach and your legs intertwined, you let him envelop you. As sleep slowly pulled you under, the only thought on your mind was him.

[rynnthefangirl]

“I don’t get why people are so mad about the Mad Queen, Dany’s character has been building to this and it makes perfect sense for her!”

Okay, so even if we pretend for a second that Dany burning KL at the time and in the way she did made sense (it didn’t), there’s a whole other element as to why the Mad Queen arc was SO infuriating. And that is because for two seasons the entire logic of the show bends backwards until it breaks in order to get Dany to the point where they could try to justify that act.

Let’s look at some examples:

Tyrion instructs Dany to invade Casterly Rock, leaving Highgarden unprotected. It makes zero sense for a character renowned for their intelligence to propose this. CR is a defensive stronghold that offers no tactical advantage to a Conquerer, while Highgarden is one of Dany’s strongest allies with the funds to support her conquest. Dany loses House Tyrell and the Reach because of this.

Tyrion also advises Dany to send some of her most valuable men Beyond the Wall to capture a wight to convince Cersei of their existence. Again, this makes no sense for Tyrion to propose. He of all people should know that Cersei is a deranged narcissist who could never be trusted. I guess Tyrion kind of forgot his sisters central character traits. Dany loses a dragon because of this.

Dany also would not have lost Viserion if she had not arrived in time to rescue Jon and the others. But lucky for them (and unlucky for Viserion), ravens can now fly from the wall to Dragonstone in a single night.

“Dany kind of forgot about the iron fleet.” Apparently this Conquerer queen heading south for war just didn’t send out any sort of scouts, and entirely forgot about one of the like two forces that she needs to watch out for. None of her war advisors remember this either. She loses Rhaegal and Missandei because of this.

Cersei decides to behead Missandei as opposed to keeping her prisoner in the Red Keep in order to discourage Dany from just burning it down.

The Iron Fleet— which would later fail to strike down Drogon despite firing dozens of scorpions— is able to take Rhaegal down with two back to back perfect shots. Also apparently they can see Rhaegal well enough to do that, but neither Rhaegal nor Drogon nor Dany were able to see them.

Upon coming to Westeros, Dany has three dragons, a huge army of Unsullied, a huge army of Dothraki, a portion of the Iron Fleet, the full support of Highgarden with all their wealth and armies and probably much of their Bannermen, and the backing of Dorne. Dany is told that this is not enough, and she will not be able to take KL without tons of innocent bloodshed. Dany then proceeds to lose 2/3 dragons, Highgarden, Dorne, the Iron Fleet, and a huge portion of her Unsullied and Dothraki armies. In exchange, she gets an army of tired unmotivated northerners. Meanwhile Cersei obtains all of Highgardens wealth, the Golden Company, the Iron Fleet, and a massive force of scorpions. Dany proceeds to take Kings Landing and force a surrender with virtually zero civilian bloodshed.

Dany is portrayed as unreasonable and irrational for wanting to immediately attack Kings Landing with her full force. This perceived irrationality is the basis for her advisors questioning and betraying her. Dany is later proved correct in all of her courses of action when— again— she forces KL surrender quickly and cleanly and with virtually no civilian bloodshed.

Varys, a character renowned for his patience and ability to play the game and wait to strike until the opportune moment, a man who sat through Joffrey’s reign and did nothing, suddenly feels that Daenerys (who has not done anything worse than what Varys already knew her capable of when he decided to support her) is such a risk that he tries to poison her before she has even defeated Cersei for him. Again, the supposed reckless plan that Varys betrays Dany for is later proven to have been the correct plan.

Cersei faces no backlash from any of her actions. Nobody cares that she blew up the Westerosi Vatican. Nobody cares that she murdered the Queen of Westeros. Nobody cares that she helped orchestrate the fall death of Ned Stark and bears responsibility for the subsequent war and massacre of many of the remaining starks. Nobody cares that she is very very unlikely to accept Northern Independence, and very likely to hold a grudge against the north and house stark and seek to wipe them out. Cersei faces zero criticism or opposition from anyone besides Daenerys, and dethroning her is treated as an unnecessary inconvenience that nobody really cares that much about, and are only doing because Dany wants to.

These are just the examples I can think of off the top of my head. There are surely many many more.

Dany was too OP coming into season 7. As such, in order to make the plot work and reach their predetermined Mad Queen ending, the very fabric of the universe twisted and warped for the explicit purpose of taking away everything she had and loved. Dumbass plans from characters known for the intelligence, fast travel, discarding of the “action and consequence” internal logic of the show for Dany’s opposition, forgetting of basic war time strategy. Cersei’s forces are a formidable threat when Dany needs to look reckless and bad for wanting to attack Kings Landing. Cersei’s forces then proceed to not be a threat at all and collapse like a tower of cards when Dany needs to look awful and evil for burning down a city that surrendered so easily.

So yeah, even if in that moment you believe Dany would burn down Kings Landing, the fact that Dany fans had to sit there and watch as every single aspect of the show was manipulated in the most illogical way for the sole purpose of making her the villain…? Is it really in character if the fundamental logic of the universe has to change in order for it to happen?