#this is me trying to get a feel for how to draw them and i think i got it!

[fishnapple]

How they comfort you, their love languages

(Future spouse/partner/lover)

This is a mini reading about the things that your partner/spouse would do or say to comfort you.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CUBE 1

"Our life together is the most important thing"

"You're alive, I'm alive and that's good"

Tickle

Clumsy jokes that make your belly hurt

"Let's go to the beach"

"Whatever you do, I'm right beside you"

"Don't worry"

"Don't be afraid to fall, I will catch you"

"I'm your biggest fan"

Silent understanding

Scary movies that make you jump into their arms

Passionate, emotional sex

The warmth of their body

Holding you in the dark

Holding your hands whenever you go out together

Warm breads and fresh flowers

Board games

Forehead kiss

"Let's run away"

"I will find you again even when you've become a star on the heavenly sky"

CUBE 2

Surprise gifts, this person could spoil you a lot with material gifts

"I will get it for you"

They would do many things to make your life easier without you knowing: take care of your routines, pack your lunch, iron your clothes, etc

Change the colour of the curtains and bed sheets to cheer you up,

Date nights

Take you to see the sunset, to somewhere dark and windy, surrounded by nature

"No problem "

"Let's me take care of it"

They comfort you in your dreams

Intuitively guess your thoughts

Whisper loving words when you are in public places

Be with you through every social events

"My greatest achievement is to be their partner"

Boast about you everywhere they go

"I command you to love me", then proceed to massage your feet

Holding you silently while you spill out your darkest secrets

Direct in displaying their desire for you

CUBE 3

Act all tough and intimidating with other people but become a mushy romantic when they're with you, especially in private

Never fail to notice and compliment your effort at taking care and beautifying yourself

Getting heart eyes both when seeing you in leisurewear and in glamorous clothes

Try to sing for you even if they hate singing or not good at it

Love poems

When they find it hard to express their feelings through words, they express through material gifts and sensory pleasures instead

Just buying you stuffs and pretend to not know about it or act oblivious and nonchalant

Wrap you in softest blanket

"Let's go into the bathtub together"

Drying your hair

Take lots of pictures, of you alone, of you guys together, of your memories

"You're my best friend, let's me be your best friend"

"I love you "

CUBE 4

"I've loved you before and I will love you again"

"See you in our next life together "

Appear right when you need them

Act more confident and tough

The heat of their body

Pull you into them

"Lean on me"

Witty jokes

Irrelevant stories to distract you from whatever negative feelings you're having

Hand holding

Lots of notes

Phone calls throughout the day

Try to talk in the softest voice when they're with you

"Let's play video game"

"Let's me draw your silly face"

"Let's take a day off and go to where nobody knows us"

The meadows, the sea, the mountains

Take your pleasure as their top priority

Love making

"I'm afraid that this is all a dream, but as I go to sleep and wake up everyday, you're still there"

"Your pain is my pain "

Warn anyone dares to come in between you two

CUBE 5

"Nothing can stand between us"

"We can go anywhere we want"

"I believe in us"

"Hey, teach me how to do this"

Make plan for both of you

"Let's me read Tarot for you"

Always on time

Keep their promises, from smallest one to biggest one

Cakes and sweets

Warmth food

Hype you up

Eager to hear you talk

Patience

Try to be silly just to cheer you up even though they seem to be a pretty serious person

Laughter

Refer to you as "my love" when talking with other people

PDA

"I think I'd done good deeds in my past lives, that's why I met you"

Looking deep into your eyes

"I believe this relationship has changed us for the better"

Ride of die

"Till death do us apart "

CUBE 6

"You were alone, but now you have me"

Act childish and cute to get your attention

Also love it when you do the same to them

"Let's get married "/ "Let's get married every year"

Tell you about their childhood nightmares and how embarrassing they were

"I was told to wait for you when I was a kid"

Has no shame in acting embarrassing or silly just to make you laugh, even in public

"Do you want to date me" (even when you guys have been married for a long time)

Handmade gifts

Corny pickup lines

Genius at solving problems

Try to get you to debate about odd topics

Looking intimidating and professional in public but don't care about people's opinions, especially about you and your relationship

Will defend you in any conflicts

Take your side unconditionally

Willing to share everything with you

Honesty

Think of a new way to affirm their love everyday

"We make a great team"

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN gets a job as a bartender in a motorbike club's bar, and Harry runs the club.

author's note: suprise!! i'm back again!! i promised i wouldn't keep you waiting and i'm not. this is the first part in my biker!harry mini-series which i started a while ago and only just got around to finishing! let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the next instalments!

word count: 11.6k of sexy biker!harry (that's it, that's all).

WARNINGS: strong language, smut, bike riding, a bar fight and talks of a motor accident.

let me know what you think of clover here!! mwah <3

1979

“Look, sweets, I’d hire you on the spot if I thought it would be a good idea,” Mick spoke from across the bar, towel over one shoulder and another in his hand drying a glass, “But it just isn’t, I’m sorry.”

YN sighed, dropping her hands down on the bar. This was the fourth one she’d tried, and so far, she hadn’t had any luck. She wasn’t asking for much – just a job to help pay for her student loans. She had graduated a year ago and bounced from job to job, and yet none of them seemed to fit. It wasn’t necessarily her dream to work in a bar, but she hadn’t a single clue about what her dream was. She had a first-class honours history degree (which she adored getting) and yet not a single idea of what to do with it.

She couldn’t think of the future at this moment, she needed to think about the now and if she wanted to continue to live in her small apartment and eat — she needed a job.

Clovers had been her last hope. It was the last bar in town that YN was yet to try, and despite its less-than-positive reputation – it was always busy, and that meant money coming in. As she turned to look around the bar, which was already quite crowded for it being early on a Friday night, she couldn’t help but imagine the cash that was funnelling through the establishment, and how she wished she could get at least some of it.

“Can I get you a drink, sweets?” Mick spoke again, offering her a soft smile, “It’ll hopefully soften the blow a little bit.”

YN smiled at the man and nodded, “Thank you. Whisky, please.”

Mick got straight to work, placing the glass in front of her, dropping an ice cube into the glass and pouring her a more than generous shot. Just as she fumbled with her purse to pull out some bills to pass to Mick, he shook his head and held his hand out to stop it. She smiled in thanks and watched as he turned and walked away, going to serve the next customer who was standing a few feet away from her.

YN picked up her drink, and just as she was about to take a drink the door beside her opened. Her lips parted, her eyes watching as a group of what seemed to be fifteen or so men, all clad in heavy leather or dark denim walked into the bar.

Of course, YN knew about them. Anyone who lived here knew who they were, but it was the first time that she had seen them this up close. The most she had ever experienced with them was the low rumbling of their engines from a distance, or possibly them riding past her but that was only ever one or two. It was their jackets that often set them apart from the rest of the riders in the town, the very specific Clover’s Riders jacket that every member adorned and what seemed like all times.

The men were loud as they stepped in, most of them heading towards the bar whilst others went to some of the other members who were already seated in the bar. YN’s eyes never left the door until the last one had made his entrance, and she just couldn’t seem to draw them away.

He was younger than many of his counterparts, probably resting at an age near YN’s or possibly a few years or so older. He was clad in the same heavy denim that many of the others wore, but they seemed to sit on his body much easier. The curls of his hair were tousled in every direction it seemed, but YN found herself wondering as to what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to her glass and lifted it to her lips. She took a large gulp of the liquid, allowing that to slip down her throat before she finished the rest of it. Mick was long gone from being anywhere near her, working at what seemed like double speed to keep up with the orders that the gang of men were giving him, and she felt as though that was probably her cue to leave. She would have to brainstorm other options for work, seeing as though this just hadn’t called through.

Sighing, YN pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed up from the stool she was resting on. Just as she turned around to make a beeline for the door through the bodies that were crowding the room, she was stopped by a body in front of hers.

“Woah, woah, little darling where do you think you’re going?” It was one of the riders, standing in front of her with a grin on his features.

“Home,” she said with a shrug.

“So soon,” The man looked over his shoulder to some of his friends who were standing close by, “Me and my buddies here didn’t even get to say hello.”

“Right, okay, hello,” YN nodded to the man in front of her and those behind him, “Really have to get going.”

The man extended his arms so that she couldn’t carry move from her space in front of him, “Let us buy you a drink little darling, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ve already had one, thank you, and it was very enjoyable,” YN offered them another small smile, “Now please move out of my way so that I can go home.”

“Hey, none of that,” The man shook his head, “Stay with us, I promise we’ll make it worth it.”

YN hummed, tilting her head from side to side lightly, “I’ll pass but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else to make the night worth it.”

And with that, YN pushed past the man and beelined for the door. She half expected him to grab her, but from the hoots and hollers of his friends, he was too embarrassed to do anything else.

The bar that YN had worked out whilst she was completing her degree had taught her a thing or two about how to deal with rowdy men, and whilst the firm but clear approach worked in most cases, YN wasn’t afraid to resort to other means if necessary. It was all a respect thing, and more often than not if you deal back to them what they deal to you – the situation usually sorts itself.

YN had just rested her palm against the wood of the door when she heard someone call her name. She saw Mick standing there, leaning over the bar to catch her attention.

“Saw you deal with those guys,” He nodded his head over to the men whose attention had been taken by another woman in the bar, who seemed to accept their advances more than YN did, “When can you start?”

YN’s face broke out into a smile and took a delighted step towards Mick, “Whenever.”

“Right now?” He raised his eyebrows at her, motioning to the men who were calling his name for more drinks, “Have a feeling we’re going to be swamped tonight.”

YN nodded and immediately dropped her purse down behind the bar and rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up.

She turned to the men who were now staring at her with their mouths slightly agape, “What can I get you?”

It was a Thursday night and YN had been working at Clover’s for around a week at this point when Mick decided that she could handle a night on her own. After being thrown into what very much was the deep end on her first shift, there had been time the next day for Mick to show her the ropes properly and anything she would specifically need to know.

Mick said that he normally wouldn’t leave such a new person on their own so quickly, but he had an important family issue that he couldn’t get out of and that she had shown enough trust that he wasn’t worried. It was a Thursday, so it wasn’t going to be too busy but even so, those who were going to be there would be Riders, and they would protect their bar from anything.

It was nearing nine, and YN would probably say that they were at a quarter of their capacity, the majority of them being riders who had been there for the last few hours or so. YN was lucky she supposed. They never ordered anything more complicated than a beer, at most a whisky or a bourbon and this was their bar so there were never any arguments about paying for the drinks.

There was a lull in the orders, so YN decided to take it upon herself to dry some of the glasses she had washed in the previous lull. This job was not for the weak she would say that, but YN would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She loved people watching and mixed with the hum of the jukebox it was the perfect combination for her.

The door to the bar opened again about twenty minutes, and in walked that same man that caught her attention a week or so ago, on that first day she was here. He looked the same, apart from he was clad in a mixture of denim and leather this time instead of just denim, and a large bruise was sprouting from under his left eye. To YN, it was obvious that the cause was a punch, for there was nothing else that could cause a bruise such as that one. He walked into the room, ignored the hoots and hollers from some of the other men and took a seat right in the middle of the bar.

YN threw the towel she was holding over her shoulder and walked towards him, resting her hands on the edge of the bar, “What can I get ya?”

The man didn’t stray his eyes away from where they were planted firmly on the wood of the bar, “Beer, and a whisky.”

YN nodded, reaching over to pop the lid of the beer, “Do you want ice in the whisky?”

The man just hummed, so YN got straight to work making his drink for him. It was different to that of the other men in the bar — watching him. Whilst they were loud and rowdy and always had something to say to someone – he was silent. He just sat, with the company of his only himself and drank his drink.

Snapping YN out of her gaze (which had been on the man for a few beats too long) was a call of her name from just down the bar. She walked over to where it came from, a man called Taylor who YN had become quite acquainted with in the last few days or so.

Most of the men (not all, obviously) that she had become acquainted with during the last few weeks were lovely. They loved to have a quick natter with her whilst she made their drinks, some of them flirted with her but she didn’t care (it was part of the job) and nobody bothered her. If one or two of the men when they were drunk got a little handsy or started to say things which would be deemed inappropriate, the other lads would circle her and make sure she was okay. She felt safe, which she was quite surprised was the case.

“A piece of advice,” Taylor spoke over the bar as YN started opening the bottles of beer for him and his friends, “Harry over there always orders the same thing, and he’ll drink the whiskey last before he leaves.”

“Thank you,” YN nods with a small smile across her lips, unable to stop her eyes beating over to him for a second – Harry.

“He’s a quiet one,” Taylor continues speaking, grabbing a few bills out of his pocket to pay for the drinks, “But harmless, I promise. To be fair, you’d think the man who founded the club would have more to say.”

YN’s eyes widen, she had no idea that Harry was the one who founded the club. She hadn’t suspected it at all.

“He founded it?” She asked with a slight raise of her eyebrow. She wasn’t trying to pry, but there were things that she wanted to know, and Taylor already had that buzz that made her know that he would be willing to answer any questions she had.

“Yeah, it was him and a few others,” Taylor shrugged, attempting to pick up the three bottles of beer all in one go, “A few years ago now, and it only grew from there.”

YN nodded once more and watched as he walked back to his table. She put the bills that he had given her for the drinks into the register and put the tip she had been given into her apron.

There was something about that man that had caught her attention from that first day, and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it. Now, it made sense. The aura that he had when he walked into the room, as well as the way he sat and held himself – he had a strong presence in the group without even trying.

YN had more questions, but she knew it probably wasn’t the best to pry right now. Instead, she just got on with everything that she had to do. She served drinks and cleaned up after herself right up until close. YN hadn’t realised when Harry had left, but he had slipped out without a single person realising.

She hummed as she swept the floors, tried her hardest to count the cash right the first time and put it in the safe before continuing with her other closing jobs. The chairs were off the floor, as much of the stickiness in the room that YN could remove was gone and the doors were locked and checked.  

Once she had stepped outside, and locked the door to the bar behind her, the late hour catching up with her very quickly – she realised at that point she wasn’t alone.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was standing there, resting against his motorcycle with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. YN was confused but continued to lock the door and make sure that nobody could get inside. Then she turned, and that was when she saw Harry looking directly at her.

“Can I help you?” She muttered, fidgeting with the keys she was holding in her hand.

He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, holding it for a second or so before he exhaled, “Heard you were asking questions.”

YN’s heart drops slightly, heat pulsating around her body, “Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, “Can’t stop you from doing that, but any questions you have about me, you can ask me yourself.”

YN just pursed her lips and nodded, “Okay then… do you always stalk women when they’re leaving work?”

Harry didn’t seem shocked by her words, or react in any way to them at all, which was surprising to her. But, then again, she hadn’t seen much of a reaction out of this man this entire time she had known of him.

“Only the ones that have worked in my bar for a week.”

“Your bar?” YN widened her eyes, “Thought Mick owned it?”

Harry shook his head, “I do. Mick’s my employee, and so are you.”

“Do you not trust me or something? Think I’m walking away with pocketfuls of cash?”

“I would already know if you’d done that, and you wouldn’t be working here anymore,” YN just nodded, “But this side of a town can be sketchy at night, and you never know who could be lurking.”

YN just scoffed, turning to walk away from the man, “Thank you, but I can look after myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged, climbing onto his bike, and kicking the stand-up. YN could hear the engine turning on, the loud rumble filling the empty street.

YN continued walking, expecting him to speed past her but he didn’t. The low rumble continued down the street, even when she turned – the sound turned too. It was frustrating and annoying. All YN wanted to do was to get home, have something to eat and get in bed. Instead, she was having to deal with what was becoming an annoying rider, who couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

This continued for around ten minutes, and with each second that passed YN was getting more and more annoyed. Just as she turned onto the edge of her street, the apartment she shared with her roommate Ashley coming into view in the distance, she decided that enough was enough.

She stopped and turned around on the pavement, Harry pulling in on his bike to stop just in front of her. YN sighed and placed her hand on her hips.

“Do we have a problem?”

Harry rested his hands on his bike still, but was facing her, “No problem.”

“Then why are you following me home?” A small chuckle escaped her lips, “You know those strange people you were talking about earlier; you do know you’re acting like one of them?”

“You’re one of us now,” He shrugs, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world – it certainly wasn’t for YN at all.

“That means you follow me home?” The confusion grows with every moment in YN, and yet Harry doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried.

“You didn’t want a ride,” He pulls his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up, “Had to make sure you got home safe.”

“Right,” YN just nods, “Well, I think I can manage on my own from here. And, if I’m all of a sudden one of you should I expect my jacket in the post? Or do you do collection?”

With a final scoff, she turned and walked away from the man. This time, when the engine started, YN didn’t turn to look at Harry and instead carried on to her front door. It was only then that she turned to peer over her shoulder, just in time to see Harry speed past her and into the night.

She had an incline that this job was going to be interesting, but she had no idea just how much.

It wasn’t necessarily a normal working pattern that YN had found herself in.

Sleeping for most of the day and being awake all night wasn’t necessarily the big girl working pattern that she had aspired to when she was younger, but for the time being she was enjoying it. It did mean that when Ashley returned from her nine-to-five working as a receptionist (YN couldn’t think of anything worse to be honest), YN was just getting ready to start her day.

YN was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a half-eaten sandwich clutched tightly in her hand. She wasn’t too hungry, but she knew that if she didn’t eat something before, she left for work she would regret it later on. The second that Ashley stepped through the door and threw her bag down on the floor, she threw YN a quizzical look.

“What?” YN asked, wiping the mayo that rested on the curve of her lip off with her thumb.

“Do you happen to know anything about the smoking-hot rider staring at the apartment from across the street?”

YN’s entire face dropped, “What?”

Ashley walked over and dropped down on the other side of the sofa, reaching out to steal one of YN’s chips from her plate. Ashley seemed slightly unfazed by the newfound stalker YN had acquired, and that stressed the girl out significantly.

“What do you mean?” YN pushed herself up, making her way over to the window where there he was. Resting against his bike, cigarette resting from his lips sat Harry, staring at the front door to the building with an unreadable expression on his face,

“He’s been there since this morning,” Ashley adds to the conversation causally, running a hand through her hair which she had just pulled out of its undo, “At first, I thought he was waiting for Sandy, you know, from 2.B but then I saw the jacket and realised he must be here for you.”

“He’s not here for me,” YN shook her head, slapping the curtains shut and walking back over to her friend, “He’s stalking me, I can’t believe you’re not more stressed about this.”

Ashley just shrugged, “Worse people to be stalked by, I suppose. He’s one of Clover’s, he’ll be harmless.”

“No, Ashley, he’s not just one of Clover’s,” YN sighed, running a hand over her face before scooting around the apartment to grab her belongings, “He is Clover.”

It was Ashley’s face that dropped this time, “What do you mean?”

“That’s Harry,” YN pulled each one of her pumps on her feet, “He founded the gang!”

“You’re kidding,” Ashley all but screams, “Jesus YN, I knew I was concerned about this job, but I think you’ve done pretty alright for yourself.”

YN just shook her head. She grabbed her jacket, and her bag and made her way over to the door.

“If I go missing, you know who’s responsible,” With that, YN turned away from her friend and rushed out of the door.

She took the stairs down from her apartment at double speed, almost tripping over her feet multiple times. She pulled her jacket on just as she got to the front door. Just before she was going to push it open, just stopped and hesitated for a second. One deep breath in and out was all it took to compose herself, and then she pushed the door open.

Harry spotted her immediately, throwing the cigarette he had in his hand a few metres away from his bike, where a collection was beginning to grow. YN made sure to check the left and the right of her before crossing the road, not quite fancying becoming roadkill this early in the day.

“You’re lucky my neighbours didn’t call the cops on you,” Is the first thing that slips from YN’s lips, before she realises how stupid that sounds.

For the first time since she met him, a small smile crosses Harry’s lips. She had amused him, and oh did she want to do it again.

“You know you can’t stay out here all day,” She follows with, “I’m going to the bar now anyway.”

“I got something for you,” Harry pushed himself up off the bike and that’s when she saw it.

A denim jacket, smaller than the others that she had seen but still carrying the ever-so-known Clover’s Riders logo on the back. That four-leaf clover was known all over town, and towns for miles in every direction and now it seemed YN had one of her own. It would open paths for her but also close them as well. She knew that the second she accepted that jacket, things would change all over again.

“I don’t even ride, Harry,” She sighed, shaking her head slightly, “I’ve never been on a bike in my life.”

He just shrugged once more, “There’s always time to change that.”

YN toyed up her options, and it took a lot less time than she had thought it would to swipe the jacket from his hands. She shrugged off the one she was wearing and slipped her arms inside the material. It was the perfect fit, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. Harry beamed another smile at her and swung his leg over his bike once more.

“C’mon,” He tilted his head at her, “I have something I want to show you.”

“I’ll be late for work,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from throwing her leg over the side of the bike and using Harry’s shoulder to help steady herself as she got on.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry spoke, and that’s when YN realised that whilst yes, she was probably going to be late for work, she was also on the back of the owner’s bike – so the trouble couldn’t be too grave, “Hold on tight.”

YN did as the man said, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist. The second that the engine started, and Harry kicked the stand-up they went flying down the road, and she realised in that exact moment why he said tight. YN’s body lurched forward into Harry’s, her cheek resting against the leather of his jacket, and her hands tightening around him.

Once the initial fear had worn off, and YN finally peered over the man’s shoulder – she would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel in a word freeing. The wind through her hair, the chill of the speed at which she was going laced with the feeling of Harry pressed so closely against her. Sure, she had been scared but now she knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. It wasn’t a scary thing, instead, it was something to be enjoyed.

YN’s lips curled upwards, a slight giggle leaving them as she noticed they went speeding through a red light. Many, and by many YN meant most, of the riders had a back pocket full of speeding tickets, and lights that they’ve jumped and yet none of them seemed to care. It was as though all of the law-abiding parts of their brains didn’t function when they were on bikes. On second thought, even when they weren’t on the bikes the law-abiding parts of their brain didn’t function.

Harry pulled over just as they joined the road which took them out of the city. They had completely passed Clover’s, and YN hadn’t the faintest clue of how late she was for work at this point, but it didn’t matter. It would take a lot for this smile to leave her face today. Once the bike came to a stop, YN used Harry’s shoulder to push up off of it.

Harry sits on the bike, but his eyes never leave the girl. The way she almost looked like a baby deer as she got her grounding once she was off the bike, the way her hair stuck out in every and all directions, and most importantly the beaming smile that never left her face. For the first time in a long time, there were no thoughts in YN’s head. There were no worries about growing up and getting a proper job, or stress about money – it was completely and utterly freeing. She supposed that was why there were so many of the riders and she supposed they were all chasing that feeling.

“You’ve got to teach me how to ride,” She sighed, the blissful smile never leaving her lips.

Harry just nodded, “Whenever you want.”

“Really?” Her face widened in excitement.

Harry shrugged, “You’ve gotta know how to ride if you’re going to be a rider.”

YN just nodded, and almost jumped back onto the bike. Harry didn’t say anything when she wrapped her arms back around his waist, not a single gap between their bodies but it just felt so comfortable. Harry kicked the stand down once more and sprang straight into action, turning slowly around on the road before speeding up the second they were on the straight back to the town.

All YN knew was that she was going to savour the feeling of the wind in her hair.

It was another Saturday night, and it was packed in the bar.

YN was so thankful that she could stay behind the safety of the actual bar and not venture out into the rest of the room. The men had just come back from a ride, and they were all excited and loud and wanting nothing but drink upon drink upon drink. She had been there from earlier on in the day today, and when Mick showed up later in the evening, she hadn’t managed to utter a single word but hello to him since.

All she could think of was the fact that once the rush had died down, it would be her time to go home and rest. In what felt like a very long few months of working every day (at first YN hadn’t minded, but she was slowly getting more and more burnt out) it was finally time for her to have a day off. Mick had graciously said to her the other day that he could handle Sunday on his own, and those words felt like gold slipping from his lips. She didn’t have a single clue of what she was going to do with her day, all she knew was that it was going to be relaxing.

She just had to get through this night first.

At first, the night seemed fine. Everyone was in good spirits and there was nothing more than a few drunken disagreements that sorted themselves out. YN had taken that as the opportunity to make her way over to where Harry was sitting and replenish his beer while he was there. It was then that the door was thrown open, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

What had at first been a lovely evening had changed within the second, and it was all because of a man that she hadn’t recognised. He didn’t have a rider’s jacket on his back, and that should have been YN’s first clue that this man was going to be in trouble. This was a riders’ bar, and those jackets were almost like a rite of passage. Without one, people stuck out like a sore thumb.

It became even more obvious to YN when the man beelined straight over to where Harry was sitting. He didn’t sit and instead leant over Harry, so his focus was on him. YN stayed close, but she didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was listening. She wasn’t the only one either – she could see other riders peering over at them from where they were sitting.

“You said if I did it, I’d get my jacket,” Those were the first words that came out of the man’s mouth – not even a greeting of hello, “I did it. Where’s the fucking jacket?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a second or so. Instead, he lifted his recently replenished beer to his lips and took a swag. He was doing as he always did – taking his sweet darn time.

“I said I’d think about it,” Harry mumbles, shrugging slightly as he did, “I’ve thought about it… and no.”

The man smacks his hand down onto the bar top, the sound echoing throughout the room. It silenced everyone, and all eyes turned to the two men. YN’s eyes looked towards Mick with a panicked expression on them but he shook his head, hoping that would calm the girls down.

“That wasn’t the fucking deal,” The man spits, coming right up into Harry’s face but it didn’t seem to deter the man at all, “The deal was to drop the shipment, I get the fucking jacket.”

Harry finally turned to look at the man, his stern expression never wavering, “Do you think I want someone like you, someone that doesn’t listen wearing one of my jackets?”

The man didn’t like that response, and it seemed as though as quickly as YN could blink her eyes the man was grasping the lapels of Harry’s jacket and pulling him up from the stool. He was then pushed straight into the bar, a slight grunt leaving his lips as he did. There was the initial sound of beer stools scratching on the floor, and other Riders were reading to split the two men up but all it took was Harry lifting one of his hands and they all stopped in their places.

“I don’t want someone who’s that willing to fight one of his men wearing a jacket.”

That was all it took for the other man to make the first punch. His arm pulled backwards, and his fist hit Harry straight across the jaw. The skin immediately went red, but Harry didn’t look like a man who had just been hit straight across the jaw. The bar stayed silent, obviously waiting for whatever Harry’s retaliation was going to be.

What YN, and certainly a lot of others in the bar hadn’t expected was Harry to reach behind him, to where his empty beer bottle was sat and hit the man over the head with it. The man fell to the ground, his grip on Harry letting go instantly. Harry lifted his hand, wincing when he noticed that a shard of glass from the broken bottle had lodged itself in his skin.

He just sighed, rubbing his forehead with his uninjured hand, “Get him out of here.”

Three of the men who were watching closely immediately listened to him, walking over, and picking the man up. They carried him out of the bar and were back to their drinks in what seemed like minutes. It was as though nobody truly seemed to care as to what had just happened and were more excited to get back to their drinks truly as though nothing had happened.

YN watched as Harry threw back the glass of whisky that had sat on the bar waiting for him (courtesy of Mick). That seemed like something that YN would have to take note of. With that, he dropped a few bills on the counter and stormed out of the bar. YN watched this and immediately started to pull her apron off her body.

“Mick,” The older man hummed from the other side of the bar, “I’m going outside for a break. I’ll only be a minute.”

The older man just threw YN a look, obviously having spotted who had left the bar just before she wanted to, “Be careful.”

YN just laughed, throwing the latch open, “I’m always careful.”

The second she stepped outside; she was shocked to see that Harry’s bike was still there, but he wasn’t sitting on it. There was a slight chill in the night air, and YN looked from left to right to try and spot him, but he was still nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until YN made her way towards the alley that followed the side of the bar that she finally realised where he had gone.

It was dark, but not dark enough to miss the figure leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. YN wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to conceal at least some of the warmth from inside. As her shoes crunched on the path, Harry’s eyes turned to look at her. He was ready for it to be someone else, and it was almost as though when he noticed that it was her – his features seemed to relax.

“How’s your hand?” She asked, coming to a stop right in front of him.

He raised his palm towards her, “It’s been better.”

YN winced to herself slightly as she looked at his hand, seeing the shard of glass still sticking out of the skin. Whilst she didn’t have a first aid kit on her body at this exact moment, it was good that she knew where one was.

“Come with me,” She nodded, walking further down the alley to the bar’s back entrance.

YN didn’t even turn to make sure that he was following her, she just knew that he would be. She held the door open for him, and the one that opened to the office of the bar (where Mick spent most of his time during the day, sorting the books out) and pointed at the chair by the desk.

Whilst Harry sat down without a word to her, YN reached up to the shelf above them and brought the first aid kit down. Harry’s eyes watched her as she pulled tweezer, gauze, and some antiseptic to clean and dress his wound. It was all very silent, and still but caring.

“Can I?” She asked, checking sure it was okay to touch his hand.

Harry nodded, placing his hand in hers. To YN, she wasn’t sure if she was truly touch-starved that feeling of his hand in hers felt truly intimate. She got to work straight away, pulling the glass out with the tweezers ever so carefully before wiping the surface of the cut. Even though YN knew that it would have stung, Harry’s face didn’t show anything, only one raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” She mumbles, face still full of concentration on making sure the wound is fully clean before she wraps it.

Harry just nodded, “You see wounds like these before?”

YN nodded, “I’ve worked in bars before – of course, I’ve seen wounds like these before.”

Harry just nods, allowing YN to move his hand at her ease to ensure that it is wrapped tightly and securely. He opened his mouth once she had finished, as though he was going to ask her something, but he closed it straight away. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that he could ask her anything that he wanted to, but she didn’t want to scare him away.

“You’re all set,” She offered him a small smile.

“Thank you,” The words sort of felt foreign, but very sincere coming from his lips, “I… you didn’t have to.”

YN just shrugged, “Wasn’t going to let you bleed out – would’ve been bad for business.”

Harry offered her a small smile at her attempt at a joke, “I’m sorry about what happened in there as well… usually we try to keep those sorts of things out of the bar.”

“Harry,” His name came out of her lips softly, hoping that would be the thing to tell him that it was okay. That she wasn’t angry at him, “I know… it doesn’t bother me – I promise.”

He just nods, “I knew that, you know.”

YN furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“That first day,” He reached out to her, and did the last thing that she would ever expect – grabbed her hand, “The way you dealt with some of the lads… I knew you were different.”

“It was you…” The words slipped out of YN’s mouth before she could truly register them, “You saw me that day.”

It all made sense. YN had noticed Harry that very first day that she’d appeared at Clover, and whilst originally Mick had said no, he had changed his mind and said yes. To YN, it had looked and seemed that Mick was the one who had made that decision, and yet it made sense that it was Harry to be the one who changed Mick’s mind. Harry, if he had been sitting at his barstool would have been a metre or so away from that conversation – and he would have heard every word that had been said.

“I did,” Harry nods, claiming every thought that YN had to be true, “I saw you, the way you spoke to them, the way you stood your ground and god, YN, I was hooked.”

That was the first time that YN had heard Harry speak her name, and she was addicted. She wanted to hear it over, and over and over again. He noticed the slight shift in her and used his legs to roll the chair he was sitting on closer to where she was resting against the desk. Then he slipped his uninjured arm around her body and pulled her down to him. She straddled his knees, relishing the feeling of his body beneath hers.

“I…” Her words came out as a whisper, “I felt the same.”

Relief. That was the look on his face – it was a true relief.

“You did?”

“God, Harry,” YN giggles, shaking her head, “I tried not to, but I would be lying if I said that most of my thoughts haven’t been filled with you. Wanting to know more.”

“You can know anything,” His thumb slipped underneath the thin material of her shirt, a heat spreading across her entire body from that one single touch, “Ask me anything, everything – I’ll answer. Whatever you want to know?”

YN pondered that for a second. She could have asked him anything, and yet there was one thought which was present in her mind more than any of the others. An hour ago, this question would have been risky – she just wouldn’t have asked it. Yet, in the safety of this room – away from peering eyes, or anyone who could make assumptions as to what it meant – she wanted nothing more than to ask it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Harry exhaled a breath, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, “More than anything.”

YN nodded.

“Harry…” He hummed at the call of her name, “Kiss me.”

His thumb danced from her cheek, down to her lip. He ran it across the skin of her bottom lip, pushing down slightly so that her lips parted for him. The only sound in the room was YN’s heavy breathing, a response to the teasing that was on display right in front of her.

Then his face inched forward, and his lips were on hers. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip past her parted lips, dancing with her own. This closeness to someone, the vulnerability – YN had missed it. She pushed her body forward towards Harry’s, slipping her hands in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands, never mind the bandaged one which would have still caused him pain, rested upon her denim-clad arse. They found their home resting there, and YN wasn’t about to move them.

Harry pulled away from her lips, obviously needing oxygen as much as she did. But he wasted no time in dropping his attack down her neck, his teeth nipping the skin there. YN’s hands still rested in the curls at the nape of his neck, and heavy breaths parted from her lips.

“Harry,” She gasped as he started to suck at the sweet spot where her neck met her collarbone, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t,” He mumbled, and YN just rolled her eyes.

“I’ve deserted Mick,” She continues, “He might need help.”

“Mick’ll be fine,” He pulled his head up, resting on her chest as he peered up at her, “And anyway, I’m your boss.”

YN shook her head, “I need to go.”

Harry groaned but finally nodded, “Ride home with me?”

“Of course,” YN pecked Harry’s lips one last time pushed herself up from him and walked out of the room.

Harry’s eyes never left her the entire time.  

“Harry, no, I’m going to tip over.”

When Harry had dropped YN at home last night, he had muttered the words that he would see her tomorrow. Before she could clarify that she wasn’t working, he had sped off on his motorcycle into the dark of the night. YN should have known, though, that Harry knew she wasn’t working. It became even more clear when Ashley shouted at her from the kitchen at around midday today, telling her that her Rider was waiting for her.

Instead of the annoyance that YN felt the first time, there was a skip in her step this time. She had taken some time that morning to make herself look that little bit more presentable and waited for him. After their kiss the previous night in the office, and the slight peck that he had given her when she had climbed off his bike yesterday.

When she had bounced over to him earlier, a smile beaming on his face she didn’t have a single care as to what she would be doing that day – all she knew was that she was going to enjoy it. Even when she climbed on the back of his bike and asked where they were going – the smile never left her face. He refused to tell her, though, saying that it was a surprise.

“Harry, I don’t want to,” YN shook her head, hands grasping tightly onto the handles of the bike, “I’m going to fall off, or I’m going to crash your bike.”

What Harry had planned for the girl was to teach her how to ride. Whilst at the start YN had wanted nothing more than to learn how to ride, now that she was sitting on Harry’s bike without him there – she was terrified. Harry was standing close to her, cigarette dangling from his lips and an amused expression on his face.

“You’re not going to fall,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m right here… and I promise I won’t let you crash.”

“You can say that Harry, but you can’t promise,” YN was sitting on the bike, with her feet resting on the ground and absolutely no attempt at all to move.

He threw his cigarette on the floor, moving over so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, his hands coming to rest upon hers on the handle. He turned the engine on, and even though it was YN’s hands on the handle, Harry was controlling it. They went very slow – they had to so that Harry could walk at the side of them.

“I’m going to let go,” Harry spoke after a minute or so, but YN shook her head.

“I’m not ready,” YN pushed her body into his slightly, “I’m going to crash.”

“There’s nothing for you to crash into,” Harry peels one of his hands off of hers, “I trust you… you’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t as though he was lying. Harry had driven them out to a deserted road just out of town. Close enough away that they’d be home at a normal time, but far enough away that there wasn’t any traffic which would interrupt them. There wasn’t anything but stone and grass around them, and whilst if YN came to a haphazard stop, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing ever – there wasn’t a lot of damage that she could do to Harry’s bike.

Harry let go of her other hand, and she was doing it. Granted, she didn’t go over 2mph, but she was still riding the bike on her own. She wasn’t comfortable enough to attempt to turn yet, so she just came to a slow stop a few metres further down from where Harry was. She kicked the stand down and climbed off the bike – turning towards Harry with a smile on her face.

“I did it!” She bounced over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck, his coming to rest around her waist.

“Never doubted you,” He leaned down to place a kiss on her lips, pulling her body flush against his. Before anything more could happen, the sound of crunching on the road, as well as the sound of a siren interrupted them.

YN’s heart started to beat rapidly at the sight of a police car inching towards them. Whilst YN had dealt with police before working in her previous bars, she hadn’t ever been out in the open with her and only one other person when talking to them. Knowing that Harry also ran a motorcycle gang added another level of worry to it.

Harry just pulled YN with him, going to rest against his bike. He looked completely unfazed, whilst YN truly was shitting in her boots slightly. The police car stopped right in front of them, and as the door swung open to the car, Harry lit up a cigarette and brought it up to his lips – again, making it aware that he was completely unfazed by what was happening.

“Styles,” The officer sighed, slamming his car door behind him shit as he walked towards the two of them, “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Hmm,” Harry just hums, inhaling from his cigarette, “I had no idea you were even looking for me… I wouldn’t have just stood in the middle of the road if I knew.”

The officer chuckled, placing his hands on his hips, “We had reports last night that you attacked a man.”

Harry shook his head, “Couldn’t have been me.”

“It happened at your bar,” The officer took a step forward towards Harry, “Had reports that you hit him over the head with a beer bottle.”

Harry just chuckles, “Officer Thompson, I don’t have time for this he said she said bullshit. If you’ve got something to say to me, I think you should say it.”

The officer just hummed, “Where were you last night?”

“I was at the bar,” Harry nodded, “All night.”

YN started to panic from beside him, but she tried not to make it obvious. Harry must have complete and utter trust in his riders to not say anything to the police. It made sense now to YN as to why that man hadn’t been given a jacket. He had instigated the fight, and yet he had run straight to the police with it. He was a coward and a rat.

“Can anyone corroborate this?”

“I can,” YN was surprised at how strongly her voice came out, “I was there with him all night, I work there.”

The officer hums once more, his eyes dropping down to focus on Harry once more. YN realises that it’s then that the officer has spotted his bandaged hand. YN’s mind starts to spiral slightly, hoping that one of them will be able to come up with something quickly.

“What, uh,” The officer couldn’t hide the smile on his face, obviously thinking that he had found him out, “What happened to your hand, Styles?”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so YN interrupts. She giggles slightly, knowing exactly what type of character was going to be believable for this officer. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I’m so sorry, officer, that was my fault,” YN took a small step towards the officer, but not far enough that she wasn’t in arms reach of Harry, “See, I’m real clumsy. And yesterday, I dropped a whole crate of beer and Harry heard the crash, and he helped me clean up – unfortunately, he cut his hand in the process.”

The officer’s eyes moved between Harry and YN. There was no way at that point for YN to try and guess what he was thinking – or what he was going to say. Then, when the officer’s face broke out into a smile just the same as YN’s, she knew she had convinced him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, and I hope you have a good rest of your day,” Then the officer turned to Harry, and the smile on his face dropped, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Styles.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it Officer Thompson.”

Harry rested against his bike the entire time, whilst YN had her arms crossed against her chest. They didn’t say another word to each other until they watched the car turn around and drive away from them. It was only then that YN turned to Harry, who was running a hand over his face. Sighing, YN walked over to him, grabbing his hands (but making sure to be careful of his injured hand).

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry shakes his head, pulling her hands up so that he can place a kiss on the back of them.

“I know,” YN nods, “But I wanted to.”

Harry rests his chin upon their connected hands, “I wanna take you somewhere.”

YN would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about where Harry lived once or twice because she had. He had been to her apartment a few times to pick her up, and whilst she hadn’t necessarily wanted to be that forward and ask him where he lived, there was a part of her which wondered about it.

It was a strange circumstance. Where does the leader of a gang live? Where does he rest his head at night? Where does make his coffee in the morning? Whilst YN wouldn’t necessarily admit it, she was an inquisitive person.  

When Harry’s bike came to a stop outside of a garage, one that seemingly had an apartment attached to the top of it – it all made sense. Yes, the bar had to be doing well, with how many people were in it daily. But there had to be another way that Harry was making money, and it seemed as though this was it. She wondered if this had anything to do with the shipments that the other man had been speaking about.

He kicked the standout and gave YN the space the climb off before he did. He walked over to the shutter, unlocked the padlock, and threw it open. The apartment didn’t look too big, but the shop itself was huge. She had expected a car, maybe a few bikes – but she hadn’t expected rows upon rows of bikes lining the side of the walls. In the middle, YN could see the different stations where Harry and some of the other members worked.

“Are these all yours?” YN asked, her finger reaching out to run across the glossy black exterior of one of the bikes closest to her.

“Most of them,” Harry shrugged, dropping the shutter closed behind the two of them after pushing his bike inside, “Me and a few others, we buy them and restore them, make them better to sell on.”

“God, Harry,” YN turns to him, an expression of what could only be described as amazement on her features, “This is amazing.”

He just offered her a small smile, taking small steps towards her until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her middle. YN giggled slightly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder as he pulled her closer to him.

“Pick one.”

The features on YN’s lips dropped again, “What?”

“Pick one,” Harry repeated, “A bike.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, Harry, I’m just confused as to why.”

He just shrugged, leaning back against the workbench near the two of them. YN turned around so that she was facing him, and Harry at once pressed his hands against her waist. It was funny to YN, to see the big, scary, gang member was so soft around her, and they hadn’t necessarily known each other very long.

“You said it yourself,” He shrugged, his hands pulling her between her body between his open legs, “If you’re gonna be a rider, you’ve got to ride. Seems like you need a bike to do that.”

“Yeah, but I’ll buy one,” YN spoke, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word, “When I have the cash for it.”

Harry shook his head, “No need, rather have you on one of these. Tested them myself, they’re all safe.”

YN just shook her head, propelling her body even further forward so that she could wrap her arms around Harry’s neck and press her lips against his. It was a clumsy kiss, with both of their teeth clashing and smiles upon their features but they did not care.

“Thank you,” She mumbled against his lips, pressing a flurry of chaste kisses to them afterwards.

Harry shook his head, “No need – pick one, baby.”

YN pushed her body up and started to walk up and down the rows of bikes until she spotted it. It was about halfway down the row, a bike with dark green glossy accents, looking nothing but sleek with the dark metal of the engine. It was the one that she wanted, and the second she was standing in front of it she knew it was hers. With that beaming smile across her features, YN turned and launched herself at Harry, wrapping her legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on the plump skin of her arse over her dark denim jeans. Even though YN suspected that she had caught him off guard, he didn’t show it on his face.

“How can I ever thank you?” She asked between a litter of kisses to his lips, a boyish smile crossing his features afterwards that YN wants nothing more than to bottle up and remember forever.

“That smile of yours is enough,” Harry nods at her, pressing another full kiss to her lips.

YN tilts her head to the side, turning to look at Harry with a slight smirk crossing her features. His eyebrows furrowed as though he already suspected she was coming up with something in her head.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Maybe…” YN starts, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, hesitating, “Maybe there’s another way I can thank you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, as though he was finally catching on to the thoughts swimming around in YN’s head.

“We don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head quickly. “I promise I’m not expecting anything from you.”

YN just shakes her head, leaning forward to place another kiss on his lips. Her hands tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I know you’re not,” YN offers him a smile, “I want to. I promise.”

Harry shook his head, a groan emitting from his lips as he tugged her even closer to him if that was possible. YN giggles at his obvious joy at her statement.

“God,” He rests his forehead against hers, “I know it’s wrong, but I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry turns, as though he’s going to walk out of the garage, but YN stops him. He furrows his eyebrows at her, and she just giggles once more.

“Want it here.”

“What?”

“Want it here, want you on the bench,” Harry groans once more, moving to drop her down upon the workbench that he had been rested upon earlier.

“Are you sure I haven’t dreamt you up?”

“Nope,” YN shakes her head, “I’m real.”

YN threads her fingers back through the curls at the nape of his neck, bringing his face back to hers. It doesn’t take long for their lips to connect once more. It wasn’t sweet or light. It was rough, as though both of them were finally able to do what they had both been thinking about.

Harry’s hands start to move down her body, resting on the hem of her jeans. She can feel his thumbs pressing down into the skin of her waist, and when it registers in her brain what he was trying to do YN pulls away, shaking her head.

“Not yet,” She lightly pushes his body to the side so that she can jump off the bench, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t have to,” YN’s hands rest on the lapels of his jacket, waiting for his nod before she pushes it off his shoulders.

“I want to.”

It takes just one swipe for Harry to pull his shirt over his head whilst YN’s hands come to rest upon his belt buckle. YN’s eyes widen at the sight of his exposed chest, as well as the tattoos that litter his sin. YN knew that Harry had tattoos; she had seen the ones on his arms multiple times, but it felt different to see the ones on his chest.

Her fingers work quickly to pull Harry’s belt buckle open, working on the button and zip of his jeans next. YN drops down to her knees, pushing Harry back slightly so that he’s resting against the workbench. Harry peers down at her, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation. Her hand rests upon the grey material of his boxers, palming his already semi-hard cock through the light material.

“You like teasing?”

YN shrugs lightly, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Harry laughs, watching her intently as her fingers loop into the band of his boxers, pulling them down to expose him to her. YN finds herself unable to pull her eyes away from his cock. She knew it had to be big from palming him through his boxers but seeing it before she made her mouth water and pressure to build in the pit of her stomach.

She placed a light kiss on his tip, which was already red and leaking from his obvious arousal. YN smiled, giving it a lick from the base to the tip before she used her hand to give it a few tugs. YN was confident in her moves, even though she had only done it a few times before in her life. She gained more confidence from the moans leaving Harry’s lips; they were deep and quiet, but she could hear them, and they caused her to squeeze her thighs together in hopes that it would give her some relief.

“YN… please,” It almost sounded as though he was pleading with her to do something, and YN almost moaned at the sound.

YN wraps her lips around the tip of Harry’s cock, beginning to bob her head up and down. One of her hands rested upon his thigh, whilst the other wrapped around the base of his cock, helping her with what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her tongue lightly grazed his tip, earning a louder moan from Harry that egged her on further.

“Fuck… YN.”

Harry’s hands came to rest in her hair, helping her to move her head up and down his cock. It was a light tug that caused YN to moan around his cock, and she could feel Harry resisting from bucking his hips to meet her. Instead, she continued to bob her head, speeding up in hopes that it would help him recover from her teasing.

“YN gotta pull away,” Harry says after a minute or so, his grip on her hair tightening, “I’m gonna cum.”

YN doesn’t stop, however, instead, she keeps going until she hears him moan louder and start to cum down her throat. When she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed. She works her head up and down until he’s finished, only pulling away then. When she looks back up at him he has a look in his eyes that makes her assume that they aren’t done.

YN giggles as he puts his hands on her waist and pulls her up so she’s standing, immediately placing a kiss on her lips, seemingly not caring about the fact that his cum was on them. YN’s legs nearly gave out then and there, and she had to place her hands on his biceps to steady herself.

“Did that show my thanks?” She asked, tilting her head to the side innocently.

Harry wraps his arms around her thighs once more, picking her up effortlessly.

“Damn right, it did,” Harry starts to walk over to the door that she suspects goes into the house, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

It was quiet at Clover’s, a lull mid-afternoon on a Friday before everyone picked their spots for the night. YN had spent an hour or so cleaning and drying the glasses that had been used earlier in the day, making sure that they were to have enough for the night ahead.

The repeated motion of washing and drying gave her time to think, and more often than not, she found herself daydreaming about her morning, which she had spent in Harry’s bed, wrapped up in his arms. The two of them had been pretty inseparable before, but after he had gifted her the bike, it had seemingly gotten even worse, if that was possible. It had been weeks since that day, and YN could probably count on one hand the nights she had spent alone since then. Harry waited every night for her after work, and even when he couldn’t she would return to his house and wait for him there.

They hadn’t spoken about what they were necessarily, but that didn’t matter to YN. She didn’t need a label to know how she felt about Harry, and she assumed Harry felt about her also. For the first time in a long time YN was happy, and even though she was only a bartender and that useless history degree of hers wasn’t doing much – she wasn’t yearning for something else, for something better. YN truly felt as though it couldn’t get any better than it currently was.

The door to the bar pushed open, and whilst YN thought it was probably a rider coming in for a drink, she was shocked to see that it was Mick, obviously dropping in to start his shift. Thankfully, since YN had taken the day shift she didn’t have to stay until close tonight, meaning that she could spend more time in bed with Harry to end her week.

“Hey, YN,” She offered Mick a smile, “Just lemme drop my shit in the back and then you can go on break.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

Once he was back out, and she had passed over what she was doing to him, she made her way outside with the sandwich that Harry had made for her earlier. She was going to make her lunch, but Harry insisted that he make it for her. YN smiled at the memory of her sitting upon his kitchen counter, clad only in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts. They had laughed and joked and, at one point, had a break to dance around the kitchen to the song that was playing over the radio.

YN hadn’t had many relationships before, two at most she could think of, but they were never like this. They always felt transactional to YN. But with Harry, it truly felt as though they were two halves. There was a level of domesticity that YN loved more than anything with him, and every little task that they did together meant so much.

Once YN had eaten her sandwich, her thoughts filled with Harry and their morning. YN pulled her legs underneath her and began to read her book, knowing that she could get a chapter or so read before her break was over. It was a book about the Tudors she was reading, something that had been a passion of hers during her degree. It had been a while since she had read anything, but she supposed that the want came from her peace and happiness being restored.

She had just finished a chapter on Henry VIII’s Economic policy when she heard noise from the front of the bar. It was loud, and the voices that were speaking were quick, but it was muffled, so she couldn’t quite decipher what was being said. Putting her bookmark into place and closing the book, she pushed up from the chair and made her way towards the bar.

Mick was standing there, with three or four others in front of him. They looked panicked, and their words reflected that.

“Tell me again,” Mick placed his hands down on the counter, “I can’t tell a word you’re saying when you’re talking that quickly.”

“An accident, Mick,” It was Taylor who spoke, “There was an accident. We were riding along, and this truck came outta nowhere, sent him flying.”

YN moved towards them, her heart immediately starting to thump within her chest.

“Who?” Her words came out quickly, all of the men’s heads turning towards her, “Who went flying?”

“YN… I…” Taylor took a step towards her, his entire face dropping.

That was when she knew.

Her palms started to sweat, and her body felt heavy. There was a dizziness inside her head, and for one second she thought that she was going to fall to ground.

It was Harry.

“Where is he?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the tears finally starting to collect within her waterline.

“YN…” Mick started.

“No, Mick,” She shook her head, “Where is he? Tell me where he is!”

Taylor took another step closer towards her, “I don’t know. The woman in the store across the street from where it happened phoned an ambulance, I left before they came. If I hazard a guess, they’ll be on their way to the hospital by now.”

YN nodded and before she knew it she was stalking her way outside and towards her bike. Ignoring the tears that were clouding her vision she climbed upon. Just as she was about to start it, a hand touched her elbow. It was Mick. She almost broke down crying there and then.

“Don’t,” Mick shook his head, “You can’t drive like that, darlin’. Let Taylor take you. Please.”

“He has to be okay,” YN shook her head, the sobs starting to wrack through her body.

Mick nodded, helping her off the bike, “He will be. But, if you wanna get there safely, in one piece let the boys take you.”

YN nods, walking over to Taylor’s bike and hopping on behind him. Mick gave her hand one last squeeze.

“Send him my love, okay?” Mick spoke and YN nodded, not trusting herself to be able to reply in that moment.

Taylor started the engine, and before she knew anything, they were hurtling down the street. This time, though, she wasn’t thinking about the wind in her hair.

[giddyfatherchris]

📝 skz reaction - you fall asleep on their laps

pairing. ot8!skz x gn!reader (individually)

type. fluff fluff fluffff

warnings. gender neutral reader, curse words (thats how i show my enthusiasm okay)

a/n. as someone who falls asleep anywhere and loves to sleep with people around me, i need to have a nap on each of them thank you.

a/n 2. yes the members order is reversed… thats just how inspiration struck and i couldn’t be bothered to change it SUE ME🫥

(pictures are not mine. credit to the owner!)

(divider credit!)

jeongin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would maybe be a lil annoyed at first thinking you're not moving because you want to annoy him. until he realizes that no no you're just extenuated and literally fell asleep on him which would suprise him sooo much. poor baby wouldn't know what to do with himself. he probably woudn't dare to move and would be tensed as all hell. although, slowly, he'd relax and grow into it. once he gets over his fear of waking you up he'd be so so smitten with you, cooing at how adorable you are, to the point where that actually woke you up

seungmin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would def be annoyed, going as far as trying to make you move away or scold you to go to bed. it's not that he doesn't like it, but he's uncomfortable and can’t understand why you’d want to cuddle him. once he asked why you didn't sleep somewhere else and you explained there was something about him that made you feel safe and at peace, that annoyance and awkwardness *poof* disappeared. he would let you sleep with your head comfortably laying on his lap while he practices a few songs and hums you to sleep aka best thing EVER. once you're fast asleep he would ask for someone to bring you a blanket and proceed to give a death stare to anyone who might make too much noise (euhm euhm binnie).

felix ⊹ ࣪ ˖ when you pouted and asked him to sleep on his lap he didn't even think before answering yes. being very comfortable with physical touch, our lil aussie boy would not mind at all. except he would not be prepared for how ADORABLE you look when you sleep. he would definitely take a thousand pictures of you (which he keeps in a special album in his phone). he would love to play in your hair or lightly massage your shoulders. and after that first time, whenever he sees you yawn a little too much he'd motion for you to lay on his lap. he is not ashamed to say one of his favorite thing to do is gaming while you're dozing off on his lap.

han ⊹ ࣪ ˖ first time it happened he was soooo scared to wake you up and wouldn't move at all. but that stopped very quick lmao, he would love when you fall asleep on him, even though he's not the best for it because he keeps moving and wiggling around. loves loves loves skinship, so he would constantly play with your hair, your clothes or poke your cheeks while you're trying to fall asleep. the only way to make this really work for both of you would be for him to watch his favorites animes while you're sleeping with your head on his shoulder.

hyunjin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he says he's not a fan of physical touch, but that does not apply to the ppl he's close with. including you. when you fall alseep on his lap he's an absolute cuddle master. he would put his sweater on you when you shiver and coo whenever you make a little grumbling noise. he'd love to draw little sketches of you while you're asleep or take pictures, which most likely wake you up and make you move away and makes him whine like a baby. he's honestly kind of annoying to fall asleep on, but whenever you'd move away he would for sure bring you back on his lap with a promise to stop bothering you this time.

changbin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ despite the fact that he has the attention span of a squirrel and that he's one loud motherfucker, whenever you fall alseep on his lap he turns into a statue. this man will not move or say a thing. he'd love how innocent and relaxed you look when you're sleeping and would be ready to annihilate anyone who may interupt that. the boys would definitely try to taunt him with food to get him to move but he'd categorically refuse to bother your peaceful naps. when they inevitably bring that fact to your attention he'd become all shy and he mumble about how it's not his fault you look so precious when you sleep.

minho ⊹ ࣪ ˖ mister minho would act annoyed for half a second before he pulls you closer and play mindlessly with strands of your hair. there is legit no space between the two of you and that's how he likes it okay >:( he would give dirty looks to the boys whenever they tried taunting him about how soft he is with you. most of the time he falls alseep too, his hands resting on your hips while the boys take pictures of the pair of you. when they show them to you guys afterwards he says nothing but has a small shy smile and you can bet your ass he will have one of those pictures as his background.

bangchan ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would fucking love when you fall asleep on his lap. it's no secret channie is one caring little fucker and he loves to care for/protect the people he loves. the first time you would settle your head on his lap to relax he'd try to play it cool as if it was no big deal, but when he'd realize you actually fell asleep his heart would be seconds away from fricking exploding. you'd look so cute and cozy and keep wiggling to be closer to him. it would definitly make his lil soft heart flutter and he would make funny faces, incapable of containing the effect you have on him (which the boys love to make fun of him for). after the first time, he'd declare himself your official nap spot and it would not be negotiable or else he’d pout and whine until you finally come to him.

[nenemura]

RAINY DAYS — (nrk x reader)

summary : you spend a rainy day with your boyfriend.

cw : bf!riki x fem!reader, fluff, kissing

wc : 0.7k

nene’s note : ik it sucks but this is a little tiny work while i try to finish the longer ones……. pls bear w me

you loved rainy days.

the cozy atmosphere that it created while staying inside, maybe under a warm blanket, truly gave you solace. your boyfriend’s presence right next to you, providing extra warmth, was the cherry on top.

you and riki were supposed to have a fun outdoor date, but the plan eventually fell apart when dark clouds invaded the sky, bringing with them loud thunders and heavy rain. since the weather decided for the two of you to stay in, you decided to catch up with a TV show you two wanted to watch together but always put off because of other priorities.

riki’s arm was lazily resting over your shoulder, his warmth embracing you completely. your head leaned against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, a quiet rhythm that brought you an unspoken sense of comfort. occasionally, you would feel his soft, full lips on your temple, making you smile and snuggle closer to him.

you glanced up to look at him for a moment, seeing his concentrated expression. you observed him carefully, how his long lashes adorned his pretty shaped eyes, how his small yet sharp nose complimented his face, how plump his lower lip was trapped in between his teeth because of an intense scene in the show. you had long forgotten about it, completely focusing on the boy by your side, who didn’t take long to notice he was the center of your attention.

“hm?” he hummed, tilting his head to look down at you, a small and subconscious pout forming on his lips. you couldn’t help but smile and bring one of your hands on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone softly with your thumb. riki didn’t think too much of it, used to you being touchy, and immediately leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a quick — yet soft — peck. “do you not like the show?” he asked, pressing a button on the remote to pause it. you shook your head, still admiring your boyfriend’s handsome face as if it was one of the most precious works of art in the world.

“you’re just pretty” you mumbled, thumb now delicately grazing his lower lip. a lovesick smile spread across your face as you took in his features, the soft glow of affection in your eyes. riki’s eyes widened at the sudden compliment, scoffing softly, as if trying to brush it off, but the warmth spreading through his face betrayed him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he tugged you closer by the waist. his large, cold hands slipped beneath your t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your warm skin. you could feel him drawing lazy, abstract patterns on your back, the gentle motion sending a mix of chills and comfort through you.

“you can’t say shit like that so suddenly” he whispered against your neck, his lips barely touching the skin. you let out a giggle, shaking your head at his antics as you brought a hand to his nape to play with his hair. “i just said you’re pretty, you big baby,” you replied, leaning back a little to get him to look at you. “are you blushing right now?” your eyes widened slightly as soon as you noticed how his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, the sight making you giggle once more.

he groaned and hid his face against your neck once again, leaving kisses here and there to distract you from his flustered state. “not. fair.” he muttered, his lips tracing from your neck to your jaw, finally looking into your eyes once again. “you’re killing me here, i hate you.” he kissed your lips one more time, his words saying one thing, while his eyes revealed something completely different. you shook your head and wrapped your hands around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “i love you too, idiot” you playfully whispered, your voice muffled as you buried your face in his chest.

his arms tightened around you, holding you as though you were the only thing that mattered. despite his words, the way he clung to you said anything you needed to hear.

[amdiriel]

lonely

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: Reader, the second Archeron sister, finds herself overwhelmed by the sight of her sisters in their respective happinesses one day. Luckily Azriel stops by her room in time to comfort her.

WARNINGS: feelings of loneliness (real), fluff, Azriel being hot (that’s a given), slight suggestiveness at the end, first time writing

NOTE: hey, i’m diri! been sort of a silent spectator on this tag for a while but then i wrote this and thought hell why not!!

WORDS: 2.5k

main masterlist

•••

The emptiness of loneliness burned hollowly in my chest, blooming when I entered my room at last, stumbled onto my bed.

Pathetically, I just wanted what my sisters had. I didn't dare show it, but I ached to be held, loved, to love fiercely and be happily, healthily devoted to someone.

I wanted to be touched and adored. I wanted to build a life with someone. To not have to look, wish, hope, or dream about it anymore.

My knees curled up under my chin as I sat there in the nest of my bedding, looking blankly at the wall as the tears came.

I hadn't realized that I had been softly weeping until the knock came to my door. Fuck. I heard his soft, beautiful voice announcing himself, asking to come in.

When I don't reply, frozen in terror that he'll come in and see me in this state, Azriel calls my name again in question. I know he can sense me behind the door, and when I sniff, he calls lowly, "I'm coming in."

Panic sweeps through me as he pushes open the door, eyes falling on me in concern as I wipe at my face. The book he borrowed from me goes from his hand to a side table as he comes to me, forgotten. "Hey. Hey, what's going on?" he asks with the softest tenderness I've ever heard him speak. To know that it was reserved for me makes my chest ache for it even more, and another little sob slips from me. He sits on my bed and reaches for me, hands going to my arms and rubbing up and down.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, shaking my head and trying to draw back and wipe my face. He doesn’t release me.

“No,” he says firmly, squeezing my arms. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Let me help you.”

I shake my head again, can’t seem to stop, trying to wave him off. “It’s not something you can help with,” I rasp. “It’s my own shit, I’ll deal with it—“

“Tell me what’s going on.” His tone brooks no argument.

I can’t speak for a long moment, for several long moments. The words are embarrassing, stuck like molasses on my tongue. To say them would be to humiliate myself. But he isn’t relenting. I realize that five hundred years of extracting information from people as spymaster had made him patient in a way I could never outpace.

“It’s just hard,” I finally settle on, not quite processing my own words. “It’s hard seeing them—my sisters, I mean. Sorry, I think I’m just tired, out of it—“ He shakes his head with a squeeze of my arms.

“Stop trying to excuse your feelings. It’s merely how you feel,” he murmurs, watching me carefully. A breath puffs uncomfortably in my chest, but I go on.

“I’ve always made myself content in the fact that something like that didn’t really happen to people like me. I’ve never known why,” I rasp, the color finally rising in my cheeks as I gear up to admit, “But I’m—“ I choke. “I just see them and I feel so lonely.”

His expression shutters and his eyes soften. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking my arms. To hear that word from his lips is already a shock, but knowing it’s directed at me makes me fall apart more.

“I’m not one for self pity, ever,” I get out as another cry raises the pitch of my voice. “I just feel so alone.”

A huff of a sigh leaves Azriel’s lips and he draws me forward. “Come here.”

My breath shudders in my chest as I try not to lose it, try to calm myself as the tears stream hotly down my face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I feel ridiculous. It just hurts sometimes. Right here.” I rub my chest where the hollow ache is.

He hums and soon I’m in his arms. He gently scoops me onto his lap and tucks my head into the crook of his neck. He’s so warm, so strong, and smells so good that I shudder again and let myself break in his embrace.

His hushing and stroking over my hair lulls me as every bad feeling seeps out of my body. He holds me quietly until my crying ceases, until my shaking stills. Until I am merely breathing tiredly against him.

I could fall asleep like this, could die peacefully here. His hand strokes my hair again. “Feel better?” he asks, his voice a quiet rumble that rumbles in his chest, therefore mine.

I blush profusely at how ridiculous I’m being, but make no move. I nod. I can’t move, can’t look at him. I must be the silliest, most ridiculous woman—female, I correct mentally—at my age that he’s ever seen. He’s centuries old and has a better grip on things than I do. I know he feels bad for me, but any respect he had before must have loosened considerably in the minutes he’s seen me in this state.

As I’m trying to overcome my embarrassment, he strokes my hair softly and begins on a murmur, “I get this way too. I feel it right in my chest, like you said. I have for a long time.” I don’t dare breathe or move. He’s revealing very vulnerable feelings and I fear one move will scare him off. He sighs. “It is difficult—seeing everyone pair off and be happy. Just as difficult to see my brothers as it is for you to see your sisters that way. But you aren’t alone. You’re never alone.”

I sigh, whispering haltingly, “I know. But—it isn’t the same, is it?”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t,” he concedes, “But you shouldn’t doubt that you’ll find that. You’re more than deserving of it.”

A little flutter in my chest, and of all things, a smile blooms on my face. “You are too, Azriel.”

I feel his smile against my hair.

I sigh and draw away even as my body screams in argument, not looking him completely in the eye. “I really am sorry. For—this.” I gesture nonsensically between us, eyeing the wet stain at the collar of his shirt with a small wince. “I really am not usually like this,” I grumble.

His soft chuckle draws my eyes to his face, and I find him looking down at me softly, amusedly. “I know. You’re usually very formidable, self-assured. It was a surprise to see you so…” I raise my brows as he searches for the word, something he usually never has to. “Weighed down,” he settles on.

I don’t know what to say. I settle on a small shrug of my shoulder as I take my sleeve and wipe my face again, sighing as a calm settles over me again.

When I glance back over at him, he’s still observing me quietly. “What?” I croak.

“Nothing,” he says softly with a shrewd yet not unkind look in his eye. “It’s just funny.” I frown, but he continues on before I can interrupt. “You give yourself a private moment to let it out, then you reset. Like nothing happened.”

I feel a heat in my face at the accuracy.

“It’s funny because, well,” he shrugs, “It reminds me of myself.”

I glance warily over him with questioning tilt of my head. “You don’t seem like the type to deal in self-pity. Or crying at all for that matter,” I reply wryly.

His lip curls in amusement, and something hot curls in my stomach at the sight of it. My expression remains carefully composed, as it always is. “I have my moments,” is all he says.

I roll my eyes, shifting on the bed and sniffing. “Cryptic as always too.”

His laugh is quiet yet rumbling, and even though we don’t touch anymore, I feel the sound tumble deliciously through my muscles and bones, all over my body. “There she is,” he practically drawls, mirth lighting his hazel eyes. Cauldron bloody boil me.

Then he softens again. “But know that anytime you feel like this, you don’t need to wait for a private moment to yourself. Come talk to me,” he offers. Tingling warmth blooms in my chest. In my handful of years since turning fae and finding my place in Velaris, he’s been a kind but somewhat infrequent friend due to his busy nature. “What you feel isn’t anything to be ashamed of, and I’d rather you not bottle it all up.”

I eye the impenetrable Spymaster again, brow raised. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, aren’t you?”

He laughs in earnest now, and I watch in wonder as it lightens his features. And again that sound—

I’d been careful not to let my foolish mind not delve too deep in daydreaming about the silent, beautiful specter I had met in my house in the human lands those years ago. Everything about the fae then and even now had just seemed so elevated above my little life. And as hard as I worked, as skilled as I had become with my new body and abilities, I still felt like a complete novice, like a schoolgirl amongst grown men and women most days.

So no. I would not be the fool that fell for the male way above her very modest level, not when I knew he’d be too nice about it, and make me feel even more like the fool.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice breaks through my reverie. He’s eyeing me with amusement now, and a hint of fondness.

I force the heat creeping to my cheeks way down within the depths of myself, determined not to make more of a fool of myself than I already have. “Just wondering why you came in here. I wasn’t—“ A blush rises to my cheeks in earnest now. “You couldn’t hear me crying from the hall, could you?”

He shakes his head, hands creeping forward over my bedspread as though to placate me. “No, no. I just came to return the book you let me borrow,” he replies gently, and again my eyes fall to the book he had dropped on the table near my door as he came in to comfort me. Oh. Right. “You were right. I did like it.”

A small smile creeps up on my lips. “Of course I was right.” He chuckles again, and I relish that I can make him do so.

“Will it inflate your ego terribly if I tell you that you have surprisingly good taste?” he drawls. I let out a playfully indignant noise and gently shove his shoulder.

“Says you. You may be quiet, Shadowsinger, but don’t think I haven’t noticed you peacocking more than once,” I toss back. He draws closer with a little grin. Holy fuck.

“Well when I’m as talented as I am, why shouldn’t I?” he purrs, the most Rhys-like I’d ever seen him. I hold onto my composure for dear life.

“Yeah, well, you can take your peacocking and incredible talent off my bed and out of my room,” I retort with a scowl, shooing him as I fight blushing like a schoolgirl. He laughs, but slides smoothly off my bed and stands, hands raised in mock surrender.

I realize then that he had taken me from my depressive state, comforted me until I calmed, then goaded me until I smiled and bantered with him again.

His eyes go from mirthful to soft, and a beat passes where he’s looking down at me still sitting on my bed, and me at him. His lips quirk. “I’m glad you’re alright. Come to me with anything. I mean it,” he reiterates with gentle firmness. I nod my head.

He begins to leave, but I blurt his name and he halts. As soon as he looks at me again, I murmur, “Thank you.” He nods his head once, eyes kind.

I expect him to turn, to leave. But he steps toward me. I still as his hands gently hold the sides of my head, and he drops a single kiss to my hairline. I don’t move or breathe until he leaves the room with one last look at me over his shoulder.

My door snicks shut and a rush of breath leaves my mouth as my hands fly up to my face. My back finds the duvet.

I was fucked.

—

Azriel walks leisurely down the hall from her room back to his once more, musing on the hour that had just passed in her room.

He’d always found the second Archeron sister to be the most interesting female he’d ever met.

Clever, strong, funny. Beautiful, absolutely, in her own way. She was interesting to look at—that counted far more than conventionally beautiful.

The kind of person you don’t let get away.

He’d have to play this carefully. Had he had thoughts these past two-three years about the fact that they were both the remaining unmated ones of their respective sibling units? Yes. But he knew that even as it drew the two of them together in a careful dance around the line, it could also end very poorly if that was the only assumed reason that he wanted her.

Which it wasn’t.

Sometimes he curses that of his brothers, he hadn’t met her first. He could have, should have wooed her. Then, at least he could be enjoying the same felicity his damned brothers were currently enjoying with two of her sisters.

But she’s proving to be a tough one to crack.

It was no matter, he decides. He hadn’t failed to notice at least some attraction on her part. But she brushes off most things with a clever joke, much to his frustration.

Tonight had been a step forward. Even as it had killed him to see her in such a state, he thanked every bit of fate that led him to her room as she had been breaking.

So he could be the one to hold her, put her pieces back together.

He could have held her in his arms, in his lap until the day he died.

But he knew getting her to come back out, to grin and tease him again was more important than his selfish desires. And gods, what a sight she was when she did.

It was no matter, he thinks to himself again. He’d be patient. He’d be the person she’d lean on until he could make her want him. Maybe she’d allow him to touch her in the way he envisioned in his most needy moments in the dark of night. He enters his bedroom and sighs.

Fuck. It might be another one of those nights after all.

•••

NOTE: hey so uhhh if literally anyone cares i’ll make a part 2

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales II

Summary: Princess!Reader makes a deal with the Emperor to try and save her mates.

Content Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Gladiator Tournament, Physical Abuse.

Part One

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

I can’t breathe. The world spins in dizzying swirls around me. Mates.

Not one.

Not two.

Three!

All of them enemies of the Empire. Rebels scheduled for execution. Fate has always been a cruel bastard in all matters concerning me, but this feels like a personal attack on my existence. Someone in the Celestial Plain is laughing at this twisted attempt of a joke. How could I be so close to happiness and be forced to sit here and watch it be ripped from me one blood splatter at a time?

The Game Maker starts speaking again, his voice booming across the arena. I can’t make out any of the words; they’re all muddled together in my ears. This cannot be happening to me! It’s not fair! I’ve been the perfect daughter, even when it shattered me; I was a model student; I’ve upheld the law to the very letter; I make weekly sacrifices to the Mother; I built my own lararium to offer nightly prayers to the gods. I have been devought and loyal to both the gods and the Empire and this is the thanks I get?

I can’t tear my eyes away from where the three of them stand in the center of the Pit, waiting for the gates to open again. The violet eyed one, Rhysand-- gods even his name is pretty--won’t stop staring at my Father, challenging him to speak, to fight, to do something other than sit there like a coward while someone else kills for him. 

My Father must understand the challenge in that gaze, because he finally stands and goes to the edge of the booth, weathered hands splayed out against the worn stones bearing a flag with his crest embroidered upon it. “Citizens of the Empire!”

The crowd gives a raucous shout.

I simply scoot a little closer to Brannagh to be able to see around Father.

My movements do not break the silent battle happening with Rhysand, but it does draw the eye of Azriel, who’s bloodied head tilts to the side quizzically as he takes me in. I feel a blush creep its way up my cheeks, the booth suddenly too hot as I try to meet his gaze. That hazel gaze bears an intensity that keeps me in place, but I cannot help but feel like I’ve been stripped bare, as if he can see straight into my chest, where my heart still pounds an uneven beat. 

“Before you stands that which threatens our peace, our security, and most importantly the prosperity that our people hold so dear.”

The tall one, Cassian frowns at that, but Rhysand grins, as if he has won whatever silent battle he’s been having with my Father. He tips his head back and bellows, so that not a single soul here misses it, “There is no prosperity or peace in the Empire! There is only enslavement and death!”

The boos that had started coming from the crowd die, as if someone had collectively cut off their air supply. 

The muscles in my Father’s back tighten as he realizes what is happening.

“Outside these walls we all starve! Supplies to every corner of the Empire have dwindled to single bags of grain, meant only to feed the soldiers that terrorize us in every corner of the world. You do not hear from your families in the far reaches because your mail is censored. Your loved ones have been dragged from their beds and crucified without trial. The only prosperity in this Empire is for Hybern himself.”

I finally tear my gaze away from Azriel’s silent study to look at Amarantha for confirmation that it is true. 

“You should have slit his throat on the battlefield,” Dagdan snarls in her direction. 

The power seeping from my fingers tears a hole through my skirts, singing across my thighs. The errant strand only hidden by the way I keep the fabric bunched in my hands. I do not allow myself to wince against the sting and give myself away.

“Those were not my orders!” Amarantha snarls, her teeth flashing as she stands. Her slaves jump out of her way, cowering against each other for safety. “Your Highness, silence him before he incites a riot!”

No! No! No! This can’t be happening to me! Not again. It is like watching my Mother be taken away all over again. I had just stood there. Unable to cry or scream or fight. I could only watch. That was what she trained me to do. She had even nodded her approval to my stillness as they’d dragged her away, as if it had been right. None of it was right. None of this was right!

“Your Master will tell you pretty stories but we are all his slaves in the end. Illyria has had enough! We will not sit by and let our women and children starve! If that makes us rebels and traitors to the crown, so be it! But what would you do if it was your children in the streets? Your wives being carted off to service foreign elites? Your sons forced to kill and die for an Empire that can’t even feed you?” Rhysand screams.

My Father, silently, motions to one of his Praetorians, a crossbow already swinging from the clip at his back. 

The pounding of my heart in my ears will swallow me. Everything in the world slows and narrows into the motion of an arrow being fit into the crossbow.

Move! Move! Move! A dark ether of my power slithers up my wrists, catching Brannagh’s attention. She must make some snide remark about it, because I, distantly, see her lips move but no sound ever reaches my ears. I have to stop this. I have to do something!

I’m on my feet without conscious thought of what I’m doing. “Father, wait!” My hands reach for him, the sizzle of pain as my power skitters across his skin enough to make him turn and face me. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I’m saying, the words spew as if they have a mind of their own.

“If you kill him now like this you will incite a riot!”

His face twists, a snarl slipping past his clenched teeth. I have royally pissed him off, disgraced him here in front of his Inner Circle, where they watch from nearby booths. The thought would usually send me cowering like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the fear I feel for him is nothing against the fear I feel for them. The thing that links our souls together burns and rattles beneath my rib cage, needing to defend, to fight.

“Call off your guard!” I hiss, reaching out a hand and letting that dark power that lives inside me show. I’ll strike him dead if he so much as moves a finger towards the trigger. “Let us be diplomatic about this.”

“Who are you,” Father snarls, taking an advancing step towards me. The booth shakes as his own dark power rises to meet mine. “To challenge me, child?!”

I hold my ground, even though my body trembles. It is only the dutiful teachings of my Mother that keep my chin up instead of bowing it to my chest as every muscle screams for me to do. “I am not challenging you, I am trying to think about our people.”

I clench my fists again, dimming my power in feigned submission. “Go about this a different way. Show the people that ruthlessness is not always the answer to our nation’s problems.”

“Are you suggesting I spare an enemy?” Father snarls.

I honestly don’t know what my plan is here. I’m just throwing things against the wall and hoping something, anything, sticks, otherwise my only option is to fling myself down into the Pit and hope the power thrumming in my veins is enough to save my mates.

“No,” if I am to keep all of our heads, I must be crafty. I must play the games my Father plays. My gaze flicks to where Amarantha’s slaves remain huddled together, a desperate thought forming in my head. My stomach turns at the mere idea, but if it can save them…?

“You mean to entertain the people and quell all possible chances of further rebellion, but we have seen time and time again that no execution or crucifixion has done that. We merely make martyr after martyr. We encourage others to take up the cause.”

“Let them fight,” I’m going to be sick! It feels like there’s a knot forming in my chest. “And if they survive, let them live, let them be gladiators.” It’s unthinkable, it puts them in danger time and time again. “The betting will be astronomical. The people will return time and time again in hopes of seeing them fall. That money can provide support to the edges of the Empire. Prove him wrong by sending extra aid to those outside our walls.”

To his credit, my Father does listen to me ramble. The Mother has smiled on me for once, if he had been in one of his fits today he would have had Amarantha kill me where I stood. It is a miracle the Praetorian didn’t take me out for wielding so close to him in the first place.

 “And you would have them what? Live in the slave quarters where they can incite a riot with all the dregs?” Amarantha hisses.

I’ll lose him if I let her forked tongue keep whispering in his ear. I am not blind, I know that she has more favor with him than I ever have. “No. Leaving them free to whisper with the other gladiators would be a mistake. Let someone claim responsibility for them.” 

The plan forms in my mind as I speak. I don’t like it. I’m not sure that it’ll even work, but I have to try and save them. I cannot let them die while I stand here uselessly watching as I did with my Mother. I will never be useless or silent again. “Give them to me.”

Brannagh chokes on her wine behind me.

Amarantha’s jaw actually drops in shock.

“I will take responsibility for them. They will be monitored by my guard. To our people it will look  like you mean to humiliate three great warriors, by shackling them to me. It is no secret what our people think of me.”

Dagdan’s snort is proof enough how weak I look in the eyes of our people. I am nothing but a sheltered, pampered princess to them. Up until today they didn’t even know that I’d inherited my Father’s powers. Good, let them all think me weak and useless and meek, they will never know the claws and fangs that hide beneath my skin until it is too late. Father included.

“She is not strong enough to keep them in check,” Amarantha hisses. “If you are to do it, give them to me.”

I barely reign in my powers, barely keep my teeth behind my lips. They are mine and I will be damned before I let her put her grubby little paws on them! 

“You may monitor them as often or as random as you wish, Father,” I speak over her instead, fighting to keep his attention. “I will move back into the Palace. I will sit in every meeting. I…” There is one sure thing that will guarantee his approval of this awful plan of mine. “I will marry whoever you choose for me.”

His dark brows raise in surprise. “And what would prompt this sudden loyalty to me, child?”

I raise my chin. “I have sat too long in the dark, and I could not see it until…” I have already bartered my soul, what will some more empty words mean in the end? “I could not see it until you removed that traitor and her poisoned tongue from the house. I see it now. I have failed our people and I mean to make it right.”

He flicks his gaze over his shoulder, down into the Pit. “The gorsian stone should keep Rhysand in line. And with enough guards, you might be able to keep them locked up. If they should survive the fight.”

“Sometimes death is a mercy,” I say, the words tasting like bile. 

He takes a step closer, so we’re nearly nose to nose. “And if you fail to keep them in line, it will be you that dies in this arena, do you understand?”

Better me than them. 

“You cannot be serious, Your Highness!” Amarantha squeaks, her voice shrill.

I nod, trying not to gloat in my victory over her. “I understand.”

Father grins, pleased with himself as he snags my hand and brings me back into view of the arena. “Please forgive the delay, the Princess and I were just discussing what our guests had to say about the state of our Empire.”

I feel three sets of eyes settle on me like a brand. The bond, still so new and raw in my chest, feels like chains rattling against my ribcage. I cannot tell if it is their anxiety or my own. 

“Let it be known that this Empire is a democracy, and that I, as your Emperor, care about the state of affairs that all of our people live in.”

 I try to meet the gaze of the senators and highly decorated soldiers sitting in the booths that line the upper ring of the arena. These will be the most upset by the news. The next ring of wealthy merchants and shopkeepers, tradesmen and fleet keeps will be the ones that take what they hear here back to the streets. Word will spread. The people will know what happened here, how the Emperor suddenly decided to care about them. It will be a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I try to not look down at the Pit; try not to think about the life I’m condemning them to. 

“Our beloved Princess is very concerned about your well-being,” Father continues and there’s a collective cheer from the lower levels. “And so, we have decided not to execute these rebels today.”

The tone immediately shifts to one of confusion.

“They will compete as gladiators. Should they prove resourceful enough to survive, they will be branded as gladiators, and sponsored by our Princess.” Great, not only do they have to survive the damned arena, they have to survive any threats from other gladiators who will seek to take out well-sponsored competition. 

Even from our vantage point I hear Cassian curse in disbelief. 

“She has so graciously decided that all their winnings will be sent to any hurting corners of the Empire, should there be any to be found.”

The crowd takes a moment to process what he says. It even takes me a minute to comprehend the last part. He’d really send all the money that I’d earn as their sponsor to the poor? That’s a hefty bit of charity, even for him. There has to be some sort of catch?

“So, let these males fight! Let’s see how far they are willing to go for their people.”

There it is. They could choose to sit down and die in the arena, making themselves martyrs as Amarantha thinks they intended, and then, instead, they would look like they were not willing to make sacrifices for their people. If they fought, competed for whatever earnings were bet on them, then they would be heroes. A symbol of strength only the great Emperor Hybern could make. Father really is the best at these political games.

The crowd roars as trumpets blow three times.

Father motions me back to our seats.

“You don’t really think they can win, do you, cousin?” Dagdan questions.

The ground shakes as a giant strolls out of the tunnels. The creature is so large he has to bend over nearly double to fit. When he stands to his full height, his bald head is practically even with the edge of our booth. Terrible scars crisscross over his body like spiderwebs. Hybern went to war first with the land of Giants, the war had lasted decades. My Grandfather had taken many giants as slaves and forced them to kill each other in this arena. Some gladiators were able to earn their freedom, but the devastation that the Giants had wrought on our people made my Grandfather declare that no Giant could ever be made free. The poor creature had probably been chained here, fighting in the Pit long before I was even born.

“They survived Amarantha,” I retort.

The General bristles. “I thought you didn’t place bets on the first day?”

I reach for another glass of wine, trying to settle my nerves. “There’s a first time for everything.” Perhaps making an enemy out of her is unwise, but the bond chafes against my ribcage at the thought of her being anywhere near any of them. Better to keep her attention on me than on them. 

Another horn blows, prompting the giant to move and I hold my breath as he reaches a meaty hand down to grab one of the Illyrians. The males scatter, Cassian going into a roll between the Giant’s legs, using the blind spot to his advantage while Rhysand drags Azriel out of the way with an arm around his waist. He’s practically carrying Azriel now, who’s broken wings seem to be getting heavier by the minute. 

Cassian roars as he stretches out a hand, a wave of red tinted energy blasting from his palm. The arch or power slams into the Giant’s calf, blasting away a chunk of skin and muscle, splattering blood across the nearest wall. 

The Giant roars as he falls to one knee.

Cassian sprints behind him, out of reach of the hand that comes sweeping down at him. This time, he’s the distraction as Rhysand uses the hand not holding Azriel upright to unleash a blast of dark, obsidian power. 

My own magic flares in response. It is a darkness so like my own, the sight of it a siren call that has me leaning forward in my seat. If he can unleash a blast powerful enough to leave a gash across the Giant’s bare chest with those gorsian chains around his neck, how much damage can he do without it?

The Giant’s cries of pain echo throughout the amphitheater; using the distraction, Cassian continues to blast away at it’s leg while Rhys throws blow after blow at it’s chest. They fair far better than I anticipated they would, but I know better than to let hope get the better of me. It is far too easily ripped away in this arena. 

As if on cue, the gates open again and a pack of wargs come sprinting into the arena.

The crowd erupts in cheers, and my heart once again thunders in my chest. What have I done? It takes all my training to not start chewing on my thumbnail. How am I supposed to save them from this?

Amarantha claps gleefully as one of the wargs breaks away from the pack to lunge straight for Azriel’s throat. 

No! No! No- Azriel raises a scarred hand to blast the beast backward with a wave of blue tinted magic. There isn’t enough time to sigh in relief, not as the rest of the pack splits in two, one circling Rhysand and Azriel, the other taking a shot at the Giant. Those rows of razor sharp and needle thin teeth sink into the Giant’s already bleeding leg, momentarily distracting it as it swings wildly around the arena, arms pinwheeling as it fights to balance on one leg while the other flails in an attempt to shake the beasts off. 

“They’re not supposed to attack the Giant!” Brannagh whines. 

I gulp down my wine, hoping it will push the wave of nausea that rolls through me down. I’ve signed their death warrants. I’ve gotten my mates killed. 

Cassian, in the chaos, has managed to find half of a spear, the blade rusted from the recent rain, but he hurls it with acute precision nonetheless, piercing through the oddly shaped skull of a warg snapping at Azriel’s wings. 

Rhysand and Azriel have moved to stand back to back, their varying shades of magic weaving between their fingers as they prepare to strike the snapping beasts that circle them. 

The Giant topples over as the three wargs held tight to it’s wounded calf find a nerve. There’s not enough room in the arena to let him fall without incident. The poor creature topples right into the wall opposite us, knocking away a section of stone and nearly dragging a Senator and his mistress into the Pit.

The Praetorians launch from our booth to aid the screaming couple.

It might have been funny under different circumstances, but I cannot peel my eyes away from my mates as the blast beast after beast away with their magic. Even wounded, even stunted by the chains, they are the most powerful wielders I’ve ever seen. Even if Cassian’s and Azriel’s magic sprays with less precision than usual without the siphons Illyrians are known for, every blow is calculated. They do not miss. Warg after warg falls, their leathery skin blistered or blasted away from multiple blows. Even wounded, the males remain in perfect sync, filling in any gaps the other might lack. They manage to kill five of the eight beasts, the other three still mercilessly tearing through the Giant’s leg, even as the guards try to push him off the wall.

Brannagh laughs at the tears that fall from the Giant’s eyes as he swats uselessly at the beasts. No matter how many times his massive fists slams against them, they will not let go. His blood runs like a river through the center of the Pit.

Many of the crowd laugh too.

These are my people? This is what I am to inherit? This misery and suffering and apathy towards the suffering of others? We are monsters!

As soon as I can get my mates out of this godsforsaken Pit, I will find a way to get them far, far away from this place, where it can never hurt them again. And then, when I know they are safe, I will make sure that this place burns.

Rhysand seems to take pity on his opponent, as he steps away from Azriel’s back to blast one of the remaining wargs off the Giant’s calf. From the distance across the arena, the blow is not a killing one, and aggravated, the warg turns its attack to Rhysand.

My breath hitches in my throat as he lowers himself into a crouch, hands splaying in the damp earth. There is a sword a couple feet from him, if he runs, he might make it there first. But he doesn’t run, he waits until the beast gets close before hurling dust in it’s eyes. While it’s distracted, a rope of star studded magic unfurls from his palm and wraps around the beast’s throat. Instead of killing it, he hurls it back at the others, knocking all of them free from the Giant’s leg.

The crowd boos.

My heart clenches in my chest. He could have let them end this fight now, could have let those beasts tear clean through the Giant’s leg and won by default, but he didn’t. He chose to fight fair, to do the dirty work himself.

The three beasts turn on him as he sprints for the sword. There’s just enough time for him to get a firm grip on the hilt before the first lunges, its claws tearing through his forearm as he fights to get the angle he needs to win. Blood splatters, those handsome features twisting in pain as he adjusts his stance. Cassian runs towards him, but he won’t make it in time. 

There’s no more wine to distract me, I’ve fully bitten through my lip now. Please if there are any gods left to hear me, don’t let him die here!

Rhysand moves with the grace of a well-practiced swordsman, each step flowing into the next like a dance as he cleaves through one beast's head, and severs the paw of a second. In mere seconds, he manages to dispatch the rest, leaving the mangled bodies at his feet. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and under different circumstances I might have been too distracted by his beauty to notice the Giant move. 

Rhysand might have been the better male, but that didn’t save him from the Giant’s hand as it swatted him across the battlefield like he was a pesky fly. I bite deeper through my lip to keep back a scream as his body bounces across the muddy floor until he meets a wall. 

Cassian and Azriel roar in outrage and the tether that sits in my chest rattles so hard against my rib cage I think it might rip right out of me. This can’t be happening!

The Giant rises on shaking legs, then falls back onto its knees, using its meaty fists to bash against the arena floor, in what looks like the world’s deadliest game of Whack-A-Mole. Red and blue magic flashes across the arena as the Illyrian’s throw blow after blow, leaving bleeding gashes in the Giant’s fist. Across the arena, Rhysand rolls onto his back, forehead covered in blood as he struggles to get upright. He’s alive at least. Barely. But alive.

I vow to the Mother and any other god that can hear me that if they survive the fight I will find somewhere safe for them. I will do whatever it takes to keep them out of this arena for good. 

“They are persistent, I’ll give them that,” Dagdan muses. 

I feel rather than see my Father’s frown as he takes in all the chaos with the experience of a seasoned strategist. I know that he is calculating their odds, mapping out every possible outcome. I wonder if Cassian launching into the air, wings beating so hard to get him airborne that I feel a gust of hot air on my face, was part of his calculations? If he could have foreseen the blast of energy Cassian’s hurls into the Giant’s eyes, blinding him?

The Giant abandons his attempts at smashing them to grab at his eyes, large hands clawing at his sizzling flesh. The whole arena can smell burnt skin, but Cassian doesn’t let up, he aims blow after blow at the Giant’s head, until he finally falls over backwards, neck slamming hard against the already broken stone.

I look away, stomach in my throat as the resounding crack fills the amphitheater. 

The crowd roars in disbelief as Cassian tucks in his wings and descends back into the Pit. He hits the ground running, footfalls heavy in the mud as he rushes to Rhysand’s side. Azriel is not far behind him. With their combined strength, they manage to get Rhysand back on his feet. 

I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. They’re alive!

Father stands and makes his way to the edge of the booth again. “For whatever reason, the Goddess has smiled upon you three today! Today, you will live. Let us hope you remain in Her favor.” He doesn’t sound super thrilled by the prospect as he turns his back to the crowd, slate gray eyes pinched as they fall to me.

“Walk with me.”

I stand, trying to keep my singed skirts in my hands so he cannot see the damage I’d done. Or the blood from my palms. If he suspects I was at all nervous for the outcome, I could ruin everything. I must keep my composure.

And not run down the stairs to the gates and throw myself at my mates like every fiber of my being screams at me to do. 

The guards follow as we exit the booth. In moments there will be chaos as beings scatter to find the Games Keepers and collect their winnings, or pay their debts, but for a moment, the crowd lingers in their seats, watching as the Illyrians are led out of the Pit.

“You embarrassed us today,” he hisses once we’re out of Amarantha’s earshot. The anger in his tone is enough to make me try and take a step away from him, but he throws an arm around my shoulders to keep me against his side. To any onlookers, we are just father and daughter having a chat. His voice is low enough that no one will hear the threats he hisses in my ear.

“You hide away in the River House for months, mourning a traitor who was plotting to overthrow me and now you make a spectacle of yourself! I should have you cast out into the streets!”

My only way out is to placate him. “I am sorry, Father.”

“Sorry,” he snarls, fingers digging tight enough into my shoulder to bruise. “Your apologies mean nothing! I swear, if you do not do everything you promised to do today, I will throw you into this arena! And I will use your own advice to keep you alive long enough to ensure you have a couple matches to prolong your suffering.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I meant what I said, Father.” Mostly. Perhaps I can secure passage for all of us out of here and we never have to think about the Empire again. The more I think about it, the more pleased I am with the idea. Yes, I just need to make it look like I am taking them as slaves, and once we’re out from the watchful eye of my Father, we can all run far, far away. Maybe I am more clever than I thought.

He leads us down the steps to a door that will eventually lead us to the gladiator cages and a guard swings open the heavy iron for us. Once we’re out from under the eye of the people, the rough stone walls closing in tight--a means to ensure none of the larger gladiators can make a run for the door and escape--he releases his grip on me. 

Torches line the walls casting his face in near shadow as he pauses at the bottom of a second, smaller, set of stairs. I shiver despite myself as the door slams shut, sealing me in. I suppose at this point I should be prepared, but I’m not, and when his open hand slams across my cheek I lose my balance and slip down the last two steps of the staircase. 

“Don’t ever question me again!” He hisses.

The guards pretend to not notice, as they always have.

I grit my teeth against the ringing in my ears, against the hot tears that threaten to escape me, focusing instead on carefully getting back on my feet. Stay down too long he’ll kick in my ribs like he used to when I was a child. Get up too fast and he’ll assume he hadn’t hit me hard enough. I put over emphasis into finding a handhold in the wall, making sure I keep my stinging cheek against my shoulder. The tremor in my hands is not feigned fear, I’ve been terrified of him my entire life, but I do exaggerate it just as my Mother taught me. 

“Spoiled brat!” He grumbles as he stalks forward into the tunnel. “I coddled you too much.”

I glare at his back once I’m sure he’s no longer looking at me. I hate him! I’ve hated him my entire fucking life. He’s ruined everything. Taken everything from me. Everything I’d ever loved he’d wiped off the face of the earth, all because I had the misfortune of being a female. All because he couldn’t have a precious son.

I grit my teeth so hard they hurt as I brush my skirts off and follow after him. I will be glad when I am finally out of his sight. Far, far away from this stupid Empire. At least I have mates; someone out in this Mother forsaken world who will care about me; who won’t hate me just for existing. At least there is one thing he can’t ruin for me.

I am too distracted with my thoughts to note the paths we take. I distantly hear the sound of injured men groaning, catch a whiff of filth and animal waste, but it’s all a blur. This will all be a bad dream soon. Soon I will have my mates and I will never have to deal with him again. I can be happy. I will be happy.

By the time he finally stops walking, I’ve schooled my features into a perfect mask; have brushed a few loose strands of hair in front of my face to hide the red mark across my cheek. He will suspect nothing until it is too late. Then he can have his precious Empire. It will be the only thing left he can control.

A guard opens what looks like a cage door, the iron old and rusted, and the guards that have been trailing behind us step in first.

“Against the wall!” They bark. 

There’s no light in the cell, just the flickering of the torch on the wall behind us. I don’t know what to expect.

“Fuck you, Imperial Pig!” Cassian.

I bite my tongue to keep back the grin that threatens to escape me, my mask slipping. He’s not so hurt that he can’t put up a fight. The thought warms something in my chest. Headstrong, stubborn, if the sound of scuffling coming from inside the dark cell is anything to go by, and sarcastic--everything I need to counter my reserved nature. I need that energy. I need him. The surety of that makes me square my shoulders. 

“Easy, Cass.” Rhysand. His voice is smooth as silk, even if the words are a little slurred. “We don’t want trouble.”

“The fuck we don’t!” Cassian shouts. “I’m no one’s fucking pet!”

The guard at the door, once sure the others inside are secure, steps away to grab the torch off its perch in the hallway, and sets it into an old rung on the inside of the cell, bathing the room in its soft glow. 

Father steps in first.

For a moment, I hesitate, heart in my throat. I need them. I need that strength I saw in the arena. Need that fire Cassian spews. The surety that Rhysand carries himself with. I need them. And if I show any sign of that, they're dead.

The guard, now back at the door, eyes me quizzically.

I draw a shaky breath and school my features back into a perfectly bored mask. 

I can do this.

I will do this.

I won’t let Hybern take anything else from me, no matter the games I have to play. 

I tell it to myself over and over as I step into the cell.

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

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[iluvskinni]

things i do instead of eating

(the ones with 🌸 are my favourites)

🌸 chug water until im nauseous

🌸 watch mukbangs

watch psychological horror to make me feel sick and lose my appetite

🌸 just smelling the food and trying to appreciate the smell rather than the taste

try to convince myself the food's either poison or plastic and not actually edible

look in the mirror at my stomach and thighs for a very long time until i get so bored or disgusted that i lose my appetite

🌸 hobbies! like video games, crochet, draw, etc. theyre good distractions

watch shows like my 600lbs life or supersize vs superskinny

🌸 doom scroll while laying in bed

do some yoga or stretching (some movement is better than no movement)

🌸 try on a bunch of cute outfits and imagine how ill look in them once im skinnier

look at random high protein low cal recipes (im celiac so its a bit rough out here when it comes to recipes 😭)

🌸 take a very hot bath or shower

🌸 nap

look at cute mealspo

remember things that make me incredibly angry (i always lose my appetite when im upset)

[angelovi]

Simon that goes feral after seeing you wear his dog tags.

"Hm what's that you're wearing love? Those my dog tags?"

You give him a supple nod in return, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

"Where'd you find that hm?" He approaches you slowly with a smirk plastered on his face.

"I found it on your desk.. didn't think you'd mind.." You try your best to sound confident, yet you fail miserably.

He holds your chin between his two fingers, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. "I ever tell you how gorgeous you look?"

"Everyday." You gaze up at him, your innocence showing.

"Good," he whispers softly, his breath warm against your skin, before closing the distance between you and drawing you into a kiss.

Lifting you gently by your thighs, he carries you with ease to the warmth of your shared bedroom. As he crosses the threshold, the soft glow of the lighting wraps around you both. He sets you down on the plush fabric of the bed, the comforting texture embracing you as you sink into it.

In a swift motion, he pulls off his pants, the fabric pooling on the floor, and then settles onto the bed beside you, his skin warm against the sheets. An idea flickers in his eyes, and a light smirk crosses his face.

“Need to see you ride me.” He guides you to straddle him, before slipping your shirt off and pushing your panties to the side, bullying himself in. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp as he moves fervently, showing no signs of slowing down.

He gazes his eyes to the dog tag that's wrapped around your precious neck.

The atmosphere in the room thickens with a mix of hushed gasps and soft moans. Simon's heavy breathing cuts through the tension as pleasure envelopes him, growing more urgent.

“Tell me how good it feels love.”

As you near the edge, words struggle to get out, the only thing audible is your gasps.

“C’mon. Use your words,” he grunts out.

“Feels so fucking good Simon. Don't stop..” your words are followed by a whimper, your legs getting tired as you struggle to bounce on his massive size.

Noticing your struggle, he flips you over and mercilessly pounds you into the bed, aiming to finish you both off.

“That’s it, angel. Right there. Fuck you're so perfect.” he intertwines his fingers with yours, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before resuming his thrusts.

As soon as you start cumming, Simon doubles his efforts, reaching his hand down to rub your swollen clit. He feels you tighten around him, legs trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

“Fuck, look at you.” he slows his movements, pulling out after he fills you up.

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart.” he spreads your legs a little more, positioning his face between them, planting a little kiss on your clit. He smirks as he maintains eye contact, his tongue darting out to tease your clit with a tight touch, circling it slowly.

His movements speed up, eventually adding his index and middle finger, slowly curling it to hit that perfect spot that makes you see stars.

You moan even louder than before, not even worrying about the neighbors. “More…” you manage to utter, your voice barely rising above a whisper as you use your last bit of resilience.

“Greedy little thing ain't ya?” his fingers move faster, deeper, as he maintains the intense abuse on your clit.

You throw your head back in pure ecstasy as you've officially been fucked dumb.

His fingers pump in and out of you ruthlessly, curling up periodically. He can feel you getting ready to cum again. He looks up at your thrown-back head, his mind racing with more ideas. “Turn over.”

He quickly flips you over into your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. He spreads your legs apart slightly, exposing your cunt. He spits on it, using his thumb to rub the saliva around your entrance.

He lines himself up with your dripping pussy, rubbing the thick head teasingly along your slit.

He pushes forward slightly, stretching you open as he sinks inside. “Fuck you're so tight, baby girl.” he pauses, letting you adjust to his size once more before starting to thrust slowly.

The dog tags jingle as he pounds into you, grabbing your hips tightly and pulling you back onto him with each powerful thrust. “Such a good girl.”

He reaches around and rubs your clit in firm circles, tormenting it further. “I can feel your little cunt gripping me. You gonna cum angel?”

Seeing you nod, he leans over, pressing his muscular chest against your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Then cum for me sweet girl.”

He growls deeply, feeling your pussy convulse around his cock as you cum. As he finishes emptying himself inside you, he collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms and nuzzling into your neck. “You’re so perfect.”

He kisses your neck softly, holding you close as his cum leaks out of your spent cunt. As he whispers comforting words into your ear, you feel yourself dozing off, completely spent from the night’s actions.

Simon smiles softly, adjusting you so you're comfortable against his chest. He pulls the blanket over the both of you, ensuring you're warm. A hand cups the back of your head, rubbing soothingly in your hair, making sure you feel safe.

“Sweet dreams, love. I got you.”

Proud of this one ngl

[star4daisy]

map - 972 words - @rosekillermicrofic

tw: wounds, physical assault

Barty had always refused to see the doctor after his father was done with him. He'd learned the lesson to avoid them when he was twelve, trying to find someone to help him and his mom out of the house. No one ever lifted a finger to assist them.

That was until he passed out after one of their little sessions and Barty woke up being tended by lovely long fingers that held him with care.

Barty hadn't felt a gentle touch in years — ever since his mother died — so he couldn't be blamed for being unable to resist coming back, especially when he noticed that the doctor didn't ask questions that Barty couldn't give him the answer to.

Two years passed with comforting touches and sharp needles mending Barty's skin back together. With time, Evan Rosier mended more than just Barty's skin. Evan turned him human again. As human as Barty could ever become after years of neglect and abuse.

Evan was tending to the wounds on his back as Barty complained about the other soldiers' behaviour, he could barely feel the sting of the alcohol as his open back was getting disinfected.

He'd been through this enough times to know how the procedure went, Evan would caress his unmarred skin with one hand to comfort him and then press his needle inside Barty's open flesh, always trying to put him back together. Evan didn't always succeed. Sometimes Barty thought that he had been broken one too many times for it to work again.

If things had been any different between them Barty would've never allowed Evan to map the scars on his back with his lovely fingers. Barty had been ashamed of it for so long, of how ugly they looked. Sometimes he still flinched from the touch, his subconscious never expected the proximity to not be a danger.

No one had gotten close without taking a piece of him along with them, Evan had been the first to give. To fix.

Barty was in awe of him.

Once Evan was done and had wrapped the worst of it in gauze, he began the tradition of kissing every old scar on Barty's body. Evan started with the one on his shoulder, just a slight brush of his lips that was enough to make Barty shudder. The effect was bigger on his body than any sharp tool had been before.

Then Evan kissed his spine, Barty had to restrain the instinctive jerky movement so he wouldn't pull away from him.

He never wanted to pull away from Evan again.

The tradition had started the first time Barty pulled away from him when Evan touched one of his scars. "Why do you always do that?" His tone was curious.

"They're ugly, you're not," Barty said matter of factly. "No reason for you to have to see them," he shrugged uncomfortably.

Evan froze in the process of taking his gloves off. "Who said they were ugly?"

"I did."  

"Crouch," the name was said as a warning.

"You know who."

Evan studied him for a while and then he pulled Barty's chin up, forcing him to look into Evan's stony blue eyes. "Nothing about you will ever be as ugly as he is, inside and out."

Barty nodded jerkily, avoiding eye contact once again.

"I mean it, Crouch," Evan pulled him by the chin again. "They're a part of you, each one of them tells me a story about who you are. They're a map to your soul. How could that ever be ugly?"

Barty felt like his throat was swollen, which was weird because he was sure he hadn't been hurt there. "Don't call me that," was all he managed to say. "That's his name, not mine."

Evan nodded slowly, analysing Barty's features as if he needed to draw him from memory. "And how would you want me to call you?"

"Barty is fine."

"Barty," Evan said it like he was tasting the words in his mouth.

"Yes?" Barty answered, finally raising his head out of his own will and Evan rewarded him by kissing Barty for the first time.

Now, as Evan had grown used to tending to his wounds and Barty was more comfortable with his body and soul, he finally gathered the courage to admit to Evan the truth in his heart. "I hate him," he said. "I hate him more than I've ever hated anyone."

Barty knew it was wrong of him to say when they were in the middle of a war, that he should hate their enemies more than the man who was leading them to victory. But he couldn't keep it inside anymore, the words had been choking him for years and Evan — his only safe space — had allowed him to breathe after spilling them.

Evan didn't stop the task of mapping Barty's scars with his lips, when he spoke it was against the skin of Barty's neck, "Do you want me to kill him?" He offered, warm breath sending chills down Barty's spine.

Barty was ashamed of how long he'd thought about this before. "His death might condemn us all."

"Or it might free us." Evan was like the devil whispering behind his shoulder.

"It needs to look like an inevitability." Barty finally conceded, turning to look at Evan's cold eyes. "We couldn't just shoot him, we'd be dead in thirty seconds."

"Don't worry, darling." Evan kissed his jaw, moving his lips slowly until he reached Barty's mouth. "I've had a plan since the first time you entered this tent bleeding because of him."

When Barty went to sleep that night he could finally relax in their makeshift bed. Even if his father's death resulted in all of theirs, Barty found he could be at peace as long as he had Evan by his side.

[oceanarcaneum]

okay so the "fake out lujanne-lissa" scene/plot is egregious for a lot of reasons, but actually, my BIGGEST complaint with this one isn't even the hypocrisy, but rather what a MISSED OPPORTUNITY it was for a deeper, more complex exploration of the SIBLING dynamic between claudia and soren.

when terry says "i think there's one person who can put those pieces back together," and soren asks, "what are you getting at?" i was absolutely flabbergasted when he followed it up with "your mom," because i was completely, 100% expecting him to say soren.

terry's whole argument here is that everything claudia does, she does out of love for her family. why would he think of lissa OVER soren - lissa, who, as terry seems to know by now, hurt claudia so badly when she left, and who claudia hasn't seen in fifteen years? who claudia has barely even spoken of outside of talking to ezran about how hard it was for her being asked to choose between her parents? she talks to viren multiple times about doing things for "our family," but lissa ostensibly hasn't been a part of that family since claudia was very young.

the show even makes a point of drawing a parallel between soren and lissa in season three, when soren chooses to leave viren's side after his takeover of lux aurea, and claudia pleads with him "don't ask me to choose, soren - not again." and then refuses to say goodbye to him, because she can't bear accepting that her brother is leaving her. if the writers really wanted to go with the angle of "her love for her family is the only thing that can stop her" why not use soren instead - whom claudia clearly hasn't resolved her issues with, who's a much fresher example in her mind of being abandoned or left behind?? (AND with all the focus put on terry making them PROMISE not to hurt her, it feels like it was the perfect setup for soren to actually TALK to her, and for the story to explore their relationship in more complexity.)

i just feel like it would have made so much more sense for soren to be the one to try and stop claudia by genuinely connecting with her - a real attempt at reconciling with her and offering her a true path back, instead of the weird manipulative choice to try and trick her with an illusion of her mother (who, again, broke claudia's heart last time she saw her and has caused her emotional trauma that's stuck with her for years of her life. like????? UGH.) vs soren, who claudia clearly still loves - in the final scene with her, she still labels herself as his sister that he should love and be unwilling to kill, and refuses to kill him because she's "still herself" - inherently saying that he's still her brother, to her, and she doesn't want him dead, even when she already considers herself as being abandoned by him.

soren is, by now, the only living & present family that claudia has left. it just feels so much more intuitive and believable that he would be the only one who can connect with claudia where she is now and offer her a way back home.

[daiourage]

TFO Dual Rulers (?) AU

I've been seeing people do like a "what if D didn't go fuckin' coconuts" AU, and it kinda inspired me to start thinking of what other events would be changed in those scenarios.

(yes i'm still in denial)

Please take these lightly colored sketches!!! Also I'm sorry for lazy handwriting;;

Also also, as always, please click/press the image for quality!!!

("Brief" explanations for each of the numbered panels is under the cut (the numbers are just the order of when I drew them, and not in chronological order of the scenes)!!!)

1. I think, because D won't be the one to shoot at Sentinel because he's grounded in this AU, Sentinel would be the one to use the last of his strength to try and shoot at D, only for Orion to block it. I couldn't figure out how to draw D in immense agony about it so I just decided to make this paper a collection of ideas. If anyone has any ideas, please tell me because I want angst--//shot (I also finally remembered to write my signature this time!!!) 1-2. The main problem I had trouble figuring out was how D would possibly let go of Orion... He'd still say the "Why did you do that, why?!" line, but I don't know where to go from there. Would Sentinel still have energy to kick D's hand? Would Orion be too heavy to hold on? Would Orion tell D to let him go? Maybe they wouldn't even be hanging over the ledge and D would just be holding him--but then what? There was too many things to ponder about just one scene, and I wanted to get my other ideas out before I forgot about them. Guyssss give me your ideas please-- 2. It always bothered me that Orion and Bee left D in Sentinel's office(?) to hold him off on his own;;; like, I get it, D won't listen, but at least tell him you're leaving??? 2-2. I think the "What did he do to you?" conversation would be much longer. Not as comical and cheesy as the comic I sketched a little bit back, but... 3. (Please read it right to left;;; I just got done reading manga when I had the idea to draw this panel;;; also the entire page honestly. I'm so sorry y'all--)At the High Guards' base, I think D'd be the one to initiate a fight with Starscream still, but do it calmly. 4. I wanted to keep this line, because it would make sense still. Also might hurt a little more *screams* (D would not do the Anime Girl Pose™️, but I wanted him and Orion to match oop--) 5. After apprehending Sentinel, somehow we'd get his (Megatronus's) cog and Orion (now Optimus) would give it to D as a token of trust. Based off of @/momonsalmonmon on Twitter/X's absolutely gorgeous comics!!! (I also DO NOT remember how the cogs looked I'm sorry for not doing further research ;w; Will do better next time I promise;;;) 6. Bee and Soundwave BFFs???? (+ annoyed Shockwave) Please. Also maybe bring back Senator Soundwave as a concept??? Miss he;; It might be interesting, with Bee also "working for the government" now,,, 7. Headcanon that Orion is bad at math and confides in Elita and D for enforcing the taxes so the citizens don't become outraged but also so that the government has enough money to do stuff. D might be like "Aww he needs our help" and Elita would be like "godddd let me work out" 7-2. I feel like I draw Elita with an annoyed expression too much I'm so sorry milady;;; I promise I love you;;;

[in-amor-veritas]

Hii! Perhaps 17 and wilmon?

Eeeee Thank youuuu!!!! 💕

You got

Girlfriend: Omar Rudberg 😅

cheating/university (Wille is crown prince) au oops

More below nsfw🌶️

When Wilhelm had been invited by his classmate over to study this hadn’t been his intention.

No. He had definitely not been expecting to end up like this, a hand tangled in Simon’s curls, trying to suppress the sounds coming from the back of his throat as the other man kneeled between his legs with Wilhelms cock in his mouth.

But here they are.

And okay, maybe he had made it far too obvious that he found Simon completely distracting and alluring, judging by the teasing lilt in his voice when he agreed and the flash of satisfaction in his eyes when Wilhelm had asked.

And okay, this isn’t exactly the first time this has happened.

Actually it’s happened a few times now over the past month.

They’d met in a shared philosophy class and Simon had been quick to challenge him every time he answered a question or shared an opinion. Wilhelm was convinced Simon took immense pleasure in putting him on the spot considering his title and the whole royal of it all which Simon had been quick to disparage from day one.

And fuck Wilhelm thought it was hot. He had never been challenged by anyone before Simon, at least not so publicly with so many eyes on him.

Simon was something delicious and forbidden, hanging just out of reach like original sin.

But maybe not so out of reach.

It hadn’t taken long at all for them to give into the strange, electrifying tension between them. It shouldn’t make sense, it shouldn’t turn him on this much but when Simon had cornered him, pinned him against the wall and looked him over with a sirens smile and bright eyes and said — no one has to know — well Wilhelm had folded instantaneously.

Simon does this thing with his tongue that makes Wilhelms toes curl. He knows exactly how to draw every desperate cry and stifled moan out of Wilhelms lips. The slick heat of his mouth and pressure of his tongue has Wilhelm seeing stars as he feels himself getting closer and closer to oblivion.

It’s just the two of them in this room, well Malin is stationed outside but she doesn’t count. It’s just the oppressive heat and lack of air and Simon’s lips and the filthy noises they make on his cock.

And then he pulls back and Wilhelm falls forward, following the loss of sensation, gasping, “What—“

“Look at me.” Simon demands and he does, he has to.

Simon is a debauched vision there on the floor, on his knees looking up at him. His lips are pink and swollen and glistening wet and his hair is a mess from where Wilhelms fingers have been twisted into the dark curls.

“Simon—“ he groans, letting his hand take him by the jaw, tilting his face up to stare in awe at him, his fine features, thick curls, dark eyes hooded in pleasure, “You’re so…”

A flash of satisfaction blooms in those eyes as he speaks, Simon leans into his hand which is now cupping his face. “What? Tell me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Wilhelm murmurs, biting his lip as everything in him feels too tight, too sensitive, too hungry.

Simon smirks and rises from the floor, Wilhelm can’t draw his eyes from the planes of skin, seemingly endless and burnished gold in the lamplight. He crawls into his lap and Wilhelm holds him there.

“Am I taking good care of you?” Simon teases and he nods burying his nose into the other mans neck, dragging in a long deep inhale.

“Yes.” He chokes,

“Better than her?”

And for a moment Wilhelm feels guilt, white hot and lancing as he thinks about Karolina, his girlfriend who is out with friends tonight, who has no idea what he’s doing.

No their relationship isn’t perfect, yes they fight a lot, yes he might be forcing himself to be with her because she’s everything his mother and the court wants him to be with. But fuck—he’s been lying to her all this time.

The thought is gone as quickly as it comes however when Simon rocks their hips together, their cocks grinding together. It’s pulled from his mind and vaporizes into nothingness as his synapses fire and his vision is only Simon Simon Simon.

“Tell me the truth and I’ll let you fuck me again. Just like this.” Simon whispers into his ears, sending shivers rippling through him.

“Better.” His voice is strangled.

Nothing is better than this.

[lunaroracleofvenus]

What manifestation technique is best designed for you? PAC

Left to Right

Pile one

This is my pile of witches and warlocks. The best way you manifest is through spells, and rituals. You have magic in your blooddddd hunnyy.  You might be highly mythical, intuitive, and just divine. Use this divine nature in a creative way, and all you desire shall manifest… this could be through glamour magic, love spells, abundance spells..

Pile two

These are my divine feminines. This pile best manifests by setting intentions and going with the flow. Working with the feminine via moon rituals, water element or just that shakti power will draw all you desire to you… there is a huge theme of co-creation and just feminine energy. This pile might need to release what doesn’t work emotionally and truly tap into their feminine wisdom when it comes to manifesting… what works for you, might not work for everyone else and that is okay… you might be alone in this power…

Pile three

This pile best manifest by mastering the earth element. This pile might be able to use scripting to manifest or just using the natural element to manifest. Could use some earthy/elemental witchcraft….

 But what i am hearing most is having self compassion and really devoting yourself to what you are trying to manifest = fruition of the desire. This might look like manifesting one thing at a time, and while you are manifesting it, you sleep, breath, and dream it. You continuously tap into the desire, and deeply ground yourself into the feeling consistently. Though remember balance, and leave a bit of space for life and your mental health. The whole saying, let it go and detachment for manifesting, DOES NOT apply to you. Your attachment to it really creates it…. This might be my obsessive manifestors… do you guys have any strong pluto in your charts btw???

Pile four

So there’s a lot of overdoing in this pile, and anxiety. There might be a lot of freezing and overthinking when it comes to choosing and sticking to what you are attempting to create. Rest assured it’s okay to feel how you feel at this moment. Rest assured that things will and can get better. Spirit is saying just remember to be ambitious, flexible but also grounded. Listen to where your intuition is guiding you. Manifesting isn’t supposed to add MORE problems to life. Like life can be difficult enough… stop taking it so seriously tbh. Like yes you can create change, but you create change in little and big practical ways everyday. From the moment you choose to brush your teeth, to the moment you decide on studying. Didn’t get much of a method for this pile! You might need to give manifesting a break and come back to it…

Pile five 

This pile might manifest best through chaos, and destruction. You seem to create great things from dark places. Where people see destruction, you see a moment to create. You might be really good at seeing people’s potential, and helping them shift into that.. How you can effectively use this power for yourself to manifest, I think is by doing shadow work, emotionally releasing rituals, and working with darker goddesses/gods. 

For example, let’s say you wanted to manifest a home, maybe journal about blockages you might have.. Do you feel undeserving? Do you feel its unattainable? Or maybe there is a childhood wound? Once you understand your depth, choose a ritual to release it, and then maybe channel those same feelings into getting what u want or set your desired intentions after you have released what doesn’t serve you?

Also,  I don’t know how to properly describe but channeling anger, fear and etc might work really well for you… being put through trials and tribulations might also work well for you… hopefully y’all get what im trying to put down <3

This pile gives me the vibe of the type of people that go through the most horrible break up and 6 months later, they look good asf and they make 5x times what they used to make…

Pile six

this is a very Venusian pile. This pile manifests best through instruments, dance, and music. Also having a communion with god as well… speaking to god, letting god/goddess know what you want.. Keeping that relationship with spirit will really help you..

Also, gratitude practices might really help you manifest your desired things. and, general affirmations might really work for you. Everything is as it should be. Everything is working out. I feel great.. those type of affirmations!

[crazysodomite]

i never know how to phrase this right bc i dont want to seem like one of those people who thinks Sexuality Is Evil. i don't have any problem with sexuality at all. please dpnt assume😭

that being said, i feel like some people overcompensate for sexuality being shamed by making everything sexual... idk how to phrase it better to not sound weird like that but its like this: society says nudity is inherently sexual, and thus disgusting. and people overcompensate for it by going "yes, nudity is inherently sexual, but that's good, because it's Hot and Sexy" instead of just being "nudity isn't inherently sexual, its just neutral" and something being or not being sexual isn't a reflection on its moral quality. going to a sauna isn't inherently sexual, it can be, which doesn't make it good or bad, but it just a neutral action at the same level as being in a room of people who aren't naked in a sauna.

in the same fashion people think sexualizing someone = good and signals respect. i respect you as a person because i think you're Hot and i say sexual things about you uninvited because sexuality = good and finding someone sexy is respecting them and flattering to them.

in the same fashion people see art and say "this is obviously sexual, which is fine, because sexuality is good" while ignoring the author's intent/wishes. my drawing of a nude figure isn't inherently sexual, seeing it that way is fine, but i don't enjoy that interpretation pushed onto me.

i might get flak for this but i don't even think there are clearly defined borders of what is and isn't sexual and trying to define it isn't productive. something that is Inherently Sexual to you might not be sexual at all to another person. and seeing something and going: clearly the author intended this to be sexual because i see it that way 🧐isn't appreciated. im an adult and saying sexual things to me unprompted is still inappropriate, that's to say nothing of Not fucking checking age in bio before commenting on someone's post.....

sexuality isn't bad in any way but seeing certain things or displays of affection or nudity as inherently sexual presents A lot of Issues, even if you think sexuality is Good

[zerocoded]

summary: caleb is good at making you feel at home.

authors note: can't believe i'm posting a caleb work here on this account before a sylus one LOL, anyways i'll treat our dragon fine later, now this colonel has been eating my brain the past two days and i need to get this out. this is pretty lame honestly, just trying to figure out what caleb i want to write among ALL of the ideas his one minute trailer gave me geez. i hope you like his soft side here because i plan to write a more obsessive caleb next time hehe. (GUYS I CAN'T FIND THE AUTHOR OF THIS BEAUTIFUL DRAWING I FOUND ON PINTEREST HELP).

warnings: soft!caleb lol he is just our boynextdoor here • idk where this would fit in the og story so just enjoy the reading and pretend it makes sense pls • sfw content

word count: 0.6k

the neon glow of skyhaven's artificial skyline reflected off the polished surfaces of the floating colony, bathing everything in shades of blue and violet. caleb leaned casually against his fighter jet, the sharp angles of the aircraft framing his silhouette. his black jacket, emblazoned with the deepspace aviation administration emblem, caught the faint light, making him seem larger than life.

“thought you’d chicken out,” caleb said, his voice laced with mock disappointment as you approached. “figured you’d be too scared to race the great colonel caleb.”

“scared? of you?” you shot back, folding your arms. “last i checked, you scraped the hull of your jet in the last drill. hardly inspiring confidence, colonel.”

he chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the jet with an easy grace. “ouch. remind me to never let you near the observation deck again. you’ve got a real knack for holding grudges, don’t you?”

your banter was familiar, a shield against the weight of the world outside skyhaven. but tonight, there was a strange tension in the air, unspoken yet undeniable.

caleb stepped closer, his usual teasing smirk softening into something more genuine. “you know,” he began, his tone quieter now, “all jokes aside, it’s good to see you up here. the city looks... different from above. easier to pretend it’s not falling apart for a while.”

you glanced past him, your gaze settling on the twinkling lights of linkon city far below. “it’s not falling apart,” you said firmly. “not while we’re still here to fight for it.”

“always the optimist,” caleb murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you make it sound so easy.”

“it’s not. but what’s the alternative?”

silence stretched between you two, broken only by the hum of distant machinery. caleb looked at you, his purple eyes searching yours for something unspoken. when he spoke again, his voice was softer, rawer.

“do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t lived through the chronorift?” he asked. “if we’d just... had normal lives? no wanderers, no aether cores, no missions?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words. caleb rarely let his guard down, always the jokester, always the soldier.

“sometimes,” you admitted. “but then i remember how much we’ve done—how much we’ve survived. i wouldn’t trade that. not if it means losing you.”

his gaze sharpened, and for a moment, caleb seemed to forget the world around them. he took a step closer, the space between you shrinking.

“Y/N,” he said, your name heavy with meaning. “you know i’d do anything to keep you safe, right? even if it means...” he trailed off, looking away, his jaw tightening.

“even if it means what?” you pressed gently.

he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “even if it means putting the whole world in danger. you’re the one thing I can’t lose.”

for once, you didn’t have a comeback. instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. “you won’t lose me, caleb. not as long as you don’t give up on yourself.”

the tension between you softened, replaced by something warmer, quieter. caleb’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with something deeper this time.

“guess i’ll have to stick around then,” he said, his voice lighter now. “wouldn’t want to miss out on you finally admitting i’m the better pilot.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “keep dreaming, colonel.”

and as the two stood there, beneath the artificial stars of skyhaven, it felt, for a moment, like the weight of their world was a little easier to bear.

author's note: look how sweet we can be, see? anyways next time i'll be writing about how he fucks probably, xx. send me a request • my masterpost

[spacebaby1]

If you follow the new episode of one piece, i bet you know.

Law trying to get rid of phantom pain while he was dreaming or sick, he's dreaming about that day where he lose his crew

And reader trying to calm him down. Maybe Law didn't know it's them due to him still in panic and phantom pain act

You have no idea how much I love Law, and I miss him so much😭✋🏼enjoy!!

His pained moaning followed with small cries as if it was hard to breath for him became unbearable tonight; Law has been in so much pain ever since what happened; even when you both with the help on bepo managed to bring the crew to safety, the affect of that day was severe to Law.

As he slept fitfully, his body tossed and turned in his bed, followed by cries as if he was fighting to wake up. You rushed to his side immediately, caressing his head gently, "Shh, shhh, it's okay. You're safe, Love. You're safe."

His face was contorted in pain, brow furrowed, lips trembling as if trying to speak in his sleep, but unable to form words. In his dreams, the crew was fading away, like shadows swallowed by the ocean in a blink on an eye. He saw them one by one, falling; Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, all of them. His nakama, the people he’d sworn to protect, slipping through his fingers. They were screaming, calling for help, but there was nothing he could do. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he fought against the nightmare, he couldn’t reach them in time. "Wake up, Law. It's just a nightmare. Shh! You're saf-"

"NO!" he shot up in bed with his hand thrown at you with hard fall on your face, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. His heart raced, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the nightmare. He tried to steady himself, but the image of his crew’s faces, their lives slipping away, was seared into his mind. He felt nauseous, his stomach twisting painfully. Unaware of the hit that contacted your face drawing blood from your nose, yet you didn't care because you knew he didn't do it on purpose. "Hey, hey" you gently cupped his face, he flinched away but the moment his eyes met your face in the dimmed lit room. He immediately went pale, realization dawning on him like a cold wave; he had hurt you.

“I-I’m so sorry…” His voice was thick with guilt, his hand reaching out to touch your face, his expression horrified. “I didn’t mean to hit you… Are you okay? I'm-I'm sorry."

You shook your head gently with a small smile as you cupped his face, not caring for your own injuries at this moment. “Shh, I’m fine, Law. Don’t worry about it, come here,” you replied. You could see the guilt written all over his face, and despite the sting from the unexpected hit, you didn’t want him to feel worse. “No, I—” Law began again, his voice low and pained.

“Love,It’s okay. Really. You were having a nightmare, don't worry about it ” you reassured him before taking a napkin and cleaning your face and turning back to him. “You didn’t mean to hurt me. It was just an accident.” You held his hand, and he immediately wrapped himself around you;

Law never acted in such ways, but it seems like the dream terrified him that he needed to gorund himself. He let out a shaky breath, his heart still beating fast as if he would pass out then and there. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he said under his breath, his voice quieter now. “It’s like… it’s like I can’t protect them anymore. " I’m losing control. I don't know what to do."

You held him closer. “You’re not losing control, Law,” you whispered, your fingers gently stroking the back of his head. “You’re just scared. And that’s okay. We all are sometimes. We are human, and it could catch the best of us, but you need to know that you are safe, we all are. It's okay.”

His breath hitched in his throat, feeling vulnerable. lile this was not the way he wanted you to see him, “I can’t lose them,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can’t lose you.” You held him even closer, kissing the top of his head you spoke “You won’t. You’re not alone, Law. You have us. We’ll always be here. We are safe with you." He sighed on your chest, shutting his eyes as he wrapped his arms tightly, "I love you, I love you so much. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you." He kept repeating it until he finally fell back to a much more comfortable sleep this time. You made sure to hold him for as long as you were awake, still stocking his black hair gently.