#this poor girl has trauma on top of trauma on top of trauma on top of mf TRAUMAA

[biggesthomuradefender]

okay but who wants an analysis on homura and her catholic guilt :3

[nunyabznsbabes]

Katniss is like Lucy Gray this, Katniss is like Sejanus that, and yes fine that's all good and true and lovely but Katniss Everdeen is also a direct parallel to Coriolanus Snow and people NEED to start talking about this because it's driving me crazy.

Think about it: they both grew up poor and deeply vulnerable, losing parents at a very young age, with a matriarchal adult (Katniss' mother and Coriolanus' Grandma'am) who fails to provide for them emotionally and physically. They intimately understand the threat of starvation, even developing with stunted growth because of it, and their narrations in the books share a fixation on food. Throughout their childhoods, both experienced constant fear and suffered a fundamental lack of control over their circumstances. Because of this, they're inherently suspicious of the people around them. They resent feeling indebted to others, especially those who have saved their lives. They're motivated almost entirely by family and deeply connected to their communities. Both are used and manipulated by the Capitol, both are forced to perform to survive and despise every inch of it, both are thrown into the Arena and made to kill. Both have a self-sacrificial, genuinely sweet sister figure acting as their conscience. Peeta and Lucy Gray - performers and love interests with a fundamental kindness and sense of hope about them - fulfill markedly similar roles in their narrative. Both contribute to the development of the future Hunger Games, Snow throughout tbosas and Katniss towards the end of Mockingjay.

It's easy to ignore these similarities because, as mirrors of each other, they are exact opposites. Katniss is from District 12, viewed and treated as less than human; Snow is the cream of the Capitol crop, given the privilege of a name with social weight, an ancestral home, and the opportunity of the Academy despite having no more money than a miner from 12. Katniss has no agency over her life, and responds by being kind whenever she's able, while Snow justifies horrendous evils in order to continue his quest for complete control. Katniss does everything she can to protect her family; Snow does everything he can to protect his family's image as an extension of his own ego. Katniss loves her District and connects with its inhabitants on a meaningful level, but Snow is indifferent at best to his peers - the apparent "superior people" - and only engages with his community for personal gain. Katniss emerges from the Arena horrified at herself and the system, but Snow takes his trauma and turns it into an excuse to perpetuate the violence with himself at the top. Katniss cares for Prim until her death and then snaps at the loss of her little sister, while Snow survives on Tigris' blood, sweat, and tears and then torments and abandons her, presumably because she calls him out on his insanity. Snow actively adds to and popularizes the Hunger Games because of his vendetta against the Districts following his childhood wartime trauma - Katniss briefly agrees to a new Hunger Games in the pursuit of vengeance, but later stops them from happening by killing Coin and choosing a life of peace and privacy. Snow is obsessed with revenge, but Katniss empathizes with the Capitolites and does what she can to keep them from suffering. He exists in a cruel system and selfishly upholds it; she exists in a cruel system and works to dismantle it for the good of her family and community, at great personal cost. And Peeta and Lucy Gray are incredibly similar, but Katniss and Peeta forge a relationship of genuine love and understanding that shines in comparison to Coriolanus' obsessive projection onto Lucy Gray.

So, yeah, Katniss is Lucy Gray haunting Coriolanus. But I bet you anything that eighty-something year old President Snow looks at her, the girl on fire, bright and young and brilliant, emerging from a childhood of starvation with a relentless hunger for success, a talented and charming performer helping her win the Games, and he sees the ghost of his own past. And that's why he's so afraid of her! Because if he sees himself in her, then he's up against his own cunning, his own talent for manipulation, his own charisma, his own genius. He's up against the version of himself that he once wished to be, with the nightmare army of his childhood at her back and her star-crossed lover at her side, spewing Sejanus' truths in his own voice. This isn't to say that Katniss ever achieved the level of power and agency that Coriolanus did during her time with the rebellion, but it is to say that Snow was taken down by what truly terrified him - his own morality, come to finish the job.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 4

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi .Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 7.1k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: sorry for the wait, life challenged me to a knife duel and then I had do go on a workshop and such, bc I’m still unemployed. Also I got sick. Still kinda am. I’ll fix spelling mistakes tomorrow. Read the tags and if you don’t like how this fic is going, stop reading it.

Anyways. Enjoy sinners. Behave. 💖 Consider supporting my coffee addiction on ko-fi bc I’m a good girl and I updated.

The shed was filled with sounds, though nothing had to do with the work of the hybrids. The only thing they were working on was breaking you.

You felt like you were on fire; both from anger and from the pleasure of Soap’s way too skilled tongue. He was fucking you with it, real nasty about it as he forced a finger in next to it, growling into your wetness, seemingly trying to drink up any slick leaving you. His free hand kept your tail out of the way.

Caught in your own personal, rather sexual, hell.

You had almost given up on getting free. Gaz was still pressing your wrists down against the mattresses, tongue out as he wagged his tail, drool dripping down on your chest. Then he grabbed your wrists in one hand, which you could still not break out of, annoyingly so; only to pull up the crop-top that Price had chosen for you earlier.

That got Soap’s attention who barked happily into your pussy which made you growl - but you were distracted by the two fingers suddenly added to the first, to really care about your tits being out. He spread the fingers a little, tail wagging behind him, ears moving to pick up all your sounds.

You didn’t get more than that, fingers out before you could take a proper breath.

You growled intensely but there was no mercy; he forced his cock into your poor, dripping hole while you howled with pain - the three idiots daring to mockingly join in on your howl.

Full… in a different way than usual. It was as if your world stopped moving. This - this wasn’t your owner, this was just three brutes he had let into your life. When you had cried and whined about not wanting to live here, you didn’t mean for him to try to fix it with these 3.

Their cocks would never be as nice as John’s.

Hell, you would even take Nik’s.

Soap pulled back a little, before he trusted inside again a little harder than before. A little whimper left you, your eyes closing, trying your hardest to ignore the sparkles you saw behind your eyelids.

His knot, though not fully expanded in any way, pressed against your pussy; you couldn’t remember the last time you had been knotted. You didn’t remember it being a nice one either.

Each thrust made a wave of hate and pleasure run through you and sounds left you at each of them. Your ears tipped back, writhing in the grip of the hybrids.

Worse? They both seemed to get off of it.

They made out above you, Gaz’ bulge pressed against your face, as you watched them kiss each other with an intense heat, nose bumping together in every one of Soap’s thrusts, that hit so deep inside you wailed at every one of them.

Ghost was behind Soap suddenly, grabbing onto his Mohawk and forcing his head back a little.

“C’mon pup, fuck her better than that,” the bigger man snarled and Soap’s thrusts easily became faster, more desperate; his strong fingers digging into the fat of your thighs so hard, that you knew it was a matter of moments before his claws would pierce though your skin.

There were three pair of eyes staring at you as your moans and sobs intertwined into a mess, making you feel smaller than you had for a while.

“Look at you now,” Gaz crooned, his fingers palming your tits, pressing his bulge against your face a little again, “much more sweet now, huh?”

“Sh- uh - ah fuck - shut up.”

Gaz merely snickered at your attempt and as you tried moving your face to nip at his bulge, he easily moved back and slapped your cheek.

It didn’t help in any way that Soap decided to touch your clit in that exact moment. Pain bloomed in your cheek, while pleasure bloomed in your pussy, the little shed filling with lewd and loud sounds of the fucking.

Soap was fucking you so hard and good that it made you whine and howl a little in between your pathetic moans and growls.

Gaz’ grip tightened on you as you fought - a scream left you as Soap leant forward, one hand brutally attacking your clit with clumsy, energetic fingers while he decided to sink his teeth into your shoulder.

It wasn’t a soft bite. In fact, it continued to press into your skin, the fangs pressing deeper and deeper, before it snapped; teeth buried into your skin, breaking the barrier. Together with the thrusts and assault on your clit continuously, it seemed to be what your body had needed.

You came almost silently, twitching and cramping, Soap fucking you through it, growling while his teeth was buried in your skin. It was like everything became white with the intensity of the many feelings all at once, your mind leaving your body for a couple of seconds.

Then, as you felt your mind finally returning, another thing happened… Soap pushed fully in, like the bastard he was! Knot a little expanded, he pushed into your cunt, forcing you to take it.

It was too much; you sobbed with horror and pleasure as his knot fully expanded, effectively binding the two of you together. You could feel his cum fill up your insides, feel the way his cock twitched, Soap moaned and even more seed was forced into you. Your only relief was knowing the implant you had, at least stopped them from knocking you up.

Soap finally let go of you, blood dripping from his mouth like he was a feral animal, hands holding you down as you wailed, trying to get away from the knot. It was too much, too much.

“Bonnie lass,” the mutt crooned at you, leaning forward to run his bloody tongue along your cheek, laughing as you tried biting his hearing aid - before running his tongue over the wound he had left.

He rubbed his head against you like a desperate animal, as if he was a cat and not a dog hybrid, nuzzling against your armpits, even licking them, get his bloody spit all over you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Nikolai entered, it was like all the flowers inside John’s stomach bloomed; the other man easily had all his attention, even if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Didn’t Princess give you the phone?”

“Da - but she said you need mechanic and that is lie,” Nikolai answered, sitting down on the desk that barely creaked beneath him, “I am here - no need for mechanic.”

“Oh, you suddenly know how to fix tractors too?” John couldn’t help but let some of his disbelief seep through his words, making Nikolai snort.

“I do - planes too, if you have one of those, my friend.”

There was an odd peaceful silence in between the two of them; none of them said anything but John felt Nik’s eyes on him nonetheless, undressing him in his mind. The urge to fill this silence with their moans wer— wait.

Silence?

John blinked, listening for another moment for one of his puppy’s dramatic sighs but as none came, looking towards the door, expecting you to be annoyed with having to have left the house… nothing. He looked at Nikolai again, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice.

“Where’s sweetheart?”

Nikolai chuckled darkly, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Playing with the other dogs.”

“… I highly doubt that.” John almost rolled his eyes as he spoke. If there was one thing you had made sure was known ever since they arrived, was that you didn’t want to spend time with them.

“Well, they’re playing with her then,” Nikolai shrugged as John hurried to open one of the apps on his phone, running through the options until he reached the camera in the dog shed. Where his precious puppy were.

Crying and screaming, twisting even as pleasure overtook you, the others too much for you.

Dark want rushed through Price, as he saw them sink their teeth into your soft skin, heard you shriek out another curse and cry bloody murder; the want was overtaken by feeling bad for even putting you in that situation.

“I should go look—“

His phone was taken from his hand as Nikolai then pulled him close; flushed against each other, Nik’s front pressed against his back… cock slowly filling.

“Net,” he rumbled, “you need to stay here.”

“They’ll be too rough,” John argued, watching with both delight and fear as they made you came, “I nee—“

He was pulled into Nik’s lap without warning, the man sitting down in the office chair with a little sigh; his strong hands on John’s own body, sliding beneath the knitted sweater, grabbing onto some of his skin.

“It will be good for her,” Nikolai promised darkly, breathing deeply against John’s neck, as if to take in his taste, “this is why you got them, eh?”

It was; at least, it had been one of the reasons. As much as he loved you, you couldn’t control his life and he had changed everything around the two of you already - it was only fair he made sure you were taken care of too.

“They’ll break ‘er skin,” he muttered, already feeling his cock hardening like a traitor, distracted from the sight of the pups absolutely ruining you, by Nikolai’s warm, rough hands beneath his clothes.

“We will fix her,” Nikolai easily replied, scraping his teeth along John’s neck, as if he was considering doing the same, “let them play- they need to establish hierarchy.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Soap’s knot finally deflated you tried turning away from him, getting on your knees; only for Gaz to push your upper body down again, a hand pressing down between your shoulder blades.

Soap’s tail was thumping against the barely made nest and though he clearly looked blissed out, he still helped Gaz, pressing your head down against the mattress, even as you tried getting away. Scratching at the mattress with your fingers.

“Fuck, this pussy,” Gaz crooned lovingly, “this is what I’ve been dreaming off.”

You growled against the fabric, trying to move away, but his fingers sank into your hips, claws once again pressing dangerously hard into your skin.

His cock filled you up with a couple of thrusts, slower than soap’s intense one; as if he was taking his time enjoying you. A deep huff of pleasure left him and you barked, trying to scratch at Soap.

It earned you a hard slap on the ass, taking you by surprise - and then the thrusts came suddenly and quickly. There was no mercy and you began crying again. The mixed hybrid was growling deeply, moving so that he was fully pressed against your back - hands grabbing your wrist pressing them against the nest.

Then he fucked you. The thrusts were short and sharp, he didn’t pull out as far as Soap had, but it was like a constant hammering instead, without any kind of relief from the pressure. He sniffed and panted into your neck while you wailed - and then he did the same as Soap had.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, fangs pressing deep and breaking skin, and for the second time, you were bitten. Only, Gaz let go much quicker, barking at your cries, before repeating his action.

Never stopping his movement.

No words could leave you. It was animalistic sounds, created from the chaos that the hybrids had forced into your mind, blending hatred and lust together.

It sent shivers down your spine as you tried to drown out Gaz’ words about your ass, about you being a little silly lapdog, about being too spoiled to shut up and accept things didn’t have to go your way.

It felt like he went on forever and you managed to come twice, the second one squirting - which meant you got Soap all up in your business, pushing himself in between Gaz fucking you, lapping up your juices like he was dying of thirst.

It made you attempt to squirm away, his face being pressed against your clit every thrust, together with Gaz’ balls. Gaz was drooling, slobbering all over your shoulders and sinking his teeth into your skin, new places and into your already broken skin.

Chaotic and wrong, moans sept into your threats, promising you would mess them up, which they barely seemed to notice. As if they knew you were more bark than bite, which wasn’t exactly wrong. Soap finally pulled away and Gaz pressed his slightly expanded knot inside you, before pulling it out again, before repeating the motion again and again.

Then Soap was suddenly in your face, pulling your head up by your ears, making you cry out, kissing you slobbingly and intensely - and for once, you proved that you could bite, sanded down teeth or not.

Soap pulled back with a yelp, then a grin appeared on his face a moment later, his own blood mixing into yours, dripping from his lip, as you growled at him.

Of course the crazy pup liked it.

Every time Kyle forced his knot inside again, you cried - every time he forced it out you wailed, gripping the sheets harder, tugging at them while you found yourself screaming, begging for him to just knot you properly. To stop torturing you like that and apparently, it was what Kyle had wanted to hear.

One last time, he forced it inside and pressed further into you than before, almost putting his entire body weight on you; you moaned and whimpered as it got stuck, his cum forced into your womb, just like Soap had done. He continued rolling his hips in small motions, making you sob into the sheet, closing your eyes. Then he bit down yet another time, another spurt of cum inside you.

He gnawed a little on your shoulder like a chew toy and all you could think about was how you would rather have John do this to you.

The pain from everything made you space out, panting into the mattress, sniffling a little. Ignoring the tongues running over your shoulders and neck, how they cooed at you.

Good little puppy. A good bitch now, aren’t you? Knew ye could behave, bonnie lass, just needed some knots. Dinnae throw a fuss. Stupid lil city dog, aren’t ya?

Kyle tugged you and tipped the two of you to the side, ignoring the way you cried out as his knot tugged.

Minutes went by as you waited for the knot to go down, trying your best to remain calm.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You felt sore all over, arms shaking as you tried raising your upper body, wincing at the cum sliding out of you and the way the bite marks stung. You weren’t just worried they had broken skin anymore, you knew they had. Blood was dripping down your arms, in between the already dried and caked parts, only making you feel more horrible.

Your beautiful, beautiful body - your skin. Those brutes! Curse them! Sons of bitches, all of them.

You felt pathetic, needy, weak; never wanting to leave the farm house again.

Gaz lazily barked at you as you tried getting up, but he was laying next to you, clearly blissed out, so you used the moment to escape… or at least attempted to.

A large hand pushed down on your back, the weight pushed upon you, forcing you down with a squeal - Ghost let out a deep growl as a reply.

The moment the hand was away, you scrambled, hearing his knees hit the mattress behind you. Ghost seemingly didn’t care that you tried slipping between his fingers; he merely grabbed your tail and tugged you back, hard. Ignoring your sob of pain, continuing to growl deeply, trying to force his dominance down upon you.

As if there was any question of who was the one in charge here. The sound of a zipper.

“No - fuck, let go, no more, no more!” You attempted pathetically, tears springing to your already puffy eyes, “I can’t - no more!”

“Yes you can,” Ghost just rumbled darkly, Soap and Gaz letting out small barks in support.

You fought him but it didn’t matter.

One hand on your hip, having a tight grab on some of your fat, the other sliding to your front, grabbing your throat - forcing you up on your knees. Your back pressed against his front, his cock thrusting in between your thighs a couple of times.

You cried at the mere sight of the cock in between your thighs. Yes, you were a size queen but not to brutes like them. Mutts, idiots, assholes, working dogs, hounds —

His fat cock entered you in one thrust, making you scream, desperately trying to wiggle away. Any movements merely made the cock slide in a little more, the knot pressing against your hole. Your scream turned silent as he gave a little thrust, your mind going blank, body giving small twitches. Much to the amusement of Ghost if you had to guess from the way he chuckled. Tongue licking your human ear. Gaz was staring with big eyes, Soap panting, drool dripping from his tongue.

You whined. He hadn’t even moved that much, but it felt like the cock was in your throat.

“Look at you, puppy,” he crooned darkly, “all you needed was some knots to shut up, huh?”

You couldn’t reply with anything but a few messy moans and Ghost gave a little thrust more, bullying his cock a little deeper,almost making your eyes cross.

“See how good you can be, hm?” Ghost continued, “tight pussy just needed to be fucked dumb. You’re much sweeter now.”

His hand tightened around your neck, pressing your tags on the collar into your skin. His palm pushed at your chin a little with its size.

“Don’t worry,” Ghost continued, before nosing your shoulder a little, a pitiful cry leaving you as his tongue slid over some of the bleeding, burning bite marks, “we can fuck you whenever ye want, princess. Perfect, innit?”

You tried shaking your head, but then Ghost let go, pushing your upper body down again- you barely managed to save yourself from slamming your head into the mattress.

There was no more waiting. He just grabbed onto your hips, pulled out his cock as far as possible and began to fuck you mercilessly.

Hard, commenting about the way your body jiggled and how lucky they were to end up somewhere with a soft bitch like you; how they would get you used to their cocks, addicted to them. How they would knock you up. Give you all the litters you wanted.

You hated how good it felt, how you cried and moaned, how your body shook and how you came. Unable to escape, crying and barking, ears tipped back.

He delivered a last bite right onto the back of your neck, as he forced his knot inside your poor pussy, filling you up; sinking his fangs into you, breaking the skin as you screamed and came once more, filled up with his knot. Cum unable to escape.

You sobbed into the mattress while stuck to Ghost, who grumbled but didn’t hit you. Gaz and Soap were cooing at you again, licking away tears and nuzzling closer, telling you how good you looked, how much fun you all were going to have.

Then you could hear them kissing above you, but you didn’t look, mind overwhelmed.

It was like you were hot all over; it had been years since you had had a heat and you feared, just for a moment, that your body would spontaneously go into one, from the knotting and biting, the breeding behavior you had just gone through.

It was the familiar feeling of warmth spreading from your chest to your cunt, Ghost growling slightly as you tightened around his knot from the feeling. You were pretty sure your implant was going to save you. Hopefully. The idea of getting knocked up by them right now almost made you want to throw a fit.

But beneath them, being beneath Ghost at the moment, throwing a tantrum would bring you nothing. His clothes pressed against your bare body, save from the top that was pushed beneath your tits, felt too hot.

The shed stunk of sex, blood and sweat. You pretended you didn’t like how the musky, male hybrid scent wasn’t slightly nice. How a little part of you wanted to lick away the sweat drops beneath Ghost’s chin.

Nasty, they were all nasty and you hated them.

You didn’t get up, even as his knot deflated. Ghost rumbled, clearly pleased. Licking at your neck a couple of times.

Then, some of the horses neighed loudly. All three of them stiffened, while you laid there, cum dripping out of you, not caring.

“I’ll go check it out,” Ghost answered, getting up, zipping up as if it was as easy as that. Giving your ass a clap that made your pussy clench around nothing.

The moment he was out the door you were stumbling to your feet, managing to grab John’s jacket. Soap’s tail wagged and he barked, getting up himself - but Gaz held him back.

“Nah, let her run back ‘nd whimper, Soap.”

You didn’t stay to hear the reply. You just bolted to the house, jacket barely on, naked from the waist down. Feet sinking slightly into the muddy parts of the farm, towards the door you had been thrown out earlier.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were a crying mess, John cooing at you, drying your tears with a worried look in his eyes, while Nik seemed more calm. They both stank of sex but you were too upset to care. Humiliation from not being able to escape them, the need to be cared for, to be loved was overwhelming.

They made you bend over the couch at first, Nik’s fingers pressing into you, John softly hushing you as you cried.

“No tear,” he confirmed a moment after, pulling his fingers out, with a soft pat on your ass.

“Let’s get you a bath, princess.” You nodded while whining, clinging onto Nik as he lifted you up.

“We might need to get those checked out,” Nik nodded towards your shoulders and back and you looked over at John, who didn’t look too happy. Even Nik, who was much more calm, didn’t seem to be too enthusiastic despite how he hadn’t stepped in earlier.

The water in the tub was nice. Usually you would fight a little when it came to showers, but you were putty in their soft hands, carefully helping you get free of mud, dried blood and cum.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Alex Keller and Farah Karim appeared just around ten minutes later, parking in the big driveway, near the barn. They had apparently just visited Rudy and Rodolfo, or at least so you heard them talking about in the entrance.

Normally you would be barking at the mere door opening, curiosity overwhelming over who could give you attention now.

You were laying on your stomach on the couch, wearing panties and with a blanket over you, fur and hair still a little damp.

“There she is,” Farah mused as she entered the living room, taking in your otherwise quiet demeanor in contrast to your usual intense one, “poor puppy got all messed up, huh?”

A barely audible growl left you.

“Cut her some slack, Farah,” Alex said, following after her, his new fancy prosthetic leg that was electrical, saying a soft noise you assumed wasn’t something the humans could hear.

“He won’t send them away,” you just replied, sending John a stink eye, which made Nik chuckle while John at least looked a little upset about it.

“We will teach them to be gentle,” Nik mused to which you huffed, because that wasn’t helping one bit.

“Let us see then,” Farah said, stepping over to the couch, while Alex followed, putting their bags down on the table.

You sat up, turning your back towards them, pulling the blanket down to expose your bites, both of the vets stepping closer.

Alex let out a little whistle. Your ears tipped back a little.

“That is some nasty bites,” Farah agreed and you could hear them put on plastic gloves. Despite your anger towards your owner right now, you sent John a desperate look - and the man was with you in mere seconds, one hand gently holding onto your collar, the other caressing your dog ear, in an attempt to calm you down. You hated how it instantly helped. You didn’t really have good memories with vet visits despite knowing Farah and Alex were always sweet and careful with you.

At the first touch of a gloved hand near your bite, you moved instantly, grabbing onto John’s arm with a whine.

“Sorry lovely,” Farah apologized, “we’ll have to clean them up - I’m afraid two of them might need a stitch or two.”

“We’ll numb the area first, don’t worry,” Alex was quick to add in a softer tone.

If this didn’t prove to John and Nik that the hybrids shouldn’t be near you, you didn’t know what would.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Farah and Alex left half an hour later, with you being prescribed antibiotics and painkillers.

Nik and John spoke in hushed voices while you watched television, John having given you some snacks.

“Nik and I are going to town, Princess,” John said a moment later, entering the room to give you another pat on the head, “we’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“What if they go in here-“ you whined, “I wanna go, I wanna-“

“Hush. You can’t rip the stitches, you’re staying here. We’ll lock the door, Laswell will make sure you’re left alone, alright?”

“MmKay.”

You stayed in the living room most of the day, watching rom coms and reality television. Nothing like watching two hybrids fall in love, but not being allowed to meet, their owners despising each other.

When your owner and Nik returned, they had brought several things - most importantly, some nicely baked cake for you, as a treat. Your tail wagged while eating it. If you closed your eyes, it was like you were back in the city again.

Imagining you weren’t out in the country, that you were in a fancy apartment and not an old farmhouse; that the sounds in the background was the music of the city and not—

The sounds of a cow mooing. You huffed, took another bite, closing your eyes and daydreamed once more.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Go on, then.”

You blinked at John’s voice, sterner than last time, for a moment afraid if you’d done anything wrong. The painkillers were making you a little slow, so you blinked a couple of times, before you were able to focus your eyes on the people in the living room.

And instantly tip your ears back in a growl at the sight of the three hybrids, John and Nik standing behind them.

“Go away.” You growled, to which Ghost huffed, rolling his eyes and shooting John a look. John merely crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him. As if to dare him to not follow the order they’ve been told.

“I’m sorry that I hurt ye, cuilean. I dinnae mean tae. Nae this badly.” It was Soap who said it first, actually looking apologetic as you laid there on the couch, staring at them, Gaz nodding along.

“Yeah sorry,” Gaz’ ears were tipped down, tail even a little between his legs, “we won’t bite you again like that, I swear, we never meant to hurt you.”

You wanted to get them castrated. Despise not really liking their apologies, you looked over at Ghost then, waiting. The big guy didn’t say anything, just stared at you - that was until Soap elbowed him in the ribs, the pale man finally grunted out; “Sorry sweetheart.”

John looked expectantly at you, a small smile on his face, as if to say ‘look! They can be good!’. You scrunched your eyebrows together in a frown. That was it?

You deserved poems, movies, dances, songs, art pieces created in a mere attempt of apologising properly.

“I still hate you.”

It made Soap laugh, grinning with all his teeth, while John groaned behind them, touching his face. Nik seemed amused too however.

“Good enough for now. We will work on bonding later, da?”

“They can bond with each other,” you answered, curling together on the couch, “bite each other to pieces.”

“We apologized,” Ghost argued in a dry voice, as if he barely believed in it himself.

“Fuck off.”

Ghost smiled at your stubbornness, before letting John kick them into the kitchen so that they could be fed before being sent out again.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Your time with them was limited for a couple of days, much to your enjoyment. You got extra attention, John and Nik were careful around you — John did eat you out on the third day, when you became frustrated, Nik cooed at you in Russian as you came. Even Laswell was a little nicer to you.

You got scratches beneath your chin, kisses and touches and the pain meds helped stop the thundering pain from the bite marks, which were at least healing nicely.

You slept at your master’s - and his boyfriend’s - feet, leisuring around the house while they worked throughout the day.

Apparently the military bastards knew how to do their jobs, at least. They stopped and caught a fox before it got a chicken, kept the wolves at bay and helped throughout the day. They made sure to watch at night, too apparently.

Then it was rainy one day… and it rained a lot that night. It seemed to never end and when you were called to eat breakfast, you had assumed the working dogs were out. But they weren’t.

In fact, two of them stood in the doorway, close to the dinner table, watching as their third pack mate, Soap, quietly sat on the bench while Nikolai and John looked him over. They all had damp hair and Gaz’s and Ghost’s boots were covered in mud, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. Dirty mutts.

“Good morning bird,” Gaz greeted, looking over you and smiling as you coughed so that they would move. They did so and you stepped into the kitchen, not answering the greeting.

It was only when you passed him that Soap looked up and grinned at you.

“Hiya bonnie lass,” his words sounded… slurred in a way. A tad too loud, but his tail was thumping at the sight of you. You huffed, looking at Nikolai as he sighed and put down a piece of tech you didn’t know.

“I’m afraid you need to fix by professional,” Nikolai said, looking at John, “it’s all completely ruined.”

“Hm, that’s what I figured,” John said, “alright. We’ll go get it done today, just so he can feel better soon.”

“Gonna do what?” You asked as you sat down at your common spot, looking confused for a moment - then Nikolai pointed to the technology that was dripping with water and mud.

“Soap’s hearing aid is broken,” Nik replied, “we have to get a new one.”

“You guys can go out and help Laswell - I’m gonna go to town together with Soap and—“

Growls.

You tried making yourself smaller, even though they weren’t raised towards you.

“We’re not leaving him.”

“What is dae matter?” Soap’s voice was loud, as his head turned from person to person.

John was staring at Ghost who had crossed his arms.

“It won’t take long,” John replied but Ghost just growled again.

“No.”

“Ghost,” John’s voice was kept calm but steady, “Soap’s not going to get hurt. We will get him fitted for one and find a kind that fits him the best - then we’ll come back. Bringing you two along won’t be necessary.”

Ghost didn’t look one bit convinced but John turned towards Soap anyways, leaning closer to his human ear on the left side of his face.

“You’ll need new hearing aids,” he explained, voice loud and words clear, “Nikolai and I will take you to town to get them fixed.”

He pulled back and Soap looked confused but nodded.

“I dinnae want to make trouble,” he promised, ears tipping back a little, “I can make it work!”

John shook his head, giving Soap a small smile before reaching up and giving his head a pat. His tail instantly began to wag again.

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” John answered, keeping his voice loud, “it’s okay. You would need new ones eventually.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

John and Nikolai left after breakfast, with the herding dog in the backseat, muzzle on his face - just in case.

You had forgotten the fact Soap had lost some of his hearing, though you had noticed the hearing aid now and again.

Ghost and Gaz didn’t seem one bit happy with their bonded mate leaving, even though they knew he would be back. Laswell was using them though, making them help fix things, so you dared to relax again, enjoying the little sun ray that hit one of your dog beds perfectly.

The peace and quiet that you had enjoyed and the lack of attempts at being forced to spend time with the men was seemingly coming to an end, at least for one specific pup.

Soap was back, giant grin on his face but no hearing aids, since they apparently decided to buy a fancy kind that had to be shipped to the clinic in the nearest town.

Which meant Soap was in house rest for the next couple of days.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

At first Soap left you alone, merely staying close but not messing with you. He slept in one of your dog beds, muttering - or at least trying to - about how nice and soft it was.

All you could think about was that it needed to get washed, because you weren’t sleeping in something that stank of him. You even suspected he jerked off into the fuzzy fabric. Nasty.

John had merely told you to be nice and share when you complained; that Soap wasn’t used to being indoors like this, wasn’t used to remaining still and not having something to do - that he didn’t like not being able to hear.

You tried, at least a little, to be overbearing, making it rather visible when he got too close and you didn’t like it.

He would disappear now and again to see his mates, and come back with a wagging tail, salvia wet lips and a pleased smile on his face.

As long as he kept his distance.

It was on the second day however, when taking a nap in your own room, in the fuzzy, soft dog bed, that the mutt caught you off guard.

You slowly woke to a nice and pleasurable feeling, letting out a deep pleased sigh as you blinked a couple of times, slightly confused over what was making you feel this way. Of why your legs felt slightly cold. Only to blink a couple of times, half lidded eyes looking down — seeing Soap with his dirty paws on you, tongue halfway into your cunt.

His tail was wagging, ears turning towards you and he didn’t even stop when he realized you had woken up. If anything, he just quickened his tongue’s movement, thrusting it into your cunt, tightening his hands on your thighs.

“‘S okay, Bonnie lass,” he cooed, a slight slurred tone to his voice as he pulled back a little, tongue and slick dripping from his mouth and chin, before he crawled up to you. You didn’t have time to protest, the bigger hybrid settling in behind you, the lack of his own pants clear as he settled against your back, his cock pressing against your asscheeks. His hands slid around your body, holding you close and letting out a deep breath as if the both of you just woke from the nap.

You twitched slightly and he kissed you cheek, “dinnae throw a fit, please,” he mumbled against it, voice still a little loud.

“I will yell for master,” you warned with a growl. The other just let out a “mhmm,” in agreement and you weren’t really sure whether he had truly heard your threat or not. Even if he had, you weren’t sure if it would have stopped him.

Despite your confused and tired attempt at pulling free, squirming and attempting to claw at whatever you could reach, it was no help.

His cock slid into your pussy, which was looser than you liked. Your eyes rolled back for a moment and Soap let out a deep growl, that sounded more pleased than anything.

You writhed, unable to help it, the cock hitting you so well, which you didn’t like. Well, you liked it, the pleasure, but you didn’t want to give in.

You cried out at a deeper thrust, Soap moaning as well; it started deep in his chest and turned more high pitched, more needy. He was careful with your shoulders, keeping you pressed so close you couldn’t move them. The stitches were almost ready to come out and though there was a slight pain, it was not too much.

He fucked you better than you liked, whimpering behind you like a needy mutt in rut.

You couldn’t control your moans and cries, attempting to keep it down, to pretend you weren’t enjoying it. His thrusts were deep but quick, sending your mind spiraling. His knot teased your opening with each movement.

You moaned so loud it was bordering on a scream when he came, knotting you. Carefully licking your cheek, catching a few of your tears with a pleased hum.

It was barely a minute later before John opened the door quickly, looking worried, apron on, presumably making lunch - instantly looking at you. He blinked at the sight of you and Soap, before visibly calming, even smiling. How dared he, traitor, mea—

You let out a small sound as Soap wagged his tail, it thumbed against your bed quickly, making you mewl a little as the movement rushed through his hips and making his cock move, inside your cunt. The knot moving and pressing inside you, making you unable to breathe for a second, eyes rolling up.

Soap licked against your cheek and you pawed at his hands on you, ears tipped back a little.

“Horny pups,” said almost lovingly by Price who then patted your head, and you whined, annoyed by how you were stuck to Soap - or well, to his cock.

“Don’t like him, Sir,” you whined, using your best needy voice, ignoring Price’a raised eyebrow as another thrust made you gasp again.

“You seem to get along fine,” he just answered, patting Soap’s head to prove to the other man that it was fine - he moved Soap’s head to the side for a moment, taking a look at your shoulders, to make sure nothing was bleeding, “everything seems good. He can control himself then.”

“Castrate them,” you just replied, “cut off their dicks.”

John Price laughed. You still loved his laughter even if he didn’t understand your hatred for the mutts he had decided to add to the farm.

“When you get untangled, there’s lunch in the kitchen.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Farah and Alex returned to look at your wounds and remove your stitches, you felt your tail instantly go between your legs, ears down.

“It’s fine. I’m doing fine,” you argued, not making one move towards sitting down on the couch like last time. You knew Farah and Alex were only there to help you; however, you weren’t in pain like last, your mind saw no reason for them to be there. Surely the stitches would fall out or something?

“Princess,” your owner stepped towards you, your tail curling even further between your legs, “it’s fine, they’re gonna chec—“

You stumbled backwards, almost falling into Soap’s chest. He seemed confused at the sudden appearance of the two vets, who were smiling gently at the two of you. Yet when you curled around and behind him, he instantly straightened up.

You could hear Nik laugh. “They have been bonding!”

“Shut it, Nik,” John just answered while Alex huffed, your owner stepping closer, “darling, come on. We will be done in a minute.”

“They’ll file down my teeth.”

“Wha- no, of course they won’t, princess. You know I won’t let them do that.”

You sniffled, holding onto Soap’s shirt. There was a low growl from Soap.

You still very much hated him, but you could have kissed him.

“Dinnae.” Was all he said, slightly slurred and a little loud, but still. Body tense.

“She needs her stitches checked.” Farah’s voice cut through the room, loud and clearly not filled with patience, “we are here to clean them and remove them.”

Soap’s body language calmed down a little and you wanted to hit him, for giving up so easily. What kind of fucking safety was he supposed to offer when he gave in line this? Maybe you should just ask Farah to castrate him and the two other mutts while she was here.

“Sit,” John pointed towards the couch and Soap moved - pulling you by the arm, while you barked and argued a little.

In the end you curled up against him, John petting your hair, as they removed the stitches.

By now, everything seemed to be going as they should.

It wasn’t like when you got the fangs filed down or when you were declawed, but you were still afraid. Not that they could take much more from you.

Despite not liking either Farah or Alex being there, you still took the treat they offered you - managing to get it into your mouth before Soap could get too interested. He got his own and you didn’t like how both your tails wagged. But you allowed it for now.

The treat wasn’t as good as the weird one Nik had fed you the first day. You let out a dramatic sigh on the couch, making John roll his eyes - but he scratched your stomach a little before moving on, to do whatever it was farmers did.

You just ignored Soap, he was wagging his tail like a lovesick puppy next to you, sniffing your hair. You still hadn’t forgiven him or the others for anything.

His hearing aids came later that day. You kept your distance, watching Gaz and Ghost help him get it set up right, Nik and John right by them.

You wasn’t really upset that Soap went back outside… were you?

No. Not at all.

[gremlingottoosilly]

what if König got an injury that left him bedridden for a while, so now wifey has to take care of him, like he can't even take control during sex so he has to let her take the lead?

Local man is forced to be a bottom!! Oh, the horrors. Honestly, this would be a nightmare for our dear yandere Konig. He is a control freak, he needs everything to go as he is planning it to go or else he will get angry, pissy, and sad at the same time. He is controlling and toxic in this way - if he could, he'd feed you with a spoon because you are, quote, too helpless to eat yourself. This guy is horrible, yeah. So now he is bedridden...for a few weeks at least, unfortunately, being an elite mercenary also means getting elite-level traumas that need time to heal. He can't really walk on his own and he refuses to accept any crutches or other mobility devices - he is dragging himself on sheer will and your help, and it drives him crazy. He knows that if you want to leave right now, he wouldn't be able to stop you - and he fucking hates giving you so much freedom, it makes him worry that you will see how helpless he is and just leave him. He can't have that!! In sex, it also almost too much for him - you're on top, a position that you're not used to with him, and konig has to trust that you will bounce on his cock like a good girl and won't leave him without an orgasm( usually, even if you're in a cowgirl position, he will seize control and thrust into your folds from his position - but he can't do that now, it's too much force on his poor injured body( you can tease him as much as your heart desires, pleasuring yourself just out of reach to teach him a lesson(

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarchs + Daughters

My perception of how each Primarch would behave when nosediving into parenthood if they had daughters. Enjoy!

I wanna personally thank @moodymisty because a great deal of their works inspired this piece.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Lion El’jonson

The embodiment of 'tough love' made man. Having a daughter doesn’t do much to soften this guy… or at least that’s what others believe. The Dark Angels Legion are probably the only ones aware of the small gestures the Primarch often gives to his little girl in the safety that privacy offers. Where Lion lacks words of compassionate and parental love, he appropriately makes up for it with actions. He isn’t one to go over the top and prefers to give modest gifts to his daughter as the last thing the man wants is to raise a spoiled brat. Father-daughter bonding time can be summarized with strenuous training using the sword. This man will not let his precious Princess go through life without learning how to protect herself, even if he has made an oath to forever shield her too.

Fulgrim

The complete antithesis of Lion. Where this man views the Emperor as the perfection anyone should strive to reach, his beautiful daughter comes close to the second place in fulfilling that ideal. There’s a big fat chance that he teared up a little when his little gem called him Papa for the first time, but managed to wear his ever unshakable mask because he absolutely refuses to break character even in private. Has the mistaken notion that his baby is a blank canvas ready to be painted to its fullest potential; aka, molding her to what HE wants and expects of her. Fulgrim probably spoils her rotten but only through conditions that she must follow, as the Primarch understands the importance of fighting and earning for what you wish to obtain. He makes sure that any of his gene-sons are in her company as he refuses to let even a single scratch happen to his little girl. Honestly, a grown-up version of Fulgrim’s child has the chances to go both opposites of the spectrum with no in betweens: A shy aristocratic lady who is unable to speak her own mind or a completely haughty, sharp and manipulative noble woman. Too much to unpack there, yo.

Perturabo

(Slaps this bastard's head loudly) This bad boy can fit so much family trauma in it! Okay no but seriously, there’s a good reason why so many people agree that this bitch has a thing for gilded cages and all the fucked up poetry that comes with it. The good ol’ classic Greek tragedy of Medea. Perturabo may have big and insane expectations for his gene-sons but when it comes to having a daughter? The apple of his eyes. The sunshine of his life. For this Primarch, his little princess is the only living thing in the entire universe that loves him genuinely and unconditionally, making his love the equivalent of a child crushing a bird between his hands. While still easy to anger and with a resting-bitch face, he is incredibly tame and careful with his girl; always making sure that she is well versed in all kinds of science and engineering that could easily label her as a genius (but we all know how stressful can be to try and live up to big expectations). Most of his Legion finds the child either an annoyance or don’t even care enough beyond the factual point of her being the child of their mighty Primarch, beyond that? This poor girl is probably the loneliest child to ever grace the world. Remember that I referred to this like the Tragedy of Medea? Yeah…

Jaghatai Khan

Probably one of the few best papa-tier out there. This man will see his little daughter and think the only thing a good parent should do: To love and guide. He’ll be not afraid to say “I love you” to his baby girl no matter where they are, but he’ll know when to be stern and wise so she grows to be a fine and humble woman. Honestly, this guy would learn how to make a sling just for the single purpose of having his precious princess close while also being excited to teach her how to ride on a horse like he did in his childhood. The thing that makes this dude the best in this list is that if his daughter ever expresses to follow a different path in life like becoming a remembrancer or anything that doesn’t involve the Imperium, this Chad of a man will look deep into her eyes and tell her that he’ll support her no matter what. The only thing he asks is that she stays in contact as he’ll miss her terribly. Kudos to him, fr.

Leman Russ

Another one for the ‘tough love’ guys list, yo! On his defense! Hear me out… in his defense, this guy was literally raised first by Fenrisian wolves before even knowing what a proper bath entailed, so of course he’ll sometimes be a bit too much on his poor little baby girl. Roughhousing was his best first approach to teach her how to fight, trying to make his little pup have some proper backbone worthy of being called the child of a Primarch. Sometimes he’ll get carried away (either with words or actions) and is in those moments when Leman would learn what genuine and heavy guilt feels like; a very alien emotion for someone as brutal and fierce as he is. There’s no worse feeling than knowing that you are the reason behind your daughter’s tears. No one would ever say it out loud, but the way this giant of a man apologizes is by slowly and silently hugging his little girl while pouting until she hugs him back. He may suck at expressing verbally his love towards his baby, but actions are his best way to communicate and this is something his daughter eventually learns and accepts from him. Forgot to add that the entire Space Wolves Legion are not only suffocatingly protective of their Primarch’s child, but everyone takes turns when she asks them for piggy-rides or let her braid their hair.

Rogal Dorn

I don’t wanna be too mean to this poor man but lord have some mercy, trying to squeeze any emotion that doesn’t range to watching paint dry from this damn guy is already a miracle on its own. He’s probably the kind of dude that’ll leave his poor daughter in the care of his astartes and serfs while he works. Workaholic in bold, yo. It literally will take watching his poor little princess cry her eyes out for him to attempt some bonding time but man he just sucks at trying not to have a stick up his ass (Again, I’m not trying to be mean but god this is painful). This is the kind of man, besides Guilliman, that will search high and low for some paternity books to help him. At the end this father-daughter relationship can be salvageable by having a heart to heart between them both and even then, is the poor girl the one that gives more than she receives. Honestly, any daughter from Dorn has the patience of a saint. Besides this Primarch's ineptitude to properly communicate his feelings, everything else doesn’t change the fact that he loves his little princess and will do anything to make her as happy as possible so he gets some brownie points for the try.

I'll later write the second and third part of this, I swear <333

[theomnicode]

How does Genos show he cares? How to write a relatable cyborg character

Warning: Very long post incoming, tl;dr at the bottom

This meta doubles as Genos appreciation post. :D

Ever since his introduction, Genos has shown multiple times his very humane side of caring about Saitama and caring about defeating evil for the betterment of mankind. (Chapter 5: Itch explosion)

The first line he utters to Saitama is to tell him to hide because he does not want this casualty and when he forgets Saitama was there with him, he worries about him having become a casualty to his incinerator. (Chapter 6: Saitama)

Genos has to resort to almost blowing himself and mosquito girl up because he sees no other way to rid the world of such a powerful monster, but fortunately Saitama intervenes. They exchange names and go their merry way but later on, Genos knock on his door as he promised he would. Saitama is very uncertain about this new cyborg buddy of his, but he lets him in regardless and they have a chat.

Here Genos shows that he also worries about Saitama's health, after having barely met him, when he considers how odd it is that Saitama has balded completely at his age already, which is very abnormal medically considering. (Chapter 7: Mysterious raid)

Genos seems to have bunch of medical knowledge inside his head, as later on in the series he improvises a defiblirator and would have used it on Tank-top master if Bang hadn't gotten his heart started first. (Chapter 144: Silver fang)

He also remarks about Kombu's not so proven scientitic research about it growing hair when Saitama has defeated the Kombu monster and taken the leaf parts for him to eat, making the assumption that Saitama must've gotten the Kombu for growing out his hair. Genos cares a lot about Saitama's health already and they're barely acquainted at best at this point. (Chapter 20: Rumour)

The first duo battle they have shows Genos showing a lot of concern towards Saitama's well being, even when he really does not have to, but he's not yet acquainted well with the level of power Saitama actually possesses so he would not need to worry so much. (Chapter 7: Mysterious raid)

He also looks very disdraught about the fact that he cannot just rush to Saitama's aid because he's too busy himself with Armored gorilla, when the other monster decides to take advantage of Saitama's immobile state. (Chapter 8: You mean this guy?)

Poor Genos is such a worrywart because of his own trauma of losing everything in an instant, it honestly does him good to be able to trust Saitama and that Saitama cannot be harmed that easily. It is good that nowdays, he trusts in Saitama's capabilities to handle himself and he worries a lot less (Chapter 165: Absolute evil), even if he immediately went for an enthusiastic armless glomp on him the moment he saw Saitama was back safe and sound. (Chapter 168: Awakening of the gods)

Otherwise he might want to rush to Saitama's aid without thinking about himself and his own opponent first, like he does with Armored Gorilla, who manages to grab his shoulder when he turns his back to his own enemy. If he cares too much, he lets his guard down against enemies and that is not a good habit to have when his enemies are extremely strong.

A very glaring weakness that could be exploited without mercy in any kind of (double) battle if he does not have the insurance that Saitama is just about impossible to be harmed...well, physically at least.

Genos trust in Saitama's capabilities has unfortunately gotten to the point where he thinks Saitama is an answer to every possible problem mankind could face and where Saitama is basically some sort of messiah. Not without reason either, because Saitama performed some insane feats during the Garou fight. (Chapter 166-168, Chapter 173.)

-*-

Moving back in timeline, Genos is instantly very protective of Saitama, to the point of zealousness and jealosy popping up from time to time when other people try to monopolise Saitama's time to themselves.

Genos overprotectiveness early on also shows in way that he wants to take care of anything that might threathen Saitama's well being without mercy, like blowing up the entirety of the House of Evolution building and ramming himself into the next enemy he sees, that being Carnage Kabuto, but in doing so he can and will easily overexert himself. (Chapter 11: The key to his power)

Genos has immediately become the guard dog of Saitama, that even Flashy flash makes a remark on and tells Genos to sit out like a dog, that Genos immediately refutes by having a peep hole into Saitama's apartment and rejects the proposal of Flashy becoming Saitama's master. (Chapter 193: World I know nothing about)

Genos just outright refuses anybody from monopolising Saitama's time to themselves when he's the one who feels like he has the right to 1 on 1 interaction with Saitama, being his obsessive disciple. 😂

Anybody who dares to waste Saitama sensei's precious time, they have to go through him first.

Early on, Saitama has also learned that he can't scare Genos away with his problems. Genos is far too loyal and even if Saitama wanted to stew with his problem alone, Genos cares far too much already and is far too loyal to be sidelined that easily. (Chapter 15: Hobby and work)

Saitama has also learned that Genos can get quite passionate, intimidating and murderous even if he feels like Saitama's been hurt in some way, such as embarrassed due to low score on his exam when Genos thinks he deserves much better scores, so Saitama has to rein him in lest he seriously go off on some random poor dude who just examined his scores. (Chapter 16: Passed the exam)

(Ah Genos, always over the top reaction. Never change. :D)

-*-

One thing about Genos that gives him points in Saitama's eye is that he is quite willing to explain any concept to Saitama, without judgement even if the logical deduction of said thing would've been easy for to understand. Other people might make snide remarks at Saitama, but not Genos. (Chapter 17: Sparring)

Genos also always has Saitama's best interest in hand and asks if he's going to be fine considering his hero rank and that he hasn't seen Saitama active. (Chapter 18: Business activity)

Genos integrates into Saitama's life almost seamlessly, from grocery shopping to meticulously cleaning the house each and every day, from cleaning the windows, vacuuming, cooking, doing dishes and even scrubbing the toilet on daily basis. There is a lot house work that he does for Saitama.

However, the most outstanding character quality in Genos is that he refuses to give up, no matter how dire or dark the situation may seem, such as during the meteor incident, where he goes completely alone to face such a dragon level threat that it could wipe out the entire city and then some. He cares much about Saitama, but so does he care about the innocent citizens getting caught by such a disaster. (Chapter 21: Giant meteor)

Being close to Saitama, it gives Genos strenght to carry on through even the most difficult tasks shoved on him, because not trusting himself enough and his capabilities will only cause him to hesitate in the face of potential collateral damage and that can be a big weakness in itself when time is of the essence.

After the meteor incident has been dealt with, Genos also shows that he cares a lot about Saitama's feelings and does not want them to be hurt, so that is why he omits telling him that public has made Saitama their enemy, hoping that with time their unjust anger would fade. Unfortunately, that is not to be because Saitama goes outside and faces these angry people anyway. (Chapter 22: Voices)

Genos holds Saitama is very high regard and immediately writes down Saitama's inspiring quote. It is not enough that he cares about his physical and mental well being, but he also cares about Saitama as the person and his feelings, even if he idolizes him a lot.

This trait is further explored in the anime with the extra scene where Genos comes to bring Saitama back home because he worries for Saitama's well being again since the public is turned against him, listens to Saitama's rant and affirms his feelings but still tells Saitama that he would always follow him, no matter what the public thinks about him. Saitama however does not quite get it and only thinks Genos is just buttering him up like earlier, with complements and such, because he does not think of himself very highly but it still manages to bring a smile to his face, something that Genos unfortunately does not get to see. (Episode 7, The greatest apprentice)

Genos being a caring, loyal, headstrong and hardworking protector is put to another test against Sea King, where he gets pummeled and pummels back as much as he can give in an incredible fight, but chooses again to self-sacrifice himself to save a little girl from the corrosive acid of Sea king when he sees no other option to save her, besides throwing his more resilient cyborg body in the way, but at the same time, allows himself to become inoperable and at the mercy of Sea king. (Chapter 26: Glimmer of hope)

It is in Mumen rider's care and headstrong intervention that saves Genos from dying at the hands of Sea King because Saitama had become lost and only just made it there to save them both. At the end, Genos contemplates that he will still follow Saitama, even if the public turned on him en masse and he found himself in a tight spot. (Chapter 28: Since it's raining)

As soon as the letters start pouring in about their heroics, Genos sees how ugly the masses treat Saitama in the form of hate letters and he does not want to stand idly by while everyone throws disparaging comments about Saitama. But poor Genos also feels like he's the one to blame, for showing the letters to Saitama. 😭

This has become quite a long ramble about how Genos is very caring, headstrong, hardworking hero and I could go on for even longer than that since I've only checked out the first portion of the manga for this meta to use as examples, but as a final thought, not a whole lot encompasses Genos as a character than the last panels I can put into this post.

Genos cares so much he does not just fiercely fight for the individuals; he fights for his sensei, for the citizens, for the other heroes and for the world to be a better place, rid of evil. That he still came to Tatsumaki's aid even when the situation seemed hopeless because he could. This humane side of him is very relatable, caring about our loved ones and other human beings is very intrinsical to our own well being as social people. (Chapter 134: Twist & Chapter 137: Resonance)

However, he still has those self-destructing tendencies that are hopefully curbed now that he got positive reinforcement from Saitama for not blowing himself up, so that he values himself a bit more. That he is not expendable piece. (Chapter 155: Results)

Last thoughts, Genos is incredibly passionate individual when it comes to protecting others and avenging his loved ones. He even threw his remainder of a torso directly at Cosmic Garou, just because he's resistant to radiation, with his brain being encompassed behind heavy fortifications. (Chapter 166: Squared.)

(^ Chapter 186: Turning point ^)

Hope y'all enjoyed this incredibly long post about Genos and how he shows his caring side. :D

Thank you @themisterhip for this meta idea on discord. :)

Tl;dr Genos is hardworking, passionate, very caring, meticulous, fierce, intelligent and well-researched individual who fights to the best of his ability for other people, no matter what it takes. Ironically, Genos is one if not the most humane character in the series, despite being a cyborg.

[dangermousie]

Top Dozen cdramas - 2024

This can obviously change but nothing truly exciting looks to air for the rest of the year so that's unlikely. My Top Dozen for the year are likely be set in stone.

It's a very idiosyncratic list which has two mini dramas, three moderns (!!! for me that's insane) and a lot of vibes dramas.

12 Hard to Find - all vibes all the times. A tragic romance that feels like a Gothic fairytale, this is what minidramas could be.

11 Love In the Desert - out of all the dramas on this list, this is the one that screams most "a good time." It's a romance and visual feast and webnovel madness and sexy good time and it made me cry.

10 Fortune Writer - a mini that is so smart and meta and fun about narratives and fate and villainy and fighting the story itself. So clever.

9 Derailment - a puzzle and a love story, telling most anything about it would be a spoiler but this story about a rich girl from 2025 who seemingly wakes up in a parallel universe in 2023 in body of a poor doppelganger, and the young man who was in love with the original has everything including addressing what it must feel to people to have a transmigrator possess a loved one.

8 Tender Light - the ending was just - it's the reason it's not n1. But the rest of this drama about an abused wife and an idealistic young man refusing to bow to societal pressure was just exquisite. It addresses morality and loneliness and complicity and sacrifice. Just incredible. Poetry in motion.

7 Will Love In Spring - a modern romance cdrama? In my list? Is the world ending? But seriously, this is such a gorgeous, realistic yet intense exploration of love and loss and trauma. It made me utterly reevaluate Li Xian to boot.

6 Snowfall - this is such a fever dream of a mood piece of a vampire romance, with seriously BDSM and gay vibes, as well as utterly incredible canon age gap ride or die OTP with Ouyang Nana bothering to act for the first time in her life and Vengo Gao embodying a gentleman vampire to perfection. Li Muge remains one of my favorite directors for a reason.

5 Heroes - the story of three very different men all consigned to the dustheap of history by changing times (the best swordsman in the era of guns, a former imperial guard of a regime about to be overthrown, a constable obedient to obsolete code who studied for imperial exams which got abolished) as the Qing dynasty is about to fall, this has fights, humor, three (!) separate love stories, philosophy and utter and complete heartbreak. The performances, the ideas, the filming and the writing all combine to make a bleak masterpiece with a 99% death rate (I am not kidding, only tertiaries make it out.) If I were in charge, it would get all the awards.

4 The Legend of Shen Li - the one truly mainstream idol costume hit on the list. It's an adult, passionate xianxia that reunites Zhao Liying and Lin Gengxin as deities and battle powerhouses in a love story that is so full of yearning and passion and intensity I feel like peeking through my fingers. This is everything xianxia romance tries to be and almost never is. This just might be my favorite xianxia of all time, tbh.

3 Eternal Brotherhood - a dark horse whose existence I didn't even know about before it aired. Visually stunning despite its tiny budget, this narrative about three sworn brothers in a kingdom and world in crisis, is pitch perfect in its humor, its intensity, its tragedy and its themes (also THREE!!!! amazing love stories despite not being a romance-centric show.) The battles, the friendships, the traumas, the darkness at the heart of it all!

2 Fangs of Fortune - the sole drama that can rival JoL2 for me (only caveat is it's still airing), this is visually the most jaw dropping drama I've ever seen, but it's also high fantasy the way it should be - making me feel so immersed that stopping feels like coming up from a deep dive or waking up from a hypervivid dream. It has impeccable performances (many from actors who I don't normally even like), and its plot and relationships and themes - fate and sacrifice and choice and found family bonds and trauma and so many other things - make it feel as if it was made just for me.

1 Joy of Life 2 - THE drama of 2024 for me. It's somehow better than the incredible first installment. It's funny, it's heartbreaking, it has insane performances, a narrative that hits all my personally favorite themes (a person trying to remain human in an inhuman world, righteousness not being weak), a large cast of fascinating characters who feel like they live in front of me (there are no throwaway roles in this), my favorite ship of the year (though it's not even a ship-centric show) and above all, Zhang Ruoyun's live wire of a performance as Fan Xian, arguably my favorite cdrama character of all time. It should not work yet it does. Brilliantly.

[jaegerisim]

Vent post y'all are gonna hate me for.

I viscerally hate how the Duffers treat most of their non white or queer characters and I hate even more viscerally, how y'all big byler blogs in your circle jerk of other 5 big byler blogs casually like to ignore many red flags the show has.

Y'all like to say: "tHe DufFeRs ArE gReAt WrIteRs" and it's like girl, who are you lying to??? They aren't top shit writers at all. The Duffers are pretty mid imo. Yeah, they run a good show that's fun to watch and theorize abt , but that doesn't mean they're good writers cuz they're not.

1. they completely side lined Will during s3 for the sake of their straight romances: lumax, jancy, mlvn, duzie and partly stobin (even if stobin wasn't endgame, thankfully, Steve's intentions were clearly wanting to date Robin and they gave it a lot of screen time). Will was sidelined bc he didn't fit the straight romance plotline bc they planned to make him gay or whatever. Now in s4 Will and his feelings have been used as mlvn toilet paper. Yes, we like to say this is build up for byler but canonically, Will's feelings have been used to clean the shit mlvn leaves behind.

2. Billy was sympathized a lot during the last 2 seasons. They gave him the sad backstoryTM in order for ppl to feel sorry for him. Billy's backstory is literally Jonathan's but whatever.

3. El's anger issues are constantly girlboss-ified. They down play her bullying situation and literally just use it for El to be a ''girlboss" without realizing how triggering that is. As someone who has lived bullying, seeing it be ignored by canon and fanon is super sad. The whole Rink-O' Mania experience must have been so traumatizing for her yet, everyone absolutely forgets abt it 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. Robin, Erica and Argyle are stereotypical characters. Robin is the quirky lesbian with social anxiety, Erica is the badass black woman and Argyle is the Latino stoner that sells weed to white kids and works as a pizza delivery guy.

5. Altho Argyle and Eddie both do drugs, (Eddie actually sells K-12 to a minor and nobody batted an eye. He has a huge fan base). Eddie is held in a pedestal bc "poor thing 🥺 he lives in a trailer with his uncle 🥺". Tell me a single fact you know abt Argyle that isn't "he smokes weed", "he is Jonathan's only friend", "drives a van" and "he works at a pizzeria". Exactly, Eddie is given a useless backstory and Argyle isn't.

6. Dustin stopped being important to the plot sometime around s2 and s3. He is only there to curse and be mildly funny. My guy needs to hangout with ppl his age cuz he only hangs out with seniors.

7. El needs to stop having so much "I'M THAT BITCH" screentime like I need in s5 for El's arc to not just be her becoming more powerful and falling in love with Mike. I need the Duffers to explore her trauma and problems.

8. Angela should have been run over by the van.

9. Patrick should have been given a backstory that isn't the basic "strict black parents that hit their kids cuz they are a disgrace". Patrick's backstory is actually racist af, fight w the wall.

10. As Lex already said, they didn't trigger tag the ep where Jason and his friends assault Lucas and Erica. Like wtf? Why was that necessary? Why did I have to see a black boy being held at gunpoint by some white guy?? Was it relevant to the plot?? I don't think so. And then I've got to see ppl online be like "Jason wasn't that bad. He was just mourning" like bitch you can stfu. This is what happens when you make the racist assholes conventionally attractive.

Also the fact that Lucas's arc is fulfilled by him fist-fighting Jason and "embracing his weirdness" aka accepting he is black. His arc was not fulfilled at all cuz that ending spoke so loud to me. It showed how little empathy ppl have towards the struggles poc ppl living in the Midwest have. Y'all circle jerks can only see racism when it's super obvious.

Furthermore, parents complained when ST showed "an excessive amount of smoking" yet nobody batted an eye when Billy tried to run over Lucas, when Erica (an 11 y.o ffs) was chased by white kids or when Lucas was held at gunpoint by Jason.

All of this happened while they focused on Max's guilt and mourning that, yeah, are important but certainly not less important than racism!!!

11. In s3, they gave us that whole Nancy vs The Bigots arc that was honestly just triggering and useless. It didn't help Nancy's character at all, quite the opposite it put unnecessary angst.

12. Lonnie being presented as an abuser just for him to never be spoken of again. Can we please get to explore the trauma he left the Byers's with?

13. The fact that both queer relationships are considered "sloppy seconds" is extremely sad. Both Vickie and Mike are rebounding from their failed relationship with Robin and Will. These 2 ships have caused more commotion than Jancy and Jopper together! (These last ships are technically sloppy seconds too but everybody forgets that. Shocker!!)

14. Last but not least, ppl blame Argyle for being the one to get Jonathan into smoking weed as if Jonathan probably wasn't the one looking for it. Let me tell you, that you only find weed if you look for it.

[rachelsfav-queer]

Nightmare

Enid smiles as she watches her roomie sleep on top of her. It’s the first night that Wednesday hasn’t had a nightmare since… the incident. The small girl looks so peaceful while she’s asleep, so beautiful, so pretty-

Woah.

Okay, so that’s a new revelation. But that’s gonna have to wait till later, when she’s not snuggling her best friend/roommate/now crush like one of her Squishmallows, Enid decides. It’s a… hefty realization to say the least. But as for the moment, Enid is just too focused on protecting her roomie from any nightmares.

The poor girl, they’re the only times that Enid has seen Wednesday cry. The seer never explains what happens in the dreams, but with the way she screams out the wolf’s name and subsequently clings to her like her life depends on it? Well… Enid can hazard a safe guess. In a way, Enid is honored that Wednesday fears for her in such a deep way, but she also feels bad that she’s at the center of her roommate’s trauma from that horrific night.

She shouldn’t dwell on it.

She does.

But maybe… maybe this means something? Not the nightmares, though there’s definitely a whole bunch of self-reflection that Wednesday will have to do around them, but no. The fact that Enid can stop them! This was the first night that Wednesday hasn’t had a nightmare all night long and the only difference is Enid holding her.

The blonde’s inner wolf howls brightly at the knowledge that she has successfully protected her mate- ROOMMATE once again, even if it’s not quite as life threatening as the Hyde this time. But in a way, it’s more special this time, isn’t it? It’s more… intimate. And that’s so very special when it comes to getting closer to Wednesday Addams.

So… Enid smiles as she looks down at her roommate in her arms, lying halfway on top of her chest. And if plants a gentle kiss on the girl’s forehead while she sleeps, well, that’s between Enid and early morning sun.

And well, Wednesday, who secretly woke up ten minutes ago and is now desperately fighting against the blush rising in her face.

(Day 25, Prompt 25 of Wenclair-Tober. See? Despite forgetting which day we were on, I still managed to create something very cute! AND NO ANGST! So that’s a win considering this prompt I feel was made with specifically angst in mind. But I refuse the angst! At least for now lol. Hope you enjoyed!)

[lovemyromance]

You're telling me, if your 23-yr old ass got dunked into a freezing iron crockpot after you were stolen from your bed in your cute lil coquette nightgown and suddenly you were now stripped of your humanity and forced to become a creature you'd been raised to hate your entire life -

And then one of those said creatures - whom you've never met but was standing alongside the ENEMY that was responsible for this trauma - suddenly swoops in and claims you in front of everyone (never mind that you actually have a fiancé whom you loved)-

And then you are suddenly taken from the room and thrust into an unfamiliar world with the only person you know being your sister and kinda these 3 terrifying warriors who you met once or twice-

And on top of all that - you are now assaulted with random images/visuals/sounds/who knows what - that you cannot explain. Are you going crazy? Are you suddenly like schizophrenic? What the fuck is going on? Is this what it's going to be like forever now that you're fae?

Not to mention, now that you're fae, you know your fiancée isn't ever going to be with you now. You lost him, and your human life all in one go. You only have your sister to cling to, and your other sister is god knows where.

That's so much to go through in the span of like a week.

I don't think people are understanding how traumatic that would be to someone. There's nothing worse than the feeling that you're going crazy - like it's some kind of divine punishment. People are always so quick to call Elain Archeron weak or stupid or depressed - as if she didn't just lose everything she knew and cherished basically overnight.

They're so quick to dismiss her wants and needs and trauma and criticize her for not wanting to take help from her "fated mate" - even though that term probably means jack shit to her anyways.

The poor girl was trying to figure out why she was being assaulted with visions and y'all are out here claiming Lucien fixed her by telling them to "take her outside, make sure she gets some fresh air".

Nah, Elain Archeron has the willpower of steel - she fixed her damn self. As soon as she discovered she was a Seer, Miss Girl pulled herself together and started to make use of her newfound powers.

She found the Suriel.

She rammed Truthteller into KoH's neck.

She asked Greyson to turn his manor into a safe haven for the humans.

She refuses to be near Lucien, but is sneaking around with the Spymaster in the dead of night.

Who knows what else she's been doing behind the scenes? Who knows what she has up her sleeves, in that mind of hers?

Out of any possible storyline SJM could write, Elain's is the only one right now that I'd pay to find out about.

[crazylittlejester]

honestly, the fandom dismisses wars trauma a little too much. Have you noticed it’s always never brought up in his character studies? And when it is, it’s totally brushed off him and cia had a WEIRDDD age gap. It’s also weird hyrule warriors never acknowledges this. I honestly don’t think it’s gonna be recognized in LU but idk. It’s just weird how quickly the fandom brushed over all that. What’s your opinion? Cuz you have cool opinions lol

Disclaimer: Everything you’re about to read is my opinion and my interpretation of a game. I’m not talking about headcanons (unless otherwise specified), I’m just talking about my experience with the game and everything else. All of this is from MY perspective interacting with the canon material from both Hyrule Warriors and Linked Universe. Also! I am dyslexic, my bad for oddly autocorrected words or weird spelling mistakes

A huge reason I started yapping so much on this blog was because I saw a lot of people either actively disliking Wars, making fucking INSANE comments about his body, overly sexualizing him, or just straight up dismissing him all together and it helped me get over my posting anxiety because it genuinely made me so upset. He’s been my favorite character since only a few posts into LU (i originally liked Twilight better based sheerly on design but it took like only a few posts before that changed), and I love HW Link in general, and I thought it was actually crazy that more people didn’t like him. I’ve written several of my own characters studies on him, some of which I’ve posted, others lay trapped in my old laptop in the form of a full on analysis paper, never to see the light of day

You can send a full grown man to war and he will come back with trauma, imagine what happens when you grab some poor teenager and tell him everything relies on him. Literally forget Cia for a minute, Link as a teenager was taken and shoved into a full on war where his men turned on him and in order to survive, he had to kill. Monsters and hylians alike, it was him or them, and he’s the one who made it out. Not to mention he was constantly running all over the battle field trying to prevent the hylian captains from being defeated, and he most certainly lost many people he cared about just because he couldn’t get there in time. He had to carry around the guilt that this war was started because some sorceress was obsessed with him ON TOP of that

This was said earlier by an anon on a post I reblogged, and I’ve been saying it myself for months but I will say it again: If Warriors had been a girl and been obsessed over that same way, I fucking GUARANTEE you people would be taking it more seriously

I literally just typed in the character name and the game she’s from and that is what google had to say about her. If an older man was described as ‘harboring serious affections’ and having a ‘desire to claim’ a teenage girl I literally don’t think it would’ve been glossed over or ignored like it is

I don’t think nintendo was ever gonna elaborate or really recognize it in the game, they never go super in depth on anything in Zelda games from my experience, and I doubt Jojo will really get into it in LU mainly just because she has so much going on with eight other dudes and potentially two more (based on the header on the linked universe blog)

I saw a lot of characterizations of Warriors and opinions of him that made me so confused and also a bit mad, such that he is a womanizer or a stupid twink (of which he is neither), and that’s a huge reason I started writing fanfiction for this fandom. Firstly to just create more content for my favorite character because I rarely saw any that focused on him, and secondly because I didn’t like some (NOT ALL) of how I was seeing him characterized. (i cannot emphasize enough: NOT ALL people in the fandom characterized him this way, I saw plenty of amazing and beautiful characterizations of Warriors)

I do not think he is a womanizer at all, in fact I fully believe his flirtatious behavior is a defense mechanism. I think his ‘woman problems’ are the fact that he’s afraid of women (especially older women) he doesn’t know or trust, but also that’s just my opinion. And I am genuinely a bit worried that now that people have stopped talking about how they noticed he seemed off a few updates ago and now that they’re saying he’s back to normal that people are going to start reducing him to a stupid dramatic twink again, as if Warriors was not the one who came up with the initial plan to fight Dink and was not the first one to fight him. As if this is not a man who lead a god damn army. As if everything he’s done and everything he is no longer matters because he’s ‘pretty’

anyways I have a lot of thoughts about him in general and im just glad the fandom has been treating him better as of late, but i am a bit worried it’s just gonna go back to how it was

thanks for the ask!! sorry i got a bit carried away 😭

[sorrelchestnut]

I think everything about Astarion is perfectly explained by the fact that he has siblings.

I mean, yes, centuries of torment and trauma, grasping at power to make himself feel safe, blah blah blah: that part was immediately obvious all the way back in EA. But he's also genuinely selfish and petty and spiteful, seeming to delight in people's miseries and sulk at their joys, in a way that doesn't come off as "traumatized sadboi" so much as "spiteful bitch." Which I enjoy tremendously as a character, don't get me wrong, but like. He does cackle in joy when you accidentally (or "accidentally") send that poor gnome flying into oblivion. He is not a nice person.

But! The second you learn that he has siblings, everything makes sense! He wasn't tragically wandering the halls of a big Evil Gothic Mansion alone with his master and tormentor; he was locked in a fucking dormitory with six other spawn of indeterminate age who are encouraged to compete and sabotage each other for Cazador's favor. (There were fucking bunk beds, y'all. Just imagine.) I spent years going to sleep-away camp for the summers and usually came back meaner and that was with dozens of counselors attempting to teach us the value of friendship; of fucking course Astarion is the most miserable, spiteful little bastard (un)alive.

Some of it is the very specific trope they used to write him: he's the very model of a regency rake, not the "dark powerful reformable bad boy" kind but the drawling, pissant little dandy fortune hunter, who ingratiates himself with the dowagers by way of his cutting tongue and seduces young ladies of means to live off their dowry. But the rest of it is very definitely the two centuries of social reinforcement by his equally miserable and hateful siblings. He's every mean girl from every teen movie who got that way by climbing to the top of the pack, allergic to sympathy and sincerity because any hint of it has been consistently mocked and punished and inflicting that mindset on others in turn.

As usual none of it actually excuses his bad behavior, blah blah blah I'm not interesting in legislating the crimes of fictional men, but it is excellent character writing. None of what I learned about him later ever contradicted any of my first impressions, only informed and enhanced. And it says a lot that he does grow so much more sympathetic and sincere by the end (if that's the example you set) because it really reinforces just how much he's influenced by his social circle. When he's surrounded by a pack of perpetually-adolescent squabbling murderchildren, he's... habitually unkind, let's just say. When he's away from that environment and rewarded with kindness and validation for behaving like a moderately functional adult, he finally gets a chance to prove that he just might actually be one.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (6)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, fluff, angst, trauma, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He felt like killing Cregan for suggesting in front of everyone that they should take Wright with them to install the stained glass windows instead of consulting him in private, putting him in a position where he couldn't disagree.

He knew he would be tense throughout their stay there because of her and was furious.

After Lyanna gave her testimony to the police along with the other girls who wanted to accuse Lannister of harassment and the statement she made, the professors who had not spoken to him in years suddenly began to approach him, offering to shake his hand in greeting.

He did not reciprocate their gestures.

No one asked him if he had a reason for doing what he did, no one was interested in his feelings then.

He did not need their pity now.

Lyanna after couple of days wrote him an e-mail saying that the charges had been filed, that she would tell the court about everything she saw, willing to take any punishment for not reacting then, and asked him if he would agree to testify to confirm their words.

He replied to her without any politeness, with only one word.

Yes.

He noticed something else and although he didn't want it to matter to him, he felt a tickle in his chest when he caught Wright glancing over her shoulder at him, that warmth again sounded in her greeting and farewell.

Looking at her, he felt the discomfort caused by how much he craved her good opinion, flocking to her like a moth to the light, tired and worn out, wanting at last to find a refuge somewhere.

He had the impression that the last years of his life had been a perpetual tossing in agony, a running to nowhere, feeling breathless and drained of strength, of emotion, so that the fact that he felt anything for her was something shocking, new, revealing to him.

He realised, albeit with a great deal of despair and denial, that she had aroused his affection.

That he wanted to get closer to her, although he didn't know how he was supposed to achieve this.

He didn't want to do it in a literal, physical way, but in a spiritual way.

A safe one.

One in which he could not be hurt.

Even so, these musings remained in his mind as he was unable to make anything out of himself or show anything, embarrassed by his thoughts and weakness, so everything was as it was before.

It was this realisation that made the thought of travelling in her company give him panic attacks − he didn't know himself what he wanted anymore, he didn't understand himself.

On top of that, he reminded himself all the time that she was his student, that he had stigmatised Jason for the same behaviour. He fell into state of depression and sadness explaining to himself that he had to focus on work and not on her.

The whole drive passed in general calm − he tried to concentrate on what Cregan was saying and on driving, refraining with poor effect from glancing in the mirror to see her face, sitting in the back behind them, gazing out of the window at the view.

He could feel the heat in his chest as he looked at her and knew that it was very, very bad.

When they arrived, unpacked and set off for the church he felt that perhaps everything would go without any problems, Cregan thankfully filling their space with his chatter made it bearable for all of them.

Once he had made sure that none of the stained glass quarters had been damaged in transit he decided that they could return to their hotel and after a little shopping each of them locked themselves in their rooms.

He couldn't sleep knowing she was in the room next door, in addition it was hot and he was wriggling in his bed.

He felt disgusted with himself, but he was also overcome by a kind of joy, because he thought he would never feel such a thing, especially for a woman.

Meanwhile, he was melting more and more each day at the sight of her, her understanding of his needs, her distance, her respect, her warmth made him feel safe around her − he knew she would never violate his space, that she would not judge him, even though he was such a wicked man.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that he was beginning to fear that he was falling in love with her.

It seemed tacky to him, a professor falling for his female student, all the inappropriateness of it which made it all the more exciting.

He figured that it probably wasn't about that after all.

It was about her way of being.

About who she chose to be.

When he looked at her, he felt like touching her.

Her cheek, her hand, her hair, without any subtext, just to see how soft her skin was, how she smelled, whether it felt good.

To rediscover the touch.

To make him no longer afraid of it.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that she would surely scold him if she heard what his thoughts sounded like.

He got up, deciding that he needed a cigarette because he wasn't going to fall asleep anyway, and walked out onto the balcony, sitting down comfortably.

He put the cigarette in his mouth and pressed the lighter to it, lighting it lazily from the flame that appeared in front of his face.

He took a drag and sighed heavily, letting the smoke out through his nose, looking at the night silhouette of the city around him.

He jumped up in his seat, shocked when he heard the sound of the door opening on the other side and noticed her head poking out towards him.

Her hair was loose.

As soon as she saw him, she immediately backed away, terrified.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled embarrassedly, and he moved restlessly in his chair, frowning his eyebrows, his heart pounding like mad.

"Stay. I'm finishing up anyway." He said lowly feeling how fast and anxious his breathing was, all tense, desperate.

Stay.

For a moment he heard no sound on the other side, but her balcony door remained open. She came out after a while − he swallowed loudly noticing her bare, slim legs.

She sat down quickly on the other side of the table, leaning against the backrest, looking out at the city, not at him, all tense.

He thought, taking another drag, feeling his hands tremble slightly, that he could just sit like that and stare at her for hours, admiring her from afar.

He could see that she felt uncomfortable, that the silence between them made her feel like an intruder after all, so with a light, casual movement of his hand, he moved the open pack of cigarettes towards her. She gave him a surprised look and shook her head.

They glanced at each other for a long moment, and he felt there was something in the air, some kind of tension that had been building between them for weeks.

He cocked his head, shaking the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray with his finger.

"Are you afraid of me?"

He saw her look at him, startled, moving restlessly in her seat and swallowed loudly.

"I'm not afraid. I just don't understand you, Professor." She said with some kind of weariness, lowering her gaze. He chuckled at her words, amused.

Interesting.

"And what is it you want to understand?" He asked defiantly, his cigarette burning slowly in his hand − he was focused on her response, uncertainty ran across her face, she pressed her lips together not knowing where to look.

"What has happened to you."

He felt his whole body suddenly tense up and he froze in mid-motion − he felt like his heart had stopped beating for a second. She glanced at him and turned pale, seeing the look on his face.

"Careful now. You're treading on thin ice." He said in a deep, cold voice, taking another drag, not taking his eyes off her, her bottom lip quivering in terror.

"Please. Please, sir, let me understand." She whispered softly, and he felt a squeeze in his heart.

He hesitated.

He didn't want to talk about it, but on the other hand he was eager to get closer to her, he wanted her to understand him.

He didn't want her pity, though, and usually that's what he got.

He decided that if he didn't tell her now, she would never be able to fully approach him.

The same invisible wall would remain between them.

He pressed the remnants of his cigarette to the ashtray, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I was raped by a woman when I was 16."

He glanced at her reaction and saw exactly what he had feared.

She froze completely, drawing in the air in disbelief, her eyes big and terrified, her body beginning to shake. He clenched his jaw thinking of the scene she was about to make, of her crying and wailing over his sad fate, telling him it wasn't his fault, how sorry she was.

He didn't give a shit.

He didn't want her sympathy, her tears, her despair.

He wanted her.

He wanted to be a man in her eyes, not a victim.

He reached for another cigarette and slipped it into his mouth, lighting it with a nonchalant, light-hearted gesture, taking another drag, looking at her pityingly, seeing that she was in a decreasing state. He let the smoke out with a quiet hiss.

"It's a pity you can't see yourself. They should give a Nobel Peace Prize to every woman who looks at me like that when she learns about it." He murmured annoyed, taking another drag, looking at her with rage, feeling like telling her to pull herself together.

He saw tears run down her cheeks, her pink, full lips parted in an involuntary, accelerated, terrified breath. She wiped them away, but to no avail; she couldn't stop it apparently. He shook his head, sighing disapprovingly, tired.

"Always this crying." He muttered dryly, shaking off the ash into the ashtray with an impatient gesture of his finger.

He saw something flash across her face, some kind of pain, as if he had slapped her, and after a moment she stood and walked out, closing the door from her balcony behind her, leaving him alone.

He felt his heart pounding hard, looked towards her windows completely shocked.

This was something he hadn't expected.

He swallowed loudly, burning his cigarette quickly, immediately regretting what he had said, how he had reacted, recognising that he had asked too much of her, that he had told her something like that, and then humiliated her even though she had not said a word.

He made up his own mind about how she felt without asking her opinion, fearing that she would confirm his suspicions.

He stood up and ran a hand over his face, heartbroken, knowing he had screwed up. He walked to her balcony door and knocked on it, sighing loudly, massaging his forehead.

"Please, open. I'm sorry." He said in a tired, broken voice loud enough for her to hear him.

He shuddered as he heard movement on the other side − the door opened and she stood in front of him, closer than ever, looking at him with her face red and swollen from tears, her eyes full of pain, sadness and regret.

He knew he had hurt her and she had done nothing to deserve it.

He hurt her because he knew she couldn't be his.

He was punishing her for his own desperation.

He looked at her and couldn't get anything out of himself, his nose filled with her scent, again the same coconut shampoo he'd smelled when she'd first come to him. He felt a tickle in his fingertips, a warmth in his lower abdomen.

"I am not a good person. I do and say worse and worse things. I'm tired of myself and the people around me. I feel like I'm spiralling down and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't understand why you cared so much about me teaching you, but what I said just a moment ago was an expression of my pure cruelty." He said in despair, knowing that he had screwed up, that he was an aggressive, insane, broken man who had struggled for years with his trauma, which he could not overcome.

His mother never forgave herself for taking Alys on holiday with them back then − she didn't know what she was capable of and wanted to report it to the proper authorities immediately, but his father wouldn't allow any charges to be brought to the police.

He said they wouldn't prove anything against her in court anyway, and it would affect his future campaign for parliament badly.

Now, years later, he realised with painful disappointment that his father simply did not believe him at the time.

He did not have the heart to tell his already remorse-ridden mother that he was not coping, that therapy was not working.

For years she thought he had forgotten, that all was well, and when she found out he had hit a woman, she turned on him, saying that this was not how she had raised him, that he had gone from being a victim to being an abuser.

Her words completely devastated him and even though he knew he had done wrong, he cried like a baby all night after the phone call from her.

She was his only friend, his one confidant and she had left him.

He thought he deserved it.

She swallowed loudly at his words, lowering her gaze.

"I wanted to work with you because you are the best. Because you are to me the model of an artist, a hard-working man doing everything with care and attention to detail. I respect you very much in this regard, sir, and I try not to make you feel uncomfortable with me, although I am only now beginning to understand what this discomfort is caused by." She choked out with difficulty, looking at him with an understanding from which he grew hot.

She tried to comprehend him, not to judge him, not to reject him despite how he treated her, even though she had every right to do so.

She tried, and he did nothing to deserve it.

He didn't deserve that she stood in front of him and listened to him, didn't deserve that she changed her clothes before their class especially for him, that she was careful not to hurt him.

He swallowed loudly, feeling all-consuming shame, tears welling up in his eyelids as he looked at her.

He had a feeling she noticed it because her lips parted slightly, looking at him with concern.

He wanted to touch her.

For the first time since that day, he wanted to touch someone like that.

"Will you let me touch your cheek?" He whispered quietly, with shame, as if he had just told her his most disgusting hidden secret, more disgusting than rape, more disgusting than slapping his student.

Nothing seemed worse to him than the fact that he desired her.

He was sure she would look at him in disgust, that she would tell him it was inappropriate, ask him how could he propose such a thing, but she kept looking at him, something in her eyes that made him feel hot.

She nodded her head.

He stared at her in disbelief, not believing that she had agreed, that he was allowed to do such a thing.

He swallowed hard, lifting his trembling hand slowly and ran his fingertips lightly, gently, delicately over her tear-warm skin. He drew in a breath feeling how soft she was, how she sank under his touch.

He couldn't help himself and touched her again, his thumb trailed over her soft, wet lips and she sighed softly, her gaze warm, tender, misty.

"You are so beautiful." He whispered in pain, wanting her to understand what he felt, unable to muster any other confession, heartbroken at his weakness, his vulnerability, exposed to any hit from her, to any kind of rejection.

She blinked at his words and blushed in embarrassment, lowering her gaze for a moment, raising it again to his face, his fingers continued to stroke the soft skin of her cheek.

"You are beautiful too, sir." She whispered softly, and he felt heat spilling over his chest, his heart starting to pound like crazy at the thought that she was reciprocating his affection, that she had a weakness for him too.

He felt himself get completely hard at the thought and it terrified him.

He wasn't ready, he didn't know what he should do now.

He shuddered when he saw her raise her hand and quickly grabbed her wrist, scared, looking at her pleadingly.

"No. Don't touch me." He said quickly, breathing hard. "Please."

She lowered her hand, looking at him with worry and understanding, and he let her go, breathing unevenly, terrified and aroused at the same time, wanting only to stay with her, to be by her side, to sit beside her, to do anything as long as he could look at her.

"May I touch your hand?" She asked quietly, uncertainly, and he looked at her, fighting with himself, wanting it and not wanting it at the same time, afraid of what she wanted to do, what she was thinking about.

He nodded, deciding that he would trust her.

Her fingers slipped into his free hand and grasped it lightly, non-committally, leading him with her to her room.

He felt his heart pounding hard when he saw that she was leading him towards her bed and immediately panicked, knowing that he couldn't do this, that he didn't want to.

"I don't −" He began, and she let him go, sitting down on her bedding, extending her hand to him, looking at him with eyes that didn't show what he expected.

"I know. That's not what I want either." She whispered, and he felt immense relief, swallowing loudly, trying to relax.

That's not what I want either.

"Turn your back to me." He commanded, looking at her with his eyes wide open, breathing anxiously, wanting to make sure he was in control of what was happening, that she didn't suddenly touch him or make any violent gesture.

She obediently did as he asked, laying on her side with her back to him, her hair spread in disarray on the pillow around her head, her bare legs lying casually on top of each other.

He watched her figure for a moment, pulling off his shoes, and then carefully and slowly lay down behind her at a safe distance, smelling the intense scent of her shampoo and her shower lotion.

He swallowed loudly, unable to tear his gaze away from her hair, from how soft they looked, from how long he'd been thinking about what it would feel like to hold it between his fingers.

He licked his lips involuntarily at the thought.

"Can I touch your hair?" He whispered, feeling that it was immoral, perverted, but he couldn't help himself, being so close to her, his length pulsed hard in his trousers, demanding any form of intimacy with her, one that didn't threaten him.

He needed her.

He saw that she nodded, moving to arrange herself more comfortably, her chest rising and falling in accelerated breaths.

He lifted his hand and placed it on her head, then combed his fingers through her hair in a slow, unhurried motion.

With his movement, an even more intense scent of her shampoo reached his nostrils, the structure of her curls was soft and surprisingly smooth, as if he were touching a newly bought brush of natural bristles.

Surprised by this pleasant sensation, he stroked her like this, resting the weight of his hand on her head, playing with a strand of her hair once in a while, fascinated by this unforced, almost innocent closeness.

He glanced at her, feeling that she wasn't moving, wondering with a pain in his heart if she was terrified or afraid he would do something to her.

"Is it pleasant? Are you uncomfortable?" He asked quietly with his heart pounding hard, wanting to know if he should stop, not wanting to do to her what his mother's friend had done then, during their holiday together many years ago.

He wanted her to be comfortable, to be calm, to feel safe.

He heard her swallow quietly, and after a moment her soft, warm, slightly hoarse voice echoed through the room.

"No. It's very pleasant. I think I'll fall asleep if you don't stop, sir."

He felt heat spilling over his chest at these words, at this proof that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep beside him, that his touch was not unpleasant, unwanted to her.

They laid like this, not saying anything or moving, listening to their own breaths.

He watched the back of her head, her body rising and falling in her breath, feeling her soft hair under his fingertips, and thought that in two years' time, when Cregan finished his habilitation he wanted to leave.

He wanted to set up his own workshop, to get away from the rector and the professors who harassed their students, to be able to decide for himself who he wanted to hire and who he didn't, without having to listen to anyone's judgement.

He swallowed aloud at the thought that, knowing that he wouldn't then be the supervisor of her thesis and wouldn't have a say in her final grade and degree, what he was doing now would no longer be so questionably moral.

That he could then allow himself to desire her.

He woke at dawn with his nose snuggled into her hair, his arm embracing her, his hand holding her palms in a subconscious gesture to not let her touch him. He hummed as he felt her fingertips wandering over the top of his hand, forming a circle-like shape each time.

He felt a pleasant shudder every time she did this, his manhood pulsed hard, thirsty and additionally swollen as the morning wore on, pressing against her buttocks before him.

He grunted quietly, pulling back, not wanting her to think he was encouraging or expecting her to do anything, melting his face into her hair, seeking refuge from the lust he felt.

"What's going to happen now?" She asked quietly, uncertainly, her fingers continuing to run over his palm.

He murmured quietly, lying behind her with his eyes closed, inhaling the scent of her skin and shampoo, feeling bliss, peace and contentment. He ran his thumb over her lying hand, feeling the soft structure of her skin beneath his fingers.

"We shall see. Okay?" He whispered, not wanting to promise her anything or pretend that nothing had happened between them. He wanted them to just let this unfold as it was meant to, without rushing.

He was comfortable as it was now.

"Okay." She said softly, warmly, and he smiled involuntarily.

He leaned in, placing a tentative, gentle kiss on her neck, from which she shuddered all over. He tightened his arm more firmly around her body, holding her in an iron grip.

"Don't move. Tell me if you want me to stop." He whispered, trailing his lips slowly lower, brushing against her skin with a quiet click, leaving wet marks, sliding a piece of her t-shirt with his nose, placing one last kiss on her bare shoulder, sliding back down.

Hearing their breaths quicken, feeling them curl into each other's embrace, feeling her head tilt back in with a sigh, he found it more intimate and arousing than any porn movie he'd ever seen in his life.

"So beautiful. So good." He whispered in between his soft, warm kisses, feeling her fingers tighten on his hand, seeking to escape the tension − he knew she was trying not to make any sudden movements and he was grateful to her for that.

"It feels so good." She whispered sweetly, softly, and he hummed under his breath, feeling his heart pounding hard, his lips pressed against her neck again, feeling the taste of her skin melt across his palate, the word he had longed to say for so long escaping his lips like a sigh.

"Mine."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[amber-jinx]

hi! have you posted any similarities between rachel & jinx by chance? if not, do u think there are any? i just got into arcane and i love jinx sm

Oh my God this question hits the spot cuz they're my 2 fav characters for the past few years!! 89% of my whole tumblr revolves around them lmaoo I mean look at my username *cough*

They're both plot-abused fallen angels 😭

Although Rachel isn't as "crazy" as Jinx, to quote herself to Chloe, "news flash, I'm a little crazy"

- both got anger management issues (just that one has guns and one had a wooden 2by4)

- they both got a manipulative father who lies to them about that one female person they wanted motherly love from, aka Rachel's real mom & Vi, who were both missing from their lives! (& found, but both was a short reunion)

- both very broken.. & has destructive tendencies

- Hella pretty girls let me just insert. About the same age 18-19 the last we've seen them

- Bi 😎 (yes, implied from ships etc)

- ✨ dramatic debutants ✨ even AU Powder loves an entrance

- is shy and adorable when truly in love; But pushes away people they truly care about..

- um, both had injections beyond their will at the brink of death if you know what I mean ☠️

- both has great depth. Rachel isn't what she seems on the surface and neither is Jinx. They both have a soft side on the inside.

- has a thing with fires "watch it all burn" ❤️‍🔥

- really ruined by liars to the bones ... Needs someone truthful to them

Oh my blue babies. Yeah both are blue and love the colour blue & has a lot of associations with the colour (Rachel's shirt, feather ear ring; Jinx's hair, tattoo, nail colour)

- Both found a way to leave their small town/corner of a world, one way or another...

These are just from the top of my head, feel free too add!!

It's kinda sad Jinx didn't have Chloe to support her, poor girl had it worse with so much more trauma 😭 ok but Jinx had Ekko at the end who chose her over and over again just like Chloe did!! Oh come on Max we need you here to save Rachel

[archieimagines]

two weeks, tops | karl weissman

Summary: The plan: adopt an evacuee to help on your Inverness farm. Not the plan: adopting two.

hi, it's me again! i've been away for a while (sorry) but the power that karl weissman holds is vast and only a fix-it fic for him and esther can save my soul. we'd all love to adopt them. if you haven't watched netflix's bodies, definitely give it a shot! if anyone has any ideas for lovely karl, please comment or send them in! i'd love to write more for him and some pointers would be great. <3warnings: mentions of war and death, mourning. karl using yet another name. word count: 2666 written by: archie

You hovered on the platform, watching as the countless evacuees from London came pouring out of the carriages. Dozens on dozens of children, ready for a new, safer life. They were each swept up by loving new mothers, fussing over their name tags and taking their wee little suitcases, escorting them to cars and buses for a few years of family. The smiling kids were chosen first. They’d clearly had coaching on how to be picked, smiling through the trauma of being uprooted from their lives and planted into the unknown. And then, one by one, the sorry looking ones were claimed. Tatters for clothes, no luggage, barely a silver coin to offer their new parents.

You could give them a better life. You could have, with your chickens and sheep. There’d be eggs for breakfast, newly knitted cardigans, markets on weekends-- and no air raids at all. You’d be warm to the new presence in your cottage, happy even to take siblings that didn’t want to be split, and yet… You just hovered there, wringing your hands, letting every opportunity hurry by. It wouldn’t be hard to reach out and introduce yourself. Why didn’t you? Why couldn’t you bring yourself to step amongst the aspiring foster parents, offering your life to the sweetlings that so desperately needed it?

You sighed, the ache in your chest hollowing as the train departed the station once more. The chatter of evacuees and new parents trickled away, eventually leaving an almost barren platform. The bite of Scottish air dusted your nose pink, but you weren’t sure that the water in your eyes was from the chill.

It wasn’t your first time almost taking in an evacuee. It’d been the same every time. You’d excite yourself with the prospect of the weekly train from London, the thought of a happy little voice in your cottage instead of the silence of your own existence and the occasional caw of a cockerel. You really needed it. To have someone around again. And it always seemed like such a good idea until you were stood on the platform, faced with the reality of the responsibility of a child on your own. A far cry from the future you’d imagined. You and your husband, raising a wee happy family of your own.

Ever since your husband had responded to the war’s call for soldiers, you’d intended to do your best for the war effort and save a child from the bombs of the London Blitz, like a practice for when he came home and you could try for a real family, bringing you a step closer to everything you’d wanted.

Until the postman brought one fateful letter, ending your ideal future and shaking you to the core. Your husband wouldn’t be returning, you wouldn’t have a child with him. The thought of bringing a child into your house and doing it alone…

Then why did the empty platform, devoid of opportunity, hurt you so? Ah, maybe if there was just one child left. A sad, lonely one, hiding somewhere? There’d be so much in common.

You steeled yourself, deciding that on the off chance there was one poor evacuee left in need, you’d take them in, no questions asked. No thinking. No room for doubt. It was time to be stern with yourself, so you marched up the platform, looking in the crevices of the station building, anywhere that a poor wee soul might fold themselves in a corner. The telephone nooks would be the most likely spot.

And sure enough, there was a child! A little girl in a bright red, soot-ridden coat. Only… She was already with a foster parent, peering up at the sharply-dressed man in a trilby hat while he was on the phone.

Her eyes were so round and sweet, her little fist clinging to the edge of the man’s coat, and something unpleasant made a home in your chest. Why did he get to have a child? Sure, he must be on good money to wear a pin-striped suit like that, important enough not to be called away for the military. Maybe he had a wife waiting for them back at home. Why should he have a spouse and a child when you had neither? And she seemed so lovely, too…

You met her eye accidentally, and couldn’t help noticing how absolutely exhausted she seemed. She clearly hadn’t had a bath in days and was in desperate need of a hot meal. The reality dawned on you, and you couldn’t help feeling guilty for your assumptions about the man. You had no business thinking in such a way. She needed all the help she could get, and the suited man was kind enough to offer it to her. He didn’t deserve your disapproval. You mustered the strength and offered the girl a smile and she gave one in return, her eyes so visibly haunted. She’d been through so much, and you’d never know.

You looked away before your smile turned sad. You’d finally decided on taking in an evacuee, only there were no more coming until next week. And by then, you’d probably need convincing all over again, and you’d miss that chance too.

It was a lot to handle. The urge to cry wasn’t sudden, but it was strong. You glanced around and spotted a nearby bench, but before you could take a step, you heard it.

The man’s accent. It didn’t make sense. The foster parent, who you’d assumed was a Scotsman if he lived locally, had a deep Cockney accent. “Nah, I got a kid with me now. You gotta put us up for a while ‘til I can sort summat out. Two weeks, tops.”

Something about the words stilled your feet, the bench blurred in your tearful vision. Saying you tried not to listen in would’ve been a lie. It was your first time hearing such an accent not on an evacuee and something about it was obnoxiously intriguing. That, and the fact he… He needed somewhere to stay? Had he travelled on the train with the evacuees?

“Mike, just shut your kisser and listen for a sec. I’ve got ‘er with me and there’s- No, no. Don’t you fucking call ‘em.” A long pause. With the outburst, you couldn’t help but glance back to the man hunched at the telephone. The little girl’s face told you it all. Those furrowed brows, the worry in the shallow lines of her forehead as she peered up at him. Whatever was going on there, things weren’t going to plan.

He glanced down at her with a sigh, an affectionate hand landing atop her head in weak reassurance. He must’ve seen your shoes from under the rim of his hat, for his face lifted and his eyes pinned on you.

The intensity of that glare surprised you. Heavy brows and a set jaw, a glint in his eye that was deeply critical, giving you a stern once-over. His hand atop the little girl’s head dropped to her nape, guiding her half a step closer to the telephone, tucking her against his side in a protective hold. One thing for sure, he hadn’t just picked her up at the station today. He’d come with her from London. Definitely. The girl’s real father perhaps? Why would he personally bring her all the way-?

“D’you mind?” his defensive call pulled you from your thoughts and you realised you’d been staring. You raised your hands in silent apology and took a step back, once again remembering your place. You’d come here to foster a child in need, not eavesdrop on the telephone calls of obscurely out-of-place Londoners. Your attention fell back on the bench that beckoned you, but you could still clearly hear that thick accent softer in the air as you departed. “...A’right, fine, don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ll be on the next train to Euston, then.”

You settled on the bench, no longer caring to listen to the man’s sigh and the ding of the telephone being put back on its hook. You pulled your coat tighter around you, the light sting of tears behind your eyes growing harder to resist, until you started building your to-do list in your mind. Busying yourself in your head was the quickest way to help yourself from falling into despair, you’d discovered. Staying busy with the farmwork kept your mind and hands busy, and even as you sat there with your afternoon tasks completed, you’d have many more by the time you got home. It was exhausting work to do alone, but at least it helped you stay numb.

The pain of returning home started to grow within you once again, so you dabbed at your eyes and readied yourself to head home. Until you noticed a hue of red from the corner of your eye. “Excuse me? Can I sit here?”

The girl spoke with another surprising accent. Considering her father, you expected a similar deep Londoner’s accent, but the one she came out with was… German? Your brows raised in puzzlement, but you wasted no time in gesturing to the empty side of the bench. “Of course.”

Her father’s face was far from impressed as he approached the bench too, hissing out in a low voice, “Esther! Think about it first.” But it was too late, she’d settled right beside you.

She’d clearly hurried away from him to come and sit with you, and paid no heed at his warning. A little troublemaker, perhaps. “Are you waiting for a train? We just got off ours.” Her grin was bright and sweet, a stark difference from how she carried herself just moments ago.

“Actually, I’m not. I was just--” The father’s steps finally drew to a pause within touching distance of Esther. A looming, protective figure. “Well. That doesn’t matter. I was just about to be off.”

You gathered yourself and stood up, but wee Esther didn’t care, voice bright as sunshine. “You were looking for an evacuee?”

Those eyes felt heavy on you from beneath the trilby hat and you did your best not to look at them. “I… W-well, yes.”

“You have a big house?”

“Uh, it’s more like a farm, really.”

“Wow!” Her beaming face looked back to her father, and you took a glance too. His lips seemed to be pursed in thought, a brow quirked as she rattled on. “You have animals? Land?”

This Esther girl was certainly endearing. You couldn’t help the raising of your cheeks in a smile of your own, infectious from hers. You nodded, “Chickens and sheep, and two whole fields.”

Esther scooted closer on the bench with that ever-contagious grin on her sweet face, her messy braids flopping around her. “Then you must need a hand with all that! My- my father would be super good at it, especially mucking out the animals!” She turned with a laugh towards her father, who seemed less than thrilled that she’d offered him up for such a task.

“Alright, alright, enough from you,” he chastised her, stepping close enough to lay a protective hand atop her head once more. He was clearly a wary man, and you knew something peculiar must’ve happened to bring the two of them here like this, but it didn’t stop his surprisingly charming smile shining at her. “You just like the thought of me covered in shit, eh?”

“It’s not like you’d smell much different!” she snarked.

Your brows raised at the exchange. Granted, you’d little experience with children and parenthood, but you were sure it wasn’t commonplace for a father to swear in front of their child, and it was even less rare that a young girl would talk back in such a way. And yet, they shared a humoured smile.

He raised his gaze to you once more, though it was different this time. The smile on his face was alarmingly attractive, and the cheeky light in his eyes told you he knew it. He tipped his hat and nodded his head, voice polite and clear even with that accent in its veins. “Ka-Ahem. Curtis Bramley, East London. This is my girl. If you’re in need of a hand on your farm, we can offer you four. No need for paying, just a roof and a meal every night. How’s that sound, love?”

It was a lot to be thrown at you, and very quickly. How unorthodox to foster both a child and a fully-grown man; if it were taking in Esther alone, you wouldn’t have to think twice about it. But Esther and her father? Another man… In your home? It’d be like having your dream back, but-- With the wrong man.

Something in you froze, and you blinked up at him. You could already tell, he was so very different from your lost love. Your sandy haired husband, mellow and sweet, with the gentlest disposition in the world. His clothes were always stained with mud or grass, the scruff of his facial hair haphazardly shaven when he found the time for it.

And yet here was Curtis, dressed to the nines even after a day-long steam train journey, his moustache perfectly shaped and sitting on his face just right. Dark hair and dark eyes that visibly held a great many secrets, a shield of charm thick enough to divert the attention. A deep fellow. Certainly more than you ever thought you could handle.

And yet, he had a sweet little girl in need, asking kindly to share your life. The life you’d been living in solitude for far too long. The prospect was nothing short of terrifying, and yet… The way she twirled the end of her braid through her fingers in nerves. It was knotted and dirty, and some maternal instinct inside of you ached to wash and brush it for her. Grant her the chance to live like a happy little girl should.

You glanced to Curtis, and he must’ve caught the wistful uncertainty in your eyes, for he attempted to keep his smile from becoming downtrodden. He must’ve known it was a lot to ask of a stranger on a train platform who only expected to bring home a child. But he wouldn’t leave her side, and you both knew that. He tried to keep the sigh from his words, but he must’ve been too exhausted to keep it at bay. “‘Ow’s about two weeks, tops?”

Two weeks… Wasn’t that long. If it was too much for you, you’d be safe in knowing they’d be gone pretty quickly, and you could go back to solitary life with the animals. Perhaps it’d be worth a try.

You turned your attention to the smiling Esther once more, and it was like a dam broke. The instant swell of affection in your chest had you questioning why you ever doubted sharing your home with her, no matter the smallprint. You reached out to lay a careful hand atop her head, giving a ruffle of her stray hairs. You’d love to help her rebraid it properly. 

A grin lit up on your face, an affirmative nod offered to Curtis. “Two weeks, tops.”

A dual sigh of relief from the pair of evacuees. Young arms flung themselves around your waist, and the tears that stung your sinuses were now on the opposite end of the scale. Sheer joy enveloped you just as Esther’s embrace did and you didn’t waste a moment before holding her snug in your arms, surprised by how natural it felt to rest your cheek on her head.

You laid your eyes on Curtis. That gaze, previously harsh, previously charming… It was now the truest it’d been so far. Nothing but softness and gratitude, his own exhaustion evident. You could see how the load on his shoulders had lightened, how caring for Esther on his own had been so hard for him. But now, he wouldn’t be alone either. 

“Cheers, love. You’re a fucking star.”

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon || Chapter 3: The moon || Chapter 4: The sun || Chapter 5: The sun || Chapter 6: The moon || Chapter 7: The moon || Chapter 8: The sun || Chapter 9: The sun || Chapter 10: The outsider || Chapter 11: The moon || Chapter 12: The sun || Chapter 13: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,363

Warning: Trauma, deaths, seeking professional help. Slight smut, praise. Cock warming, pet name?

Thank you for enjoying this series. Slight smut at the end. Next chapter will be only smut and probably a plot. Thank you for getting this far in the series:)

Chapter 14:

THE MOON

I fought my way from these degenerates, dead bodies on the ground. Blood splatter from the enemies smeared to my expensive tux, my only mission here to get my beloved sunshine home and safe.

The Tsaritsa has been demanding her whereabouts and sending off an unrealistic number of men to investigate and look for traces off of her. Her Majesty has been getting panic attacks these past few days—Ajax couldn’t get a wink of sleep as he was trying to calm the Tsaritsa. She’s been sobbing violently.

I could only stood there, as vulnerable as Her Majesty is. I’m not there to protect her, to stop them from taking her away from me. I failed. But it’ll be different this time, it has to.

I barged in a room after shooting the man who bought her.

And there she is, curled into a ball—shivering from fear and coldness. “Sunshine?” I called, my voice low and soft. I step inside the room, slowly making my way to her—not making any sound as she’s sounds asleep.

God, she looks… horrible, but still beautiful. But in a horrible shape, she had nightmares. My poor baby.

Her lips quivering, she’s sobbing in her sleep—I took her in my embrace. Rocking her body back and forth as if she’s a little scared toddler, I carried her out the room. Covered her ears to cancel out the noise of gunshot and screams.

She weep and try rolling over in my arms but she couldn’t, gotta shop and give her new clothes, this shit looks uncomfortable to sleep in but I kept wondering how she did it.

We got back in the car, her whole body had been lie down completely and make her use my thigh as her pillow.

“Scara?” I heard her call out with a sob, but she still has her eyes shut and still sobbing in her sleep.

I could only hold her hand tightly, brushing off a strand of her from her face—that’s the only way I could think of to assure her that she’s safe and that I’m here. “The monsters gone, and I’m here.” I whisper, loud enough for her to hear as I feel her breathing slow in a steady pace.

The whole ride was quiet, she rolls over and keeps nuzzling close to me to the point that she’ll squeeze me to death. I only laugh and hugged her close as I knew she’s seeking comfort and warmth, that the shitty place she’s been sold to can’t even provide her something more thick of a clothing so she couldn’t catch a cold.

We arrived back at Her Majesty’s place, I gently pull myself away from her—making sure that she didn’t wake up. The Tsaritsa on the other hand, noticed that we finally got back and she came out stomping with only bare feet.

“Her Majesty! The ground is too dirty, please wear a slipper or something!” one of the guards shouts with worry.

“Is she safe?” The Tsaritsa shouts with worry and stops right on my track, I sigh and nodded, “no need to worry, she’s face. I reckon that she had experience something traumatic.” I spoke, gently taking her out of the car and carrying her bridal-style.

“my poor girl.” The Tsaritsa sobs as she caress the top of her head. I nod and she nodded back, agreeing that we should put her in a room where it’s warm then ask the maid to change her to something comfortable and warm to wear.

I sat at the edge of the bed, my eyes still staring at her sleeping form. I lean to kiss her cheeks, eyes, her warm tears and the side of her lips. “I won’t leave you out of my sight ever again.” I promise, got up and left the room.

She had always been staring off to space, disassociate herself from reality and weep in her sleep. I consult her to a therapist—hoping that she’ll get better in no time, she needed help and I am there every time she needs me.

She’d stare at me and I would smile at her, hoping that it’ll give her comfort and that every thing is going to be all right, no one will catch and hunt her. And that I am sure of it.

I can’t even imagine how she endure those pass few days, but all I knew that she didn’t get hurt or got force something against her will.

Every time I leave the room to give her space, she would stare at me by the door. Then whines as she tries to make me come back and sit against the edge of the bed, she said it doesn’t matter if this is still safe—she felt like she could still be potentially in danger.

I could only chuckle at her silly little words, but also understood why she say something like that. She’d gone through so much trauma and been expose to something she shouldn’t be seeing.

Every time I visit her room, I’d bring any stuff animal and plush of her favorite characters to give her more company when I’m away at work, I also asked Ajax to look after her in my absence. Ajax told me they had a stare-off for an hour as she couldn’t pry her eyes away from that guy.

Ajax was creeped out but shrug it off and decides to have a little play with her, to make her trust him and that he wouldn’t hurt her.

When I get back, she’d welcome me in bed and put the stuff animals and plush away and invite me over. I rest up on her bed, my legs stretched as I feel a little rustling to my side. She’s trying to snuggle against me without trying to interrupt my nap.

She had become clingy and vocal, and then.

She’s finally getting back to her normal self, more alive—cheerful, vocal, and eating much more food. But the thing is, she’d cling to me as if she’s indirectly hinting that she’s now mine.

We lie in bed and she’s in my sweater, snuggling and keeps me close to her embrace. I didn’t budge but I smiled and wrap my right arm over her shoulder and connect my lips to her temple as she takes a little nap, “getting more comfortable, Sunshine?” I softly asked, she nodded and looked up at me.

“thank you.”

“For what?”

“for finding me and staying with me even when I got difficult to handle.”

I chuckle at her statement, “that’s not true.” I object her words, “if you’re difficult then the Tsaritsa won’t be wasting her time stressing out and constantly getting worried. Ajax wouldn’t accompanied you when I told him to.” I hum against her temple and caress her cheeks.

“Are you going to confess your love to me?” I teased and boop her nose, she covered her face against my chest which made me yelp.

“mhm.”

I laugh at how adorable she’s being right now, “fuck, baby. You’re gonna give me a boner. Will you blow me if I got hard?” I tease again.

She nodded and look up at me with those gorgeous god damn doe eyes, I’d roll those eyes at the back of her head again. Making her cum harder than the last time I fucked her when I’m injured.

I lean my head back at the headboard and laugh at her, I feel her leave my chest. Thinking that she’s gonna get herself some drink, but no. I hiss and frown my bros as I saw her got down to my belt and unbuckle it then unzip my pants.

She pulled my boxer down and let my cock free, it wasn’t that hard yet—she held it with her cute hand and pumps it a few times, her mouth open and tongue out.

“Damn baby, cock warming me up?” I hiss and try to reach out to her but she slap my hand away and let her do her job.

I chuckle and tie her hair up to a bun, “careful, hun. Don’t bite my dick off now.”

“Open wide.”

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Chapter 15: THE SUN