#words cannot describe how bad I feel for him

[thebreakfastgenie]

It is extremely disturbing how many posts I see claiming that Roe v. Wade was overturned on Biden's watch and blaming him and the Democratic Party for it. It's disturbing on a number of levels.

First, it was Trump and Bush-appointed justices who handed down the Dobbs decision. This is a flagrant example of blaming Democrats for things Republicans did, and not coincidentally is one of the the most widely felt differences between the two parties. As a result, it's usually the first example Democrats and their allies point to; this misappropriation suggests a deliberate attempt to undercut that fact.

Secondly, and related to the first point, it obfuscates who the real enemy is, and I am comfortable using word "enemy" to describe the Republican Party because of the policies they advocate and enact. The truth is that states controlled by the Republican Party were where the effects of Dobbs are most severely felt, while states controlled by the Democratic Party are passing laws to protect abortion. It is important to know which party opposes abortion and which party supports it. If the Republicans gain control of the House, Senate, and White House, they will pass a national abortion ban, as they have done at the state level in several places.

Thirdly, blaming Biden for Dobbs demonstrates a very concerning lack of understanding of how the government functions. The judiciary is its own branch of government; judges are appointed by the president and confirmed by the senate. It doesn't matter who is president when a decision is handed down, it matters who was president when the justices were appointed. People sometimes react to this by moving the goalposts and claiming the real issue was a failure by Democrats to "codify" Roe v. Wade. I am not sure what "codify" means in this context, and I'm not sure they are either. One thing it does not mean is that congress can pass a law saying "abortion is legal forever." Republicans could easily repeal such a law and it the federal government cannot necessarily prevent states from restricting abortion at the state level. Roe v. Wade was a ruling stating that the constitution guaranteed a right to privacy, which included the right to have an abortion. This prevented abortion restrictions in a way federal law cannot. That doesn't mean passing federal law protecting abortion is a bad idea, but it isn't a foolproof protection. It's fair to argue that the Democratic Party and the left of center generally were complacent about abortion. The form of this complacency was not taking the courts seriously, while the right spent fifty years openly filling the courts with anti-abortion judges.

The last thing that worries me is that this is popping up phrased almost the exact same way all over the place. I am afraid that it is not merely incompetence, but intentional misinformation, that is then repeated by the incompetent who believe it.

I know some will probably dismiss this post as being from a "vote harder" liberal Biden supporter, but whatever your feelings about Biden, the Democratic Party, or the democratic process in the U.S., you should care about the truth. The truth is that Roe v. Wade was overturned by Republican-appointed judges and abortion bans are being enacted by Republican elected officials, and Joe Biden opposes these things. You can do with that information whatever you wish, but you denying it is dishonest.

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

-

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

-

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

-

head? empty.

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen @cmleitora @pianor481 @costkappen @roostersluvvr

[majorshatterandhare]

[ID: two screencaps of tags from dark mode

First Image: tags from ×-caliber reading “#guys it's called UNRELIABLE NARRATING all caps: unreliable narrating] # shes NOT [all caps: not] evil #jonny just views her in a certain light" Second Image: tags from ceaseless-ramblerand x-caliber.

Tags from ceaseless-rambler read "#this is such a hard fucking poll because do you love her or hate her' the answer is YES [all caps: yes] #she's great but the fucking morality switch destroys me every time i think about it because. morality switch. what the fuck. #but also. gestures wildly in her direction. you understand? #doctor carmilla #the mechanisms."

Tags from x-caliber read '#prev has a great elaboration actually #bevause i answered thinking only about the unreliable narration that made people think she's evil #but i didn't actually think as far about her ACTIONS [all caps: actions] #now i do think that she had good intentions with the morality switch #that doesn't make it any less fucked up however"

End ID]

Okay in regards to this poll I'm going to do some Doc Carmilla analysis because I don't like having back and forth conversations in tags. This is long, I couldn't really find a way to cut it down

The biggest thing that fucks me up about her is Brian's morality switch. The concept of a morality switch at all is horrifying to me, taking that control away from someone. Brian's about page on the mechanisms website says the reasoning was because Doctor Carmilla found it "amusing" which. Makes me hate it even more. @x-ca1iber pointed out the fact that Jonny is an unreliable narrator, which is a good point. However, I doubt Jonny wrote everyone's bio and I don't think either morality mode would really let Brian lie about it, lying is wrong and I can't come up with ends that would justify it. Brian could be wrong about reasoning, of course, but I'm not sure why he would be. Because a lot of that second half is speculation, *please* let me know if there's anything to agree or disagree with any of it.

The two other things that make me not willing to chalk all of anti-Doctor Carmilla sentiment up to unreliable narration and character misinterpretation are the end of this video and near the end of Lashings. The first video shows Jonny cut the music and, sounding somewhat frantic, ask Carmilla what she's going to do about being thrown out the airlock. When she doesn't respond, he backs away and accuses her of planning something. This is something that isn't attributable to unreliable narration because the premise there isn't that it's a retelling but an actual event occurring. Also, the way Jonny is on edge, expecting her to do something but not knowing what/when and having to just kind of act like it's fine really makes me read it as a bad relationship for him. The end of the Lashings performance shows Nastya stressed about various other things and Doctor Carmilla coming up behind her and hugging her. Nastya visibly tenses and remains as such for the entire interaction. I've seen people argue that this was due to the aforementioned various other things, and it could very much be that! This is definitely my least compelling piece of evidence. But it's worth noting that Doctor Carmilla doesn't back off from the hug and remains sort of in Nastya's face until Nastya steps away. The situation is either Nastya being generally uncomfortable with physical contact at that moment (or in general) and Carmilla not caring, or Nastya being distrustful of her in general. Either way doesn't reflect well on their relationship.

None of this is to say that I think she's trying to cause them harm. She does see them as her kids, in her own way. The only other close relationship she had that I'm aware of is Lorelai (please let me know if you have any more information on this! I'm always open to corrections) and that wasn't exactly healthy. She could very well not know any other way to treat them, and I really do think she meant well. The problem with meaning well is that is doesn't change the ramifications of your actions. The best of intentions don't change the fact that you hurt people. This is, in my opinion, especially prominent in parental figures, which she is.

That is all about her as a person, though. As a character? She's fantastic. Trans lesbian vampire scientist with dubious ethics? Great!!! And all of the things I just talked about that make me dislike her as a person make me love her as a character. That disparity is what makes it really hard to answer the poll I linked at the beginning, because holy fuck morality switch but I love her as a character

Tags that inspired this under the cut

[solxamber]

Had the thought of "Malleus helps the prefect with their crush on a NRC student by suggesting fae courtship advice" and realized how funny it sounded but I cannot for the life of me write. So I skitter to you

So! Maybe a request of Malleus listening to how his beloved little friend has a crush on azul or idia whoever you choose, and is too anxious of rejection to ask them out, but he tries his best to help, however he most likely has no idea on human courtship, so ends up giving reader advice that mostly correlates with fae courtship rituals, maybe with Lilia helping out somewhat with advice he knows would work better for humans and maybe it can be a fem or gn reader?/lh

Fae Courtship 101: Romance Gone Wrong || Idia Shroud

In your desperation to confess your feelings to Idia, you've recruited Malleus to help you. Except his help is mildly concerning at best and extremely alarming at worst.

a/n: so sorry for the extremely long wait, i hope you like it <3

You were deep in super hell.

Not just any hell—ultra-max difficulty hell with a boss fight at the end. Why? Because you were hopelessly, embarrassingly smitten with Idia Shroud. Every time he so much as muttered a sarcastic comment under his breath, your brain turned into static noise and you felt like you were pulling on a gacha with a rate up of 0.000001%.

Which is why, when Malleus Draconia suddenly appeared in the middle of Ramshackle like a fae bat signal, you didn’t even blink. You were too far gone. You just flung yourself onto the couch and unleashed your woes like a possessed infomercial host.

“HE’S TOO CUTE,” you screamed into a throw pillow. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. HIS HAIR GLOWS, MALLEUS. HIS. HAIR. GLOWS.”

Malleus, who had been standing ominously in the corner like a living gargoyle, tilted his head. “This sounds… grave.”

“IT IS,” you wailed. “Every time I see him, I want to just—ugh, I don’t know—hand him a limited-edition figure and tell him he’s my forever player two! But then I don’t because my brain decides to blue-screen instead! I’m a romantic coward!”

“Curious,” Malleus murmured.

You sat up, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. “Do you even know how bad it is? The other day, he tripped over his own shoelace and I almost confessed right then and there! I can’t keep living like this!”

Malleus’s glowing eyes narrowed in what could only be described as dramatic princely determination. “Say no more, child of man.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I shall aid you in this endeavor,” he announced, placing a hand over his chest like he was about to duel a dragon in your honor. “You have my solemn vow that your courtship will succeed.”

You blinked again, the words taking a few extra seconds to register. “Wait. What?”

“I have centuries of experience in matters of the heart,” Malleus declared with a completely straight face.

“You do?” you asked, very reasonably skeptical because the only “courtship” you could imagine him doing was with a gargoyle in a medieval tapestry.

“Indeed,” he continued, undeterred by your blatant disbelief. “Shroud will recognize your worth once we present him with a grand gesture of affection.”

“…Define ‘grand gesture,’” you said, suddenly wary.

“A trophy of unparalleled rarity,” Malleus suggested with the confidence of someone who had definitely never bought a gift before. “Or perhaps a demonstration of your magical prowess. You are quite skilled at… surviving near-death experiences, are you not?”

“That’s not a talent!” you yelped.

He ignored you, his enthusiasm building like a storm. “Yes. I shall teach you the ancient fae techniques of courtship. You shall sweep Shroud off his feet.”

You buried your face in your hands. “This is going to end in a lawsuit.”

“Nonsense,” Malleus said firmly. “It will end in love.”

You weren’t sure whether to cry, laugh, or start writing your will.

You stared at the piece of paper in your hand like it had personally wronged you. Because, honestly, it had.

Malleus was perched regally on your couch, sipping tea like this wasn’t entirely his fault. “This poem,” he said, voice brimming with pride, “will surely capture Idia Shroud’s heart. It is both heartfelt and… inventive.”

“It’s terrible,” you muttered, waving the paper at him. “It sounds like a rejected NPC dialogue option.”

“Nonsense,” Malleus replied, unbothered. “It is a masterpiece of raw emotion. Shall I read it to you again?”

“No!” you said, alarmed. “I still haven’t recovered from the first time!”

It had been a mess. Rhyming “gamer” with “flamer,” shoehorning in “Player Two,” and an overly dramatic stanza about “lighting up the dark like a 5-star pull.” It sounded like a bad RPG side quest.

“I can’t give this to him,” you whined. “He’ll think I wrote it drunk.”

Malleus, ever unshaken, tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Then I shall present it to him on your behalf. I am an excellent orator.”

Your brain lagged. “You what?!”

Before you could stop him, Malleus plucked the poem from your hands and practically glided out the door. You ran after him, panic bubbling in your chest.

You caught up to him just as he cornered Idia in the library. Poor Idia looked like he was questioning every life choice that had led him here.

“Child of man,” Malleus said gravely, holding the poem like it was an ancient scroll. “Your heart has crafted a most wondrous ode to Idia Shroud. Allow me to deliver your words of passion.”

“No. Nope. Nope,” you interrupted, lunging forward.

But Malleus had already begun. “To the one whose hair glows like—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instinct took over. You snatched the paper out of his hand and, in one smooth motion, ate it.

Idia blinked. Then blinked again. “…Did you just eat paper?”

You gagged but managed to choke it down, wiping your mouth with as much dignity as you could muster. “Yup. Totally. Don’t even worry about it.”

Malleus looked genuinely offended. “Why would you consume such a heartfelt creation?”

“Because it was awful,” you hissed, yanking him by the sleeve.

Meanwhile, Idia just stood there, watching this unhinged disaster unfold. He glanced at Malleus, then at you, then at the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. “Man,” he mumbled, “I should’ve just stayed in my room.”

Malleus stood in the middle of Ramshackle’s living room, radiating regal confidence and possibly a bit too much enthusiasm for someone whose advice had caused you to eat a poem in front of your crush just two days prior.

“I have considered our previous efforts,” Malleus began, pacing dramatically, “and I believe it is time to enact a traditional fae courtship ritual.”

You squinted at him from your spot on the couch. “Define ‘traditional.’”

Malleus clasped his hands behind his back. “It is quite simple. You must leave a series of carefully chosen gifts for Idia to discover. Each one should symbolize your intentions, culminating in an offer of eternal devotion.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you said cautiously. “What kind of gifts are we talking about?”

Malleus turned to you, his expression far too serious. “The first gift must be a bouquet of midnight roses—each petal dipped in the dew of the first frost. The second, a vial of your own tears, to show vulnerability. And the third, a token of your affection, forged in moonlit flames.”

You stared at him, horrified. “Malleus, I don’t know how to say this politely, but… are you nuts?!”

He frowned, clearly confused. “Is this not how humans express their love?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Nobody’s out here crying into vials or setting up romantic blacksmith sessions!”

Malleus waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. It is a noble and time-honored method. Come, I will assist you.”

Step 1: Midnight Roses

Somehow, you found yourself sneaking into the Botanical Gardens late at night with Malleus, who had insisted on conjuring the “perfect” roses.

“These roses will shine with a light so soft, it will illuminate your sincerity,” he said as he gestured dramatically.

A small explosion followed.

When the smoke cleared, you were holding a bouquet of roses that were glowing like neon signs. “Malleus, these look radioactive. Are you trying to confess or give him superpowers?”

He looked affronted. “Their brilliance reflects your ardor!”

Your ardor looked like it would set off a Geiger counter.

Step 2: The Vial of Tears

“Now, you must cry into this vial,” Malleus instructed, handing you what looked like a fancy perfume bottle.

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, utterly baffled.

“Think of your love for Shroud,” he said. “Surely the emotion will move you to tears.”

You tried. You really did. But after five minutes of sitting there awkwardly, all you had to offer was a single, pathetic sniffle.

“Perhaps I should assist,” Malleus said, reaching out. “Do you require a tragic tale? A dramatic betrayal?”

“No! Absolutely not!” you snapped, shoving the bottle back at him. “I am not sobbing into a vial for anyone!”

Step 3: The Moonlit Token

The final step involved an actual fire pit behind Ramshackle because, according to Malleus, the moonlit flames were essential.

“I shall forge your token,” Malleus declared, summoning a small inferno that nearly took out the lawn.

When the smoke cleared, you held a jagged piece of metal that looked like it was ripped off an air conditioning unit.

“What is this supposed to be?” you asked flatly.

“A medallion,” Malleus said proudly.

“It looks like I pulled it out of a scrap heap!”

You delivered the “gifts” to Idia during a moment of sheer madness, mostly because Malleus had already enchanted the roses to literally float behind you, and they weren’t going anywhere.

Idia opened his door and froze. His hair immediately flickered pink as he stared at you, the bouquet, the medallion, and—was that a perfume bottle?

“What… is happening right now?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“It’s—uh—fae courtship stuff?” you mumbled, trying to shove the glowing bouquet into his hands.

The roses sparked.

“Oh my god, is this thing going to explode?!” Idia yelped, throwing them across the room.

You panicked and shoved the medallion forward. “Here! It’s—it’s a token of my affection?”

Idia stared at the jagged metal piece. “Did you… dig this out of a junkyard?”

“NO!”

Finally, you shoved the vial of “tears” at him. Idia took one look at it, his face a mixture of disbelief and growing alarm.

“Did you just hand me a potion ingredient?!”

At this point, you were ready to die. Before you could explain yourself, Idia closed the door and slid down to the floor on the other side, clutching his heart.

“Fae Courtship...they like me,” he whispered, his hair a vibrant pink. “They're insane, but they like me.”

Meanwhile, you turned to Malleus outside Ramshackle, utterly mortified.

“I hate you,” you groaned.

Malleus only smiled. “An absolute success.”

Malleus was once again pacing in Ramshackle’s living room like a Victorian gentleman trying to solve the case of your disastrously one-sided love life.

“Here is what we shall do,” he said, hands clasped and gaze intense. “You will prepare a ceremonial feast. Cook for him using ingredients that symbolize your intentions. Lavender for devotion, honey for sweetness, and”—he paused dramatically—“a pheasant roasted under the light of the full moon. You must present it to him on a silver platter while reciting your feelings in the Fae tongue.”

You blinked. “Malleus. Where in Twisted Wonderland am I supposed to find a pheasant?!”

He looked mildly offended. “Surely you can catch one. Do you not have traps?”

“I live in Ramshackle, not the woods!” you snapped. “Also, I think Idia would keel over if I walked in with a roasted bird and started chanting in Fae.”

Malleus sighed. “Child of man, your lack of commitment is concerning.”

Before you could argue, Lilia materialized from who knows where with his usual mischievous grin. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he drawled. “This is incredibly entertaining.”

You glared at him. “Lilia, I’m in emotional distress, not a soap opera.”

“Exactly why I’m here,” Lilia said, flopping into a chair. “Malleus, your suggestions are delightful, but I’d prefer not to have Idia hospitalized from sheer terror. Allow me to offer some… balance.”

Malleus frowned. “Balance?”

“Yes,” Lilia said. “Like suggesting something sane, such as gifting him a rare figurine from one of his favorite animes. It’s thoughtful, meaningful, and most importantly, won’t require a midnight hunt.”

You thought getting a figurine would be easy. You were wrong.

You tried everything:

Azul offered to get it—if you signed a contract that basically gave him first claim on your future firstborn.

Ruggie smugly said he could “procure” it but asked for a kidney as collateral.

Just when you were about to accept your fate as figurine-less, Kalim swooped in like the sunshine prince he is, offering to buy it outright with his seemingly infinite wealth. “You want it? I’ll get it! It’ll be fun!” You could’ve cried.

Bless Kalim and his endless generosity.

When you finally gave the figurine to Idia, you were an exhausted wreck. It had taken days, multiple negotiations, and at least one near-death experience (Ruggie’s "payment terms" were aggressive).

Idia stared at the box, then at you, then back at the box. His hair flickered pink as his mind tried to process the situation.

“Is this—?” he started, his voice cracking.

You nodded. “It’s that limited-edition one you mentioned.”

Idia froze, clutching the box like it was the Holy Grail. “H-how did you even afford this?!” he stammered. “No offense, but have you seen Ramshackle?!”

“Bye!” you squeaked, panicking and bolting out the door before he could say anything else.

Malleus, watching you sprint away from Ignihyde like a spooked animal, nodded sagely. “Another success.”

Lilia shook his head, cackling. “If nothing else, this is fantastic entertainment.”

Meanwhile, back in his room, Idia sat on the floor, staring at the figurine. His hair was a fiery pink as his brain short-circuited.

“They remembered,” he whispered. “They actually remembered…”

Ortho popped into the room. “Big Brother, are you okay? Your vitals are—”

“LEAVE ME TO DIE IN PEACE!” Idia shrieked, clutching the figurine like a lifeline.

It was safe to say the figurine worked.

You were lying on the couch at Ramshackle, contemplating your life choices and whether Malleus or Lilia was the greater threat to your sanity, when Ortho appeared at your door.

“Big Brother has summoned you to Ignihyde!” he chirped, far too cheerful for your emotional state.

“What did I do now?” you groaned, throwing an arm over your face.

“I think it’s good news!” Ortho said, clearly hiding something.

Given that this was Idia, “good news” could mean anything from “I found a new game to play” to “you’re about to be the first human test subject for my latest invention.” Against your better judgment, you followed Ortho.

When you entered Idia’s room, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hair flickering an anxious shade of pink. He didn’t even look up from his console, which was just a black screen because he’d obviously forgotten to turn it on in his panic.

“Uh, thanks for coming,” he mumbled.

“You did send your little brother to fetch me like I was being summoned to the Underworld,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

Idia winced. “Y-yeah, sorry about that. I panicked, okay?”

You sat down on the floor across from him, waiting. His hair crackled as he kept fidgeting, his gaze darting everywhere but you. Finally, he took a deep breath and blurted out:

“So, I’ve been analyzing your recent behavior, and it’s, uh… come to my attention that… maybe you like me?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift from mumbling to outright accusations. “Analyzing my behavior?”

“Yes!” he squeaked, gripping his knees like his life depended on it. “The weird flustered thing you do when I talk to you, the whole ‘anime figurine extravaganza’ that nearly killed you—don’t think I didn’t hear about that, by the way—and the fact that you’ve willingly talked to me more than once. It all adds up!”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked increasingly panicked.

“I mean, if you don’t like me, that’s fine! I’ll just—uh, go smite myself with a lightning bolt or something. Lemme call Malleus; he’ll be thrilled to help.”

“Idia—”

“But!” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “If you do like me, I… I think I should tell you that I… uh, I like you too.” His voice cracked on the last word, and his hair flared bright pink. “A lot. Like, an unhealthy amount of 'a lot.’”

You sat there, stunned, as his words hung in the air.

“And, uh, I’m confessing because… well, I’m not sure I’d survive another one of Malleus’s courtship rituals. No offense, but I think he’s trying to kill me. Ortho heard he suggested you bring me a lock of your hair dipped in a mild poison to solidify our bond?!”

At that, the floodgates broke. Exhausted, drained, and done with this entire saga, you leaned forward, cupped his face in your hands, and kissed him. His hair crackled as it flared a near-neon pink, and he froze like a system on the verge of a crash.

When you pulled back, you sighed. “Thank you for finally putting me out of my misery.”

“I—wait—what—” His brain was clearly blue-screening.

“Idia,” you said firmly, shaking him gently. “Yes, I like you. Yes, this whole thing has been a nightmare. And yes, if I have to call Malleus one more time for ‘help,’ I might smite myself.”

He blinked rapidly, finally rebooting. “Oh. Cool. Uh, can I—?” He gestured vaguely, his face red as a tomato.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again, pulling him into a hug. Somewhere in the distance, you were pretty sure you heard Ortho cheering.

Back at Diasomnia, Malleus scribbled something into his journal. “Another successful courtship facilitated by me,” he muttered, thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Lilia said, chuckling from his spot on the couch.

Masterlist

[visionsofmagic]

day 6: roronoa zoro [cock warming]

࿓ synopsis • you ask to zoro whether he needs any help or not, and in return, he makes you sit on his cock so that it can get warm while he’s sleeping.

―❦ nsfw, opla!zoro, f!reader, reader is being needy & brat, pussy slapping, pet names, teasing, swearing, ‘is all! • 1.2k • a man that takes all my attention to himself in an instant in every type of universe; live action, manga, and anime. I chose to write for la!zoro version ‘cause why not? enjoy, hope I did everything right! [kinktober m.]

“stop moving, you're distracin' me.”

his deep voice cuts your actions of trying to stay still on his lap, adjusting your position so that your numb legs will fix, but, the struggle causes your pussy to clench around his length because of sudden movement which ends up by earning an unsteady thrust. looking at his face, hands gripping the collar of his sleeve, you see his closed eyes, trying to continue the nap he’s taking in the middle of the day.

 “sorry –“ you say, smiling innocently knowing he cannot see, “I didn’t mean to, it’s just –“ you try to find a solid word to describe the situation you’re in now but the weight of lust running through your pussy takes your brain away, wanting to break free, letting yourself go and wasting the last thirty-four minutes waste, waking zoro up, being a greedy brat – only to make him not sleep, instead, fuck you. “so much.”

you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re thinking aloud – just fuck me already! Just move this thick cock and fill me up! – pathetic.

you’re here, sitting down on his cock, warming it, being useful.

the moment of the morning came into your mind; the crew went to bring food and new clothes to the ship, and when they left, only you and zoro were on the ship, you said ‘I wanna be useful for you’ because he’s still healing and you wanted to help – anything, you added, which was a bad idea – maybe, it wasn’t that bad though.

zoro, being a greedy boyfriend even if he tries to hide it, decided to make you a useful one – for his damn cock – to warm it up!

“so much?” he teases you, taking you back to reality, making the sensation on your pussy grow bigger each passing time, moving his hips, acting as if he just adjusts his position like you did minutes ago – only this time, it’s an act – to try you, seeing how much you can handle this. folding his arms, he opens his eyes slowly, an eyebrow is raised, questioning, “what’s so much? I even didn’t begin to fuck you, did I, doll?”

opening your legs wider, challenging him, a whimper leaves your mouth yet zoro doesn’t show any sign of being greedy to fuck you – oh, what self-control!

but you’re not done yet. “it seems you will never do,” you say, shrugging, hands on his shoulder building up to his neck, playing with the hair on his neck – the most breathtaking man you have ever seen – he’s so beautiful that you would beg anytime now but you should try first – to break him into the point in which he will let himself go and move his hips. “I know I am here for the help – to warm your cock,” you point to the sight in front of him – your pussy beautifully covering his thick cock, wetness that comes out of you soaking his veined length. “am I helping?”

opening his arms, he puts them behind his head’s back instead as he leans to the wall of the chair you’re sitting on – eyes travel from your tight pussy to your face, meeting with your innocent smile and sparkling eyes.

“u-huh,” he says, trying to understand where you’re heading with this question, because he knows you well enough to realize you want him to move, yet stubborn and prideful to beg, not until the right moment which zoro waits to arrive. “warming my cock so well that I can feel you dripping into it – hot.”

nodding to him, heat rushes to your face at the sudden compliment, making you gain a confident manner, and continue on with your act; being a fucking brat, using his jealousy to achieve your goal – you would feel bad under other circumstances but not today, not when you want him to devour you – he’s hard to resist, and you’re so greedy to be a good girl.

“anything for my crewmate,” not boyfriend – a crewmate. it takes his attention, eyes on your face, daring you to go on with piercing gazes, jaw getting tight, straight face expression that screams danger. it only turns you on further. “I will make sure to provide my service to the captain as well than because he can need – agggh – zoro –!”

your words are cut by him; raising your body up a little until his tip releases you, and then, without missing a heartbeat, putting it down on his length, thrusting into your dozy pussy, earning a scream out of your mouth.

holding his shoulder tightly, you try to stay in balance while he keeps doing that without any particular rhythm and steadiness so that you get cockdumbed mind right away – all dizzy, just moaning, feeling him shoving his dick into you, balls hitting the ass – finally!

“is this what you wanted, brat?” he asks, hands open your skirt by damaging its buttons, nearly tearing it apart, cupping the breasts through the fabric of your bra before letting them watch how they bounce in sync with your body, raising up and down on his cock with more rapid pace now – devouring you – the things you wanted for a long time. “want me to break that pussy, pretty doll – ohhh – uhmm – y/n – you – you will fuckin’ get it!”

his hands are positioned on your waist, looking down, seeing your clit getting wider with each of his hard and strong thrusts, warming it with all the juices you make – you literally soak now, close to the edge, and zoro smirks at you the moment he hears the crew entering the ship.

his possessive and rough side takes control of his mind – his soul as he picks you up, you already begin to beg for him to put his cock inside, pleases coming out of your parted pink lips that you bite so hard. you let him turning your body, abdomen touching the surface of the bed, cock’s tip resting on the entrance of your pussy, then, he slaps it with his dick, a hand finds your neck, putting your face down onto the pillow – his body hovering behind you as your ass gets higher and higher.

it feels so vulnerable to be in this position as if you’re his own fucktoy to play with, and you can’t deny the fact that even the thought of it can make you cum in an instant.

“zoro – aggh – I –“ you try to say when his dick slaps your clit once again, your body jumps – feeling both shy and shameless at the same time but he cuts you out, cock enters you in one go, jolting your body forward.

“cut it. you don’t want to waste your breath now, you will need it when I make you scream my name enough to make all the crew hear it,” he chuckles – the rings of danger echo inside your head, making you look behind and see him; standing on his knees, eyes on your face, a smirk is visible that gives chill down to your spine at the sight – his glory has one meaning – is that he will not leave this room until others – and your brat brain understands only he can have you like this.

“will make sure everyone knows who’s fuckin’ you day and night, including you, you dumb doll. should’ve learned it sooner, but, I’m always open to teaching you how to be a good fuckin' girl for me.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *cuties*

[karikarasuno]

part ten | part eleven | part twelve

the library is hosting career week this week, so cora invited law to speak with some of the kids. law agreed even though he's not really good with kids. they kinda scare him. they're unfiltered and often times loud and law has a difficult time understanding them when they talk too quickly.

law has never even held a baby besides his little sister. and that was a very long time ago. but he agrees to it anyway. especially because cora is sneaky, conniving, and manipulative. he purposely asked when you were around. that cunning son of a bitch.

"so, law, i have a favor to ask," cora says as the three of you lounge in law's patio late one evening. you're playing some game on your phone beside him while cora stretches out in a lounge chair.

"no," law says without hesitation.

"that's not very nice. you don't even know what it is," cora pouts, but not really. he's a faker. and definitely up to something when his eyes quickly flick over to you.

"babe, just hear the poor man out," you say, eyes still locked on your phone screen. you always pity cora for some reason. you have a soft spot for him that law doesn't really understand. he should appreciate that you two get along so well. except for when it doesn't work in his favor. which is often, much to law's frustration.

"yeah, listen to her, she knows what she's talking about," cora nods slyly. law could strangle him.

"fine," he begrudgingly agrees. "what do you want?"

cora smiles, close-lipped and smug. like law has already agreed to whatever favor this is.

"so i was wondering," cora starts slowly, carefully picking out his words, "if you could stop by the library for career week and speak to the kids about what its like being a doctor."

law groans. cora is aware of law's discomfort around children. cora thinks it's funny. law doesn't understand the joke.

"no," he reiterates with a tone of finality. but his no doesn't last long. not when you gasp beside him and set down your phone to look over at him.

"why not?" you complain. "that would be so cute!"

"i don't think i'd ever describe it as 'cute'," law huffs in his seat, refusing to look at you because he already knows the face you're making. one that he has a really hard time saying no to.

"aw, come on!" you place both of your hands on his forearm and lightly shake him. he glares at cora. "just think about it. all those little kids sitting around listening to you talk about how cool it is to be a doctor. it'll be fun."

"again," he reinforces, "not exactly a word i'd use to describe this particular situation."

he feels you scoot closer to him and you prop your chin on his shoulder. his resolve is in shambles right now. he cannot stand his brother. "if it makes you feel any better i'll go with you."

"why would that make me feel better?" he grumbles, glancing down at you from the corner of his eye.

"because i'll be there for moral support. just say yes, i promise it won't be that bad."

"i don't know." this is a yes disguised as a no with an air of indecisiveness. law is losing. and he's annoyed by it.

"don't be such a grouch." you lightly slap his chest before turning your focus to cora. "we're going."

the look on cora's face is triumphant. he didn't even have to work for it. law makes a silent vow that next time they're alone, he's going to punch his brother.

and that's how he ends up at the library at 10am on a saturday. the last day of career week and therefore the fucking busiest as families crowd every corner. it's also hot outside. law's sweating and he wants to blame the sun, but he knows what it really is. anxiety.

"thanks for coming!" cora's voice rings out in the busy entrance. his arms open wide as he greets you two. he's wearing the glasses chain you bought him for his birthday, and law doesn't miss the flash of excitement on your face.

"well thank you for the invite," you say, offering cora a quick hug before reaching back to grab law's hand. you don't recoil when you feel how sweaty it is which he appreciates. you just drag a soothing thumb over the back of his hand and pretend as if you cannot feel the wave of nerves that's surely emitting from law. he feels radioactive. especially after he takes one singular step further into the library and a child that barely reaches his knees runs straight into him.

"ope, careful there," you say with a light laugh, reaching down to help the young boy from the floor. he giggles and you smile and then his mom comes to collect him. but law doesn't miss the look on your face. it could be longing or appreciation or something else entirely. something he's never felt before.

"we're in a place where you have to look down," you whisper to him. "tiny people walk amongst us."

you wink. he rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. however small it may be.

it doesn't go as horribly as law thinks it will. the children are actually well-behaved as they sit criss cross applesauce in front of him. he's managed to squeeze himself into a chair that's far too small for him. he doesn't know how cora lives like this. and when he's done talking about his job the children ask questions.

"is it icky cutting people open?" the boy is no more than 6 and he's missing his two front teeth.

"sometimes, yeah, but you get used to it."

"is there a lot of blood?" a young girl with a head of chunky curls asks.

"well, yes," law answers, confused because it's an obvious one.

"blegh." she sticks her tongue out with disgust. "what happens if you're a vampire? can you still be a doctor?"

law looks around for you. you're sitting in the back beside a mother and her baby. positively amused. he doesn't know if he should burst the young girl's bubble and tell her that vampires aren't real. but what if that's like telling her santa isn't real? the last thing he needs is a crying child. but he can't fight the urge to be honest. so he goes with "in books and movies, sure they can. in real life i think that would be a health violation."

you snicker behind your hand when he glances at you. and his chest fills with fondness. so maybe he answered the question correctly. the young girl seems satisfied enough.

and when it's over he almost misses all the innocent curiosity. but he can't ignore the relief he feels when he sees all the kids file out of the room and onto the next fun activity cora has planned for them. you're speaking with the mom who was sitting behind you when it ends. and instead of disrupting your conversation he decides to go to the bathroom while he has a free chance.

but law doesn't expect to see you, alone in the center of the entryway holding a baby and a diaper bag, when he exits the bathroom. you're cooing at her. fussing over the bow in her hair. bouncing her slightly in your arms until she giggles.

law also doesn't expect something akin to yearning that fills his chest. that makes his heart race. that unlocks something strange and unfamiliar in his mind. he can't approach you just yet. instead he stands out of your view and watches you. the baby plays with the pendant on your necklace. and you whisper something to her that law knows she doesn't understand. but you say it anyway. and you smile all the same.

well, law can't stand the sight. and he realizes that it's because it's a temporary one.

“where’d you get that?” he asks when he finally approaches you. the baby decides she's tired and rests her head on your shoulder. it's cute. and also weird how natural it looks. law's uncomfortable.

“are you referring to the baby?” you laugh incredulously. it shakes the baby but she doesn't seem to mind.

"yes," he says slowly accompanied with a single nod.

"her mom had to go sign some paperwork for her son. she's somewhere around here with cora and i offered to watch her until she was done," you answer easily. like it's a normal occurrence for you to be holding stranger's babies.

"and she trusted you?"

"i'm not gonna kidnap her!" you say with another laugh. "even though, she is cute enough to steal."

the baby reaches for law. her hands are tiny and chubby and she's trying to grasp his necklace. she seems to be fascinated by them.

"aw, she likes you," you gush but feeling his tension you angle her away from him. he's grateful for it. but he doesn't stop staring at you. he can't. since when are you so good with babies? this one hasn't even cried and she just met you.

"ah, thank you so much!" her mom returns, scooping her child from your arms and offering you a relieved smile.

"it was no problem. she was an angel," you grin, leaning over to tickle the baby until she giggles. "we're kinda besties now."

and the whole way home, law thinks about you. the baby. you and the baby.

you with his baby.

that's his last thought before he pulls into the driveway.

"i was thinking pasta for dinner," you say flippantly as you get out of the car. he can't answer because he's distracted.

"maybe pesto?" you ask as you unlock the front door to your house. you two spend most of your time here because of chopper. but he doesn't mind because he likes the smell. and being surrounded by you.

what would you look like pregnant?

he stops abruptly behind you and you don't even notice. you just flit around your home like everything is normal. and for you it is. but law is somehow dying inside? or maybe this is the most alive he's ever felt...

"you alright, weirdo?" you finally notice how he's just standing there as you set your purse down on the dining room table. and he looks at you, glances down at your belly, eyes your hips, and suddenly his thoughts are vulgar and wholly unnecessary.

"do you want kids?" he blurts out, hands balling into fists before his fingers flex.

"what?" you say stunned, pausing your approach towards him. you blink up at him as if you're stuck in a glitch. and your lips are stuck somewhere between a smile and grimace.

"today," he starts, taking a measured step towards you, "when you were holding that baby you looked happy."

"i like babies," you titter.

"do you want one?" he asks again, but closer to you this time.

"i'd prefer a ring first," you reply shrewdly. "but i'm not opposed to practice."

"i wasn't coming onto you," he shakes his head amused, backing you up against the table.

"just in," you whisper, delighted with yourself. "at least you were thinking about it."

"and what gave me away?" his hips press into you, his hands finding your waist and bunching up the fabric of your shirt.

"well for one," you glance down, "you're hard."

"and two?" he slips his hands under your shirt, splaying his fingers across your stomach.

"you're asking me about babies." you hop onto the table, lifting your skirt to rest above your knees and spreading your legs. "and we've never talked about babies before."

"maybe not," he says, leaning over to bury his face in your neck. "i've never really thought about them. about having kids."

your hand cards through his hair as he breathes in the scent that's sunken into your skin. and for as turned on as he his, he can't stop his muscles from relaxing into you. he bears most of his weight down onto you. and he knows he's heavy. but you seem to hold him up regardless.

"and what's different now?" you're breathless. he hasn't even begun touching you the way he wants.

"you, obviously," he taunts, kissing your collarbone and you tug his hair at his tone. he nips at your neck in retaliation.

"no, i wanna know what you're thinking." you pull his face out from where he was so comfy against your shoulder.

"tell me." your hand covers his where it rests on your stomach. your lips ghosts his when you whisper, "please."

he kisses you, but not because he has a choice. but because your pull is too strong. he'd do anything you asked. it would be an issue if this was one sided, but law knows how infrequently you say no to him.

"i want to have kids, but only with you," he says between kisses. "want to get you pregnant. want to see you holding our baby."

you gasp and your head falls back. "do you want that too?"

"jeez, law," you whine, "you can't just spring this on me. not like this."

he's referring to the hand that's traveling up your thigh. to the hand that's gripping your skirt and shoving it over your hips.

"i think this is the perfect time to discuss children," he smiles against your lips, wiggling your underwear down your thighs until it drops to your ankles.

"fine," you admit, "your babies. i'll have yours, but i expect a good push present."

he chortles despite himself. laughs as he unbuttons his jeans. "whatever you want. its yours."

he kisses you harder as he frees himself and lines up with your entrance.

"wait, you're not gonna-" you break the kiss to stare down between your legs. there's not much to see since your skirt is covering up the real view.

"no, we're practicing." he pushes you onto your back, bringing your hips to the edge of the table. and without a second thought. without an ounce of regret. he sinks into you for the first time without anything separating you.

god, he's not gonna last. you pulse around him and you're so wet. so warm. he nearly chokes. a dam has been broken. thoughts flood his mind. he needs to fill you. he needs to cum inside you. to see you round with his baby. to see you coo and giggle and fuss over his baby.

perfect. you're perfect. he can't imagine life without you. and as his thrusts quicken-- as his strokes deepen-- a future he's never considered but now consumes him flashes through his mind. you. a wedding. a pregnancy test. building a crib. watching as you babble over tiny clothes.

you. here. with him. moaning as you fist his shirt and grind down on him. begging for more. locking your ankles around the small of his back.

"wanna feel you." you smear the words slurred and moist across his cheek. "want you to cum inside me."

his grip tightens on your hips. you don't wince, even though he knows it's gonna bruise in the morning.

"yeah?" he replies, not thinking properly. just needing to give you exactly what you want.

"yes, yes, please," you nod. you're whinier than you've ever been. desperate. clawing at his clothes.

"oh-k," he stutters when you clench around him. "i can do that for you."

the air gets knocked out of him. or maybe it gets stuck in his chest. maybe he's suffocating on it. as he comes inside of you hard and hurried and hopelessly.

he doesn't know how long it takes for him to calm down. to feel his toes again. to get rid of the tingles that ripple down his body and then back up again.

all he knows is that you're fluttering around him and squirming beneath him. releasing short, yet satisfied noises directly into his ear.

"every time i think i know you," you simper, still catching your breath, "you go and surprise me."

he's confused. law didn't really think of himself as unpredictable. "how?"

"i mean, underneath all that seriousness and bravado, who would've thought you'd be into this?" you slip your hand down between your thighs. you lift your skirt. showing him the mess he's making. he's leaking out of you. and he's still inside of you. he's almost impressed.

"i should start tracking my cycle, though." you gather some of his cum on your fingers. "wouldn't want any accidents."

and then you lick them clean. law has no idea what he's gonna do with you.

[zan0tix]

Any general thoughts on/relating to the Brobot?

Have my half awake scrawlings...

I really love the brobot!!!! People really misconstrue it and also leave it out in a lot of dirkjake talk? Its a big player in not only how dirk expresses his affection/desire towards jake but also in their multi year spanning unspoken game of gay chicken 😭😭(all of dirks splinters are but Not about them rn)

It was sent yknow under the pretense that jake loves wrestling and wished so bad to have somebody he could wrestle with. But at the same time it protects jake from the horrors of hellmurder island (seen before they strife), pushing jake into the Damsel in distress role he wasnt expecting to play even before all the shit in the game, with Dirk being his hero.

Jake says he keeps it on a high difficulty because apparently in the Novice mode he says their interactions become "too tender" and doesnt want to elaborate, Friendly reminder! His convo with jane on the SAME DAY dirk pulled off that big romantic overture and the kiss happens and him and dirk begin "dating".. is the same day he asked jane if it didnt make him weird for wanting to date dirk. And he also says hed joke around with dirk about how theyd soo make a great couple if dirk were a girl haha.

I imagine the brobot and well. Getting physical like that with a robot that supposedly looks like dirk probably gave jake his internal gay awakening at 13 but he just never wanted to actually confront it and instead just wanted to brush past everything 😭😭 (See: every single time sexuality or romance comes up in relation to jake he is literally always thinking about dirk somehow and he never directly talks about his attraction to men or how that reflects/contradicts on his self image of the Movie Star Hero guy)

and jake doesnt actually hate the thing either, he tells jane he thinks it genuinely did improve his fighting capabilities (Which we see it did in collide! he beat basically the whole felt with guns and fisticuffs alone, no hope powers.) Which serves as a pretty evident parallel to dave who also is good at fighting, even if he doesnt want to be. (see dirk + dave convo)

This one comes from hussies authors notes in the aradiabot and equius scene (which equius imagery being invoked with dirk. something i could totally rant about another time haha) but yeah. Jake was being selfish asshat in that log forcing jane into a corner and wringing what he wanted to hear out of her, and also not giving a shit about the brobot (Which served as his protector and only other semblance of human connection since he was 13 and was a BIRTHDAY GIFT FROM DIRK) KILLING ITSELF? But hes so preoccupied talking about dirk. THE REAL DIRK. And immediately after jake loses the dirk splinter that protected him, HE (AND DIRK) CREATE A NEW ONE FOR HIMSELF USING THEIR COMBINED POWERS/?

Hussie is lying.. somebody Does care about dirks feelings. a whole lot to the point they activate their powers unwittingly Because of it. and its jake. but jake just cant admit that himself. (He cannot admit his real feelings until given permission to, dirk would have to concede the game of gay chicken first using his words and not just actions)

ANYWAY. hussie is so right its so easy to get sidetracked times one million talking about this comic. BUT AHH!! BROBOT. his existence.. tragic.. Jakes really smart in knowing that all of dirks splinters enlighten aspects of himself he doesnt oft share, and the brobot served as another dirk action on the pile of dirk actions he engineers to signify his deep immense care for jake, where he lets these grand gestures and implications sit out in the open without ever actually saying what they mean and where his feelings lay.

EVEN IF ITS SUPER OBVIOUS. The d man cant use his big boy words to actually describe his feelings despite how much a yaps! so jake doesnt know if hes even allowed to say anything about his own. Fellas: Is it gay if you labour for supposedly an extended period of time to create a custom robot in your own image to ship in pieces to your best bro guy crush who is HUNDREDS OF YEARS IN THE PAST because you cant be there yourself?

I think this hal message says enough about how bad dirk wished he could visit jake 💀💀

[madelynn-sienna]

ms americana and the heartbreak prince (logan sargeant x reader)

[ navigation / requests / guidelines ]

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★ prompt : ❛❛ it's you and me, that's my whole world... ❜❜ ★ pairing : logan sargeant x reader ★ face claim : unnamed women on pinterest ★ genre : fluff and comfort ★ a/n : i wanted to release this yesterday but got a bit busy, but in light of william's announcement, i figured a happy, feel-good logan piece would be nice for fans of his out there (+ i feel really bad for him) 🥺 ★ feedback and requests are always appreciated!

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f1 🚩 Red flag in FP3 at Circuit Zandvoort as Logan Sargeant suffers a huge crash. Thankfully the Williams driver is out of the car and reports that he is doing okay, but the same cannot be said for his car.

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user1 he's making williams bleed money.

user2 he is definitely bringing in more than he costs. user3 logan's been in what four crashes already? user4 he's made them lose at least $3 million in repair work.

user5 glad he's okay!!

user6 they need to fire him.

user7 exactly, logan isn't good enough to race in formula one user8 dude roscoe or leo could probably drive better than him user9 honestly, how does he have a job atp user10 petition to fire sargeant before monza

user11 why is he still here?

user12 right? the crash was so avoidable. user13 he should have been replaced over summer break.

user14 how does his guy have any fans?

user15 he doesn't user16 mainly just fangirls who like him for his looks user17 how does he still have a car or a team?

user18 just sack him honestly

user19 guys stop saying bad things about him, i can't like everything!

user20 you got me at the first half 😂

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williamsracing We'd like to thank Logan for his work over the past two seasons. He will continue as a member of the Williams family and we wish him all the best for his future endeavours.

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user1 good riddance

user2 right? how did that guy have a car for this long!? user3 i mean i can drive better than logan 😂 user4 that's not too difficult uk, just don't crash 👀

user5 well done williams!

user6 took them long enough to come to their senses user7 now that they have a good car, it really was time to sack him

user8 i feel so bad 💔

user9 thank god, he's just a financial liability

user10 bye bye 😊

user11 really was about time! user12 can't wait to see colapinto in the car user13 watch him make the points in his debut race user14 that'll be so embarrassing for sargeant user15 who cares?

user16 nooooooo 🦅 🇺🇸

user17 let's go franco colapinto 🇦🇷

user18 is this really a shock to anyone?

user19 i was counting down the days after zandvoort user20 i thought they'd sack him right after that fp3 crash!

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text exchanges between y/n & logan dated 27/08.

logansargeant added to their story.

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yourinstagram there's escape in escaping.

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lilyzneimer this is so cute 💖

user1 couple goals fr fr

user2 right? i need a logan in my life 🥺 user3 why so he can crash into you? man's jobless.

logansargeant a much needed break with my favourite person ❤️

yourinstagram you deserved every second of it! logansargeant thank you for making it so special, babe. logansargeant i'm still smiling 😊 yourinstagram awww, i love you more than words can describe 💕 logansargeant not as much as i love you, but nice try 😉 user4 why are they so adorable?!?

oscarpiastri i hope you two enjoyed france, it's a beautiful place!

user4 i'm sure they did 👀 yourinstagram we had a great time, got to visit annecy too. lilyzneimer they took our suggestion osc❣️

alexalbon been to france twice in less than two months 😮

logansargeant did it without the yacht this time dude. yourinstagram its logan's new favourite country 👀 user5 what happened to mr america?! logansargeant the betrayal babe 😢

user6 they're so cute together 🫶

user7 right? we love ms americana and her heartbreak prince💜

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logansargeant Couldn't be prouder, dr. l/n 🎓 ❤️

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georgerussell congratulations y/n!

yourinstagram aww, this is so cute babe - i'm going to cry 🥺

logansargeant you deserve this moment so much ❤️ logansargeant i can't wait to watch you shine as a doctor 🤩

lilymhe such a beautiful graduation 💕

alexalbon where are my photo credits logan?!? congrats y/n

logansargeant you took one picture. alexalbon which you used! yourinstagram why do i sound like an afterthought alex 😢 alexalbon sorry? 😅 yourinstagram that sounds like a question, i'm heartbroken! alexalbon you're dramatic yourinstagram well, so are you. logansargeant presenting the drama king and queen, everyone. user1 i live for the alex and y/n banter! user2 right? they are so sibling-coded.

oscarpiastri we're so proud of you, y/n!

lilyzneimer ❤️

user3 excuse me, logan's girlfriend is a doctor?!?

user4 yeah, she graduated from oxford, she's like super smart! user5 i'm so happy for her tbh

user6 love how successful they both are rn!

user7 right? logan's doing amazing in indycar rn 🤩 user8 they're honestly living the american dream user9 after all the williams and f1 drama, i'm so deserve it

user10 it's giving miss americana

user11 so demure, so mindful user12 that trend's getting so old now 😭

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liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, lilyzneimer and others

yourinstagram It's you and me, that's my whole world 💍 🫶

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user1 oh. my. god.

user2 we're finally getting mr and mrs americana🤩 user3 i can't believe she'll be mrs sargeant soon!

lilyzneimer congratulations 💕

user4 just can't take the florida out of the man

user5 i was just about to comment that! user6 this is definitely in fort lauderdale user7 they met there, so it's probably really special <3

georgerussell can't wait for the wedding mate!

alexalbon can we take a minute to appreciate my help?

logansargeant shhhhh 👀 yourinstagram go on... lilymhe please, you literally did nothing alex alexalbon i did too, i let logan borrow the marquee letters! lilymhe you let him borrow two m's and a y user8 i live for lily roasting alex in the comments 😂

oscarpiastri congrats, just saying, i expect an invitation 🥺

yourinstagram the matchmaker gets a spot on the bridal party 👀 user9 oscar introduced y/n and logan?!? user10 don't be afraid to spill the story oscar, we're all waiting...

user11 this is going to be the wedding of the year!

user12 more like the century user13 of course, it's the royal american wedding 🦅 🇺🇸

user14 i'm so happy, this has been such a good year for them

user15 right? y/n's a doctor now and logan won rookie of the year user16 what a turnaround after his f1 career user17 counting the days till they're begging him to return user18 his replacements haven't even bagged any points 😂

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yourinstagram I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover...

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logansargeant you made me the luckiest man alive, mrs sargeant ❤️

logansargeant or should i say dr sargeant 👀 yourinstagram not as lucky as i am mr sargeant 💕 yourinstagram or should i say indycar drivers' champion 😉

oscarpiastri so happy for the two of you!

lilyzneimer what a beautiful wedding ❤️

user1 you can't just drop a whole wedding with no warning 😭

user2 right? like i'm going to need 2-3 days to recover user3 i love how they were able to keep a whole wedding hidden user4 exactly, i'm glad they got some privacy.

alexalbon and best man of the year goes to...

oscarpiastri me! alexalbon the lies, the outrage, we both know it was me 😮 oscarpiastri please. alexalbon y/n, logan, what's the verdict? yourinstagram i plead the fifth! logansargeant what she said. alexalbon traitors.

user5 y/n's the prettiest bride i've ever seen 💕

user6 and logan's the most handsome groom! user7 they really are a match made in heaven. user8 i'm so, so happy for them!

user9 these pictures are so cute

user10 definitely the wedding of the year 💖

user11 that dip is so extra, but we love it 💙

user12 presenting miss americana and her heartbreak prince!

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logansargeant I was enchanted to meet you❣️

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yourinstagram the best christmas gift ever ❤️

logansargeant absolutely, i couldn't have asked for anything more logansargeant thank you for giving me this opportunity darling 💕 yourinstagram couldn't have done it without you love 💖 alexalbon they may be all love dovey here, but that's all lies alexalbon y/n threatened logan so many times during labour 😂 lilymhe cut my girl some slack, you'll have a broken hand if you put me through that kind of pain 😠 alexalbon but babies? 🥺 user1 we all know who's sleeping on the sofa tonight...

oscarpiastri so who do we have a godfather in mind?

alexalbon we both know it's going to be me. oscarpiastri i'm just saying, i am more responsible alexalbon for the 100th time, i didn't lose my cousin oscarpiastri no, you just misplaced him in a massive crowd 👀 user2 i didn't know i needed alex and oscar banter in my life.

user3 awww, the baby is so adorable

user4 right? logan and y/n make such cute babies user5 i wonder what they've named the baby... user6 we all know it's going to be the most american name ever!

user7 congratulations!

georgerussell amazing news guys! can't wait to meet her 💕

estebanocon Félicitations à vous deux!

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logansargeant I am incredibly excited to announce that i'll be returning to formula one in the coming season to drive for Haas. I would like to thank Andretti for giving me three phenomenal seasons with IndyCar and two drivers championships. I wouldn't be here without your help and guidance. This a dream come true for me, and I cannot appreciate my wife enough for all the sacrifices she has made and love and support she has showered me with in the last seven years. I am who I am today because of her.

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yourinstagram so proud of you logan, i love you ❤️

logansargeant you mean the world to me, i love you so much 💕

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[strawberrystepmom]

sanemi x f!reader. isekai au, established relationship, mostly fluff and character study. | wc 1.3k, divider thanks to @cafekitsune

Gentle communication has never been Sanemi’s strong suit.

He’s moved through his life as wild and blusterous as the winds he wields to keep the world safe, a flurry of carelessly running off at the mouth and leaving destruction behind him if it suited him best. At least until he met you.

Brash is the kind word you’ve chosen to describe him or at least that’s what he overheard you discussing with Mitsuri shortly after he realized his feelings for you were mutual, after the two of you had engaged in relatively wordless physical passion more than once. He didn’t know what the word meant (frankly, he isn’t sure if she did either although she never mentioned it) and he asked you, pointedly, to explain yourself.

“What the fuck does brash mean?”

The look on your face, wide eyes and slightly downturned corners of your lips, caught him off guard even more so than you found yourself. He watched you through narrowed violet eyes while you considered the way to phrase the explanation, a little regretful about his naturally commanding and harsh tone though he could not, and cannot, change it about himself. For a period of time, you looked terrified of him every time you glanced at him and while he felt grateful that was no longer the case, old fears crept in when you opened your mouth to speak, eyes still wide.

“Are you upset with me?” You asked, glancing toward the ground for a moment and then back at his face - that scarred, beautiful face - concerned that your choice of words offended him.

“No.” He answered quickly, reaching out to rub his thumb along the soft skin of the inside of your wrist, something that became a habit after the two of you began sleeping together. His shoulders slumped forward, he inhaled deeply and lowered his voice. “I just want to know.”

Smiling at the glimpse of the man beneath the surface, you leaned in toward him to close the surrounding world off to just the two of you.

“It means that you aren’t afraid to speak your mind and to assert yourself. It’s not a bad thing, you just get to the point quicker than other people might.”

He could tell you were beating around the bush, a little trait of yours he noticed more and more over the time that passed, and his face fell into a scowl despite his thumb still pressing against your skin.

“So you’re saying I’m an asshole?”

You frowned back at him, shaking your head.

“No, I think you just forget about the subtleties of conversation. Facial expressions, tone of voice, language,” you raised your eyebrows at him, pursing your lips to punctuate the last point. “Little things matter, Sanemi. I can’t tell you why but they do.”

Tilting his head to the side, he lacked the grace to hide his confusion. You glanced up at him and trailed your free hand up his arm, reaching until you cupped his chin and cheek in your palm.

“Why? Why can’t people just say what they mean?” You giggled and patted his face, shaking your head. “I don’t have an answer for that but what I can promise you is that I’ll always figure out what you mean even if you say it a little roughly.”

He smiled down at you, slight enough that anyone else would mistake it for a grimace, but you knew better. Emotions have never come easy for Sanemi and you knew that long before getting involved with him bearing in mind that he didn’t speak to you for weeks except to bark orders or demand you cover yourself up in the revealing Slayer uniform you were given upon your appearance in his world.

Even back then, you’d come a long way with one another in a short time. You sighed and dropped your hand from his face, sparing him the embarrassment of being caught mid embrace with you lest someone approached.

“I never mean to be mean to you,” he admitted, eyes glued toward his hand still resting on your arm. “I don’t know how else to tell you what I’m trying to say. All this shit is just…different for me.”

Nodding, you reassured him with a half smile.

“I know and I always pick up on what you really mean anyway.”

The small tells have always said more than he thinks. Twitching fingers, especially the ones he has confided in you he has less feeling in, resting against your arm. Low chuckles in his throat, so brief you believe you imagined them. His lips roughly pressing against your hairline, your cheek, your throat in the darkness of your room.

───・・✦・・───

Those small signs have certainly come in handy over the time the two of you have spent together. The days of miscommunication aren’t long passed, they still linger in the back of your mind when his jaw is slackened and he looks like he may open his mouth to say anything and leave you to play damage control, but you have figured out the little tells.

The crease between his eyebrows deepens and he grips his teacup a little too tightly while kneeling in front of the table at his brothers’ home. You wordlessly sip from your own cup but glance over at Sanemi, raising your left eyebrow to give him the silent signal that you are checking on him.

Are you ready to go?

So many words contained in a simple gesture.

Please.

He nods once, indistinct enough that Genya and his wife who are lost in their own conversation do not look away from one another. Cup placed gently back on the table in front of him, he leans upward and folds his arms over his chest, allowing you to do what you do best. Talk.

“I think we’re about to head home.”

Genya and his wife rise and smile at the two of you, exchanging goodbyes and thanking you for visiting them and their ever growing family. Sanemi’s heart still occasionally pumps a few beats harder when he takes the time to consider how thoughtfully you approach him, patiently allowing him to clarify himself when most would just assume he’s impolite and leave it at that.

“Thank you,” he finally says when the two of you have exited out of the gate separating Genya’s home and the road, stepping down the path headed toward your own that is closer than it seems on a dusk summer evening.

“Of course.” You butt your shoulder against his playfully, fiddling with the inside of your sleeves. “I know you better than you think.”

Sanemi chuckles, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. He’s never been one for overt displays of affection but it’s just the two of you, the crickets, and the earliest appearing stars tonight. There’s no harm in kissing the crown of your head and nuzzling his face into it while your footsteps fall into sync.

“You do,” he agrees, kissing your head. “You’ve tried a hell of a lot harder at the very least.”

This makes you laugh, grinning up at him and wrapping your arms around his waist in return.

“Only because I like you.”

He looks down, brows raised, feigning that same angry look he used to wear before he learned to relax and roll with the punches - assisted by you, of course.

“You only like me?”

Giggling, you shrug, pressing your head into his chest so he can rest his chin on top of it.

“Okay, okay, I guess I love you or something, too.” He chuckles and you feel it rumble beneath your ear, cheeks warming his breath gently ruffles the hair on top of your head.

“That’s better. Say what you mean when you’re talkin’ to me.”

There’s no derision in his words. No anger or frustration, nothing to make you jump or wonder what you’ve done wrong. You glance up at him to find him looking down at you rather than the path ahead, smiling. He’ll save his “I love you” for later, in another way, something you’ve come to appreciate about him since the days when you barely knew each other and were trying to figure it out.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, angst, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 8k!!! You deserve all the love and more <3 also the holiday/winter theme is so so so cute!! Literally cannot even begin to describe how much I adore you and your talent and the fact that you give back and share your wonderful writing with us makes me so unbelievably happy <3

Can I request a hot cocoa drabble with Remus and the prompt wrapping paper from the 2nd list? Much love to you!! And congratulations again!!

I adore you! Ty for requesting angel <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Remus carefully folds the wrapping paper over itself, lining the triangle up against the side of his box. He curses. 

You giggle. “How are you so regimented and so bad at this?” 

“Hush.” He rolls his eyes, reaching across you for the tape. “It’s fine.” 

“The label is showing,” you say, trying to be gentle but only hitting amused. “You can’t leave it like that, she’s gonna know what it is.” 

“I’ll cut a square of wrapping paper to cover that part.” 

“Another patch job?” You shake your head at him, grinning. “Rem, I can’t let you bring these to the function. They’re an embarrassment.” 

“The function,” says Remus, cutting through the wrapping paper with a pointed slice, “is already going to have gifts wrapped by James, which always look like he’s let Harry do them, and Sirius is most likely going to bring his in bags. I guarantee ours won’t be the worst there.” 

“It’s just a little embarrassing,” you murmur, really only teasing him. You start folding a ribbon into gentle curves on the top of your box. “I thought I had this really competent boyfriend, but…” 

“Didn’t I tell you to hush?” Remus asks, but his laughter betrays him. The light from your tree smoothes out the lines of his face, his eyes warm and glittering and lashes kissing at the corners. You wish suddenly that you had a camera on hand, but there’s no chance film could capture how perfectly happy he looks.

Remus smooths tape over his patch of wrapping paper with swift, vaguely menacing movements. “I’ll have you know, I am very competent,” he says. 

“It’s gonna take a knife to open that with all the tape on it,” you observe solemnly.

“I am very competent,” he repeats, and you suck in a breath when he locks his hands around your ankles, dragging you to him with one swift motion. You can forget how strong Remus is, sometimes. He’s not very physical usually, but you’ve riled him into playfulness. “You ask Lily tomorrow who the most competent man in her home is, and you get back to me on what she says, yeah?” 

“Well,” you’re giggling, caught under his stern gaze and bubbling with giddy anticipation, “if you limit it to the men, the bar can’t be very high. Lily and I are more competent than the three of you.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“You can look at my gifts, for starters.” 

Remus has an excellent poker face. He squeezes your calf at the jab, and your nervous giggling intensifies. “We’ll see how you feel about your competence when you make your own tea tomorrow.” 

“No wait! Wait.” You get into his lap, trying your hardest to school your features into some sort of contrition. Smooth your hands up and down his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I love you. Have I told you I love you lately?” 

“Not without ulterior motive,” Remus says drily. 

Your lips turn down in a real frown. “That’s not true.” 

“No.” He rolls his eyes, grunting as he pulls you further up his lap. “It’s not, lovely. What, you’re the only one who gets to tease?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, teasing. 

Remus chuffs like you’re something else, but his lips touching to your nose are gentle. “So what if I’m not the best at wrapping? You can’t make your own tea.” 

“I can…it’s just not as good as when you do it.” 

“Some could argue that’s a much more everyday sort of competence, dove.” 

You make a quiet scoff of protest, not very convincing. Remus smiles. His hands stroke your sides. 

“So. We’re going to put my gifts under James and Lily’s tree without complaint, hm?” 

You feel your nose wrinkle. “Without any complaint? I feel like some damage control is necessary.” 

“Remember your tea.” 

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Right. No complaints here.”

[sansaorgana]

— A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

PAIRING — King Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You visit Aegon with your children in his chambers after he nearly lost his life due to his reckless decision to join the battle.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is just a very self-indulgent fic where both twins are alive (I haven't described their looks because Reader is their mother – I have only mentioned their hair colour) and Aegon's injuries aren't even half as bad as in canon. 🙈

WORD COUNT — 3,600

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

When your servants informed you about Aegon planning to depart on Sunfyre and that he was getting fully armoured, your heart stopped beating for a good while before you gathered your skirts in your hands and rushed all the way to the Dragonpit. Your sworn guard could barely keep up with your pace.

“My Queen!” He tried to stop you but you remained deaf to his pleas. All that was important to you was to stop Aegon from making a mistake.

You knew what he was planning to do because all those nights when he had been drunk on wine and whining about his council ignoring him, he had been threatening to just hop on his dragon and join the real fight eventually. Something had to happen on that day, which had finally pushed all his buttons and caused him to take the drastic step.

But when you ran into the Dragonpit, he was already gone. You rushed outside and looked up. The beautiful Sunfyre was up in the sky and flying away. You put your hand over your forehead to cast a shadow upon your face.

“The King has already departed, My Queen,” your sworn guard informed you and took a few deep breaths in after the rapid chase.

“May the Gods protect our King,” you swallowed a lump in your throat and whispered a short prayer. There was nothing you could do now, really. You didn’t have your own dragon, on which you would hop on to join him in the battlefield to help him.

That feeling of being helpless was the greatest burden. Therefore, you understood your husband’s frustration. He was the King, after all, and he wanted to feel like one.

But you were the Queen. And all you could do was to wait and pray.

The news from Rook’s Rest came with a raven and you were in the room with the Dowager Queen Alicent when you read that King Aegon had managed to kill Meleys and her rider, Princess Rhaenys. However, the King himself and his own dragon Sunfyre were injured. The letter brought to you did not dwell on the state of either of them.

You finished reading the words out loud and glanced at your mother-in-law. She covered her face with her hand to muffle the sound of a sob coming out of her mouth. Your lips were trembling, too.

“He’s alive,” you tried to comfort both her and your own self. “And a hero, too.”

“My boy…” Queen Alicent stood up to approach the window.

“With all due respect, My Queen,” you stood up and dropped the letter onto the surface of the desk before approaching her. “We both know why Aegon went to the battle. The servants informed me about his drunken state and… An argument… Between you two,” you told her, carefully. You did not want to damage the relationship you had with Queen Alicent.

She was a good mother-in-law and she loved her children, however, sometimes, she struggled with emotions. Which was no fault of hers, especially now, on the verge of a civil war – everyone struggled. But you were also aware of how important she was to your husband.

Sometimes, it felt as if his mother was the only important person in his life. He did not care for anyone else as much as for her – excluding your children, of course. But his mother was often the main subject of his conversations when you two were alone, discussing your problems. And no matter how much love and support you were showing to him, he was still unsatisfied because what he craved and needed truly was her approval. 

“I deeply regret the words I have said to him,” Queen Alicent turned around to look at your face. “But they cannot be undone now.”

“No, they cannot,” you nodded and she sobbed once more. You felt bad for her, so you put your hand gently on her shoulder. “Do not put all the blame on yourself, My Queen,” you whispered to her. “My husband is known for being impulsive and it is not a secret he likes wine more than he should.”

“And who raised him this way?” Queen Alicent asked you with her big brown eyes filled with pain and guilt.

“My husband had a father, too,” you reminded her. “Also, some… Some things… Us, parents, we cannot help them. Our children are not our property but humans of their own and we cannot shape them the way we like. There are often forces stronger than us that mislead and misguide them from our paths,” you comforted her.

When the knights came back from Rook’s Rest, they had Meleys’ head that they were showing off to the peasants as they praised your husband’s victory. You had to admit, the sight of that red beast’s head was gruesome and the smell was awful as well, however it brought some pride to you that it was your husband who had slain her.

Still, he was what you cared about the most. You rushed to his chambers where he would be brought by the knights and where the Maesters waited for his arrival.

You were scared to see what state he was in. You were scared to see the injuries and blood but you were his wife and you couldn’t imagine hiding somewhere else. You just had to endure it and remain by his side. Queen Alicent stood by you as well and you both waited. When you heard the approaching footsteps, she reached her hand out to grab your wrist and you held her hand to squeeze it in a comforting manner. You both needed that.

The nauseous smell reached your nostrils first – metallic scent of blood and the eye-watering stench of burnt flesh. Groaning Aegon was laid down on his bed as Maesters rushed to his side before you could take a better look at his face.

Queen Alicent gasped and turned around to cry but you let go of her hand and tried to stand between all the men gathered around your husband’s bed.

“My Queen, please,” one of the Maesters looked at you pleadingly. “Do not interrupt, for the King’s sake.”

“That is not a sight for the Queen,” another one told you.

“He is my husband!” You pushed him away to get closer to Aegon and the sight of him made your heart clench.

You sobbed just like his mother at the sight of his skin covered in bruises and blood, while the left part of his body was burnt in many places to the point that his armour had melted into his skin – Maesters worked on removing it as quickly as possible. Even Aegon’s face was burnt on his left cheek and his leg was broken, too.

“Aegon…” You whispered and walked the bed around to find yourself on the better side of him, the one less injured. You grabbed his hand to squeeze and he hissed out of pain before laying his teary eyes on you. “Oh, Aegon…” You sobbed some more and fell to your knees to place a kiss upon his hand before pressing it to your forehead. “I have been praying for you, my King. Thank the Gods for bringing you back to me and now might they grant you strength…”

“My Queens, please,” Grand Maester Orwyle looked at Queen Alicent. “We will call for you after we are done with the King. Let us work now.”

You tried to stand up but you stumbled and it was your sworn guard who had to intervene and raise you up from the floor before walking you out with his hands placed respectfully on your shoulders.

You were pacing around your chambers nervously for the second hour now. All the food brought to you by the servants was lying cold on the table because you couldn’t touch it. Every time someone walked past your doors, your heart was skipping a beat, thinking it was some news about your husband.

Finally, a light knock had your head spinning as you rushed to open the doors before your guard even managed to reach out to push them.

“What is it?!” You asked the Maester standing in front of the chambers.

“The King can receive visitors now, My Queen,” he bowed his head in front of you.

“Thank the Gods,” you mumbled to yourself. “How is he? Will he be alright?”

“His convalescence will be a long one but he will be alright, eventually,” the man answered and then he looked away nervously.

“But…? What is it?!” You furrowed your brows.

“The King might never walk again, My Queen,” he informed you, quietly.

You pursed your lips. The news was heartbreaking for you but you knew it had to be even more devastating for Aegon. On the other hand, you’d rather have him laying in bed all day long than have him dead.

“It is a small price to pay the Gods for sparing his life,” you only nodded. “Thank you, Maester,” you added and walked away.

Before going to your husband’s chambers, you went to the nursery first where your silver-haired twins were playing together, unaware of anything that had taken place on that day.

“Jaehaerys,” you crouched down next to the boy playing with a wooden dragon.

“I don’t want to go to sleep yet,” he whined.

“No, darling, not to sleep,” you caressed his hair and offered him your hand before extending the other one towards Jaehaera. “We are going to see daddy,” you told them. “He is unwell,” you added and the eyes of your children looked up at you, worryingly. “He was fighting in a battle on Sunfyre and he got hurt,” you explained in a way they could understand. “He would love to see you now, I bet.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera both stood up and squeezed your hands. You walked them out of the nursery and guided them to your husband’s chambers.

Those had been his own father’s chambers before and Aegon did not like them for that very reason. Most of the time he was spending time and sleeping in your chambers but now you believed he would have to stay in his father’s ones for quite a long time. However, you would visit him every day anyway.

You had been young teenagers when you had met for the first time and you had hated him at first. You still remembered that night when you had been crying from dusk till dawn about the fact you would have to marry him one day. But when you had actually arrived at King's Landing to marry him a few years later, you had been surprised by how much you had grown to like him despite his undeniable flaws.

Also, everyone was saying that your marriage was doing him good and you were changing him for the better. It had always been making you feel proud to hear such words and all of Aegon’s attempts to make you like him more had been only causing you to fall for him harder and harder. Even though some of his attempts had failed, they had still been proving to you that he cared about you.

At the sight of you coming, his guards bowed down and opened the doors leading to your husband’s chambers as they announced you.

“Queen (Y/N) with Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Jaehaera.”

You walked inside the chambers carefully and felt your children squeezing your hands at the sight of their father. Aegon was sitting on the bed now with many pillows behind his back but the bruises had not magically disappeared from his skin after all. Nor had the burns or a broken leg that was now propped up to heal properly.

Aegon cracked a smile at you and his children. You let go of their hands and they looked up at you, questioningly.

“Go to daddy,” you nodded your head at them and they ran up to their father’s bed.

“Daddy!” Jaehaera squealed as Jaehaerys climbed up to sit by Aegon’s better side. Jaehaera tried to do that as well but she struggled. You chuckled at that and helped her.

“Be careful with daddy, he’s still in pain,” you told your children and watched them carefully as they sat by your husband.

Aegon raised his less injured hand to brush their arms with his fingers before laying his hand down again and you took it gently and placed it upon your lap after sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright, daddy?” Jaehaerys asked with widened eyes. “Mummy said you were in the battle on Sunfyre!”

“Yes…” Aegon answered in a raspy voice before clearing his throat. “Yes, I was. And I won,” he added, weakly.

“When will you be better, daddy?” Jaehaera asked as she crawled closer to her father. She cupped his cheeks gently and you knew it had to bring your husband some pain but he didn’t let it show. His eyes filled with tears again. “You have an ouchie here!” She pointed at his left cheek that was burnt.

“Jaehaera, don’t touch!” You gently took her hand away.

“I don’t know when I will be better, my love,” Aegon smiled sadly at her. “But I will be, I promise.”

“And will that heal?” Jaehaerys pointed his hand at his father’s leg.

“Yes,” Aegon nodded.

“And the ouchie?” Jaehaera’s small lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears.

“The ouchie will stop hurting but it won’t go away. Daddy will forever have those marks from being burnt,” you caressed her hair gently and she sniffled. “Ah, don’t cry, little one, that is an honour for a man to carry such scars. Your father is a hero who has survived dragonfire.”

“Really?!” Jaehaerys asked.

“I have slain Meleys, The Red Queen,” Aegon answered him and Jaehaerys gasped. You could see a shadow of pride on your husband’s face.

“Do spare them the details, dear husband,” you interrupted them, “for they are too small.”

“And how is Sunfyre, daddy?” Jaehaera asked him.

“Right, how is he?” You asked with a furrowed brow. You were curious, too.

“He might never fly again…” Aegon looked away sadly and your heart felt heavy at his words. You were aware of the bond he shared with his beloved dragon but it was also a bad omen, you thought. 

If Sunfyre would never fly again, it could mean that your husband would never walk again either. You swallowed a lump in your throat and gave his hand a light squeeze to let him know you would stay by his side no matter what.

“If Sunfyre can’t fly again, I will let you fly on my dragon sometime, daddy,” Jaehaerys tried to cheer his father up with a sweet smile and Aegon chuckled at that. His hand left your lap to ruffle his son’s hair.

Jaehaerys’ dragon was so young that it was still smaller than him.

“I will let you fly on mine, too!” Jaehaera promised. “But not to battle!” She added and Aegon bopped her on the nose.

Her dragon was even smaller than her brother’s.

“Thank you, my sweetlings,” your husband nodded at them and you spotted exhaustion in his eyes, which you were not surprised to see after such a long and painful day.

“It’s bedtime for you, my darlings,” you reminded your children and they whined. “We will visit daddy again, on the morrow, yes?”

“Can I bring my toys here on the morrow and play with them with you, daddy?” Jaehaerys asked.

“Can I, too?” His sister’s eyes widened.

“Yes… Yes… If I am not too tired, that is,” Aegon promised them.

“If not on the morrow, then some other day,” you stood up and helped your children to jump off of Aegon’s bed. “Your father won’t leave these chambers for a long time,” you gave him a scolding look since, after all, it had been his fault that he was lying there. And now, seeing that he would be quite alright eventually, you allowed yourself to have such thoughts instead of drowning in worry.

“Good night, daddy,” Jaehaerys and Jaehaera said in unison before the doors opened in front of you.

“Take them to their nanny and tell her it’s their bedtime already,” you informed your sworn guard who was waiting for you outside, following you like a shadow as usual.

He nodded at you and extended his hands for the Prince and Princess to take them. They held onto him and you watched them walk away before you took a deep breath in and turned around to go back to your husband.

Once again you sat on the edge of his bed and you sighed at the sight of him. His eyes were full of tears now as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out.

“You reckless fool!” You exclaimed and then you covered your mouth with your hand and you looked away, too. “I could have lost you…”

“Well, that would have been for the better. Now you have a cripple for a husband,” Aegon remarked.

“It is not known yet,” you pointed out and leaned in to be closer to him. This action made him finally turn his head around to look into your eyes. You spotted a few tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Even if I walk again, I will forever have those scars. And for the upcoming months you will be like my mother when she was taking care of my father…” Aegon’s voice was full of remorse.

“I do not care about those scars,” you assured him and gently wiped his tears away with your thumb. “And I shall nurture you willingly and without complaints. However, I shall never let you forget that all of this is a result of your foolish, impulsive decision!” You clenched your jaw. “Thank the wine and your hot head for the state you are currently in.”

Aegon looked down, not being able to stand your gaze anymore. He was full of shame and you took a deep breath in to calm down before leaning in and placing a soft, tender kiss upon his forehead. You loved him, after all.

“You were here… When they brought me,” he whispered. “It’s all blurry, the memory. But you were here, holding my hand…” He looked up.

“We both were, your mother and I,” you told him. “Of course, how could I… How could we not?” You smiled at him.

“Poor Sunfyre…” Aegon’s eyes filled with tears again. “He lost a wing because of me.”

Your eyes widened at his revelation. You had no idea how serious Sunfyre’s injuries were.

“I’m sure Meleys suffered worse,” you pointed out. “It is a war, Aegon, and the dragons are involved now. However, over my dead body you will go to battle again! You have already proven yourself and the Kingdom needs you alive and inside the Red Keep,” you lowered your voice. “You do not wish to be a puppet, my love? Then you have to live and be strong enough to rule.”

Aegon sighed and you caressed his hair gently. You knew that the crown upon his head was nothing but a burden to him. 

“Will you help me?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes.

His question surprised you greatly because so far, he had often asked you to stay away from the schemes of his council members and the council itself. So far, he had been relying on his mother in such matters.

Then you realised – seeing the pleading and trustful look in his eyes – that you somehow replaced her for him. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I will, darling,” you nodded. “Of course, I will. I love you,” you assured him and kissed his forehead once more. “Now rest, My King,” you kissed his nose and then lips, very carefully.

You squeezed his hand for the last time and waved at him before walking out of his chambers. You spotted the Dowager Queen Alicent pacing down the corridor and waiting for her turn to see her son.

“(Y/N),” she approached you and held your hands. “I did not want to interrupt you. Is he quite alright?” She asked.

“He is… Well, better than I expected after seeing him right after the battle,” you told her and she sighed out of relief. “You can see him now, but please, not for long, My Queen. I would rather him rest and sleep,” you explained and Queen Alicent nodded at that.

“Thank you…” She whispered and you furrowed your brows because you had a feeling she was thanking you for more than just informing her about her son’s health. “Thank you for loving him… For loving him the way I could not,” her voice broke.

And so did your heart at her words.

“My Queen, I can only pray to the Gods to be a mother as devoted as you are,” you smiled at her gently.

She wasn’t perfect and she had made mistakes she was very well aware of. However, it was not your role to torment her or judge her. Especially that you were playing on the same team and you both had the same amount of love in your heart for the man who had nearly lost his life earlier today – her son and your husband.

Queen Alicent smiled back at you but her smile was one of the sad kind.

“I shall pray to the Gods for them to bless you more than me in that matter.”

MASTERLIST

[kazumist]

THE NAME OF LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — the three times hoshina soshiro dismissed his feelings for you as something that friends do and the one time he realized otherwise.

✩ — request: IVE BEEN WANTING TO REQ U SOMETHING FOR SO LONG NOW I HOPE U DONT MIND !! can i ask for hopeless romantic reader and hoshina soushirou.... the way he... is...... (LOVE PESSIMIST 🫵) I'm a sucker for hoshina falling first or confessing first but it is truly up to you!! i genuinely have no idea where im going with this so pls feel free to change anything to your liking

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. fluff. cw: uhm funky pacing bc this is just pure word vom LAWLZ. wc: 3583 (i did not expect for it to be this long i swear). reader works for operations and is considered as second best to okonogi (is also okonogi's assitant). ikaruga and okonogi cameo yipee! hoshina is bad at feelings ™. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

to love is something you cannot name.

that’s a saying that stitched itself onto your brain because it just makes sense. loving someone has way too much depth, depending on the person who is the one lending out their heart and who they are giving it out to in the first place. it could be named as anything, depicted as anything, or interpreted as anything.

especially for you, who had witnessed, watched, read, and consumed all sorts of media that named love as numerous things. sometimes love is tragic, making two people feel so much just for them to get pulled away from each other when they were so close to running into each other’s arms. sometimes love is mirthful, having two people become the best versions of themselves around the person they love because they feel safe becoming vulnerable with the other. yet sometimes love is bittersweet, accepting the art of letting go as it was for the best—accepting that things weren’t just meant to be but not forgetting the emotions the person made you feel.

well, how were you supposed to know what love really is? a hopeless romantic is hopeless for a reason.

having a day off is quite rare, even for the employees of the operations department. the work was quite demanding, as any job involving the JAKDF was. but you still made time to relax and enjoy your rest from time to time, whether that was rewatching a good old romcom film from the 2000s or reading a new romance novel you decided to pick up.

it was normal for a hopeless romantic to dream. to fantasize. that maybe they could experience an extraordinary love like it is portrayed in films or described in songs. so naturally, as a hopeless romantic yourself, you weren’t any different. you just wanted to experience love—to be loved.

then again, liking someone does count as experiencing romance in a sense. admiring someone with traits the public doesn’t really notice is… rare. but that’s how it always went with you. though you wouldn’t really say that you actually acted upon your feelings, they're usually be gone once that person has stepped out of the current environment you’re in.

that’s how it was before.

vice captain hoshina was a respectable man. he is talented, and he sure as hell knows it. as the ton put it, you and the vice captain had a strange relationship—nobody really knows what to call you two. as the secondary leader of operations and okonogi’s assistant, it was only natural to be in the presence of the vice captain most of the time. but there’s just something different when it comes to how you two treated each other.

from flirtatious remarks and confusing gestures that you aren’t sure if you’re supposed to interpret as romantic, just what were you to the vice captain? you’ve observed long enough that he only does this to you. though you don’t really hate it. in fact, you like it that he’s only like that to you—but you weren’t supposed to like him, you swear! but honestly speaking, how could you not? you had plenty of reasons to like the vice captain in that way. you just pray that no one has really noticed it.

however, okonogi wasn’t stupid. she gets praised for her analytical skills for a reason and you wish she didn’t have to use those skills when it came to your romantic interest in the vice captain of all things. she promised to keep it a secret, though, and keeping secrets is a thing okonogi was really good at (to your surprise).

— — — — — — — — 

the first time hoshina denied his feelings for you was when he overheard some rookies talking about you.

“(l/n) is such a blessing to the third division, don’t you think?” one said as the other hummed in agreement. “i know, right? they’re so nice! did you know that they helped me once? they gave me tips on what i should do to enhance my combat power for my fighting style; it was really helpful too!” the rookie beamed. hoshina had an unsettling feeling churning inside of him as he eavesdropped on the conversation. but he quickly shook it off, thinking that he probably ate something funny earlier.

but why hasn’t he received such treatment from you? you were closer to him than some rookies, right? 

right?

wait, what the hell is wrong with me? hoshina thinks, snapping out of his earlier thoughts. he was not jealous of some rookies. those were just rookies, for christ’s sake! hoshina walks away, only to be greeted by the sight of you and ikaruga talking this time.

“thanks again for the film recommendation the other day, (l/n). i didn’t expect to enjoy it so much—you were completely right! it did suit my preferences,” he excitedly says. hoshina watches silently, observing everything in detail. and one thing he notices is that ikaruga is standing close to you—way too close than he preferred.

“really? i’m glad you liked them, ikaruga. feel free to ask for more film recs when you’re free.” you laughed at his enthusiasm. ikaruga had always been a fun person to converse with, in your opinion. and you two bonded over films! but it was really nothing more than that. “will definitely do!” he replies, giving you a two finger wave as he excuses himself.

he was definitely not jealous. why would he be jealous in the first place? you two were just friends.

and friends don’t get jealous like this.

— — — — — — — — 

the second time was when he was undergoing recovery after the whole fiasco of the tachikawa base raid. everyone was exhausted. it was fortunate that the third division didn’t get any casualties during the incident; the majority of the troops were only injured for the most part. soshiro was counted among the severely injured troops but he doesn’t regret it one bit.

or so he thought.

soshiro wakes up slowly, blinking and squirting his eyes at the sudden brightness of the light above him. he felt a weight on the side of his bed when he tried to get up, as if something (or someone) was pressing down on the blanket. looking down, he wouldn’t mistake your hair for anyone else. he knew it was you with just a glance.

and there you were, sleeping softly on the side of hoshina soshiro’s bed. soshiro takes note of your appearance that he could see right now—which was really just your messy hair. he gets up, making sure that you don’t wake up. it is likely that the operation has not had much sleep up to this point, which is why you ended up sleeping in his hospital room of all places.

he feels bad. a hand slowly reaches out to your head, stroking it ever so gently. if he were to be honest, he was worried for he operations team during the attack. he recalls regularly checking in to see if things were okay on your end, and you kept reassuring him that everyone was unscathed. his other hand reaches out to his phone on his bedside, checking to see if he missed anything. he was unconscious until now, he thinks. and the text from okonogi just confirmed all of his suspicions.

you’re probably still unconscious by the time i sent this, but they’ve been there every day since you got admitted. 

that’s all the message contained. soshiro glances at you again, a soft smile tugging on his lips. he doesn’t get why okonogi felt the need to send him that text, but the thought of you waiting for him to be conscious again made him feel… warm inside. but it all went away as he pulled back his hand from your head as you stirred awake. you raised your head, adjusting yourself to be in a more comfortable position as you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles. 

shock was an understatement when you realized that he was finally awake.

“vice captain! i—sorry, i didn’t mean to sleep on your bed. wait, are you okay? does anything hurt?” he just stared at your eyes, trying to process something. shock was still present in your eyes, and relief was mixed in them too. you noticed him not answering anything you said. worried that he might be suffering from some aftereffects, you asked him again. “uhm… vice captain hoshina?”

he snaps out of it as soon as he hears his name. “sorry, i was just thinking. what were you saying?”

“er… is there something on my face? you’ve been staring at my face the whole time since i woke up…”

hoshina blinks once. twice. then thrice. before he focuses his gaze on something else, looking away from you. you held back a laugh at the sight of red tinting his ears as he apologized for his actions. 

“i’m glad you’re alright, vice captain.”

hoshina freezes. he didn’t expect those words to have a bigger impact on him than they do now. but this is all natural, isn’t it? friends worry about each other. friends wish and hope that the other is okay.

yet why does he feel bitter when he labels this as something that friends—no, snap out of it. he thinks.

“i’m glad you’re alright too.”

— — — — — — — — 

the third time was when you were sent to work to the first division of all places. he was completely against it, of course, but he doesn’t have any concrete reason to actually protest against it. 

it was quite boring to not have you there. he didn’t really have anyone to disturb anymore. and the sudden change in the vice captain’s demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by the platoon leaders. sure, he still had the same toothy grin on his lips, with his fang peeking out ever so often but deep down, you can’t really point out if it was genuine.

after all, hoshina soshiro was good at concealing his emotions and thoughts.

but then again, okonogi wasn’t stupid. it pains her to be the one who’s stuck between the vice captain and her subordinate. soshiro was the same as the night he didn’t get to neutralize kaiju no. 8 back then. shoulder slumped, arms crossed, a slight pout on his lips, and an expression that clearly stated he was pondering about something—or perhaps someone?

“you miss them, don’t you?” okonogi suddenly asks as she organizes the paperwork in front of her. working with hoshina when it came to paperwork wasn’t really new, except for this time because you would also be present in times like these. “miss who?” he decided to play dumb (or is the right term indenial?)

“please don’t make me spell it out for you, vice captain.” she replied, pushing up her glasses.

hoshina doesn’t reply, zoning out as he thinks about okonogi’s words. well, it wasn’t really false that your sudden absence had changed things in the vice captain’s usual routine. he doesn’t see you making a cup of coffee after he finishes training in the middle of the night. nor does he see you drowning yourself in research at the library when you’re not in the operations room, where soshiro would personally lend you a hand and provide his own insights on whatever you’re researching.

oh. 

oh.

he does miss you.

but that’s just normal, right? friends miss each other. and friends tend to leave sometimes but they will always come back when the time is right. however, the head of operations for the third division didn’t have to be some kind of genius to put two and two together. 

the vice captain has some sort of interest in you as well; he just hasn’t realized it himself.

— — — — — — — — 

the day you returned from the first division was the day everything went back to normal for soshiro.

it was currently a quarter after one in the morning, and he had just finished his training. he ended up going more overtime than usual, but if he hadn't, he probably would’ve missed the open door to the library at this hour. and of course, being the ever so curious man he is, he takes a peek in.

and again, there you were. but this time, you were drowning yourself again in research. your hair was a bit messy, and the eyebags doesn’t go unnoticed by him. yet in spite of that, soshiro still found your appearance to be lovely. maybe it was just the fatigue from his training, or perhaps it’s the thought of you being so determined in your work that sparked such a thought in him.

regardless of what the reason actually was, soshiro found your appearance lovely despite it all.

“you should head to bed soon.” he says, approaching the table you were currently working on. you looked up, surprised to see him awake at this hour. but you put your focus back on your work, not even giving him a second glance—which surprised the vice captain. he reads on whatever you were working on, noticing that they were mostly reports of kaiju no. 9. 

“researching on kaiju no. 9, i see. need a hand?”

“there’s just something off about him and i can’t put my finger on it. also thanks, but no thanks. i can handle this myself, vice captain.”

“it’s almost two in the morning, are you sure about that?”

he didn’t quite catch on to what your reply was, but he was positive that you just declined his offer either way. hoshina decides to pull up the chair beside you and grab the small stack of reports in front of you. he rotates the lamp a bit in his direction, but just enough to leave some light for you to read as well if you needed to.

you sigh at him. “vice captain, you really don’t have to—”

“but i want to. it’s the least i could do.”

truth be told, you really can’t bring yourself to be in the presence of the vice captain now. everything was just confusing. you were aware that the vice captain doesn’t really like paperwork in general (who even likes paperwork in the first place?) but you don’t get why he’s so insistent on helping you every time he finds you here.  

you don’t get why he likes your company so much. you considered yourself to be plain, a bit mundane for someone to actually spend some time with. especially when your interests don’t really spark any others for the most part. 

and while you may be a hopeless romantic, you weren’t foolish. even if you like the vice captain who’s currently making an effort to help you with your work, he’s just way out of your league. he’s too high to reach, and you were sure as hell that he would never actually look at you in that way. not now, not ever.

but why? why does a part of you keep saying that maybe he does? he wouldn’t do all of that if he didn’t actually look at you in that way, right? hope is a dangerous thing for someone who doesn’t know how to stop. for someone like you who refuses to give up on most occasions. it was stupid. foolish. naive.

not now, not ever would hoshina soshiro actually look at you that way.

“vice captain, please get some rest.”

“i could say the same to you.”

god, why is this man so stubborn? is he not tired from all the late night training he does? you thought, slowly getting frustrated. hoshina tells you his observations based on the reports in his hands and shares his hypothesis on the matter. he had some valid points and he’s lending a great hand at the moment. but frustration was just getting the best of you at the moment from your numerous trains of thought.

“the fact that he can adapt so easily is scary in itself. and the recent report of him breaking in the operations room in the first division states that—”

“why are you doing this?” you cut him off.

hoshina stares at you, dumbfounded at your question. he opens his mouth to answer, but no words actually come out of him. he chuckles bitterly in his mind. soshiro would like an answer to that question as well. but then it dawned on him. every flashed across his mind in seconds, and he finally realized it.

yet the result of that still scared him.

he was in love. hoshina soshiro is in love—with you nonetheless. the person he swore was just a friend. it took him quite a while to realize it, always being in denial that it was just normal for friends to act the way you two were. but he was in love. and that scared him. because what is he supposed to do when he finally realizes that you have consumed him? he never wanted this to happen, not in a million years.

but perhaps he was in love with you long before he started tripping along the lines of being friends and something more.

why are you doing this? your question echoed in his head. because i love you, he swallows back down his throat. he can’t say it. there’s no way things would work out. he could die any day and he’d rather not see you miserable because of his death. it would be better if you found someone else—but how ironic. he couldn’t really handle the thought of you being with someone else in the first place.

why are you doing this? your question echoes again. “because i love you.” he finally says, hesitant even. hesitant to know what you’re reaction was going to be. your eyes went wide at the sudden confession, and hoshina was certain that you wouldn’t believe him (well, he couldn’t really believe it either). “you’re kidding me,” you replied.

“i’m not.”

and surely enough, the look on the vice captain’s eyes said it all. he was dead serious. "i... why?” it's ten past two in the fucking morning, and you were too scared to accept that all of this was occurring right now, so you were afraid to ask. you were too scared to just randomly wake up and realize that maybe it was all a dream. too scared to believe that your feelings are being reciprocated.

“because you’re different—different to me, if that makes sense. it’s like you have this effect when it comes to me. food tastes better whenever i share a meal with you; my day just feels more peaceful whenever i get to see you’re doing fine, and i realized that maybe i haven’t actually looked at you like a friend or coworker for as long as i can remember; i was just too stupid to realize it earlier.” he avoids his gaze for a moment before looking at you again.

“i love you. i want you to look at me and love me too. we’ve come too far to turn back. i’m already too deep into you.”

you were speechless. 

he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. it repeated like some sort of chant inside of your head as you processed everything. hoshina soshiro loves you back—who would’ve thought? you hadn’t realized that he was sitting so close to you. the tension was so thick, but you easily cut it down as you started with your response.

“you’re an amazing man, vice captain, and i truly cannot grasp how you could feel such feelings towards me, but i love you too.” you could see hoshina jump in his seat in shock at your confession, but you continued. “i love you in ways you have never been loved, for reasons that you may not have been told, for longer than you think you deserve and with more than you will ever know existed inside of me. yet i can’t help but still wonder… how? why? wait no, why was already answered—”

he chuckles at you. stopping you with your words. “what’s so funny?” you pouted at him. “it’s nothing. i just can’t believe that we’re seriously having this moment at two in the morning.”

“sorry, i think that may have been on my part. i kind of snapped there because i was just so… confused.”

“confused?”

“yeah, confused if we’ve crossed the line between friends or lovers without actually realizing it. crazy, right?”

hoshina moves a bit closer to you, making the distance between the two of you smaller than before. he puts his forehead against yours. “not really, but i look at you, and i just love you, and it terrifies me. it terrifies me what i would do for you. i’m in love but i’m also terrified—that’s what i think is crazy.”

“then let’s be terrified together,” you whispered to him.

a soft laugh leaves his lips this time. “i like the sound of that.” he whispers back.

he loves you.

and you love him back.

that’s all what matters.

love, in general, can make you feel all sorts of things. joy, confusion, anger, fear, and many more. it can also make you do all sorts of things. it can make you do things you never really imagined doing for or with someone in the first place. it tends to be irrational—ridiculous, even. but the thought of doing all of it for the person you care most about? you finally realized that’s simply what love is all about for you.

to love is something you truly cannot name.

[rye-bread-soda-iceberg]

I saw some light discourse going around hsrtwt about Ratio being bad/good/morally ambiguous

I'm not gonna comment on that too much cause I wanna talk about smth else but clearly he's a good person, probably one of the nicest people we meet compared to the war criminals and murderers. his major crime is that he's blunt, mean and makes his students cry (which is something about him I don't particularly enjoy for personal reasons, but still)

what I like, something that i feel like people tend to forget, is that he's very openly kind and caring

of course there's the basic stuff, like the fact that he pours his whole heart into making the universe a better place, has eradicated a whole illness called 'the king of illnesses' (so, supposedly, very deadly) and the entire not getting into the genius society because he cares about humanity too much. but also, you know

first of all, he has canonically made various statues depicting himself making a heart with his hands while smiling warmly. I've always found it endearing how he mildly prides himself on 'keeping the world at bay' and just being generally mean while also doing this so casually. I mean, it's a clear message: 'I love you' that's what he's saying, and he's saying it in a silly way

something a bit more hidden is these quotes from hoyolab's post. we all know the 'ignorance is an ailment' quote is directly taken from his character stories, making it canon. that subsequently makes the other two just as canon. obviously it's an official post, but I sometimes see people doubting the validity of these silly little snippets into the hsr universe

I don't particularly know if he is saying those last two quotes in general or to someone/a group of people in particular, but it's like... one of the sweetest (and corniest) things ever, and it makes me giggle a little bit. it almost felt out of character to me the first time I've seen these, but if you think about it, it's always been there

this one is from the valentines day ""event"" on twitter from earlier this year. I like his reaction to the gift for he still has some of his usual, you know, 'I cannot bear to hear such foolish questions'. he's being nice in his own way here, his demeanor is just barely reserved but the sentiment behind his words remains a positive one

another quick thing, though I don't have more examples for this one. he's always going on about how you should always consider whether the question you're about to ask already has an answer (so encouraging you to think for yourself) but he's still Always offering to help. in this and, if I remember correctly, in the mail description you get when you used to receive him for free he's making it clear that he's willing to help you discuss things for you to understand them better and will answer any question as long as it's not a 'stupid' one. he is a teacher, after all. the biggest thing about him is that he wants people to do better. other than this, despite his slight reluctance to help others himself, he does say in his character trailer that sometimes a little encouragement is required

and he does encourage people openly when they do good! no 'I suppose this is acceptable' nor 'I guess you did good'. when someone or something impresses him, he genuinely expresses it. I like to point this out because I see so many people say he's self absorbed or puts himself above others, when that is simply not true. which, I mean, can also be seen in his small little interactions with Herta, Ruan Mei and Screwllum (he literally praises them)

then he also says this a couple times. I don't exactly know what he considers courtesy or discourtesy, but it's clear that at least not all his blunt or mean words are meant to offend. this is something I'd love to look further into, but for now simply want to put here with the rest cause it's an interesting thing about him. he is already described as elegant, which implies a certain level of basic courtesy and politeness when interacting with others, though this just slightly crashes with his 'rude' demeanor

supposedly, you could make the argument that while he canonically realizes how non-endearing he can be (knows his own shortcomings, one of the exact traits he praises) perhaps he actively struggles with coming off as nice. and seeing all I've pointed out so far, maybe all those instances of him being nice are how he'd prefer to come off as (some times). that is unless I missed some bits of canon dialogue where it's implied otherwise

this isn't that detailed or well made of a post, nor the first time someone has pointed out this stuff. in fact I reblogged an incredibly good, lengthy post some time ago that talks more in depth about how nice/kind of a person Veritas Ratio really is

I simply cannot stand when he is described as cold, uncaring, selfish, self-centered or someone incapable of being gentle and loving. and it's not nearly as subtle as people seem to think it is

[boolger]

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before 🌻 ch.1

Female reader x Nikolai x Price ✨ AO3 link ✨ next chapter -> wc: 7.7k - call of duty - explicit, MDNI. Read the tags. Dead dove don’t eat.

Summary: Your hometown, Millhaven, had been under the control of The Shadows, a notorious biker gang, for several years. You hated every member of the group, but in particular their leader, Phillip Graves. The alpha refused to leave you alone, having attempted to seduce you for two years despite two years of rejection. But in the matter of one night, everything changed. The Shadows disappeared, replaced by a biker gang calling themselves Team 141. The town seemed relieved, but you didn’t trust the new group, despite every good thing they did. Perhaps, it was your sign to leave - your opportunity to move without bad conscience. But the 141 suddenly showed a strong interest in the house you inherited from your father. Even worse though, the leader John Price and his mate, Nikolai, seemed to like you even more. While the Shadows were annoying and Graves was persistent, he at least accepted your no. Somewhat. Problem was, it didn’t seem like the 141 took no for an answer.

Tags: non-consensual elements/rape, bikers AU, biker gang 141, omegaverse, dub-con, non-con touching, harassment, stalking, reader has a vagina, M/M/F threesome, threats, reader has a nickname, loss of parent, original characters, pack dynamics, alpha!John Price, Alpha!Nikolai, omega!reader, forced bonding, loss of virginity, breeding kink, piss kink, scent marking, daddy kink, stun guns, smut, rough sex, knotting, (maybe pregnancy), voyeurism, punishments, noncon spanking, p in v sex, anal sex, overstimulation, claiming barks, uh short appearance of a chopped off body part (action not described but the part will appear shortly)

Authors note: first of all, TY to sweet 💖 @venuskaltrip 💖for being my beta reader on this fic 🥰❤️ I cannot describe how much I appreciate it. Secondly, idk how long this fic will be yet maybe 6 chapters but they won’t all be this long lol. This will be a dark fic. I will write if there is something specific, but Nikolai and John are nasty in this one. If you’re not into this or feel uncomfortable, don’t read.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

“Hey there, pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, and had to physically keep yourself from not groaning at the voice. If your eyes got stuck, like your father used to say, then you wouldn’t have to look at the man behind you at least. However, today wasn’t the day, so you were still able to see him as you turned around and put on a polite smile. For at least two years, the small cafe that you worked in and loved deeply, hadn’t been a safe space for you. He had ruined that.

”Mr. Graves,” you greeted the man standing on the other side of the counter, continuing to dry off the teacup in your hand, “how may I help you?”

”Phillip, my pumpkin,” you could feel the hatred in each bone in your body, as he corrected you, “Told ya’ not to call Mr. Graves. That was my father.”

Oh, how you wanted to throw the teacup in his face. Watch it hopefully shatter in his skin. The man would have deserved it. He was one of those alphas who never wore any kind of scent blocker, proud to stink up whatever room he walked into, to show their “dominance” over everyone else. Right now he was stinking slightly of lust, almost making you want to gag.

Somehow you still managed to keep your smile and not roll your eyes again over his words. Throughout your countless interactions with him, you had learned the hard way that you had to push back and not give up when it came to him. Your father would have reminded you to show him that you’re an alpha as well. Which you were, at least to Graves.

But he called you Pumpkin, sweetie pie, all kinds of awful pet names that he knew you didn’t like - so you stood your ground.

”What can I get for you, Mr. Graves?”

He pouted, like a dog not getting a treat, as he bent forward, resting both of his hands on the counter, making you try your best to ignore the leather gloves he wore. Specifically, where they had been. They looked dirty. You didn’t want them on the counter. There would no doubt be oil on them from messing around with his ugly bike outside. Perhaps, Mary would let you put up a sign about not touching the counter while wearing gloves. Then again, it was a very specific sign. Graves probably wouldn’t like - or follow it, for that matter.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, sweetie,” he crooned all charmingly, leaning forward while you leaned backwards, not even trying to be subtle, as he continued, “I’ve enjoyed it these last two years.”

The ‘but no more’ was left unsaid. A threat, disguised as a compliment. You just swallowed, smiling at him. Though if you were being honest, you weren’t really sure if he was threatening you, or attempting to flirt.

Mary was in the back, she would hear you if you screamed, in case he decided to snap and jump across the counter today. You were on the edge of growling, warning the alpha to back off, when the front door opened.

The soft chimes of the bells alerted of your saviors entering the little cafe - two of your regulars, two elderly women that came in every day at 9AM exactly. Your unsung heroes.

”Goodmorning dear,” the beta called out for you, the elderly omega next to her giving a wave, and the smile you sent them as you greeted them was genuine. They always wore blockers, but smelled of cookies and weed nonetheless. You were quite a fan of pair.

”I’ll be there in a moment, ladies,” you called out sweetly as they took off their coats. They weren’t even discreet in their staring at Phillip Graves. As if the man and his gang of idiots hadn’t been in the town for the last seven years or so. As if the sight of the logos on their backs was still a surprise and not an everyday occurrence to everyone. Then again, they were old. Graves looked over his shoulder, no doubt sending them a nasty stare, before he looked back at you again.

For a moment, you felt as if he stared at you like a beast would a piece of meat, as if he wanted to devour you raw. That had been how he had looked at you for the last two years or so, not even hiding how he wanted you, a strong alpha woman, to bend over for him. Follow him like a good little puppy.

The scar you had given him the last time he had attempted something was healed by now, but still visible, particularly in the right light. The sight still pleased you.

Graves behaved like a desperate dog, who continuously returned to you, hoping for a moment to successfully catch you off guard and rip you apart.

“An americano, then,” he finally crooned, a charming smile back on his face as he straightened up, the leather creaking a little, “with an extra espresso shot.”

You added a bit too much espresso - hoping the strong drink would make him shit himself while he drove his motorbike. Preferably while all his ‘Shadows’ were watching him.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

The Shadows had appeared when you had been around 15 years old; back when it had seemed to rain a little less than now, back when your father was alive. Right after the two of you had found a bit of happiness after the death of your mother a couple of years earlier. Back when you hadn’t presented yet, your secondary gender still a mystery.

You had quickly learned to avoid them, all of the kids in your small British village had, keeping your distance despite the cool matching logos on their vests and jackets, and their shiny, loud motorbikes.

Why the hell an American biker gang had decided to go to the UK, and then chosen your bloody village, was beyond your comprehension. They all seemed like idiots. You had realised that as a teenager.

It seemed most of the inhabitants of Millhaven had hoped they would leave after a year or two. Instead they became more and more intertwined with the town as the years passed, creating chaos and controlling a bunch of things - and people.

The local, lowly drug dealers, who maybe sold a bit of weed or some painkillers, either disappeared or changed tactics. At the same time, it seemed impossible to have a shop, or any kind of business really and not pay them some sort of fee.

For “security”.

To you it seemed like it was the Shadows themselves who were creating malaise and fear in Millhaven, not any locals or people from other towns. The mere name The Shadows didn’t really scream safety and peace.

A couple of the bikers ended up creating a pack with some locals from town, others didn’t. In truth, without being said out loud, everyone had hoped for Phillip Graves to get bored of Millhaven and decide to move on to another town. Then the streets wouldn’t be filled with the roars of their bikes or their ace of spades or whatever their logo was supposed to be.

However, to much of the disappointment of the folks of Millhaven, Graves did find something interesting - or rather somebody.

Much to your horror, it turned out to be you.

It had started a couple of months after you had turned twenty; he had started to look at you, no, stare, like it was the first time he really saw you. Noticed you. He started flirting with you almost instantly after that - and though you turned him down straight from the beginning without hesitation, he kept going. You had barely turned twenty, he was in his thirties.

The owner of the cafe you worked at, sweet Mary, had muttered not too long after his first show of interest that he was a nasty man - but that he at least hadn’t noticed you when you were a kid. You tried not to think about that part too much.

Six months into his attempt at courting you, he had cornered you outside the pub; a confident smile on his lips and a dark look in his eyes, as he had caged you in, hands on each side of your head. That was the evening you had given him the scar on his cheek - usually you only used your pocket knife to open up letters or packages, so you weren’t a great fighter. But the blade had connected with his skin; there had been blood, a grunt - and you had escaped his attempt at kissing you… or worse.

You had bolted into the pub again in pure panic, steering directly to the back, with the plan of disappearing out into the dark fields — but Lewis, the owner, had helped you hide in the little secret cellar beneath the wooden floors, surrounded by beer and wine. You had slept in one of the upstairs rooms of the pub that night, Lewis and his wife not letting you go home.

You had been sure Graves would take revenge, so you laid low for a couple of days, Mary demanding you stay at home.

It turned out to be much worse, however.

If he had been interested in you before, he was in love with you after the incident. That had been when you, despite your unending love for Millhaven, had considered moving away for the first time.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

Money was the issue - wasn’t it always? You kept saving every pound you could, while still trying to live a normal life. Your dad hadn’t left you much besides the house and its contents. It was big, too big for you really. Half of it had been a garage for as long as you could remember, your father the town’s mechanic. You used to help him here and there, but car engines were never your thing - they never spoke to you like they spoke to him.

When he got worse, he sold off most of the things to pay for the last of the mortgage, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it.

You begged him not to get rid of his favorite vintage car - promising him that you would get it fixed up and take a drive in it, even if both of you knew that probably wouldn’t happen. So far, it hadn’t happened, you had taken a look or two, but not done anything about it.

No, the grey Aston Martin DB4 still stood in the back of the big garage and workshop, beneath its cover and some blankets. Like a ghoul from the past, haunting you in your own home, with memories of him. Thus, moving would mean having to deal with your dad’s car, so the mere idea felt like pulling out teeth. Like you would finally have to accept and deal with the fact that he was dead.

However, the idea of Graves’ patience slipping up, growing tired of waiting for consent from you, scared you too. Maybe more. You weren’t sure.

If he wasn’t there, if he and his Shadows hadn’t been controlling Millhaven, you might have stayed without too many issues. Despite only being twentytwo, you had a big house and no debt. It was a privilege in all other aspects. You could get an education, move to a bigger city, where you could blend into the crowd. Maybe not hide your true self.

“You okay, Sunflower?”

Mary, your lovely beta boss, asked you gently, pulling you from your thoughts, making you smile as she turned the little sign at the glass front door, to show that the place was closed for today.

Your nickname was just your name at this point. It had followed you for so many years that you weren’t sure you would even react to your actual name. As a kid, you had been obsessed with sunflowers - they were on your dresses, your shirts, your tights. Hell, your dad got you a necklace with a small sunflower on it that still rested against your skin beneath your shirt.

Sunflower. Sunny. Sunshine. Sun. The variations had been endless and with the town being relatively small, it had become well known that you were Sunflower. It wasn’t that unusual to have a nickname here after all. There were people in Millhaven, whose actual names you didn’t even know.

“Yes,” you replied quickly, slightly ashamed of having been caught standing behind the counter, all lost in your thoughts, “don’t worry about me.”

Mary, sweet Mary - she was another reason you felt bad about considering moving. She worried about you but you wanted to shield her. You didn’t want her to ask further questions, to ask anymore in general. You didn’t want her to worry about your frustrations, fears and the dilemmas that seemed to grow bigger everyday - so that she wouldn’t realise why there was a stun gun next to a pocketknife in your jacket, despite it being illegal to own said stun gun.

You didn’t really fear getting caught with it, as it wasn’t like the police would come out here to check. They hadn’t been out here for years, if you remembered correctly. The nearest bobbies in other villages were over an hour away and they tended to stay out of Millhaven. You supposed the bribes from the Shadows were worth it.

“The Graves fella still bothering you?”

Both of you knew that he did. He had for two years. He wouldn’t stop out of the blue, it would probably take a miracle. Or for him to find somebody else - and you almost didn’t want that for anyone. For a moment, the sympathy in her eyes reminded you of your mom. Mary had stepped into an almost motherly role for you in the last years, especially after your dad passed away.

Her long curly hair was braided this Monday, presumably by her sister, who had visited over the weekend - you had taken an extra shift alone to make sure they could spend time together. She was beautiful. A mother you wished would live forever. A part of you, your inner child perhaps, wanted to hug her and ask her to help you hide from the world.

“Hopefully he grows bored of me soon,” you replied instead, giving her a crooked smile, “I’m just tired of repeating myself every time I see him and his bloody bike.”

It wasn’t really a lie to say so, but you knew he wouldn’t stop any time soon. You being tired of him was just the truth.

Mary laughed as she disappeared into the back, reappearing a short moment later, the leftovers of a cake and scones in a small bag.

“Here - now let me walk you home, lass,” the loving tone had worry dripping into it, but it was a usual offer by now, “So I know you get home safely.”

It was a recurring discussion these days.

“Absolutely not,” you answered in a teasing tone as always, not wanting her to walk longer than she needed to - or see how unorganised you lived, “I can walk home myself. Graves can’t take that from me - but I’ll text you once I get home, yeah? Like yesterday?”

Mary let out a hum, not looking too happy, but the beta agreed again today. Besides, she had her own worries.

It wasn’t as if she was not affected by the Shadows’ presence in Millhaven - she had been, ever since they turned up. Paying them money so that they would leave her little cafe alone, promising to keep it safe, even if everything that happened in Millhaven was connected to them.

Both of you seriously doubted their safekeeping abilities but saying no wasn’t an option. It wasn’t really an offer.

A part of you wondered, if Mary knew you were lying all the time in general; if she knew you covered yourself in scent blocker and fake pheromones every day, to stay under the radar. To have a normal life. If your father ever told her. In case he had, she followed your own choice and didn’t talk about it.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

Millhaven was getting ready for the evening, cars flashing by as people either went home, towards one of the two local grocery stores to collect food for dinner - or, to the pub, to get the day discussed and listen in on the gossip.

You passed the pharmacy. The queue was always long once or twice a week, as people stocked up on scent blockers, heat blockers and scent patches for themselves, or whatever cough medicine they needed for their kids, who had once again gotten sick.

You always walked home at the same time, near five PM. Every time you would wave at at least three locals and send a glare to at least two of the Shadows, who tended to hide around the town, silently watching people pass by from the alleyways.

It was a familiar scene, even if it still made you uncomfortable. Mrs. Henley’s bastard of a dog howled at you through the rose bushes and thin fence as always. The teenager next door would yell for it to shut up, while he attempted to hide the fact that he was secretly smoking cigarettes out his bedroom window. As if the entire neighbourhood, hell, probably the entire town, didn’t know he smoked. There lay a safety in it, passing him, knowing you were almost home.

You had quit smoking yourself after your dad had passed away, but every time you walked past the teenager, you wanted a cigarette so badly that it almost hurt. You wanted to have something to do, something to forget yourself in.

Turning to the right a moment later, your house was visible at the end of the road - standing out with its size and the blue color it had been all of your life - as well as the barely covered sign with your dad’s name on. You really should get it taken down, since he had been dead for four years now, but there were so many things you should probably get rid off.

Normally, the sight of your house was a relief - because usually the driveway was empty. There wasn’t supposed to be a motorbike, painted with the colors of the American flag, standing in it, with an annoying alpha leaning against it. You almost wanted to turn around and go back to Mary, but Graves had already spotted you, making your lips purse with annoyance at the sight of his stupid grin.

”Sunny Bunny,” he crooned darkly, as you got close and you stuck your free hand into the pocket of your jacket, grabbing onto the stun gun right next to the pocket knife. Perhaps a zap from the stun gun would make him get a hint, though you doubted he would be happy about it.

You hated that he knew your nickname, hated him even more when he called you Sunny Bunny. It wasn’t as if the nickname was a secret at all, the entire town called you variations of Sunflower, but you wanted it to be a secret from him and his stupid group.

”What do you want?” You asked as you got closer, not even attempting to be polite; right now you weren’t at work, so you didn’t have to behave like you did in the cafe. Instead you tipped your chin up, puffed your chest up a little, giving him a hard stare, as an alpha would do. You were tired, slightly cold and he was blocking your path to the front door with himself and that stupid bike. If you weren’t scared of the consequences, you would be cutting up those tires on a regular basis.

“Was wondering if a pretty alpha like you would go to the pub with me, yeah?” He asked, tipping his own chin up a little, grinning like a teenage boy feeling confident, “have a couple of beers - or whatever fancy drink you want.”

Every time he asked, he got a no. If he hadn’t been the leader of a biker gang, you might have slapped him. The urge to do so grew inside you every time he asked you out.

”I’m busy tonight, sorry.” You didn’t even attempt to sound apologetic.

”Funny,” The alpha mused as he leant against the bike a little more, tipping up his own chin up, clearly not intimidated or pleased with your reply, “you were busy the other night too - kinda odd, isn’t it?”

“Quite unlucky for you to choose the days I’m busy,” you answered dryly, “now if you would excuse me—“

Your grip on the stun gun tightened a little, but you managed to walk around the bike, avoiding his arm shooting out in an attempt to catch your arm — before he spoke once more.

”The cafe is goin’ great, isn’t it?” Graves had asked almost casually and it was as if the wind suddenly quieted down, in order to listen along. You looked over your shoulder to look at the pale alpha, who somehow seemed like he had flipped some sort of switch, suddenly looking much more dangerous than before. He let out a deep rumble from his chest, a sign that he was pleased with your uneasy reaction.

He wanted you to become upset. One alpha almost daring the other, to see what you would do; if you would attempt to challenge him, giving him an excuse to go at you, to sink his teeth into your skin —

“It’s going alright,” you finally answered, keeping your voice steady, having chosen each of the words carefully, so as to not give him an excuse. Keeping the anger inside.

”Oh, wonderful,” he rumbled, a pursed expression on his face, before he smiled again, “Would be a shame if the price for your lil boss lady’s protection fees would rise, wouldn’t it?”

”I - what?” The words weren’t smooth or confident now. The idea of him threatening Mary because of you seemed insane.

You wanted to growl at him; to put him in his place, to protect Mary - jump across that stupid bike of his, hopefully making it tip over, while you tased or stabbed him with your knife. Ice and flames were rushing through your veins at the same time, prickling at your skin from the inside out like needles, mixing together fear and anger. He had harassed you for two years more or less, but he had never dragged Mary or the cafe into it.

“Think about it when I ask next time,” he replied, face turning back into the boyish grin from before, his American accent seeping into his words, “‘right sugar?”

”She got nothing to do with this, Graves.”

He didn’t reply - instead he got up on his bike, kicking on the engine with a sharp, confident thrust, the bike waking with a roar of a beast - looking at you once more, only to wink at you.

He disappeared down the small road like a demonic predator rushing away, knowing he would get his prey the next time. Your grip on the little bag with leftovers tightened a little, the paper bag crinkling beneath your fingers. You wanted to use your claws for the first time in quite a while, even if they were dull.

Instead you turned around, calmly walking to your door, opening it and locking it again afterwards. You left the bag with leftover cake on the kitchen counter, texting Mary that you were home safely, not looking up as you walked to the bathroom.

As soon as you got on your knees, you vomited from fear.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

A couple of hours later, you laid in your bed, watching the ceiling of the bedroom you had slept in ever since your childhood. Despite your parents’ old room and bed being bigger, you couldn’t get yourself to sleep in it permanently. You couldn’t make yourself get rid of the bed either — the mere idea of doing so felt wrong.

It was like you clung to the memories of him, of the both of them, with the claws you cut regularly and with the retractable omegan fangs that you had filed down a bit to better hide.

It was the memories of how you would go to your parents, the later years only your father, if you had a nightmare or were anxious over something. Even the year he died, you slept next to him a lot — sometimes he would come for you, asking if you wanted to sleep next to him.

Perhaps it was the scent of each other that had helped the other feel safe enough to sleep. Knowing that the other was always there. That your father always did what he could for you, even in his last days. During his last days, when he was slowly dying, you slept next to him, holding his hand. You knew he feared death; he had told you so one late night, confessing how it scared him, how the unknown would be — how leaving you frightened him.

Fearing what would happen to you, when he wasn’t there any longer and whether you would be able to continue the concealment of your secondary gender.

Now the idea of sleeping in his bed every day felt wrong. It wasn’t your nest, it was your mother’s and father’s. The past two years, you had perhaps slept in it five times in total - you never found the same safety without one of them snoring next to you. Their scent wasn’t as strong anymore. It never felt like when you were a kid and slept in between them sometimes, when they kept you safe until morning. No. It didn’t feel right any longer.

Usually Millhaven would be relatively quiet during the night and you never had to look up at the ceiling for long, before you would fall asleep. Sure, there would be the occasional car passing by, the laughter from people walking home from the pub and as you grew older, you had gotten used to the sound of the motorbikes revving as well. It rarely continued past 11 PM.

Tonight was different.

As the hours passed, the sounds got worse, keeping you awake - as they kept on going, you became too afraid to look out the window. There were so many unusual sounds too. You were too afraid to call the police - nobody would, that was just how Millhaven was by now.

This night was filled with the sounds of motorbikes loudly roaring through the town, much louder than usual - for many of them, as time passed; then the sounds of gunshots had begun to echo throughout the streets. The shots and the screaming almost got swallowed up by the furious howling of the engines.

It was like a concoction of horrifying sounds; people screaming, things breaking, shots being fired, blending together like the soundtrack of a movie you didn’t want to watch. Even without the visuals, you wanted to scream and cry, wanted to hide from the world, just like when you were a child.

It only took an hour before you crawled to your parents’ old bedroom, keeping low and away from the windows, before disappearing beneath the slightly dusty sheets; curled together, trying to submerge yourself in the old, disappearing scent of your alpha father.

The ground beneath Millhaven was shaking with fear, almost as if it was threatening to break beneath its inhabitants and swallow up the place you called home.

Mary texted you not too long after the noises began, asking if you were safe. She confirmed two minutes later that she was safe as well, but that she was pretty sure one of the big windows in the cafe had been shattered.

You breathed in dust and fear, laying there, watching the picture of your parents and you on the wall, slightly concealed by the darkness, trying not to imagine what was happening outside. There was a morbid curiosity inside of you to know what was happening, if anybody was dying, yet an overwhelming panic overtook your body at the same time. Nobody would come out here, nobody would call the police, because it would be no good.

The nausea was back, especially at the silence that followed, as if the town had suddenly been abandoned.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

Mary told you not to come in the next morning. Yet despite the day suddenly being free, you got up and got ready as usual. You had fallen asleep at some point after the silence began, but you weren’t sure when.

Taking a bath, using scent blockers and patches, before your regular perfume.

You felt slightly like a prey animal, not like a strong alpha, checking out your windows to make sure the coast was clear, before opening your door slowly. Peeping out, taking in the street… everything looked as it used to, as far as you spotted. Yet you had a feeling that nothing was the same.

It was slightly cold outside, the thin fog slowly going away.

It wasn’t until you got down to the end of your road, almost at the bigger road, that you saw something out of place.

Glass was scattered around a car, with the owner, Alfred, a middle aged beta man, looking at it with an exhausted look on his face. You saw the broken window as well as the bullet holes in the door, making you swallow before you walked up to it.

Carefully, you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a pat. He sent you a look and a smile.

”At least it was the car and not the house,” he muttered, trying to sound a little happy, “ The missus isn’t happy though. Neither is the husband.”

You put both your hands in your pockets, curling them into fists for a moment. Feeling your blunt claws press against your palms. The two of you stood there for a few moments in silence.

”Do you know what happened last night?” You finally asked, hoping that he could give you some sort of answer - but he merely shook his head while shrugging. As unaware as you, it seemed.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have an idea. The sounds during the night and the bullet holes in his car door spoke for themselves.

After a short goodbye, you continued your trip towards the cafe, glancing at the proof of chaos that was scattered here and there. Bullet casings. Tiremarks on the road. Broken windows - a couple of knocked over trash cans that one of the home owners was angrily cleaning up.

An abandoned motorbike leaning against a house.

Mrs. Henley’s dog barked at you - but the barks seemed more hollow than usual, tired. The chain smoking teenager wasn’t yelling. The window was shut, for the first time in a while.

In the alleyway between the tiny bookshop and one of the grocery stores, where a shadow usually hid, another bike lay abandoned. Tipped over, glass scattered, gasoline seeping onto the asphalt. Due to the logo on it, you figured it was another one belonging to the shadows.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

Mary huffed in annoyance as you turned up at the cafe, frowning so hard that she looked much older for a moment. She let out a little growl, with no actual heat in it, unlocking the door to the cafe, making you walk through that, despite the window on the left side being gone, more or less leaving the cafe without half a façade.

“Are you unable to read your texts anymore, young lady?” The beta asked as you took the broom from her hands and started sweeping the broken glass together. Just like her growl, there was no heat behind her words, despite her attempt at being stern.

“I can,” you answered, with a smile on your face, “but I’m not gonna let you clean this mess up alone - what kind of employee would I be?”

It was also your way of checking up on her. See how rattled she was. Besides, you suspected she didn’t mind the company, especially as the cafe would be closed for today.

“A bloody normal one, who stays at home when she gets time off,” Mary defended, crossing her arms for a minute. Sleep always tended to make her more easily annoyed with the world than usual, “besides, I’ve already called Harold to come fix it. He will have to put up wood first though, until he gets the glass.”

“Then we go get a pint afterwards,” you offered, “I’ll pay.”

“Drinking on the job?” Mary made a teasing tsk-tsk sound at you, though there was a smile growing on her lips, before she admitted a moment later, “I honestly need that after tonight.”

“It went on for long,” you agreed and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of you filling up the dustpan with glass. As if the two of you were too afraid to acknowledge what might have happened.

“Too long.”

You didn’t reply to Mary’s observation, merely nodding. Her scent had a worried tinge to it.

Whatever had been going on during the night had scared her. Both of you, undoubtedly all of town as well. The worst thing? Somehow you had seen none of the Shadows yet. You had never thought that the sudden lack of the group would make you uncomfortable.

It hadn’t been the police last night - because then there would be bobbies filling the town, but none were here, the streets empty and quiet.

You swept up the massive pieces of glass and vacuumed the smaller ones afterwards, while Mary went to the local charity shop a couple of houses over, where they were patching two bullet holes in the wooden door. She came back not too long after, having bought a painting to hide the bullet hole in the wall on the other side of the window.

A couple of hours later, the window had been temporarily fixed with a big wooden board and a weird abstract painting of flowers that didn’t quite fit into the vibe of the cafe, hanging on the wall.

“Temporary as well,” Mary declared at the painting, before packing away the hammer and nails.

Gods, you really needed a drink.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

The two of you were far from the only people who had needed a drink or two. There was noise in the pub, but a different kind of noise than the one that had filled the town during the night. It was filled to the brim, you and Mary able to get a table for two, only by pure luck.

Sure, the atmosphere was still a little tense, but it felt much less dangerous. There were experiences to share, pictures to be shown on phones, beers to drink and attempts at comforting each other in your small community to be made. All of you quite confused over the lack of any leather vests or jackets with the familiar logo on. You saw several of your friends, who looked just as worried.

Yesterday one of the usuals had left his car at the pub’s parking lot to walk home. When he had returned this morning, it had been hit by something, most likely one of the big bikes. The fella had been so caught off guard by the sight of the dent, which was so deep that it hurt to look at - and he had just gone inside the pub again, continuing the drinking from the day before.

One of the couples living in the other end of the town, had a giant hole in their hedge, with one of the motorbikes laying abandoned on their lawn, having ripped up some of the flowerbeds as well.

The couple seemed most upset about the fact that their dog had pissed on it - afraid that whichever one of the Shadows owned it, would be upset.

The tiremarks would probably stay on the roads for a while. The blood splatters and dried up pools of it would disappear when the rain came, so none of you seemed to acknowledge it, nor the few teeth that had been found scattered across the town. The bullet cases could be picked up, thrown out.

So far, the only positive thing about all of this, seemed to be that Harold, the local handyman, suddenly had a bunch of things to do together with his apprentice, Jenny, a teenager who seemed happy to fully learn how to fix broken windows - there were enough of them across town to get good at it, you supposed.

The beer was good, however. Calmed the worst of your nerves - Mary seemed more relaxed now as well, chattering with you and one of her neighbours the next table over, about new recipes.

You had nursed half of your pint for a little while now though and it was getting warmer - making you consider just drinking the rest in one go and ordering a new one. Perhaps getting drunk tonight would be alright - just to forget for a little while, pretend that everything was fine.

However, the moment you lifted the glass to down the rest of the beer, everything changed in a matter of seconds, as noise started down street. It only took the vague sound for the safe and almost cozy atmosphere of the pub to change, as if the air was sucked from everybody’s lungs - nobody wanted to believe what they heard.

A stench of scared scents spread from table to table, people unable to help themselves, omegas, betas and alphas alike. Making the pub stink of fear and worry, of anger and resentment. Were they back? You carefully put the glass down again, listening more closely.

Engines.

Every single one of the folks currently inside of the pub knew the familiar yet hated sound of motorbike engines, currently coming closer.

Perhaps it had been naive of you to hope that everything was done - that the gang would disappear one day to another and that Millhaven would return to itself. Motorbike-free and peaceful. That there would no longer be feral alphas and betas roaming the streets, loyal to the symbol on their patches, on their vests, their jackets - to their club.

The entire pub had gone so quiet it almost hurt, most people frozen in fear, breathing deemed too loud - some dared to look out the windows or towards the door, though most looked at each other or their drinks. The air felt heavy, tense with the many scents of people in panic - yet nobody ran from the pub or disappeared upstairs. Everyone stayed, knowing they would have to know what was going to happen to Millhaven.

It was the owner, Alice, who was the first to break the silence, muttering out a “bloody hell.”

You silently agreed; a part of you wanted to hide out in the back, crawl beneath the floorboards once more, fearing that the Shadows would step into the pub, heads high after having won whatever had happened last night — that Graves would appear, that his gaze would land upon you.

It was one of the ladies by the windows, the wife of the book store owner if you were right, who uttered the second word to break the silence. The “fuck” echoed throughout the building, sending shivers through everyone.

Like sheep, caught in a pen, you all waited to see whether it was protectors or predators who were going to enter your safe space. If all of your blood would spill on the wooden floors, sticky with spilled beer or if you would be able to go home and sleep peacefully.

Lights flashed by the windows, motorbikes slowing down out front - followed by laughter in the parking lot. The engines died down one after one, like predators all quieting down in order to better watch their prey, before attacking.

The lack of the rumbling from their engines, meaning they were right outside and about to step in made you nauseous - Graves would walk in an—

Despite the familiarity of leather clothes, it wasn’t a recognisable face who stepped inside the pub. Or well, a recognisable figure, at first, as you couldn’t even see his face, hidden by a balaclava with a skull design on. He was big; tall enough that he had to bend his neck to step through the door, shoulders broad, arms thick. Clad in leather, with silver studs and buckles on, his helmet under one arm. There was no fear in his eyes as he looked around the pub, taking in the residents of Millhaven. The pub was filled with the scent of worry, but the big man didn’t seem bothered.

For a mere moment, you wondered if this was what Death would look like, when he would come to collect and bring you to your parents; not with a scythe or a cloak, but with a leather jacket and a helmet for you to wear, while he drove the motorbike into the afterlife with you.

Was he the leader of the people who had just arrived?

However, he held the door open, uttering a gruff sounding “evenin” into the pub, as if to be polite for a moment. He looked like he could break a neck with one arm, or curl your ribs into your lungs with only his fingers - snap a bone with a kick. A mere moment later, it was clear to everyone in the pub that this guy wasn’t the leader - any doubt left you, as another man entered through the door.

You instantly knew he was the leader from the mere way he carried himself, the energy that seemed to drip from him, his scent of power rushing through the pub like a tidal wave; how he knew he owned the room he stepped into, when he confidently walked directly towards the bar. Followed by several people, leather clad like himself.

Like beasts, having escaped the nightmares and darkness underneath one’s bed, stepping into reality, into light and sight. Letting themselves be seen.

The leader took a deep drag of his cigar, not looking bothered at all, as the smoke left his nostrils a moment later. You were reminded of the terrifying dragons in the fairytales that your parents used to read to you as a child. This one had no scales or wings, but he was a dragon to you no less. Ready to strike and take gold and silver, to create a hoard inside Millhaven. Only a pack this big, filled with monsters, would follow a dragon.

There was no reason for him to tap on a glass, or whistle; everyone’s attention was already on him.

He was broad and though he was not as tall as the skull-wearing monster next to him, he would no doubt tower over you as well. Leather clad from head to toe, jacket adorned with studs and chains, leather pants and a pair of big, heavy-looking leather boots. However, one of the more prominent things about the alpha, besides the leather clothes and intimidating stature, was perhaps the unusual, but nicely kept, beard. It almost looked like mutton chops. His hair was a dark brown, slicked back- there were earrings in his ears and thick rings on his fingers.

Though there seemed to be a hint of amusement on the alpha’s face, his eyes seemed sharp, studying the people in the pub.

“Friends!,” he called out and you immediately pushed yourself a little closer to Mary, even if it wasn’t very alpha-like. His voice was loud and strong, so everyone could hear him, “My name is John Price. I’m sure most of you heard the noises last night. My men and I apologise for those, I can assure you that it won’t happen again. As you might have noticed within these last couple of years, this town has been operated and ‘protected’ by The Shadows. As of today, this is no longer the case.”

As of today, this is no longer the case.

The words echoed through your head, repeating themselves over and over again. Did this mean Graves was gone?

There was a slowly growing buzz of noise, from the whispers and sounds leaving people and you felt Mary shake a little as she took a hold of your hand. It almost felt cold. As if the two of you weren’t really sure what to think yet, whether to scream of delight, or horror that the words instilled in you.

“Millhaven is now protected by my group, Team 1-4-1. There will be changes around here, all for the better, I assure you. As long as everyone behaves, I’m sure we will all get along just fine.”

You couldn’t look away from him, even as the words sent painful stabs of fear through your body; like small knives, pushing into your back and breaking your spine. It would all start over - your town would never be free, like it was when you were a kid. The streets you had grown up in would never be peaceful in the same way, your future would be limited by a group that none of you had agreed to accept. Mary was still shaking and you wondered what this would mean for her, for her shop.

Your only hope was that no one in this one-four-one would notice you.

A small part of you was relieved that your father wasn’t alive to see this. He would not have liked it either.

They kept speaking, the leader - John Price or something - declared free drinks for the rest of the evening, but you could barely hear them or focus on them.

When Mary squeezed your hand, it took a couple of seconds before you reacted. You had been staring into nothing, nausea in your throat, as horrifying thoughts crawled along your skull and invaded your mind. What happened to the shadows? Did you even want to know?

“I would like to go home,” you whispered to your boss, who gave your hand another short squeeze.

“In a few moments,” she agreed, “then we'll sneak out the back. Though these can hardly be worse than the shadows.”

A part of you wanted to point out to the older lady that these people had most likely killed the Shadows, one after another, not just politely asked them to leave. But you were afraid that vomit would spill from your lips afterwards.

Perhaps, this was the sign you had been waiting for - that you should move away and start somewhere new.

next chapter ->

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms (Part 2)

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: A little PTSD for reader alluding to a horrific incident but not much described besides blood.

Word Count: 3,702

Notes: Happy New Year my loves!

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

You’re jolted awake at the rocking of your SUV dipping into a pothole.

Your spine straightens on its own accord and your bleary eyes snap open, frantically scanning the space, on high alert. Your heart pounds in your chest as you desperately try to take in your surroundings. Outside the window, there is nothing but darkness, the skies and scenery draped in midnight-hour black.

It takes you more than a second to realize where you are. In the back of an SUV on your way to your parent’s charity gala that you cannot miss. Except that the weather in New York took a turn for the worse, a heavy blizzard that no news stations mentioned before you fell into an exhausted sleep last night. No planes in, and no planes out.

Which meant that you had to find alternative transportation to make it to Chicago before the gala, which meant that Azriel had to arrange safe travel for you to get there on time, his job already on the line from his mistake only days ago.

Not the kiss. Not the weak fucking moment he had in the bathroom of your suite after a passerby tossed an unknown object at you that split the skin above your brow.

Your parents don’t know about the kiss. You tried to convince Azriel that it wasn’t worth telling them, and he tried to convince you that it couldn’t happen again.

His eyes had been hard. He’d been wearing that same stoic mask he showed up on his first day with. “We can’t do that again,” he’d said, like the kiss was transactional. Like he didn’t feel the passion that lit your entire body up, the wanting in your bones.

No kisses have happened in the days since.

Your eyes connect with Azriel’s through the rear-view mirror and the sight of your infallible bodyguard has you relaxing against the warm leather seat, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Azriel says softly. His rough, gravelly tone sharpens his apology.

“It’s fine,” you brush off, but it’s not fine. Nothing that has anything to do with you is ever fine.

Silence takes over the car. He hasn’t even turned on the radio to keep him company while you slept. You frown at the thought, then realize that silence is probably what Azriel is used to, what he prefers.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you admit.

Azriel’s gaze stays focused on the road, not another vehicle in sight. “You needed it,” he defends, and you shrug.

“Where are we?”

“A few hours away from the Ohio border,” Azriel answers. You glance at the neon glow of the clock. It reads just past one in the morning, which means that you still have seven or so hours of driving to go, depending on how bad the road conditions are.

You’re supposed to be in Chicago by ten a.m. for brunch with your parents and the charity director for the gala, but with all of the delays that have happened since New York, you’d much rather spend as much time as you can away from the crazy normal that is your life. This unexpected road trip feels like a breath of fresh air that you didn’t know you needed.

You squint, peering around the passenger seat. The roads are clear from snow, piled high on the sides of the highway, but that doesn’t mean that there can’t be patches of black ice to look out for.

You decide to keep Azriel company. You don’t want to be sleeping the night away peacefully while he navigates through four states to get you back to your parents. You know for a fact that he’s gone days without speaking a single word nor getting an ounce of sleep, but right now, with the dark of night blanketing the car, it feels cruel.

Azriel protests when you unbuckle and climb over the console, claiming the front passenger seat. His hands are white-knuckled around the steering wheel and he tries to keep his focus on the road, though you do catch him sneaking a protective peek over at you more than once. It makes you want to snort with amusement, there’s no threat here, unless he hits a patch of aforementioned black ice, but you trust Azriel with your life, so you should be fine.

And you are. Azriel’s shoulders don’t lose a strand of tension until your buckle slides locked with a click. Even then, he can hardly relax. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“And you shouldn’t be driving this late at night,” you retort easily, kicking your feet up on the dash. Azriel’s hand comes down over your knee before you can fully prop up your legs, guiding you in a gentle yet stern matter to keep your feet on the floor. You follow his command so that he doesn’t banish you back to the back seat.

He hardly acknowledges you, focusing on the task at hand. Delivering you in one piece to Chicago in time to arrive at all of your scheduled meetings. He will not fail your family a second time.

With his focus pinned on the road, you drink your bodyguard in. His eyes flicker from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors to the windshield in meticulous rotation. You trail your gaze down the straight slope of his nose to his pink, plush lips. You haven’t stopped thinking about his mouth on yours since the desperate kiss you shared in your hotel room two nights ago, and a warm heat coils low in your stomach at the memory, waking you up.

“You look tired,” you murmur, distractedly. He does. The gray circles under his eyes aren’t the only thing giving Azriel’s exhaustion away. It’s in the way he blinks slowly, but forces his eyes wide. It’s in the way he drums his fingers against the steering wheel for something to focus on other than the road. It’s in the empty cup of coffee stacked on his old ones. He’s stopped thrice tonight for a caffeine boost and you slept though them all. He’d be jonesing for another if you hadn’t climbed up into the seat beside him. His entire body is tightened with alert now that you’re here.

He isn’t tired, he’s wired. Three large black coffees might have been too much, but it’s your presence that has Azriel more alert than anything. His skin heats at the feeling of your eyes on him, can feel every movement you’re making from across the console.

He taps his fingers against the wheel to expel the nervous energy. You wonder what’s going on because Azriel’s resolve never cracks like this. Everything was fine when you were in the backseat, asleep. He didn’t have to interact, possibly mislead you. He was free to dig into his mind, overthink every little thing that’s happened between the both of you since this little journey began.

He knows you too well. He has to. He’s read your file, like he does with all of his clients. Somehow, you’ve managed to worm your way into his mind, deeper than a flesh wound.

“I’m fine,” he assures. He rubs a hand down his jaw, the short stubble tickling his skin. He needs to shave.

“We should stop for the night,” you protest, catching glimpse of a sign on the side of the highway that shows that you’re only a few miles away from a town to get gas and sleep.

“We need to be in the city early,” Azriel refutes. He chances a glance over at you. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you’re wearing that stern, determined look on your face that makes his cock twitch in his pants. He keeps himself carefully still. “We don’t have time to stop.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that we stop for the night, Azriel,” you reply. “I was telling you that we are going to stop for the night.”

He should protest, he knows that he should. He doesn’t know anything about this town, if it’s filled with lunatics or people who’d try and harm either one of you for your expenses. The decked-out, expensive SUV is a sign screaming rich.

You don’t remove your glare from him until he veers the vehicle onto the exit ramp.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I’ll take the chair,” Azriel says, eyeing the single bed in the room. “I won’t be sleeping anyway.”

Your nose scrunches. You stare at the chair for a long second and return your gaze to Azriel’s. The entire point of stopping for the night was to rest, to let the storm that caught up to you play out and hopefully finish the drive with clearer conditions.

Something clenches in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s your heart or your stomach or both.

He won’t sleep because there is only one bed.

“So, you’re going to sit in that chair,” you repeat like you don’t understand. You don’t, and you point to the faded green armchair. The rests are made of a blonde wood and the back of the chair sits so straight that there’s no chance anyone could actually fall asleep in it. “And do what? Watch me sleep?”

His jaw sharpens, the muscles flexing as he clenches his teeth. His hazel eyes follow the point of your finger for a fleeting second before returning to yours.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s watched you sleep.

“I’ll turn the chair toward the window,” Azriel answers like this is a solution. If it makes you uncomfortable, he will even wait in the car.

The real solution would be for him to get in the fucking bed with you and sleep for a few hours. You saw the stack of empty coffee cups in the car. You saw the strain in his posture, the way he was forcing himself from giving into his exhaustion.

A disbelieving noise crawls up your throat. He’s so fucking stubborn. It’s not like you’re both eighteen and the prospect of touching looms over you. No, you’re both adults. You’ve seen him sans clothes, even if it was an accident, and Azriel has been in the room with you during fittings with designers your father fully didn’t trust. He may have been turned toward the window, you toward the mirror, but there was always the thrill that maybe he’d peek over his shoulder, give you a long once-over, that maybe some sort of want would infiltrate his hard, hazel eyes.

You’ve imagined it more than once.

“Azriel,” you scold. You busy yourself with moving your luggage to the empty desk in the corner. The table wobbles as you set your things on it, but it stays upright. You quickly move back toward the bed and tug the blankets back, doing your best to reign in your cringe as you think about the possibilities of what could have gone on in this dingy motel room on the side of the interstate. You’re used to luxurious, five-star hotels catering to your every need, not rundown motels that reek of mothballs and crime.

Ghosts. Are there ghosts?

“We stopped here specifically so you could sleep,” you try to argue, but you sound distracted, and Azriel’s gaze snaps to yours, his shoulders straightening like he’s going into protective mode.

He catches you staring dazedly at the bed. Your fingers are curled tightly into the blankets, lips pressed together tightly. Your chest is rising and falling more quickly, and he rounds the bed, coming to your aid.

Azriel knows the life you’re used to living. What you must be thinking about a place like this. He could say something mean, mention how spoiled you are, how it’s just like the hotels you usually stay in, minus the amenities. He wants to tell you that people have done worse things in nicer rooms, especially the ones you tend to stay in, but he knows that your frozen features are due to something else, a dark memory that edges up every once in a while.

“Let me get you some fresh blankets,” he murmurs. His hand comes down around your wrist gently, drawing you slowly from your daze. The heat of his body sears through the thin fabric of your pajamas, and you latch onto that as you squeeze your eyes shut and force the memories away.

“No,” you choke, sounding much more put-off than you’d like. Azriel knows your past, you remind yourself, he knows everything about you, this isn’t you looking weak. You’re only human. “It’s fine, I—” you swallow roughly as a smatter of red conjures behind your eyelids. You try hard not to flinch, but it’s there, the blood on the walls like some fucking mural.

You look down at your hands, painted with the same crimson. Your clothes, and as you drag your eyes up to the bed—

“Hey,” Azriel snaps, hand planted firmly on your cheek, tearing you from the awful memory. You blink and your eyes latch onto his worried hazel ones. You didn’t even notice Azriel turning you around, how your hand went from clutching the sheets to fisting in his black button down. “You’re not there, you hear me?”

You nod because your throat is too tight to do anything else. Tears brim your eyes and Azriel wipes an escaped drop that drags down the apple of your cheek. His touch is too soft, too tender.

You pull away, ripping yourself from his hands. You turn toward the bed and don’t allow the dreadful recollection another thought. You slip between the sheets and try to hide your trembling movements by tugging the blankets all the way up to your chin.

You can feel Azriel’s presence behind you. You always can, whenever he’s in the room. It’s like the two of you are magnets. There is an attraction to him that you can’t place.

He knows that you won’t be sleeping now. That the harrowing memory of what you’ve been through lingers in the surface of your mind and if you should fall asleep, it will only haunt you worse.

Azriel’s known about your past, the terror that you’re trying so desperately to run from, to forget. It chases you like death is on your heels, ready to grip you with its bony fingers and drag you into the dark. He’s been briefed on how you might respond when the trauma inevitably claws its way back, but this is his first time experiencing it happening to you. How it grips you around the throat and threatens to consume you.

His jaw aches from grinding it so tight. The one thing that he can’t protect you from is the one thing he wants to protect you from the most.

He has a job, and this is part of it, he tells himself as he kicks his shoes off.  

“Shove over.”

“What?” You ask, confused. You peer over your shoulder to see Azriel shrugging off his jacket. It leaves him in a black t-shirt that clings to his body exactly the way you want to. You never thought you’d be jealous of a piece of clothing, yet here you are. You carefully tear your gaze away.

“You need to sleep and I know your stubborn, spoiled ass isn’t going to do it if I’m not doing it with you” he pauses. That sounded so fucking wrong, but Azriel trudges on. “So, shove over.”

You fight the smile that threatens to curve your lips at his comment. If it was coming from anyone else, you’d be offended, but you know that Azriel doesn’t mean it as anything other than a joke. You scoot further toward the edge of the bed, shivering at the cool sheets. Your goosebumps only prickle further when Azriel’s weight hits the mattress, and the warmth of his body washes over you.

You try not to let your breathing shallow as he settles himself in. He’s not even touching you, for Mother’s sake, and yet you’re responding as if you’re a teenager lying beside her childhood crush.

“Don’t think about it,” Azriel’s voice startles you.

You might smile at the rough demand in Azriel’s tone if you weren’t feeling like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to come up behind you and shove you off.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter. When the light flickers out, your body locks, and the memory explodes in your mind like a fucking gunshot wound.

“I said, don’t think about it.” Azriel’s voice is a gruff command in your ear, snapping you back into reality. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, and you can hear the struggle in your lungs as you try to gulp down what little air makes it through your constricting esophagus.

Hands wind their way around your waist and you don’t have a second to struggle before Azriel tugs you back into his chest, molding his body against your back. A warm, heavy arm is draped across your side, and his hand finds your shaking ones beneath the blankets, offering you a lifeline.

You clutch onto him. Azriel murmurs softly in your ear but you can’t make out the words. They’re in a different language. French or Italian or Spanish, you think. You sure that if he was speaking English, you still wouldn’t understand with the way that you’re focusing on fighting past the demons in your head.

The room is pitch black. You always sleep with a light on, even if it’s just the screen of your phone lighting up the darkness. You haven’t been in a blackened room like this since that night, and Azriel knows it, which is why, with some maneuvering, he turns on the flashlight on his phone and sets it on the bedside table, illuminating the room in an awful white light that has you all but melting into his body.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It sounds much too loud in the quiet of your motel room.

“Go to sleep,” he answers plainly. His bluntness almost makes you smile.

But you can’t go to sleep, and not just because of the lingering aftershocks of your memory. As those slowly eke away, you focus on the feeling of Azriel’s body pasted tightly against yours.

You swear you can feel every muscle that is packed onto his hard body through your clothes. Your ass is nestled against his front, and you want to wiggle oh-so badly, to writhe against him in the hopes of feeling what he’s working with down there.

He’s still fully clothed, you notice. Didn’t think twice about climbing into the bed behind you to console you. You wonder if he’s uncomfortable before realizing that with his military trained past, he must have slept in worse conditions than this before.

Which makes you cringe. Here you were, freaking out about a fucking motel when there are people who are going through much worse. Embarrassment flares your body and you squirm uncomfortably.

Azriel’s arms lock tighter around you, and he tugs you closer. You didn’t think there was a closer, but there is. His breath fans across your ear when he speaks. “If you keep moving like that, we’re going to have a lot more than a blizzard and stiff fucking sheets to worry about.” He sounds callous, but there’s a strain to his tone, one that has all of the fiery feelings in your veins converging between your thighs.

Your movements halt immediately. “Sorry,” you say, but there’s no sleeping now. Not when his words are out there, hanging in the air. That if you kept moving, you’d have a different kind of stiffness to think about. One that you’re much more interested in than the starchy sheets.

You close your eyes anyway, trying to fight off the interest stirring low in your gut. The image of Azriel naked, rolling on top of you drifts into your mind. Your pussy clenches when he slowly parts your legs and flashes you a devious smile before lowering himself between your legs.

Movement has your eyes jolting open. You’re holding your body so tightly that Azriel would be terrible at his job if he didn’t know that you weren’t asleep like you should be.

“Sleep,” Azriel reminds you brusquely. His hand splays across your stomach, his thumb stroking across the soft fabric of your shirt in a soothing motion, or what would be a soothing motion if you weren’t three seconds from creating the foulest dirty thoughts about him or two seconds away from actually doing something about it.

“Okay,” you breathe, trying to force annoyance into your words instead of the arousal that slips out anyway. Azriel’s thumb falters and you swear you feel something against the curve of your ass twitch. Your breath catches in your throat and now you know that the movement against your hind wasn’t a part of your imagination.

The noise you let slip has blood pooling into Azriel’s cock. He refuses to move, refuses to do anything except squeeze his eyes shut and practice the techniques he learned in the Royal Marines to keep himself in fucking check. He promised that after the kiss in the bathroom that he would keep away from you, that this relationship would stay professional only.

Professional feels so fucking far away from this.

You find the courage to whisper. “Azriel?”

He grunts in response, to let you know he’s awake and listening, and you like the sound all too much. “That doesn’t sound like sleeping.”

“I’m not sure that I can,” you admit.

Azriel sighs softly, his breath tickling your neck. “You didn’t even try,” he answers simply, but his fingers begin tracing a soft, soothing pattern across your forearm. You latch onto his hypnotic touch, wishing it would move further south. “Just think of better things. I’m here, and you’ll be alright.”

I’m here, and you’ll be alright. Because he’s your bodyguard, your protector, and he won’t ever let anything happen to you, mentally or physically.

You shut your eyes and think about those words, the soft touch from a man so callous and strong, long until you fall asleep.