#especially when there's ways to prevent it idk

[shadowsviper]

Baby Saja Headcanons

A little bit of x reader

I absolutely loved the movie and Baby Saja, so I'm making headcanons for him. These are my interpretations of him, obviously, since we don't know anything about the actual character. These aren’t really that serious, they’re like crack headcanons. Idk how many of these I'm making.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Like I've said before, he's 100% sassy.

He has that cutesy baby look for fans but the second he’s home he’s staring his group down with a deadpan face and quips one liners that could evaporate their previous lives

Baby: 🫰❤️

Also Baby: That’s why yo mama and sister dead.

He fucking hates doing aegyo

He was 👌 this close to strangling Jinu when he suggested Baby to do it

Every time he does anything cute he silently cursing at Jinu

The fans eat it up every time so it makes him want to strangle Jinu even more

If you don’t watch him, he will succeed

Your food? His food

Nothing is safe from him when he’s in the vicinity

Especially if it’s anything he can chug down

We saw how he was like with that hot sauce and water bottle, your sauces and drinks aren’t safe

You might have to lock them up to prevent him from drinking them

Before you found out about this habit, the boys had to figure out a way to fight him off because he chugged $300 worth of sauces and drinks

Demon stomachs are way stronger than humans ig

You know how some boyfriends will drink out of their girlfriend’s water bottle even if they have their own??

Yeah that’s Baby. He’ll drink your water from your water bottle even though he has his own

By the end of the day his water bottle is still full while yours is empty

He’ll claim that yours taste better

He was the worst when it came to practice. Jinu had to physically force him to participate otherwise he would just sit out until it’s his turn to rap

His raps were all a few lines (if not less) and so he’ll just sit out again after that

Jinu almost returned him back to Gwi-ma

Baby couldn’t give a fuck less

I wholeheartedly believe he wrote diss tracks for each of the boys and threatens to release them whenever they annoy or piss him off

Those threats happen every week

Gossip king

He acts so nonchalant and bored when he’s not out performing on stage or meeting fans but he’s secretly hearing every bit of tea

None of it has anything to do with him

He comes to you to tell you about it and you’ll be like ??? Who tf are these people???

If you ever find a 12 part video on tiktok and you don’t feel like watching all of it for the tea, give it to him. He’ll do it for you, he’ll watch all 12 parts and then tell you the details even if it’s boring

He’s just nosy af but if the boys ever try to tell the fans no one will believe them

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ok that’s it for now. If I can think of anything else I’ll make a part 2

[chubbybunny25]

Day 3: Arranged Marriage

have this oneshot (800+ words lol) for the vision i have for the jercy political marriage au i've been thinking abt since last yr. idk when i'll start working on it actually, but i hope you enjoy this.

@jercy-events

He looks like Luke.

That’s the first thing that Percy thinks of upon seeing the Roman praetor.

With those cerulean eyes—calculating, almost cold—along with his cropped blond hair and the scar on his lips, one would think he’s related to Luke Castellan.

But somehow, the similarities stop with the way they look. Percy doesn’t remember feeling uneasy with Luke’s presence upon first meeting him. If anything, all Luke radiated back then was trustworthiness. Sure, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes, but that could be attributed to his godly parentage.

Yet, this man before him—there’s something imposing, unsettling, with him. Even as a bearer of the Achilles Curse, Percy shudders at the thought that if this Roman so decides, he can definitely rip Percy into shreds. 

Percy steels himself. He can’t afford to be intimidated now. He’ll do anything—absolutely anything—to prevent another war from happening.

Negotiating peace with the Romans is the key to ensure Camp Half-Blood’s safety.

∞

“A wedding?” Percy springs up from where he’s sitting at the rec-room along with Chiron, Annabeth, Nico, Clarisse, Jake, Will, Drew, the Stolls, and the Roman praetors, Jason Grace and Reyna.. (she refused to say her full name).

“What? You’re old enough, yes?” Right. And there’s also their favorite goddess, Hera, who is “leading” (whatever that means) this meeting. “Too old actually. Back in the day—”

“Waitwaitwait! A wedding?”

“Yes, Perseus.” The goddess seems bored while she flicks her hand. “A wedding. Marriage. Union between two camps. Between the two most powerful demigods of this generation. You as the Hero of Olympus, and Jason as my Champion.”

A sacrifice, is what Percy hears.

He looks over the other man—Jason—across the table tennis table. His face doesn’t betray any of his emotions, so very far from his sister, Thalia Grace, who always makes it a point to let everyone know when she’s irritated.

The son of Poseidon wants to argue that Nico di Angelo can be more powerful than him, but the son of Hades has just been settling at camp, not even a resident there, mostly doing errands for his father for the past five years.

But Percy is not the kind to point fingers and pass the burden to anyone, especially to Nico; he took the Great Prophecy years ago for him after all.

So Percy Jackson does what he thinks is right:

He walks away.

∞

“What have you got to lose?” Percy spats when, during dinner, the son of Jupiter thought it would be a good idea to bring him food in Cabin 3. He doesn’t know what runs on Jason’s mind and somehow, that annoys Percy all the more. “You’ve trained for this all your life. You grew up at camp, for fuck’s sake! But I’ve got a life, Jason Grace!”

Percy really doesn’t. He never dated again after Annabeth; he doesn’t know what to do with his degree; he feels like a foreigner in his mom’s apartment now that she’s got a “normal” family.

But no one has to know that.

“You’re right.” Jason’s voice is calm—too calm, like everything before a storm. “Maybe I’ve got nothing to lose. But my camp needs me and I’m not the kind of leader to lead them to war. Good night, Percy.”

∞

Percy is having anything, but a good night.

Of course, he can’t sleep. No matter how tired he is, no matter how drained he feels. He knows he said too much, reacted on impulse. Again.

Jason doesn’t deserve Percy lashing out like that. No one deserves something like that—someone rubbing in their faces the things that life hasn’t allowed them to have. For all Percy knows, Jason has wanted to have a life, too.

Percy might not know exactly how life has been at Camp Jupiter, but by the way Jason Grace and his co-praetor carry themselves—that silent but powerful strength underneath those composed and observant gazes. That can only be borne out of rigid training.

The respect they have for the gods—their own parents who abandoned them to fend for themselves—is like their second nature. The dedication they have to keep the lives of future demigods.

Ugh, Percy feels bad for being such an asshole.

∞

“Thank you for your hospitality, Chiron.” Reyna says as she and Jason bids goodbye to the centaur. “Please let us know if Percy considers Juno’s idea.”

“For now, all we can do is to keep this a secret from our people,” Jason adds.

“I understand,” Chiron agrees. “It’s safer like that.”

As Reyna is mounting her pegasus and Jason summoning his storm-spirit, Percy comes running with a duffel bag in hand.

“Perseus, where are you going?” Chiron inquires.

“I’m coming with them,” the son Poseidon says matter-of-factly. “If you want me to consider this, I need to know more about Camp Jupiter and… Jason.”

Percy counts it a win to see Jason’s amused smile. So he knows how to smile, too.

“I’ll inform Lady Hera,” the centaur sighs, seemingly to resign to his fate of dealing with another Percy Jackson moment. He hasn’t even finished speaking when Percy calls for Blackjack.

[wildflowercryptid]

something that's been weighing on my mind ever since learning about the situation with ezra / toonimal is seeing how these predators will take the active hostility that is frequently directed towards minors in online spaces to their advantage and use it to prey on vulnerable children. i think that we as adults in online fandom should probably come together and maybe rethink the language / manner we go about interacting with kids bc clearly the way things are rn is causing active harm.

like obviously, if you're an adult and aren't comfortable with minors interacting with you or your content, you should be allowed to set that boundary and should be vocal about it, ( especially if the content you create isn't safe for them to consume. ) but i don't think talking to them like they're a blight on all that is good and holy is the way to go about it. maybe just saying you're an 18 plus account will suffice, you don't have to tell them to fuck off.

[britneyshakespeare]

I have to be so honest and vulnerable with you for a second. I keep thinking of getting another complete works of Shakespeare

[confines]

my littlest cousin is very sick with some sort of upper respiratory for like the 20th time in his very short little life. 😢 it's so hard not to mentally backseat parent in a situation like this. at least his mom is always quick with the doctor's visits, that makes me feel better at least.

[lizardho]

Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.

I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).

One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.

And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?

And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.

“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔

“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷

“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂‍↕️

It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.

Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.

For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”

If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.

So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,

“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”

The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.

“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”

I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”

And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.

Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.

Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕

[circusclownproductions]

seeing a lot of videos that are like “I didn’t know babies couldn’t have water” so here’s an incomplete list of things you need to know before having a baby

- the obvious, they can’t have water bc milk is incredibly high in water already so excess water leads to over hydration

- babies cannot have honey until 1

- if ur breastfeeding your kid and saving excess milk, make sure you label what you pumped in the morning vs at night bc your body produces different melatonin levels throughout the day and giving your baby daytime milk at night can make them more alert and fuck up their sleep schedule

- idk why ppl keep saying this but swaddling your babies or getting them those baby straight jacket things is not abuse. It chills them out cuz it reminds them of the womb

- babies have a dandruff like buildup on their head called cradle cap, and it’s very easy to deal with and remove with just some baby shampoo, a gentle scrub brush (MADE FOR BABIES!!) and a comb. It does need to be removed tho cuz it can be very painful after a while. This can also continue to happen late into toddlerhood it’s normal

- you have to clean out the creases of your baby’s skin and hands and feet they WILL collect dust😭😭

- you cannot bathe your baby until their umbilical cord naturally falls off. Use a warm damp rag until then

- tummy time is actually very important

- your baby might have a misshapen head at first (not all the time but sometimes) this will either sort itself out or they’ll need a corrective helmet ask your doctor

- I wouldn’t recommend having your baby leave the house very much until they’re at least 6 months old, especially if they’re born near cold and flu season cuz the common cold can kill a newborn

- you’re not an awful horrible person for having postpartum depression and it’s always a million times better to let your baby cry a few minutes longer than normal while you regain your composure than to freak out and give ur kid shaken baby syndrome

- you’re not an awful horrible person for giving your baby formula milk either

- don’t put shoes on your baby it’ll compromise their toe box and balance

- babies put every single thing in their mouths

- the easiest way to burp a baby is to hold them straight up (spine straight) and hold their head a bit higher

- always support their head they barely have necks

- if your baby fights away food, fights tummy time, vomits every single time you burp them, is gaining or losing an unreasonable amount of weight at a time, wheezes after eating, or goes red after eating, chances are they’re probably allergic to the type of milk they’re eating (again ask a doctor but these are just some signs it’s not just colic)

- they will wobble a lot when learning to do things but you gotta fight the urge to help them every single time cuz they gotta learn

- they’re not always spitting out baby food cuz they don’t like it they just don’t know how to eat. Like they don’t know how to push food down they only know how to stick their tongue out so be patient

- babies craniums are broken up into three parts at first that later fuse together, this is to help make birthing easier but it results in a small EXTREMELY sensitive spot in the top of their head that has no protection. This puts their brain at a high risk. Always protect their soft spot

- read to your baby!! Get cute bright colorful sensory books with sight words and read them to your baby it makes such a huge difference in their educational growth and will help them acquire a love for reading early on. And talk to them never shut up just say whatever comes to mind all the time this will strengthen their vocabulary growth also.

- babies poop like a lot. A lot. an unreasonable amount. Bring back up clothes and more diapers than you think

- no pillows or stuffies in the crib and only use a muslin blanket unless it’s especially cold to prevent suffocation

- babies kick reflexively until they’re out of their newborn scrunch (they stay womb shaped for a while) and if your baby is crying and pushing at the swaddle try letting them flail around for a minute

- consoling your baby is not spoiling them ! They need comfort and they will learn to self soothe on their own

- singing lullabies actually works, they can recognize your voice a consistent place of comfort from the womb and the cadence of lullabies is literally engineered to create a calm headspace

- for the love of god do not get boring ass beige toys. Colors are important for their neurological development

- babies are very responsive to praise from a young age so be as supportive of them as you can

- babies get constipated a lot and you have to do like tummy massages to help ease their pain the easiest way is to lay them on their backs and hold one foot in each hand, kick their feet like bicycles, scrunch up, and then stretch their legs out

- holding them on your hip too much will not cause bow legged-ness if your baby is bow legged that was always gonna happen

- they drool so so much and you have to get bibs for them so they don’t get chest eczema

- don’t use scented products on their skin cuz their skin is sooo much thinner than ours

- when your baby first starts sitting on their own never walk away from them without setting up a nest of pillows and blankets around them. Even minor head trauma can mess them up sometimes

- this one is kinda morbid and scary but sometimes babies just die out of nowhere and it’s no one’s fault or anything it’s called sudden infantile death syndrome(SIDS) and it’s about 1.3k deaths on average per year in America so not super common but still very real. 90% of these deaths happen during the first four months however edit: apparently it’s bc of an enzyme deficiency which at the very least you can take steps to try and prevent

- smoking and drinking during pregnancy WILL affect your baby and your breast milk and also might contribute to SIDS cases

- babies sometimes have a big red mark on them somewhere called a stork bite immediately after birth but typically it goes away

- babies can’t see very well for a while after birth and they’re VERY wobbly so they’ll typically bonk their head into your chest and face a lot while trying to support themselves

- female babies might have smth similar to a period the first few days after birth, this is because of the hormone transfer that happens during the birthing process and the days leading up to it

- male babies get random erections for the first few days after birth(hormone transfer again) literally do not be weird about this it’s a baby

- things like weaning your baby onto solid foods, potty training, weaning off pacifiers etc, can actually be directed by the baby and will happen naturally will minimal guidance from the parent(some guidance is still necessary) although I would do individual research into baby led weaning for food to prevent choking

- get those chewy feeding pouches to help with weaning

- the most random things will scare the hell out of your baby don’t take it personal 😭

- baby carriers are life savers (tulas are one of my favorites)

- once babies hit toddlerhood they’re tougher than you think, and a lot of their reaction is based on YOURS. they’re always going to be looking to you for how to react to a situation. Remain calm and if they’re ok they’ll calm down but if they’re genuinely hurt they’ll keep crying

- babies will most likely get ridiculously attached to an inanimate object and you have to keep this thing intact at all costs until they’re old enough to abandon it or they will throw a FIT. I got a lemur plushie from a zoo once and every single one of the kids has bonded their soul with it until about 6 years old and once a month I have to stitch him back up

- don’t compare yourself to other parents. Maybe your kid isnt getting grass fed wild caught north Atlantic cheerios but at least they’re fed. If your kid is alive and healthy and happy you’re doing a good job

- you will need 3 car seats, an infant seat, a grow with me toddler seat, and a booster seat

- getting a good diaper bag is a MUST

- the hair a baby is born with will most likely all fall out or they’ll get a bald spot on the back of their head where they sleep cuz their hair is so fragile and thin but once it grows back it grows back thick

- get like 20 muslin blankets so you always have a backup when the main ones are covered in spit up

- the babies grip IS stronger than yours (keep your hair up and keep pets away best you can)

- your best bet for your teething baby is a pacifier you can put your finger in so you can massage their gums and some chewing toys numbing cream can be dangerous and should be used sparingly

- go ahead and come to terms with the fact you’re gonna have to use a Frida Baby to manually remove snot

- babies can get hair and thread wrapped around their toes and fingers that can cut off their circulation try to make a habit of checking

- don’t hit your kid please it’s nothing but trauma and fucked up coping mechanisms from there pls empathize with your child they’re a person too

- be careful not to pull too hard on their arms and legs(like during play or holding their hand while they walk) and NEVER pick them up by their hands this will very easily cause dislocation

- they might have a little tooth like callous on their lip from their pacifier. This does not hurt them and it will go away but it may hurt during breastfeeding

- breastfeeding will make your boobs different sizes

Yeag that’s all I can think of rn but yk i Will add as I remember stuff ppl are also adding things I forgot in the tags in case you’d like to look thru that as well <3

[netsuijae]

I would love to see what your hypothetical Kanade crash out would look like ngl (you don't need to draw for this if you don't want to a text explanation would still be awesome)

ok soooo this isn't exactly the crashout but rather building up to it i guess :P

the rest of this post is gonna be rambling and predictions ⬇️

alright this ask enabled me, im gonna just dump all my thoughts as of now on what's to come for kanade's story :) i could end up being completely wrong, but hey im just theorizing and having fun here while i wait very impatiently lol

To start, I don't think kana5 will be on the scale of mizu5 (i mean i might be biased but idk if anything will come close to that level of insanity again), mainly because there hasn't been as much build-up to a breaking point. Kanade's issues have been pushed aside (by herself especially) and not heavily focused on up to this point in the story. There hasn't been any increasing tension for things to reach a climax yet. Having her big break be in this next event would be too sudden and sort of unprecedented. For this event at least, I highly doubt that'll be the case. Instead, I think this event will start to touch on Kanade's buried issues more, and begin building that tension for something bigger. I can see this being a multiple event arc, similar to the events leading up to the climax of Mafuyu's story. Summarizing that, yes I think Kanade's got some real tough shit ahead of her, but that's why this won't be a one-off event story. I think it'll just be the beginning.

That being said, to touch more on my predictions for kana5 itself, I think Kanade will start to slip, and the others, Mafuyu especially, will take notice. I can't really predict anything specific, but I think something will happen that will make her question her ability to save people, or cause her to be harder on herself, as she has in the past, to keep composing persistently, neglecting her own needs and health. However, things are different now than they were before niigo. She has more people around her that will be able to see the damage she's doing to herself. But she also knows they all look up to her, and that her music lifts them up. She knows they all have a lot they're dealing with, and she needs to be there for them. She can't let them down.

Then, when Kanade pushes herself past her limits at the cost of her well-being, what will she do then? She meets with the others on nightcord every night, and Mafuyu is living at her place. She won't be able to rot away by herself anymore without people noticing. But she still feels this need to be the group's rock and to be the one to save everyone, so she'll try her damn hardest to prevent the others from worrying about her. She'll shoot down their attempts at trying to talk about it. I think she might be especially stubborn this time around, and it might cause niigo to have to figure out a way to help Kanade, since they won't be able to get through to her at first.

Kanade has shown in the past to get uncharacteristically aggressive when she's pushing herself too hard, as shown above. She starts to take on everything herself, and snaps at anyone who tries to stop her. I think this side of her will be shown more going forward, as she begins to go down this kind of self-destructive path yet again. At least, that's where I think her story will go. Her tendency to work herself to the bone hasn't really been resolved, and she's gone so far with it before to end up in the hospital after passing out. She doesn't care what happens to her, as long as she can save people. The only reason she has ((slightly)) gotten better at taking care of herself is so that she can be able to keep composing without ending up in the hospital again. Not because she cares about her health. Because she must keep composing. She still only does the bare minimum for herself. If it's her cooking, she's only having instant ramen, and most days she's probably not going to see the sun. She still doesn't sleep much, and Mafuyu has said that she's often falling asleep at her computer.

This might be getting a little rambley atp, but my point is that Kanade neglects her own needs in her determination to save others. I mentioned how she neglects her physical health in the last paragraph, but she also neglects her own feelings as well.

She minimizes her own problems or just doesn't even talk about them. I think she truly believes that her problems don't matter, that they only distract her from her goals. The reason she doesn't open up is likely because she herself doesn't believe her feelings are important at all. She doesn't pay them any mind, and she doesn't want anyone else to either.

Of course, I have to bring this card up. I think this is just a perfect visual representation of Kanade's feelings, and it's great foreshadowing for what's to come. Those feelings are buried deep within Kanade, yet to be addressed or solved. THIS is what we're getting into. Kanade, depicted as an angel, surrounded by death. I think this is related to her guilt surrounding what happened to her father, believing it was her fault. That she destroyed everything. But because of that incident, she told herself she has to keep composing, and never stop, in order to save people. She feels like she owes that much, and that that's her sole purpose. She won't allow herself to think otherwise. No matter how much it destroys her, she must be a savior for others.

Last thing I wanted to add, because I saw this reblog under a prev kanade analysis post, and they brought up great points. Especially how dangerous Kanade's composing grind can get. We wouldn't even have a story if Honami hadn't found Kanade unconscious!!! I think she might get to a really low point again like this, but having Mafuyu there especially, it won't be able to go unnoticed. I don't have much else to add to those tags though cus they speak for themselves 🙏

Finally, just real quickly going back to the little comic I drew, this is just a rough idea of how I think Kanade could act. She'll get noticeably worse, but will try to hide that fact from the others and deny any help from them. I also mentioned that I think we could see more aggression from her again, so I included that, as she feels threatened in a way by Mafuyu worrying about her. She can't let that happen. Also, Kanade's impending doom aside, I think this progression in the story may also spark some change in Mafuyu. She might show some more emotion in this or future events, and she may realize how much Kanade means to her, motivating her to do more for her. I think it'll be a full group effort to save Kanade, but I wanna see Mafuyu taking a bigger role in this. I just think this also has the potential to grow Mafuyu's character more.

Also, as for the Kanade crashout, I really don't know how they'll handle that. I can't really predict what they're gonna do with her climax. But I want her screaming yelling and crying !!! like she better go insaneeee 🙏 and I also feel like they have a lot of potential with her seiyuu/VA and stepping out of the soft quiet voice to do some crazy shit, maybe in the songs too pls pls pls give us loud kanadeeee

OKAY THATS ENOUGH YAPPING its 5 am i havent slept....

[vampjaeyun]

FWB SUNGHOON !

very smutty so (18+), why is this so long (idk when to shut up)

p.s. checking in to let yall know i’m alive #survivalreport i also wrote this in like 15 min so not proofread… enjoy! ( ◠‿◠ )

—

fwb!sunghoon who is in the same friend group as your dear roommate, jungwon

fwb!sunghoon who you meet for the first time, and you’re more aware of his presence than any of the other new faces

fwb!sunghoon who you lock eyes with multiple times throughout the evening with said friend group— yet he doesn’t utter a word to you

fwb!sunghoon who you begin to see more often at the apartment

fwb!sunghoon who you bump into at the doorway of the bathroom with a towel draped around his waist— fresh water droplets decorating a path from his neck down to his v-line. God, you try your hardest not to look further down

fwb!sunghoon who still does not speak directly to you, but the corner of his lips lift. the fucking audacity to smirk at you. the fucking audacity to smirk at you looking like that

fwb!sunghoon who watches you heating leftovers in the kitchen with a baby tee and boy shorts as jungwon walks with him to his room. He notices you’ve gone without a bra, and shakes away the perverted thoughts. But now that he’s witnessed the scene, he can’t seem to discard the image.

fwb!sunghoon who pulls up the discarded blanket up to your shoulders when he sees a movie playing and your sleeping form on the couch

fwb!sunghoon who loves your humor and the millions of questions jungwon refuses to entertain. He wants to entertain you— But doesn’t know how to start.

fwb!sunghoon who drinks a little too much at a party, and holds no fear in his body

fwb!sunghoon who approaches you and flirts with you as if this wasn’t the first conversation exchanged between the two of you

fwb!sunghoon who’s caught off guard when you automatically reciprocate his salacious flirting. although, his worries are disregarded almost instantly in his drunken state

fwb!sunghoon who fucks you inside a bathroom at said party, tasting you, fingering you, and bending you over the sink until both of your bodies give out

fwb!sunghoon who is attached to your hip after that night

fwb!sunghoon whose palm roughly covers your mouth to prevent moans from coming out in the crowded movie theater

fwb!sunghoon who whispers sweet nothings in your ear while his cock roughly pounds into your pussy and you plead, “F-faster! Fuck! Please Hoon.”

fwb!sunghoon who loves that you’re a pillow princess, making sure to wrap his slender fingers around your throat— pushing your head further into the pillow

fwb!sunghoon who fully moans every time his name exits your lips like a mantra

fwb!sunghoon whose pumping three fingers in and out of you underneath the blanket as a scary movie plays, while his friends on opposite sides of the couch remain clueless

fwb!sunghoon who fucks you the way you beg him to, even though he’s too sleepy to function

fwb!sunghoon whose tongue expertly glides between your folds, dipping into your pussy, making sure to suck at all the spots that has your eyes rolling back as his way of saying “good morning”

fwb!sunghoon who continues to do so underneath the comforter, even when jungwon knocks on your door. “Let him in baby. You can be quiet, can you? Don’t you want to cum?”

fwb!sunghoon whose fist instinctively slams against the table as you palm his crotch underneath the table at dinner with Jake and Jay.

fwb!sunghoon who stays up all night to play video games but ultimately mutes his mic because of the way you’re sat innocently underneath the desk, sucking his tip and taking him until he’s in the back of your throat

fwb!sunghoon who loves the way you gasp when his tongue comes into contact with your own

fwb!sunghoon who loves nothing more than sloppily making out with you— especially when you hump against his clothed cock until you’re both unraveling.

fwb!sunghoon who loves when you nuzzle your face against his neck, trailing wet kisses all the way to a specific spot below his ear

fwb!sunghoon whose cock twitches when your teeth graze his thick adam’s apple

fwb!sunghoon who sleeps with an arm draped around your waist and your bare back flush against his chest almost every night

fwb!sunghoon who admires the way you talk with your hands

fwb!sunghoon who loves to show you off even though you’re not dating

fwb!sunghoon who refers to you as “my girl”

fwb!sunghoon who adores your laugh

fwb!sunghoon who dozes off while studying beside you

fwb!sunghoon who visits you at work and drives you home after your shift

fwb!sunghoon who is speechless when you admit your feelings to him

fwb!sunghoon who is frozen at the doorway after tears run down your cheeks and you bolt out his place

fwb!sunghoon who doesn’t eat or sleep for days

fwb!sunghoon who feels sick to his stomach

fwb!sunghoon who still smells you on his sheets and pillows

fwb!sunghoon whose jaw clenches at the sight of you dancing and grinding on a familiar face at a party

fwb!sunghoon whose heart shatters when jungwon mentions your new relationship with yeonjun

fwb!sunghoon who doesn’t know that it’s a lie

fwb!sunghoon who confronts you at two a.m. “Does he make you happy? Does he fuck you as well as I do?”

fwb!sunghoon who wakes up to see the other side of the bed empty

fwb!sunghoon who doesn’t know a good thing until it’s gone.

—

AN: srry guys 😅

[samkerrworshipper]

hereditary

alexia putellas x reader

stuck with my horror story title because cbs with finding a new title. unpacked a lot in this but was a therapeutic experience. am in a weird phase where i feel like my writing styles changing and lowkey think it’s getting worse? idk cant be bothered psychoanalysing myself so i guess we’re all just along for the ride together lol.

warnings: childhood trauma, mentions of addiction, just a lot of trauma

Alexia’s always had a big family. A close family. Especially after her father died, for whatever reason death always seems to be the thing that brings people closest together.

She loves her family, loves the way that her soul immediately feels full in the presence of them.

On an extended scale though, she loves how much you fit in with her family.

Loves how from the first meeting with her mother and sister how you’ve slotted in perfectly, like you’ve been around for Alexia’s whole life.

She’d never really thought about your family, as bad as it sounds. Alexia’s family is everything, it’s one of the biggest parts of her identity and you’ve never been that way. Alexia’s never really thought about it. You just don’t talk about family, you don’t go home unless it’s for national team camp. Since you moved to Barcelona you’ve been so happy to make friends with anyone and everyone you can, you’ve made your own family.

It was what had attracted Alexia towards you the most, the way that even in a completely new city and country you still managed to make a place for yourself. Before your first month at Barca was up you’d already become a part of every inside joke, small group and activity. You had that kind of infectious personality that every person in a room would gravitate towards.

Alexia knew that her case with her family unfortunately wasn’t common for most people, so she’d sort of fallen into the mindset that family for you was just not as big of a priority.

Alexia’s never truly thought much about it, until she’s face to face with it.

You’re out for physio work, even though it’s supposed to be an off day. You’d been having a weird calf niggle and have been undergoing extra treatment to prevent it getting worse.

Alexia’s not in the best mood from having her normal lay-in with you taken from her, Monday mornings (middays) are the one time of the week that she allows herself to enjoy the simplicity of a normal morning undeterred by training or anything else.

She’s hunched over your kitchen counter when a knock sounds against the front door. She immediately assumes that it’s a delivery driver dropping off one of the many packages that arrive weekly due to your online shopping addiction. Alexia doesn’t really think about her outfit consisting of the ratty 8 season old Barca shorts she’s wearing or one of your oversized t-shirts she’s stolen or the way her hair is sticking up in every angle. She walks towards the door in the same sort of haze she’s been in since she was woken up by your alarm at an ungodly hour this morning.

She’s rudely woken from that haze when she opens the door and the person standing in front of her is not holding out a tablet to sign or a package to hand over.

It’s only as she comes up to the door that she realises she’s probably not appropriately addressed for 2pm in the evening.

“Who are you?”

It’s the identical accent that should probably reveal a lot to Alexia but she’s too focused on taking in the person in front of her.

“Lo siento, who are you?”

The person in front of her, the girl standing in front of her is definitely not a person Alexia has met in her lifetime.

“This is my sister's house, so the real question is who are you?”

Sister. Interesting. Alexia supposes that the girl standing in front of her, even with violently box dyed black hair and eyeliner smeared eyelids does in some way resemble you, if she squints really hard.

“Sister?”

Alexia still hasn’t had her coffee, she’s truly struggling to comprehend the new information being fed to her.

“Of course I get given the wrong fucking address. Sorry for disturbing you, have a nice day.”

The woman or girl, Alexia isn’t quite sure, is so frantic, her hands shaking and her jaw clicking as she breathes.

“You’re y/n’s sister?”

The person had just turned around to start walking away but pivots as soon as the words leave her mouth.

“In the flesh.”

Alexia wasn’t even aware you had a sister, and the girl standing in front of her looks and acts so completely different to you that she finds it hard to believe that you are somehow related to this woman.

“Do you… do you want to come inside? She’s at training right now but she should be home in the next hour.”

The girl hesitates for a second, like she’s considering her options and then realises she has no other option.

“Can you-Can you help me with my bags?”

It’s the first time Alexia’s acknowledging the suitcase, backpack and duffle bag that the girl has, like she’s packed for a six week trip.

“Yeah, I’ll take the duffle and suitcase.”

The awkward silence that has overtaken your house for the last hour or so has been hard to navigate. Alexia doesn’t know what to ask a person she knows nothing about, and every time you touch anything you recoil back as if you’ve been burnt. It took twenty minutes for Alexia to guide you and get you to sit down on the couch. You’re like a spooked dog.

She’s had her coffee now and has spent the last little while observing you.

“So you’re the fling?”

Alexia and you have been public for at least a year now, there is more than enough evidence of it on social media. So either your sister has absolutely zero concern for you or she’s living under a rock.

“No, the girlfriend.”

The girl doesn’t say anything but her face shrivels up for a second and it’s enough for Alexia to get an understanding.

“Well my sister is a very important football player so I don’t understand how you fit into the picture.”

Alexia’s English isn’t great but she can detect emotion and the emotion bleeding from this girl is insecurity in its finest form.

“I play football with your sister.”

That silences the girl.

She’s silent until the sound of the front door unlocking echoes throughout the house.

“Ale, you left your shoes in the entryway again, are you trying to make me break my ankles.”

It’s the same sunny sarcasm that you exert everywhere, the same sunniness that makes Alexia feel warm.

“No bebe, sorry.”

She can’t help but think as she listens to your footsteps walk down the entryway that the serenity is about to be snapped in half.

You walk into the kitchen and look fairly relaxed until your eyes catch the suitcase. Then in a very quick succession they spot the duffle bag and then the back pack and finally your sister. Alexia doesn’t know what she expects but your reaction is definitely not anything remotely near what she thought.

“Get out. I’m serious get the fuck out. I’m done with your shit Billie.”

The girl, Billie? Stands up and for the first time since Alexia’s met her, she looks sure of herself.

“Wow, real nice way to greet your own sister after not seeing her for three years.”

Alexia feels like she’s watching a movie as it all unfolds in front of her.

“Half-sister, and you don’t get to show up here. I don’t want to know why you’re here because there will be a motive that I want nothing to do with.”

Alexia’s never seen you angry, beyond white line fever on the pitch you’re such a mellow person, always smiling and laughing. This is so far from that.

“Really? Hit me with the half-sister like we didn’t grow up together. Why do you always have to assume that I want something from you? You’re just so much better because you’re great at soccer, and have so much money that all I could possibly want is something from you, is that what you think?”

It’s so vicious, Alexia would almost prefer for the two of you to be throwing punches then this.

“Well it’s all I’m used to isn’t it, considering my first paycheck was used to pay off drug debt, my first brand deal was used to pay for your bail and my euro winners bonus was used to pay for a lawyer for mom.”

That leaves your sister, Billie? Silent for a while, long enough to think of a comeback.

Alexia feels like she’s intruding, like this moment is not for her in any way.

“Oh you were the one used, of course, because everything bad has happened to you. Doesn't it matter that you left mom and I with nothing when you left to play soccer, that I had to deal with all of mom’s problems on my own at 12, that I had to find a way to provide? No, you were the one who had it though because you lost a few pennies paying for what you left behind.”

Alexia knows nothing, absolutely nothing about your family history. But in this very short span of time she’s learnt a lot.

“Hola, I’m sure you had a rough flight, how about I show you to the spare room and you can shower and have a rest. I’m sure we can figure this all out over some lunch, later?”

You look like you might shoot Alexia.

“No, she’s leaving, there is no way you are staying.”

Alexia is impartial, truly, but the way that this girl, who she hardly knows face falls, she wants to help. She feels like she has to help.

“Bebe, let's just let her settle in a bit, she’s clearly travelled to get here. I’m happy to show you to our spare room, there’s an ensuite and the sheets are fresh.”

You nod your head, albeit hesitantly.

By the time Alexia has shown your sister around the spare room and bathroom you’re no longer in the kitchen. She doesn’t have to go far to find you though.

She doesn’t know what it is about your wardrobe that you find comforting, but whenever you’re stressed or sick or frustrated she never fails to find you lying on the floor.

“Bebe, what was that all about, hmm?’

You’re not crying, in Alexia’s time of knowing you she’s seen you cry twice. The first time was when you broke your arm in training, the second time was when Alexia had first floated the idea of marriage. Right now though you look as close to tears as Alexia thinks a person can get.

“She has to leave. I can’t have her here, she cannot be here right now. I want her out of my house.”

Alexia’s not quite sure what to say.

“She’s your sister, no? Surely you can give her a little bit of your time?”

You look at Alexia like she’s just shot you.

“No, she’s not my sister. As far as I’m concerned she’s nothing. She can fuck right back to whatever hole she’s crawled out of.”

This is a side to you Alexia’s never seen, she’s never seen you break or blunder.

“Bebe, she came all this way, surely she has to be here for a reason.”

You sit up from your position lying down, crossing your legs like a child.

“The only reason she is here is to ask for money. Like always, it happens every few years where she comes asking for money because my mom’s gotten in some kind of trouble or Billie has a debt she has to pay or some other serious matter that the two of them aren’t responsible enough to deal with on their own. She only ever wants one thing. I left England because I was done with it all, I’m done with their shit.”

Alexia’s never hated a family member, she doesn’t understand what it means to feel disconnected from the people that share the same blood as you.

“So you plan to spend the rest of your life separated from your only family? She’s here bebe, she’s here for you, shouldn’t you at least listen to what she has to say?”

The teariness clears from your eyes and is replaced with something that Alexia can only describe as rage.

“I plan to spend the rest of my life away from my addict sister and mother who do nothing but wreak havoc on everything they touch. You don’t understand because I haven’t told you about them, for good reason. I was put into foster care four times before the time I was twelve because my mother chose to buy drugs instead of food for her kids. I moved out of my house at thirteen to live with Keira because my mum forgot to pay academy registration and wouldn’t buy me boots or uniforms and the club was going to kick me out. As soon as I got my first professional contract they were magically back in my life. I have spent the last ten years realising that they want nothing to do with me besides money and this time is no different.”

You’re right, Alexia knows nothing, even the description you’ve just given her is brief. But as the outsider in this whole situation she wants to believe or at least advocate for your sister.

“Bebe, you can’t really blame her if your mother was as bad as you said she was, can you? She’s clearly had a hard life, don’t you think she deserves to at least be heard out?”

The way you shake your head so vehemently makes Alexia feel like there is some kind of history that you’re leaving out. You aren’t an irrational person, not at least in the ways that Alexia has seen you.

“You really don’t understand, you don’t understand what it’s like to have your family use you for everything you have and throw you out like you mean absolutely nothing. I tried to give her an opportunity, paid for her schooling, paid for everything she could have wanted all for her to throw it back in my face and use all of the money for drugs. She’s reckless and a user and I want nothing to do with her.”

Alexia sits down on the floor next to you because the level difference is making her feel uncomfortable. You look so much more vulnerable than she’s ever seen you and she doesn’t know what to do. You've always been so strong and impenetrable and now here you are completely broken in front of her.

“Baby, she’s so young. She can’t be over 20, she’s still a child. You got away because of football, but she’s been stuck her whole life. I know very little about your mother, and I’d love to hear more but a child can’t be put to blame for the environment they were brought up in. You had football, but from what you’ve told me she had nothing, and maybe this is the same as always and maybe you’re right but shouldn’t you give her a chance to be herself?”

The silence makes Alexia feel a bit better, like she might have said something that’s resonating with you slightly.

“I left her when she was 5 with my addict mother. I knew what I was doing, I knew that my mom was an addict and the risk of me leaving my sister with her was but I was so focused on myself. I didn’t go back until she was 10. God knows how many boyfriends and dealers my mom had coming in and out but I was so focused on football that none of it mattered to me. I left her and I hate her but I hate myself for doing that to her and I hate that she’s turned into my mom because I left her.”

It’s then that Alexia witnesses you sob for the first time. She can’t do anything but bring you straight into her arms. You jump into her lap like you’re trying to jump into Alexia’s bones and bury your head directly into her neck. It’s not a normal circumstance but it feels so right.

“Bebe, it’s not your fault. You left because you could and there is nothing wrong with that. None of it is your fault, none of it at all.”

You continue to sob, in a way that makes Alexia’s heart shatter. She can’t truly empathise with this, and she doesn’t know how to give you advice at this moment so she lays into physical contact. She figures out quite quickly that you like your back rubbed so she focuses on drawing different patterns and lines across your back as you continue to cry.

Alexia feels like she’s stuck in the moment, in a time warp of some kind. At least until there’s a knock at the bedroom door.

The door isn’t fully closed, Alexia can see your sister's body stuck in the doorway. She’s completely frozen like she’s witnessing a crime or something else horrific.

“I’m going to leave. I know when I’m not wanted and I think it would be best for everybody here if I’m gone.”

Alexia doesn’t want to speak for you, not in any way. All she sees though as she looks at the girl in front of her is complete fear, and it makes her sad. If any girl on the team who was so young looked the same way Alexia wouldn’t hesitate to bring her in for a hug and do whatever she could to make it better. She can’t overstep here though, even though it’s hurting her from the inside to out by not.

Just as she begins to retreat, you perk up in Alexia’s lap.

“We should talk, you came here for something, yeah?”

You wipe at your eyes like displaying vulnerability at this moment is illegal.

“We don’t have to, I can leave.”

You clear your throat and shake your head, untangling yourself from Alexia.

“Let’s talk, we need to talk.”

You pat down on the carpet next to you and Alexia takes it as her queue to leave.

“I’m going to go and make some food, I think it’s needed.”

Seeing your sister for the first time in years makes you feel icky on the inside. It’s a weird dichotomy of looking at the person that you could have been versus who you are.

“Sit down, this isn’t a standing conversation.”

You’ve slowly become free in the last few years, you’ve felt the pressure and demons from your past slowly exit your body and leave you. But now as you look at your sister it feels like you’re facing them all front on.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, and I didn’t know you would be training. I didn’t want to disrupt you or anything, it was just-it was an emergency and I had nowhere else to go.”

It feels like you’re sitting in front of a mirror, you don’t know whether to reach out or what to do.

“It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m sorry for reacting the way I did, the last thing I expected was for you to be here and I’m still shocked. You had an emergency? Are you okay, first and foremost.”

It’s weird trying to connect with a person that you’ve never connected with before but probably should have.

“It’s mom, she’s in a lot of trouble. She owes a lot of people money and she’s getting sick and there are people breaking in and trying to hurt us constantly. She needs help.”

Your stomach drops and you try to hide it.

“You’re here for money.”

It hurts a lot. You want to feel good about being right but in the end it actually is just painful more than anything.

“Look, mom’s really struggling. I think she’s developing dementia, she’s always forgetting things and she doesn’t know what she’s doing anymore. We just need some help.”

It’s a hard pill to swallow.

“Wow, you’re actually here for money. You are unbelievable. Here I was hoping that maybe you were here to connect or something else, but I guess if it barks like a dog it really is a dog.”

Your sister recoils like she’s offended.

“Look, you don’t understand. You left, you left mom and I. You don’t get to judge us, you fucking left us.”

You feel stronger from Alexia’s conversation, more sure of yourself.

“Yeah I did what most kids did, I recognised when I was in a terrible situation and I found a way out. I’m sorry you couldn’t and you didn’t and I’m sorry that I couldn’t do better for you but I can’t put myself in that situation anymore. I’ve spent the last few years doing everything in my power to make myself whole again. You are not responsible for mom, I could tell you a million different reasons why if you were open to hearing. You might not be ready for that conversation at this moment but when you are I will be here to have it with you. Our mother is not normal, she has problems and it’s not necessarily her fault but it’s also not your responsibility to manage that and I don’t know if it’ll take her dying for you to realise that or if you’ll die believing she’s your responsibility. Either way I’m done, I’m not going to give mom money that I know is going to go towards her destroying her life even more. That’s the little power I have now. Distance was the best thing I ever did and when you feel the same way there is a spare room here for you.”

You know when your sister’s eyebrows crease in the same way that yours do when you’re angry that this conversation is about to get so much harder.

“God that’s all so rich coming from you, miss princess of english football. I have nothing but mom, mom is everything to me and there is no world where I can just leave her, do you even have a conscience?”

You want Alexia back now.

“This has nothing to do with me. It is not your responsibility as a child to care for your parents. Look, stay the night, think about what I’ve said and if you disagree I’ll pay for your flight out in the morning, I’ll drive you straight to the airport.”

Your sister doesn’t seem happy with that response but you think that if you talk about it all for a minute longer than the sickness in your stomach is going to turn into vomit.

“Let’s go eat, you must be hungry after the travel.”

You sit through what might possibly be the most awkward meal of your life. Then you make an effort of collecting all the spare linen and supplies for your sister and making sure she’s settled in before returning to your own room.

It’s a lot earlier than usual for you to be going through your bedtime routine but you don’t feel like you have anything to stay up for.

Alexia and you work in silence as you go through your nighttime routine.

It’s not until the two of you are lying in bed next to each other that she says anything.

“Your talk didn’t go well?”

Her arms are wrapped around your waist the same way she sleeps every night.

“Am I a bad person for leaving them?”

Alexia’s arms tighten.

“No, bebe, not at all.”

Your head is sore from thinking about it.

“Everytime I look at her all I can see is myself and it scares me, that could have been me and it makes me feel bad. Like I should be giving them stuff because I could easily be in the same situation. But also they’re not my responsibility and I don’t want them to be.”

Alexia’s head moves into the crook of your neck and places a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“Bebe at the end of the day it is your life and whatever is going to make you happiest is what is most important. They are not your responsibility.”

You want to agree with her, you’ve worked the last years to convince yourself but now it feels like it’s all crashing down.

You aren’t at all surprised when your sister is nowhere to be seen in the morning. You also aren’t surprised to find every drawer, bag and cabinet ransacked. It sort of comforts you in a weird way of knowing that nothing has really changed. Alexia however is affected.

“Bebe, we need to call the police. What’s stopping her from coming back and robbing us?”

You’re used to the retaliation after you not meeting the expectations that have been set.

“She took your purse, all of your cards and money.”

Alexia’s slightly uncomfortable with how chillingly unbothered you are by the events that occurred whilst you were sleeping.

“I froze all of them before I went to sleep last night. This happens every time after I don’t give them what they want. It’s fine, we’re moving soon anyways. This time I won’t disclose my address. They won’t come back asking for anything else for a while, there was a chance they didn’t even need anything to begin with they just wanted to see how much they could milk from me. This is just what they’re like. No point in being bothered by it.”

Alexia suddenly becomes really grateful that her family has embraced you so much, and she feels the energy that her own mami had told her she felt around you. Like you needed it a lot more than anyone else did. Eli always had a weird way of knowing things that nobody else did.

“I think we should take today off. You should go and see your therapist, or just have a break. Yesterday was a lot.”

Alexia pushes down the feeling in her stomach of discomfort about the whole situation, if you say this is normal then she’s going to treat it like that even if it feels so wrong.

“I’m good Ale, this is just how it is. I’m sorry about it but this is just how it goes for me.”

Alexia suddenly feels a wave of gratitude wash over her that she’s never had before as she looks at your stone set face and the dullness in the back of your eyes. She’s never had to base her family’s love or gratitude off of how she’s contributing to them, she’s never had to provide. She’s never been expected to give everything and receive nothing back.

“Okay bebe, I’m here for you.”

[kachulein]

I'm proud of myself for being able to make it all the way home and wait until I was in my room to start sobbing🤧

[buckyschair]

AFTERGLOW

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A sequel part to Flirting, which follows our dear reader (an archivist from Day Court) and the events post-hook-up with Azriel. Don’t worry, his busybody family could never be too sidetracked with running their court to prevent them getting involved in his love life– and, thanks to the properties of transference, yours! Have you stumbled upon something real here with him? Or will it be over before it’s begun? Only Azriel’s shadowy attachment style and maladaptive coping mechanisms will tell! Spoiler: the sex is good. 

read part one on tumblr here

A/N: From the bottom of my heart, what the fuck was I doing when I started writing this fic in the second person present tense. Copy editing this was a nightmare. I am completely demoralized. The only thing that can cure me? Your comments and kudos, baby! 

Content Warnings: porn with plot, kinda switches between your POVS, female reader, Rhys and Cass and Mor being dickheads (affectionate), smut (featuring aftercare <3), mutual masturbation, thigh riding, unprotected PIV sex, explicit language, alcohol, yearning, idiots to lovers, no use of Y/N

Disclaimers: 1. I’m woman enough to admit that I don’t know how the magic system works in this universe. Who has what powers? None of my business. Yet, somehow, this same author spent an hour researching exactly how people with penises like to masturbate. And that’s showbiz, baby! 2. It’s also not my business where these people live. I haven’t read ACOSF yet so I have no idea where they’re all supposed live so just pretend Az has his own place and they all share a house too idk the river house is new and confusing to me kthxbyeeee

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~14k 

Read on AO3

It’s surprisingly domestic, how the morning unfolds in a post-coital haze, breathy moans lapsing into quiet conversation about pillow preferences and the day's looming demands. You’re seriously so glad you went dancing last night, especially since your fun solo night out was cut short in favor of mind blowing sex with Azriel. The male lies beside you, your body tucked into his arm on his massive bed, the pair of you lingering after another round of bliss. You’re reluctant to emerge from your shared cocoon, but you know you can’t stay forever. 

“I don’t know about you, but this is my ideal morning,” Azriel comments lazily.

You murmur something noncommittal. 

He raises himself up on one arm to look at you, affronted. You see the disbelief in his poised face, his quiet accusation: How could it get better than this? It’s sharp enough to uncover your grin as you answer: 

“A bath?” you propose.

Azriel presses a kiss to your temple before grumbling his way out from under the covers. 

“Anything for my esteemed guest,” he says sarcastically.

“I’m so honored,” you say, eyes rolling behind his back as he disappears into the washroom. 

“I saw that!” he calls from inside.

You give him a rude gesture from your place under his sheets, and you hear his chuckle echoing through the open doorway as he draws you a bath. Even his laughter sounds like a whispered secret. You treasure the sound, storing it away in your memory. 

You’re half hoping he’ll join you in the bath, but he leaves you to wash alone once you finally emerge from his bed. Water sluices across your form as you cleanse yourself of the hard earned sweat and stain. While the stickiness washes away, the warmth of your experience remains; an invisible mark at odds with the pale bruises blooming on your chest and thighs. His soap smells of citrus and cedar, a salty scrub that rejuvenates your flesh and invigorates your senses. It was the scent you’d caught in his pillows as you’d been pressed into them this morning. You wipe the images from your mind, clearing your head with some effort. 

When you emerge from your much needed bath, wrapped in a towel, you find your things laid out neatly for you atop his fresh sheets. You pick up an oversized shirt included in the pile. Your brow arches in silent question towards the male currently fussing with dirty sheets. Thankfully, he’s donned some undershorts, so you could expect to keep it together for at least a full conversation. 

“I couldn’t find your shirt,” Azriel confesses, apologetic. He tells you that he looked all over his room while you were bathing, to no avail. 

“Aren’t you a spy? I can’t believe you couldn't track it down,” you laugh as you slip into his tunic. It smells clean, and you’re a little put out that it doesn’t have his aroma. He throws a pillow at you, and you barely catch it before it smacks you in the face. His pout only makes you laugh harder. 

He apologizes again about your top, but as you slip your skirt back on, you remind him that you weren’t protesting last night when he threw it gods know where. His ears burn as he imagines it falling out the window, landing somewhere in the city below, perhaps much to some stranger’s confusion. 

“Not that it would be out of character for this place, with Rhys and Feyre being the way they are,” he concludes, cracking you up again. 

You come to stand before him, in your odd new outfit, short tight skirt and long baggy shirt. Now that you’re dressed, you aren’t sure of what comes next. So far, he’s directed your morning routine, and you’re suddenly dreading the inevitable moment when you have to leave. His eyes are taking you in, and you have no idea how his heart stutters at the sight of you, freshly bathed in his soap and dressed in his clothing. He has half a mind to take you back to bed, if Rhys hadn’t just been in his head reminding him of their upcoming morning appointment. 

Before you can ask him what the plan is, your stomach growls loudly, demanding. 

You curse your traitorous stomach as you walk through the grand halls alone in search of a meal, disoriented since he’d kissed your temple again right after dispatching you to the kitchen. He’d offered to get the two of you food, but you told him he should bathe first. Truth be told, you just needed a moment to get your bearings. This morning was far more normal than you were expecting, and it unnerved you how easily you’d fallen into a mock domestic routine with the warrior. 

Soon enough, you find a well stocked kitchen, exactly where Azriel had explained it would be. You shouldn’t be surprised that his directions were so clear, given the male’s strategic mind. 

You do find yourself surprised, however, that he’s allowing you to wander unchaperoned and barefoot through his court’s inner dwelling. The thought had warmth blooming in your chest as you set water to boil on the stove before looking around for some proper kind of tea. 

Before you know it, you’ve lost yourself to snooping through the full cabinets, inspecting jars and baskets of dry goods as you assemble your small feast. As an archivist, you can’t help admiring neat collections of any kind. You’re as endlessly fascinated with the contents of cabinets as you are with stacks of manuscripts. 

The distraction is why you don’t notice the approaching footsteps until a sarcastic voice calls you out of your reverie. 

“Az? Is that you?” 

You freeze your snacking at the unfamiliar male voice in the hallway. 

“What the hell, brother. So tell me why you tapped out earlier than anyone last night– without saying goodbye, might I add– and yet you’re the only one late to training this–” the voice cuts off as he finally spots you through the door frame. 

“Oh,” the Illyrian stumbles before quickly recovering, “Hello.” A boyish smile breaks upon his face as he takes in your state, dressed in his brother’s shirt over a skintight skirt. 

“You’re not Azriel,” he observes keenly. 

He offers you a wide grin, which you return sheepishly at first but then with real humor. 

“No, I’m not,” you laugh, realizing this must be Cassian. You introduce yourself briefly before adding, “He’ll probably be late this morning.”

“I bet he will be,” Cassian quips, but before he can question you further, you excuse yourself with your tea while it's still hot. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” he calls after you, your name ringing down the corridor. 

Cassian shakes his head once you leave, speechless for a moment before he contacts Rhys. You won’t believe this! he projects excitedly, thrilled to have some gossip on his brooding brother for once. 

You can’t hide your giddy blush when you return to Azriel’s room to eat. He takes the tea with quiet thanks, laughing at the mischief you’d gotten up to in his absence, and even more so at your impression of Cassian. His chest warms at your brief brush with his family. You enjoy a peaceful meal sitting in his chair by the window while he tidies his already very clean room, noting how fastidious he is in his motions as he dresses and styles his hair for the day. 

Once he’s run out of ways to drag out his morning routine, he turns to you with a serious but soft expression. 

“Can I see you again?” Azriel asks. If all logic didn’t defy it, you’d say he sounds nervous. “Perhaps on a real date?” 

“A date?” you ask coyly. You don’t bother to hide your smug delight at his words, feeling like you’ve just won a prize. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. A lot.” 

His resulting smile is so bright– for a second it transports you back to the grand archival library in Day court, where you’d soak up the blinding noon light that would stream in through the tall arched windows. You could always rely on its warmth for a reprieve from your dusty, tedious tasks. You imagine Az must feel similarly in this moment for his shadowy expression to break with such radiance. 

It calms your sorrow at leaving the brilliant palace, confident that you might very well see it again soon. You enjoy this flight more, as he carefully maneuvers through the city’s sky, the journey less disorienting in the daylight. He leaves you on the steps of your accommodations near the library with a lingering kiss and a promise to see you again the next night. 

Once he leaves, your mind goes into overdrive, cataloguing all that had occurred and trying to figure out what exactly drew you together. If there was any sort of common thread, it was invisible, but you felt its undeniable pull all the same. 

You’d have to do some further research, you decide, on Illyrians, and on shadowsingers. And perhaps on sex positions with winged fae. And maybe you should buy a new going out top… though you certainly wouldn’t be returning this new one anytime soon, you think, smoothing Azriel’s shirt down as you step inside your little place. 

You happily plan your list of tasks and activities, unaware of the shadows that slip inside after you, ready to report back to their master, who is equally anticipating your next meeting, even as he arrives unforgivably late to training, only to face the torment of his nosy family. 

Azriel bears their prying questions and bold threats with characteristic stoicism, cracking only to say that they’d better play nice, offering scalding threats of his own lest they scare you off. Deep down, he thinks with pride that you could probably actually handle them in their full chaos.   

After all, he’d felt something shake loose in his chest this morning as he’d laid watching your sleeping form. He recalls how he’d felt last night, when you were backlit and glowing above him. The magnetism that had sparked, a gravity he stepped into fearlessly when in battle, that now gave him pause. Later, when he had a moment, he would examine it more intently, but even at this glance, he felt it strongly.

He swallows his smile as he falls into the motions of sparring with Rhys, feeling that familiar thrill. He’s found a real contender in you, he should have known it from the moment he saw you squaring up back at the club. Azriel can’t wait to see things through with you. 

Hours later, recalling that excitement feels like mockery, as he ponders what one possibly does for a first– second?– date. He curses himself for having such a premature reaction, rather than applying a more rational process to the situation. He’d met you once. He told himself he hardly knew you.

But even as he had that thought, he brought to mind all he’d absorbed about you. Your life in Day, your dedication to your people, your reverence for things of antiquity. His mind wandered to your shared experience, how he’d seen you come alive and undone under his touch. Your small reactions, your fixation on his wings, your quickness to humor. He couldn’t convince himself that he didn’t know you at all. Still, surely many fae knew you better than he could, after just one night. 

The thought fills him with an ugly emotion; he didn’t like that someone else might know you better than he. Azriel scolds himself for his juvenile envy. He hadn’t earned special intimacy with you. Yet , he amends. 

He is a master of spies, and foremost of a scarce population who could wield shadows as easily as any blade, and the trusted right hand of the most formidable High Lord in history. Even in his own right, he is one of the most powerful Illyrians in existence, he reminds himself as he sets to the task of planning your date. 

Azriel is determined to show you a good time. He thinks back to how organic, how right your brief time together at Rita’s had felt. 

How badly could this go? 

✸✸✸ 

“You’re an idiot. I knew you were an asshole, but honestly Az, I hadn’t pegged you as an idiot,” Cassian scoffs, his raven locks shaking derisively. “I don’t know why I expected better.”  

Azriel just glares at him. He should have known it was a mistake to come to Cassian for advice. 

He looks to Rhys, hoping to find more level headed counsel. The three of them were cooling down from their morning sparring the night after his much anticipated date with you, ransacking the kitchen to refuel. Unfortunately, Rhys’ expression isn’t encouraging, the High Lord barely concealing his amusement. 

Azriel sighs, supplicating the ceiling for better guidance. He knows that their strenuous exercises aren’t solely to blame for the distant throbbing in his skull. 

“Quit it with the hysterics,” Rhys teases. 

Azriel levels him with a stare, his shoulders tense and his shadows in pandemonium. 

Rhys sighs, relenting, “So, you were saying you took her out to dinner?” he prompts diplomatically. 

Azriel nods. He had picked you up about an hour after you’d gotten out of work for the day. You’d been elegantly arrayed, but still casual, since you weren’t sure what he had planned. Your wide smile upon seeing him had left him winded as you’d taken in his generous physique. He’d been drinking you in too, and the sight of those same chunky boots on your feet had had him smirking. 

You’d playfully bared your teeth as you laid your hand on his waiting arm. “See something you like, soldier?” you’d teased. 

“Very much so,” he’d responded honestly. 

His candor had struck you off balance with more punch than any sweet talk or sass could have packed. His eyes held the same intensity that they’d burned with the other night; the same intensity that you’d started to doubt in your memory, thinking you must have imagined it in your blissed out daze. 

“You clean up nice, too,” you’d recovered. 

He’d mirrored your blush then, his red dusted cheeks relaxing you as he’d guided the two of you along the Sidra into the center of town. 

The restaurant had been nice, not too nice, but comfortable and intimate. You’d been thrilled with the menu, the seafood more exotic and the spices more daring than what you told him you were used to back in Day. Perhaps he should have commented more of his own thoughts, but he was so satisfied just to listen to your chatter. 

“Dinner was good,” Azriel shares.

Rhys and Cassian share a look at that. They were probably holding a conversation mentally on the side, analyzing and strategizing. 

“Well, don’t bore us with the details,” Rhys prompts sarcastically. 

Azriel swallows his retort, reminding himself that these were his brothers. As much as they pissed him off, they were his family, and they wanted the best for him. They wanted him to be happy. 

“What else do you want to know?!” he groans.

“Did you fuck her?” Cassian deadpans. 

Azriel just sputters in response. He is quickly losing faith that his brothers will be any help, if that was the best Cass could do. 

“No!” Azriel balks. 

“What do you mean no!” Rhys shouts, as Cassian curses and shakes his head more, this time hiding his face in his hands. 

“I mean, we… we did sleep together that first night,” Azriel amends, with a meaningful look at Cassian, who stops snickering. “But not last night.” 

“Why the hell not?” Cassian demands. 

“Is that all you can think about?” Az hedges. He honestly didn’t know why you hadn’t slept together again. He had certainly wanted to. Fuck, what he wouldn’t do for another chance to taste you, to take you back to his place– his real place this time, not the House of Wind– get you in his bed and run his hands over your thighs, and up, up, to brush his thumb through your soaking folds– 

“Brother! You’re one to talk, you’re the one going stupid at the thought of her right now!” Cass’s accusation has him cursing and forcing his mind back to this maddening conversation.  

Rhys regards him with a knowing look which does little to comfort him. The two males across the counter share another meaningful glance. Azriel runs his hand through his hair, he was going to lose his mind if they kept up their silent conversation. 

I’m right here, assholes, he projects into their minds down the bridges Rhys had established centuries ago. Typically, they reserved their use for business, but clearly the High Lord and his Commander had no qualms using their privileged mental bridge to serve their busybody purposes. 

Rhys has the decency to cringe, but Cassian dismisses his insult with the ease of one perfectly aware of his gold certified status as an ass. 

“What did you do to her, Az?” Cass scorns. 

“Okay. So dinner was good. That’s a good start,” Rhys interjects, suddenly playing the diplomat again as his brothers’ fists begin to curl. “What did the two of you talk about?” he prompts helplessly. 

“Just… things.” 

Cassian swears again at Azriel’s curt response, and even as his temper flares, Azriel sees how weak his answer is. “Okay! Okay. We… Well, she talked about her life back in Day. I asked her a lot about her work, and how their recovery efforts are progressing.”

Rhys nods, encouraging him.

“And I asked how she felt about the security of Day, since a myriad of threats remain unchecked, after everything, and since they don’t discriminate between courts but could affect any of us-” 

Cassian groans, and Rhys winces. 

“What! She cares about her people, I was trying to be attentive!” Az defends.

“Brother. It sounds like you were doing recon,” Rhys gently explains. 

Az opens his mouth, then closes it.

“You grilled her about the status of her court’s border security,” Cass adds bluntly. 

“I did not… grill her,” Azriel manages. “I just… fuck. Fuck!” he lets out. “Damn it! I was asking her about her interests,” he helplessly repeats. 

Cassian and Rhys just look at him with pity. 

He scowls, accepting that the dinner conversation was perhaps not as free flowing as things had been at Rita’s. Still, he’d have sworn that you’d enjoyed the evening. He looks up at his brothers, desperation written on his face. “What do I do?”

“Did you make plans to see each other again?” Cass asks hesitantly, a rare sign that he’s taking this seriously after all. 

“No,” Azriel admits, “but she did say she’d like to see me again,” he adds, much to his brothers’ relief. 

Rhys claps his hands together, capturing their attention, his shoulders squaring as he assumes his role as their sovereign strategist. “Alright. We can work with that,” he claims. “How do we go from here? What are the facts?”

“First, we have established that Az is an idiot,” Cassian chirps helpfully. 

“Right,” Rhys confirms, and Azriel just rubs his temples. This was just like their young days at the training camp, only without the license to punch Cassian for mouthing off. “What else?” 

“She wants to see him again.” Azriel opens his eyes and flashes a grateful smile at his brother, who ruins the moment by adding suggestively- ”Or at least she wants to see part of him again.” 

Rhys sighs, mentally reaching out to Feyre to tell her that she’ll have to handle their mid-morning appointments solo. Everything okay? she responds. He replies wordlessly with the scene in front of him, his brothers bickering over their breakfast, Cass creating an impressively explicit insult with a chocolate pastry and Az returning in kind. 

By the afternoon though, the three males have come up with a respectable plan to salvage Azriel’s tenuous connection with you. 

✸✸✸ 

You’re surprised when you see a shadow slip along the stacks toward your spot barricaded in a corner of the Night Court’s library, poring over some dense tomes. They’re full of oblique explanations that reference texts that are equally inaccessible, even to you in your expertise. You’d just about decided it was time for a break when you see the shadow approach. 

It curls around your hand in an affectionate welcome. As warmth flares in your chest, a note materializes, a welcomely legible message compared to the books you’d been buried in. You look around, despite the silent and largely empty library. 

No one is present to witness your blush as you lightly stroke the first line. The note is addressed to your name in a neat script. 

I’m writing with regard to my concern that you’ve had too grand an impression of my court , it reads. You can hear Azriel’s wry tone in the clear letters. 

First the high class of Rita’s, then the dizzying heights of Velaris’ fine dining last night. You smile at his dry, self deprecating words. Your heart thunders as you continue reading. 

I’d like to amend this most grievous picture with a far less elegant evening. Would you be available to join me for dinner tonight? Same time, and meet me at my place instead. 

Please respond at your leisure. I would very much like to see you again–

–He’s included an address and signed merely with an initial, a sloping A , that you trace as you mull over his words. 

His place? That last line too, I would very much like to see you again , seems less neat than the rest of his writing, almost hastily scrawled. As if it had been an afterthought. Or as if he’d been nervous to pen it? 

You shake your head at his shadow twirling around your wrist, the messenger seemingly in no rush. You’d been confused after your date with the shadowsinger, and now even more so. He wanted to see you again. 

The date last night hadn’t been bad. You’d certainly had worse experiences. 

He had shown up right on time to pick you up from your doorstep, sweetly admiring you as you’d shakily locked up your place. When you’d caught his hungry gaze, that still novel thrill had shot through you, and you couldn’t help your smile. You’d been excited, and that feeling remained sparkling in your chest as you’d wound your way through the city towards the spot he’d picked out. 

The meal you’d shared had been amazing, you were impressed with the whole affair. Azriel had looked indecently handsome in a soft black tunic and sleek charcoal pants, his siphons simmering ultramarine. You’d noticed he wore heavier leather boots… 

“Nice boots,” you’d complemented with a small smirk. 

“Thank you,” he had spoken sincerely, without marking your innuendo. 

You’d meant it as a small temperature check, delicately referencing your previous frenzied hook up where you’d neglected to take off your shoes for the first couple rounds. 

Either Azriel had missed your meaning, or he was establishing a boundary. You didn’t imagine the spymaster missed much, so you took it as an indication that he didn’t want to explicitly discuss what had happened between you. 

Even that was confusing, since his eyes had still gravitated towards your lips, followed the movements of your throat, and beheld you with a ferocity you couldn’t tear yourself away from. 

You held your tongue, though, about the research you’d done on how to get freaky with a winged individual. Honestly, that was probably for the best, you reflect, given how your sources were anecdotal at best. But damn! You’d done your due diligence, and you were hoping it would come in handy eventually. 

Azriel had been kind to the staff, who did their best to conceal how unnerved they were by his presence. He’d been perfectly well mannered, you’d enjoyed picking his mind about court security and his entertaining stories about his family. Overall, it had felt like your conversation at Rita’s, free flowing and comfortable. You trace the evening in your mind now, finding it more complex than the books you’d been dissecting all morning. 

You were used to speaking your mind, so you had planned to tell him directly that you’d like him to fuck you again, please and thank you . 

And when he hadn’t responded to your lingering touches, or your meaningful looks, you figured it was the same pattern as last time; where his respectful attitude demanded he unleash his passion only slowly and incrementally as the night progressed. After he’d walked you home and you’d told him what a great time you’d had at dinner, you’d even gone so far as to invite him up to your place. 

But he had declined. 

The male who you thought had been undressing you with his eyes the whole way back had dodged your invitation, citing an early morning. You’d been so blindsided that you’d just accepted it. 

Azriel had kissed you then, confusing you more as his hot mouth worked yours in a riveting connection. Then he had simply pulled away, his hazel eyes molten in the dark.  

“I’d like to see you again.” 

You cringe, recalling your words to him as he’d bade you good night. But he had seemed to practically preen at that, his shadows making lazy, arrogant circles around the horns at the apex of his wings. 

So, all things considered, perhaps this note before you shouldn’t be a total surprise. 

You’ll just have to talk directly with him, you reason. And the best way to do that will be to see him in person tonight. You briefly pen your enthusiastic agreement to send off with the shadow before returning to your work, heart a little lighter. 

Azriel smiles as his shadow appears, depositing his note with your neat reply. 

I look forward to seeing you tonight. Should I wear my boots? He laughs, spine tingling at his memory of you and those godsdamned shoes. He makes a note to remember to take them off of you tonight. If he’s so lucky… 

✸✸✸ 

Azriel considers himself luckier than he deserves when you actually show up at his place that evening. You look resplendent, he thinks, starlight dusting your hair. Much to his embarrassment, his shadows swarm you the instant he opens his front door to your confident knock. He silently curses them and wills them to behave. 

“They say hello, as well,” he says after greeting you. 

“Hello to you too, then, you handsome little devils,” you flirt shamelessly with his shadows.

“Don’t encourage them,” Az chides affectionately, watching them as they double back to twirl in your hair and brush along your cheek. “They’re insufferable enough as is.” 

You just laugh at their antics, flattered by their attention. 

Quite frankly, you’re charmed. You couldn’t find any information on shadowsingers in your brief search on the topic. You aren’t sure how they work or how they speak to him, but you do know that you like them. The more you interact with them, you can sense their personality. 

“You look beautiful,” he offers. 

He takes your jacket, manners impeccable as he crisply hangs it on the back of his door.

“Thank you,” you blush, slyly admiring his wings as he’s turned away. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” 

You’re fooling no one. Azriel looks good. Really good. He’s handsome enough to win a best dressed contest naked, but this outfit works for him too. His sleek vest is a deep green, the first hint of color you’ve seen on him. It complements his eyes well, bringing out their gold. You’re enjoying his exposed forearms too, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

You had caught the faint scent of citrus and cedar as you’d brushed past him to step inside. Your body is activated by the scent, recalling how it had lingered on his pillows. Overwhelmed by the pleasant picture, you swallow the memory. 

Before he can catch you checking him out, you catch a mouthwatering aroma. 

“Did you cook?”

His bashful look has your heart melting as he leads you to his kitchen. Indeed, the male had cooked a glorious meal. The dishes themselves aren’t particularly rich fare, but the volume is definitely more than two can pack away. He's gone all out.

As you marvel at his production, it strikes you how surreal this is, how extraordinary. You’re here. In his kitchen. The famed shadowsinger has made you roast fowl from scratch. 

To distract yourself from the absurdity of the picture, you focus on the details. There's herbs tied up in bundles hanging from his shelves. You get a glance inside one cabinet as he grabs a bottle of wine, and, unsurprisingly, their contents are very neat.

“I’m impressed.”

“That’s the general idea,” he winks as he pours you a nice glass.  

This was one step of his preparation for the evening. One key element of a winning battle was the location, situating your forces in the most optimal position. Now, his simple task is to figure out how to build a beautiful, long lasting relationship with a brilliant female out of a fancy goose carcass and herb potatoes. He grits his teeth. The night isn’t nearly over yet. 

You accept the drink with thanks.

“So, this is your place?” 

Azriel just nods. 

“So, did you rent that palace temporarily, or?” you try again. 

“Oh, that was the House of Wind.”

You raise your eyebrows at the lack of explanation. “It sure was windy.”

He catches your question then, “Oh- sorry, yes. It’s essentially our, that is, the court members’, public house-” he launches into the explanation you’d been looking for. 

You’d imagined he would be more comfortable in his own home, but he seems uneasy. The male remains as inscrutable as ever. You hadn’t realized how much you usually rely on nonverbal cues to read people. He is so reserved– by training– and also obscured– literally, by shadows. 

As you chat amiably about the city and its organization and his confusing housing situation, he leads you to his sitting room. You were surprised at your nerves even as you converse easily, typically you weren’t so easily ruffled. Then again, it’s been a while since you’d been so swept up by someone. 

“It’s nice,” you say, looking around the room. 

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s cozier than the palace was, the sweeping views exchanged for a comfortable and surprisingly cheerful atmosphere. The furniture is cushy, but practical, sturdy. 

“I know it’s not much like the palace,” he reads your mind. 

“No, I like that it's cozier. I just don’t know how you fit in the door,” you joke, gesturing vaguely at his scale, between his muscled form and looming wings. He laughs at that, and you banter back and forth about what a pity it is that there’s such a lack of Illyrian sized accommodations. Your shared laughter fades into a silence only broken by the crack of logs burning slowly in his hearth, crumbling voicelessly into embers. 

You let the moment stretch, taking the moment to appreciate the relaxed evening ahead of you, unwinding from your long day at work. 

Azriel, meanwhile, is counting the remaining threads of his sanity on one hand. Give him a fistfight. Give him an enemy regime to infiltrate. But gods save him from making conversation with a female he likes. He thought the relaxed setting would be more casual, but his chest is still tight as he tries to behave normally. Maybe this was a bad idea…

The pleasant silence continues to grate on Azriel, until he crumbles. “We can eat whenever,” he says, breaking the spell. He curses himself for his cowardice, sidestepping whatever was growing in the lingering quiet between you. 

“This is nice, though,” you say into your wine, undeterred. It really is good stuff. You aren’t a sommelier but you know a drinkable vintage when it hits your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he relaxes somewhat into the couch next to you again. 

Hazel eyes meet yours, the fire from the hearth flickering in their reflection. You really are enjoying the peaceful atmosphere with him. His hair is styled a little differently than you remember, the waves flopping in a charming swoop across his forehead rather than brushed back. Your gaze dips to his lips, damp with wine. His pupils expand almost imperceptibly as they track the movement, like prey scenting a threat. 

A loud knock interrupts your mooning. 

Azriel frowns, one of his shadows streaking off to investigate the front door. His scowl deepens before his scout even returns, as the knocking continues, adamant. 

“One moment,” Azriel says reluctantly, with an apologetic look as he stands. You nod, your attention on his tense form, his wings obscuring the door as he whips it open. 

“What are you doing here?” you hear Azriel hiss. 

“Rhys has no good wine left,” Cassian whines as he brushes past Azriel at the door. “Oh, hello again!” he says to you with a winning smile as he emerges from the entryway, somehow edging around the imposing shadowsinger. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, but not weakly, looking to Azriel for your cues. His face is unreadable, a dark storm clouding his features once more. 

“Wait up, you brute!” a female voice speaks, and Azriel’s face darkens further as a stunning female pushes her way in. You recognize her from the bar, she was one of the group Az had pointed out as his family. Mor , her name surfaces in your mind. She was the one who brought them all to Rita’s frequently. 

You could guess why she might prefer that particular spot, as her eyes rake over you. She flicks her hair flirtatiously. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she says boldly, extending a hand as you rise from Azriel’s couch, making your way to join them at the front of the room. You tell her your name, and she flashes you a smile, all teeth as she bites her lip. 

“Mor,” she offers. 

“Yes– it’s nice to meet you officially. Azriel has told me a bit about all of you,” you admit. 

“Really?” she says with genuine interest, looking at the shadowsinger curiously. Her mind seems to be working at top speed as she takes in the two of you, him sulking by the open door and you standing comfortably by the entryway to his sitting area, your glass of wine by his couch half empty. 

“Yes, well,” Azriel begins, trying to reel in his invading family, “we were just about to eat, so–”

“Yes, why don’t you join us!” you suggest. You miss Cassian’s shit eating grin and Azriel’s shocked expression as you turn to Mor. 

“We would hate to intrude,” Cassian lies. He’s schooled his face into one of total propriety, a convincing facade only to you. 

“No, it’ll be fun!” you encourage, finally looking to Azriel. 

You feel bad to take charge, but he is giving you no clues. Welcoming his family seems like a safe play. Even if they were crashing your date, you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious to get to know them after the bits and pieces Az has shared. 

Plus, you’d seen the way his eyes had flashed with alarm when you’d glanced at his lips. Maybe he’d be glad of the diversion... 

“If you insist,” Cassian drawls at the same time as Mor asks “What’s that smell?”

You grab her arm cheerfully to lead her into the kitchen, eagerly sharing about the enticing meal Az had prepared. 

Azriel grabs Cassian, holding him hostage in the entryway as the two females disappear into his home. “This was not the plan!” he spits in a furious whisper.

“It wasn’t your plan,” Cassian corrects in his most infuriating tone: superiority. 

Azriel just growls at him as they move inside, shooting him a look that says Don’t fuck this up for me . 

Cassian’s silent reply comes with mock innocence, Who, me?  

Azriel’s lethal retort is snuffed out as he registers your laugh from around the corner. “Be nice!” is all Az manages before he steps into the kitchen to investigate what potentially devastating story Mor is telling to make you laugh like that. Why did Cassian think that he needed babysitting? 

His anger bluffs as he takes in your red face, your grinning laughter directed at him. He can’t bring himself to feel upset when you’re giggling like a fool in his kitchen.  

“Did you really steal this wine from Amren on a dare?” you wheeze gleefully, hefting the open bottle with newfound interest. 

He mirrors your grin, “What kind of spy would I be if I admitted to it?”

You and Mor squeal at his response, she starts yelling at him that Of course he did it, he could never back down from a dare , and Cassian is laughing now too, butting in to tell you his side of the story, to explain his most elegantly devised dare, as Mor slaps his chest and reminds him about the many shots that had contributed to its flawed design. Azriel takes in the scene, so chaotic and so not what he had planned. You catch his eye from across the small room, your eyes shining with mirth. 

You seem perfectly at home, pouring two extra glasses of wine for your unexpected guests. He shakes his head affectionately, surrendering to the new program for the evening. 

As he sets the table for you and his family, he tries to remember why he was so angry just moments ago. That fire has faded to warmth, calm radiating from his chest at the familiar scene before him. 

Cassian seats himself first, and then Mor insists on sitting next to you, so Azriel ends up facing you across the table. You give him a small smile, a brief look meant just for him, as his brother piles food onto his plate with gusto. You see Azriel swallow his annoyance, his face betraying that he’d cooked those fucking rosemary potatoes for you, not Cass. They’re passed to you next, and you see him relax as you dish yourself a generous portion. As the dishes rotate, the smell of the simple feast nears heavenly. 

The chatter pitches higher too, Cassian asking you about Day and Mor describing the miracle that must have resulted in Azriel’s culinary art. Question after question is posed to you, apparently they find you as fascinating as you find them. 

This is nothing like you’d pictured, you think, as insults and compliments are exchanged around you. And you had pictured it, what meeting Azriel’s family would be like. What else were you supposed to do with yourself last night, having been declined sex after a nice date? 

It had been a clunky vision, more so based on your experiences with the formal dinners you’d attended for work than with meeting a partner’s friends and family. 

You’d struggled to picture how you could possibly connect with his inner circle, elite as they were. The daydream had been promptly abandoned after you’d failed to conjure anything remotely pleasant. Azriel was always charming as ever in the imagined scenarios, but you’d not factored in the wholly unpretentious warmth he has with his closest friends. 

You see that tenderness now as he rolls his eyes at the two imposing faeries, the pair of them representing a significant part of his family. A memory flashes in your mind at the sight, a memory of tenderness when he’d been admiring you in bed that morning a handful of days ago. But they'd all known each other for centuries. You’d known him for a handful of days. Was it foolish of you to dream that you’d earn a place in his world? You thought of the small case of belongings you’d brought with you from Day. Suddenly, it felt paltry, lacking, especially as you pictured your friends and work back at home. 

But who cares if your presence here is inconsequential in the long run? It matters to you that you are here now, and you’re pretty sure it matters to Azriel. You reaffix your smile, deciding to enjoy the moment you’re in. 

“Azriel is a total ladykiller,” Mor cackles, and you regret having zoned out during this particular story. Azriel snorts at her words, but you blush at their partial truth. 

“Yeah,” Cassian catches your attention by speaking your name in a questioning tone, “Can you fight?” 

“Only verbally,” you confess, a little nervous to admit it to your current company of seasoned warriors. 

Cassian grunts in acknowledgement, nonjudgmental. He narrows his eyes, humor dissipating as he assesses you. “We can work with that,” he decides, suddenly sounding serious. “I can teach you the basics, but Azriel might want to show you the more advanced maneuvers himself,” he says with a wink. 

Azriel blushes and glares at the innuendo, while Mor laughs around her bite. Yet the depth behind Cassian’s proposal strikes you. His offer assumes that you’ll be sticking around. 

“I’d like that,” you accept, smiling at the general next to you. 

Azriel feels his chest go weightless at your words, like he’s soaring high above the atmosphere. He flashes his brother a grateful look before clearing his throat. 

“Don’t go easy on her, Cass. She’s lying,” Azriel warns, with a mischievous glance at you. Your shadowsinger has certainly lost whatever hesitation he had earlier, his bold words matching his newfound audacity. “She was totally squaring up with some dipshit at Rita’s before I intervened.” 

You gape at him as Cass and Mor squawk. The two of them launch into an intense interrogation, demanding the full story. 

As you recall the evening in question, you feel yourself precariously close to an embarrassing blush. The mortal blow comes when Azriel laughs, the sound noon-bright and ringing, buzzing loud as gossip.   

Eventually, after several more glasses of wine, with empty plates to match, Azriel disentangles you from Mor and Cassian’s endless chatter. You’re reluctant to see your new friends leave, and the amused male only successfully ushers them out after you make Cassian swear to keep his promise to teach you to fight. Content, you wish everyone a good night and thank them for their warm welcome to the Night Court. 

Once the door closes, Azriel heaves out a good natured sigh. 

“What were you and Mor whispering about just now?” you pry, still giddy in the wake of your departed company. You liked them a lot, and you like who Azriel became around them, as laid-back as a seasoned spy could be. 

“She was telling me how my head might end up on a pike if I don’t watch myself,” he responds drily, and you notice him rub his temple harshly with a knuckle. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out.

His brows furrow, “Why?” 

“I totally invited them to stay when it wasn’t my place,” you explain, shaking your head in regret. “Did I totally ruin our date?” 

“Well I ruined the last one,” he says with humor, “so it was your turn.”

“What? No you didn't!” you defend him. 

You’re shocked by his candid words. The date had been a bit awkward at the end, but it wasn’t a disaster in your eyes. 

“Yes, I did.”

“What do you mean?” you search as you walk back into the kitchen to start cleaning up, “Like how we didn’t have sex?” Azriel chokes, his humor vanishing as you continue, “I was going to ask about that, but I figured it was a topic we should address privately.”

“Thank you for that small mercy,” he recovers. His shadows betray his agitation, floating jerkily around his shoulders in a confused dance. 

You realize with a start that he’s nervous. The war hardened fighter is unnerved by a conversation about sex. 

You’d really meant to ask earlier, but it wasn’t going to happen in front of Cass and Mor. The conversation at dinner had been enthusiastic and expansive, lighthearted at every turn. You’d assumed its levity was due to the fact that you were new, unfamiliar company. Now, seeing Azriel fight demons to self-reflect, you wonder if he ever really opens up to anyone, even his closest family members. 

In all fairness, you aren’t exactly thrilled to talk about it either. You're nervous too, painfully aware that there’s an obvious explanation as to why he didn’t sleep with you again. 

 The male sighs again at your inquisitive look, his hands scrubbing over his face like he can wipe away his confusion. His brows furrow. “I honestly don’t know why we didn’t,” he says quietly. 

You’re surprised at his answer. You’d expected more substance. 

“I wanted to, you know,” you admit, pride be damned. If you were going out, you wanted to leave all your cards on the table. 

“Really?” He mirrors your surprise. “I did too. I wanted you so badly, it scared me.” 

You look at the battle scarred warrior, unimpressed. Even slouching, which he never did, he would still stand at least a good head above you. 

You ask with disbelief, “ I scared you ?”

“Well… not exactly like that,” he explains, and he reaches out carefully to grasp your hand in his large palm. “I guess I was being… cautious. I wanted to be respectful.” 

His words shatter something fledgling in your heart. That was practically code for I’m trying to be nice, I don’t want to lead you on .  

“Oh.” You drop his hand, bracing yourself for the dreaded sting of rejection. 

As he sees your expression harden, Azriel curses himself inwardly. This isn’t going the way he’d strategized it at all. His forehead creases as he desperately tries to remember the points he and his brothers had mapped out to help him with this exact conversation. Maybe Cassian was right to spare him from being alone with you, if he’s fucked it up this quickly. 

Azriel thinks back to the previous night, when he had declined your invitation to come upstairs. He’d seen the chill on your face, a chill from his own closed door. You hadn’t pushed his boundaries. Rhys had pointed out to him that from his behavior, you probably couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Hell, even from inside his own head, Azriel was struggling to work out his thoughts. 

The gravity of his attraction to you is concerning. It was a dangerous thing, the weight of it as great and terrible as a sword in his hands. 

He wants your affection, he realizes. The trouble is: asking the spymaster to share his innermost secrets is like asking a busybody to keep just one. It went against his nature. 

He pictures you as you were when he first saw you, gearing up for a fight at Rita’s. You’d been fearsome as ever, confronting the challenge rather than running. He wills himself the same bravery. He is a fearsome warrior, he absolutely refuses to allow mere emotion to make him a coward. 

“I need you to understand something,” Azriel breathes, his wings tight as his expression. “I can’t do this if it’s just sex.” 

You set down a dish heavily, your once sun-soaked heart breaking. 

“If you, uh, don’t want this, that’s, that’s fine. I respect that,” you affirm, even as you’re reeling.

But then Azriel is shaking his head and wiping under your eyes, which you belatedly realize with embarrassment must mean that you’re crying. He’s trying to tell you how he feels and you’re crying on him. Gods! Get it together! you berate yourself. 

“No, no, no. Angel, look at me,” Azriel panics. You meet his gaze, and you see a tenderness there, as ripe and sweet as the summer plums you used to pick with your mother as a child. “Shit, I’m doing this all wrong,” he curses. 

“I can’t do casual,” he confesses, head still shaking, eyes gone glossy. 

“That’s okay, I get it if you don’t want this–”

“No! No, you don’t get it,” he interrupts, swearing and speaking your name with exasperated affection. “I do want this. I want you .”

You gasp, teeth kissing the air as he continues. 

“I want you. You said it wasn’t your place to invite them to stay tonight, but I want it to be your place. Fuck, I want to see you every day. I want to come home to you, and to know you’re waiting for me when I’m gone. And some days I want to wait for you too, and get jealous of the books you spend your time with.”  

You try to say something clever like What the fuck? or Huh? but you’re too shocked to do much more than stare open mouthed as he lays out his emotions for you. At least you’ve stopped crying. 

Azriel is looking at you as if you were personally responsible for every ounce of goodness he’s ever witnessed. It scares the shit out of you. How could he say all that? He doesn’t even know you. It doesn’t help that three seconds ago you thought he was going to kick you out. 

“Why me?” you finally manage. 

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he says, unblinking. 

In a total inversion of all Azriel had ever known, he felt an overwhelming impulse to bare his soul to you. You’d never been scared of him, even when he’d put on his most frightening persona at the bar. You’d taken his identity in stride, you’d even used it to flirt. 

He wants you to know him, he realizes. All of him. Even the darkest parts, the cruel, mean pieces with which he wouldn’t want to burden anyone but himself. For some unknown reason, at this moment, he can think of no greater honor than your involvement in his world, his reality, ugly as it may be. He hopes you’ll want it. 

He takes your hand and places it on his heart, gripping it over his chest. When he speaks, his voice is ragged, tender and raw. 

“You must know. You burn me,” Azriel confesses. “Surely you feel how you burn me.” 

What you feel is your heart in your throat, pulsing erratically at his words. The naked truth on his face frightens you. 

Your free hand reaches out to caress his high cheekbone as your mind whirls. His eyes close at the contact, his lips parted in silent prayer. 

“I feel it too.”

When your thumb brushes the edge of his bottom lip, those hazel eyes flutter open again. The energy between you is thicker than it was moments ago, something fresh set smoldering in his gaze. His chest heaves under your other palm. 

“You do?” he gasps, and you nod, words failing under the enormity of your emotion. 

He’s equally choked up, so he opts for actions instead, pulling you against him to capture your lips in a messy kiss. It’s all wine-breath and teeth, but it’s perfect. 

Your uncontrollable smile forces you to break away, and when you do he’s smiling at you just the same. His joy is infectious. For a long moment, you just smile at each other like fools, breathing each other's air in the sacred ambiance of the dim kitchen light. You linger in the quiet awe in the wake of your confessions.

When your mouths reconnect, the kiss turns feverish. It’s insatiable, your desire for him, as you suck his tongue, earning a satisfying whine from the hulking Illyrian. 

“Shit,” he groans as he lifts you.

You gasp as your weight shifts off your feet, and he sets you against his counter before reconnecting your panting mouths.  The insufferable Illyrian pushes one of his thighs between your legs, capturing your muffled groans with his warm mouth, tonguing away your soft cries. 

“Make me yours,” you whisper.

“Shit, baby, I think I’d do anything you ask if you say it just like that,” he whines against your mouth. 

He pulls away, standing between your legs like it's a place of special honor. 

“Bedroom?” he begs, shining with unchecked joy.

“Yes,” you eagerly agree. “We can break in the kitchen counter later.” His laughter rattles down the hallway as he carries you to his room. 

Once you’re through the doorway, his movements pause. A tender note hums to life amidst the excitement of your newfound connection. There’s a tender look on his face as he regards you with equal parts lust and affection. It’s a serious step for him, to have you here in his most personal place. 

You’re distracted by the new space as soon as he sets you down, fascinated with his room– his personal room, not the one kept for him at the House of Wind. It’s sparsely decorated, too, but there’s knick knacks and weapons lying around in characteristically organized fashion. 

“A lot of weapons…” you comment, humor bubbling up from your delight at the novelty of his affection and attention. 

There’s several swords on the wall, artfully placed in the columns between windows, and knives and spears are displayed in tasteful and accessible ways. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was compensating for something. Is that a halberd? you think. The last time you saw a halberd was in an illustration on an ancient manuscript. 

“What do you do for work again?” you joke.

He laughs, “I’m afraid the tools come with the trade.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but, I mean, seriously. That one?” You gesture above the balcony doors, where a grossly oversized sword rests. “Come on, Az!”

“Come on, I bet your place is full of books!” he counters.

You just scoff, so he knows he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, fondly. “You can inspect my quarters later, you freak.”

“Your freak,” you correct. 

“My freak,” he agrees. 

With that, Azriel grabs your waist, and pulls you in for a sumptuous kiss. The wine on his tongue goes right to your head, while the warmth of him goes due south. You pull away to tug meaningfully at his shirt, but he just follows to place expert kisses along your jaw. His work is so severe that you gasp–

“Shit, Az, I'm not paying you!” 

“Are you calling me a whore?” he answers playfully, unfastening his shirt at the back under his wings. He sucks on his teeth, pulling away to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. The payment didn’t go through last time–”

“Oh, no–”

“–yeah, so if you could, perhaps, pay in hard gold this time, that would be–”

“Ah, okay. Could you do a payment plan?–” the two of you banter while he shrugs off his vest. You relish the view of his exposed chest. 

He plays into your shameless ogling, flexing to show off his whorling tattoos and the dark hairs trailing down beyond his leathers. The faelights surrounding the room cast a glow through the thin membrane of his wings, softly limning his form with warmth. You laugh at his peep show, but the sound is pitchy with your arousal. The toned male blushes. His easy humor may have returned, but vestiges of his shy personality still remain. 

You whistle softly, continuing to torture him with your attention. His blush deepens impossibly. He’s just so easy to tease, and when he reacts like that, it's easier still to justify. 

“Your turn,” he says, voice gravelly. 

“What first?” you muse suggestively, smoothing down your dress. 

“Boots,” he chooses. 

Before you can toe them off, Azriel sinks suddenly to the floor. The sight of him on his knees before you sends a thrill up your spine. 

Azriel, this most fearsome Illyrian, is totally surrendered to you. Heat throbs through your abdomen at the sight. He’s looking up at you through his lashes, his throat bobbing in anticipation as he pants below you. You haven’t even touched him yet, but his passion is evident, his eyes wild.

He gently grabs the back of your shins. “May I?”

“Please.”

He effortlessly unlaces your boots with capable hands. 

“I’m surprised you want them off,” you tease as he grasps your hands to steady you as you step out of them. 

“You look so sexy in them,” he agrees. “I am making a real sacrifice here, for your comfort.” His hand skims up the back of your calf, brushing your dress over your knee with his thumb. He places a kiss directly on your knee, heat flaring in your stomach at the soft brush. 

“You look sexy in this too,” he compliments. His eyes never leave yours as he hauls himself up, you dress falling back to cover your legs. 

“Would you be mad if I asked you to take it off?” His tone is toying, but his eyes are pools of hot desire. 

“Don’t be an ass,” you rasp, mad only with anticipation. 

Azriel slips two fingers under the straps on your shoulders, kissing your chest as he tugs them down your arms. You’re honestly impressed that he finds the hidden zipper at your side. Nothing escapes him, does it? 

His hands come to brush along your freshly exposed skin, whispering praises into your hot flesh. After he peels off your dress with zeal, you raise a finger in warning. 

“Be careful with that. I actually want it back!”

“I promise I won’t lose it this time.” 

“Your promise is nothing to me! You never found my shirt, huh?” 

“No,” he confesses with an exaggerated air of regret, blowing out his lips in sympathy. Your eyes narrow at his suspicious behavior. 

“How do I know that you didn’t just steal it like a creep so you could jack off with it or something?” you say with mock sensuality. 

“I wish,” he hums, thumbing the discarded material of your shimmering dress as if you’ve given him a brilliant idea. “Honestly, that would have helped me out the other night.”

Azriel freezes, his eyes widening as he realizes his slip. Your grin mirrors his horror at his admission. A dull ache blooms anew below your stomach. 

“Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” you breathe. 

“Maybe.” 

His voice is thick even as he squirms under your riveted look. His wings flutter briefly before relaxing as he spots the excitement on your flushed face.  

“Fuck,” you groan. “That's hot. Please don’t be embarrassed, that’s so flattering!”

Your words do nothing to prevent the hot flush spreading across his cheeks and chest. You push him to the bed, giggling when he falls onto the cushions dramatically before unceremoniously shucking off his pants. 

He makes grabby hands at you, and you melt at the sight of him, disheveled and unarmed, and as excited as you were. He pulls you towards him, bringing you to rest on his bare thigh. 

You kiss his sternum, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“I want you to show me.” 

Azriel pauses, and his breathing goes a little uneven. 

“Show you?” he repeats, his eyes blown out as you rub encouraging circles into his shoulder from your perch on his thigh.  

“I want you to touch yourself,” you purr. “Show me how you like it.”

His brows twitch, his eyes going predatory under heavy lids.

“It might be your last opportunity for a while, since I’m gonna be pretty fucking jealous of that hand if it steals too much time in my territory,” you admit with a meaningful glance towards his crotch. 

He laughs at that, but it doesn’t dampen the flame in his vision. 

“Okay,” he murmurs devilishly. “Get comfortable.”

It will be a cold day in hell when Azriel denies such a request from you.

He makes a show of shifting to rest comfortably against the cushions, his wings extending lazily to drape across the pillows and trailing to the floor. The wide expanse of his chest shines in the low faelight, his swirling tattoos prominent even in the dimness. The hard ridges of his muscles contract rhythmically in time with his powerful lungs. His nipples are hard, he shivers in the slight chill as he rubs a hand through his dark hair, tugging roughly. 

You come to rest just above his knee on his left thigh, essentially kneeling in the center of his bed. The slight contact has you boiling as you watch him trail a hand along his torso, one hand still teasing his hair. Your focus trails his toned abdomen down to his prominent arousal. 

“Well you won’t have to use your imagination, like I did, for the first part,” he begins lowly, “because, if you must know, I was already this hard before I could get out of my leathers.”

  If you weren’t dripping already, you are now. You’d been joking earlier, but this show really was worth some hard gold. Anyone would kill to see the fearsome Illyrian splayed out like this. 

Azriel hisses as he strokes slowly down his abs, his chest rising and falling in a tortured cadence. After some time stimulating himself in this way, his moans become breathy. 

With one hand, he deftly pulls himself out of his undershorts, and you can’t help yourself from reaching out to slide them a little further down his hips. Your mouth falls open at the sight of his sharp hip bones and the delicious stretch leading to the base of his heavy cock. 

Its red tip bobs temptingly at your knee, but you restrain yourself. You shift slightly, looking for some relief, and your knee accidentally brushes the edge of his wing. His hips buck involuntarily, a whine falling from his lips at the contact. 

“Shit, baby,” he cries. He hasn’t even touched himself, but his dick is straining against his stomach. 

“Sorry,” you say weakly.

“Liar,” he growls, seeing the hunger in your gaze. 

You shrug, unapologetic. Let him see what he did to you. It was his funeral at the moment.

He was focused on you, indeed, eyes roving around your naked form as he flexed his thigh beneath you. You start to circle your hips, your breasts bouncing with the sudden movement, until you hear him hum in pleasure. He was getting off from the vibration. 

“Don’t cheat,” you scold. 

He just whines, reluctantly stopping his thigh flexes. 

“Good boy. I’d hate to have to punish you, baby,” you warn.

You meant it playfully, but his breathing falters and his wings twitch. Interesting. You file the information away for another time.

His fingers catch your attention as they come to play with the soft underbelly of his cock, just under the head. He used two fingers to rub small circles on the tender flesh. The spot was right where it had landed on your tongue when you’d taken him in your mouth briefly the other night. Again, interesting. 

“This- this is supposed to be erotic,” Azriel struggles, “and you’re studying me like, like…”

“You’re a very compelling study,” you inform him in your most sensual voice as he struggles to speak.

“Fuck,” he says, “don’t tease me.” 

But you see the effect your praise has on him. His fingers finally circle his length fully, pulling short strokes at the head. The whimper that falls from your lips would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so melodic in company with his grunts and moans. His expression is so unguarded, lit as it is by ecstasy. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” you murmur. 

The shadow singer's back arches off the bed at one particularly harsh tug, his rhythm never faltering. His accuracy is almost uncanny. He must have honed the art of his pleasure with the same rigor and precision as the rest of his work. The test of the room fades as your focus is wholly captured by the male sighing below you. You’re obsessed with the unholy picture of his hand wrapped around his cock.

His shadows shift along his wings in time with his strokes. Sluggishly, you realize they must be stimulating him as well. The thought renders the ache at your core unbearable. 

Even through his euphoria, Azriel is receptive to your every expression. He sees your frustration.

“What do you need, angel,” he hums. 

You respond reflexively, your hips grinding into his thick thigh. Your face heats as you register the motion. It was just what you needed, though. You certainly didn't want him to stop what he was doing, his fist pumping wickedly.  

“Go on then,” he purrs.

The desire in his eyes encourages you to resume the motion, rocking your pelvis against the solid muscle of his thigh. 

“You look so perfect,” he praises. 

“And you’re sex incarnate, Az.”

You position yourself further up his thigh, balancing on your shins as your knees brush his wingtips again. You’re rewarded with a throaty groan for your flirting. The sight and vibration of your riding his thigh has the male slowing his hand, and gripping at the base of his cock. You’re not faring any better. 

You brace yourself against his chest with your arms, both of you sensitive to the barest touch. The slight pressure on his chest has him hurtling towards the edge again. As he holds off his own strokes, he sends his shadows towards your form, your makeshift rules be damned.

The sighs you breathe are far from a complaint. His shadows lick up your form with tender phantom touches, and you feel the pleasure build in your core. Your rhythm starts to slip as you chase your release. His sculpted thigh should not be making you feel this good, but you start to see stars and you know the male can’t be fully mortal.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he pants, as enthralled with your euphoria as he is with his own. 

You barely register his praises as your orgasm shatters you, his shadows licking along with the pleasure racing through your body. As the waves wrack you, he drinks in your scrunched features, the soft cavity of your gasping mouth. You meet his eyes as you hurtle over the edge, the image of his carnal devotion seared into your mind. It would be unnerving if it wasn’t such a reflection of your own feral interior.   

“That was so hot,” Azriel praises. 

“Pervert. You were supposed to be giving me a show,” you pant, frowning as you catch your breath. 

“I think I gave you a proper show, if that was your reaction.” 

He’s earned a smug attitude, you figure. Your vision is still a little blurry, but you feel his shadows and fingers rubbing soothing patterns along your upper thighs. A different warmth blooms as you cool down from your blistering orgasm. 

As you marvel at the intimacy of his gestures, Azriel’s head is clearing enough to fully appreciate the sight of you in his bed. 

He had been on the brink of the most mind blowing orgasm of his life, yet he doesn’t even care about the urgency he’s feeling from his dick as he commits the image of you in his room to memory. It feels so right to have you here, just like it felt right to share a drink with you at Rita’s, and to sit down for a meal with you with his family. 

Azriel reflects on the thought he’d had days ago, how he’s fallen into the gravity of powers like this before, but never in such blissful hues. His mind flashes back to battles he’s fought, the enemies he’s faced. Every time, the contact of such powers results in a brief conflict, a decisive end. The conclusion is inevitable; the force of the challenge undeniable in its strength and direction. This attraction, though. What to make of it? 

The intensity is similar– his current adrenaline certainly feels like he’s just seen someone draw a sword, but it’s different. Your power was a challenge, but an invitation too. 

The feeling is like the gravity in his gut at the beginning of a flight, when he’s leaping off of a cliff, that brief tension borne in the short moment between the stability of the ground and the strength of his wings. The feeling is prolonged, like he’s suspended there with you. 

He finds that he doesn’t mind it so much, with you there, caught up in it just as much as he is. Besides, he’s tired of keeping everyone at arm’s length, he decides. He’s always loved flying, even if he came to it later than the others. Why should love be any different?

“Can you fuck me now?”

Your unsubtle words break his delicate reverie.  Oh, he’s in serious trouble, he thinks as he sees you bite your lip. 

“I’m not going to last,” he warns. 

“Same here,” you admit. You were already feeling overstimulated, you doubt you’ll last long at his pace. “I want to feel you though.”

He presses a messy kiss to your mouth, savoring the moment. You’re just as unhurried, glad to linger in any moment with the gorgeous male below you. Strong hands guide you to straddle his hips, his legs bent slightly to support your lower back as he leans against the headboard. 

When he finally enters you, he groans lowly. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

Your response is garbled by your euphoria. What you feel is euphoric relief, his cock filling you with a satisfying burn. Despite his size, the pain is minimal, your wetness helping him slide in easily. He grips your forearms, bringing your hands to anchor on his shoulders. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” he slurs, delirious already. 

The position is intimate. As he begins to rock you over his hips, your focus falls to explore the stunning male. Azriel is so fucked out already, raw from having edged himself earlier. His body is slick with perspiration, his face set in concentration, eyes blown out. Your hands on his shoulders are broiling with his heat. 

His dark hair falls limply against the cushions, and his wings are hanging loosely, like he has no extra stamina to hold his posture. He meets your gaze, and the eye contact somehow feels even more intimate than the position you’re in. He seems entranced. The agony on his face is underscored by his attention fixed on your every move. It's like he’s seeing your soul, plucking the thread of your need and following it faithfully. 

Using his broad shoulders as leverage, you start to fuck yourself on him. You’re rewarded with a stuttering groan as his hips thrust in time to meet you. Your head falls back in pleasure when your clit is ground deliciously against the coarse hair at the base of his pelvis as you bounce on him. Between his thick cock and his hard abdomen, you're perfectly stimulated. 

The room becomes thick with the heat and scent of your sex. All of your senses are riveted to the male below you, to the pleasure being delivered to your core. Soft sighs and deep groans fill the air as you fuck at an agonizing pace. 

His hands release their death grip on your hips, moving to explore your thighs and chest. The rough sensation of his hands over your skin is fuel to the fire of your appetite. 

Desperate for somewhere to release your energy, you lean forward to connect your mouths. He hums in delight at the sudden kiss. You taste his sweat and his fervor, and it’s intoxicating. 

When you pull away, his lips are shining with spit. Azriel looks like a male possessed. 

“Shit, angel. Can we do this, like… all the time?” he begs. 

“We haven’t even– even finished, and you’re– you’re thinking about doing it again?” you manage. 

“Can you blame me?” he retorts. He emphasizes his words with a particularly vicious thrust that has you gasping. 

“Please,” you cry. “We had better do this often.”

“ Awesome ,” he cheers breathlessly with a small smile to himself. 

Your heart sputters at the sweetly boyish comment. Here he was, inside you, and he was excited at the idea of fucking you again later. It isn't just your body either, which was a major plus, but he likes you . Earlier he’d confessed that he wants more than sex. He wants to bring you into his life in a more serious way too. 

You envision yourself bringing some belongings here, working at the library during the day, dining with Azriel and his family in the evenings. And at night, he would bring you here, to his bed, where he would ravish you. You relax into his body further as you realize you’ll have many opportunities to fuck him. He’d gotten excited earlier when you’d suggested some kinkier things. And, sure, he’d laughed when you’d joked about fucking in the kitchen, but he’d not seemed opposed. 

“Are you with me?”

You blink, coming back to the present. If you were going to blame him for getting excited about future sexual escapades in the middle of fucking, you were guilty too. Thankfully, your body kept up the rhythm on reflex, cause you were just miles away in a diaphanous dream of your mutual future. 

“There she is,” he smiles at you fondly as he rocks you mercilessly onto his cock. 

His stamina was impressive. Despite your fatigue, arousal has your body pulsing with adrenaline. The familiar pressure mounts in your abdomen as you grind onto him. 

As he eases your pleasure along, he’s transfixed by the sight of your bodies meeting, your hips swallowing him into your soaking hole. The feeling of your nails scraping at his scalp plunges him further into rapture, the slight sting heightening his sensitivity. 

“I’m close,” you warn him. 

“I’m with you, angel,” he pants. “Come on, baby.”

You abandon your bouncing to grind selfishly against him, chasing your bliss. He’s content with the debauched sight and the warmth of you around him. When your hand tugs his hair again, his dick twitches. Then your fisted knuckles brush his wings ever so delicately and his hips lurch, his shadows rioting. 

Azriel is dangerously on the edge, but he’s determined to watch you unravel first, his competitive and generous spirits united under his indecent desire to see you come undone. Even as he appears depraved, he feels devoted. Your ecstasy was his own. 

One last delicious shift of his cock scraping your walls, and your release staggers you. Your eyes flutter shut as crystalized bliss shatters over you. His scent envelops you, the salt of sweat mixing with tangy citrus. It transports you to a realm of bliss, where the only presence is yours and his, a delicious meeting of your senses. 

The agonizing image of your ecstasy has him spilling inside you, his whines cresting as he climaxes. His teeth scrape yours in a sloppy openmouthed kiss. You ride out your orgasms, hips jerking erratically, waves of pleasure ebbing languidly. 

You’re left with a warm buzz, even the discomfort of your stickiness feels rather like sweetness as you take in the glorious male. When your eyes catch, his lips curl into a smile. Your heart skips a beat at the tender sight of him spent and glowing beneath you. His shadows bleed into the cushions, baring him to you completely. 

“Can I lie down?”

“Please,” he shifts to help you off of him. 

You hiss as he slips out of you. “Sorry,” he mumbles, concerned. 

“You’re good.”

“Are you okay?” His shadows rove over you, assessing for damage, and he winces at the mess between your thighs. You laugh at his concern, waving it off. 

“I feel great. Just overstimulated,” you assure him as you curl into his pillows, your muscles grateful for the break. He nods and kisses your temple. The gesture is endearing, even as your thighs burn. You pull him down to rest next to you. 

His eyes never leave yours, monitoring your movements and drinking in the image of you snuggled into his bed. You reach out to trace his features, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. It isn’t uncomfortable, you’re just so overloaded already; you aren’t sure you can handle its palpable energy. His skin is soft under your fingers, the fleshiness of his sharp face surprising you. Azriel hums under your soothing touch. 

The unmistakable sentiment in his gaze has you melting into the comfort of his cushions, utterly relaxed. After all the uncertainty of the past few days, the surety of this moment is crisp, intoxicating. Nothing was guaranteed, of course, but you like your odds with him. You'd never been one to back down from a challenge. 

“I thought you were going to ask me to leave,” you confess into the tender silence of the aftermath.

He frowns. “When?” 

“Before,” you explain. “Right before you told me how you felt.”

He groans, regret clouding his features. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t made things easy for you. I definitely didn’t want you to leave.” 

You shrug. You’re here now, what was passed is past. “You’re worth a little torture.” 

“Why did you think that?” he asks, ignoring your lighthearted response. He avoids your eyes, fidgeting absently with the edge of the duvet. 

“Well,” you begin, unsure of how honest to be. You opt for full truth, the words rushing out of you. “You didn’t fuck me! I was throwing eyes at you all night and things were going well–”

“Things were going well? Do you really think that?” he interrupts. “‘Cause Cass said I ‘grilled you on border security’.”

You snort at his air quotes. 

“Well, yeah,” you frown, recalling the conversation, “but only after I asked you about how recovery efforts were going here, which is kind of a killjoy topic anyways.”

“We suck at this,” he decides brightly. 

“Excuse you!” you leap to defend yourself. “I'm amazing at this– anyways! Totally not the point. You didn’t respond to my hints, so I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, and that you weren’t into me.” 

Azriel shakes his head, and his rough fingers tenderly brush your hair away from your face.

“You were way off target, cause I’m totally into you. Remind me never to hire you for intelligence,” he teases, the words affectionate. 

“In my defense, you are kind of hard to read,” you admit.

He hums, not denying it.

“Holy shit! See? I was just about to tell you off and you slithered out of it!” you look at him, equally impressed and incredulous at his evasive skills. 

Now it's his turn to be unnerved, clearly caught out by your acute perception. You’re satisfied with yourself. 

“Wow. Okay, I'll take it back, you’re hired,” he dodges. You don’t take the bait. His words make you think about his long career in intelligence. Suddenly, it makes perfect sense how he struggles with expressing himself verbally. He knew firsthand what the wrong words falling into the wrong ears could do. Pair that with whatever other… unique emotional baggage he has going on… shit. He’s probably actually very well adjusted, given everything he’s experienced. 

Shit. She’s good , he thinks as you watch him silently. It was a classic technique, one he used often in interrogations. 

He sighs. “Alright. So you may have picked up that I’m… guarded.”

“ No ,” you say with sarcasm. 

“ Yes ," he laughs, before groaning and sitting up to look you in the eyes as he continues. “I’m sorry I wasn't upfront about how I felt. Like I said, I can't do casual. So I didn't know what I was doing. I was trying to protect myself from, well, doing what I did, and spilling my guts to you.”

“You were very brave to do that,” you tell him seriously. 

He rolls his eyes.

“No, I mean it,” you press, suddenly sure of your recent revelation, desperate to assure him. “I’m glad you decided to trust me. I’m honored.”

You really are. Every glimpse you’ve gotten into his inner world has only deepened your affection for him. Strangely, you feel like you fit into his world, as new as it all is to you. 

Occasionally in your work, you would come across a book from the archives, and it would be just what you needed for your project, even though you hadn’t known it had existed. What a thrill it always was, to find a gift in the world, unasked for and unplanned. The same sweet serendipity floods your senses now, as Azriel’s eyes shine with emotion. 

“I might need you to be patient with me,” he whispers, like the words are too dangerous to handle in the open.

“Of course. Whatever you need,” you promise him. 

With that, you press a kiss to his lips, thick with feeling.

His hand grips your jaw, holding you there to convey the depth of his adoration. He strokes your face fondly.

You pull him close, and he envelops you in his strong arms and soft wings. You lay there for a while, nestled in the security of his warmth. 

“Bath?” he offers eventually.

You hum thoughtfully. “Honestly? I’m too tired to move.”

“I’ll carry you.”

A luxurious soak later, Azriel slips one of his shirts over your clean, drowsy form. Drained as you are, you keep yourself awake to watch him towel his hair dry from your place on his duvet. 

You exhale abruptly, and his attention fixes on your drawn brows. You raise them as you finally ask the question you’ve been deliberating. 

“I was just thinking… you have libraries here, right?” you search meaningfully. 

“Yes, we do,” he answers casually, lips curling into the beginnings of a smile. “There’s one just down the hall, actually.” 

“Huh?”

“Why do you ask?” Azriel continues coyly, coming to stand before you. “Are you thinking of settling down here, or something?” 

“I said, huh ?” you repeat. Does he have a home library? Oh, you’re a goner. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

You shake your head in amusement. “You are so full of secrets,” you accuse.

“Full of surprises,” he corrects, rewarding you with a wide grin. 

You wonder if you’d ever reach the last of them, you muse as the lovesick Illyrian moves to make good on his words. You imagine you never will, but it sounds like a nice fate to die trying. 

After all, it seems like you’ll be needing a new hobby, now that you’ll have to give up recreational flirting. Azriel is happy to keep you occupied. 

✸✸✸ 

Later, when the night was deep, the stars shining brightly with the soft promise of new beginnings, Azriel remembers a threat that he needs to make good on. 

I’m gonna fucking kill you guys , Azriel projects to Rhys and Cassian. You’ll never see me coming. It will be long, and painful. NEVER mess with my plans – never again!

Well! Rhys' response arrives instantly, dripping with sarcasm. That sure was a delayed reaction… I hope you’ve had a productive evening.

Cassian’s reply is more direct. You’re welcome, brother dearest!  

Despite his vexation with his brothers, Azriel smiles into the dark, content as he is to have you in his arms. He thinks dimly of your face under the flashing lights at Rita’s, how close he had come to losing his nerve to speak to you, how grateful he’d been to have an excuse to talk to you, and how foolish he’d felt when he left you alone on your doorstep after your last date. 

His racing mind quiets as he traces your features, sleeping soundly in his bed. He has no intention of letting you go this time. 

_

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed!! I really fell in love with these two. It was so fun crafting their dynamic in part one, I had to expand the plot a little to allow their connection to develop more in this one. Sorry to make you read like 9k of plot and banter before the sexy part! 

Here’s a little of my thought process behind this part 2: The more I thought about it, I just realized Azriel can’t do casual relationships. 

In the books, it’s heavily implied that he pined after Mor for centuries, so like he’s a truly long-suffering loverboy. It would actually be so out of character for him to casually date. Even if he were to turn a new leaf and pursue someone, he's too guarded, too high profile to be comfortable with just a fling. If he’s in, he’s all in. 

So I was like how do we break the ice? I imagined that Cass and Rhys could sense how invested he was in Reader, and that they knew he’d flounder in his attempts to approach it casually. Devotion and quiet intensity are just so key to Azriel’s personality. I wanted to explore what it would look like if he felt the green light from someone - personally I think it would unlock some of his private nature and allow him to safely express his feelings (which we see him try for the first time here!). Normally, I don't like it when fics have a love confession after one whole date, but in this case it just felt right.  

Not to write a thesis and spend hours critically thinking so that my premises perfectly align to support my porn with plot LOL just girly things :) 

[qqueenofhades]

Gotta say, it's heartening to see just how terrible a time these GOP chucklefucks are having. This administration and its cronies are even MORE disastrously incompetent than last time, and that's saying something. Yeah, the next several years are still gonna suck, but at least we can laugh at these shit-for-brains assholes continuing to run head-first into the brick wall of their own incompetence. And perhaps even prevent the worst outcomes.

Honestly, the biggest fear for everyone was that giving the fascists four more years to plan and actually write down all of Project 2025 would mean that they were focused, competent, stone cold driven, ready to actually work to change things for real, and otherwise buckle down and be -- well, if not something approaching competent, at least effective. Or the fear that the American public, being fickle and underinformed at the best of times, would just sit back and let them do it. Because, yknow. Half this godforsaken country did just somehow shrug and vote for the orange monster again, so.

But that said, as I pointed out earlier today, it IS fucking heartening to see that they're the same mean, stupid, chaotic shitbags as ever, they really decided to go for the shock-and-awe LOL WATCH US BLOW EVERYTHING UP!!! approach that has gotten them nothing except turbo-sued and enraged the entire country, they basically united the entire world against Russia and for Ukraine in literally ten minutes yesterday (hope you enjoyed that little clown show, Vladimir!) and furthermore, nobody is afraid of them, which is death to fascists. I often point out that fascists desperately want people to be afraid of them and think they're cool, competent, unstoppable, and suave. They also especially, incredibly, desperately hate being laughed at and mocked. They can't stand it.

As such, the fact that they're just the same as ever except worse, and are not magically more competent (in fact, much worse) and are their own worst enemies, does in fact bode well for our ultimate ability to get through this. They will break shit, they will needlessly alienate friends and allies, they will torment every vulnerable group they can just to be dicks, and all of this was just so avoidable... but. Nobody likes them for it, even the people who deluded themselves into voting for them. They're scared little chickenshits who are having a bad bad time that will only get worse, especially if they actually try to cut Social Security and Medicaid, which is basically the death knell of stupid things to do in American politics. Because they just can't help themselves, but this is really, REALLY not going to work out well for them. It just won't.

As such, when they're already running from the heat ONE MONTH into the Glorious Eternal Rule of King Donald, like the little pissbabies they are, it tells me that there is literally no way they're gonna manage four years of this. They just aren't (and Deo volente Trump will finally have an aneurysm and die facedown in a Big Mac before 2028). To say the least, the 2026 midterms are gonna be interesting, especially if the GOP keeps digging their own grave, and yes.

As I keep saying: things are bad. They will get worse. But these miserable jabronies are just as pathetic and beatable as they have ever been, they did not suddenly get magically competent at being pointlessly evil, the country is showing out with a spirited will to make them suffer immensely for every braindead numbnuts piece of Nazi performative cruelty they attempt and often fail, and in these dark times, every day that we can fight back matters a lot. It’s working and we have gotta keep doing it. Idk about you, but I feel energized by seeing it. So yeah, say it with me:

STAY! STRONG! AND! KEEP! THEM! SCARED!

The end.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part thirteen | r.c

summary:

JJ only snickered as he fixed his cap, before turning to you with a smirk. “Hey. Kie run you off yet?”

“I don’t think she’d ever manage do as much damage as you yourself could,” you pointed out and JJ laughed, his hand curling around the arm of your chair, pulling you closer to him.

“See, when you used to say things like that, I thought you meant it, but now I know you’re just trying to hide that you actually like me.”

OR; JJ sees another side of you and you distance yourself from Rafe and your friends

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of smoking weed and driving while intoxicated, vulgar choice of words (idk why I put this, I always use vulgar words help)

word count: 4,2k

author's note: hi. highly anticipated new chapter 👀 also I've noticed that the chapters do tend to be longer now (compared to the 2k-ish chapters from season one) but I just gotta pack everything in that needs to be in the chapter and i know you guys don’t mind hehe. hope you have sooo much fun reading! 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. thirteen: "tell your friends you’re out for a run”

kelce in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 3:54 pm]: we hanging out this week?

top in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 4:12 pm]: I’m down. Time and place?

rafe in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 4:19 pm]: ask Precious

kelce [05/02/24: 4:21 pm]: hey what’s up??? why are u awol?

JJ [05/02/24: 4:26 pm]: gotta finish this up with john b and then i’ll meet you there

With a small sigh, you flipped your phone around, screen face down. It had been about a week since you got back from Nassau. It had been the same amount of time since you had seen your friends last. Rafe definitely knew you were blowing him off, and you did feel bad, especially since he had been worried about things between the two of you. But really, what other choice did you have? You needed some distance before you could pretend like you didn’t care that he was apparently starting some relationship with a random girl he met. And staying away from Rafe meant staying away from Topper and Kelce, too.

Topper definitely knew what he was talking about when he was warning you about having sex with Rafe.

“Can I get you anything, or…?”

You lifted your eyes from the wooden table top you were staring at to see Kiara look at you expectantly, raising a brow.

As it turned out, you didn’t have a lot of friends besides Kelce, Topper and Rafe, which honestly was never a problem before. Now, however, that you were trying to get some space from Rafe, it proved to be more lonesome than you had expected.

Not that lonesome though.

You had been spending a lot of time with JJ lately, which did manage to distract you. It also meant spending a lot of time over on the Cut, mostly because it was more convenient, but also lowered the chances of running into your friends. You weren’t exactly trying to hide that you were out with JJ, but honestly, you knew you were preventing a lot of headaches that way.

Another place you had been frequenting more often was the Wreck, where you were now. It was one of the last places anyone would expect you to be, despite it being on Figure Eight.

“Can I just get a diet coke on ice?” you said, and Kiara gave you a brief nod, disappearing back inside. It didn’t take long for her to return with a can of diet coke and a glass filled with ice.

“Thanks,” you said and Kiara only responds with a wry smile, which was fair. The two of you barely interacted before, considering you were in very different circles. Despite her parents’ lavish home and their establishment on Figure Eight, Kiara considered herself a pogue, distancing herself from your part of the island as much as she possibly could, whereas you did enjoy the privilege your parents were able to provide you. Though you did see where she was coming from. In spite of all your differences, you both were two sides of the same coin. Before Sarah joined their friend group, Kiara was the only girl among her friends for the longest time, if anyone could understand you, it was her.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kiara paused, eyeing her parents behind the bar and the rest of the customers who seemed to be content, before she nodded with a small sigh, sitting down across from you, serving tray in her lap. She looked at you expectantly, while you struggled to find the right words.

“You’ve been friends with those guys for years… Did you ever.. Catch feelings for any of them?”

You knew you were revealing your feelings with your words, but what was Kiara gonna do? Go tell Rafe that you loved him?

“If you’re asking because you’re worried that you’ve got competition with JJ-“

“That’s not why I’m asking,” you quickly intervened, huffing. “You know my friends.”

Kiara leveled you with a look, squinting her eyes at you before she sighed, shrugging a bit with her shoulders.

“Well, it helps that JJ is a fucking idiot.”

You quirked a smile at her. “No argument from me.”

Kiara rolled her eyes with a scoff but you could detect a hint of a smile when she turned away. It took her a minute, before she finally found an answer to your question.

“I think it’s easy to mistake platonic love for romantic one, especially because you do spend so much time with your friends. There were times where I thought I was in love with one of them,” Kiara said, making you raise a brow at her. “But then I imagined kissing them and immediately realized that I would hate doing that.”

Yeah, you were definitely fucked.

You exhaled softly, leaning back in your chair, clearly unhappy with her answer. Kiara stayed silent, allowing you to wallow in your misery before you lifted your head again, finding her still looking at you. Right, JJ was one of her best friends and you basically just admitted that you were in love with one of your best friends.

“So is this the part where you’re telling me to stay away from JJ or…?”

“Nah, I ain’t touching that with a ten foot pole,” Kiara jeered, crossing her arms in an x. “JJ and his mortal enemy’s best friend is just a disaster waiting to happen. I want no part of that.”

“Mortal enemy?” you echoed, snorting. “What, are they going to fight for my honor?”

“What would you describe them as then, missy?” Kiara shot back. “Besides, I think you’re capable enough of fighting for your own honor.”

With a small laugh, you nodded, taking that as some sort of gesture of peace, which was nice. You were in no mood for more drama.

“And I think you know what you’re getting yourself into by getting involved with JJ, especially when your friends find out,” Kiara added, “I’m assuming they don’t know yet?”

You pulled a face, which was answer enough for Kiara. She didn’t have to tell you that this would end catastrophically, you knew and yet, here you were.

“Who died?”

JJ let himself fall into the free chair next to you, his crude words serving as some sort of hello. Kiara rolled her eyes, giving you a look which you knew meant really, this guy? and stood up, pushing JJ’s cap further down his face before she left to take care of the rest of the customers.

JJ only snickered as he fixed his cap, before turning to you with a smirk. “Hey. Kie run you off yet?”

“I don’t think she’d ever manage do as much damage as you yourself could,” you pointed out and JJ laughed, his hand curling around the arm of your chair, pulling you closer to him.

“See, when you used to say things like that, I thought you meant it, but now I know you’re just trying to hide that you actually like me.”

You rolled your eyes grinning as JJ looked you up and down, taking you in now that you were much closer.

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Undercover ray of sunshine posing as an ice princess, I get it,” JJ said, like it was a matter of fact. Before you could argue with him, he leaned over to you, pressing his lips against yours.

Cheap trick.

Still you kissed him back, everything else pushed into the background for a while. While you didn’t want to think of Rafe while you were kissing JJ, you couldn’t help but compare them as you were with him. It was easier, being with JJ. Whenever you kissed Rafe all you kept thinking was is this the last time? am i kissing too much? this kiss feels different. With JJ, it was just kissing, no worries or thoughts behind it. It was nice, for a change.

You didn’t know how long you kissed, only breaking apart when someone cleared their throat. Looking up, you found the rest of JJ’s friends surrounding you, all wearing different expressions.

“Hey guys, didn’t see you there,” JJ greeted them cheerfully, as if this was the most normal setting.

“Hey,” you greeted them, lifting your hand for a wave.

“Hey,” Sarah said, sitting down next to you, glancing between you and JJ. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling a little awkwardly. “How have you been?”

As you and Sarah spoke John B took a seat next to her, leaving Pope to stand.

“I’ll go grab another chair,” he said, gesturing to a table in the back, but JJ stopped him.

“No need. We’ll make some space.”

“Please don’t,” John B said dryly, but JJ had already tugged you over in his lap, freeing up another chair.

“Jesus,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face, giving JJ a dirty look. Pope only sighed loudly, dropping into your now free chair while you got comfortable in JJ’s lap.

“You good?” JJ asked, his hand coming up on your back to support you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Can you just warn me beforehand next time? I don’t like being manhandled.”

“Sorry,” JJ apologized, wincing. “Was trying to act fast.”

You huffed quietly under your breath and as you lifted your head, you realized that that the others had watched you the entire time. Especially Pope seemed particularly interested, leaning his chin in his hand.

“So how exactly did this happen?” he asked, gesturing towards the two of you, like he didn’t quite understand.

“Oh Pope my boy, you know it was only a matter of time before she fell for the Maybank charm,” JJ said with a waggle of his eyebrow, though they quickly creased when you dug your elbow into his ribs. “Guess I was a little persistent.”

“Now that sounds more believable,” Pope stated and John B nodded in agreement.

“Gotta say, I do like the two of you together,” he added, throwing his arm around the back of Sarah’s chair. “Maybe you can get JJ under a control a little, tighten his leash.”

“Big surprise, John B supports pogue and kook macking,” JJ snorted and you furrowed your brows.

“Hold on, I know for a fact that I’m not the first girl JJ’s been with that’s not from your side of the island.”

“You’re different,” Pope replied and the creased on your forehead deepened even more.

“How am I different?”

Before either of them could answer your question, Kiara returned with several bags of food, and another bag filled with drinks.

“You guys ready to go?”

You all piled out of the restaurant, getting more than one look thrown in your direction and you were sure that Kiara’s parents were glad that you left.

You had come in your own car, so you split up, JJ riding with you, while the rest of his friends piled into John B’s old VW van.

While you drove over to the Cut, soft music filtered out of your car’s speakers. Out of the corner of your eye, JJ was relaxing in the passenger seat, his hand out of the window, following the motion of the wind.

“Enjoy being the passenger princess for once?”

“Excuse you,” JJ said, affronted as he looked over to you. His long hair was swept over his forehead, but it was no use pushing it back, the wind blowing through the open window kept tousling his hair. “I was a passenger princess long before you decided to grace me with your presence. John B doesn’t trust me around the Twinkie anymore after I drove it into the tree in his backyard.”

“… You know what, I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Smart,” JJ acknowledged with a nod and you only rolled your eyes with a laugh.

The drive to John B’s place didn’t take too long, his van already parked in front of his house when you arrived. There wasn’t really a parking spot per se, so you parked right next to him. As you got out, closing the car door behind you, you couldn’t help but notice how your car seemed to stand out like a sore thumb. Your jeep was sparkling, especially after you had just picked it from your your monthly detail the day before, the blue car paint shining even more than usual, a stark contrast to John B’s van and house.

You tried not to think too much about how it mirrored you and your place here with JJ and his friends. Pushing your thoughts to the back, you followed JJ into the house, where it was clear that the Pogues had a routine; while Kiara unpacked the food on the small coffee table that was surrounded by the couch and an odd assortment of arm chairs, Pope cleared the paper bags, Sarah and John B disappeared somewhere, before returning with plates and cutlery. Everyone seemed to contribute to the shared meal that you were going to have.

Well, everyone except for JJ, who made himself comfortable on the couch. His eyes found yours and he patted on the empty nook on the couch next to him. Letting out an almost unperceivable sigh, you joined him on the couch. You felt a little weird, sitting around doing nothing while the others were fixing up food, like you were just a picture perfect “kook”, but honestly, JJ was the definition of the pogue, and he couldn’t be more relaxed sitting next to you, opening a can of beer while his friends finished setting up the table.

It wasn’t much later that everything was set up so you could finally eat, the food more than enough for the six of you. After you finished eating, everyone leaned back in their seats, tummies full.

“The food was really good, Kiara,” you said, the other girl looking up to you. “Your parents really know what they’re doing.”

“Thanks,” Kiara answered with a small smile, frowning when Sarah accidentally yanked on her hair when she reached for her bag, rummaging in it before she cheered.

“You know what’ll make today even better?” she asked before thrusting her hand forward. “This!”

The others clapped and cheered, but it took you a second to see what Sarah was holding was a joint between her fingers. In about a second, the joint was lit, and burning in qualms in Sarah’s mouth before she passed it around. You were impressed at their speed, not even you and your friends were that quick. Even though you didn’t really feel like smoking, you figured a little wouldn’t hurt.

You had suspected it the moment Sarah pulled the joint out, but when it finally reached your hands, it confirmed your suspicions. The joint felt familiar between your fingers, like one you’d smoked so many times before when you put your lips around it.

You wondered Sarah had just snuck the joint when she was at home, or if she had asked Rafe for one of his hand rolled joints. It was funny, you thought, how Rafe would do something so trivial like rolling his own joint, but you knew he liked knowing what was actually in there.

You passed the joint to Pope, already starting to feel the effects of the weed spreading into your systems, your limbs starting to loosen. Leaning your head back on the couch, you allowed yourself to relax a little, JJ’s warm body close to yours. The others talked among themselves, what exactly they were talking about, you didn’t really know, but you also just didn’t care.

It wasn’t long until JJ had the joint again, taking a few puffs before he offered it to you.

“I’m good,” you declined, making JJ pout.

“Come on,” he tried to coax you. “Just one more drag.”

“I said no JJ.”

JJ sighed, shaking his head, taking another drag. He leaned over you to pass the joint to Pope, but before he sat back down, JJ curled his hand around your neck, pressing his lips against in a kiss, blowing the smoke into your mouth.

“Jesus, JJ,” someone said behind JJ. You weren’t sure who it was, probably John B.

You were too busy coughing, not having expected the smoke filling your lungs, your hand coming up to punch his shoulder. You being you, not one to to back down, you kissed him back, biting down on his lips, a little more forcefully than needed. JJ grunted, his knee slotting in between your legs so he could press closer to you.

“Ugh, guys, really?”

“Get a room.”

You barely acknowledged their words, unusually so. It was rare that you engaged in public displays of affection and this was definition more than affection.

“I don’t think they’re gonna stop.”

The rustling of the couch and the door opening and closing was distant to your ears, too busy being surrounded by JJ. He however, seemed to clock immediately that the two of you were alone, moving to lay you down on the couch. JJ didn’t waste a second, his mouth finding your sensitive skin on your neck, working himself down your chest with small kisses, sucking on your skin every now and then.

You lifted your head a little, watching JJ plant kisses on your chest, sprawled on the couch gave you the worst kind of flashback. This was not the time to think about Rafe.

“Wait,” you stopped him, both of your hands on his chest to push him off of you.

“What?” JJ breathed out. His blonde hair was in streaks over his forehead, and you couldn’t help but notice how pink his lips were, undoubtedly your doing. Served him right.

“I’m not gonna fuck you on this couch.”

“Oh good,” he sighed, “cause I was planning on fucking you on this couch.”

You snorted out a laugh, slapping his chest and JJ sat up with a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“You know they’re not gonna come in, right?”

To be completely honest, you had forgotten all about this friends.

“It’s not about them,” you answered, somewhat evasively. “Just not today, okay.”

JJ cocked an eyebrow at you. “You sure I can’t convince you?”

“Yes, JJ.”

Still, he leaned over, his hand on your waist.

“What about second base?”

“Jesus Christ.”

The house was dark when you got home. You tried not to happen too often especially too many nights in a row, knowing your parents would be on your ass if you spent too much time away. To be fair, you hadn’t expected to be hanging out with JJ and his friends for this long, because you just didn’t know where you fit in with them, with your friends disliking his friends so much. The joint helped though, and against your smartest instincts, you smoked another round with them, making you relax and turn your thoughts off for a while. Despite the darkness of the night, you could make out someone sitting on the steps of the porch, and first, you thought it was one of your parents. But as the headlights of your car shone over the front of the house, you realized it was Rafe. Was it too late to wish it was your mom instead?

The trilling of insects was the only sound when you turned your car off, getting out without any difficulty. The slam of the car door echoed through the drive way and Rafe seemed unamused as he pushed himself off the stairs, walking towards you with deliberate steps, his phone in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, with a frown and Rafe pressed his lips together.

“You’ve been MIA. I was worried,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “Where were you?”

“Out.”

“With whom?” Rafe wanted to know, knowing the same thing you knew. You didn’t have a lot of friends besides of him, Topper and Kelce. “You hanging out with someone you shouldn’t have?”

“Just Scarlett.”

You tried acting nonchalant, shrugging with your shoulders but the movement only allowed the strap of your purse to slip off. Before it could drop to the floor, Rafe caught it with his hands, giving you a look.

“You’re high?” he asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question. You weren’t sure if it was the weed he was smelling on you, or if it was just plain obvious.

“And you drove like that?”

“How else would I get home?”

Rafe looked at you like you were stupid.

“You could have called me.”

“Because I need you to save me?” you scoffed. You weren’t entirely sure what was up with you.

Lie. You knew exactly what was up with you.

Rafe only stared at you, his nostrils flared, clearly agitated, and for a split second, you expected him to leave, leave you standing in front of your house, but he only wrenched your keys out of your hand, unlocking the front door for you. Despite the anger radiating from him, his touch was gentle when he ushered you inside the house, his hands steady on your back as you walked up the stairs, like he expected you to fall.

Surprisingly, you got into your bedroom without making too much noise, but instead of leaving, Rafe shut the door behind you, placing your purse on your drawer.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, frowning in confusion, the devil’s lettuce clouding your mind. You really needed to sleep.

“Getting you shower, because you might actually fall and drown yourself,” Rafe huffed, his hand around your arm when you moved to sit on your bed. “Don’t. The smell will seep into your sheets”

You rolled your eyes at him but you still let him drag you to your bathroom. He let go of your arm when you stood on the pink bathroom rug, gesturing towards your clothes.

“With or without clothes?”

Your face was blank as you stared at him.

“You’re not watching me shower.”

“Precious, I trust you to shower by yourself about as much as I would trust Kelce to drive my truck,” Rafe sighed, sitting down on the small ottoman, crossing his arms. For a while, you stood in the middle of your bathroom motionless, before you realized he wasn’t joking. With a small sigh, you started undressing, letting your clothes fall on the floor. You hesitated, pulling your top over your head, your bra soon following. Even though Rafe had seen you naked before, you still felt vulnerable as you got undressed in his presence, your eyes flitting to him.

His eyes zeroed in on your chest, but instead of making a lewd comment like you had expected, his face hardened before he turned away without saying anything, his jaw clenched. Your brows knitted together, but you kept quiet, your underwear joining the rest of your clothes on the floor, before you stepped into your shower, turning it on.

The water sobered you up a little, the cool droplets feeling refreshing against your skin. While your head was still in a daze, it lifted slightly, and embarrassment started to settle deep in your bones. You made quick work of washing the lingering scent of the weed of your skin, before you turned the water off, the stream becoming smaller drops, before the water stopped completely. You didn’t get out immediately though, trying to let go of what you were feeling, having to face Rafe, who was still here to take care of you, despite your behavior.

When you finally got out of the shower, your clothes on the floor were gone, and so was Rafe. Before he had left, he had put out your bathrobe and a towel, which you quickly used to dry off and wrap your hair. Exiting your bathroom, you went back into your room, and it looked like Rafe was never here, except for the glass of water that stood on your nightstand.

You picked it off, taking a sip and before you knew it, the glass was empty. You hadn’t even realized how thirsty you were until you’d seen the crisp water. With a small sigh, you pushed the empty glass back on the nightstand, before crawling into your bed, knocking out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The next morning, when you woke up, you felt slightly less terrible than you had anticipated. The sun filtered in through the closed blinds, which you didn’t remember closing, though you did appreciate the sun not completely shining into your bedroom.

Throwing the blankets back, you got out of bed, your movements slow. With a yawn, you padded to the bathroom, turning the lights on your feet coming to a halt when you caught your reflection in the mirror.

“Fuck.”

Slowly, you traced your finger tips across the splatter of hickeys that JJ must have left on your chest. You honestly hadn’t even noticed.

Rafe knew you lied to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: so there were two version of this ending, one with rafe tucking precious in and the one you got. if you don't like it, @eldrith said to go the angstier route so complain to her <3 BUT WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS???!!?! <3

[signanothername]

I just got the idea of like, Killer's SOUL being able to hypnotize, if only briefly- idk I thought you'd enjoy this idea

Oooh I absolutely do enjoy this idea omg

And I can actually see it happening ngl, the way his soul seems to gently and continuously move, I can see it happening on stage 2 specifically but never any other stage, cause his soul moves too aggressively on stages 3 and 4 and is almost completely still on stage 1 (and I like to think any movement it has on stage one resembles the beat of a heart)

Stage 2 tho? His soul moves in a gentle slow circular motion, and I feel like if someone does look at at for a bit, it would cause them to completely lose their sense of reality around them

There’s this one comic, in which Swap Chara, immediately noticed and felt Killer’s soul, and was even in pain cause of it, this is obviously cause they’re Chara, different universe or not, that bond will always be there, but what I find most fun about it, is the fact Chara felt the intent, felt the danger from Killer way before meeting him in person, without even realizing that this is Killer’s soul at first until they felt it, not only that, but how they say it, “his soul. His mind.” They felt his mind, *shakes you*, they felt his mind

Not only that, but the panel with his soul’s light, lighting up his chest, it feels like an aura of its own of sorts, and it makes sense for his soul to have an aura, even for a small range

And it makes me wonder if people hypnotized by his soul would feel the danger and intent too, would know they’re in danger but can’t do anything to prevent it

Also can you imagine whoever gets hypnotized maybe could end up hearing and listening to what Killer hears on a daily basis? The laughter, the comments, the endless overlapping voices, not that Killer is aware of them getting a glimpse into his mind (otherwise he’d make sure they never get hypnotized shgdgd)

it’d be really fun if it’s unintentional even, and only happens for a few minutes tops, it’s just happens and Killer picks up on it after a few times, on how in certain circumstances his soul can hypnotize people briefly, and Killer takes advantage of it, says some creepy shit about how they should just focus on his voice and let themselves go

Like I can see Killer brushing it off the first time it happens, he notices, he’s intrigued, but the person snaps back to reality before Killer is sure, and Killer just brushes it off as his mind making things up, then it happens again, and a third time, and so he’s sure now, and he just takes advantage of it, especially when he needs info

He might even trick someone into observing his soul when he wants to hypnotize them, hold it gently and talk about it, show it to them, etc (even when I think that Killer usually would rather no one focuses on his soul much)

Not that he needs to most of the time, as people who never met him before would immediately take notice of it, cause not everyone has their soul out in the open like that, but people who already know him might not look at his soul cause they already know of it, it’s not news to them, so Killer takes steps to make them fall into hypnosis

I like to think that if this is truly the case, it only works on certain people than others, not everyone gets hypnotized, not necessarily because they’re immune, but because either the person feels themselves getting hypnotized way before they actually do and so they opt to not look at Killer’s soul directly, or maybe they are truly immune for whatever reason, either way, really fun :)

[hrdenha]

— things they'll never know | s.jy

SYNOPSIS: a visitor at night doesn't sound so bad, isn't it? Not when it's your step brother who you spend your time fantasizing to.

PAIRINGS: stepbrother!sim jaeyun x virgin!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI! CONTROL WHAT YOU CONSUME. age gap, jake would be five years older than y/n who's now in college. loss of virginity. soft yandere jake although you really dont know what goes inside his head. strong fantasies by jake. yn being innocent but not so innocent. after shower escapades. silent touches here and there. endearment. IDK ANYMORE JUST READ. not edited, but hope y'all enjoy!

His home was silent when he got home from work. What can he expected when he's living alone? But sometimes he can imagine that you're here with him instead of your parents house. You're basically the reason why he bought a house much larger for a person living alone. He can imagine you reading a few books in the garden's patio, or play with layla in the living room, or maybe— fucking you in the kitchen as you tried your best to wash the dishes. Having your favorite skirt pushed up on your body as he fuck you with one leg up, your breast bouncing in every thrust he made.

And the best thing he wanted to do, fucking you in a room full on your pictures. Doing everything he can think of to have your pleasure out of you while being surrounded by the pictures he silently took whenever he had the time. Some pictures being your family's, you and jake together with your father and his mother... all smiles. As if the both of you didn't touch each other inappropriately. What would your father thinks if he knew every little thing that jake did and will do to his daughter?

Jake wasn't a saint. He knew he needed you, in more ways than he admitted to you. But, it's fine. You'll come around eventually. Maybe one day, you're the one who's trying to desperately cling on him begging for something jake will gladly give. He just have to wait.

After refreshing himself with a glass of cold water, he finally ascend the stairs towards his room. His senses immediately welcomed by the sweet scent of vanilla lingering in the air. The soft sound of water rushing was heard at the second door on the hallway, just beside his room. He stopped, the scent envelop his mind like a siren's curse hypnotizing it's prey to walk further into their trap. He didn't even heard the sound of water came into halt.

The impression of being alone was now thrown in the trash as jake walked in front of the door to knock. His hands doesn't even had the chance to make contact with the wooden door when it swung open revealing your small frame in front of him. The sweet redolence of vanilla scent became prominent each second passed that the door was opened.

Jake's breath was taken away from his lungs. You were standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a small white towel hugging your curves preventing everyone... most especially him to see everything. Your skin glisten from the water droplets that were kissing your soft skin; your wet hair was elegantly slicked back down on your back. He can perfectly picture your fingers slowly combing your hair as you take your bath.

"Jakey!" Jake internally flinched when he heard your cheerful voice. He look straight into your eyes as though he wanted to read your mind. 'fuck it!' He cursed before taking you by surprise, kissing you as if there was no tomorrow and to his surprise, you respond. He thought you'll scream at him, even slap him but no you fucking open your lips for him.

You groaned on his lips, hands snaking into jake's neck while he push your weight agasint the now closed bathroom door. He pushes his knee closer to you, practically letting you grind your core onto it by yourself.

"Look at that, flower. Do you want jakey touching you?" You nodded but jake decided it wasn't enough. "Use your words" He growled taking in your flushed face. "Mmm- I do want you touching me, jakey" You replied breathlessly on his neck. Jake's hand tug at the flimsy white towel causing it to drop and completely flash your bare body in his eyes. Jake cursed taking in the sight in front of him. He felt a surge of hot blood flowing through his veins and then to the very tip of his dick. Not now. Have patience, jake. Fuck.

He let himself touch you. His hands travelling down your soft skin, even flicking your nipples with his tongue.

"Can you ride my face, flower? I promise jakey will make you feel good."

It's been a week since that stunt the two of you pulled. After making you cum with his mouth, nothing more than that happened again in your disappointment, but that didn't stopped Jake in making advances. Giving subtle and not so subtle touches here and there. Grabbing your boobs just fine and saying it was all an accident. Or, that he wants to give you a massage and that came with a super close massage on your inner thighs giving accidental touched on your clothed pussy.

But then, you were still all smiles to him, as if nothing happened. So good in just receiving what he gives. Even closing your eyes whenever a certain touch got more desperate than the earlier ones but then again, you were receiving it innocently. As if being touched like this by your step brother is just a normal thing. As if your pussy didn't shake from the pleasure he just gave you the first day you moved in.

It was the start of summer vacation and instead of going with your parents, you decided to not go and stay in the country with him. With an excuse of wanting to have a brother-sister bonding and giving them their own 'time' together. That's a nice thing to say, right? No suspicions.

As the day progress, so is Jake's touches. Today is no different. Both of you in the theater room, watching a movie that both of you knew was long unnoticed for. The room was large enough for 20 people but despite the wide selection of comfy sofa, you decided that sitting on Jake's lap was the comfiest.

Nothing happened after you did, except from the 'accidental' grinding of your hips as you try to find a 'comfy position', both of you keep on watching together after that with occasional munch and drink from the food you ready.

Things escalated when you decided to step up your game, grabbing Jake's timid hands and putting it on your tummy making sure he was touching you directly on your skin. That's the reason why you wear a loose crop top shirt and a matching skirt with a cotton shorts that's thin enough to be called undies.

It seems like the man understand your purpose. He silently though shamelessly touched where you needed him to. He didn't react when he realized you're not wearing anythhng underneath, trying to keep his cool. Trying not to push you down and fuck you like an animal with no regards if you'll get hurt or not. That's what you should get for trying to push your luck but instead, the thing he pushed is your top. Pushing the material just enough on top of your breast for an easy access. The only thing he didn't do is touch you down there. Just a few inner thigh strokes wouldn't make the cut and you knew that he knew that, you're not the one whose feeling inadequately and deprived, the tent in his pants screams the same. And it feels like he was doing this on purpose whether he's teasing you or himself.

"I'm sleepy now, jakey..." You mumbled turning around to him before kissing the corner of his lips— you don't have a problem kissing him directly on the lips? — then pulling down your top which stopped his hands. "Goodnight" That's the last thing you said before walking to your room, the wetness in between your legs reminds you evidently of your step brother.

It was late at night, dreams are starting to work their way onto you albeit slowly, "Hey, flower..." The bed dipped and you heard a sound of shuffling from behind. "You asleep?"

You hummed, hoping it will be enough to answer his question. No, you're not. How can you, when you spend the last hours fantasizing about your stepbrother. Your finger weren't even enough to make you calm down. You still wanted more.

"Can't fall asleep"

"Can I help you fall asleep? Hmm, flower?" Jake whispered nuzzling by your neck as you lay on your back.

"Yes please", When the confirmation came out, jake couldn't help but groan. How can you be such a good, good, good girl just for him?

"Okay, just relax... let— jakey do his thing" That's the last thing you heard before a pair of hands travelled across your body, touching and kneading with lust and need. So tender and gentle with matching butterfly kisses over your clothes.

Jake pushed your top upwards, revealing your breast that never fails to make him hard. It's not small and not so big, just enough... just perfect fit whenever he let his hands cupped it. Now his mind is wandering to how it would bounce as you ride him. He can't keep himself from touching it after the fact that you silently give him a go signal to have his way on them earlier. And, just like earlier, it immediately respond by how fast it hardened.

His hands then continues that stopped at your waist, massaging it before making you open your legs, having it settle on either side of his body. Jake pushed closely, kissing your inner thighs with affection. Feeling his hot breath near your core made goosebumps rise on your skin. It took him some time before finally deciding to pull the material to the side that covers your nakedness.

"Shit—" He lowly cussed. Your eyes opened at that, peaking over him wordlessly asking what happened. "No panties, flower?"

"It's comfy..."

He snickers, eyes sparkling as he look down on you, "No, we both know that's not true flower." Not when you're this wet. "I bet you're waiting me to do this... hm?" You felt a finger tracing your slit, gently... softly, painfully as if a wind just traced your wetness just to tease you. "Just like earlier at the theater room?

"No teasing... jakey, please"

"Sorry, flower. Can't help myself. Is this all for me? Because of me?" And again, the tip of his finger ghosted over your line. You desperately chased it, unconsciously raising your hips just to let his warmth touch you.

Jake hummed, finally letting your wetness coat his fingers. Firmly rubbing your slit with the pad of his middle finger, making sure that every thrust would send pleasure on your clit. Wetness never stopped, the same time whimpers came out of your mouth.

And so, he let the same finger thrust inside. Slowly, having his finger feel the hotness from your walls before adding another digit. You moaned in response when he stared pumping it, can't keep himself from smiling just from the feeling of your walls. "...just my fingers, baby, and your pussy won't let it leave."

Jake let himself watch as you give yourself away for the pleasure. Look at you, writhing in pure bliss. What can your parents say when they know that the only time they can hear your voice raise was the time you where moaning in pleasure as your brother fingers you? Bet you can even be louder when it's his dick that do the work.

Your arms snake around his neck pulling him closer to enclose him with a kiss that jake gladly took, fighting for dominance that he's clearly winning. The same thing he wanted to do, dominate you.

Moans become louder as well as your breaths became heavier. Jake picked up his pace, finger you as he played your breast with his mouth. Can't have them go unnoticed, he love the way your boobs move as he fingers you. Your walls started tightening, and so is jake's cock twitch inside his boxers. With his fingers still thrusting, jake finally felt your orgasm.

He immediately dived down your pussy, licking your juices wholeheartedly as you whimper from how good he was making you feel.

"I want more, jakey...please"

Jake lick your pussy one last time before looking at you. Trying to fight the smirk that keeps making its way on his lips when he heard despiration in your voice, then faking the sadness in his face is just an easy thing to do.

"But I can't flower. I can't possibly do that to you. We know the rules right?" Jake keeps pushing your buttons, he should be. It's about time you choose, right? But, maybe he can have his way just this night. "I don't even know if you really wanted this. You're the one who told me that rule."

"But— I do. I want to. Let's forget that rule. I... I don't know what I'm saying that time" You replied breathlessly. And, jake felt he just win the lottery. He really had you where he needed. Letting you realize on your own that you want him as much as he wants you. Making you want the same thing you think should be forbidden from the start of this god forsaken relationship

"You really want me to help you, flower? Is that the reason why you eagerly wanted to spend your vacation in my house? You even rejected the idea of switzerland with our parents just so you can be here."

You tried to nod but stopped, he wouldn't like that. "Yes, I do. please." Trying to make your voice clear, but failed miserably just from the orgasm you had a few minutes ago.

"but how can I do that to you? you haven't even seen my cock yet. What if it scares you?" Jake continues to ask. His voice can make people believe that he's really concerned but the small patch of precum staining his boxer says otherwise.

"Let me see it. I promise I can take it." He hummed kissing your forehead before pulling you to sit up as he let himself do the same on the bed. "Then, take it out flower. Come on, here..." Jake guide your hand on top of his clothed tent, before using his to support his body weight as he watched you intently.

You give it an experimental squeeze, and jake can't help but groaned. "It's— hard..." You then pulled the material down, you didn't even need to pull his cock out when it willingly revealed itself to you. "...and big"

The man giggled from your reaction. "That's all you, baby. That's because of you." He whispered tracing your cheeks as you keep your eyes on his dick in awe.

"I did this?" Jake nodded, "That's why you should take responsibility. Now, how about giving it attention? Let's say a few licks? A kiss? Maybe, a thing or two from what you always do to that lollipop I gave you last time. Your call, flower. Just don't bite it okay? You don't want jakey to bleed to death, don't you?"

You laughed lowly, you certainly don't want to hurt jake. That's the last thing you want to do, the first thing being the want to pleasure him like the way he does to you.

You gave it a few pump. Jake was thick, with an average length. The tip is pink, balls are in same color, and gosh, he has the most beautiful and clean looking cock. Not that you seen others, jake wouldn't let you do that, of course. But then again, you decided that you don't want to do that. Not when you knew that Jake's is enough. It was standing proud in front of you, waiting just like it's owner who's watching you intently.

Your tongue then make in contact with his tip, giving it a few lick, earning confidence before you finally take the first few parts inside your mouth. "ah shit, flower... fuck! that mouth..." And from the looks of it, you're doing a good job. Your tongue swirled with his length as you tried to get accustomed on bobbing your head.

"Hmm... just like that. Tighten your throat for me flower. Yes— yes! fuck. You suck like a fucking whore."

You finally got your own pace, sucking him just the way he like as his tip clashed on your throat learning to take advantage of it as you tighten the cavern, earning more praises from jake. His words together with his hand on top of your head pushing you gently but firmly on his dick feels like he's testing your limits and it's working, it even sends waves of pleasure down your pussy. You can feel it embarrassingly clenching to nothing which didn't go unnoticed to the man.

"Gonna cum, flower... gonna fill up that filthy mouth with my cum. Then I'll kiss you, letting myself taste my own cum from your lips before spitting it again on your mouth so you can swallow it. You like that hm?" He is so dirty but you like it just from the way you moaned while his cock is practically seeking pleasure on your mouth. His dick twitch on your throat the same time jake's hand pushed your head further down causing you to gagged from his tip. Thought he'll get angry but guess that just added to his pleasure.

You let him keep you in that positon for a few seconds, only pulling out when you felt his hands finally stopped pushing you down. Jake cums a lot, majority of it swim straight away down your throat knowing your last circumstance while some of it still manage to fill your mouth with some escaping down your neck and into his lap.

"Sorry, flower. Keep myself waiting for you for two weeks now" Jake whispered taking your hand before pulling you closer to him as you tried to swallow his cum, which you gagged embarrassingly but still manage to do so. The man laughed settling the two of you in a more comfy position, with his back now on the headboard and you straddling his lap.

"Don't have to force yourself to swallow it..." He said pinching your chin in affection before tracing the line of cum on your neck up to the side of your mouth before enveloping you in a messy kiss that you gladly respond with. Jake groaned when he tasted himself on your mouth, his hands started travelling on your body not leaving a spot untouched. He then break the kiss before swiftly pulling your top off of you, attacking your chest as his next target.

You whined in response, arching your back to make your nipples closer to his attention. "Ja-jakey...?" His cock made its presence known when it hardened again, poking on your pussy when you're directly sitting on it. "Feel that flower? Told you it's all because of you" Jake said in a matter of fact tone, licking your neck before sucking a spot on it intended to leave something. "Bet it can slide right inside just from how wet you are, flower." And it's true, the only thing stopping his dick from sliding inside is the presence of your cotton shorts.

"But we can't do that, knowing that your a virgin. You can get hurt if we do that..." Jake's words started to get drowned when you started grinding your hips, creating the friction in between, desperately holding... chasing something.

"No need to do that, up" You immediately stand up on the bed, gripping his shoulder for support as he started pulling the last piece of clothing you had with ease then making you straddle him once more.

You gasped when you did so. It was much more different when feeling him skin to skin, feeling the warmth, coating his dick with your wetness. "You're making me crazy, flower." His hand came on your waist guiding your hips to keep grinding on his cock. Your juices and his precum mixing heavenly tainting your folds. Jake then felt you kneeled, taking his cock on your hand before lining it on your hole.

He knew it wouldn't work but he let you, he can tend to the problem later. For now, let him feel you despite your stubbornness. You slowly sink on him, but it won't work. Is it because his thick? Maybe you're just that scared? Or, because of the itching pain that keeps scratching on your core as you forced yourself down his tip. But, you still want more.

"Jakey, I can't... I don't think this will work"

"Then let me? Would you let me do the work, flower?"

"Yes" With that, Jake pushed you down. Laying you on the bed before hovering on top of you. He took his cock, slapping it on top of your tummy, measuring how far it can go if he'll make you take him full. And it goes down your navel, fuck. That's so hot. You even felt it twitch again, his precum leaving a stain on your belly button. Even gigling as you touch his tip to get some precum and licking it with your tongue, which jake groaned.

He then let the tip scratched up and down on your folds, making sure he'll hit your clit everytime that makes you flinch in pleasure. When he had enough, jake then push your legs revealing your pussy to him in more ways one can imagine.

"Keep this open, okay?" He reminded as he tapped on your legs, "This will hurt for awhile but I know that you can take it." He kissed you again now in comfort, "You ready?"

You nodded your head, as you felt his tip slowly sliding in. When the whole tip was in, jake stopped looking at you reminding you to take a deep breath. And you did, you felt yourself relaxed ready to take another inch but the next thing you knew, jake immediately shoved his cock inside in one swift move.

"Fuck!" He cursed at the same time you screamed. "Ahh! It hurts, jake... shit, Why did you do that?" Tears now staining your eyes, the pain on your core still evident. "I'm sorry, flower. It would still hurt otherwise, why not have it in one go."

"Fuck..." You whispered, trying your best not to move or even breath.

Jake kissed your lips, then giving kisses all over your face "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." He's apologizing but you both knew he never really meant it. Not when,

"Hmm, you don't have any idea how long I waited for this, y/n..." The pain started to subside from the way jake's thumb circled your clit that the matched with his small thursts. The diversion of your attention from the pain to the pleasure that jake is doing is deemed effective. It didn't took long before your voice started to build up to a whimper. You even grinding your body on your own now, "Move, jakey..."

He gladly do so. Jake started pulling out before thrusting right back in. He looked on the way his cock disappear from your pussy, clearly seeing the lines of blood on the edge of his gun and it turns him on even further.

"You're making me crazy, i swear. So, fucking crazy!" Jake's thrusts picked up its pace and so does your moan. The night was calm and silent but there's another story going on inside your room. The four corners of walls echoes the harsh slapping of skins, curses, groans, and moans.

"Jakey... ugh, jake! Yeeah..." Lewd noise continues to dominate and no one will care. No one will disturb the two of you. You can scream and cursed all you want and you'll never worry about a thing.

"Does it feel good, huh? Yeah, flower? Does my cock makes you feel good? Now, I can fuck you like a slut you truly are." The pleasure is intense. He keeps hitting your sweet spots without fail. His weight on top of you, his voice, his smell, his looks all mixed together in every thrust he make to push this pure bliss on you. You wanted him You needed him.

You can't even think straight now, the only thing your brain can think of is his cock rutting inside you and how you want it to keep going.

"Flower's now dumb with my cock? Bet you can't even function now without me fucking your pussy everyday. You like that? You like it if I'll fill you up with my cum? Have you walk outside with my cum running down your legs?" Jake laughed when you moaned in response, the unfocused look on your eyes as well as the way you clutching the sheets and your pillow is enough answer for him.

"Or, should I just make you pregnant? Right, make you carry my babies all night long. I'll fuck you every chance I get. I'll never leave you alone, not even for a second... ugh— will fuck you in the kitchen, fuck you while you wash the dishes or just doing the laundry. I'll even fuck you while we dine, will eat you out instead the dinner you cook before fucking you and cumming inside you again. And when you're pregnant, I'll still keep fucking you. I'll wait as your breast—" He harsly cupped your right boob before squeezing it, "becomes full with milk then I'll gladly drink it as I fuck you again and again until the baby is born. Our parents wouldn't even know that I'm the one who'll impregnated you, flower."

"Jakey... please,"

"You really think I'll let you go after this? I'll make sure you'll keep on coming back. Your my own personal slut, and sluts keep their pussy open for use whenever I like."

"Yes, yes. I'm yours, j-just yours jakey!" Jake pushed your legs further down to open, his calloused hands firmly pinning it on place as he desperately chase your high as well as his. "Fuck, flower... your tight—" It'll leave a bruise, and both of you knew it but doesn't care. Jake loves to leave his mark on you in anyway possible, and this is just one way after a few more ways he can think of, not that you mind.

"Uh, sh— I think I'm..."

Jake's thrust didn't stop even after you cummed, he keeps on rutting his cock inside even making you work for your third climax of the night as he chase that fine inkling of orgasm that keeps hiding away from him. Pleasure was on but he still finding something... more. And, it didn't took long before he finally got it. Groaning with his eyes closed as his thrust goes frantic before feeling his cum mixing with yours in painting your walls. He moaned in contentment as he reached his peak, laughing breathlessly after the stunt.

Jake gives you a kiss, more passionate and sweet. The harsh and desperate movement nowhere to be found as he keep his cock inside you with small thrust, as if he's keeping his cum from escaping your womb.

"You really want me pregnant?" You whispered after chuckling. Can't deny that you don't want anything other than his dick inside you. "I believe, I clearly expressed my opinion about that earlier flower"

You felt him pulled out, the same time you felt a hot line dripping down your hole. Jake on the other hand traced the line of cum before pushing it back on your whole that made you laughed.

"Jakey! You know that we can't..." The man pulled the covers on both of your body. Jake made himself comfy beside you his fingers tracing circles on your upperbody. "Why not? We're not the same blood and our parents can stay whenever they are if you want. Then, no one will stop us."

"You can do that?" You asked, hands busy playing with his hair. Jake simply answered yes. You don't know the things he can do much more the things his money can do. He can do that if you wanted him to. Maybe, you two will just get a call one day about an allegedly 'accident' that your parents are involved into.

Jake can do things. Hell this is much more easier compared to the things he did just to make you completely his. And, the parents will just be a small 'disturbance' for him. For now, he'll just let them have their fun on another country away from you or him. They wouldn't get hurt with the things they wouldn't know, do they?

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