#it might have been “just” meant to make him lose?

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!��� You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[hardlyinteresting]

To Have and To Hold

Jake Seresin x Reader

Jake comes home

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please), I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended) Word count: 1.8K

The floorboards creak with the weight of his footsteps still. there's a strange comfort in the sounds of this old house settling; the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the quiet slide of his socks across wood floors. If he listens carefully, he can hear the whistle of the wind blowing past the window he meant to reseal all those months ago. The reminder of another missed task weighs heavy in his heart; a failure to provide a safe, warm home. It's the little things that matter most, his mama's voice reminds him, but it's the little things he so often misses-- always overlooked with the prayer that he won't be made a liar when he says he'll do it later. 

Time plays him for a fool. At 35 he rushes to make sure he meets the milestones he set out for himself, steadfast and resilient in his resolve to do more-- to be more. He breaks records, and sets precedents. But, he struggles to relax. Breathing doesn't come easy to him when it's not through his aviator's mask. In for seven, out for five. He counts the seconds of his inhales and exhales grounding himself in the moment. 

He does his best to hold tight to the moments he has here, But still, it never seems to be enough. like sand through an hourglass it all seems to slip away from him; these new found days of domestic bliss escape through his fingers like the memories of his childhood back in Texas. He wonders if one day he might be afforded the chance to pick up all the pieces and fit them together in some semblance of a “normal” life. He worries about his time away from home, what he's missed, and worse yet what he stands to miss if this life is taken from him too soon. 

Tonight marks the end of a six month separation, and tomorrow morning the count down to his next inevitable departure will begin. Always running out of time. It never used to bother him, it exhilarated him even, time blasting by in a blink of an eye. Back when he was younger, back when he had nothing to lose, and no idea what he stood to gain by sticking around. Now he worries about the quality of the lock on the front door, he thinks about restaining the floor downstairs and fixing up the kitchen. Domestic life snuck up on him. Slowly but surely his house became a home. Sun-baked bricks and weather-worn siding, with a shade of green paint he's been told matches his eyes. Four walls and roof that keep the outside world at bay. 

Down the hall in their bedroom, he Expects to find his wife sleeping, waiting in dreams for him to come home to her. It's the part of his job he struggles with the most now. It's so hard to leave this life they've built now that part of him is forever tethered to the earth. 

“I worry sometimes that I'm holding you back,” she confessed one night, “your job is hard enough as it is…I don't want to make it harder for you”. He hadn't been able to find the words to tell her how wrong she was.How could he describe the ways she had changed him? 

The need to return home to her never leaves him stunted in the sky, it fuels him. Long gone are the days where he fought just to be seen; she sees him. He's quick up there, tens of thousands of feet above the ground, he's calm and he's brilliant. His colleagues can call him cocky all they want, but his confidence is founded on his proven ability, and sometimes it's necessary to show off a little bit even if it's just so he can have another story to tell his sweetheart when he gets home. He imagines himself writing her name in the sky, carving her likeness in the clouds, a blazing trail racing home to her. 

So many of his earlier years had been spent playing the field too afraid to commit, too afraid to be loved. Adaptability, while necessary for his job, had never been his strong suit. A tiny part of him deep in the back of his mind always left the hair at the back of his neck on end when faced with change.

He had struggled in school, not academically, but socially and learned to over compensate to make up for his discomfort. The navy had given him the structure he had craved, a way to make his bed and fold his clothes, instructions that weren't open to interpretation. Living on his own allowed him to follow the same schedule and practices as he did on base.  In a split second, his life on the line, he never hesitates, but sustained change to his daily life left him nauseated. Welcoming another person into his life, and into his home had pushed him past the edges of where he believed his comfort laid, but forced him to confide in a support system outside of routine. 

Over the course of a few weeks her belongings joined his, sprinkled through out the house like a treasures to be found. Without a word she had taken care to intermix her books with the few of his own on the shelf, sorting them by alphabetical order just as he'd been doing for years. His anxiety slowly waned as his darling girl continued to prove she understood him better than anyone else ever had. 

“Do you prefer flying at dusk or dawn?” She had asked a few weeks after she moved in. curled up on their sofa, her head tucked under his chin, college football playing on the tv, she traced invisible shapes across his chest. “I don't have a preference, sweetheart. I just like flying,” his response felt half-baked, but it was the honest-to-good truth. 

“But if you had to pick?” she persisted. He weighed his answer before giving it to her, “if I had to pick, it would be dusk. There’s a moment, if you're up at the right time where you can see the night sky blending into the sunset…the sky is a gray-blue and you can see the sun at the horizon and the little pinpricks of stars”. 

“It sounds beautiful,” her smile was soft and genuine when she cupped his cheek to make sure he was looking at her. A habit of hers, not letting him hide away from the softer parts of himself, she seemed to so easily pull out. “It is”.

That weekend he’d spent 72 hours on base and returned home on Monday evening to the faintest smell of fresh paint. In the low evening light, it took him a moment to figure it out, standing puzzled in the middle of the living room, still dressed in his service khakis trying to identify the source of the smell. “You’re home!” she’d grinned coming down the stairs, her jeans and t-shirt splattered with gray. It’s then he noticed with his darling girl looking so proud of herself, the walls of the living room coated in a soft heather blue-grey, no longer just a coat of contractor-grade white reflecting the shade of twilight through the windows. Flicking on the light he watched her grow nervous as he felt his brow furrow processing the unexpected change. “Do you like it?” she asked. 

“It’s perfect, baby,” he promised pulling her close and kissing her thoroughly, “It’s beautiful”. 

A few months later he came home from work to find his shower gel and shampoo had both been replaced by a new set. Confused and with no other option, he chose to use them, deciding he liked the smell of eucalyptus and mint much more than he'd liked sport: for men anyway. 

“Baby, what happened to my shower gel?” 

“You were complaining about how dry your skin has been”.

“Hmm,” the consideration to change his routine to better himself hadn't occurred to him before she moved in. 

More recently he'd come home from a night out with the squadron, and woken up under a Forest green duvet, a jarring difference to the burgundy plaid cover he'd owned for years. Momentary panic filled his chest. Like a sharp, sudden plunge into cold water he'd gasped his eyes scanning the room to confirm his location. The familiar scent of her perfume, the sound of the ocean breeze, assured him he was in fact in their room. In the dark when he'd come home, colour of the duvet hadn't been noticeable and he found himself mildly embarrassed by how badly it startled him. Her hand reaching out for him, stretching across the sheets to touch him lured him back to a flat position letting her snuggle herself right up against his side. It was then he noticed that the weight of the blanket was the same as before, and it was just as plush as it had always been. Her on going respect for his comfort continued to leave him floored. A memory of her texting him to ask his favourite colour (green) filled his mind and left him drifting back to sleep with a smile on his face. 

Secretly, he'd begun to look forward to the tiny changes she brought into his life and into the house. The littlest reminders of their strengthening bond, their lives stitching together in more tangible and visible ways. The Navy had taught him to think literally, latteral thinking developed and honed to reach conclusions and make decisions quickly and effectively, but the metaphor of their lives blending like the presence of her belongings along side his own, and freshly painted walls is not lost on him. 

Tonight the house is quiet as it often is when he returns so late. He knows if she knew what day he was set to come back home she would've done her best to stay awake for him, dozing off on the sofa with the living room curtains wide open, hoping to catch the sight of his headlights pulling into the driveway. It's thoughts of her safe and waiting for him that have pulled him through this latest deployment, so he does his best not to disturb her sleep as he makes his way to her. Like a silent sirens call an unspeakable force drags him through the house. His boots are left by the door, laces tucked in. His bag is heavy in his hand, more than just its physical weight tugging at him, and he's glad to be able to put it down by the bedroom door. 

“Welcome home,” she whispers stirring from her sleep as he slips beneath the sheets, freshly showered. 

[moonlight-canavalia]

Sentimentality

It’s been a while since I’ve written and posted anything so here it is. I swear Sylus has not left my mind since I started playing.

Anyways here’s a little Sylus reassurance when you’re having doubts!

Warning: kisses, light teasing, uh implied cunnilingus that’s about to start at the end

If you prefer AO3 here!

Divider by cafekitsune

There had been a somewhat heavy feeling in your chest that you’ve been ignoring. You’re not sure where that weight is coming from or better yet— that insecurity . Does he really want you for the long run? It seems like it, and though mischievous with his words, he is very forward with his words and action. 

“Sylus, if something happened to me, what would you do?” You ask sprawled out on his bed while he’s getting ready for his meeting. In your mind it sounded like a simple enough question. Honest curiosity laces your tone. His hands suddenly stop, shirt only halfway done. Sylus’s face scrunches up in disgust at the thought of it. Before turning to face you, he makes sure to relax his facial features. “Are you planning to go away, kitten? Any mission worrying you?” disguising his worry in an almost casual tone “want me to tag along? You know I’ll go with you. Just ask, sweetie.”You're still looking up at the ceiling. Arms resting by your side lost in thought. “Hhhmm, just asking. I guess.”Sylus has moved to the foot of the bed, grabbing you by your ankles – pulling you towards him. Surprised by his actions you let out a startled yelp. He’s not sure what’s going on through your head, and he’s not sure how to ask you. While he might be brass, always getting straight to the point there’s something a little off about you today. Your smile isn’t quite reaching your eyes, not as talkative, lost in your own little world. So, he wants to make sure you truly understand and believe his words over all else. 

Dropping your legs at the edge of the bed so he’s able to stand between them he slowly bends down. Caging your body under his to stop you from getting away. His piercing gaze unsettles you for a second, leaving you frozen in place. In a flash his crimson eyes soften, filling with such a warmth that makes you feel like a soothing balm has been poured over the cracks in your heart. “I’d set the entire world on fire and spend the rest of eternity searching for any trace of you in those ashes.”  — He speaks in earnest, deep voice sounding hoarse. Words spoken slowly and low, as if he’s telling the secrets of the universe.  Secrets meant to be kept between you and the four walls of this room. Cupping your cheek with one hand while shifting his body weight on the other to not lose eye contact with you; he adds “Nothing, no one will ever take you away from me. Not the heavens or me getting lost in the nine circles of hell can rip me away from you. I will always search for you and I will always find you.”Lost for words all you manage out is a shaky breath. all as a response. If there’s one thing Sylus is, it is honest. This is something you know, but the profoundness of his words stun you. You feel like your brain is malfunctioning, not being able to come up with words. Eyes wide and watery, you can hear the rush of your blood in your ears. Your heart beats wildly like a trapped bird wanting to escape its enclosure.“I don’t enjoy these questions, sweetie. Especially coming from your pretty mouth” Placing both of his hands on either side of your head, he gently leans in for a kiss, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Giving you a quick peck, then you feel his lips brushing the shell of your ear “You’re mine and you’re not going anywhere”.Wrapping your arms around his neck you gently tug him towards you, so more of his body weight is on you. Just wanting to feel him close, enjoying the warmth of his body on yours.  There are many things you’d like to say, numerous emotions and feelings you’d like to voice. But it all gets tied at the back of your throat. With a lack of words to summarize it all a simple “thank you” escapes your trembling lips. 

Those words mean a lot to Sylus, it’s something he rarely hears. And with the way it fell from your mouth so willingly, no ulterior motives behind it only raw emotions dripping in sincerity; now leaves him lost for words. He hopes you know how much he adores you, how much you mean to him, how you’re the best thing to come into his life. How he’ll always defy fate and search for you. When the time comes he’ll sit you down and recount your past together. Not now though. For now he’ll just enjoy having you with him once again . 

Resting his forehead against yours for a few seconds he decides on staying in tonight. The meeting can be rescheduled, anything can wait when it comes to you. “Let’s just stay here tonight, Sweetie” he murmurs.

“I wasn’t aware I was even invited to accompany you in the first place.” you retort. A small chuckle rumbles in his chest. A sound you can’t get enough of. 

“You would think at this point in time you don’t need an invitation. You’re always free to come with me if you desire” Sylus says, like it should be the most obvious thing to you. 

Rolling your eyes playfully at him you quip “Well personally I prefer to be told that you’d like me there.”  

“I always want you with me. Are you not aware of that?” the silver haired male asks, looking quizzically at you. “Oh.” “Yeah, oh, sweetheart.” he taunted, with the corner of his lips upturning in that dangerous smirk of his. “You’d be wise to remember that in the foreseeable future.”Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pins your hand over your head. Softly he squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. A tender reminder, that both of you are here, together right now. In your mind, you know you both are tied together. There’s a pull that can’t be destroyed between the two of you, you can't make sense of it. It feels like you both have known eachother for lifetimes. Little did you know that's exactly what's happening.  Sylus has crossed galaxies, timelines, time and time again to find you. The bending of time or the fact that he's destined to lose you and find you again again is nothing. You are his love, the person his heart belongs to, he'll turn himself into a monster if it means seeing you once again.  Rising from on top of you he kneels on the floor. Once again snaking his big arms around the back of your knees and pulling your core towards his mouth. This is where I belong. Beneath you, you can do anything to me and I’d be grateful, you can command me to do anything and I’ll do it without a second thought. Ask and you shall receive.” He says while kissing your thighs.

[radishaur]

༄ kind words ༄

Warnings: mentions of unwelcome advances in Law's part Genre: fluff Characters: Luffy, Zoro, & Law Summary: How they realize they have feelings for you (words of affirmation edition) Author's Note: It's finally here! These keep getting longer and longer as I get more familiar with each character and the dynamic, especially Law's, but I don't think that's too much of an issue. I also kind of hate Luffy's but couldn't keep redoing it, so maybe I'll edit it later. Happy reading as I begin working on the next part!

masterlist

Luffy is great at giving compliments because he just says whatever he's thinking.

He gets complimented a lot as well. He's always running around and saving people, intentionally or not, so he's probably heard his fair share of compliments. I think hearing a compliment that's more deep and genuine, that comes from someone who knows him deeply, would be more meaningful than anything and would make him recognize his feelings.

~

Not every day on the Sunny was a fun adventure.

Setting out to sail across the whole world and strive for their individual goals there was bound to be hardship. Sometimes it came in the form of grueling battles with their latest enemy. Other times it was internal conflicts or disputes, simple disagreements or heated arguments.

This time, it was grief.

After so many months traveling together, the crew had learned how to tell when one of them was upset about something and needed space. Today, it had been Nami. For the past few days, her mood had been off. She'd been more quick to anger and had spent more time than was strictly necessary tending to her orange trees. Then today, she'd been even worse, snapping at Sanji's normal overbearing lovey behavior and brooding to herself under the shade of her grove.

It didn't take him long to realize what was bothering her.

Nami only ever got like this when she was thinking about Bellemere, which meant today must be the anniversary of when everything happened. The crew had spent most of the day giving her her space, allowing her to process what she was very clearly feeling. After a while, he took it upon himself to cheer her up. He made silly faces and played some of her favorite games on the deck, goading her into joining them by making bets he knew he would lose. He'd even secretly asked Sanji to incorporate oranges into their dinner. By the end of the night, Nami was laughing and she seemed a lot lighter, like whatever was weighing her down had lessened some.

Now, it was late at night, and the only sounds that could be heard on the Sunny were the lapping of waves against the ship and the snores of his crew as they slept. All except for him.

Sleep was avoiding him, so he decided that he would be much better off just joining whoever was on watch and maybe having some fun. He made his way up to the crow's nest and was happy to find you sitting on the bench, looking out across the sea.

"Oh, hi Luffy," you said, your voice quiet.

"Hi!" he said, sitting excitedly next to you on the bench as you looked out across the sea once more. "I couldn't sleep so I decided to come out and have some fun!"

You smiled, always amused by his antics.

"Well, unfortunately, there's no fun here. I'm on watch, remember?"

He pouted, knowing you were right but still disappointed anyways. You laughed at him as he whined and complained, but he didn't actually intend on distracting you, so after a while, he quieted down and let you focus.

"I hope Nami is feeling better," you said, resting your head on the arm you propped up on the window. You were frowning slightly, your eyes unfocused as your worry made itself visible on your face.

"She'll be ok, she's Nami! She's strong," he replied, no doubt in his mind that tomorrow she would be the same old Nami she had always been. "She might be sad now, but it's not forever. She has us to help her."

You hummed in agreement, a small smile on your face. He smiled himself, happy to see you smiling instead of with a frown on your face. He felt so lucky to have found a group who cared so deeply about each other.

"All that stuff you did today. It was to cheer her up, wasn't it."

You said it like a statement more than a question and he found himself smiling at how observant you were. "You figured it out. You're so smart!"

You laughed at him once again, his own laughter joining you as you said, "Of course I did. I know you wouldn't have made those bets under normal circumstances."

They had been stupidly dumb bets that left no chance for him to win and he found himself giggling as he remembered how Nami had perked up upon hearing him agree to them. He loved his crew more than anything, so what was a few beri down the drain? Your laughter subsided as you got lost in thought once more. You seemed like you were debating saying something and when you seemed to have made up your mind, he found himself sitting up straighter as you turned to look at him.

"You're a lot smarter than people give you credit for," you said, a small smile on your face and a playful admiration in your eyes.

He's not quite sure what to say to that. He's always been called stupid and to everyone's credit, he is. He doesn't think very often, preferring to act on instinct and figure out the rest of the plan later. He's been known to not read the room, to zone out during important world lessons, and to shout out the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn't think anyone has ever called him smart and for the first time in maybe his whole life, he's speechless.

"I guess that's probably not what you were expecting me to say, huh?" you teased, a light smile making its way onto your face.

He collects himself and asks, slightly incredulously, the question that's first in his mind. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, you just told me you did all that stuff to cheer Nami up, right? Someone stupid wouldn't be able to put together why she was upset and what would make her feel better. You pay attention when it counts and you're a lot more emotionally intelligent than people realize," you explain, relaxing slightly as you look out at the ocean once more. "Today it was Nami, but I've watched you help lots of people like that. Vivi, Robin, Sanji, even me. Maybe you don't say it out loud, but you pick up on people's emotions and what they need the most in that moment."

He listens as you talk and slowly realizes that you're right. He's always had a way of reading people and knowing what they really want or need, but he's never really connected it to intelligence. He always thought it was just his own special kind of stupid.

"I guess that makes me a genius!" he exclaimed, laughing heartily as your eyes widened in shock before laughing along with him.

"Maybe you are stupid after all," you say, but there's no malice in the words as you keep laughing at him.

Finally, your watch shift is over and the sun peeks up over the horizon. He'd stayed with you the entire time, just talking and goofing around until he realized how much time had passed and how tired he was. His dreams that night are filled with you and when he wakes up, your words are still floating around in his mind. Knowing that you think he's smart makes him feel funny and he thinks that maybe he should finally turn his ability to recognize people's feelings inward.

Zoro doesn't throw out compliments or encouragement left and right, he only says something if he really means it.

I think he's received his fair share of compliments, although I doubt he puts much stock in them unless they come from someone he respects. If he doesn't think there's any stock in the compliment, or on that same token an insult, why bother giving it attention? For this reason, I think getting a compliment or reassurance from you would rattle him a little and cause him to have an aha moment.

~

The town that the Sunny docked in isn't too interesting to Zoro, aside from the bar he's nestled into for the past few hours. He has a few empty glasses in front of him and he's almost done with his current one when he sees the door open.

He's not surprised when he sees multiple of the crew walk in, quickly noticing him in the corner and making their way to him. You're among them, talking to Robin about something that elicits a small laugh out of her. Begrudgingly, he scoots over and makes room for everyone in his booth as they smoosh in.

"I knew we'd find you here!" you say, the last to slide in so you're right across from him. "Already deep into your drinks, as expected."

"Shut it, woman," he grumbles, his brows furrowing as he finishes his drink and sets the cup down on the table. You laugh, looking at Robin as Usopp reluctantly hands Nami some beri. He feels his eye twitch in irritation as he notices the exchange. "Are you betting on me?"

Usopp gulps at the glare he sends his way and Nami simply smiles, dollar signs practically lighting up in her eyes as she answers, "Yep! I bet that you were already 3 drinks deep and I was right."

"We've barely even arrived! I thought-" Usopp protests, attempting to explain himself.

"You both are insufferable!"

His exclamation elicits another laugh out of you as Robin simply lifts a hand to her mouth to hide the amusement that is no doubt there. He wants to be annoyed, and he is, but he's been traveling with the lot of you for long enough that he can't really be upset, at least that genuinely. He simply huffs, waving down a server to ask for another glass.

The rest leap over each other to order their own drinks, some alcoholic, some not, and fall into easy chatter with each other. Periodically, he catches your eyes and you send him a smile, but he doesn't insert himself in the conversations, much preferring to listen. Eventually, Nami gets tired of just sitting in the bar and decides to go shopping. Usopp and Robin decide to accompany her, but you decide to stay behind. You wave, watching them go as he takes his previous spot in the booth back.

"Not in the shopping mood?" he asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

"No, I'd much rather stay here with my favorite swordsman," you tease. He bristles, knowing that you're just poking him for fun, but he can't stop himself from blushing, taking a long sip from his glass to hide the blush he can feel on his cheeks.

"You're worse than that damn cook," he mumbles, his glass now sufficiently empty.

You laugh at that.

"Now that's just a lie."

He can't deny that, the corner of his lips twisting up into a smile. He's spent enough time traveling with you to know that you don't act like that with everyone, just him. The notion that you reserve this behavior for just him is both agitating and yet satisfying. He feels something possessive lick at his heart but ignores it, waving at the server for yet another drink.

He asks you about what you've been up to on the island since they docked and you happily tell him all about it. It hasn't been long so you don't have much to say and it isn't long before the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. After a while, you finally talk again and it's not what he's expecting.

"I know you'll become the greatest swordsman, Zoro."

He sputters, the sip he was taking spilling all over himself as he coughs, trying to catch his breath. He can feel his ears heating up with embarrassment and sputters, "Where the hell did that come from?"

When you look at him, your face is set in firm determination, but your eyes are soft, filled with a fondness he wishes you would direct at him more often.

"Those pirates we fought yesterday," you explain.

He thinks for a moment before he's reminded of what you're referring to. On their way to this island, they had run into a rival ship following the same course. While they hadn't intended to battle them, the ship fired at them as soon as they were in range, so they had no other choice. He remembers the fight being fairly easy, each member of the crew handling their fair share of pirates.

He also remembers one of their crew having some rather nasty words to say to him.

"You're delusional if you think you can become the greatest swordsman," he had spat, struggling to breathe. "You'll see it eventually. Even if you won this battle, you'll never achieve your dream."

He hadn't paid much attention to the words. He was confident in his own abilities and his opponent had been defeated easily, so there wasn't any point in taking his words to heart. He hadn't thought anyone was close enough to hear it and he certainly hadn't brought it up, quickly forgetting about it.

He smirked then, letting the full force of his pride show in the grin as he said, "That loser wouldn't know what it takes to be the greatest swordsman even if it smacked him in the face."

"That doesn't make any sense," you say, your face wrinkling as you giggle at his statement.

He takes another sip as your laughter dies out.

"I'm not worried about what a crap swordsman has to say about me and my dream," he says, his voice a lot more serious now as he thinks about the promise he made all those years ago. "I will become the world's greatest swordsman or die trying."

"You'll do it. I know you will."

You don't say anything after that, seemingly having said everything you intended to, but your words linger with him. The thought that you had heard the man's words and felt it was important enough to dispute them made his heart feel weird. He had never doubted himself, even when he maybe should have. He'd always been sure that his will, determination, and hard work would take him to exactly where he was supposed to be. Still, hearing your words of encouragement, hearing your genuine belief in his ability, it affected him in a way he wasn't expecting.

"You will too," he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

A few seconds go by where you don't say anything and he wonders if you'd even heard him, but one glance at you tells him that you had. You're not looking at him, your eyes averted as if you're embarrassed and your lips are curved into a small, satisfied smile. The sight makes his heart stop and he almost goes to clutch his chest before the feeling quickly passes.

Before the moment can linger, you're shooting back into conversation with him. Despite his best efforts to pay attention, he finds that his attention is drawn back again and again to your words. He knows that the crew believes in his dreams just as much as he believes in theirs. It's part of why he's so willing to protect their dreams just as fiercely as his own, but for some reason knowing that you believe in him so much really sticks with him.

He thinks about it for the rest of the day as well as late into the night when they're all back on the Sunny and setting off for the next island. He doesn't like being distracted, so he mulls over why your compliment holds so much weight for him. He values your opinion, but you're also not a swordsman, so theoretically there shouldn't be that much weight to your words. When he finally realizes, it feels like everything clicks into place and so many things start to make sense.

He acts like nothing has changed, wanting time to sit with the feelings before he decides what to do about them, but he finds it hard now that he understands the full weight of his regard for you.

Law rarely ever gives out compliments, rather preferring to show how he feels with his actions.

I think he receives a few compliments here and there, but he's built an intimidating presence and image, so I think they're far and few between. However, I think if you took him off guard with a meaningful compliment, especially if its one that he hasn't heard before, it would make him start to think about his feelings towards you.

~

"Captain, we have a problem."

Law sighs, all of the worst-case scenarios running through his mind as he turns to face Sachi. They're docked at a port town so that they can restock the Polar Tang, preparing for another few weeks underwater. It's familiar and something that the crew should be familiar with by this point. They have a routine, a schedule that rarely changes, that details who goes with who to go get what. In theory, it should go perfectly smoothly.

It never does.

"What is it, Sachi?" he asks, his grip on Kikoku tightening slightly as Sachi walks up to him with the list of crewmates and jobs in hand.

"Well, you said that nobody is allowed to go alone into town right? For safety?" he asks, only resuming once Law has hummed in agreement. "Right, well uh, unfortunately, Penguin is sick today which means his partner doesn't have anyone to go with, which wouldn't be an issue since usually we have at least one group of three but, well, they're also sick so-"

Law grumbles under his breath about getting to the damn point, grabbing the sheet from Sachi's hands to just look at the issue himself. Sachi gulps, sensing his irritation, and nervously rubs the back of his neck. The problem becomes clear very easily. His beloved crew had partied a little too hard the last few nights and now two of them were sick, leaving no group of three to split up and someone unaccompanied. He looks for Penguin's name to see who's alone and feels his heart flutter slightly when he sees your name scrawled out next to it.

"Our only two options are to either make one group get two things, which would set us back at least an hour, or...," Sachi says, trailing off slightly. The unspoken second option is clear. Law always spend their restock days on the ship. The higher his bounty gets, the higher the chance that he gets recognized, so he always finds it easier and safer for him to stay behind.

"I'll go," he relents, watching as the tension in Sachi's shoulders dissipates.

"Great. Thanks, Captain!"

Sachi disappears before he can change his mind. He sighs, looking around the collection of his crew until he finally finds you in the mix. He makes his way over, watching as you converse with Bepo, catching the very end of your sentence.

"-seems like I'll be alone today. Sachi said he would look into it, but everyone already has their pairs so I don't know who could take his place."

"That would be me," he answers, watching as both Bepo and you finally notice his approach.

"Oh! Uh, are you sure? Don't you usually spend the day on the Tang doing research?" you ask.

He ignores your improper name for the Polar Tang as he explains the situation to you. You nod, smiling as you say, "I see. Well, I'm glad to have your company then, Captain!"

He's taken aback by your words but decides to just move forward instead of dwelling on them, so he turns around and shouts, "Let's go."

"Shouldn't you probably change?"

He stops, looking down at his attire as you add, "As much as it suits you, it doesn't really hide the fact that you're a pirate, let alone our Captain."

He can't really argue with that. The Heart Pirates logo is front and center on his shirt and Kikaku is certainly not doing him any favors either. He tells you to wait and then quickly shambles himself into his room to change. He has to dig really deep in his closet before he finds a shirt that doesn't have his symbol front and center, but once he does he leaves Kikaku leaning against his wall and shambles back up to you.

By the time he's changed and came back, most of his crew is gone. You're quicker to notice him this time as a result and the two of you finally head into town.

"What are we in charge of?" he asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets now that they're not holding his sword.

"We're in charge of the medicinal herbs, Captain," you answer.

"Just Law is fine," he says, his hand fidgeting slightly as he adds, "No use in me changing if you're just going to use my title."

He sees you smile softly out of the corner of his eyes. "Right. Law it is, then."

His ears burn slightly as you say his name so effortlessly, but he brushes it off quickly and continues into town. It's not hard to find the store you're looking for and he lets you take the lead as you begin listing off the various herbs you need. It's not long before the two of you are walking through town once more, heading towards the submarine.

"Oh, look! That art is gorgeous."

He stops walking as he turns to look at what you're pointing at. There's a small stall in the marketplace's square that's selling paintings of all different sizes and mediums. He sees your eyes light up as you look at them and isn't surprised when you say, "Wait here, I'm going to go buy one."

He huffs, leaning against the wall of a nearby building where he can see the stall. He'd like to pretend that today had purely been an inconvenience, but he can't find it in himself to be that upset. While it was inconvenient that he wasn't able to spend the time studying the most recent medical book he had been interested in, the day had been pleasant. You'd made pleasant conversation with him while walking in town and your bright demeanor always seems to calm him down.

He looks back over to the stall, curious about what painting had caught your eyes, but feels his heart jolt when he doesn't see any sign of you. He stands up to his full height, hoping to catch any glimpse of you, but he still doesn't see anything. He curses to himself for letting his guard down and allowing you to somehow slip away and starts searching for you with his observation haki.

He picks up your signature in an alleyway and feels his gut churning. Not wanting to draw attention to himself by using his devil fruit powers, he quickly makes his way to where you are. As he gets closer, he hears you pleading with someone.

"Look, I'm really not interested and I have someone waiting for me, so-"

"Surely I can show you a better time than them, hm?"

He doesn't recognize the second voice but he doesn't need to to know what's going on. He feels anger burn in him as he finally turns a corner and sees a guy caging your body against the wall with both of his arms.

"I already told you, I'm not looking for that. Please let me go," you say, your hands clutching the bag of herbs you'd bought earlier as well as what looks to be whatever painting you had bought at the stall. He also sees the man take a step closer and open his mouth to talk, so he takes the opportunity to interrupt.

"You heard them," he says, his voice like venom as he enunciates, "Let them go."

The man looks at him, sizing him up as he takes a step back and lets his arms drop. "What are you, a good samaritan? Buzz off," he scoffs, turning his head back to you, clearly intending to ignore him.

He doesn't know what comes over him as he finds himself stepping closer and punching the man square on the side of his face. The man, clearly caught off guard, stumbles slightly. He doesn't give him any time to recover as he steps forward, putting himself in between you and the man whose face was now swelling up.

"What the hell?" he shouts, cradling his face as he finally catches his balance.

He can see the punch coming but knows that you're standing right behind him, so he only shifts slightly so that the punch only hits him in the shoulder. A moment afterward, it dawns on him that he can just get rid of the man, so he does.

"You're lucky I don't have my sword, or you'd be getting much worse than this," he seethes, holding his hand out as he says his classic phrase and sends the man shambling into the ocean. In his place, a mossy stone drops to the ground, echoing in the now almost empty alleyway.

When he turns around, you're staring at him speechless. He frowns slightly as he gives you a once over, checking for any visible signs of harm.

"I'm ok," you finally say, your voice shaky before you cough slightly and repeat, voice calm, "I'm ok. Just unnerved."

He doesn't take his chances and calls another room, switching you both closer to the Polar Tang. His guilt at letting you out of his sight and allowing this guy to drag you off eats at him as the two of you approach the ship. Once inside, he shambles the two of you to his examination room, pointing to the table and saying, "Sit. I want to check for injuries with the proper equipment."

You don't fight him as you make your way towards the table. You're still holding the bag and the painting until he gently takes them from you, placing them next to you on the table.

"I'm really ok La- I mean Captain," you begin, correcting yourself back to his title now that it's just the two of you.

He finds himself missing his name from you but keeps the comment to himself. He's supposed to be checking you for injuries. He's supposed to be assessing your well-being, which is only in question because of his own negligence. He frowns to himself and continues to check you for injuries without answering.

You let him, still assuring him that you're fine, that he only grabbed your arm for a moment at the stall, but he doesn't stop until he's sure that there's nothing wrong.

He sighs, finally stepping back from the table. His guilt still eats at him regardless as he goes over everything he did wrong. "I'm sorry, I should have been watching more carefully. No, I should have just come with you."

You simply smile at him in response and say, "It's my fault. I was the one who stepped away."

He doesn't have anything to say to that. He knows it's true, you did step away despite it being an explicit rule not to, but he can't deny his part in it as well. He curls his fists as the silence continues.

"Why didn't you dodge his punch?" you ask, your voice quiet.

He's surprised by the question, but also by how quickly his cheeks warm up at his answer. He looks off to the side, hiding behind his hat as he says, "You were right behind me. If I moved, he would have just punched you."

You have the audacity to laugh, loud and full as if he had just told you the funniest joke you'd ever heard and he can't help but scowl.

"You know," you start, laughter still floating in your voice, "For someone with such a cold exterior, you sure are kind."

The compliment catches him off guard. His face whips towards you as his eyes open in shock, the faint blush now burning bright red across his whole face. He meets your eyes and he doesn't see any hint of a joke.

He's heard himself called a lot of things. Scary, cold, bitter, even downright malicious, but never kind. It sends shivers up his spine as the word settles somewhere under his skin. You think he's kind. Kind.

"You're my subordinate. I'm not being kind, I'm just doing my job as your Captain," he corrects, not wanting you to misunderstand his intentions.

Your laugh this time is softer, more full of fondness, but it rustles him all the same. "You really are kind though," you insist. He's not ready for you to continue, barely able to handle the few words you've said, but that's never stopped you before. "I think you care a lot more than you want us to think. You wouldn't worry so much otherwise. Besides, you're always going out of your way to protect us. I think that makes you kind."

He doesn't know what to say, so he tries to navigate back into familiar territory. He takes a deep breath and calms his nerves, grabbing the bag of medical herbs from your side and turning around to begin putting them away. "Well, since I've checked and you don't have any injuries, there's no reason for you to stay."

He hears you shuffling around as he begins unpacking the herbs from the bag and chances a glance over at you one more time. He regrets it immediately.

You're looking at him like you can see right through him. You have your painting tucked under your arm as you look over your shoulder at him in the doorway and you're still smiling at him as if he didn't just ignore your comment and dismiss you rather rudely. It makes his heart ache, wanting to prove you right. To prove that he is kind, that he's worthy of your opinion of him, that he's worthy of your praise.

"Thank you, Captain. I enjoyed your company today."

With that, you disappear down the hallway, presumably back to your shared room to hang up your new picture. He stares at the spot you left long after you've gone, your words echoing in his mind. They rattle around in his heart until they finally settle, leaving a warm comfort he didn't know he craved.

You think he's kind.

That thought plagues his mind for the rest of the day. His guilt is completely forgotten, his mind too consumed by your compliment to make any room for it. He finds himself unable to even focus on reading the medical book that night that he missed out on reading earlier. Your words and the simple fact that you truly believed them chip away at his resolve until he finally has to come to terms with why it affects him so much. He mumbles your name, his hand clutching his heart as it beats, solidifying what he'd been ignoring for a long, long time now.

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[diazwake]

okay so i have to just ramble about why i think buck and tommy have been doomed to fail from the jump.

i've been thinking about the discussion tommy and buck had right before their first kiss. tommy telling buck to stop being jealous. that he could never take the place buck has in eddie's life. that buck is not replaceable to eddie. tommy talking about how christopher would riot without buck in his life and buck going 'really?' with the brightest happiest goofiest smile on his face just thinking about how much christopher and eddie want him and need him and love him.

these are all things eddie has told buck before, but buck has so much guilt from hurting eddie in his jealousy, that the thought he might have caused the end of his most valuable friendship makes buck's past trauma rear its ugly head. in that moment buck needed someone to tell him he didn't fuck it all up and that he didn't lose his best friend.

this is where i start getting delulu. but i think it’s here, right after tommy reassures buck, that buck starts processing his feelings on what eddie means to him, what they mean to each other, and what they ultimately are. but buck, in an avoidance to fully take in and accept the reality of his feelings for eddie, performs an exercise in subconsciously pivoting those feelings onto tommy.

buck does this because he has nothing to lose with tommy, but he has everything to lose with eddie. he was just reminded of that. "trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting" is an insane thing to say to tommy, and even tommy knows it. those words were meant for eddie.

it's buck's luck that tommy can see the gay of it all and is also a little greedy, so tommy makes the choice to fill in some of the gaps for buck with the kiss. in exchange buck takes this opportunity to use tommy as a blank canvas for what a relationship with someone like eddie could be like, without any of the risk. tommy knows buck is only going to be with him for as long as it takes for him to figure himself out, but tommy's not leaving that exchange empty handed. tommy gets to not feel alone, because he admitted he's jealous of the found family the 118 have built since he's left.

tommy knows it's temporary. i think that's part of the reason why tommy's character is so polarizing in the context of his relationship with buck, and why their relationship so far seems to superficial despite them dating the entirety of 7b. because why would tommy get invested in a relationship built on misguided feelings, fully knowing it's doomed?

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter seven | wc: 5.7k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Lia and Noah meet everyone again at Noah's house. Lia finds a familiar book in Noah's room and Noah catches her reading it, which leads to an inevitable conversation. Reading time: 22mins. aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: fluff, one or two mentions of Lia's overdose, slight anxiety, alcohol intake, sexual innuendos, talks about bondage, one use of the word blowjob, noah on his knees, implied oral sex (fem. receiving).

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Returning to Noah’s house meant facing not only the people who lived there but also anyone else who might have dropped by that afternoon. Lia’s anxiety intensified during the drive from Santa Monica Place. 

Though she’d been nervous earlier, the time spent hand in hand with Noah at the mall had temporarily eased her tension. Now, however, the reality of confronting her friends and dealing with the consequences of her actions weighed on her. Shame, guilt, weakness… What would they think of her? Would they look at her with different eyes? Whatever it was, she had to push forward and deal with it. 

As they pulled into the driveway, Lia stepped out of the car and took a deep breath, following Noah. He glanced back to check on her.

Inside, they were immediately met by Jesse and Jolly, who bypassed Noah and rushed to hug Lia, bombarding her with the same concerned questions on repeat. Moments later, Matt emerged from the studio at the back of the house, giving Noah a quick brotherly hug before turning to Lia. He pulled her into his arms for a few seconds, then stepped back to study her closely.

“You look good,” he said, genuine relief in his voice.

“Thank Noah,” Lia replied.

Noah smiled, casually tossing his hoodie onto the sofa—one of his familiar habits. He noticed immediately that the living room and kitchen were a bit of a mess: dishes piled up in the sink, blankets on the sofa crumpled and unfolded.

“No one bothered to clean up while I was gone?” He asked, though his tone was lighthearted.

“Dude, we had lunch an hour ago and spent the morning being lazy,” Jolly explained, heading into the kitchen and announcing he was going to make coffee for everyone.

He busied himself at the same time Matt mentioned that the two Nicks were on their way over.

The anxiety Lia had about meeting everyone again after being cooped up in her apartment with Noah for what felt like forever—only leaving for her therapy sessions and exchanging a few scattered phone calls with Emery, Jolly, and Folio—faded surprisingly fast. Within five minutes, all the tension melted away. She wasn’t sure what she had expected—maybe judgment, maybe that she’d somehow lost their love or the bond they shared—but before she knew it, the boys were being boys, and it was like nothing had ever changed.

The Nicks and Mike showed up just in time to join the group for coffee. They all gathered around the wide kitchen island, some sitting, others leaning against counters as they shared stuff about the last few days. Conversations drifted easily—someone mentioned a ridiculous late-night craving, Nicholas recounted a failed attempt at cooking dinner, and Jesse imitated Mike’s dramatic reaction to his favorite sports team losing.

Then, Matt brought up work, and that’s when Lia noticed Noah’s energy shift. His face tightened with focus, and in an instant, the playful, relaxed version of him gave way to something more intense. It was like she could see the gears in his head turning. He didn’t even finish his coffee before he headed to the studio with Matt and Mike, already in work-mode.

Lia stayed behind in the living room with the Nicks, Jolly, and Jesse. An hour later, the air felt lighter, and every once in a while, Folio would nudge her, asking if she was okay. A few moments later, Jolly chimed in, wondering aloud if she needed another coffee, but she didn’t. In fact, she realized she was childhishly missing Noah. They had spent nearly every minute together over the last few days, so much so that now, with him gone—to the studio at the other end of the house—for not even an hour, her fingers tingled with the urge to find him, to touch him. 

She must have zoned out, because when she refocused on the conversation, Folio and Jolly were holding ten-dollar bills that Jesse and Nicholas had taken out from their wallets. 

“What’s going on?” Lia asked, furrowing her brows. “You guys into drug dealing now?”

Jolly chuckled. “Nah. Better than that.”

“We made a bet,” Folio explained with a smirk. “Noah couldn’t convince you to cancel the trip. Jesse and Nick were betting he could.”

“They underestimated the power you have over that man,” Jolly added, folding the bill and keeping it in his pocket.

Lia ducked her head slightly to hide the warmth rising to her cheeks. They still didn’t know the full story, and she couldn’t find the courage to tell them yet. She couldn’t help but wonder if there might be another bet on the table—maybe one that involved how long it would take her and Noah to get together.

“Has he been taking good care of you?” Jolly asked.

It was a joke, for he knew the answer to that. But she understood the deeper question there. They wanted to know if she was really okay, and if Noah had been what she needed during this rough time.

“He’s been great,” she said, lifting her chin slightly, a soft smile on her face. “Really great.”

Jolly and Jesse exchanged a look, trying to read into the way she said it. Lia caught their glance and couldn’t help but laugh.

“He’s even done the dishes every single day,” she added. “Can’t complain.”

“Complain about?” Noah’s voice echoed through the hallway. It took him no more than three seconds to appear and enter the living room, smiling brightly at Lia, a sense of calm washing over him as he confirmed she was okay. She looked comfortable and at ease, surrounded by the people they both cared about.

“About your bad habits,” Nicholas muttered, grinning. “Like leaving dirty socks all over the house and all the kitchen drawers open.”

Noah frowned, clearly confused. 

“I don’t do that,” he said, crossing the room and leaning one knee on the armrest of the sofa to reach behind Lia, placing a soft, absentminded kiss on her hair. No one seemed to care or be surprised by the affection; it was just Noah and Lia, the way they’d always been—close, comfortable, unspoken warmth between them.

“I know,” Lia said, tilting her head back to look up at him with a smile. “Don’t listen to them. I told them you’ve been a good boy.”

“I am a good boy. I just finished my part of the work,” he emphasized, his eyes twinkling. “Now it’s your turn, guys. Go catch up on your stuff and stop being lazy—we’re heading out on tour in two weeks, and there’s still a lot to prep.” He looked pointedly at Nick. “We need a full gear check. Make sure the bass rig is solid, and everything’s tuned up. If anything’s busted, handle it now before we’re scrambling last minute. Same goes for you, Folio. We still have to lock in the tempo changes for the setlist. Let’s make sure you’ve got the click tracks lined up and that the drum kit’s in top shape. No last-minute issues like last tour. Matt and Mike are going through the logistics, so whatever you need to check on, guys, do it now. Tighten up your parts because in two weeks, we’re hitting the road hard.”

The group exchanged a mix of playful eye rolls and resigned nods. They knew the drill—work had to get done. Meanwhile, Lia couldn’t help but find his enthusiasm and ordering around extremely hot.  

With a proud “that’s my boy”, Jolly stood up before following the others back to the studio and letting Folio disappear into the garage, where one of his drum kit’s was.  In a matter of minutes, Lia and Jesse were the only ones left in the living room. Noah, true to his perfectionist nature, followed the boys back to the studio. He always had a hard time letting go when it came to work.

Jesse took the chance to show Lia some new ERRA merch ideas on his iPad. He swiped through a series of designs—hoodies, shirts, and hats—that featured bold artwork, some of which Lia immediately recognized as hers. They had used sketches she’d created the previous year, reworking them into something fresh and edgy, but still unmistakably hers.

“Look familiar?” Jesse asked with a grin, tapping the screen to show her a black hoodie with one of her intricate line drawings of a phoenix worked into a line from one of their latest songs. “We decided to tweak it a bit. I hope you don’t mind.”

Lia’s eyes lit up as she examined the designs more closely. 

“Not at all. It looks incredible,” she said, a flush of pride warming her. She’d forgotten just how much she’d missed working on creative projects like this. “It looks so much better than the original.”

“We wanted it to match the vibe of the album a bit more. I thought about asking you, but considering everything that’s been going on, we didn’t want to overwhelm you. We figured we’d give it a shot ourselves. I don’t think it’s better than your original, but if you like it and are okay with it, we’re ready to send it to printing.” 

Lia nodded enthusiastically, agreeing to it. 

As they flipped through more mock-ups, Lia felt that familiar itch at her fingertips. After a few minutes of discussing the tweaks and color palettes, she couldn’t resist pulling out her sketchbook from her backpack. She began sketching new ideas for future possible merch—or perhaps an illustrated book—her pencil moving swiftly across the page.

When Noah finally reappeared, he smiled at the sight of her sketching. He slipped onto the couch between her and Jesse, but before he could say a word to Lia, Jesse roped him into discussing more of the merch designs.

“Check out this lineup,” Jesse said, showing Noah the pictures of the updated items. Noah nodded, half-distracted by the sight of Lia absorbed in her drawing next to him, but he engaged with Jesse, asking questions and giving his thoughts.

A few minutes after, Lia stood up to fix herself a mug of jasmine tea, her head still brimming with ideas. She wandered into the kitchen, completely unaware that Jesse had quietly slipped off to his room, leaving her and Noah alone.

She was just pouring the boiling water into one of her favorite mugs when she felt Noah’s familiar warmth at her back. His lips found her hair, and his nose brushed against her ear, sending a delightful shiver through her body.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

“You were just locked in the studio for an hour,” she replied, though her heart fluttered in her chest. She missed him too, but teasing him felt like the natural response. “That’s nothing compared to your usual routine.”

“I have a new routine now,” he said, his voice low, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh?” She turned around, holding the mug in one hand, bringing it to her lips as she eyed him curiously. “You do?”

She took a slow sip, and Noah’s gaze fixed on her lips as they pressed against the rim of the mug. He watched the way she swallowed, the gentle curve of her throat.

“Yes,” he answered, almost breathless, his hands finding their place on her hips. His eyes darkened, the playful smirk growing more wicked by the second.

Lia swallowed the warm liquid, then deliberately licked her lips. She could feel his pulse quicken as he eyed the little action, and the power she had in that moment made her grin.

Noah’s jaw tightened.  

“What do I have to do to get another blowjob from that pretty mouth of yours?”

Lia raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider his question. 

“Hmm. I don’t know. Last night, you got me to four orgasms in a couple of hours. You set the bar pretty high. Maybe if you can top that...” Her voice dropped, teasing, “I might just get on my knees for you and do that thing with my tongue you seemed to like so much.”

Noah bit down on his lip, hard, his self-control hanging by a thread as he emited a sound similar to a growl. He shook his head slightly, trying to rein in his desire, but it was too much. He reached for the mug, gently taking it from Lia’s hand and setting it behind her on the counter. Then, without another word, he picked her up by the waist, turning them both around and placing her on the kitchen island.

His mouth crashed into hers, the kiss deep and hungry. Lia responded instantly, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as she lost herself in the heat of the moment. She was breathless by the time they parted, but her eyes stayed locked on his, craving more.

Just as Noah’s hands slid up Lia’s sides, his lips still feverish against hers, they heard a sound. Startled, they both froze, turning toward the doorway to find Jesse standing there, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Oh my… Fucking finally!” he exclaimed, his arms lifting in the air to then drop to his sides.

Noah sprang away from Lia, immediately trying to compose himself, cheeks flushed a deep red. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping as he looked anywhere but directly at Jesse. Lia, equally embarrassed, hopped down from the counter, smoothing her shirt, trying to hide the heat rising to her face.

Jesse, still grinning ear to ear, didn’t waste any time. 

“Hey, guys! Get in here! You won’t believe this!” he shouted toward the studio, his voice carrying through the house.

Lia and Noah exchanged a panicked look as footsteps echoed down the hall. Before they could protest, the rest of the guys piled into the kitchen one by one. Jolly, Nicholas, and Mike were the first to enter, and the moment they saw Noah and Lia standing awkwardly with flushed cheeks next to each other, it clicked.

“Seriously? About damn time!” 

The room erupted in cheers and whoops, and before Lia knew it, she was being swept into a hug from Jolly, then from Folio, and even Nicholas joined in with an exaggerated, “Congrats, you two lovebirds.”

Noah stood to the side, laughing nervously and trying to fend off Mike’s bear hug.

“You guys broke the record,” Mike said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Idiots in love who couldn’t see they were in love with each other. I’m amazed it took you this long.”

Matt entered the room, smirking knowingly. “So now we know what you’ve really been up to, locked in Lia’s apartment all these days, huh?”

The teasing had both Lia and Noah blushing again, though this time, it felt a bit easier. 

Folio clapped his hands together, heading to the fridge. “Well, I guess this calls for a celebration. Who’s in for a beer?”

He stopped mid-reach when his eyes met Lia’s. There was a beat of silence, the group looking at her, suddenly remembering.

Lia, catching his hesitation, smiled softly. “It’s okay,” she reassured. “You don’t have to make it weird because I’m here. Go ahead, drink. It’s fine.”

Folio hesitated for a second, then nodded, relieved, and started passing out beers to the others. When he handed one to Noah, though, Noah declined.

“I’ll stick with tea,” Noah said casually, motioning to the kettle on the counter.

Lia glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. She noticed his quiet decision, wondering for a moment if it had something to do with her. 

Jolly called Emery to come over, and soon after, Bryan and Davis joined them, Bryan arriving with several boxes of pizza in tow.

As the hours passed, it felt like old times again. Lia found herself sitting between Noah’s legs on the carpet, her back resting against his chest, as they indulged in different pizza flavors and shared jokes. Emery sat comfortably in Jolly’s arms on the couch, the two of them whispering to each other and stealing occasional kisses, and Bryan and Folio fought for the last slice of peperoni pizza, keeping the others entertained in their silly wrestling.              

Lia felt a deep sense of gratitude as she cuddled in Noah’s arms and watched her friends. Despite everything she had gone through, here she was, surrounded by people who loved and supported her. It felt like nothing had changed, like the bond between them all was as strong as it’d always been. 

The night wore on.

Lia and Emery eventually retreated to a quieter corner of the living room to talk. It felt comforting to reconnect with her best friend, knowing that despite everything, their friendship hand’t changed. Lia had struggled to be the supportive friend Emery deserved during her new relationship with Jolly; right when it began, she had fucked things up with Noah. When she apologized to Emery, she smiled reassuringly and said it was okay; that what mattered now was that they were all in a good place, and that she got her best friend back. Ah, and on top of that, they could now chat about their hot boyfriends, tease each other, and share bits about how good they were in bed. 

Meanwhile, Jolly, Jesse, Noah, and Matt were standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, glancing occasionally toward Emery and Lia. They watched the latter, talking animatedly with her girlfriend, a glow of happiness on her face.

“She looks… different,” Jesse mentioned, his voice low but thoughtful.

“She looks happy,” Jolly corrected. He crossed his arms, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

Noah, who had been absently running his hand up and down his mug of tea, couldn’t take his eyes off her, mesmerized by the way she laughed and smiled. That’s how she wanted her, always —aside from in his bed, naked.

Matt, leaning against the counter beside him, nudged his side. 

“You look good too, man. Did you two catch up on sleep, or have you been using your nights for some well-deserved sweet time?” 

Noah wasn’t one to bask in the attention, especially when it came to him and Lia and their private bedroom matters. However, he couldn’t hide the smile that gave him away. 

The night continued, and the city outside turned pitch black. The sounds in the apartment began to mellow, as everyone settled into their own rhythms. The Nicks, Bryan, and Matt had retreated to their video games, completely absorbed in their battle on the screen, while Jolly and Emery shared soft kisses in a quiet corner of the sofa.

Noah, always drawn back to work, had disappeared into the studio again with Mike, Davis, and Jesse, likely refining tour setlists or tweaking final production notes. As the group dispersed into their various corners, Lia found herself alone for the first time all night. She stood up quietly, leaving the lovebirds and the boys playing videogames behind, and made her way to Noah’s room. 

The warmth of the evening was still wrapped around her, but a part of her longed for a moment alone. The air in the hallway was cooler, quieter. Once inside Noah’s room, she let out a long breath. The familiar scent of him filled the room—it smelled like home.

A small pile of her clothes still lay neatly in one of his drawers, and his bed remained perfectly made, just as it had been since they left for the US tour. She smiled at how organized and clean everything was, a reflection of Noah himself. 

Her gaze lingered on the bed, and a flood of memories rushed back. Not long ago, she had slept in that very spot, bruised and heartbroken. The thought twisted her stomach, so she sat down in the armchair in the corner, trying to focus on the quieter, more peaceful moments she’d spent there—reading books or sketching while Noah took care of her.

But her eyes kept drifting back to the bed. She couldn’t help but think of the nights when Noah had held her through her nightmares, his presence always the comfort she needed. 

Curling up in the armchair, she wrapped her arms around herself, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

Eventually, her attention was drawn to the stack of books on top of the drawer beside her. Absentmindedly, she read the titles until one caught her eye: The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage, the words printed on the spine white and faded yellow.  

She stared at it like it was Pandora’s box—something she shouldn’t open but couldn’t resist. Before she could stop herself, she reached out, picked it up, and flipped it open.

It started as an act of curiosity—the same curiosity that had led her to ask Noah about shibari in the first place—but it quickly became something more. 

As Lia flipped through the pages, her interest on the topic seemed to grow. The book was a deep dive into the history and philosophy behind the practice. She learned about the origins of it, and how, over time, the martial art had evolved into the erotic art of shibari, shifting from control and confinement to an expression of trust, vulnerability, and intimate connection.

Many of the passages mentioned the meditative aspects of it, the idea of releasing control and being fully present in the moment. There was emphasis on the importance of trust between the participants—how the one being tied must surrender to the process, allowing themselves to be vulnerable, while the one tying held the responsibility of creating a safe and secure space. The knots themselves were described as more than just physical restraints; they were symbols of the bond between the partners, a delicate balance of power and intimacy.

The more she read, the more Lia saw how shibari could be about empowerment, not just surrender. The art required both participants to be attuned to each other, heightening their connection through every twist of the rope. It sounded like something she could benefit from, a way to rebuild her trust and connection with Noah—if she could get past her fear.

But as the thrill of trying something new began to bubble up inside her, so did the unease. Her last therapy session had forced her to confront a hard truth—she feared losing control, especially after Mitch had manipulated and controlled her. The idea of someone, even Noah, holding that kind of power over her was terrifying. Could she really trust him enough to let him tie her up?

She hadn’t even realized that she had been thinking about practicing this crazy thing called bondage with Noah until the thought hit her. Heat flooded her face, and a strange ache bloomed between her legs. The mix of fear and excitement left her feeling exposed, as if the very pages of the book had unlocked something she wasn’t ready to confront.

Lia’s mind raced as she lay back on the armchair, her thoughts spiraling deeper. Sex with Noah had already proven to be a release, a way to let go of the fears and insecurities that gnawed at her. He had shown her that she could be vulnerable with him and he would only love her more. He had pleasured her while making her feel safe and loved.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so cared for, so satisfied, so beautiful. Noah had looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, had touched her with reverence, making her body feel alive in a way it hadn’t been in a very long time. 

But as much as she craved that feeling, there were limits. Her trust in him was still fragile—not because she doubted him, but because she doubted herself. She was still easily shaken by the ghosts of her past. The idea of letting him tie her hands, to give him control in that way, sent a ripple of anxiety through her. She couldn’t trust herself not to panic, to be overwhelmed by the memories she tried so hard to bury. 

Lia shook her head, trying to push the deeper thoughts away. She didn’t want to dwell on it. Not now, at least. Instead, she focused on the pages of the book, letting herself get lost in the descriptions of the intricate knots and the philosophy behind the art.

Barely a few minutes later, the door creaked open. 

“Lia?” Noah’s voice cut through her thoughts, soft but filled with concern. “Hey, I got worried for a sec. You okay?”

Lia sat up quickly, her heart racing. She nervously tried to hide the book, heat rushing to her cheeks.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, standing up and keeping the book behind her.

Noah stepped further into the room, his eyes catching the way she held something in her hand. 

“Were you reading?”

“Hum… yeah.” Lia felt her pulse quicken, trying to act casual. 

Noah’s eyes shifted down to her hand, and when he noticed the book, a small smirk played on his lips.

“Is that...?” he began, amusement creeping into his tone. “Are you trying to hide it from me?”

“No,” she said while moving the book behind her to hide it better. 

Noah chuckled, stepping closer, clearly amused. “Lia,” he said, “are you embarrassed?"

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the book. “I was just… I saw it there and I remembered what you read to me. I got curious and—”

“You wanted to learn more?” Noah finished, his smile soft but knowing.

“Yeah. I mean—I was just curious. The book was lying there and…” She stopped when she noticed the way his eyes were boring into her. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Like you want to do these things to me,” she replied, shaking the book in her hand. 

Noah’s playful grin faded when he saw her expression shift.

“I do,” he said, his voice suddenly serious.

“What?” she asked, her throat tight.

“I’d love to tie you up,” Noah admitted, his eyes locking with hers, but his smile quickly fell when he noticed the fear behind her gaze.

Before he could ask her what was wrong, Bryan’s voice rang through the house, calling Noah’s name. The moment shattered.

Lia took the opportunity to escape the intensity of the conversation, leaving the book on the armchair as she crossed the room and brushed past Noah to open the door.

Bryan was standing in the hallway.

“I’m heading out, and so are the others. Just wanted to let you know.”

The house began to empty after that. Slowly, one by one, everyone trickled out, offering their goodbyes with tired but happy smiles.

When the last of them had left and the house had grown quiet, Noah and Lia followed suit, heading back to her apartment. Right before Noah put on his hoodie, Lia suggested staying there, pointing out that the band’s equipment was in the house and it’d be more practical for him to be there instead of at her place, but he refused. 

The ride home was quiet. Noah glanced at Lia several times, concern etching his features, but she seemed… content. Despite the encounter in the room, her expression was soft, pleased even, though her tiredness was evident.

Once they were settled in her bedroom, Lia returned from the bathroom barefoot, wearing only one of Noah’s old t-shirts and her panties. As she adjusted her long hair behind her shoulders, Noah spoke. He had been looking through the window, fear prickling at him. What if he wanted too much from her?

“Did I scare you earlier?” he asked.

She looked up at him, a slight furrow forming between her brows, her hands pausing mid-motion in her hair.

“When I said I wanted to tie you up,” he clarified.

Lia froze briefly, then let her hair fall as she exhaled slowly. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, her hands rested in her lap, fingers nervously twisting, then tracing the hem of the t-shirt. The only light on in the room was the bedside lamp, which casted a warm glow across the space.

“No, you didn’t scare me.”

Noah moved closer until he was in front of her. Then he knelt on the floor, his gaze steady as he looked up at her, his hands gently resting on her knees. The intimacy of the position was grounding, his presence there at her feet a quiet reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“But something was off. I could see it,” he continued. 

Lia hesitated, her mind flashing back to the swirling thoughts that had been spinning through her head. She wanted to be honest, but part of her didn’t want to admit how deeply the idea unsettled her.

“It’s not you,” she finally said, her voice soft. “It’s just… I want to trust you, Noah. And I do. It’s just that… I’m scared of losing control.”

“Do you think I’d ever hurt you?”

“No.” Lia shook her head. “But it’s not about that. It’s about me, about what I went through with Mitch. I’m just… not sure if I can handle being that vulnerable again.”

Noah’s expression softened with understanding. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she whispered, leaning into him. “But a part of me feels like... maybe this could help me. Help me let go of the fear. At the same time, I’m not sure I’m ready to try all of that just yet,” she admitted, her voice softer than before. “I’m curious… and I want to try it with you, but I don’t think I can handle it now.”

Noah’s fingers traced soft circles on her knee, his touch light and reassuring. 

“Of course,” he said, his voice calm and patient. “It makes total sense, and I told you before—I’m in no rush. This is about us. We have all the time in the world to try new things and explore what we like and what we don’t.”

His eyes flicked up to hers, holding her gaze with a quiet intensity. 

“I just want it to be you. And I want to be the only one to give that to you,” he admited. “And I just know you’d look so pretty tied up and naked.”

Lia felt a flush rise in her cheeks as something twirled in her lower belly. She looked down at Noah, the tenderness in his expression making her heart ache in the best possible way. She reached out, cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing across the stubble on his cheek.

“You say that, and you still manage to look so sweet,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “How do you even do that?”

He chuckled softly, leaning into her touch for a moment. 

“It’s my charm.”

Lia smiled, but it quickly faded into a sigh. She felt the gravity of the conversation settle over them again, the air between them thick. There was something about the way Noah was looking at her, the softness in his eyes, that made her feel safe enough to let down her guard a little more.

Noah cupped her cheek this time, his thumb tracing her jaw. 

“We’ll take it slow. And if you’re ever uncomfortable, we stop. I don’t care if it’s mid-knot or mid-anything. You say the word, and it’s over. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“We don’t have to do anything tonight. Not because of this talk or anything else. I don’t want you to feel pressured. We can just lie down, watch something, or fall asleep. Whatever feels right for you. Anything.”

Lia’s fingers slid down to rest against his shoulder, her soft breath mingling with the stillness in the room. She gave him a small nod. 

“Anything?”

Noah nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

For a moment, she hesitated, then slowly stood up from the bed, her legs brushing against his as she moved. Noah stayed where he was, kneeling on the floor, looking up at her with a quiet mix of curiosity. She stood before him, wearing nothing but his t-shirt that fell just shy of her thighs and a pair of panties.

She could feel the heat of his attention—desire simmering but held back by his endless patience. It made her feel both exposed and empowered.

With a steadying breath, she reached down and slowly peeled off the t-shirt. The fabric slipped past her bare skin, falling softly to the floor. Noah’s breath hitched as her breasts came into view, but he didn’t move. His eyes followed the movements of her body like every shift she made was sacred.

Lia stood there, wearing just her panties, feeling the warmth emanating from his brown almond-shaped eyes. There was no rush, no pressure, just the weight of his eyes on her, heavy with desire but still so respectful. It was his restraint, his quiet reverence that made her feel powerful in a way she was learning to love. 

Slowly, she hooked her fingers around the waistband of her panties, pushing them down until they joined the shirt on the floor.

She stood completely exposed now, and yet somehow it didn’t feel like vulnerability. Not with him. His eyes traveled the length of her body, not with hunger, but with something deeper. Like he was seeing her for the first time, all over again.

“Anything,” Noah whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

Lia stepped closer, her body so near that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. His hands instinctively found her hips, pulling her just a little closer as he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to her stomach, just below her navel. Her breath caught, but she didn’t move. She trusted him to take his time, just as he had trusted her.

Noah kissed his way along the soft plane of her abdomen, his nose brushing lightly against her skin, while one of his hands slid to the back of her thigh. Gently, he lifted her leg, guiding it over his shoulder. Lia’s fingers threaded through his hair, her breath coming in slow, steady waves as she guided her core toward his eager mouth.

Her heartbeat quickened, but it wasn’t from fear or hesitation. She wasn’t giving up control; she was choosing to share it with him. And that made all the difference.

She let herself sink into the warmth of his touch, into the safety of his presence, her anxiety fading as she surrendered—not to him, but with him.

— prev. chapter | chapter eight

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[herearedragons]

The Hanged Man (Chapter 4: In The Wake)

Chapter 1

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The house was still burning when they left.

No one came to try and fight the fire; no one came to speak to them as they watched the flames, or as they walked away. But the village was wide awake, every house full of anxious minds; more often than not the curtains were drawn and the shutters closed, but Selene knew that there were eyes in every window they passed by.

At least some of those people must have been awake when the fire started. Some of them must have known exactly who did this. Selene could have found out everything about the attempt on Edér's life right there and then, simply by listening a little closer.

But there were many of them, and their anxious curiosity was laced with painful fear — and she was already in pain again, her headache back in full swing and her entire upper body starting to feel the aftereffects of Edér's borrowed strength.

She didn't have the endurance for it. Not right now.

That was the limit of a cipher's abilities: you could convince a mind, for a time, that its body was capable of more than it thought — and, for a time, the body would play along, but in the end reality would always return.

Still, in this case it was worth it. She'd pushed both herself and Edér, but in the end it meant that there were still two of them, when there could have been just one.

Now that the initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, Selene was slowly coming to terms with that thought.

She'd almost lost her witness and her main ally. She didn't, but it was far too close.

Someone — multiple people working together, from the look of it — had made an attempt on Edér's life, while fully aware that he was under her protection. She'd announced it before the entire village, save for Algar, and even he was informed later.

This only made sense if the group that did this stood to lose more by letting Edér live than by making an enemy out of her.

Which only made sense if —

The realization cut through the haze of pain and exhaustion, sharp and bright.

Edér could help her. It wasn't just a matter of her intuition; someone else was afraid of them working together.

This meant two things.

First, she was on the right track with the investigation of Lady Ygrid's murder.

Second, they would try again. If Selene's presence didn't scare them off, failure wouldn't either.

Which meant that she couldn't let Edér out of her sight.

He was walking silently by her side, his grief for his childhood home a dull ache in the back of her mind. Still, compared to what she felt — what he felt — as they watched the house burn, it was almost nothing.

Maybe she wasn't being a good agent when she chose to grit her teeth and sit with him instead of stepping away and taking stock of their surroundings. Sacrificing her own ability to function for the sake of comforting someone; Lady Webb might not have approved, had she known.

Selene remembered having a tooth pulled once, when she was younger. The actual pulling wasn't bad, a fellow cipher holding the pain away from her just like she did for Edér just now, but after it ached and ached and ached. Edér's mind as he stared at the flames felt a little like that: a deep-seated pain left in the wake of something gone.

But it weakened somewhat when she took his hand, and for that reason, she couldn't regret it.

Near the end of their walk to the Black Hound — Selene decided they'd both stay in her room for the night; she would figure out a new arrangement for Edér in the morning — Edér's thoughts stirred, alerting her that he was about to speak up.

She turned to him a second too early, before the words even began to leave his mouth, and realized her mistake when she saw him flinch.

He recovered quickly, and said:

"Guess you knew I was gonna say something."

Selene just nodded; there was no reason to dwell on it.

"You know what, or? — "

"I'm still not reading your mind. I just felt an intent."

Edér nodded.

"Alright. Well, I just wanted to ask…"

There was a pang of hesitation in his mind; he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to his question.

Still, he continued:

"You must've read a lot of minds in Gilded Vale, by now."

"Not as many as you might think," Selene said. "But some."

"See anything in there that could explain… that?" He gestured vaguely behind them, where the orange blaze was still visible in the distance. "Why they hate me that much?"

His voice stayed mostly steady as he asked, with the smallest crack at the end, but Selene could tell that he had to make an effort to keep it that way.

The pain in his mind was familiar in a way she did her best not to dwell on.

"What happened yesterday, it made sense," Edér said. "Wasn't a great morning for me, but at least I saw it coming. Been eighteen folks there before me, I'd be Nineteen. But burning…" His voice trailed off; he shook his head. "No one's been burned alive in Gilded Vale before, not as execution. What'd I do to be the first?"

Selene hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right way to word her answer.

"I don't think it was an act of hatred," she said finally.

Immediately, Edér's mind bristled with irritation, telling her that she chose wrong.

"Right, 'cause burning down a house is how you show neighborly love. The boarded up windows are a nice touch; really lets 'em know you care."

The pain behind her eyes flared up.

Selene took a deep breath.

That was on her. She couldn't respond with irritation in turn; they were both hurt and exhausted and coming off a near-death experience, and were about to spend the rest of the night in the same room.

Don't get angry at him. Don't get angry at yourself for messing it up. Just keep talking.

"If it was about hatred, they would have done this a long time ago," she said. "Maybe during the first purges, or after Swithin's hanging. But what's the point in mob violence when your target is standing with one foot on the gallows already?"

Edér grimaced briefly at the mention of Swithin's name, but didn't say anything; the sound of his thoughts didn't betray extreme discomfort at her knowing the story, just a sense of regret.

And then came her question, and finally there was something else in his mind except for seething emotion.

He considered her words.

"Maybe they thought I was gonna get away?"

Selene nodded.

"And why would they think that? Forget what we know; no one heard me tell you I know you're innocent. I made sure."

She kept her voice low as she said that. They were walking through an emptier part of the village, and, while Selene didn't sense any immediate attention, the quiet meant that their voices would carry further.

Suddenly, Edér stopped in his tracks. Selene stopped too, and watched his expression shift as he put the pieces together.

"…'Cause they also know I didn't do it," he said. "And they need me gone."

For a second, his mind was still hovering between doubt and certainty, and then the decision was made; Selene could almost see the scales tip.

Edér's hands balled into fists at his sides; when he spoke again, his voice was low with anger, not unlike what she'd heard in Pasca's memory when he talked about Raedulf.

"They were covering it up. That pigshit burned my parents' house down to cover up his crime."

He was referring to Raedric. It seemed that he had made up his mind about who was responsible for Ygrid's death, which was fine; being objective about the case and the available evidence was Selene's job, not his.

"If that's the case, he made a mistake," Selene said.

"That he did," Edér agreed grimly. "Think I've got some words for our esteemed lord, when I see him next."

"You'll have to keep it to just words, unfortunately," she said, aware of the violent intent stirring in his mind. "Any more than that, and I'd have to take you in along with him."

Edér raised an eyebrow:

"You could look the other way? Blink real slow?"

She shook her head.

For a moment, it seemed as though Edér was about to say something else, but then he just sighed and nodded, resigned.

"Alright," he said. "But we're gonna get him."

"We will," Selene said. "Do you want to know what the killer's real mistake was?"

"Not finishing the job?"

"Revealing their hand. Wanting you gone so badly means that as long as you're alive — " Selene pointed at him — "there's a threat to them. There's something you know, or something you are, that can lead us to answers."

"Well, that's something," Edér said, uncertain. "Wish we knew what that was."

Then, he frowned:

"Hey, you okay? You look... kinda shaky."

He was referring to her hand; for as simple a gesture as it was, pointing at him required a significant effort on Selene's part, and her entire arm trembled as she did it.

Gods damn it. She must have seriously overtaxed either Edér's body or her own while dealing with the fire; the kickback from borrowing someone else's strength was usually not that severe.

"I'll be fine once I rest," Selene said.

☾

By the time they got to the inn, Edér was the one carrying Selene's still-damp cloak because she'd dropped it on the way, her hands shaking too badly to maintain a proper grip. She couldn't grab a door handle either, and had to let him open all the doors.

She pushed down her frustration and the tiny tinge of dread at her own helplessness at a moment where they could very well still be in danger, and led the way to her room.

The Black Hound was quiet at this time of night. There were some restless minds awake, people peering out of windows at the fire in the distance, but the anxiety here was much lesser than near Edér's house: less people, more distance, less information about what exactly was happening.

No one was in the common room or in the hall upstairs, which was great.

Once they were in the room, Selene had Edér lock the door and check that the window was still latched shut, the same way as she left it. The room wasn't too cold and the glow of her own hair gave them more than enough light to see, which spared her from having to ask him to light the fire.

Only when the arrangements were more or less to her liking — and she was sure that she wasn't detecting any minds with ill intent in their immediate vicinity — did she allow herself to sit down on the bed, wrap her aching arms around herself, close her eyes and exhale, slowly and loudly.

Everything hurt: her eyes, her arms, her chest, the space between her ears. Edér's thoughts weren't as painful anymore, at least; the worst that was reaching her was vague concern, which paled in comparison to everything else.

Selene allowed herself the luxury of self-pity for a second, then took a deep breath and told Edér:

"Look in my bag on the desk. There should be potions, small vials of clear liquid. Get me one."

He nodded and went off to rummage in her things.

Selene hadn't brought a lot with her: a change of clothes, spare bullets, some snacks, basic hygiene supplies and her medicine. Anything beyond that she could either do without, or purchase on the spot.

The medicine was what Edér was looking for. It wasn't rare for a cipher to need some sort of medication to help with the more unpleasant side of their powers; some suffered mood swings, some had trouble focusing their attention or falling asleep, and some, like Selene, had to deal with pain and exhaustion.

She didn't like resorting to the medicine, which was the reason for it being packed away in her bag and not in one of her pockets or in a belt pouch, where it would tempt her at all times. Depending on the severity of her pain, the medicine would either take it away entirely or make it far more tolerable — but as a side effect, it would dull her cipher senses, too. In most circumstances, that was a bad bargain.

But right now, the pain was making thinking difficult, and Selene needed to think. She needed to make a new plan. To review evidence. To make sure Edér was alright.

"Found it."

He approached her with a vial of the clear potion. Selene nodded her thanks and attempted to take it from his hand, only to discover that effort was beyond her at the moment.

Edér ended up having to tip the vial into her mouth, just as she did with the healing potion after he'd burned himself. He noticed the similarity as well; setting the empty vial aside, he said:

"Well, guess we're even about nursing each other back to health now. Feel better yet?"

She was, in fact, starting to feel better; the medicine worked fast. First, the painful knot behind her eyes came unwound; then her upper body began to relax, her mind released from whatever self-destructive loop it was caught in.

Selene nodded.

"Thanks."

Edér stood silent for a long moment; at first she didn't understand why, and then he said:

"Black bones, I really am dumb, aren't I? All that, and I hadn't even thanked you for saving me. Again."

Selene looked up at him. With the sound of his thoughts muffled, it was impossible to tell what was happening in his mind, but he looked as tired as she felt. He'd wiped most of the soot off his face as they walked, but there were still black smears left, and his beard and hair looked several shades darker than they did during the day; his eyes were still bloodshot, irritated by smoke.

To be perfectly honest, she didn't mind the lack of thanks, but it was nice of him to say something.

"It's fine," she said. "I did what I had to. If anything, I wish I could have prevented it in the first place."

"Well, I wish Waidwen had stayed at home and kept growing vorlas." Edér shrugged, exhaustion clouding anything else that might have showed in his voice or expression; Selene wasn't sure what exactly he meant to convey. "I'm still here, and I could've not been, so, thank you."

He settled heavily on the opposite end of the bed; the frame creaked faintly as he sat down. He stared into the space in front of him for a moment, then buried his face in his hands with a weary sigh, elbows resting on his knees.

"I'm sorry about your house," Selene said.

"Thanks," came the answer, flat and muffled between his hands.

She leaned her back against the wall and stared at a corner of the ceiling, both unsettled and relieved by the rare blankness of her own mind.

It was strangely peaceful, sitting together in silence. Whether it was the lingering excitement of a successful rescue, the relief of both of them still being alive, or just a natural extension of her sympathy towards him, for a moment Selene felt a weird kinship with the man sitting next to her.

Her thoughts went back to the first glimpse she'd caught of his mind, back by the tree.

There was the cold, and the irritation, and the fear. The knowledge that he was innocent.

And flashes of a memory from years ago: a man and a woman, unarmed, struggling against two armed and armored guards in a small one-room house.

They had killed those guards.

They were defending a Hollowborn.

Edér had wondered aloud why Selene was so willing to involve herself in his fate, and she had no doubt he'd wondered even more in his thoughts. To him, there was no reason for anyone to ever want to help him.

But many would say that there was no reason to defend a soulless infant, and Edér did it anyway. Even if Selene couldn't admit to him that she knew that — and she couldn't, not while he was still a subject of Raedric's and her suspect — she kept this thought in the back of her mind.

Those with sympathy for the broken beyond repair were rarer and rarer in the Dyrwood nowadays, and, if Selene could save even one of them, she owed it to herself to try.

And she had to admit it: she liked Edér. He was a quicker thinker than she'd expected, brave enough to speak his mind, and resilient in the face of pressure that would have caused many others to snap.

She wanted to see him survive.

Selene thought again about the pain that felt familiar; the thought of his that she had caught and discarded immediately, fearing to hurt herself if she examined it closer. With her mind numbed by the medicine, she could allow herself to face it, for a time.

See anything there that could explain that? Why they hate me that much?

The betrayal of learning that your community wants you utterly and entirely gone, every trace of you. As if you had never existed.

It was a shame that Edér had to experience that, too.

Just as her thoughts started to spiral, going further down the path she usually kept closed, his voice pulled her back to reality:

"…There's something I'm wondering about. How'd you find me?"

Selene looked over. Edér was still sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, his face no longer in his hands; his expression was still weary, but more focused than it was before. He'd pulled himself together, for now.

"I was on the edge of town, checking the horse lead," she said. "Then I saw fire in the distance, and ran to see what was happening. Once I got close enough, I knew that it was your house, and could sense your mind inside. You know the rest."

Edér hummed in acknowledgement.

"Nice trick, that; talking inside my brain. Blocking my pain, too. I still don't get the thing with the cloak, though."

"I borrowed your strength. Convinced my own mind for a time that it was in your body, which is stronger and can do things I normally can't. Usually I'd explain before doing this, but…" Selene shrugged, and felt a pinch of relief when her body didn't protest at the motion. "There wasn't much time."

Edér's brows knitted together in a frown as he — probably thought about her explanation, but, again, she couldn't know for sure.

Now that the pain relief had fully set in, she was already missing her telepathy.

Eventually Edér nodded, to himself more than to her, but it seemed like there still was something on his mind.

Finally, he said:

"It's funny, you know; twice now you showed up just when I was sure I was about to see the Wheel. That kind of luck… Hel, it's almost enough to make me think maybe my god's not dead after all."

Once again, Selene couldn't tell the intent behind his words. Was he just sharing an insight? Asking her to reaffirm his faith? Something else?

Still, she had to respond somehow.

"…You think Eothas sent me?"

The corner of his mouth curled up into a mirthless smile.

"Don't think there's anyone left who can say for sure what Eothas did or didn't. But you, well, you're the closest thing to a miracle I've seen in a long time. Trying to figure out how I should feel about it."

Me and you both, Selene thought.

All she could say for sure was that Edér wasn't mocking her when he said that, and that his uncertainty seemed genuine.

"Well, if a god did send me, it would have to be Ondra," she said after a few seconds of silence. "And I don't think she'd do that."

"'Cause you think she doesn't like you being in Dunryd Row."

"No. Because I used to serve her, and then turned away from my duties."

The words left her mouth before she could think better of it.

Selene wasn't sure what she was doing. Sure, she felt some sympathy for Edér, but this — she didn't talk about this. She just didn't. Even without the headache that would usually accompany those memories, just a vague mention was enough to conjure a sinking feeling in her stomach.

But it was too late to question herself, because she did say it.

Maybe it was the medicine clouding up her thoughts, but, for some reason, some part of her felt like he'd understand.

Edér was watching her intently; it felt that way, at least.

"What happened?" he asked.

The sinking feeling got worse. For a second, she could almost taste briny water in her mouth again, but taking a deep breath was enough to make that disappear.

"I was unhappy," Selene said. "I got tired of drowning everyone else's sorrows. When I said that I was going to leave the temple, some people tried to stop me by force. I still left, but it wasn't pretty."

That was an understatement, but the full details didn't really matter.

"Ondra never spoke to me," she said. "Not when I was devout; not when I began to question; not when I was getting sick from doing something I didn't believe in anymore. Every single person I knew was certain that I was chosen, but I don't think she ever cared about anything that happened to me."

After a moment of hesitation, she added:

"I want to believe that Eothas is different. Maybe all of them are; maybe Ondra is kind and caring, just not to me. I don't know. I just know that if anyone comes to me looking for the gods' wisdom, I can only disappoint."

She hoped she'd be able to leave Edér with some hope for his own faith while also letting him know that he wouldn't find any answers with her.

She had no way of telling if it worked; his expression stayed attentive and guarded, and she couldn't tell whether there was acceptance or disappointment on the other end.

"Well, that's honest at least," Edér said. "I appreciate that."

And then:

"Wasn't right what those folks did, trying to get you to stay. Thing with faith is, you can't force it on people any more than you can force it out of 'em."

For reasons Selene didn't fully understand, breathing became difficult for a moment.

She nodded, hoping that would suffice as a response, and, seemingly, it did. Edér's eyes crinkled as he gave her a brief smile; this time, there was no bitterness in it.

She was right. He did understand; the part of it that she could bear to share, at the very least.

Maybe saying it was a good idea after all. It wasn't exactly relevant to the case, but, still, the two of them were in this together; a small show of trust could only serve to make their cooperation easier.

The strange tightness had disappeared from her throat at this point, so Selene spoke up:

"We should rest; there's still time until dawn. Take the bed, I'm fine sleeping on the floor."

Edér shook his head.

"Make it the other way 'round," he said. "No disrespect, agent, but I'm not letting a lady sleep on the floor."

Despite herself, Selene chuckled.

"That would have been very polite of you, had you not almost burned your face off less than an hour ago," she said. "You're more hurt than me, and you need a good rest for the healing to fully set in. Besides, I'm going to stay awake for a little longer, go over my notes."

From his expression, it seemed that Edér wasn't fully convinced, but he didn't keep arguing.

"Alright. Wake me if you change your mind, or if there's trouble."

"I will," Selene promised, and stood up.

As she did, Edér regarded his own filthy, charred clothes for a moment, and then said:

"…Yeah, Pasca'll kill me if I let that touch her linens. Think I'm gonna have to take those off; don't know what your sensibilities are, but you might wanna shield your eyes for a second."

She nodded:

"I'll give you privacy."

Selene sat down at the small desk on the other side of the room — conveniently positioned so that her back was turned to the bed — and took out her journal again.

Hearing shuffling noises behind her as her co-investigator and official suspect presumably stripped down and got into bed, she briefly reviewed her earlier notes: the notes she took at the crime scene, a recollection of her conversation with Pasca, and some inconclusive notes about the notable lack of recent hoofprints and horse excrement on the outskirts of Gilded Vale, as well as a lack of eyewitness accounts of a woman riding into town. There was also a proper case summary now, written just after her conversation with the innkeeper, and a single, mostly empty page dedicated to her investigation of Hattorn's fate.

"'Right, I'm decent, kinda," Edér's voice sounded behind her back. "I'll have to get new clothes from somewhere tomorrow, else this investigation's gonna get real awkward."

"Good point."

On a new page, Selene started making a list. First item:

Get Edér a change of clothes

"Know who can help with that?" she asked.

"I'd ask Pasca."

"Alright." Selene noted it down.

She mulled the next point over in her mind for a moment, before putting down:

Move into a room for two

It wasn't ideal — her pretense of still suspecting Edér would definitely suffer — but after tonight, she couldn't see a way to keep him safe outside of her presence.

What else?

Search the remains of the house

That was just practical. If any of Edér's things happened to survive the fire, he should have them.

There was maybe one other thing she could think of regarding the consequences of the house fire.

"Edér, is there a healer in town?"

"Not anymore," he said. "Left a couple years ago, once Raedric got too crazy for her tastes. No one was brave enough to take up after her. When someone gets real bad, folks trek out to Anslög's Compass to see her."

No active temple, no healer: Gilded Vale wasn't too kind to the sick and injured.

"Alright then."

She'd have liked to have Edér checked for lasting damage — a single healing potion should have fixed most of it, but the effects of those often varied — but it seemed like that wouldn't be easily possible. She'd just have to trust that the potion sufficed, and keep an eye out for symptoms that said otherwise.

For now, this seemed like a good plan.

"You should try to sleep," Selene told him. "Let me know if my hair is too bright."

It's been a complaint in the past, when she had to share rooms with others: not in the temple — she's always had a room of her own there — but later in Hadret House, when she was in training. She'd learned to cover her hair and horns to let her roommates sleep.

"Nah, I'm fine. Goodnight."

With that, there was a shifting noise — probably Edér turning away — and he fell silent.

Left to her work, Selene started writing a record of the house fire by the light of her hair. Once that was done, she did her best to extract points of interest from her own story, and listed them in a small neat column next to the broader account:

Multiple perpetrators

Windows were boarded up, fuel and kindling was used — time and preparation, premeditated

Likely multiple eyewitnesses, but no alarm was raised. Might be able to extract perpetrators' identity from witness memories

Working version: meant as a cover-up, not mob violence. Whose orders?

About midway through that list, the familiar all-encompassing noise of active minds started trickling back into her awareness, bringing an aray of distractions, but also palpable relief: it was good to have her most important sense back.

With it came the hum of restless thoughts from where Edér was supposed to be sleeping, betraying the fact that he was wide awake.

Reasoning that the way he spent his resting time was none of her business, Selene ignored the noise and moved on with her work. Still, she couldn't help but be aware of it: a buzz of anxiety just loud enough to be heard.

There was a feeling underlying it that wasn't quite pain, but something similar to dragging your hand through gravel; a sharpness that wouldn't let his thoughts rest.

Following an instinct, Selene closed her eyes for a moment and saw flashes of something: a grey, cold night from long ago, soldiers bundled up in their cloaks, resting their heads on their packs, trying to fall asleep. There had been word of Readcerans nearby.

The grip of a sabre in her — his — hand, the awareness of his shield within reach, not knowing whether it would do him any good if an ambush sprang on them while he was still asleep.

Selene opened her eyes, resurfacing, and exhaled slowly; she had held her breath during the vision.

She didn't mean to dive in; if she did, she'd be breaching her promise. But the thought seemed to find her, rather than the other way around; did that still count?

Either way, she now had an idea of what was keeping Edér awake.

A lingering echo of his thoughts told her that it wasn't a rare occurrence, and that normally he'd reach for his pipe and whiteleaf to lull his mind back into behaving.

It wouldn't be good for him to spend the rest of the night without rest. The healing would take better after some sleep, and, considering the circumstances, Selene needed him to be sharp tomorrow.

"Edér," she said quietly. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah." A shifting sound as he turned to face her. "Need something?"

Selene turned to him as well and found him sitting up, looking at her.

The cold white light of her hair picked out scars across his upper body. There were many, which made sense for a soldier: thin lines and jagged shapes, faded, but still visible. Something made her linger on that for a moment, wondering how many of those scars already existed by the time the night from the vision came around, and how many were acquired after.

Selene pushed the thought out of her mind. It didn't really matter; her thinking was probably just being affected by the memory she'd picked up.

She focused. She needed to tell Edér something.

"Since you're awake, I just wanted to say. Whoever set the fire will probably try again; from here on out, we'll only be getting closer to answers, and they'll only get more desperate to stop us. I'll be surprised if that's the last attempt we see on one of our lives. Yours more likely than mine, since Dunryd Row will have questions if I don't return."

Even before she finished speaking, she could feel Edér's anxiety stir — and yet outwardly, his expression had barely changed.

That was why she needed her telepathy.

"Should've said so sooner," he said. "Nothing lulls a guy to sleep like a promise of murder."

"Well, they will try. But they won't succeed, and they won't get as far as they have today, either. I'm not leaving you alone anymore, and when it happens, I'll be ready."

Edér raised an eyebrow:

"You'll be watching over me, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Selene said simply. "The harder they'll try to get rid of you, the harder I'll fight to keep you around."

Remembering their earlier conversation, she added:

"Not because any god told me to, but because it's the right thing to do. In fact, if a god spoke to me right now and told me not to, I'd do it anyway."

There was the tiniest thrill of dread in her stomach as she spoke the second sentence. She'd blasphemed many times in the past — against Ondra, and against other gods on occasion — and, as freeing as it felt, the very next emotion she felt was always the fear of retribution.

Still, Selene meant what she said. And no retribution came this time either, just like all the times before it; more proof that the gods probably couldn't care less.

Edér stared at her for a long moment; so long that her attention began to drift away, and had to be wrangled back into focus. She was probably getting tired too.

"You really mean it, don't you," he said. "You'd really do it."

Selene nodded.

In the light of her hair, she saw the corner of Edér's mouth twitch, and then he ran a hand over his face and shook his head, silent.

"Well," he said finally, "Guess the least I can do is pay it back. Whatever you need for this case, you can count on me to help. And I know you've got your cipher stuff and all kinds of training, but, for what it's worth, I'll be looking out for you too."

He was sincere, and Selene thought that it was only fair to respond with sincerity in turn.

"I need it more than you know," she said.

Edér nodded, a serious look on his face; the sound of his thoughts told her that he had noted her words.

She could feel things shifting in his mind, folding into patterns.

The gravelly feeling was gone. He'd sleep fine now; even if Edér himself couldn't tell yet, she could.

Selene tried to speak, and found herself yawning instead; just as well — her body was making the point with her.

Edér gave her a look.

"You still working on your agent stuff?"

"I'm just about done."

"Good. You'd better catch some sleep too."

It didn't take her long to figure out her bedding situation; the carpet in the room was thick and reasonably comfortable to lie down on, and Edér insisted she take the pillow from the bed, at least. Normally, her cloak would have made a great blanket, but it was still miserably damp, hanging from a hook on the wall; Selene had to make do with some of her spare clothes instead.

By the time she'd fully settled down, she could already hear Edér's thoughts slowing. He'd be asleep before she was.

Selene closed her eyes, and hoped that there was a decent amount of time left until dawn.

[simpjaes]

i feel like a stalker reader fic with a plot twist of sunghoon being a stalker even before reader was obsessed with him (kind of like a mastermind where he plotted how and when they would meet first) AND A FREAKY ONE AT THAT is only a fic that you could possibly write

and you're right about that bc i do believe i'd slay that shit if I ever got around to it.

a/n: this was meant to just be a thought but i got a lil lost in it lmfao.

Like, the idea of Sunghoon being obsessed with you since fuckin' senior year of high school because he transferred there. He was vulnerable when he transferred due to home life stuff forcing the move, and he had close to no one save for a dad who was never home. You were the first person to say hello to him and that singular greeting made him grow attached.

and he'd like, watch week after week. sometimes you'd greet him in passing but never really approach him or anything. he would be too far attached already to approach you himself too, because he feels socially awkward. he is socially awkward. No one back at home liked him much either so his confidence isn't quite high enough to peruse you.

anyway, shoot to college. maybe....he's been like...yknow....doing his research on you since he transferred back in highschool. maybe he's doing the same degree path as you.....maybe he did some snooping to land in the same university, taking the same classes....at the same times as you.........

he's grown very smart about this tho bc like, you'd never second guess why you're always seeing that handsome guy everywhere. maybe you guys are just more alike than you could have thought. and you wouldn't grow your own little crush turned obsession until he you noticed how he ignored you.

you never saw him glance or stare. he'd brush you off any time you try to greet him, he'd always speak in class with confidence, making you feel like he's...very very very intelligent. and it's like, woah, he acts so different compared to high school. you're into him kinda....there's nothing wrong with a lil crush right?

lil crush turns HUGE crush when he ends up at all the same parties you attend. always lurking in a corner by himself looking handsome and untouchable, sometimes with other girls approaching him. these are the moments you'd catch his drunken eyes on you from time to time. Or maybe he's just catching you staring. you're not sure of yourself anymore by this point.

still he wouldn't make any moves or efforts to talk to you. little crush turns to big crush. big crush turns to you wanting to learn more about him...and learning more about him turns to you consistently checking in on his social medias that he rarely updates....asking about him around campus when you manage to land in a room where he isn't, hoping he shows up to more parties..etc.

you wouldn't realize the stalker behavior you're exhibiting til it was too late. he'd be all too fond of it though, knowing he's managed to catch your attention by giving you none at all. what a needy little doll.

It's not until you dead ass find out where he works part time and you're filling out your own application before you realize that maybe you're going a bit too far. when he ends up being there during your interview though, you're a bit too blinded by wanting to know more about him to think too hard about it.

and so, the two of you are working together, going to classes together, attending parties together...except separate. and it's driving you up a fucking wall because surely it's because he has a girlfriend right? but you never see her. you can't find any trace of someone he's with on social media. never on campus, at work, no where. so, lets say you guys end up at a party again and you really do lose it.

lots of alcohol in your system, sunghoon looming in a corner, side eyeing pretty girls who stare at him. you'd be the one staring the most, walking up to him while forgetting how to breathe, only realizing you might actually be in love with him when you try to reach for his shoulder with a brain so empty you forgot what you wanted to say. "Hm?" he'd hum at you with a raised, unbothered brow. His skin prickling at the way your shaking hand grabs at him. He calms himself through it though, having jerked off enough to the mere thought of these hands on him nightly since he met you. He knows how to calm down now. "I'm like, in love with you, maybe." You'd slur out, stupidly with an embarrassed but hopeful expression. Sunghoon's unbothered demeanor wouldn't change, but the setting would. He'd take your hand and guide you without a word, outside, into his car, and he wouldn't say a anything to you through it until he'd driven and parked somewhere entirely secluded. [He's sober btw, you make him drunk enough.] "Do you even know how much I want you?" He'd mumble so quietly you wouldn't be able to hear him over the thumping of your heart, but you stare at him, watching his lips move as he tries to speak. You watch him the whole time, feeling safe in this secluded spot with a man you've grown obsessed with. Your body reacts and moves on instinct as he sits there. You can't fucking stand being so close yet so far from him. "I don't know what you're saying to me." You'd mumble and slur out to him, far too drunk than you originally thought now that there is no loud and booming music to drown your thoughts out. "You never do." He frowns, leaning towards you and practically pinning you to your seat by energy alone. His entire body feels like it's on fire, cock twitching, heart jumping. "You want me?" You nod, breathing softly and deeply as you look at him. Of course you want him. "How bad?" He follows up. "As badly as I've wanted you?" You nod again. "You sure?" Another nod.

His eyes go vacant now as he stares at you, adjusting his body on top of yours in the cramped space of his car. You feel his nose nuzzle against your neck as he inhales deeply. He groans slightly at the scent, never able to smell you so fully except for in passing. This alone could satisfy him for life if he wanted it to. "Show me then." He nearly demands, wanting you to be the one to prove all of his work to get to this point is truly coming to fruition. Wanting you to make all of the first moves. Wanting you to do it all for him.

And, well...you do.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Why Not Us?

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six |

CW: Memories of mass murder, some internalized dehumanization, survivor’s guilt

-

Misae made it to the little bedroom before the moon rose, thankfully. He nearly tripped over the strange mattress on the floor, the one they’d blown up with air and then thrown blankets and pillows on. It was meant to be his bed, he thought, which made sense.

Anaya might let him on the real bed, but not to sleep. Wolves, like dogs, slept on the floor. It would be lonely, but it would make sense. Almost nothing did, now. Sitting in chairs, eating pizza instead of having to shift to eat the raw meat thrown into the kennels, wearing clothes and being asked if he would like something to drink… they didn’t seem to know what he was, to understand. 

He could hear them now, Eden, Anaya, and Vanessa, from down the hall. They talked and laughed, and Misae felt hollowed out at the sound, wishing he could be there with them.

Maybe there would be more pizza.

He laid one hand on his stomach. It felt… almost rounded. He’d never eaten so much or so well, not in all the life he had lived. He hadn’t had to fight over any of it, either. There hadn’t been the need to snarl and posture, or crawl on his belly and lick at an older wolf’s mouth, hoping they’d give him a few scraps out of pity or some dim affection.

The moon’s slow rise made him restless, bouncing on his toes as he tried to decide where he could safely change. The room was small, but he could fit under the big bed if he was smart about it. 

But then the humans would get into the bed, and if the mattress dipped low it might force him back out.

The call to shift prickled under his skin, and Misae stripped his shirt and pants off before it could take hold and leave him confused and trapped in the cloth. He tossed the sweatpants and shirt onto the bed just as he felt his spine begin to bend.

It always felt so good, when the shift started. Like waking up after a good sleep, coming back to where you belonged. He had always been meant to walk on four legs, and the human side was only what he was allowed for good behavior.

He leaned over, a sensation like goosebumps running up and down his arms and legs, setting his hair on end. The healing wound in his leg throbbed but some of the pain felt more distant as he changed.

It wasn’t that the wound disappeared, it was only that his wolf body knew how it felt to be injured with silver far better than his human body did. It knew how to ignore the pain, how to keep moving, because to let the pain take you was to be singled out to die. Wolves who were too hurt to keep going were wolves that starved, his instincts knew it. Wolves who starved died.

Everyone died anyway. It hadn't mattered how good they were when Bill didn't want them any longer.

He shuddered and shoved that thought aside. He couldn’t think about his family, not now. It would overtake him and he’d just be trapped in the grave in his mind, even if his body was here still breathing.

He couldn’t think about dozens of flat blank eyes, frozen in mute horror. He couldn’t think about the warmth still lingering in the stiffening bodies pressed all around him, about how Nina had tried to cover him and hide him from the shots even as she had been bleeding to death herself. 

Had Nina been his real mother?

It was possible. Their fur was the same, their eyes were the same. But some of the other wolves had fur and eyes like his, too. But... maybe Nina had been his mother.

Maybe she had known it, if only at the end, and tried to save the one pup she could.

The humans had tried to ruin them to each other, make them hurtful and hateful, but the wolves had found a way to love, anyway. In secret, when it was safe, and at the end when nothing was safe and it didn’t matter any longer there was one more way to love that Bill couldn't take from them.

It made no difference if you loved when you would lose each other anyway. In the end, the werewolves had loved each other, and it hadn’t saved any of them.

Except him.

Misae closed his eyes, stretching his shifting muscles and forcing himself to leave the dead behind, for now anyway. For as long as he could. 

Bones cracked and broke beneath his skin, painlessly reforming. Misae dropped to a crouch and leaned his weight forward on his hands, feeling bare, vulnerable fingers change to rougher paw pads and clicking nails. He stretched his front legs until the muscles stretched and burned and sighed, contented by the feeling.

Canine teeth lengthened and his ears grew. He twitched one just to feel it, exhaling a rough sigh as his tongue briefly lolled out. Fur spread over skin like a blanket, a little patchy but still warming his chilly body, and the bed on the floor called to him. He was tired, and the killing back at Bill’s house kept trying to worm its way past his moments of comfort and warmth in this new place, with these new people.

If he laid still, it would catch up with him, and he didn’t want Anaya or Eden to hear how wolves mourned, how they cried. He didn’t know if they would still comfort him then, or if they would turn angry at the sounds, or learn to hate him. Bill’s family hated the sound of the mourning wolves, beat them for their weeping in human form or for their howls as wolves. 

Who knew what regular humans would do? 

Misae only knew that Anaya and Eden had been kind, so far. But so had Aaron, sometimes - Bill’s youngest son had been known to scratch behind a wolf’s ears when none of the other humans were looking. Even Austin had once bandaged Misae’s leg after he’d gotten it caught in a fence and bled.

That didn’t make them any kinder when the werewolves broke the rules, rules no one ever said out loud but simply expected the wolves to learn by being beaten when they were broken until they figured them out. It had never stopped Austin from calling them all names, or laughing when they fought.

Human kindness always had limits. 

Always.

Even as he became the first form he ever knew, the stalking werewolf that Bill had never been able to separate from the boy whose body the wolf shared, Misae knew he had to hide. Not from Anaya or Eden, who had already seen him as a wolf. Not because he feared them.

He had to hide because they didn’t know to fear him.

Misae’s nose turned black and scents exploded into the world around him. What had before been just the light smell of cleaning products and maybe a pumpkin-scented candle was now a collection of stories he could read in the air and along the ground. Vanessa had walked in here to set up the mattress, having forgotten to take her shoes off after getting the mail. Misae could smell the grass she had stepped on, scent the slight shift in her smell of frustration when it took a long time to get the air pump working to set up the mattress. He could smell, on the mattress, long months spent idle with no need to be used. The faintest smell of a camping trip, some time in the past - the last time the air mattress had been needed.

The way his sense of smell changed was always what gave away when it was time to find somewhere to hide, before the silver light could touch his fur and call to him. It would make him want to run, to howl and see if any other wolves were nearby to answer.

What would he do if they were?

He had known only his own family. He’d never seen any werewolves that didn’t huddle together in the kennels, fighting over the barest hints of kindness shown to them by Bill and his family. If he met a free wolf, he might simply lay down, show his belly, and wait for them to tear out his throat when they smelled the kennels on him. 

Misae paced restlessly around the small room, limping and trying to keep weight off his injured leg, snuffling against the ground, tracing the hints of Eden and Anaya in here and then following the softer smell of Vanessa until he found the closet door was cracked open.

Perfect. Like a den.

He had to paw at it, whining softly with his ears flat against his head, looking nervously at the patch of moonlight that seemed to head inexorably in his direction. His heart raced beneath his fur at the sight. 

Bill had always said, over and over again, never let the moonlight touch you. It was the only rule the humans told the werewolves, and taught to the pups before they were put into the main kennels. During the full moon, for three nights, they would huddle together inside big wooden boxes that formed a kind of den. Anyone caught outside the den, by Bill or by the cameras, would be punished.

It was the first thing Misae remembered learning, while still toddling around on four short legs, a few weeks after birth. Never let the moonlight touch you. He'd broken the rule running from the guns, from the grave of his family. He'd broken the rule running from Austin. But… that had been different, hadn’t it?

Hadn’t it?

Misae clambered clumsily over a pile of cardboard boxes, blowing harshly through his nose as things packed inside clattered around. He pushed at them with his snout until he had made for himself a sort of barrier, protecting him from the world outside this tiny space. He turned in a circle and then laid down, ears flat, shimmering amber-brown eyes watching the silvery light that cut across the bed through the open doorway.

Beneath his nose, soaked into the floorboards years ago, he could smell a hint of a rose perfume. Left by some other person, long before any of the familiar smells of Vanessa's life had entered this place.  

The scent made him shudder, heart going cold.

Bill's wife Ada wore rose perfume. 

The smell of roses, for the children in the puppy kennels, meant one of you might vanish that day. Ada sometimes took them, luring them out with treats and soft words until she could get the loop around their necks to pull tight, leading them on the leash inside.

She mostly brought them back, after sticking needles to take blood or give what she called 'medicine' that put the puppies to deep sleep and left them groggy and confused upon waking. She mostly brought them back.

But not always.

Rose perfume drifting on the air was sometimes all the warning they got before a pup disappeared. 

The memories made him tremble and he whined softly, but quieted the sound as fast as he could. It was something all of them learned, not just how to hide from the moonlight but also how to be so quiet that none of the men and women inside the house could hear and think of them.

They all learned how to be, if only temporarily, forgotten.

Now Misae was the only left for Bill and his family to remember. He wondered if Bill would come for him, still. Try to find him. Or if, now that he'd outrun Austin, he'd let Misae go into a world where nobody was left to even love him in secret any longer.

It was Eden and Anaya he needed to hide from now. Not because they might hurt him, but because he might hurt them. Wolves were most dangerous when the moon was full, calling on their nonhuman blood. 

It made them monsters - hungry, mindless killers. 

Everyone knew that.

Bill made sure everyone knew that. 

He watched the moonlight’s slow crawl along the small room until his eyes drifted shut and he dozed off, his tail flicking occasionally. Once the moon began to set in the morning, just as the sun rose, he’d be able to be a boy again. Until then, he could relax into the form he was far more comfortable in even if he had been painstakingly taught to fear what it was capable of.

He slept deeply enough to have fuzzy, formless dreams. He was beneath all of his family, trying to crawl out from under them. They called for him, cried for help, whined and whimpered and shouted and cursed. 

The air was being slowly crushed out of him, and he desperately tried to get out from beneath the weight of their deaths, their memories.

He looked up to see straight down the barrel of Austin’s shotgun, the black within the metal circle, holding his death.

Found you, Austin said, softly. Time to go, Rusty.

Fingers touched the top of his head.

Misae?

He jolted awake and snapped out of sheer instinct, ears flat in a flash and teeth clicking together. He didn’t quite catch anything, but as his eyes opened, he saw Anaya looking down at him, eyes wide, her hand jerked back against her chest. 

“Misae?” She repeated, voice a little shakier this time. She was wearing sleeping clothes, and Eden was just behind her, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants that had Misae looking in jealousy at skin only scarred along the underside of his chest, two odd half-circle shapes that didn’t mean anything to Misae’s mind. “Holy shit.”

“DId he bite you?” Eden asked, an edge to his voice. “Anaya, if he bit you-... isn’t that how it-... it spreads?”

Misae curled up tighter, whimpering, his heart picking back up into a pounding race that made him dizzy. He tucked his tail as tightly as he could and looked up with his chin pressed against the floor, licking at his chops nervously.

 “Naya? Did he-”

“No, he didn’t,” Anaya replied, frowning back at Eden, before dropping into a crouch. “And we don’t know that that's how it spreads, or whatever. Or even if it does spread. Who even knows what’s real and what isn’t about werewolves?”

“Before yesterday, I would have told you nothing is real about werewolves,” Eden said, hovering behind her. 

“And you would have been wrong, wouldn't you. Besides, he was asleep. I woke him up, that’s on me, not him. Hey, Misae. Hey there, honey.” Her voice softened, and she shoved some of Misae’s barrier of boxes aside, until she could hold out her hand and lay it down with knuckles on floor and palm facing up, between them. “It’s okay, honey. It’s just me. Are you good? We were worried when we didn’t see where you’d gone. You were making some noise in here, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

Misae’s nose twitched. He eased forward, belly to the ground, until he could slowly lay his chin in her palm. She let one finger gently scratch at the soft fur there and he whined. 

“He’s okay,” Anaya whispered. “I scared you, huh? You were having bad dreams, I bet. Don't blame you, this has been a really weird day. Just... the weirdest. Can I ask why you're here in the closet?”

“There’s a joke about being a closeted werewolf in there somewhere, but I’m honestly not awake enough to make it,” Eden said, but he moved back until he could sit on the bed. He didn’t quite relax, not yet, but the space helped Misae to feel a little safer. Eden didn’t look - or smell - angry. 

“Oh, shut up,” Anaya said, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. She wasn’t angry, either. “And don’t spend all night coming up with it, either. I don’t want to hear it when we wake up.”

“Well, now I have to come up with something. I have to come up with something and have it be the literal first thing I say to you when we wake up,” Eden teased, flopping himself backwards onto the bed and wriggling under the blankets, sighing happily when he was covered up. “Oh, this comforter weighs a ton. Perfect.”

“For someone who likes to sleep in the absolute wilderness like a caveman, you sure love a weighted blanket.” Anaya snorted.

"If I'm a caveman, that means you like a caveman." Eden grinned. "Ha ha, you're in love with a Neanderthal," He sing-songed. Anaya threw up a middle finger over her shoulder in his general direction, and Eden's smile only widened.

Misae wondered what a Nee-ander-tal was as his eyes flicked to the side, taking in the window, looking for the moonlight. To his relief, the curtains were closed.

The room was dark, now, except for a small lamp they’d turned on by the bed. There was no chance of the moon catching at his fur, calling him to hunt, to rip and tear and rend. 

Misae pushed himself slowly onto his feet, ignoring his throbbing back leg. Anaya smiled at him, and it felt like a reward. His heart beat faster for new reasons, and he followed her as she eased back and away from the closet, pushing past the boxes. 

When Anaya sat on the air mattress on the floor, Misae moved slowly onto it as well until he could lick at the corners of her mouth with his tail tucked underneath him. She laughed and pushed lightly at him, and he moved to lay on his side, paws curled to show her his stomach, baring his vulnerable throat.

“He likes you,” Eden commented idly from up on the bed. “Pretty sure that’s wolf for ‘you’re cool, let’s be buds.’ Also I think it means he thinks you're in charge."

"I am in charge," Anaya said, voice haughty, but there was laughter lining every word. "It's good that both you boys know it."

Misae shifted back onto his stomach and curled back up until his tail covered his nose. Anaya smiled at the sight, reaching out to scratch the top of his head. Misae sighed, eyes drifting closed again. He relaxed under the gentle affection. “There you go. All right, what matters is that you're okay. Let’s try to get some sleep, yeah? All three of us.”

He watched her stand up, ears drooping as she climbed into the real bed, next to Eden. He watched her get under the blanket, laying next to Eden. He laid on the floor where wolves belonged, missing the warmth of his family. Missing the den. Alone, here, on the ground. Werewolves weren't meant to be alone - he knew that, not from Bill or Austin but from how perfect it had felt in the den, in the kennels, when they were all together.

Anaya turned off the lamp, and darkness overtook the room.

The humans, he thought, would be blind in the dark. Misae could see everything, though. He could see the silvery moonlight held back by the curtains, could see Eden’s chest rise and fall, slowing as he slipped into sleep. He could see that Anaya stayed awake a while longer.

He listened to her breathing, holding back his whimpers until it slowed and deepened and he knew he wouldn't wake her. He could lay here, alone.

Well.

Not entirely alone. 

His family was here, even if they weren’t. They would never leave him, not fully, not all the way. Even now he could feel them nosing around him trying to find a comfortable spot. He knew the pressure of their bodies around him like he knew his own paws. He could feel their chill breath on his neck, the soft nuzzle of affection that he would never really feel again. He could sense snuffles and whines, jostles for position that sometimes ended with playful snarling and rumbling growls. He could feel Nina’s weight on top of him. Feel her body jerk with the shots she had taken that he hadn’t. He could hear them, in his heart, howling just outside the little house.

He could hear their cries, begging him to join them. He should have slept for the last time in the big grave with the rest of them. He had been meant to die with his family. He wasn't the fastest in his family, the smartest, the best hunter. He wasn't anything better than anyone else.

There was no reason for him to survive, no special ability or way of being he had that made him deserve this bed with its soft blankets when everyone he loved was quiet and cold in the ground, covered in dirt and decomposing now.

He hadn’t deserved to meet kind humans. He didn’t deserve to eat pizza until his stomach ached and sit in chairs. He didn't deserve hot water to clean the dirt and blood from his skin. Others in his pack had deserved it so much more, and they had been given silver bullets instead, and now...

Now Misae was the only one left who remembered them.

He closed his eyes against the way the darkness wanted to change shape, to make him see his dead family with all the blood and bullets. He listened to their wistful, spectral howls, just outside the window. Calling and calling and calling, crying to him and to each other.

Why you? Why not us, instead? Why not the little pups, why not the mothers, why not the older wolves who had been good for so long? You were never all that good. What about you deserved to live? Why not us?

Why was it you?

Anaya and Eden slept together.

Misae slept with ghosts.

-

@finder-of-rings  @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings 

@yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger

@dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood @fangedcinnamonroll @pigeonwhumps @yassifiedinformation

[matchmadeinsevenhells]

Hi! I was just wondering how your story “I’m better with a heart” is going? I’m dying to know if the bow breaking was an accident or not! It all felt very suspicious to me the moment I read it lol I also really want Aemonds reaction to this as well. I can just picture everybody flipping out in the stands and then there’s our boy Aemond, just sitting there, staring off into space having a mother of an existential crisis! Would you be willing to share any snippets of future chapters with us? 😁

(Ask is referring to i'm better with a heart (than a bow and arrow), a Lucemond archer!Luke Loses An Eye In An "Accident" AU.)

Hi anon! Thank you for the question, I'm glad you're excited for the fic! I'll put a spoilery snippet under the Read More!

(The following snippet is obviously set some hours after the first chapter. And yes Aemond was DEFINITELY having a whole existential crisis in the span of a few seconds in the stands....)

Daemon is gone for most of the day and comes back with blood on his cloak and sword, which is even more worrying. "A dead end," he whispers into Mother's hair and then frowns at Lucerys. "Should you be awake?"

Lucerys raises an eyebrow and realises too late it doesn't have the usual effect since half his face is covered in bandages. "…Would you prefer me to be unconscious?"

Daemon sighs, but the corners of his mouth are twitching. "You're being very calm about this."

Lucerys sighs, too. "I figured I screamed enough earlier." Then he looks down at his lap. "And maybe… I did owe a debt, after all—"

"What? No. Luke," Mother interrupts him sharply. "Who told you that? Did she… No, Luke, put that out of your mind; this was a vile, unprompted attack." She grabs his hand again. "One that will be answered."

He frowns at that, wincing when that pulls at the stitches. "I think it would be very hard to sabotage a bow to specifically make it take out my eye," he says quietly. "Impossible, even."

Mother is scowling, but Daemon nods. "I thought the same. We learned that your bow was tampered with, and that the attendant must have been paid to do it. Beside that…" He shrugs. "Your friend Ser Leo shot the fleeing man right through the heart, so we can't say yet."

[crossbackpoke-check]

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two

[wonderthor]

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

[thef1diary]

Podium Princess | LN + CS + CL

Summary: Lando lost a bet, which would have just temporarily damaged his ego, but the problem was that you were the prize that Charles and Carlos desired for one night.

masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. do not repost without permission

Warnings: 18+, mmmf, unprotected sex, three men for three holes 🤭, fingering, oral, anal, dp?, filthy as fuck, derogatory terms (kinda), praise, overstimulation, riding.

pairing: lando x fem!reader x carlos x charles

wc: 3.1k

Request: You should totally write a smut about lando sharing his girlfriend with Carlos and Charles after placing in the #australiangp

"You did what?" You asked your boyfriend, wondering if you misheard his words. "I made a bet," Lando responded, but this time with more assurance.

You sat down on the bed in your shared hotel room and asked, "what is it?" Patting the spot next to you, silently indicating Lando to sit down and begin explaining the bet. You've known from the years you've been dating that whenever he places a wager, he eventually loses, but you chose against mentioning it.

He hesitated for a moment but then decided to explain how he ended up in that situation.

The evening began when Lando noticed Carlos and Charles speaking after the qualifying session. He observed they had been spending a lot of time together recently, so Lando obviously had to approach them and disrupt their latest gossip session.

Putting the trio together, one would discover that they never run out of topics to discuss, which is how they found themselves sitting in a car in the parking lot outside their hotel. Carlos suggested that since they were all staying at the same hotel for the weekend, they might as well leave the track together.

However, during the car ride, there was a discussion that quickly brought out the competitive nature that each driver had developed at a young age. "What, you guys don't think I'll win?" Lando asked the Ferrari drivers, slightly offended. This particular topic of conversation started once they discussed the possible winners for the race tomorrow.

Based on the three practice sessions and qualifying, it could be argued that while they all had a fairly nice weekend so far, some were still more fortunate than others. As a result, the Spaniard shook his head, disagreeing with his friend, "mate, I'm starting second tomorrow, which clearly means I have a better chance of winning."

"I was first in fp1," Lando retaliated although they all knew that qualifying in a higher position meant more than topping a single practice session.

"You might have a good chance, but Max is on pole, let's not forget that," Charles reminded his fellow colleagues. Lando perked up at his words, "exactly, so all Carlos needs to do is somehow crash him out of the race so I can win."

Charles laughed at the outrageous plan, but Carlos scoffed, "I won't ruin my chances at a podium for a race you won't win." Noticing Lando's defeated expression, it caused Charles to laugh harder. "Not that I think either of you would win, but let's make a bet," the Monégasque suggested.

"Who do you think will win?" Carlos asked. Charles' dimple deepened as he smiled, "me of course."

This time Lando scoffed, "yeah, sure mate," then he looked at Carlos, "what do I get when I win the bet?"

"This," Carlos stated while holding up his middle finger towards him. Rolling his eyes, he decided, "fine, I'll ask for something when I win, and then you two won't be able to deny it."

"And what do we get if you don't win?" Carlos asked, looking at Charles who was waiting for an answer from Lando.

While Lando was focused on what he would ask for if he won the bet, he failed to consider that Carlos or Charles were more likely to win than him. He would have a one-in-three chance of winning the wager, but Lando hadn't realized the extent of the situation just yet.

"Not that it'll happen but what do you guys want?" He asked only as a formality to actually set the bet.

Carlos was quiet for a moment as he thought of something that would be worthwhile, looking at Charles to see if he had any ideas. Then he thought of it—of you. "Your girlfriend," he simply stated.

It took two seconds for Lando to start laughing, not that it was ever a challenge to do so, but he initially assumed that Carlos was joking. His laughter quickly died down once he didn't hear either driver laugh along with him.

Looking in the backseat at Charles briefly, who nodded in agreement, Lando snapped his head towards Carlos, "what do you mean my girlfriend?"

"It's simple. If Charles or I win, then you have to share your girlfriend for a night, if not, then you don't," he explained nonchalantly.

Lando looked at Charles, "and you agree with him?" He shrugged, then nodded, "she's hot, I wouldn't say no."

He slumped back in his seat, "I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win." While Lando was secure in his abilities, both drivers around him thought he was growing overconfident. "So you agree, that if you don't win, we can have her?"

Nodding it off and waving his hand around, Lando agreed, "yeah, you can."

You were stunned into silence once he finished explaining. Noticing your lack of words, Lando was unsure of your thoughts. "You don't think I'll win?"

You shrugged, "all I'm gonna say is that you have twenty-one other chances to win this season if you don't win this race." You didn't exactly answer his question, but he realized that you weren't opposed or disgusted by the idea either. Pulling you into his lap, he tilted your chin upwards with his fingers and leaned closer for a kiss.

He tightened his grasp on your chin to stop you before you could press your lips against his. "Oh I see, you don't want me to win just so you can be passed around like a slut between my friends?"

"You wouldn't have put me as the prize if you didn't like the idea," you retaliated, smirking as you moved his hand away to finally place your lips on his.

—

You stood among the crowd, cheering for Lando, who took his place on the third step of the podium. As the podium celebrations began, a part of you was also looking forward to the celebrations that would follow later tonight. Lando may have lost a bet, but it was the first bet you were glad he lost.

That is how you ended up in your hotel room with your lover, waiting in anticipation for the other two drivers to arrive. With his trophy set aside, you and Lando were occupied with each other; your eyes closed and head tilted back as he trailed kisses down your throat.

Then came a knock on the door, one that made your heart race in all the best ways. Lando stood up and opened the door, revealing Charles and Carlos standing on the other side, still dressed in their Ferrari polos from earlier that evening.

"What did he say? I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win," Charles greeted by mocking Lando's words from the day before. "Alright, alright I get it but I still placed third," he retaliated which earned a nod from Carlos. "Congrats, cabrón."

You could hear them laughing among themselves, but it quickly died down once Carlos and Charles spotted you. Lando had suggested that you should wear red, considering both of the drivers that placed first and second adored red.

There you sat on the mattress, leaning back on your forearms with an ankle crossed over the other, clad in only a tight short red dress which you were glad you ended up packing.

"Well, fuck me," Charles muttered under his breath earning a chuckle from you once you heard his comment. Standing up and slowly stepping towards them, you replied, "fuck me indeed."

Your gaze was fixated on Carlos, the race winner, whose eyes revealed a glimpse of all the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. "Congratulations, you both deserve a good celebration," you said, smiling as you felt Carlos' arm snaking around your waist and Charles' breath fanning your face.

"Is that what you're going to give us? A good celebration?" Charles asked, his lips grazing your cheek. "I'll give you anything you want."

You looked at your boyfriend for a second, making sure he was still comfortable with the situation before proceeding any further. But you just saw desire in his eyes and while the corner of his lip curled up in a lazy smirk, a nod from him allowed you to carry on. He may have nodded at you, but his eyes darted over your head to his fellow drivers, "Go on then, Carlos, Charles, claim your prize."

Your lips parted slightly, marvelling at the fact that Lando hadn't even addressed you, instead treating you like an object to be claimed. The worst part was realizing that you liked it since his remarks had made you clench your thighs together.

Carlos grinned at your obedient behaviour as he was easily able to tip your head back to face him. Now that they truly had the freedom to do anything they wanted to you, with your permission, neither felt bad for having sinful thoughts about you—their best friend's girlfriend—while Carlos and Charles were alone in their bedrooms.

Kissing you with a sense of urgency, Carlos stole your breath away in a matter of seconds. Your thoughts had quickly dissipated into thin air as you felt Charles trailing his fingers up your body while pressing up behind you.

You heard Lando shuffle around before leaving the three of you alone in the bedroom for a moment which only intensified your feelings. Sandwiched between the two men who are good friends of yours, were now looking at you as if you are merely an outlet for their sexual desires.

Sliding down the straps that held your dress up, Charles continued kissing every inch of your bare skin revealed to him. His hands rounded to your front, pulling down the flimsy piece of fabric to display your tits to the duo. Your nipples instantly pebbled as Charles' fingers brushed against them, making you tilt your head back and resting it against his shoulder.

Letting you regain your breath, Carlos moved down to your neck, replacing each kiss Lando had placed earlier with small nips and grazes of his teeth, just painful enough to still be pleasurable.

While both their mouths were occupied, the Spaniard's hands pushed down the rest of your dress to the floor, parting away for a moment to let you to step out of it and toss it to the side with your feet.

Lando returned to the room, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent a moan from leaving his mouth. You were now completely bare, with two fully clothed drivers—his friends—pressed against you while their hands roamed all over your body.

Discarding his shirt on the floor, he occupied your mouth with another kiss, muffling your moans. "Fuck, enjoying yourself, baby?" Lando muttered once you parted away for a moment. Nodding, you opened your mouth to respond but a sharp gasp left your mouth as you felt Charles' fingers teasing your clit while Carlos palmed your ass.

"Merde, she's so perfect," the Monégasque commented, spreading your pussy with two fingers while a third finger swiped through your folds to catch the wetness that gathered between. "Charles," you breathlessly whispered, a plead for more.

"So ready to be ruined," Carlos added, his own fingers prodding your ass, earning a string of curses along with pleas to keep going from you. Gathering your slick from your cunt, Carlos coated his fingers to ease just the tip of one finger into your ass.

Soon enough, you were laid down on the bed, and one by one the three men stripped their clothes away, adding to the ever growing pile that started from your dress. You could barely keep your eyes open due to the feeling of three pairs of hands roaming everywhere, not leaving any inch of your skin untouched.

You had already orgasmed twice, but you couldn't remember whose fingers brought you over the edge the first, or even the second time, as all of the sensations mushed together in what felt like one never ending wet dream.

Staying true to your words of giving them anything they desired, you moaned around Carlos' cock as Charles slid his dick in your pussy without any forewarning. Your grasp on his thighs tightened as Charles began to thrust, slowly at first but then showed no mercy once his grasp on your hips tightened.

Carlos pulled your mouth off his cock, but quickly replaced the emptiness you immediately felt with two of his fingers resting heavily on your tongue. His actions didn't allow you to close your jaw, causing you to drool down your chin, and only then he was satisfied.

"Such a good fucking girl," he commented, which only made your head spin further while you smiled at the compliment. "Oh she likes that," Charles added as he felt your pussy clench around him at Carlos' praise.

His fingers that were now coated with your saliva trailed down your body to where you and Charles were connected. He nodded mockingly at his teammate's comment, "yeah, you like being praised?"

Easily finding your swollen clit, he slightly pinched it before creating small circles, edging you closer. You nodded, "please, please, please." You were sobbing for relief, your voice strained from the constant cries that left your lips with each new wave of ecstasy.

Connecting their gaze, Charles and Carlos smirked as they silently agreed to let you cum once again. Charles's fingers slid closer to your back hole, this time able to slide two fingers down to the last knuckle. At the same time, Carlos' fingers left your clit only to join the thrusts of Charles' cock, scissoring two of his fingers in your pussy to stretch you out even further. Pleasure surged through your body, and you closed your eyes tightly at the sudden sensation of being so full.

Charles slowed down his thrusts, prolonging your post orgasmic sensation. You slumped forwards when he pulled out, still holding back his own release for now.

Despite still being eager, they were ever patient with you especially after bringing you over the edge multiple times now, knowing your limbs were close to tiring out.

Still on your hands and knees, you shuffled up to straddle Carlos, sinking down on down cock this time, mouth dropping open as he stretched you out slightly differently compared to Charles.

"C'mon, cariño, ride me," he instructed, resting his hands on your hips, urging your movements while also allowing you to depend on him for help. "You feel so good, Carlos," you panted.

You heard some shuffling around you again but you couldn't move your gaze away from watching your pussy engulf Carlos' cock over and over again.

However, you were startled once you felt a cool sensation prodding your ass; Charles' fingers coated in lube. "Need you to relax, baby," you could hear Lando's words and he was quick to come into your view, stroking his dick to the sight of you filled by his former teammate.

He grabbed your hand off of Carlos' shoulder, guiding it towards his cock. Already slick with his precum, you could easily move your hand up and down, watching his reaction with hooded eyes.

Charles' free hand wrapped around your throat from behind while he whispered in your ear, "we're gonna fill up all of your holes, darling."

Groaning, you nodded, "please," a word that you had repeatedly spoken to the point where it sounded like a broken record. "You want that?" One of them asked, but you couldn't focus on whose voice it was. "Fill me up, please," your words turning into a moan as Carlos shifted underneath you, reaching deeper inside.

Releasing the grasp on your throat, Charles focused on opening you up with his fingers, for you to be able to take his cock in your ass while Carlos continued pounding your pussy.

Lando replaced Charles' hand, grabbing the back of your neck, threading his fingers in your hair to bring you close for a filthy kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing, he slightly bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and pulling on it for a moment before letting go.

Without any words exchanged, your boyfriend guided your mouth towards his cock, filling up two out of three of your holes. It took you a moment before you actually started moving your head up and down, moaning and drooling on his cock because of Carlos' upward thrusts.

Charles removed his fingers, having deemed to have stretched you out enough then coating his dick with a good amount of lube. With one hand palming and spreading your ass, he used the other to guide his cock into you. Your eyes welled up with tears, not entirely painful but almost overwhelmed with being filled everywhere at once.

Your body was quickly calmed down by Lando, Charles, and Carlos as they moved their hands all over you in soothing motions. Charles began thrusting when you nodded because you were unable to speak while Lando's dick was in your mouth.

Your muffled groans sounded distant to you, mind foggy, but you had never felt so full and aware before.

With a warning, Lando filled your mouth with cum, which you swallowed greedily without hesitation. Now, with your mouth unoccupied, you couldn't hold back on your moans. "Gonna cum," you warned, knowing you won't last long, still sensitive from your previous orgasms.

Charles' fingers reached your chest, teasing and pinching your nipples while Carlos rested his palms on your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

Your pace stuttered as you came around his cock, and Carlos took the reins and thrusted upwards, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. "Fuck, where do you want us?" Charles asked, tethering on the edge and based on Carlos' stuttering pace, you knew he was too.

Your next words pushed both over the edge, "inside." Slumping forwards, you felt both Ferrari drivers filling you up with their cum. "Fucking hell, that was hot," Lando commented, leaning closer to brush away the strands of hair stuck on your forehead due to sweat.

Charles and Carlos carefully eased you off their cocks, with Lando helping you lie down on the bed which you immediately melted into.

It was unbearable for you to be completely empty after being entirely filled. Mustering up all your strength, you held your arms out for your boyfriend, who immediately joined you on the bed, whispering praises in your ear.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Charles decided to clean you up by wiping the cum that had leaked out of your holes with a damp towel. They saw the bruises from their grasps on you in the heat of the moment and couldn't help but smile, knowing they were the cause of it.

You hoped, as you drifted off to sleep, that the three of them would share the podium more frequently, and therefore, share you as well.

Taglist based on the form (let me know if you would like to be removed) @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @evlkking @jointhehunt67 @wonnou @nikfigueiredo

[spicyspiders]

old man logan

wolverine x male reader smut

1.3k words

warning for highly dubious consent. the reader is home for their college summer break. logan is the mean old man living in the reader's neighborhood, and when one of the neighbor's kids loses a ball in his backyard, the reader retrieves it.

You come to the conclusion that Logan is a miserable old man after your first meeting with him.

Children can be annoying, you could understand, but with the way Logan spoke to them after accidentally throwing a ball into his yard, you didn’t like him too much. 

You weren’t sure if you like kids all that much, but you could empathize with them, especially when you saw them crying. 

“Hey,” you say to your neighbor. You were only outside to check your mail, so seeing a crying child on the doorstep next to your house caught you off guard. “What’s wrong?” 

You couldn’t remember the kid’s name, but who could blame you, summer break was your time away from college to relax with your brain off. His small face was full of tears when he lifted it up and his eyes were rimmed red. The boy’s lower lip trembled before he responded to you in a shaky voice. 

“I lost my ball in Mr. Howlett’s yard,” he sniffled. 

Mr. Howlett had moved in sometime during your first semester away at college, and he wasn’t exactly a welcoming presence when you had gotten home. He always looked so gruff and angry when you tried to speak with him, which left you to steal looks when he wasn’t looking. Though you didn’t like him, he was luckily nice to look at. 

You weren’t sure how old he was, but from the glances you stole, you assumed he was young enough to somehow retain the muscle mass he had. 

You couldn’t remember if it was him, or if it was another one of your neighbor’s, but this wasn’t the first time a toy had accidentally been thrown into his yard. In fact, it was why you disliked him. You thought that it might just have been the kids, but when you tried to get one of the toys back after seeing another child’s tearful face, Logan slammed the door in your face. 

“It’s okay,” you said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “we can get it back.”

”He won’t give it back,” he whined, his voice an octave higher and more tears came out. 

“Have you tried?” You asked, trying to ignore the anger welling up in your chest. You didn’t know how Logan could be so mean to a crying child. 

The boy ducked his face down to where you couldn’t see it, like he was trying to hide, “he’s mean,” he answered, his voice small. 

“I know he is,” you said quietly. It wasn’t the right thing to say, you should say something like: he’s not mean. He can just be grumpy, but you didn’t feel like being nice to him right now. “I’ll go get it.”

The boy’s head snapped up to look up at you with wide eyes, “really?” 

You smiled softly at the boy, “I’ll be right back,” you said before standing up. Instead of going to Logan’s you went back inside your house first to get the boy a tissue, “wipe you face,” you told the boy after handing him a few tissues, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

”Okay,” the boy said, flashing you a watery smile. He had a few teeth missing, the sight making your heart strings tug. It made you wonder just how Logan could get angry at a child with a smile like that. 

“What do you want, bub?” Logan asked after he opened his door.

Though you were angry, you couldn’t ignore how the man intimidated you. He was tall and broad, his muscular body filling up the entire door frame. He could split you in half if he wanted to, and not in a good way.  

“Can you give him his ball back?” Pointing over your shoulder with your thumb to the boy. 

Logan’s eyes flicked from your face to over your shoulder before returning, “he shouldn't have thrown it over there.”

“It’s not like he meant to throw it over there,” you said back.

”Did he tell you that, or was he too busy cryin’?” He asked, crossing his arms.

”Can you give him his ball back?” You repeated, your teeth gritted in anger.

Logan titled his head, “he shouldn’t have thrown it over there,” he repeated, just as you did. His arms fell to his sides before he stepped closer to you, his chest pressed to yours. Through the thin shirt of the tank top he wore, his chest ran hot like a furnace. 

Old man Logan is fucking bully. A bully with a big broad chest surrounded by muscular arms. He's a bully in his words and with his actions.

Old man Logan is a fucking bully when he brings you inside and he pushes you down onto your knees and pulls out his cock. “You want his ball back, college boy?” He asks as he strokes his cock to full-mast. Right in front of the door to his backyard.

Old man Logan is a fucking bully as he pushes the head past your lips and onto your tongue, “put yer fuckin’ hands down,” he commands when you try to keep his cock from going deeper. 

Old man Logan is a fucking bully, especially when he says, “pretty boy like you,” he says, groaning as he pushes his cock deeper, “I bet you’re popular all over campus,” he says over the sound of your gags on his thick cock. 

He finally lets you breathe, but only after he wraps a tight hand around the back of your neck and pulls you off his cock. You suck in grateful pulls of air that taste like the salt of Logan’s precum. You glare up at him as he traces the slick head of his cock along your swollen lips. his smug eyes locking with yours.

“Bet you’re popular with your professors, too,” Logan murmurs, as he pushes his cock back into your mouth, “they let you suck their cocks for good grades?” He questions, his sentence ending with a groan as your throat clenches around his cock. 

You roll your eyes even as they well with tears. It sounds like he’s projecting, but it’s not like you were able to ask him, with your mouth being full of cock and all.  

Old man Logan is a bully, especially after he goes too deep and you gag again, “probably not too high of grades,” he says to himself, but still loud enough for you to hear the jab at your cock sucking skills, “but good enough,” he says with a moan as his cock pulses along your tongue and he cums down your throat.

You try your best to swallow all that you can, but some of it dribbles past your lips and down your chin. 

“Clean yourself up and go get that ball,” Logan says, stepping away. The clink of his belt buckle echoes with him as he steps past you and into his kitchen. You hear the noise of a paper towel ripping and a faucet turning on and then off again as you swipe your arm across your mouth to collect the mess on your face. 

Your knees ache as you pull yourself up and walk to the door, but you ignore the burn and instead search for the ball. You find it quickly, but you also see other toys that other kids have thrown over. You don’t grab them though, and instead think of the cold shower waiting for you at home to get rid of the hard on tenting your pants.  

“You didn’t want to grab the others?” Logan asks once you’re back inside. You make sure not to watch as he tucks his soft cock back into his jeans and just hopes he ignores the bulge in your pants. “Or do you want another reason to come back over here?” He questions, his voice much closer. 

You walk briskly past the man, paying no attention to the heat of his eyes on you, “not gonna answer me, little brat?” Logan’s voice calls after you as you leave his house. 

You scrub a hand over your face, trying to make yourself presentable, but let out a sigh of relief when you see the boy has gone back inside. You place it on his doorstep and knock softly on the door before heading back inside your house. 

---

Part 2

[f1fantasys]

I love your writing. The fic you wrote made me think about this one… Lando and reader getting caught by another driver on the grid. Like they are on a vacation and nobody knows for sure if they are dating but they do those little things and once they get caught. Like that?

Aww you have no idea how happy it makes me you like my writing! Hope you enjoy this one anon.

You were mine all along

Warnings - swearing, smut (p in v, oral receiving m and f, blowjobs, unprotected sex, minors DNI)

3.1K

Working for F1 as a social media creator meant you spent a lot of time with all the drivers and their teams. You'd been doing this for 3 years now and it was safe to say there was one driver in particular with whom you were immediately attracted to, the both of you dancing along their lines of exploring something more than just a friendship - Lando.

But that was the problem - you became friends first and foremost, and the thought of risking that for a relationship where you might lose each other? Neither of you were ready to take that step forward.

A lot of your mutual friends (drivers and other media personal) always teased the two of you. What you both didn't know was that bets were being made behind your backs as to when you two would finally get together.

So has close as you were, the days always started perfectly, and the nights always ended internally painful.

That was until 2 months ago though. It was the weekend before the triple header - Lando had invited you, Max and P to his parents cottage in St Tropez.

You knew the more time you spent with him, the more difficult it wold be to keep your thoughts and hands to yourself but on the last night you found yourselves in the hot tub alone, when Max and P called it a night.

The air was palpable, sexual tension reaching a new high with both you and Lando just staring at each other. No words being spoken verbally, but rather with the darkened gaze on each other.

It was no secret to the other that you so badly wanted each other - and after 10 minutes of agony, Lando reached for your arm and pulled you to sit on his lap, eyes never leaving yours.

You bit your lip as you felt Lando's hands explore your body - your shoulders, arms, legs, tummy, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your boobs, and eventually your ass through your bikini bottoms.

As your breathing increased and you tried to suppress your moans - partly because you could feel his hardening dick, Lando bought his hand up to your face. His own thumb now swiping across your lip.

''Lando....'' you said, not sure if you were edging him to carry on, or to stop what he was doing because of the consequences you'd face later.

He blinked a few times, face laced with a sense of confusion, before he spoke two words that changed everything.

''Fuck it'' he mumbled, before crashing his lips to yours, hard and rough, as if his life depended on it.

You reacted instantly, opening your mouth up and letting him slip his tongue in, while your hands pulled at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

That was where it all began, and you'd been inseparable from each other ever since. You wanted to keep yourselves in your own bubble for as long as possible, not telling anyone, not even your friends.

It was difficult to say the least, during the triple header. Trying to act normal around each other while working in the paddock, although you'd made a few trips to Lando's driver room for a few pre-quali or pre-race fucks.

Luckily, you were always at the same hotel, so it was easy for you to slip into Lando's room in the late hours of the night where he'd show you how how much he missed you with rough kisses, violent fucks - him slamming into you and filling you up - and after sex cuddles, until you had to sneak back to your room in the early morning.

Things had been going well, no one seemed to have caught on to your relationship - which you were grateful for. It was nice just being the two of you alone.

You were now on a holiday with Lando in Lake Como, two weeks into the summer break. It was a secluded little village with the privacy you'd both craved, so you were spending an entire 10 days here. Lando rented out a little cottage and your days so far had been spent joined at the hip - whether it was cooking, dancing, relaxing doing nothing, and not to mention the endless amounts of sex you'd had.

He'd truly fucked you in every corner of the house - inside and out. The physical part of your relationship was something you both very quickly learned would be a big part of your lives. And Lando never missed an opportunity to get down and dirty on you - so to be together for 10 whole days with no prying eyes - whether it was friends, family or fans - he was going to take advantage of it and not let you up.

Not that you were complaining. You loved when you'd wake up in the morning, Lando's face between your legs, his tongue biting and sucking at your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you, until you came all over his face and he made sure to lick you clean.

You also loved that one night which started when you cooked and ate dinner, Lando put on some beautiful slow music which had you both waltzing (as best you could) from the lounge to the dining room, and ended with you on your knees in front of him, eagerly pulling his shorts down to reveal his thick girth standing tall, begging for attention. You sucked on his tip, swallowing his pre-cum before you deep throated him, letting him fuck your mouth until he was a moaning mess above you, praising your name and coating your throat white with sheets of warm cum. He said that was the best head he'd ever received.

And let's not forget that time he had you bent over the balcony, his dick fucking into you so hard you saw literal stars above you. You'd both said ''i love you'' for the first time, and after a slow, sensual kiss, things turned heated. You both stripped your clothes as quickly as possible and in no time Lando was forcing you to hold on to the railings as he railed his cock into your pussy overwhelmingly, and his hands found your waist and surely left purple marks to be the seen the next day. He told you how good you were for him, taking him so well. So wet and so tight, only for him. Only for you, you'd told him back. before your came violently around his cock. Your body could barely hold onto the railing, not mentioning how your legs were like jelly, so Lando sat back down and you sat on his dick, riding him almost painfully quickly, as his lips found your hard nipples and bit and pulled on them. You came again, and this time your body gave up on you, so Lando had to fuck himself up into you to chase his own orgasm, before releasing into your pussy, dick twitching inside of you.

So although there was an awful amount of sex happening, you also enjoyed the sweet kisses and cuddles Lando gave to you through the day and night. There was something so domestic about sharing a house with them and you happily agreed when he asked you to move in with him back home in Monaco. Having known each other for 3 years meant you knew each other inside out, so moving in together 2 months into a relationship excited you more than it worried you.

It was your last night here so Lando had booked a dinner at a Micheline star restaurant - a cozy, intimate place. The food was so delicious - you might call it better than sex - though nothing could beat sex with Lando so you take that back. You were both about 4 glasses of wine in while waiting for dessert and Lando was definitely becoming very handsy and affectionate. Not that you could keep your hand to yourself either.

Lando had left his seat to come and sit next to you and you felt his hand rest on your thigh before you felt him slowly make his way up, close to your core, which by now was dripping wet.

Your face flushed as he slipped it through your lacey panties and swipe through your folds before settling at your clit, pinching at it harshly.

Luckily the lighting was low in the restaurant, and anyone who looked your way would have just thought the two of you as young lovers who wanted to be seated as close as possible. If only they knew what was going on under the table you thought.

Conversation had long left you and Lando was his focus was solely on getting his fingers in your cunt, and yours was merely on trying to enjoy the stimulation without letting out any audible moans and pants.

Just as Lando slipped a finger through your entrance you heard an all too familiar voice, which had you shaking with fear as Lando's fingers stilled, still inside of you. ''Fuck'' you heard Lando mutter.

You looked up and saw none other than George and Carmen, staring sheepishly at the two of you.

''Fancy seeing you both here, together'' George muttered very matter of factly.

Lando shook hands with him with the hand that was not in your pussy, as Carmen leaned down to peck your flushed cheeks.

''Oh fuck off'' Lando said, the pair of them the best of friends, so not taking it seriously.

Lando signaled to the waiter to bring two more chairs, which internally had you screaming at him because hello? His finger was literally still in your cunt.

You both knew you'd been caught though, so there would be no denying your relationship - at least to G and C.

''Sooooo'' Carmen started.

''Soooo'' you said back, pretending you didn't know where this was going.

''Fuck it, just tell us the two of you finally sorted your shit out and are fucking'' George piped in.

If your cheeks were pink before, they were fiery red now. You looked at Lando, who by the looks it was feeling the effects of his wine at just this moment, so he was a smiling mess

''Fuck. Well. When you put it like that - fine. Yes'' you said softly.

''But we're not just fucking'' Lando chimed in. ''We're making love too. Coz we're together together'' he said.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, not able to keep a smile at bay, though shocked at his response.

''Blimey, you're in deep'' G said, smirking at Carmen.

You suddenly shifted in your seat, biting your lip, as Lando slowly started to thrust his finger again.

He and George started talking about something, but you were a fool to think Carmen wouldn't catch on to what was going on.

She looked at you, then at Lando, and back to you, and took a breath.

''Are we-wow. Are we interrupting something?'' she asked, trying to keep her smirk in.

''What? no'' you said, although the tremble in your voice said otherwise.

''Fuck, George, time to go'' she quickly said, ushering a confused G up and out of his seat.

''What are you-'' then he looked between you and Lando, for the first time noticing the looks on your faces, then he caught on.

''Holy shit, enjoy, lovebirds, and don't think I'll ever forget this!'' he said, before he and Carmen quickly walked away giggling to each other.

''Fuck me'' Lando groaned, though sped up his actions in and out of you.

''Gladly, take me home baby'' you said as he pulled his finger out and licked it clean, turning you into an even wetter mess down there.

The ride back to the house with palpable with tension. The thought of getting caught sending a rush of adrenaline through you both.

As soon as Lando helped you out the car he picked you up by the back of your knees and threw you over his shoulder, rushing into the house at such a speed you had no time to react.

He placed you down on the kitchen counter before ripping your dress of of you, eyes darkening when he saw you weren't wearing a bra, only panties that barely covered anything.

He snatched them off of you before spreading your legs apart and placing them on his shoulders.

''Lan'' you mumbled, desperate for him to do something.

''Patience babygirl, we're only getting started'' he said, licking his lips.

His one hand reached up to pry his fingers into your mouth for you to suck while his other hand pinched and pulled at your hard nipples. All the while his own mouth found your dripping cunt, licking a stripe up and collecting all your juices.

''So fucking wet. All for me, yeah?'' he asked.

You moaned. ''All yours Lan, only yours'' you answered, pulling hard at his curls.

Lando quickly found your clit and dramatically pinched it between his lips, the stimulation letting you reach new heights.

''Fuck, Lando, please. More'' you begged of him.

He pryed your pussy open with his two hands and then his tongue was sliding in and out of you, hitting just the right spots.

You watched as he slowly became a mess - lips and chin full of a mixture of his spit and your juices, strings of sticky liquid dripping down your thighs.

''So tight, yeah baby, just the way i like it'' he said between breaths.

Within minutes your body was shuddering, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you harshly, making an even bigger mess of Lando's face.

He rode you through your orgasm before pulling you up by your arms to sit up, meeting your halfway to lock lips and let you taste your arousal.

''Need to feel you in me, please'' you said through gritted teeth, your hands already working on removed his button up and belt on his trousers.

Once he was free of his constraints, you took his girth into your hands and pumped him a few times, your thumb brushing the slit where pre cum was already dripping.

He hissed at the contact before taking himself into his own hands and sliding his dick through your folds. ''Ready for me baby?'' he asked, smirk on his lips. You knew that smirk - he was going to ruin you, and you wouldn't have it any other way, but you still braced yourself.

''Please fuck me'' you begged.

''Juuust remember. You asked for it - no going back now yeah? he said, smirk growing bigger and eyes getting darker by the second.

'''Hmmm mm'' was all you time to say before he violently thrust himself into you, started a pace unlike any other time you've had sex.

This time he didn't give you time to adjust to the intrusion, he slammed in and out of you at a pace that had your hips hitting each other within seconds.

''Of fuck Lando uh'' you moaned, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It felt fucking amazing but with the amount of non stop sex the two of you have had the last 10 days has your cunt aching and throbbing, quickly becoming overly sensitive.

''Come on baby, I know you have at least 2 more in you. Gonna be a good girl for me yeah?'' Lando said through gritted teeth, his own sensitivity reaching a new high.

''Fuck Lan, gonna cum now'' you panted, digging your nails deep into his biceps.

''Give it to me angel''

Within seconds you body was shaking and you were screaming Lando's name, releasing your fluids all around his dick.

''Fuck baby, that's it. Gonna let me fill you up now?'' he asked, though you were too fucked out to answer him, and with no warning another orgasm rocked through your body causing you to be on the verge of blacking out.

By now Lando's movements were becoming sloppy and clumsy, clearly he was on edge too as he was mumbled out incoherent words - ''fuck, y/n, my own whore, so tight, fuck, yes'' before you felt his warm cum splutter through you, his own body now shaking above you, a sheen of sweat covering his whole body with the workout he'd just done.

You both stilled, trying to catch your breath, before Lando let his weight fall onto your lower body, hugging you around your stomach as your hands tangled in his hair.

You could feel him softening inside of you but neither of you made any effort to move.

''Baby?'' he started.

''Hmm yeah?''

''I'm sorry i called you a whore. I meant it as a complement, I promise''

''Fuck Lan'' you giggled and rubbed his cheek earning a look up from him. ''Call me your whore any day. Tells me I'm yours and only yours'' you cooed.

He couldn't help but send you the biggest boyish grin he had. ''Fucking love you so much. Why the hell did we wait this long to get together. Could have started from day 1'' he said, this time taking his weight off you and slowly pulling his dick out. You hissed at the loss of contact but he pulled you up and held you gently.

''Baby our day 1 started 2 months ago, and we have forever to go, i hope'' you said, winking at him.

''Hmm mmm'' he replied, bending down and spreading your legs again.

''Lan I love you but no more, I'm so fucking sore''

''Shhhh let me'' he said as he licked a stripe up you cunt, collecting a mixture of yours and his cum.

You gasped and watched as he leveled his head back with yours and pryed your lips open with his fingers before letting the liquid drip down from his to your mouth.

''Hmmm'' you moaned at the taste, wetness already pooling between your legs again but you knew you were too sore to do anything about it.

You swallowed everything before Lando kissed you hard and deep, his tongue slipping into your mouth before sucking on your own tongue.

''I'd say t'was a good summers break, yeah? he asked.

''Best ever'' you replied, pulling him in for another kiss.

''Bet George's already told everyone. Gossip king'' you said, remembering how the night unfolded.

''Hell yeah'' Lando said, checking his phone and seeing there were tens of messages flooding in on your groupchat with the other drivers and their wags.

''Fucking bastards'' he mumbled.

''What?'' you asked.

''They fucking bet on us. On when we'd get together. Looks like Charles won''

''Urghhhhh'' you groaned.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: discussion of past abuse, Simon’s trauma Request: take your baby to work day

You're wide eyed at the front door.

"You sure you guys will be alright?" Your voice is clear, but your hand trembles on the door handle, bottom lip tugged across your teeth.

"We'll be okay sweetheart. But if you're uncomfortable, or it's too much, you should take him-"

"No, no. I'm fine. You're not supposed to bring the baby to OB appointments anyway. It's frowned upon." You roll your eyes, tipping up to kiss Ry on the cheek. "Just... don't let anyone breathe on him, or kiss him, okay? His immune system is still fragile compared to ours. I packed you like, three bottles so hopefully he'll take them if he gets hungry. Text me if-"

"Mama." He holds Orion in one arm, and grabs your hand with the other. You're frightened, and stressed, and he's driven to comfort you, the need to soothe you throbbing across his skull. "I've got this. We'll be just fine. Text me when you're done. Get yourself a tea or something afterwards, alright? Everything is going to be okay." You nod.

"Right, of course. You're... you're right. And you're going to a military base, I doubt there's a safer place around."

"C'mere." He tugs you into his side, and you wrap your arms around his stomach, nestling in opposite Orion. "I need you to do something f'me."

"What?"

"I need you to swear to me you'll tell your doctor about the dizzy spells." There's been a reminder card about your twelve week postpartum appointment on the fridge for two weeks now, and after you finally confessed you have been getting dizzy since Orion was born, and one time had even fallen, he decided to skip several steps by making the appointment for you. You were... not pleased, but he made it very clear, he's not playing a game with your health. He's planning his battles strategically now, putting pieces in play slowly, working towards his larger goal, but this was something he refused to compromise on.

"Okay." You whisper, burying your face in his chest. "I will." He lands a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see you soon. It'll be over before you know it, and maybe we can get a takeaway for dinner?" Your lips crack into a toothy smile.

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright, lad. Let's go see daddy's team." Orion stares at him, brown eyes curious, and watchful. He’s still not used to it, this feeling. This life, with you and his baby. Everyday, he has to stop to ground himself, anchor himself. Break from the cycle of a downward spiral, obsessive thoughts playing with his mind, counting down the million and one ways he could lose you, or fail you, or both. He’s careful, he’s diligent, he’s in control. He’d never make a mistake like he did before, the error of judgement that cost him his mother, his brother and his family-

But the incessant fear never ceases.

Fortunately, his anchor now is you. You, when you let him carry you to bed, when you watch him rock Orion to sleep as you stand in the doorway, you who curls up next to him on the couch now, fingers curled into his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear. Your touch heals. Your words comfort. He can't fathom a future without you, or Ry, now.

If he thinks back on it, he wonders if he knew all along. If all the things he felt the night he met really meant forever, just like he had wished. A fantasy turned reality-

to have and to hold.

His stomach turns, wondering if his father ever felt this, if he ever loved, or if he was always just a monster, the ouroboros of victim turned abuser, the man who terrorized his mother, his brother and himself, long past the time Simon finally tore him to pieces, cracked his ribs, beat him into the ground.

Tommy broke the cycle, and from the moment he laid eyes on his son he knew.... he would too.

Price's secretary looks like she's seen an actual ghost. "Hey, Lindsey. Is he in?" She's staring, flicking back and forth to Orion and then up to his face, mouth slightly agape.

"Y-yeah he's..." she points over her shoulder at his closed door. "Lieutenant, did you... is that... is that your baby?" He nods, mouth curving into a proud smile, stepping close enough so she can get a good look at him. She almost jerks back, clearly not used to being so close to him. He's been here and there, off and on base all week catching up on a backlog of reports, but hasn't said a word to anyone, and he keeps everyone on base at arm's length except the 141.

"It is." Her shocked expression melts, hesitantly reaching her pointer finger towards Ry, allowing him to wrap it up in his chubby little fist. "This is Orion." She smiles at him, and then the baby, kindly.

"He's beautiful." She excuses herself when the phone rings, and he settles the tension burning between his shoulder blades. He didn't mentally prepare for this moment, didn't believe he had to. The expectation of Price's acceptance was assumed but now, his trepidation is a surprise.

He told his captain he needed to take leave for something really important, but never said for what. All he told him is that he'd loop him in soon, and that he was sorry he wouldn't be available for the next op. If John was curious, he didn't let him know, didn't push him for more info, didn't pester him. He just sent the forms to Simon's email to be filled out with a postscript:

Looking forward to hearing what this is all about.

And when Simon crosses the threshold of his office, baby in one arm, backpack stuffed with nappies and bottles in the other-

John Price laughs.

It's not the huff of a chuckle that Kate usually gets out of him, or the rolling guffaw that he gives the guys sometimes when he's particularly amused.

No, this is different. It starts in his belly and then rolls upwards, all the way until his shoulders are shaking and he's wiping his eyes.

Simon scowls, and John holds both his hands up, palms out. Surrender. "This is a good enough reason as any to take a chunk of all that leave saved up." He stands, stepping around to get a closer look. "What's his name then?"

"Orion." John nods thoughtfully. The backs of his fingers brush along the baby's arm, gently, slowly, a flicker of longing, of sadness, arcing across his face before it dissipates.

"The giant hunter Zeus banished to the skies." Organized stacks of paper sit in neat little piles on top of John's desk, authorizations he'd know anywhere. They're moving out. "Where's his mum?"

"At a doctor's appointment." Orion gurgles, and Simon pats his back, bouncing him slowly from side to side.

"You with her?" The answer is immediate.

"Gonna marry her." John's eyes fill with mirth.

"But she doesn't know that yet, does she."

"No," Simon sighs, "but she will. 'ts why I needed the leave. Besides," he motions to the infant tucked in his arm, "this, helping take care of him, taking care of her, I need to get them moved to a secure location. She's in a second level flat right now, with street facing windows. It's makin' my skin itch." Price will get it, Simon knows he will understand. He has his own secret at home, tucked away in a house only Simon and Laswell know about, just in case.

"Take it slow, don't want to spook her. Although I can't imagine she's too skittish if she took you to bed." He smirks. "You've got the time you requested. Had to call in a substitute for this one, but we'll need you on the next."

"How long?"

"Five weeks, maybe more. I'll ring when we're back on base." Five weeks. The clock is ticking, a bomb waiting to detonate, a guillotine waiting to sever his time with his family, his duty dragging him away.

"Alright." He concedes. Cross that bridge when he comes to it.

If Price sees his reluctance, he doesn't comment on it. "Bird'll be here in six hours. Boys are in the rec room, if you want to see 'em." Simon nods, shifting the baby in his arms as he heads towards the door. "And Simon," he turns, locking eyes with his captain, raw emotion plain on both their faces. Price gives him a genuine smile. "Congratulations. You're going to be a great father."

There's a lump in his throat as he crosses the campus to the rec room, his nose dipping across Ry's head, breathing him in as deep as he can behind the black cloth mask. "He's gonna be your godfather, little man. We just have to get Mama to agree, don't we?" He tugs the building's door open, ignoring the streams of chatter suddenly grinding to a halt in the hallway. Once he makes it to the rec room and sees that no one else is inside, just Johnny and Gaz battling it out in an intense game of pool, he slips the mask off his face and locks the door.

Soap is the first one to see him. "Steeeamin' jesus, LT is that a bairn!?" Kyle chokes on his water.

"Is that your baby, Riley?" They both scramble forward, Johnny whistling in disbelief.

"Aye, he's got to be. Look at the size of 'im."

"Johnny." Simon gives him the 'settle down' look, but the Sergeant only grins impishly.

"He's hers, innit he?" Gaz reaches, and Orion watches him with interest. "The girl from the bar. The one who lives close to me." Johnny's eyes go wider than globes.

"Ach Ghost, ye been busy wit' that boa-"

"Johnny." He hisses, and Kyle barks a laugh, reaching. Simon doesn't balk about handing Orion over, even though you were cautious about letting other people be around him. This is his team. He trusts them implicitly.

"He's a heavy lad, isn't he?" Kyle bounces him back and forth, all the while Ry stares at him with his head tipped back, mesmerized. "Looks jus' like you."

"Maybe a wee bit more handsome." Johnny's leaning around Kyle, his hand on Ry's back. They're mooning over him, two decorated, strategically brilliant sergeants, cooing at a baby like a bunch of sooks, as Johnny would say.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, a text from you letting him know you're finished, and heading home.

>Has he eaten?

>No, hasn't seem interested.

>Thank god.

Knowing you're probably in pain makes him antsy to get back, and he glances at the guys. "You movin' out in a few hours?"

"Aye, lookin' for some sort of stolen intelligence. Shouldnae be too long. Got a rent-a-Lieutenant and everythin'. Ye'll be back for the next?"

"I will. Stay frosty out there. I expect you all back in one piece."

He triple checks the carseat, testing the straps and the strength of the seatbelt before finally deciding it's secure enough, for the hundredth time today. He takes one last look, and presses a kiss to Orion's head. "Ready, bub? Let's go home and see mama."