#it was the one I looked forward to reading the most

[azsazz]

Out of Order

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: You're running late from practice and the women's showers are out of order. In your haste to make it to class, you utilize the men's locker room while they're on the ice, only to find out that their practice has been cut short as well...

Warnings: Smut (oral, m receiving). Steamy (haha, get it?).

Word Count: 3003

Notes: This would prob never happen but it’s my world and you’re all living in it 😏

Belongs to the Shut Out & Penance world

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“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, staring at the sign hanging over the showers in the women’s locker room. It reads Closed for Maintenance. You’ve completely forgotten that the showers weren’t going to be in working order this week. You hadn’t been paying too close attention when your figure skating coach told you about it before the weekend hit, still too stunned thinking about Azriel when you’d run into him on your way to where all the coaches’ offices are housed. 

It hasn’t been a great start to the week. Your alarm went off late, you spilled the horrible coffee you’d managed to make whilst brushing your teeth—no harm there—and you split your leggings after a tumble on the ice. Now, you’re going to be doubly late for class because Coach Vanserra had wanted to talk to you about your routine after practice.

And now this.

Clicking your phone on, you check the time. Yup. You only have fifteen minutes to make your way across campus to class, and you’ve only just stopped sweating from the vigorous run-throughs of the jump you fell on during practice this morning. Anything to get the routine perfect, even if it did mean receiving a few cutting glares from the hockey players who were loitering around for their own practice. The chain reaction of you being late meant that the Zamboni flooded the ice late which meant that hockey practice started late.

Late, late, late.

You would totally skip class too, if it weren’t the one that you were struggling the most in. The Teaching Assistant even allowed you to meet with her before class today to go over the outline of your mid-term, and you really need to do well on it.

“What do I do, what do I do?” you wonder aloud, staring at the bright neon sign. You don’t have enough time to make it home, but—you groan as the idea pops into your head. 

The men’s locker room.

There are showers in there. Ones that probably work, too. 

Fuck, you really don’t want to do this. 

But you have no choice, you’re not spending the day walking around classes a filthy mess or smelling like sweat.

You duck out the door with your things, your bag slung over your shoulder, towel draped over your arm. Your shoes are clutched in your free hand as you duck your head, walking faster. Passing the rink just to make sure the hockey team is still out on the ice, you exhale softly, only allowing yourself a fleeting look at sex on skates.

Azriel is fast. Probably one of the fastest forwards on the team. He slides across the arena with a grace that rivals your own, and you’re impressed. Maybe he’s taken a few figure skating classes of his own. If only you could ask.

Quickly, you make sure that the coast is clear before ducking into the men’s locker room. It doesn’t look much different from the women’s locker rooms, with added urinals. It’s muggy even though it’s early, from the male figure skaters taking showers of their own. There’s a lingering scent of stale sweat in the air that makes your nose wrinkle, but you can push through that if it means you get the shower you so desperately need.

You halt, listening for any noise. Nothing. The locker room is perfectly empty.

You hustle to the back of the room where the showers are located, claiming the one furthest from the door. If someone does come inside, they likely won’t take up the empty shower next to you. Something about bro code and urinals, Cassian once mentioned. You pray that it applies to showers, too.

The walls separating each shower come up to your shoulders, and there’s a pair of swinging doors that keep the area enclosed. The water pressure is incredible, much better than in the women’s showers, and you groan as you step under the hot spray. Your towel is hung on the rack, your bag the furthest from the water as you can manage without getting it wet or being seen by anyone that might come your way.

You scrub your hair quickly, and when you turn around to wash the shampoo out, your eyes connect with a very familiar—and very heated—pair of hazel ones.

Azriel.

Holy fuck, this can’t be happening right now. His dark hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his perfectly tan skin. He’s sans shirt, and when your gaze quickly flicks to below the door, notice that he’s not wearing any pants, either.

Your heart pounds in your chest. He’s not supposed to be in here. You’re not supposed to be in here.

“What are you doing in here?” You exclaim, voice pitching high with your nerves. You slap your arms across your chest, even though you know he’s gotten an eyeful of your breasts from his vantage point, way taller than where the doors end.

“What are you doing in here?” He bites back, and the roughness of his voice makes the warmth pounding against your back converge between your legs. Fuck, he’s so attractive. His throat works around a harsh swallow, and you have to clamp your legs together stifle the throbbing.

Azriel watches you shift on your feet uneasily. Tracks you with his dark gaze like you’re a trapped animal and he’s about to pounce.

You kind of like this look on him.

“The women’s showers are out of order and I’m late for class,” you hastily reply, cheeks burning bright. You don’t know why he’s in here or if the rest of the team is seconds from following, but you need to get the fuck out of here right now, go bury your head in your pillow and potentially never return to the ice rink ever again.

This is utterly humiliating.

Azriel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, raucous laughter and crude jokes fill the space as the rest of the team enter the locker room. Your heart falls to the floor, swirling around with the soap that’s still running from your hair, and slipping down the drain.

Before you can protest, Azriel’s shoving himself inside of the stall with you, uncaring that you’re completely naked and shouldn’t be here. He presses himself up against you and you slip, but he’s righting you, pulling you into his chest where you can feel how very interested he is in this debacle.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim, and it’s hard to keep your voice from shouting frantically like you want to.

The air becomes a thousand times hotter. You can barely breathe with him pressed up against you like this, turning the both of you and hiding you from the view of his teammates. Your heart still races in your chest, both because your fucking crush is pressing his naked torso up against yours and with the fear that one of his teammates will take notice.

“It’s either I see you naked, or the entire team does,” he whispers, huskily. “And no way in hell am I letting that fucking happen.” He growls and something like pleasure skitters down your spine.

You swallow roughly, “Good call.”

“Practice ended early,” He tacks on, answering your previous question.

“I gathered,” you breathe, but it holds none of the heat that it normally does when you talk to any of the hockey players. Especially Cassian. “You were out there for like, five minutes,” you whisper-shout. You can feel how red your cheeks are, and while this may be mortifying, Azriel’s hard cock pressed into your stomach only adds to your already heightened emotions.

You wonder what he’d do if you got down on your knees right now.

“It’s been an hour,” he responds, and you hold your breath when the water of another shower turns on. Azriel drags you under the spray with him, making it look to his teammates that he’s showering instead of hiding the figure skater they’ve been arguing with for ice time all semester. “Coach wanted to keep us loose for the weekend. We’re supposed to change and watch film.”

Fuck, maybe you were staring for longer than you thought.

You can’t focus. Your entire mind needs rewiring because all you can think about right now is how Azriel’s bare skin is touching yours. How he towers over you, how he’s staring down at you with a heat that rivals a thousand wildfires. Actually, he’s staring a little south of your eyes, right at your—

“Hey,” you snap softly. Your arms are still tucked tightly over your chest, and you hope you’re not experiencing a nip-slip right now. “Eyes up here, asshole.”

Azriel’s smile nearly makes you slip.

“Can’t help myself,” he defends, and this is the most animated you’ve ever seen him. Out on the ice he’s all broody and serious, head strictly in the game. It’s hot, but this side of him, cheeky and smug, might even be hotter. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

Gods, if he doesn’t shut up right now, you’re probably going to do something you’ll regret later, like grab his hand and slide it right between your—

“Dude,” Cassian’s voice bellows and you duck closer into Azriel’s chest. Each ridge of his impressive muscles contract as he freezes up and despite your heart feeling like it’s about to pound out of your chest, you can admit that this is thrilling. The thought of being caught in here, surrounded by built hockey players, naked with Azriel, makes your core twist with pleasure. “Since when do you have a pink towel?”

You wince. Of course, he can see where the towel is hung on the rack, the dude is massive.

 Azriel lies easily, “Yeah, some chick left it over at my place and I brough it to return to her later.” It sounds like something he’s done before. A bite of jealousy hits you hot and harsh at the thought of him doing this with anyone else.

You clench your jaw, but as if he can feel the way you tense, his large hands come to rest on your hips, soothing across your skin. Fucking fuck.

“Used? Nice one, Azzy,” Cassian laughs and nothing more is said while he returns to his own shower.

Azriel eases slightly, the motion making his abs relax. You want to lean forward and lick over them, but now is nor the time nor the place.

You really need to get the fuck out of here.

There’s no way in hell that you’re going to make it to class, dammit.

You hear more showers turn on, and Azriel removes his hands from your hips to reach behind you for the soap you have on the shelf. You watch him as he squeezes some of the shampoo into his hands before scrubbing them through his black hair. He’s like a fucking dream come true, and his cock still hasn’t gone down from where it’s pinned between the both of you, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping you and it from meeting.

A droplet of soap falls onto your face, and you flinch, but don’t move. You’re not sure if you can, because your limbs are seized up with nerves. You’re not sure you want to.

Azriel rinses his hands off, slowly bringing them to your face. He wipes the droplet away with his knuckle and the feeling goes straight to your core.

“Azriel,” you breathe, but are promptly interrupted for a second time.

“Hey, man.” It’s Rhys. “You ready to kick the Sea Lion’s asses this weekend?” The water turns on in the shower directly next to you and in your haste to shuffle closer to Azriel, your arm brushes up against his cock and his hands fly out, gripping you firmly to keep you from squirming.

Oh. He’s enjoying being in this shower with you as much as you are.

A smirk makes its way onto your face that makes Azriel’s glorious hazel eyes narrow in distrust.

Reaching carefully behind you, you snag the bottle of conditioner from the rack and press it softly into his hand. His brows furrow in confusion as he answers his team captain. “Yeah, dude, Tarquin and his team don’t stand a fucking chance.” He almost chokes when you slide down to your knees in front of him.

“Damn straight,” Rhys says, while Azriel pleads you with his eyes. You’re not sure if he wants you to stop or keep going, but you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug anyway.

His cock springs from its confines and the bottle in Azriel’s hand drops, ringing loudly against the floor.

“Shit,” he says, but it’s tight in his throat, like he can’t even get the words out. If someone catches on, he’s screwed.

He leans down to pick up the conditioner bottle and you frown as his cock is pulled from eye-level.

“What do you think you’re doing, pretty girl?”

You lean in close, sliding your hands up his muscular arms, enjoying the way his thick, dark eyelashes flutter under your touch. “Just enjoy, Azriel,” you whisper, your breath casting over his lips. He could grab you by the back of your head and tug you into the kiss he’s been wanting to since the first day you showed up at the rink, snarking at the team for going over their time. His cock jumps at the thought of those pursed lips wrapped around his cock. “And wash my hair while you’re at it.”

“Fuck,” he groans softly, but you pull away before he can rock into you and claim your mouth. He’s been crouched down for too long, anyway, so he rips himself from you, pushing to his feet.

“What do you think about Tarquin?” you hear Rhys ask, but you’re already reaching forward, taking Azriel in your hand. He jerks immediately and when you look up at him, he’s already shooting you an apologetic look, and then another that tells you he isn’t going to last very long.

You like the idea of that. Having this power over him.

He’s hard and smooth in your hand. You watch eagerly as a bead of precum drips from the tip, but it’s washed away by the water still cascading down his body, to your disappointment. If you’re going to be waterboarded, you’re thankful that this is how it’s going to go.

Azriel’s response is choked when you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasing his slit with the tip of your tongue. The flavor of him bursts on your tongue as another drop of precum follows, and you almost moan before remembering where you are. To keep the noise from coming out, you sink further onto his cock, cutting off your airflow.

“He’s good, but he’s no match for Bloodshed over there,” Azriel answers, and his hand falls to your head, fingers burying into your hair. You can feel the cold of the conditioner and if you weren’t enjoying yourself too much by bobbing your mouth up and down his cock, you’d be worried about the amount he’s using.

“Yeah,” Rhys says. “Their goalie is decent, but our offense is better.”

Azriel hums in response and his other hand finds your face, cupping it and guiding you just the way that he likes.

You take advantage of his help, lathing your tongue across any skin that you can find, reveling in the feeling of it all. Your legs are clenched so tightly together, your clit aching for release. You’re on edge, but you’re terrified of making any noise. You really can’t be found in the men’s locker room like this.  

“Dude…” Rhys trails off, and the suspicion in his voice makes you falter, but Azriel’s still guiding your head, trying not to fully say fuck it and jerk his cock as deep as he can go. “Are you fucking jacking off right now?”

“Yeah,” Az answers, because he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s still going to protect you, but his hips are moving, his tip hitting the back of your throat but not pushing any further, so you don’t choke. “So, if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be ace. We’ll talk at film. Tell coach I’ll be late.”

Rhysand’s answering chuckle rings throughout the stalls when he cuts the water from his shower. “Enough said, Az. You’re fucking sick, but I’m out.”

As soon as Rhysand’s out the door, Azriel’s picking up his pace, gasping out that he’s going to release and trying to pry you off his cock like the gentleman he is.

Too bad you want his cum in your mouth.

You curl your fingers into the meat of his thighs, urging him to stay inside.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” he groans before he releases himself. He’s all heady and musky, and you swallow him greedily, not letting a single drop escape. Gods, you need to stop acting like this, but around Azriel, you can’t help yourself.

He helps you to your feet and ducks down to capture your lips in a heated, desperate kiss. Your hands find his hair, clutching to him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, silently asking for permission. You grant it to him, and the kiss turns hot and needy, like he’s been wanting this for a long as you have.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, chest heaving, but your gaze stays locked on his, especially when he sinks to his own knees.

“What are you doing?” you pant, planting your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging deliciously into his skin.

“Returning the favor,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. He taps the inside of your tingling thighs. “Why do you think I told Rhys to tell coach that I’m going to be late? C’mon, pretty girl, open these legs for me.”

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Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks

[twst-kumi]

What about yan malleus who courts his darling with fae practices?

So what I see the most about fairies is about how they would kidnap theirs bride and very little about actual courtship. But if we are talking about wedding, I did read somewhere that both fairy couple would give each other some task to accomplish before said wedding. Of course the task must be under the spouse capacity, so they could accomplish it well.

Warning: Yandere, forced marriage.

Your name

Fairy and Fae are a very closeted species, so very little are known about them. Malleus should have thought about it before courting you. You were HIS cute little human, so pure and innocent. A quality loved by fairies on other species. Fairy are quite unfair and selfish in their expectations for other than their own kin. And Malleus are the same, if not more. For the fair folk, their human lovers (or any other species) should be pure, innocent and loyal. Qualities you already hold in Malleus' eyes. "Oh? You want to exchange name, child of man?"

He is overjoyed by this. Name hold power, that mainly why he refused to give you his name the first time you both met. Of course since you so naively told him yours, he already had A LOT of power over you. When he developed feeling for you, Malleus wanted to kidnap you at first. But Lilia convinced him not to. It was a very old and outdated rules. Too old for this modern day and age.

That why after the incident during VDC you asked to exchange name once again, he was over the moon. Malleus had yours, but you also wanted his. "Uh fu fu! I hope you understand the meaning of your word, Child of man." Before you could ask about what he meant by that, he gave you his full name. The name that will be attached to yours soon enough.

Now that you both exchanged name, you two are officially in a relationship. You both are owning each other now. Which means that you both are now on an "equal" standing... In theory. While it's true, you being magicless mean you can't really use his name against him. But Malleus will gladly oblige if you need anything from him.

But Malleus know that name isn't highly protected in human society. So even though you are both engaged, Malleus decide to court you a bit. Fairy and dragons like pretty and shiny thing, so of course the draconian prince decided to gift you with some of his prettiest gem. By then you have already learned some fairy custom so you knew not to accept a gift from a fairy without giving something back. "Oh my, you shouldn't have, my dear child of man. You don't know how much this mean to me." He laughed delighted to see you have accepted his courtship and give him another one back. It was a pretty stained glass bracelet, but seeing your financial status he guess this is the best you could find. He is even more happy when you said you started to learn Fairy custom. That mean that you did it consciously and love him too, isn't it? Malleus take it as a sign that he could finally move forward with preparing the wedding.

As per the Fairy custom, Malleus prepared some task for you. He also didn't hesitate to ask for some task for him to accomplish. Since he you are magicless, he decided to give you some easy task. Like helping polish his horn, or going on a stroll with him. One time he even demanded that you cook for him. For the task Malleus has been asking from you. They were all so simple and adorable (in his eyes) that he couldn't help but swoon. Knowing that he loved to do his laundry on his own, you asked him to help you wash and hang them. Which he did eagerly. While he enjoyed it, it felt like you were preparing him for your marital life. "Look like the roof need to be repaired. Do you want me to do it, Child of man?", "I don't want to bother you with it Tsunotaro. Are you sure?" Malleus laugh it off before fixing it with magic. "It's no problem at all." He said with a smile.

You discovered about your engagement and wedding by Lilia. The wedding approaching the retired general took upon him to teach you every thing you needed to know for your life as Malleus' spouse and future consort of Briar Valley. When you discovered it, you ran to Malleus demanding explanation. The Fae prince just smiled as if you were just throwing a tantrum. "I did warn you, Child of man. Exchanging name are proof we are now betrothed. We have already completed most of the wedding rituals now only the ceremony are left." It broke his heart he saw you trying to push him away and leave. How you called him crazy, and tried to back out of the wedding. Malleus pinned your behavior on stress. You must be very anxious about your future as his consort. It must be why. The fairy dragon sighed before using your name against you. He hugged you gently and kissed your lips softly. "I know it's a very big step. I'm also anxious about it. But don't worry, I will take care of everything." He smiled as you were under his control unable to move. This is why you never give your name to a fairy.

[lazyjellyfish300]

What's Mine is Yours💘

Miguel O'Hara x gn!Reader

CW: none, fluff, little self indulgent oops. Just something quick. INSPO FOR THE DISNEYLAND BIT: @teenidlegirl go read her Disneyland headcanons they're so good!

WC: 856 ish

----

As Miguel's partner, everything you love quickly becomes everything he loves too.

Miguel doesn't think of himself as easily influenced. He's not a follower by any means. I mean he's the spider society's leader. But now, that you're in his life, he's acting out of the ordinary. 

Romance flicks? Could never really stomach those. Now he's seen all of the Nicholas Sparks movies and Twilight Saga. And of course he's Team Edward. 

Those reality shows you love with a lot of fighting and drama he normally thought were insufferable? He's on season 9 episode 12 right along with you, even though he won't admit it. 

He'll watch from the stairwell, eyes peeking down at the screen which you're so absorbed in. Over time, he'll eventually be at the bottom of the stairs, then the kitchen, then the room starts to get a little cold because he stood there watching with the refrigerator door open too long because he's just "getting a snack." Now he's standing behind the couch, arms folded. 

He's like a vampire, he can't join unless you invite him in.  

You give him a little sneaky grin as you pat the empty spot next to you on the couch and he shakes his head as he sits down, trying to play it all cool.

"I guess I can watch a little bit with you." 

Then when the drama's getting good, his arm eventually leaves the spot from around your shoulders. He's leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, which he's nervously bouncing (I totally headcanon Miguel with having restless leg syndrome), his hands covering his face as he focuses intently on the screen until the villain finally gets the karma she deserves. 

"Thank God! I'm sick of her ass!" 

Those fluffy fuzzy socks you like to wear? He expects you to buy matching ones for him. And even when he has his own, he'll still fish yours out of the laundry basket. No wonder all of them turn up missing. 

He came with you to get a pedicure just for shits and giggles, but when he put his feet in the warm water and laid back against the massaging chair? Oh yeah, he's coming with you every time now. Sorry. 

Disneyland? Oh God, why would you drop hundreds of dollars to stand in line for 2 hours for a 3 minute ride? Crowds and people being dumb in public are his worst enemy. But, seeing how you cry at the fireworks and softly hum the music of all the Disney songs you've loved since you were a kid, how cute your cheeks look all puffed up when you go to town on a cream cheese pretzel, the way you scream on Big Thunder Mountain, the way you close your eyes and take a deep inhale every time you walk into Pirates of the Caribbean as the AC hits your face like it's crack, the way you smile and gush when you walk up to Winnie the Pooh and friends and give him a big hug while Miguel takes your picture. 

Even the park is getting to him a little bit. You're making him feel special, like he's finally able to be a kid again, experience that giddy feeling of magic and a world where fantasy is real like through the eyes of a child, because he never had that growing up. 

Okay, now he might be okay with going to Disney.  But only every other year or so. And you can live with that for now. Walt Disney World is already booked on your calendar for next time. Now to convince him that airfare to Japan isn't even that expensive so you can also go to Tokyo Disney...

He never ate breakfast in the mornings besides like a protein shake or a black coffee at most. Now, going to cafes and a little pastry is religion to him, all thanks to you, his cute partner who reminds him it's the most important meal of the day. 

His restaurant orders have changed, slightly. He'll try what you're having and soon all your favorite spots are now his. 

You jokingly buy him his own skin moisturizer for Christmas because yours runs out much more quickly than it used to, when you catch him red handed using it behind your back. 

He's been to more concerts, read some more books, ate some new foods, experienced more things all thanks to you. 

He never so much as hung a stocking for Christmas, now the apartment halls are literally, decked out. He used to never answer the door on Halloween, now there's 8 boxes of king sized candy bars and a planned couples costume well in advance. He loathed Valentines Day and all that consumerism, Hallmark bs, now it's marked religiously on his calendar. 

His whole world a little more colorful as he knows it. 

A matching coffee mug sitting in the cupboard next to his that used to sit all alone. 

Because one of the ways he feels the closest to you even when he can't be physically with you is to enjoy all of the things you love. They belong to him now too. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

----

@thatone-writer @1-900-venusluvs

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

LET’S GO HOME

Pairing - Tommy Shelby - fem!reader

Summary - Tommy was your most loyal client. But his proposition made you run. But you can only run so far from The Peaky Devil.

Warnings - Dubcon, abduction, oral! m receiving, intimidating Tommy.

Word count - 1.3k

Notes - I think I'm going through a Tommy phase, no I am not okay.

A small congested sniffle here and there were the only sounds in the Bently as the engine roared on the empty dirt road. Tugging at your nightdress, your eyes dared to look over to Tommy as he drove, his eyes firmly on the road ahead and knuckles white around the wheel. 

It was freezing at the time of dusk, the orange sun blurred behind the clouds peeking out from the horizon. As you pressed your shivering body against the door, his dark eyes finally gazed over to you. 

“Come over here my darling… We still have about an hour ahead of us, come and keep us warm” Tommy’s voice was cold yet soothing. 

As badly as you didn’t want to, the thinness of your dress demanded otherwise. Sitting in this condition for the past few hours has left you desperate for warmth. Slowly, you slid across the seating and snuggled up to him, your teeth chattering. Tommy breathed out as he pulled the car over to the side and parked the car. Your eyes filled with fear, but Tommy merely slid off his coat and wrapped it around your fragile body. 

When he pressed on the pedal again with another lit cigarette between his lips, you let out a rough breath and rubbed your forehead against his pec. 

Tommy Shelby was your most loyal client back in London. Being a businessman, he dropped by here and there. But always requested you to satisfy his needs whenever he was in town. Surprisingly, he was the only man that was able to satisfy your needs as well despite being a prostitute. 

He paid high amounts to see you, to keep you all to himself in that cheap bed all day. Over time, the sex became less frequent as a lot of your time together was spent talking. All while being held in his arms. 

He told you he loved you time and time again. But Tommy was just high on desire and opium. So you played along in this fantasy of his, a man like him could never be in love with a woman like you. It was only ever infatuation, desire, ownership. 

Every time he’d ask you to stop seeing others, and every time you told him you would. Even though his payment was always large, your boss took a larger cut. So you couldn’t solely depend on him in a city like London. 

But you were naive on how dangerous of a man Mr Shelby was. Some girls praised you for bewitching a man like him, others deemed you to be cursed. Yes you knew he was a gangster, a leader of an underground empire. But you never dared yourself to learn the extent of his profession. 

Then, on one of the most beautiful days of the year, all the other men steered clear of you, nobody wanted you. At first you wondered why, got overwhelmed as your cash was running short and you hadn’t seen Tommy in weeks. But when you observed a man in a peaked cap slip your boss a hefty amount of money, you had a sick feeling in your gut that Tommy was up to something. 

That night Tommy finally visited you again. Right before he left, just after he slipped on his coat, he made a proposition that not many would refuse. Tommy put forward that you quit your position at the brothel and worked for him full time, living with him in his grand home. You freaked mentally but put on a facade to be in compliance. 

Tommy wanted you to believe that you were coming on your free will. He cleverly orchestrated for you to submit yourself completely to him. Which was surprising, since he was a man known for taking whatever he wanted. The uncertainty of being completely underneath him frightening you. The warnings the other girls gave you pulsated from the back of your mind. 

As Tommy left, he gave you a stern expression, you knew he was trying to read you. So you gave him a gentle kiss on the lips to reassure him. Tommy informed you that he would come for you after he had settled some business and gave you your last official payment. 

You caught the first train out in the morning. Through your rush of adrenaline, you didn’t even check where it was taking you. You only wanted to get out, run as far as you could. Where you ended up in a small town far from the city. He couldn’t find you here, for he was still only a man. 

For months, you had been working as a maid at a small estate. It felt like you had reached the end of a rainbow to be able to get this lucky. The pay was decent and the owners were kinder than most. Every night you had a comfortable bed to sleep in. 

Until this night, where you woke up to a pistol pressed against your jaw. Your heart immediately raced. It bolted from the starting point to not realize that there was no endpoint. You began to blubber as the moonlight illuminated his familiar features underneath his peaked cap. Those blue eyes seemed to sparkle. Tommy teased the barrel over your soft skin. 

“Hush my darling, hush. We do not want to wake anyone, do we?” Tommy whispered, a wicked grin on his lips as he pressed the gun to your temple. 

You choked on your whine as you shook your head to him. Tommy sighed as he sat on the bed beside you, his hand rubbing over your hidden thighs. 

“Come on, let’s go home” he spoke smoothly as he slid the gun back into his holster. 

Your hands stroked his abdomen as he rested his chin on your head. By the way his hips were constantly shifting, you knew he was hard. The natural urge inside of you demanded that you satisfied him. Whilst the reasoning inside of you pushed you to be good, for you knew what he was capable of. 

Because how was it even possible for him to find you? You thought you were gone without a trace. Never had he shown you his ruthlessness, his cruelness. Never have you seen the pure evil that ran through his bloodstream. The sickening gut feeling told you that he would show you that side for betraying him. 

“Darling… I knew you missed me” Tommy exhaled in satisfaction as you squeezed his bulge. Gradually the pressure of your strokes grew. As you undid his belt, you pulled out his large size and gulped.  “Don’t think this gets you off the hook” Tommy groaned as you took him inside of your mouth eagerly. 

All you could do was hum in compliance. Tommy breathed out, his neck tilting back slightly as you took him inside of your mouth more and more. Your cheeks hollowed as one of your hands fondled his balls. 

“Fuck darling… I’ve missed you so much” he confessed as his foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

His hand pressed on your head to keep his cock poking against the back of your throat. You gagged out and attempted to push him off, too afraid to try to be more forceful for he was the one with his hand on the wheel. 

“Gonna stay buried in you for days… Weeks even…” Tommy stated as his hips flexed up, tears swelled in your eyes as you struggled not to bite down. “Your cunt is going to feel so fucking warm” he noted, jaw wide open and watering at the thought of your sweet nectar tree. 

Your legs squirmed across the seating as you squeezed his thigh in surrender. But it was all pointless, this was merely a lesson on how he was never going to be letting you go. So you might as well just suck it up, literally. 

“Keep on going darling, almost there…” Tommy encouraged you, a wicked smirk on his lips.

[likedovesinthewindd]

advantage, me; part six of sore loser ⋆ masterlist

summary: you're looking forward to a good match | content/warning: explicit language, light angst (more like tension) | tags: @midwestprincesss | a/n: this is lowk my least favorite chapter ngl

"Ignore it," Patrick huffed as his mouth continued its attack on your poor neck. You hummed in agreement, doing just that as you felt his left hand running its course over your skin, the right one next to your head to keep most of his weight off of you.

It wasn't even five seconds before the knocking started again, causing a unanimous grunt from both you and Patrick. "Wait, maybe it's my roommate," you said, lightly pushing at Patrick's shoulders.

He rolled off of you with a huff, landing on his back as he placed his arms behind his head. You gave his chest a playful slap, getting up and smoothing out your dress as you made your way to the door, opening it with little haste.

"Hey, can we talk?"

You've never wanted to punch someone more. You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a breath before giving him a "No."

"Please, I just want to apologize," Art said, and you strongly fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. "You can apologize tomorrow, okay?" you smiled, moving the close the door, but he stopped you. "Art, it's late," you sighed. "I couldn't sleep," he said softly. "Now you're making that my problem?" "Please?" he tried again.

"You alright?"

Could you punch two people at the same time?

Patrick came to the door, growing curious at why you had been gone for so long. When he saw Art at the door, he was a little surprised, the cigarette he had lit in the meantime hanging from his lips.

"You can't do that in here," you said, annoyance laced in your words as you waved the cloud of smoke away from your face. He muttered a half-assed apology, moving back inside your dorm to dispose of the cigarette. You watched as he walked back inside and into the bathroom.

You turned back to Art, an expression on his face that so clearly read what is he doing here?

"What are you doing here, man?" Patrick asked as he rejoined the two of you. The tension was definitely there, something unspoken hanging in the air, even if none of you would admit it. "I could ask you the same thing," Art said with a humorless laugh. Patrick scratched the back of his neck.

"I think that's obvious," he smirked, and you wanted to smack that stupid smirk on his face. Something about his smugness regarding the situation rubbed you the wrong way. "Besides," he added, "It's like twelve AM."

"I just wanted to talk to her."

"At twelve AM?"

"I think you should leave." Both boys turned to look at you, the silent showdown stopped right in its tracks. "Look, Art—"

"Both of you," you clarified, already moving further inside the dorm. You had all but gently pushed Patrick outside, moving to close the door. You had truly imagined and hoped the night would end much differently, but they both had managed to piss you off.

"I'll see you Saturday, okay?" you smiled at him – that same smile you had been sporting all night – and for a second, he forgot you were literally kicking him out. Neither of them got another word in before the door was pushed closed, followed by the sound of the lock turning.

Patrick looked back at his friend, the same confused expression on his face. He landed a slap to the back of Art's head, successfully waking him from whatever trance he had been in. "Nice going, man," Patrick muttered, already down the hall and on his way outside, resulting in Art having to run after him.

𖦹 ⊹ ˚.

The unforgiving sun sat idle in the sky, shining directly over the pavillion and covering it a heat blanket that was something akin to being smothered. You waved the little paper fan dutifully, eyes focused on the boys as they stood across from each other.

Your eyes momentarily met Art's, his face pinched in concentration as his hand bounced the ball like muscle memory. You shifted your attention over to Patrick, his eyes stuck on Art as he waited for his opponent's next move.

You had watched Art play a few times before, but this would be the first time you watched Patrick. Art alone was a pretty good player, and from what you've heard, they made a mean doubles team. But watching them play against each other? There was nothing like it; they seemed to understand each other on a very deep level. It was intense, intimate almost.

The sound of a punched out grunt takes you from your daydream, realizing Art had already served and that the game was already in full swing. You watched attentively, head going back and forth between the two.

The match had ended with a win for Patrick, his face smug and cocky as he looked up at you, giving you a wink. You had managed to find both of them after the tournament, both extra exhausted from the heat. "That was a very good game," you told both of them as you handed each a bottle of water, which they accepted gratefully.

"I think we should celebrate. All three of us," you suggested, eyeing the boys' reaction. They wordlessly brought the bottles from the mouths, urging you to continue. "What do you guys think?" you asked. A jumbled answer of yes of course and yeah that's sounds good was given before Patrick excused himself to go and take a shower and change. You waited for Art to join him, but he stayed behind, waiting until Patrick was out of earshot.

"Does this mean—"

"I'm not mad at you anymore, Art," you reassured him with a smile. "And I'd like for you to join tonight. I miss hanging out with you," you added, raising your eyebrows expectantly, before being on your way.

𖦹 ⊹ ˚.

[irongiant-9000]

My Confession to why I choose Knightshade.

Well... this had to get explained sooner or later...

I guess I want to get this off my chest as to why I push these two so hard...

I know that Jaune and Blake don't really talk in canon. I know that they barely interact at all in the show, and the fact that I ship them at all is just plain crack.

But... for some reason I can't help it. Maybe its just my ignorance, or hell it could be that I am honestly not really a RWBY fan in terms of the show. I truly am an outsider looking because funny enough Fanfiction is what pushed me towards these two.

I just don't really care for canon when it comes to those two. It seems silly, but I just love a knight and ninja dynamic and these two just fit the bill in my opinion and my storytelling brain just tells me to but these two in a relationship. One feels cynical and dreary, while the other one is full of positivity when it comes to their emotions.

They both put themselves down when it comes to letting down their teams, and I just love the idea of them bonding over not only heavy topics like their family issues and the like when it comes to confidence and pushing forward, but maybe even goofy writing prompts like reading materials or food related shenanigans. I know that could be anyone with Jaune and Blake, but I guess I see them both most of all when it comes down to it.

My heart and mind can't help but think that if these two were in a different show or more of an adventure anime as main characters, they would be love interest with their conflicting personalities or how their dynamic would just flow like water. I don't mean to dog Bumblebee or Arkos, but this just something I feel in my heart.

I guess... I just love the clashing colors of the wonderful Knightshade... and I just can't let go...

Its why I asked for those commission from Sesh and Mc, I just think a cat ninja girl and a blond dorky knight was what did it for me.

So yeah... I don't really care to get judged by others for liking these two... I just think the dynamic works, and I can't help but defend my position on these two.

I don't mean to ruffle feathers, I just wanted to explain why I do what I do.

[lunalitva]

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

❛ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ❜

PAIRINGS: Unburnt Vader x Rebel reader SYNOPSIS: You go on undercover mission as an Imperial, catching the eye of none other than the infamous sith lord, Lord Vader. One of your most notorious enemies, it's a good thing he knows you by your alias. Not by your face. For now at least... WARNINGS: Deceit, smut, swearing... NOTES: This is my first time writing smut so it is by no means a masterpiece. But I hope you like it. This Vader x rebel reader series I read ages ago inspired me to write my own. I can’t find it but if you know what I’m talking about please let me know.

「 You 」

Three years working for the Rebellion, and not once could I have pictured ending up… here.

Bent over, on the desk of Lord Vader. Yes, Lord Vader. Darth Vader, the Emperor’s apprentice. My breath came out shaky. No surprise considering I was being practically impaled by Darth Vader’s cock. Moan after moan tumbled from my lips, my jaw gone slack from my seemingly unending cries of pleasure. My fingers clutched the end of the table like my life depended on it. As it creaked from his unrelenting thrusts, his hips meeting mine. The slapping of skin echoed through the room, followed by his loud grunts and occasional whimpers. His soft yet calloused hands gripped my hips like a vice. My body rocking into the desk with each thrust, his cock stretching me out. It felt like he was about to split me in half, “doing so well for me sweetheart.” He grunts in between sharp thrusts. “Fuck…” He mumbles breathlessly, I could feel his length throbbing inside me. Looking down, I see his balls swinging with each thrust. The warm skin of his palm rubbing my back, “like what you see princess.” Reaching his remaining hand on your hip to your clit. Rubbing circles on the sensitive nub making me jolt. Letting out another moan, “mmm… You like that don’t you sweetheart?” He asks rhetorically, giving another sharp thrust. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, my pussy clenching around his length. As my orgasm hits, cumming all over his cock.

He didn’t relent, continuing to forcefully thrust into me without fail. His cock drilling my cum back into me as he threw his head back. Moaning without shame, “f-fuck sweetheart.” He stutters and I feel his hips tremble as I whine in overstimulation. The tip of his cock kissing my cervix as his breath hitches, his hips jolt forward. Followed by the release of his warm seed, painting my insides white. He collapses forward onto me. His skin sweaty and his weight pinning me to the desk. As he gives a few more slow ruts, a soft whimper escaping him. “Mmm… think I’m gonna have to keep you all to myself.” He whispers, kissing in between my shoulder blades. Stilling his thrusts, running his warm hands up and down my sides gently in a soothing motion. “Hmm? Make you my little Empress, would you like that sweetheart?” He nuzzles into the crook of my neck. Planting soft kisses along the skin there as I caught my breath. “Bet you would…” He whispers, nibbling on my earlobe. “Could have everything you’ve ever dreamed, princess.” Giving my waist a gentle squeeze, “all you’d have to do is warm my bed darling. Have you on your back, taking my cock like a good girl…” He kisses the soft skin behind my ear, making me whimper. “Oh don’t be afraid darling, I’ll take such good care of you.” He whisper sweetly, gently prying my hands off the edge of the table. Rubbing the skin of my knuckles with his thumbs, releasing all the tension.

Intertwining our fingers, his thumbs stroking the back of my hands. He lets out a sigh, his warm breath hitting my neck. Goosebumps forming in its wake. He rests his chin on my shoulder, “how you feeling my sweet girl?” He asks softly, releasing one of my hands to gently brush the hair out of my face. Making me smile softly, oh maker. I nod slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’m okay…” He chuckles softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. While brushing his fingertips along the skin of my cheek, ever so lightly. As if I’d break if he was any rougher, “yeah? You took me so well sweetheart. So proud…” He gives my shoulder a gentle kiss, I could feel his cock softening slightly. “M’gonna-” He gets cut off my his commlink going off. He groans in annoyance, giving my shoulder another kiss. Before pivoting his head to the side. Picking it up from his desk, smirking slightly at the mess we’d made. I watch him roll his eyes, answering. “What?” He asks bluntly, the annoyance at being disturbed clear in his voice. A sheepish voice responds, clearly picking up on his irritation. “I’m sorry to disturb you My Lord, but the Emperor has personally requested your presence at our current meeti-” I hear him growl softly, the vibrations from his chest travelled into my own. Making me shiver slightly, he noticed. His hand on my cheek travelled back to my waist. Rubbing soft circles comfortingly, “I’ll be there.” He responded shortly, before crushing the commlink. Letting the pieces fall to the floor. He let out a sigh, dropping his head down. His forehead resting on my upper back. Nuzzling into it softly, he reminded me of a puppy. This was the almighty Darth Vader? Surely there has been some sort of mix up? “M’sorry sweetheart, I have to go.” He said softly, his voice just above a whisper. His hand on my waist travels up. Cradling the back of my head, turning it to the side gently. So his lips could meet mine, his kiss was surprisingly soft. All traces of previous annoyance had disappeared. Like footprints being washed away by the sea.

He intertwined our fingers again, giving my hand another gentle squeeze. I could feel him smiling into the kiss. Before he pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against the side of my head. He pulled off me a little. His weight no longer pinning me to the desk, but I could still feel a light layer of his sweat coating my back. He gently flips me onto my back, I wince slightly at the change in angles. Watching as his brows furrowed slightly at the stimulation. He leans back on top of me, his weight now pressing again my front. Chest to chest, I felt my nipples hardening again at the contact. He clearly felt it too as I saw a smirk tugging at his lips… His gorgeous, soft, plump lips… Stop that. He brought both hands up to my face, cupping it softly. Pressing his forehead against mine. Our noses brushing against each other. “You sure you’re okay?” He asks, his eyes searching mine. For something I wasn’t quite sure, was he actually worried about me?

I chuckle softly, “I’m fine.” He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, flicking it gently. His eyes were fixated on my lips as he watched it snap back into place, while he ran his tongue along his own. Coating them in a thin layer of his saliva, the lights in the room reflecting off them.

“Don’t do that…” He whispers, causing me to furrow my brows.

“Don’t do what?” I ask curiously, tilting my head to the side.

Making him bite his lip softly in response, “don’t be so adorable.” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.” He lets out a puff of air mockingly in response.

Poking the tip of my nose softly, “cheeky little thing.”

I smile softly, “you should probably be getting to your meeting. Sounds… important.” I whisper, observing him. Seeing some of his curls stuck to his forehead from our… activities. I absentmindedly brush them back, out of his face. His eyes watching my movement. Now I noticed his cheeks flushed a pastel pink, from the sex? Or was he… nervous? No way, no surely not…

His gentle voice brings me from my thoughts, “important?” He hums, pressing his soft lips to my forehead. “Probably not,” his husky voice uttered. “Just incompetent imperials needing me to do their work for them.” He all but sighs out, my eyebrows furrowed slightly. And I brought my arms up slowly, wrapping them around his torso. Which felt way more tiresome that it should of, maker what has he done to me? My limbs felt completely useless, I feel him take a deep breath. His chest rising and his stomach pressing into mine. Which also pushed his hips to meet mine, gently thrusting his cock deeper into me. Making me let out a soft whine, as his breath hitches. “Fuck sorry sweetheart I forgot,” he mutters. I could practically feel the grin on his face, as he trails a hand down. Gently pressing on my lower stomach, feeling where he was inside me. Making me jolt, clinging to his back. “Mmm your so warm princess, don’t wanna leave.” He pats my lower stomach softly, I could feel our combined release running down my thighs. “Your pussy’s clenching me so tight, don’t think you want me to leave either… hmm?” I could feel his smirk against my forehead, I poke his ribs in response. He lets out a soft chuckle.

“Your really not as funny as you think you are,” I retort. He lifts his lips off my forehead, looking down at me.

“Aren’t I?” He teases, licking his lips.

I shake my head, “nope-” He leans down, silencing me with a kiss. He sucks on my bottom lip softly, while his hands trail up to my breasts. Cupping them, his thumbs toying with my nipples. Making me moan softly into his mouth, my back arching slightly. I pull back a little, and he lets a soft sigh slip.

“I gotta go to work sweetheart,” he mumbles. The disdain at having to leave clear in his voice. I cup his cheek softly, and he leans into my touch.

I try to fight off a smile, “I know…” With one last kiss he reluctantly pulls away, running his fingers along my cheek. He places his other hand on my hip, steadying me.

He looks down at his cock, a grin on his face. He slowly pulls out, letting out a low hiss from the stimulation. He watches our cum leak out of me. Crouching down he holds my legs apart, placing a gently kiss on my pussy. Licking a strip, making me shiver in response. A moan escaping his lips before he stands back up. His naked form on full display as he looks for his discarded clothes. Littered along the floor of his office.

He yanks his boxers and pants back up his legs, tucking his spent cock back in place. Before bending over, picking up his shirt and robe. Damn he has a nice ass for a man. I shake my head, covering my mouth with my hand. Get a grip. I look back to him and he was struggling to tie his robe, muttering curse words under his breath. I sit up slowly, trying to find my balance. “Here,” I offer. He looks up from the messy knot he made, walking back over. Standing in front of me he places his hands on my waist.

Resting his chin on top of my head, “thanks sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmur. Finish tying up his robe, “is it too tight?” I ask, looking up slightly. He shakes his head, cupping the back of mine.

“No it’s good,” he runs his fingers through my hair softly. I felt his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. His other hand trail down my back to my ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. Before he removes his hand off my ass, scribbling something down on a sticky note. He pulls back to look into my eyes, keeping his hand in my hair. Brushing it softly, his eyes were blue… Weren’t they supposed to be yellow? “What is it?” He asks curiously, I must not of being doing a good job at hiding my confusion.

“Your eyes…” I mutter, before mine drift to something I had yet to notice.

“Oh yes the yellow can be… unnerving.” He whispers the last part, almost as if he was ashamed.

I shake my head, “no that’s not what I meant…” I paused, and he seemed to perk up slightly at my response. I bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing when I see my name on a board behind him. A board of the… rebellion. Oh shit this is bad. “Little Minx?” I raise a brow, he immediately broke out into a grin. Looking behind him, to see the board I was staring at.

“Long story…” He turns back to face me, cupping my jaw gently. “My private chambers are just down the hall if you need anything,” he slides the sticky note to me. With the code to his chambers on it, “if anyone gives you any trouble just tell them I sent you.”

He leans closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. Longer for a moment, breathing me in. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, make yourself comfortable.” He pulls away slowly, as if he was reluctant to. He releases his gentle grip on my jaw, to smooth down my hair. Before giving my ass a gentle pat, before heading to the door of his office. Using the force to open the door, show off. “I’ll be in conference room B if you need me darling. Try not to miss me too much,” he winks.

Heading out the door, shutting it behind him. I let out a sigh, “holy shit.” I mumble under my breath, rubbing my face to try to gather myself. I grip the edge of the desk I was currently on… naked. This was so not part of the plan. The plan! The files, I look around. Standing up on shaky legs, my knees buckling for a moment.

To be continued…

[dilatorywriting]

Truth Potion

Vil Schoenheit x OC x Rook Hunt Word Count: 9.7k

Summary: Truth Potions should be banned from the proximity of any and all far-too-attractive people for all time. Least of all when dating one of them who would be far to keen to use said lack-of-filter to his advantage.

[OC Archive]

🌶️🌶️🌶️ WARNING for Spicy Content! WARNING for References to a Character's Previous Death

READ WHAT YOU LIKE, BUT BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU READ

The potion exploding in her face was nothing unusual. Saya had been cursed with cat ears, and fluffy tails, and all sorts of strange ailments at this point. It was like there was a target on her back that the universe had put there saying ‘hey! You! Don’t let this poor idiot escape a single potions lesson unscathed!’

What wasn’t familiar was the strange, staticky lull all throughout her mouth. Making her tongue feel light as a feather.

“That didn’t taste very bad,” she mumbled to herself, and then wondered why she’d muttered anything at all. “But I guess a lot of things don’t taste as bad as I was expecting them to.”

“Oh?” Deuce coughed, good-natured despite his own singed eyebrows. “Like what?”

She shrugged. “Cum.”

And then immediately screamed into her hands like she was being murdered point blank. She gasped against her palms in horror. Because she did not just say that. Out loud. In public.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” she wailed. “I haven’t even told Vil that! And he’s the one who’d actually want to know!”

She clamped her fingers over her mouth again and screamed louder.

“Oh my god,” Ace chirped, like this was the greatest gift God could have ever gifted him and all of mankind. “You got truth dosed.”

Ro blinked in worry from his place at the desk nearby. “Is she going to be alright?”

“No!” Saya wailed.

“Quick!” Ace beamed, dashing forward like a hound after a hare. “Ask her everything you’ve always wanted to know! Before it wears off!”

“Or before she kills us,” Jack scowled under his breath.

“I would never kill you,” Saya said, serious. “I don’t think I could. You’re too beefy. But you’re too nice too. The best. Right behind Deuce.”

“Oh,” Jack rumbled, gold eyes going wide and then quickly shooting away.

“This seems a bit like we’re taking advantage…” Robyn mumbled, looking guilty.

“Thank you,” Saya huffed. “Because—”

“Do you like me, yes or no?” the redhead blurted as fast as he could, and then immediately looked terribly chagrinned about it.

“If anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I wish you were actually my brother so I could finally have something good in my stupid genetic pool.” The words tumbled out like the shrapnel from a bomb—wild, and uncontrolled, and loud. Saya squawked in indignation. “Robyn Starling!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I just—I needed to know!”

“Fuck you!”

“Out of everyone in this room, who would you wanna fuck the most?” Ace piped in, like a rabid little demon.

“Jamil!” Saya blurted, and immediately covered her mouth in horror. Said Vice-Warden’s head popped up from his place hovering over his own cauldron, and he immediately looked like he wanted to melt into the floor and disappear from their entire plane of existence. But then, like some kind of absolutely malicious trick of fate, the words just kept coming. “Or Professor Crewel.”

“Someone go get Schoenheit,” the man in question groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Quickly.”

.

.

“A truth potion?” Vil muttered, rubbing his thumbs along a dot of blue smeared high along her cheekbone. “That’s all?”

“That I can tell,” Professor Crewel sighed.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Saya grouched, and then seemed to reconsider. “Actually, that was probably when I killed myself the first time around. But this is pretty up there.” Another pause. “Worst day of my life so far.”

Vil fought the urge to dig his fingers into his temples. He could already feel the stress headache forming. The last thing he needed was the add new wrinkles on top of that.

“How long until it wears off?”

“Hopefully no more than a day,” Crewel hummed, considering. “Perhaps sooner, if you can get her cleaned up quickly enough.”

“He can never clean me quick enough,” Saya complained past the shield of her fingers. “He always ends up fucking me in the bath, which is entirely counterproductive. Especially when he’s the one complaining about tight schedules. Like, sir, it’s your own fault you’re late. You didn’t have to spend half an hour with your tongue up my—”

Vil clamped a hand over her mouth and Saya looked grateful beyond measure.

“Please just get her out of public,” Crewel sighed, looking like he’d aged ten years over the course of the afternoon. “Before I have an aneurism.”

Saya said something else against Vil’s palm, but thankfully it came out too garbled and flat to comprehend.

“Of course, sir.”

The House Warden dragged his miserable, red-faced girlfriend out the office doors and down a back hallway—determined to skulk away to Pomefiore as stealthily as he could possibly manage.  

“God, what I wouldn’t give to be in the center of a Schoenheit-Crewel sandwich,” she sighed once his palm was off her lips, and then immediately paled from head to toe, like a ghost. “I might actually kill myself again.”

“Do not even joke about that,” he snapped.

“Can it be a joke if I’m under a truth spell?”

“You know,” Vil smiled, poisonously poised and vicious, “Perhaps I should go back and let you make your offer in person, hmm? I’m on decent enough terms with the Professor. Perhaps we can make an arrangement, if you’re being so truthful in the moment.”

Saya tucked both hands over her mouth and allowed herself to be herded back towards the elaborate, Pomefiore dorms in silence.

.

.

The bath that followed was entirely unsexy, and Saya nearly bit through her bottom lip in an effort to keep her bubbling complaints under wraps. Vil practically dunked her like a rag against a washboard, and she couldn’t help but think that he always got a bit like this—a bit too upset, a bit too mean—whenever her untimely demise was brought up all over again. Which, on one hand, she couldn’t blame him. Whenever Robyn talked about his own death, it made her stomach fall and her hair stand on end. And if Vil had done what she had—Well. She’d be upset too. So she sat politely and quietly in her towel until the stupid potion got the better of her. 

“I just don’t get it,” she said into his glacial sneer. “It’s not like it matters.”

“The fact that we’re having this argument yet again when you can’t even physically lie about it tells me you need more therapy than there exists on this godforsaken planet.”

“I am a little broken,” she shrugged, and something in the model’s amethyst eyes went so terribly sad. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I meant it. But I shouldn’t have said it. I don’t like upsetting you.”

Vil sighed and reached out to dry her hair, gentler now. Scrubbing the soft towel over her short, blonde, waves in little circles.

“I know,” he said. “And I’ll reward your valiant efforts by not pushing all of the things I would so love to use this opportunity to push.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she hummed, leaning into his kneading. “Not if it’s you. Not really, at least. Even if it is embarrassing.” She paused, and he watched her try to physically swallow down the words in her mouth before they came tumbling out anyways. “Your cum tastes good, by the way. Well, not good. Not like, I don’t know, candy or whatever. But like, not bad at all. I thought you should know. Because I said it earlier, but you weren’t around. And now you are. And now I also need to throw myself out the nearest window.”

The startled laugh that ripped out of his throat was entirely less dignified than he would have liked.

“Is that so?” he trilled, beyond amused. “I suppose I’m glad my healthy diet has been useful for… other unexpected benefits, as well.”

Her face screwed up like he’d forced her to drink rotten milk and he couldn’t help himself from feeling hopelessly fond at this miserable, sopping wet, little wreck of a person.  

“Anything else you’d like to confess?” he grinned. “While I have your full attention?”

More nose scrunching. “What do you want to know?”

It sounded like the question had to be pried out of her mouth with pliers. Vil’s smile went a little wicked. He dropped the towel to his bedroom floor so that he could dig his fingers into her damp hair.  

“What’s your favorite part? Of all the things I’ve done to you?”

“That you’ve loved me,” she said instantly, and that teasing mew melted off his face in a heartbeat. Saya looked positively stricken. “Oh my god, please. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,” he chirped, mocking, and she made a gagging noise. “But as touched as I am by your sentimentality, I had meant on the more physical side of things. It’s so hard to get your honest feedback.”

“I thought you liked that,” she said, a bit mulish. “The whole ‘stubborn’ thing. Having to pin me down.”

Saya watched the round, black circles of his pupils jump and dilate. The twist of his mouth went smug and warm—familiar. In all the best and worst possible ways. 

“Is that why you do it?” he cooed, a dangerous lilt to his voice that had goosebumps dancing down her spine.

“Not completely,” she mumbled, gaze slipping away and cheeks going pink. “I think some of it is just—just me, too,” she gulped as his nose trailed down her neck. “That’s really distracting.”

“Is it?” he drawled.

“I just said it was!”

“You’re so lovely to me, do you know? Working so hard to try and meet my tastes,” he said against her collarbone, and she shivered. “What else could I do for you, I wonder?”

“You do more than enough.”

Vil couldn’t help but feel flattered at the ringing truth in that proclamation, but he pushed forward nonetheless. This was a golden opportunity not to be diminished—not even by the charming warmth of their sentimentality.

“But I could always do more. Tell me—I’m always open with the things I’d like to do to you. What’s something that you’ve always wanted to try.”

“DP,” she burst out, and then immediately ducked her head to shriek against his shoulder. “Oh my god, please forget I just said that. Well, don’t forget it. Because it would be—really, really—I just. Oh my god!”

“You weren’t kidding then,” he tutted, warm and calm, dragging a soothing palm against her lower back, “when you mentioned the professor and I earlier.”

“I mean, only a little. I’d never be able to look Crewel in the eye again. It wouldn’t be worth it. Especially when I think he’s just starting to like me.”

Vil huffed. “He adores you.”

“Yeah, more like he’d like to hit me with a-door.”

“I can see this isn’t the time to address your self-worth issues,” he droned, and then worked to shift back into the direction he’d been so carefully coaxing. “But either way. You were saying? Something about being taken by—"

“I know it’s not practical!” she immediately squeaked. “Like, I am fully aware you only have one dick. And also, like, I love you. I don’t have any desire to like, go around fucking some other random person just to, I don’t know, satisfy some weird fantasy. Everyone has their like, Thing that they’re like ‘wow. That’d be super hot. Will never happen. But damn.’ And that’s just—I don’t know. Mine.” A pause, to take her breath. “Also, like, it takes two to tango. Or, well, three in this case. And I’m still reeling over the fact that I’ve managed to trick one person into sleeping with me, let alone two.” 

Vil couldn’t hold back his snort. “I’m certain you could find more than double that on this campus alone who would be more than willing to step in to fill the role at a moment’s notice.”

She crinkled her nose. “Even if that was true, I still love you most. I don’t want other people.”

“And if I found someone suitable to partake in this? Someone who has perhaps displayed a keen interest in the past and who I trust enough to involve? Someone who’s already proven more than enthusiastic about the topic?” Vil asked, and he watched her eyebrows jump up in startled confusion. “Would that be amenable then? If you had that on top of my fullhearted approval and support?”

Her brow furrowed, clearly taken aback. “Who the fuck are you talking to about screwing me?”

Vil snorted another laugh.

“My, you’re feeling crude today.”

“It’s this stupid potion and you know it!” He watched that tight little tick in her brow grow deeper as she dove into the depths of her thoughts, searching and searching for an answer he was sure she’d find. All of a sudden she choked. “Are you talking about Rook?”

“I knew you’d get there eventually, kitten.”

“But he—” she gaped. “He doesn’t—I haven’t—” she spluttered. “He doesn’t even like me. I bet he’d hang my head over his fireplace if he got the chance.”

Vil barked out a laugh. “That would certainly be the highest of compliments.”

At her continued fretting, he leaned closer to tug her in tight and go back to running his fingers up and down her spine. “Naturally it’s your choice, but I can assure you, I’ve heard more than my fair share of soliloquies about the wonders of your bountiful bosom to know he’d be more than thrilled to assist.”

“They’re not even that big,” she grouched under her breath. “But that’s… Even if he was okay with it, what about you?” she asked, nervous.

Vil grinned, sharp and seductive. “Darling, who hasn’t shared something so private with their closest friend, hmm?”

“Uhm, me?” she gaped. “If you ever catch me in a three-way with Ro, please just shoot me in the face—"

“You’re moving away from the point,” he accused, snagging her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Now. Tell me—would that be a situation you’d be amenable to?”

She chewed at her lower lip hesitantly and looked up at him through her lashes. “I trust you enough that if you think it would—it would be a good idea, then…”

“This isn’t about me,” he tutted.

“Everything in my life is about you,” she corrected sharply, and then immediately went beet red. “Fucking just—gag me or something. Please.”

Vil laughed. “That can be arranged. But first,” he grinned, moving to slip lithely to his feet. “I do believe I need to have a conversation with my Vice Warden.”

.

.

 “Shouldn’t we at least wait until the potion wears off?” Saya asked, hoping she didn’t sound nearly as panicked as she felt. “And, I mean,” she spluttered. “This all probably feels a bit sudden, right? Like, I know if someone knocked at my door one minute to—to—"

Rook’s answering grin had a shiver running down her spine and Vil reached out to tweak her cheek like an unruly child.

“Nonsense. How else will we know if you’re being honest about the experience, hmm?”

“That’s fair. I do lie about how I’m feeling a lot,” she said, and then instantly bit into her lip with a scowl. Fucking— “But that still doesn’t answer the,” she waved her hand around her head. “The other bit.”

“Ahh, but what predator could ever turn down such an opportunity to pounce when a feast is presented to him, hmm?” Rook cooed, hand over his heart as if he was about to start delivering a grand poem. “Particularly when it is a meal I’ve most looked forward to. And I can promise that I have thought on it long and often, mon chaton,” he smirked—a strange, dark, twisty thing that showed perhaps a few too many teeth. “It is so hard to look away when so much fluttering beauty twines itself so frequently beneath a shared roof.”

Dutifully ignoring the implications of that little statement, she frowned and said, “But you like pretty things.”

Vil frowned right back, but before he could launch into another one of his irritable spiels about self-value, and ‘in the eye of the beholder, blablabla,’ Rook ducked in and scooped her hands up between his.

“There is loveliness in delicacy,” the hunter agreed easily, smoothly. “But there is also beauty in a storm, in destruction. Qu'est-ce que la vie sans la mort? Qu'est-ce que l'amour sans l'horreur? And you, petite tentatrice,” he grinned, “are the loveliest storm of all.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “I’m sorry, but did you just French your way into saying that me being an unruly bitch is hot?”

“Ahh,” he crooned, lifting a hand as if he was about to swoon, “you’ve found me out!” And then that grin was back, sending all kinds of nervous goosebumps racing down her arms. “An easy hunt may speak to one’s skill well enough, but sometimes I can’t help but hope for a chase.”

“You’re unsettling her,” Vil warned, reaching out to twine an arm around her waist and rub soothing circles into the divots of her hips. “I told you not to overdo it.”

“Ah, pardonne moi, pardonne moi!” he lamented. “But I could hardly help myself.”

Vil’s amethyst eyes narrowed, a silent reprimand and threat all in one. You will help yourself, that glare warned. And while the Vice Warden certainly didn’t outright cow to that sneer, he dipped his chin in easy submittance nonetheless.

“Of course, mon reine,” he chirped. “This is a gift! And I will do my best to cherish it so.”

He reached forward and brushed a wayward strand of honey-hued hair from Saya’s eyes—fingers landing neatly on her cheek after to rub at the spreading flush there.

“How could I not? Especially after you’ve trained her so wonderfully.”

Saya gasped in indignation, that nervous blush staining plum red with rage instead.

“I’m not a fucking dog!” She snapped. “And he hasn’t—I haven’t been—”

“We’re working on it,” Vil droned, and Saya started spluttering all over again.

“We are not!”

“Well, we aren’t,” the ethereal beauty sighed, as if terribly put upon. “That is my job, after all. And you don’t make it easy, darling.”

The snarky retort twisted off her tongue with the taste of popping bubbles and lingering herbs, and instead, what came out was a pouty, “I thought that was the point.”

She cursed colorfully under her breath and Rook burst into gleeful laughter.

“Oh, she is just merveilleuse, mon reine. Je suis honoré que vous souhaitiez partager une telle merveille avec votre humble serviteur.”

Vil scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Perhaps if you were so humble as you’d like me to believe, you wouldn’t have been so bold in your spying these past months.”

Rook held up his hands with another snicker, as if to say ‘you caught me!’

“But it worked, did it not?” he beamed, and then leaned forward to nuzzle along the underside of Saya’s jaw. His teeth skimmed the delicate, pale skin there and she pressed back against Vil with a squeak.

Vil rolled his eyes yet again and shifted so that Saya could tuck herself up against him in one, long lean line. Like a cat arching away from the wandering hands of an overenthusiastic guest and towards the familiar warmth of its owner. But all that being said, proper socialization was all in the name of the game. And he would be terribly bereft to go lax in his diligent efforts now of all times. 

“Gently,” he reprimanded. “She startles easily.”

“I’m not a—” she squeaked again, and Rook ducked forward with another sharp nip. “It’s not weird to be jumpy. I’d never done anything like this before I met you.”

“Ah, comme c'est chéri,” Rook cooed, as he burrowed in closer and latched his mouth against the hollow beneath her throat, sucking an angry, purple bruise against the pale skin there. “Did you know,” he trilled, popping back with a preening little smirk to observe his handiwork, “that our dearest queen does have quite the love of, ah, how did you describe it?” Rook mused. “Un amour de la corruption?”

“Rook,” Vil sneered, lip curling in warning.

“Not like that’s anything I didn’t already know,” Saya scoffed under her breath, and then squawked when familiar, painted nails dug into her hips.

“What was that, kitten?”

“I—I just meant,” she gulped, cursing that stupid potion with every fiber of her being. “It was—you got excited. When I said I was—that I had never—and you—I—” she trailed off with a nervous incoherence.

Vil hummed against her neck and she shivered.

“This is quite the difference,” he mused, a note of interest curling over his words. “To ask for an answer and to receive one rather than some stuttering, biting attempt at maintaining your dignity. I can’t say I’m opposed.” His hands trailed lower. “Perhaps not forever, but as an anomaly—as a treat,” he smirked. “For all my hard work.” She could feel the blunt, rounded edges of his nails trailing back and forth at the inseam of her thighs. “I do enjoy the ensuing correction far too much to want this new sweetness of yours to become a permanent fixture in our lives, but for the time being…”  

Saya gulped, and she could see Rook’s eyes trace the movement like a fox watching a rabbit’s hole.

“Tell me, won’t you” Vil demanded, head going high once more and some of that haughty, put-upon superiority lighting his eyes. Saya knew that expression, and it meant literally nothing good for her hips or spine for the upcoming days. “What makes this so appealing to you?” He grinned against her hair, sharp. “Wanting to be taken so thoroughly.”

“I—” she spluttered, feeling those awful, terrible remnants of magic dancing around her mouth. “It just—I—” and then that arcana popped with a focus and she was babbling all over again. “It just seems—seems nice. To be wanted that badly to be shared like, like something special. And—being between—the, the warmth of it seems—I…” She was going to die. Melt into a puddle and stain his stupid carpet with her untimely end. “I like to be squished, and held. And being that full seems nice.”

“Tellement poétique!” Rook crooned, looking nearly sparkly-eyed with wonder.

‘I hate this,’ she tried to spit, but instead, “I don’t mind this.”

Vil snorted a laugh into her hair.

“Yes, darling. I could tell.”

His hand dipped past the edge of the towel and brushed pointedly between her legs. He pulled back when she squeaked and held his fingers up with the same air as a teacher offering a demonstration. The wetness on them caught the light overhead—shining and slippery—and Saya tried to bury her face in her hands.

“You’re not particularly subtle,” he hummed, amused. And Saya felt like her blood was about to boil straight out of her veins.

And then, because apparently the love of her stupid life was actively trying to send her into cardiac arrest, she watched through her fingers as Vil stretched forward and offered his hand for Rook’s inspection. The hunter’s gaze tracked the slow, sticky drip of her and his emerald eyes pointedly flickered down to the space between her thighs, still artfully hidden beneath the fringe of the bath towel. And then those too-bright eyes slipped back up to meet hers and he leaned forward to lick a long stripe up Vil’s palm.

“No need for embarrassment,” Rook promised, licking his lips pleasantly. “Neither of us can lay claim to the notion of subtly either, favori.”

“Oh my God,” she choked.

“Ah, ah,” Vil tutted, twisting his other hand forward to pinch at her thigh. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Vil,” she gasped, a bit too close to a petulant whine.

“Better,” he smirked, and then reached up to loose the folds of her little towel, sending it fluttering to the mattress beneath them. Saya shivered at the rush of cold air, and then again when she caught the strange, predatory gleam in their guest’s green eyes. His gaze was like a tangible thing, running over every bit of exposed skin like the edge of a blade dipping along her shaking limbs.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she snipped, embarrassed.

“Oh, not to worry!” he chirped. “I’ve taken several!”

“What—"

Vil twined his fingers through the shorter hair at the base of her skull and tugged. “Focus, kitten.”

“I’m always focused on you,” she snapped, potion bubbling off her tongue. And Vil rewarded her honesty with another sharp tug and a dip into a deep kiss. He pressed her down until she was dizzy, and when he finally pulled back with a contented hum and a flickering, wine-warm smirk, Saya felt like she was ready to melt into the bed.

“How do you always look so stupidly put together during sex?” she complained, unbidden. “And I always wind up looking like I’ve been railed halfway to Sunday.”

Vil snorted in amusement. “Perhaps that’s the point.”

His purple irises jumped past her shoulder and then the bed was dipping again. Saya blinked, not even having realized that Rook had stepped away. But then the hunter was back and she squeaked as a pair of deceptively well-muscled arms hauled her up against an unfamiliar and very naked chest. Vil nodded, as if in satisfaction with the state of things, and then eased himself back towards solid ground to also begin the process of divesting himself of his ridiculously intricate House Robes.

A pair of unfamiliar fingers snagged her chin and Saya found herself turned to face a smile that would not look out of place on a shark.

“There you are, chérie,” Rook purred, like a big cat hulking down over its kill, and then ducked forward to press his mouth against hers in a kiss that was like a whirlwind. While Vil kissed like an artform—a perfected, poised, creation that pushed as soft or as hard as he felt suited the moment, Rook kissed like he meant to eat her alive. He nipped at her lips until Saya was tasting copper, and the self-satisfied groan that rumbled from his throat had her nearly vibrating out of her skin.

The bed was dipping again and she felt another set of far more familiar hands work their way around her waist—pushing the leach away and dragging her back across the sheets to sprawl along a lean lap. Rook laughed, pleasantly amused, and pointedly reached up to wipe a speck of blood off his chin.

“Poor thing,” Vil sighed, brushing a thumb along the smear of crimson at the corner of Saya’s own abused mouth.

The poisonous beauty leaned forward to press his lips back against hers. He laved his tongue across the fresh cut there, easing the sting and sharpening it all at once.

“He’s just terrible to you, isn’t he?” he cooed, all mocking softness. “I suppose you’ll never be able to complain about my own methods again, once this is over. I’m not nearly that mean, am I, kitten?”  

“I like it when you’re a little mean to me,” she admitted, eyes darting away in mulish embarrassment.

Vil chuckled against her throat—a warm, satisfied thing. “You’re providing me with far too my ammunition this evening, darling.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped. “I’m literally never going to live this down.”

“Ah,” Rook trilled, slipping forward to tuck himself up against the skin of her back. And Jesus, she’d known the two of them were pretty substantially taller than her, but being wedged between them like this was a stark reminder of just how teeny she was. “But is it not better to be open and true with the one you love, hmm?”

“It’s not my fault I’m emotionally constipated,” she grumbled.

“Oh?” the hunter mused. “If you provide me with a list of the ones who are suitably responsible then, I would be more than happy to ensure that such a strain upon your person would never occur again.”

“Uhm,” Saya spluttered. “Appreciated, but… I mean, they’re all back in my old world anyways.”

“Ah,” he hummed, ducking over her shoulder to press another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Quel malheur.”

There were too many hands at her waist, and the pull of it was a bit disorientating. Saya swayed into one kiss and then another, neck craning back and forth—left to right, left to right.

“How would you prefer us?” Vil asked, with all the casual nuance of someone inquiring after the weather. It was going to drive her insane. And holy fuck, holy shit, they were—

“—actually doing this,” she choked, feeling lightheaded and far, far too warm.

“Of course,” Vil smirked, amusement playing across his face. “Unless you want us to stop.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” she squawked, and then buried her face in his shoulder in humiliation. Rook laughed, chiming and musical against her collarbone.

Vil reached around to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of her rump and squeeze. “Well? You haven’t answered me.”

“…You in front?” she asked, tentative. “So I can…”

“So you can?” he pressed, dragging her back and forth between them in a horrible, torturous grind.

“So I can kiss you,” she mumbled, pink from the tip of her chin to the roots of her hair.

That upright, royal smugness melted from his face for a moment in a wave of golden fondness, and he ducked in to press a sweet, soft kiss to her lips—his hands coming up to cup her cheeks and run gently through her mused hair. She could hear Rook let out the most besotted little sigh, like he was watching a favorite scene from one of Neige’s romcoms.

“Ah, l'amour vrai,” he breathed, leaning forward to hook his chin over her shoulder. “I never will tire of the sight.” 

“Mmm,” Vil hummed, pulling away from her mouth with a lingering nip and a long, deep drag of his tongue along hers. “I suppose not, if I have any say in it.”

Saya blinked—dizzy, and warm, and jaw still hanging slack—and Rook laughed at the startled look on her face.

“Meaning he’d like to keep you forever, mon coeur,” he chirped. “So such a treat on the eyes will never have an expiry date.”

“Oh,” she whispered, still far too dazed and only falling further into that horrible, hot spiral when Vil’s fingers shifted back down to her waist to pull her back into that slow, smooth, grind between them. It was awful, and wet. And surely she was making a hideous mess of the sheets. And their thighs. And all of it. But neither of them seemed to mind, only groaned low against her skin as the blonde beauty rocked her and back and forth, and back and forth, and back and—

“Still alright, kitten?” he laughed, leaning forward to suck another dark mark against her throat.

“I want that,” she blurted, and it came out shivery and far too high. “Being—” Son of a—No! No! She had some dignity left! And stupid fucking truth potion or otherwise, she wasn’t going to let him tease her into saying— “Being yours forever.”

Another kiss, so deep and strong it had her collapsing back against Rook’s chest with the push of it. She whined against painted lips and she felt the hunter’s pleased rumble along her spine in return.

“Si réactif,” he sighed, dipping down to the other side of her throat to lave a matching mark to one Vil had only just bitten into her skin.

Vil hummed again, deep in his chest—lips trailing from her mouth, down her chin, and all the way to her collarbones. “Isn’t she?”

“Okay, okay,” Saya squawked, fighting a shiver when Rook’s hands curled around her front to cup at her chest. “Can we stop talking out how stupidly squeaky I am and just—just get on with—"

Two of Vil’s fingers curled up into her in one, sharp thrust and she gasped.

“What was that, kitten?” he cooed. “I couldn’t hear you—” another brutal thump thump thump, another strangled exhale, “over whatever—” gasping, and gasping, “you were trying,” Saya squealed, hands coming down to tug fruitlessly at Vil’s wrist as he drilled up into her over, and over, and over—“to say?”

She bucked against his grip and then Rook’s palm was slipping forward to press down hard just below her naval. And she could practically feel the tips of Vil’s fingers grinding up against the hand at her abdomen. Full, and tight, and so, so—

The hunter’s other hand dipped low between her legs to rub tight, focused circles against her clit and the winding, spring of heat in her gut just about snapped. Hard, and fast, and sudden. And then it was gone. Those crafty, wet fingers slipping away to stroke along her flank instead. Saya threw her head back against Rook’s shoulder with a whimpering gasp. She bit into her lip and pressed her fingers over her mouth in a bid to trap some of the horrible, embarrassing noises trying to sneak off her tongue. To trap the complaint, that she could feel bubbling up along with those awful, terrible mews. Because if she ever, in all her life, let a whiny, little ‘why did you stop?’ pass her lips, Rook Hunt would never let her live it down. Ever.

She breathed through her nose, counting slow and steady as she tried to drag her head back out of the clouds. And just when she thought she was settling that horrible, heat addled, fog into something manageable, the grinding started again and she squeaked.

“Wh-What are you—” she choked, twisting down against a third finger. A fourth.

“I know that normally you prefer a bit of a sting,” Vil said, and Saya was nodding along with the bubbles of that godawful potion before she could help herself. There was a twitch in Rook’s fingers along the dip of her spine, and she could feel his nails dig into the skin there like he couldn’t help himself. “But this is something new, darling. So it’s better safe than sorry, hmm?”

“I wouldn’t be sorry,” she blurted, and then cursed under her breath. “Probably.”

Vil chuckled, indulgent, against her cheek, and then curved his fingers in a way that had her seeing stars.

“Another time, perhaps,” he trilled, soft, and went back to scissoring back and forth. A steady, slippery grind to ease their way.

There was a curious hum at her shoulder and then Rook’s fingers were dancing back around to tap at Vil’s steadily rocking wrist.

“May I?”

Those heavily lined eyes narrowed for a moment, considering, and then he slowly shifted his hand to make room for Rook’s own, slipping two fingers aside to leave a soft, warm space between them.

“Carefully,” he warned, firm.

“Bien sûr, bien sûr!” Rook trilled, delving forward too fast, and too quick, and not in line with his sweet, little reassurance at all. Saya squeaked and clenched her thighs shut around his hand. Hips stuttering on the rapid thump, thump, thump of his knuckles meeting her folds. She arched away with a gasp, toes twisting in the sheets and head tossing back and forth in a tight, strangled little mewl.

“Slower,” Vil snapped, and Rook sighed like an unrepentant child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Yes, yes. As you say, mon reine.”

The brutal pace grew more tempered, more constrained, and Saya’s muscles slowly eased out of their rigid arch. Vil hummed, approving, and deftly began to twist his own fingers again in time with Rook’s enthusiastic exploration.

“Angle yourself a bit more towards the front. And a touch to the right,” he coached, and then there was familiar pressure against a tight, far too sensitive part of her that had Saya keening. “Ah. That’s it then.”

“Merci, merci, Roi de Poison,” Rook beamed, “for your marvelous guidance, as always.”

“Please, just—” she begged, twisting and bucking against the mess of hands between her legs. Because she couldn’t—it was all—there was so much—and— “It’s fine. I’m ready. Please. Can you just—”

There was a sharp pinch at her hip that had her whining and flinching away.

“Don’t rush me, kitten,” Vil chastised. “You know the rules.”

“Of course I do,” Saya snapped, more of those same, terrible truths popping along her tongue like fizz off a soft drink. “And breaking them is the only thing that gets you to actually fuck me nine out of ten times. So of course I—"

Another wicked sting at the inside of her thigh, and Saya yelped.

“My, you are an unruly, little thing aren’t you, favori?” Rook cooed, nails raking up and down her pale skin like he wanted to etch those stark, red lines into her flesh like a tattoo. “Your darling Queen adores you so much, and this is how you repay him?” There was a near-feral, hungry spark in those emerald eyes that had her trembling. And suddenly Saya felt very much like a rabbit trapped between the jaws of a cackling fox. A feisty, smirking predator who just wanted any excuse to chase, and pounce, and bite—

“Enough, Rook.”

 Another sigh, long and lamenting. And Saya shivered against a fresh wave of goosebumps.

Vil hooked a finger beneath her chin and pulled her forward into a slow, syrupy kiss. His tongue traced steadily along hers, lining her teeth, pricking her canines, twining round and round until she was easing back against him with a soft sigh.

“There you are, kitten” he hummed, pulling back with a thin, sticky trail of saliva—keeping close enough that it didn’t have quite enough stretch to snap and break between them. He cupped her cheeks between his palms and Saya did her best to ignore the stripe of thick, slippery wetness that rubbed along her skin. “I think we’ve teased you enough for one night, don’t you?”

She nodded, still a bit too shivery and teary-eyed. Trembling like a leaf in the wind. And Vil leaned forward with a sweet coo to offer her another kiss.

“Do you still want this, darling?”

Another nod. One that she probably would have offered even without a Truth Potion coursing through her veins. Because, yes. It was a lot. But—but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? And Rook was still a bit, well, himself. And Saya still felt like he was two steps away from sinking his teeth into her throat and never letting go. But she trusted Vil to stay the Hunter’s hand—to keep them both in line. So she twisted her fingers through his own, finely manicured ones and leaned forward to press a soft, tremulous kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“There’s my good girl,” Vil hummed, an indulgent, little smile curling his red lips. “Now, how to best go about this…”

Manicured fingers rose to clasp firmly along the line of her shoulders, and then Vil was easing her back flat against the mattress. Her head landed with a soft ‘thump’ against Rook’s thighs, and immediately the hunter’s hands were curling into the loose waves of her hair, raking his nails along her scalp until she was shivering all over again. Vil slid his palms down along her sides to cup under her rear and raise her hips off the pooling, silk sheets. One curved further along her lower back to keep her aloft, and the other ran down her legs one at a time, hooking one calf around his waist and then the other.

He shifted forward on his knees until he was looming over her and ducked down to press another deep, breath-stealing kiss into her lips. And then he was rocking forward and slipping in slow and smooth. Saya whined against his mouth and he nipped softly at lower her lip in reprimand.

“Relax, kitten.”

She whined again and tried to shift her hips to better accommodate the familiar stretch, but Vil dug his fingers into her side to keep her firmly in place, tapping one, painted nail against the dip in her waist like a reprimand. She stilled under that firm grip all at once and Rook trilled something enthusiastic and saccharine sweet in her ear.

“Si bien entraîné,” he cooed, peppering kisses all along the curve of her jaw, up her cheek, along the bridge of her nose. “Si adorable,” another wave of pecks along her forehead. “Tu le prends si bien, favori.”

Saya scrunched her nose beneath the endless press of fluttering lips, ticklish, and Rook laughed—bright and fond. He leaned in closer to run the broad flat of his tongue along her lips instead and Saya fought a complaint, because that would just open her mouth up to the rest of him. And going by the spark darkening that emerald leer of his, that was exactly what he was hoping for.

Vil shooed the hunter away with an exasperated wave of his hand and shifted his palms back along the dip in her spine.

“Up, darling.”

He rolled back onto his knees and Saya shifted obediently alongside him—letting herself be swooped up from the long, lean sprawl and into his lap. She wobbled a bit and dug her teeth into her lip to focus on keeping her balance. It was an odd sort of position. Normally when Vil settled her in his lap, she was flush with his thighs. Pressed core to core so that he could grind her down along his length and whisper terrible things into her ear that made her melt. Now, she was situated far further up—sticky clit bumping against the firm muscles of his stomach and thighs shivering into an arch. Like trying to hold a rising trot on a horse.  

Vil ran a soothing hand up and down her trembling sides.

“Good girl, doing so lovely for us” he hummed, pressing her closer and encouraging her to grind low, slow circles against his abdomen. Saya fought a shiver and bit her lip harder. “Stay just like this, hmm?”

She nodded, jittery but determined, and he smiled indulgently against her throat.

Amethyst eyes flashed towards their guest and Vil dipped his chin—an order. And then Rook was draping himself along her back once more, hands curling around to knead and pinch along her chest like he couldn’t help himself. Squeezing handfuls of soft, squishy flesh between his palms, rolling pink peaks between his fingers in sharp, overenthusiastic twists, and panting near-indiscernible obscenities into her neck all the while. Vil shuffled them around until they were situated to his liking, smacking at Rook’s limbs whenever the hunter tried to readjust himself or slip too close too soon. Two sets of hands dug themselves into her hips, and Saya could feel the hot, blunt press of Rook at her back like a brand. He sighed, whimsical, against her shoulders and rutted short, aborted thrusts against her rear—leaving smears of tacky, warm precum in his wake like a signature. Saya could feel it cooling in sticky trails all along her skin, but Rook seemed more than merry with the idea of letting it pool there, thick and messy, until they were stuck together at the hip from it.

She was still pressed up at that awkward angle, still rubbing those soft, wet, maddening circles right where Vil had told her to. And even though her thighs were really starting to ache, Saya realized oh. Like this, Rook could drive right up into her, couldn’t he? They both could. And then, after she was wrapped up between them like a lock and key, they would be able to pass her back and forth so easily, and—

Vil rocked up into her in one quick, sharp thrust and Saya’s attention was immediately snapping back to him on a high-pitched keen.   

“Focus, kitten,” he chastised. “Just for this part, at the very least. So that we can make sure everything’s going the way it should. And,” he pressed, flicking at her nose, “because you will be telling us if anything hurts. Understood?”

The potion popped in her mouth with a vengeance, and she found herself pouting, “But I like when it—"

Vil nipped at her lips to stop the words in their tracks, but Rook was already gasping delightedly in her ear.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he chuffed, amused.

The House Warden propped his chin against her shoulder to press a wet, lingering kiss beneath her ear. And with his teeth still scraping against her skin, he canted his head back to shoot Rook the coldest, sharpest look she’d ever seen him level at the hunter in their bed.

“She’s small,” Vil said, like a warning. But there was something else there too, underlying. Something curling, and dark, and possessive that Saya wasn’t really sure what to make of. “So you need to be careful.”

She couldn’t see Rook’s reaction from over her shoulder, but whatever stare down they were locked in felt like it dragged on for an age. And then, finally, Vil was relaxing against her with a nod and drawing the both of them back into the little cradle of limbs he’d so deftly constructed.  

“Go on then,” he ordered, in the same, haughty tone he might use for making demands of an unruly student. “She’s waiting.”

“A crime I shall never be able to repent for,” Rook crooned, and then dug his fingers along Saya’s hips until she was carefully arching away from Vil’s with a soft hiss.

It was a bit of an awkward balancing act at first—trying to keep herself from tipping too far forward or too far back. To keep Vil between her legs without slipping off entirely while also bowing her spine enough to give Rook the access he needed. He panted along her shoulder, biting and licking as he went in a way that made her think of rabbits and predators all over again. She could feel the steady, blunt pressure of him as he rocked forward bit by bit. Careful, just like Vil had demanded he be. Saya shifted against the strain in her legs and gave a tentative swivel of her hips, trying to coax him into seating himself deeper. And, naturally, Vil was there in an instant to nip admonishingly at her throat and tighten his grip until she kept herself still once more.

“Be patient, kitten.”

I am being patient, she wanted to whine back, but in that moment, Rook hit a point where the resistance seemed to give way all at once, and she was sliding all the way down against the both of them with a noise like the air had been knocked straight out of her lungs.

Vil groaned, low and punched out, against her neck, and Rook hissed from behind his teeth.

“Si serrée,” he gasped, hips rabbiting up fast—once, twice—like he couldn’t help himself, and Vil snapped something under his breath that Saya was too out of her wits to make sense of. Because it was so, so much. So tight, and hot, and the pressure was just, so, so—

She panted around them and dug her nails into Vil’s shoulders hard, hard, hard. He didn’t even flinch.

“Alright?” he asked after a moment, mouthing gently at the hollow below her collarbone as he glanced up at her from beneath heavy lashes.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, jerkily, dizzily.

“Nothing painful?” he coaxed, and Saya shook her head until her hair was flying around her cheeks. The pressure and the tight, tight, tight, tight of it was almost too much to bear. Teetering precariously along that ledge of ‘too much.’ But it was also so, so good—

“It feels—”

“Go on,” Rook teased, voice a bit tremulous and breathy, and she could feel the words slither along the shell of her ear. Vil shushed him sharply and then pressed another encouraging kiss to her throat.

“Don’t mind him, darling. When you’re ready.”

“It’s nice?” she managed to choke out, when Vil shifted a bit at her front and it sent a tidal wave of all sorts of unfamiliar pressure through the rest of her. Lovely, and full, and different, and—

“Ah, avez-vous entendu que, mon reine?” the hunter tutted. “We are but ‘nice.’ That doesn’t sound like much of a resounding success, no?”

“No,” Vil hummed on a wry sort of agreement that sounded like nothing but trouble. He shifted again, giving an experimental rut of his hips as he did so that had all three of them shivering on a moan. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement. How unfortunate.”

“Very nice?” Saya spluttered out frantically.

“Oh, come now!” Rook mewed, and she could feel his fingers reaching around to dig into her hips and gently begin to pull her down. “Surely we can do better than that, mon reine.”

“Surely,” he echoed, gaze flitting pointedly over her shoulder to whatever expression was curling over their guest’s face. Vil’s eyes narrowed again, but that swimming, dark something from before was absent. Now, it just looked like a challenge. Saya could feel Rook’s smile widen against her cheek. “Keep to my rhythm,” Vil demanded, giving another sharp, deep, push that had Saya dipping back on a gasp. Rook chirped in delight.

“I will, as always, endeavor to follow your lead in all things, mon reine,” he trilled, letting his own hips jump forward in response. It was too hard, too quick, and Saya yelped when the force of it nearly toppled her out of both of their laps.

“Rook.”

“Apologies, apologies,” the hunter cooed, giving another, gentler thrust. “I was too eager, I’m afraid.”

Vil huffed under his breath and then started up his own, measured grind. He twined his fingers along Saya’s hips and pulled her down at each upward press. Meeting his thrusts in time so that they struck long, and deep, and hard along all the familiar, sensitive places that he knew far too well. It took a moment for Rook to match it—to push in as Vil eased out. To rut just hard enough to have her whining and gasping but not squeaking in discomfort. And Saya was dying. The press of the two of them was so, so much. She felt out of her skin—like her pulse was a match to the pressures in her belly and those alone. She raked her nails down Vil’s back until he was hissing with it and Rook trilled in delight.

“Next time,” he sighed, dreamy, and stuttered on a thrust. “Ah, la merveille de sentir tes griffes dans ma peau,” he crooned. He bit at her throat, hard, and Saya choked on a squeak. “What I wouldn’t give—”

“Focus, Rook,” Vil snorted, reaching a hand down between them to rub tight circles against Saya’s clit until she was shivering.

“Ah, désolé, désolé,” the Vice Warden chirped, and then drove up hard enough to nearly send her sprawling all over again. But this time he kept his fingers firm around her waist, hauling her down against the pair of them just as sharply. And Saya keened.

Vil didn’t even bother to chastise him this time, his own head falling back on a startled grunt at the tight, tight heat—his hips catching on the slick drag of it and nearly tugging him under. He dug his fingers in alongside Rook’s and pulled her down harsher. Until Saya was hiccupping on every thrust and panting desperate, whiny sentiments against his shoulder. That curling, clawing warmth in her gut spiraled higher, and Vil’s eyes caught on hers like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“Almost there, kitten?” he breathed against her cheek, wet and fast. “We do have an audience this, time, don’t we?” he cooed, pupils pulsing so wide and blown that they nearly swallowed the amethyst there in its entirety. “So we’re going to have to make it count.”

And then his fingers were working over her clit in earnest and Saya squealed.

“Vil—”

“Louder.”

She gulped, nearly choking on air, and that potion bubbled in her veins like a promise.

“Vil.”

“Can’t hear you, darling.” Which was absolutely rich, coming for the man currently pushing words past his throat like he trying not to gasp for breath. Like every other sound coming out of him wasn’t some airy, punched-out groan.

“Vil—"

“You can do better than that, kitten.”

Saya’s very rightful complaint broke into a squawk when Rook drove up harder. When the two of them met in the middle in perfect sync—in a perfect, terrible pressure that was far too much. And she wanted to scream, and scream, and—

“That’s it, darling.”

Saya wailed, tucking herself tight against Vil’s chest like she could crawl inside him if she pushed hard enough. That she could live there forever alongside the staccato thump thump thump of his heart at her front, and Rook’s at her back, and—

The spring snapped and Saya was tumbling over the edge all at once. Rook moaned, low and long, from over her shoulder and Vil cursed under his breath. Both sets of hips stuttered at the tight, tight clench and then, as she was still trembling, and panting, and seeing stars, Vil groaned and released deep inside her in a familiar, wet, wave of heat. Rook followed not a moment after, sighing, and gasping, and pushing forward as far as he could go.

It took a long, long time for her to come down. And even after that, Saya was still shaking, and shivery, and far too oversensitive. Rook shifted at her back—still tucked up as deep inside as he could manage. Still wet, and warm, and heavy—and she winced at the tender sting of it. Vil’s lips traced a soft, sweet pattern against her temple, murmuring reassurances that she still wasn’t quite in the right mind to make sense of, and then he was gently easing her off the both of them and back down towards the sheets. Carefully, carefully. Saya’s thighs throbbed, and then the rest of her gave an answering, sore flinch. All the way down to the core of her. She was sticky, and aching, and there was a pool of white, tacky, wetness cooling between her legs that she could feel trailing down, down, down. She shifted with another flinch, hoping to take some of the pressure off her hips, and Vil’s hands reached down to slot a pillow beneath her lower back.

“There you are, darling,” Vil hummed, tucking her gently between the pair of them so she could curl up into his side, mess be damned. Rook draped himself delicately along her back, rubbing circles into the bruises by her hips and cooing soft, low sentiments into her hair. “You did so well, sweetheart.”

Saya grumbled something drunkenly incoherent into his chest and Vil chuffed in amusement against her flushed cheeks.

“Une prestation magistrale,” Rook encouraged, still a bit warbly, a bit breathless, and licked a long, lazy line over the sweat beading along her skin. “Truly, I have never witnessed such perfection in human form, mon coeur.”

Saya’s head lolled forward on another, soft hiccup and she snuggled in tighter—embarrassed. Limbs loose and shivering.

Vil’s hand trailed up and down her arm in slow, measured strokes.

“Too much?” he coaxed, concerned, and Saya managed to shake her head until he was laughing at her under his breath. “Ah. Just enough then, I suppose.”

She took a moment to just breathe—to take in the familiar scents of Vil’s lingering cologne, the soft, floral breeze of his shampoo, the lavender musk that was just him. And overlaid amidst all that cozy comfort was the smell of cypress and pine. Of ozone, and leather, and sprawling forests. Saya scrunched her nose nervously against Vil’s collarbone for a moment, taking in another few, deep breaths to steady herself. And then she turned back onto her side, wincing all the while. The hands at her hips faltered, and with careful, cautious movements, she managed to flop all the way over without squeaking even once.

Saya peeked up at Rook from beneath her golden lashes, nervous. And then slowly, hesitantly, she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Uhm…” she spluttered, quickly averting her gaze and ears going pink in chagrin. Despite how innocent it was in comparison to all the things that they’d just done—what they’d done to her. “…Thank you.”

And then she was ducking back into the safety of Vil’s arms far too quickly, wheezing in discomfort when it tugged at muscles she didn’t even know could ache. She burrowed back into his chest with a sniffly little whine that was far too teary for her pride to admit, and Vil was immediately back to cooing and carding his fingers through her hair.

The House Warden smiled into her mused locks for a moment longer before letting his sharp gaze dart back to the hunter sprawled out beside them.

Rook had a hand delicately raised to his cheek, as if he could trace the imprint of Saya’s kiss with his fingertips alone. His green eyes had gone wide with surprise, and there was a strange, curling, spark blooming in them that Vil knew far too well.

“Oh,” Rook whispered, sounding choked. Like his heart had grown enough to swell past the cage of his chest, to press hard and welcoming against his airway like it couldn’t help itself. Ready to steal the last breath it could. Ready to take it willingly.  

Vil snorted into Saya’s hair and let her press herself in an exhausted puddle along his side, right where she was always meant to be. He closed his eyes, feeling the pleasant, sore twinges in his own muscles as he settled back against the pillows. A moment passed in silence, and then another. And then, predictably, Vil could hear the soft shft of Rook slipping closer along the mattress—feel the dip along Saya’s hips as the hunter draped himself over her back like a cloak.

Saya stiffened for a moment in surprise, but then was slipping back into sleep between one, soft breath and the next. Vil tucked himself against her nape and felt the brush of Rook’s hands as he reached forward to clutch at the teeny, shivering blonde between them like a lifeline. Vil sighed again and let himself be lulled into a dreamless doze alongside her.

They could discuss the future another time. 

.

.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for “assuming someone’s tone” and leaving a TTRPG a few hours after joining? 🤡🎲

This happened a while ago but I’m still baffled by it. Basic gist of the situation is that I (18) joined a campaign my friend, Rye (18) , was starting. She added me to a group chat for planning purposes after giving me the basic spiel about the campaign.

For context, I’d been in a larger group chat with some of Rye’s friends before, one that Cole was also in. He kind of rubbed me the wrong way - he only really responded to his favorite people (and it was very obvious who his favorites were), he had some annoying but harmless texting behaviors… he was also needlessly rude to a friend of mine (they answered a question he had posed, he swore at them and said he wasn’t finished asking, they said they’d thought he was finished because of the punctuation, he said it would have been clear to anyone else who had read his texts that he wasn’t finished - it was a whole mess) and that type of behavior continued to the point where they left that group chat. I stayed, but I blocked Cole just because seeing his messages was irritating me, but I still wanted to talk to Rye and some other friends I was starting to make.

Fast forward about half a year, and I joined Rye’s group chat for the campaign, realizing that Cole is also in the group chat. I was immediately on guard, but I was willing to put the past bad vibes aside to be able to play with him. I unblocked him (I don’t think he ever knew I had blocked him in the first place, we didn’t have many one on one conversations before this) to be able to work with him better. I was the last to join the group chat and so went to read what others had been saying about their characters before making my own. The first red flag was that Cole described his character as a loner who never spoke to anybody and kept to themselves in the shadows (edgy, but whatever, I could live with it). I saw most other people had included what class they were going to play with their character descriptions, but Cole hadn’t, and because I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes/wanted to have a balanced party, I asked him what class he was playing. To which he responded, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

…Red flag number two. I took a second to cool off before I responded, and when I came back he and another player, Oliver, were talking about what I had said. Cole was saying, “Who said we all had to play different classes? That’s a dumb rule,” which infuriated me but I just responded with “Nobody said we HAD to, I just wanted to for my own enjoyment and to diversify the party. But you’re right, we can still have plenty of fun even if two characters are the same class.” I decided to just let it go, and that if I ended up playing the same class as him, he couldn’t really complain.

So I started creating a character concept, and while I was looking through my D&D materials, Cole was complaining to Oliver in the group chat about a certain collaborative aspect of character creation he was struggling with because his character wouldn’t know anything about anyone else (because they were such a loner. This is why solitary characters with no social connections don’t work for collaborative games!). I hopped in and suggested that maybe Cole could do the collaborative portion in a meta way instead of through his characters eyes; if anything, it might help with brainstorming. He responded, “I beg of you to read my character description. If you did you’d see my character wouldn’t be able to do this because they don’t talk to anybody.”

Huge red flag - number three. A) I had read his character description. B) I had just proposed a solution for his second sentence. We are not friends, and it baffles me to this day that he thought responding to me so passive aggressively was an appropriate way to talk to someone who’s pretty much a stranger. I pretty much realized that I couldn’t just take shit from him and I needed to stand up for myself, so I very politely told him, “Hey, please moderate your tone. You’re not speaking to me in a way that’s very nice.”

He said, and I quote, “That’s not my intended tone. Sorry. I guess I’ll just go.” ???? Red flag four? At this point I was pretty sure I didn’t even want to play with him, but that response was something I expected from a 12 year old, not a full adult, and I was so confused at this point. Oliver spoke up and said they were feeling uncomfortable, that it was probably just a misunderstanding and Cole hadn’t meant to be hostile, and that we were all in the group chat to just have a fun time and play a game together, so let’s all be nice to each other. That also made me angry, because there had been no point during the conversation where I had been anything but polite, and Cole had been rude to me multiple times. I still kept my text calm and told them that even if Cole hadn’t meant to be hostile, his words still came across as hurtful, and that’s all I was saying. I told them I was going to go work on my character, and assumed the conversation was over for now.

I left for maybe ten minutes, and when I came back, it was to a full page-length paragraph of text from Cole.

“i cant really take responsibility for your assumptions on my tone man. especially when i was just asking you to read my characters info thing and then providing the context anyway so you wouldnt have to go look for it. its not really fair of you to bite at me based off of what you assume my tone is without asking for clarification then still tell me it came off as hurtful when i and another person stated that the tone wasnt hostile. if my nonexistant tone is off it is because i am immensely overwhelmed due to several reasons, in which your assumptions of my tone did not help im too tired to try to think of whatever tone tags would fit here but please take responsibility for your assumptions instead of treating me like i was in the wrong for trying to clarify something to help you understand something”

That was the last straw for me. I didn’t even respond, I just straight-up left the group chat. I was genuinely at a loss after reading that, and I knew I would never be able to play with Cole, so I messaged Rye (who was asleep at the time) privately and apologized for leaving so abruptly, that I wouldn’t be able to play with someone who couldn’t respect me, and that I hoped she had a lot of fun with the campaign and wished her all the best.

She responded the next morning saying it was all good, but I can’t help wondering if I’m TA for “assuming” Cole’s tone and not “taking responsibility” or for leaving so soon after joining without really giving playing a chance.

[coloursflyaway]

Won’t Fear Love (5/6)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.600

Read on AO3

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

or:

Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

tagging all the lovely people who wanted to give this fic a read: @itsablueberrycow @piristephes @assignedpeanutallergyatbirth @mylu @oneweirdbean @lifeinvirtualreality

Charles won’t tell him where they are going. Again.

It’s the second Wednesday of the month, just after five pm and Charles just takes him to the mirror in the office, hand lightly grasping Edwin’s wrist, and expects him to walk through with him. Now, for someone else, this could be exciting, but Edwin has never really appreciated surprises, not even by the person he loves most in the world.

He’s about to ask Charles again, but he’s beaten to it, because Charles smiles and slips his hand down until he can intertwine their fingers, then asks, “Do you trust me?” What an utterly preposterous question.

Does he trust Charles? More than anything else in the world, more than himself.

Edwin sighs, resists the urge to roll his eyes and Charles’ smile makes up for it tenfold, no matter if it is a little smug around the edges. Maybe he has a right to be.

The world fades and appears again, and Edwin expected something different. He’s not quite sure what, but behind the mirror is the roof of their own building, the sun bright and the sky blue for a change.

“I know this is probably not as extravagant as you imagined it”, Charles starts to explain, almost sounding bashful, as if Edwin would care about where they are spending their evening and not simply about who he is spending it with. “I had something else planned, but then I saw the weather and I thought it would be such a shame to waste it. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Disappointed by you? Never”, Edwin answers and it should feel like saying too much, but it doesn’t. Instead of an answer, he gets a smile that puts the sun to shame, and a tug to his wrist as Charles pulls him forward.

“We have discussed the problem with how much of dating revolves around food before, I know, but I wanted to prepare at least something so it’s not just us sitting on the roof and watching the sunset”, he explains, looking a little sheepish as he takes Edwin to where a chequered picnic blanket is spread across the rough concrete. “It’s probably a bit silly, but I just wanted to do something special.”

He’s leaving out part of the sentence, Edwin can hear it clearly, but it takes a moment until he fills in the blanks: for you. Charles wanted to do something special for him, and Edwin feels his non-existent heart seize up in his chest; doesn’t know how Charles hasn’t yet realised that anything he does for him is special to Edwin.

“So, I got all this”, Charles says and sits down, pulling Edwin with him. Next to him is a picnic basket that looks like it’s been taken directly out of a movie, made from wicker and with a small handle to carry it across open fields, before settling down next to a creek, or maybe in the shade of an old oak tree. And then, Charles whips it open.

Inside, packed tightly to fit everything, is an assortment of children’s toys.

Colourful plastic moulded into facsimiles of cake slices and finger sandwiches. Dollops of whipped cream made from styrofoam, different kinds of fruit that look like they have been felted, rubber croissants that still look fluffy, delightful in an unreal way. Tucked in around the toys are cups and plates made from fine china, metal cutlery, a tea pot that Edwin knows he has seen in Crystal’s kitchen before.

It’s silly, Charles is right. It’s the most lovely thing Edwin has ever seen in his life.

“You, Charles Rowland”, he starts and has to blink back a tear or two, “are the sweetest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“So you like it?”, Charles asks, like he still isn’t certain of the answer, but he smiling at Edwin, he’s still holding his hand, thumb brushing over Edwin’s knuckles. “I love it”, he answers; adds, if only in thoughts, I love you.

“Charles, would you pass me a slice of cake?”, Edwin asks after they have watched the sunlight for a little while, comfortable silence stretching between them. “It looks scrumptious.” “You want me to-”, Charles starts and then stops himself, a smile blooming on his face that makes Edwin think of falling, makes him think of flying. “Yes, of course. Would you like some tea with that?”

“That would be delightful”, Edwin replies and takes the delicate cup Charles hands him. “Also, maybe some of that clotted cream?”

And they have a picnic right there on the rooftop, sharing smiles and little touches and plastic pastries alike.

There are children’s toys strewn around them, mostly forgotten, and they are still sitting on the picnic blanket, watching as the sun sets over London. It’s beautiful up here, enough distance between them and the city to drown out the noise and make it feel like it’s just them, and while Edwin likes their new life with all the new people it includes, he misses this sometimes. Misses a world in which he never looked up and not saw Charles next to him, a world in which they had been so intertwined that Edwin never considered it could be otherwise.

What he doesn’t miss, though, is not knowing what the warmth in his chest is when he looks over at Charles. Maybe it was easier back then, when he thought the urge to touch Charles was nothing more than friendship, but it’s better now. Because Charles deserves to be loved, and Edwin, above all else, wants to be the one to love him.

If they end this experiment and Charles decides that he only wants Edwin as a friend, then so be it. Edwin will love him to the fullest extent, the best of his ability, as long as he exists. And that, in the end, would be enough.

“What are you thinking about?”, Charles asks softly, and Edwin tears his gaze away from where the sun is just so touching the outlines of the skyscrapers in the distance. He’s beautiful, something Edwin has known since the first moment he had set eyes on Charles, freezing and scared and dying and yet so ready to accept Edwin in his life. Maybe that had been the moment all of this had started, not when Charles had chosen to stay with him, because Edwin’s love had never been about reciprocation, but when he had first allowed Edwin to sit down next to him and granted him a smile.

“Nothing in particular”, he replies, and knows that Charles won’t believe him, but that’s alright. It’s not like it is something he is trying to hide, just something they don’t have to discuss right now, when the sun is setting and he’s still buzzing from their fingers brushing when they pretended to split a croissant between them.

And Charles doesn’t bring it up, just nods and scoots a little closer until their shoulders are pressed together. He’s not looking at Edwin, but out across the city, so Edwin does the same, lets his head rest against Charles’ shoulder and wishes he could breathe in deeply, make out Charles’ scent between everything else this moment has to offer.

“You know”, Charles says, and shifts so he can wrap his arm around Edwin’s shoulders, holding him close. “I think about you a lot. Always have, really. And all this dating hasn’t made it less, but I’m pretty sure you already know that.”

He shifts again, and for a horrible moment, Edwin thinks he will pull away, but then there are lips pressing against the crown of his head, and instead, time stands still, lets him take it in. It feels like peace, like excitement, like something Edwin could live without but never wants to again.

“And you know I love you, don’t you?”, Charles says and time moves again, makes Edwin’s heart ache and jubilate at the same time. He does. “I love you the most.”

Edwin nods without moving his head, wishes he could feel the coarse fabric of Charles’ jacket against his cheek, the heat of his blood beneath it. For a moment he wants to repeat the words, because they are true, but Charles already knows. Might have always known.

A finger on the side of his chin, gently lifting it, and Charles is saying, “Hey, look at me for a sec?”

And Edwin sits up, Charles’ arm sliding off his shoulders as he turns to face him. He misses it almost immediately, but there is something in Charles’ eyes that makes it so easy to forget the fact. They are warm and dark and they are watching Edwin like he is something precious, something worth keeping.

There are no words, Charles just looks at him, and it’s almost like a physical touch; it makes Edwin shiver, even though he cannot feel it. Because Charles is smiling like he has never smiled before, lets the finger that is still resting against Edwin’s jaw slide downwards until he can gently grasp his chin, as if he was afraid that Edwin could ever look away again.

A moment, a breath, and then Charles leans in and brushes the softest, the sweetest kiss against his lips.

It’s not his first, but it feels like it anyway, feels like a beginning and feels like an end. Let me have this, he thinks, not for the first time. Let me love him.

And then, he doesn’t think anymore at all, and kisses Charles back.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 44]

*reposted because the chapter disappeared!*

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

Chapter warning(s): (y/n) has a little breakdown, she's emotional and feels guilt (leading to her being stressed and overwhelmed)

"I guess it's been obvious to those that can read me. I wanted to clear my head a bit more before coming to talk to you about it. But it seems like I've been unsuccessful." You replied honestly, resting your head on your free hand.

"Just lay out all your thoughts here. I'll help you sort them through if you'd like." Yunho offered.

"I appreciate that, Yun. Really... It's just..."

"I'm one of the reasons why you can't make a decision, right?" He spoke softly. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. There was patience and love, no anger or sarcasm.

"Yun, it's not your fault. It's me... I'm just overthinking everything." You sighed, taking a small bite of your porridge.

"Don't beat yourself up for overthinking or feeling guilt. It's normal." He comforted.

"No matter what your decision is, nothing is going to change between us, alright?" He held your chin, tilting your head up to make you look at him.

"I know." You nodded, a small smile appearing on your face, leaning in to press your forehead against his. Count on Yunho to make you feel like you were the most loved person in the world, that look he gave you, it's like you hold his world in your hands. Yunho smiled back, going forward to give you a peck.

"It'll be okay, it's not like one of us is going off to war." He chuckled and stroked your cheek.

"I know that... It'll just be... different, you know?" You shrugged, the both of you going back to your meals before it got too cold. Yunho silently laid his hand over yours.

"It feels like I'm abandoning ship. All of us started this together, from day 1. If I leave, I'm taking 3 others with me." You sighed.

"And that's okay. It doesn't mean we're ending anything, love. We're all still family." He reminded.

"I still need to think this over. It's not a decision I can make right now for everyone, not right this instant. I need to talk to the others first." You gulped.

"Of course, take all the time you need." Yunho pulled you in to kiss your temple.

After the food was done, you put your bowl in the dishwasher and got yourself a beer. You needed the alcohol to calm your nerves and take the edge off. Mingi and San dragged Yunho away to play video games so you stayed in your room with Seonghwa.

"What's wrong? I can hear you think." Seonghwa asked, his vision trained on his switch game.

"Yunho brought up the contract, he knows I've been thinking about it. And of course, he was so god damn nice about it. I hate it." You groaned into the blanket.

"You're hearing yourself right? You hate that he's giving you the freedom and opportunity to choose what you want to do."

"Feminism aside. I want him to tell me what he wants. He always caters to my needs and wants." You sighed.

"So this time, you want him to tell you to stay or to go? Do you think that will help you make a decision?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, putting his switch aside.

"Ugh, I don't know, Hwa. Stop asking me more questions!" You groaned, falling back onto the pillow.

"Jagi, what's wrong?" Wooyoung poked his head into the room. He noticed it was just you and Seonghwa so he invited himself in. Jongho trailed in behind him, closing the door. Wooyoung laid beside you, his arms around your waist to snuggle with you while Jongho sat at the foot of the bed.

"Are you still stressing about the contract?" Jongho asked. You nodded glumly.

"My poor jagi... Jongho told me what's been bothering you... About our contracts ending." Wooyoung cooed, combing your hair away from your face lovingly.

"What should I do, Woo?" You turned to him.

"Wait, you're asking me?" Wooyoung blinked in confusion as your sudden question.

"She just wants you to give an answer so she doesn't have to think about it." Seonghwa said, knowing you well. You rolled your eyes and pinched his thigh, making him flinch.

"Yunho told me that it's my decision, that things won't change between us." You sat up, running your fingers through your hair.

"He's right. Nothing will change between us and them, we're all friends, a big family. Doesn't mean we don't work together, that we aren't a family anymore or that we won't see each other ever again." Wooyoung said.

"That's what Seonghwa hyung and I said. Yunho hyung won't let the decision hurt his relationship. But (y/n)'s feeling the guilt of leaving Yunho and the others." Jongho explained further.

"Yunho's too nice. He won't ever tell me to stay. But... now that we're all here, what do all of you want?" You asked them.

"We'll follow you. We're sticking together." Wooyoung said, looking to Jongho and Seonghwa.

"Agreed." The two nodded.

"You're not making this decision any easier on me. You all have the talents to work in better kitchens, under bigger management and getting a higher pay." You clicked your tongue.

"Who needs all that when we know we work best together and achieve results?" Seonghwa pointed out.

"Be honest with me, are you guys still getting offers?" You asked. They all looked at each other before nodding their heads slowly. It wasn't really a secret between the 4 of you that each of you got occasional offers from restaurants to join their team or pop up kitchens to come for short stints of work.

"Anything tempting?" You probed further.

"Not really." Jongho replied, checking his phone. You grabbed your phone, looking through your emails to refresh your memory of who had sent you job offers too.

"I wish Yunho would tell me what he wants. Saves me making a decision." You said, mainly to Jongho and Wooyoung.

"Can you say for certain, you won't be disappointed with his decision?" Wooyoung tilted his head.

"It's not that... To me, this is a big decision and I feel like I should be considering him as a factor in that decision." You tried to explain your feelings to them.

"But it's because this is a big decision that he wouldn't want his wants to get in the way of what you want." Seonghwa said.

"He's always putting me first. And for once, I just want to do the same for him." You let out a shaky breath. Maybe there was just so much more to this than you want to admit. It's not just about the job, it's about your relationship with Yunho.

"Jagi, is that another reason why you're so stressed out about this?" Wooyoung melted, stroking your head. You nodded and fell forward to his chest for him to hug you.

"I know this is one of many decisions I'll have to make in life and in my relationship. But so far, everything has been on my terms because what, I'm too emotionally unstable. And I hate it." You choked.

"Oh, sweetheart." Seonghwa rubbed your back.

"There's nothing to feel bad about. You're a couple that just shows each other love in different ways. You do it through acts of service and all 'this' is how Yunho shows his." Jongho comforted.

"I know it's not easy but don't think about this decision as an ultimatum or that it'll reflect your relationship with Yunho." Seonghwa said.

"You don't have to rush to a decision. For now, just enjoy this vacation." Wooyoung kissed your head.

"He's right. None of us are expecting you to make this decision right now, even Yunho. Who knows, maybe the cards will fall into place on their own." Seonghwa smiled softly. You were glad that you had the 3 of them by your side. Even if you felt guilty, you never wanted to work separately from them.

"Where's (y/n)?" Hongjoong asked, coming back from the deck to see Yunho lounging on the couch, watching Mingi and Yeosang challenge each other at mario kart.

"She's upstairs with Seonghwa hyung, Wooyoung and Jongho." Yunho replied.

"They're probably discussing the contract thing." Yeosang said, not taking his eyes off the game

"Yeah..." Yunho replied curtly. He didn't want to say anything more to that. That decision was yours and the team's to make. That's why Yunho hadn't gone to find you yet, giving you privacy.

"At the same time, we should discussing all of your contracts too." Yunho sat up, diverting the subject.

"Our contracts are ending?" Mingi agreed.

"Well, it is in your contracts that you can leave at any time. So I just wanted to check with all of you. There's no obligation to stay, of course. I'm already very grateful that you've all helped me so much the past year." Yunho said to his friends.

"I'll be having to take a step back. I can still work but not as actively as I am now. I've got some invites for custom fashion pieces to be made." Hongjoong raised his hand.

"Wow, that sounds amazing, hyung. Congratulations." All the boys clapped for the oldest.

"Thank you." Hongjoong grinned.

"Are you sure it won't be too taxing on you to work at the restaurant and do your projects at the same time, hyung?" San asked.

"I'll be fine. And until these projects have actual results, I'll need to get money to pay for all my supplies and studio rental somehow." Hongjoong shrugged.

"I've got nothing much else to do anyway so I'm cool with staying on." Mingi raised his hand.

"Actually, San and I were offered part time jobs at the gym as trainers for gym goers. We don't really know much of the details yet but if we decide to join them, it means we'll be part time at the gym and part time at the restaurant." Yeosang informed and San hummed in confirmation.

"That can be arranged. Let me know how it goes then I'll decide if I need to set aside some money to hire some part time wait staff." Yunho said.

"Of course. Thanks, Yunho ah." San smiled.

After the games ended, San and Yeosang went for a run while Hongjoong went to take a nap, leaving Yunho and Mingi.

"Here." Mingi handed Yunho a beer. The two of them decided to sit on the deck chairs on the beach, wanting to get some fresh air. Plus, the sun wasn't too intense.

"Can you believe it's already been a year?" Yunho asked, taking a swig of his beer.

"Time really flies. Feels like just yesterday, we were sitting at the booth and you were worrying about not having a kitchen crew when opening was just a few days away." Mingi reminded, making Yunho roll his eyes.

"So much has happened in a year. Couldn't have done it without you, Mingi ah." Yunho smiled softly.

"Of course, we've been doing everything together since we've met. And we'll continue to do it for as long as we're friends." Mingi grinned. Yunho threw his head back in laughter.

"Deal." Yunho clinked his bottle against Mingi's.

"Are you worried that (y/n) might decide to not stay with the restaurant?" Mingi asked.

"I wouldn't say worry is what I'm feeling... I don't know... I don't want her to feel like she has to stay because of me. She shouldn't have to sacrifice amazing opportunities for me." Yunho sighed.

"I'm sure you told her that but at the same time, I know (y/n) a little. She doesn't like the feeling of making decisions for herself, it makes her feel guilty and selfish. That's why she's thinking about you, Seonghwa hyung, Wooyoung and Jongho too. I can imagine the stress she's under." Mingi said.

"Now that she's broken things off with her father, I want her to feel that freedom of finally doing things for herself." Yunho shrugged.

"But you're in a relationship. It's normal to feel the need to think for the other person, not just yourself. You're thinking of what's best for her and she's doing the same for you." Mingi pointed out.

"Wow, you sure know a lot about relationships." Yunho raised an eyebrow.

"Not me, it's my mom. I've always been 'T' and I don't read underlying emotions so she explains them to me." Mingi chuckled.

"And I may not have witnessed a lot of relationship but I know you and (y/n) have a good thing going. Working separately isn't going to change that." Mingi added.

"You think so? I feel that way too." Yunho agreed.

"You both are opposites. Not opposites that fight each other but opposites that compliment each other like a jigsaw puzzle, you know? Like you're hyper and excited while she's cool and collected. Both good in their own way." Mingi tried to explain.

"I know. We both make each other better. I like that there's one of me and one of her." Yunho smiled fondly at the thought of you.

"The perfect golden retriever and black cat couple." Mingi snapped his fingers.

"You and San say that all the time. And I still have no idea what that means but I'm assuming I'm the golden retriever and (y/n)'s the black cat?" Yunho tilted his head.

"Duh. You're obviously NOT the black cat." Mingi scoffed, finishing his beer. Yunho rolled his eyes.

"Whiskey does act a lot like (y/n). It's adorable." Yunho grinned, proudly showing Mingi his phone wallpaper, which was you sleeping with Whiskey curled up and tucked under your chin, also asleep.

"I'm not sure if (y/n) would appreciate you using a picture of her sleeping as your wallpaper." Mingi chuckled.

"Surprisingly, she didn't care." Yunho shrugged.

Grabbing their empty beer bottles, the twin tower pair turned to head back into the house. Yunho saw Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho in the kitchen, fixing what looked like lunch. But you were not there. He didn't even need to ask, Seonghwa nodded towards the stairs and Yunho made his way to your room.

"Love?" Yunho knocked lightly and poked his head in. You were fast asleep, hugging Yuyu and Yunnie in each arm. Yunho went to your side of the bed, bending down so he could see your face.

"Oh, love..." He softened at the sight of your slightly puffed eyelids, a sign that you cried. Leaning over, he kissed your cheek and stroked your hair.

"Yun?" You had a small frown as you opened your eyes slightly.

"Sorry to disturb you, baby. Go back to sleep." Yunho whispered, patting your head.

"Stay with me?" You asked. Yunho nodded and climbed into bed, pulling you to his chest. You turned around so you faced him and let his whole body cocoon you.

"I love you." You breathed out as you fell back asleep, feeling much more comfortable and secure in Yunho's embrace.

"I love you too." He kissed your forehead and wound his arms tighter around you. Looking down at you, Yunho couldn't stop smiling. Everything you did, he found absolutely adorable. He closed his eyes and joined you in dreamland.

When Yunho stirred awake, his head was resting on your arm, facing your chest. You were using your phone, looking at it behind his head as you were careful not to disturb Yunho's rest.

"Love." He buried his face into your chest, squeezing your waist. He would never get over the feeling of waking up next to you.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Your free hand playing with the ends of Yunho's hair.

"Yeah... I did... When did you wake up?" Yunho asked.

"Not too long ago. I didn't want to move though, just wanted to stay here with you. And somehow, some way, we swapped positions. Not that I minded." You chuckled.

"I don't mind this too." He giggled, using his strength to roll over so you were below him.

"Ah! Yunho! That's ticklish. Stoppppp~" You squirmed, the both of you laughing. He did relent, hovering over you with your arms wrapped around his neck. Yunho smiled softly, Mingi was right, you and him were strong and made for each other, nothing will change your relationship.

"For the rest of our time here, don't think about the contract or the job, alright? Just enjoy your time here and relax, hmm? We have all the time in the world." He whispered.

"I like that. Thank you." You pulled him down so you could kiss him. But was interrupted by the door opening.

"Hwa, what if we were naked?" You asked as Yunho's eyes widened, his cheeks and ears turning bright red at your words.

"Nothing I haven't seen. You two hungry? I kept some lunch for you." Seonghwa asked. You turned to Yunho, who was vigorously fanning his face, too busy to answer.

"You good?" You raised an eyebrow.

"D-Don't just s-say things like t-that!" He stuttered nervously. Seonghwa's eyebrows raised in amusement.

"I think you broke your boyfriend, sweetie." He said to you. You rolled your eyes and slid out of bed to go use the bathroom. When you were done, you and Yunho went downstairs to eat. Seonghwa handed you each a plate of food.

"Thanks, hyung/ Hwa." The two of you sat on the couch to eat, watching Wooyoung challenge Yeosang at some game. You held a spoon of food out to Seonghwa.

"I already ate." He shook his head, settling next to you.

"You're always hungry." You pointed out. Seonghwa sighed and directed the spoon back at you to eat it.

"Gosh, I'm so full. I'm not going to be able to eat dinner after this." You said as you ate the last spoonful of food from the plate. Yunho and Seonghwa both cast you a judgemental look.

"I know you two eat for 3 people but there's no need to be so judgey." You scoffed.

"Us? Judge you? Never." Yunho grinned and grabbed your empty plate with his to put in the dishwasher.

"Was thinking of doing pasta with steak night for dinner." Seonghwa said to you, putting his arm around your shoulder. You hummed and nodded tiredly, leaning your body against his. Wooyoung, who had passed the game controller to Jongho came over, squeezing next to you and laying on Seonghwa's lap.

"Ack! Woo! There's no space." You whined, being squished between his body and the back of the couch. He just grinned and snuggled closer to you.

"What about two sauces? One vodka sauce and one pesto sauce." Jongho suggested.

"Ooh, good idea. They both sound good with steak." Wooyoung replied, ignoring your attempted to push him off.

"You know, what? Yun! Please save me." You held your arms up. Yunho was there in an instant, reaching down to try and fish you out but Wooyoung held onto you.

"Woo, let me go!" You struggled.

"Never!" He declared. Yunho managed to slip his arms under you to lift you up bridal style and away from Wooyoung.

"Thanks for saving me." You chuckled as Yunho sat down at the couch where he and Mingi were, setting you down in his lap. Mingi laughed and waved to you, to which you waved back. Yunho kept his arms around you, kissing your temple.

"You know I'll save you any time." He murmured, nuzzling his head against your cheek. You laughed, hugging his neck and pulled him closer to you.

~

Series masterlist

[cricketnationrise]

Oooh I'd LOVE a ficlet!! Have been loving your fics <3

[Congrats on the followers, bud! Same name on AO3]

a time stamp - 5:25

a location - coffee shop

a character - Alex or Henry

a song title/lyric for vibes - enchanted by tswif: The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks

HELLO AND THANK YOU FOR THIS PROMPT 💜 I freaking love this song and this scene basically popped into my head fully formed so I'm so glad to be finally getting to it!

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

5:25am, coffee shop

One fine day, Henry won’t have to get up before the sun has even risen. But until that magical day, Henry stops by Brews & Books for his first Earl Grey of the day with a for-fun novel while he waits in line. It may be before six in the morning, but the small, family-run shop is already packed. 

A quiet, but emphatic “fuck me” catches Henry’s attention, but it’s the thump, slide, and contact of a heavy book with his foot that pulls him completely out of his novel. He glances down to see some sort of textbook and stoops to pick it up, fingers brushing with a strange spark as someone else reaches for it at the same time. Henry glances up to find the single most attractive man he’s ever seen. 

His dark circles rival Henry’s own, but the combination of a riot of dark curls, warm brown skin, and eyes like molten chocolate knock the breath from Henry’s lungs. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart.” Henry wants to wrap himself in the man’s accent. Normally, the stranger’s beauty would have Henry clamming up, but there’s something so welcoming in the exhausted smile flashed his way that makes Henry practically bloom. 

“Not to worry, love. I wouldn’t expect much from anyone before being caffeinated.” Henry stands and reaches down to help the man up after him. 

“Two problems with that,” he says, ruefully as he accepts the help and straightens up with his textbook. “One, this will be my second cup already.” Henry’s eyebrow raises of its own accord. “I know, I know, I have a problem, but consider this: it keeps me functional.”

The man’s hand is still in his. It’s warm, despite the bite of the early morning air. Henry doesn’t let go either. 

“You said there were two problems?” Henry asks, proud when his voice comes out even and a touch teasing rather than stuttering from an abundance of gay pining. 

“Right! The other problem is that I’m this clumsy all the fucking time. My sister and her girlfriend have decided to classify my clumsiness as an ‘outlier of nature,’” the man says with a truly devastating grin. 

Henry can’t help a little huff of laughter at that. “I’m well versed in the despairing older sister department.”

“Did yours treat you like a personal dress up doll, or is that just me?”

“Constantly. I tried to get out of it exactly once growing up and Bea turned on the waterworks so quickly I thought she was auditioning for a hose pipe. It did guilt me into letting her do it though.”

“Dios mío, if June had any ability to cry on command she would have pulled the same shit, I’m sure.”

Their shared laughter draws the man’s attention to their still-joined hands. He pulls away at last—not that Henry would have minded holding his hand for the rest of the day—the hint of a blush showing up on his cheeks.

“I—ah, sor—”

“Next!”

The call interrupts the unwanted apology. Henry sends a rueful look behind him as he goes to order. The man shrugs, a smile tinged with what Henry’s romantic heart hopes is disappointment at their conversation getting cut short. He orders quickly and asks after Linda’s children as she punches in his order. Henry’s about to pay when a brilliant idea strikes.

“Linda, I’d like to pay for the man with the curly hair behind me.”

“A little pay it forward moment?”

“Something like that. May I borrow your sharpie?”

She grins wickedly. “Oh I see, go right ahead, honey.”

Writing quickly while Linda runs his card, Henry prints his number and a note: I don’t usually do this, but it seems you’re an outlier in more ways than one. Dinner tonight? - Henry.

By the time he’s done and collected back his card, his tea is ready at the end of the counter. He picks it up and turns back to see the stranger watching him, a sort of wistful look on his face. Henry can feel himself blushing, but lets himself look back at the man who upended his morning. The man’s face splits into a blinding grin and if Henry didn’t know any better he’d say the sun rose just to shine on his curls. Henry salutes the man with his tea before backing out of the shop and off towards his classes. He barely makes two blocks before his phone buzzes with a series of texts. Henry beams down at his phone as he reads.

Unknown Number: holy shit that was smooth i bet i can be an outlier in a BUNCH of different ways actually 😉 (i’m saying yes to dinner in case that wasn’t clear) i’m Alex by the way it was fucking enchanting to meet you Henry can’t wait for tonight

[shatcey]

Smoke and mirrors

You know the feeling… a little more and you'll catch it. The thought, the meaning, the memory… the person. This feeling has settled very firmly in my heart. Alfons does everything possible to make it IMPOSSIBLE to figure him out… And it annoys as hell if I cannot understand something. So I keep stubbornly trying. As Einstein said: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results". Probably I am insane. After all... I cannot stop thinking about him.

I really like Ellis, his design and voice are just perfect, I laugh with Victor and because of Jude, I sympathize to Liam, Elbert, and Harrison. I'm even grow to love William… But none of these feelings can be compared to what I felt for Alfons from the very beginning. Yes, they were negative emotions, but their strength surprised me the most. No other character has affected me that much.

My opinion of him has slowly but surely changed from absolute dislike and wariness to respect and adoration. I realized once again that saying "Love and hate are opposite sides of the same coin" exist for a reason.

But I cannot talk about this character without spoilers. I'll try to use as little as possible though. Slightly depressing… you've been warned.

At the beginning of his route, you think of him as an asshole. I think that's the most accurate word! He's tricking Kate, using his powers on her for his own (seemingly) entertainment, calling her his toy... But... the more Kate digs in, the more time she spends with him, the more obvious it becomes that he is - the way we see him - an illusion. The real person hides so splendidly that for a very long time I couldn't even get a glimpse of him…

He makes us believe that his every action has a very simple intention. He makes us believe that he is in fact a very simple person. And he does it so convincingly that for a very long time I couldn't figure out why everything he says seems so wrong. But it wasn't until his seemingly cheerful behavior began to slip away from time to time I suddenly realized… He always wears a mask that sticks so firmly that even if it slip away for a moment, it will immediately return. And it makes me very sad. A person who, for one reason or another, cannot be himself is an incredibly lonely person.

He's philosophy is very simple. If I don't like something, I can ignore it. If I cannot ignore it, I'll create an illusion and the world will become the way I want it to be. This is in fact a defense mechanism that allows us not to sink into depression. Switch the direction of your thoughts, set a real goal that you can achieve very soon, find something interesting to look/read/do... destract yourself. This method helped him survive when he was a kid, so it's not surprising that he still thinks of it as the only option…

Starting with the cat… no, a little earlier, with his very nasty prank, the story became unbearably heavy. It's like sinking into dark, deep water, and each new piece of information pulls you deeper and deeper, and it's pretty difficult to handle. There was no simple allegory of making a decision, as in William's route, to stay in the room or open the door and move forward… Alfie, as always, decided that it would be best for everyone... except himself. I still cannot think about it without tears. This man is merciless.

When I was reading his route, I remembered a very odd (I'm not even kidding, I can't remember anything more strange than this) Korean movie "Alice: boy from wonderland" (앨리스: 원더랜드에서 온 소년). By the way, I don't recommend watching this movie unless you are prepared for very dark and depressing thoughts and a lot of blood. One phrase from it, which has stuck in my head for many years, reminds me very strongly of Alfons.

It's not scary to d**. It's scary to be forgotten.

This is a concept that we don't think about very often, if ever. But Alfons considers this not just a probability, but an undoubted fact. And despite the absolute certainty of this, living with this oppressive thought all his life, he finds a way to stay sane. I'm not happy with his choice of coping. But I respect him for that choice.

I find his route extremely interesting for many reasons. It explain not mental illness or childhood trauma, but a defence mechanism. Some moments remind me of extremely strong scenes from other projects. And the story, like Alfons himself, is full of dark drama and hilarious scenes… It's full of contrast contradictions and at the same time incredibly solid and logical.

He's not perfect like Jude or Chev. He's not a sweet kid like Yves or Liam. He doesn't have a strong life philosophy like William or... I do not know... Johann (Faust, in case you didn't know)… There's a little bit of everything in him, just like in a real person. And just like any person he has oddities. He's totally unable to understand his own feelings and show affection (nothing surprising, given his past). He avoids difficult topics by laughing it off, hides behind lies… And this constant similarity with absolutely normal real people is snowballing to such an extent that it's really hard to believe that he's NOT one of us. I don't want him to be alive, I'm absolutely sure HE IS a living person.… This is probably the best evaluation a writer could ever get.

But maybe it's just me. Maybe I just feel some kind of connection to Alfons or Kate, or to the story itself. Surprisingly, I don't look at this story from the outside, I really feel like I am Kate. And maybe that's why Alfons is so firmly entrenched in my heart…

(I cannot believe how much time I spend writing and polishing this. I can almost hear him calling me a fool for wasting my time on him. Don't worry, babe.… Now it's my turn.)

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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[mandaplease10]

A Polin Take Nobody Asked For #1

Here I'll be yapping about different things I've noticed from Polin's Story in the Bridgerton Series. Don't know how many parts this will be, but here goes the first!

Colin's Fake Persona

Most of us (with media literacy) realize that the Colin when see in the beginning of season 3 is not the real Colin. He has traveled and returned to the Ton with this new personality to try and fit into society and the other men.

Many have stated that this is because he acts this way (flirting, brothel visits, etc) because he is simply mimicking the actions of the other gentleman and his own brothers. This all makes sense and it is a very good take, but then I took a deep dive and came up with this.

What if the reasoning behind this new Colin is actually because of Pen and what happened last season.

Let me explain:

We learn from Colin that Pen didn't respond to his letters while he was away despite him constantly writing to her. It is never really mentioned or inferred that he stopped writing to her due to her non replies, so it seems like he had hope that she would respond one day.

Now, we know that Pen and Colin have always remained in touch whenever he was gone away based on previous seasons, which meant that he always had Pen to rely on to share his adventures with through his letters and still had a piece of home with him by reading her letters.

Fast forward to him returning this year and despite this new personality he still seeks out Pen. When he greets his family, he instantly looks around for Pen because she has always been there with his family when he returned in the past. Once he realizes she's not there, he glances over towards her house, as a reflex.

Then at the debutante event he seeks her out again and when he finds her can't wait to see and talk to her. In his mind, he thinks everything is okay and they'll jump right back into their old friendship.

But then she keeps their conversation short and he realizes that something is different with Pen. At this point he thinks it is from whatever is going on between Pen and Eloise, which could also not be helping the case, but isn't really the main reason.

Then we see their next interaction at the ball and once again, Colin seeks her out. He notices her when she walks in and even looks towards her direction once more even after everyone else has moved on. He again, notices that she leaves and is upset, despite being surrounded by the Fife and his friends and trying to keep up with the persona, he has to check on Penelope.

It's in this moment he finds out about why Pen is upset with him and as soon as he realizes this, that previous act, falters and he wishes to make things right, but Pen won't have it and walks away.

It's looking back at his words in this moment mixed with what we learn from his journal entry and just the overall arc of his character in these four episodes that got me thinking.

We hear from Colin that he missed Pen because she never responded to his letter. He missed their connection, their friendship, their conversation, his feeling of home, etc. So, while on his travels, he decided to seek out such a connection in the only way he knew how and that was by taking on the rake persona because that's the only gentlemen experience he knew.

I mean think about it, he was very young when his father died and we don't really know if Edmund had his own rakish days since he and Violet fell in love so young, so he only has his brothers to look up to as well as the rest of the rake bros in the ton.

Yet, we also know despite him taking on this new personality and action, he never did find that connection or fill the longing he was feeling from missing Penelope. The only reason why he keeps up with this act for so long is because he finally was feeling accepted by everyone, even his own family, so he felt like this was who he was supposed to be.

But when he realizes that what he feels for Penelope isn't just platonic love or feelings, he slowly starts to take off the mask and become the person he really is because Penelope accepts him.

Honestly, there is more I could say about this one topic, but this is already long enough. Ha

P.S. I will add that I really would love a prequel about Violet and Edmund. I know that Julia Quinn doesn't want to write it because of Edmund dying, but I still think Shonda and Netflix could do a similar spin off like Queen Charlotte where it's not their whole story, just the beginning. I definitely think Colin is similar to Edmund and it would be lovely to see any parallels between Edmund/Violet and Colin and Penelope 's love story.

[mulloey]

innocents • yunho

it’s easy to forget you’re his prisoner

warnings: criminal!yunho, mentioned sex trafficking (but it’s in the context of him Not doing it), mentioned murder, reader is held against her will but nothing is done to her without consent, her shitty boyfriend pimped her out kind of and yunho’s not about that but he is Not a good dude in this, dom yunho, implied drugging (alcohol), implied physical punishment, other than the *implications* this is actually pretty tame. also san is yunho’s goon lol

this doesn’t represent yunho, ateez or my perception of them in any way. don’t like, don’t read:) please comment if you enjoyed!

—————

The first time you met Yunho, you were a payment. Your stupid, doofus boyfriend, thinking he was tough and smart enough to survive a life of crime, had gotten in too deep with the wrong people and found himself with a bounty on his head, pursued across the country until he was finally cornered in a dodgy part of Seoul. Dragged unceremoniously to Yunho’s office, he’d realised quickly who he was dealing with, and what was about to happen to him, and in a moment of desperation had offered you up instead. “Take my girlfriend,” he’d begged. “She’s at my house and she’s beautiful, you can have her. Just please don’t kill me.” And Yunho, disgusted that your boyfriend would offer you up like cattle but intrigued by the thought of you, had sent one of his men to pick you up.

You knew what your boyfriend had gotten involved with and you knew how spineless he was, so you weren’t surprised to see an armed man in your doorway, telling you to come with him if you wanted your boyfriend to live. You were more annoyed than anything else, but as much as you hated your boyfriend for selling you out like this, you didn’t want him to die, certainly not in the slow, painful way the man in your doorway had so graphically promised. So you followed, allowing yourself to be brought to a sprawling property on the other side of the city. When you were dragged into Yunho’s office, your coward of a boyfriend wouldn’t even meet your eye. But there was one person who couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The tall, dangerous looking man behind the desk.

He looked you up and down for a moment, ordering his man to turn you around so he could see the back of you, before nodding. “I accept your offer,” he told your boyfriend. “Leave her with me and don’t ever return to Korea, and I’ll wipe your debts and set you free. Understood?”

And without a moment's hesitation, your boyfriend agreed, thanking Yunho profusely for his generosity — for taking her instead of me. You could have attacked him if you weren’t surrounded by armed henchmen, but you were realising now that this pathetic little man wasn’t worth any more of your energy. So you let him scurry away with your back turned, eyes cast downwards to the floor.

The room was silent for a moment, tension in the air, until Yunho spoke. “If you’re wondering what I’m going to do to you, don’t worry,” he said. “I sell things, not people. Not women, at least. You’ll be safe here with me.”

You nodded, not really convinced before he ordered you closer to him. You shuffled forwards, as slow as you could before one of his men shoved you so hard you stumbled, landing on the solid wood of the desk.”

“San, you fucking idiot,” Yunho snapped, standing from his chair and rounding the desk to help you up. You looked you up and down and, satisfied you weren’t hurt, released his grip on you. “Your boyfriend’s lucky you’re such a beauty,” he said. “And so are you. Cus he’s not being fed to dogs right now, and I’m going to take much better care of you than he did.”

For some reason, maybe the sting and annoyance of the idiotic betrayal you’d just suffered, you believed him. Yunho would take care of you. He’d keep you safe. And you’d never be bounty again.

True to his word, Yunho was for the most part perfectly respectful. He didn’t touch or try anything with you without your permission, and he made certain none of his men did either, as made abundantly clear your second month under his care, when a low level fighter had cornered and felt you up, and Yunho, upon hearing about it, had summoned him to his office and, without a word, shot him between the eyes with his own gun.

The only time Yunho wasn’t so nice to you was the few attempts you’d made to escape. As much as he respected you as a person, he’d forgiven a lot of transgressions and missed out on an awful lot of money to have you, and he wasn’t going to let you go. And in the months (you think, time moves strangely in Yunho’s house) you’d been in his possession, he had by his own admission, developed feelings that gave him another reason to want to keep you with him.

After a few failed escape attempts and quite severe reprisals, he’d settled on another way to keep you pliant. With your previous boyfriend you’d gotten heavily into alcohol and as Yunho quickly realised, supplying you with it was a good way to keep you happy and obedient. And to keep you safe by his side, anything that worked was worth it.

You’re a few drinks deep when he comes into your room, taking a seat on your bed, eyes on you. You’re at your desk and facing him, fiddling absentmindedly with an empty glass.

“Come here.”

You feel dizzy, and not just because of the alcohol. You see the small knife in his hand, dwarfed by his massive palms. You know what those palms can do to you. You’ve tried everything to avoid finding out about the knife.

“Are you going to cut me?” You try to sound as afraid as possible, knowing it softens him — not because he feels bad for scaring you, but because he likes it. You’re such a good girl, he’d say, being so afraid of me. He thinks it’s sweet. It makes him happy. And you like when he’s happy.

His face is blank. “Why would I cut you?”

“The knife.”

His gaze flickers to it, then back to you. “Ah,” he says, smiling slightly. “This isn’t for you.”

“Did you hurt someone?” You ask softly.

“I’m going to,” he says. He puts the knife down on the bed, behind his back where you can’t see it. But now you know it’s there and you guess that was his intention. Your time with this man has taught you that nothing, nothing he does is an accident. “Come here.”

His tone is harder now, on the edge of anger. Since becoming his prisoner, as he hates when you call yourself, you’ve learned that Yunho does not like repeating himself — a lesson that has been painfully delivered to you more times than either of you would like. Not wanting another, you scurry over to him, stopping short of settling on his lap, because he hasn’t said you can touch him, and you know not to do it without his permission. Nothing without permission.

He smiles, recognising your obedience and pats his lap. “Sit.”

You settle yourself in your lap, heart still racing slightly, but the feeling of his warm hands on the small of your back always calms you. He strokes up and down your back, humming softly with his gaze fixed on you. “Have you been good today?” He asks.

You nod. “I have. Thank you for the drinks.”

He hums, running his thumb across your plush lips. He pushes it in slightly, letting you suck at the tip while his other fingers stroke your cheek. “I wanted to check on you,” he says quietly, “before I leave. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you say, smiling softly.

He narrows his eyes, studying your face for any signs of dishonesty, but you know better than to lie to him. You know that in less than a second, the soft, gentle touches on your back could turn hard, crushing and striking, and it informs every choice you make with him. He nods, apparently satisfied that you’re telling the truth, and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl,” he breathes.

You smile at the praise, out of relief as much as happiness. You’ve learned quickly that Yunho is very, very good at concealing his true feelings — a necessary skill for someone of his profession — so you never bank on him being satisfied with your behaviour until he confirms it himself. But today he is satisfied, and it fills you with relief. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Yunho smiles at you and pushes his thumb back into your mouth. Focused on the feeling, you don’t notice his other hand move from the small of your back to the top of your leg. The feeling of his hand on the sensitive bare skin of your thigh makes you jolt and he tuts, tightening his grip slightly. “Still,” he orders gently.

He lets his hand wander further up your leg, into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, dangerously close. Your breath hitches as his hand slowly approaches your most sensitive area. “Yunho,” you whisper, the desperation in your voice evident.

He smiles softly but shakes his head. “I don’t have time now, darling,” he says regretfully. “Just wanted to play with my baby a little before I go. Get her worked up and ready for when I’m back.”

The hand on your face moves to grip your thigh, holding you in place as the other pulls your tiny shorts to the side and presses a long finger into your hole. You gasp softly; it’s been a while since you’d started playing with Yunho like this, but you’ll never get used to his size, not just of his dick but of his entire body. Everything about him is large, strong, brimming with restrained power until he has a reason to unless it.

The finger reaches deep inside you, curling as he pushes another in. He starts to pump them slowly, quickly speeding up until you’re whining and squirming on his lap. A third soon joins and you almost choke. “Yunho,” you cry.

He hums, not acknowledging you further. You love when he plays with you like this, clinically and methodically pleasuring you but seeming indifferent to you or your reactions. He doesn’t care what sounds you make, how many times you come undone on his fingers. You’re his toy and he’ll play with you until he gets bored.

He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing in circles to drive you close to the edge. You’re babbling incoherently now, crying and gasping as he works you to your orgasm.

“Yunho,” you sob as his fingers speed up. “Yunho, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he says. He doesn’t look up at you, gaze still fixed in your gushing pussy.

You cry as you let yourself go, juices coating his entire hand. He chuckles at the sight, pumping his fingers a few more times before pulling them out, but you know that’s more due to his time constraints than any desire to show you mercy. Other than your worst misbehaviours, the only time Yunho shows the merciless, cruel side of himself with you is during sex. He’s in charge, and he loves the way you cower and come undone beneath him.

He holds you in his lap for a few more minutes, stroking your gently and whispering praises as you come down from your high, before he gets up, a sad look on his face. “I so wish I could stay, baby,” he says mournfully. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

“Me too,” you sigh. “Please don’t get hurt.

He tilts his head, lips twitching with an amused smile. “I never do that,” he says. “And I’m not fighting anyone tonight. Just teaching them a lesson. Be ready for me when I’m back, yeah?”

You nod and he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before picking up his knife and walking out of your room. You hear the lock click behind him, a reminder that as much as you love each other, you’re still his prisoner. But the ghosts of his touches on your skin make it so much sweeter.

—————

[moonspirit]

I think the discussion on Armin’s relationship with his mother brings up an interesting idea, especially in relation to your fic. Specifically concerning his relationship with Hange, you have been identifying, and rightly so Levi as the “father” of the Scouts. So I am wondering at the other end do you identify Hange as the “mother”

I would love to hear your ideas on her/their relationship with Armin. Was it a mentor/protegee relationship given their similar passions for knowledge and exploration, or did it become sort of a “Son I never had” for Hange and “Mother whom I never really had” for Armin

As always I would love to hear your insight and thoughts on this.

Hello anon! This is long, sorry TT^TT I got carried away.

Tbh I haven't explored Armin's relationship with Hange all that much in VBEOW, but yes, as you say, the intention is clear that he looked up to her and they spent quite a lot of time together; that's what I'm getting at.

I think much of the fandom appreciates Levi and Hange being the parent figures to the 104th, in that the newest members of the SC are all mere children, and it's Levi and Hange who guide and lead them. Of course we have Erwin, we don't see there necessarily being a "huge distance" of rank between him and the 104th (he's around and about), but he's not the one scolding the kids, breaking up the fights, or teaching them titan science and new technology. Among the vets, Levi and Hange are closest to the 104th (going forth we mean EMA+JSC) and their bond only grows thicker as the years pass, numbers fall, and uncertainty grows.

This is why I love thinking about Levi's relationship to the Alliance post-rumbling, especially in relation to the Paradis boys (Armin, Jean and Connie) because after all that time spent together, they know him, and he knows them. He protected them, took care of them, (probably woke them up with a kick to the balls too), told them to buck up and focus in as little words as possible - a father, through and through.

All of the same goes for Hange, only, she doesn't make it to see them as Ambassadors.

Now coming to Armin specifically.

Among all the Ambassadors, he's the only one that's an orphan. Everyone else has parents, or at least someone looking forward to receiving them at home. Not counting Mikasa, (who is his family, yes, but she's not an adult figure), he has nobody that'll give him a hug and say he's made them a proud parent. There is a comfort in being held by someone older and feeling like you're still a child; that you'll always be their child.

But it's not just now, is it? He hasn't had it since he enlisted in the military.

At that young age when people have friends and parents, loneliness is crippling. Eren and Mikasa being inseparable I think there would've been times Armin wandered the buildings and scoured the libraries all alone. His curiosity to learn is something we don't see anyone sharing with him on quite the same level or depth - sure, he's telling people interesting things from what he's read most recently and they're listening, fascinated, but how many of them are picking his brain and quenching his thirst for a good, long conversation with questions, answers, hypothesis and conclusions?

One. Hange.

Or so I imagine. Their combined curiosity would've known no bounds. He's assessing her hypotheses, she/they're answering his questions. He helps her/them in the lab, she/they gives him new what-ifs to ponder about. She teaches him about the weather. He writes her expedition reports in meticulous detail. We see Hange rambling to anyone that'll spent 5 seconds listening, but it's a special satisfaction when someone listens with keen interest and a desire to contribute their thoughts by an equal measure. For Hange, Armin is a great scout in that he naturally possesses the understanding, empathy and curiosity needed of a scout in the first place. He's also sweet and polite - I see her/them developing a bit of a soft spot for him.

But then things go to shit right? Once the walls break (again) and along with it goes trust (RBA), nothing is a certainty anymore. From this point onwards, the SC begins to get pared down in both numbers and trustworthy members - by the end of S3, the SC we see are those few left alive and survived through all the betrayal. The only constants that remain for Armin then, are his immediate close friends (EM+JSC), Levi, and Hange.

And Hange is admittedly, more vocally softer in her approach to the kids than Levi is.

It only gets worse though, through the timeskip, which is the most grueling of times imo, in the whole story. Hange as a commander is different - no longer does she/they have the time or peace of mind to be the careless mad scientist because the pressure on her to perform, lead, and find a near impossible solution is insane. I imagine Armin and Hange spend many an evening thinking about what to do about the impending annihilation. Some of those evenings, she/they would break down, head in her/their hands, and admit only to him, that the burden of living up to Erwin's legacy's crushing her back.

To everyone else, Hange must be brave. The world's falling apart, she can't look weak. In front of Armin though, she can afford to look scared. Just a bit. Because he'll understand.

And Armin would understand all too well, wouldn't he? They share the burden, after all. One has been appointed the Commander, and the other has replaced a Commander.

Above anyone else too, Hange would understand Armin's guilt. He's just a boy of nineteen, receiving hostile stares and accusations simply for living and breathing, and she/they feel sorry. It wasn't her/their decision, it was Levi's, but Hange's been watching this boy grow up from a scrawny thirteen year old to a young adult who should be feeling more confident in himself (with a shifter's power too!), but he doesn't. He cries, he hates, he wishes he wasn't alive.

What kind of parent wouldn't hurt from that?

To sum up, from the beginning to the moment Hange died burning in the sky, I believe Armin and she/they shared a very special relationship. It might have started out as a Superior/Junior thing, but over time it progressed into something more, something deeper, something closer to the heart.

A soft spot for one another like nobody else had.