#and in retrospect neither were quite right

[lettersofgold]

-> unthinkable | chapter one | jules k.

genre: angst, fluff | authors note: i would like to reiterate that the self insert reader, y/n, is a black girl with a black girl as a face claim. although this is catered to black women, i hope you enjoy the fic. i want to be able to create works inclusive and catered to under represented woc - hope you understand & support. no hate will be tolerated.

warnings: google translations, loosely proofed

summary: jules could never get it quite right. no girl gave him the feeling that he had with you. he wasn’t even sure he knew how to love a woman until you came into his life - even when he was dating around, his loyalty and heart were with you. you couldn’t find someone who stirred the feeling of love in you the way jules did, but he was just a friend and he wasn’t done playing the field. the two of you were giving each other the love you both never felt before and after fighting it for so long, you realized you both deserved it and you were finally ready.

[ pictured fc: corey - black!fem!reader - kaia ]

Chapter 1

“Have you ever been in love?” You leaned into the French man who leaned into you at the same time - it was a sight to see: your elbow on the bar, the palm of your hand holding your tilted head, and him - his eyes unwavering and whiskey brown under the warm glow of the restaurant bar. Jules' head dropped to his lap as he laughed. The engagement party ended a while ago, but the two of you had comfortably sat at the bar talking about your lives and how you got to this point. It was over-sharing, but you both felt comfortable sharing the gritty moments that shaped you as people. Neither of you expected a mundane evening ending up at a bar telling your life story to a stranger. In the end though, you wouldn’t be strangers at all.

“Have I? Oh, Mon Dieu, I have loved women more times than I can remember.” (Oh my god)

Those first few hours with Jules were magnetic, borderline kismet, and there was not a single person who could have stopped the soulful hold you would have on one another. You previously described to your friends before your fateful decision to leave your home and find a new home in Barcelona; there was a piece of you, just a piece of your heart that hadn’t been touched in the relationships you were in before. You loved those men and were sure of that, but were you in love with them? The answer you and your friends decided on was a hearty no. Alongside their answers came warnings of the consequences of finally opening your mind and heart to complete, encompassing love. A breakup was no longer a simple text that decides who picks up the boxes of things. When you truly fall in love, and your heart gets broken, you grieve for an entire man who would go on living, a man who creates a new world where you are no longer a part of it. A heart grieves when it breaks, not because of sadness but because the grief was proof you had been in love all along.

“Everyone has loved someone. But have you been in love, Jules? Truly and surely, in love?” He blew a soft breath and answered because he came to terms with the things he wouldn’t grasp until he retired: “I wish I could have been in love or be in love, but my career hasn’t given me a chance to even dream of it.”

Jules did not plan on attending his trainer’s engagement party. He cared about the couple dearly. In retrospect, his relationship with Corey was beyond a footballer and his trainer. It was a man-to-man talk about life, love, and a bunch of sharing shit while working out and doing physiotherapy. Corey knew more about Jules' love life than any of his other clients and Jules was the one he called, sweaty and shaking before his proposal to Kaia. Yet caring about the couple wasn’t enough to combat the exhausting life he had been living - between the situationship, the season, his injuries, and the lack of sleep - he craved being alone. He found himself with crippling relationship issues when he wasn’t even in a relationship. He wanted a night alone, away from everything, to decompress and get quality rest but those dreamy ideas crumbled once Kaia’s cheerful voice met his ears. “I’m so excited to see you! I can’t wait to hear all about how you helped Corey.” He prepared himself to be there and be supportive but he couldn’t plan what was meant to happen sitting at the bar sharing stories with you.

———

“I swear if you spill another thing in my kitchen, we’re going to have problems.” The threat was far from empty, Jules knew that. He laughed and his voice drowned out the low sound of Sza’s melody that hummed into the air.

Your kitchen was homey and almost ancient. Anything that spilled ended up being a stain which, unfortunately, you learned after knocking over a huge cup of coffee. It took you weeks to clean it up and its ghost was still there next to the tiny dinner table. Months in Barcelona felt like you’d been there your entire life. You thought you were going to need to learn to love the city but it came easily. What worried you the most, after loving the city, was finding friends but once you met Kaia, so much fell into place. It warmed your heart to meet Kaia at a coffee shop during your first week at work. Coincidentally, she worked in the office at the school you taught at. If it wasn’t for her and her persistence of you attending her engagement party a few weeks later, you would not have met Jules. You’d be a recluse if not for your extroverted friends.

“I told you I couldn’t cook, blame yourself.” Jules argued with an extended arm and open palm towards the mess he created dicing the tomatoes. He always wanted to eat your food but never wanted to help, so you forced him to start pulling his weight. There were no free handouts - Jules was no exception.

“It’s amazing how skilled you are with your feet but you can’t do the most basic thing with your hands.”

“My hands work fine - never had any complaints.” Jules smirked, earning an eye roll from you. You could have never guessed that your closest friend would be a guy who happened to be a skilled professional footballer, especially one who found more comfort sleeping on the couch in your tiny apartment, than in his massive home with designer furniture. You stopped making dinner for just one because of Jules. It was habit that he would raid your fridge, eat the dinner and then tell you how unhealthy yet delicious it was.

“Candace seems to have a lot of complaints.” You teased and it was Jules’ turn to roll his eyes. Jules sighed and ran his hands down his face.

“Oh Mon Dieu cette femme.” He complained. (Oh my god that woman.)

Until Jules, you had never met a man so unphased by the sheer amount of women that he dated. One week a girl was there and then the next week, they weren’t seen again. Women came and went and his latest girlfriend wasn’t exactly someone you saw as a friend, either. Candace had a hold over Jules. She had been around for a little over a month - a personal record for your noncommittal friend. Candace would not budge when it came to Jules. She wanted it to be clear who she was to any person who was in the same vicinity, breathing the same air, to know that Jules’ was her man. In her mind, Jules’ was hers to keep and it didn’t seem that Jules was trying to get rid of her. He just complained. It was Jules’ own downfall because he never set boundaries for her to not cross and you weren’t going to be the one to tell him that she had hungry eyes and you knew it wasn’t for him but for the life he could give her. You had only been around Candace a handful of times but that was enough to make you exhausted - you avoided her if you could. Luckily she didn’t live in the same city so she was rarely with the rest of the friend group that you grew to know and love.

“You know what I’m going to say.” You replied.

“Yes, yes. ‘Why don’t you just leave her?’” He mocked in a high pitched voice. “It’s not that easy, poto.” (Friend)

“I think it is. But if you like it, then I love it.”

You gave up long ago trying to get it through his thick skull that he didn’t owe her, or anyone, his time and his energy if they frustrated him so much. The sex must be absolutely amazing for him to still have her in his life. The thought of it made you frown but you moved past that disappointment and focused on other things that weren’t correlated to your best friend’s sex life. At the end of the day, Jules was still just a man who had to learn his lesson and no amount of chastising from his friends would change that. A man with needs, you thought as you recalled her perfectly sculpted figure. Jules had a type and you were completely opposite of it. Did it bother you? A little. Would it ever truly matter? No. You turned back to the pasta on the stove as Sza’s voice continued to sing: I came to your city, lookin’ got lovin’ and licky ‘cause you promised to put it down.

“All done.” Jules commented as he stood behind you while dumping the plate of terribly diced tomatoes into the pan. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders before resting his chin on your head. Jules was a koala, clinging onto anything with a pulse. He lived up to the French stereotypes: fashionable, passionate, and very loving. If he wasn’t touching you, he was fiddling with his fingers or his hair.

“You haven’t been to a match in a while, why?” He questioned slowly.

“J, I love you but I don’t want to see you chase a ball around for two hours.”

“I don’t chase it…I score.” You could hear the pout in his voice and it made you giggle.

“The weekends are the only time I get to rest!” You argued. It was true that you didn’t want to watch men run back and forth but you weren’t telling Jules the thought of being stuck in a room with all those people wasn’t boring but actually agonizing.

“I check ESPN to see what’s happening - it’s basically the same thing.” You pulled out of Jules’ hold and began setting the table. Jules eyed you with folded arms before muttering out, “Liar.”

“You always tell me what happened in the game. Why watch when you tell me?” You continued to explain. That was about as strong as your argument was going to get. You did not want Jules to know the idea of being there was making you uneasy. Especially if Candace was in attendance. He said she was harmless. All bark, no bite. Regardless, of whatever dog-like tendencies she did or didn’t possess, you wanted little to do with her. You learned a long ago that your friends’ love lives were not your business.

“It’s better in person AND you can hang out with Candace and the other girls and talk about how hot the players are or whatever.” Jules furrowed his brows before questioning, “what do girls talk about up there?”

“Don’t ask me, I haven’t been in forever. I doubt any girl I know is even still around.”

You met a few of the WAGs months ago when you first arrived to Barcelona and hadn’t kept up with any of them since. Majority of them were nice but you kept to yourself and decided that you weren’t in a hurry to go back. The food and drinks were nice, seeing Jules happy made you happy, but there was just no desire to go. Jules sat at the tiny kitchen table and you followed and placed the two bowls of pasta down. The table was incredibly small and whenever Jules sat with you his knees touched yours.

“Why would I go to hang out in that suite?”

“Candace is going.” He said as if it was obvious.

“Okay…and?” You questioned.

Jules was never one to speak outright about how he felt. He never wanted to make people think he needed anything. For a man who was in relationships constantly, he was very guarded. You saw parts of him that his fans, the public and even parts that Corey and Kaia didn’t see but, it still puzzled you that he had trouble opening up to you considering you never judged him. You shook it off, knowing that someone he trusted in the past used his vulnerability against him and as you looked at his pleading face, you couldn’t blame him for having his walls up. Yours had been up for years.

“She’s scared to go alone. She needs a friend.” He dropped his fork and put his hands in a begging motion, “Please? For me?”

You found yourself in between a rock and a hard place. You would do almost anything for Jules. The two of you bonded over loyalty and how important it was to you. You had your friends’ backs through thick and thin - even if it was a bit annoying, even if it was a request like this.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You sighed. Jules stared at his pasta with a beaming smile as if he won the match right there in your kitchen. You poked at your pasta aimlessly for a moment and considered all the ways you could back out when Jules made you feel even more guilty by continuing on about his matches.

“You should support me anyway, I’m the best footballer you know.”

“You’re the only footballer I know.”

It never crossed your mind that Jules wanted you to come to his matches. He, Kaia, and Corey knew weekends were your time to decompress after working with children all week. You were an English as a Second Language teacher at a small private school with the most incredible students. You cared for them as if they were your own, but with that came the emotional exhaustion from helping them navigate their futures, teenage melodrama, and the stress from their own personal expectations. It was the most fulfilling job you had thus far. You found purpose with the kids in your classes. It was a win-win situation - you spoke Spanish to the kids and they spoke English to you, all mixed with animated banter. Even on the worst of days, those students breathed life into you with their rambles and thoughts. You loved them to death.

“I’m very lucky. I love you too, poto.” (Friend)

“Can I invite Kaia, at least?”

“You can invite anyone. I just need to know a few days before so I can add you to the list.” Jules shoveled a large fork of pasta into his mouth and moaned aloud. The moan made you flush - Jules was attractive and that noise made him even more so. “You are the best cook, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You would survive and I don’t know, actually eat the stuff your chef cooks for you.”

——

It was a long week and no part of you was looking forward to the match. The thought of the crowd was intimidating but not as intimidating about being in the suite during such an important game. Jules mentioned once during the week that he was gunning for more - he wanted to play to his best potential and knowing your friend, there was nothing going to stop that. You admired Jules. Not only for his talent but for his work ethic and you were intrigued to see how he would channel all the ethic into the pitch (not field, as Jules scolded you once before.), since it had been months seen that last time you watched him play. Even in thinking about that admiration, you knew it wasn’t enough to help you navigate all the little social interactions that awaited you in the suite. Once you arrived at the stadium with Kaia and made it through the security check and finally got settled in the suite, you got a text. You decided that you would sit outside on the balcony on the first row with Candace in between you and Kaia in case you needed a moment alone. It was well before kick-off but it took you by surprise that Jules texted you. You hadn’t even got a chance to make a drink and head to your seat yet.

Ju: Candace is running late. Have fun, drink a beer.

You: Hate beer. Shouldn’t you be kicking a ball?

Ju: Yell loud for me.

You: Only if you score a goal and do a little dance. I bet you five dollars.

Ju: Make it dinner and five dollars.

You: you’ve got a deal

You were ripped out of your thoughts when a woman’s voice shrieked out and then, suddenly, her arms were wrapped around your midsection. One manicured hand was holding a drink that spilled down the entire front of your shirt as she bounced you around excitedly.

“Oh my gosh we have all been wondering about you! We were all asking, ‘where has Jules’ pretty little girlfriend been hiding?’”

You were spun around by the set of arms but your focus was solely on your soaking wet beige shirt and the fact that it was becoming see through. It was as if cold water had been splashed on you when you finally realized what she was saying, on top of the fact that the whole suite was staring at your chest. It could not have been more mortifying. As if you weren’t scared enough to begin with, the universe decided to add a sprinkle of disaster in the form of a blue mixed drink.

“Oh no, that’s not.” You stumbled and Kaia came to your aid with napkins. “I’m not his girlfriend. I’m just a friend and this is Kaia, my friend.”

“Oh my gosh! I could’ve sworn it was you! You’re Y/N, right?”

You nodded but you were wiping away at your shirt aggressively. You didn’t even know the lady’s name but she was staring at you as if she knew you, which, she apparently did. She knew your name and knew that you knew Jules.

“Iñigo says Jules talks about you all the time.” She said. Okay, that’s odd, you thought to yourself.

“I’m sorry I really need to get another shirt, is there anywhere I can get one?” You pleaded with strong dismissal of the information that was dropped on you. Why was Jules talking about you to his teammates? You grabbed your purse in a hurry and told Kaia to stay in case Candace arrived while you were gone. You needed a moment to breathe and secure a shirt before the game started. The shop was a mad house of fans and you were growing irritable with the sugar from her drink beginning to stick to your skin. You opted for a simple Barca t-shirt and as you turned away from the register you bumped into a man - a very handsome man at that. You apologized and he disarmed all that irritably you harbored with his smile and sweet, smooth voice. He was an olive skinned man with a wide smile, accented by a small dimple. His dark hair was curly and it contrasted his blue eyes. Damn, you thought. You knew Spain had gorgeous men but you forgot how gorgeous they could be. You realized you were still staring and holding onto his elbow so you took a few steps back. The shop was crowded and people were bustling by the two of at a feverish pace.

“You’re okay, I don’t mind bumping into a pretty woman like you…are you alright?” His accent took you by surprise but before you could mutter another apology out of habit, you saw his eyes and how they scanned your entire see through shirt which made you cross your arms and you dangled your new shirt between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta get back upstairs before the game starts.” You gave a soft smile and tried to walk past him, but he grabbed you gently with his hand.

“Upstairs? Are you in a suite?” His eyes scanned your face and you weren’t sure how to take the question just yet. He must’ve seen the confusion because he continued without your reply, “I’m in the family and friends suite and I’ve got no clue of where to go.” He flashed his yellow wrist band that matched yours as if to prove he wasn’t some creep.

“Oh, uh, yeah I am. You can follow me if you like, if you want. I need to change my shirt first.

“I’ll wait for you…”

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I’ll wait for you Y/N right out front.” He smiled again and this time, it made your heart flutter and warmness filled your cheeks.

You found your way back to him and his head was deep into his phone, so you cleared your throat to get his attention. You had no idea what his name was. He smiled at you and your eyes drew towards his adorable dimple. He ran his fingers through his hair before he placed his phone in his back pocket and motioned for you to lead the way. The crowd of attendees rushing towards their seats hadn’t slowed down as you hoped, so you took his hand in yours and pulled him along without hesitation. His hand was large and warm in yours as you steered him through the crowded concourse and to the suite check in kiosk. You flashed your wrist band and he did the same. His hand had yet to leave yours. You were slowed down by the fact the security guard wanted to double check the man.

“Name?” The stone faced security guard asked.

“My name is Davi Félix.”

“You’re good to go.” Davi thanked the man and pulled his hand out of yours to open the door to the stairs.

“Ladies first.”

“Thank you Davi.” You smiled. Maybe the game wouldn’t be so bad after all.

——

Luckily, Kaia secured your seats. Candace sat next to her and you offered Davi the seat on the other side of you which he took it happily. Candace introduced herself to you, something she did every time she saw you, and it was a difficult task to not roll your eyes. You weren’t sure if she was petty of just not the smartest. Davi sat for a moment then decided to check what the bar had to offer and asked if anyone wanted one. Kaia declined, Candace waved her cup with a cheeky smile, and Davi turned his attention to you.

“For you, doce?” He smiled softly and you hesitated, getting lost in his eyes that were holding your attention as he leaned over to hear your answer. (Sweetie)

“I’ll take what you get.” Davi nodded and headed towards the door with a glance back at you before heading inside.

“Doce? Sweetie? Who is that!” Kaia asked, leaning forward past Candace, who was eyeing you with an intrigued smirk.

“That’s Davi, I met him downstairs while getting this shirt.” You tugged on the shirt you got. You bought it because it was cheap and you could finally match your students on their dress down Fridays. Half the class would love it and the other half would despise it. It’ll give them the opportunity to debate while practicing their English and you knew football was a passionate topic. It was going to be an entertaining debate day.

“That’s João Félix’s cousin.” Candace looked between the two of you as if it was obvious. You glanced at Kaia then back at Candace who promptly stated more information.

“João Félix…here on loan. Never mind, he’s a player on the team.” She indulged but it still did nothing for you or Kaia. You truly had no clue about Jules and his job besides the fact that he was strong, fast, and ate like he was never satiated.

“Right.” You answered feeling a bit dumb. You knew why you didn’t know, but it still felt dumb to not know it.

“He’s cute, he’s got hearts in his eyes while looking at you.” Kaia raised her brows. Her own eyes glimmered mischievously.

“Kaia I just met the guy.”

“So? He’s a man, he’s got eyes, and he clearly likes what he sees.” Kaia said, leaning back into her chair. The team began filling the pitch with kids alongside them signaling the start of the game. Davi rushed back and handed a drink to you gently with a wide smile.

“Hope you like it

“I’ll love it.” You placed your cup down and awaited the anthem and the start of the game while fighting a childlike smile. Kaia cleared her throat and you turned to find her mouthing, “I’ll love it.” You slyly shot her a middle finger and turned back to the pitch.

There was Jules. Your best friend. His head was down and his hands were on the shoulders of a little girl who had a few missing teeth. She was laughing at whatever Jules was saying to her. She tugged at her braids then Jules tugged on his own in return. They were matching. It was adorable how good he was with children. You always told him that he had a natural ability with kids and he should take advantage of it - maybe start a charity or foundation. If kids were drawn to you, it meant you had a pure heart and a golden soul, your mom once said. You didn’t doubt that about Jules. It was the truth. He was as golden as it could get. From his brown skin to his brown eyes, he was golden. From the moment you met him, he had been nothing but sunshine in your life.

As you stood to your feet for the long game ahead, the rowdiness of the crowd sent adrenaline through your body and Davi’s whistles aided the excitement growing inside you. He yelled in Portuguese which seemed to catch João’s attention. Although you were upstairs, you were still visible to the eye if you caught someone’s attention. Jules seemed to hear the whistle as well, and he grinned, waving up to the suite. The three of you waved to Jules while Davi waved to his cousin who was standing next to Jules. For once, you were excited to cheer on your best friend. This could be fun, you thought. Davi chanted along with the fans and began bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Are you a big fan?” He shouted over the growing noise of the stadium chants.

“I don’t know anything at all!” You admitted sheepishly in a loud voice, trying to be heard over the crowd. Davi leaned into your ear and lightly yelled, “Don’t worry doce, I’ll help you.” (Sweetie)

You couldn’t hide the goofy grin that spread across your face and you returned your eyes to the pitch to find Jules staring at you, his smile no longer there. You thought he was concentrating on the game but it didn’t seem like his expression was a reaction to what was about to unfold on the field. It felt as if it had something to do with Davi and it left you wondering about what you were told earlier.

Did he know Davi? Why did he talk about you to his teammates? Why did that woman think you were his girlfriend? But, instead of mulling over those questions you decided to enjoy the game and not let anything, not even Candace, sour the excited mood you suddenly found yourself in and began clapping along side Davi, who was chanting loudly.

“Boti, Boti, Boti! Madridista, qui no Boti, eh, eh!” (Jump! Jump! Madridista who ever doesn’t jump!)

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[gay-dorito-dust]

⚠️A little drabble with slight Season 2 spoilers for AIB. ⚠️ this was shit.

“You had every opportunity to be rid of me and yet here I still breath, has my usefulness to you not ran out yet after all this time? Had there not been a time where you could’ve easily disposed of me?” You asked Chishiya as you dragged your bleeding form -curtesy of the king of spades- to mark your final resting place beside him, back pressed up against the car; too tired to accompany Arisu and Usagi to the final game but your faith in them was unwavering. They’ve came this far so it stood to reason that they could put an end to all this. You’ve all lost too much to meet your end here; despite how tragic that sounded, it was a befitting end. To die at the end of the game.

Freedom is almost within reach now and all you could do was reminisce on your time in the Borderlands as time etched away slower then usual. For you the more notable moments took place at The Beach; the once warm safe haven that turned into a nightmarish hellscape right to the very end as it burned down in a blaze of fierce flames. You met Chishiya and Kuina there during a period of your life where you’ve seen one too many of your friends die during the games; Even gotten betrayed by one or two during the more morally tolling ones, which forced your hand into killing them so that you may survive in their stead.

So your willingness to befriend or ally yourself with someone else were slim to none. At the time you didn’t care if you lived when participating in the games, so much so that it made you more reckless and daring during them. Which in retrospect was the dumbest shit you’ve ever done; thinking that the consequences don’t extend to you after your dead because they do and the games like to remind every participant of that. So when you did meet Chishiya and Kuina, you knew what they’re game was almost immediately.

They weren’t here to make friends and neither were you, which was why when one day they did approach you that you were immediately on high alert, hand reaching for the knife that you kept after removing it from the cold hand of a dead man you came across before reaching the massive mansion of party goers. They extended their hand in ‘friendship’ but you shut it down as you stared at them dead in the eyes and told them, “don’t think I don’t know what game your playing at because I ain’t willing in becoming an meat shield for either of you to hide behind when things get too rough. Find some other gullible bastard and quit bothering me.” Before leaving the pair in the hallway as you went to prepare for another game.

Another memory you remember so fondly was when after you had gotten hurt from a game, instead of going back to the cars that would lead you back to The Beach, you slunk your way into an alleyway to die, your position was very much the same as the one you were in currently, back pressed against the brick wall and waiting death to take you far away from this desolate hellhole. Just when you had closed your eyes in acceptance, a voice called out to you and it wasn’t belonging to an angel; It was Chishiya. “What’re you doing?” He asked, however you knew that he could care less for the reason, he just wanted to get a reaction out of you for his own entertainment.

“Waiting to die so I can be as far away from you as possible.” You replied, not bothering to opening your eyes to him.

“That’s a little dramatic don’t you think?” He responds, leaning against the wall as his eyes examine the wounds you received as his brows furrowed but not out of worry.

“Doesn’t matter, all that does is the fact that soon I’ll be free from all this pain and will never have to participate in another game as I cross over into the afterlife.” You stood to your reasoning with steadfast loyalty.

“Dramatic and selfish,” Chishiya said as he ventured forth into the alleyway and knelt so that he was in front of you, getting a better look at your injuries. He didn’t have the best view from where he was standing previously and decided that closer examination was needed. So he kept the conversation going without easing any suspicion within you as you ‘awaited death’ as you so kindly put it. “Your wounds aren’t that severe, they’re deep but the only everlasting thing they’ve leave is a scar at most.” He deduced as you opened your eyes to glare at him. “Now get up before the cars leave us behind and we’re presumed dead.” Chishiya then stood up, offered out his hand for you to take.

You begrudgingly took his hand as he then hauled you off of the floor and began to help you hobble back to the cars that took you back to The Beach, where Kuina was waiting in the lobby for him and subsequently you as she took you off of his hands and aided in getting you to Ann for medical attention. Luckily the additional days added to your visa allowed you to make a full recovery for the next game.

The rest were blurred chaos of varying degrees and the only face that you could clearly make out of that mess was Chishiya’s and his voice, cool under pressure, guiding you to clearing your hectic mind and silence the unnecessary noise that would’ve inevitably have you killed. Even when you weren’t accompanying him in certain games, his presence was with always with you that soon before you allowed yourself to be swept away with everyone else and their growing anxieties, you would clear away their screeching voices and allow yourself to let the answer come to you rather then hopelessly chase it.

“You’re right, I did have opportune moments where I could be rid of you in order to save myself but for some reason, I just let them keep slipping through my fingers. Every time. At first I was wondering if I had let this place force me into a moment of weakness. I was left perplexed and questioning everything when all but soon enough I found my answer.” Chishiya said calmly for a guy who had just gotten shot. Twice. “What was it?” You asked him, awaiting him to finish the sentence on baited breath. “I got attached.” He finally answered glancing over to gauge your reaction like he always did. Which was a habit of his that you’ve only began to take notice as of just recently. He never did once glance at anyone else other then you when he wanted to know how his words affected someone.

Chishiya knew how he made people feel but for some reason he put more effort into knowing how you felt about his words, his actions, everything. It was weird, he even did this back at the beach but when you asked Kuina about this, her answer didn’t make any sense to you. “He’s grown attached to you.” She said but you could only scoff at such ridiculousness, “he only cares about what I came give him. Face it Kuina, Chishiya would rather throw me under the bus then ever admit it to my face that he’s attached.”

You stared at him as though he had grown a second head all the while he rested his head on your shoulder, “what’re your plans after we get out of here?” He changed the subjected, already knowing how you felt about him, he always knew and deep down he believed that you did too and that’s why you didn’t say anything in response. “I don’t know, I’ve worn myself down by just trying to survive and outlive others that I haven’t given it all that much thought.” You admitted to him in a moment of vulnerability, “but I wouldn’t mind it if we went through the unknown together.” You added, resting your head on top of Chishiya’s.

“Is that so?” He asks with a slight air to his tone as though he found all this funny but his hand reached for your own, you tensed at how cold you’ve both become in such a short amount of time that you were starting to actually face your own mortality. It was scary but for Chishiya; you’d brave anything. “Only if you want to of course, wouldn’t want to deter the great Chishiya Shuntaro from better things.” You added as to make light of your situation but faulted when you felt him starting to weigh heavily against your side. “Chishiya?” You said softly. “That sounds nice,” he finally spoke after a moment of silence but his voice was a lot quieter then before, “see you on the other side.” He added as the blimp belonging to the Queen of Hearts finally came down in the form of fiery rain before everything became black.

You awoke in a hospital with no memory of how you got here. Lost and afraid you almost called out in a state of panic when is voice, cool and collected, reached out to you. Silencing the unnecessary noise within. “Your finally awake.”

#alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland x you #alice in borderland fic #alice in borderland fanfic #aib fic #aib fanfic #aib imagine #aib x you #aib imagines #aib x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya shuntaro imagines #chishiya shuntaro x you #chishiya shuntaro imagine #chishiya shuntaro fic #chishiya shuntaro fanfic #chishiya x reader #chishiya x you #chishiya imagines #chishiya imagine #chishiya fic #chishiya fanfic

[nobody-for-sure]

Two Peas in a Pod

Two assholes with feelings are bound to have struggles. Can a relationship built on nothing but rude words really last?

(Gender-neutral reader, sfw, ~1.8k words; cross-posted on AO3)

Everyone says that you and Scaramouche are two peas in a pod.

By which, of course, they mean that you're both assholes. Petty, diabolical little shits that are completely, unquestionably intolerable... except, for some reason, to each other.

The two of you work. You shouldn't, but you do.

It's a wonder that you get along, really. No one's ever heard either of you say a kind word to the other. Quite the opposite, in the fact: there seems to be some sort of ongoing competition to see which of you can make the best jab at the other and live to tell the tale. (He's winning - for now - only because you haven't found a good way to work mommy issues naturally into a conversation yet.)

Really, you don't seem like a couple at all. At best, maybe like rivals who have hate sex. But the truth is, you're a great match. It might be difficult for others to understand, but you're both supportive... in your own way. A little more so in private, when there's no one else to see: that's when vulnerabilities sometimes slip through the cracks. But who better to reassure you of your worth than someone who's seen the filth of the world as you have, rather than someone pure and benevolent enough to spout that sort of crap to anyone? That's not to say you're overly soft on each other, though... far from it. Still, given how you appear to the public, no one else would even dream of expecting so much as a backhanded compliment from you two.

So yes, though some would be hard-pressed to believe it, you are a couple. Why else would you both be able to get away with saying everything you do? It's unspoken knowledge between the two of you. Neither of you are good at expressing your feelings, so trading insults and arguments is the best you can do. But isn't that the best kind of relationship, where you can feel comfortable arguing, knowing that things will still be the same afterwards?

Words are just words, after all. They are... until they aren't.

All it takes is one day. Too many things go wrong for you to count, and you’re pushing breaking point, one minor mishap away from a total meltdown. Impressively, he's involved in none of those things... he's simply the last straw this time.

"Hah- pathetic," he scoffs when he hears about your day. "Getting worked up over something like that? Ridiculous."

Normally, you wouldn’t even be phased. Deep down, you know what he means by it. 'Don't worry about what they think, they're nobody. Don't let it get to you. Losers like that should mean nothing to you.'

You know that's what he means. But sometimes - at times like this - it would be nice to hear him say it for once.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes against your will, and he stiffens. In retrospect, it's another indication of how much he cares for you: were it anyone else, he would've left the room already. It's a little-known fact that Scaramouche hates when people cry... or at least, when someone he cares about does. He doesn't know what to do, how to deal with it. So as fat salty tears run down your cheeks, he sits rigidly in place, staring uncomfortably at you.

In truth, you can't blame him, because his response was no different than it normally would have been. Yours is. But what right do you have to get offended, suddenly, when your relationship is built off of the teasing remarks and petty jabs you've traded? How can you complain that he doesn't say stuff like that when he never has, and you've never expected him to? You knew from the start that he wasn't the type. And how can you complain when you're the exact same way? What a hypocrite.

You swallow. Maybe the two of you aren't such a great match after all.

You're both assholes, but you both have feelings, too, even if you both pretend you don’t. Is being in love really enough, if no one ever expresses it verbally? Maybe he deserves better, and so do you. Someone who knows the right words to say, and isn't too proud to say them. Someone who will cradle you in their arms and whisper reassurances when you need them the most.

...Even after being in a relationship for so long, you don't think you'll ever get that from him. It’s not the sort of relationship you have, and... you don't think that's going to change anytime soon. Both of you are too stubborn. He's too stubborn. At first you didn't care, but now...

...now you're not sure you want that.

He'll call it the fourth betrayal, you know. But he'll get over it - get over you. He's stronger than he thinks. You know him well enough.

No matter how many times his heart is crushed, he always returns to seeking love. He's misguided, and he's not always good at it. But love is, and has always been, what he desires more than anything. He hasn't realized it yet, but it’s the part of himself he’ll never be able to cut out and discard. The love he yearns for will be what grounds him to this world, so he needs someone who will support him through thick and thin, encouraging him on when he starts to doubt himself, to doubt whether someone like him even deserves love-

-and you need someone like that, too.

You take a deep breath, eyes watery. "Scaramouche," you say thickly, "I think maybe we should br-"

He flicks you hard on the forehead before folding his arms. "Shut up."

You gape.

He glares harshly in response. "If you finish that sentence, I'll kill you."

You narrow your eyes in defiance. Pointless words. He knows you’re not the type to stay silent. If he's going to be like this now, of all times, then you have no doubt. "I think we should-"

This time, he lunges forward and claps his hand over your mouth, tugging you toward him abruptly and twisting your body so that your back falls against his chest.

"I said, shut up," he seethes in your ear. "If you think I'm going to just let you do whatever you please, you're mistaken."

A muffled sob escapes your lips, and a shudder rolls through your body. You feel him tense slightly behind you as fresh tears land on his fingers. Scaramouche really doesn't like when people cry. Nevertheless, instead of releasing you in disgust, he pulls you tighter to his chest.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he asks tersely.

You're not sure what that has to do with anything, but his grip loosens enough for you to shake your head no.

"Then you should already know. I'm not dumb enough to let the one person who's accepted all my flaws and stayed with me all this time even though I'm... like this... go." The hand that's not covering your mouth curls further around your waist, pinning you to him. “No one else is dumb enough to talk back to me, and I wouldn’t want to be bored.”

He's misguided, and he's not always good at love.

"And we've already agreed that I'm not an idiot. I know exactly what you’re going to say the moment I take my hand off your mouth. So..." To your surprise, he falters for a moment, swallows.

But he’s stronger than he thinks. You know him well enough.

"...So tell me what I have to do, damn it!" His voice cracks slightly, and you suck in your breath.

Perhaps he's stronger than you gave him credit for, too. Strong enough to change.

"Tell me what to do, so that you don't leave me too! Do you think I'm so weak that I can't even make one person happy? I fucking can, and I fucking will! Do you want to bet- OW! What the fuck?!" He jerks his hand away from your mouth, inspecting the teeth marks on his fingers as you wriggle yourself around in his grip to face him. "You-"

"That's for flicking me, dumbass." Your tone doesn't match your actions, desperately searching his face for some sort of confirmation. Visible frustration lines his features, but he sets his mouth in a determined line when you meet his eyes.

He means every word.

"...it will... be hard," you say, barely a ghost of a whisper. 'For both of us' goes unspoken.

"No fucking shit," he responds immediately. "What's the matter? Too much of a coward?" Your eyes narrow and he bites his lip, seemingly realizing that was not the best way to phrase it. "Wait-"

"...Maybe," you admit, and he shuts his mouth. Maybe you are a coward, giving up so easily. You thought you were thinking of him, too, but it seems he has different priorities. (You're a priority. The thought warms you.) There's a definitive irony to presuming to know so much about him while simultaneously acknowledging that neither of you are honest about your feelings. "...I'm sorry."

"You should be." There's no bite in his voice as he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss. You stiffen briefly, before reciprocating.

We'll be okay.

The two of you work. You shouldn't, but you do.

If Scaramouche can change, if he's willing to try... well, then you definitely can. Maybe not a lot (because archons forbid you become one of those cute, sappy couples), but a little goes a long way. For now, just knowing that he really does care - that he doesn't want to lose you - is enough. You’re both a couple of assholes, it's true. But even worse, you’d be a couple of morons if you couldn’t make this love work.

...And he's right, too: neither of you would have as much fun in a relationship with someone 'nicer', where you couldn't engage in 'friendly' banter that makes everyone around you sweat and question if you're both psychopaths. Truly, thank goodness you get to have the best of both worlds.

Because later, when Scaramouche is confident you’re in a better mood and things are more or less back to normal, he turns to you with a smirk. "Looks like I win."

"Win what?"

"The competition, obviously. Of which one of us can say something to make the other snap first." He looks so supremely proud of himself that you just can't resist the opportunity to wipe the grin off his face. It's a good chance to get even, anyway.

"Ah... of course," you say slowly. "It looks like I'm just too nice after all."

Sure enough, his face drops to one of disdain and disbelief. "...Excuse me?"

Your gaze slides to the side as a smile creeps up your face. "Yeah, you know, since I’ve resisted the temptation to bring up mommy issues-"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU."

You cackle. Looks like it’s a tie.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin angst #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #whatever he wants to call himself he'll always be scaramouche to me so #scaramouche

[yandere-sins]

Can I get some emotionally, and sexually manipulative Hawks please?

Thanks for requesting!

Rated Lemon

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

“So, how have you been? We barely see you anymore!”

Your friend’s words tore you out of your thoughts, making your nails dig into Keigo’s hand that’s been riding up your thigh ever since you two sat down for dinner. Breathing in sharply, you hoped no one would notice the crack in your voice as you answered, your hand shooting out to get your glass closer and hide some of the embarrassment you were feeling behind the alcohol.

“Oh, you know. Lots of work, I barely have time to shower.” Avoiding the question as best as possible, you forced a laugh, the sound disappearing in the masses of voices around you. Sipping at your glass, you felt Keigo’s fingers dig deep into your thigh, leaving you unsure if it was meant as a reward or punishment. He hated that you forced him to take you out to celebrate with your friends but approved of you lying to them for his sake. You missed out on so many fun activities because of him, after all.

He was also the reason your knees rubbed together beneath the table, an unmistakable heat emanating from your core.

Luckily your friend didn’t question it much further, falling into a rant about their own problems at work and venting about colleagues and workload you could only dream of having. Keigo wouldn’t let you work. After he coaxed you into moving in with him—much too early as you feared, the relationship barely going for three months at that point—he made it clear to you that the only work he wanted to see you do was the one on top of him.

Admittedly, the reason you started to date him wasn’t a honorable one. Then again, you had no doubts that any other fan of the hero wouldn’t have done it if they were in your position. When you met him at a club, it was you who threw yourself at him, thinking that even just one night with the good-looking, charming hero would be enough to satisfy your crazy fan desires and give you bragging rights for the rest of your normie life. You didn’t expect him to ask you to stay for breakfast the next morning. Neither for dinner the following evening or to be his girlfriend after only a week of dates and fun times together.

Part of you wanted to stay and be this amazing man’s partner. But in retrospect, you probably knew much earlier that it all was too good to be true. Especially when he started to get more and more possessive over what you were doing and who you were with. These minor arguments usually end in a passionate kiss and sex that would leave you sore but too brainfucked to think. And when he came back with flowers and chocolates, promising to be better in the future, you just couldn’t bring yourself to hate him enough to leave.

Not when he apologized for canceling your plans for you.

Not when he fucked you silly on the kitchen counter after throwing away your clothes and leaving you to wander the house naked.

Somehow, Keigo always made it up to you. His eyes were so sincere when he told you he loved you and wouldn’t know what to do for you, even though you hadn’t quite come around to that kind of emotion yet. You loved the way he fucked you silly, pressing your face into the expensive satin sheets of his bed or roughly pinning you between him and the wall. But even after months, you weren’t quite sure yet if you actually loved him or, well, his cock and the occasional expensive gifts he made you. It was pretty shallow, but spending your birthday with him on a private island just to yourself, all-inclusive, and in the embrace of the person who truly loved you wasn’t the worst gift. None of the ones he gave you was.

You were special to him. The only one he could open up to, talk to, love. Keigo told you that constantly, always reminding you of how much you meant to him, especially after giving you a good fucking that left you lolling in his bed. That he can’t imagine his life without you and knows no one as perfect as you. How could anyone break up with a guy like this? He was a 10 in a sea of 5 and 7′s that you usually had to deal with. The chances were slim you’d ever get as good of a man as Keigo was, and lowering your expectations seemed futile after he raised the stakes.

“Spread them, Baby.” Keigo leaned over, whispering the words into your ear with a grin. His hand slipped between your legs, pulling them apart to emphasize his order. You looked up in shock, not at him but at your friends, who seemed unaware of what was happening. Biting your lips, you shook your head in very small motions, Keigo’s smile faltering. “Spread them, or we’re going home right now,” he demanded, and thinking about how much effort it was to make him agree to take you on this outing, you gulped, slowly opening your legs for his access.

Immediately, his lips curled back into a smile, his touch reaching further up and brushing against your panties. You nervously glanced between your friends, all in different stages of drunkness but not enough for your taste. They could still notice something, even though you couldn’t argue with Keigo when he was like that. Love-drunk, you called it. A mood in which he won’t tolerate any defiance to what he wants. And what he wants is always you.

“Does it turn you on?” he murmured into your ear, your silent question showing on your face prompting him to nod his head in the direction of your friends. “Them. Are you scared they’ll see?”

Gulping, you looked over them again. Keigo’s hand suddenly disappeared, leaving behind a cool draft of wind against your sex that made you shudder. He inched closer, bringing his chair right next to yours, and snaked his way between your body and the backrest of your chair. You held your breath, preparing not to squeal as you knew he would pull you against him, lifting your right leg over his and earning more access than you wanted him to have.

“W-Wait, they’ll see!” you whispered nervously, pushing down the skirt you were wearing as best as you could. “Let them, Dove. I want them to watch as you cum all over my fingers in this busy restaurant you forced me to go with you. At least let me have my fun, alright?”

Biting your lip, you didn’t even think about his words too much, merely giving in. True, you weren’t in love with him. But these things came naturally over time, right? Keigo always treated you well, even if you got embarrassed about some of his demands, and maybe it really wasn’t so fair that you dragged him to this meeting against his will. You knew he wanted to stay in and watch a movie tonight. Or at least the beginning of the movie before he’d demand his late-night snack from between your legs. After that, things would undoubtedly shift to the bedroom, but instead, you got your will. You had no grounds to stand on to refuse him.

Pressing himself up to your side, the arm wrapped around your back slipped its hand between your legs again, fingers prodding at your clit that made you jolt in your seat. Suddenly, a couple pairs of eyes turned to you in curious confusion, watching as Keigo snuggled into your side. Your whole body froze as you forced out a smile, trying to play along with the mask he put up of you two cuddling like the cute couple you were. You knew your friends were jealous about the catch you made with Keigo, though they were also happy for you, grinning before turning back to their conversations.

Confirmed in his actions, Keigo turned bolder and, you, hotter.

Was it embarrassment? Shame? The tip of his fingers pressing your panties inside of you?

“Aren’t you wet for me, Baby...” he mumbled into your shoulder, his lips plush against it for a couple of appreciating kisses. You felt the slick coating of your panties against your hot cunt, the fabric cooling every time he pulled it away before pressing it into you again. There was a feeling of frustration caused by the holdback of your panties acting like a safe wall. You could feel Keigo breach the limits more with every touch, and every time, you yearned for him to simply brush past the fabric, knuckling you with his fingers all the way inside your pussy.

But he stopped just as you were about to grind your cunt into his hand, pulling it away—you had no doubts dripping with your juices. Instead, he focused on your clit, the sensitive nerve endings shocking you with electricity over and over like a taser. Despite holding back so much, a long sigh escaped you, your eyes immediately widening as you clasped a hand over your mouth. But instead of stopping and letting you come down from the sensation, Keigo chuckled into his free hand, gripping the slim part of your underwear and pulling it taut, the fabric no match to his strength, ripping. But not before teasing you with its friction, the eventual snap! it made both relieving and yet dissatisfying as you wanted to rub against it a while longer. You didn’t quite anticipate how loud it would be as your panties ripped, hips - that you lifted unknowingly to accommodate the strain - falling onto the chair, your flowy skirt having riled up enough, so your exposed ass cheeks smacked hard into the wood.

This time, you could not hold back your moan.

“Fuck, Baby,” Keigo groaned next to you, keeping himself muffled with his hand, and you focused your hazy gaze on the people around you, chatting, laughing, but most importantly ignoring you. You had never felt so relieved to not be seen and, at the same time, still had doubts about what Keigo was doing, wishing someone would notice and put him in his place like he always did with you. Perhaps you were more of a switch than you thought, enjoying the thought of Keigo having to lower his head and getting scolded. At the same time, you knew he’d just make you stand before him afterward, spread your asscheeks to press his face between your legs, and get his reward for enduring his punishment. He was that kind of horny.

Not bothering with the shreds left by his actions, Keigo pressed his fingers back into your slit, rubbing them up and down your folds and coating them properly in your slick. You knew he was going to dig in any second now, and you knew you shouldn’t let him. That there were borders he simply shouldn’t overstep. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t... wanted... because fuck. The moment his fingertip breached your entrance, you knew you’d be in for a ride.

His rough fingers paired with the determination to fill you as far as he could, never made him stop for a second so you could adjust. He gave you no warning, no preparation time, nothing. You were left to your own devices, using your right hand to cover your mouth while the other dug into the edge of the chair—hard—trying to keep you on your seat. However, Keigo had different plans, taking the hand away from your mouth to press into his crotch, hot, pulsing arousal tenting his jeans. Turning your head to look at him, your eyes fell lower at him guiding your hand over the outline of his cock, pressing and using you to satisfy himself while he added another finger to your cunt. It made you want to scream, but instead, Keigo caught your lips with his, kissing you while the friction under your palm stung with how hard he rubbed it.

You were blissfully unaware of your surroundings now, taking off into pleasure land as he scissored and curled his fingers inside you just how you liked it. It was not enough. You wanted more. Wanted his huge cock to replace his fingers, and it was frustrating to know he was drawing the line there. Public displays of affection were scandalous enough, not to mention the unspeakable ones happening beneath the table. His fingers had to do, and by god, they weren’t any less proficient even if you yearned for the fullness of his cock hollowing you out.

“You’re gonna cum for me, hm?” he asked, and you hummed in agreement, nodding before bumping your foreheads together. “You’re gonna make your friends watch you cum?”

This time, your eyes flitted to the people around you, making you wonder how they still hadn’t noticed even though you were about to fucking explode (and then maybe bend over the table and beg for more). “N-No,” you whimpered. “Just for you.”

“You’re cumming just for me?” he repeated, the grin spreading wider and wider on his lips as he appreciated your devilishly honest answer. Then he kissed you again, long and sweet and so full of love, whispering against your lips, “I’m cumming too, just for you, Baby.”

It was Keigo’s free hand that clasped over your mouth this time while you kept rubbing him over the top of his jeans all on your own, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to keep himself from moaning as you were both pushed over the edge. You felt like you were burning, a volcano erupting. Toes were curling as you tensed your legs, Keigo keeping his fingers lodged deep inside of you. His cock was pulsing in your palm, and you didn’t need to see the massive stain on his pants to know it was there. He loved you so much, he swore that every one of his ejaculations was only there to mark you as his. Shower you in his very essence, even when it was lost in the fabric. That was his explanation for coming like a fucking volcano as well.

“You two good?” one of your friends suddenly asked, and you snapped out of your rigor while you were flooded with waves of orgasm, though you couldn’t clear the haze in your head, making you reply in a slur, “We’re all good. Perfectly fine...”

“Actually, I think [Name] had a bit too much to drink,” Keigo covered for you, giving one of his charming yet apologetic smiles. “I’ll better take them home.”

You caught the friend glancing at your glass that you barely drank two sips from before they mumbled, “Okay...” They didn’t believe it. How could they when you were caught in the afterglow, chest heaving heavily and your body limp but tense at the same time?

Rolling your head over to Keigo as the waves washing over you vanished shamefully slow, he kissed your forehead, whispering, “Don’t you wish you stayed home today? Then I’d have you riding on my tongue next.”

Even now, he was reprimanding you for your choice to go to this meeting, but all you really wanted was to get some fresh air and clear your head. Maybe see if there was still a place for you outside the apartment. Keigo quickly gathered your things, somehow more composed than you were, and you two said your goodbyes getting some weird looks and some that just proved that your friends were severely drunk. Hopefully, no one would remember you looking so undone in front of them, letting yourself be pulled out of the restaurant by Keigo, who footed the bill for the whole table without hesitation. He was such a good man, wasn’t he? Paying for you and your friends even though he didn’t want to come in the first place.

Even though you felt the remnants of your panties cling to your thighs, your slick drooling down your legs.

“Yes, I am,” he remarked as you told him how awesome he was for that. “You should really make it up to me if you mean it,” he added, winking at you as he led you down the streets back to his apartment.

“How?” you asked, having an inkling of what he was going to say, your gut churning as you remembered him confronting you recently with a few things you weren’t comfortable with. Keigo waved down a taxi, pushing you inside and following suit, telling the driver where to go, and you two were off towards home in a matter of seconds, cuddled against each other with your legs over his while he held you close to him.

“I’d really like it if you’d let me try some of the toys I bought. I know you said the rope was a bit too restrictive the last time, but I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he mumbled against your temple, and you gritted your teeth. You didn’t like the idea of using rope for playing around since he made it way too tight last time and didn’t release you even when you begged and pleaded with him. It quickly became a big no-no.

But when you looked at him, Keigo met your gaze head-on, speaking before you could.

“You owe me this, [Name]. I might not agree to go out with you again if you don’t do anything for me in return. And I want you. Spread out on my bed and tied at every limb, relying on me to feed and fuck you until you don’t even know which one I am doing anymore. Okay? Don’t deny me the pleasure of giving you everything you could ever want. I love you so much, Babe.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Keigo sounded so demanding, yet almost as if he was begging you. It was a delicious mix going straight to your core. Your mouth stayed open before you felt his finger push your jaw closed, a mixture of guilt and discomfort spreading inside you. He wanted it so much, putting everything out in the open for you and not hiding behind favors. Keigo wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. He’d never do anything to make you regret agreeing to his decisions. At least, that’s what you wanted to believe, no matter how much that victorious grin on his lips raised goosebumps all over your body. You hadn’t even agreed yet, but he already knew he had won.

“Fine,” you mumbled curtly, looking away, not yet ready to do something that didn’t make you feel safe. But he was right, you owed him one for dragging him out that night and him paying so you could have ‘fun’ with your friends. Or at least talk to them again for once.

Nuzzling your face into his shoulder, Keigo let out a happy “Yay!” before bringing his hand to your neck, driving it up until he met your jaw. Urging you to look back at him, he kissed you again, his tongue slipping between your lips and forcing a gasp as he bit into your lower one. “I love you,” he purred into the kiss, laying some soft smooches to your mouth, but his eyes searched for yours expectantly.

“Love you... too,” you mumbled, not really feeling the sentiment. But Hawks believed it, grinning and burying his face into your shoulder, rubbing it against your skin. “Finally,” he whispered into your body, and you couldn’t help but grow restless as he wrapped you into his arms tightly, squeezing until you could barely breathe.

If you were honest, being with him didn’t feel right.

But you kind of owed it to him by now, didn’t you?

#hawks #yandere hawks #yandere!hawks #takami keigo #keigo takami #BnHA #Boku no Hero Academia #MHA #My Hero Academia #yandere bnha #yandere!bnha #yandere mha #yandere!mha #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[reeve-in-a-suit]

Hey! Here’s a disorganized and poorly-made analysis about Jason Grace partially referencing Hunter (TOH) with minor spoilers!!

I just saw a post about sacrificial lamb characters and it got me thinking about Jason Grace and the irony that he fits the description to a T and was raised by wolves. In this really specific way he seems to remind me of Hunter from the Owl House, specifically in his first scene in The Lost Hero.

There’s this specific awkward teenage boy feeling that despite being clear is also quite muted. It’s his wariness from the get-go being paired with his quick line about finding Piper pretty and not minding that he’s holding her hand. It’s uneasy because he really doesn’t know why he’s holding her hand or even when he got into that position at all. It’s slightly dopey in a way that feels so right for a teenage boy out of his depth. It’s like the friendlier flip of the coin of Hunter’s sibling like arguments with Luz before he joins her side, the embarrassing “fail” moments. The forcibly stiff yet intentionally all over the place body language, it screams constricted puberty and you get a sense of who he is outside of the golden guard.

And then you realize that you don’t. Not at all. Before every aspect of his character is governed by who he’s meant to be. The plans Belos has for him. He has plushies in his bedroom but they’re neglected for Paperwork. He makes sarcastic remarks but they’re all informed by what is and isn’t acceptable by the Emperor’s standards. It’s this sense of “Kid gone wrong” to the point where, when you watch it in retrospect, you wonder if he can even be considered a kid yet. If you conclude no, you wonder if he’s to be seen as a tool.

Jason Grace feels like this from the start and as we go on he’s revealed to be more and more of a force to reckoned with. People talk about how different Percy Jackson is in his own POV when compared to in anyone else’s POV but no one seems to pick up on the shift between Jason in his POV and Jason in, say, Frank’s POV. If you wanna know what I think, it’s because they both know Jason is powerful. They were both introduced to him that way. Neither of them deny his strength or power or describe him in a light that makes him sound like he sees himself as unqualified in some way.

However, Jason presentation is just that of a kid. His bluntness of how he describes other people and his quick-fly moments of teasability (like him saying Piper’s claiming dress was low cut + plus him saying “woah” out loud). He’s very simpl to not a wolf. Not like the ones that raised him. I love and appreciate the Feral Jason headcanons and mannerisms but that isn’t what I’m talking about. I know he can function as a wolf I know he survives as one.

But he’s not one at all. He’s the sheep in its clothing. It’s why he’s such a tragic “sacrificial lamb” ; it’s not the fact that he given as a gift or that he was led to his death. It’s that he was a sheep sacrificed to wolf’s clothing.

Bye!

#Jason Grace #Heroes of olympus #jason Grace analysis #Heroes of Olympus analysis #Hunter toh #Toh Hunter analysis #Toh Hunter

[r3putations]

Ah, Discoveries was so good! I hope you write a second part. If you're feeling up to it, of course. <3

part two to discoveries

also super thank you to everyone who likes/reblogs/just reads my work because you guys are firmly the reason i do this. any requests can be sent in and i'll write them asap

marc spector x f!reader x steven grant x ...jake lockley?

summary; you and the boys have quickly found out that there must be another alter fronting some times - you're the first one who has a chance to confront them (this is coming out so quick because i have severe back pain and cannot sleep lol)

confrontation

You and the boys had spent a few hours sat around the kitchen table, relaying every piece of information you now in hindsight thought may not have been neither Marc nor Steven.

When you finally finished Marc's hand was placed over yours, warmth radiating from his touch and thumb brushing gentle circles over your skin.

"I would never be so dismissive of you, you know that right?" The earnest look in his gaze made you feel bad for thinking it was truly him for even a second.

"Neither would Steven." He tacked on a second later, after the other man must have instructed him to do so.

You gave him a reassuring smile and put your other hand over the one caressing you. "I know, guys. I just really didn't think another person was possible."

Marc's mouth was set in a grim line when he replied. "Us neither."

Marc still counted himself as one of the luckiest guys in the world, as did Steven. Merely because apparently they had another alter (one that they thought had been behind those slaughters when they both blacked out, but they wouldn't tell you that quite yet) and you were still here. Still willing to suss out the situation and help them through it.

You gave them the strength they needed to tackle this newest challenge; and hopefully make contact with the other person.

You were all on high alert for the next few days. Marc and Steven had resolved themselves to staying up as long as possible, and then letting the other take over when they became too mentally drained. After about 24 hours, you were insistent that they get some rest. You were perfectly capable of keeping watch over them, and the body definitely needed sleep.

That's how you ended up sat upright on the bed the next night, midnight passing on the alarm clock while Marc slept peacefully next to you. He stayed like that for around an hour before his body finally began to stir.

You waited patiently, a nervous feeling settling in your stomach as you crossed your arms and observed this new person waking from their slumber. In retrospect, you definitely should've known that this was not your boyfriend.

His eyes seemed immediately narrowed, a darker shade than the dark chocolate of Marc's. He sat up abruptly and scanned the room before landing on you, puzzled at your stare.

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Hey, baby. Why are you still up?" It sounded faintly... Latino? You really needed to start paying closer attention to your man.

"So," You started simply, turning your body to him. Perhaps you should've been slightly uncomfortable around this new person but the familiar body kept you from any sort of real fear. "What's your name?"

"Ah, mierda." He muttered, bringing a hand to wipe over the back of his neck. "Didn't take you long to catch on, did it sweetheart?"

"I'm Y/N. You are?" You were firm in it, determined to get as much information as you could.

"Jake Lockley, not so much at your service." His smirk was flirtatious but his gaze was calculating.

"Nice to meet you, Jake." You stood when he did, following him into the bathroom while he shed his night shirt and made to get dressed like he was going out. "Where exactly are you going?"

Jake didn't spare her a glance as he got ready. The bird had already flown the cage, so what was the point in acting innocent? He had business to attend to, Khonshu's ever present voice demanding him that he ditch the incessant human.

"I have some business to handle."

You put a hand on his chest when he tried to walk by, trying to seem strong in your stance when you were feeling increasingly out of your depth. "Shouldn't you consult Marc and Steven about your business? Certainly anything handled in the dead of night can't be completely above board."

Your first real glimmer of fear was when his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, not enough to hurt but definitely enough to prove a point. "Marc and Steven never consulted me about their shenanigans, little lady. Though I could've been a help. You may have won the affections of the other two, but do well to remember that I am not them." Jake removed your hand from his chest and stepped away from you. "You going to be the one to tell the god that I'm late or are you leaving it to me?"

Alarm bells rang instantly in your head. God? You thought in a panic. Holy shit he's talking about Khonshu.

Jake only had a split second when he thought he shouldn't have told you that, but at this point you were bound to find out eventually. He doubted he'd be able to keep his fronting escapades a secret from the other two men for long.

"Khonshu released this body from being his Avatar. That's what Marc said." You willed your voice to hold firm.

Jake gave a shrug, shouldering his jacket on. "His exact words were that he was releasing both Marc and Steven, nothing about good ol' Jake." His smile was wry, lacking any real mirth.

You were momentarily shattered for the men that you had come to love. Marc had worked so hard to be freed from the moon god, and even the man standing in front of you seemed less than enthused about his job.

You noticed he had turned from you, heading toward the door. A hasty decision prompted your next words.

"I'm coming with you."

Jake paused, giving you a surprised look over his shoulder. "I don't think that's a great idea."

It's a terrible idea! Khonshu's voice was almost deafening in his head.

You grabbed your own jacket, resolute in your decisions. "I promised Marc and Steven that I would look after them. So I am. Wherever you're going, I am too."

Jake just considered you for a moment, something like pride itching at his chest. "Alright, doll, let's get moving."

Why can't I have one easy Avatar relationship? Khonshu said, but Jake was already ignoring him with his hand hovering over your lower back, escorting you out of the apartment.

requested to be tagged;

@daddysfavoritesexkitten @anotherromanticpoet

#steven grant x f!reader #marc spector x f!reader #jake lockley x f!reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight #my works

[porkcracker]

KINKTOBER DAY 2 - ROLEPLAY

Pairing:Perceptor/Brainstorm

Continuity:IDW

After agreeing to have an erotic roleplay, Brainstorm and Perceptor use the next pit stop of the Lost Light to play out their fantasy.

It had been surprisingly easy for Brainstorm to get Perceptor to agree to an erotic roleplay. The decision of what kind of roles they would be playing had taken far longer, until they had finally decided to play both scenarios. In the face of that agreement, the decision about which scenario would go first had been made relatively easily. As such, the next time the Lost Light docked in a space port, the two scientists used their opportunity.

In retrospect, the scenario was by far not creative, but neither of them cared as they watched each other in the dimly lit room. Sitting properly at his desk and straight in his high-backed chair, Perceptor watched keenly as Brainstorm shuffled from one pede to the other in a show of insecurity and shyness. The fliers optics were averted, but they flicked to look at Perceptor every so often as the silence lingered. Then finally Perceptor talked, making Brainstorm jump a little as he snapped to attention, his optics turning to look at Perceptor.

"You're a very promising student, Brainstorm. One of my best, I would even say, but you have been distracted lately. You don't pay attention when I talk, you can't answer the questions, your participation in class has dropped, and by all means, I could fail you this class. What is wrong with you? Has something happened? You know you can talk to me, Brainstorm.", As he started his little talk, Perceptor's voice was stern and chiding, but the last sentence had his tone grow softer and warmer. With his full attention on his favorite student, Perceptor noted the way that his wings lowered and his optics avoided his own. His words were followed by silence, and when Brainstorm made no sign of replying, Perceptor sighed and made a dismissive gesture. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me. You can go, Brainstorm,", he stated politely as he returned his attention to the datapads on his desk.

When pedesteps echoed through the empty room, Perceptor assumed that Brainstorm was leaving, right up until his student's voice sounded far closer to him than the flier had previously been. Lifting his helm, Perceptor jumped a little when he found himself almost olfactory to olfactory with Brainstorm. "Brainstorm, please move b-" "It's your fault, professor.", The words were mumbled, but the close position of Brainstorm still made them quite audible.

Perceptor's intake dropped a little in offense. "Excuse me, what's that supposed to mean?". The jet shuffled on his pede again before meeting Perceptor's optics for the first time in the session. Whereas he had previously been looking to the side shyly, Brainstorm's optics were now filled with determination. "I-it's your fault, professor. I can't focus because I keep getting distracted by your optics, and you're so smart, and *you got such a nice aft*.", The difference between the students shy admission and Brainstorm's momentary character break made a small arc of charge run down Perceptor's back strut. He gave Brainstorm a short look but didn't break character to scold him further.

"That is very flattering, but I must insist that you not let yourself get sidetracked by something so frivolous. Your education is far more important,", Perceptor tried to gently explain. It was not the first time the professor had heard a student say that they liked Jim, but it was the first time a student said it to his faceplate. "You don't understand, professor. I can't get you out of my processor. Kissing you is all I can think about,", Brainstorm emphasized, giving a pleading look to his professor.

The outcry made Perceptor hesitate. It was against the rules to enter a relative with his students, but it would be such a shame to rob the scientific community of a bright processor like Brainstorm's simply because the mech had a crush. Maybe…he tried to push the thought away, but in the end, he gave in. "Come here, Brainstorm. " His voice was calm, and he watched as Brainstorm carefully stepped into his space until there was almost no air between them. The students gaze curious, hopeful, and wary at the same time.

Quickly, before he could change his mind, Perceptor grabbed Brainstorm's helmvents and pulled the flier into a kiss. Derma on derma, it felt electric, and it was over in a klik. Perceptor pulled back to look up at his student. "Will you now be able to concentrate?" The question had just left him, that he was suddenly pressed into the chair, one of Brainstorm's servos intertwined with each of his own and pressed to the chair's armrest, but it wasn't what Perceptor focused on. No, the professor was focused on the way his usually quiet and shy student kissed him deeply and passionately, his derma parting in a gasp that Brainstorm quickly used to push his glossa inside to map out the quickly blushing professor's intake.

It didn't end there; each time Brainstorm pulled back, just so Perceptor tried to tell his student that they could not do this. Until suddenly Brainstorm pulled fully away, and Perceptor blushed deeper as a disappointed whine slipped past his derma. Now it was the professor who avoided his students' optics but quickly found digits on his chin, making him look at Brainstorm. "Professor Perceptor, if you really don't want this, I'll never touch you again, I promise.", The serious tone made it clear that his student was being truthful, and his optics showed that he was clearly begging him to say he wanted it too.

With a sigh, Perceptor gave up and quietly replied:"I do want, but that doesn't mea- *aah* N-not here, you can't-", the professor jumped as Brainstorm at his admission surged forward, fully trapping the professor in his chair, and then ground his panel into the professors, cutting his words off with his own. "I can; I have waited so long. No one's here to see you, except for me, professor. ", to emphasize his point, Brainstorm ground his panel against the professor's again and  again.It didn't take long for the microscopes panel to open, revealing an already half-pressurized spike and a surprisingly wet valve. 

Perceptor looked away in shame, and Brainstorm's optics widened in surprise before brightening with arousal. "To think you protested so much, professor, and then you pop your panel so easily to show me your pretty, wet valve. I think you wanted me just as much as I do you,", Brainstorm cooed at the professor, delighting in the blush on his faceplate, before opening his own panel and pressurizing his spike. "Don't worry, professor, I got just what you need.". Still pinning Perceptor to his chair, Brainstorm moved closer until he could easily push his spike into his conjunx's valve, moaning at the feeling.

Once fully seated, Brainstorm dropped the role of a shy student with a crush on his professor completely and simply shifted his attention to fragging his adorably blushing conjunx. The easy slide of his spike and the wet noise each thrust resulted in made it quite clear that Perceptor had enjoyed the scenario just as much as he had, a fact that pleased Brainstorm greatly. Leaning forward, he pressed Perceptor deeper into the seat, nearly folding him with the way he was lifting his lower body to better thrust. He lowered his faceplate next to Perceptor's audial and whispered quietly, "Isn't this nice? Having someone admire you so much that they're willing to break rules to be with you? Your valve is so wet for me; it's amazing. If I were actuall your student, you wouldn't be able to hold any lesson without having to worry that your panel might pop with how much you want me.". 

The idea was ludicrous; if Perceptor had been a professor, he would have never interfaced or otherwise intimately interacted with a student. Nonetheless, he overloaded with a loud moan around Brainstorm's spike, valve clenching down needily, and his conjunx followed not long after, watching with delight how Perceptor was venting heavily and his optics had rolled back, lubricant and transfluid running down his aft and into the seat cushion.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #day 2 #roleplay #transformers #transformers idw #brainstorm #perceptor #brainstorm x perceptor #simpatico #teacher x student #valveplug

[separatist-apologist]

The Enemy

I would make you the enemy if I could

Summary: In order to kill his most hated enemy, Azriel has to kidnap Graysen Nolan's fiance.

Should be easy, right?

Chapter 4/5: Love Made Me Crazy | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3

For @elainweekofficial- I am not following the prompts (as no prompts can contain me)

Elain didn’t know what to say once Azriel had her in the car. And for the long drive back to the cabin, the only sound that passed between them was their shared breathing. He’d put one warm, steady hand on her thigh—as if he suspected she was close to falling apart and needed something to ground her. 

She’d killed someone. A real person who’d been alive before he’d ever met her. Elain kept waiting for horror to replace the satisfaction she felt. She wasn’t happy she’d done it—but neither did she regret it. Maybe this was shock. Maybe horror would find her in a few hours.

But maybe it wouldn’t. And what did it say about her that it didn’t? 

Elain didn’t move when they reached the cabin, nor did she fight Azriel when he jogged to her door and all but lifted her out. He was afraid, and she couldn’t quite grasp why. He would have died, and that seemed so unthinkably foul to her that she wanted to shake him. She’d known, when she’d run out of that car, that she might hurt someone.

Known in theory, at any rate. It had been instinct that made her move from her hiding place, and fear that drove her to slam Azriel’s blade into Hyber’s neck. She wanted to tell him that, but Azriel’s hands were insistent as they tugged her up the drive, gripping her shoulders like he expected her to fall over at any moment. 

He didn’t take her to the couch like she expected, or even to bed. He brought her to the bathroom, reached through the glass door of the shower, and turned on the tap.

“Take it off,” he demanded. For one wild, almost silly moment, she thought he meant to—well, it didn’t matter. Because he took a step back when her fingers went to the hem of her shirt, and averted his gaze when the fabric plunked between them on the tile floor. Elain caught sight of herself in the mirror across the room.

Pale and wide-eyed—and splattered with blood. She looked awful, which she supposed explained his gruff, yet distant attempt at care. Was she supposed to laugh? To smile? He hadn’t spoken a word, and it occurred to her too late that perhaps he was horrified by her actions. 

She stood before him utterly naked, steam curling around her form. Azriel was staring at the wood wall just to the side, his chest rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon. 

“Wash yourself. I’ll—”

“Stay with me,” she demanded, grabbing his wrist. Azriel turned so, so slowly. She expected him to tell her no, which was foolish, in retrospect. He kept his eyes on her face even as he began stripping himself out that bloodied, armored suit. Elain could scarcely breathe as inch after glorious inch of his golden skin was revealed, nor when he was just as unclothed as she was. She took a step backward, reaching for his fingers to bring him with her. He stumbled forward, watching her with parted lips and the same streak of red smeared over his features.

“Why?” he demanded when the hot, unrelenting spray of water hit them both. “Why didn’t you run? Why aren’t you afraid?”

Elain reached for his jaw, brushing her fingers over the rough, dark stubble. “What is there to be afraid of?” she replied, her words half drowned. “You’ve never been cruel to me.”

Something she might have mistook for pain crossed his features. “I have. Unforgivably cruel.”

He was coming closer, crowding her between his body and the wall behind her. Elain pressed her palm to his bare stomach, hissing softly at the flexing muscle beneath. She didn’t dare look lower though she desperately wanted to. 

“Don’t I get to decide what you’ve done that I forgive?”

He brought his face closer, those bright eyes of his burning. More brown than green, and flecked with shimmering gold. “Is that what tonight was? Forgiveness?”

She sucked in a breath. “You know what that was.”

He groaned, snaking a strong arm around her slick body so there was no space between them. She could feel his cock then, thick and long and all but bruising when he wedged it against her hip bone. He gave her no opportunity to look, to admire him the way she wanted to because he’d kissed her.

It was, as far as first kisses went, absurd. Soaked and still bloodied, standing in a shower as captive and captor, Elain had to swallow a hysterical laugh. She doubted very much this was how he’d expected things to go when he’d snatched her from her room. Elain found she didn’t care. Not when her arms wound around his neck or his fingers came to her hair, angling her head so he could deepen the kiss between them. 

It was like magic. A man as brutal as Azriel should have kissed just the same. It should have felt like a claiming and yet it felt like a question. Soft, sweet—almost tentative at first. So at odds with how she was used to being kissed. He tasted warm and bright and Elain was drowning in it.

“You were supposed to leave,” he growled against her mouth, teeth nipping at her bottom lip. Lust bolted through her, filling Elain with heady excitement. 

“I know,” she agreed, dragging her nails down his back. Azriel kissed her again, his tongue meeting hers somewhere in between. They both moaned, pressing closer until his powerful thigh was between her legs. He had her pressed against the wall, one side of her body blasted with water, for all she noticed. All Elain could think of was his skin beneath his palms and his hands sliding up and down her slippery body.

“Tell me why you stayed.”

Elain moaned, arching her neck as he peppered kisses along her collarbone. Raking her fingers through dark hair, she replied, “You know why, Azriel.”

He groaned, sinking to his knees before her. Azriel’s large body took up most of the space in the shower, his scarred hands pushing apart her legs. She didn’t understand what he meant to do until he kissed just beneath her aching sex. Elain squirmed, unable to keep Graysen’s voice from her head—just for a moment. Eyes locked on Azriel’s, she could hear Graysen telling her how emasculating it was to get on his knees, how it made him flaccid and unaroused to put his mouth there. 

“What do you taste like, princess?” he whispered, his breath curling against her overheated skin. Elain raked her fingers through his thick hair, pushing Graysen out. She swallowed hard, drinking in the image of his broad shoulders covered in dark ink. She wanted to know what he tasted like too. What he sounded like when he came apart, how it felt to share a body with him. 

He didn’t wait for her response to take that first languid taste with the flat of his tongue. Azriel’s reverberating groan told Elain whatever he’d found between her legs, he liked. She did, too. His mouth was soft, teasing and Elain hadn’t realize how wound up she was until he’d begun to spread her apart. Azriel didn’t stop his slow exploration, acting as though he had all the time in the world. He reached for her ass, holding her up as he slung her other leg over his shoulder. She ought to have toppled to the ground. His strength kept her exactly where he wanted her, exactly as he wanted her. 

All but riding his face, if his excited mouth was anything to go by. Elain hadn’t meant to grind herself against him. Pleasure was making a mockery of her, turning her into a creature of need. He was moving so slowly, his tongue making slow circles over her clit. She needed more. More of him, more of this. Of them. Azriel might have had time, but Elain did not. If she didn’t have him now, she thought she might combust. 

After all, she’d had to watch the beating Hybern had given him. And she’d have been the one to watch him die in that filthy corner. They were alive and they were together. What had he said to her?

Let’s get you home. 

So she ground herself against him, gripping his hair so tight she thought it must hurt him. Azriel only groaned, tugging her closer to all but ride his face. “That’s it, princess,” he said, his voice ragged with unspent need. “Take what you want.”

“I want you,” she replied, her back arching off the wet tile behind her. “Az, I want—”

His tongue slid into her body, pulling a soft shriek from her lips. It was a mimicry of the fucking she’d beg him for later—assuming she had to beg at all. “Can’t think when you say my name like that,” he managed, his own hips thrusting forward. She could just see the tip of him jutting from between his legs, hidden from view by virtue of how they were positioned. Elain wished they were anywhere else, somewhere she could touch him fully, where she could sink to her knees and—

“Say it again.

“Az,” she breathed, turning another thrust of his tongue and a moan from his lips. He licked faster, his tongue sliding the length of her over and over until Elain was being driven mad, until she was drunk with pleasure, all but burning with it. Elain couldn’t remember the last time she’d come from something other than her own hands or a battery operated toy. But right then, her skin scalding beneath the spraying shower, Elain broke apart around his face, gripping his hair to keep him moving, to ride her through the bright spark of pleasure burning a wildfire through her. 

He probably would have kept going had she not tugged him off her. Had she not, with nails digging sharply against his shoulder, pulled him upward. Azriel hauled her upward, letting her wrap her legs around his waist as he held her with ease. 

And when he kissed her, Elain tasted herself on his tongue, the sweet, muskiness of it only adding to the arousal she still felt. 

“Az,” she breathed against his mouth.

“Yes?” he responded, one wet hand sliding up her spine.

“I want more.”

Their eyes met, and powerful, terrifying, violent Azriel shuddered.

“You can have whatever you want.”

AZRIEL: 

The walk to the bed was agony. Elain was in his arms, kissing the side of his neck as she rubbed her slick body against him and all Azriel wanted to do was throw her against the edge of the sink and fuck her sensless. Fuck her until she’d forgotten who he was and who she was. Until she wasn’t the princess and he wasn’t the monster—until she was his and only his. 

But she was a princess, and to that end, he wanted to have her in a bed the first time. He’d have her everywhere else for the duration of her captivity and then…and then he didn’t know. He’d have to let her go and Elain might very well leave him.

Maybe she’d stay.

Her words were still ringing in his ears, loud enough she could have been shouting them. 

Don’t you dare touch him.

And in his entire, brutal life, Azriel could scarcely think of a time someone had come to his defense like that. His brothers, perhaps, but they were always armed, always certain of their own strength, their own success. Elain was untrained, untested. And still she’d run into gunfire, into danger.

For him.

It was that thought that bolstered him, that offered him just enough hope. He laid her out against the ugly blue and black plaid bedspread, bought cheaply years ago so there’d be something useful to sleep beneath without anyone caring if it was ruined. It seemed sacrilegious to put her on it. The only other option was the couch and while he desperately wanted to fuck her there, it had to be the bed the first time.

He had to prove he could be gentle—that he could be kind. 

“Elain,” he breathed, joining her on the soft mattress. She looked at him with wide, lust fogged eyes as she reached for him. He settled between her parted legs, committing her naked body to memory. Azriel had been with his fair share of women. None of it had ever come close to how he felt now. Coming out of his skin, nearly bursting with flame. 

The taste of her pussy was still in his mouth, drowning out his ability to be rational. He scooted forward, taking his cock in his hand while Elain leaned up on her elbows to look. Azriel crept forward until he could rub his aching skin against her own, moaning softly at how wet and warm she was.

The long, thick length of him jutted past her hips, resting between her legs when he stilled his movements so could really look at him. He knew he must be nothing like the men she was used to. Not clean cut, not sweet, not soft. Azriel heard her swallow before reaching for him, curling one of her small hands around his shaft tight enough to rob him of his reason. Her fingers just barely met, the sight of which filled him with something primal.

Something instinctual. 

She stroked him, looking from his cock to his face. 

“Can you take it?” he asked her, adjusting his plans for the possibility she might tell him no.

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” Elain replied, unaware of how her words all but shattered him. 

“I’m not a nice man,” he warned her, pulling himself from her grip. 

“I never thought you were,” she replied, smart mouthed as ever. Maybe she wasn’t nice, either. Maybe that sweetness, those doe-eyes, were just a mask like the one he so often wore. And maybe, he thought as he lined himself up with her own body, Elain was no different than he was. Azriel punctuated his point by thrusting himself into her in one fluid, near brutal motion. Elain gasped, her back arching off the bed involuntarily.

He could have come from the sight of her alone. The feel of her body, though. Azriel was wrecked. She was wrapped around him like a silken fist, tight and warm. A second skin rubbing against his own, reminding him he ought to have taken more care.

He dragged himself out to the tip, groaning as he went. 

He wasn’t giving her back. Fuck Rhys, and fuck Graysen, too. Elain was his, and when her father paid the fucking ransom, Azriel was going to keep her anyway. 

He thrust back in. Elain screamed softly—not from pain, but the same drowning pleasure he felt, too. Clenched around him, Azriel knew there was no atrocity he wouldn’t have committed to keep her. This was madness, it was insanity.

"Look at how well you take my cock," he whispered, losing himself when she scratched sharply down his back. 

Heaven and hell all at once. She was a goddess, an ethereal creature come to torture him and he was her worshipful acolyte, her willing slave. Again and again, Azriel thrust himself brutally into her body and again and again Elain rose to meet him. Collapsing against her, Azriel reached for her, kissing her if only to have a little taste of the woman who was so thoroughly unmaking him. He couldn’t tell her the truth of things, the words too much for him. Words he’d never said to another person, words until that night he didn’t think he was capable of feeling at all.

He reached between them, rubbing at her clit so he could feel her break apart around him. He needed to feel her come. 

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his other hand curling around her neck. Elain gripped his wrist, fingers spread around his scars. She wasn’t afraid and she wasn’t repulsed. Her lips found his, kissing frantically until there was nothing but their panting breaths and the slap of flesh meeting flesh. 

Azriel squeezed her throat until Elain gasped, her eyes flying open to look at him. He merely held her gaze, thrusting viciously in her body until Elain’s back arched and she screamed, a rasping sound given the pressure he was putting on her neck. He could feel the rippling orgasm around his own cock, the force with which she’d come apart, squeezing around him like a vice so tight his hips jerked out of rhythm and he was all but rutting into her. 

He’d meant to fuck her into oblivion a second time before he ever came the first, but her pussy was gushingly wet and Azriel had lost all pretense of control. He came with a near whimpering cry, spilling into her with reckless, careless abandon. It didn’t matter, he thought wildly. She belonged to him and he belonged to her. There ought to be nothing between them. 

His heart pounded wildly as Azriel tried—and failed—to come to his senses. He kept stroking long after he’d come, sliding against her arousal and his come without a care. She was still kissing him, slow and long and deep, her arms tangled around his neck. 

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered, marveling at the spike of arousal pulsating through him. It was usually right here that all Azriel’s regrets and good sense came crashing through. Just after finishing that found him wondering why he’d pinned that woman to the bed, why he’d fucked her at all.

But with Elain—fuck with Elain—he found himself asking why he’d stopped. Why he wasn’t still wringing pleasure from her? He wanted her satiated and exhausted, too tired to consider what they’d just done—and perhaps, her own regrets. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked him through bright, swollen lips. Azriel brushed little tendrils of damp hair from her face. He could still see the blood streaked over her skin, though the shower had washed it away. Could still see his knife clutched in her hands, could hear her voice whispered in the violent, inky dark.

Don’t you dare touch him. 

“Yes,” he rasped. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Though, he wasn’t staying in this ugly bed, either. Pulling himself out of her was hell made slightly better when he got to watch his own come slide out of her. He couldn’t help himself when he slid his thumb over the lips of her pussy, pushing the fluid back into her body.

Nor could he stop himself when he leaned back over her and smeared both their arousal against her swollen lips.

Elain huffed out a breath even as her tongue darted between her teeth to taste them both. “You’re disgusting.” “You have no idea how disgusting I am,” he replied, raking his eyes down her perfect body. 

Challenge streaked through those brown eyes. “Oh yeah? Show me.”

He couldn’t help himself or the laugh that ripped out of him. “I’m starting to think you’re not a princess at all.”

“I tried to tell you,” she replied, smiling right back. Azriel licked his lips before hoisting her up, surprised by how shaky his legs were as he brought them both off that ugly fucking bed. “Are you going to chain me to the radiator now?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, walking her out to the living room. “I think I’d like you on your knees, hands tied behind your back.”

“And what would I be doing?” she asked breathlessly, licking the column of his throat. Goosebumps erupted over Azriels skin. “Choking on my cock, sweetheart.”

Elain’s teeth sank against his shoulder roughly, biting him hard enough to bruise. Azriel’s cock bobbed viciously between his legs, eddying all other thoughts from his mind. Had he ever been so turned on in his life? 

There was a pause of silence as Azriel set her on the back of the couch. One where she studied his face curiously before accusing, “You liked that.”

Azriel made a show of cocking his head, of sweeping his eyes down her body before coming back to her face. “And?”

“Maybe I should bite you harder,” she replied breathlessly, sliding to her feet. He crowded her space again if only to feel her breasts rub against his chest. Sinking to her knees with an elegant sort of grace, she continued, “Maybe I should tie you to the radiator.”

Azriel’s response choked into a desperate moan when she gripped him and licked the long length of him. 

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he told her, hardly sounding confident. He sounded like a breathless mess. Elain looked up through those dark lashes and he wondered if he wasn’t making a mistake, letting her have him like this. If he shouldn’t wrap her up in a blanket and let her cry.

Elain sucked him into her throat before he could even try, and—well, Azriel was still a man, after all. And Elain had killed his most hated enemy for him. To save his life. If this was what she wanted in the aftermath, who was he to stop her? 

To tell her no?

Even if he’d wanted to—and he didn’t—Azriel had already plunged his fingers in her hair and was panting yes, and fuck me don’t stop like some kind of wild animal. There were noises escaping his throat he’d never heard himself make before, that sounded distinctly like whimpering pleas. 

He’d once prided himself on his control. He could go forever, could hold back his need to come until he was ready. Not anymore. Not when her mouth was the softest thing he’d ever felt in his life, moving in time with her pretty hand as she hummed and gagged her own pleasure. He felt brand new, like he’d never once had sex before.

Maybe he hadn’t. Not like this. 

Hands knotted in those buttery brown curls, Azriel came so hard his vision went spotty and his legs shook violently. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from her or the mix of saliva and come dripping down her chin and onto her perky, perfect breasts. 

She pulled back with a shit eating grin. “That was quick- Az put me down!” she squealed, legs flying when he pulled her up and tossed her to the couch.

“Not a fucking chance, princess.”

ELAIN:

She’d never slept so good in her life. Elain woke up close to ten thirty plastered to Azriel’s naked chest. He held her tight, his breathing even. She didn’t think she’d seen him ever sleep so deep, and certainly not as long. Elain was careful to untangle herself from him so he could continue to rest while she showered quickly. 

An actual shower, and not the half assed rinse they’d done before he gotten on his knees and gone down on her. She couldn’t think about that—or the other times he’d done it, either—or she’d go wake him up and beg him to lick her again.

And again.

Instead, Elain thought of Hybern and the knife she’d plunged in his neck. Azriel had killed him, though she had no illusions Hybern would have died eventually from the wound she’d given him. Azriel had done such a good job distracting her last night that there was no need to think about what she’d done.

Pulling on one of his shirts so she could wear it like a dress, Elain did think about it. Replaying the moment she’d stabbed him in her head like a movie, without rearranging things to make her seem better. 

Because the truth was, Elain could have stayed where she was and Hybern would never have known. He’d have killed Azriel and left her there, unaware of her presence. More damning still, was the reminder she could have stolen his car and gone home. Elain had gone looking for him, knife in hand, and when she’d killed Hybern, it had been because she wanted to kill him. 

And if Elain was even more honest, she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it.

She’d do it again, if she had to make the same choice.

It was strange how that thought gave Elain peace. She padded back to the living room where Azriel was still asleep, one heavy leg hanging off the couch. He was half covered by a blanket and so very beautiful in the warm morning light. Elain shook off the surge of affection she felt, or the hammering emotions vying for dominance in her chest. She needed to officially end things with Graysen before she dumped all that in Azriel’s lap.

It lingered, though. Killing Hybern was fine, apparently, but her unfinished business with Graysen was intolerable. Elain focused herself on cooking breakfast, and when he crept up on her, wrapping strong arms around her middle while burying his face in the crook of her neck, she nearly doused them both in bacon grease. 

“Where did you go?” he murmured, kissing just beneath her jaw.

“I was hungry,” she told him, leaning against the solid, steady warmth of his body. “I figured you must be, too.”

“Hungry for—”

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, twisting in his grip. Azriel took that opportunity to steal a kiss, holding her cheek in one of his scarred hands. 

“I was thinking we could do something today,” he began once Elain pulled back, carefully scooping her bacon onto a folded paper towel.

“Like what?” 

Elain expected him to ask to play more games or, perhaps, to climb back in his lap. He’d thrown on a pair of athletic shorts, slung just low enough over his muscular hips that she could see the carved vee pointing straight at his cock.

“Like my place in the city,” he said casually, walking around the kitchen island. Elain was so busy watching the muscles of his back bunch and shift that she only barely heard him.

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

Azriel leveled a dark stare. “Where do you plan to live when this is all over?”

“I…”

His expression was so guarded, fingers drumming against the faux marble countertop. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she finally admitted. “Did my father pay the ransom?”

“No,” Azriel replied. “But he will. Unless…”

Elain held her breath while Azriel seemed to force himself to continue. “Unless you’re going back to Graysen?”

She burst out laughing, “No. Of course not,” she added, crossing her arms over her chest. “Surely you have to know that I…” that I think I might love you, insane as it sounds. Elain cleared her throat. “I would haven’t done what we did last night if I planned to go back. Before you so rudely kidnapped me—”

“I think you mean romantically kidnapped you,” Azriel deadpanned. Elain smothered a smile.

“I was going to end things with him anyway. You’ve merely dragged this out an extra two weeks.”

He didn’t react. “Oh.”

“But I have my own place in the city, as you so well know,” Elain said, narrowing her eyes. “And I would much prefer, if you’ve decided we’re going to live together, that you moved in with me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “My apartment is better guarded.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, turning for plates. “And tell me about the color scheme, Az. All black? Minimalism?”

There was a long stretch of silence.

“You could repaint—”

“Or you could box up your six pairs of t-shirts and come live with me,” she returned blithely, scooping eggs on a plate. Azriel scowled.

“That isn’t my sort of place.”

“Then maybe I’m not your sort of girl.”

His mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“I think you owe me,” she said, holding his stare. “And that neighborhood is my sort of place.” Elain hated how her bottom lip trembled, how she was already so close to losing him before she’d ever really had him. All Graysen had ever done was make demands while she made concessions. Elain compromised and men got everything they wanted.

Azriel cocked his head. 

“Your neighbors won’t like having me next door,” he said, watching her with that predators stare.

“Well, I was planning on introducing you as Azriel the mobster, but I suppose I could just say nothing and they’d have to mind their own business.”

He looked down at his fingers, blinking once, and then again. “I ah…I suppose if that’s what you want—”

“It is,” she said, carefully to keep her voice soft. His eyes raised to her face. 

“And you want me?” he clarified. 

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Will you compromise with me? My place, just until the break up is settled—and I know he isn’t going to try and drag you back. I swear,” he added, as if he could hear the brewing argument. “You can help me pack. I’m not in love with that place.”

His words hung in the air, though Elain didn’t dare press. 

It was smart, in truth. Graysen was likely to try and track her down, and the last thing she needed was a violent altercation on her front steps, especially when Azriel was volatile and unconcerned about getting his knuckles bloody. 

“The minute he takes the hint, you’re in my bed.” Azriel placed his hand over his heart. “Pink sheets and all.”

She slid a plate toward him. “Eat, then. I want to see the squalor you live in.”

A smile slid over his face. “I think you want an excuse to fuck me in my own bed.”

“I don’t think I need an excuse,” she replied, forking fluffy eggs into her mouth. “In fact, I think I could have you simply by snapping my fingers.”

His fork clattered to the plate. “Want to test that theory, princess?”

Elain took another bite, holding that lethal stare. She raised her hand so, so slowly, well aware he was watching her every move. 

Elain snapped and Azriel lunged with a growl. She didn’t make it far, rounding the corner when Azriel feinted, only to twist and catch her around the middle. 

“One of these days, when it’s warm,” he breathed against her neck, dragging her back to the couch, “I’m going to unleash you in the woods and fuck you in the dirt.”

“You're depraved,” she breathed when he pulled them to the cushions.

“You like it,” was his eloquent reply, adding, “Now baby. Please. Ride my face.”

And who was she to tell him no? 

It took them three hours to convince the other to get dressed and in the car—not counting how Azriel had immediately flung his seat back and pulled her into her lap as he declared he needed to fuck her everywhere. Their situation felt tenuous, as if one wrong movement would see him pulling over to fuck her again.

She was sore, could still feel him buried inside her even though she was separated from him by clothes and the center dash. Though, he had placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing every so often as though to assure himself she was still there.

Elain ran her fingers over his knuckles. “What happened?” she asked, turning the music down.

He glanced over, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “My father wanted to teach me a lesson.”

Elain blinked. “Your—what?”

“I was always reaching for my mother and he wanted me to be a man,” Azriel told her roughly, his eyes glazing over. “So he dipped my hands in oil and—”

“Stop it,” she whispered, squeezing tightly. “Don’t—I—” she blinked away angry tears. “Is he still alive?”

A haunted smile told her no, even as he asked, “Why? Do you plan to defend my honor again?”

“Yes.” She was surprised by the vehemence in her voice. “I would.”

“You’re so blood thirsty, princess.”

Sweeping her thumb over his scarred hand, Elain murmured, “I’m sorry someone did that to you.”

He took a deep breath. “I believe you are.”

The urge to tell him how she felt about him rose into her throat again, swallowed quickly when he pulled into a parking garage. 

Not yet, something soft whispered. She didn’t want the memory of those words tainted by the threat of Graysen and intended to ask Azriel if he’d let her call him once they got back home. Surely there was no more pretense he was actually holding her hostage. Not when she was perfectly content to be there with him, and would have spent another two weeks holed up playing video games and cooking and watching Spanish soap operas. 

No one stopped them when they reached the lobby, though a doorman did greet him as Mr. Moreno, which sent Elain spiraling into giggles. Azriel scowled, fingertips pressed against the small of her back while herding her into an elevator. 

There was another round of giggling when he led her inside, revealing a spartanly decorated space in clean lines of black and silver. Azriel stalked in, ignoring her breathless laughter though the twitching corners of her lips told her he wasn’t that annoyed. Merely amused by her reaction and, perhaps, secretly pleased to be the subject of her joy.

Maybe she was projecting that hope, though. 

He reached for her, fingers gliding over the floral fabric of her blue and yellow patterned sundress, while his other hand tucked a curl behind her ear. “How’s this for a couple weeks?” Elain looked over his broad shoulder, rising up on her tiptoes to survey the spacious living room. 

“Another couch, I see,” she teased, thinking the nice leather didn’t seem like the sort of place she ought to put her bare ass.

“My bed is much nicer,” he told her, pulling her with him through a half open door. “And has the better television.”

He wasn’t lying about that. Azriel’s bed looked big enough for four men his size, framed by a wall of glass windows overlooking the city. Across was a massive television framed in more silver.

A shelf just beneath held sleek gaming systems, she assumed to play more than racing games. 

“Want to see the closet?” he asked, pulling her further across the room, where she found a darkened bathroom and, just across, a walk in closet he was not making good use of. “For all your shoes.”

She pulled from his grasp. “What do you know about my shoes?”

His smile was lascivious. “Almost as much as I know about your underwear.”

She swatted at his stomach. “Snoop.”

“Do you like it, though?”

“Temporarily,” she agreed. That seemed to satisfy him, though. Enough for him to pull her back against him for a slow, deep kiss. It seemed like a dream—that this was happening, that she could have him, could stay in her home. 

“I’ll take whatever you’re offering,” Azriel told her. She believed it, though she needed to hear him say more.

“And if I wanted to leave you?” she breathed, lips ghosting over his own.

“I hope you kill me before you go,” he replied, threading his fingers through her hair to pull her back for a bruising kiss. “I don’t think I could stand living like I was before.”

With his tongue in her mouth, there was no way for her to respond to that. Maybe that was for the best, because Elain might have told him everything. She might have confided how miserable she was leading up to the days before he’d shown up, how she’d gone home that day expecting to find nothing but misery.

How in his own weird, roundabout way, he’d saved her. And even though she knew he thought of himself as a monster, Elain didn’t think that was true. Not to her, anyway. No, to Elain, Azriel had rescued her. He had saved her. 

They spent the night there, doing nothing but touching—so much endless, desperate touching. And when the first light of dawn poked through the glass, settling like golden shadow against his face, Elain forced herself to say the things she didn’t want to.

Rolled on her bare stomach, still dripping from the mess he’d made between her thighs, Elain brushed thick locks of his dark hair off his face. 

“I want to call Graysen today.”

Azriel stiffened. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I want to end things—”

“Your father hasn’t paid the ransom,” he reminded her, as if Elain cared.

“I’ll pay it,” she said. Azriel narrowed his eyes.

“Then what lesson does your father learn?”

She blinked. “Who cares?”

He raised himself up on his elbows. “This is about more than just me and you.”

Cold disappointment tingled down her spine, causing her heart to race. “So what is it, then? I continue to date him until when, exactly? It no longer benefits you?”

Azriel winced. “Of course not.”

“What happens when he never pays, Az? Am I to be your captor forever? Or what—your boss says you better kill me—”

“Stop it,” he whispered, his voice vicious. Elain scrambled back, nearly falling off the bed when he lunged. It did her no good given how much faster Azriel was, how much stronger. He yanked her beneath him and when Elain slapped at his chest, he responded by kissing her roughly. Elain went to hit him across the face but Azriel was always one step ahead of her. He pinned her wrists over her head while leveraging his much larger body to keep her pinned to the bed.

“Let me go,” she whispered, hating the way tears burned in her throat. 

“No,” he replied, cocking his head. Guessing correctly that the last thing she wanted was for him to take his hands off her. “Not now, not ever.”

“I hate him,” she whispered, turning her face so Azriel wouldn’t see her cry. “I hate him so much.”

“I know you do,” he replied with a sigh. “Trust me, Elain. Trust me.”

Elain drew breath. “This is going to end in heartache, Az.”

“It won’t,” he disagreed, using his free hand to tilt her chin so she had to look back at him. “Trust me, princess.”

Elain closed her eyes, willing herself not to admit that she did. He knew it, though. He knew when he kissed her and certainly when he released his hold on her wrists. If he hadn’t, though, he would have when she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he told her, fingers stroking her cheek. “No one is going to hurt you. Never again, Elain.”

She could have drowned in that dark, hazel stare. 

“I want to be free of him.”

“You already are,” Azriel insisted, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “I swear it.”

Elain breathed in the heady, masculine scent of his skin as she forced herself to calm down. Azriel held her, face buried in her hair as he whispered, “It was over before I met you. You owe him nothing.”

“What if it had been you?” she asked him, letting him raise himself up on his elbows. “If I had been taken from you?”

Anger flashed hotly over his features. “If he tried to take you from me?” Azriel asked her, those eyes darker than she’d ever seen them.

“Yes. You…you wouldn’t give him money—”

“I would,” he interrupted, his voice icy. “I would have paid him for you, and then I would have killed him for daring to touch you as soon as I had you back. Don’t doubt for a second the depths I’d go to keep you. There is no low I wouldn’t stoop, Elain.”

She shivered, despite the warmth radiating from him. 

“You’re mine,” he said, mouth against her neck. “You must know it, now.”

She was his the moment she’d plunged that knife in Hyberns neck. She started to just tell him, but the shrill ring of his phone took him away. Scowling and swearing under his breath, but away all the same.

Elain quietly dressed as Azriel barked one word responses into the phone. By the time he turned, she knew exactly what he was going to say. His eyes raked over the dress, lips forming the most pathetic frown.

“Come on,” he said, sighing heavily. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Back to the cabin?” she guessed. Azriel nodded. 

“Just a few more days. A week, max. Princess, come on. Don’t look at me with those eyes. I can’t stand it.”

He was quick to throw something on before coming back to her, too clothed for her liking. Elain skittered back, determined to still be upset with him. Azriel wasn’t having it.

 “Tell me what you’ll do when we’re free of this,” he demanded, hoisting her up in his arms with ease. “Besides me. The very first thing—besides swallow my cock—did you just bite me?”

He didn’t release her, and how he managed to get them out the door was a mystery. “You’re very biteable.”

“You’re a brat,” he replied, affection lacing the words. “Tell me what you want to do first?”

Elain pressed her cheek against his chest. “Anything I want?”

“I already said you can’t ask for my cock—don’t you dare bite me again.”

She was laughing, their earlier argument forgotten as he brought her into the deserted elevator. “I want my own bakery.”

“Like…to own a bakery?”

“Yes,” she replied, looking up at him. There was an almost dreamy quality to his expression, softening the sharpness of his beautiful face. 

“I know just the place,” he said. Elain’s stomach flipped in her stomach. One day she swore she’d tell him everything. How these small, inconsequential moments meant everything to her—how his hopes about her future, one that he wanted to share with her, had convinced her she loved him. 

Instead, Elain slid happily back into the car and convinced him with relative ease to let her pick the music. And though he complained, he didn’t stop her from turning it up loud or singing along, nor did he take his hand off her knee. In fact, she’d never seen him so relaxed when they reached the snowy drive of the cabin. He was grinning when he jogged over to her door, offering her a broad hand so she didn’t slip on ice. 

“I was thinking,” he began, one arm slung over her shoulder. “That tonight we could cook dinner again—”

Elain didn’t register what happened with any immediacy. He’d been smiling when he pulled open the front door, and then he wasn’t. His body was over hers—and she was on the ground. Ears ringing in her skull while something wet dripped over her chest.

Azriel’s voice came back to her first. “Get up—baby get up—”

She couldn’t move. Elain blinked, reaching for him. There was blood on his shirt. Azriel twisted, looking at something in the hall she couldn’t see.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, willing herself to stand up. Azriel was positioned defensively, eyes darting between her and the couch she could just barely see. “Az—”

“Baby,” he interrupted with those frantic eyes. “Princess. You’re okay. Just—just take a breath.”

“You’re hurt,” she repeated, the words metallic on her tongue. She could taste blood in her mouth. 

Azriel winced, his hand pressed against his side. “There’s a gun,” he told her, nodding toward the couch. “Go—”

Elain did move then, leaving him in front of the open door to rip the cushions off the couch. She found the gun he’d once told her was unloaded—the liar—and made her way back to him mere moments before Graysen stepped around the corner. He was flanked by two burly looking men she’d never seen, both with guns trained on Azriel.

She was going to be sick. “Gray,” she said, one hand thrown over Azriel’s form. “What have you done?”

“I’ve rescued you,” he said coldly. “Where is your gratitude, Elain?”

A nightmare was unfurling before her eyes. Elain could see how this would play out and wondered if there was a way it could end without Azriel’s death. 

“You’ve shot a man,” she said, tugging Azriel’s bicep. They hadn’t seemed to realize she’d tucked a gun under Azriel’s body, perhaps assuming she wouldn’t dare try and help him. “I’m not hurt. See?”

Graysen’s eyes raked over her darkly. She could read every terrible thought on his face.

“I suppose he didn’t have the time, given he was fucking you like an animal.”

“Gray—”

“Get up,” he ordered. “Get the fuck up right now.”

Elain stood slowly. “Swear you won’t hurt him.”

Two guns shifted, pointed directly at her. “I’ll kill you!” Azriel swore from the ground, for all the good it did. Elain swallowed her fear, heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“Gray,” she whispered. “It’s over. I’m not hurt–you’re not like him. You’re not…you’re not a killer. Please,” she added, praying he thought her tears were for him and not the bleeding man at her feet. “Please just—let's just go home. Please?”

Graysen looked at Azriel, his hatred plain. “If I leave him unharmed, you’ll come home with me?”

“Yes,” she agreed, not daring to look at Azriel. Would he understand this bargain was for his life? That Elain would have done anything to keep him from dying in front of her. 

Graysen nodded at the men beside him, who dropped their guns. Elain exhaled before forcing a smile on her face. “You found me.”

Graysen stepped over Azriel’s body like it was worth nothing and Elain didn’t dare look down. “Of course I found you,” he said, pressing the worst kiss she’d ever tasted to her salt soaked mouth. “Did you doubt I would?”

“No,” she lied, watching the men with guns follow just behind. Elain stepped into the cold, not daring to look back at Azriel.

A hand curled around her arm, pulling her toward a car she hadn’t seen when she’d pulled up. Someone was driving—had they been followed? Graysen wasn’t touching her as he strode toward the passenger door. It was one of the men with guns dragging her now.

The other was still standing by the cabin. She couldn't see Azriel any more.

“Get in, Elain,” Graysen said. 

“Gray,” Elain tried, her desperation betraying her. Had she truly believed just this once Graysen would be honorable? That just this once he wasn’t a liar? 

“Kill him.”

Elain screamed, twisting against the bruising grip on her arm. She was shoved viciously into the same car Graysen was in, the door slammed in her face before she could catch her breath. The second man began prowling forward while Elain ripped at the door handle, but it was no use. 

“Look what you made me do, Elain,” Graysen said as the car backed out of the drive. “Did you have fun fucking the monster?”

The sound of gunfire punctuated the question. Graysen, of course, didn’t really want an answer, nor did he expect one. 

Elain swallowed the urge to cry. She hadn’t gotten to tell Azriel she loved him, and he’d died not knowing. It was all she could think about. He hadn’t known. He’d died planning to help her open a bakery—had died planning dinner. 

She hadn’t told him she loved him.

Graysen had no idea what a monster was.

Elain was going to show him.

#elriel #elain x azriel #dont look at me like that #im not azriel im not moved by your eyes #you should know if you see a separatist apologist mafia fic that this is the direction we're going #and if youre new here welcome to hell

[jadelotusflower]

Rewatch: Stargate (1994, dir. Roland Emmerich)

What to do when there's so many shows and movies on the to watch list? Revisit shows and movies I've seen many times before of course! Maybe I'm just in need of some comfort viewing right now.

I can't remember when I first saw Stargate. It certainly wasn't at the cinema, but probably rented from the video store (yes, I am an Old) and was certainly keyed to my preteen interests: mythology and Soft(TM) male protagonists.

Over the years and though several rewatches, online fandom, and my love of behind the scenes featurettes, director's commentaries, and retrospectives, I've also gleaned quite a bit of background tidbits and trivia, and I have many thoughts! Most of them through the lens of nostalgia, but that can't be helped.

Are you ready to go back to Titanic Stargate?

The much maligned Pharaoh's head, but it makes for a symbolic opening, trying to find the meaning to the different patterns before the whole picture becomes clear.

David Arnold's theme remains a banger. One of the GOATs.

I'm watching the Extended Edition/Director's Cut, which opens in the North African Desert 8000 BCE to depict Jaye Davidson being abducted, which is only seen in flashback in the theatrical cut. It's atmospheric, but it does tip the hand of the narrative a bit. The stronger opening is probably:

Giza, 1928, where the Stargate is unburied. Even this scene is extended, where the fossilized head of an Anubis is also found. It reveals the sinister undertone far too soon, imo, and it was the right choice to cut it.

Present Day! Love of my life Daniel Jackson ruins his career by arguing that the Egyptian pharaohs of the IVth Dynasty did not build the great pyramids. He does not claim (as the show later does) that aliens built the pyramids. Important distinction!

"Is there a lunch or something, that everybody...?" lol, James Spader is great. This was the first role I ever saw him in, and didn't realise this was actually playing against type a bit, but I have been a fan of his ever since.

Shoutout to Viceca Lindfors, who plays Catherine with steely grace.

Jack O'Neil (one L) aka Kurt Russell (two L's), in a great character introduction that is ruined by some voiceover exposition. We get everything we need to know from his scene without it, except that Tyler shot himself with Jack's gun, but honestly it would have been more impactful if that detail was held back from the audience and revealed in the later scene with Daniel.

The great Richard Kind everybody! He will later appear in an extremely tone deaf episode of Stargate: Atlantis, but here he's Dr Gary Michaels, aka the guy Daniel gets to show up by swanning in and correcting his translation.

Daniel: That's a curious word to use, isn't it? Michaels: ...Yeah

Rae Allen plays Barbara Shore - you may remember her as reporter Gloria Thorpe in Damn Yankees. It's a shame neither of these characters ever turned up in the show, I like them both.

"You must have used Budge, I don't know why they keep reprinting his books." LOL, Daniel with his petty academic grudges. Although as I understand this is a valid criticism, as Budge's translation methods were very much outdated by the 90's. But Budge conceivably could have been a contemporary of Catherine's father, which is interesting to think about.

Jack arrives with his haircut to correct Daniel's assumption that the hieroglyphs are 5000 years old - they're actually 10,000 years old, which Daniel ironically finds ludicrous. To pick some nits, according to the opening Ra arrived on Earth in 8000 BCE which is presumably where the 10,000 number came from, but doesn't take into account Ra establishing a culture and ruling on Earth for however long before the rebellion, which is when the coverstones would have been carved.

Leon Rippy plays the General West and his utter disdain for Daniel despite him solving "in fourteen days what they couldn't solve in two years" kind of gives me life. His surly "any time" and passing over the reference materials without looking at them is so great. Fantastic performance in a tiny role.

Several people are smoking in this scene, including Jack and Barbara. It's easily forgotten just how common casual smoking was back in the day - 1994 seems a little late for it to be so prevalent, but it gives the room that atmospheric haze.

Emmerich was also a big smoker, so ...

Unrealistic that Daniel would be presenting his theory without running it past Catherine and the team first, but hey it's a movie, dramatic effect and all that.

Important to note that Daniel's contribution isn't only realising that the symbols were star constellations, but the purpose of the symbols, being a map to determine a course. He also deduced that seven symbols were needed, realised that the seventh symbol below the cartouche not inside it, and then identified the seventh symbol on the gate itself.

This is a really nice illustration to Daniel's core strength - he's not just a repository of knowledge, he's a puzzle solver.

Some small character beats - Michaels questions Daniel twice, while Shore reaches out to pat Katherine's hand in victory when West orders Daniel be shown the Stargate. Again, they should have been brought back for the show!

There's a star map in the control room, implying that they had at least an idea that the Stargate was a transportation device, making the team look even more foolish for not figuring out (in two years!) that a) the symbols were star constellations, and b) that seven symbols (address + point of origin) were needed.

Daniel assures West that he can decipher the gate on the other side in a stunning display of hubris - a character flaw that will stay with him in some form through all ten seasons of the show.

Although West doesn't actually ask Daniel how he will make the Stargate work for the return trip, so that's kind of on him.

Jack correctly deduces that Daniel's full of shit, then goes to look at the Anubis head found in the Giza sequence. Again unnecessary inclusion imo, Jack's motivation works better as ambiguous at this point.

Everyone has their own little character moment before going through the gate - Jack grits his teeth and raises his gun, Brown looks back to the others, Porro kisses a St Christopher medallion.

Daniel toying with the event horizon was a Spader addition (much to the chagrin of the VFX supervisor!)

Foreshadowing for the Abydos point of origin symbol.

"That's a nice tent! Oh, we each get a tent, that's nice."

A snarky Ferretti (the great French Stewart) throws Daniel's suitcase at him, scattering his books on the sand. Daniel is completely nonplussed, starts to gather them up and then sits down to munch on a 5th Avenue bar. I love original recipe Daniel. Don't get me wrong, I love show Daniel too, but the OG, man, just 100% unbothered when antagonised.

Although to be fair, Ferretti's frustration is justified (if not his reaction) so that probably is a factor in Daniel's (lack of) response.

Daniel feeds a mastadge chocolate and gets dragged across the dunes and slobbered on for his trouble. But he doesn't hold a grudge, because he goes from "get away from me" to patting the creature on the snout in about three seconds.

Sha'uri, my beloved!

Important to note that while the other water-bearers keep their eyes downcast, Sha'uri is the only one bold enough to look up and make eye contact with Daniel, who smiles at her.

Daniel, in return, is the only one to say thank you.

She's also very wary of Daniel at this stage, here and on the walk back to Nagada - she laughs at Skaara and Nabeh taking his handkerchief, but tenses up when he looks her way. Does she know at this stage that he has been earmarked as her husband?

It makes me curious, because I don't think that it's ever explicit in the film that Sha'uri is Kasuf's daughter and Skaara's sister (although it's implied), but it makes sense that she is the daughter of the chief and would therefore make a high status offering (ugh I feel gross typing that) for an emissary of Ra.

We know that Ra surrounds himself with child slaves (the creepy implications of which I don't want to think about), and it's unclear how old Sha'uri is meant to be (Mili Avital was 22), but I wonder if the reason why she was not married already is that this was always the role intended for her - to serve Ra in some capacity, perhaps (in tv show timeline) as a host for one of his underlings.

If so, it makes her fate in the show even more tragic.

Brown takes a picture on their approach to Nagada which is a nice little character beat - I wonder where that camera ended up? Derek Webster also had bit parts in Devlin/Emmerich joints Independence Day and Godzilla, fwiw.

"Ferretti, say again." Great line reading from Russell - he gets flack for being humourless/not being Richard Dean Anderson, but I think he has great presence in the role and character at this point - RDA!O'Neill is the product of Russell!O'Neil's experience in this film.

A sandstorm approaches and in the extended sequence there's a miscommunication that Skaara (Alexis Cruz) defuses. I like this addition, as it gives more scope to the connection between Jack and Skaara - he sees that Jack is the one in charge, but also that he's willing to listen, and Jack sees that Skaara is brave enough to face a threat, but also clever enough to diffuse the situation.

"Well that would have been an excellent reason to shoot everyone." lol, and people say snarky!Daniel was a show-only thing.

Trying to learn the word that means "sandstorm" from Kasuf and the incredulous/frustrated little laugh after is a nice touch too.

Erick Avari steals every scene he is - he was also in Devlin/Emmerich's Independence Day ("what's with the golf balls?!?" was an ad-lib), and of course he's great in The Mummy ( the delivery of "Do you really want to know, or would you prefer to just shoot us?" is perfection.)

He was only 42 during this movie! Hasn't aged a day since.

A great deal of Kasuf came from Avari as well - the role was only a few lines in the script and was mostly developed during rehearsals - the same was true for Alexis Cruz as Skaara.

While "tastes like chicken" was in the script, the clucking like a chicken came from Spader.

Pivotal scene, because it really shows Sha'uri's courage - her fear is palpable, first at her duty to offer herself to Daniel then at what his rejection may mean for her and her people. She is confused by his behaviour, delighted when they are able to exchange names, but guarded again when he draws in the sand. At this point she doesn't know if he is an emissary of Ra testing her resolve, but she takes the chance and fixes his drawing to make the symbol from Earth, then takes him to the hidden catacombs.

Sha'uri's leap of faith here is underrated I feel - she's been watching Daniel so closely and makes a very correct judgement about his character - there is something in him that she recognises, and decides that she can trust. At this stage she probably knows that she is safe with him, but she wants to go beyond that and actually connect with him.

Also she's wearing red here, the same colour as Kasuf and some of the other elders wear, which does imply it's a colour of status.

LOL, this scene would never happen today.

This was almost cut from the movie! The studio's focus was on the action and wanted to eliminate a great deal of the character stuff, resulting in the film testing very poorly. Devlin/Emmerich redid the cut to put everything back in and (surprise surprise!) the next audience screening was much more favourable.

Because Jack's character arc doesn't work without this scene! We need to see Jack actually bond with Skaara, to gift him the lighter, be amused when Skaara mimics him and takes a drag of the cigarette, then for things to turn when Skaara innocently reaches for Jack's gun and he blows up.

"I guess the word dweeb doesn't mean anything to you guys, does it?"

Too good! Too pure for this world!

The hidden catacombs fascinates me - the entrance is blocked with rocks so she presumably Sha'uri hadn't been there for some time. Is it something she came across as a child? Was it secret information handed down through the generations, perhaps from her mother?

The symbol for Earth is only visible from inside so she must have explored the catacombs at some point, perhaps wondering what the paintings meant, and she must have been aware that at one point writing wasn't outlawed. I do like the idea that both Sha'uri and Daniel have this great curiosity and yearning to understand - they also share a great capacity for trust and willingness to take leaps of faith that makes them very well matched.

The backstory with Ra changed very late in the process - originally the Egyptian boy was merely appointed as a proxy for the alien creature to rule Earth, not possessed by the alien. This is unfathomable to me and really don't think it could have worked - where's the menace if Ra isn't the actual alien being but just some guy who works for him?

Presumably, it means Spader came back to do reshoots for the tale of Ra's origins, and if you notice he only mentions possession in a closeups where the lighting is slightly different. The frescos in the wide shots also don't match the closeups, which Emmerich himself did.

Brown is the one who gives Daniel a gun. RIP Brown.

Djimon Hounsou as Horus!

The Anubis/Horus/Ra disappearing headgear was one of the few noticeably CGI effects - most of the film was done practically and it shows (in a good way). I will take puppets and props and extras every day over CGI, there's just something more visceral about films made this way.

Daniel dies for the first - but certainly not the last - time.

The extended edition has Daniel walking through Ra's ship after being revived - there's a cat on Ra's throne, and we see more of Ra getting bathed and dressed by his child slaves just to notch up the creepiness.

Whatever happened to Jaye Davidson?

Apparently he had difficulty with the role, no doubt because as written it made no sense, which is why they had to change it in editing, adding the flanges and the glowing eyes.

Davidson was concerned he'd ruined the movie, and apparently was relieved rather than upset to see the final film. I actually think it's a great performance, and Ra really has a menace that feels genuinely dangerous.

The Abydonian langauge was based on Ancient Egyptian as developed by Egyptologist Dr Stuart Smith, and apparently great care was taken to make it as authentic as possible. I...don't think the same can be said for the show.

Dr Smith also consulted on The Mummy.

O'Neil, Kawalsky, Ferretti, and Guy Who Will Soon Die (Freeman).

Is is Kawalsky or Kawalski? The credits say Kawalsky, but his uniform at the beginning of the film says Kawalski. I personally prefer the latter.

The extended edition has an extra scene following the escape - Jack and Daniel jump on a mastadge which takes off and separates them from the group as Sha'uri and Skaara look on thinking "where are those idiots going?"

They get stuck in a sandstorm where Daniel collapses, and they're only found because the mastadge is so upset about his new friend he wails - this explains why Daniel is coughing and spluttering when they get to the cave.

Many a slash fic has started this way, I'm sure.

I really like Kawalski in this scene - "these kids don't have anywhere else to go" really hits me for some reason. He's bonded with them too.

"I don't want to die, your men don't want to die, and these people here don't want to die. It's a shame you're in such a hurry to."

The pivotal Jack and Daniel scene - this where the reveal about how Jack's son died should have been, so we find out when Daniel does. Then we'd think back on all the previous interactions - Jack knocking the gun from Skaara's hand, being unable to shoot the kids Ra uses as human shields - and be able to read new meaning into them.

A tender moment that I kind of wish they'd let play out a little more, although Avital captures Sha'uri's vulnerability so well. This was her first scene!

While I do love the Daniel/Sha'uri romance, I think she gets unfairly dismissed as just the love interest when she's so much more. Sha'uri is the one who starts the Abydonian rebellion - she's the one who decides that "we can no longer live as slaves" and rallies the boys to save Jack and his men - she's the one who passes on the knowledge of Ra's true identity.

At that point it's unclear if she thought Daniel is dead or just captured - her reaction following the massacre in Nagada perhaps implies the former. When Skaara tells her that Ra has called an execution she's been looking at the cave paintings, so clearly rebellion is already on her mind, and she's willing to go against everything she's been taught to try and save - maybe Daniel - but maybe only his friends, to help them overthrow Ra.

Interesting costume change for Kasuf here - he no longer has his outer robes or headdress, nor is he riding a mastadge - has he been stripped of his leadership role? Horus is now in charge.

Also nice little character beat - while the other have their guns pointed at Horus, Daniel is looking back at Sha'uri.

I do love Skaara's defiance - telling the others not to bow when Kasuf orders them to, and later he'll be the most reluctant to surrender, throwing down his gun in disgust before kneeling.

Sha'uri carries a gun into the pyramid, but I think it would have been better to at least see her try and shoot at the horus guard before she is killed.

Ostensibly this is a plot necessity to get Daniel up into the ship to give him a final faceoff with Ra and setup using the rings to deliver the bomb, but I think it's also needed for the Daniel/Sha'uri relationship - if he hadn't almost lost her and been willing to risk his life to save her, I don't think his choice to remain on Abydos with her at the end would have rung as true.

"I am no longer amused." idc, Davidson is great.

The first - but certainly not the last - time Daniel will get his brain friend by the hand device.

Ra's ultimate downfall is his hubris - if he'd never revived Daniel to make an example of him it's likely he never would have been overthrown, or at least not in the way he was. Yes he may still have had the public execution, and Sha'uri and Skaara may have still tried to rescue Jack and the others, but without Daniel to shoot his staff to set off the disturbance it may not have been successful. Jack wouldn't have been able to properly communicate with the Abydonians to form a plan, Daniel wouldn't be there to reveal Horus as a mortal not a god to Kasuf, etc.

It's interesting to me because as I said above hubris is also Daniel's main flaw, although it manifests differently, but that's what really draws me to these kind of characters - people who are a force for good but in such a way that their idealism and drive could easily tip over into ruthlessness/villainy in the right circumstances, and we definitely see this explored a few times in the show.

Also interesting is even though Kurt Russell gets top billing, it's really Daniel who is our protagonist - he's the one who is the true adversary to Ra, they share the relationship and confrontational scenes - Jack's antagonist is really Anubis.

Kasuf arrives with the uprising, and ultimately I do love that all three of our Abydonian family - Sha'uri, Skaara, and Kasuf - play a vital role in overthrowing Ra, even if Jack and Daniel get the credit for actually killing him.

We're meant to be la la la don't think about it re: the child slaves who were presumably still on Ra's ship when it blew up.

And I'm a sap! Skaara and the boys saluting Jack, and getting his salute in return always gets me.

Kawalsky and Ferretti too!

It's very important that Sha'uri is the one who instigates the kiss with Daniel, to balance the earlier scene where he kissed her.

Because it's a relationship that could very easily veer into problematic or feel unearned, but by this point having saved each other's lives, having communicated and bonded and come to understand one another, they do seem to be genuinely falling in love rather than there being any sense of obligation.

I think there might have been an alternate ending - on the bts there's footage of Daniel and Sha'uri walking with the Abydonians. Daniel looks back, presumably at the pyramid, as if reckoning with his decision to stay and a last look back at his life on Earth. Then he puts his arm around Sha'uri and they blend into the crowd as Daniel becomes part of the Abydonian people.

And then they both lived happily ever after and no one ever bothered them again! I choose to see the movie and the show as very similar but different universes/timelines, so hold true to my headcanon that this version of Daniel/Sha'uri got that long and happy life together on Abydos.

But as it is, we get our goodbyes - Skaara gets a handshake of respect from Jack, and Daniel gets some nice closure on his relationships with the three surviving members of the team:

Ferretti - goes from "Isn't there something you should be doing right now? Like getting us out of here?" (throws suitcase) to "I always knew you'd get us back"

Kawalski from - "You're a lying son of a bitch!" to "Thanks Daniel"

And Jack, from "He's full of shit" to "I'll be seeing you around...Doctor Jackson."

Of course this was setting up the sequel in the planned trilogy, but it works well moving on - as I will be - to the show.

#stargate #stargate the movie #stargate rewatch #nostalgia rewatch #jack o'neil #daniel jackson #sha'uri #kurt russell #james spader #90's movies #dean devlin #roland emmerich #jlf posts #long post #rambling #meta

[valeriefauxnom]

He Is the Messiah!

...Or prophet, whatever, but I found it funny the sheer amount of room intrusions Euden has to deal with that kick off events.

Like, there's Chronos, to which he's either too sleepy to care about or desperate or too used to random dragons of his invading that he isn't all that panicked after the initial 'who's there' at having a little dragon promising time travel to him in his room. You know, as one does.

In fact, he's rather quick to just kinda go 'okay, and?' at Chronos instantly pointing out all those deep regrets and how he keeps it separate from everyone, which might be kinda creepy in a 'how do you know that?' sort of way.

Fittingly, Rage of Chronos kicks off in a similar way, though Euden definitely seems to be a bit more shy to strange voices in his room spewing odd things at night, but still not quite the level of hostility I would expect.

Also, in retrospect, Grimnir was kinda speedrunning the main plot there in his opening monologue!

"Child borne of the rift 'twixt fates" could be a reference to his true true origins as a part of Xenos since Xenos likes floating about the rift between worlds and Euden was floating about there, too, since both Morsayati and Xenos were. "Inheritor of altered life"...yeah, that too, since he's a nice mixture of baby blood and still-living demon lord flesh plus whatever other things Finlorda might have decided to throw in the BuildaHeir pot.

"Blood-sworn yet bloodless", well, he's pactbound with the dragonblood he did inherit from baby!Nedrick, but has no true 'bloodline' as a standard human would. Lastly, "mutation in causality's design" might be a reference to the fact that this world's Euden is explicitly an anomaly how he's gotten so far for any number of reasons. Then, later, there's the 'transfigured prince', which either might just be Grimnir referencing his shapeshifting or the fact he's a hunk of demon flesh coaxed to look like Nedrick if he were a healthy normal human baby.

Darn, Grimnir, why couldn't you have spoke in plain English a bit sooner? Rage of Chronos came out in April 2021. At latest, that's the first part of chapter 19 that was out! I do not know if they were actually planning the entire monologue to be so relevant, since I think I recall the three writers for Dragalia largely worked separately on their own arcs, but that's uncanny. Very uncanny. All that in two sentences.

That aside, he's still a bit too nonchalant. Nothing like hearing that dramatic monologue and just rolling over and going back to sleep.

Neither of these times were the first, either.

Skyborne Spectacle, for example, starts with Euden having a dream vivid enough and concerning enough that he gets the gang to go to a presumably distant Peng Lai, likely more at the eastern shore of South Grastea since Taiwu is out east too and it's a former colony. Or as Notte puts it: "Heck, we actually came here in the first place because we were warned to do so in some spooky dream."

Imagine that conversation. "Hey guys, I had a dream that this one town on the other side of the continent is in trouble. Mind checking it out just to be sure? ...No, I don't think I'm paranoid. I know it sounds like I am, though."

Imagine the reputation all these kind of things spark, even just the one time, since goodness knows Notte was more than happy to parade around the fact that they were here because of a dream. Sure, sure, there may have been more 'mundane' magic at hand since Xu Fu was purposefully trying to reach him, but details tend to get caught up in the mix. All the average townsfolk probably hear is that this one band of New Alberians came to town because their leader 'had a dream of disaster' coincidentally around their New Year's celebrations and was right.

Perhaps there was some good old conspiracy theories popping up that the Prince was clairvoyant or a prophet like Verica or something and that's how New Alberia's been kicking against all odds for so long! Why settle with one prophet when you can have MORE?!

Honestly, I could almost see this bringing its own sort of trouble to Euden. He seems prone to nightmares, a tendency that even carried over to the comics (though they generally featured more...benign? nightmares of Celliera transforming Luca into TooBuff!Luca). What are the odds that this dream isn't indicative of a problem, provided that it isn't over something that was based in the past and already occurred? That's a fast track to needless anxiety and stress right there.

Even aside from that, having anyone honestly think you're able to predict the future is its own nuisance. The attention might be fawning at first or just desperate to hear more predictions, but it can just as easily turn to hatred for not 'sharing' the foresight he's obviously been having and thus letting x disaster occur.

So yeah. They probably should've invested more money into securing Euden's room from time-traveling dragons and strange men, even if it'd only likely weed out an assassin or two in reality since those two aren't...normal home invaders. Let Euden sleep in peace 2023

#Euden writing in his diary: Last night I dreamt that everyone turned into strawberries. I don't think that one is going to happen though. #“...I hope not” #Next day some random surprise villager: “What do you see for the future Your Highness?!” #Tired Euden blearily mutters: “Fruit?” #Lo and behold a miraculous harvest of fruit in New Alberia! What fortune! What foresight! #And Euden just becomes Alberian Nostradamus where people will twist his 'predictions' in impossible knots just to prove that he CAN #...see the future. #dragalia #dragalia lost

[starship-squalleater]

There’s something about people getting mad at characters that bothers me so much… watching things isn’t about deciding if the characters are smart or moral or assholes and then basing your enjoyment of the show off that, it’s about the story, right?

If you hate all the characters in something, or they bore you, or you just don’t care, that’s one thing. That’s fine. But like, hating orym for stabbing dusk? Hating laudna for being hypocritical about the nightmare king? Hating Ashton for hitting birdie, or for smashing the rock (which got fixed like two seconds later)? Hating the Calloways for working with Ira or leaving Fearne with Morri or whatever you’re mad at them for? What the fuck is up with that???

I watched a Star Trek video essay pretty recently that was talking about how people were mad about the Klingon redesigns over time, and how the first change was later given an explanation, thus making it no longer “break canon”. This person just said, “if the next season gives some side explanation for the change, would that make you less angry in retrospect? Would it change your enjoyment of the show?”

It (spoiler alert!!) is quite likely that birdie and Ollie DID know who they were working with, DID know what was going on, and tried to leave. Tried to do what people have been saying they SHOULD have done. They just couldn’t. Do you all like them now? The reason for disliking them isn’t just gone, it didn’t exist (and yes, you can have other reasons. I’m talking about this one.) in the first place.

If the story was finished. If it was done in its entirety, and none of that had been done, then sure, absolutely, make judgments. Even if the story isn’t all the way done!! If it looks like a characters story is done or they’re not going to change, be angry and all that. Just wait to make the judgements, yeah?

On that point, too, I don’t even see the necessity in making judgements. I’m not going to make a judgement on Laudna crushing on Ira, because I just want to know what happens as a result. If it goes bad, it goes bad. I’m not gonna say she’s a bad person? If it’s the real world, of course I’m side eying a person crushing on the nightmare king. Neither of them are real, though, so it’s just fun. Fearne saying “keep going” when Ollie’s nose starts bleeding. Bad? Good? I don’t give a shit, I don’t need to make that judgement right now, I just want to know what happens next. It’s not the real world!

Also there’s a difference between actual play shows and shows that are written beforehand? I know that players foreshadow things, we all know not to trust Sam’s stutters, but still. You can’t expect to judge people here the same way you can other places, things aren’t as intentional. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying they’re unintentional, but players forget things. They say things in the moment. They can’t look back at everything they’ve said or done, it’s just not how it works.

I didn’t really expect this to be a whole rant, but damn. I’ve been blocking people left and right. I never understood why people always complained about chat or fandom bc it’s usually really nice!! But man, I get what they mean now. Anyway. Just enjoy the show. You don’t have to base your morals off the characters, you don’t have to condone or condemn anything. So don’t!

#critical role #cr spoilers #also I think this will automatically have a read more thing but if it doesn’t I’m sorry #long post #critical role spoilers #fearne calloway #orym #laudna #ashton greymoore #yu suffiad #Star Trek

[senorincognito69]

No need for a Secret Santa (Woman into horse TF/TG tale) ♀️➡️🐴♂️

(Woman into horse - TG)*

“I got you a gift!”

The Little Petite Chateau, a popular midtown restaurant, was having a busy night as usual during the Christmas holidays. Full tables, busy waitresses, and french shouting from the kitchen, with everything being enhanced by the shiny festive decorations.

Right in the middle of the dining area Rachele Mint and Pepper Salsbury sat at a small round table.

Both of them looked gorgeous.

Pepper’s claim of a gift made Rachele lift her attention away from the bowl of salad she was enthusiastically eating, her mouth filled with vegetables. Rachele was a young black woman, fit and flat-chested, round faced, her blond dyed dreadlocked hair tied up into a tall top knot. Fancy earrings hung from her ears, a piercing through one of her nostrils, she was wearing high heels and a short skirted platinum dress.

She swallowed.

“A gift?” she asked, curious, then frowned. “What sort of gift?” She knew Pepper well enough to also be cautious.

Pepper smirked and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms under her ample breasts. She was as well dressed as Rachele, after all it was Christmas and the pair of old friends were celebrating having finished the year before their penultimate college year. Pepper wore a yellow dress with long skirt and wide bust, with matching platform heels, she was an asian woman with short brown hair.

“Enjoy those veggies, my good buddy, because soon neither you nor I are going to have to worry about student debt ever again!”

The two of them had known each other since kindergarten, having grown up in the same neighbourhood. Rachele had been dealing with Pepper’s sass, snark and shenanigans for her entire life, she was quite used to them, even after those shenanigans had become kinky as they became adults their friendship had lasted because even if it perhaps wasn’t entirely pure, it was true and strong.

Rachele rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I told you, Pep, we aren’t starting an Onlyfans and if you're still going on with that just start it on your own, geez!”

Pepper giggled, she lifted a finger and wagged it.

“Wrong guess!  it’s even better than that!” she said confidently. “I found your secret, you naughty, naughty Rachele, I know it now! I know that you desire nothing more than to be transformed into a large hunky breeding stallion!”

Pepper’s proclamation was said rather nonchalantly and loudly given its relative magnitude, but no client or waiter around them seemed to care at all. On the other hand Rachele instantly dropped her fork, her eyelids open wide and heat claimed her cheeks while at the same time she grew pale.

“Wha-wha? That what…!” she shook her head, looking around with the nervous shame of someone being caught doing something lewd. “Nono! No, that’s no true, you must have something wrong with your brain or something!”

Her friend burst into laughter, which made Rachele squeeze the tablecloth.

“Don’t panic, it’s fine!” a jovial Pepper said, trying to calm her down. “I’m not judging your kinks, I think it’s rather awesome… It just kinda sucks that you have always been so judgy of my kinks while being such a naughty, naughty stud in the closet!”

Rachele seemed about to cry.

“Pepper, I swear,” she begged. “I-I don’t want to get TF… Transformed, I don’t want to transform into a freaking horse.”

Pepper dropped the anvil.

“You left your Garls account open on my laptop.”

“...”

“Sire Champ_The_Gentle_Marefucker!” giggled Pepper. “Sorry, sorry, it's amusing, but I’m not making fun of you, promise! You put a lot of dedication into it, have quite the following in that TFcommunity thing! In retrospect, knowing you it kinda makes a lot of sense that you are a stallion at heart! I love your stories, so vivid, so lived in, so lengthy and detailed! I especially enjoyed that self-inserted one that was clearly both of us. The one about the road trip? We crash into a meadow and get… What was the slang? TFed for life? You turn into a stallion and I get the honour of being your first mare and then we remain happy carefree horses! I admit you may have given me a few new kinks!”

“...I wanna die…”

“No! You want to transform and that’s cool and lucky for you it’s about to happen! Long story short, I sorta stumbled into a witchery store after finding out about your fetish and, after I proved to them you are more than willing to neigh, they offered me a fantastic deal and accepted you on their ranch. In summary: Magic stallions you up, you join their breeding stables and we pay our student debt thanks to your gallons of excellent premium horse cum!”

Rachele was left stiff like a statue.

“What are you… about?” she asked slowly. “That… not…”

With a swift hand gesture Pepper pulled a piece of paper from between her tits and offered it to her sceptical companion. Rachele doubted herself for a moment before slowly taking the paper and slowly reading it.

It was a registration form for a stallion that was about to join the Colpot’s ranch, a stallion that happened to be her. She knew the stallion was her because there was a big picture of her at the top of the document, a picture of the lazy sunny day when they went bathing in the river. In the picture she was smiling and waving at the camera, topless and wearing sunglasses while sitting on a flat rock near the shore.

The info in the document was exact, extended and full of unnecessary humiliating detail, with the caveat that every reference to her human life was accompanied with a (former) remark.

(former) tech student.

(former) residence.

(former) woman.

The information about her future horse-self dilated her pupils… and stretched them horizontally. The name of the breeding beast was, of course, Sire Champ, deliberately written above her name and surname in bold pinkish letters. It seemed that she… or he, was a rather large, dark furred draft horse, there were many exact measurements of the stallion… including phallus length and ballsack weight…

Those details made Rachele gulp as her shaved vagina winked and moistened.

“We’re only missing the seal from the veterinarian, but we’ll get that tonight after you are standing on four hooves,” clarified Pepper. “I’ll glue a pic of your horse dong on top of your photo, I know you love that kind of detail!”

Rachele lowered the paper and looked at her smiling friend. The young black woman was now blushing fiercely, the paleness of her panic underneath, but feeling oddly uncomfortable in her own skin in a mix of shame and horniness.

She cleared her throat.

“This is… uh… fun,” Rachele had some trouble finding the words, her brain and heart were beating in a rush. “But,” she chuckled nervously. “You… You know…!”

Pepper raised both hands, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, just delight yourself in the moment, the ride, getting ridden and riding those mares!”

“Pep… I…”

“Champ,” Pepper calmly explained, crossing her arms on the table. “Don’t worry,” she repeated. “It’s already done,” her impish smirk sharpened. “Touch your ears.”

The registration paper dropped on the table, near to the salad plate.

Very very slowly, holding her breath, Rachele moved her hand towards the side of her head. The first attempt at touching made her fingers pull back, the second was more successful. She grabbed, rubbed and pressed, her ears were changing and she could feel it with her fingertips. On the edge of the meaty auditory appendage the curve was slowly being stretched into a more acute shape, the change was very visible thanks to her hair being tied up in a top knot. The sensation of rubbing her own transforming flesh was equally natural and disturbing.

Her lips trembled.

“I… I… IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!” It wasn't a neigh, just a human cry of surprise when, beneath the table, Pepper put her bare foot inside her skirt and pressed her already hot pussy with her toes. “Pep, the heck you doing…!”

“Don’t be greedy, I want to have fun too ! How it feels…!”

Rachele made a series of silly facial expressions, snorted, widening her nostrils, as Pepper's big toe slid up and down her vulva, massaging the wet throbbing sex under the underwear. In a reflex action Rachele closed her legs, trapping the foot between her thighs, but that didn’t stop Pepper’s massage.

“Geeeghhhhhhhh!”

Her vision blurred with tears of pleasure, Rachele grabbed the edges of the table, clenched her lips, her neck grew stiff and veiny. Between her legs her vagina opened and a pair of big meaty balls in a sack came from inside, heavy and full they ended up resting on top of the seat of the chair, a proud scrotum separated in half by her panties.

Another pleasant twitching made Rachele cock her head and her horse ears flicker.

The next step was the mutation of her womanly sex, above her ballsack each lip of her cunt began to meet with its counterpart, totally sealing the sex hole’s gap from bottom to top. Above that her clitoris shook violently and pushed forward. In contrast with the other changes so far, the phallus formed with a continuous series of abrupt thrusts, inflating wider, becoming tubular, with a large circular head, it pushed Pepper’s foot far away from that crotch. Rachele felt the pulling of her growing horse cock in her panties, the fabric of her underwear dragged along with the building erection towards its limit, rolled up between her buttocks.

“So BIG…! So guuuuuuuud…! But I… I can’t…!” she stopped for a loud grunt. “Pep, I can’t t-t-t-transform!” her words were a shivering whisper, worry visible in her horse pupils. “I can’t transform into a stallion…! What about my boyfriend? What about my parents? I… I just… at-at least not here in front of strangers…!”

Pepper shrugged.

“You can, you will and you are! Who cares about anything else? Everyone will know that Rachele Mint is a damn male horse and you're gonna enjoy every second of it because you’re also a little perv that gets turned on by those sorts of things!”

Pepper put her feet against the phallus and rubbed it, Rachele’s eyes went blank and she stiffly leaned back against her seat. The penis grew, grew in all the possible senses, longer, thicker, rounder. The ballsack was also about to reach equine size.

“Peeeeep!” the changing woman cried.

The cock thrust upwards, the whole table shook as its heavy tip hit it forcefully.

Another fondling with those toes, Rachele's neck grew rigid, she clenched her teeth.

Two more thrusts, two more shakes and the panties snapped and dropped to the floor.

The stallion’s penis was fully formed.

Gasping hard Rachele put a hand on the table above where she knew for a fact that she was touching the wood with her dick.

It was there.

It was real.

It was hers.

“It is what you want, so what are you waiting for?” Pepper encouraged.

Rachele snorted, very slowly she moved herself to sit sideways, like a magician’s trick the enormous and now fully erect horse penis slid out of the tablecloth. The skirt of her dress was rolled up, her crotch was completely exposed, her new sex so big it almost reached her chest.

“This is a Champ’s cock…” she babbled.

Deep black fur was covering Rachele’s ears, the rest of her body gradually growing in mass and muscle.

“What the hell! That woman has a horse cock!” screamed a waiter, dropping the plates they were carrying.

The commotion attracted the attention of almost everybody in the dining room of the Little Petite Chateau, dozens of eyes fixed on that pulsating penis and the woman it belonged to.

For once Rachele didn’t care about the unwanted attention.

She was beyond shame.

She had a horse dick.

Her fingers recoiled, scared, at the first attempt at touching the phallus, at the realisation that the flesh was indeed real and indeed hers. The second attempt managed to grip that cock.

So large she couldn’t even fully close her fist around it.

“Iiiiiih! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIH! NEEEEEEEEEEEIGH”

With tears of joy she began to pump that precious thing, soon using both hands for the task. As she masturbated her gigantic cock the speed of the other changes increased. Her bulk, which had already grown quite a bit, expanded in an unstoppable outburst pushing Rachele’s shape into that of a bodybuilder. Her flattening breasts, even if she never had much of them to begin with, showed up on top of the bodice of her dress as the bodice was ripped by the barreling of her ribcage. Her head reshapes into the equine, the forming of the muzzle stretching her skull, the elongation of her neck.

The black fur spreads everywhere, from her nose, to her limbs, to the swelling belly.

Around her wrist and ankles pure white hair sprouted and quickly became longer, her feet erupted out of her heels.

Her ass, as exposed as her crotch and squaring up, swelled and became stuck in the opening that had her chair behind it, there the stump of a tail formed at the end of her spine, her buttocks spread and her darkened anus was revealed.

Rachele didn’t care about anything other than the pumping of her penis.

Didn’t care about the surrounding screams of outrage.

Nor the whispers of curiosity.

She had a cock.

She was big.

She was… stallion…

Until two gentle hands landed on her widening shoulders and massaged them, Pepper’s hands.

Rachele tried to look back at her friend, there were so many things she wanted to say, but her thoughts were devoted to a singular worship.

“Peeeeeeeepep! Ish so large, gnnnnnnnh! Gonna blast!”

“Shhh, you’re doing great, Champ,” Pepper chuckled.

Pepper put a finger on that over swollen neck and zigzagged down a trail following a line of black hairs that would soon be a mane.

A dulled horny brain.

“Pep…! PEP! Iiiiiiiiiiih wiiiiill not… snort… Meee lieeeeeeeh! Will nuuuut be geeeentleeeeh wiiiiiit theeee maresh! WIIIIIIII! FOOOOOOOOCK! NEEEEEIGH!”

Champ blasted a load of cum onto the floor, but his cock remained firmly erect.

The legs of his chairs couldn’t hold his weight any longer, they all cracked at once and the stallion slammed the floor with his ass. Neighing loud lustful horse gibberish.

There was nothing human in the long face, nothing womanly in the equine body.

Fingers and toes snapped and convulsed, inflating into sturdy hooves.

Pepper tapped Champ’s big back.

“Mares will love you the same, stand proudly  on all  fours, Sire Champ!” she whispered into the horse’s ears.

The stallion does so, taller on four hooves than he ever was on the two broken heels he leaves behind. His tail swings, becoming covered by long black hairs, blond dreadlocks fall off as the mane extends over his long neck. The neck, bent low and tense, the stallion closes his eyes. There’s catharsis, but also frustration, because as the last wave of bone snaps and muscles twitch, as the black fur coats everything, he no longer has fingers to masturbate while his dick remains hard.

But a helping hand was always the grace of his life.

Pepper lifts his tail and grabs one of his balls.

The stallion opens his eyes.

The hand squeezes.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIGHHHHHH!”

The last push he needed to discharge the rest of his seed.

Sire Champ raises majestically onto his hindlegs, shaking the front ones in the air, his penis splashing white, any remaining trace of cloth ripped from his body. Even the detractors witnessing the ordeal are silenced when they gaze at such a spectacular sight.

Champs lands back down on all fours, he stomps dominantly. A giggle behind him, he slaps Pepper with his tail, making the woman laugh even harder.

“Look at yourself…!” whispers Pepper amazed.

She rubs the horse’s ass and, barefooted, slowly walks around the beast in complete wonder, petting and fondling the warm skin.

A giant dark draft stallion with white shaggy fur covering his hooves.

An impressive male specimen.

Down his belly his leaking cock, the sperm of which was landing on top of the rags of the platinum dress, goes placidly flaccid, compressing inside the shaft.

Pepper reaches the large head of the beast, the stallion grunts and pants. A few blond dreadlocks on his forehead, the fancy earrings in those pointy ears, the piercing in the nostril. The woman scratches the hairy chin of the stallion and the stallion is pleased like a dog.

“Happy Christmas, my good buddy!” mumbles a smiling Pepper before landing a kiss on the horse’s cheek. When she pulls away she notices the dozens and dozens of people in the dining room, all staring at her and the stallion with mute shock. “Uhhh… the check, please?”

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#horse tf #tale #transformation #tf

[alyblacklist]

I had the great pleasure of going to see Amir Arison in The Kite Runner on Broadway on Friday night with my friend @takadasaiko who I met through The Blacklist fandom and who was visiting NYC. If you live in or near NYC, I strongly encourage you to go see this show before this limited engagement ends on October 30! Amir was fantastic and he is literally on stage for every minute of the performance with only the intermission for a break. It was exciting seeing him play a character who is quite different from Aram and who even shares Amir's own name. Stage is so different from television but Amir commanded the stage as the lead and made us feel every emotion his character experienced throughout the performance. I really can't say enough good things.

I didn't really know what to expect going in. Neither of us had read the well-known book that gives life to this play before attending and we were both glad, in retrospect, that we hadn't because we enjoyed being entirely surprised by every twist and turn along the way. I've seen a lot of plays on Broadway over the years and this one stands out to me for how engaged I felt in every moment. I've heard the book is amazing so if you're not going to catch this limited engagement before it ends in October, definitely consider reading the book because the story itself was captivating. I'm looking forward to reading it in the near future.

We didn't have to wait long after the performance by the stage door (which is right next to the main entrance and well labeled) before actors started coming out. Everyone we met was so gracious and we made a spectacle of ourselves calling out to Amir when he first emerged so he came right over. We got autographs on our playbills and photos and hugs and he was as lovely as we all know he is from The Blacklist fandom and genuinely excited we had come to see the play. We made sure to tell him that we hope to see him back on The Blacklist in the future.

Fun fact: The actor who played Ruslan Denisov (Faran Tahir) in episode 2x11 of The Blacklist played Amir's father in this play. We got to chat and take pics with him after the show as well.

All in all, the BEST way to spend a Friday night in NYC.

Go see The Kite Runner! Only running through 10/30/22!

#the blacklist #amir arison #the kite runner #the kite runner broadway #takadasaiko #faran tahir

[doritofalls]

How do you see korekiyo's relationship with his peers (aside from Shuichi)? Like, I know that he is ignored/disliked by most of his peers but I think he'd get along with Gonta, Rantaro, maybe Ryoma and Kirumi. Be worsties with Kokichi, Miu and maybe Maki, idk about Tenko, Himiko and Angie and I think he wouldn't get along with Kaito, Kaede of course is her own can of worms

as supplied by canon, rantaro and kiyo seem to get along very well! i think it is rantaro who is drawn to kiyo instead of it being the other way around, and i find that extremely funny considering rantaro's possible cool kid status to kiyo's rancid vibes. that being said he Is a bit of an oddball himself, and given the time, i imagine him and kiyo would have became close friends. while gonta and kiyo don't interact much in-game, i think they could become good friends too - their interests line up a good couple of places and gonta is just a kind soul who could easily overlook kiyo's more worrying eccentricities. i think ryoma and kirumi by all means would be civil, though i think it's quite possible that they would remain surface-level friends. both of them have a tendency to keep people at arm's length, and kiyo is not one to push in that regard. if anything, i think they would have a good understanding of the others' boundaries.

i love kokichi/kiyo and miu/kiyo as a concept, because i think they would make for a very funny dynamic. not sure about maki - if they were forced to hang around each other for long enough, i can imagine her letting her guard down a bit, but i can't see her trusting kiyo and the feeling would probably be mutual. i don't think he'd have a problem getting along with kaito per say, but kaito definitely finds him creepy and the awkwardness would be palpable were they in a room alone together.

while kiyo seems to like himiko, i don't think she has much of an opinion on him - other than a general disregard - and i don't think that would change any time soon. kiyo is unwilling to go along with her gimmick, and she is unwilling to hear kiyo out on his, so it's a bit of a lack of common ground. angie, i think, could probably get along great with kiyo ironically... they seem to have each other figured out to a degree none of the other characters do, and while they are both unwilling to buy into what the other is selling, neither of them are hostile about it. i like to see their situation as one of mutual respect but complete lack of trust. it's fun!!

with tenko, i could actually see her get along with kiyo to some degree - she seems to view him as a lesser threat in-canon because of his feminine demeanor and choice of academia. which is... very funny, in retrospect. but i do think kiyo admires her energy and spirit, and in the right circumstances, they could even be friends. maybe.

i forgot kibo in there, but i also think they would be Civil while having very little common ground - kiyo is interested in humanity and not being a human is quite the sore spot for kibo. seems to me he would just end up saying hurtful shit by accident every other week and kibo would end up avoiding him in return.

#mcfreakin answered #anon #kiyoanon

[kadavernagh]

Sad, Sweaty Man || Regan & Emilio

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Regan’s cabin PARTIES: Emilio and Regan SUMMARY: Emilio’s strength and abilities were sapped out of him as a consequence for breaking his deal with Regan. Now Regan wants to see if she can help. Sometimes it’s all in the wording.

Every battle felt like an empty one now. Like no matter how many fights he won, he’d still wind up losing. Regan released him from the promise he’d made her, but it was too late to stop him from facing the consequences of breaking it. Marina cut him loose from Levi, but it only found another way to hurt him. Now, Regan was offering to help him regain what he’d lost in any way she could… but what else would he lose in the process? What would this victory steal from him?

Emilio told himself it didn’t matter. He’d need his abilities if he was going to protect the people he loved, and he did intend on protecting the people he loved. He was good at doing what needed to be done. He wasn’t much good at anything else.

The trek to the cabin was a familiar one, even with exhaustion weighing heavy on his bones. When was the last time he slept for more than an hour or two? He honestly wasn’t sure. Certainly not since Levi delivered its news. Maybe not since before that. The bags under his eyes and the way his hands trembled as his knuckles rapped against the cabin’s door told a story all their own, and he scrubbed a hand across his face as it swung open. “Don’t really need you to invite me in,” he said, “but I’m not gonna barge inside, either.”

—

Regan hadn’t come back to the cabin since the procedure. The coyotectomy was still fresh in her mind, and her gaze kept drifting toward the spot on the floor where the skull of the coyote had been burned right in front of her. The cabin felt bare. Maybe it was always like this, or maybe it was the empty spaces on the shelves that once held other bones, or the way she could hear her thoughts more clearly since the animal eviction. In any case, she didn’t like it. And neither, it seemed, did Emilio. The sad, sweaty hunter stood outside her door, and it occurred to Regan that maybe she shouldn’t tell him that she came here specifically to meet him – and her preference would have just been her apartment. 

“Unusually polite of you. Come in.” Regan eyed him further. He always seemed about one good bar fight away from another bar fight. There were always scratches on his skin and a smell emanating from his clothes, and she was pretty sure he looked worse now than he had during his time bound to her. And yet, she owed him terribly, and guilt sank like a grave within her stomach. “I’m –” She licked her lips, wondering if this would even be appreciated by a man like him, fearful of emotions in a different way she was. “Emilio, I am sorry. I’m sorry this happened, that a deal was made, and for how I treated you. I’m sorry there are consequences even now.” The tension was so thick she needed to clear her throat. “So, um – you said – what is your presenting complaint? I’m familiar with the unusual muscle tone of… people like you. Am I understanding correctly that you feel weaker now?” She figured he would appreciate her being straight to the point now. She motioned to a chair, inviting him to sit, and thought about how to wash it after he left. 

—

“Don’t know why people always say that. I’m polite.” His tone was dry, but not quite as empty as he was expecting it to be. Maybe it was because Marina had no expectations. For the last few months, she’d made that pretty clear. It had been annoying then, but… It was almost a comfort now. Like a relaxing break in routine instead of an infuriating irritation. He never thought he’d see the damn day.

He stepped into the cabin with a sigh, doing a quick, instinctive glance around. That was the corner where Metzli broke the damn bones that Regan had been so pressed about. In retrospect, Emilio probably shouldn’t have tried to stop them. Hindsight was always 20/20. He glanced up as Regan spoke, pulled from the memory by the sound of her voice and furrowing his brow as the apology sunk in. “It wasn’t you,” he offered with a small shrug. “That’s what everyone says.” Kaden, Metzli, even Ari. They’d all been adamant that Regan wasn’t herself, and how could Emilio blame her for that? How could he hold it against her? He’d been plenty pissed when it was happening, but he’d meant it when he’d told her she was the least of his problems, for a while there. 

She motioned to the chair and, naturally, part of him wanted to deny the offer and remain standing. Exhaustion won out over stubborn pride in the end, though, and he practically collapsed onto it. “Not just the strength,” he replied, slumping a little. “My senses are shot. Usually, I can hear better than a normal person. See in the dark. Feel when something… dangerous is nearby.” He carefully shifted the word undead to one she’d be more comfortable with, considering her strange aversion to supernatural occurrences. “Got less energy, too. Used to be able to go a few days without sleeping and be fine. Now I feel like I’m about to fall over.”

—

It wasn’t you. It was more complicated than that, in Regan’s eyes, but she wasn’t going to argue with Emilio. They had already done so much of that. “Yes, well, either way, I’m– I was me enough that I should have known better than to listen to a neuro-coyote. I should have doubted it more, convincing though it was. I am sorry for what I, or it, put you through.” Her eyes drifted away from Emilio’s and landed on the sweat leaching into the fabric of the chair. Ignore it. He was at least forthcoming with what he was currently experiencing. Regan looked down at him from where she stood, before remembering some of the bedside manner basics. She nodded in confirmation that she was listening, and knelt down on the floor to be more level. “I don’t have a previous baseline for you. Can you describe it for me? Your usual strength and hearing. What you usually feel.” With a soft sigh, she wondered if a physical examination would even be of any help here. Another stab of guilt. “And… you think this is connected to the verbal exchange we made?”

—

A neuro-coyote. Emilio had never understood how Regan explained the things she went through while denying the supernatural nature of them, and this was a good sign that he probably never would. If she couldn’t accept the truth of the supernatural after being possessed by a coyote spirit for months, then… Well, it was probably a good sign that she’d never accept it entirely. And maybe that was all right. Maybe everyone coped with this fucked up shit in the way they coped with it. Emilio didn’t think he was in much of a position to give anyone any kind of advice there. He shifted as he sat down on the chair, stretching his leg out absentmindedly. “Yeah,” he agreed, “all right. Uh… I guess my strength was two or three times what it is now. Used to be able to hear things from a few miles, if I focused it. The feeling was… Like a prickle on the back of the neck. Maybe something like what you feel around dead bodies. Hard to say, since I don’t know your baseline, either.” He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. I do. You… I said I’d protect you and the bones.” Because he’d been the one to make the promise. He couldn’t blame Regan entirely — he’d made a choice in the graveyard that night he met her. She hadn’t forced him. “And, you know… I didn’t keep it. So now, I lost the thing that lets me protect people. That’s how those… verbal exchanges work, isn’t it? You lose something equal to what you broke.”

—

A strange discomfort filled Regan’s stomach as Emilio described his baseline. It sounded so normal to him. All the quirks of Kaden’s body had become familiar to Regan over time, but thinking there were others that shared them… and she never had found the source of Kaden’s peculiarities, either. There was nothing to probe at, nothing to remove or heal. She hated that her instinct was right – a physical would not be of help. The solution lay in the thing she feared. She stood up and sat in the other chair, which she hoped Emilio wouldn’t take as a sign of resignation. “I doubt I’ll find anything but ordinary injuries if I were to examine you.” she explained with another sigh. She wasn’t going to answer his question that wasn’t a question. Her baseline was not something she knew well enough to share. 

Regan’s lips pressed into a thin line as she instead considered the wording of their prior exchange. “Protect me and the bones…” That was it. She remembered that confusing night. “I’m surprised your bones aren’t broken,” Regan said, “if it works the way you say, I mean. Which I am not convinced is the case.” The only person who said as much to her was Lydia, and how could Regan trust that now? “That is to say… I don’t know enough on the topic to answer you with any certainty.” Some help she was. Some use this was. Still, she couldn’t give up. Maybe if she understood more about the circumstances that broke the promise. “At what point did you notice this, um, consequence? When do you think you broke it? The… exchange.”

—

It should have come as a relief, the way she seemed to accept that what was happening wasn’t medical. There was nothing a physical could do, she was right about that; if she conducted one, the only thing she would find would be old injuries that had healed too fast and new ones that weren’t healing fast enough. But there was something hopeless about the confession all the same. Something medical, Regan might be able to fix. Something fae? Emilio wasn’t so sure. He had no doubt in her skills as a doctor, not with how passionate she was about it. But she didn’t seem to know as much about being a banshee. If what Kaden and Regan said was true, she’d barely accepted that she was one at all. It would definitely make any hope of him getting out of this deal a lot slimmer than he’d like.

A surprised laugh escaped from between his lips in a quiet huff of air because Christ, she was blunt. “Yeah, gotta say, I’m glad not to have broken bones on top of all this shit. Those heal slow enough even at my pace.” And they didn’t always heal right, either. His knee twinged as if to provide an unnecessary reminder of that fact. “I’m not going to try to convince you.” It’d be a waste of his time, he knew. Regan was, among many other things, damn stubborn. “But from what I know… That is how it works. And it makes sense, given what I’m experiencing. Punishment matching the crime or… whatever.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His unkempt curls caught on his fingers, and he made a face as he pulled them away. “Uh… Just after the coyotes disappeared. So when the exor…” He trailed off. What had she called it again? He couldn’t remember. “When the thing in the cabin finished.”

—

“Good,” Regan said simply, “you can’t convince me. I ought to th– I appreciate you not even trying.” But what Emilio said raised more questions than it answered. The coyotectomy? Why– that didn’t make any sense. She might not have known what was going on, not really, and asking more questions might not net any more clarity, but it couldn’t hurt. Something here was off. What did the coyotectomy have to do with protecting or failing to protect her? She met Emilio’s eyes, her own narrowed in scrutiny. “Emilio,” she started, failing to hide her confusion, “This started after the procedure? Why? I mean, do you… is it possible you consider that breaking the terms of our agreement? What happened here?”

—

He raised a brow at the near slip, but didn’t comment on it. He was… reasonably certain he would have released her, though in all honesty, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t released Marina, after all, was still holding on to that thanks she’d given him in spite of the way it sat uncomfortably in his chest. Glancing up as Regan spoke again, Emilio furrowed his brow at the clear confusion etched into her features. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “I was… trying to get here. To help. But I got caught up in the woods.” Kaden insisted that that was for the best and, though Emilio would never admit to as much aloud, he knew it was probably true. It had been the best solution for everyone but Emilio. That was the part that sucked. “I wasn’t here. And the thing you didn’t want to happen happened. Seems like a broken agreement to me.”

—

To help. Regan opened her mouth to comment on that, but it sat in her head a bit longer. How did these agreements work? Were they open to interpretation from both parties? She held her tongue, not wanting to interrupt Emilio as he provided information he might not share twice. Regan needed to confirm. If it really was as simple as– but it couldn’t be, right? No, there had to be more to it, something Emilio knew but she didn’t. That frequently seemed to be the case. She nodded, piecing together what he said. “You were trying to get here to help?” She asked him, eyes wide in what was shaping into a realization. “You agreed to protect me. What were you planning on doing once you got here to help?” She tilted her head, wondering again if it could be that simple. Did he realize it now, too? 

—

What would he have done if he’d gotten to that cabin in time? It was a question Kaden had asked, too. Emilio wasn’t sure of the answer. Fighting Kaden, Metzli, and Jude was one thing, but would he have been able to allow himself to fight Lil? Or Ari? Even with a promise bind driving him, he would have put up resistance. And he’d told both Ari and Lil, at one point or another, how to take him down in a fight if they needed to. He would have ended up in the same situation he was now. Logically, he knew that. But… “I would have done a lot more than I did out in those damn woods, at least. Maybe me being there would have been enough to satisfy the thing.” Probably not, given that he still would have failed. But Emilio was a stubborn ass when he wanted to be… and he always wanted to be. “It probably wouldn’t have meant anything either way.”

—

Okay, so Regan probably should have realized by now that hunters seemed to share a certain… density. As endearing as she found it in Kaden. “That doesn’t answer my question,” Regan said with a frown, “I mean, what would you do? Would you have tried to interrupt the procedure? Would you have helped the procedure along? What were you attempting?” She let the questions hang, having more of them herself. “It may matter. I’m not so sure you broke our agreement at all, Emilio. What does it mean to you to protect someone?” And if Emilio were anything like Kaden – which Regan thought he might be, in spite of their conflicts – that would not be a simple question to answer, but an important one. She looked down, studying the arms of her chair, only because they were easier than looking at Emilio in this moment. “This isn’t a trick, if you’re wondering. We may have different definitions. Or perhaps only perspectives.”

—

“I… would have tried to stop it?” He wasn’t sure where this was going, wasn’t sure if he was answering the question correctly or not. He’d never been particularly good at critical thinking. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been particularly good at any kind of thinking. Regan said this mattered, but Emilio was struggling to understand how. Her next question was just as confusing, largely because it wasn’t one he’d ever put much thought into. “To, uh… Keep them safe. Make sure they’re not hurt. Make sure nothing happens to them. Right?” How could there be a definition other than that one? Though different perspectives… he supposed that made sense. What he didn’t know was whether or not it would change anything.

—

Emilio’s answer was along the lines of what Regan suspected, yet she still couldn’t help but give him a blank stare. He would have tried to stop the procedure. Yet, his aim was to keep her safe and unharmed. See that nothing happened to her. Weren’t those two things irreconcilable? “Emilio,” she said slowly, sighing and meeting his eyes once again. He seemed confused and defeated, like he didn’t see the point of what she was asking. Her proposal was so strange, so not based in medical science, that it moved her to rise from her chair and pace lightly across the room. Perhaps it was some psychosomatic guilt response; that was rational enough. She looked at him again. “If you had managed to stop the procedure, that would not have been keeping me safe.” Regan turned. Paced in the other direction. She just needed to approach this logically and without too much emotion. “Don’t you think I’m better off like this? I don’t blame the coyote. I won’t. But I’ve returned to my senses. So tell me, why do you think you’ve failed?”

—

It was hard for Emilio, who was stubborn on his best day and downright unreasonable on his worst, to admit it, but Regan made a good point. Stopping the… procedure, as she called it, wouldn’t have been protecting her if the thing the exorcism was fixing was making her someone else. She was better off the way she was now — in full control, without the damaged spirit of some abused animal pulling the strings. So why did it feel like he’d ruined something? Why did it feel like he’d managed to fuck up his life a little more for failing to prevent this? Was he so desperate to hate himself that he was looking for excuses to do so, just like everyone said? “If I did what I was supposed to do, then why — Why does it feel like this? Why are my powers shot?”

—-

Regan watched Emilio’s thoughts work their way through the muscles in his face, the way his eyes widened and his jaw twitched. He seemed to almost be straining himself, connecting dots that didn’t occur to him. She stayed silent, letting him come to the conclusion without further prompting. Finally, he did. And Regan stopped pacing. There was a strange, desperate underscore to his voice that made more guilt worm around inside of her. She couldn’t answer him, really. She didn’t know why he seemed to be ill, despite keeping to what he promised. “I don’t know.” She said honestly, her voice softer than usual. “But I also think I’m better off like this. And I think your failure to make it here and disrupt anything was keeping me safe. In, um, an uneventful kind of way.” She considered. “I still think you likely helped in some way, at some point. Surely you were in contact with someone involved, shared some key information at some point. But that may not matter. None of this may matter. I don’t know the etiology behind your syndrome.” She didn’t want to say this. She wasn’t supposed to say this. But if Emilio was currently a patient, and it had the potential to help her patient, well… she had to, right? Regan cleared her throat. “I’m grateful to you, and I think your actions allowed me to be relatively unharmed, and certainly myself. That sounds like protection to me. But what do I know? I’m just a doctor.”

—-

The more she spoke, the more sense she made. She was who she wanted to be now, was back to being herself after months of being someone else. And Emilio had, in a way, helped that to happen. When he hadn’t stopped Metzli from smashing those bones, when he’d stayed back with the intention of fighting the coyotes instead of running to the cabin when he’d had an opening, when he’d tried, in his own subtle way, to get Regan to question what was happening in her head by bringing up Kaden after seeing how she reacted to him when they retrieved the bones he’d taken. It hadn’t always been through his own will, but Emilio had played a part in freeing Regan from her possession. And she’d wanted that. She was telling him she’d wanted that. She was thanking him for it. 

A wave of dizziness washed over him, a moment of disorientation as her words sunk in and his mind detangled itself from the ever-present confusion that reared its head when he was forced to think in depth on anything he didn’t understand well. If Regan was okay, if she was better now, then Emilio had done what he’d promised to do. And if he’d done what he’d promised to do… 

The dizzy spell passed and, as it faded, everything else eased itself in. The familiar sounds that had been deafened before — Regan’s heartbeat, something scurrying in the woods, the power surging through the lights and the water in the pipes. His vision sharpened, shadows melting from the darkened corners of the room as his night vision came back. He was still tired, of course — not sleeping for as long as he had was the kind of thing that could only be solved with rest he refused to partake in — but the rest of it seemed to slot back into place. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. I don’t — I don’t know what you did. I don’t know how that worked. But I’m… I feel like I should again. Like me.”

—

Would this even work? Regan wasn’t optimistic, but whether Emilio’s symptoms were due to her own words that bound him, or were psychosomatic in nature, it was possible this could only be fixed with more words. So she watched as his face continued to tangle with emotion and cognitive function that he clearly rarely afforded himself. And there it was: a look came over him as though he was stunned. Maybe it was the realization of what she was saying being correct, or maybe something more. “Are you–” she started, but whatever it was seemed to have passed. “I gave you a lot to think about, I know. But I–” Wait. Was he saying… “It worked? What do you mean what I did? All I did was– I mean, I thought your guilt might be–” Did it matter right now? Satisfaction shone on her face. One of the few emotions Deirdre did encourage her to bask in. Satisfaction, pride, superiority. It was nice. But she was glad for Emilio, too. Whatever weight he was carrying had become too much even for his strength, and now it seemed to have lifted. 

Perhaps she missed her calling in psychiatry. Al would have found nothing funnier.

Regan took a cautious approach toward him. “Good. That’s good. Are you certain? And do you need– I mean, how do you feel? Physically. How do you feel physically? Do you need help?”

—

The relief was palpable. There were still things hanging heavy over the slayer’s head — when weren’t there? — but, if nothing else, he felt more capable of resolving them now. Solving one problem among many may have been a drop in an ever-growing bucket, but it was a big enough drop to make Emilio feel just a little better about his chances of overcoming all the bullshit. “It worked,” he confirmed, closing his eyes for a moment. The return of his senses was just as overwhelming as the absence of them had been, but in a much more positive sort of way. It was like coming up from air after staying underwater so long his lungs had been close to bursting. It felt good just to breathe. 

Glancing up to Regan, he took note of the satisfied look on her face. There was something strangely surprising about the realization that she actually had wanted to help him, even after everything. It hadn’t been her putting on a show or trying to quell any leftover anger he might have in order to save her own skin. She’d cared about the outcome here. It was difficult for Emilio to understand why, given how their relationship had been up to now, but… He supposed Metzli and Kaden were right. He’d never known the real Regan at all. Not until this moment. “I feel fine. Better.” Physically, at least, he felt better than he had since before that day in the woods with the damn scream and the ghost coyotes. “No, I… You’ve done enough for me already. I appreciate it. The help.”

 —

Regan’s eyes drifted over Emilio, head to toe, and she determined that he looked more or less physically fine. It was strange, though – the way he looked back at her. She decided it wasn’t worth reading into. “I’m surprised talking worked,” she admitted, “but I’m glad it did. Kaden would have felt strange and incomplete if it were him. I imagine you were similar.” And fine, part of her just wanted to verbally compare him to Kaden to needle at him a tiny bit more before he went. There was a small amount of amusement to be found in it, even though bringing Kaden up still made some part of her ache. 

Regan’s arms dropped to her sides, like she could finally rest after a 4 hour autopsy. “It doesn’t sound as though you want another apology from me. And I certainly don’t need one from you.” So… what? She looked at Emilio, then toward the door. Considered saying we have concluded and you may take your leave. But there was an emptiness to that after everything she put him through. The option that felt more appropriate was the one that also felt more alien to her. Regan held out her hand and tilted her head. She wouldn’t say anything and risk this turning into a deal sealed by a handshake. But the gesture, or at least offering it, felt right.

—

Emilio made a face at the comparison, but it was pretty spot on. He had felt strange and incomplete without his abilities. He imagined most hunters would. The majority of them defined themselves by the abilities that came with hunting, tied their value intrinsically with them. And that wasn’t even getting into how much a large number of them — including Emilio himself — came to rely on those abilities. Being without them was dangerous in more ways than one. Having them back was something better than he could ever hope to explain.

“No,” he agreed, “I think we’re both done with apologies.” She wasn’t very subtle; in a way, Emilio appreciated it. He preferred people who were to the point about things. Glancing down at her outstretched hand, he huffed out a quiet laugh and took it, the cold shock of her skin sending a jolt through him. Christ. If nothing else, he figured, it sure as hell woke him up. He gave her hand a stretch and a nod, and he thought it was probably the closest two people could come to saying thank you when the phrase itself was decidedly off limits. “Be seeing you, Regan.” 

Oddly enough, he didn’t dread the way it might be true.

[robbyykeene]

Hawk!

Okay feel like I need to elaborate on this one so prepare for an essay below

I don’t dislike Hawk, and I actually really love and appreciate his character for the role he serves in story and the very specific narrative they were telling with him. My problem is more that everyone else’s own ck radicalization arcs have watered down Hawk’s. When it was just him and Tory, their arcs and motives were different enough that they both felt like worthwhile stories to tell. But then they threw in Robby, and then Kenny, and while neither one was quite a repeat of Hawk, it just made his storyline in retrospect feel tired and kind of killed it for me. Which is a huge shame, because I think arguably Hawk is the only character they actually displayed the radicalization process really well for.

On top of that, I was disappointed with where they took his character in season 4. Hawk’s done a lot of really terrible things in the show, and it felt like instead of meaningfully addressing that, they just had something equally terrible happen to him to try and minimize it all. And even if that wasn’t the writers’ intentions, that’s how it came across to me. Which just feels like such lazy writing, especially for a character who had one of the more interesting arcs in the show.

And I’m not going to lie and pretend I’ve ever liked Hawk’s character in a way where I feel personally connected to him/relate to him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t really love certain aspects of his character and the specific role he serves in the story. In particular how his devolution was a direct result of Johnny’s failures as a teacher/mentor, and how that served the larger themes of the show. Which is why it’s doubly a shame they had his “True Redemption” hinge upon the forced cut, and not on a positive mentor figure guiding him in the right direction. Be that Johnny or Daniel. I think there would’ve been ways to do both that felt like a complete resolution to his arc.

#i also think tis show has a selective empathy problem #it decided which characters it wants you to feel bad for and spins the narrative around thatbut its often contradictory to itself #were supposed to forgive johnny for all that happened in high school bc kreese was grooming him #but….kreese was grooming hawk too. and tory. and all these kids. should we immediately forgive them also? #i think if they had centered hawks story in s4 around the realization that he had been manipulated and hurt by an adult he trusted #it would’ve made for a more interesting story and ALSO tied in better with the larger themes of this show #and given him and johnny and daniel like smth to relate to about #but whatever #anyway I guess i lied when i said i dont really have much to say about them hahaha #ANYWAY ty fro sending this!!! ❤️🥰 #character bingo #hawk #i also just feel like there is so kuch meta about hawk that i have nothing to contribute #like i know my personal feelings on the character but other than that i dont have much tos ay that hasnt been said already better if that #makes sense