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cellythefloshie · 5 months

Text

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N: I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1.

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule.

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained.

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach.

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away.

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer.

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-”

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his.

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide.

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun.

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair.

Act 2.

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it.

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together.

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor.

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up.

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there.

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way.

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor.

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting.

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside.

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face.

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?”

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago.

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed.

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.”

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.”

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him.

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight.

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back.

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out.

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing.

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room.

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow.

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you.

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin.

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor.

Luc had never touched you like that before.

So carefully.

So slowly.

Hell, had he ever really touched you?

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser.

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once.

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc.

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too.

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his.

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you.

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter.

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner.

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed.

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt.

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him.

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in.

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew.

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded.

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth.

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own.

If you had the air, you would have gasped.

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc.

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open.

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel.

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair.

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability.

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips.

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you.

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest.

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?”

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered.

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him.

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage.

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall.

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you.

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them.

So instead, you suffered in silence.

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed.

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth.

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow. The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him.

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours.

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned.

Both of you were restless.

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you.

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth.

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark.

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow.

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow.

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest.

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again.

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further.

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend.

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that.

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties.

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core.

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline.

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier.

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first.

No regrets.

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made.

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips.

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click.

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy.

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing.

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg.

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock.

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him.

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back.

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more.

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold.

Around your throat.

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips.

Your core clenched.

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core.

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you.

But then Luc smiled.

You smiled too.

And you regretted nothing.

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception.

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs.

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night.

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car.

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love.

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began.

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers.

But you did get your kiss.

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you.

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne.

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips, as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone.

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to.

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone.

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t.

Luc was tucked away with his ex.

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his, as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only.

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous.

And it worked.

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up.

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more?

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow.

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc.

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street.

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him.

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too.

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue.

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest.

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.”

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars.

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with.

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.”

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him.

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face.

“Why should I?” You bit back.

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there.

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street.

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab.

Act 3.

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal.

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc.

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room?

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind.

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before.

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time.

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you.

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat.

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door.

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed.

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first.

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home.

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression.

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind.

You weren’t going to.

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind.

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board.

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say.

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way.

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you.

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand.

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play.

Kiss Her You Fool.

Take Me to Church.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never.

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab.

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology.

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you.

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him.

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car.

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened.

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him.

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist.

Luc smiled.

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him.

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed, “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath.

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions.

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss.

You loved him too.

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois fanfic #hockey rpf #hockey smut #hockey romance #nhl rpf #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #nicole's birthday bingo #senditcolton #birthday bingo

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neonblessing · 5 months

Text

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

“Look, you don’t have to give me a map. Just point me in the right direction.”

“Shiv, kid, I get it. You want revenge. But-”

“I don’t want revenge,” she said. She wasn’t certain if it was a lie.

“Then what do you want?”

“Answers.” Hell, she didn’t even know the finer points of what the two of them had stolen. The house had been full of valuable art, they’d passed a poorly-hidden wall safe on the way to the owner’s office, and they ignored it all in favor of the data drive that had sat atop a messy stack of papers. Ornarch hadn’t told them what was on there, just that it would go for a hundred thousand credits at a minimum, or a million from the right buyer. Most drives its size were just something convenient to hold, with the data itself stored on a chip a few nanometers thick. Whatever was on that drive had been complex enough that the whole damn drive was dedicated to memory. A sphinx glinted darkly on its surface, mirror finish set into matte black. There was something captivating about its sheer scale and the precision of its construction. Something a little sinister, too. Then he had shown up, and the rest of the night was a blurry nightmare of burning, screaming, and blood.

Kooler pursed his lips. “And once you have those answers, what are you going to do?”

“My job. Ornarch wants me to-”

Kooler’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “Isn’t your job breaking and entering? At least, I think that’s what you told me the first time we met. Forgive an old man’s memory for its failings, but I think I would have remembered hearing a teenager call themself an executioner.” He suddenly sounded very old, and very tired.

“Maybe I’ve changed. Why do you care?” It came out a little colder than she’d intended it to.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. None of my business.”

“So you won’t help me?”

“Staying neutral is how I stay alive. Everyone knows old Kooler keeps his mouth shut.”

“That’s a no?” Her heart sank. She’d known it was a long shot, but even still, Kooler was the closest thing she had to a lead.

Whatever he saw in her face gave him pause. “I… offered them ten thousand for the drive. I don’t even have half the hardware it would take to decrypt that… monster. I told them I wasn’t paying a credit more than that for a piece of software I couldn’t validate, no matter what rumors I’d heard. They took their business elsewhere. I don’t know where.”

“Rumors?”

“Have you been online since you stole it?” She hadn’t. “Half of the criminals in the Diluvian District are hunting after that sphinx drive. It’s anyone’s guess what’s on there, but Ebrelurge put a bounty out on it and then a few gang bosses joined the bidding war. As of this morning, the best offer is 1.6 million.”

Lord of birds. One point six fucking million?

He went on. “I don’t know where they went, but I know someone who might. Don’t go telling everyone I lent you a hand, but you’re- you’re a good kid. Just- hear them out when you see them. Don’t rush headlong into being a killer.”

“Yeah.”

Kooler pushed off the counter, sending his chair on a practiced arc towards a shelf of folders in one corner of the shop. He returned bearing a business card, a thin sheet of crisp white plastic stock with “Club RED – 1191-3962” embossed on it in brilliant crimson. The back side of the card was decorated with a staring eye in the same shade. “Kurtz–the owner of Club RED–knows me, and she’s got a panopt. Ask to see Odie. If it can’t help you, no one can.”

Shiv grinned. “Thanks, Kooler.”

“I’d say ‘any time,’ but really I’d rather not stick my neck out again.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to!”

The door squealed as she left.

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#9 #neon blessing #shiv #kooler

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valkeakuulas · 4 months

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14, post-o66 echo/rex 👁👄👁

Y'know, I don't recall writing about this ship before. Especially when it comes to the Bad Batch timeline. 🤔 So here goes nothing! This also grew legs and skittered out of my hands, turning into a lot longer before I managed to pin it down and finish it. Whoops?

Mistletoe: Mutual Pining

Echo stood in the shadows of the repair shop's massive doors, watching the traffic going up and down the underworld portal. Behind him, he could hear the music flowing from the floating speakers as well as the low conversation between the freed troopers and the Martez sisters.

Sighing, Echo closed his eyes and listened.

Just like their mutations, the Batch sounded different compared to the rest of the troopers, and while Echo had grown used to them, hearing more than one vod speak with that same, familiar voice soothed something deep inside him. It reminded Echo of his life in the not-so-distant (depending on how one looked at it) past when he'd been wearing white and blue.

"I was wondering where you'd go," one of those voices spoke behind Echo, making him shiver involuntarily as it had so many times before, ever since that cold, desolate moon.

Maybe not that same after all, Echo corrected himself as he turned slightly. Natborns might mix them up but vod could always recognize another one vod from voice alone.

He saw the smile first, small but sincere, before meeting Rex's eyes.

"Just needed a moment, it's been a while since was surrounded by this many people," Echo replied with a small smile of his own.

Rex hummed, thoughtful as he came to stand next to Echo, their shoulders almost touching. He looked at the never-ending traffic as well and it took Echo everything not to lean against Rex as he waited for his Captain Rex to speak again.

"It's been a while for me too," Rex said eventually, "I was on my own quite a while before Rafa and Trace helped me to free more clones." His brows drew together, the smile turning into a mild frown. "Never crossed my mind that I'd end up in a situation where I wouldn't be surrounded by vode. We clones aren't really meant to be alone."

He glanced at Echo. "I'm glad you had the Batch, Echo" Rex said, serious.

"And Omega," Echo had to add, witnessing how Rex's lips twisted, fighting a smile.

"And Omega," Rex amended, "she's different, that's for sure, but very brave as well as smart."

They both couldn't stop their grins as they recalled how the tiny girl had clocked Rex's age with one glance, effectively calling him an old man.

They fell silent again and another piece dedicated to the Life Day started in the background, the velvet-like voice of the singer crooning about curling together with their loved one under the Life Tree.

Echo felt his face warm up a little as he recalled another memory or, more accurately, a dream from the past. One that he hadn't dared to speak to anyone besides Fives and even that had been when he'd been drunk off his ass. Both of them had been drunk offf their asses.

Just like the singer, Echo had once dreamed of closing the distance between him and the man standing next to him, to hold Rex close and whisper words of love into his ear.

But that had been before Lola Sayu, before Echo had been blown to bits. Before the galaxy Echo had known and trained to fight for had turned upside down.

"So what do you think of this whole Life Day thing?" Echo heard Rex ask, the question effectively stopping Echo's thoughts before they spiraled further.

Echo shrugged. "I faintly recall Commander Tano telling something about it but not much. At least nothing like this."

He used his thumb to point back inside the repair shop and the colored lights, the fake tree, and the sparkly decorations the sisters had pulled out from some crates. The repair shop was too large to decorate completely but one corner of it had turned into a glittering, colorful nook like Echo had never seen before.

Omega and Wrecker would love it, Echo mused with a grin.

He turned to Rex to say that, only to freeze when he found the other staring right at him. Those gold-brown eyes were intense, scanning Echo's face almost as if it was a map that Rex needed to memorize.

"You miss them? The Batch?" Rex asked suddenly, jarring Echo once again.

"I do? Kind of hard not to after what we've been through," he replied, slow, uncertain what Rex was aiming at.

Whatever it had been, Echo's answer made him turn away again, and Echo got the sense that Rex wasn't all that pleased with it.

"I miss you, too," Echo blurted, eyes widening when he realised his mistake. "The 501st, I mean," he hurried to add when Rex turned towards him again, "the General and Commander, Jesse and Kix, Axe and Denal. Fives. I miss all of you."

The look Rex gave him wasn't as intense as it had been before but it still had Echo holding back a shiver.

"I miss them, too, Echo," Rex admitted quietly, "and I miss you as well."

Something twinged in Echo's chest and it had nothing to do with the tech embedded in his body. He opened his mouth to say, well, Echo didn't know what he was going to say but before he could, a light movement in the corner of their eyes caught Echo and Rex's attention.

Both of them turned sharply towards the repair shop, only stopping when they saw a branch of something green floating in the air before them.

Except that it wasn't floating; a closer look revealed a cord wrapped around the plant that was slowly moving closer.

Confused, Echo followed the cord and blinked in surprise when he spotted Gregor standing on the stack of crates next to the repair shop doors and, as it happened, next to Echo and Rex as well.

"What the - ?" Echo started just as Rex groaned, suffering.

"Gregor..."

"Nuh-uh, you know the rules, Rex," Gregor informed with a grin as he angled the plant right above them, "if you find yourself under a mistletoe, you need to kiss, otherwise you'll be hit with bad luck."

Echo felt his face heat up at that, his heart twinging again at the idea of Rex kissing him. He didn't know what kind of expression he was wearing but Echo feared it looked too close to a hopeful one.

Trying his best to push it away, Echo glanced at Rex, finding him once again staring at him. And, as Echo watched Rex, his gaze flickered down to Echo's mouth and oh, the flash of teeth as Rex bit his bottom lip nearly had Echo losing control of his knees.

The mistletoe swayed as Gregor shook it. "C'mon, you two have been mooning over each other long enough."

"There's been no such thing," Rex informed Gregor sharply but he didn't look away from Echo, who felt his jaw drop when a light blush dusted Rex's face.

Clearing his throat, Echo gave another look at the mistletoe. "Bad luck, you say? Think it'll hit me double hard since I'm already part of the Bad Batch?" he drawled.

The surprised snort Rex let out eased some of the tension in the air. "Don't think it would be a good idea to find out," he said, aiming for nonchalance but, just like Fives once upon a time, Rex had no sabacc face and he failed rather miserably.

That, and the look Rex was giving at him felt very similar to the one Echo was giving to him.

"Echo...," Rex started, hesitant.

For a second Echo thought about all the times he had wanted to confess his feelings to his Captain, to tell Rex just how much he meant to him.

Echo had survived against all the odds that had been stacked against him since Kamino. Maybe it was time to test if this was just another odd he was meant to win.

Swallowing, Echo stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Rex. He saw Rex's eyes widen in surprise when their chests touched. But instead of moving away, Rex's hands came to rest on Echo's hips, warm and gentle.

"I don't know about you, Rex, but I'd rather kiss you than tempt fate," Echo murmured as he wrapped his arm around Rex's shoulders. "If that's alright with you?"

Breathing shakily, Rex closed his eyes for a second, visibly gathering himself, before opening them again. "I'm more than alright with that, Echo. More than you can ever imagine."

Echo didn't know which one of them moved first but it didn't matter because they were kissing. After so many years, Echo finally got to kiss his Captain.

Above them, Gregor let out a loud hoot, one was nothing but pure glee:

"I told you that it would work, Nemec! You owe me ten credits!"

#Echo #Captain Rex #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #asks #softurl #fanfiction #askbox writing prompts #valkeakuulas writes AKA butchers English grammar #OTP #clone shipping #Captain Gregor #he makes an appearance #an important appearance

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vampire-the-askerade · 1 year

Text

Nines x Malkavian reader

[This comes from the fact that for some reasons on the file I just started, Nines was really angry with me for some reason. Couldn’t figure it out, but got him to eventually like me anyway.]

Things were not going well. While you were out of the majority of your initial problems were over, you were still stuck being bounced around from place to place by anyone and everyone. You supposed that it was whatever the Malkavian blood did to affect you, but you were having trouble finding people you trusted.

LaCroix was someone that you certainly distrusted, but since you were stuck with him you would have to do what he wanted when he asked; though you knew that he didn’t have your best interest in mind, or any interest other than his own for that matter, he still had the means to make you miserable if not dead, so not complying wasn’t a choice. There was also Strauss. While he did outwardly seem to be one of the kinder people you had met who not only listened to you but also respect you, there was something sinister hiding underneath. It wasn’t clear if those sinister feelings included plans for you, but you decided not to risk being around him more than you needed. Both of those choices also excluded the fact that the longer you were in the world of kindred the more you started to realize that you did not agree with how the Camarilla handled things.

To be truthful, you figured that out very early on, but there was a bit of a catch there. Nines had saved your life twice. And, the second time he even invited you to come see him and perhaps join his cause. However, things went awful once you got to The Last Round. The other Anarchs there were skeptical of you, standoffish at best and suspicious at worst. They were a bit to the point and rude about not understanding you, but by this point, you were used to that. And, you even got them to lighten up a bit before you had even left.

But, Nines… he was a different case entirely.

It was like as soon as he heard you speak and found out that you were Malkavian that he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Your words often came out jumbled and eclectic these nights, you knew that better than anyone. But, he seemed to cringe anytime you said anything at least when he wasn’t outright trying to think of ways to spin it where you were insulting him. It did not help of course that your speaking twisted even more when you were emotionally strained, leaving room for even more misunderstandings. By the end of things, you were just barely strongly asked to leave instead of being thrown out, and thinking that maybe you had misunderstood what the Anarchs stood for. You wanted to join a movement that was going to change things, not a group of bullies that had no more room in their clique.

This was something that didn’t sit right with you, and were it not for Jeanette back in Sant Monica and the other Anarchs in Hollywood she introduced you to, you might have disregarded the movement entirely. Still, even though you were almost convinced to join, that feeling of being bounced around from one insult to another in The Last Round like you were stuck in that pinball table they had in the corner left a bitter taste in your mouth. So, you weren’t wholly dedicated to any one group yet, just trying to get by and not bring too much attention to yourself.

On the odd times that you did have to return to The Last Round for odd jobs, you could feel Nines watching you the whole time. You would even say that you were starting to be liked by some of the others there, but there was never a chance to explore that possibility for camaraderie as you weren’t going to push your luck by staying around for too long. Oddly enough, it seemed to you that the only reason the others, and especially Nines didn’t push you around as hard as they did the first time nor did Nines kick you out again seemed to be because Jack, whom the others were clearly afraid of in some capacity, had found himself being rather fatherly, or more closely uncle-ly, toward you. This was something that Jeanette had told you was very out of the ordinary from the little bit that she had known him. Either way, it certainly felt like he had put some open threats out for anyone who tried to push you too far.

Speaking of Jeanette, she had asked you to do a favor for her, and that had led you to deliver something to the Empire Hotel. She said she would have loved to do it herself, but she wasn’t able to leave her club tonight, and she needed to give this message to someone tonight. She handed you a folded piece of paper, assurance that you would do fine with communicating with the contact as you had been getting better at sorting your thoughts, and sent you on your way.

You were nervous at first. But, oddly enough, the closer you got to your goal, the less you felt so. Jeanette was right. You were more than capable of handling something this simple after all that you had been through. And, though you were still rather hard to understand at some points, you had at least gotten where people didn’t think you were on something anymore, just eccentric. Things would go smoothly, all you would have to do is get to the room, knock on the door, say, “This is from Jeanette,” and walk away. The first parts of this plan were all through, and you were up to the door number that she had given you. You knocked on the door and it was answered-

by Nines Fucking Rodriguez.

There was something going on here. How could there not be after all your experiences with him in the past? However, you were resolute on not playing into it. You held up the note and said, “From the White daughter of Janus.” Nines already seemed annoyed by your quirks but still opened the door wider. “If you’re talking about Jeanette, then yeah, I’m expecting this. But, there’s a bit more to this whole thing. We’re supposed to wait for someone else. They’re supposed to be here right after you.” You understood the unsaid instruction to come in and wait. It wasn’t like you could do much else, but you were still uneasy, especially after the door closed. As much as you wished to think that Jeanette wouldn’t send you somewhere to deliberately get hurt, it did happen back when you first met, and you were concerned that old habits didn’t actually die.

Trying to get more of a handle on what was going on, you asked, “Who is the third party?” Nines picked up what you were asking and responded, “Don’t know. All I do know is that Voerman wouldn’t meet here without ‘em.” Just as he was finishing his sentence, there was a bang at the door. This wasn’t someone knocking loudly, it was the sound of something breaking. You were closer to the door, so you tried to open it first. After trying the handle a few times, Nines griped, “What the hell are you doing?” You matched his tone in response, “The doorknob is stiff as a doornail!”

“Move.” He growled and pushed you out of the way. “Dammit!” Nines hissed, “It’s jammed!”

He slammed his fist against the door more out of frustration than an actual effort to break it open. You walked over to the window and looked out. “Don’t even bother. We’re too high up. Even if we did survive the jump, it would catch too much attention.” Nines grumbled as he gave up on forcing the door open. He walked around the small yet still nicely furnished room, yet didn’t find the thing that he was looking for. “Not even a phone!”

That was something that you didn’t even think of. Checking your cell phone, it seemed that there wasn’t an option there either. The only person you could get ahold of really was Jeanette, but based on what she said earlier, she wasn’t going to be looking at her phone, much less be able to send someone over to help you. While you were looking at your phone Nines opened the note that you delivered, trying to see if there was anything there that might say anything relating to the situation. It seemed he did, and while not happy about it, he was strangely resigned for his Brujah nature.

“Better get comfy, kid. Looks like we’re here for a while.” He handed you the note.

There on the paper in glittery, gel pen ink and swooping yet bubbly letters was the message, “Door opens at 7:00pm tomorrow. Have fun!”

Something about this made you feel that there was someone else besides Jeanette that was involved even though she was the ringleader. But, seeing as there were only the whisperings in your head about other Anarchs you both knew and no solid proof, you kept that to yourself. “Betrayal! What good could come from a night in this gilded cage?” You mutter while looking over the note again. “I take it you didn’t expect this either.” Nines gave a brief, disbelieving laugh. “The plot was hidden from my knowledge.” You replied, slightly offended that he would think you were involved.

Nines fell onto the bed like he owned the place, and you did your best to not look at the way his arms flexed as he moved them behind his head. He might be frustrating and his own version of holier-than-thou, but dang, if he wasn’t a good-looking guy. You instead busied yourself with the widows, and more importantly the curtains.

“What are you doing?” Nines asked, truly curious and a little amused at you trying to see how thick the material was.

“Closing the curtains. I’m allergic to mornings.” You responded.

This actually pulled a chuckle out if him. “Well, so am I, but that’s not for another five hours. We have plenty of time to worry about that.” You kept on your mission of making sure there were no gaps between the windows and what you now deemed as sufficiently thick curtains while insisting, “Then I will use the start of that plenty time to make sure this is finished so we are not.” This seemed to annoy Nines as he huffed, “God, you’re a stubborn one.” This in turn annoyed you. But, you weren’t stupid and knew enough to not rile him up anymore. Part of the reason he was so lax on the bed right now was to send the message that you weren’t enough of a threat to him to require all his attention. He was probably correct, but you also left him alone and unchallenged simply because you didn’t feel like you had the energy to try to challenge him, at least for the moment.

“You gonna stand there the whole night?” Nines asked and made you realize you had been staring at the wall for a while. “Got no desire to get a blood hunt called on me for diablery, so I won’t bite.” He teased. That struck you with a weird feeling. Why was he trying to be so buddy-buddy all of a sudden? You knew there had to be some sort of ulterior motives as just about everyone you had met over the past few months had them, but the question was what type of ulterior motives they were. However, to find those out you had to pretend to play along with whatever he was doing, so you walked over and sat on the corner end on the opposite side of where his feet were.

There was another long round of silence, something that you would typically be thankful for, however, you would give anything to hear the whispers of rustling death or loving maggots to break the awkwardness of the silence at least for you. Eventually, Nines’ Brujah nature caught up with him and his occasional fidgeting was not enough to quell his restless nature. He HAD to do something. “Word on the street is that you’ve been picking up odd jobs for just about everyone when you’re not stuck workin’ for LaCroix.” He paused a moment, but not long enough for you to answer. “You officially pick a side yet?”

It was apparent to you that Nines was trying to recruit again. This time was different though as you weren’t going to jump at the offer so eagerly. “I’m still deciding on a flavor.” You answer and the icy tone of it made him get defensive. “Really? Is it that hard for you to figure out the right choice here?” He sat up before continuing. “I saved your fuckin’ life. Twice.”

You turned to look at him, glare at him rather. “And decide it wasn’t the life you were hoping for when I opened my mouth and revealed how my thoughts tangle.” This made him bristle even more. “That’s not true. I told you exactly how it is, everyone is welcome to The Round.” Though he was trying to keep his cool, he was quickly losing it, and quite frankly so were you. “Everyone is welcome except for Malkavian,” you corrected.

“Don’t you put words into my fuckin’ mouth, kid.” Nines snapped and looked like he was about to pounce you. Still, you weren’t deterred and kept talking back, “The mouth words were not the only problem! There was indication from all that I didn’t match your bar’s people decor! I arrived to seek my purpose and all I received was suspicion of motives and rude attitudes; the most from your numbered person! Are such the circumstances that make you feel welcome somewhere?!” Things were getting more convoluted as far as your speaking went, which you knew meant that you were well past the point of aggravation.

Nines went from offensive anger to smug anger, and snidely gave a fake pout, “Aw, did baby get their feelings hurt?” There was clear demeaning in his voice. That was something that you absolutely could not stand above all else. Sure, other people treated you like you were a crazy person, but at least they treated you like a crazy person with agency. That was what finally made you snap, and to actually be the one to tackle him, knocking a very shocked Nines back onto the bed, this time not so relaxed as you had one hand pressing onto his upper stomach and your other arm across his neck to pin him down.

“The infant was deliberately insulted! I have enough ego bruises from my dead life that I no longer bruise easily. The only things that get under my skin are direct stabs, which you seem more than happy to provide!” You snarled.

You try not to let your thoughts invade other people’s minds too often, but it seemed that they at least in part bled over to Nines in your outburst as there appeared to be some sort of switch flipped in his mind and he visibly understood just how truly angry you were. The sight of a furious Malkavian pinning him down made Nines do something he hardly ever did- backpedal.

“Woah, let’s take a step back. Yeah, there was some misunderstanding when we first talked at The Round, but you’ve covered our asses more than once since then. And, I can appreciate that.” Nines then put one of his hands on yours to lift your arm from resting on his throat. “I was just gettin’ too into the argument. Loving a good fight is Brujah nature after all.” He tried to explain. You weren’t having it though. “Even with my new blood, I’m well acquainted with the nature of many kindred. And, right now you’re not being a Brujah. You’re just being a jackass! And, I’m not sure what jumble of words that just came out as, but-“

“No, I read you, loud and clear.” He assured, surprised that it did come out so clearly; it would seem that if you felt something strongly enough it would fight its way through the clutter. “Again, I got carried away tonight, and I’m sorry.” Nines seemed to be genuinely trying to smooth things over. Whether that was an actual desire or a tactical move you couldn’t tell. “Tonight? What of past times when you had glared at me from your perch. What ill had I done to earn such ire?” You questioned.

Nines’ response was to laugh; not snarky, not bitterly, but a true laugh. “Glaring? Man, and you were complaining about me misunderstanding you!” In the blink of an eye, you were flipped over, your hands pinned above your head with one of his and his other arm simultaneously propping himself up over you and boxing you in on one side. “Listen, I… shit! I’m awful with words in these situations.” His face scrunched to the side as he huffed while mulling over his thoughts and how to express them, but only for a second as he was a man of action. “Tell you what; you have full permission to punch me after this.”

Turns out, “this,” was him crashing his lips onto yours.

There was a lot to process here. It was such a surprise that you could swear that whatever thought phantom was whispering its nonsense actually stopped and went, “Oh,” like it was clutching its phantasmal peals at the scene. You were shocked at the revelation, searching over all the past encounters that you had to look for missed signs, you wanted to kiss him back, and you were livid that you wanted to kiss him back. This manifested in you kissing roughly, not caring how his beard scratched as you did while your hands, which Nines had released in case you wanted to stop him, were gripping and scratching at him and occasionally tugging on the longer parts of his hair when they found it from time to time.

And, Nines was living for it.

“Yeah, that’s it… work it all out. Let me know how angry you are.” His words came out as a breathless chuckle the rare times his mouth was unoccupied. For as rough as you were being with him, Nines was more than happy to hold your head up gently so he could kiss you easily while your nails waged war on his back. He let out a particularly satisfied groan when he felt you bite at his bottom lip. But, unfortunately for you both, that was also his sign to settle a bit for now.

Nines rolled the two of you over again so that you were back on top, but your hands were pinned under him. He shushed you a bit while he moved you so you were resting on his chest and he could kiss the top of your head. “Okay, simmer down. Just… simmer down for now.” Nines panted into your hair, the message being just as much for himself as it was for you. Once he felt you still against him, he tilted your head up to look at him. “Still have permission to punch me. Gonna use it?” He was mostly teasing but there was a serious tone to it as well. All you did was shake your head and wrap your arms around him tighter.

There was the smug side of him again, grinning like he called a bluff in poker. “Didn’t think you would.” Nines’ arms wrapped around you in kind, and he gave a playful hum as he briefly tightened his hold to a squeeze. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been actin’ around me. The only reason you knew I was staring at you was because you would catch me while you were staring right back. Hell, just a while ago you were eyeing these arms, probably hopin’ they’d end up around you like this- HEY!” The last part he yelped as you pinched the area on his back that your hand was pressed against.

“So, you were in charge of the planning of this?” You accused, but not totally angry.

“No,” Nines answered flatly, “but, I’m not upset with how things turned out either.”

He shifted so that you could get your hands free. “And, let’s stop with all this accusation bullshit. Both of us.” Nines was willing to admit that he had some part to play in the confusion between you both, which was more than a lot of people were willing to do with your speech patterns. He hummed appreciatively when you started to lightly scratch your fingers through and play with the sides of his beard. “ ‘Sides, we just found a new way to express our feelings to each other.” He slid you up his body so you were face to face again. “Perhaps we should practice…” you whispered against his lips. “We got the whole night to get reacquainted, sweetheart.” Nines purred as he kissed you again, sweetly this time.

#vtmb imagins #vtmb nines x reader #nines rodriguez x reader #vtm nines x reader #nines rodriguez

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caffeiiine · 4 months

Note

OH ALSOALSO do you have any christmas/winter hcs ? /nf

thought it would be a good day to send this ask dhdhsjj

ACK MY FAVOROTE FLAGOR OF FLUFF

OKAY SO I GOT THESE

under the cut because this got insanely long dude

+ akutagawa can’t stand the cold whatsoever and will either bundle up in his house or dorm or whatever with a space heater dedicated to each room or just won’t leave the blankets unless he has to and his room is filled with space heaters

+ in the event he does have to go out he is the most bundled dude, like, think rimbaud type bundle. thicklong coat, hat, and scarf

+ he will not wear gloves bc of sensory issues so he just stuffs his hands in his pockets and hopes the cold doesn’t get through

+ ATSULUCY WINTER SHOPPING!!!!!!!!!! lucy drags him out to window shop and walk down the streets and watch the lights and look at decorations and lucy always has the most perfect outfit combos so she’s warm and cute!!

+ they usually end off their window shopping by stopping by a cafe of some sorts [usually the uzumaki cafe, the one under the ada] and getting warm drinks and then heading home

+ LUCY HAS THE BEST CHRISTMAS DECOR!!! like think those pinterest christmas trees THATS HERS

+ fyodor just doesn’t go out during winter if he can help it, he’s anemic and definitely low iron, that man can’t retain heat no matter how many layers he puts on

+ Kunikida bringing in gifts for the whole ada, each one is so thoughtful and nice

+ at least 2 of atsushis gifts are sweaters and the rest are soft things bc he really likes soft things since he didn’t get the opportunity much to have soft things or things at all growing up in the orphanage

+ dazai also gets everybody thoughtful gifts but he doesn’t actually label them, they’re just in places where the recipient normally goes and is typically regarded as ‘their space’

+ ranpo knows of course, who the gifts are from but he’ll let dazai have this and let the gifts remain anonymous

+ dazai really enjoys the smiles everybody has when they find their gift, he’s also always in a small corner someplace or simply passing by around the time they open the gifts..

+ ada holiday party is chaotic as fuck

+ tecchou doesn’t mind the cold much; jouno absolutely can’t stand the way the cold pricks at his skin. it works perfectly because Tecchou is a living. heater.

+ nikolai also has his offhand ways of showing affection during the holidays, for one he does stuff similar to dazai and hides gifts! except it’s a 50/50 chance the recipient will like it, sometimes it’s a ton of birds referencing the 12 days of christmas song, sometimes it’s a really soft and warm weighted blanket, sometimes it’s a space heater, sometimes it’s more birds, 50/50

+ sigma and holidays are not a lovely combo since lights and sounds and general sensory stimuli are 10x as worse leaving him twice as exhausted after a day of running the casino or just living in general [he’s so me]. nikolai, before sigma gets home, dims the lights in the house and sets out stuff that are “coincidentally” helpful for sigma because this is bsd, nobody shows affection outright

[except maybe dazai, he told chuuya “that’s why i love you” once]

+ poe is very festive, almost as much as Lucy. setting out a tree and decor and leaving his manor very pretty

+ ranpo and poe often get into snowball fights, the first few times poe was very hesitant and awkward but eventually got used to it and even initiates them sometimes!!

+ they probably have stupid matching sweaters or accessories as well i won’t even lie

+ poe gives karl accessories as well, for the winter he gets a little coat, and a scarf

+ they definitely try to make gingerbread houses but as soon as they were finished ranpo just went ahead and ate his

+ kunikida and dazai aren’t the biggest on holidays, they’ll put up some decor but not anything massive like a tree

+ dazai has seasonal affective disorder, or seasonal depression and uses a light box since winters are more difficult for him. kunikida usually sits with him by the light box to keep him company.

^not really holiday themes but i need to share by S.A.D. dazai hc somewhere

+ kunikida and dazai spend holidays together, lucy and atsushi spend holidays together, nikolai and sigma, tachihara and gin [akutagawa third wheels since otherwise he’d be alone, the little aroace idiot]

+ fukuzawa rigs the ada secret santa, for yhe piners, and the close friends

+ dazai gets kunikida, kunikida gets dazai, kyouka gets kenji, kenji gets kouka, etc and vice versa

+ this is all i can remember atm but even looking at this it’s a lot wow

#sodaramblestoomuch #soda ask and answers!#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #siglai #kunidazai #kyoukenji #bsd headcanons #wowzers #THANKS DOR LETTING ME RAMBLE CHERRY!!! HOPE THIS IS SATISFACTORY!!!!

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skadren · 15 days

Note

2, 3, 6, and 8 for Tseeve~

send me a ship and a number and i'll tell you:

2. what their love letters look like

i don't think tseng has ever written a love letter before in his life. that is both way too easily perceived and way too impermanent at the same time. what if someone else finds it? what if it gets lost or thrown away or burned before reeve reads it?? what if reeve reads it??? his love letters are grocery store shopping lists stuck to the fridge and reminders for reeve to take his medications and protein bars and hot coffee "coincidentally" left on reeve's desk

reeve has diary entries. sometimes they are addressed to tseng: small jokes, the highlights and low points of his day, his current projects, proposal plans. wedding plans. reeve is a planning kind of guy, for everything. and before they got together, definitely pining. all the pining. he also has at least five separate entries wondering about tseng's hair care routine. his meetings notes may or may not be found with their initials doodled all around the borders (with ample questioning over what tseng's last name is. is tseng even his real name? is reeve a bad boyfriend for not knowing?? but wouldn't asking be an invasion of boundaries???)

3. which one outlives the other, and how they cope

both of them expect to die before the other. reeve because of how many goddamn medications he has to take and that must be terrible for his liver, and also he's older so that's how it works, right? tseng because of his line of work, and later on after he retires, because of the lingering issues from his past injuries. and the real reason is that neither of them want to think too hard on what it might actually be like to go on alone.

unfortunately tseng dies first. you can blame @takenbynumbers for that one. you know what you did

reeve puts on a pretty good attempt at going on outwardly unaffected, although he finally retires and passes on the seat of commissioner to someone else, like he'd been saying he would do for ages now. but he's never been very good at remembering to take care of himself; tseng is always the one who bossed him into doing it. so he sort of just... gives up on it?

(vincent accuses him of just giving up and waiting to die. reeve doesn't think he's wrong.)

6. how they decorate their bedroom

neither of them are big on excess so i guess it would be a pretty... normal? bedroom? there is a bed. big enough to fit both of them but not too big, because what if one of them gets lonely at night? the bed itself isn't anything fancy; sturdy and comfortable with enough support for reeve's back. plain sheets. they have two sets of blankets that are horribly mismatched because one reminds reeve of the quilts his ma liked to make and the other is a gift from yuffie that tseng will never admit is the exact same pattern of blanket he remembers his mom using when he was a child.

they both have a nightstand but desks are banned from the bedroom. deskwork is also banned from the bedroom. not that it keeps reeve from trying to sneak paperwork once in a while.

cait also has a cat bed in one corner (even though he really does not need a bed on account of the whole robot thing). he gets exiled regularly but it works out because he does not want to see his dads getting it on, thank you very much.

8. what they argue about

reeve always tosses his clothes in the general direction of the laundry hamper and misses. tseng's hair clogs the shower and gets all over the floor all the time. tseng hates taking out the trash and reeve never remembers to do it.

more seriously, even if their dedication to their work is something they have in common, neither of them like how little free time it gives them to spend together. it can lead to arguments over exactly how much the other person prioritizes their relationship at all, especially since the way they express their feelings and validation for one another is very different-- reeve's love language is physical affection and verbal affirmation, while tseng's is acts of service. coupled with how reticent tseng is about talking about feelings at all, it can lead to reeve feel like he's lovebombing tseng to little response, while tseng feels like he's never good enough at reciprocating properly.

but their biggest argument of all time is still the one that takes place directly after the turks drop the plate. there is a lot of broken trust between them regarding whether their relationship was as meaningful as reeve really thought it was, how much tseng has been hiding all this time, whether reeve wanted to be with tseng at all or just an idealized version of him. i fondly refer to the entire time they spend separated until they get back together postcanon as their divorce arc.

#skadren rambles #ask game #long post #i'm sorry this is very long. this got away from me

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thorfemmes · 2 years

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I knocking again with request! It just popped in my head as iron clothes 🤣 if its ok. Eddie with his S/O and the hellfire boys. They didnt know eddie had a lover at school and they overheard him being mean to them, alarmingly threatening and the boys are no way eddie is intimidating and scary looking but he isnt actually that.. maybe they had to intervene and its a misunderstanding and its revealed s/o is a theater kid ask for help running lines something like that? I read somewhere that they used a theater room for hellfire and with his reputation someone mustve backed him up or vouch for him to use the facilities right?😉 Sorry did that made sense? Its practically 1 am here 🤣 thanks! Its kinda hilarious to me that whole scenario.

I love you, thank you for all the requests! This one was right up my alley since one of my majors is in theatre. I hope you enjoy!<3

BTW the play used in this drabble is Ubu Roi by Alfred Jarry. It's wild.

Eddie was a very theatrical person. Not just in his hyperactive gestures and storytelling abilities, but actually theatric. What the Hellfire boys thought was Eddie's free period was actually an advanced acting/play literacy class. He was secretly the teacher's favorite, how else would he have gotten permission to use the drama room and props for his DND campaigns?

Having climbed his way up through the intermediate and advanced classes, he got to know you pretty well. As excellent actor and a very outspoken and opinionated play lover, the two of you bonded quickly over your flair for the dramatic.

The boys didn't know about Eddie's theatre class, and in turn really didn't know about the close relationship the two of you cherished. So when they came across the two of you violently yelling at each other, they were concerned to say the least.

"Shit!" Eddie yelled.

"Oh it's fine, what a pig you are". You scoffed angrily at him.

The boys looked on in curiosity, but also worried as they'd never seen Eddie so angry at someone they didn't know.

"Watch out, I don't kill you, " Eddie continued.

"It isn’t me you ought to kill, it’s someone else".

"Now by my green candle, I don’t understand!"

The Hellfire boys watch you go back and forth with this utter violent gibberish.

"Now by my green candle, shit!" Eddie monologued. "Madam, certainly yes, I’m content. I could be content with less. After all, I’m Captain of Dragoons, Privy Councillor to King Wenceslas, Knight of the Red Eagle of Poland, and formerly King of Aragon. What more do you want?"

They continued to spy on you from around the corner until you spoke a worrisome line.

"What prevents you from slaughtering the whole family and putting yourself in their place?"

Gareth cut in at this point. "Woah, what the fuck is going on here? Is everything okay?"

Eddie visibly blanched knowing he'd been caught.

"Oh, hi! You must be one of Eddie's friends!" You said sweetly breaking character. You stuck your hand out. "I'm Y/N!"

"Gareth, this is Jeff, Dustin, and Mike," He introduced each boy down the line. "So what exactly is going on here?

You looked to Eddie for guidance, not knowing how he wanted to go about this.

"So my merry men, I've been hiding something from you. My free periods have actually been dedicated to an acting and play analysis class. Y/N here is my scene partner". You nudged him softly. "And my romantic partner. We were just rehearsing this absolute garbage play for our next assignment. Nothing violent is happening, promise".

"It's not garbage! It's absurdist and a precursor to Dadaism, which is one of your favorite movements in theatre history!'

"Daddyism?" Dustin spoke up confused.

"Dadaism, or Dada for short," You corrected him gently. "It's a movement that emphasized the process of collective trauma after World War I. It really tried to expand the boundaries on what theatre-".

Eddie just looked at you with what might as well have been hearts in eyes. The boys of course had no idea what you were talking about, but seeing Eddie's enamored stares was enough for them to keep their mouths shut.

"I think Eddie really likes it because at first glance it seems absurd and whimsical and just straight funny, but when you dive deeper into analysis you can really see the trauma buried within the subtext".

"Right you are, pretty girl". Eddie wrapped his arms around your shoulder. "Now, any other questions or can we get back to rehearsing?"

"We're definitely discussing this later, but we'll leave you to it. Have fun kids," Dustin said with a wave.

With the boys gone Eddie turned and quickly laid a few kisses to your face. Kiss, kiss, kiss until he landed on your lips.

"C’mon superstar, we've gotta keep rehearsing for next period".

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x plus size reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #writing #ask

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dinos0urs · 7 months

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I was hanging out by my books earlier and on the corner of the shelf is this tiny little blue book I bought for a philosophy class I ended up dropping due to time conflict a few years back, "Discourse on Method and Meditations of First Philosophy" by René Descartes. I've never been very interested in philosophy, I read some Plato awhile back and found it infuriatingly tedious and huffily dismissed the entire discipline. But anyway, I was waiting for the coffee to steep and started flipping absent-mindedly through Descartes and let me tell you THIS MAN WAS A SAVAGE. The language is still a bit pedantic and frankly, dated in the worst sense, for my taste but even though it was published almost 400 years ago, there are so many parts that feel like they could have been written about the world today. I just wanted to share some quotes with y'all, those of you who care to indulge.

"Concerning philosophy I shall say only that, seeing that it has been cultivated for many centuries by the most excellent minds that have ever lived and that, nevertheless, there still is nothing in it about which there is not some dispute, and consequently nothing that is not doubtful, I was not at all so presumptuous as to hope to fare any better there than the others; and that, considering how many opinions there can be about the very same matter that are held by learned people without there ever being the possibility of more than one opinion being true, I deemed everything that was merely probable to be well-nigh false."

!!! Do y'all know how many times I've said to people, "why are we arguing about shit that experts, people who have dedicated their lives to understanding the subject, can't even agree on?" Say it again René.

Next page...

"For it seemed to me that I could find much more truth in the reasonings that each person makes concerning matters that are important to him (sic) and whose outcome ought to cost him (sic) dearly later on if he (sic) has judged badly, than in those reasonings engaged in by a man (sic) of letters in his study, which touch on speculations that produce no effect and are of no other consequence to him (sic) except perhaps that, the more they are removed from common sense, the more pride he (sic) will take in them, for he (sic) will have to employ that much more wit and ingenuity in attempting to render them plausible."

This one is applicable to so many modern situations but the one that jumped out most to me was all these right-wing youtubers lecturing about trans rights. Like why are you the one we should listen to? You have no dog in this fight other than to smirk all smug self-satisfied and Shapiro-esque after having tied yourself in knots trying to justify the pre-existing biases YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO EXAMINE ANYWAY. Might not be a bad idea to lend your ear to the people that actually stand to gain or lose the most on the merits of THEIR judgment concerning THEIR lives. Big ol’ jerks.

Moving on...

"Thus it is more custom and example that persuades us than any certain knowledge; and yet the majority opinion is worthless as a proof of truths that are at all difficult to discover, since it is much more likely that one man (sic) would have found them than a whole multitude of people. Hence I could not choose anyone whose opinions seemed to me should be preferred over those of the others, and I found myself, as it were, constrained to try to guide myself on my own."

I don't have much to add here that isn't already contained in the quote or repeated in folksy proverbs so often we forget the meaning. Just be careful of popularly held narratives and belief systems. More often than not peoples' beliefs are guided by trends and group mentalities rather than a pursuit of truth, kindness, or virtue. Examine the world for yourself, you are at least as qualified (if not infinitely more) to decide what's right and wrong in this world than any item on the laundry list of cult heroes, influencers, pseudo-gurus, and crooked politicians we so flippantly allow remote-access to our consciences these days.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, not that I imagine anybody read this far, but if you did and you're interested in reading Descartes I should probably mention that alongside some of the more insightful passages I encountered there were also plenty of passages that...well...sound exactly as ethnocentric as you'd imagine a man from France during the height of European colonialism would sound. :/ Like it's pretty gruesome y'all be careful out there. This post isn't meant to be an endorsement as much as a documentation of my altogether strange and surprising reading experience this morning so take from that what you will.

#it was really nice reading a physical book again too I've been stuck on the kindle for far too long I highlighted and made notes what a rush #booklr #bookaholic #bookworm #books #descartes #rene descartes #philosophy #17th century #thoughts #personal musings #fuck idk man

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paintingdragonfeathers · 8 months

Text

Hey there peeps—Do you like cryptids, dark humor, and urban fantasy? Then read on for some exciting news from Painting Dragon Feathers!

(It’s a slightly long read, so feel free to skip down to the cryptid part)

As some peeps may already be aware if you crossed paths with me at these last couple of summer conventions, I have decided to step back and take a sabbatical from conventions until summer 2024. I love doing shows, meeting new people inspired by their fandoms, and admiring all your cool cosplays—but with a full convention schedule, most of my creating time was dedicated to restocking my EXTERMELY popular Poke’Terrariums and other creature terrariums. While I do continue to enjoy honing my diorama skills making them, especially with highly creative commission requests, I was, frankly, getting burned out a bit with making almost solely Poke’Terrariums; as the best-sellers and the ones putting bread on my table, they were my highest priority for convention crafting.

THANK YOU ALL for some of the best cons I’ve had this past year—Katsucon, Scifi Valley Con, Otakon, and Momentocon all broke record sales for us! Your enthusiasm and encouragement of my works, whether by taking home pieces or just compliementing both my fanart and originals have given me the confidence and support to regroup and turn my focus on to some exciting new projects over the next few months:

1: I will continue tackling all commissions I received at the summer shows. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for your support by commissioning me to make you some amazing terrariums from your requests! I cannot express my gratitude enough as these commissions will help support the Painting Dragon Feathers studio during the break from conventions.

Poke’Terrarium commissions will reopen online to the public once I’ve wrapped up my queue from conventions, which at this point, will probably be very late in 2023 or early 2024. In the meantime, existing stock is still available at the Painting Dragon Feathers online shop—with some new tarot decks coming in soon—and a whole bunch of other types of commissions from tattoo design to book illustration to character cards/sheets are currently available.

2: Since I’ve gotten into 3D printing, I plan on learning digital sculpting so I can sculpt and 3D print some new original creatures for new kinds of art pieces, mythozoological speciemens, and terrariums.

3: Finish unpacking boxes and setting up my studio from moving, and finishing off a couple of other house projects—we’ve been living without ceiling trim LIKE HEATHENS. There has also been some stalling on unpacking thanks to some surprise water issues in the studio space recently, but it should hopefully be resolved soon.

4: I wanna make a new panel or two, specifically about how to write/create a great villain. Cause sometimes it’s good to be bad.

5: Revaluate and restructure my social media presence a bit. I want to have more of a work/life/social media balance with more focus on creating time, and with so many corners of the internet kind of on fire, and my darn instagram getting hacked and stolen, it’s been kindof a mess….I’m considering setting up a newsletter for direct, periodic updates, including—

Last but not least,

—THE CRYPTID PART—

I am currently finishing what should be the final draft for my young adult cryptid novel, CRYPTOZOO.

What is CRYPTOZOO about? Here’s the elevator pitch:

“The creatures of the X-FILES meets the 4th wall wit of DEADPOOL as a plucky Chupacabra searches for her missing Sasquatch father. Reluctantly teaming up with their mutual drinking buddy, the Jersey Devil, they must masquerade as humans in New York City, where troubling clues and prophecies from the Mothman hint the missing Sasquatch may have fallen into the clutches of cryptid hunters.”

I received some great professional feedback from freelance editor Lorin Oberweger, and after some extensive reworkings of the outline (which admittedly took a bit longer than anticipated since I have been moving house and dealing with other major life changes) I am sitting down to rewrite and polish the story. Once I get the story all wrapped up, line-edited, and print-worthy, my goal is to have physical books, ebooks, and audiobooks available by Scifi Valley Con 2024. Maybe even some CRYPTOZOO/Cryptid-themed merch as well. *fingers crossed* As potential book readers and cryptid lovers, let me know what kind of goodies you’d like to see.

I also intend to make some cool book trailers as I progress in the project, so this neat little animation above was me experimenting with Procreate and Videoleap. I can’t wait to share Cleo the Chupacabra’s story with ya’ll—so if you want keep up with updates and me navigating indie publishing, follow along Painting Dragon Feathers for the ride.

Cheers,

#paintingdragonfeathers #fantasy #cryptid #chupacabras #chupacabra #jersey devil #Sasquatch #cryptozoology #Bigfoot #Mothman #writing #book #publishing #indie publishing

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thecityboy · 1 year

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A Rant: No Turn on Red (NoTOR) State Pre-Emption

TLDR: The State of Indiana has continuously targeted Indianapolis with state pre-emption policies, especially around transportation. No Turn on Red Policies are good when implemented correctly. This policy will have adverse impacts on living breathing humans as well as society as a whole. Hopefully this will push Indy to implement for significant solutions to solving the pedestrian crash crisis in the city.

Indiana Got Me Big Mad

Today, I had a two-hour period of intense frustration and anger over the usual song and dance that happens here in Indianapolis. To my dismay, I discovered that a state senator had surreptitiously inserted an amendment into Indiana House Bill 1050. The main body of the bill has various legislative changes to policies around cars (defining "alternative fuel", changing vehicle tax policies, etc.). The offending Senate Amendment #5, displayed in big, bold letters:

"A CONSOLIDATED CITY MAY NOT ADOPT AN ORDINANCE REQUIRING THE INSTALLATION OF A SIGNPROHIBITNG A TURN DESCRIBED IN [reference to subsection defined earlier in the amendment that says drivers can turn right on a steady red]."

There are a few interesting things of note here:

The policy applies only to "Consolidated Cities". Indianapolis is (I believe) the only consolidated city in the state. This rule would not apply to any other jurisdiction.

This was a response by the senator to the Indianapolis City-County Council's proposal to post signs restricting right turn on red in Downtown Indy, specifically on roads that are designed to move cars quickly. This is a bare-bones pedestrian safety solution, and because the roads cross through downtown and near a major university campus (IUPUI), it's one of the few places in this city that has people walking around.

The State Senator that submitted this amendment is named Aaron Freeman, the representative from Indiana Senate District 32. This district comprises of the southeast corner of Indianapolis (arguably the most rural quadrant of the city) and parts of suburban Greenwood and unincorporated lands south of the city. It is one of, if not the most conservative part of Indianapolis, and (this is just my speculation) provides legitimacy for the State Legislature to impose conservative state pre-emption on a mostly Democrat-represented city. Is this a punishment for the city because of how they vote? Who can say.

Aaron has become something of a transportation villain here in Indy. Before his crusade to preserve the sanctity of the ability to turn right on red (only in Indianapolis), he has also consistently fought against one of IndyGo's proposed Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) line - the Blue Line. He has done this every legislative session since at least 2019. His main gripe? The Blue Line would have dedicated lanes, removing one or two lanes from the currently SEVEN lane-wide East Washington Street. Dedicated lanes are integral for BRT to operate effectively; transit is not rapid if it's sitting in traffic (generally). But dedicated lanes are Communism; they control the means of production of those lanes for the masses and removes them from the enjoyment of F-150-driving, red blooded, meat-eating, gun-toting traditional families. And for that reason, Aaron cannot allow this injustice to happen quietly. Thankfully for the urbanites of Indy, every strategy Aaron has tried so far has failed to be passed into law. Hopefully it stays that way.

This is not the first case of the State of Indiana pre-empting Indianapolis in a way that relates to transportation, safety, and the built environment. The state passed a ban on funding light rail projects in 2014. A couple sessions ago, they tried to take away zoning control from the City of Indianapolis and give the power to townships; for some reason the township governments still exist in Indiana even though their land is incorporated by a city. It's very dumb way to operate local government, and this was a very dumb proposal, which is why it wasn't adopted. The state has also pre-empted the city from creating its own gun laws, local minimum wage, rent control, paid sick leave requirements, and plastic bag fees.

There are more examples of the atrocious pre-emption Indiana has done, but I want to move onto why this made me so mad; what is No Turn on Red and why is it important?

NoTOR is the Bare Minimum

Not Turn on Red (NoTOR) is a traffic control method that restricts drivers from turning right at red lights. A lot of drivers may find this annoying, but it is an important, easy, and affordable way to reduce pedestrians being hit by cars turning right on red. According to a five-year study examining crashes in Downtown Indy, over half of pedestrian-related crashes were the result of vehicles not yielding to pedestrians at signalized intersections. source. Anecdotally, pedestrian crashes across Indy have continued to rise year-over-year for the past five years. It is truly a crisis.

There is a provision in the amendment that says a driver must stop at a steady red light for 120 seconds before turning right on red. Theoretically, this means drivers should be completely stopped for a period of time that would allow them to see someone crossing on their right. This is also an ignorant safeguard. You might as well tell people not to speed on the highway. Very few people follow this (even the Federal Highway Administration say so) and it is rarely enforced.

The reason so many pedestrians are struck by vehicles turning right on red is a combination of factors:

The design of the intersection. Larger curb radii can allow for cars to take turns faster; lack of crosswalk markings doesn't remind drivers to check for pedestrians; having stop bars too close to where pedestrians cross reduces the amount of time a driver has to look right while crossing.

Driver behavior. On top of a general increase in distracted driving, there is a documented increase in reckless driving from the pandemic, however pedestrian deaths had been increasing even before this. In addition to this recent development, FHWA outlined how drivers really behave when turning right on red: "Motorists are so intent on looking for traffic approaching on their left that they may not be alert to pedestrians on their right. In addition motorists usually pull up into the crosswalk to wait for a gap in traffic, blocking pedestrian crossing movements. In some instances, motorists simply do not come to a full stop."

Vehicles have become larger, placing drivers higher. This obstructs their view, especially of people that may be below their sight lines (like children and people in wheelchairs). It also extends their vehicle's hoods and their bodies, which can inadvertently hit pedestrians, especially on tight urban streets.

Lack of Enforcement. I will be the first to admit that traffic enforcement can be tricky; traffic stops can lead to tragedy very quickly. That being said, the response should not be just not enforcing traffic laws. Two options stand out in my mind: better training for officers around traffic stops and remote enforcement. In a 2021 survey of police analyzed by the Rand Corporation, 42% of responding officers said their department has never provided traffic stop training, and only 6% strongly agree that they have received adequate training for traffic stops involving noncompliant drivers. Remote enforcement is not without its flaws, and requires a deeper dive in another post. In short; red light cameras work as a safety improvement. They reduce more fatal crashes between both vehicles and pedestrians. They can also cause an increase rear-ending by more aggressive drivers and other less life-threatening crashes. But if we have to pick one method over another, we should pick the one where less people are killed or gravely injured. There are issues with equitable placement of cameras, as well as the matter of ticketing drivers for using a roadway in the manner it was designed, rather than what a sign says. If the design of a street network is oriented to the fast movement of vehicles instead of pedestrian safety, drivers are more likely to drive over the posted speed limit and turn right on red without stopping, because that's how the road was designed to be used. Red light cameras have been legislatively prohibited in seven states, and are de facto prohibited in Indiana. Have those entities repealed or prohibited them out of some sort of duty to the low-income drivers that could be adversely affected by remote enforcement? No, it's mostly because drivers complain about having to obey traffic laws to the letter and look at it as a cash grab for cities to generate income (which, honestly, could be partially true). However, repealing red light cameras has been shown to increase traffic deaths, and the selfishness and entitlement of drivers is entirely to blame for that.

Implementation

The Federal Highway Administration has a very helpful page on how to effectively implement NoTOR. Restricting right turns on red is implemented through installing signage, sometimes in combination with a Leading Pedestrian Interval (LPI), which gives pedestrians a few-second head start to enter the crosswalk before vehicles are given a green light. This is a measure that reduces pedestrians being hit by vehicles that impatiently want to turn right on green. Siting NoTORs appropriately is important. FHWA explicitly says that they should be present in areas with high pedestrian activity (however it does not define what that threshold is, leaving the interpretation open to state and local DOTs). In the case of the Downtown Indianapolis proposal, these signs would have implemented NoTOR on arterial roadways with high traffic volumes in the most pedestrian active region in the city (if not the state). It is more than appropriate to implement this policy. Anecdotally, I have seen NoTOR work. I recently visited Philadelphia and spent pretty much all of my time in Center City, where NoTOR is implemented at almost every intersection. As a pedestrian, it made me feel far safer than I ever did walking around in Downtown Indy.

The Human Cost of NoTOR Prohibition

The prohibition of NoTOR has a devastating impact on human life, as evidenced by the research indicating an increase in serious injury and death when NoTOR is not restricted. But the human toll extends far beyond physical harm. Those who are seriously injured face an array of financial burdens, including medical debt, lost income, and potential job loss. The emotional trauma of a traffic accident can be just as damaging, leaving lasting effects on mental health and quality of life.

The human cost doesn't stop there; being seriously injured can mean being saddled with medical debt, missed work from recovery, losing a job because of recovery or inability to do the work required, loss of income, and permanent changes in health and quality of life. This is on top of the mental trauma of being seriously injured or losing a loved one to a traffic accident.

There were over 3,400 pedestrian deaths in the United States in 2022. In 2021, over 60,000 pedestrians were injured by drivers. Each one of these individuals had a life, a family, and a community that cared about them. Their sudden and violent deaths or injuries leave a permanent scar on the lives of those who knew and loved them. And yet, all of this suffering is caused by a refusal to inconvenience drivers for a few minutes. The State of Indiana and Aaron Freeman seem to place little value on the safety and well-being of pedestrians, prioritizing the convenience of drivers over the lives and health of their fellow citizens. The cost of this callous disregard for human life is simply too high to bear.

At least according to the State of Indiana and Aaron Freeman.

How to Get Around the NoTOR Ban

There are ways that the City of Indianapolis can get around the NoTOR Ban, and it is primarily through intersection and street design improvements.

There are soft infrastructure changes like setting back where cars stop with signs and paint, painting more visible crosswalks, painting street murals, and implementing Leading Pedestrian Intervals signal timing.

There are also hard infrastructure changes like reducing curb radii so drivers have to significantly slow down before turning right. Reducing roadway lanes or lane widths and implementing streetscape improvements like street trees have also been shown to subconsciously cause drives to drive slower because it increases their awareness of other vehicles and obstacles around them.

Zooming out to a network-level view, considerations should be given to more unique approaches to improving pedestrian safety. Implementing mid-block crossings can provide a safer crossing for pedestrians because it reduces the potential points of conflict; drivers won't be pre-occupied with looking left while turning right and pedestrians don't have to look over their shoulders when crossing. All they have to worry about is oncoming traffic. There should also be consideration given to completely eliminating private vehicle traffic entirely from certain portions of downtown.

Conclusion

Although the pre-emption legislation may be exasperating and expected to prolong the unsafe conditions in Indianapolis' busiest pedestrian zones, there is a possibility that it could prompt much-needed infrastructure improvements to enhance pedestrian safety. Over the last three decades, Indianapolis has made significant strides from its former downtown one-way traffic nightmare. However, there is still much more progress to be made in creating a more livable city, and this legislative decision might serve as a motivating force to achieve this goal.

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goodlawman · 2 years

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“—Righ’. Lissen-”

It was late. So much so it was early before Ron saw hide nor hare of The Marshal he’d come, over these past few months, to know better as Raylan than he had by his badge. They’d come off on awkward terms earlier – a visit to the lawman’s office landing Ron on the chatty end of what he could only assume was an up and comer in his trade – the once-gangster hightailing it before his temper slipped any more than it had; before he could end up indicted for ringing an upstart’s bell for being exactly what he was. A fucking upstart. All sorts had fallen out the young man’s face – Kray this, mafia that, gangster this, informant that – and Ron…He’d been in something of a knot since.

He'd not looked at The Badge at his bar as A Badge, had he.

He’d known him better than that; seen more in him past that.

And now…here they were. A proper street corner moment at what must’ve been fuck off in the morning. There was dew in the air, not a wisp of light in the sky. The glow given off by the streetlamp they’d met up under looked like an oil painting where it touched the night’s blackness.

“—I need yah t’know, Badge-” He’d call him that ‘til things were clear; ‘til he knew who it was he was talking to. “Even if there was sumfin’ I could tell yah abaht th’mob, I’d walk inta Sing Sing b’fore I’d give up them secrets. So if those is what yer aftah by stoppin’ rahnd me, we gotta not talk like people t’eachovvah anymore.” There was some odd mix of resignation and sadness underpinning those words – the impending loss of at the very least a friendly acquaintance hitting sour irrespective of their circumstances.

The wind picked up just enough to ruffle the hair at Ron’s nape. He turned up his collar against the chill. “Ow’s it t’be then?” he asked, nodding once towards the Marshal. He’d made himself clear. It was The Badge’s turn now.

Raylan only heard about the encounter after it happened. Lawson was fresh out of Glynco with a desire to prove himself and the privilege of thinking he could start throwing his weight around already. The difference between them being Raylan came out of Glynco with a desire to prove himself but knowing one wrong move would get him sent packing. Raylan already butt heads with him once over boundaries, the kid traipsing into one of his cases like he owned it. Figures he'd try and take ownership, interrogate Kray for something he had no involvement in.

The thing was Raylan couldn't put him in his place, at least not outright, because Lawson was one of those that had connections. Transfer didn't bother him in concept but where he would end up transferred to? They could make that miserable for him. Transfer was the least of his concerns when he got the message from Ronnie that they had to talk.

Now here they stood in the early morning hours when every reasonable 9 to 5 was still in their beds and blissfully aware that another day in the making was a few short hours away. He leaned against the brick wall, one foot resting against it, hat tilted down so the streetlight created more shadow over his face, cradling a styrafoam cup of cheap coffee.

Raylan let Ron start the conversation since he'd called the meeting, silently cursing the junior deputy again. "Kray. Ron," Raylan started, pushing away from the wall and holding up a hand. "I don't give a shit about your connection to the mafia because they are not my case. I chase fugitives and one of the fugitives I was on the trail of ended up dead in front of your place. Location but not the reason," he pointed out softly.

"Marshals get involved when someone runs or is threatened. The whole family though? That ain't our purview. The FBI, NYPD, they got taskforces dedicated to those investigations and there's enough dick swinging in those circles that the rest of us don't want involvement if we don't have to. Lawson would be better off among their numbers frankly. I come because I enjoy the company."

He felt in the company of a kindred spirit around Ron. Maybe the man was connected to crime but so was he, the Givens family had history spanning several decades. Around Ron that didn't define him either, wasn't a mark against him the way some others believed. "You prefer I don't step over the pub's threshold anymore, say so."

#v;; new york outcasts #ronmanmob

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songbird-and-her-fos · 2 years

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Three months had passed since an unfortunate step in the wrong direction had sent Sultana almost 1500 years into the past and, to the surprise of everyone who knew of it, which at this point only included Sultana herself, the Timestreamer Moebius and, unbeknownst to the former and very well known to the latter, Kain, turned her back into a human. Two months since her first real conversation with the man that would later become one of the Kainite Empire's lieutenants and, more importantly, her sire.

A short amount of time in the grand scheme of things, but enough for Sultana's employers, the Sarafan Brotherhood, to notice that she was distracted during work. At the start of her work as a maid at the fortress she had done her work with about as much zeal as one can expect from a maid. But after said conversation with her future sire, she often drifted off while cleaning and one time was so distracted by her own thoughts that she had absentmindedly dusted off what she had thought at the time to be a decorative armor just standing in an odd place, but later turned out to be a brother of the Sarafan who had simply been rendered speechless by the audacity.

So as a punishment, or as the head servant put it, "a chance to prove her dedication", she had been tasked with deep-cleaning the big chapel. On her own. A draconian punishment, sure, but better than being thrown out, Sultana decided. And she really had been negligent with her duties lately, so she technically deserved it.

That insight did not stop her from quietly cursing to herself several times during the day. From the moment the sun had risen to now, as it slowly set, she had been dusting, sweeping, scrubbing and mopping until every corner of the chapel looked like it was newly built. In the end, she absolutely was proud of her work. She had continued through pruney skin and cramps in her wrists and knees. Her hair stuck to her face in a sweaty mess, and her clothes were crumpled and dirty.

How's this for dedication? She thought with a smile to herself, sure that even the head servant, who was a notoriously nitpicky perfectionist, would have little to criticise.

The big doors opened and Rahab came strolling in, his face lighting up when he saw her.

"There you are!" He quickly walked over to her. "Are you done here?"

"Yes, quite done", she responded, suddenly realizing how tired she was. "Why?"

"Great. Come with me!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him.

"Rahab-" She only put up slight resistance. "Where are we going?"

"My brethren and I are not going out tonight. Malek insisted we take a day of rest. So I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to meet them."

"What?! Now?!" Suddenly she was all too aware of how terrible she looked, dirty and sweaty and an overall mess. "Can't I at least freshen up first?"

"No need for it, I'm sure they won't judge you."

There was little point in resisting. Rahab had set his mind on her meeting his brethren right now, come hell or high water.

The other inquisitors had decided that the weather was nice enough even during sunset to sit out in the courtyard. Like Rahab, all of them were out of their armor, only wearing simple shirts and pants. Without armor, finery and emblems, they looked… a whole lot more approachable, actually. Like normal, ordinary people.

Rahab walked up to them. "Good evening."

Zephon was the first to react. "There you are, Rahab. We were wondering where you wandered off to. And isn't this the little maid who just a few weeks ago took off at the mere sight of you?"

That got the attention of the rest of them, and Sultana found herself inspected by five pairs of very inquisitive eyes.

"Yes. This is Sultana."

Dumah raised an eyebrow. "And you brought her here because…?"

"Because she is…" Rahab paused, trying to find the right words, before continuing. "....my friend. And I wanted to introduce her to you."

"Of course", Zephon said with a smirk. "Little maid, blink twice if he's forcing you to do anything."

"Zephon!" Turel gave him a sharp look. "Enough."

He only shrugged. "You can't blame me for asking. Considering that, not too long ago, she was terrified of Rahab."

"I am sure that Rahab could clear up any misunderstanding that may have occurred between them", Turel replied resolutely. "Either way it is none of our business."

"Sit down!", Raziel told Sultana. "I swear we don't bite… much." The last word was accompanied by a grin.

"And what exactly would you even be able to bite? Her ankles?", Dumah teased.

Raziel grabbed the first thing he got his hands on, which turned out to be Melchiah's left shoe, and threw it at Dumah, who dodged it, causing it to land a few feet away in the grass.

"Oh for crying out-… I know this is a terrible first impression, Sultana, but they aren't always this juvenile", Rahab said in an exasperated tone.

"That's a lie and you know that", Dumah replied.

Sultana let her eyes wander from brother to brother… and then started giggling.

"Don't be embarrassed, Rahab", Melchiah, who had been silent up to that point, said. "She looks far more comfortable than before, so I'm sure she doesn't mind."

"I really don't", Sultana finally managed to say between giggles. She lowered herself onto the ground next to Melchiah. "It's lovely to get to know you all."

"Lovely to see more than your retreating back for once", Zephon said.

Sultana quickly found her way into the conversation, wowing the inquisitors with her in-depth knowledge of vampires and their weaknesses.

Takes one to know one, she thought to herself. If anyone questioned why she knew these things, she could still claim that those were simply things she had overheard while working in the fortress. In the end, she got a good picture of who the six men were, as actual people. Raziel was arrogant, yes but still in a loveable way. As the youngest of the brethren he was burning with the wish to prove himself.

Turel, mature and stern, but fair. It was easy to see that he, for all his grumpy demeanor, cared greatly for his brothers.

Dumah, who loved telling big tales of his exploits. Clearly someone who loved the glory that came with being an inquisitor.

Zephon, the jokester, who loved teasing others, but who's mischievous still lacked the malicious edge it would get during his vampiric life.

Melchiah was quite close to how Sultana knew him as a vampire. Quiet, but kind. A warm, steady, welcoming presence to those dear to him. There was a good reason why Sultana had always respected him most of all the lords.

And Rahab… oh Rahab. Intelligent and knowledgeable at the same time, but a bit too hung up on other people's opinion of him. A flaw that had carried over into his vampiric days, only magnified a thousand times.

It was odd seeing him like this, relaxed while around his brethren, eagerly chatting away about sword techniques and their history and how useful they would be for hunting vampires.

He looked so happy. Too bad that it wouldn't last long anymore… for all of them.

#ficlet #through the oceans of aeons #selfship fic #basically Sultana gets sent to the Sarafan era AU #that introduces the brothers as I headcanon them as humans

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sashi-ya · 2 years

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Hello sashi! This is my first time applying. Can I apply for Law x female reader? Female with sexual frustration but who hides it from her partner, because she doesn't want to bother him and wants her partner to the point of riding him one night while he sleeps and when he wakes up Law gives him what he wants. Please and thank you so much, I love your stories, they are great. 💕

Hi darling!! Of course!! I hope you enjoy! And thank u so much! 💖💖

😈💜Sashi's Dark Corner💜😈

NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Reader ~ Skin Vs Silicone

tw: NSFW. OK HEAR ME OUT: even if it is stated that Law was conscious and awaken the whole time, she didn't ask for permission so KEEP THAT IN MIND if you are gonna read it. It's NOT a 100% non con, BUT she didn't act right and she says so. So please keep that in mind. Law is not mad, he teased her, but still.

wc: 2.4K

Like this event? masterlist ~

Law’s rotations are intense. He is about to become a cardiothoracic surgeon so he is usually on call for more than 48 hours. He wants to become the best so he pushes himself to the max and spends most of his time at the hospital so he could have as many surgeries as possible. In fact, you admire how dedicated and passionate he is. Law will become the next best surgeon in the world, after his dad, Dr. Trafalgar. But you miss him at home, your bed misses him next to you on cold nights…and your body, your body misses his.

The soon to be surgeon arrives at home after Dr. Marco had to order him to leave the hospital. Law’s eyebags are darker than usual, and he has a very tired expression on his constant frown. “Hi…” he mumbles, dragging himself inside, still wearing some smelly dark blue scrubs. “Hi, sweetheart… Come in, it’s cold. I’ve prepared you a hot meal” you tell him, taking his bag and helping him take his mask off.

Law is not a really sweet nor a touchy lover on a daily basis, but today he flops into your arms right away. His head rests on the crook of your neck, and his arms hang loose at each side of his body. You comfort him, on arm tracing circles on his back, the other patting his head. “You look so tired, baby…”

“Mhhh..” he hums, with his nose pressed into your neck. Thing that always makes you shiver, and in other conditions maybe could end into a rough sexual session. But today’s not the case. Law is so tired; he couldn’t be asking for sex in any way. The only thing he wants to do in bed is to sleep for at least a whole day -or even more-.

“Did Dr. Marco send you home again?” you ask, sure the man was trying to prevent a resident from dying in the middle of the operation room. “Yes… he said I’ve done more hours than I should and that I might commit mistakes when operating so tired. He also forced me to take some days off” he says, now passing his arms around your waist.

You smile, he is gonna rest at least. Plus, you are gonna have him home, all for you.

After he ate, sometimes almost falling asleep over the plate, both went to bed. He went first, actually, since you stood a little to do the dishes. Law wanted to help, but you refused.

“Go and have a shower, relax. Go to sleep after. I’ll take you some tea” you mumble, as he walks upstairs scratching his dishevelled black hair. “yeah…come too, I wanna be with you” he utters, making you feel butterflies in your stomach. Though, you killed them. The poor man has just enough energy to breathe, how can you make him endure through a sexual situation… you can’t, right?

You hear the sound of the shower tap opening and while you dry your hands and put back the plates, you wish you were there under the warm water raining over both of you… like the old times. “Ah… If only you weren’t so perfect… even with that zombie like face you look fuckable, my sweet Law”.

You go upstairs and change into your pyjamas. You aren’t as tired as him, but you really wanna cuddle with him in bed, so you wait there for him to get out of the shower.

His naked torso, still a little wet, flashes its perfection and inked lines to you. Law is only wearing a white towel tucked around his hips and nothing more. Perfect caramel skin, hearts garnishing in black lines his whole body.

“BED” he says, smiling more to the mattress than to you. He comes closer and does not even attempt to get into his pyjamas’ shorts. He doesn’t care, he just needs the bed. He flops right next to you, without giving a damn about his towel opening at all. “Sowwy, I just need this” he says, enjoying the soft caress of the sheets over his body.

“Sweetheart, you are gonna get the pillow wet. Let me bring you a towel, your hair is still wet” you mumble. You desperately need to get away from there, or else you will pounce on him. “huh… ok” he moans, smiling with his eyes closed. “But come here, I wanna be with you”.

Those words… they say you should be careful with what you wish… and Law should be so.

You bring a little towel, and after getting in bed next to him, you help him to put it in between his head and the pillow. Though, you are sure he never noticed, as he was probably already falling asleep. “My baby…” you purr, kissing his forehead and definitely noticing how he had drifted into the oneiric world.

But you were wrong. Law might be sleeping, but he is still touchy. His arms reach for your body, still with his eyes closed, and pull you against his chest. “Come’ere” he whispers, as your cheek gets pressed against him. “Y-yeah” you whine because you can’t deny how warm his flesh feels against yours. “Cuddle with me”.

You do as he tells and getting comfortable you hug him too. Your hand rests over his belly, that goes up and down slowly each time, and your lips barely kiss his skin. “Sleep well, my sweet doctor”.

A few minutes pass, in which you relax, trying to think away those impure thoughts. But Law’s scent is so damn delicious, a perfect mix of subtle soap and his natural body smell… ambrosial. You rest there, imagining what you will do once he recovers, after he sleeps off all of the exhaustion… but suddenly, he turns you around.

You end up being spooned by him, his hand pressing your belly so you get closer, oh so close to his body. His chin rests on your shoulder, and his goatee grazes your neck. The warm feeling of his slow breathing tickles your skin, and it makes you instantly aroused. Whether he is doing this on purpose or not, it’s beginning to have its effect.

“Weren’t you tired?” you ask, giggling. You need to check if he is indeed up to play. “Uhmmgh” he utters, clearly he is trying to be awake when his own body refuses to do so. Poor man. “Shhh... go back to sleep, sweetheart”

Yet, Law, who minutes after snores softly in your ear, seems to move his own hips really subtly against your ass cheeks. “Why do you keep doing this, lord…” you ask yourself, in complete pain. You can sense he is hard, but he is asleep… how does he manage to do so?.

His inked hand rests atonic over your belly, yet the graze of his soft palm it’s enough to make you shiver. You ponder the idea of getting out of bed, just until you cool off, but the truth is that you can’t. You don’t want to wake him up, and you don’t want him to stop touching you so innocently, yet so sexily.

Your body reacts at every little sound he emits. “Law must be dreaming” you think, judging by the way he sometimes moans and babbles incompressible words. Your back feels warm, and it is probably because the towel he had around his hips has fully untucked and he is now completely naked against you.

Moving a little just to roll over your side, you end up in front of him. The soft light of the emergency light you usually have on the hall of your upper floor filters through the door and illuminates his profile. He is hard, hard, and sweaty. But he is asleep, so deeply asleep.

You get lost in the repetitive motion of his chest going up and down, slowly, calmly, breathing the air around you, leaving you without oxygen left… or perhaps it’s just how sexy he looks to your eyes.

Your hand rests, barely grazing his skin, over his belly. Lower it goes, ignoring every red flag your mind could put in the middle. “He is asleep” “Leave him rest” “You should ask him first”. You notice how his member twitches now, “why… Why, Law?”. Even a pearl of iridescent fluid sprouts from it, and you gloat… “Is this for real, doc?” you whisper, making him smirk. A smirk you didn’t see, because you were absolutely focused on stopping yourself from not pouncing into him.

Law acts so incredibly well when he wants, that you can’t see he is actually pretty woken up…

He grunts, sleepy grunts, eyes closed. His hand slides from his chest to his belly, dragging “by accident” your hand towards a dangerous, warm zone of his body. That place he told you is called “Scarpa’s Triangle” and it’s no other than the upper part of the thigh, close, so close to his sex. You can even feel his femoral pulse pumping over your hand, and like a vampire you feel attracted to bite, to kiss, to lick.

“Just a kiss and I’m off to the bathroom. Mr vibrator would do the job” you swear…

And your lips crash right there, centimetres from his glorious shaft. You inhale his scent, clean with a mix of his perfume. Classic, manly, soft, musky. A kiss that lasts longer than it should, a kiss you don’t want to break. And you don’t. Your lips trace a little path from his groin and all around the base of his sex. Sex that keeps twitching and growing stronger.

“Would it be so wrong if I just… lick you clean? you are gonna wet the sheets” you whisper, looking for excuses to taste him. The tip of your tongue comes closer to the little trail that drop of precum left, from his gland through his shaft. Delicious salty treat to spice your night, the licking that makes him even harder.

His hand sloppily gets to your head, and rests there like when you give him oral. Muscle memory is real, you think. “Would it be that bad… If I…” you whisper, lips touching Law’s sex, lips that soon end up around it. And you go, slowly, almost imperceptible, up, and down with your head. You rejoice in the taste of your lover's dick, and you feel a soft pressure over your head to go deep, deep until your throat.

Some tears sprout from the corner of your eyes, and you feel in heaven. How sick and perverted you are now, how badly this is… but how much you needed it… and your free hand plays under your shorts, tracing circles over your clit.

Law can’t stop himself from grunting from time to time, and you notice his mandible and neck muscles tense. His belly spasms, he clenches his teeth, but he is still “asleep”. “Sorry, I need you inside me” you moan, when your fingers are unable to give you what you really want, what you really need.

Taking your pyjama shorts off, and the damped underwear you were wearing, you straddle your hips over his crotch. At first you only rub yourself against him, precum mixing with your arousal products, stings of pleasure hitting your core. His tip looks itself for your entrance, that’s always been like this. Law’s dick has a natural tendency of penetrating you. And you won’t stop it. Surely you won’t.

“I need you” you moan, completely lost, possessed by a lustful demon. You are just like a succubus, attacking his prey during his sleep to steal the seed of a poor young victim. You stand up a little and let his hardness slip inside you… it feels so good. Finally real skin, not the sterile silicone of your toys.

Being on top has always been amazing for you, the slight curve of his dick stimulates so perfectly your special point. Just a little movement could be enough to make you come, but you want more, more, so much more. You drool, like a beast, well aware what you are doing is completely immoral and wrong, and still unable to stop your humping.

“Fuck” you whine, using his body just for you.

“Yes, fuck” he whispers, and carves his fingers on each of your thighs’ sides. You almost go limp seeing his grey eyes fixed on yours, open and full of desire. You stop yourself, terrified and feeling like shit. What you did is not far from being a crime.

“Don’t you dare stop, Name-ya” he giggles. “I wasn’t sleeping, but I knew that you wouldn’t touch me if I didn’t act” he continues, with a sincere smile and not mad at you. “You… Law…” you whisper, lips trembling. A mix of emotions that is about to make you cry.

“I’ve been teasing you all night, silly. Now, let me fuck you as I should have for so long, all right?” he tells you, turning you around and pinning you against bed. “I kinda wanna fuck you from behind tonight. Come on, turn around”.

And just as he commands, you obey. Your belly against your bed, your ass lifted. Not on all fours, just your ass up. He tops you, his dick searches and finds your wet entrance, and inside he goes. His body weight crashes you, but the feeling of being penetrated like this, belly pressed by your own and his weight of the bed, creates the perfect conditions for extreme pleasure.

And Law fucks you rough, moaning, groaning in your ear, biting even your shoulders, kissing you from the side, leaving your cheek shiny by playful tongues looking for the other in a hot, erotic, lustful dance.

“My little dark Name-ya… I didn’t know you were so needy, huh? Fucking me even while I’m sleeping… How much do you like my dick, huh? you wanted my dick inside you so desperately, didn't you?” he asks, while he fucks you mercilessly. “Yes, Y-es Law. I’m sorry, I was so--- needy” you moan, as his hand goes around your neck for a better grip. “Sorry? for being a needy slut for my dick? Please, don’t be sorry. I want that every night from now on”

Not once but twice you come under his unstoppable, insatiable, precise thrusts. Even a third time, while Law gets to his own climax, biting your neck, leaving the imprint of his sexual needs. Because Law also needs you, also desires you, also wants your body and also misses fucking you.

“I’m sorry for making you wait. I love you” he moans once he comes right inside you.

“It’s all worth it, babe…” you whine, feeling your throbbing core get full of him… ~

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