#court filings reveal

[andypantsx3]

READY OR KNOT | 2 | TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... TAGS/WARNINGS: pro hero au, fem + afab reader, omegaverse, alpha shouto, beta reader, misunderstandings, courting behavior, slightly case fic-y, undertones of sexual violence (not between main pairing), aged-up characters, eventual smut, 18+ minors please dni! LENGTH: 4.9k, 2nd of 7 chapters

It turned out it was not so easy to forget what had happened with Shouto. Especially when Monday morning rolled around, and with it, some very pressing questions about the party.

Mina found you first thing in the morning, already up to your eyeballs in the case file at your desk. A frown marred her pretty mouth as she rounded the corner into the case analyst area. She neatly dodged your deskmate’s ginormous stack of paperwork, nearly as tall as she was, eyes homing in on you like dark little missiles.

“I heard about what happened with Suzuki,” she said, looking you over with uncharacteristic concern. Her eyebrows were drawn, her features pinched. It was an expression that didn’t overtake her cheerful visage all too often. “Are you okay?”

You blinked up at her, the name escaping you for a moment, until you matched it up with the support alpha from the party on Friday. Your lips downturned in reflexive distaste.

“I’m fine. You must have heard that Shouto scared him off,” you answered. “All he really managed to do was imply some stuff.”

Mina’s eyebrow twitched, like she had more questions on that, but she dutifully adhered to the matter at hand first. “I did hear that and we are going to be discussing that in a second. But that doesn’t mean you’d still be okay with everything that did happen. I’ve got a meeting with HR about Suzuki this afternoon, and I’m thinking of firing him.”

You jolted, a quick pang of guilt striking through you. Firing him. That seemed a very intense option.

You thought Suzuki was an asshole, sure, and you remembered all too well the horror that had overtaken you as he’d reached for his belt. But you also knew he had been drunk out of his mind—drunk enough that he thought you were an omega of all things, somehow perceiving things that weren’t even there.

You’d thought about it a lot this weekend, running over the events in your mind, and while the whole incident left a sour taste in your mouth, you thought Suzuki probably had been close to alcohol poisoning considering how strongly he smelled of Tetsutetsu’s horrible drink. He wasn’t exactly sound of mind, the lines a little blurry.

You’d never waylaid anyone like that while intoxicated, but you had done and said your fair share of things you regretted when you’d sobered up. You didn’t know what to think.

You looked up at Mina, finding her watching you consideringly. “No?” she asked.

You scrubbed a hand over your face, unclear what the right thing was. “I saw him and he was like, really not all there, Mina. I think he should be punished for sure, but what if you gave him a warning that if this happens at all again, he’s gone?”

One of Mina’s eyebrows arched. “Shouto said he was holding you against the wall even after you said no.”

You could feel your nostrils flare in anger at the memory, the feeling of that hand against the wet patch on your shoulder, unbudging.

“He did, but he also thought I was an omega, Mina,” you said. “I think he was close to alcohol poisoning, actually. He hasn’t caused any other trouble like this, has he?”

Mina shook that head of wild pink curls. “No, he’s been a model employee thus far. But I still don’t like it. That’s not what the Pink Riot agency is.”

A sigh filled your lungs. The support of Mina and Kirishima was enough for now. “I don’t like it either. But he was drunk, and nothing did actually happen, thanks to Shouto. Give him a warning that any other tiny slip up means firing, and I will be satisfied.”

Mina looked hesitant, dark eyes searching over your face, but eventually she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Fine. Once and only because you’ll need an accurate record from support in your investigation and it will be harder to get if he’s gone. But he will be fired if I hear even a whiff of a rumor again.” She paused. “And you’ll have to talk to Eiji, because he’s going to like this even less than I do.”

That wrung a smile out of you.

Kirishima was a good alpha and seemed to think of the agency almost like his pack. As easygoing as he was, he guarded his people resolutely, like a farm dog patrolling a chicken coop. You could almost imagine him standing at attention, head forward and tail pointed like an arrow.

As heartwarming as that image was, that didn’t mean you wanted to be the one to tell him though. You shook your head, throwing out your hands. “Oh no. Your alpha, your problem. The one privilege of my secondary gender is I’m not part of this shit.”

Mina clucked, sighing. “He is my problem.”

You laughed, knowing very well she’d know how to solve it. But her expression shifted, suddenly looking sly, and you realized she was about to saddle you with another problem.

“You’ll have to tell Shouto then,” she said, her voice deceptively light.

You blinked, eyebrows raising. Shouto…? “Why the heck would I need to tell Shouto?”

A grin slowly crept over Mina’s mouth, and she leaned in conspiratorially, looking altogether too pleased. Her hot pink nails settled on the edge of your desk, tapping delightedly. “Because he’s your assigned supervising hero. And you’ll be seeing him again in just a few minutes.”

A sudden flurry of butterflies erupted in your stomach, your mind flashing through the feeling of Shouto over you, tall and strong and warm, pressing you carefully to the wall. You could all but feel the whisper of those pretty eyelashes on your skin, feel his careful exhale, the brush of his mouth against your throat.

Your ears prickled with heat, and you could feel your face go slack in shock. He would be here—? In front of you again?

“He’s—what?” you garbled out, trying to dispel the phantom feeling of Shouto against you.

Mina looked downright smug. “He asked to be assigned right after I spoke to him at the party on Friday. Interesting, don’t you think?”

Heat licked at your cheeks. “Is it,” you managed tightly. “That’s… nice of him.”

“Very,” Mina agreed. “Especially since I heard about what happened after Suzuki left.”

You hated her.

“I’m a beta,” you reminded her, not liking the implication.

Mina’s dark eyes rolled. “Eiji liked me even when he thought I might present as a beta.”

“That’s different,” you told her, floored that you’d sidetracked into this so quickly. “I’m actually a beta. Also what the hell are we even talking about. This is a work case.”

Mina flapped a hand at you. “I’m sure you’ll both work it very hard, very thoroughly,” she said with no small amount of relish.

You seized the case file in question, holding it up between you like a shield, flapping it at her in turn. The manila folder flopped stiffly, the pages making a sort of wobbly sound. “Why are you like this,” you hissed.

Mina’s eyes glittered, and she opened her mouth to respond, when the soft tread of a boot in the hall made her perk up. Her grin went unholy. “Speak of the devil,” she said.

Shouto certainly did not look like the devil, as he rounded the corner. The fluorescent lighting made a sort of soft halo off the glossy strands of his distinct two-toned hair, and his features were just as angelic as you remembered—finely-wrought and almost deliberately formed, as though he were sculpture from the hands of a master. He was almost too beautiful to look at this early in the morning, and you felt your breath draw up short in your lungs.

He blinked when he saw you, those heterochromatic eyes widening nearly imperceptibly as he approached.

“Morning, Shouto-kun,” she purred. You hated her.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone low and soft. Your fingers tightened on the file folder, bracing yourself against the loveliness of the sound.

A flush rose to your cheeks as you did so, and Shouto’s eyes followed you curiously. Beneath the high collar of his hero uniform, you could just glimpse a flash of his scent patches, neatly placed as usual. You wondered absently what he would smell like if you peeled them back and leaned in close. As a beta, your nose was not as good as the other genders, but if you got in close enough, and if Shouto’s scent was strong enough, you’d probably be able to tell.

He looked like he’d smell delicious.

A cackle from Mina alerted you to the horrifying fact that you’d just been staring at Shouto as he approached, mouth open and expression vacant.

“Uh… good morning,” you managed.

The corner of Shouto’s mouth quirked up, and something beneath your skin tingled in response.

“I hope you are well,” he murmured.

You could see Mina’s eyes darting back and forth between the two of you with barely suppressed glee, and a sudden bolt of shame went through you.

Just because it was super obvious how hot you found Shouto didn’t mean he felt the same. He was a fucking pro hero for crying out loud. Rescuing people was what he did—the save on Friday did not have to mean anything.

Plus, knowing for sure that he was an alpha had closed the window on your little celebrity crush. Out of the hundreds of couples you’d met in your lifetime, you’d only ever met one alpha-beta pairing—both tradition and biology seemed to win out in almost all mated pairs, alphas and omegas unable to help their inherent attraction to one another.

And with that in mind, it was actually super disrespectful of you to even think about this impending partnership in any terms less-than-professional.

You rallied yourself, inclining your head respectfully to Shouto, gesturing with the case file in your hands.

“Yep, I’m good. I’m grateful for the save and I’m sure I’ll be even more grateful for your help on this case.” You turned to your boss, routing her back on track. “Mina, what information have you shared and what do I need to get him up to speed on?”

Mina’s pout was so defined it could be seen from space. You ignored her, raising your eyebrows.

“I only put the call out to other agency heads for a supervising out-of-agency hero. Just that it’s an omega assault case possibly involving a pro, and your name as the lead investigator.”

Your gaze returned to Shouto. He was still watching you intently.

“How much time do you have before you’re needed back at your agency?” you asked him. “Do you want to grab a conference room and I’ll get you up to speed? I’m sure Mina has a lot to do just now.”

He nodded, his hair falling into his eyes in a way that should not have wrung the oxygen out of the atmosphere, but did. “I am on patrol after lunch, but I’ve asked that my schedule be cleared until then.”

Perfect. Plenty of time. You stood, hefting the case file with you, clearly dismissing Mina, who looked put out.

“Great, I’ll show you to the conference room then,” you said. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Mina flashing you a pink finger, and you could easily guess which one. You stuck out your tongue at her as you passed Shouto so he couldn’t see, not above pettiness.

You gestured Shouto into one of the smaller rooms across the floor with especially good soundproofing, holding the door open for him. You sucked in a breath as he brushed past you, trying not to admire how tall and broad he was, the way those shoulders spanned the breadth of the doorway.

Shouto took a seat and you spread the case file out before him, trying not to look down at him as he glanced up at you. His fingers twitched on the conference table, like he was holding them in place. You carefully retreated to a safer distance, hoping you hadn’t annoyed him.

“Okay so the basic brief is as Mina said. There have been multiple reports of a suspected pro harassing omegas late at night in Bunkyo. Initially they were identified as a masked male wearing scent patches, roughly five foot ten, always wearing some dark jacket. But the suspected hero element came into play late last week when they attempted to strap quirk suppressors on their target. The omega in question had a vapor quirk so she was able to dissolve and escape before he did.”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you as you spoke, solemn and attentive.

“So far the suspect has not shown any signs of a quirk himself, and without any scent ID it’s hard to know what secondary gender to look for. Our best option is to work the possible-pro-hero angle and rule out who we can, since that’s all the identifiable detail we have on this guy at this time.”

Shouto nodded, propping an elbow on the table. You tried to ignore how even that small gesture made him look like a center spread in Heroes Illustrated.

“I’d like to read the individual reports and hear your plan once I have,” Shouto said.

You perked up, pleased with the terms he was speaking in. A good case analyst always had at least a sketch of a plan—what order to speak to specific people in, which angles had highest priority of investigation, and how the labor could be divided and work double-checked.

Most heroes were people of action and hated having to be corralled into approaching cases like some sort of assignment, instead of busting in and blowing things apart. But it was the best way to make sure all avenues were investigated thoroughly and that work was peer-reviewed in case someone missed something.

Shouto’s phraseology told you he was familiar with approaching cases like this, meaning he probably listened to the Todoroki agency analysts. You’d never worked closely enough with him before to know, only trading high-level information back and forth on a couple of joint cases, presenting findings in a meeting room stuffed full of Pink Riot and Todoroki agency heroes.

You found yourself smiling faintly.

“I’ll get you some coffee while you read. Everything is in chronological order in the file and I’ve tabulated some notes,” you said. “How do you take yours?”

Shouto’s gaze slid over you, careful and assessing. He paused. “I’ve been told I should not share that information.”

Your eyebrows went up. “Your… coffee order?”

Shouto nodded seriously. “Bakugou says it’s disgusting and embarrassing.”

Bakugou—pro hero Dynamight, that was—was Kirishima’s best friend, a loud alpha of an explosive manner and incendiary opinions who often showed up unprompted at the agency to stomp around and mean mug, all the while hiding that he was attempting to press leftovers on Kiri and Mina. You laughed, curious what Bakugou had browbeaten another pro over.

“Your secret will be safe with me,” you said coaxingly.

Shouto blinked, mouth quirking slightly again. He looked like he genuinely liked the idea of that, and your stomach fluttered in response.

Of course then he opened his mouth and provided a rundown of the inhumanly numerous sugars and syrups he liked, such that it constituted more of a soft drink than a coffee order. You tried to keep your eyebrows from creeping up into your hairline, smothering a laugh.

That was so unexpectedly cute. Especially for an alpha.

“One coma-inducing order of sugar with a splash of coffee, coming right up,” you saluted him.

He did something with his face that was a cross between a tiny smile and a pout, and you threw yourself out the door before you dissolved into a puddle of goop.

You went down to the cafe that operated out of the ground floor of the Pink Riot building, a favorite lunch spot of most of the heroes for how enormous their sandwiches were. The order took a fair few minutes, as it took the barista a good while to pump in the zillions of requested syrups, his eyebrows raised nearly to the moon as you recited them.

When you returned to the conference room, Shouto was already well into the case file. He glanced up as you entered, those heterochromatic eyes pinning you with an unexpected intensity. You started, wondering if you’d done something wrong.

But then his mouth slid into another tiny smile, and he looked so genuinely pleased to see you—or the coffee cup—you found yourself helplessly smiling back.

After depositing his cup next to him, you fetched your laptop and emailed Shouto’s agency the case files while he read. You wrote up the preliminary notes you’d been able to pull together on the case—a list of three agency heroes whose exact whereabouts had been accounted for during one or more of the incidents, who were therefore not on your list of possibilities.

Shouto was staring at you when you shook yourself out of work mode an hour later, quiet and intent. You startled, jumping in your seat.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry—did you say something? I didn’t mean to ignore you,” you said.

Shouto shook his head, another smile quirking that perfect mouth. That expression was growing familiar. “I have just finished,” he said.

A sense of relief washed over you. “Okay great. Did anything stick out to you that you think I’ve missed so far?”

“No,” he murmured. “Your work is very thorough. I would like to hear your plan.”

His tone was low, almost appreciative, and you tried not to let it go to your head.

“Okay, then we’ll begin with the active duty and equipment logs,” you told him. “I’m already through all of the duty logs available, but I still need the one from Thursday when the last incident happened—it’s supposed to be ready this afternoon. That will rule out a few heroes, and the equipment logs can tell us more about who had what out during the time of the attacks—I think we start with the heroes who had suppressors on them then.”

Shouto nodded, looking like he was following along. “You want to narrow the pool before you speak to anyone in case you arouse suspicion.”

You nodded, pleased he understood. “Yes.”

That blue and gray gaze nearly pinned you to your seat. “That is smart.”

A sudden wash of heat licked up your spine, pooling in your limbs. You struggled to keep your face neutral, your ears burning. “Th—thanks.”

“Who have you ruled out so far?” he asked.

You turned your screen to him, showing the notes you’d drawn up. “Kiri’s clear—no shock there—Tetsutetsu, and Tetsu’s sidekick who was with him on a cleanup during the first incident. I’m hoping Thursday’s log will clear at least one or two more.”

Shouto inclined his head in agreement. “And your interview plan?”

You smiled, and scrolled down to your notes on that, pleased at how he was letting you lead the investigation. He listened intently as you walked him through an outline, double-checking that everything worked with his schedule.

As you talked, he offered a few suggestions of his own, but he mostly seemed content to follow your outline—completely unlike even the most agreeable of the Pink Riot agency alphas. In fact it was so contradictory to everything you’d experienced thus far that you found your gaze darting to his scent patches over and over again, as if assessing whether they were really covering up an alpha scent.

But no—you had felt the pull of his Order under your skin on Friday. You, a beta, naturally resistant to Orders in the way omegas weren’t. And you’d gone so boneless against him, too, affected by his proximity in the most embarrassing way. Shouto was definitely an alpha, with that kind of pull—and probably a preternaturally strong one at that.

But he was also just—your eyes drifted to his coma-inducing coffee cup—kind of a strange one, too.

The two of you discussed the case for a few more minutes—until your stomach growled, loud enough to interrupt your planning, and the corner of Shouto’s lips lifted again.

“Would you like to finish up over lunch?” he asked, saving you the embarrassment of excusing yourself.

You grinned. “I think my stomach already answered for me,” you agreed.

Shouto helped you reorganize the paper files and lingered over you as you locked them into your desk cabinet, waiting for you patiently. Then he let you lead him downstairs to the cafe. You were conscientious of not standing too close to him in the elevator, all too aware of him in that tiny, enclosed space.

When you made it down to the ground floor, Shouto surprised you by steering you over to one of the tables, bidding you to sit.

“What do you enjoy here?” he asked, looking down at you expectantly. “I would like to get it for you.”

You shook your head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I should be treating you for the save. How about you tell me what you want?”

Those heterochromatic eyes blinked down at you, and a tiny crease appeared between Shouto’s eyebrows. His mouth turned down. Against the subtlety of his expressions thus far, the look appeared almost distressed. “I insist,” he said, something strange in his tone.

“Shouto, really, I—-”

“I insist,” Shouto said, a little more firmly. There was the flicker of something strange under your skin again, like the tiny molecules of your body shifting in response to him.

You froze, startled, and your mouth opened for you before you realized what you were doing. “I—a pesto sandwich—”

You clamped your mouth shut, mystified.

But Shouto looked pleased. He smiled, wider than you had seen so far, a devastatingly handsome quarter-moon sliver that sent your pulse pounding in your ears. You watched him turn and walk off, something you might have said was almost smug in his step, had you known him better.

You sank into one of the seats, befuddled by what had just happened.

Shouto returned a few minutes later with water and an order number, placing the bottle in front of you like an offering. You regrouped, thanking him, then raised your eyebrows as he leaned forward, looking serious.

“I have been wanting to ask. Where does the alpha who harassed you work?” he asked, his tone dropping low. A strip of afternoon sunlight caught in his hair, dancing like flickering flames in the strands of scarlet, liming them in an orange glow.

He was beautiful in the sun, and it took you a minute to reroute your brain from his face to his question.

“Suzuki’s in support,” you said. “But Mina’s disciplining him, and I don’t have to see him often. I do expect he’ll behave after this. But why do you ask?”

Shouto frowned, leaning in closer. “Support maintains the equipment logs.”

It was the same at the Pink Riot agency too. “I—well, yes, but—”

“I should like to be there when you go to support,” Shouto said, catching your eye. His expression shifted into something solemn, his mouth a flat line.

You waved your hand dismissively. “I appreciate it, but don’t worry. He’s not gonna do anything, it’s literally just logs—”

“I must insist,” Shouto said again, his tone soft but unmistakably firm. His fingers flexed tightly where they rested on the edge of the table, the knuckle of his index turning white.

Despite yourself, his concern warmed you, that hot, tingly feeling heating your ears again.

“I really would be okay,” you said. “But if it means something—I’ll wait until tomorrow when you get here?”

Shouto nodded. “I would like that very much.”

A smile teased at your mouth. Now that was stereotypical alpha behavior, much as you appreciated his concern. Suzuki wasn’t going to jump you over a log file in a workplace—especially not after Mina had taken him to task. Shouto’s concern was unnecessary, but so very typical of an alpha. It felt familiar, like Kirishima’s brand of protectiveness over his tight knit agency, you thought. Harmless and well-intentioned.

A tray being placed on your table cut off any response you might have given, and your eyes blew wide as you registered the amount of food on it. Your mouth dropped open when a second tray was placed alongside the first one, the cafe worker smiling down at Shouto before she left, clearly recognizing him.

Shouto looked down at the food, his features arranged in minute shock.

“I do not remember ordering this…” he said, glancing at his receipt slip. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed slightly, that crease appearing between them again as his eyes flickered over the order. Then he cut himself off, those long eyelashes fluttering. “I… apologize.”

Apologize? Meaning, he had ordered this?

“You bought all this?” you asked, floored.

Shouto gave a tight nod. “It… would seem so.”

Your gaze picked over the trays again. They were piled high with at least six sandwiches, several pastries, a takeout container of soup, four different kinds of cookies, two fruit cups, and a handful of the granola bars they kept by the register. It was a literal mountain of food, and you sort of doubted even a pro hero could put that much away in one sitting.

“If you were so hungry we could have come down so much earlier,” you insisted, but Shouto’s embarrassed expression only deepened.

“It is… not for me,” he said slowly. It looked like it pained him to admit it.

You blinked, drawing back in your seat. “It’s…..me?”

Shouto nodded seriously.

A shocked laugh leapt out of you, bright and pleased. “Shouto, I was hungry but this is like, eleven meals!”

“You will have leftovers, then,” Shouto replied, sounding embarrassed. The tips of his ears were red where they peeked through his mop of multicolored hair.

You were so suddenly, utterly charmed by him, a splash of warmth pooling in your stomach, flooding through your limbs. You had absolutely no idea what had possessed him to do this, but it was undeniably sweet. Coupled with the easy way he’d let you take the lead on the investigation, and the way he’d moved to protect you on Friday night—it all painted a portrait of a very good, very kind sort of person.

You’d really lucked into a good partnership. You were grateful.

“Thank you, Shouto,” you said sincerely. A hint of a flush colored his high cheekbones, and he nodded.

You decided not to press him anymore, setting aside your speculation for when he’d gone. Instead, you unearthed your requested sandwich from the mound of food, and selecting a pastry at random. Shouto watched you as you bit into your food, a strange sort of intensity in his gaze.

Eventually, however, he took his own food, and the two of you chatted as you ate, moving on from the case to discuss his patrol, your shared friends, and a slew of other silly topics. You found him just as easy to talk to outside of case work—he had the same straightforward way of approaching life as he did his casework, his outlook consummately honest and thoughtful.

You regretted it when Shouto eventually had to excuse himself for patrol, but not before disappearing and reappearing with a takeout containers and a bag for all the things he’d ordered you, which he carefully but insistently packed away, before putting in front of you with a meaningful look.

You laughed again, taking the bag from him as you got up to make your way back upstairs as well.

“Thank you for lunch,” you told him, trying to convey how sincerely grateful you were. “I’m looking forward to our partnership.” You stuck out your hand to him, smiling up at him.

Shouto’s expression didn’t change much, but his mismatched gaze grew warmer where it rested on you. “As am I,” he said, tone soft.

Long fingers curled around yours, and for a moment you felt that same, weak-kneed desire to collapse against him as you had on Friday. It took an inordinate amount of focus to pump his hand in a handshake, and even more willpower to let him go.

You waved him off, and watched him go, feeling a strange sense of emptiness as that broad back disappeared through the door. In just a few short hours, it seemed, Todoroki Shouto had dug himself a comfortable little spot in your heart—far deeper than a case partner should have.

You ruminated on this as you made your way back upstairs, mind running over the events of the last few days. You couldn’t figure out why Shouto was having a weirder effect on you than any other alpha, even accounting for his unearthly good looks, nor why he seemed to be equally lost today—ordering a zillion things without even realizing he’d done so.

As you made your way back to your desk and cracked open the case file again, you resolved to solve this mystery as well. You were good at getting to the bottom of things—and Todoroki Shouto would be no exception.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto #tw: a/b/o

[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant partner? Neuvillette

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/companion is ecstatic. But how will he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader, NSFW.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Warning: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Neuvillette.

Note: This chapter contains Fontaine story spoilers. I advise you to finish Archon's quest before starting to read.

Ps: Sorry for my long absence, I've had a lot of health problems since the start of the 2023 school year...

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

Part 6 Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus

Part 7 Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

1. The moon was lighting up the night sky when you reached the door of Neuvillette's office. Silently, you gazed at him from the doorway, waiting patiently for him to take his eyes off his work and meet yours. Knowing that he had already noted your presence, his dragon senses being far more acute than those of mortals, you found a particular charm in watching him devote himself in earnest to the last files of the day.

"It's getting late, my love. "

At these words, Neuvillette raised his reptilian-glinted eyes to you, a tender, affectionate smile lighting up his face.

"You should have waited for me at home. I get worried when you walk alone at this hour."

Dropping his pen, he stood up and walked over to join you. Arriving at your height, he leaned over to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"I know, but... there was something very important I had to tell you. And as lately you've tended to neglect your wife for your work..."

Your words floated through the air, laden with gentle rebuke and nervous anticipation. As you spoke, Neuvillette, with obvious tenderness, gently pushed a lock of your hair back behind your ear, his gesture emphasizing the closeness and deep affection he felt for you. His attention was entirely focused on you, as if he were trying to read in your eyes the importance of what you had to reveal to him.

With a gentle gesture, you took Neuvillette's hand, guiding his palm until it lay flat on your stomach. A silence fell, heavy with anticipation, as Neuvillette watched your gesture, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Then, slowly, a flash of understanding lit up his gaze. He sensed, through the touch of his hand, the subtle but undeniable aura of a new life beginning to form within you, the existence of a little being yet to be born. A dragon.

Your husband's heart raced as he finally realized what was growing inside you. Neuvillette, usually in control, was overcome by a wave of emotions: surprise, happiness, a touch of anxiety in the face of the unknown, but above all, a deep and unconditional love for you and for this new life you were carrying.

Without a word, his other hand joined the first, as if gently but firmly enveloping the precious treasure you now shared. His gaze, filled with infinite tenderness, lifted to yours.

In this moment of shared intimacy, words seemed superfluous, replaced by tender caresses and kisses, heralding the start of a new chapter in your lives together.

2. Neuvillette's draconic nature permeated every fiber of his being, making him extremely protective and territorial, especially where you were concerned. His perception of mortals had certainly evolved after the fall of the hydro archon, but his role as supreme judge of the Fontaine court left him little room for easy trust, especially when it came to unpredictable and often cruel human nature.

Your pregnancy only exacerbated this aspect of his personality. The prospect of becoming a father, of protecting and looking after an even more vulnerable being, amplified his protective instincts. Even when you remarked to him, perhaps hoping to mitigate this tendency or channel it in a way that seemed more appropriate...

But you soon realized that it was difficult to change the profound nature of a dragon over a thousand years old...

3. The evolution of your pregnancy revealed hitherto unknown and deeply endearing aspects of Neuvillette. This new facet manifests itself in a surprising way: a soft, soothing, purring-like sound emanates from him when he looks at you or caresses you gently. This sound, unexpected from a dragon, proved to you that he was happy and at peace in your presence…

4. Neuvillette's trust in the protection of you and your child during his extended absences was a privilege he bestowed on very few people. Clorinde and Wriothesley stood out as the pillars of this trust, each with their own role and ability to look after you. Wriothesley, despite his responsibilities anchoring him to the Meropide fortress, was a devoted protector whose friendship with Neuvillette and you never wavered.

The Melusines also held a special place in Neuvillette's esteem. Their joy and zeal in protecting you and your unborn child was not only a testament to their loyalty to Neuvillette, but also a recognition of the importance of your role by his side.

5. The relationship you forged with Furina was marked by an affection and trust that transcended the past of the former archon of Fontaine. Her daily visits became special moments, when the joy of sharing sweets and laughter brightened your day. Discussions about the baby's name, possible traits, or who he or she might most resemble, were moments of pure complicity.

The arrival of Neuvillette, which often marked the end of these afternoons of sweetness and laughter, added another dimension to the family picture. His reaction to the mess left by Furina, oscillating between severity and underlying affection, reflected his deep concern for your well-being. His ability to scold Furina without raising his voice, while reminding her of the importance of your rest, demonstrated a delicate balance between authority and tenderness. To you, this was undeniable proof that Neuvillette would be an exceptional father to your child.

6. During your pregnancy, you showed worrying symptoms of depression. With Neuvillette often absent during the day and sometimes even all night, he only became aware of your condition belatedly, when he found you in tears in the kitchen. Crouched against the cupboards, overwhelmed by deep sadness, you didn't immediately notice his return.

The sight of your distress deeply affected Neuvillette, who at first thought you'd been the victim of an assault by a local seeking revenge after being tried for his crimes by the Supreme Judge. However, he soon realized that your emotional state was largely influenced by pregnancy hormones, exacerbated by the fact that you were carrying a half-human, half-dragon child.

With a heavy heart in the face of your grief, Neuvillette has vowed to stay by your side as much as possible, adjusting his schedule to be more present by your side. He has taken steps to ensure that he can spend weekends with you, actively engaging in preparations to welcome the baby into your life. "Don't cry anymore mon amour. From now on, I'll stay by your side."

7. As night fell, it became customary for you and Neuvillette to embrace tenderly on the living-room sofa. Positioned comfortably across his legs, with one of his arms warmly embracing you, Neuvillette would take pleasure in reading aloud to you one of those sentimental novels you so cherished. Neuvillette's soft, melodious voice enveloped you in a feeling of well-being, as you gently brushed your rounded belly, lulled by the sound of his reading.

Each time you dozed off against him, he cherished these moments deeply, placing kisses on your face as he whispered sweet nothings to you. Releasing his hand from the weight of the book she was holding, he gently slid it over you until it rested gently on your rounded belly. His tender, loving gestures, as he touched your skin, seemed to awaken a response in his child, who pressed himself against your belly, as if to draw closer to the warmth of his father...

8. The last few weeks of your pregnancy proved to be particularly trying, forcing you to spend most of your time in bed, suffering from intense back pain that made any movement painful. Aware of your condition, Neuvillette chose to take a few days off work to stay by your side, ensuring your well-being and safety.

The approach of childbirth was causing him growing anxiety. The idea of a human giving birth to the child of a sovereign dragon was unprecedented, and the absence of any references or testimonials to such a situation fueled his fears about the potential risks to you and the baby. This fear, which became almost palpable as the days passed, plunged him into a state of nervousness he had never experienced before.

Neuvillette had considered going to Natlan, hoping to find information or help to assist you during the birth. However, the idea of leaving you alone for several weeks was unbearable.

9. Neuvillette, faced with the unknown of this extraordinary situation, was overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions. Deep inside him, a tenacious hope persisted, that fate would preserve you and the child from any misfortune. The very idea of losing you, of seeing you torn from him too soon, was unbearable. With each passing day, he watched over you with redoubled attention, doing everything in his power to ensure your comfort and safety, while trying to conceal his own fears so as not to add to your stress.

As you waited, every shared moment took on priceless value, every smile, every tender gesture turned into a treasure trove of memories to cherish.

10. Your delivery turned out to be an ordeal of an intensity and complexity you'd never imagined, your cries and tears breaking your husband's heart. The pain and loss of blood plunged you into a state of vulnerability you'd never experienced before, causing you to lose consciousness on several occasions.

"It's going to be okay , mon amour, you're strong and brave. You'll make it. Just a little more effort and our child will soon be here with us."

Despite the fear and anxiety, Neuvillette's presence by your side was an unwavering pillar of support. His hand clasping yours, he enveloped you in his love and encouragement, his voice soft and reassuring.

The intervention of Baizhu, Liyue's doctor recommended by the traveler, was crucial. Thanks to his expertise and professionalism, he managed the complications with remarkable efficiency. Neuvillette, using his hydro authority, played an equally vital role, treating life-threatening wounds and using his powers to stabilize your condition. The synergy of their efforts was the determining factor in your survival in this bitter struggle.

The birth of your child, despite the circumstances, marked a moment of pure happiness and relief. When you heard his first cries, a sense of peace and fulfillment came over you, allowing you to finally surrender to rest, your exhausted mind and body taking refuge in sleep.

11. Neuvillette had delicately placed your child beside you, gently brushing your sweat-dampened hair, while his free hand gently enveloped his baby in a peaceful sleep. His gaze was lost in the infinite tenderness he felt for you, a wave of happiness and pride emanating from his whole being. How could he ever make the whole universe understand the beauty he saw in you? The fullness he felt watching you and his child, so serenely asleep under his protection? How could he articulate the immense joy of this deeply human experience of being part of a family? He, the sovereign hydro dragon, was discovering a new and profound humanity, all thanks to... Thanks to your presence in his life.

Somewhere in your dreams, you could hear the gentle sound of a purr...

12. Neuvillette will embody the figure of a father with an exceptionally gentle approach to education. Firm only when necessary, his child will be just like him. With a calm, collected and sometimes distant temperament, the child will learn the essential lessons of dragon heritage from his father. This transmission will be carried out with subtlety and wisdom, enabling the child to understand not only the value, but also the responsibility of his ancestry.

NSFW bonus:

The moment Neuvillette crossed the threshold of the house, returning from a grueling day at court, he found you fast asleep on the sofa, a soft light illuminating the room and a book resting carelessly on your belly, which was getting rounder by the day. He immediately realized that you'd been up most of the night waiting for him to return. Heaving a weary sigh, he shed his coat, gloves and scarf, then carefully placed your book on the table before lifting you gently into his arms. However, the mere touch of your husband, his warmth, his breath, his presence, was enough to awaken your senses. Blinking against his chest, a sigh of contentment escaped your lips as your gaze met his, imbued with a gentleness and warmth that contrasted so sharply with the man he was when you first met him.

"Ah, there you are at last, my dragon..." A tender smile lit up his face, as he adjusted your position so you could throw your arms around his neck, your lips seeking his in a burst of love.

"I asked you not to wait up for me. You need to rest... Why are humans so stubborn?" Your laughter, light and joyful, invited him to silence as you placed another kiss on his lips, which he received happily.

This one was deeper, more languorous. You needed him. Now... The absence of your dragon weighed so heavily on you that it aroused extravagant thoughts. Neuvillette could feel it... Your growing excitement knotting your belly and moistening that secret place between your thighs...

A rumble vibrated Neuvillette's chest as he deposited you on your bed, lips still linked, tongues struggling against each other for dominance. Your husband's instincts were stronger than anything, and since his companion wanted him so much, then he'd give her anything she wanted...

Who'd have thought it? Beneath this cool, aloof facade lay a passionate lover, expert in the art of thrilling the senses. Neuvillette loved to prepare you for him, burying his face tenderly between your thighs, his tongue fervently caressing your most intimate parts, while your fingers lost themselves with delight in his hair, leading you to heights of voluptuousness.

Dragons, creatures whose mating rituals were rare and dictated solely by the heat cycles of their females, contrasted sharply with humans when it came to sexuality. This discrepancy had initially confused Neuvillette, who couldn't understand why his physical reaction was so spontaneous at the sight of you. Besides, the fact that you were already pregnant should, in theory, have tempered his ardor during this period, shouldn't it? Why, then, did his desire for you intensify at the sight of your round belly? Your condition triggered a deep instinctive response in him...

To demand you. To make you his, even if you were already carrying his offspring...

His ardent thoughts set him ablaze, making him more passionate. He wanted nothing more than to melt into you, claiming your body as his own. His tongue worked you ardently as his fingers explored your innermost recesses, seeking to make you shiver with pleasure. Your moans were a song to his ears, the sound of his name, his true name, slipping between your exquisite lips.

Her eager mouth seized your quivering clitoris, savoring it with exquisite sensuality, while her deft fingers guided you to ecstasy. Your pregnancy amplified your sensitivity, allowing your beloved to lead you with infinite tenderness to the gates of rapture. His phalanges guided you to the end of your orgasm, his mouth tenderly kissing the bulge of your belly. When he brushed his lips against your skin, it was with a gentleness and affection that contrasted with the real urges driving him.

"Darling, I need you... Please..."

Neuvillette, his heart pounding, took a deep breath to calm the ardors that consumed him, eager not to harm you or your child, even if this one was an unborn dragon.

With infinite gentleness, his hand lovingly caressed your body, his lips tracing a tender path from your belly to your breasts, which he covered with kisses and delicate sucks before moving up to your neck and finally your lips. His kiss, at first filled with tenderness, gradually became hot with passion. His teeth nibbled delicately at your bottom lip, begging for more, and when your mouth opened to offer him what he desired, his tongue tasted you with fervor, as if you were the most delicious food in this world.

When he finally unites with you, he takes great pleasure in contemplating you in your entirety. Although your state of pregnancy forces him to deviate from the postures he loves, he knows how to find ways of satisfying his devouring thirst for you. Often, with his back arched in a throbbing motion, he will watch with rapt attention the undulations of your body as his hips fall delicately against yours, eagerly taking in the soft moans that enchant his sensitive hearing. His silver hair cascaded gracefully over you, sublimating the beauty of your beloved dragon. They allowed you to tenderly draw him to you, once again uniting your lips in a passionate kiss.

Neuvillette, moved by a passionate ardor, didn't stay attached to your lips for long, the rhythm of his hips intensifying as your orgasm approached. It was so easy to read you, he thought, as your expressive features and burning moans betrayed the intoxication that overwhelmed you. With a movement tinged with lust, Neuvillette grabbed your thighs and wrapped them greedily around his hips, before rising with a confident gesture, his palms ardently kneading your plump buttocks to give your bodies a more sustained rhythm. His member, coiled deep inside you, caressed that special place that made you lose all composure... He was right: your pregnant state made you undeniably more receptive to his ardors, and certainly more inclined to claim his.

As your orgasm gripped you, your walls fervently embracing his fiery member buried inside you, a guttural growl erupted from Neuvillette's chest. Mating with a dragon could be brutal, and Neuvillette had to do everything in his power not to be overwhelmed. Without your pregnancy, he would have given in to his deepest impulses, sinking his teeth into the delicacy of your neck, his pelvis jerking wildly against yours in search of his climax. But he knew how to curb these impulses, contracting his jaw to better contain his desire, until it poured into you in a guttural roar.

Neuvillette was rarely satisfied with a single turn, and your embraces often dragged on until sleep overtook you. When exhaustion drove you into unconsciousness, Neuvillette would tenderly cleanse you, kissing your bruised flesh while murmuring words of apology to you and the being growing inside your womb. He'd allow himself time to admire you, his fingers grazing the soft nakedness of your body nestled against his. And as his hand caressed the surface of your abdomen, a light tap struck against his palm, tugging a smile from the supreme judge's lips.

"As stubborn as his mother..."

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact #genshin #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette smut #genshin diluc #genshin smut #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff

[definitelysel]

MELUSINES ON THE MISSION

pairing: neuvilette x reader

synopsis: he takes you to Merusea Village for his birthday as a friend, leaves the village with you as his significant other. All thanks to some wingwomen- no melusines.

contains : reader is a baker by profession, fluff, wingwomen melusines, whipped, lovesick neuvilette, mutual pining, corny, neuvillette can deal with anything expect romantic feelings and gestures, spoilers for 4.2 story quest, references to his birthday letter.

a/n : happy birthday to best boi neuvi. he is deffo a lovesick dude and you can't change my mind.

sequel of this fic , but can be read as a stand alone.

Neuvillette stared at the calender, eyebrows knitted together, pen twirling in his slender fingers.

"Should it be in spring? No that would be inconvenient...same holds true for autumn." He grumbled.

"My Dear Ludex, What's got you so tensed?" Furina chimed in, taking a glance at calender.

"I am trying to settle on a day to serve the purpose of being my birthday." Neuvillette sighed. If only he remembered the actual date. Furina took the pen from his hand and randomly circled a date without sparing a glance.

"18th of December? Why so?"

"My dear Ludex, this is such a trivial matter! Don't waste your energy on this. We must save it for the thrills of the court!" She patted his shoulder and walked off.

18th Decemeber.

That was today.

Neuvillette recalled while signing some documents he had received this morning. He finished up his work and turned around to arrange all the files and declutter the cabinets.

When he glanced back, he saw a small gift on the edge of this table. A smile crept up onto his face as he peeked a bit further to see the head of a melusine sticking out.

"You can stop hiding." He mused as the melusine slowly revealed themselves. Slowly but surely more melusines emerged out of their hiding spots.

"Happy Birthday Monsieur Neuvillette!" They all cheered as Neuvillette had a hearty laugh. The strict and straightforward Chief Justice had a soft spot for the adorable creatures and went to lengths to assure their safety.

"Thank you all. I appreciate your kind gesture." He smiled and picked up the small gift delicately and unwrapped the present. His ears could pick up the melusines muttered amongst themselves.

"...ask him."

"No you ask him!"

"Ask me what?" Neuvillette looked up to see the pleading faces of the Melusines. Yup, they were most definitely trying to persuade him into agreeing to something and Neuvillette knew he couldn't refuse.

"Will you come to Merusea Village this time?" They asked but it sounded more of a demand than a question.

Neuvillette paused. Of course they would ask that. He hadn't visited last year due to the chaos in Fontaine and the death of Focalors. He couldn't bring himself to celebrate his birthday after her death. This time, he agreed on it.

"Sure. I will make sure to extricate myself of my duties and come to Merusea Village." He reassured the Melusines, who bounced up and down in excitement before scurrying out of his office.

Neuvillette sat down and began making preparations so that he could depart worry-free to Merusea Village without any problems arising.

He found his thoughts drifting towards you. A promise he had made you a month ago.

"My schedule is full for the following month. However, I will be sure to pay you a visit after that." He recalled his words to you. Neuvillette had now made up his mind. He was going to take you with him to Merusea Village for his birthday and let all the melusines meet you.

He couldn't help but long for that queasy feeling with stirred in his chest everytime he was in your proximity. He would feel jittery and his palms would feel clammy and sweaty everytime he saw your beaming smile and witty remarks that never ceased to amaze him.

Well that was easier said than done.

"Would like to accompany me to Merusea Village?" He said before facepalming. "No that would be too straightforward...I might sound authoritative and I don't wish to given off that impression..." Neuvillette had been pacing back and forth in front of the bakery and had been rehearsing the past 15 minutes.

He remained apathetic towards the people who would gasp and mutter at the sight of the Chief Justice's unannounced appearance. "Hello, it is my birthday today and I would like you to accompany me to Merusea Village." Neuvillette said before groaning in annoyance.

"No..if I were to straight away declare that it is my birthday then, it would sound self-centered of me." He muttered, his hand on his chin. "Ah, Yes. Greetings, it has been a long time since we last met. According to our public pronouncements, it is my birthday today and since I take out time each year to visit Merusea Village, I would love for you to accompany m–

"It's your birthday?" You gasped, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. You could see him tense up before turning around and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh erm- yes." He fake coughed to compose himself again. "You should've told me, Monsieur! I would've prepared you a special cake!" You suggested. It would've made up for a good and genuine gift.

"No need for it. I was wondering if you would accompany me–"

"To some place you visit every year on your birthday? Sure! I was just finishing closing up the shop for the weekend, so yes I can accompany you!" You chimed at him. Spending time with Neuvillette, that too on his birthday!? Now that was opportunity you weren't letting go.

You weren't going to admit that you had taken interest in him and wanted to get opportunities to get to know him better but since he was a busy man, this was a perfect opportunity!

"Then let's leave, shall we?" He offered his gloved hand to you. You reached out to take it but he retracted his hand back and instead gestured in the direction you had to walk towards.

You could see his ears turn pink as he started to walk away. You were about to hold his hand? Then why did he back away?? Right someone as high and mighty as the Chief Justice won't settle for a ordinary baker–

You shook your thoughts away and followed him.

"Monseiur Neuvillette is here!" The Melusines erupted into cheers and circled around him. You could see him smile and pat their heads. Neuvillette's smile had swept your heart off its feet. Your heart swoll at the sight of him smiling, heartily laughing at the swarm of Melusines. Dare you say, you were trying to stop your face from turning red.

"Everyone, meet [Name]. They are my friend and I presumed you would all love to meet them." He gestured towards you as the little melusine heads turned towards you, judgingly.

"Um- hello." You awkwardly smiled. The Melusines seemed to have marked you off their suspicion list considering they had now dragged you away to indulge in their silly activities.

Chasing other melusines, laughing with them, sitting around the bonfire, making flower crowns, it seems like you had a whole new world. You took the crown to Neuvillette. "Monseiur Neuvillette! Look!" You ran up to him as he turned towards you, with a smile lingering on his face.

"Is that a flower crown?" He mused, inspecting the bundle of flowers. You nodded and reached up to put it on his head. However, as you were putting it on his head, you both found yourselves gazing at eachother, fondly.

His eyes said so much despite his face showing so little. You two were unaware of the conversation between the melusines in the background.

"Oui oui! Monsieur Neuvillette definitely likes her!"

"Oui! You are so right, he looks at her in a certain way!"

"Should we help him?"

"Yes!" They all agreed.

"Monseiur Neuvillette! [Name]!" All of them yelled. You and Neuvillette snap out of it and turn your faces away, both of your cheeks flushing a shade of red.

"You guys should stay for a bit longer!" The Melusines tugged on your clothes and his robe. Eyes widen like puppies. Now how could you refuse to those cute faces.

"Sure! I would love too. It is the weekend anyways." You nodded and Neuvillette also agreed.

Now the plan was in full swing.

Neuvillette went inside the accommodation the melusines had prepared. He walked over to the desk and spotted a neatly kept letter.

Dear Neuvillette,

I wish to tell you that you are really pretty and I find you interesting. I can't seem to find the courage to express it though.

Sincerely,

[Name]

His face flushed red as he did a double take, flipping the letter to assess its legitimacy. The Melusines peeped through the small window, seeing his reaction.

"He is blushing!" One whispered.

"Huh? I never thought those cheesy and corny sentences would actually make him all flushed." Another marveled

"I tried my best okay? It's hard to act like that girl considering we just met her." The third nudged the other.

"You think sending them fake letters is going to work?" The fourth asked.

"Duh!" The first 3 yelled at him.

You, on the hand, were reading the letter given to you over and over again.

Dear [Name],

You seem to have captured my thoughts. I find myself thinking about you every passing moment. However, I don't mind this feeling.

Sincerely,

Neuvillette.

You giggled like a high-schooler with a big fat crush on a ficitional guy. Who knew the Chief Justice was so lovey-dovey! How endearing.

"The plan worked!" The first melusine beamed.

"Both of them hopeless." 2nd one sighed.

"Hopelessly in love!" 3rd one snickered.

"Let's wait and watch." The 4th reminded.

The next day, you both were busy with groups of Melusines, chatting and playing yet both of you kept catching glances at eachother and looked away in embarrassment.

The Melusines rejoiced in their plan of fake letters to both of you, working. This kept on going. Both of you would find a letter in your room each time you came to freshen up or rest.

You and Neuvillette found yourselves blushing and feeling clammy at the letters, unaware of the true sender of these letters, until...

Meet me by the lake, 9pm.

As planned, both of you reached the lake, looking around to find the other. When you caught sight of Neuvillette, your breath was taken away. His white hair framed his fair perfectly and his eyes shined in the moonlight.

"Hello.." you started.

"Hello to you too." He replied. Well this is awkward.

"So um..do you truly believe I am- uh pretty as you mentioned in the letter?" Neuvillette asked, refusing to make eye contact. How fascinating that a man of status and authority is reduced to a flustered mush infront of the person he wishes to be with.

"Huh- what letter? I don't remember sending you a letter." You tilted your head in confusion. You received letters but you never wrote any reply back.

Neuvillette's eyes widened. "Then who sent- oh. The melusines.." he sighed, pinching his nose. "I am so sorry for the inconvenience." He apologized.

"Oh.." you sounded disappointed. So it was a lie then? Neuvillette said any of those sweet words which you had read in the letters. You could feel your heart break and chest ache. How did you manage to fall into this rabbit hole of loving the Ludex of Fontaine only to have your hopes crushed.

"What did they write in the letters given to you?" He calmly asked after a brief moment of silence.

"They said that you kept thinking about me and how you liked me and didn't mind the feeling...it is fine though! I am glad it is a lie hahaha." You waved your hands dismissively.

"..it is true." He blurted out. In his mind, it was now or never.

"Huh?" You stared at him, dumbfounded.

"It is true. I am indeed infatuated with you." You could visibly see his face flush pink. After your brain computed the information, you also turned red.

"I- I feel the same-..I always thought that I was too plain and simple for your liking.." you awkwardly muttered.

"No. It may be inappropriate of me to say this but..I believe that you are just perfect. You are perfect the very way you are, [Name]." The words effortlessly rolled off his tongue, though his flustered face told another story.

You hugged him without a warning, nuzzling your face into his chest. The hug felt warm, like the ocean hugging you with their waves as the sun dawned its warmth on your skin. Neuvillette wrapped his arms around you. You could hear his heart thundering against his chest.

"You like me that much huh?" You wriggled your eyebrows, with a teasing grin.

"Let's not bring that matter up." He huffed, trying to maintain his calm and composed composure. Oh he definitely was feeling giddy but why admit it?

"We will miss you!" The Melusines whined and fake cried, clinging to your legs as Neuvillette chuckled.

"Well, let's leave, shall we? It is a long walk back." He asked you, a soft smile on his face, his smile lines crinkling. Oh Archons! If only you had a Kamera on you.

"Mhm!" You nodded. He, again offered you his gloved hand, which you took into yours as you both started your journey back.

This time he didn't back away. Instead, he took your hand firmly in his and walked away, together, with you by his side.

a/n : happy birthday dear Neuvillette. Gosh i love this man so much, it's unhealthy. I can listen to him talk for hours about different tastes of water.

not proof read.

don't copy, plagiarize, repost.

©definitelysel

#genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #fontaine #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #neuvillete x reader

[greentrickster]

SVSSS AU set post-canon, the peak lords are having a meeting, business as usual, right up until a heavenly official manifests smack dab in the middle of it. Said official takes one look around, spots Shang Qinghua, and basically falls into a perfect kowtow in front of him while being a level of distraughtly sticky that would make Luo Binghe proud.

"Your excellency, we know you wanted to oversee this section of history, we know it's your holiday, but we need you back, please, no one can figure out your filing system-!!!"

There is an absolutely reasonable amount of pandemonium from ten of the remaining peak lords, Shen Yuan is feigning indifference while also paying razor-edged attention because 'dammit, Airplane, what did you do now', and Shang Qinghua is desperately trying to figure out how to get this god to stop crying and hugging his ankles while babbling about paperwork. Once everyone has calmed down enough, it's revealed that Shang Qinghua, on top of being Shang Qinghua, really is the creator-god of this world and his current human incarnation is the equivalent of a sabbatical to watch some really interesting current events.

Now, the thing is? Airplane is still very much Airplane, all that's true. The part where it gets complicated is that he really is also this world's creator-god, divine powers and all, and he arrived much earlier than the 40+ years ago he thought he had. He has, in fact, been here for most of the world's history, managing the logistics of things to keep them running relatively smoothly the whole time. Except then he realized, "Hey, we're getting close to the era of the Plot, I wanna see that and maybe fix it some!" So he sealed his own memories from between his death and his arrival in this world and incarnated himself as Shang Qinghua specifically so he'd get a chance to meet his favorite character.

The real kicker is, the System? Yeah, there's a reason it has such a modern-tech interface and sounds so Google translate and stuff.

Because Airplane made that, too. Primarily because, while it's been awhile and he doesn't fully remember how he was as a human, he does remember his tendencies to try and wriggle out of stuff, and even now he prefers a comfy life with a not unreasonable amount of delegation, so he decided to give himself a little something to keep himself on-task.

He did not mean to make the damn thing so mean, that was an oops on his part.

While Airplane is reeling with all the headache that is gaining a few thousand extra years of memories while still remaining primarily himself, one of the peak lords asks if the official is certain they have the right person.

They get a derisive sneer for their efforts. "Of course it's his excellency, you think a normal man could run the logistics for a great sect, the Northern realm, and a portion of the Demon Emperor's court, even without having a writing career and social life on the side? Besides, he's the only one we've found who takes notes in his excellency's secret language." And they point dramatically to where Airplane's scribbled some pinyin in the margins of his paperwork.

Airplane can feel Cumcumber-bro's judgement from across the room. On the plus side, his memories of being a god included how to power down the System, so that's something at least, right?

Right?

...

...he needs to go stick his face in his king's chest and cry for a little, he can just feel his workload increasing...

#shang qinghua #shen yuan #svsss #scum villian self saving system #great god airplane

[sprout-fics]

Poly TF141 x Omega! Reader Headcanons

(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)

(Part Six: The Offer)

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, Slow burn, Courting rituals, No NSFW

Masterlist

The 141 starts becoming very protective of you following the incident on mission

They were friendly with you before, happy to assist when you looked like you needed it, trying to get to know you better and grow closer

This. This is different

There's hardly a few hours at a time that you find yourself without the company of one of these men

It's typically Soap or Gaz, who have more time on their hands due to their rank, who are more outgoing than their alpha partners.

They bump shoulders with you, rub their scent onto you, grin and offer friendly jabs and drag you into training or rec time with them.

They're tactile, as if they want to leave as much a trace on you as they can

Price and Ghost aren't shy either. They have less reasons to find their way to you, so they invent them instead

Price asks for your consultation on a particular set of intel, and you spend hours in his office poring over reports, brow scrunched and feeling his eyes on you, weighing down heavy on your shoulders until a hand settles there instead, and he softly offers a "Well done."

Ghost finds his own excuse, decides the recruits under his supervision need a workshop in your particular skill set. He leans in the corner during your demonstration, arms crossed, eyes heavy, making you stumble more than once under his stare. The recruits seem to not notice, too focused on the deathly presence of the lieutenant as opposed to your stammering

It's nice, more than nice. You like the friendship and easiness between you three, enjoy the comfort of touch without it being soured by the unwarranted possessiveness of an errant alpha trying to stake their claim on you without your permission

It all culminates in you being summoned to Price’s office on a sunny Monday morning, with him pushing a manila envelope to you across his wood desk

New marching orders, and as you skim over them you see the familiar stamp emblazoned on the bottom of the letter

“We’re keeping you.” The captain declares succinctly. 

“Welcome to the 141 Taskforce.”

You look up at him, elated, confused, a little concerned

Price seems to read your thoughts

“This has nothing to do with your designation, sergeant.” He offers. “Or with your…involvement with your comrades. You earned this of your own accord. Congratulations.”

You don’t know what to say. Emotion chokes your throat. Warmth threatens your eyes. You never thought you’d make it this far, never once thought you’d achieve such an honor, especially not after the disaster of your designation being revealed in the field

Your hands shake as you hold the file, and you think for a moment you should place it back down, slide it back and gently refuse

But…

“Thank you, sir.” You manage tightly, and Price nods, pleased

“Join us for drinks tonight.” He tells you, and you can only nod in agreement before he dismisses you

You show up a little late to the party that evening, a fashionable arrival for the guest of honor. You wear something a little nicer than your combat fatigues, opt for something more akin to a date night as you slide into the pub

The team is happy to see you, and you duck your eyes bashfully as Gaz fails to not stare, as Soap lets out a low wolf whistle at your appearance

“You look lovely.” Price tells you smoothly, pulling out your chair like a gentleman as you shyly take your seat

They toast in your honor, glasses clinking and easy conversation flowing as you relax into their company

Yet the question you’ve yet to speak weighs heavy between you and the rest of the group, and after your second drink you finally set down your glass, swallow and web your fingers together, regarding all of them

“So…does this mean…” You try, failing to find the words

They look at each other, and the silence beats asymmetrically in your heart

It’s Price who speaks then

“You’re part of our pack.” He offers softly in reassurance, finally turning from Simon to you. “That won’t change as long as you’re with us.”

You nod, a little absent, lips parting as you try to inquire to the rest, failing to find the words

It’s Soap who seems to read your mind, clears his throat and offers

“We…danea want to force you into anythin’ you don’t want, hen.” He tells you. “We’re…fond of ye.”

“But that’s not the reason I’m here.” You manage

“No. You earned your rank here.” Price declares abruptly. “Even if we weren’t…involved with you, you would still be here. Understood?”

You nod again, staring down into your palms before releasing a breath that sinks your shoulders

“And…” You try at last, after what seems like an hour of silence

“If I was interested in you all too?”

Gaz splutters on his drink, and when Soap’s hand claps his back it makes it only worse as he coughs. You’re all distracted by the tumult, and when Gaz catches his breath he offers a watery little smile in fond apology

The four men before you exchange another long look, sharing a conversation you aren’t privy to

“We do this properly.” Price states, leaning back in his chair with a little sigh. “Court you, prove yourselves. Show you we’re dependable, that we could be good mates.”

You look up then, taking turns to gaze at each man in turn

“All of you?” You ask a little hesitantly, and Gaz shrugs

“We’re mates, we’re all equal. This is no exception.”

You flush hard at that, face warming unexpectedly at the mention of the word that has lingered in the back of your mind since that disastrous and fateful mission where they saved your life. Mates.

“You can say no.” Ghost hedges, the first words he’s spoken all evening. You turn to him, feel his unblinking stare rest upon your own. 

You consider him for a long time, let the silence stretch thin between you all 

Before you at last speak the words that will change everything.

“...Yes.”

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#call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 #poly tf141 #omegaverse call of duty #cod omegaverse #tf 141 x reader #my writing #my fic #x reader

[makingqueerhistory]

Harvard's Secret Court: The Savage 1920 Purge of Campus Homosexuals

William Wright

In 2002, a researcher for The Harvard Crimson came across a restricted archive labeled Secret Court Files, 1920. The mystery he uncovered involved a tragic scandal in which Harvard University secretly put a dozen students on trial for homosexuality and then systematically and persistently tried to ruin their lives. In May of 1920, Cyril Wilcox, a freshman suspended from Harvard, was found sprawled dead on his bed, his room filled with gas--a suicide. The note he left behind revealed his secret life as part of a circle of (cut young) homosexual students. The resulting witch hunt and the lives it cost remains one of the most shameful episodes in the history of America's premiere university. Supported by legendary Harvard President Lawrence Lowell, Harvard conducted its investigation in secrecy. Several students committed suicide; others had their lives destroyed by an ongoing effort on the part of Harvard to destroy their reputations. Harvard's Secret Court is a deeply moving indictment of the human toll of intolerance and the horrors of injustice that can result when a powerful institution loses its balance.

(Affiliate link above)

#queer history #queer #lgbt #making queer history #lgbt books #queer books

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Microsoft put their tax-evasion in writing and now they owe $29 billion

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

If there's one thing I took away from Propublica's explosive IRS Files, it's that "tax avoidance" (which is legal) isn't a separate phenomenon from "tax evasion" (which is not), but rather a thinly veiled euphemism for it:

https://www.propublica.org/series/the-secret-irs-files

That realization sits behind my series of noir novels about the two-fisted forensic accountant Martin Hench, which started with last April's Red Team Blues and continues with The Bezzle, this coming February:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

A typical noir hero is an unlicensed cop, who goes places the cops can't go and asks questions the cops can't ask. The noir part comes in at the end, when the hero is forced to admit that he's being going places the cops didn't want to go and asking questions the cops didn't want to ask. Marty Hench is a noir hero, but he's not an unlicensed cop, he's an unlicensed IRS inspector, and like other noir heroes, his capers are forever resulting in his realization that the questions and places the IRS won't investigate are down to their choice not to investigate, not an inability to investigate.

The IRS Files are a testimony to this proposition: that Leona Hemsley wasn't wrong when she said, "Taxes are for the little people." Helmsley's crime wasn't believing that proposition – it was stating it aloud, repeatedly, to the press. The tax-avoidance strategies revealed in the IRS Files are obviously tax evasion, and the IRS simply let it slide, focusing their auditing firepower on working people who couldn't afford to defend themselves, looking for things like minor compliance errors committed by people receiving public benefits.

Or at least, that's how it used to be. But the Biden administration poured billions into the IRS, greenlighting 30,000 new employees whose mission would be to investigate the kinds of 0.1%ers and giant multinational corporations who'd Helmsleyed their way into tax-free fortunes. The fact that these elite monsters paid no tax was hardly a secret, and the impunity with which they functioned was a constant, corrosive force that delegitimized American society as a place where the rules only applied to everyday people and not the rich and powerful who preyed on them.

The poster-child for the IRS's new anti-impunity campaign is Microsoft, who, decades ago, "sold its IP to to an 85-person factory it owned in a small Puerto Rican city," brokered a deal with the corporate friendly Puerto Rican government to pay almost no taxes, and channeled all its profits through the tiny facility:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-irs-decided-to-get-tough-against-microsoft-microsoft-got-tougher

That was in 2005. Now, the IRS has come after Microsoft for all the taxes it evaded through the gambit, demanding that the company pay it $29 billion. What's more, the courts are taking the IRS's side in this case, consistently ruling against Microsoft as it seeks to keep its ill-gotten billions:

https://www.propublica.org/article/irs-microsoft-audit-back-taxes-puerto-rico-billions

Now, no one expects that Microsoft is going to write a check to the IRS tomorrow. The company's made it clear that they intend to tie this up in the courts for a decade if they can, claiming, for example, that Trump's amnesty for corporate tax-cheats means the company doesn't have to give up a dime.

This gambit has worked for Microsoft before. After seven years in antitrust hell in the 1990s, the company was eventually convicted of violating the Sherman Act, America's bedrock competition law. But they kept the case in court until 2001, running out the clock until GW Bush was elected and let them go free. Bush had a very selective version of being "tough on crime."

But for all that Microsoft escaped being broken up, the seven years of depositions, investigations, subpoenas and negative publicity took a toll on the company. Bill Gates was personally humiliated when he became the star of the first viral video, as grainy VHS tapes of his disastrous and belligerent deposition spread far and wide:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/12/whats-a-murder/#miros-tilde-1

If you really want to know who Bill Gates is beneath that sweater-vested savior persona, check out the antitrust deposition – it's still a banger, 25 years on:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2020/09/revisiting-the-spectacular-failure-that-was-the-bill-gates-deposition/

In cases like these, the process is the punishment: Microsoft's dirty laundry was aired far and wide, its swaggering founder was brought low, and the company's conduct changed for years afterwards. Gates once told Kara Swisher that Microsoft missed its chance to buy Android because they were "distracted by the antitrust trial." But the Android acquisition came four years after the antitrust case ended. What Gates meant was that four years after he wriggled off the DoJ's hook, he was still so wounded and gunshy that he lacked the nerve to risk the regulatory scrutiny that such an anticompetitive merger would entail.

What's more, other companies got the message too. Large companies watched what happened to Microsoft and traded their reckless disregard for antitrust law for a timid respect. The effect eventually wore off, but the Microsoft antitrust case created a brief window where real competition was possible without the constant threat of being crushed by lawless monopolists. Sometimes you have to execute an admiral to encourage the others.

A decade in IRS hell will be even more painful for Microsoft than the antitrust years were. For one thing, the Puerto Rico scam was mainly a product of ex-CEO Steve Ballmer, a man possessed of so little executive function that it's a supreme irony that he was ever a corporate executive. Ballmer is a refreshingly plain-spoken corporate criminal who is so florid in his blatant admissions of guilt and shouted torrents of self-incriminating abuse that the exhibits in the Microsoft-IRS cases to come are sure to be viral sensations beyond even the Gates deposition's high-water mark.

It's not just Ballmer, either. In theory, corporate crime should be hard to prosecute because it's so hard to prove criminal intent. But tech executives can't help telling on themselves, and are very prone indeed to putting all their nefarious plans in writing (think of the FTC conspirators who hung out in a group-chat called "Wirefraud"):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Ballmer's colleagues at Microsoft were far from circumspect on the illegitimacy of the Puerto Rico gambit. One Microsoft executive gloated – in writing – that it was a "pure tax play." That is, it was untainted by any legitimate corporate purpose other than to create a nonsensical gambit that effectively relocated Microsoft's corporate headquarters to a tiny CD-pressing plant in the Caribbean.

But if other Microsoft execs were calling this a "pure tax play," one can only imagine what Ballmer called it. Ballmer, after all, is a serial tax-cheat, the star of multiple editions of the IRS Files. For example, there's the wheeze whereby he has turned his NBA team into a bottomless sinkhole for the taxes on his vast fortune:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#economic-substance-doctrine

Or his "tax-loss harvesting" – a ploy whereby rich people do a "wash trade," buying and selling the same asset at the same time, not so much circumventing the IRS rules against this as violating those rules while expecting the IRS to turn a blind eye:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/24/tax-loss-harvesting/#mego

Ballmer needs all those scams. After all, he was one of the pandemic's most successful profiteers. He was one of eight billionaires who added at least a billion more to his net worth during lockdown:

https://inequality.org/great-divide/billionaire-bonanza-2020/

Like all forms of rot, corruption spreads. Microsoft turned Washington State into a corporate tax-haven and starved the state of funds, paving the way for other tax-cheats like Amazon to establish themselves in the area. But the same anti-corruption movement that revitalized the IRS has also taken root in Washington, where reformers instituted a new capital gains tax aimed at the ultra-wealthy that has funded a renaissance in infrastructure and social spending:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

If the IRS does manage to drag Microsoft through the courts for the next decade, it's going to do more than air the company's dirty laundry. It'll expose more of Ballmer's habitual sleaze, and the ways that Microsoft dragged a whole state into a pit of austerity. And even more importantly, it'll expose the Puertopia conspiracy, a neocolonial project that transformed Puerto Rico into an onshore-offshore tax-haven that saw the island strip-mined and then placed under corporate management:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/27/boricua/#que-viva-albizu

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/13/pour-encoragez-les-autres/#micros-tilde-one

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #irs #puerto rico #puertopia #microsoft #micros~1 #tax avoidance #tax evasion #pure tax play #big tech can't stop telling on itself #corporate crime #rough ride #the procedure is the punishment #steve ballmer #pour encouragez les autres

[normanevansmusic]

#Right-wing attorney John Eastman revealed in a late-night court filing that he was in touch directly with then-President Donald Trump about #which included receiving Trump's handwritten notes

[batboyblog]

One woman miscarried in the lobby restroom of a Texas emergency room as front desk staff refused to admit her. Another woman learned that her fetus had no heartbeat at a Florida hospital, the day after a security guard turned her away from the facility. And in North Carolina, a woman gave birth in a car after an emergency room couldn’t offer an ultrasound. The baby later died.

Complaints that pregnant women were turned away from U.S. emergency rooms spiked in 2022 after the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, federal documents obtained by The Associated Press reveal. 

-------

It’s happened despite federal mandates that the women be treated. 

Federal law requires emergency rooms to treat or stabilize patients who are in active labor and provide a medical transfer to another hospital if they don’t have the staff or resources to treat them. Medical facilities must comply with the law if they accept Medicare funding.

The Supreme Court will hear arguments Wednesday that could weaken those protections. The Biden administration has sued Idaho over its abortion ban, even in medical emergencies, arguing it conflicts with the federal law.

“No woman should be denied the care she needs,” Jennifer Klein, director of the White House Gender Policy Council, said in a statement. “All patients, including women who are experiencing pregnancy-related emergencies, should have access to emergency medical care required under the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act.”

PREGNANCY CARE AFTER ROE

Pregnant patients have “become radioactive to emergency departments” in states with extreme abortion restrictions, said Sara Rosenbaum, a George Washington University health law and policy professor. 

“They are so scared of a pregnant patient, that the emergency medicine staff won’t even look. They just want these people gone,” Rosenbaum said. 

Consider what happened to a woman who was nine months pregnant and having contractions when she arrived at the Falls Community Hospital in Marlin, Texas, in July 2022, a week after the Supreme Court’s ruling on abortion. The doctor on duty refused to see her.

“The physician came to the triage desk and told the patient that we did not have obstetric services or capabilities,” hospital staff told federal investigators during interviews, according to documents. “The nursing staff informed the physician that we could test her for the presence of amniotic fluid. However, the physician adamantly recommended the patient drive to a Waco hospital.”

--------

Federal investigators looked into just over a dozen pregnancy-related complaints in those states during the months leading up to the U.S. Supreme Court’s pivotal ruling on abortion in 2022. But more than two dozen complaints about emergency pregnancy care were lodged in the months after the decision was unveiled. It is not known how many complaints were filed last year as the records request only asked for 2022 complaints and the information is not publicly available otherwise. 

------

‘SHE IS BLEEDING A LOT’

Other pregnancies ended in catastrophe, the documents show.

At Sacred Heart Emergency Center in Houston, front desk staff refused to check in one woman after her husband asked for help delivering her baby that September. She miscarried in a restroom toilet in the emergency room lobby while her husband called 911 for help.

“She is bleeding a lot and had a miscarriage,” the husband told first responders in his call, which was transcribed from Spanish in federal documents. “I’m here at the hospital but they told us they can’t help us because we are not their client.”

Emergency crews, who arrived 20 minutes later and transferred the woman to a hospital, appeared confused over the staff’s refusal to help the woman, according to 911 call transcripts.

One first responder told federal investigators that when a Sacred Heart Emergency Center staffer was asked about the gestational age of the fetus, the staffer replied: “No, we can’t tell you, she is not our patient. That’s why you are here.”

-----------

Meanwhile, the staff at Person Memorial Hospital in Roxboro, North Carolina, told a pregnant woman, who was complaining of stomach pain, that they would not be able to provide her with an ultrasound. The staff failed to tell her how risky it could be for her to depart without being stabilized, according to federal investigators. While en route to another hospital 45 minutes away, the woman gave birth in a car to a baby who did not survive. 

In Melbourne, Florida, a security guard at Holmes Regional Medical Center refused to let a pregnant woman into the triage area because she had brought a child with her. When the patient came back the next day, medical staff were unable to locate a fetal heartbeat. The center declined to comment on the case. 

--------

For Huntsberger, the OB-GYN, EMTALA was one of the few ways she felt protected to treat pregnant patients in Idaho, despite the state’s abortion ban. She left Idaho last year to practice in Oregon because of the ban.

The threat of fines or loss of Medicare funding for violating EMTALA is a big deterrent that keeps hospitals from dumping patients, she said. Many couldn’t keep their doors open if they lost Medicare funding. 

She has been waiting to see how HHS penalizes two hospitals in Missouri and Kansas that HHS announced last year it was investigating after a pregnant woman, who was in preterm labor at 17 weeks, was denied an abortion. 

-----------

President Joe Biden and top U.S. health official Xavier Becerra have both publicly vowed vigilance in enforcing the law. 

Even as states have enacted strict abortion laws, the White House has argued that if hospitals receive Medicare funds they must provide stabilizing care, including abortions.

In a statement to THE AP, Becerra called it the “nation’s bedrock law protecting Americans’ right to life- and health-saving emergency medical care.” 

“And doctors, not politicians, should determine what constitutes emergency care,” he added.

Idaho’s law does not allow abortions if a mother’s health is at risk. But the state’s attorney general has argued that its abortion ban is “consistent” with federal law, which calls for emergency rooms to protect an unborn child in medical emergencies.

“The Biden administration has no business rewriting federal law to override Idaho’s law and force doctors to perform abortions,” Idaho Attorney General Raúl Labrador said in a statement earlier this year. 

Now, the Supreme Court will weigh in. The case could have implications in other states like Arizona, which is reinstating an 1864 law that bans all abortions, with an exception only if the mother’s life is at risk. 

EMTALA was initially introduced decades ago because private hospitals would dump patients on county or state hospitals, often because they didn’t have insurance, said Alexa Kolbi-Molinas of the American Civil Liberties Union. 

Some hospitals also refused to see pregnant women when they did not have an established relationship with physicians on staff. If the court nullifies or weakens those protections, it could result in more hospitals turning away patients without fear of penalty from the federal government, she said.

“The government knows there’s a problem and is investigating and is doing something about that,” Kolbi-Molinas said. “Without EMTALA, they wouldn’t be able to do that.”

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

The Repeal of Roe V Wade has been a disaster for pregnancy health care, with doctors turning away pregnant women just because they are pregnant out of fear that treatment might violate ever changing extreme and unscientific abortion bans

The Biden Administration's strong stand that EMTALA does cover emergency abortion care has forced hospitals to keep their doors open to people in need. A Republican administration would not enforce the law this way, Donald Trump has already said he'd leave it up to the states and certainly would drop the Biden Administration's law suit against Idaho's restrictive laws.

as horrible as all this is, it can always get worse, this is a preview of what a national Republican Abortion ban would mean for every pregnant person going to the hospital, you or someone you love could be left bleeding in a waiting room.

#abortion #miscarriage #death #health care #health care rights #supreme court

[andypantsx3]

READY OR KNOT | 1 | TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... TAGS/WARNINGS: pro hero au, fem + afab reader, omegaverse, alpha shouto, beta reader, misunderstandings, courting behavior, slightly case fic-y, undertones of sexual violence (not between main pairing), aged-up characters, eventual smut, 18+ minors please dni! LENGTH: 4.6k, 1st of 7 chapters

Tetsutetsu’s apartment was exploding with people by the time you made it in from the cold.

Even from outside, you could hear the chatter of dozens of voices, the thumping bass of a distant party playlist. The front door was practically wedged shut by all the bodies blocking it, and you had to suck in a breath as you squeezed yourself through, slithering through what seemed to be every single employee of the Pink Riot agency—a plethora of bulky pro heroes stuffed in among lanky support techs and sleepy-eyed case analysts.

Inside, it stank of warm beer with a slightly sweeter, sharper liquor undertone. Your nose wrinkled. You could only imagine what the scent was like to your alpha and omega coworkers, grateful you had a beta’s dulled sense of smell, and no innate reaction to the physical proximity of other secondary genders. The space was already almost overwhelming as it was, the press of people nearly claustrophobic, although no one else looked like they minded much.

You shoved yourself through the crowd, squeezing through people, somewhat regretting how late you’d gotten here. You hoped there was still something good to drink.

In your defense, you’d gotten bogged down with a bombshell of a new case at the agency, something Mina had pulled you aside to talk about on your way out to the party. She’d meant for you to pick it up Monday, as you couldn’t take any action until a supervising hero had been assigned to you. But it was so unlike any other case you’d been handed in your years at Pink Riot that you’d immediately yanked your coat back off and holed yourself up at your desk, poring over the information in shock.

The case file told you that there was a rogue pro hero harassing and assaulting the omegas in Bunkyo ward—the very ward the Pink Riot agency operated in.

What was more, local authorities suspected someone from the agencies within Bunkyo itself, considering the attacks were exclusively confined to the ward and had so far never deviated. The police had been alerted to the fact that a hero might be involved when one of the omegas who had been attacked last night had escaped, shaken but untouched, and reported their aggressor attempting to strap quirk suppressors on them—tech that was almost exclusively a tool of the heroics trade.

And so all Bunkyo-based agencies had been asked to internally investigate their heroes, with mandatory out-of-agency supervising heroes to be assigned to the cases as well, to ensure everything was above board and no cover ups were being staged. And you, as Mina’s personal friend and therefore the case analyst she trusted most with a sensitive file like this, had been assigned the task.

And it was already almost too mind-boggling for you to bear.

You plowed your way towards the kitchen, eager to chase away the idea of any of your hero coworkers as the perpetrator. You liked and trusted all of the heroes Pink Riot had on call, and hoped so desperately that another agency was at fault here. You couldn’t imagine a single one of them being responsible for something like this. You couldn’t imagine the harasser themself attending this very party.

Once in the kitchen, you discovered that Tetsutetsu had invited more than just the Pink Riot agency itself—he had also apparently invited a plethora of heroes from his former UA days. Sero Hanta and Uraraka Ochako were propped up in the kitchen with Mina and Kirishima, smiling and chatting, while Iida Tenya stood next to them, looking, as usual, like he was on the verge of a hernia. Monoma Neita was skulking in a corner, along with a couple of lower-level heroes you recognized as Tetsu’s Class B friends.

Mina perked up immediately when she caught sight of you, hopping off the counter at Kirishima’s side, beckoning you closer with a hot pink nail.

“You have to taste this disgusting thing Tetsu made,” she told you gleefully, gesturing at something vaguely gelatinous on the stove. You recoiled reflexively, even as Mina ladled a generous portion into a plastic cup for you, passing it over.

You did not like the weight of it in your hand—and the smell of it, even to your duller senses, was not exactly appetizing, more nail polish remover in profile than anything.

“Wow, this looks almost as lovely as the new case file. How generous of you,” you intoned, taking a small, investigative sip. The taste zipped down your spine all the way to your toes, so alcoholic you could almost taste an emergency room visit.

But it figured. Pro heroes in general were a hard bunch to get drunk, their metabolisms fast and their bodies honed to withstand limits a normal person could never. You imagined this was Tetsu’s own invention based on years of personal research.

Mina sloshed her own cup at you, bright-eyed as she normally was, but otherwise looking unruffled. “Tetsu and Eiji already have a bet going which of them can put back more of this, but my bet is on me,” she grinned. “They’re behind a cup already.”

You winced. “Such responsible agency heads I have.”

Mina practically cackled. “You love it.”

You couldn’t help the fond smile that pulled at your mouth, listening to her bright laughter. “I do.”

And it was true, after years at the Pink Riot agency you were spoiled for anywhere else.

Your caseload was broad and interesting, Mina and Kirishima the perfect amount of invested but trusting, always caring about the results you brought in for the safety they brought Bunkyo ward, but never micromanaging you or demanding the impossible. The agency was a little bit smaller than other agencies founded by members of their former class—a mid-sized, fairly-closely knit operation that prioritized action and minimized bureaucracy.

And it was a sort of family operation. Mina was an omega, small and bright and totally beautiful the way so many omegas were, the warmness of her personality like a magnet. And Kirishima was her bonded alpha—fairly friendly and easy-going for one, you thought—but strong, firm in his resolve, and deeply committed.

You liked them, liked their relationship, and liked how their traits translated to their management of their joint agency. You liked how the agency had basically sprung up around them, filled to the brim with good people. And so yeah, Mina was right. You did love it.

“Make sure you unwind,” Mina ordered you, flashing a pink nail in your face. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that it’s been like two hours since I saw you disappear with that case file.”

Your cheeks heated. “Did you know some agency heads like it when their employees do their jobs?”

Mina grinned wickedly, then made a sort of clucking noise. “Did you know that some agency heads are no funsies? I like when my employees do their jobs and still have time for a social life.”

A smile tugged at your mouth. Your social calendar had never been so full as when you started working at Pink Riot, their rosters absolutely packed with outgoing heroes. Someone or other was always throwing a party, organizing a celebratory dinner when an especially big case was closed, or dashing across the floor yelling “drinks on me!” after nailing a particularly notorious villain.

Between the agency and your own friends you thought you were kept rather busy. But the sudden, shifting look of undue interest on Mina’s face told you she thought otherwise.

“When was the last time you went on a date, hmm?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. “I never catch you smelling like anyone. Looking for anyone here?”

“And who told you you could smell me?” you demanded.

Mina cackled. “It’s not like I can turn my nose off. Plus you smell nice and comforting. Very beta. I wouldn’t stop smelling you even if I could.”

Your ears went hot. Alphas and omegas were always so nosy and inquisitive, a byproduct of being able to smell way too much for your comfort, a fact you and your circle of beta friends never missed a chance to bemoan.

And this was not the first time you’d been told as much, most betas apparently smelling some level of chill and less intrusive than the insistent scents of alphas and omegas. You didn’t exactly understand how something could smell chill, but enough people had said it that you accepted it.

“Well then it’s good I’m not polluting that with other smells,” you said. “Now mind your business.”

Mina’s grin was sharp as she reached over to ladle more of Tetsu’s concoction into your cup, a small revenge. “Fine but keep your options open tonight! I know plenty of nice beta boys I can set you up with—there’s a couple of analysts from Ingenium’s crowd here tonight.”

You nodded, affecting sincerity, although you had absolutely no plan to follow through. You were going to find your agency friends, go ham on some apps, and then head back home just as soon as Mina and Kirishima ended the night the way they usually did—locked mouth to mouth after drinking a little too much, causing a scene.

You waved Mina away, poking your head back out the kitchen door and surveying the rest of the party. Over near the couch, you caught a flash of a couple of your fellow case analysts in conversation with Asui Tsuyu, a beta hero at your agency who you got on well with. Your people exactly.

However, no sooner had you started to push back into the crowd than something slammed into your shoulder, sending you stumbling back into the wall. Your drink splashed right up over your shoulder, cold and biting. You let out a strangled noise, turning your head on impulse and catching a mouthful of hair.

“Oh my god, I am sooo sorry,” a soft voice said. You realized you’d collided with an omega analyst from another Bunkyo agency—a girl you vaguely remembered from a joint case a few years ago. She was small, petite, and delicately pretty in the way of most omegas. And she had also managed to empty nearly the entirety of your cup onto you.

“Shit, shit—I got your shirt wet!” she said, yanking herself back from you. She looked a little glassy-eyed, but genuinely apologetic, and she wiped at your shoulder with her bare hand. Definitely a bit drunk.

“No—it’s fine,” you told her, attempting to duck her hand. “I also didn’t see you!”

The omega girl didn’t look reassured however. She frowned, pausing over you—then suddenly slithered right out of her cardigan, throwing it over your shoulders.

“We’ll hide it like that. Please take it,” she said, her delicate fingers flitting back and forth over your now-covered shoulder, like she still itched to fix something. The cardigan was soft and warm, and even you could tell it smelled good—a soft, powdery, classically omegan scent.

“It’s really fine—” you insisted, immediately shrugging the cardigan back off, though you appreciated the gesture. You glanced down at your shoulder, surveying the damp patch that was slowly soaking closer to your boob. “It’s clear—it will dry in a couple of minutes and no one will be any the wiser. It already stinks like alcohol in here anyway.”

The omega girl hesitated as you handed her sweater back to her. She leaned in to sniff you tentatively. “Are you sure? I really am so sorry. Your mate is going to be so mad, now you can’t really smell you over the vodka unless you get in close—”

You held up a hand, sending her a reassuring smile. “I don’t have a mate, so there’s no problem. I promise.”

You did not add that as a beta, your pool of potential mates was limited to other betas, and that no beta’s sense of smell was enough to get worked up over this. Alphas and omegas tended to forget that not everyone was as sensitive as they were.

She bit her lip, the gesture pretty, but looked somewhat mollified. “You’re sure?” she ventured one last time.

You nodded. “Totally sure. I appreciate the gesture though.”

She nodded, still looking hesitant, and you decided there was only one way to put an end to this.

“Nice to see you, though. Maybe I will catch you around later!” you said, waving her off firmly. You quickly abandoned your now empty cup on a nearby table and turned to head back into the living room. You spotted Tsuyu’s head of dark green hair through the crowd of shoulders, a homing beacon in the dim.

As you charted an unsteady path through the crush of people, you noted several more heroes and analysts from other agencies, including Kaminari Denki and a beaming Midoriya Izuku, crammed into a corner and chatting animatedly to—oh.

Your cheeks flushed. Pro hero Shouto was here.

The other hero stood tall and solemnly handsome across from Midoriya, just as maddeningly gorgeous as always. You, like every other person with working eyeballs, had long nursed a tiny bit of a celebrity crush on him, as he was literally the most beautiful person on earth—a fact evidenced by his now six-year running sweep of Tokyo Beat magazine’s cutest hero award.

In your time at Pink Riot, you’d worked a couple of joint cases with Shouto’s agency and met him a few times in passing. You’d always found him to be a little bit intense, but kind, thoughtful, straightforward, and diligent. He was every bit the reassuring hero the media made him out to be, and even more striking in person. He also always wore scent patches flush at the sides of his neck, concealing what his secondary gender was from prying noses, although you’d always sort of suspected he had to be an omega.

He was tall and solid and strong in the way of most pro heroes. But his features were so finely-wrought, so strangely graceful and elegant for a man, that you would have put significant amounts of money down on his omega status.

Not that it mattered. Betas really only dated betas, and alphas really only omegas, so Shouto’s status wasn’t much to you, regardless of what it was.

You slipped past, averting your eyes, wondering absently if an omega like Todoroki Shouto ever encountered harassment like the victims in your newest case file. Maybe his scent blockers were for this very purpose—hiding his omega status so he didn’t run the risk. You imagined with a face like his, he would be sure to garner migraine-inducing levels of undue interest.

This thought was suddenly arrested, however, when a hand pressed to your chest, shoving you back into the wall you were sidling past.

Your breath wooshed out of your lungs as a strangled “fwuuh” noise escaped you. Your gaze jerked up to find an alpha you somewhat recognized was holding you against the wall, grinning in an incredibly unsettling way.

Fuzzily, you matched his face to one of the techs from the support department, someone you occasionally saw at work functions but never worked directly with. Support interfaced mainly with the heroes, mending their tech, inventing new items, and—if Mina’s complaints were to be believed—running up quite the bill for the agency with their experimentation.

“Can I—help you?” you garbled out, staring the alpha down.

He leaned in, leery, slurring, “What’sa pretty li’l thing like you doin’ here, huh?”

He smelled strongly of Tetsutestu’s horrid concoction, like the alcohol was literally seeping from his pores. You frowned, shifting uncomfortably under his hand. It was large, and too-warm against your shoulder, and the desire to turn and bite it welled up in your mouth.

“Can you get off me?” you asked, grabbing the alpha by the wrist. A support tech though he was, his hold on you was firm, and your grip didn’t dislodge him. He clung to your sweater, his gaze glassy but intense.

He closed his eyes, nose twitching like he was-–ew—like he was scenting you. “Aww come on baby. A li’l omega like you? There’s no need to pr’tend you don’t want this.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion bubbling up inside you. A little omega like you? What the fuck was he talking about? Was he that blasted?

“You have three seconds before I bite you,” you said, certain that would be clear enough, even if he was too drunk to tell you were a beta.

But his hand didn’t move. Instead he laughed, hot and humid and smelling strongly of liquor, and he fumbled with something at his belt.

A hot wave of fear suddenly washed over you, a stab of panic lancing your heart. He wasn’t going to expose himself right here, was he? You pushed back against the wall, feeling entrapped, yanking at his wrist harder to get him off of you.

“I’m not an omega,” you said loudly. “And I’m not interested, now get—”

The alpha’s hand was gone. You blinked, suddenly finding his face missing too, your vision gone entirely gray and strangely…knitted?

“Do not touch her,” a deep voice intoned, and you realized you were staring at a broad back, clad in a handsome gray sweater. You tipped your head back, your gaze fixing on a suspiciously familiar mop of scarlet and white hair.

Shouto. Pro hero Shouto had put himself in between you and the asshole alpha.

A thrill raced down your spine.

“The fuck I won’t,” a snort issued over one of Shouto’s strong shoulders.

There was a small, silent moment where you watched Shouto’s head tilt just the tiniest bit. He didn’t say anything in return—but a sudden, creeping unease slithered over your senses, raising the hair on the back of your neck. An audible hush fell over the people nearest you, though you couldn’t see what exactly was happening, caged between Shouto’s back and the wall.

You could just make out Shouto’s scent patches, perfectly even against his neck like always, and wondered whether they would help—-if the alpha couldn’t smell Shouto was an omega, maybe he thought he would respect his boundaries more?

“Dude—” someone hissed, from somewhere near the alpha, just as Shouto spoke once more.

“You will leave,” he intoned in that deep tone again. His voice was soft, placid—but the feeling of unease grew within you, a strange itch under your skin. You had the sudden urge to flee, but one of Shouto’s hands closed over your wrist, as a cerulean eye caught yours over his shoulder. “You…please stay.”

You could do nothing but nod, your feet practically freezing in place, the desire to obey subsuming your entire brain. What the hell was happening?

As Shouto turned back to face the alpha again, that hunted feeling grew stronger, like there was something in the apartment that you should be very, very wary of. Your throat started to close up, and your breath came a little short.

The room was so suddenly silent that you could hear the nervous shift of the people beyond Shouto, and you caught the sound of the alpha suddenly stumbling back.

“You’re—are you fucking Ordering me?” The alpha asked, but you could hear that he was still backing away.

The question crawled right under your skin along with the unsettled feeling.

An Order. As in, an Alpha Order. From Shouto? Pretty, kind, patient, careful Shouto? Classic omega material Shouto?

Was…using an Order on an alpha, and it was working?

Your head spun with the mismatch between Shouto’s face and the latent command in his tone. It was almost too strange to be contemplated, and yet here it was playing out in front of you.

Shouto, for his part, didn’t bother answering the question. “I believe I asked you to leave,” he said firmly. His voice carried an inflection that sliced through the air like a knife.

“Sorry, Todoroki, he’s super fucking drunk—I’ll get him out of here,” another voice said, one you recognized as a different support tech.

It sounded like he didn’t need to expend the effort, however, as the alpha’s footsteps were already beating a hasty retreat. The other support tech’s footsteps followed, his pace clipped on the hardwood.

As soon as they were out of view, the suffocating feeling all but evaporated. You could almost feel the sigh of relief around the room, and the line of Shouto’s shoulders untensed.

He turned to you slowly, drawing in a deep breath. His normally blank expression had been exchanged for something troubled, his perfect eyebrows knitted in concern, his full mouth pursed up like he’d just let it drop from a snarl.

He blinked down at you for a second, those distinct heterochromatic eyes flicking over you, before you found yourself suddenly crowded back into the corner, your back bumping the wall. Shouto leaned down and gave a delicate sniff at your temple, as if checking your condition.

“Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was still strange, rough with something you couldn’t name.

He was warm where he lingered over you, his shoulders broad enough that they blocked the light and cast falling shadows into the meager space between you. He was near enough that the dip of his sweater collar rasped over your shoulder, sending a swarm of tingles over your skin. You drew in a careful breath, trying to figure out just what the right answer was, coming up with nothing.

Shouto frowned over your lack of a response. His nose pressed right into your hair, and he crowded even closer, like he was trying to find the source of your discomfort—even though he’d just chased that source right through the front door.

“Your scent is difficult to find,” he murmured, his chest expanding and contracting. “It is covered by many things…” He trailed off as he seemed to find it—and then something strange happened—even stranger than the scene with the support tech alpha.

Shouto froze in place, going so unearthly still he might have been transmuted into marble. You heard his breath catch and hold in his lungs, and his fingers came up to grasp your sleeve, clutching you tightly.

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong when a shudder swept down him, from head to toe. His grip on your wrist tightened for a moment, and a groan bubbled up from somewhere low in his throat.

“Your scent—” he rasped, then cut himself off.

He huffed out a harsh breath instead, stirring your hair, before his face dropped into the cradle of your shoulder. He breathed in, slow, measured, his mouth just barely touching the skin of your throat. You could feel his long, pretty eyelashes flutter against your skin, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine.

Something under your skin shifted in response, then.

To your utter shock, you could feel yourself tilting your head to the side, baring your neck. A strange feeling of malleability settled over you, like your bones had jellified and your muscles had atrophied.

“Shouto—?” you garbled out, unable to articulate any question beyond what the fuck was happening? You knew it had something to do with the way Shouto was most definitely not an omega after all. The thought made your brain fuzz with static.

Pretty, gentle, elegant Todoroki Shouto was an alpha. Kind, placid, beautiful Todoroki Shouto was even some kind of…distressingly strong alpha.

It crossed all the wires in your brain to think of that face possessing that kind of strength. But there was clearly something there. And you were being so weird and embarrassing about it, but you couldn’t have moved, even if you wanted to.

It felt like a short eternity, the time Shouto stood over you like that, his face pressed into your throat, your own throat bared to him. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest, simultaneously hammering a zillion miles a minute, and yet feeling slow, syrupy.

Distantly, you registered the hum of voices in the background, Tetsutetsu trying to rekindle the happy atmosphere. But Shouto was so warm over you, breathing slow and shallow, a tall, strong anchor weighing you against the wall.

It could have been minutes or hours before he finally stepped away. He looked calmer, but a little dazed. You felt the same way, mystified by what had just occurred between you.

His gaze picked over you in some kind of assessment. “You’re well?” he asked carefully. His voice was pitched low.

“Yeah,” you managed, your throat weirdly dry. “Yeah. I—thank you, Shouto.”

Shouto inclined his head in a nod. “You, as well. I don’t usually…I try not to rise to anger. But when alphas try to use their power to—” he cut himself off. His throat bobbed with some emotion you couldn’t name.

“Your scent is….calming to me.”

You nodded. The beta chill thing again, like Mina had said.

“Your friendly neighborhood beta, at your service,” you saluted him, trying to ignore the strange, lingering shiver in your limbs.

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Shouto’s mouth, but his gaze remained fixed on you, almost inhumanly intense.

“That is not quite what I mean,” he said, but did not elaborate. There was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you that you didn’t understand, but you didn’t know him well enough to try to dig into it.

Instead you just gave him another smile, your face heating as you noticed several people around you were still watching you.

You figured it was probably time to make an escape after that little scene you had just caused, for Shouto’s reputation as well as yours. You didn’t need people thinking Shouto had been scenting you for any reason other than your apparent beta chill pill scent, especially now that people at the party would know he was an alpha.

God, he was an alpha, even with a face like that.

You waved at him, garbling out another, “Well, thanks for the save! I, um, have to be going, but I’ll see you around!” before throwing yourself back through the crowd, your head spinning.

Mina had come out of the kitchen and tried to flag you down as you passed. You waved back at her like you’d misunderstood, quickly fighting your way back to Tetsu’s front door. You felt the weight of dozens of eyes on your back, and the prick of two heterochromatic ones, somehow more certain and weightier than the others. But you didn’t turn around, eager to get out of the crowd, still reeling from what had happened.

You didn’t know how you had been mistaken for an omega by that drunk alpha, and understood even less what had possessed Shouto to sniff you all over like that, embarrassed by how much you had liked it. It most probably had something to do with how inherently non-aggressive beta scents were supposed to be, maybe helping Shouto down from how keyed up he’d been about that other alpha.

But it had still been so embarrassing and strange, the way your head had tipped right back for him, the way your limbs had gone to jelly in his hold. You hoped he’d had a little to drink too or he’d probably realize how weird you were, reacting like that.

Finally, you spilled out of Tetsu’s and into the night, the evening air cool on your heated skin. The phantom touch of Shouto’s mouth still lingered on your throat, warm and disconcerting.

You beelined for home, your head swimming. You wondered just how long it would take you to forget how very strange this evening had been.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #character: todoroki shouto #andie's writing #tw: a/b/o

[brostateexam]

The Sotheby's auction house has been named as a defendant in a lawsuit filed by investors who regret buying Bored Ape Yacht Club NFTs that sold for highly inflated prices during the NFT craze in 2021. A Sotheby's auction duped investors by giving the Bored Ape NFTs "an air of legitimacy... to generate investors' interest and hype around the Bored Ape brand," the class-action lawsuit claims.

The boost to Bored Ape NFT prices provided by the auction "was rooted in deception," said the lawsuit filed in US District Court for the Central District of California. It wasn't revealed at the time of the auction that the buyer was the now-disgraced FTX, the lawsuit said.

#long reads #the fall of the house of crypto #nft idiocy needs its own tag

[kiwisbell]

Las Mañanas || Chapter 2 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, technical infidelity, reader still has a shitty husband, mentions of sex work, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, FLIRTING, gun violence, so much fluff, steve is still a little shit, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, this chapter is a fuckfest, unprotected PIV (get used to this, these two are rabid), accident-prone reader, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), dirty talk, javi's anxiety, sex in the evidence room, possessive!javi, reader calls javi a slut (lovingly), reader is #1 javi defender

word count: ~ 10k

chapter two: cries for help, lost in the woods

He goes with her to the courts for the restraining order. There’s hardly any basis to deny her once Javier reveals the conversation he recorded with Nicolás.

She refuses to file for divorce until she knows Javier’s life is truly safe, even though he’s told her nobody would dare harm a DEA agent like him. “I don’t care,” she tells him one night over homemade empanadas: her father’s recipe. Javier tried to help cook, but she’s comfortable in the kitchen, and he’s not. Still, he does enjoy the thrill of her scolding him every now and then. “This way, I know he won’t come near me, and whenever I’m with you, he won’t come near you, either.”

“This your way of getting me to stick around, cielito?” he teases.

She just smiles at him over a forkful. “Yeah, it is.”

~

One night, she’s at his place, watching a pot of water while it heats up and sneaking glances at Javier, who pretends he doesn’t notice while he pours their drinks.

He sets down a glass of whiskey next to her. She sips it gratefully; she’s wearing a long skirt, a cozy sweater, and her glasses, which are fogging up over the stove. He says her name, and it rings like a shot in the quiet. She hums.

“You wanna ask me something or keep on staring?”

She looks him over. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

That isn’t nearly the question he anticipated, but it makes him grin, which makes her roll her eyes. “You offerin’, honey?” he says, sliding up next to her. The inside of his thigh brushes the outside of hers, and that contact alone thrills him.

She pokes him in the centre of his chest. “You’re such a man, Javier.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“So it could backfire on me when you said something stupid like, ‘You offering?’” She waves a dismissive hand. “Cabrón.”

Javier goes easy on her, just because she’s flustered. “It’s been a while.”

She looks down at the pot of water. It’s still simmering. 

“I don’t want you to feel like that,” she says quietly, “like you can’t be with someone else. I… I just…”

Javier crowds her some more, tilting his head so he can catch her eyes. He smooths her hair behind her ear. “Just what?”

“I just don’t like the thought of you with someone else,” she admits.

It strikes him right in his core. He frowns down at her. “You think about that?” he says softly.

“I do.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t like the thought of you with someone else, either, cielito.” The thought of it alone raises his hackles. His hand brushes hers, and he turns her palm up so he can press a kiss to the pulse on her wrist. “You think about me?”

Her gaze is so gentle. “Of course I think about you, Javi. You’re all I think about.”

Her confession sends his heart soaring, and he likes the feeling of being so lightheaded, so pliant and calm when her voice swims in his ears. “Can’t close my eyes without seeing you, amor,” he tells her, kissing the pads of her fingers. The water begins to boil. “You’re in my blood.”

She gasps when his hand trails down her throat, over her collarbones, down her arm until goosebumps are lifting on her skin. “Then why aren’t you kissing me?”

Javier doesn’t think he can physically restrain himself much longer. He wants to kiss the breath out of her, kiss away her fucking soul. He wants to bend her over and take her in his bed. He needs her. He fucking craves her laughter and her sweetness and the way her touch can soothe the ache in his bones. But he’s pretty sure he hates himself.

He’s an asshole, he smokes too much, he has no friends, and his work has him practically sleeping at his desk more often than not. He isn’t good at relationships; he left his last one at the altar, for fuck’s sake. No woman like her should want someone like him.

“Because…” Javier brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. “No soy lo suficientemente bueno para ti (I’m not good enough for you).”

She frowns deeply. “How can you say that? You are caring, and hardworking, and smart, and sexy. Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” She’s getting louder, and the fervour in her voice stuns him. “Fuck, Javier, you’re risking your life every single day to keep this country safe and you’re busting your ass over all this red tape and bullshit you can’t control, and you’re still finding the time to help me escape my fucking marriage! If you can’t see how incredible you are, I’m going to keep telling you. Every single day of your goddamn life. Understood?”

Javier just closes the distance between them, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her. Hard.

A small noise of surprise leaves her, and it encourages him. Her arms fly up around his neck as he reaches blindly across the stove and turns off the burner. She laughs softly, kissing him just as fiercely, backing up until her ass hits the counter. “Javi,” she breathes into his mouth.

Fuck, she tastes like heaven. Her body is so warm, so soft underneath him, and he’s taken by the way it curves up into him. She stands on her toes and he uses the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass and lift her onto the counter. Overcome with desire, feeling it curl in his core, blood rushing downward, he keeps kissing her. He’s on her constantly, from the corner of her mouth to her jaw to her earlobe, which he takes between his teeth. She shivers, clutching his hair, making him groan. “Fuck, baby,” he says gruffly, feeling her grind down on him. He breaks away, chest heaving, and drops to his knees. “Want to make you feel good. Can I make you feel good? Hmm, cielito?” She’s breathing hard as she nods, face flushed, looking down at him with her lips parted. “Answer me, honey,” says Javier, smoothing his hands over her soft thighs, easing them open. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” comes her soft sigh, her eyes alight with lust.

She sounds so excited, so willing to put her trust in him, to let him make her feel good. Javier squeezes her ass so she’ll lift her hips off the counter, and then he’s working that long flowy skirt down her legs, taking her panties with it. “Mierda,” he whispers when he sees the red lace of her underwear. “So beautiful.” 

She squirms, laughing softly when he begins trailing kisses down her legs, all the way to her ankles. He keeps one of her legs atop his shoulder as he crowds her again and finally sees his meal, glistening at the apex of her thighs. Javier goes blind with desire for an entire second, kneading her flesh as she stares down at him and places a finger under his chin.

“I know you get around,” she says, whisper-quiet, “and that’s okay. But if we’re going to do this, I need to know it’s me you’re looking at and not another girl.”

“There’s no other girl,” says Javier, and he means it. “I don’t want another girl. I want you.”

She bites her lip and it’s a heavenly sight, from here where he’s got her leg slung over his shoulder. “Then I’m all yours.”

Javier leans forward and bites at the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, spurred on by a tremor of arousal down his spine. “That’s right, baby,” he grunts into her skin. “My fuckin’ girl.”

She laughs breathlessly at the tickle of his exhale over her centre, but it becomes a strangled gasp when he licks up her wet slit, tasting the tang of her. It’s the most delectable fucking sweetness he’s ever known. Possessed, Javier dives back in, kissing and licking at her as she cries out and her legs tremble around his head. He just wraps his arms around her thighs and splays a hand over her stomach, keeping her still, locking eyes with her as her brow scrunches in pleasure and a tear falls down her cheek. She repeats his name like it’s going to save her life, and he has never been so fucking hard. 

“Please,” she begs, her voice a small puddle, “please. Oh, please, Javi…” He doesn’t think she knows what she’s asking for, but the sound of her whimpers is enough to make him growl against her. He feels her clench around his tongue at the vibrations, her eyes glazed over as they try to keep locked on his. She’s so good, keeping her eyes open, watching him give her pleasure. 

He takes her clit into his mouth and sucks, and that’s when she breaks, her eyes fluttering shut and her head falling back, a hand bracing on the counter as the other flies to his hair, tangling her fingers in it. Javier groans at the feeling of her nails scratching his scalp, more determined than ever to make her come. She’s shaking so bad he’s worried she’ll fall off the counter, but he grips her harder, fingers digging into her flesh, and she finally snaps. 

“Javi!” she cries, clenching and spilling on his tongue. He’s so fucking greedy, aching for her, that he just holds on tighter and coaxes her through it, ignoring his erection as he becomes possessed by the feel and taste of his girl writhing beneath him. 

“I…” Her voice comes out as a croak, her head tipping to the side to rest on the cabinet as he lets her leg slip off his shoulder. “I… fuck, I—”

“I know, baby.” He presses a kiss to her thigh and stands up, helping her down and bringing her flush against him to kiss her once more. She gasps when she tastes herself on his tongue.

“Javi,” she sighs into his mouth, bringing a hand down to his hip, the other cupping the back of his neck. “You’re…” She begins to laugh softly. “Fuck, you’re so hard.”

He huffs when she breaks the kiss. “All you, cariño. No idea what you do to me.”

She brings her lower lip between her teeth and presses up against him. He grimaces with the effort of holding back as he feels her warm body slide along his cock. He can’t take her right here in his kitchen. He wants to spread her out on his bed, make sure she’s comfortable. “I think I can feel what I do to you,” she says with a shy smile. 

He leans in real close and bares his teeth against her throat, making more laughter bubble up. She’s evidently still dazed from her orgasm, which makes Javier’s chest swell with pride. “Gotta tell me that’s it, honey,” he says gruffly. “Tell me you’ve had enough and I’ll stop.”

She shakes her head, reaching down between them and gently squeezing his length through his jeans. He groans and bucks up against her. “I need you, Javier,” she tells him, pulling him back so she can look him in the eye. She looks so sincere, so wanting, and he decides he’s going to do everything in his power for the rest of his life to make sure she’s never disappointed. “Want to make you feel good.”

He doesn’t want to tell her that watching her orgasm was the closest he’s come to spilling in his jeans since he was a teenager. Instead, he kisses her again, lifts her glasses off her nose to set them on the countertop, and squeezes her waist. “Never felt better, baby,” he tells her. “Gonna take you to bed.”

He carries her to his bedroom with her legs wrapped around his waist because it’s more ergonomic to keep kissing her this way. He kicks the door shut behind him, as if someone else could come in, as if there’s even a chance someone else could see her the way he’s seeing her now. No, he wants to be the only man who knows her body like this: the way she arches up against him when he grabs a handful of her ass, the way she melts into him with soft sighs and small moans. His body reacts with an instinctive desire to wrap himself protectively around her, to drive himself deep inside her and make her forget all her worries. 

His knees hit the edge of his bed, and he lowers her onto it so he can crawl up her body. She watches him reverently, a hand sliding into his hair once more. Javier kisses every square inch of skin he can find, enjoying her little huffs of impatience until he himself can’t stand her being half-clothed in that cute sweater. He peers up at her and she nods, so he makes his way up her stomach, pushing the sweater up over her head as he kisses her belly, her sternum, her ribs. Her bra goes next when he reaches behind her and unclips it, his cock throbbing with need at the sight of her bare tits in his face. He wastes no time latching onto a nipple with his mouth and pulling, teasing, as she squirms and pouts, muttering, “Off, please,” trying to lift up his shirt over his head. 

She’s so fucking adorable it makes his chest tight. Javier leans back and she chases him, her lips parting at the sight of his bare stomach, bare chest, when his shirt comes off and falls to the floor somewhere near her sweater. He’s on her again immediately, her head falling back against his pillows. She laughs breathlessly. “So eager.”

“Fucking right I am,” he says, his hand sliding down the curve of her waist. “Wanted you for so long.”

She smiles, cupping his face and smoothing back some hair that had fallen in his eyes. “You have me,” she tells him. “However you want me, Javier.”

And fuck, he wants all of her, in every way, all the time. He scrambles back off the bed, shucks off his jeans in record time, and preens at the way she stares openly at him, like she wants to bask in his body. “No underwear?” She lifts a brow. “Slut.”

His cock twitches under her attention and he crawls back onto the bed, kneeling between her open legs. “Pot, kettle, baby. Look how wet you are. All for me.”

She whimpers for him to attend to her, but he wants to play a little. He gently smacks the side of her thigh, soothing the spot with his fingers when it's over. She inhales sharply. “Dime.”

“All for you,” she says firmly, even as her breathing starts to sound like she's focusing on each round: in and out, in and out. “I’m wet for you, Javier.”

“Good girl,” he says, biting her bottom lip. “Muy hermosa.”

“Do you want me on my hands and knees?” she asks.

He grunts. “No, baby. Want to see you. Want you to look at me.”

He slips his hand between her folds, dipping slightly into her entrance, and she gasps. “Oh!” Her cheeks flush. “I already… You don’t have to—”

He doesn’t like that: her hesitance to take, her shyness when it comes to letting him pleasure her. Her husband must have been a horrific partner in bed, not to mention the men who would pay to fuck her only to use her like a sex doll. Javier wants to make her feel good; he always loved to watch women fall apart under his touch. Maybe it’s some egotistical shit, but fuck, getting her off turns him on. It unsettles him that she doesn’t know it. 

“Want you to listen to me, cielito,” he says, pushing a finger inside her. Her chest is heaving, her eyes slightly unfocused, but she looks up at him nonetheless. “You listening?” She nods frantically. “I want to make you feel good. I’m going to make you forget he ever touched you.”

She moans when he adds another finger and strokes up against her walls in a way that has her keening, drawing out his name in one long breath. “Make… me… forget who?” she manages to pant. 

Javier gently smacks her ass. “That’s right, baby. You’re gonna give me another. Yeah?”

She nods, keeping her eyes trained on him as he pumps his fingers in and out. She’s close again, sucking in his fingers whenever he brushes up against that spot inside her. His thumb applies pressure to her clit, rubbing slow circles, and she’s coming: her eyes rolling back into her head, her jaw tensing, her lips parting as a delicious moan slips from her. He helps her come down, then brings his soaked fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. She watches it all with darkened eyes, struggling to catch her breath. “Javi, I need you,” she says. “Need you so bad.”

“You’ve got me, honey.” Javier lifts her thighs up onto his so her hips are raised, level with his cock. “You’ve had me since I first fucking walked into that place.”

He guides himself to her entrance and relishes in her neediness, the way her hips shift to try and push him into her. He grips her thigh. “Patience. Do you want me to put on a condom? I’m clean.”

She wiggles her hips against him and shakes her head. “I’m clean. Birth control. Want to feel you, Javi.”

He pushes himself another inch forward with a huff. “Bossy,” he grumbles, watching himself sink deep into her tight, hot cunt. The pressure is overwhelming, making his spine pinch with pleasure, He grits his teeth when their hips meet. “ Fuck. Christ… so tight, baby.”

He wants to last. He wants to draw out her pleasure, to be inside her like this forever. He gives an experimental thrust, short and deep, grinding into her so he can’t possibly get any deeper, and her hand flails, reaching for his hip as if to push him back. “Oh. You’re so big, Javi, I can’t…”

Even though her words make him twitch inside her, he leans down, bringing one of her legs over his hips, watching her back arch at the new angle, and says, “Yeah, you can. You can take me, honey, you can. Relax, mi cielo.”

Her body melts against him when he rolls his hips into her, and she begs him to kiss her. Not that she needs to beg. The kiss is messy once he gets a rhythm going, but she feels so good he can’t think to stop. “Yes, yes,” come her soft cries as he pushes into her at a steady, deep pace. Her nails scratch down his back and she keeps giving him the noises he wants, keeps moaning and praising him for how good he feels inside her. He knows it, can feel it, his mind slipping into the empty space that can only focus on the bone-deep feeling of her: how tight she is, how she clenches, so fucking hot and wet around him, the noises of their sex that echo in his ears. He’s lost in her, forgetting about all the shit he has to face every day and just enjoying her, his girl, wrapped around him.

“Tell me how it feels,” he tells her, feeling his self-control loosening as his orgasm nears. “Talk to me.”

She moans when he pushes up into her. “So… so good, Javi. You… you’re so deep. So good, make me feel so good, fuck.”

That’s enough to activate the primal part of his brain. He drags her farther down the bed and lifts both her legs high enough to rest on his shoulders. She cries out and scrambles for a purchase on his chest, but he thrusts deep, and her entire body seizes, the column of her throat exposed as her head falls back and an unabashed groan rips from her throat. Her hands twist the bed sheets instead. “Fuck!”

“That’s it,” he grits out, watching her fall apart on his cock. “That’s fucking it. I got you, baby.”

“Gonna—ohhhh—gonna come, Javi—ah!” He grinds real deep when she comes, fucking her through her orgasm while her body stiffens then goes slack under him, her brows knitted together in pleasure. 

He feels his orgasm build shamelessly now that she’s come for him. His balls draw up and his cock twitches in her, groaning as her walls pulse around him as he draws out her high. 

His forearm gives out when it hits him and he drops to his elbow, her legs falling back around his waist to keep him close. Javier releases a deep groan into her throat and makes his way back to her mouth. Her cunt squeezes him until he’s spilling deep inside her, his cum dripping from their joined bodies, and he rolls his hips to shove it deeper. 

It’s a delicious feeling, intoxicating, and she’s rocking her hips to meet his, tightening around him, milking more cum from the tip of his cock. “Fuck,” he hisses, baring his teeth against her throat. “Fuck, honey. Easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She giggles, knocked into another state of hazy pleasure. “You almost killed me.”

He must be truly fucked through, because he chuckles, too, collapsing on top of her. She strokes his hair as he stays nestled in her, using her breasts like a pillow. “We never ate dinner,” she muses.

“We never made dinner,” he says idly. “You feel okay?”

“I feel… fucked,” she says. “But I don't want to stroke your ego any more than I already have.”

He playfully bites her nipple. “Too late.”

She focuses on scratching at the nape of his neck and he damn near purrs like a cat. “I’m glad it was you,” she says softly. 

Javier squeezes her hip and feels his throat tighten. “Me too, baby,” he says hoarsely. He needs a cigarette just to calm the erratic heartbeat in his chest. This is where he wants to be every morning and every night. 

She lets out a small hum, which he feels in his cheek. “My turn to ask. You okay?”

He huffs, nestling just a bit deeper into her skin. “Just… they usually leave.” 

She tilts up his chin so he can look at her. “Do you want me to leave, Javier?” Her eyes are soft, understanding, and he knows she’ll bolt out of here in a second if he asks. She knows he's got worries: relationships and chasing narcos don't mix; she could get hurt, or he could; his relationship with Lorraine had died a fiery death. But letting the girl in his bed leave without another word hasn't even crossed Javier’s mind. “If it's too fast…”

Javier shakes his head and makes his way up to her face, kissing her and rolling them over so she straddles him. “I wasn't fast enough,” he grumbles. “I’ve got you now, amor, and I’m not gonna fuckin' let you go. Don't want you to leave, not now, not ever.”

She smiles wickedly. “For what it’s worth, I’d be thrilled to stay in your bed all hours of the day.”

He knows his life can destroy them both. But it seems idiotic not to try. 

~

He wakes up with the sun shining right in his eyes, and he knows it’s too early for a Sunday, but when he rolls over to seek the warmth of the other body in his bed, Javier’s hand lands on a cool mattress.

He blinks himself awake and frowns all the way to the door, where he haphazardly throws on his discarded pair of jeans from last night, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms as he makes his way into the kitchen. That’s when his foggy brain starts to clear up. He didn’t expect her to run off in the middle of the night, and it worries him. He feels like a fucking teenager, wondering if he moved too fast, if she is afraid to face him, if (God forbid) she regrets it, being technically married and all. He wonders if—

The clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen drowns the noise in his head. She’s making breakfast.

In her panties.

Wearing his shirt.

The shirt he wore last night.

If morning wood wasn’t routinely a problem already, she’s just made it worse.

“Good morning,” she beams at him over her shoulder. Her skin glows in the golden light and his shirt tips off her right shoulder so slightly, and her hair is messy but he can tell she tried to smooth it down with her hands. He comes up behind her and tips her chin up so he can kiss her. Her hand lands on his stomach and the other on his cheek.

“Slow down, viejo,” she mumbles. “Can’t have sex on an empty stomach at your age.”

He grunts and nips her bottom lip. “Such a smart fuckin’ mouth.”

She laughs, gently swatting him aside. “Need me to scold you, or will you sit?”

He’s already sitting down at the small dining table, but he does like the idea of her scolding him. When she reaches up into his cabinets for the olive oil, his shirt slips up over her ass and he can see the same lacy underwear he tore off her last night. Javier adjusts himself in his chair, in his jeans, and clears his throat. “Sure you don’t need help, cariño?”

“I’ve made tortillas de papas a hundred times, honey, so you just sit back and relax,” she orders. “You want coffee?”

“It’s not as good as yours.”

“I’ve had your coffee, Javi. It’s not that bad.” She slips the tortillas onto two plates and pours some coffee, then sits opposite him—but not before he leans across the table and kisses her. 

“Gracias, amor,” he says under his breath. 

She swipes her thumb over his jaw. “You need a haircut.”

He nudges his nose against hers. “You up to the challenge?”

“At least you aren't grey yet,” she teases. 

He nips her chin. “You might get me there yourself, cariño.”

Javier lights a cigarette and blows the smoke out of the open window.

“Let's see.” She makes a show of sliding out of the chair and around the table, sitting right in his lap. He brings his hands to her thighs and hums when she sidles up real close. Her glasses are back on her nose, fogged up from their kiss, and she scrunches up her face in mock concentration. “Yeah,” she decides. “I can work with this, if I try real hard. Let me get the scissors—”

He lands a smack on her ass and she gasps. “Careful, honey,” he says, blowing out smoke. “Mouth like that’ll get you in trouble.”

She plucks the cigarette from his lips. “Can't believe I slept with such an asshole,” she mumbles, leaning in to kiss him. 

“Tell me about it, bebita,” he says into her mouth, stealing back his cigarette and crushing it in the ashtray. He gives her ass another gentle smack and says, “Eat.”

She slides her plate over to his side and they eat right there, with her in his lap. 

When it's finally time for her to go home, she lingers in his doorway, after they've already stalled for a good twenty minutes. 

“Javi, I…”

“Fuck it.” He pulls her by the waist and drags her back inside, pressing her up against the wall and kicking the door shut. “Sunday, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” she sighs, staring dreamily up at him. He’s going to do everything in his power to earn the way she looks at him. “It’s Sunday.”

“Market’s on Sundays,” he points out.

She bites her lip. “Javier. Are you asking me on a date?”

“Haven’t gotten there yet.” He takes a deep breath and slides his fingers down her arm until they slide together with hers. “Come to the market with me?”

“As your date?” She’s toying with him, but it only emboldens him.

“Fucking right, as my date.” He squeezes her hand. “Say yes, baby. End my misery.”

She stands on her toes and kisses him. “Yes, I’ll be your date. But I need a change of clothes.”

“Why? You look beautiful.”

She stares at him pointedly. “I look like I’ve been fucked. I can’t do a walk of shame, Javi, I can’t.”

He likes the well-earned puffiness of sleep to her lips, the wrinkle to the skirt that lies on the floor in his bedroom. He likes that it means he’s made her feel good, that she slept well, that she’s comfortable in his space. He can’t remember the last time he slept so well, and he suspects it’s thanks to her sweet-smelling, soft, warm body next to his. “We’ll stop by your place,” he says, reaching for the hem of the shirt that’s on her body and letting his fingers wander up her belly, grabbing her tits under the fabric. “But I’ll need my shirt back.”

~

The market is busy. It gives him an excuse to hold her hand as they navigate it.

She’s giddy, clinging to him, her other hand wrapped around his bicep as she takes in every stand and smiles at all the vendors. Javier has his sunglasses on so he doesn’t make eye contact with any of them. 

Crowded spaces make him nervous. He doesn’t have his gun on him (he’s an asshole, but he’s not so much an asshole that he carries a gun on a date), which means he’s resorted to squeezing her hand every time he spots a sudden movement in his periphery. The surge of the crowd isn’t perilous, but it itches him nonetheless. Any one of the faces here could be one he’s looking for. Even narcos frequent markets.

“You’re pouting,” she says from his side. 

“I’m not pouting.”

“Yeah, honey, you are. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Out of the corner of his eye, a man whips something from his pocket, lightning-fast, and Javier can’t help but react, his hand going to her stomach to guide her behind him. But the man just pulls a wad of pesos from his pocket and pays for a pair of earrings: a gift to his wife, he tells the vendor. 

Javier can acquiesce that fine, maybe he’s been pouting. 

“You’re anxious,” she says, her eyes gentle. “I understand. But you know that readiness of yours? It keeps you alive. I’m okay with that.”

He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. All he knows is that the tight, tense feeling in his chest is loosening, and his body is calmer with her hands on him. 

She rubs her thumb over his hand. “We can go, Javi. I’ve looked at everything I want to.”

He kisses her temple. “Come with me, cariño. Wanna show you something.”

~

“When a guy says he ‘knows a spot,’ a girl doesn’t usually think evidence room. Well, not right away.”

She stays in the doorway when Javier lets go of her hand, hugging herself. He holds out his hand once more. “Maintenance staff keep away from this room on a good day. Only danger in here is dust.”

She takes his hand and lets him lead her through the crowded stacks; crowded, but with files and boxes instead of people. It’s quiet, it’s dim, and it’s practically his life. He wants to share it with her. 

“So this is Agent Peña,” she says, placing a hand against one of the boxes as they walk single-file through a narrow stack. Her expression is somewhat sad. “Can I be honest, Javi?”

“You’re going to say my job sucks.”

She blows out a long breath. “It’s just… It’s thankless. You have to learn everything you don’t want to know about some of the worst people imaginable. And nobody even knows it’s you who’s trying to keep their streets safe. Why do you do it?”

Javier leans against a shelf and thinks her question over. Not even Murphy has bothered to ask him that. The both of them are rigid, determined, no pausing to think about why the fuck they were trying so hard when every lead seemed to slip through their fingers. “I believe in justice,” he tells her. “I want to believe we can catch these guys, that it’ll make a difference.”

“It will,” she says firmly. “It makes a difference, Javier.” 

He wanders out of the stack and leans against the table, which is bowing with the weight of evidence boxes. He lights a cigarette. “It’s just the job. Most days, we can’t even get close enough to chase a guy down, and when we can, he usually gets away. There’s corruption fuckin’ everywhere, and I don’t know who to trust half the time.”

Her eyes travel across the stacks. “Do you remember the day you caught those men out of the café? You knew exactly what to do.” When her eyes meet his again, her pupils are darkening her irises. “You took charge. You caught them. It made a difference to me.”

He notes the change in her. He puffs out more smoke and gathers her in his arms, hands around her hips, squeezing her ass. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says softly, tracing his jaw with her finger. “It was the first time I imagined you fucking me senseless.”

Jesus Christ. Javier’s fingers dig hard into her ass and he pulls her closer. “That right, baby?”

“Mmm. Pictured you just taking me, bending me over, using me how you want.” She smiles and the innocence of it confounds him. His cock stirs in his jeans and she stands so her thigh is wedged between his legs. “You want to solve the problems of the world, vaquero, but sometimes you have to let yourself go. Let yourself feel.” Her lips brush his, hardly a kiss, and he chases her when she pulls away. “Do you want that?”

Javier breathes in sharply through his nose. “I want it bad, cielito. You sure?”

She inhales the smoke from his cigarette and blows it back in his face, her pretty lips pursed. “I want you to fuck me hard, Agent Peña.”

In a flash, he turns them around and bends her over the empty space on the table. He nearly bites through his cigarette when he shoves down her long skirt and finds no panties to remove. Just her pussy, already glistening. “You plan this, baby?”

“Didn’t think it would take this long.” She wiggles her ass against him and he grunts, pushing her down at the small of her back. He hastily unbuckles his belt and pushes his jeans down just far enough to pull out his hard cock. 

“Tell me if it’s too much, cielito.” He caresses her back as he presses his tip at her entrance and she keens, her ass pushing backward. Javier hisses. “Fuck. Behave. You hear me?”

“Yes,” she whines. “Yes. Please—”

He’s inside her in one hard thrust. She’s so wet it squelches around his cock when he makes his way in until he bottoms out and smacks the side of her thigh. “Shit, honey.”

Her panting moans get him even harder, more desperate. She wants him to use her? He’s going to fucking use her. 

He’s shoving deep inside her at a rapid pace, his fingers bruising her hips as he fucks her from behind. The table shifts and boxes slide, files fall, while she moans and arches her back and cries out, “Yes, yes, oh, fuck—”

He knows there isn't another soul who can hear them all the way down here, but she clenches around him when he reaches around her and places his palm over her mouth. “Gotta be quiet, cielito. Want them to hear you?”

And she, the fucking fox she is, nods behind his hand. “Mmmhmm,” she groans. 

He grinds deep, hips pushing against her ass, and she makes a strangled noise. Javier uses his leverage on her to lift her upper half up off the table and press her against his chest. Her moan is so sweet that it catalyses the tell-tale tightness in his core, and he uses the new angle to get even deeper, brushing up against the spot he knows will make her come. She's almost there, grabbing behind her at his arms, his hips, her thighs trembling. His hand slips down to her throat, holding it gently to keep her flush against him. “Javi—Javi—I can’t, oh, I can’t…”

“You fuckin’ can,” he says around his cigarette, hips snapping, keeping rhythm, driving hard and fast into her tight pussy. She clenches and he feels her body stiffen. “There it is, baby.”

To her credit, she tries to be quiet. Her stifled, swallowed scream as she clamps down around him, so tight he can't move, makes it hard for Javier not to come right then and there. But he manages to work her through it, thrusting at a steady rhythm while she shakes, whimpers, and holds onto his wrist. “Come, Javi,” she whispers, her voice raw. “You can come, honey.”

When he does, he fucking comes. He can't hold them both up any longer, so he lets her fall back to the table and covers her body with his, holding onto her hips to keep her impaled on his cock while he comes, spilling into her with a series of groans. She helps him through it, too, squeezing and rocking gently back on him. She's eager, like last time, trying to pull every drop from him even as she cries out from the overstimulation. It makes him twitch in her, how much she loves him inside her. He loves being inside her, for Christ’s sake. 

Chuckling around the nub of his cigarette, Javier rubs his hands up and down her sides as they both come down. “Easy, baby.”

“Feels so good,” she says, muffled by the table against her cheek. 

He pulls out and watches his cum drop out of her onto the floor, and he sucks in a breath. “Jesus.” Javier helps her turn around and stand up, putting out his cigarette. “Did I hurt you?”

She bites her lip when she sees the mess he made of her pussy. “Wouldn't complain if you had,” she says. “Besides, I’m numb all over.” She staggers up onto her toes and kisses him deeply. “Feel better?”

“Much”—he brings his fingers down to her cunt and pushes his cum back inside—“better.”

She gasps and holds onto his shoulders. “I don’t have any panties. You’ll drip out of me all afternoon.”

“You see me complaining?” He kisses her again. “Thank you, baby.”

She beams up at him. “I hope you didn't come in here so we could actually look at evidence.”

He shakes his head. “Won't risk getting you in trouble.”

Her eyes shine with mischief. “Shit,” she says. “I should've told you by now. I’m really accident-prone.”

“I know, honey,” he says. “Look at who you married.”

She smacks him on the chest. “Let’s get out of here before you tell me there are security cameras.”

~

He’s bored out of his mind today until the phone rings. Murphy’s out doing surveillance on their latest narco hideout, which is probably another dead lead. It means Javier doesn't have to be part of the disappointment, but he would kill for some excitement. He's looked over the same file for the past hour, and the drone of noise in the bullpen is only distracting him. He picks up his ringing phone before the first ring echoes out. 

"Peña."

"Javi." It's her soft, sweet voice, and she sounds shaken. Javier bolts upright.

"Hey. You okay, baby?"

"Somebody broke in." 

Panic lances through him. “Are you inside?”

“No. No. I got home and… and the door was open. My shit is—it’s everywhere."

Javier's already putting on his jacket, the telephone wedged between his ear and shoulder. "Did you phone the police?"

"Yeah, I did. They're coming. I wanted to call you."

"Good. Good girl. I'm on my way," he says. "I want you to stay outside your apartment. There may still be people inside."

"I won’t go inside," she says. "Don't leave work for me, Javi. I know we have plans tonight, but I don't think I can... now that—"

"I'll be there soon." He hangs up the phone.

He is there soon. Soon enough to pull up just behind the approaching police vehicles. He races up the staircase until he's on her floor. She paces back and forth in the hallway in front of her door, the telephone cord wrapped around the doorway from inside as she clutches the device to her chest.

He hugs her around the phone. She can't get her arms around him, but she presses her face into his chest. "Didn't have to come," she mumbles.

"Yeah, I did." He looks right into her eyes, brushing a knuckle over her chin. "Someone's got it in for you, huh?"

She huffs, but doesn't have the chance to respond since the police are approaching. Javier stands just behind her as she explains to them the situation: her lock was broken, her door ajar, and the inside of the apartment turned upside-down. Someone looking for something. Not her—Javier thanks God—judging from the fact her shit has been thrown around the room. The police take her statement and head inside in front of her, guns drawn.

She moves to cross through the doorway, but Javier puts his hand across her like a seatbelt. "Javi," she says. "There's nobody inside."

"You know that?" He lifts a brow. "You got x-ray vision, baby?"

"Why would they stick around if they aren't looking for me?"

Javier cocks his head. "They could be looking for—"

"GET DOWN!" comes a cry from inside. The splatter of gunshots are pounding his skull even before Javier has time to pull her away from the doorway and shove them both to the floor.

He covers her body with his while her arms fly up to shelter her head. Bullets pepper the walls. Men shout orders; footsteps pound for cover. Little panicked cries come from her mouth, but Javier keeps holding on tight, keeping her low.

When the shots stop, she's trembling. Javier lifts the canopy of his body off her and draws his own gun. “It’s over," he says, offering his hand. She takes it and he pulls her up against him. He does a fast sweep of her and sees no immediate injuries, so he sweeps the room and enters her apartment.

Three policemen entered, but there are six men on the floor, dead. Bleeding from heads, chests, legs, throats. She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, God... Javi..."

"Stay by the door. Don't look. Shit..." He's checking pulses with one hand, holding his gun in the other. Nobody is alive. "Puta."

Behind him, her voice is small. "They wanted cops."

Javier checks the bathroom, then swats aside the curtains to spy on the road below. It seems all the men who came for the police are dead. And they've done their job.

Javier doesn't mourn too long. A couple dead policemen is nothing new to him, heartless son of a bitch he is. No, that's not what gets him riled, gets his blood simmering.

These men didn't think twice about putting her in the crossfire.

He's breathing heavily when he gets back to her. Like she knows exactly why he's so fucking angry, her hand comes up to squeeze his arm. "I'm all right," she says. "I'm not hurt."

Despite his reddening vision, he squeezes his eyes shut and kisses her temple. "You're okay," he says, mainly to himself, smoothing down her hair and grabbing a handful of it just to feel its softness. She cups his face and turns it to face her.

"I'm okay."

"Stay with me tonight," he says.

"I'm sure as hell not staying here," she replies. "What… what do we do about this?"

“I’ll tell the police they’ve got narcos baiting and killing them. Someone will come and take these guys away. I’ll make sure they know whose place this went down at.”

Javier pinches the bridge of his nose, but she smacks his hand away and smooths his brow over with her thumb. “You sure you won’t get sick of me?”

“Never, baby.” He presses another kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll come back for your things.”

He drives her to his place and white-knuckles the steering wheel the whole way, still struggling to blink the red from his vision. When she looks over at him, she takes one of his hands and laces their fingers together. It helps him focus on just getting her somewhere safe. They ride the rest of the way in silence. 

He does a triple-take around the perimeter of his place when they arrive, then leads her in with his hand at her back. He wants her body against him all the time when he's as riled up as he is. 

“Javi, I can sleep on the—”

“Don't say 'couch,' cielito.” He walks right up to her and flicks her gently on the nose. "Keep that word safe in your mouth. You're sleeping with me." Their noses touch, and he nudges her chin upward so their mouths are millimetres apart. "Not letting you out of my fuckin' sight. Yeah?"

His cock stirs when she looks up at him, wide-eyed, and nods like she's hypnotised. "Yeah," she sighs. "But no funny business."

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Javier slides his hand around her waist. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nods. “Just shaken. But I guess you deal with shit like that every day.”

“Doesn't mean you should get used to it.”

“I won’t,” she says. “I don't want to. There are dead people in my fucking apartment, for Christ’s sake. Am I a terrible person for just being relieved one of them wasn't you?”

“We take the wins we can get,” he says. “Does it really scare you that much, baby?”

She huffs. “Are you serious? Every time you leave the café for work, I worry they'll show your body on the news. I’m terrified for your life all the fucking time, Javier. It’s something I don't know how to deal with.”

He feels a frown pulling his brows down. It's hard not to imagine himself in the same situation: hearing her name on the news after a shootout, a victim caught between two sides. Breaking down a door only to find she's there, somehow, dead and tied up. Being too late. 

The fear creeps up on him. She’s not weak, but she is vulnerable. Today, the danger came to her own home. He's made sure that nobody knows who she is, what she is to him, but she could have died despite all of that. 

“Javier.”

He grunts, grinding his teeth for a cigarette. 

She unbuttons the first hole in his polo and slides her hands up around his neck. “You know I’m okay, right?” she says softly. “You kept me safe. Those reflexes of yours.”

He caresses her arms, not meeting her eyes, frowning at the smooth skin he's touching. “If I’d been a minute later—”

“Javier.” He shuts up when she sinks to her knees. “You were right”—her finger traces the button of his jeans before she pops it open—“on”—she squeezes his thigh as she urges his pants down and takes his half-hard cock in her hand—“time.”

He thinks he’s gone blind with desire. He reaches out without thinking and cups her chin. “Amor,” he says gruffly. 

“Yes?” She looks up at him with round eyes, pumping him gently in her hand. Not that he needs it; he's so hard by now that the head is leaking precum. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No… Mierda.” He watches her spit on his cock and his eyes almost cross. “Christ. You look so good like this, baby.”

She hums when she brings her mouth to him and licks the tip. He keeps his hand in her hair, just to hold on, letting her take what she wants of him. Jolts of pleasure shoot up his spine with each lick, her hand shifting to gently squeeze his balls when she finally takes him into her mouth. 

His head falls back when he’s halfway inside her hot, wet mouth. But she keeps taking him deeper, swallowing around him and drooling as she bobs her head. He's so close it's embarrassing, gripping her hair tighter and enjoying the vibration of her moan around his length. He tries to pull out of her mouth when she chokes, but she grounds him, squeezing his thigh and keeping her eyes locked on his.

She’s so beautiful it aches; he's mesmerised by the sight of her like this, debauched and wanting him badly enough to get on her knees for it. 

She reaches around him and squeezes his ass, which makes him twitch in her mouth despite grumbling at her. “Smartass even when my cock’s down your fuckin’ throat, huh, baby?”

She responds by swallowing around him, choking some more, and he swears, hips bucking instinctively. 

“Gonna—fuck. Fuck!” He’s louder than usual when he comes, letting out a long groan when her throat tightens around his cock. She holds onto his thighs for support (his and her own), audibly swallowing every drop of cum that he spills on her tongue. When it becomes too much, too good, he pulls out of her mouth and watches a dribble of cum spill down her lip, her chin. She swipes it off with her thumb and licks it up, opening her mouth to show him that she swallowed everything he gave her. It's nearly enough to make him keep her there and fuck her mouth all over again. 

He helps her to her feet and kisses her hard. “So fuckin’ good to me.”

“See?” She pushes his hair away from his face. “We’re alive. We're safe. And you’ve got me.”

He does. He's finally got her: the brightest, shiniest fucking treasure in the world. Javier kisses her all the way into the kitchen and they make dinner together. When he wakes up in the morning, her naked body is tangled with his. 

He doesn't deserve this peace, but he’ll take it. 

~

He drives her to the café every morning. 

She pours his coffee while he sits at the counter and smokes. “Sure you want another cup?” she says. He had one before they left this morning. 

“You kept me awake all night, cariño. I think I deserve another cup.”

Two weeks later, she’s still living with him while the police and the DEA try to track down the intruders. They've confirmed it was narcos who raided her home, thanks to radio logs—they haven't gotten much farther than that. Despite any moral hangups, Javier is somewhat glad they're stuck. It means she's with him, safe, sleeping in his bed every night and not worrying about her broken locks or the bloodstains on her rug. 

She openly stares him up and down, eyes lingering on his torso. Javier burns under her gaze. “What?”

She shakes her head and looks down. “Nothing.”

Javier tilts his head to meet her eyes. “Cielito.”

“It’s just…” She bites down on her laugh. “Your shirt. Javi, it's like you never left the seventies.”

He's affronted. “What…” It's a white polo with black squiggly lines and dots. “You've never mentioned anything about my shirts.”

“Honey, I see you in suits most of the time.” She shrugs, heading to the wall to refill the coffee pot. 

He and Murphy are meeting Carillo, so he doesn't need a suit. He won't let her distract him. “What's wrong with my shirts?”

“Amor.” She brushes a knuckle over his chin. “If any other man wore that shirt, he would look like an idiot. It just confounds me.” Her frown is playful. “How you can manage to look good in that.”

“Pot, kettle,” he grumbles around his cigarette, even though he's flustered by her attention. “You'd look fuckin’ beautiful in a flour sack.”

“Grumpy,” she teases, sliding around the counter to tend to her other customers with the coffee pot in hand. He pinches her ass when she walks by and watches her cheeks flush, putting on his sunglasses so he can stare shamelessly while she makes her rounds. 

He enjoys watching her work. How she moves so gracefully around her tables, how she smiles at everything and engages with her patrons, the way she jokes with them like they're longtime friends. The way she gets them talking to other people at different tables, a close-knit community. 

The bell above the door chimes, knocking Javier out of his trance. It’s almost time for him to go. He pays her with a double tip, like he always does, and downs the rest of his coffee. She makes her way back to the counter and smiles up at him. “Time to go?”

“Time to go.” He wants to kiss her. “Have a good day, baby. Got your key?”

She hums. “I don't forget my things like you can, viejo.”

He blows his smoke out the corner of his mouth and sniffs. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll stuff that mouth when I get home.”

Her grin only widens. “Promises.”

He leaves feeling warm and sated. Calling his place home, for the both of them, doesn't feel wrong. 

~

When he comes home, Javier is tense, slamming doors a little harder than necessary. When he remembers she's in his home, that she probably had a whole marriage’s worth of slamming doors, he starts to ease the one to the apartment shut. But he still lights a cigarette and tosses his jacket haphazardly on the hook. “¿Cariño?”

“Estoy en la cocina (I’m in the kitchen),” comes her muffled voice. Javier rushes to find her and presses himself up against her, squeezing her ass like it's a stress ball, feeling his bones melt already. 

“Huele bien (smells good),” he mutters into her neck. 

She hums, stirring a pot of garlic soup on the stove. “Rough day?”

“Better now.” He's still grumbling like a real viejo, but her warm body makes his anger simmer down. “Fuckin’ work. Fuckin’... fuckin’ people. Malparidos.”

She turns in his arms and cradles his face. He leans into her touch when she smooths out the harsh frown in his brow. “Guapo,” she says softly, memorising his face with her fingers. “Tu eres muy fuerte. Eres muy inteligente (You're so strong. So smart). Hate to see you beat up like this. What happened?”

What didn’t happen? “Jaramillo locked down a fucking room full of the best evidence we’ve ever seen. I had Murphy stuff some down his pants.”

She rears back slightly and stares for a moment. “But didn’t you give him all that money and—down his pants? Javi.”

Her voice gently scolds him, but he’s rubbing his hands up and down her arms, soothing her worries. He’s not agitated anymore now that he’s touching her; it’s like he’s inadvertently passed it onto her. “He didn’t get caught, baby. Helped us find someone.” He kisses her cheek and she sighs, a small laugh leaving her when his moustache tickles her ear. “They don’t search gringos, remember?”

“Well, it’s a shame this someone can’t join us for dinner, because I’ve made way too much soup for two people.” She nudges her nose against his. “Sit. Eat.”

“Sí, señora.” He kisses her before he moves to the dining table, but a knock at the door prevents him from sitting down, let alone relaxing. At the stove, pouring soup into bowls, she turns her head and frowns at him. Javier presses a finger to his lips and stalks silently around the corner to the front door. His heart rate has kicked up by the time he’s pressed himself up against the wall next to the knob. Very few know Javier’s address except for himself, her, the people who gave him the place, and—

“What the fuck, Murphy,” he grunts when he spots who’s standing in the hallway. He opens the door and ushers Steve inside. “What the hell, man?”

“Yeah, good to see you too,” says Murphy, slapping a manila folder against Javier’s chest. “Took a call on your phone about twenty minutes ago.”

“That so?” Javier takes the folder. “Anything exciting?”

“Look at it and you’ll know,” he replies. “You wanted to know who fucked up your girl’s place? There they are.”

Javier opens the folder so fast he rips it an inch down the middle. It’s stuffed with files on the deceased assholes who targeted her home two weeks ago. “Shit,” he says, staring at their mugshots. “They all here?”

“Them, and a couple not-dead guys who work with them,” says Steve. “I’ll let you guess who the big boss is.”

Javier grinds his teeth as the anger rises. “Yeah. I can take a fuckin’ guess.” He looks at Steve and nods. “Thanks, man. This is good.”

“She still livin’ with you?”

He knows Murphy by now. He’s to-the-point, not accusing him of anything. “Yeah. Her place isn’t safe.”

“Right. And you finally had sex?”

His forthright attitude isn’t always pleasant. Javier huffs. “That your business?”

“Considering I had to put up with you when you weren’t getting any, yeah. Anyway, I can tell.”

“How?”

Murphy snorts. “You’re glowing.”

“Fuck you, Murphy.”

He looks down the hallway and Javier follows his gaze. She’s standing there, sheepish, leaning against the wall. “Hi,” she says. “It’s good to see you, Steve.”

Murphy’s eyes flit from her, to Javier, then back to her again. Whatever he wants to say, he swallows. “Hey, sweetheart. Rough couple weeks?”

She shrugs. “Accident-prone,” she says as a way of explanation. 

Murphy hums. “I was referring to living with this asshole.”

“Malo,” mutters Javier, but she just smiles wryly. 

“Oh, that. Thank God someone else understands.” She takes a step closer. “I never got to thank you for the first time you saved my ass.”

It’s Murphy’s turn to shrug. “Not losing any sleep over gettin’ you away from that asshole,” he says. Javier agrees. However often he likes to bust the hillbilly’s balls, he’s grateful for Steve helping her find Javier the night her husband accosted her.

Her eyes slide to Javier, a question in them. An invitation. Javier claps Murphy on the shoulder. “Stay for dinner, man.”

“Please,” she says. “I made plenty, and you must be hungry.”

Murphy acquiesces, but only because his wife is working a double at the hospital. It’s awkward at first, having him in Javier’s home, his space, which he’s only used to sharing with her. But she opens Steve up the way she does all her patrons, making him laugh and joining in on cajoling Javier whenever the opportunity arises. She holds his hand when she does it and only begins kissing him when he kisses her first, not wanting to cross any lines with his partner around. They eat until the pot of soup is empty, and they’re all full, and when Murphy leaves, Javier is eager to fuck her into the mattress. 

He’ll look into the file in the morning. He just wants to feel her.

~

They find all but two of the narcos in the file. They’re hanging upside-down in a warehouse basement. Javier elects to participate in the interrogation before Carrillo takes over.

He makes sure they feel twice the terror she felt.

It wasn't personal, one of them tries to spit out through a mouthful of his own blood. 

You made it fucking personal, says Javier, grabbing hold of the man’s hair and yanking his head back so he can look right into the burst blood vessels in his eyes. You and your boss.

~

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#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña fic #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

[iww-gnv]

Microsoft reneged on promises it made in court during its Federal Trade Commission (FTC) antitrust trial in 2023 by laying off 1,900 employees in late January, according to the FTC. FTC lawyer Imad Abyad filed a letter with the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit on Wednesday, effectively telling on Microsoft. “This newly-revealed information contradicts Microsoft’s representations in this proceeding,” the FTC lawyer wrote. Microsoft announced on Jan. 15 that it was laying off 1,900 workers from its gaming division — around 8% of that part of the company. A large portion of those layoffs were at the newly acquired Activision Blizzard. The percentage of Activision Blizzard layoffs has not been made public, but at least 899 of that 1,900 worked out of Activision Blizzard’s California offices, according to public records.

#news #labor news #gaming news #tech news #the ftc #ftc #federal trade commission #microsoft #activision blizzard #blizzard #2024 layoffs #tech industry layoffs #gaming industry layoffs #layoffs

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (6)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, fluff, angst, trauma, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He felt like killing Cregan for suggesting in front of everyone that they should take Wright with them to install the stained glass windows instead of consulting him in private, putting him in a position where he couldn't disagree.

He knew he would be tense throughout their stay there because of her and was furious.

After Lyanna gave her testimony to the police along with the other girls who wanted to accuse Lannister of harassment and the statement she made, the professors who had not spoken to him in years suddenly began to approach him, offering to shake his hand in greeting.

He did not reciprocate their gestures.

No one asked him if he had a reason for doing what he did, no one was interested in his feelings then.

He did not need their pity now.

Lyanna after couple of days wrote him an e-mail saying that the charges had been filed, that she would tell the court about everything she saw, willing to take any punishment for not reacting then, and asked him if he would agree to testify to confirm their words.

He replied to her without any politeness, with only one word.

Yes.

He noticed something else and although he didn't want it to matter to him, he felt a tickle in his chest when he caught Wright glancing over her shoulder at him, that warmth again sounded in her greeting and farewell.

Looking at her, he felt the discomfort caused by how much he craved her good opinion, flocking to her like a moth to the light, tired and worn out, wanting at last to find a refuge somewhere.

He had the impression that the last years of his life had been a perpetual tossing in agony, a running to nowhere, feeling breathless and drained of strength, of emotion, so that the fact that he felt anything for her was something shocking, new, revealing to him.

He realised, albeit with a great deal of despair and denial, that she had aroused his affection.

That he wanted to get closer to her, although he didn't know how he was supposed to achieve this.

He didn't want to do it in a literal, physical way, but in a spiritual way.

A safe one.

One in which he could not be hurt.

Even so, these musings remained in his mind as he was unable to make anything out of himself or show anything, embarrassed by his thoughts and weakness, so everything was as it was before.

It was this realisation that made the thought of travelling in her company give him panic attacks, he didn't know himself what he wanted anymore, he didn't understand himself.

On top of that, he reminded himself all the time that she was his student, that he had stigmatised Jason for the same behaviour. He fell into state of depression and sadness explaining to himself that he had to focus on work and not on her.

The whole drive passed in general calm, he tried to concentrate on what Cregan was saying and on driving, refraining with poor effect from glancing in the mirror to see her face, sitting in the back behind them, gazing out of the window at the view.

He could feel the heat in his chest as he looked at her and knew that it was very, very bad.

When they arrived, unpacked and set off for the church he felt that perhaps everything would go without any problems, Cregan thankfully filling their space with his chatter made it bearable for all of them.

Once he had made sure that none of the stained glass quarters had been damaged in transit he decided that they could return to their hotel and after a little shopping each of them locked themselves in their rooms.

He couldn't sleep knowing she was in the room next door, in addition it was hot and he was wriggling in his bed.

He felt disgusted with himself, but he was also overcome by a kind of joy, because he thought he would never feel such a thing, especially for a woman.

Meanwhile, he was melting more and more each day at the sight of her, her understanding of his needs, her distance, her respect, her warmth made him feel safe around her, he knew she would never violate his space, that she would not judge him, even though he was such a wicked man.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that he was beginning to fear that he was falling in love with her.

It seemed tacky to him, a professor falling for his female student, all the inappropriateness of it which made it all the more exciting.

He figured that it probably wasn't about that after all.

It was about her way of being.

About who she chose to be.

When he looked at her, he felt like touching her.

Her cheek, her hand, her hair, without any subtext, just to see how soft her skin was, how she smelled, whether it felt good.

To rediscover the touch.

To make him no longer afraid of it.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that she would surely scold him if she heard what his thoughts sounded like.

He got up, deciding that he needed a cigarette because he wasn't going to fall asleep anyway, and walked out onto the balcony, sitting down comfortably.

He put the cigarette in his mouth and pressed the lighter to it, lighting it lazily from the flame that appeared in front of his face.

He took a drag and sighed heavily, letting the smoke out through his nose, looking at the night silhouette of the city around him.

He jumped up in his seat, shocked when he heard the sound of the door opening on the other side and noticed her head poking out towards him.

Her hair was loose.

As soon as she saw him, she immediately backed away, terrified.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled embarrassedly, and he moved restlessly in his chair, frowning his eyebrows, his heart pounding like mad.

"Stay. I'm finishing up anyway." He said lowly feeling how fast and anxious his breathing was, all tense, desperate.

Stay.

For a moment he heard no sound on the other side, but her balcony door remained open. She came out after a while, he swallowed loudly noticing her bare, slim legs.

She sat down quickly on the other side of the table, leaning against the backrest, looking out at the city, not at him, all tense.

He thought, taking another drag, feeling his hands tremble slightly, that he could just sit like that and stare at her for hours, admiring her from afar.

He could see that she felt uncomfortable, that the silence between them made her feel like an intruder after all, so with a light, casual movement of his hand, he moved the open pack of cigarettes towards her. She gave him a surprised look and shook her head.

They glanced at each other for a long moment, and he felt there was something in the air, some kind of tension that had been building between them for weeks.

He cocked his head, shaking the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray with his finger.

"Are you afraid of me?"

He saw her look at him, startled, moving restlessly in her seat and swallowed loudly.

"I'm not afraid. I just don't understand you, Professor." She said with some kind of weariness, lowering her gaze. He chuckled at her words, amused.

Interesting.

"And what is it you want to understand?" He asked defiantly, his cigarette burning slowly in his hand, but he was focused on her response, uncertainty ran across her face, she pressed her lips together not knowing where to look.

"What has happened to you."

He felt his whole body suddenly tense up and he froze in mid-motion, he felt like his heart had stopped beating for a second. She glanced at him and turned pale, seeing the look on his face.

"Careful now. You're treading on thin ice." He said in a deep, cold voice, taking another drag, not taking his eyes off her, her bottom lip quivering in terror.

"Please. Please, sir, let me understand." She whispered softly, and he felt a squeeze in his heart.

He hesitated.

He didn't want to talk about it, but on the other hand he was eager to get closer to her, he wanted her to understand him.

He didn't want her pity, though, and usually that's what he got.

He decided that if he didn't tell her now, she would never be able to fully approach him.

The same invisible wall would remain between them.

He pressed the remnants of his cigarette to the ashtray, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I was raped by a woman when I was 16."

He glanced at her reaction and saw exactly what he had feared.

She froze completely, drawing in the air in disbelief, her eyes big and terrified, her body beginning to shake. He clenched his jaw thinking of the scene she was about to make, of her crying and wailing over his sad fate, telling him it wasn't his fault, how sorry she was.

He didn't give a shit.

He didn't want her sympathy, her tears, her despair.

He wanted her.

He wanted to be a man in her eyes, not a victim.

He reached for another cigarette and slipped it into his mouth, lighting it with a nonchalant, light-hearted gesture, taking another drag, looking at her pityingly, seeing that she was in a decreasing state. He let the smoke out with a quiet hiss.

"It's a pity you can't see yourself. They should give a Nobel peace prize to every woman who looks at me like that when she learns about it." He murmured annoyed, taking another drag, looking at her with rage, feeling like telling her to pull herself together.

He saw tears run down her cheeks, her pink, full lips parted in an involuntary, accelerated, terrified breath. She wiped them away, but to no avail; she couldn't stop it apparently. He shook his head, sighing disapprovingly, tired.

"Always this crying." He muttered dryly, shaking off the ash into the ashtray with an impatient gesture of his finger.

He saw something flash across her face, some kind of pain, as if he had slapped her, and after a moment she stood and walked out, closing the door from her balcony behind her, leaving him alone.

He felt his heart pounding, looked towards her windows completely shocked.

This was something he hadn't expected.

He swallowed loudly, burning his cigarette quickly, immediately regretting what he had said, how he had reacted, recognising that he had asked too much of her, that he had told her something like that, and then humiliated her even though she had not said a word.

He made up his own mind about how she felt without asking her opinion, fearing that she would confirm his suspicions.

He stood up and ran a hand over his face, heartbroken, knowing he had screwed up. He walked to her balcony door and knocked on it, sighing loudly, massaging his forehead.

"Please, open. I'm sorry." He said in a tired, broken voice loud enough for her to hear him.

He shuddered as he heard movement on the other side, the door opened and she stood in front of him, closer than ever, looking at him with her face red and swollen from tears, her eyes full of pain, sadness and regret.

He knew he had hurt her and she had done nothing to deserve it.

He hurt her because he knew she couldn't be his.

He was punishing her for his own desperation.

He looked at her and couldn't get anything out of himself, his nose filled with her scent, again the same coconut shampoo he'd smelled when she'd first come to him. He felt a tickle in his fingertips, a warmth in his lower abdomen.

"I am not a good person. I do and say worse and worse things. I'm tired of myself and the people around me. I feel like I'm spiralling down and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't understand why you cared so much about me teaching you, but what I said just a moment ago was an expression of my pure cruelty." He said in despair, knowing that he had screwed up, that he was an aggressive, insane, broken man who had struggled for years with his trauma, which he could not overcome.

His mother never forgave herself for taking Alys on holiday with them back then, she didn't know what she was capable of and wanted to report it to the proper authorities immediately, but his father wouldn't allow any charges to be brought to the police.

He said they wouldn't prove anything against her in court anyway, and it would affect his future campaign for parliament badly.

Now, years later, he realised with painful disappointment that his father simply did not believe him at the time.

He did not have the heart to tell his already remorse-ridden mother that he was not coping, that therapy was not working.

Her words completely devastated him and even though he knew he had done wrong, he cried like a baby all night after the phone call from her.

For years she thought he had forgotten, that all was well, and when she found out he had hit a woman, she turned on him, saying that this was not how she had raised him, that he had gone from being a victim to being an abuser.

She was his only friend, his one confidant and she had left him.

He thought he deserved it.

She swallowed loudly at his words, lowering her gaze.

"I wanted to work with you because you are the best. Because you are to me the model of an artist, a hard-working man doing everything with care and attention to detail. I respect you very much in this regard, sir, and I try not to make you feel uncomfortable with me, although I am only now beginning to understand what this discomfort is caused by." She choked out with difficulty, looking at him with an understanding from which he grew hot.

She tried to comprehend him, not to judge him, not to reject him despite how he treated her, even though she had every right to do so.

She tried, and he did nothing to deserve it.

He didn't deserve that she stood in front of him and listened to him, didn't deserve that she changed her clothes before their class especially for him, that she was careful not to hurt him.

He swallowed loudly, feeling all-consuming shame, tears welling up in his eyelids as he looked at her.

He had a feeling she noticed it because her lips parted slightly, looking at him with concern.

He wanted to touch her.

For the first time since that day, he wanted to touch someone like that.

"Will you let me touch your cheek?" He whispered quietly, with shame, as if he had just told her his most disgusting hidden secret, more disgusting than rape, more disgusting than slapping his student.

Nothing seemed worse to him than the fact that he desired her.

He was sure she would look at him in disgust, that she would tell him it was inappropriate, ask him how could he propose such a thing, but she kept looking at him, something in her eyes that made him feel hot.

She nodded her head.

He stared at her in disbelief, not believing that she had agreed, that he was allowed to do such a thing.

He swallowed hard, lifting his trembling hand slowly and ran his fingertips lightly, gently, delicately over her tear-warm skin. He drew in a breath feeling how soft she was, how she sank under his touch.

He couldn't help himself and touched her again, his thumb trailed over her soft, wet lips and she sighed softly, her gaze warm, tender, misty.

"You are so beautiful." He whispered in pain, wanting her to understand what he felt, unable to muster any other confession, heartbroken at his weakness, his vulnerability, exposed to any hit from her, to any kind of rejection.

She blinked at his words and blushed in embarrassment, lowering her gaze for a moment, raising it again to his face, his fingers continued to stroke the soft skin of her cheek.

"You are beautiful too, sir." She whispered softly, and he felt heat spilling over his chest, his heart starting to pound like crazy at the thought that she was reciprocating his affection, that she had a weakness for him too.

He felt himself get completely hard at the thought and it terrified him.

He wasn't ready, he didn't know what he should do now.

He shuddered when he saw her raise her hand and quickly grabbed her wrist, scared, looking at her pleadingly.

She lowered her hand, looking at him with worry and understanding, and he let her go, breathing unevenly, terrified and aroused at the same time, wanting only to stay with her, to be by her side, to sit beside her, to do anything as long as he could look at her.

"No. Don't touch me." He said quickly, breathing hard. "Please."

"May I touch your hand?" She asked quietly, uncertainly, and he looked at her, fighting with himself, wanting it and not wanting it at the same time, afraid of what she wanted to do, what she was thinking about.

He nodded, deciding that he would trust her.

Her fingers slipped into his free hand and grasped it lightly, non-committally, leading him with her to her room.

He felt his heart pounding hard when he saw that she was leading him towards her bed and immediately panicked, knowing that he couldn't do this, that he didn't want to.

"I don't −" He began, and she let him go, sitting down on her bedding, extending her hand to him, looking at him with eyes that didn't show what he expected.

"I know. That's not what I want either." She whispered, and he felt immense relief, swallowing loudly, trying to relax.

That's not what I want either.

"Turn your back to me." He commanded, looking at her with his eyes wide open, breathing anxiously, wanting to make sure he was in control of what was happening, that she didn't suddenly touch him or make any violent gesture.

She obediently did as he asked, laying on her side with her back to him, her hair spread in disarray on the pillow around her head, her bare legs lying casually on top of each other.

He watched her figure for a moment, pulling off his shoes, and then carefully and slowly lay down behind her at a safe distance, smelling the intense scent of her shampoo and her shower lotion.

He swallowed loudly, unable to tear his gaze away from her hair, from how soft they looked, from how long he'd been thinking about what it would feel like to hold it between his fingers.

He licked his lips involuntarily at the thought.

"Can I touch your hair?" He whispered, feeling that it was immoral, perverted, but he couldn't help himself, being so close to her, his length pulsed hard in his trousers, demanding any form of intimacy with her, one that didn't threaten him.

He needed her.

He saw that she nodded, moving to arrange herself more comfortably, her chest rising and falling in accelerated breaths.

He lifted his hand and placed it on her head, then combed his fingers through her hair in a slow, unhurried motion.

With his movement, an even more intense scent of her shampoo reached his nostrils, the structure of her curls was soft and surprisingly smooth, as if he were touching a newly bought brush of natural bristles.

Surprised by this pleasant sensation, he stroked her like this, resting the weight of his hand on her head, playing with a strand of her hair once in a while, fascinated by this unforced, almost innocent closeness.

He glanced at her, feeling that she wasn't moving, wondering with a pain in his heart if she was terrified or afraid he would do something to her.

"Is it pleasant? Are you uncomfortable?" He asked quietly with his heart pounding hard, wanting to know if he should stop, not wanting to do to her what his mother's friend had done then, during their holiday together many years ago.

He wanted her to be comfortable, to be calm, to feel safe.

He heard her swallow quietly, and after a moment her soft, warm, slightly hoarse voice echoed through the room.

"No. It's very pleasant. I think I'll fall asleep if you don't stop, sir."

He felt heat spilling over his chest at these words, at this proof that she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep beside him, that his touch was not unpleasant, unwanted to her.

They laid like this, not saying anything or moving, listening to their own breaths.

He watched the back of her head, her body rising and falling in her breath, feeling her soft hair under his fingertips, and thought that in two years' time, when Cregan finished his habilitation he wanted to leave.

He wanted to set up his own workshop, to get away from the rector and the professors who harassed their students, to be able to decide for himself who he wanted to hire and who he didn't, without having to listen to anyone's judgement.

He swallowed aloud at the thought that, knowing that he wouldn't then be the supervisor of her thesis and wouldn't have a say in her final grade and degree, what he was doing now would no longer be so questionably moral.

That he could then allow himself to desire her.

He woke at dawn with his nose snuggled into her hair, his arm embracing her, his hand holding her palms in a subconscious gesture to not let her touch him. He hummed as he felt her fingertips wandering over the top of his hand, forming a circle-like shape each time.

He felt a pleasant shudder every time she did this, his manhood pulsed hard, thirsty and additionally swollen as the morning wore on, pressing against her buttocks before him.

He grunted quietly, pulling back, not wanting her to think he was encouraging or expecting her to do anything, melting his face into her hair, seeking refuge from the lust he felt.

"What's going to happen now?" She asked quietly, uncertainly, her fingers continuing to run over his palm.

He murmured quietly, lying behind her with his eyes closed, inhaling the scent of her skin and shampoo, feeling bliss, peace and contentment. He ran his thumb over her lying hand, feeling the soft structure of her skin beneath his fingers.

"We shall see. Okay?" He whispered, not wanting to promise her anything or pretend that nothing had happened between them. He wanted them to just let this unfold as it was meant to, without rushing.

He was comfortable as it was now.

"Okay." She said softly, warmly, and he smiled involuntarily.

He leaned in, placing a tentative, gentle kiss on her neck, from which she shuddered all over. He tightened his arm more firmly around her body, holding her in an iron grip.

"Don't move. Tell me if you want me to stop." He whispered, trailing his lips slowly lower, brushing against her skin with a quiet click, leaving wet marks, sliding a piece of her t-shirt with his nose, placing one last kiss on her bare shoulder, sliding back down.

Hearing their breaths quicken, feeling them curl into each other's embrace, feeling her head tilt back in with a sigh, he found it more intimate and arousing than any porn movie he'd ever seen in his life.

"So beautiful. So good." He whispered in between his soft, warm kisses, feeling her fingers tighten on his hand, seeking to escape the tension, he knew she was trying not to make any sudden movements and he was grateful to her for that.

"It feels so good." She whispered sweetly, softly, and he hummed under his breath, feeling his heart pounding hard, his lips pressed against her neck again, feeling the taste of her skin melt across his palate, the word he had longed to say for so long escaping his lips like a sigh.

"Mine."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Today, two Palestinian terrorists from the city of Hevron had carried out a combined, multi-scene terrorist attack in the city of Ra'anana, killing one woman in her 70's and wounding at least 17 more people. The exact details are still being investigated, but the two terrorists are said to be from one family, 24 and 44 years old, they were denied a work permit in Israel due to terrorist activity in the past, but someone in Ra'anana agreed to hire them illegally. They have both been arrested. The combined method they used was a stabbing and vehicular terrorist attack, they stabbed people, stole the first car, used it to run people over until they crashed it, then they stole a second, then a third car, and continued ramming into people across several streets, before they were stopped. 7 of the injured are reportedly kids, and at least 3 are seriously wounded.

As 136 hostages are still held captive in Gaza, 100 days after Oct 7, we got some data on the treatment of those released roughly 50 days ago: 85 are still under a nurse's supervision, 2 are still hospitalized, 54 are receiving mental health treatment of one type or another, only 18 have returned home, all the rest are still displaced, out of 40 kidnapped kids, 38 were released, but only 21 have returned to the education system, some in their own schools, some in schools improvised for their evacuated community.

In Turkey, an Israeli soccer player, Sagiv Jehezkel, who plays for a local team, scored a goal for it, and raised his hand, revealing to the cameras that on his bandage, he wrote "100 days," drew the Star of David, and added the date of Oct 7. It's obviously a gesture to the Israeli victims of Hamas, the ones murdered during or hurt by the massacre, and the ones still held in captivity.

For this, Sagiv was condemned by the Turkish Football Association, suspended from his team, which annoounced he'd be fired, and then he was ARRESTED and interrogated by Turkish police. For making a humane gesture to honor his country's victims. This is how Sagiv was portrayed in an antisemitic Turkish cartoon, with blood dripping from his lips, evoking the antisemitic image of the Jews who feed on the blood of non-Jewish kids:

Sagiv has been released after an appearance at court, and flown back to Israel immediately, but the head of the Israel Football Association said they're still worried for 2 more Israeli soccer players and 2 Israeli basketballers, who are currently playing for Turkish teams.

Shabak, the Israeli equivalent of the FBI (also sometimes referred to in English as Shin Beit), has confirmed today that Iran is operating social media platforms in Israel, that allow it to harass the families of the Israeli hostages, and Israeli security forces (for example, by exposing their addresses, or sending them flower bouquets with offensive messages). The Islamist regime of Iran is also using these to collect from surveys personal info on Israeli citizens.

I wanna share with you this screenshot from the article, as a reminder that just because someone says online that they're Jewish, or puts "Jewish" in their account name, doesn't make it so.

The chief rabbi of South Africa, Rabbi Warren Goldstein, in protest of his country's decision to file a false lawsuit against Israel at the International Court of Justice, has changed the customary prayer for the well being of the country. He said: "This government is on the wrong side of history. Its support of Iran and its proxies - Hamas and Hezbollah - encourages a global Jihad,and harms Jews and innocent people worldwide. It's impossible to pray for such a government."

This is 36 years old Osama Abu Assa.

He was a Bedouin, from the village of Tel Sheva. On Oct 7, he was at the Nova music festival, and one of about 367 people who were murdered there. I got to hear several people talking about what a huge heart Osama had, how he was all about giving to others and helping people. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Joe Biden sent or received 82,000 pages of private email exchanges through three accounts using fake names when he was serving as vice president, according to the National Archives.

82,000 PAGES of emails where Joe Biden used a pseudonym are uncovered: Court filing reveals then-VP's staggering use of three fake names to communicate in private | Daily Mail Online

From the Comments:

Oh and in late 2018 Hunter Biden withdrew his $20,000 from daughter Maisy's college savings to help fund a months-long drug and hooker binge.

#biden crime family #where's Hunter? #make it stop #usa #clinton cash biden bribes