#[ hi if you're in my tags ill always write something for you : )

[antiresolution]

trigger warning: This au is based off the godzilla universe (specifically minus one). I focus on the aftermath of graphic disaster scenarios, so I suggest to skip if you're not in the mood!

He stumbles in the second act. 

Prisms of light scatter in Wenhan’s peripherals as he stares down at the stage floor. Red and gold pom poms and strings of glass beads hit against rouged cheeks, gouging out small trails the way careless brushes of fingertips do. The sweat curtaining his skin becomes seamless pearls blending into white face paint. 

The orchestra continues on, drowning out murmurs in the audience. They’re trained to recover from falls and mistakes like any other performer. Punishment from directors and sponsors is always more severe than a split second of humiliation. He could be up and into the next sequence within a heartbeat.

But he’d caught himself on stinging hands and knees. Motionless until the throb of the fall is a numb pulse and his tongue curls dry to the roof of his mouth. Frozen in place as ribbon dancers and masked figures in loose hanfu move around him. The slightest tremor caresses his open palms.

A guttural screech from a violin in the pit raises Wenhan’s head. Stage lights flood his eyes as he searches blindly in the audience. Dancers to his left hit the floor as the stage sways with a thundering crack and shrieks puncture the air from all sides. A layer of white dust rains down against a fleeing crowd, blanketing colorful costumes in splintered fragments. The ceiling above the audience collapses first, throwing up toxic clouds. Wenhan stumbles to his feet as his lungs shudder to breathe, pressing a sleeve to his mouth and nose as he shoves hesitant crew to the emergency exit backstage. 

Wenhan watches as a beam of overhead lights crashes down onto fleeing bodies. Snapped metal groans above from the weight of the collapsed ceiling. Shattered glass pops under his feet as he stumbles back to escape the gush of water from gutted pipes in the walls and stripped live wire. The low whine of twisted metal above ends with a sudden snap. The debris in his throat chokes him more than the pain of his legs pinned beneath steel beams. 

 He stares up at the open sky now painted in smoke and filled with the clamor of emergency sirens. A shaking hand grasps weakly at his shoulder, and he doesn’t recognize the face smeared in blood and dust to his left. A body smashed beneath slates of plaster and metal.

Wenhan stares up at the sky, holding that hand in his until fingers no longer tremble and everything is still. 

-

February 23, 2008

The WPC (West Pacific Coalition) was formally established after an unprecedented attack killed thousands in Shanghai during lunar new year celebrations. This international security effort is recognized by the governing bodies of China, Singapore, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Indonesia, and the Philippines. Curated teams of military personnel and emergency responders are deployed based on high risk scenarios regardless of nationality to prevent further loss of human life and destabilization of global society. 

–

Tiles bleed cold underneath knees tucked in front of an empty hole in the wall meant to house a cross. Two weeks ago, the wood had been needed to repair the roof due to a small quake’s aftershocks. Now, no one wanted to make time to properly dress the space for anyone to pray, or mourn, or curse. Rebuilding Busan’s port communities took every willing pair of military hands. Any spare unwilling ones were busy burying the dead or clinging to a warm body, leaving no room to beg God for favors. 

Yet, it’s a quiet space, even if mostly abandoned. Away from shuffling bodies of overworked soldiers and unfamiliar faces.

Taeil stares down at the spray of grey and white now dusting his army fatigues. 

“Does that work?”

The man perched over him reminds Taeil of a bird. Every feature of his is sharp. The way each angle meets the next throws shadows under dark lashes and glaring cheekbones. Simultaneously jarring and soft. The way you wouldn’t expect a row of feathers next to talons. Even the accented Korean on the other man’s tongue feels pointed. Calculated. Almost too precise to be comfortable.

“What…” Before Taeil realizes his reply is more of an exhale than an answer. “--does what work?” 

The other man pauses, but the amused twitch of his lips lingers. He mirrors Taeil’s kneel, leaning a little awkwardly to the left instead of straight. His right leg isn’t fully tucked under his thigh. The way he presses his hands together is enunciated, as if he’s trying to overcompensate for his role in a silent film. He crosses himself, gesturing wordlessly to the sky. 

Stunned silence is the weight on Taeil’s bottom lip as his mouth opens, before the gnashing of teeth beheads words dying to form. His eyes fall on the burning end of the other’s cigarette, as if he’s watching the dying ember of his own annoyance. Taeil exhales through his nose and nods his head at the smoke. “--does that work for you?”

“Only when I don’t have anything better to put in my mouth.”

“Asshole.”

“Close, but it wouldn't be my first choice.”

Taeil starts to stand, tempted to shoulder check the stranger on his way up. Rationality was never his first choice. He was always chastised for emotionally charged decisions during training. Prolonging this conversation would likely end with his fists bruised and both of them bloody. It was the first week in this base. A reputation built on nothing couldn’t be used as leverage, no matter how good he thinks that sharp nose would look broken.

“It was an honest question. Do you ever get what you ask for?”

Curled fists open and close at his sides before he turns towards the door without answering. A much larger figure fills the frame, blocking Taeil’s exit. Dark eyes glance over a familiar wrinkled face. Taeil’s posture goes rigid. He bows his head to the senior officer. 

“Ah, I see you two met.” There’s the threat of a reprimanding edge, though it seems directed at the soldier behind Taeil. “Private Yoo, this is Private Li, a pilot from Shanghai.”

Private Li was now standing as if the casual collapse of limbs on the floor had been snapped upward by a pulled string. He still leans into his left side, as if he can’t wait to drop the salute once no one’s watching. Both men meet eyes, but this time neither of them are smiling. 

“Your new partner.”

–

Wenhan tears away flyers from the front door of the barracks. The images are grainy pixels enlarged sloppily to fit its new frame of cheap computer paper. But the painted features of the subject are clear enough even from a distance. 

“What a waste. You look so pretty, ge–”

Wenhan tosses shreds of paper at the face crinkled with laughter to his left. The mandarin that rolls off his tongue is an effortless shift. 

“Then you can tape it together and jack off later.”

“Shit, hey– hey, hey,” Hong shields his face and steps out of the way of an elbow aimed at his gut. “It wasn’t me. You know who thinks pulling this shit is funny.”

Even if the construction of this military camp had been congested to a rural corner in the city, their barracks only had four bunks. Compared to other soldiers forced to sweat and curse during the summer in a room with 18 other men. 

Wenhan’s busy emptying a shelf of one of his roommates, tossing the best snack wrappers a guaranteed death payroll could buy onto the empty bunk next to it. 

“You met him, right? Did you ask why he was transferred here? What's he like?”

What comes to mind first is the silhouette of a stranger’s back. One man on his knees in an empty room already abandoned by the hands that built it. 

Wenhan blinks. A dimple forms between his brows. He smooths a thumb over his forehead as if it would iron out the mental crease. 

“Ask him yourself.”

Wenhan gains the uncomfortable weight of Hong’s arm across his shoulders and leans away from the warm breath on the back of his ear. Hong doesn’t even whisper, confident in the disguise of their native language. 

“I heard he volunteered for a suicide mission.” 

Wenhan pauses. Considering superiors kept information to themselves until mistakes rose the death toll. It wasn’t so unbelievable they would consider going on the offensive before signs of an attack in the east sea. But Hong was overzealous, often inflating the truth with his desire for grandeur. 

“I also heard he killed someone, so it was either that, or prison time.”

The mandarin comes from neither of the men, but from behind. Fluent as if it flowed from the memory of a native. He shoves his shoulder into Hong, watching the other dramatically collapse as if he’d sniped him. Taeil stands in the open doorway, wearing neither a smile or a frown. Hong still carries enough shame to apologize, while Wenhan feels the corners of his lips curve up. 

Taeil doesn’t seem offended enough to start a fight as he walks further in, prompting Hong to throw an arm around his shoulders and continue rattling off in Mandarin.

“It’s always a suicide mission. Even if it’s true– just makes you stupid like the rest of us.”

Wenhan starts to roll up one hem of his pants as Hong interrogates the other soldier. He presses fingertips into skin, where his kneecap meets the solid metal of his calf, massaging tiny circles into the joint. 

Taeil’s attention lingers on the flash of silver jutting out where one would expect to see flesh. Wenhan could recognize pity in anyone's face. But the look Taeil casts at his prosthetic is devoid of surprise or even embarrassment for having been caught staring. Maybe more like a stranger in a museum. One who could only be voyeur to a past they could never live inside of or understand. Every glance strangely intense despite the impossible distance. 

But without pity.

“Pretty sexy, isn’t it.” Wenhan kicks his heel against the solid concrete floor. “My eyes are up here.”

“I was looking at your third eye.” 

Taeil catches the extra set of blankets Wenhan throws without missing a beat.

–

No one enjoys the nightwatch at Taejongdae. 

Wenhan prefers the weight of briny air on his tongue to the suffocating anticipation of everyone at the military base. He’s empty handed for his shift, with nothing but the weight of a buzzing comm system strapped to his side and the soft glow of the lighthouse glancing over dark waters below. Weapons wouldn’t save anyone on the ground. Time was all they ever had as a counter strike. 

He walks the length of the highest cliff’s paved trail, roped in by steel fences peppered with rust. Other soldiers stationed on the southern tip of the city are wandering shadows in the night. There’s no one close enough to hear him as he hums the beginning of a melancholic note. No one around to complain as his voice rises in volume, competing against the claw of the ocean’s wind and lick of waves against carved rocks. 

Then he’s twisting on his heel, grasping the butterfly knife hidden at his side. Golden light from the silent carousel of the lighthouse spills over Taeil’s face, lighting curious dark eyes and outlining the soft slopes of his cheeks. His open palms face outward to Wenhan in surrender.

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

Taeil steps closer, dropping his hands as he falls into Wenhan’s retreating pace. The only reply is the soft tone of Taeil’s singing, off key and unsure as he repeats the last line of the song Wenhan hadn’t finished. 

“If you can sing like that, why are you out here?”

Wenhan carries on in silence. The lighthouse careens over black sea water. 

“I wasn’t asking god for something.”

He turns back to Taeil. The abrupt stop has them breaths apart. He can see the dark circles pressed under both the man’s eyes. Chapped lips sealed thin. A small mole marks the corner of a tense mouth. 

“I was cursing him, actually. For giving me the grim reaper as a partner.”

The tense curl of Taeil’s mouth softens. The coil of anticipation is gone, as if a switch had been flipped. The entire man’s body relaxes. On the cusp of revealing something more, but pulling back. He sighs like a tired old dog and raises his hands to the heavens. 

It’s not the first time other soldiers warned new recruits about Wenhan’s reputation as an indirect death sentence. Some would even request to transfer before he’d meet them face to face. No one wanted to disprove potential mythology. 

“Idiot.” He barely speaks above the sound of the ocean. But Taeil hears him, kicking up rocks and dust at Wenhan’s heels as they continue up the slope. He sings in broken Mandarin at Wenhan's back.

But his eyes are trained on glints of silver and white bobbing in the black churn. The glow of the lighthouse sculpts the distant shapes into what looks like overturned buoys. He stands still, staring into the sea as if he could will away the sight of dead fish rising to the surface. Taeil calls his name, but the roar of white noise drowns out any thought or instinct. 

His comm device revives with a series of orders in Korean, Mandarin, Tagalog. Sighting along Taejongdae. Prepare for immediate impact. 

Wenhan’s collar digs into his neck as Taeil forces him into a run. White dead bellies of fish are swallowed by a rising dark form. The lighthouse fights to glow around the massive shadow, illuminating pulsing coils of scarred flesh. An aching roar ruptures the air before the tower collapses into a wave of dust and shattered stone. The ground becomes sand beneath their steps seconds after warning alarms fill the air. 

Taeil shoves Wenhan forward with desperate violence as the cliff beneath their steps crumbles. He turns back once his feet meet the solid safety of grass and arms of trees, lunging to grasp at Taeil falling into empty air. Fingers lock around Taeil’s wrist. Wenhan bites into his tongue, tasting the rush of blood and feeling the hot burn of torn muscle as he fights against the other man’s dead weight hanging over the cliff. 

Taeil’s fingernails carve bloody trails down wenhan’s arm as he struggles for a strong grip. His body drags against the ground, slowly inching over the edge.

Not again. 

His arms are shaking, tips of fingers pulsing numb. 

Not again.

[icewindandboringhorror]

[brynn-lear]

a/n: I won't be writing a oneshot about this since I already have a yan!capitano fic series I'm committing to, but I might randomly post about this idea more every now and then lol. tagging this AU as #the captain and his duchess

Yandere noble!Capitano who couldn't stop asking Fem Tutor!Darling to spar with him. With the weight of his inheritance, █████ must strive to be as great— if not greater— of a Captain like his father, the Duke.

But before he gained his infamous strength, you were his beloved mentor. You were a prodigy in swordsmanship with high confidence to boot. Hence, you gleefully accepted the Duke's request to tutor his eldest son. Coming from a minor noble household with only a title to uphold and not much else to boast, it's only natural to grasp unto that opportunity. It just so happened you've been clearing off competitions, and the duke has a good eye. Your parents, bless their souls, wouldn't dissuade you from your decision. Pride meant nothing when there's not even food scraps on the table. With a heart that still bleeds for the misfortune of those around you, you set off on horseback alone.

Whoever it was you were expecting to teach, it certainly wasn't a terrified noble hiding behind a helmet. Young █████ was not to blame. He carries the same dignified moral compass as his house, but he was ill-prepared to talk to people other than his family and servants. In fact, you couldn't get a word out of him as soon as you're done assessing his skill level with a first match.

Much to be desired, but the foundation is there.

... Perhaps you were too harsh with your phrasing.

"Young master," you shook your head, knocking on his door. "I couldn't teach you if you scamper about- hiding like meek prey in the closest room you'd burrow yourself in."

█████ didn't made a sound. You sighed. Truthfully, you wondered if you had done something to offend. It couldn't possibly be due to fear of authority. You're 21 and he's 19, not to mention that he is to be future sovereign Duke of Snezhnaya while you're not even reserved a seat in the council.

"F-Forgive him, Lady (Y/n)!" Elena squeaked. "He's not usually like this. I believe this is because..."

You raised an eyebrow. "Because...?"

The maid hurriedly shook her head, heat crawling up her neck. "N-No, I mustn't say. As a servant, I would step out of line."

"I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, you know?" You grinned. Skillfully, you placed a hand on the wall, leaning closer as if cornering her. You tucked the few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. "I'm not from this House, I wouldn't scold you for a little bit of sin."

She looked extremely offended. Suppose you should've expected that much from the most honorable Harbinger House's staff.

"I'm inclined to believe that this young maid's hypothesis requires no detective to solve."

You both looked to the direction of the voice. It was Prince Zandik, cousin to █████ and heir to the throne. Though to both of you, you are his most favorite gladiator and he is your best sponsor.

"Greetings, Zandik. You appear just about anywhere, huh? Are you sure you're not pulling my leg about the secret twin rumors?"

"Not one for tact, as always. But that's just how I like you, Lady (Y/n)."

Elena looked at you incredulously, wondering just where on earth did you find the audacity to refer to the Prince without proper decorum. Zandik doesn't seem sensitive to your lack of sensibility. You and Zandik have been friends since childhood was never a secret, but those who would recently find this resurfacing fact never fail to act surprised.

"I'd ask you why you're here, but the answer would be dull and overly verbose." You feigned a yawn, which made Zandik chuckle. "So, instead, why don't you tell me what you know about this █████ situation? Does he fear women?"

Zandik schooled his expression, but you can almost just about hear him say that's your best guess?

"█████ has never been one for sublime subtlety." Zandik rolled his eyes. "He admires you greatly, couldn't you tell?"

"Me? And greatly?" You scoffed. "Please, he'd outpace me with just a few lessons.

Zandik laughed. You both knew that to be true, but the future isn't quite as close to that prediction.

"Since the day I discreetly snatched him from his quarters to observe one of your sparring sessions, he has maintained a keen interest in tracking your career." The Prince remarked. "Do you recall the first bouquet of roses you've received?"

"I wasn't meant to be the recipient, do not reopen old wounds." You cringed. It was an unfortunate mistake from the messenger.

"Forgive me, I meant the second bouquet you received." He crossed his arms. "One from a secret admirer who curtly explained how he couldn't bear to see the sadness from your face and made it his honorable responsibility to buy you a larger bouquet."

You blinked.

"N-No way. I'm pretty sure that's from, um, my father."

"Buy you the most expensive bouquet in Snezhnaya? With what money?"

... A cruel but fair point.

"He even dons the same headwear as you do— the helmet he would rarely take off, did you not find it identical to your own?"

You paused.

... Wait a second.

"Well, I shall remove myself from this conversation. I have dull and overly verbose matters to attend to."

"Zandik, halt!"

[heizlut]

The Academy’s Darling

ꕀ cw: dubcon

ꕀ tags: sub fem!reader, dom (kinda yandere)!mortefi, fingering, corruption if you squint, unprotected sex, humiliation if you squint

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

When Mortefi heard there was someone new within the Huaxu Academy, he rolled his eyes thinking about how as if adding another body to the Academy would make them work any faster.

He didn’t hide his frustration when he was informed that this very same person would be working in the department as him, the department of safety. He had no intention of training someone and having them slow down his work even more. That is, until he found out that person was you.

When you walked through the large doors of the Academy, all eyes seemed to be on you, taking in the new person among them. You had the brightest smile on your face as you practically pranced through the place, greeting everyone with friendly hello.

Mortefi raised a brow at your cheerful demeanor but couldn’t seem to tear his golden eyes away from you. He watched as you chatted animatedly with Baizhi as she gave you a run down of what you were to do.

Mortefi’s heart nearly jumped from his chest when you met his gaze only after Baizhi pointed him out to saying you’d be working with him. He would write off such a reaction as merely being startled by the sudden attention, but was that really the truth?

You walked over to him, your pretty little dress swishing with your movements and your hand outstretched to shake his, "I look forward to working with you." Mortefi looked down at you hand for a moment then cleared his throat and shook your hand with a stern but curious look in his eyes, "Just don't slow me down."

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

As time went on, Mortefi began to get used to your antics and the pretty little dresses you wore (although he found that to be quite the ill-suited thing to wear when one is designing weapons and safety technology...).

You always tried so hard to get him to praise and acknowledge you, something he begrudgingly found adorable. Always looking up at him with the prettiest eyes whenever you finished a task he assigned you. Fuck, you were cute...

But one thing he could never stand was the way you seemed so close to everyone else, especially Siqi. Mortefi can feel his anger bubbling up whenever you would laugh and act all cute around Siqi, "accidentally" bumping into him just so your body would press against his... Doing things you used to only do with Mortefi until now.

Siqi was a fucking loser in Mortefi's book, so why the hell were you so seemingly interested in a guy like that? You were his assistant for fucks sake, not Siqi’s. Mortefi clenches his fists when he hears you happily agree to meet up with Siqi after you both were off for the day. Absolutely fucking not. He wasn't about to let that happen.

As you walk back over towards Mortefi to continue whatever work he had asked you to do, Moretfi wanted to wipe that stupid dazed smile off your pretty face. Once you're close enough, his hand darts out and grips your arm, unceremoniously pulling you into any empty workshop.

Looking up at him, offended and taken aback, he scowls down at you, "What do you think you're doing?" You shoot him an incredulous glare right back, "I could ask you the same thing. If you wanted to speak to me, all you had to do was ask."

Moretfi scoffs, rolling his eyes, "I'm hardly in the mood to play nice. Especially when my own assistant is so obviously gushing over a man that isn't even worth her time." You blink up at him, processing his words as your hostile features melt into innocence and confusion, "What? Are you talking about Siqi?" Mortefi narrows his eyes, "Bold of you to speak another man's name in front of me, let alone agree to a little date with him after work. As if I'd allow that."

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, "What are you implying right now?" Mortefi uses his free hand to caress your cheek, before gripping your jaw tightly as he leans in only mere inches from your lips, "It seems I need to take a more direct approach." Before you can even question him, his lips are on yours.

Your eyes widen, his soft lips contrasting against the force of the kiss. Pulling back slightly, but still keeping his firm grip on your jaw, Mortefi smirks, "Do you get it now? You're my sweet little darling and I won't allow anyone else to have you."

All you can do is gawk at him. Sure, he's a ridiculously handsome and intelligent man and of course, you’d been vying for his attention since starting here, but since when did he ever show an interest with you? As far as you knew, he practically hated your guts for just being assigned as his assistant, so what was all this...?

Mortefi can almost see the thoughts swirling around as you try to make sense of this new development. Chuckling, he leans down again as he presses kisses along your jawline and to your neck, cooing sweetly at you, "I promise I'll take good care of you, so be a good girl and forget about that little nobody."

Despite his slightly unhinged tone, you couldn't help but melt a little in his grasp as his lips trace softly over your sensitive flesh, tilting your head slightly to grant him more access. Smirking against your neck at your compliance, he speaks, "You've always been so good about following directions..."

You let out a soft whimper at his words as you tangle your free hand into his fiery locks. Seeing you so compliant now, he frees the grip he had on your arm, allowing you to touch wherever you pleased.

Without warning, Mortefi grips the underside of your thighs and lifts you onto the metal work table behind you, forcing your legs to spread to accommodate his body between them. His golden eyes lock on yours with fierce possessiveness, his tone soft but commanding, "Let me show you the pleasures you can recieve when you belong to me and only me."

Not waiting for a response, he kisses down your neck and towards your exposed collarbones while his large, gloved hands slide up your thighs. Perhaps he was actually thankful you wore these stupid dresses to work, realizing now what easy access he has to you without needing to fumble around with belts and buttons, clothes he would ultimately leave in tatters. His gloved fingers tease along the edges of your panties, so close to where you were beginning to ache for him as you whine softly, "P-please touch me..."

The corners of Mortefi's lips twitch up and his hot breath fans over your collarbones, "Aww, but darling, I'm already touching you. What more could you possibly need?~" Whimpering again, you raise your hips, wordlessly trying to direct where you need his touch. A low chuckle falls from his lips, "Words, darling. Use your words." You furrow your eyebrows as your mouth forms a cute little pout, only spurring on his teasing, "Come on. Open those pretty lips and talk to me while you can before I fuck all sense out of you."

His words alone draw a moan from your lips, "Sir, please t-touch my pussy..." Mortefi's smirk widens as he lowers himself to be level with your cute, needy cunt covered by the cutest cotton panties, "Good girl."

His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties as he slowly tugs them down, relishing in the sight of the string of your slick connected from your weeping cunt to soaked undergarments. Stuffing the panties into his pocket, his eyes flit up to your dazed and curious expression, "Consider these as my souvenir~"

With his gaze returning to your dripping cunt, he brings one gloved hand to his mouth, tugging at the fingertips of the material with his teeth as he slides it off. The sight alone has you clenching desperately around nothing, of course the sight of your twitching hole doesn't go unnoticed to Mortefi. With his hand now free of the glove, he lightly rubs the pad of his thumb up through your soaked folds and up to your clit, drawing the prettiest, breathy moan from you, "Don't you see? Good girls get rewarded..."

With two fingers, he prods at your hole, letting your slick coat the tips of them before he slowly pushes in. The squelching sound of your pussy makes his cock ache terribly within its confines, desperate to be inside of you. The noise sounds so sinful and the smell of your arousal fills the air around you. Your features scrunch in bliss as Moretfi curls his fingers upwards towards that spongy spot inside of you that has you immediately clenching around his digits, "Ngh... R-right there..."

Mortefi looks so smug as your reactions boost his ego even further. His free hand travels up from your hips til it reaches your breast, squeezing the supple flesh in his palm as it molds to his touch. As much as he wanted you to be completely bare before him, he would be damned if anyone had the chance to feast their eyes on what belongs to him.

His touch gets rougher and his fingers pump harder into you as he grows even more possessive and more pissed off thinking about how that loser might've gotten the chance to have you like this if he hadn't taken control of the situation when he did. Mortefi lets out a low growl, "This little pussy is all fucking mine. You better remember that."

You moan so sweetly, your head rolls back as your hips move in time with his ministrations, pussy clenching hard as you near your release. Before you can cum, Mortefi pulls with fingers out abruptly, slapping your pussy with his soaked hand as you cry out, "You don't get to cum unless it's all over my cock."

Quickly, Mortefi undoes his belt, the metal clinking as it's opened. His fingers work quickly as he tugs his pants down, his throbbing cock slaps up against his abdomen, the tip flushed red and leaking pre cum. He grips it in his hands, giving it a few pumps before lowering towards your awaiting cunt. He taps the leaky tip against your clit with a dangerous look in his eyes, "Take a good look, darling. Watch closely as I claim what belongs to me."

Your eyes drift down to where his tip rubs against your entrance, your juices and his pre cum mixing together. Your eyes flutter as you whine at the stretch of his cock pushing into your tight, wet walls.

Mortefi lets out a low groan as his length stretches you out, forcing your cunt to mold to his thickness as he presses deep into you, "Look at that... Taking my cock just like you should..." Your lips part as breathy and needy moans and cries come from you, your cunt squelching and making such a mess around his cock as he thrusts into you with raw desire.

A shudder wracks through Mortefi's toned body when his tip brushes against your cervix, a growl crawling up his throat as his features twist with pleasure and the desire to own you completely, "I should fill you with my cum, filling your precious womb with my seed." You lean back, your back arched and giving him the prettiest view of your bouncing tits underneath your dress.

A sharp breath escaped his gritted teeth as he fucks into you, "But alas, I'd rather see your pretty little dress covered in my cum. Let's see what that nobody thinks then when he realizes you're such a slut for me, hmm?" "N-no, don't -ngh!-", you cry out, protesting against him.

Mortefi rolls his eyes as he grips your hips with force, his cock hitting so deep as your pussy makes a mess all over his cock, "I don't remember giving you a say in what I do to you." You whimper and moan, defenseless to the pleasure he's giving you.

Your eyes wander towards the door that was partially cracked open, your thoughts beginning to wander from Mortefi and his brutal thrusts. Mortefi's hand shoots out and grips your jaw, redirecting your focus to him, "I explicitly told you to keep your eyes on me."

His golden eyes pierce into yours in a fierce look that almost dares you to defy him again. He leans in, pressing a forceful kiss to your lips. His grip on your jaw forces your mouth to open for him as his tongue enters and flicks against yours.

Everything about this is messy. Your pussy soaking his cock, your saliva mixing with his as it makes a mess of your swollen lips. You were such a fucking sight to see. A sight that belonged to him, and him alone. His balls ache and tighten as he drinks you in, losing himself to your cunt that tightens around his length so prefectly.

With a heaving grunt, Mortefi quickly pulls out of you, stroking his cock with a fast pace, "Gonna -fuck- Gonna cum all over this pretty dress. Make you walk around with it -ngh!- Show everyone you belong to me."

With a final growl, his cock throbs as ropes of his milky cum spurt out onto the soft material of your dress, staining it with his essence in a primal claim over you. Mortefi's body shudders as he cums down from his high, laziliy stroking his spent cock as he rides out his orgasm.

Through dazed eyes, he manages to smirk at you, his eyes drinking in the sight of you covered in his cum, "You look even prettier like this..." Your lips form a cute pout that he just cannot resist, leaning in and kissing your lips that are red and abused from earlier rough kisses.

Mortefi pulls back, running his thumb across your bottom lip, his voice husky as he speaks, "My pretty darling~" There is a beat of silence between you two as you both get lost in each other's gaze before he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the work table and back onto the ground.

Your cute and now ruined dress falls back into place. Mortefi steps back, goldens eyes wandering over your flushed form and stained dress, tucking himself back into his pants.

Before either of you can speak, the door slide open and both of you whip your heads towards the newcomer. Siqi pauses in his step, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. A look of conflicted embarrassment crosses his features as he clears his throat awkwardly, "I u-uh..."

Mortefi just acts innocent with a smug lilt of his voice, "Oh dear~ Is something the matter?" You try to side-step behind Mortefi as you attempt to conceal yourself and your cum-stained dress from the man you had previously promised to see later.

But Mortefi stops you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he smirks at Siqi, making sure you and your ruined dress are in full view of the flustered man, "If you're done gawking, isn't it about time you got back to work?"

Siqi's eyes widen and he nods, feeling as though he's been thoroughly made inferior to the genius before him, "Y-yes, sir." Mortefi waves him off with a flick of his wrist, "Get to it then." Siqi quickly turns on his heels, rushing out with his cheeks flushed red in a mix of shame and embarrassment.

You look up at Mortefi with a pouty glare, "That wasn't very nice..." He breathes out a laugh and pulls you tighter against him with a shurg, "Why should I care what he thinks? I was simply reminding him that you belong to me." You just let out a little defeated huff that Mortefi can't help but find quite endearing.

Letting go of your waist, he taps your ass playfully, "Go on, get back out there and get to work." You give a cute glare back at him which only spurs him on, his grin widening, "Go show off your dress as well. Show the rest of the Academy what a sweet darling you are for me~"

࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐࿐

a/n: rip to siqi… idk how i feel about this one, ladies and gents. it could’ve been better. perhaps a part two is order to redeem myself for this one. also shoutout to those who reblog my posts with tags, the extra help in getting my works spread means a whole lot to me and y'all do not go unnoticed. ily🥹

[butchcarmy]

Idk if you've written this but can you write about carmy and the reader arguing and he makes her cry? Idk I just feel like thatd be good angst fluff lol

AHH I got carried away as per usual. anyway this is good stuff. wrote a bunch. enjoy!!

word count: 1.3k

tags: traumatized carmy, mentally ill carmy and reader, arguing, language, HURT/COMFORT, ANGST/FLUFF, carmy being a sweetie

Hm…i'm spending a lot of time thinking about the set-up for this. Carmy is a very careful person when it comes to those he’s romantically involved in, but at the same time, he has a hard time controlling his temper when he's in the darkness, as i'll put it. 

here's something awful i think about that i wanna write about. carmy's stressed about work, because of course he is. he's carmy. his head is whirring, spinning with anxiety and self-hatred. i think you're just like him. mentally ill for mentally ill if you will. you're also in a bad mood, and he comes home from The Bear exhausted and keyed up.

“I hate when you push me away like this,” you admit. You've been trying to get him to talk to you since he's been home. Maybe he just needs space, but separation makes you anxious. Especially when he shuts down. 

“I'm sorry that it's so hard for you,” he spits, finally snapping and turning to face you. You've followed him into the dark bedroom, lit only by the harsh moonlight through the window. You flinch. You never quite get used to seeing him like this. 

“I—I just—“ you feel pressure beginning in the back of your eyes. You will it away. “How can I help you if you don’t talk to me?”

“Why do you care so much? Does it make you feel better to take care of someone more fucked up than you?” He snaps, voice raised. His words go down bitter, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. Something in you shatters.

“How could you ask me that?” Your vision’s gone hot and blurry. “I’m your partner. I love you, that’s why I care, you asshole!” You’re stifling sobs. You hate crying in fights like this, but it hurts. You can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Carmy mutters under his breath. He’s gone still in your blurred vision. “Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—“

“That was so fucked up, Carmy.” You move to sit on the bed, trying to wipe your tears away, but they keep coming. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what my problem is.” His remorse has swept away the anger, leaving him quiet before you. He leans down at your knees, hands on your thighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Carmy nods quickly, and he raises a hand to your wet cheeks. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

“I know.” He takes your pain, your anger in its entirety. His other hand brings your knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.“

“Sure sounded like you meant it.” Anger flares up in your chest, hurt and betrayed, but you tamp it down, leaning into his hand cradling his face. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Damnit, Carmy.”

“I know. I know.” He’s still kissing your hand. “You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.” You hate it when he talks like this, because you can tell he really believes it.

“Don’t say that. Please.” 

“But it’s true.” You look down at him in the moonlight, at his sad blue eyes. “I always find ways to hurt you. I…”

“That’s what being in a relationship is, Carm.” You pat the space next to you. “Sit with me?”

“I keep having to remind myself of that.” He sinks into the bed next to you. “I’m so sorry for talking about you like that. Like you’re only doing this out of…I don’t know. Obligation.” He drags a hand across his tired face. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I just, I just think that—that I’m—fuck—“

“Slow down, Carm,” you say quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to force it. I’m listening.” He smiles bitterly at you, and you recognize the love in it easily. He takes in a deep breath before continuing. 

“I still have a hard time believing that anyone cares about me. I can’t even believe that you—love me.” You can practically see the shame rolling off of him in waves. “And it makes me scared.”

“Love is scary, isn’t it?” You say softly. He just nods. “It scares me, too. That’s why I kept pestering you when you got home. I…” You blink quickly. You don’t wanna cry again. “It scares me when I don’t know what you’re thinking. Because…I dunno. It just does.”

“Yeah?” You nod. He has this thoughtful expression that he holds for a moment as he stews on your words. “I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry. I think…I think when you kept asking me if I was okay, it…” he sighs, scratches at his temples. “I felt like I was…getting back into a corner. I think.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” You take his hand in yours. “I can see how that must’ve felt really bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that I’m like this. I think—I think it just reminded me of my mom. We would always ask her if she was okay, because she’s fucking crazy, yknow? We didn’t wanna step on her toes. But it turns out we did anyway. And the way I acted just now, I was just like…” He can’t even get the words out. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, voice choked with emotion. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“You tell me everyday. How could I not?” You pull him into a hug, tight and warm, and he instantly wraps his arms around you. “You’re not your mom, Carm. You're nothing like her. Okay?” 

“I don’t wanna be like her,” he whispers. “I don’t wanna be like her.”

“You’re not,” you remind him softly. “And you won’t be.”

Carmy leans back to look at you, but he remains close. His expression is knotted with pain. You run your thumb over his furrowed brow, and it makes his mouth curve upwards in a smile. It’s fleeting, but it was there. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ll try to open up more. Let you know what I’m thinking.”

Suddenly, you think about when you first started dating Carmy. He was so scared to open up to you emotionally, but with gentle prodding, he fell apart instantly. There was a hunger in him to be known by others, to be seen by you, and it scared him to death. You see that same fear in him now, but you also see how much he’s grown since then. You doubt you would’ve been able to have this conversation at all in the first couple months. 

That makes you happy in a way you’re not quite able to word properly.

“Thank you. But I hope you also know I don’t want to force you. I just wanna help. And…” You measure your words carefully. “I’ll try not to let it freak me out so much. Because if you’re not in the mood to talk, I want you to know that’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay. I’d like that. If I don’t want to talk, I’ll just tell you. Instead of…blowing a fuse.” He laughs dryly. 

“I’d like that too.” You let out an exhale of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. “Wow, Carm. Look at us. Communicating!”

“I know.” That makes him laugh for real this time, and you’re laughing too. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I think you could. But I certainly like doing it with you.” His smiles grows wider at that, brimming with affection. 

“Let me make this up to you, baby.” He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep. You let out a little noise when his lips meet yours. 

“Make it up to me?” Carmy’s tongue is on your neck now. Oh. “Aren’t you tired? You—you have work tomorrow—?”

“Don’t care.” You fall back onto the bed, and the blankets deflate under you. You stare up at Carmy, his curls hanging by his face. “You’re more important.”

“Well, if you insist…” You giggle, and your giggles get louder when Carmy pulls up your shirt to blow raspberries against your stomach. “Carmy, quit it—oh—!”

He makes it up to you in full and more by keeping his head between your legs for the rest of the night. By the end of it you can't remember what you were mad about in the first place.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I'm really sick and Satan's sacrificial waterfall is here AT THE SAME TIME!

I don't know if you do blurbs or headcannons, but if so, would you be willing to write for the boys (either taskforce 141, or singular characters,) taking care of an afab reader who has never had anyone wanting to take care of them?

If not, sorry to bother!

I don't typically take requests but... since I'm in the same boat (sacrificial waterfall is probably going to come over the weekend for me), I'll 100% do it.

A while back I also posted this: "You're feeling ill" and it's also along the same vein, if you'd like an extra little pick me up.

Period woes.

Rating: G Words: 1K~ tags: afab!reader but you/your pronouns, SFW!, fluff, comfort, periods and associated symptoms.

A person’s period might be the most hypocritical moment of their routine. They’re expected to continue moving, working and living their live as normal, all with a smile on their face, while their uterus actively attempts to cut off its own circulation… as if for any other injury or sickness you wouldn’t be expected to lay down and STOP for a moment and allow yourself to heal up, or at least improve enough to not be miserable.

But no. You’re expected to deal with it alone, to not show a reaction, to not be irritable, or groaning and writhing in pain. Take a shower, stock up on painkillers and slap a smile on your face, you’ve gotta go out in the world and act as if you’re not actively dreading every waking moment you spend on your feet.

That’s why you’ve learned to hide it when you’re going through your monthly. Your family, partners… not even your girlfriends know when you’re having it. Ever since you were a young teen, just starting out, it was very much a conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know, sort of moment.

But it’s miserable. You’re always miserable. Everything hurts, the cramps, the headaches, the back pain, hip pain, your sore chest… Plus the blood, the lack of appetite (or increase in appetite), the nausea, the fact you want to cry one moment, or break dishes and scream the next, the way your colleagues annoy you beyond compare, how certain sounds grit your nerves just. enough. to make you feel like you’re losing it… And then you can’t sleep.

And of course… he notices it. How could he not?

Ghost is discreet about it. He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t make a big deal about it… But he’s VERY good at taking care of you without you noticing he’s doing it. His love language is acts of service… So he simply goes around giving you a hand on whatever you might need. Food? Made. Dishes? Done. Laundry? Washed, Dried, Folded and Put Away. He finds you trying to do something? No. Give it here, he’ll do it.

The inevitable day that a leak happens and you find yourself angry at yourself as you strip the bedsheets off the bed, trying to be discreet about it so he doesn’t see it, he silently grabs the sheets off your hands and murmurs a “Go take a shower and change. I’ve got this.” before turning to put the sheets in the washer, clean the mattress and remake the bed so you can lay down again by the time your shower is over. It makes you emotional, sometimes, that such a stoic man will gladly take on every other responsibility to allow you to heal.

Gaz, blessed be him, is an absolute sweetheart… But he’s also a silly boy. He notices and although he’s not going to make a big deal about it, he’s still very… Boyish about it. Uses all the silly names for your period (“The Communists are coming”, “Shark week”,  “Satan’s waterfall”, “Carrie”) and affectionately calls you “My little ketchup packet”. 

He’s all for ordering takeout and getting you whatever you want when and how you want it. He’ll rub your back and be very careful about where and how he touches you. He’s ginger with touches around your waist and lower stomach, looks at you with those big brown eyes of his, as if checking that he’s not hurting you or crossing a boundary. You find yourself getting emotional when he whispers about how strong you are to deal with this every month… Keeps asking gently if you need anything… It makes you feel so safe.

Price’s older. He’s been in many relationships before. He notices your period is coming before it even does… Notices how you’re acting. Jumpier, grumpier, sadder… Notices how you toss and turn the couple of nights leading up to it. And he’s silently prepared. He’s made a supply run to the grocery store to get what brand of period products you use and some painkillers and puts them where you can see them in the bathroom. 

Fills you up with warm herbal tea and food that he knows are easy to digest and help with your state. No fucking chocolate and sugar or potato chips, you’re being pumped full of soups and stews and veggies and cut up fruit. He’ll sit by your side with a paring knife and an apple and slowly peel, core and cut it, before slowly feeding you (and himself) the slices. When you try to resist it, at first, too used to doing things alone, he’ll grab your face with both hands, look into your eyes and tell you. “And why exactly would I let you do that, when you’ve got me here to help you? How does that make sense?”

Soap’s… Well… Soap’s got a bunch of sisters… Each of them dealing with their periods in wildly different ways... So one thing he knows for sure: He’s not about to assume anything. You do what you’ve got to, he’ll adjust to you. He needs to go to the bathroom but you’re in there? Copy that, he’ll go piss in the yard. You’re having a cry in the kitchen because nothing looks good but you’re hungry? Talk it out with him, what do you want to eat? Let’s figure it out together, bonnie. You need to lie down in a dark room because of a migraine or headache or just to catch on sleep you’ve missed? Johnny’s blacked out every window, gathered every stray pillow and blanket in the house and will make you a nest if he’s got to.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night with a whine and a stretch because your back hurts and you’ve got cramps and cannot for the life of you get comfortable, Johnny’s hands are rubbing over you, pressing kisses to your temple and murmuring little “I ken, love… It’ll be over soon… I’m sorry you’re going through this…”

[moodymisty]

Author's Note: Inspired by this post. You can blame all of the unhinged horniness there for this unhinged horniness. Someone there put the idea down as space wolves or Luna wolves and I chose Luna wolves because @bispecsual gave me the brain rot. And since I'm a massive masochist, I write.

Relationships: Like five unnamed Luna Wolves/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Very hornily charged bullying, Astartes are very curious and grabby, Demeaning speech, Just imagine you're that one girl on the couch in the meme surrounded by massive dudes but those dudes are 8 foot tall genetic abominations, Gangbang implications(?) my warning tags are getting weird as fuck

To the Luna Wolves, serfs are a new idea- a curiosity.

But after their good deeds upon a planet of little known renown and placement in the galaxy, a few of their population offered to serve them.

Before them, most serfs were primarily stationed on Terra, and on Luna Wolves ships instead those roles were given to low ranking tech priests, or penal labor. Even then however the Astartes saw them rarely, until now.

Some of the newly conquered planet offered sons as aspirants, of which they eagerly accepted. The Luna Wolves have been eager to grow their numbers now under Horus’ leadership.

Others, older and ablebodied, offered themselves to serve as serfs.

Many Luna Wolves can't remember the last time they've seen a normal human for more than a few moments, ushering them to safely into a Stormbird or pushing them from a firefight. Or seeing their corpse flung on the far reaches of a battlefield, out of sight and mind.

In their brief periods of reprieve from battle, it's now been a struggle for their captains and lieutenants to keep their men on task, now that serfs scurry around them completing various tasks. Particularly for the youngest marines among them, it's been a constant to stop them from reaching towards the serfs, interrupting their sanctioned duties.

They will get to you once finished with your brothers, is what the current quartermaster on duty or Astartes captain says. Though haste to have their armor cleaned or bolter clips loaded isn't the thing on their mind, but instead an almost dog-like curiosity.

But after their superiors leave, they always end up crowding around you again. These astartes have barely seen baseline humans in decades, let alone a woman.

It's suffocating.

You were nothing on your home planet. Insignificant. You’d hoped joining them would bring you purpose, something to be proud of. And to get off the planet that had you feeling so trapped. And while you got your wish, in a way the thing trapping you had merely changed form.

They have you cornered in the armoring room now; Like Wolves. You went from trapped on that no name planet to trapped by five different astartes. Your palms feel hot and sweaty, but not as hot as your face.

“You’re so small, you’re going to get lost on the ship,” One says.

He grabs for your chin and holds it for a moment, forcing you to look into his grey eyes. they're stoic, but you can see he's enjoying something about this. Though he allows you to shrink away and out of his grip, looking downward at their chest armor. Or anywhere else that isn't their faces.

“Or trampled,” Says another. The one who spoke previous gives him a sour look before passively aggressively replying.

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

One who hasn't spoken yet has his top armor removed, his lower half unpowered. He was training, using it as dead weight. Training concluded blood now drips down from his nose and lips but is mostly dried, partly covered healing bruises. If he looks like this, you can't help but wonder how his opponent looks.

It’s distracting.

You don’t know if it’s some sort of illness or insanity from being locked in this ship for so long; It makes him look more attractive. You hope to whatever deity or god or whatever exists out in the stars that he doesn't notice you’re staring. That he doesn't notice the way your heart is pounding in your chest and what feels like your cunt as well.

He does. As do the others. You can't kid yourself and think that with their hearing and smell that they haven't noticed that you're boiling alive, and that your body is screaming fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me-

“He won. Out of one hundred men.”

Your gut twists and the marine behind you laughs quietly. It's deep, enough so that you swear you can feel it in your chest. You would squeeze your thighs together for some relief, but you don’t think you can without stumbling over.

“She likes the winners. Looks like you’re out.” He gestures to a fellow marine that gives him another sour look. You briefly wonder what he lost at to deserve such a jab.

“I should return to my duties,”

You meekly say, hoping to remove yourself from the embarrassment and scurry away to another quarter of the ship.

One of them blocks your path and traps you from leaving, picking you up by the armpits and holding you before putting you back down between them all. It's like you weigh nothing to them, and that they can simply jostle and swing you around like a toy.

“I’ll tell your quartermaster you were helping us.” He jerks his head in the direction of a marine clad in only the casual clothing they wear out of their ceramite. Now the focus of your attention he rolls his shoulder, and you can see the muscles of his neck and around his collarbone flex.

You swallow a knot in your throat that felt like it was going to choke you. Your hands clench tight, nails sharp against your palms. You're going to have a heart attack, you swear it. Tears well in your eyes but they don't break your waterline just yet, from sheer will alone. If any of them say another word, call you cute, small, soft, that you smell so sweet, you swear they’ll roll down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“He wants you to put on his armor. The others are always so rough, you’re so gentle with those little hands.”

The marine reaches for you, and in your back step you stumble and accidentally bump into the one who hasn't spoken at all; Just watching and sitting. You stumble over his massive armored boot and end up falling into a sit on his thigh, legs parted over it. His massive armored hand comes to grip your waist, to keep you from falling over. It covers a good portion of your stomach in the process.

You’re so tightly wound just the simple pressure alone is enough to have you clamp a hand your mouth to avoid letting out a moan that would kill you right then and there, if you weren’t already dead. Your knees quiver, toes just barely touching the ground. His massive height makes it impossible to fully stand with his thigh between your legs.

You know they can smell the way you’re leaking and staining your underwear, hear the way your heart is racing like it's going to explode. You’re half afraid you might make his ceramite thigh plate slick.

You can feel their eyes on you. They look at you like you’re food thrown to a pack of starving wolves.

One suddenly steps forward, and pushes his battle brother out of his way with a harsh slam of ceramite on ceramite before undoing the latch his belt.

“I go first.”

[somewhat-insane]

Kinda request? You can denial if you don't like.

Sun Wukong x Male!Reader

Just reader take control of everything and shower the king with love hc

Ooo~ Yes! I need more x Male!Reader things in the fandom. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to write gendered readers so I don't think there's actually any implication the reader is male but- just believe I had a Male!Reader in mind- (I hope I understood the request correctly-)

~Sun Wukong x Male!Reader ~

Tags: Ooc, fluff

!!Warnings!!: Wukong's my favorite character so I kinda lost control of this one a bit so just- manage your expectations, mentally ill monkey doesn't know how to be normal about emotions

Doesn't really know how to react at first when you scratch behind his ears and groom his fur and squish his cheeks

He's the monkey king after all! The Great Sage; Equal to heaven! He can't break just because someone treats him with "love" and "care" pfft... but also, don't stop

He's not used to people being so... forward with him in this way

Sure, he's used to MK's enthusiasm and even Mei's impulsive rage, but, aside from a hug here and there, he's not used to such blunt affection

Emotional rollercoaster

"Obviously you love me! I'm the monkey king! ... But also, why don't you hate me?"

He's pretty suspicious for a while but tries to hide it in front of the others

He'll drop passive-aggressive hints but won't be outwardly rude UNLESS you meet his energy in which case he will start being blunt and insult you to your face (though, at this point I'm like 90% sure he's trying to flirt but not even he knows. He just likes going back and forth with you; though he sometimes gets genuinely upset, especially if you mention his past or mental state. He'll sulk for a while but then he gets an idea for a good comeback and is back to his old self)

How and why you show him love will determine how quickly he gets vulnerable with you

If you're gentle with him and just genuinely want to show him love and care, then I'd give him anywhere between a week and a month

One day you do one loving thing too many and he snaps

Literally

You're just letting him lay his head on your shoulder while you play with his hair and suddenly he's snarling and baring his teeth demanding that you tell him what you're planning

"You must be planning something! Otherwise, why would you be doing all this nice stuff and act so affectionate?"

After arguing with him and trying to calm him down, he starts crying and, congrats! Now you have to comfort a crying, immortal, murder monkey who is clinging to you like you'll disappear

After that, I wouldn't say he fully believes you--he'll always be subconsciously waiting for you to betray him--but he does start seeking you out and letting you love on him (and now he returns the affection!)

On the other hand, if you just show him affection to tease him, it could take years for him to fully trust you

Kind of an enemies-to-lovers type thing except the enemy part is kind of one-sided (unless it's not and you hate him and I have to ask, why do you hate him he is literally the best boi-... that may or may not be a murderer but that's unrelated -3-)

He'll lay awake at night replaying times you've made him blush and he'll just be cursing at himself for all the weird feelings you make him feel

He'll go from "knowing you're just teasing and teasing back" to "believing you're teasing and wishes you weren't" to finally "GOd DAMNIT JUST KISS ME ALREADY YOU HANDSOME IDIOT"

Once you get over the trust hurdle, he'll definitely take advantage

Clingy (he could only hold back his inner monkey for so long and now he has to be touching you in some way, shape, or form every second of the day)

The moment you sit down he is in your lap and begging you for affection

Whines... all the time

"Nooooooooo, don't get out of bed, you haven't given me enough pats yet."

Won't let you leave until you give him a bunch of kisses

Uh-oh. Now he's cocky and will show off

It takes a while, but eventually, you have a clingy monkey who melts at your touch.

~

I'm sorry this took so long- As I stated earlier, Wukong's my favorite and I just- I could talk about him forever-

[moethewriter]

Idk if you're comfortable doing these but maybe reader is on their month and needs comfort from finnick. Had mine last week the cramps, nausea and back pain was crazy fr lol. Or maybe just a comfort reading been a rough week

Please and thank you have a lovely day 🫶🏾

Of course I can write that anon! Periods are the worst. TITLE: Chamomile Delights WORD COUNT: 1.1k WARNINGS: Period content, fluff TAGS: Can be read as gn!reader (women aren't the only ones who get periods y'all!) A/N: Loved writing this one! Periods are ass, and as a non-binary person who gets them, we all need a little comfort! Hope you all enjoy this! I'm still not feeling 100%, this flu is lingering my friends, but writing has been taking my mind off of that! Love yall! Also not beta read as per usual, sorry for any spelling mistakes! Haha! -

It had come early, and to say you weren’t happy was an understatement. You wanted to die, truly lay down and allow yourself to become one with the earth because anything would be better than this shit. You didn’t remember the last time you felt this horrible during your cycle, usually you could manage but today was just … awful. Everything made you want to cry, or you when something inconvenienced you, you wanted to chuck it against the wall and watch it smash. You were nauseated at the smell of anything Mags brought you to eat, and to top it all of you just felt so fucking miserable.

Finnick had been gone for a few days, off in The Capitol, when your period had started, usually he would be there to provide any sort of comfort you needed but right now you were alone. You couldn’t blame him, Snow had summoned him and many other Victors for a week of galas and to introduce the new Victors. You feigned illness, which in some ways was true, but you were upset he couldn’t stay with you. Had you known it would start, you probably would have gone because at least then you would have your built in space heater.

You wanted to have him near you, as childish as it sounded. He always made you feel better and doted on you. He made you feel better and knew how to take care of you. But mostly you just missed him. His comforting smile, the way he would rub your lower back and just hold you to help you fall asleep. You were miserable without him, and you looked like shit. It wasn’t ideal, but you could make it through the worst alone if you had too. You felt like something that had just crawled out of a sewer drain, and you were sure you looked like it too.

Finnick hated seeing you so ill. He always wanted to make you feel better in whatever way he could. Whether that was holding you while you angrily muttered and cursed at the world for having cramps, or making you a small dinner that he knew wouldn’t make you sick. Well more like got Mags to make something while he presented it to you, he had never been the best cook and when you weren’t well he knew it was hopeless to try and feed you anything he made, it was sweet the way he tried so hard.

Some days he was a pain in your ass, but you didn’t mind that anymore. 

“When he gets home, I swear I’m going to kill him.” You whispered, throwing a pillow over your head, maybe if you suffocate yourself enough, the lack of oxygen flow would stop the pain all together. “Damn fucking President Snow calling his ass away. Maybe I’ll kill him next.” You grumbled under the pillow.

“Kill who next?”

You sat up straight, regretting your decision the moment you cramped up a little more. You felt a small wave of nausea hit you as you covered your mouth. You hadn’t expected him home until far later in the week. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered, squinting your eyes. “You’re home early.” You observed the glitter on him, his demeanor and the way he was dressed.

It wasn’t unusual for him to come back from The Capitol dressed far differently than anything he wore at home. It wasn’t Finnick’s usual style, he preferred a more low key look when he was in District Four, always had, but he did look gorgeous.

“And you look like shit.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame. “Are you in pain?”

“I feel like shit, thanks for the observation, Finn.” You rolled your eyes. “Yes, obviously.” You were far grumpier than you wanted to be but you couldn’t help it right now, the light was too bright and you abdomen felt like it was crushing your insides.

“Ah. I see.” Finnick said, exiting the room.

You grumbled to yourself angrily, desperately searching for a position that gave you any relief, though nothing you had tried worked thus far. At least Finnick was here, despite the annoyance you had at the entire situation, you were thankful he was home early.

“Hot water, and a cup of tea.” Finnick said, returning a few minutes later holding a steaming mug and a small towel.

“Finn.” You felt tears well up in your eyes. “Sorry. I’m not upset, and sorry for being a dick, thank you.” You smiled, as he passed you the cup, you inhaled it and the smile grew.

Chamomile, a luxury to get when you were outside The Capitol. It was your favourite tea, always had been, and he  managed to snag a few boxes of it when he could. He always thought of you like that, whenever he could get you something he would. 

He sat beside you, gently pressing a kiss into your shoulder and you exhaled deeply at the simple, yet comforting gesture. Having his presence was already a comfort.

“What do you need from me?” He asked, pressing his chin to where he laid the kiss. “You know I’ll do anything for you.”

“Kill me?” You questioned, a teasing tone lacing your words. You sipped the tea he had brought you and felt the warmth take over your body. 

“Well … not that.” He snorted into your shoulder, his hands moving to gently massage your sides. 

“Thank you for the tea, and the hot water. Hold me, massage my back … work your usual magic Odair, because when I tell you I’ve been so unpleasant these last two days … I’m not lying.” You huffed.

“You’re not always unpleasant?” He teased, moving the massage to your shoulders.

You could feel the deep knots slowly being undone, and you let out a sigh of relief, you hadn’t realized the tension had been that bad.

“I will kick you off this bed.” You warned, shooting him a glare.

“Then who would take such good care of you?” Finnick smiled, continuing to work his magic. “No one can live up to this.” He laughed, a small sound coming from the bass of his throat. 

You loved his laugh.

“Hush, let me relax.” You closed your eyes, and focused on his soft humming,

Days like these had always been so miserable, you had gotten so used to riding it out alone, but now you had Finnick. He would always take care of you, and you would in turn, take care of him. There would never be one without the other, not anymore.

“I love you.” You said, simply, leaning into him.

“I love you too.” He said back, holding you closer.

[mono-moonchilds]

What if hobi was your professor who wants to sleep with ya?

⤑ series: what if...??

⤑ pairing: professor!hoseok x fem!reader

⤑ genre: smut!!

⤑ rating: explicit (18+)

⤑ word count: 1.9k i got carried away

⤑ warnings: oral sex fem receiving, dry humping, touching, he keeps touching her thigh, idk how to word it but he's in a position of power, big!dick hoseok of course, facial, cum eating, a lil overstimulation, he calls her slut like once, I'm not sure whether or not to tag this dub!con, he is her professor / in a position of power so it blurs the lines but also they are both attracted to one another, in the spirit of not potentially leaving out a tag that could be relevant ill also just tag it dubcon

⤑ A/N: my first request in a long time 😅 I hope you like it. this has not been proof read fr. excuse any mistakes

⤑ summary: what if... your professor wanted to sleep with you

a soft sigh fell from your lips as professor jung slid the paper over to you. “still not getting it, huh?” he questioned. shaking your head, you grabbed the sheet stuffing it back into your binder. it was 4:15 and you’d already wasted so much of his time. 

“no, but I’ll just work on it some more once I get back to my dorm.” you said pushing on a smile. “thank you so much for your time, professor jung.” 

“y/n,” he reached out stopping you in your tracks. “how are you gonna work on something you don't even understand yet?” your eyes fell back onto the glossy wooden desk as you shrugged. “exactly. so what’s the rush?”

you attempted to shrug again but professor jung stopped you with a low tsk. “words. use your words.” the older man softly demanded. 

“I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s already been an hour. I’d hate to take up more.”

“you're such a sweet girl,” professor jung cooed a pretty smile filling his face as he looked at you. “you could never waste my time.  you’re one of my favorite students.” 

“oh..uhm,” proper words eluded you. your face feeling hot as you took in both of the sudden compliments. you were one of his favorites? until today you had never even said two words except for the occasional good afternoon when you got to class. “really? didn’t think you ever noticed me. I hardly ever talk.”

“you don’t need words to stand out. trust me.” 

it was embarrassing how big the smile was that’d formed on your face. letting out a low chuckle, professor jung motioned you over. “come over to the whiteboard with me.” getting up from your seat you followed him. as he reached over handing you a marker you got another waft of his signature cologne. the girls always talked about it. how good he smelled. how well he dressed. They were right. Of course, you’d noticed before but right now you couldn’t help but really notice. 

“y/n,” 

“huh?” Your eyes quickly flickered back up. 

a hint of a smirk covered his face. “I said write the equation out for me.” 

“of course, sir. I’m sorry.”

“such a polite girl too. It’s almost like your perfect.” laughing at your obviously flustered face, professor jung easily moved on and began to read the problem out for you. “so what’s the first step?” he asked once you were finished. 

you stared at the board in complete silence. it was just one problem, a problem he’d worked out three different times since you came to his office but you were still so lost. “you’re problem is you thinking too hard about it.” walking up behind you professor jung walked up behind you guiding your hand to the board. his body so close you barely wanted to breathe. “It’s simple,” his warm breath fanned across your neck. “tell me what you instinctively think to do when you first see this.” 

“bring this down,” you pointed with your other hand.

“exactly. now what?”

 pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you thought long and hard. hesitantly you pointed to the middle of the equation. “I think we can start solving for this.” much to your surprise professor jung hummed in agreement. 

“I told you it was simple. you just gotta take these things slowly.” Much to your dismay professor jung stepped back taking the warmth of his body with him. you wanted to whine but of course, you didn’t. “now finish the rest of it for me.”

it took you far more time than it’d taken him. when you looked back at the clock thirty minutes had passed. “I’m done,” You squeaked nervously. 

professor jung was quiet at first. his hawk-like eyes studying the board carefully as he went back through each in every step in his head. when he finally looked back over to you his face was blank at first. with a huff, your shoulders fell in disappointment. 

“good job.”

what?

“I got it right?” your head popped up in surprise. 

he nodded. “like I told you. you just gotta take your time. It may seem intimidating but you gotta go slow.” lifting his hand professor jung gave you a high five. “I think you're going to ace this next test y/n.”

you shook your head with a laugh. “it was only one question.” 

“one question that somebody else is still probably struggling with. be proud of yourself.” 

you were. honestly. professor jung was right even though it was only one problem it was still something. 

“do you want to continue working on the rest of them?”

“oh—no. you don’t have to. if I get stuck I’ll just rewatch the lecture videos. I would hate to take up more of your time.” 

“y/n,” professor jung stopped you once again, his fingers lingering on your skin. “I already told you it’s no bother. I want you to do well.”

his voice was like a trap immediately drawing you in so within seconds you were nodding. “words.” He reminded. 

“okay—I mean yes. thank you so much, professor jung.”

“hoseok,” 

“what?”

“my name. my name is hoseok.” 

hoseok. you liked it.  It was pretty just like him. 

“move your seat over here.” professor jung, no—hoseok directed. “so it’s easier for me to help you.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. 

grabbing your chair you pulled it over to hoseok’s desk before settling back down carefully into the seat making sure your skirt was still neat. “so do you know where you want to start? what problems do you find the most trouble with?” 

looking at the paper the answer was easy. all of them. ever since the class had moved on to this unit you’d been lost. 

“uhh–” You stalled making hoseok raise his eyebrow in anticipation. it was embarrassing to say out loud. math had never been your strong suit in general and now statistics was slowly but surely whooping your ass. the only reason you’d been able to keep the high C you had currently was because of all of the extra credit opportunities he constantly gave out. 

“there's no shame in not understanding something,” 

“all of it. I’ve kind of been struggling since we moved onto this unit.” 

lifitng your chin up hoseok gave you a comforting smile. “and that's completely okay.” your heart fluttered. letting his hand fall down to your leg, hoseok gave your bare thigh a gentle squeeze. “lets get started, okay?” 

even though you nodded you were far from paying attention. you couldn’t. not with how close hoseok was and how when he talked his fingers softly caressed your skin. he made your head spin. in a good way, in a perfect way. you never wanted today to end. 

“how about you try this one y/n?”

fuck. 

“were you paying attention?”

“I’m sorry.” you quickly apologized.

“what's got you so distracted?” instead of saying anything you just looked down. preparing to move his hand Hoseok apologized but you stopped him keeping it right there. 

“It’s okay. I–I liked it.” 

“really ?” hoseok lifted a brow. 

you began to nod but quickly corrected yourself. “yes.” You vocalized. 

a pleased grin filled Hoseok’s face.  “how about we try something different, hmm?”

“okay.” 

interlocking your fingers hoseok got up guiding you over to the couch that was pushed against a near wall. siting down on the leather he pulled you onto his lap, spreading both of your thighs on each side of his body. “you still okay?” 

“yes,” You were more than okay. 

running his hands up your thighs all the way up to your ass, hoseok squeezed pulling you down deeper into him. “shit–” he groaned. “you're so fucking wet. I can feel you leaking through my pants. why didn’t you say something baby?” 

“I’m sorry, Sir.” you moaned out. his hard-on was pressing right into your clit. hoseok was huge. you didn’t even have to see it to know.

reaching down hoseok pushed your panties to the side so that now your clit was in bare contact with the roughness of his slacks. It felt so good. new sensations rushing your body as you swiveled your hips back and forth. 

lifitng your sweater and bra up hoseok let your breasts fall free. wasting no time he leaned forward latching onto the hardening pebble. alternating between licking and suckling on one breast hoseok twisted and pulled at the other one. 

“oh–oh my..” a whine escaped you as your head lulled to the side. you wanted more–needed more. “muh-more..” you breathed out. 

letting go of your nipple with a low pop hoseok stared up at you. “you ever had sex before?”

you nodded. something of a disappointed look flashed across his face. “on–only once though.” you quickly added. 

settling you on the cushion next to him, hoseok slid to his knees spreading your thighs back open. you were so exposed, the cool air of the room hitting your cunt as he stared looking as if he’d just won a million-dollar prize. as if it was even possible your face felt hotter. 

“don't be embarrassed,” hoseok tsked. “you have such a pretty pussy.” 

gripping the globes of your ass hoseok pulled you closer to the edge of the couch. swiping his tongue across your clit, a deep chuckle left his mouth as he pulled away. “so fucking reactive,” he whispered. 

leaning back forward he latched himself to your sensitive button. flicking his tongue back and forth, hoseok toys with it pulling low moans from you. you’d never had anyone do this before. “feels so guh-good, professor jung.”

gripping his hair you pulled him closer. his eyes fluttering closed as his tongue dipped into your whole fucking it in and out. sliding one hand up hoseok's fingers found its way back to your nipple. his eyes were closed–his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as deep groans escaped as if he was being pleasured himself. 

pulling his hair tighter your back arches in pleasure. “professor—hoseok!” you cry out squeezing your eyes shut. “oh..oh,” you gasp, feeling the pressure rising in your stomach. 

as your mouth falls open you pray everyone else that worked in the hall was gone. loud moans fill the room as you cum hard on his tongue. hosoek doesn’t stop. his tongue flicked faster as he suckles harder on your clit, milking you for all you had. 

“professor jung,” you mewl begging for him to give you a minute. of course, he doesn't though. hejust continues greedily suckling making your eyes roll back. when he finally does pull away you let out a moan of relief, your body beginning to fall to the side before hoseok stops you with a firm grip on your hair. 

unbuttoning his slacks, hoseok shoves down his pants letting his cock spring free. just like you’d thought it was huge. at least seven inches with a pretty brown tip. telling you to hold out your tongue Hoseok tapped his head on it. his hand massaged the rest of the length as he swiped it along your pink muscle. 

“such a good fucking girl,” he grunted moving his hand faster. “next time I’m going to fuck that little pussy. you’d like the, wouldn’t you? fucking slut.” With a deep groan, hoseok nutted all over your face. his hips stuttering as a never-ending flow of cum spurts out. 

letting go of the iron-clad grip he had on your hair hoseok falls back onto the couch. wiping away the cum that was on your eyelids, hoseok pushed his fingers into your mouth to which you happily obliged. 

a pleased smirk filled his face. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

[ioniansunsets]

THIS IS A VERY AGGRESSIVE WAY OF REQUESTINF SOMERHING BUT ILL GIVE TOU 4 DABLOONS IF YOU WRITE SOME KAYN HEARTSTEEL GETTINT ABSOLUTELY EMBARRASED BY HIS GF BECAUSE SHE KEEPS ACTING ALL LOVELY DOVEY IN FRONT OF THE BOYS TO MAKE KAYN FLUSTERED

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Getting Embarassed ✖

✖ Word Count: 560

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: Shorter than usual but I think its really cute!!! I love bullying men and making them all PADJASDASDPOASJ??!?/1/!?/1!!! thank you for asking this, feel free to ask for more I LIKE THIS. Embarrassed face ref under the cut.

----

" Hey! Stop! Stop I tell you! This is my last warning!"

Kayn's face was red as you pepper it with kisses, happily sitting on his lap, arms around his neck, ignoring his cries for help. His arms that was once tightly wrapped around your waist now trying to lift you off him.

" Weren't you the one calling me your precious little baby just mere seconds ago?"

" That was before the rest fucking came in!"

You hear Ezreal and Aphelios snicker as you shower Kayn in love. Kayn, audibly groaning, as he tries to stand up from the couch with you still in his hands. In the kerfuffle, you topple onto the couch, pulling Kayn down with you. Now in an even more compromising position as you laugh with him over you. His breathing was a panicked mess, not used to being seen so uncool and weak in front of his bros. With a small tug, you drag him by his literal collar, pulling him down even closer to you as you hug him. You heard him suck in air as your arms wrap around him. Oh no, did Kayn just stop breathing? With his face near yours, you whisper softly in his ears, just for him to hear. You tell him just how much you love him, how important he is to you, and how cute he was like this all embarrassed thinking about what his precious little friends would think when you know they don't mind. You hear him growl your name as he swallows hard. The tips of his ears now also red from sheer, utter, embarrassment as he coughs a little and promptly tries getting up of you. A scoff leaving his lips as he finally sits up, hair and clothes now a mess from the small play fight.

Kayn's hand instantly rises to his face to cover what he could, trying to hide just how red you made him now that he realized everyone could see just how badly he was blushing as he sits up on the couch. His eyes dart between the you still lying oh so cutely on that damned couch, and his friends staring at him with smirks on their faces. Ok in your defense, the other boys couldn't care less about your relationship with Kayn, it was just Kayn himself who had issues being seen all lovey dovey with you, which meant the boys liked teasing him about it all the more. It wasn't that bad to bully the smug rapper every once in a while. Kayn was always the one teasing you in public anyway, this was a well deserved revenge. As you giggle Kayn shakes his head and he mumbles something to you softly.

" You're making my life hard babe don't do that again...I really can't handle this."

He stares at you with such a look of pure vulnerability it left you stunned. Hells you didn't even know Kayn's facial muscles could pull off an expression like that. Now your heart was the one thumping. A soft barely audible apology leaves your lips as Kayn turns to leave the room to calm down. All you could do was sit and stare, doing your best to commit that cute face to memory. Ah it was unfair how in the end, you were the one still left blushing and speechless.

[[This is the mental image I had writing Kayn's expression hehaoihoiahoaihaohfoihoaiehfoaeihioshdaoi heheheehehehehehe]]

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Infectious

TBB & Fem!Reader

Chapter 3: Rumors on Scorro

Summary: You're completing your final practicum on Kamino as part of the experimental non-clone Combat Medic program. After graduating top of your class, and being inducted into the prestigious 407th Medic Unit, you get assigned to Clone Force 99. Neither of you are excited to be working together and tensions run high. However, those tensions dissipate when the Bad Batch unexpectedly falls ill while on a covert mission. Running against an unknown clock, it’s up to you to figure out what’s causing the illness before it ultimately kills you all.

Pairing: TBB & Fem!Reader

Characters: Hunter, Echo, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech

Tags & Warnings: BAMF fem!reader, enemies to friends, humor, action, angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, mild suggestive themes, explicit medical descriptions, whump

Word Count: 5.7k

Author's Note: WE'RE BACK BABY!!! Yeah, that's right. Finally. After all of this time, the next chapter has arrived 🥳 I told y'all I would be updating my other series fics in the new year, and I meant it. This chapter has some Echo angst in it, because why not. FYI, since it's been 9 months, I went back and edited the first two chapters to match my current writing style. No plot elements changed, just style, grammar, word choice, etc. As always, please enjoy 💚

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

As the ship leaves the stormy atmosphere of Kamino, you turn your head to look out the transparisteel viewport and are greeted by the sight of endless stars twinkling brightly across the ebony horizon. You smile wide knowing this view will never get old. The galaxy is vast and beautiful, and getting to see it up close and personal, while also doing something you love, is priceless. This really is a turning point in your life. A new chapter to be written and explored.

When the ship levels out, you unstrap from the jump seat and start exploring the Marauder. You have a feeling you’ll be spending a lot of time aboard this ship, so you want to familiarize yourself with it as much as possible. You walk back towards the stern, where Wrecker is, and look around, but there's not much to see. Then make your way back up toward the bow and step aboard the bridge. You weave between Hunter and Crosshair, and stand behind Tech.

“So, where are we going?” you ask while looking over Tech’s shoulder at the controls.

Without turning around, Tech answers. “Agamar. It’s a rather barren planet found in the outer rim. The terrain is inhospitable to most, but we will manage.”

“What’s the mission?” you ask further, excited by the prospect and intrigue.

“There’s a separatist base they want us to route,” Hunter says. “A simple in-and-out mission.”

You nod your head at the explanation, but he makes it sound like routing a heavily guarded separatist base is a walk in the park. You have to remind yourself that they are an elite force of clones and are genetically modified for the toughest conditions. It amazes you that such clones can even exist and your fascination with them grows. You wonder how they look in action and if they live up to all the rumors the regular clones whisper about on Kamino. Only time will tell.

Hunter rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. “Get some sleep, all of you. We’ll be there in a couple hours.”

You want to say something funny, like 'aye aye captain', but decide not. Instead, you simply nod and make your way back to the bunks. Laying down on the flat rack, you stare up at the ceiling. There are too many pre-mission jitters vibrating through your body to fall asleep. Even after shutting your eyes and calming yourself, it's just not enough. So, you toss and turn, getting more aggravated that your body won’t drift off, since being tired for your first mission is not an option.

You sigh and sit up, then peer around at the others who are soundly asleep in their bunks and chairs. You’re not sure how they can fall asleep so fast. It’s either a genetic thing or a military training tactic, but whatever it is, you don’t have it. You decide to get up and pace around to try and wear yourself out, and when you do, you hear something. The ship is quiet and your ears perk up immediately at the sound. Wanting to investigate it, you quietly slip around your squad.

One by one, you pass by them, waiting and listening to hear who made the weird sound. Not Wrecker. You move on. Not Crosshair either. You check the next one. He’s making noise for sure, but not the sound you heard. It’s not Tech either. You move towards Hunter, a little nervous that he might wake up and catch you staring at him, but you pause and listen. Nope, not him. You purse your lips. That only leaves Echo. Carefully, you tip toe over to him, wait, and listen.

He's not making a sound, and with a shrug, you turn to leave, thinking you’re a level of crazy for hearing things on a quiet ship. Then it happens again. You turn back around and look at Echo. He’s sleeping rather soundly, with soft rhythmic breaths and gentle rises and falls of his chest. No breath obstructions, you note to yourself. You wait and watch for a moment, then he says it again. It’s faint, breathy, and almost unrecognizable as a word, but you hear it regardless.

Fives.

You knit your eyebrows at the odd utterance, and wait a little longer, listening to see if what he mumbles changes or if he’s repeating the same word. After a couple standard seconds, Echo says the same breathy word again. Fives. You wonder what it means. Maybe it’s a special numerical sequence from his time back on Skako Minor? You shrug at the mystery, but are happy that it’s not a breathing issue. You turn to leave him be, but he mumbles something else.

Fives come back.

Oh. Your heart drops. It’s a person. He’s dreaming about someone he knows, or maybe someone he once knew. You sigh and let your eyes turn soft, knowing exactly what it’s like to dream about loved ones. It’s been several years, but you still dream about your parents. Sometimes you can’t fill in all the gaps of your dreams as you slowly forget things, but it still pulls at your heartstrings every time they show up to give you a hug in the realm of sleep.

As your thoughts wander a yawn escapes past your lips. Finally, feeling tired and ready for sleep, you return to your bunk and crawl onto the hard surface. Laying on your back, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to settle yourself. You still wonder who Fives is and what they mean to Echo. Your psychology books tell you that dreams can be a subconscious escape or a subconscious desire. Knowing next to nothing about Echo’s past, it could be either one.

You take another deep breath and exhale slowly. Closing your eyes, you let yourself drift off to sleep, but in a split moment, a rough hand shakes you back awake. You shoot up and hit your head on the bunk above you. Ouch. Nursing your newly formed bump, you use your other hand to rub the sleep out of your eyes. When you come out of your groggy haze, you can hear snickering coming from the rest of the squad. Ha ha, yes, very funny. You think to yourself.

“Rise and shine,” Hunter mocks as he walks away from your bunk. “We’re here.”

Gathering your composure, you swing out of the bunk and head over to the cockpit for the landing. You look out the viewport as you enter the atmosphere of Agamar and your face lights up with excitement. This is it. Your first mission. You want to squeal, but something tells you that no one else is going to appreciate it, so you keep it internal. The ship lands on the rocky surface of the planet with only a slight wobble. Tech wasn’t kidding when he said it was inhospitable.

Your excitement grows as the squad gears up with their packs, and you follow suit the same way. You double check your pack to make sure you have all the medical necessities and do a mental headcount of your supplies. Once satisfied with your inventory, you sling it across your back and toss your bucket snug on your head. You’re all set to go on your first mission. The ship door opens, light beaming in, and your heart begins to race. This is it. This is your moment.

You take your first steps forward to leave the ship when Hunter stretches an arm out to stop you. “Not you,” Hunter says. “You’re staying here.”

“What?” you question. “But what about the mission?”

“Your mission is here,” Hunter says. “You’re staying on the ship with Echo.”

“But, sir!” you argue. Your feelings of excitement crumble. “I belong in the field!”

“You belong where I tell you you belong, medic,” Hunter snaps back. “Or are you ignoring an order from your commanding officer on your first mission?”

You huff and clench your fist. “No, sir."

“I didn’t think so,” Hunter says, then turns to face Echo. “We may need a quick extraction, so keep your ears on.”

“Understood,” Echo acknowledges with a nod.

Hunter nods back and heads out of the Marauder with the rest of the squad, well, the rest of the squad except you. You remove your bucket, plop down on your bunk with an angry grunt, and lean your head back against the wall. This entire assignment has been one big pissing match, and every time you think you’re making progress, you get sidelined. How are you supposed to make Kix proud if you don’t see any action? You release another angry grunt and cross your arms.

“Careful,” Echo says. “You’ll lose your voice if you keep grunting like that.”

You roll your eyes. “Aren’t you upset being stuck here?”

“No,” Echo answers. “It’s not unusual for someone to be left back with the ship. Keeps people from stealing it.”

With such a small squad of men to work with, you guess that makes sense, and since Echo is your unofficial chaperone, it makes sense that you were left on the ship with him. However, even though you try to explain it to yourself in those practical terms, you still think it's to spite you. You sigh. At this rate, you’ll never get to prove your worth as a Combat Medic to any of them. To these special clones, you’re just useless dead weight and not worth their time.

As the planetary rotation moves forward, you find odd things around the ship to busy yourself with, but you’re still bored. Echo is not much of a conversationalist and he hasn’t moved from his spot in the cockpit. You end up sprawling yourself across the seat in the gunner’s nest and looking out the window at whatever draws your attention. There’s some trees, a little snow on the ground, and a few stray wildlife that come into view. Nothing too spectacular, that’s for sure.

Finally, after hours of sitting by yourself, you decide to go back to the cockpit and sit with Echo. You're still curious about this Fives person he mentioned in his sleep, and you think maybe now might be a good time to ask him about it. You walk into the cockpit and sit down in the chair across from him, bending one leg up onto the chair and resting your chin atop your knee. Echo silently acknowledges your presence and returns to looking at the setting sun over the horizon.

You fidget with your fingers as you mull over whether to ask him about what you overheard last night. It might be private, and he may not want to tell you, but your curiosity is getting the better of you. “Echo,” you ask. “Who's Fives?”

Echo shifts uncomfortably in his seat and stays silent for a couple of minutes. “How do you know that name?” he asks. His words hang heavy in the air.

“You…” you begin, then pause, unsure of how to tell him. You don't want to sound creepy, but honesty is the best policy. “You said it in your sleep.”

Echo sighs, but doesn't turn his gaze from the orange sunset. “Shouldn’t you have been sleeping too?”

“I’m not used to sleeping on ships,” you answer. You can tell by the tone of his voice that this is a sore subject and you're starting to regret bringing it up.

Echo swivels his chair to face you and worries his lip. His eyes are full of sadness and his countenance is engrossed in pain as he searches for the words he's looking for. A small smile flashes across his lips. You wonder if he's thinking about a memory.

“He was my brother,” Echo says, his voice quiet at the strain of saying his thoughts out loud.

You can tell by his choice of words and his tone of voice that this brother isn’t around anymore and you feel a twinge of sadness settle in your gut. You understand a thing or two about the loss of a loved one. “What happened to him?” you ask.

“He was murdered,” Echo says, his fist tightening as he looks back out the viewport. “By one of our own.”

Your expression turns from sadness to shock and then confusion. A clone killing a clone? Does that even happen? Why would a clone do that? Your mind rushes a mile a minute trying to wrap your head around the idea, but you cannot seem to reconcile it. It’s too bizarre of a concept to comprehend. Every clone you've ever met was a brother to the one next to him. So, for a clone to kill another clone, it’s like a family member killing another family member. It’s unheard of.

“I’m sorry, Echo,” you offer as a consolation. “You must miss him.”

“Yeah,” Echo says, his voice distant. “I do.”

“I miss my parents all the time,” you say, trying to bridge the gap and build a connection.

“I remember you mentioning they’re dead,” Echo says as he turns to face you.

“About ten years ago,” you add. Now it's your turn to look out at the sunset.

“I’m sorry,” Echo says.

“It’s fine,” you shrug. “It hurts, but it doesn’t hurt like it used to. I know they’re out there watching over me, somewhere.”

Echo snorts. “You believe in that Jedi force stuff do ya?”

“Not really,” you answer with a small laugh. “But everyone needs to believe in something.”

“That’s fair,” Echo says.

“When I look up at the stars,” you begin with a smile while staring fondly out at the horizon, “it’s almost like I can feel them with me, you know? Watching over me as I make my way in the galaxy.”

“Sounds nice,” Echo says.

“I bet Fives is watching you too,” you say, then look at Echo with soft eyes. “He hasn’t left you alone, just like my parents haven’t left me.”

“Maybe,” Echo shrugs, then chuckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he came back to haunt me.” His brief small smile fades as his countenance reverts back to a frown.

“We’ll see them again some day," you say, trying to stay hopeful. “I just know it.”

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” Echo half-jokes, but you can hear the part of his heart that wants what you're saying to be true.

He wants to see his brother again, desperately. So much so that he calls out to him while he sleeps. He must agonize over Fives’ death. You understand because you’ve been there. You’ve stared death in the face, the kind of death that leaves you thoroughly alone. You don't need to understand psychology to know what his subconscious thinks about on a daily basis, and your heart hurts for him, but you know there's nothing in your medpack to mend a shattered heart.

You and Echo stare out of the cockpit in silence and watch the sun fall beyond the horizon, sharing in this solemn moment and appreciating the company. The veil of night arrives and the stars begin to shine in the dark sky. The billions of bright burning lights feel comforting. The stars aren't very visible on Kamino, but here, on this planet, they are bright and beautiful. You relax your shoulders and lean back, thinking that maybe this assignment isn’t so bad after all.

However, your sweet moment is interrupted by Hunter’s voice over the comms. He’s calling in that quick extraction now and by the amount of yelling and blaster fire in the background, this is going to be a hot one. Echo relays the affirmation, sets the coordinates, and lets Hunter know that both of you are on the way to pick them up. You're slightly surprised that Echo included you in the transmission, but now is not the time to be celebrating your first taste of inclusivity.

“Civvy, strap in,” Echo orders as he starts pressing buttons and flipping switches to get the ship going. “This is going to be a bumpy ride and I don’t need you falling out of the ship.”

Ah, there it is. You sigh and head back towards the jump seats and strap yourself in for the wild ride ahead. Echo expertly maneuvers the ship to the squad's location and brings it in low so they can climb on board. You can hear the blaster fire outside and as the door opens to the ship, you watch them file in while firing off blaster bolts to cover each other. It’s the first time you’ve seen any of them in action and you're a little awestruck. They don’t move like other clones.

Tech next to Echo and Hunter yells for them to get them out of here. The ship moves again, this time more aggressively, as the enemy continues to fire at the Marauder. Wrecker moves to the gunner’s nest and shoots down the vulture droids that are following behind. You tightly grip the bars on the jump seat as the ship rocks from the blasts. Thankfully, the shields are up. The ship flips upside down, sideways, and every other way you can think of to out maneuver the droids.

At long last, the ship breaches the atmosphere and moves into space. Tech initiates the hyperdrive and pulls the handle down to enter into hyperspace. Once safe in a hyperspace lane, you let out the breath you were holding in, then flick the safety release on the jump seat and push them over your head. You get up from the seat and wobble forward, not realizing your legs turned to jelly from all of the excitement, and let your feet stabilize before trying to walk.

“Woah, that was fun!” Wrecker hollers as he brushes by you and moves towards the cockpit. “Echo, you should have seen this place. It was crazy.”

“Not as crazy as being sling-shot across a ravine,” Crosshair grumbles and pushes past you. He sits down in one of the swivel chairs and starts cleaning his rifle in silence.

“I said I was sorry,” Wrecker apologizes. “But we won!”

“Correction,” Tech says as he lifts a pointed finger in the air. “I won.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes and pulls a few credits from his pocket and hands them to Tech.

“Much obliged,” Tech says as he stuffs the credits in one of his many satchels.

The exchange has you lost in bewilderment. Clearly, something happened during the mission and you’re curious to know the details. You look at Echo, hoping he'll ask for more information about it, but he doesn’t, leaving you more curious. You do find it odd, however, that they had some form of amusement out on the battlefield. From your time on Kamino, most clones don't find blaster fire fun. Clone Force 99 really is different compared to the rest of the clone forces.

“I assume your mission was a success?” Hunter asks while walking by you, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Yes… sir,” you answer with a twinge of hesitancy, a little unsure of what your mission was other than staying on the ship with Echo.

“Good,” Hunter says. He reclines in one of the empty swivel seats and clasps his hands behind his head. “Glad to hear it.”

You can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he's trying to make fun of you. Either way, you brush it off and focus on more pressing matters, like what's next on the mission agenda. Will you go back to Kamino? Or will you wait for more orders? That’s what good soldiers do, isn’t it? Follow orders? You’re still unfamiliar with all of this, so you’re not sure what to ask or what to do with yourself. Rather than make new issues by asking more questions, you retreat back to your bunk to relax.

But the boredom of waiting creeps in and you start to doze off. Your eyelids are heavy even though you barely spent any energy this rotation. It doesn't take you long to remember that you didn’t get much sleep the night before and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, your body is telling you it needs rest. You don't fight it and let your body go to sleep, hoping you won’t be woken up. As a medic, you must get rest whenever you can so you can be at your best at all times.

This time you wake up on your own terms, when your body feels rested. You’re not sure how long you were out, but no one bothered you so you assume everyone is still waiting for new orders to come across. You sit up in your bunk, without hitting your head this time, and stretch out your arms. You roll your shoulders and crack your neck. The bunks aren’t exactly soft, but they do their job. Swinging your legs over the side of the bunk, you get up to use the refresher.

As you head towards the refresher, the rest of the squad is huddled around and speaking amongst each other. Hunter looks serious and has his arms crossed, which can’t mean anything good, and Echo is arguing with him, again. You forget the refresher for a moment and walk over to add your presence to the mix. Hunter notices and glances at you before turning back to Echo. Not realizing where you are standing, Crosshair gives you a small jab on your behind with his rifle.

The sudden touch startles you. “What was that for?”

“You’re blocking my view,” Crosshair hisses. “Move.”

You roll your eyes. “You could've just asked me to move, you know. That's borderline harassment.”

“If you looked more like a window than a door, I wouldn’t have to borderline harass you,” Crosshair snarks and flicks his toothpick in your face.

Your nose scrunches and eyes close when the little wooden projectile hits your face. As your frustration builds, you take a deep breath to calm yourself. You want nothing more than to tell that sniper where he can shove his rifle, but you won't. It's not worth it because it will only fuel his bullying further. Instead, you choose to let it go. This time. There are points where you will cross the line, and he keeps dancing around that line. If he ever crosses it, you'll let him know.

“Can we get back to more important things?” Hunter asks, shifting his gaze between you and Crosshair.

Echo huffs and shakes his head. "I don't like it."

"We don't have to like it," Hunter says. "Orders are orders."

"What orders?" you ask.

Hunter swivels to face you. "There's rumors of an imperial base operating out of Scorro." Tech pulls up a holo of the planet and Hunter continues his explanation. "According to our intel, the GAR sent a squad of clones to scout the base, but their comms suddenly went silent. Another squad of clones were sent after them with the same result. Now they want us to investigate."

"Do they know what happened to the clones?" you ask, curious as to what's causing Echo's skepticism.

"No," Hunter crosses his arms. "They were never recovered."

"No one went back to get them?" you ask.

"It would be a waste of resources," Tech adds. "Besides, based on the trend, sending another clone squadron would yield the same results."

"But aren't we another clone squadron?" you ask, this time your nerves bleed through.

"Stop worrying!" Wrecker exclaims. "We can take on whatever they throw at us!"

His words don't make you feel better about the situation. While Echo is the only one openly objecting to the new mission, Hunter's facial expressions tell a different story than what he's leading everyone to believe. Your first inkling was the fact that he hasn't shoved you aside for this conversation. In fact, he's answered your questions without issue. He's serious about this in a way he hasn't been since you've met him. The fact that Hunter is worrying, has you worrying.

"I still don't like it," Echo frowns. "How'd they lose two clone squadrons without so much as one distress signal?"

"Maybe a new type of droid?" you offer. "Or their signals were jammed?"

"Groundbreaking ideas," Crosshair says.

"Everything is a valid option," Echo adds.

Crosshair rolls his eyes.

"Enough," Hunter says. "We're going to Scorro to investigate the rumors and to find the missing clones. Double-check our supplies and prepare for anything."

With the sergeant's final words, everyone scatters to prepare for the mission, except for Tech who punches in the new coordinates and sets the course for Scorro. You linger in the cockpit, silently observing Hunter as he pulls out his knife and twirls it around his fingers. The mission makes you nervous even though it shouldn't. You'll probably end up staying on the ship again, but maybe that's not a bad thing. You shake your head at the thought. That's not why you're here.

"Sergeant–"

"You too," Hunter says before you get a chance to ask. "You're coming with us."

You smile and nod. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't get the wrong idea," Hunter adds. "I need Echo for this mission, and I'm not leaving you alone on the ship."

"Yes, sir," you frown then turn back towards the bunks to get yourself situated.

Of course it would be too good to be true. For a second, you thought he actually wanted you on this mission, but he just wants to keep an eye on you. As a medic, you can help the missing troopers if they need medical attention, which you're confident they will. Your presence on the mission should be vital, not just an afterthought. Although, you shouldn't be upset that you're going on a mission, but you wish it was because of merit and not for the sake of babysitting.

Regardless, you will do your best on this mission and prove to Clone Force 99 that you are a good medic. That they need you. You're not sure how, but you will. When you get back to your bunk, you triple-check the supplies in your pack and stock as many bacta patches and stim shots as you can fit, plus some essential fluid and mineral packets, ration bars, and a few medical odds and ends that make sense to bring along. You want to be prepared for anything.

With your preparations made, it's another waiting game until you reach Scorro. You don't remember reading about that planet in your studies, but apparently it's rather primitive in nature, which is why no one has settled on it. It's an abandoned planet, making it a great outpost for mercenaries, pirates, and separatists. Pulling out your data-pad, you do a little more research to see what you can find out, but come up with the same dismal results that your holo-texts had.

It's not much longer before the Marauder drops out of hyperspace and the olive-green planet comes into view. When the holo-text said that Scorro was primitive, it wasn't kidding. It looks new and unabused by modern progress, and its vegetal hue is highly alluring. Your curiosity has now surpassed your trepidation about the rumors and missing clones. You're excited. This is a great opportunity, even if it's dangerous. The closer you get to the planet, the faster your heart beats.

“According to the scanners, there are no active fauna on this planet,” Tech states. "But the air is breathable."

“Just because the air is breathable doesn’t mean it’s good for you,” you point out. “Carbon monoxide is breathable but you’ll die before you figure out it’s bad for you.”

“Correction,” Tech adds. "The air is non-toxic towards human life-forms."

"Glad we could sort that one out," Crosshair says. "Any more words of wisdom?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "No."

"Take us in," Hunter says. "Land just outside the coordinates of the last clone squadron."

"Affirmative," Tech says, then flips a few switches before piloting the ship into the planet's atmosphere.

Once the ship has landed, Hunter addresses the group. "Our mission is to locate the two missing clone squadrons and investigate the rumors about an separatist base of operations. We'll use teams of two and spread out in an 800 meter radius from the last known coordinates. Keep the comm lines open and have your blasters at the ready."

Everyone nods and gears up, including you. Before you put your bucket on, you glance at the medic mark on your shoulder pauldron. No matter what happens, you have a job to do. You're a medic first. These men, your squad, are in your care and it's your responsibility to make sure they all survive. Steeling yourself for what's to come, you bite back every lick of fear that tries to take hold in your mind. You've trained hard for this, and you're not going to get cold feet now.

The side loading ramp opens and the bright sunlight of the planet blasts into the dimly lit ship. No turning back now. You follow the rest of the squad out of the ship and step onto the fresh earth of Scorro. For someone who grew up on Coruscant and spent the last cycle on Kamino, this much vegetation is mesmerizing. The sun is so warm, and the earth beneath your feet is so soft. This virgin planet is breathtaking. You take a few more steps forward, then Hunter stops.

"Tech, Crosshair, go east," Hunter says while pointing in that direction. "Wrecker and I will go north. Echo and Civvy, you'll go west.

The group nods and heads out in their respective directions.

"Stay frosty men," Hunter says over the comms. "There's no telling what we'll be up against out here."

You and Echo silently walk towards the western end of the perimeter, keeping your eyes peeled for any signs of the clone troopers or separatists. After a couple minutes, the silence grates on your nerves, but Echo seems focused right now. A little too focused. You know this mission bothered him from the beginning, but there seems to be something else about the way he carries himself that indicates it's not just about the mission being odd. There's something deeper.

As you continue forward, your foot kicks something hard. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the familiar white plastoid clone trooper helmet, which is attached to a body shrouded by tall weeds. Your stomach flips. You weren't expecting to find one of them so quickly.

"Sarge," you say in the comms. "I found a trooper." Crouching down, you check for a pulse, but as you expected, there is none. "He's dead."

"We're making our way to your position now," Hunter says. "How'd he die?"

While your medic training didn't have an autopsy course, you inspect the body for the usual suspects. The armor is still intact and there's no signs of a struggle, which you find odd. There's no blaster marks, claw marks, bites, or scratches on the armor either. The black bodysuit isn't even ripped. He must have died from something. You pull back some of the black bodysuit and notice the tissue is necrotizing, but you don't see anything suspicious. Then you scan the body.

"Civvy, status," Hunter interjects over comms.

"I'm not sure how he died," you admit while reviewing the results of the scan. Echo looks over the body too, but doesn't come up with anything substantial. Not that you needed a second opinion.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Hunter asks. "You're a medic, you should know how people die."

"There's no wounds," you explain. "He looks normal. Fine, even. Besides being dead." You don't mention it, but the fact that there are no organisms feasting on the clone's flesh also baffles you. You'd figure there would be more decay markers, but there's not even a single worm.

Hunter and Wrecker make it to your position and Hunter looks over the body, confirming what you said. "Then how the kriff did he die?"

You look up at Hunter from your crouched position next to the body and shrug. "We'd need a full autopsy to determine that, but the scans indicate no internal injuries either."

"So, he died from nothing?" Echo asks.

You shrug again. "Maybe he had a heart attack. That doesn't show up on portable scanners."

"Eighteen clone troopers died of a heart attack?" Hunter asks, his voice sounding distant.

"No," you rebut. "But maybe this one did."

Hunter points past you and you stand up to see what he wants you to look at. You tilt your head from side to side, scanning the area he's pointing at, when a glint of white pops up on your HUD. Then another. And another. Your eyes widen and your mouth gapes. The ground is littered with seventeen more troopers half-covered in tall weeds. The first squad and the second squad, dead mere meters from each other. You've never seen so many dead bodies before.

You feel your stomach grow queasy, and you rip off your helmet to vomit. As a medical student, you've seen cadavers, held organs in your hands, been bathed in blood, but nothing prepared you for the sight of a mass death. There's something menacing and sickly about it. You know most clones are never retrieved from battlegrounds and you know most clones will never see a proper burial, but knowing and witnessing are two different things. It's heartbreaking.

"You all right?" Echo asks.

You pant from the spasmic exertion, but find your voice. "I'm fine."

Tech and Crosshair arrive at your position soon after, and take note of the bodies. Everyone feels it now, the pressure looming thickly in the air. Something happened on this planet. Something killed these eighteen troopers and it killed them silently. There's an anxiety that creeps in as you wonder what it possibly could be. What is the silent hunter? How does it find its victims? And how can you and your squad escape from it? Perhaps, it may even be too late.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Echo says to Hunter.

Hunter sighs. "Me too."

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Masterlist

A03

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[dokoni-mo]

Crave: Part Four || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: you're his now, but what next?

Mild NSFW

word count: 4544

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is 20 william is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, willy is obsessive, possessive too, and a little creepy, and a hypocrite, and narcissistic lol, and a little bit of a yandere, or at least becoming one, mentions of divorce, dysfunctional parent-child relationships, secret relationships, swearing, gaslighting, manipulation tactics, dom/sub undertones if you squint, willy is VERY egotistical, allusions to corruption kink, praise, kissing, Michael is in this

minors dni // pls read warnings!!

a/n: look ik i said i'd finish KNY first and i AM working on it i promise but i am down atrocious for willy rn and i cant help it,, this story and writing willy is also really interesting to me sooo yeah :)) taglist is still open, enjoy! (also disclaimer: i do not condode this type of relationship irl, this is just my take on being with peepaw)

part one // part two // part three

~~~

Sundays were always William's favorite days of the week. Something about them just always felt slow to him and comforting.

They were always placed perfectly in the midst of his busy schedule. On Sundays, nothing was required of the brit. He was able to take his shoes off and relax, knowing that the work week was still away from him. The calm before the storm, if you will. Back when he was still married to Clara, he would make a treat of them. Make his family a traditional American breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, everything.

Not because he loved them, no. Of course not. It was for himself. He liked making himself a banquet. Living in America for so long, he found that he rather enjoyed it's food. The slight chubbiness in his stomach and thighs showed for it. If it were up to him, William would have the whole feast to himself. His family only tagged along because they lived in his house. And he allowed it to keep his façade. Kept them happy and content for a while, too. Shut them up.

But, this time was different. This time, making breakfast on a Sunday morning was special. Because he was making it for you.

And you were the only thing William ever truly loved.

William woke that morning as the sunlight of that beautiful Utah morning crept in through his window, hitting his pale eyes to wake him up. The brit often woke up early before the sun had even made her first appearance, but allowed himself to sleep in just a hair that day. How could he not? When he had the most adorable little bunny in the world curled up in his arms? And potentially disturb them? He wouldn't ever dream of it.

He kept his promise to you in that he didn't leave you throughout the night whilst you slept. He wouldn't even dream of that either. William had one night stands in the past, yes, but you were far above that.

He loved you. He would never leave you.

Just like how you'd never leave him.

Blinking the grogginess of his sleep away from his eyes, William took a deep, long breath of the cold morning air through his nose. Looking down, he could see that you were still asleep. You must've turned around while you were sleeping, because you were facing towards the older man now. William's arms were still snug around your waist, and your little hands were gently laid on the expanse of his scarred chest. Last night must've really wiped you out, since you were still snoring softly before him, your hair partially covering your precious eyes.

William smiled at the sight of you, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face and gently press a kiss to your forehead.

It's alright, little one. Rest all you like. You're safe with William.

The safest place you could be is in his arms.

Don't you agree?

William pressed a few more soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks as he watched you sleep next to him, careful to be quiet and light so he didn't wake you. You were so adorable. So perfect. Just having you next to him made the man feel warm inside, made him smile genuinely.

You were the only one that had ever had that affect on him. Even his ex-wife couldn't accomplish that. She had only been easy for William. He knew that in order to be normal, he would have to take a spouse eventually. Clara was just the only person available at the time. And, to add on, there was also the accident that was Michael. It was only natural for William to marry her. It's what a normal man would do. And his past flings were only just that. Flings. Something to keep him entertained for a night or two.

Clara was never his bunny. Never. She was never even close. Nor any of the other people he had been with.

You were his bunny. And no one else.

And that's why he loved you. For real. Loved you.

Just like you loved him.

As much as William would've loved to shower you with kisses until you woke up, he knew that you would be hungry when you did. It was rather rude of him to promise you dinner last night, then never give it to you. Poor thing, you must be famished. He was sorry, bunny, he was. William always wanted to take care of you. He was just so, so excited to finally have you. Get you all alone with him. Make you his, once and for all. You enjoyed yourself, though, didn't you? Oh, heaven knows William sure did. You were the best he had ever had. Perhaps it wasn't all that bad now, was it? But, still. William couldn't have his bunny go hungry. That was just mean. William could never be mean to you, bunny. Never.

So, allow him to make it up to you.

Leaning forward one last time, William pressed a long, drawn-out kiss to your soft cheek, his eyes lingering on your sweet face a moment longer as he pulled away.

"I'll be right back, bunny. Don't go anywhere." He whispered to you, careful as to not wake you up.

Pulling away from you and out of the covers, it was much colder for William in the cool air of his room without you next to him. You must've felt colder as well, considering how you groaned in your sleep and rolled onto your other side. You had pulled a bundle of the covers along with you, holding it close to your chest as you settled again.

William couldn't help but feel a little sad. He wanted to be those covers.

But, he had to have patience. Michael wouldn't be back from his mother's until tomorrow morning. William still had at least 24 more hours with you. After he made sure you had some good food and water in you, you and him could cuddle all he wanted.

Perhaps even more. Perhaps he could show you a few more fun games you and him could play.

If you were up for it, of course.

Before leaving his room, William crept over to his old wooden dresser and opened up its drawers without a sound. Carefully, William pulled out his favorite pajama pants and sleep shirt and pulled them on, relieving him of just being in his underwear. While he was nearly certain you didn't have any plans of waking up anytime soon, William still left one of his shirts on the end of his bed for you just in case. Shit. What if you did wake up? While he was cooking? You creeping down the stairs all tired in his shirt. It would look so good on you too. It would surely be too large to fit you properly, but not long enough to cover your lower half in any meaningful way. So cute... Come here, won't you, bunny? That's it, good. Lean up against the counter for William. Don't you and him just fit together so perfectly? William's big hands feel so good on you, don't they? Doesn't his fingers fit so well over your cute little butt? Precious bunny, don't mind him if he just had to-

Goddamn it William. Focus. (Y/N) is hungry. This could wait until later.

Giving your sleeping form one last look, William disappeared out of his room and into his kitchen.

~~~

Mr. Afton came to realize that he wasn't too sure of what you liked and didn't. Even after pestering Michael for so long about your interests, and snooping on your friends and classmates over the security cams in the Diner, William was never able to pick up on your food preferences. This was fine. He would learn what you liked and didn't over time, now that you and him were an item. This was the first time he had cooked for you, sure. But it wouldn't be the last.

You and him had a whole lifetime to explore together now. Surely he would learn your diet over time. He wouldn't be a good partner to you if he didn't.

William ultimately decided on something safe, yet also something that would let him guess what you did and didn't like. Toast (one with butter and another with jam), eggs (scrambled), a few pieces of bacon, and water. Surely you would eat at least one of the toast slices. If you didn't, perhaps you had a gluten intolerance. That would tell William a lot right off the bat. The eggs were a gamble, even more so the bacon. He knew that a lot of people didn't like eggs, and felt weird eating them. Elizabeth was like that. The bacon was a meat product too. You wouldn't touch it if you were a vegetarian, nor if your religion didn't allow it. And, if you were a vegan, you would only have the toast with jam. At the very least, however, you were going to eat one of these items. His sweet bunny was kind. You would be polite, and happily eat whatever William gave you that also aligned with your diet. And, if there was nothing you liked, he'd happily get you something you did.

It was a perfect test. William was rather proud of himself.

The brit wouldn't make you climb all the way downstairs for your meal. He wanted to spoil you. It was your first morning with him, this should be celebrated. This was the start of your relationship, and William would be damned if he didn't make you feel loved and cherished today.

Gathering up the plate of food and water cup on a tray, William carried up your breakfast to his room, pushing the door open with his foot. You were still asleep, and it didn't even look like you had moved an inch since he had left.

Silly bunny. You were so cute when you slept. He could watch you for hours. Maybe he would tonight. Just to drink in how cute you were. Hell, if he still had that old polaroid camera, maybe he could take a picture for when you weren't able to stay the night. William you are a genius. A picture would be perfect.

He'll look for it later. When you're in the shower or something.

Setting the tray down on his nightstand, William paused for a moment to admire your sleeping form for a second longer, hovering his face a few feet away from your own. You were so gorgeous. So peaceful and ethereal. You looked like you were a dream. Feeling his lips part, William lifted up his hand and cradled your cheek in his palm, his calloused thumb gently rubbing into your soft skin.

You were breathtaking.

But, it was time to get up, little bunny. William missed talking to you. And oh did he want to talk to you about some things.

Leaning forward, William pressed more kisses onto your face, this time harder and with more purpose.

"Good morning, my love." He rumbled out to you in between kisses. Gently stroking your hair, William could feel you stir underneath his touch, you being gently roused out of your sleep. You tried to protest at first with a few mumbles, and William couldn't help but chuckle. His breath fanning against your face, the brit continued to press more kisses to your forehead and cheeks until you finally cracked your sweet eyes open. You looked up at the older man, the sleep still laced in your tired eyes and voice as you spoke.

"Mmn... William?" you rasped out, making the man smile as he smoothed your hair.

"Yes, love," he responded, pressing another kiss to your cheek, "It's me. Good morning, my precious bunny."

You gave him a soft smile as you took one of your arms out from under the covers, rubbing circles into your eyes to wash away the sleep.

"God, I really thought I was dreaming." You mumbled to yourself, making William chuckle again.

"No, love, no. Not a dream at all." William leaned in and gave you a quick peck on your lips, "Though for me, it is a dream come true."

You let out a sleepy giggle as you sat up, pulling the covers up to cover your still-bare chest, "That's really cheesy, yknow."

"It's the truth, my love. Here."

William moved from your side of the bed over to his, picking up and holding out the shirt he got out for you earlier. With a small thanks, you took the shirt and pulled it on over your head, the loose clothing draping across your shoulders as you pushed the covers back down. Mr. Afton sat next to you and watched.

Damn. Mr. Afton was right. You were adorable in his clothes. You looked better in his shirt than even he did. And that was saying something. He had picked every single article of clothing long ago, and tailored it so he'd be as attractive as possible in them. Of course, he was a little biased. But still. You were just too cute.

"I made you a little something, too." William said as he reached behind up. He picked up the tray of your breakfast and set it gently in front of you, watching as how your face lit up with a smile.

"Oh, wow, this looks so good, thank you!" You exclaimed, picking up your jelly toast and taking a bite, "No one's ever made me breakfast in bed before."

William felt himself smile as his heart swelled in his chest, "It's not trouble at all, love. It's the least I can do after such a wonderful night, yeah?"

You took another bite of your toast and nodded, chewing and swallowing and wiping your mouth before you talked again, "I'm assuming you wanna talk about some things?"

Wow. You were rather blunt, weren't you, little one? William often forgot how smart you were. It's alright though. He loved that about you. How you challenged him. You were perfect.

"Yes, I do, bunny." He said, reaching up to smooth out your hair away from your face, "If that's alright with you, of course."

"Yeah, it's alright. I just have one question before, though."

"Hm?"

"You lied to get me here, didn't you? About Michael needing help?"

William felt a chill run through his veins at your words, his pale grey eyes widening ever so slightly. How did you know? Did you really put the pieces together that quickly? You seemed to believe him last night, you had asked about his son a plethora of times. Or were you just putting on an act? Just being kind to the older man, because surely he wouldn't call you over that late at night for nothing, right? Damn. He had never had someone see through his lies so quickly before. William was a good liar. If we were being technical here, he had been lying for almost 40 years now. Of course he was good at it. And, he was good at covering his tracks too. Finding some way to make his lie believable when he had to lie again to keep it going.

But there was no point now, wasn't there? At least, not with this one. You were a clever bunny. No point of keeping it up.

"I..." William begun. He sighed to himself and nodded, "Yes, love, I did."

You took another bite of your toast, "Why?"

Based on how you looked at Mr. Afton, you didn't seem mad. Not at all. This was good for him. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like if you were upset with him. It'd break his heart. You seemed to like the truth. So, it's the truth he would give you.

"I just couldn't think of another way to get us alone, my love." William said, "I hated being without you. I wanted you for so long, I just... I'm sorry, bunny. I should've thought of another way."

Swallowing your toast, you looked at the brit with a smile forming on your face. Wiping away any crumbs, you leaned over your tray and pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his pale cheek, making his lips part in slight shock.

"It's okay." You said, "I lied too. So we're even now."

You lied to him? Oh, bunny. Naughty bunny. William didn't like bad bunnies that lied to him. Not at all. It was against the rules. You should never lie to William. His job is to keep you safe, and he can't do that if you're bad.

But, then again...

You weren't very aware of the rules yet. Not yet. That's something he wanted to talk about with you today over your breakfast. And you did forgive him readily. The two of you were even, as you put it.

William will let you off the hook this once. He had been doing that a lot these last 24 hours, but it's alright. You would learn in time. William could be a bit more laid-back for now.

For now.

"And what did you lie about, hm?" He asked, genuinely curious. He couldn't even think of when you possibly could've lied.

"When you called me," you explained, "and I said I had class in the morning. I lied about that. I don't have any classes today. I just didn't want to go out that late. You totally fell for it though. I mean, who has classes on Sundays?"

You were right. William maybe should've picked up on that. He was just too excited.

Oh well.

"That's...all?"

You breathed out a giggle, "Yeah, sorry. I just felt kinda guilty. But, I'd say we're even now. And I definitely don't regret coming over."

William let himself smile again at this, leaning in and giving a kiss to your temple, "It's alright, bunny. I forgive you."

When William settled back down in his spot, he made it a point to scoot a little closer to you, placing one of his hands on your bare knee and rubbing soft circles into your skin. He didn't like having to be so serious with you. He wanted you to have fun with him. But, William needed to be serious, so that you could have fun. So that you and him could stay together forever.

You needed to know your rules.

And, more importantly, he needed to gauge when it would be best to see you, and maximize the amount of times he could. You were a college student, so he knew you'd be busy. He was a busy man too. But he wanted as much time with you as possible. Having you near him made him feel loved. And safe. And warm. And comfortable. And...

Normal.

You loved him just as he was. When no one else did.

His sweet bunny.

His.

"Now, love," He begun, sounding sweet yet firm at the same time as he stared deep into your eyes, "I want you to know beforehand that I'm only doing all these things because it's my job to keep you safe. And happy, yeah? That I'm only trying to keep us safe."

You nodded in agreement.

William flashed you a smile, "Good bunny. Now, just for now, I think that it's best that we keep our... relationship just between you and me, yeah?"

You raised your eyebrows a little as you set your toast down, wiping your hands, "Our... relationship?"

William was a little confused.

"Yes, love." He said, "Is that not what people call it these days?"

You shook your head, "No, no! It's just... I was preparing for you to say just, like... That last night was great but we can't see each other anymore."

What? You expected him to just give you a one night stand? William felt his heart break a little at your words, his brow bending downwards as he cupped your face in his palm.

Did he not do a good job of showing you how much he loved you? Did you not feel loved? Bunny, you need to tell him these things. William wants you to feel good with him. Both emotionally and physically. He wants to show you just how much he loves you, and damn him if he can't get the message across. William loves you so, so much.

"No, love, no." He reassured you, "I meant what I said earlier. That I want you to be mine, forever. You remember, yeah?"

You nodded in agreement, a tiny smile reappearing on your sweet face.

"I mean it, bunny. You're the only one for me." His thumb traveled down to your lips, pressing against the soft skin, "My precious darling..."

Your smile grew as you pressed a kiss to William's hand, nuzzling your cheek further into his touch.

"But, we have to be a secret?" you asked, your doe eyes looking into his.

"Unfortunately, love, we do." His thumb went back to rubbing gently against your cheek, "Just for a little while. Believe me, I want to show you off to everyone. It's just, for now, it's... complicated."

"Wait... you're not married, ri-"

William chuckled, "No, no! Definitely not. I've long since been divorced, love."

"Then why do we have to be a secret?"

William smiled at your question. You were just so adorable. You wanted him to show you off, didn't you? Precious bunny. Of course William wanted to let everyone know you were his. Because you were. His. He didn't want anyone in this fucking idiotic town taking you away from him, no.

It's like he said. It's complicated.

"Because, love," he explained, "It just might be a little... jarring to some people. Especially to a certain someone we know."

Fucking Michael. William knew that if Michael found out about you and him, hell would be raised in the house. William didn't want to deal with the headache of it all. The little brat might run off and spread some nasty rumors too. Or, even worse, feed you all sorts of lies. About how William was no good for you. About how he was just a mean man that wanted to have you just for some good arm-candy. That William didn't love you.

That's the one. That's the one that made William's blood boil, at even just the mere thought of it. William did love you. He loved you more than anything or anyone in the entire world. And you loved him back. Who was Michael to take you away from him?

No one. Absolutely no one.

William knew you wouldn't want to be a secret forever, though. As easy as it would be. It was fine though. William didn't really want to keep you a secret either. He was genuine when he said he wanted to show you off. He wanted to kiss you and hold your hand in public and not apologize for it. Hug you. Let you walk around with his marks on your neck. Smell like his fancy cologne. And even, perhaps...

Oh. Oh, that was a good one.

Perhaps even he'd put a ring on your finger.

Oh, god. His little bunny. With the ring he got them on their finger. In a little wedding outfit. Having it written on paper. The honeymoon...

Yes. That was a good one.

He'd have to keep that in mind for later.

"But," you said, "Michael is still my friend. I can't just not see him around classes and stuff. He's still gonna wanna have me over and all that. Wouldn't it be... awkward?"

"It doesn't have to be," William reassured you, taking one of your hands into his and kissing your knuckles, "We'll just have to pretend for those bits, won't we? Perhaps if we get a moment alone, too..."

You giggled at his insinuation, a faint tint on your cheeks.

"Do you think you can keep our little secret safe, bunny?" He asked.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I can. I can keep a secret."

"Good. I promise to keep up my end of the bargain, too."

"So... when will we get to see each other then? I still have classes during the week, so, like, the weekends?"

William kissed the back of your hand again, giving it a squeeze, "That'll be the best time for both of us, yes. I know you're busy with your studies, and I'm busy as well. However..."

William let go of your hand briefly to reach behind him into the drawer of his nightstand. He felt around for a few moments before he found what he was searching for, pulling it out and shutting the drawer.

"I'm usually in my office while I'm working. Here." He explained, pressing the object into your hand, "This is the spare key. If you go in through the front, just take a right and keep going until you reach the end of that hallway. Mine is the last door on your left. You're free to come in whenever you want, bunny. Just make sure no one sees you, yeah? And if I'm not there just wait a little, and I will be."

Mr. Afton watched as you turned the key over in your hands, the silver reflecting onto your adorable face.

"You work at that diner that all the kids like, right?" You asked, "The one on Main with all the robots?"

William chuckled, "Yes, love. That's the one."

"Cool. I've never been there before."

Trust him, bunny. He knew.

"Well now you have a reason, yeah?"

"Definitely."

William smiled at you again, leaning in and giving you a kiss on your cheek as he took your hand into his again.

"There's just a few more things, love." He said.

"What is it?"

William wasn't too sure how you would react to this last part. Your real rules. But, he also knew that you hadn't had a relationship before. Perhaps you would just think that they're a normal part of a relationship. It's not like what he was going to ask of you was hard or anything. It was just a few things to make sure you were safe. Something to keep your mind occupied with him. He didn't want you wandering off already, no. Not that you would. You loved him. When it came to you, however, William was more paranoid than normal. He didn't even want a chance for you to slip away from him.

It'd be okay. Surely. You loved him. You wouldn't mind a few rules, wouldn't you bunny? They're just so William can keep you safe. Isn't that what you want?

Of course you would. He just had to word this properly so it didn't' scare you.

"I would... appreciate it," He begun, rubbing soothing circles onto your knuckles, "If you would phone me at least once during the week. And tell me if anyone has been pestering you. And be honest with me. Always. No matter what, yeah?"

William reached out and smoothed your hair behind your ear, dipping his hand down to cradle your cheek again in his palm.

"Can you do that, love?" He asked, "Be a good bunny for me?"

He could feel your cheeks heat up again as you nodded.

"Yes, I can..."

Mr. Afton smiled, "Thank you, dear."

What a good little thing you are. So eager to please him already.

"But," you peeped out, "What if Michael answers instead?"

You made a fair point. William's son was rude. And often made William's life all the more harder. Hell, it was because of him that the brit couldn't show you off around time. Hide you away. That goddamned brat. Michael was lucky that he was the reason William knew about you. Otherwise, William would've never seen anything good about that boy.

Embicile.

William let out a hum, "Don't worry about that, love. I'll take care of it. Just talk to him like you normally would, I'll be there eventually. I promise."

"If you say so."

William felt his smile grow at your words. You were just too perfect. William wondered why he didn't enact his little plan sooner. The way he felt now versus before was starkly different. This must be what real, genuine love and happiness felt like. The older man would sometimes feel jealous of those who got to experience it, thinking he never would. But, here he was, and here you were.

You made him so happy, bunny. His sweet, precious angel.

"Is there anything else you want to add, bunny?" He asked, wanting to make sure you were comfortable too.

You shook your head, "No. Just, thank you for breakfast. It was yummy."

William took that as a sign that you were done and took away your tray, setting it on the nightstand, "It's no trouble at all, love. Now, come here. Let me hold you a bit."

The brit saw how you smiled as you scooted over in the bed closer to him, so pretty just for him. William leaned back against his headboard as you drew closer, wrapping his hands around your waist to pull you into his lap so that you were facing him. He took your sudden proximity as an opportunity to capture your soft, precious lips into another kiss, feeling how your hands rested on his strong shoulders. William's hands couldn't help but start to wander when he felt your heat close to him. Down your hips and waist. Down to your cute little butt, and those delicious, soft thighs.

You were still a little sloppy and timid with your kisses, but William didn't care. He was honored to be your first kiss. First time. First boyfriend. Everything. It's not like you'd ever want a different man, anyway. You were his. And only he could treat you the way you were meant to be treated. Can't you see it, little one? He already knows nearly everything about you. He did plenty of homework beforehand. Studied you. Researched you. Watched you. Planned everything just so you'd fall into his arms. He loved you. He loved you more than anything. He couldn't even put into words just how much he cherished you. And just how many times he's imagined this very moment before.

So, its okay that you're not the best kisser. Totally fine. You'll learn in time. There's plenty more kisses where this came from.

He made sure of that.

~~~

To Michael, the weekends always flew by with such speed that he barely even realized that they were there.

The brief reprieve he got from them was never nearly enough. Not even on the odd occasion that he had three-day weekends. Nothing would ever be good enough, so long as he knew as he had to go back to his damn dad's house.

Fucking hell. Michael hated his dad. He hated his dad more than anything he ever hated or will ever hate. He knew his father hated him too. He knew that when his sperm-donator looked at him, there was no love there. Michael wasn't sure if the old bastard was capable of love. There had been nothing there for all the years Michael had been alive. Nothing for him, nothing for Elizabeth, nothing for Evan, and certainly nothing for his mom. His mom was lucky, though. She was able to get out. Get a divorce and move two towns over.

But, Michael wasn't so lucky. The court had decided that his father should've gotten custody of him for whatever reason. Bull-fucking-shit. The only reason William wanted him was to keep his torture going. Michaels father knew the young man was miserable there, but didn't care.

Sick fucking bastard. No wonder mom left.

Michael had considered moving out when he was 18, but the idea was shot down nearly as quickly as he had thought it. He needed to go to college. And, his dad's place was the only thing close enough to a college. Michael couldn't afford an apartment either, not with the pitiful salary his dad gave him at the diner. So, Michael's hands were tied. He had to live with his old man.

Sick fucking bastard.

It was harder and harder each time to say goodbye to his mom and brother and sister. But Michael knew he had to, but always promised to come back next weekend. A promise he kept ever since he got his license. This time, however, seemed even harder.

The fights Michael and his father had that last week were horrible. Nearly full-on yelling matches with one another. His dad had refused to admit that he stole Michael's car keys. Mike fucking knew he did too, as much as the old geezer tried to deny it. Bastard went as far as to unplug the fucking phone from the wall too. Michael was basically on house-arrest for no goddamned reason. Michael was forced to clean the entire house too, until everything was nearly spotless.

"You're not going anywhere until this house is fit for the bloody queen, young man." His father had said.

Was this just some sick game his dad was trying to play? A new method of how he can make his son's life all the more shitty? Maybe. Knowing how he was.

But, still. Mike tried to remain optimistic. Both he and his old man had a few days to try and cool down. Have some stress-relief. Maybe Michael could just come home and they could pretend like the last week never happened. Which, he had learned, was the closest thing to an apology he would ever get from William.

Hopefully he could come home and it'd be alright.

Hopefully.

Michael had gotten out of his mom's house a little later than he wanted. By the time he had gotten home, the sun had already begun to creep down the horizon, and the cool night air had begun its trek across the whole neighborhood. Pulling up to the familiar driveway of the house, Michael was quick to notice two things at once. The first being the most obvious was the pit of dread growing in the bottom of his stomach. It was okay though, he always felt that way when he returned home from a weekend at his mom's. The other thing, however, was the fact that the lights were on outside.

How long had it been now? That Michael asked his father to leave the light on for him? It must've been years. It was a simple thing to ask for, probably the only think Michael ever asked for from his father. But, of course, William had never delivered. Ever. It was one more way William made sure Michael's life was a living hell. Show him that he will never get what he asks for, or any sort of nice things.

But yet, they were on.

Strange.

Taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts in the sanctuary of his car, Michael took a deep breath in and out of his nose, running his fingers through his combed, feathered hair. Once he was ready, he pushed open his car door and stepped out, locking it behind him. The young man then shifted his keys around in his hand as he approached the front door, eventually finding the lock and opening it.

"I'm home!" Michael called out into the empty foyer as he shut the door behind him. He looked around for a moment for any sign of his father, but saw none. Pausing for a moment, he listened for any sign of him tinkering in the basement workshop.

Nothing.

What the fuck? Where the hell was he?

Whatever. Old man was probably just at Mr. Henry's house or something. Maybe the diner. What did Michael even care, anyway? He could use this opportunity to slip into his room without a fight.

In the quietness of the house, Michael could hear how his footsteps echoed off of the wooden floors and onto the walls. It was eerie, in a way. But why? Whenever he came home from a weekend away, the house was always like this. Hell, it was like this nearly constantly, unless he or his father was using the phone, Mr. Henry was over, or there was a fight. But, that night it was just... different.

Mike didn't know what it was. Did he even want to know? He wasn't sure.

But it had to do with William. He knew that much.

Michael was smart.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Michael groaned at the sight before him on instinct. Of course he couldn't just go to his room without there being some sort of trouble. He had thought he smelled smoke in the doorway. There, at the head of the table, was the man of the hour. His dad. That stuck-up narcissistic piece of shit. The old man was surrounded by all sorts of papers, an ashtray pluming smoke with...

Was that a cigar? A fucking cigar? Michael's father only smoked those around the holidays.

What was the occasion?

Michael watched as his dad realized that his son was home, and how the slight smirk on his dumb face grew as he looked at the young man.

Hell no. Hell fucking no. Something was up.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, Michael." His father said, setting his pen down and tamping out some ash from the cigar, "You'll give your old man a heart attack."

Michael rolled his eyes, "I said I was home. Or are you going deaf now, too?"

William chuckled as he took a puff of his cigar, which made Michael's skin crawl. The fuck was his deal?

"I'm not that old, son."

"You look like it." Michael mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes.

William placed the cigar down as he took a bundle of papers into his hand, leaning back in his chair as he read them, "How was your trip?"

Okay. No. Something was definitely up now. William never ever cared about that kind of shit before. And where was all the sarcasm? And the griping? And the whining and throwing a fit? The old man was in too good of a mood tonight. He was never in a good mood when Michael came home. He hated Mike, and Mike knew that. Mike hated him too, and wasn't shy about showing it. And neither was his old man, in the past at least.

Something had to have happened. This didn't just come out of nowhere.

That bastard did something. Michael knew it.

But what?

"Since when do you care?" Mike asked, crossing his arms.

"Is it a crime to worry for your children now, hm?" William asked, a hint of sarcasm in his accented voice.

Michael rolled his eyes again, "Cut the shit, old man, I-"

"How are Elizabeth and Evan?"

"I... They're fine. Evan still carries that bear you gave him. And Liz asks about you all the time. She misses you. They both do. They wanna visit."

William's face looked indifferent about the matter, "They're always welcome. Just bring them next time you come back for the weekend."

"Yeah, bullshit they're always welcome."

William looked up from his papers and raised an eyebrow, "Someone's hostile tonight, hm? Traffic bad on the way home?"

That condescending prick. Michael was already getting heated, the redness of his freckled cheeks hard to ignore. He re-crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"I know you did something." Michael admitted matter-of-factly. From across the room, he could see his father's smirk growing ever-so slightly as he set his papers down, dipping forward to rest his arms against the dining table. The old man laced his fingers together as he looked at his eldest son.

"Do you now?" William asked, making Michael clench his jaw.

"Yes."

"And what exactly might that be? That I'm supposedly guilty of?"

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Shit. He didn't think that it'd get this far without it just turning into a screaming match. Michael didn't have any proof William did anything. Not anything that solid, at least. But it'd have to do. It was enough to convince him that his father did something, and having known that damn bastard all his life, that was enough. William probably knew that too. Knew that it was just enough to rub in Michael's face, but not enough to accuse him of anything without sounding like an asshole.

Sick fucking bastard.

"I... I don't know." Mike admitted, "But I know you did something. You never act like this when I get home."

William tsked, "Getting mad at me over nothing? Come now, Mike. You're better than that, surely. You know, you sound more and more like your mother every time you go over there. Old bat's still rubbing off on you, I see. Pity."

Michael felt his jaw clench again as he pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps closer to the table and pointing his finger at the old man.

"Do not bring mum into this!" Michael exclaimed through clenched teeth. "You did something and I just know it! Cut the shit already!"

"I'm still waiting to hear what something is, Michael." William said, not moving an inch, "Whatever it is you can tell me. You know I'll apologize for it."

That fucking liar. Michael's dad never apologized for shit in his entire life. And he fucking knew that too. Michael's vision was starting to go red.

"You never ask how Liz or Evan are! And you left the fucking light on after I asked you for years to leave it on and you never did!" Michael was raising his voice a bit more than he wanted, "You're just... different! And I know that damn look! You did some shit, I know it!"

William sighed and leaned back again in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Michael, I'm not in the mood to do this with you right now."

"Bullshit! You want this to happen!"

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because that's what you fucking do!"

"Do what?"

"You fucking start shit because-"

"I didn't start anything, Michael. You're the one that's angry here."

Michael had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from yelling, running his hands through his hair as he let out a laugh of disbelief.

"I can't fucking believe this..." He said.

"I can't either, Michael." William responded as he stood up from his chair, gathering his papers and tamping out his cigar, "And to think I deserve all this, after just trying to be nice to you..."

"But you're not! You're just-"

William held up a hand as he looked down at his son with a disappointed expression, cutting him off, "Save it, Mike. It's late, you should just go to bed, yeah? You're just tired from the drive. I'll be in the basement."

Michael watched in disbelief as his father made his way across the kitchen without another word, opening the door to the cellar and closing it behind him. How fucking dare that old piece of shit walk out on him like that. Goddamn it, he knew what he was fucking doing. He knew. He always fucking knew. He was just trying to fuck with Michael again. Play another one of his stupid fucking games and make Mike's life a living nightmare.

But Michael wouldn't give up so easily. No, he wouldn't he couldn't.

He had to know what his father did. He had to.

He needed proof.

And the proof was here. Somewhere.

After listening for a moment longer, when Mike was sure that his father was down situated in his workshop, the young man got to work.

If he was going to find some sort of proof, it had to be somewhere where William didn't think that Michael would look. Or, it was somewhere where William knew Michael would think would be too obvious of a place to look. But it could be both at once. Michael knew that was probably the case. William was smart, he had to admit, and knew how to hide things well. But Michael was smarter. And had the advantage of putting up with the old brit's bullshit for his entire life. He knew how William operated. Or, at least, could make a good guess of it. In the past, he had to find other things using the same logic.

The best place to start would be narrowing down possibilities.

His father's room would be too obvious. It definitely wouldn't be there. Bedrooms are the first place people stashed important items to them. So that they were near, and felt safe knowing that whatever they were trying to hide was in a safe space. William's bedroom was always neat and tidy too. Everything had a very specific place, and William almost never added or removed from his inventory of things. It would be too easy of a place.

Definitely not there.

The workshop was too obvious as well. It was like William's second room in a way. The old bastard often slept in there when he was working on a new project. It was just as tidy, too, save for the workbench. Proof wouldn't be down there either. Besides, Mike didn't like going there too much. It was creepy.

Not there either.

Could it be Michael's room? No, certainly not. That was too much of a risk that Mike would just find it on accident. Maybe in Liz's room or Evan's? No, for the same reasons. In the kitchen? Maybe. There were a lot of drawers and cupboards to stash things in, especially in the ones that were only used once or twice a year during the holidays. The living room was a possibility too. There were lots of nooks and crannies to store things in. Hell, knowing his father, if he really wanted to hide something, he could even go so crazy as to rip apart floorboards or tiles and hide things underneath them. William always took pride in his house and the fact that he owned it, and could do whatever he wanted to the things that he owned. Controlling piece of shit.

But, even still, all these possibilities didn't seem right. They didn't feel right to Michael. He had to think. What was the most on-brand thing that William could do to hide something. Think, Mike, think.

The bathroom? No. The diner? No, too far out of the way. Mr. Henry's place? No, too far still. Outside? No...

Suddenly, it hit him. Michael felt his lips part at the revelation.

What is the most visited room in the house that you don't think twice about going in to? Or what's in there? A place where you can easiest hide things in plain sight, because no one ever pays attention.

Bingo.

The laundry room.

Michael quickly made his way over to the room, flicking on the light switch as he entered. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place from when he last went in there. As expected, however. This was only a ruse to throw him off, Michael knew.

The first thing he did was tear open the cabinets above the washer and dryer, digging through all the contents to find something, anything. Nothing. He even went as far as to push on the backside of the wood, feeling for any pieces that broke off into secret tunnels. Nothing.

Bullshit. It had to be here.

Michael next checked the two hampers that stood next to the machines, digging all the way down and shifting through all the clothes inside of them.

Nothing.

Bullshit.

Michael knew that he was close. He could feel it, taste it on the tip of his tongue. It was here. He knew it was. Whatever his father was trying to hide from him, it was here.

Think, Michael, think.

Hidden in plain sight... in plain sight...

In sight.

Inside.

Bingo.

Michael spun around and knelt down in front of the washer and dryer, opening the washer first. Inside, a wet, dark pile of his father's clothes greeted him, and Michael sneered. Although the clothes inside were damp, it didn't stop him from pulling each and every last article of clothing, inspecting each and every one of them, and even pulling out all the pockets of the trousers and coat. Eventually, the young man reached the last article of clothing and threw it to the floor.

Nothing. It had to be the dryer.

Shifting his weight to his other knee, Michael opened up the dryer door. Inside, another dark pile of his father's clothes greeted him, although this batch wasn't wet like the other one. Still, Michael took his time pulling out every single article of clothing and checked it thoroughly, discarding it to the ground if it was of no use.

Quickly, Mike was able to reach halfway into the pile of clothes. Reaching in to grab another pair of dress-pants, Michael noticed a contrast of fabric within the pile. His grey eyes gravitated towards it immediately.

His father didn't wear things like that. He was an old-fashioned, dress-to-impress person.

That wasn't his father's.

Reaching in, Michael grabbed the article of clothing. It was soft and plush, but still felt like it had a lot of history to it. It felt used, and loved and cared for. It felt like it missed whoever owned it.

Michael pulled out the garment and turned it over in his hands. It took him a moment to process what it was exactly he was looking at, but when he realized, he felt his blood run cold.

It was a jacket.

He knew this jacket.

He went to classes with this jacket. He skipped classes with this jacket. He went to lunch with this jacket. He drove in the neighborhood with this jacket. He joked around with this jacket. He did homework with it. He called it on the phone. He gossiped with it. Hugged it. Squeezed it. Cared for it.

This was a jacket he knew.

Your jacket.

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000 , @artist-anon08 , @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

if i missed you pls lmk!!

[skazoo]

slow and blue and endless.

↳ kim taehyung x f!reader

someone stared at you through the window. you had always felt safe in your own home, shutting out the scary, real world. but a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily.

length. 1.7k

genre. angst, yandere

warnings/tags. language, obsessive behavior, implied stalking, yandere themes, mind break, emotional manipulation, love bombing(?), mention of mental illnesses, physical violence, kinda gruesome allusion to murder, dark themes overall, minors advised to dni.

networks. none for this.

notes. [THIS IS A REPOST BC TUMBLR TAGS WON'T WORK AND I ALMOST CRIED<;3]

GAH these photos are so 80s serial killer making a creepy videotape that's gonna get edited in a true crime documentary coded...... i know you're seeing my vision, i KNOW it.... anywayyyyyy this is kinda not proofread, and i wrote it while i was supposed to be studying for my exams a while back!! because when am i inspired if not when i shouldn't be?? i hope you like it and i swear something is almost ready for me to publish please wait a little longer (for my engenes and atiny besties)

⚠️ it goes without saying that i in no way condone any obsessive/stalking/creepy/violent behavior and despite this being "x reader" i'm not in any way romanticizing anything i'm writing. also this, as you all know, is fiction and names are merely a narrating mean. ⚠️

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

in a way you’ve always loved him. he knows. you don’t even have to say it out loud for him to be happy. 

but sometimes it feels like you take him for granted. sometimes you make him really, really angry and that, he can’t let pass. and it's not for his sake but for yours. always everything for you. he has to make you understand that there are things you can’t do if you want to stay safe from the outside world. safe from him, sometimes.

running away is one of those ugly, wretched things you know well he hates, and he slams you against the wall and drags you back through the front door into the house by your hair, he bashes your head on the kitchen counter, near the fire of the stove he’s been preparing lunch with to make you understand a concept you're apparently too dumb to grasp.

“what the fuck did i tell you about running, uh?” seething with undiluted rage .

“i just wanted to go outside, tae. i swear!”

“i said what the fuck did i tell you about running!? do you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?!” his voice booms inside the walls of your head, an endless echo that makes bitter tears gather at the back of your eyes and spill over.

your face is burning. tongues of fire lick at your cheeks, a scorching caress that reminds you of taehyung's. his palm always leaves a brand behind, reminding him and yourself that he’s there. 

your hands scramble for his in a miserable attempt to lessen his hold. “i’m sorry, tae! so sorry, please! please!”

his closed fist in your hair pushes your head closer to the heat. “i’ll fucking kill you if i have to, you know that right–” it’s not a question, merely a promise, but you nod anyway, frantically, desperately– “they’ll never stop finding your body, baby. do you understand?” he screams and shakes you with his hands tight in your hair when you only cry in response.

“i said,” leaning in, mouth brushing over your ear. chills go down your back as his voice turns sickeningly mellow as if he’s whispering sweet nothings instead of threats, “do you understand?”

“yes! yes! god, yes i understand! tae, i’m so sorry! it’s all my fault! it’s all my fault!”

your mindless babbles seem to humor him and he moves your head at a safer distance. “and why is that?”

“ ‘twas my fault! i put myself in danger if i run. tae, please! i’m so sorry!” 

and you cry and cry and cry until you have nothing to give. until there’s only emptiness in your head that’s resting on his shoulder. until his shushes really feel reassuring. until he sits you down at the table to eat the lunch he prepared, the one that was so close to killing you. you nibble on it, too weak to really even taste the flavors.

he breaks the empty silence between you with a question. you startle at the sound of his voice and force your heavy eyes to focus on him.

“aren't you curious? about why i chose you?”

“no.”

he scrunches his eyebrows and regards you with a slightly displeased look that has you shrinking back on your chair. 

“but i want to tell you…” he whines.

you don’t say anything about his antics. despite him behaving like a child you’re terrified of what his reaction would be if you actually treated him like one, so you press your lips together and wait. 

“i like people that like me.” and it’s so simple how he says it. obvious, even.

“but why do you think i like you?” quietly, meekly.

he seems to like the question, his boxy smile one full of teeth that in other circumstances you would have found endearing. now it only makes him look like a predator, an animal, drool dribbling down his fangs, jaw ready to snap close around your neck if —and ultimately, when— you say or do the wrong thing. 

“oh, i was so happy, Y/N,” he coos, your name curling in his mouth with ease, as if you’re always been around each other, as if it belongs there, “that when i chose you, you came with me.”

your mouth gapes open at the absurdity of it all. you wonder if he really thinks that you wanted all of this, that you wanted to be taken from your home. you’d ask your old psychology professor if you’d be correct to label him as a narcissist of sorts. a man with too much power, and free time, and loneliness to exhaust all on himself that he had to go around looking for a scapegoat for his secret misery.  

“i didn’t– i didn’t come to you, taehyung. i didn’t have a choice.”

“so you were almost forced to come?”

“no,” it comes out more as a question than an answer and you lower your head in search of a way to rationalize the conversation at hand, “i was completely forced–”

“that’s what you tell yourself,” he retorts before you can even finish your sentence.

“it’s what i know is true,” you spit somewhat offended by his insinuation.  

his smile is a sick thing when you raise your head from the food on your plate —cold and uninviting. the smell alone makes you want to throw up. 

“are you sure?”

your anger leaves space for an unnerving sense of confusion. “what does that– what?”

your frown deepens as you watch him play around with his lunch. you follow his hands pushing back his glasses on his nose. the sick look of complacency that dances on his face seems to speak words that make the hairs at the back of your neck raise in dreadful anticipation. i know something about you that you don’t, his eyes say, and that alone is enough to make you want to scream.

he knows nothing!, you’d be shouting to the usually calm neighborhood, i haven’t told him anything about myself. he can’t know anything! he knows nothing! he knows nothing! you’d holler to the kids walking home from school hand in hand with their mothers who’d be looking at you with contempt, unaware of who lives among them. a wolf in sheep's clothing that could easily make you look like a psychopath. 

you’d do it, you swear to yourself that you’d do it all if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve got the inkling fear that you’ve truly gone mad. the doubt that crawls on your back and makes its way in your ears, slithering then, with much glee into your delusional brain.

how long have you been in this house? his house or the one you bought together once you finished college? did you meet him on a slow rainy day outside a coffee shop or did you catch him staring at you from the window before he broke in and took you from your bed, leaving behind torn sheets and a broken frame with a picture of your friends? does your mind deceive you? are you sane? is he?

it feels like you've had this exact same conversation with him an infinite number of times, always stuck in a loop of unease and sadness that you really can’t explain. loving looks sent your way melt into scary grimaces sometimes and all you can feel is guilt because that’s tae. your tae. the man you chose, the man that chose you.

you realize your vacant eyes are crying when you feel a thumb swipe your cheek with a gentleness that makes your stomach churn in disgust and again a voice tells you that there’s something wrong with you.

“baby, are you alright?”

the way you look at him does nothing to the sick warmth brewing in his stomach. your shiny little doe eyes peeking up at him from under wet lashes, asking for forgiveness that taehyung would never deny you. nose red from the frustration of being lost in your own mind and mouth parted as if to ask him to show you the way, the truth that you seem to have lost.

he stands up and rounds the table to you for you to bury your head in his chest. sobs shake your tired form.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i swear everything it’s okay. it happens to forget.”

“i’m sorry, tae,” you plead through broken breaths. “i’m so sorry, please.”

he shushes you. lips plant themselves in the crown of your head, a hand rubs at your back soothingly.  

later, in the late evening, you lie in your bed. a bed. the sheets smell of him and the air you breathe does not feel like the one you're used to, but you’re calm. you think you are. maybe.

soft snores sound from behind you and you attempt to turn your head to make sure it’s him. 

“tae?” you let out a whisper. not one that expects itself to be heard.

“yeah?” voice hoarse from sleep.

“nothing.”

he buries his nose in the hair at the nape of your neck, inhaling the shampoo he bought for you. “what?”

“just wanted to make sure you were still here.”

“i’m always here, baby.”

you hum.

minutes pass slowly, like molasses, as if the hand of the seconds inside the alarm on your nightstand is fighting an invisible force, a wall of rubber that threatens to bounce time back. you think he’s fallen back asleep. breath slowing, chest heaving, lulling you to slumber.

you close your eyes. “tae?”

he doesn’t answer. a car alarm sounds from outside the closed curtains, its prolonged blaring bringing a certain agitation in your otherwise silent night. a breath of summer wind leaves bumps on your skin in its wake. you sigh and his arms tighten around your torso. an unconscious gesture, soft, loving.

“i dream of you–” you let your words sink into the air, into the boiling water you carry around in your lungs that doesn’t let you breathe properly, and you shiver again but not from the chill bite of the wind “–and it’s slow, and blue, and endless.”

behind you, taehyung’s mouth stretches into a smile.

in a way, you’ve always loved him. he’s certain of it now as he was before. and even if you didn’t, he will always make sure to make it a reality, one way or the other. wether you want it or not.

taglist: @taevestr @fa1ryjoons @vcutvante

[scottxlogan]

Helllloooozzz I got really into scogan recently and because people never tag it it’s been hard to find domestic family fics for them and family fics are my favourite thing like, ever, and there’s only so many times a kitty like me can attempt to sift thru the mpreg tag to find something readable before it’s noggin goes a bit loose, so have ya got any recs ?? ^w^ I’ve looked up so many rec lists but no one lists family fics specifically :’3

Welcome to the fandom! You'll find a lot of really nice people here who will be able to point you in the direction of what you're looking for as there are some who probably know better than I do. If you're looking to chat with other fans there's a Scogan Events discord at https://discord.gg/FmJ24gFJ6X that takes part in a Scogan related bingo for writing, art, etc and other small events all year long. Plus, there's some great people to chat about Scogan with too if you're looking to interact with others who love the ship.

As for recs, I'm going to throw this out here for some of my followers to see if they have some favorites that might help you find what you're looking for. Off hand I know that Tweedle has written a few family fics with Scogan. They're up at her AO3 page at https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiAnLake/. In terms of my own stories, I know I've done a few and I'll list them below. I'm sure I'm missing some, but if anyone else has some recs/suggestions, please help me out here and add them for @beepmeowz if you can.

My fics (off hand that I can think of them. Not all are domestic fluff, but I'm sure some of my followers here can help out with the list of family stories)

Working It Out (One Shot/Rated T) Logan's stressed after finding Laura with a new companion who wants to be more than friends. Scott does his best to calm his husband down after Logan tries to follow Scott's approach to parenting.

Gone Forever (Multi-Chapter/Rated E) After the events of The Wolverine, Logan goes on a journey of his own to discover truths about the life he put behind him. An accident, a run in from a face from his past and a misunderstanding lead him closer to the truth he'd been seeking out, but will it be the key to his ending or his happily ever after? (This story features Scott as a single parent to a young Nathan as Logan finds himself finding love and embracing the family that was always just out of his reach)

Saturday Morning (One Shot/Rated G) Logan takes a moment to reflect on the blessings he's been given in his life.

We're All Different Now (One Shot/Rated M) When a mysterious woman from the future enlists Logan's help to change the past by saving Charles Xavier's life, Logan finds himself back in time at a pivotal place in time. With his mission to save Charles in mind Logan finds himself distracted by his feelings for Scott Summers, a man he loved and lost years before Logan was given a second chance to make things right. Armed with the mission to change only the fate of Charles and nothing else, Logan is torn between doing what was asked of him and following his heart to find a way to make things right with the one man he'd been forced to face a lifetime without the first time around. Will the second time around prove to be a means of repairing the damage that was done or will Scott and Logan's ill-fated romance repeat the same pattern with disastrous consequences?

And finally this one is a WIP series with a one shot and a multichapter, but it doesn't have a lot of family stuff yet as I have it still working out but it is a series that takes place after the movie Logan where Logan is still alive and finds his way back to Scott and Laura if you will.

It's up at

Scott makes a bold decision to resurrect his fallen lover, but in bringing Logan back to life, will it prove to be the key to saving the future or the key to destruction for humanity and mutants alike? How will Logan adjust to his return to a world that moved on in his absence?:

[alphawolfstabs]

ALPHAWOLFSTABS - BILLY

gifs not mine ~ Through cuts and wounds it often flows, In whispers only blood bestows, A story etched in shades of red, Of every tear and word unsaid.

Meet the Blogger:

Howdy, hello, hi. My names Billy, He/Him pronouns only, I'm incredibly autistic so this is a friendly autistic space. DNI if you're a minor, no TERFs allowed, and basic DNI criteria.

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Writer, Gore Lover/Analysis, Billy Loomis Coded. You've been warned

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Disclaimer for my page:

18+

gore/violence

talks of abuse, sometimes

talks of drugs and alcohol, not often

mental illness

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I will always put warnings on what I post, always! I'll put warnings and a cut so everyone can avoid being triggered on my page. But please, do mind the tags I put and please stay safe here on my page. While things I talk about may be upsetting, I do not wish to upset or trigger anyone on here. Please please please, keep yourself safe on my page.

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My Fics:

Animosity: A pre-scream - current scream fic! Slow updating, very gay stuilly. A tad bit inspired by Sharps Debaser but it's not really all that similar, I assure you.

Crimson Moon: Stu discovers he's a werewolf and Billy needs to help him figure out how to navigate. [Unfinished/no longer being updated. However, Cereal occasionally draws Werewolf Stu, that's the art that inspired this. Go check that out]

Fangs Of Insatiable Longing: Vampire Billy, Human Stu. Billy has to learn to navigate this world, Stu helps him, still follows the plot of Scream with a few added things. Slow updates.

Shut My Brain Off, But Keep Me Breathing: Submissive Billy Loomis with Dom Stu, this one is very self indulgent.

The Vexation: A crack ship fic with Doug Van Housen and Billy Loomis. Slow updates.

To The Edge, Until We All Get Off: Sub Top Stu with Dom bottom Billy. It's Stu's birthday and Billy gets him a present, not super long but really nice.

You Like It Rough, But I Like It Rougher: Pure Smut, lots of blood and knives in this one. Be safe reading this.

Winged Insect, Funeral Pyre: Prison fic au, Billy is in prison but it's more of a rehabilitaion centre, focuses on his relationship with his mind, and the stupidly cute CO he likes a little too much.

JOYRIDE: Stuilly Week day one, bodyswap au, also short but fluffy

"Partner In Time": Stuilly week day two, timeloop au, Billy gets stuck in a timeloop and everytime he dies, he wakes back up in the kitchen with Sidney and Stu

Sailor Song: Stuilly week day three, ghost au. Billy lives after the massacre, Stu doesn't.

Domesticated.: Stuilly week day four, a survivor modern au, set in 2024. Not long, but it's purely fluff

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Up Coming Fics:

Malevolent Trinity: A soon-to-be Fic with Doug Van Housen + Stuilly. It will follow the plot of Scream, just with Doug added.

Unlikely Desires: A College Stuilly fic, in which Billy looks like Vincent from As Good As It Gets And Stu looks like like Tim LaFlour

Lost Years: A Team Loomis fic with Sam and Billy, Billy is alive and Sam kinda hates his guts but they get closer and become a good pair.

A Serpents' Song: A Fic sorta based around river dale, does include Stu.

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Requests:

I do take Drabble requests! If anyone is ever feeling up for me to write them something I will work on it slowly but surely. On top of that, I am starting Commissions soon for my fics. So if anyone is also up for that, keep it in mind for later down the road.

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Easy Links:

Stuilly Head Canons

Autistic Billy Loomis

Funny Scream Text Posts

Scream Script Thoughts

Drabbles

Poems

Stuilly Week 2024

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Additional:

My Carrd - This shows my name, my interests, and rules for my blog. :)

My Discord: Alphawolfstabs. Be careful

Letterboxd: AlphaWolfStabs or Here, Mostly horror movies to be honest. I am a Horror Movie nerd, I apologize