#*gritting my teeth* i’ve never seen shoes i’ve wanted so badly before

[butcheranons]

Bad Influence

summary: You love Bad more than anything else; well, maybe not as much as The Egg, but he’s up there. 

Unbeknownst to you, he hides his true nature with the kindest human eyes you’d ever seen. 

word count: 2.8k

A/N: this was once a drabble  👍 👍 (no beta we die like wilbur)

warnings: unprotected sex, somewhat exhibitionism (if you count the egg as a voyeur), overstimulation, breeding kink if you squint, too many pet names.

anatomy: gender neutral 

“Bit higher," You raise your hands along with your words, guiding the two men holding the decorative banner. “Perfect.“

“Where do these chairs go?” Turning your head at the new voice, you frown at the state of the furniture.

“What are these?”

“Dinner chairs.”

“They sure don’t like the ones I ordered.”

“What? They’re exactly as you requested, black dining chairs with red cushioning.”

“Red?!” You scoff, “I ordered black iron with crimson cushions! This is cherry! What are we? A picnic?!” You roll your eyes.

“C’mon, no one will notice the difference, just take these we have a lot of work to do.”

Your neck snaps at the sound, raised eyebrows as you hum, expecting him to say something else, but alas, he doubled down.

"I said: Just take em', we have five other deliveries today."

"What?!" There's this little pang of annoyance that sets on your nape, leaving your muscles sore at the thought of having to deal with lazy workers. "I have paid upfront."

He rolls his eyes.

"You insolent little thing..." Gritting your teeth, you look around before stepping forward, "Take these back or you and your bosses will hear from me. I will not let this pass. How dare you?!"

"Man... Why do you have to complicate, it's already paid for, just fuckin' take it."

"Language...!"

You hear a chime from behind and your shoulders relax, turning around there's this heat that creeps up your body when your eyes meet his.

"What's wrong, my little muffin?" His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest and letting his warmth envelop your body. He never failed to surprise you with how warm he was; constantly.

"Oh, sugar bear," You whine, tangling your fingers into his. "This is the end of the world! I asked for black iron with crimson cushioning and look at this disaster!"

He nods, a bit confused, trying to differentiate between the shades, but feeling your upsetness. "Cupcake, why don't you go manage the catering samples while I sort this out? I'm sure you will love the red velvet cake, I sure did!"

A wide smile breaks out on your lips, you give him a kiss on the cheek before running off to the kitchen, nothing but sweet red velvet cake and cherry pies on your mind. Welcomed by the scent of whipped cream and lemonade you're carried by your stomach to the caterer holding the delicacies.

Your tasting is interrupted by the loud banging of metal outside and you consider scolding your lazy workers, but give your attention to the cake samples instead.

You're sampling the chocolate red velvet with cherry frosting when Bad bursts through the doors, wiping his face with the crimson handkerchief you'd gifted him last anniversary. A sweet smile fills your face, "Honeypie, try this one!"

When his eyes meet yours, your heart fills with a sugary coating that seeps through your veins and directly into your brain, "I've had my filling, which one is your favourite?"

Humming, you let your body rest against his, "Mhm... Chocolate is the best, by far... But lemon is so good!"

"You've got a little bit of whipped cream..." His whispers are hot against your lips before he captures them, tongue flicking across the corners and to your cheek.

The heat in your body is noticeable.

"Thanks..."

"Mhm... This one is the best."

You giggle, slapping his chest, "You're so corny–"

"Only for you, my little blueberry muffin."

When the workers leave, the hall is a dazzling ruby tone all over, the vines seem to almost glow in pride, cascading from the ceiling like a blood waterfall. You wade through the floor they carefully polished, carpet over the dining room muffling your steps.

"Oh, it's perfect, honey bun!"

Bad gleams in joy, rushing to your side, admiring you almost as much as he adores the vines. "I was worried they wouldn't make it in time, but it's perfect."

"What about the mechanisms?"

"Ah, yes, Ant did a great job, come, look..." He holds your hand, pulling you through the hallway leading to the the egg. "We'll have them step right here," pointing to a large tile on the ground, he pulls a lever, which quickly raises it about two feet above your head. "And then it's just, wack!" His hands swing around in an attack motion and you smile.

Your heart palpitates at the thoughts of watching the sacrifice, having the best seat. From the raised position, the blood would splatter all over the watchers, a cloud of beautiful crimson falling at their heads.

"Oh...my almond cookie, this is beautiful! The Egg will be so proud!"

Bad chuckles at your praise, letting himself blush. He pulls the lever to lower back the platform as to leave everything in place.

You take a step forward, the heels of your shoes announce your movement. Standing at the centre, you face the egg, an unnatural warmth fills your chest. You pull at your blouse to appease your brain, though you know it wouldn't help. When your eyes meet Bad's, you can see his breath hitch, he makes it out as a cough.

"Join me, sugar bear!" You reach out your arms, eyes reflecting the red of everything around you.

Bad doesn't hesitate to follow your orders, pulling the lever and running across to catch the platform as it rises above the ground. You catch him in your arms, hands gliding across his chest and nape, he shivers under your touch.

"Do you want to give The Egg a show, muffin?'

Your pulse is so fast you believe anyone would be able to hear it, human or not. "Yes..." You nod, voice too breathless for the lack of action. The smile that catches his lips is almost demonic, and your chest craves him. His hands tease at your chest and you melt into his touch, "Please..."

"If you ask so nicely..." His whispers fall deaf in your ears but cut deep into your skin, burrowing in goosebumps along your body. "...Then I can't refuse."

When your lips meet his, it's sweet.

Sweeter than anything else you could ever wish for and you want to get lost in his kisses.

He holds you gently, but below the delicate fingers, there's this firmness that makes your heart stop. You know no one else could ever pry you off his arms and you're not opposed to the idea of being with him, on him 24/7.

Tongue exploring your mouth, you moan, hands occupied with fistfuls of his white dress shirt. You tug at the golden buttons, wanting nothing but to feel his chest on yours, let his body heat consume you and lull you into comfort.

"Do you trust me, muffin?"

You nod, your eyes glazed in lust can barely focus on his at this point. Bad smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead, he inhales your taste, your scent, your everything.

And then, he pushes you off the platform.

You feel the way your heart immediately jumps at the sight of danger, there's this cold that pools in your stomach and runs through your body, lowering your body temperature.

And before you know, you... fall?

But you don't meet the ground.

When you open your eyes, you're met with the under view of Bad's prideful grin. The vines around your arms feel hot, too hot. But they lift you up until you're in his reach again.

"Hi..." You breathe out, your heart still too unsettled to spot pounding in your chest.

You thought you'd die, or at least, get badly injured. Not that you didn't trust him, but maybe he made some errors in his calculations.

But then, again, if he wished for you to fall without the vines this time, you probably would.

And Bad pulls you in his arms, nose brushing against yours and you wonder how would ever doubt your little muffin?

"Did I scare you too much?" He caresses your cheeks, brushing your hair away from your face with so much adoration in his eyes you feel like a deity.

"No... just a little jumpscare."

He chuckles, kissing your nose softly, "Good."

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting his body flush against yours and fit you so perfectly. But you know you wish for a little bit more; after so much adrenaline, you feel some little... cravings.

And as if he read your mind, his hands wander your body, reaching for your waist with a little bit more force than usual. His fingers have no difficulty taking care of your belt or pants, he picked them out, anyway.

You let yourself loose in his kisses, your own fingers lost in his hair, pulling around the corners you know he likes a bit too much just so you get to hear his sugary moans. You devour each and every noise that escapes his throat.

Before you know, he’s got you in just your underwear. His lips leave yours for a second to take your hand and spin you around.

You don’t let go of the glisten in his eyes as he looks you up and down, tongue grazing over his lips hungrily. He could eat you up and it’d never be enough. No time with you would ever be enough.

Bad spins you just enough so now you’re facing the egg once again, back pressed tightly to his chest. His breathing bounces off your neck, making you swallow dry, hands nervous down your sides, wanting to touch him and feel him up—

“Look at how pretty you are, my little peanut,” His tongue glides along your cheek to reach your earlobe. “The Egg is so pleased with how beautiful you are... Let’s show your even prettier faces, should we?”

You nod, melting into his arms as his hands graze along your body; from your chest to your waist to your hips. His long fingers play with the band of your underwear, torturing you just so he can have the little whines that escape your throat unconsciously. When you reach behind your shoulder to pull and tangle his hair he chuckles along your skin.

His fingers are on you, skilfully reaching for the most sensitives places of your body. And you arch into his touch, leaving your neck fully exposed for him to nibble and suckle.

Your skin, otherwise perfect, is blemished with the traces of him.

Your lips crash against his, this time, more passionate than ever, all while his fingers don't lose their pace.

You're near your climax, your stomach churning around his fingers but it's worthless coming if it's not on him.

"Bad... Pudding, I need you..." It's a needy half-moan.

"Tell me the magic word, bombon..." His lips graze along your shoulder and you know, you feel it in your back how much he needs you, too. His face is completely flushed, the heat spread across his cheeks only rival your own heat, throbbing and needy.

"Please, baby, please... Give me–.... Please, I need you. Fuck me–"

The lustful smirk that takes over is by far not of his nature but you were his little bad influence.

"Mhmm..." Bad sings along your skin, one hand placed over your stomach and another on your shoulder blades.

He bends you over, the vines quickly tightening their grip over your arms; letting you hang as if you were laying down. While busy with his buckle and pants, he let his eyes fuck you over and over, the way your back looks to him, the faint red glow that touches your skin; You turn your head around and there's this lust, this yearning that grows on your belly.

Because Bad's otherwise kind, honey-brown eyes have now turned a devilish crimson.

His hands are rough when they pull off his pants, soon, coming around his cock, rock-solid and bright red. You wrongly assumed it might have been the redness of the room bouncing off his pale skin. There's a part of your brain that believes he's even bigger than you remembered though you chuck it to the amount of time it has been since your last.

You watch the inhuman amount of precum that drips from his glande and over his fingers, your mouth watering, tongue unconsciously running over your lips. Your reaction makes him chuckle.

Positioning himself at your entrance, his other hand leaves marks across your hips, holding you more firmly than he'd ever had. Not that you were complaining.

The tip goes in effortlessly, leaving behind this stretch that fills every particle of your being and clouds your thoughts with the ache of his cock. You hear him hiss, hands curling around your skin, leaving fingerprints all over. You're sure you will be admiring them tomorrow.

"So tight–" He hisses once again, "So, so tight– Just for me..."

Your eyes are rolling around in their sockets when he finally bottoms out, seemingly infinite in your canal. His fingers drag along your spine, ever so kindly letting you adjust before moving, even if his instincts are begging him otherwise.

When the expansion settles, you're unknowingly rolling your hips toward his, the grip of the vines making it harder to take control. But he lets ouch a soft chuckle, an adoring look sweeps his eyes for a second, so proud of your boldness. You were always a go-getter.

He is painfully slow, taking in every second of it, hitting your walls with a determination that makes you moan out incoherent strings of what you believed were words.

The sounds that erupt from his throat are feral and inhuman by nature, settling in every inch of your bones and activating your flight or flee instincts. You wondered if the third instinct was fuck.

Your chest dips down, the vines now holding your arms above your head while Bad's grip on your hips don't falter, instead, the new angle allowing him to speed up his thrusts; not losing any of the strength. Your brain is filled only by him and how amazing he feels in you.

He moans your name along with praises of how well you're taking him and you wonder just how in the world could he make such a sinful sequence of words sound so heavenly. Alas, you don't give much thought, your brain once again being quickly clouded with his cock and only his cock.

Bad pulls your waist, letting your back meet his chest. This position only heightens every touch of his, you’re so close, so warm, so good...

"The Egg isn't liking how quiet you are, sugar plum..."

You smile, stuck between watching the hypnotic crimson and the eyes of your adoring lover that swallows your moans.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer,

You will show The Egg how good Bad is to you.

"Bad, honey– Uh– I'm–"

"I know, muffin," His whispers are a caress along your ears, lulling you into your release.

You scream his name, the moans bouncing off the spongy walls of the cave and returning to your ears, you feel the way his grip tightens around your hips, the way you're milking him doesn't help how hard he's trying to hold back, prolong his time with you as much as he can.

"You're so good for me, just one more, babycakes..."

Every inch of your skin feels hot to the touch, even more than before. It's like you're on fire and freezing cold at the same time, each part that touches his body is a million times more sensitive. You feel each and every millimetre of his moves, the pleasure echoing around your body in waves.

"I don't know if I can." You shake your head, barely being able to think at this point, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"Shh... You can, you're so good for me... So tight... You take me so well."

"Fill me up, pumpkin... Please, fill me up to the brim, let me feel you–", you moan, "–Fill me up so much I'm dripppin'!"

Oh, your Bad was too good for you.

His words are what tip you over the edge, getting him to catch his own climax. His hands don't leave your body, his lips coming to kiss all over your neck and jaw.

You melt into his touch, the vines releasing your arms and legs so you can collapse into him. He catches your body, coming to a sit and letting you sprawl over his chest, your hands reaching out to caress his hair.

"My little naughty cookie, if you spill one drop I'll have to fill you all over again..."

You giggle into his kisses, "Oh, no!" you exclaim sarcastically, giggling in between your words. He laughs, kissing your cheeks and forehead and everywhere he can get his lips on. Because you deserve so much, heavens, you're just perfect and you take him so well and you were made for him–

You feel loved.

You watch the glow of the vines brighten for a second and you both hum knowingly.

The Egg has been fed.

After all, there is a reason why orgasms were called "The little death."

[terrifictomholland]

Bound to you - TH x reader x HO

This is a beast and very very filthy. Please don’t read this if you are a minor.

Warnings: smut! oral sex (female and male) multiple orgasms, vibrators, dirty talk/derogatory language (occasional slut made it’s way into this) - it’s really just gratitious amounts of smut and sex really!

word count: Just shy over 4K 

a/n - this is +18!  Also I just wanted to really quickly say that this isn’t something that comes from just myself, ideas and inspirations for this have come from a select few people. I hope they know that they mean very, very much to me and that this fic wouldn’t be what it is without them. 

This was the prompt that prompted this: harisson absolutely destroying my pussy giving me the fuck of my life while my boyfriend tom is sat in a chair in the corner forced to get off using his hand and nothing else. 

without further ado! Please enjoy! 

I’ve got a guest for you princess,” Tom cooed at you as your eyes drifted toward Harrison entering your bedroom. Your throat went dry as your eyes darted between Tom’s and Harrison’s.

“W-what’s this?” You gulped as you tugged on your arms that were restrained against the bed frame.

“You gonna show me how good you can be?” Harrison’s low timbre broke through the room and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on it. His hand lightly caressing your inner thigh, teasing. You squeezed your legs together as his fingers danced all over them, almost brushing over your aching pussy but never quite. You knew from his touch that you were in for one hell of a night which hadn’t even begun yet.

Your eyes moved to Tom, who gave you a small nod and an encouraging smile, giving you all the permission you needed. “I’ll be so good for you Haz,” The words tumbled from your lips like a prayer. His eyes flashed as a devilish smirk crossed his face.

“Yeah? You gonna let me fuck you until begging me to stop - keep you cumming til’ you’re nothing but a cum-drunk slut for me?” Your throat went dry and you felt the wetness pool in your core hearing his promise and you found yourself eagerly nodding your head. 

Harrison’s gaze moved over to Tom, “First.. I’m gonna have to do something about that,” He pointed towards Tom and you bit your lip hearing the tiny squeak that Tom let out.

“Chair,” Harrison demanded with the flick of his wrist and Tom quickly obliged. Sitting down prettily on the chair in the corner of the room awaiting further instructions, hands obediently in his lap, watching the two of you. You couldn’t help but feel arousal surge through you seeing Tom being so submissive and the way he just let go and trusted Harrison enough to do that within such a short amount of time.

Just like that, Harrison turned his attention back to you and you looked up into his eyes. His energy sucked you right in and you wanted to do whatever he asked of you. Never had you wanted to please someone as badly as you wanted to please Harrison in this moment.

“Now...I think I’ll have a bit of fun with you,” 

You let out a quiet whimper and you felt your wetness seep down your thighs.

“Tom, where does she keep her vibrators?” Harrison wasn’t fucking about and it was sending shivers down your spine in anticipation. You could hear the blood rush in your ears and your heart beating faster.

“Small shoebox in the closet,” Tom piped up, his own breathing coming out in short puffs letting you know that he was equally as turned on and curious to see what Harrison would do to you. 

You watched Tom for a bit as Harrison disappeared into the closet, from the way his chest was heaving and his boxers tenting with his perfectly sized and shaped cock poking through. You couldn’t quite see it, but you knew he was leaking pre-cum like never before.

“So beautiful,” You sighed happily watching Tom’s cheeks and ears turn a pretty pink colour. 

“So’re you princess - looking like a fuckin sin tied up like this and there isn’t a goddamned thing I can do about it,” He growled staring at your exposed body making heat furl in the pit of your stomach. 

“Well aren’t you possessive over here, hmm?” 

Harrison chose that moment to come back into the room with the sacred box in his hands - and what magnificent hands he had. So fucking big, thick and veiny. So long and stocky leaving no doubt of the wonders he could do with his them. You were just dying to get them inside of you and see how well he could destroy you with them.

“That’s right Tom, she’s my plaything right now and I’m gonna make her cum so fucking hard all of England is gonna hear it,” You knew that Harrison would make good on it. That alone made your eyes roll into the back of your head without him even touching you yet. 

“Please,” You breathed and his icy blue eyes turned to you and you saw the lust swirling in them, making them turn a stormy and darker shade of blue. 

“What’s that now?” He gave your inner thigh a slap causing you to moan and it was turning you on to the point where you were dripping right on the bed. 

“Nothing,” You swallowed thickly but it was too late seeing him pull a piece of fabric out of the shoe box. 

A blindfold. Oh holy fuck.

“See, this is what’s gonna happen,” He started as he gently lifted your head up and he put the blindfold over your eyes and that immediately heightened all of your senses. 

“I’m gonna be fucking you senseless and have you screaming my name all while Tom’s over there in the chair and not be able to do a damn thing about it - all he’ll be allowed to do is jerk off while I’m fucking you,” 

“Fuck,” Tom’s whine could be heard throughout the room and you let out a soft moan at what he had in store for you.

“I wonder…. What could this possibly be?” Harrison’s voice was full of amusement as you could hear a buzzing sound cut through the room. At first it didn’t register what it was until you felt it against your nipples, making them hard enough to cut glass.

“Oh fuck,” You mewled arching your back off the bed feeling the vibration. You couldn’t help the soft moans that tumbled from your lips.

“Look at you, so fucking receptive,” Harrison praised and that was making you glow. 

“H-harrison please,” You begged trying to move around to get more. 

“Ah-ah,” He tsked, slapping your tit making you whimper, “Good girls take what they’re given - bratty girls ask for more. Now which one are you gonna be for me?” His voice held a certain kind of harshness that was damn close to making you cum from his voice alone.

“Good girl,” Your voice trembled.

“What’s that? I didn’t hear it,” He taunted and you felt your cheeks burn,

“I’ll be your good girl,” you voiced again, this time louder.

“That’s right, gonna take whatever I give you like a good little slut,” 

“Please Harrison,” Tom’s voice broke - you’d actually forgotten he was there in the room, being so enraptured by Harrison and his commanding presence. But it made the pit in your stomach intensify ten-fold because you could just imagine how fucked out Tom looked, you knew Tom well enough to know that he was already strokíng his hard and leaking cock. It made your mouth water because there was nothing you loved more than when you’d seen him jerk off in the past.

“What’s that?” 

“Please - I just wanna touch her,” Tom whined. 

“No,” 

“Fuck, please Harrison!” Tom tried again, this time more desperately.

“Am I gonna be the one having a problem with you? Because I’ve got no issues putting you over my lap either,” This time your stomach clench at the mere image of that. Tom sprawled over Harrison’s lap and Harrison making Tom count the slaps to his ass. His cock leaking like a faucet. 

“N-no Harrison,” Tom backed off and Harrison must’ve returned to you and you gasped loudly feeling the vibrator tease your inner thigh getting the toy drenched from your juices. 

“God you’re soaked and I haven’t even begun my fun with you yet,” Just as those words left his lips you could feel the vibrator slide inside of you with little resistance and he didn’t give you any time to adjust before the vibrations began.

“Fuuck,” you gritted your teeth together, arms straining as he fucked the toy in and out, your pussy making the most obscene squelching noises as you got fucked by the toy. 

Your hips lifted off of the bed to the best of your abilities whilst being tied up. A moan broke loose from the back of your throat as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You were positioned in such a way that Tom had a direct view of Haz playing with your pussy.

“O-oh my god,” You gasped as the toy went deeper inside of you and the vibrations intensified. Harrison’s large hand holding you down as you tried to move your hips. 

“Stay still,” His voice was a low growl and it made pearls of sweat collect at your temples and collarbone. Your breath hitched as the pleasure started gradually building in the pit of your stomach as you writhed underneath him.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Tom’s lust-drunk voice called and it made you preen.

“She sure is Tommy,” Harrison spoke, letting his free hand move up to your boobs, fondling and twisting your nipples painfully as a cry left your mouth. 

Your pussy was absolutely throbbing with need.

“Harrison,” You began, “Please, please fuck me,” You were barely able to string a sentence together as he removed the toy and slid it up and down your entrance to your clit. He put it on the highest setting and you felt your body tensing up and you came with a moan, crying out both Tom and Harrison’s names. 

“Such a show off aren’t you when you cum?” Harrison praised and it made you smile hazily as your chest heaved from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Fuck,” Tom cursed as he was getting closer to his orgasm after seeing you cum.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum ‘til I say you can,” 

“Y-yes sir,” Tom moaned and you sucked in a sharp breath hearing him say that and it no doubt affected Harrison the same way.

“At least you know your manners,” With that he turned his focus back to you, an edge to his voice and you startled when you felt his lips on your inner thighs again. The rough stubble he had was making you whine at how deliciously painful it was. It was so much more intense when you were blindfolded and couldn’t see, so you really felt him there. 

You sighed loudly and tried to buck your hips as you felt him bite and nip on your inner thigh.

“Smell so fucking sweet and I bet you taste even sweeter hm?” He groaned as you felt his finger rub up and down your slit making you buck your hips off the bed, arms pulling on your restraints. You were so sensitive from your previous orgasm still, but he didn’t care about that and you didn’t want him too. You wanted him to fully take you apart.

“Harrison please fuck - I’m gonna cum,” Tom moaned and you heard the filthy noises from his fist and his cock, skin slapping. You could just picture the way beads of sweat was trickling down his forehead and a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. Bicep flexing with the movements that his fist made and his abs clenching and tensing up over and over.

“Don’t you wanna be a good boy?” 

“Y-yeah, yes - fuck yeah I wanna be a good boy sir,” He blubbered and you felt that pit starting to grow again hearing just how submissive he could be. It was so fucking hot. 

“Keep edging,” Was all Harrison said before you felt his fingers spread your slit and his breath fell on your pussy making your breath hitch before you felt the first lick.

Holy mother of god.

His tongue was something else entirely. The way he held your legs apart and got comfortable licking and sucking on your pussy. Alternating between kitten licks on your clit to him fully sucking to the point of where it almost hurt - it was a delicious kind of pain and it made you dizzy.

“Oh my fucking god,” You gripped the bed frame to have something to hold on. Your breath came out in short pants and the fire in your belly was close to erupting once again. Your legs trembled and tummy was clenching.

“I- fuck I’m gonna cum Harrison,” You moaned loudly.

He brought his hands around the back of your thighs bringing your pussy closer to his face as he let his tongue flick the overly sensitive bud. “C’mon then, give me your best shot - don’t you wanna make a mess on my face?” You heard the smirk in his voice. You moaned as you started gyrating your hips all over his face. Body convulsing and twitching as the onslaught of your orgasm rocked you through your core. 

“O-oh shit Harrison!” You gasped feeling your body turn to jelly and you came down from your high trying to get your breathing under control and your heart to stop racing from the intensity of the orgasm. 

“Harrison, fuck - please can I get on the bed? Fuck I want some relief - Harrison? Wanna be a good boy for you,” Tom groaned brokenly and you bit your lip. Even with the blindfold on you knew the tip of his cock was angry and red and leaking pre-cum.

“How will you be a good boy for me if you can’t even do as you’re told?” 

“W-wanna hump the bed..please sir,” 

Harrison clicked his tongue. “Tempting, but no. You’re staying put until I’ve fucked her, then I’ll let you hump the bed and you can cum all you want, how’s that pretty boy?” 

“Oh yes, please thank you - thank you so much sir,” There was no denying the gratefulness in Tom’s voice at that. Soon enough you could hear Tom’s tiny grunts and moans, his little uh-uh noises leaving his lips as he worked his cock over. Abruptly cut off by loud moans and his curses as he almost got too close to the edge.

“Y/N, a-ah fuck sir, please I’m so close,” Tom slurred and you moaned at the noises he let out, going straight to your core.

“Doesn’t he sound so pretty all fucked out like this?” Harrison conversed casually as his thumb started rubbing your clit which made you wince at the touch. But it was the best kind of pain making you gasp and moan as he kept on rubbing you, experimenting with different paces and pressures.

“Oh god yes,” You moaned, throwing your head back.

“You gonna let me fuck you now? Gonna let me fill this cunt with my cum?” 

“It’s all I’ve wanted since you walked in here, please fuck,” You begged desperately trying to lift your hips up to get his cock inside you.

“So impatient,” He clucked and you whined.

“‘m sorry Harrison,” You felt the heat of embarrassment at that for being so greedy.

“Want you in my pussy, please Harrison,” You backpedaled and you could hear some shuffling around before Harrison spread your legs and you went still. Your heart pounding at what was to come - a full on shiver ran through you when you felt the tip of his cock slap your clit causing your body to jolt at the surprise, but just as fast it turned into an all-consuming need and want. 

You wanted his cock so bad.

“You’re the prettiest sight,” Tom grunted as you heard the way his fist went over his cock even faster now. That was only adding to the pleasure of what was going on in this moment.

It should’ve been a strange thing to hear your boyfriend praising you and his best friend together, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt comforting and you felt so safe with them both.

“Thank you baby boy,” You sighed happily. Even though you couldn’t touch him, his words brought you a sense of closeness and just then you felt Harrison push his hips forward. Cock sliding into you, disappearing further and further inside of you. 

“You’re fucking big,” You moaned, arching your back as you let him set the pace. He experimented for a bit - going deeper and harder a few times, then shallow and slow thrusts. All of it was making you dizzy. 

You were trying to move your entire body to match his bruising pace, your pelvises meeting causing him to get further inside of you and when he found that spot inside of you. It was enough for you to see stars behind your eyelids. 

You felt his finger trace your bottom lip and on instinct your lips parted as you started sucking. Harrison’s hands were the prettiest hands you’d ever seen. So thick and veiny and sinewy. It wasn’t uncommon for you to gaze just a little too long at his gorgeous hands just imagining the way he could wreck you with them - and now you had the chance to really see what he was capable of.

It was so much more than what you’d ever bargained for and you loved it. 

“Oh so she’s a greedy little slut too?” His voice coming out strained as he pistoned his hips faster and harder. His free hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises later. 

“Wanna show you how much of a good girl I can be,” You murmured around his fingers, sucking on them as if your life depended on it. 

The room was filled with the sound of bodies slapping together and the mixed moans and grunts from the three of you. A whole lot of praising happening as well which just made everything so much hotter.

“Look at you, is she always so greedy Tommy?” 

“She loves showing off, having her holes stuffed,” Tom panted. 

Harrison added another finger and you gave it the same kind of attention, hollowing your cheeks out, living out your fantasy and hand kink you had for his hands.

“God you’ve got the best hands,” You moaned around his digits. 

“Do I now?” There was no denying the smugness in Harrison’s voice. 

You whimpered, “Yeah, you do,” 

“Why thank you gorgeous girl,” He smirked and let his hand move from your hip down to your clit, giving it a slap which made you moan.

“Shit Harrison,” 

“Such a dirty little girl,” He was gloating as he fucked into you harder, hips still angled to reach your spot over and over and it was bringing you closer to your high with each thrust. 

“P-please Harrison, I wanna cum,” You breathed, trying to suck in as much air in your lungs as possible because you felt it in your toes that this was going to be your most intense orgasm of them all. 

“Go ahead, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum around my cock - let Tom here know who’s fucking you so good it’s all you’re gonna be able to think about for ages to come,” Harrison knew how to taunt and he did it so well.

It was enough to drive you over the edge and you squeezed down on his cock hard as he kept pumping into you. You came with a scream feeling the orgasm wrecking your whole body. Bursts of intense pleasure shooting throughout every single nerve-ending in your body as your legs shook.

“Oh fuck, gonna paint your insides white,” Harrison’s low and gravely moan made goosebumps appear all over your arms. He thrusted in and out of you a few more times before you felt him twitch and release inside of you, he collapsed on top of you and you could feel his heart racing as his chest was pressed against yours. Both of you completely drained and spent. 

“Please, please please Harrison can I cum now?” Tom whimpered like a puppy and you felt Harrison gently remove the blindfold off of you in your post-orgasmic bliss.

Your eyes slowly adjusted and the sight you were met with almost had you rearing to go again. 

Tom’s cock was painfully hard and leaking, his bicep and the veins in his arm and hand were protruding. So was the vein in his neck as he watched the two of you with a raw-bitten bottom lip and wide eyes full of lust. 

“You’ve earned it, come here Tom,” Harrison finally allowed and you’d never seen Tom move faster in his life than in this moment to get on the bed.

He gave it his everything as he rutted his hips against the bed, letting out the most obscene and sinful moans and grunts. 

His breathing turned more staccato than anything and you just knew he was getting so close. 

You glanced at Harrison, yanking on your chained arms and he was swift in his movements, unlocking them for you. In a flash you were all over Tom.

Your hands roaming his body, tracing his sculpted abs. Fingernails dancing along the skin of his lower abdomen, taking care in not touching his leaking cock but getting close enough to tease him. Harrison grabbed the vibrator he’d used on you and turned it on, placing it on Tom’s cock and the reaction was immediate. 

His cock started leaking even more if it was possible as Tom began shaking uncontrollably from the sudden and intense pleasure.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” He gasped, head darting between you and Harrison, who in turn traded a glance with you. 

Harrison could tell too from the way his breathing turned choppy and his moans and whimpers got even more dragged out. So he scooted closer to Tom and you watched raptly as Harrison wrapped his hand around Tom’s cock and the sight alone made you drool as he spat on his cock. He started stroking Tom’s cock, going from the base up to his leaking tip, smoothing the pre-cum all over the shaft. Mixing that with his own spit.

Tom’s jaw slackened and eyes glazed over, his mouth parted as he arched up into your touch. “God fuck H-harrison,” He could barely string the words together.

“C’mon now - fuck my fist, show me you deserve to cum,” Harrison commanded and just as Tom started doing just that. His hips rutted up jerkily and fast into Harrison’s tight fist that was wrapped around his cock. Tom’s body twitched and shook with the exertion, beads of sweat trickling down his temple as he got overloaded with pleasure.

You took the time to run your fingers over Tom’s pecs, up to his nipples - twisting and tweaking them as Tom fucked up into Harrison’s hand. Hearing his small whimpers and his tiny noises he was producing from the back of his throat. 

You were in absolute heaven watching this unfold before your very eyes. 

“Cum for me baby boy - wanna see you cum, wanna lick it all up,” You egged him on and his eyes locked with yours as he came with a feral growl as ropes of cum landed all over Harrison’s hand and himself.

You drank it all up, the sight of him cumming and the face his face scrunched up when he did. He looked so fucking sinful when he came. 

You watched at Harrison seeing the way he milked Tom’s cock for all it was worth, hearing the exhausted moans tumble from his lips. 

Harrison dragged his thumb over the slit of Tom’s cock and it twitched as Harrison scooped up some cum and pushed his finger to Tom’s mouth.

“C’mon baby, be my good little slut and eat it all,” Harrison smirked at Tom who’s eyes darted between Harrison and his finger before he opened up, licking his finger clean, eyes fluttering close as he did. You kissed the side of his face, whispering sweet praises in Tom’s ear as he lapped at Harrison’s fingers.

“Good boy Tommy,” He praised and Tom’s entire face and chest flushed under the glowing praise, keeping it up and licking everything that Harrison gave him.

“You’re both such good little pets aren’t you?” Harrison said adoration in his voice. 

He laid down in the middle of the bed and pulled the two of you against him, pressing kisses to both of your foreheads. Whispering over and over how good you were tonight. You smiled over at him and then at Tom and you leaned over Harrison to kiss him lovingly.

“Heeeyy what about me?” Harrison teased. 

taglist - exitsali96ivette - @localfangirlx​ - @siriuslyslyslytherin​ - shaharloni1 - immnotsure - @worldoftom​ - @averyfosterthoughts​ - @unicorn-princess-1999​ - @softbaby-tom​ - @alwaysbenhardysgirl​ - @londonspidey​ - @peterparkoure​ - @fallingforfics​ - 1believe-in-your-self1 - @awesomelupe​ - @captainbuckyy​ - @parkeraul​ - @maryjanee23​ - @underoosjae​ - sexyllamas04 - @definitely-not-black-cat​ - @the-professional-procastinator​ @parkerpeter24​ @lmaotshollandd​ @quaksonhehe​ @imanativeofswlondondahling​ @hazmyheart​ -  @howdyho-harrystyles​ - @thirsttrapholland​ @angelic-holland​ @stuckonspidey​ @greenorangevioletgrass​ @duskholland​ @lovelytholland​ @hauntedtom​ @hollandcreep​ and a special thanks to @farfromparker​ this wouldn’t be what it is without you <3

[wh6res]

Delusional, 1, 21, Chenle please. I’m not sure if I have to specify the reader’s gender but it’d be great if it was male or gender neutral, thanks! Also, if there was another delusional, 1, 21, Chenle that was me, I forgot to add in the details, sorry.

what friends are for | chenle

synopsis. chenle is done playing nice.

warning. yandere themes, swearing, character death, rip chensung

your family may not be in the same level of wealth from his—the zhongs are damn near considered royalty!—but money never hindered your friendship with the heir. never once paying heed to the nasty side glances thrown your way whenever you're invited to sit at their table during soireés or charity events.

“thank you, really, mr. zhong, but my family—”

“well, bring them over here too! the more the merrier!”

and if there was one thing chenle’s parents liked about you, it was how family-oriented you seem to be. wanting to stick by your older brothers and sisters side. it just so happens that the zhongs treasure that principle the most.

blood is thicker than water.

so it was within these reasons why chenle, for the fucking life of him, doesn’t understand why you let that other brat into your little duo—park jisung wasn’t even in the same social class as the two of you!

you met him during this dance class you attended in downtown seoul. you had begged your mother to attend, and after she obliged, begged chenle to come with you. but no, while you may possess a compassionate nature, not at all minding the status quo, your childhood best friend, however, does not.

“oh, come on, lele. it’ll be fun!”

“i mean—i just don’t see the point of having to drive downtown for dance classes when we can just attend here! the choreographers are more world-renowned than those no-names you’ll meet in downtown.”

oh, how badly he wished he had agreed to come instead. or else you wouldn’t’ve met that middle-class peasant, wouldn’t’ve forced chenle to play nice, to smile through his annoyance as he nodded and waved at the boy you introduced to him.

“hey, i’m park jisung! i’ve heard all about you and your family here in the upper east, by the way. never thought i’d be meeting you, but here we are! let’s be good friends!”

if it weren’t for your sparkling eyes, chenle would’ve spat at the hand the other kid was offering. but instead…

“thanks, i guess? i’m chenle! and sure, i’d love to be friends.”

the agreement was movies after class at chenle’s place—it was what you texted in your little group chat with him and jisung. but when you arrived at the zhong’s estate after finishing up your extracurriculars, their helpers had quickly stated that the young master has yet to come home.

you had turned around to observe the row of cars in the zhong’s front yard, quickly noticing his red tesla is nowhere to be seen.

after bidding a quick goodbye to the butler who had answered the door, you quickly spun in your heels. trekking your way back to your chauffeur pulled up on the circular driveway, annoyance radiating off you.

jisung isn’t even here yet! and it was already fifteen minutes past the scheduled time. he’s hardly ever late.

just as your driver opens his mouth to ask what happened, the obvious frown and distress on your features is enough explanation for him, so he remains quiet as he waits for your instructions.

you pull out your phone to check if you accidentally missed any messages from either of the two boys, quickly finding that no, there wasn’t. no text or calls about sudden changes of plans from either of them.

until your phone chimes. a new message.

jwi-sUng, 6:29PM — yo chenle said lets watch at my dorm instead — see yuh

stupid. it was so stupid of you not to realize the signs. jisung is never late in his entire life, that boy is as punctual as he can get. and he’ll never use words like “yo” or “yuh” because… because, those were chenle’s texting style. and when you came inside jisung’s house, it should’ve struck you why the house is so quiet, why the house didn’t smell like ms. park’s cooking, why it was chenle himself that answered the door.

“ji and i have been waiting for you!” he cheers, slinging an arm over your shoulder before practically dragging you into the house.

“i came to your place and you weren’t there! either of you could’ve sent me a text or some—”

you stop rambling when you see the state of their living room. the couch is torn, the tv’s screen is cracked, porcelain vases smashed into a million pieces, tables overturned. it looks like a storm surged through the whole place and you’re now witnessing the aftermath.

but a storm didn’t do this. not when your eyes have zeroed in on jisung and his mom tied up in the middle of the room, men in suits guarding every window and exit of the house. some of them you’ve seen trailing behind chenle and his parents. the zhong’s bodyguards. brutes with no heart whatsoever, doing whatever the powerful family asks them to do.

“chenle. what… what’s the meaning—”

“i’m done playing nice. all i want is you. all i’ve ever wanted was you.”

he spat like poison as you stand immobile before the scene in front of you. the heir never thought he’d get a kick from seeing your face contorted with fear and confusion. but it did. and he basked in it.

you waited patiently for the punchline. for one of them to say ‘gotcha!’ but when your eyes met jisung’s fearful ones, you knew this wasn’t any sick joke they came up with to prank you. nope. this is as real as the hand chenle uses to push your hair away from your face as he stands before you, breaking the eye contact you have with the dancer.

“oh, come on…” he pouts cutely, looking out of place in a trashed up apartment. “i’m the one that isn’t tied up and you still don’t pay attention to me?”

“chenle, what’s going on?”

he laughs boisterously and you can’t help but wonder how more witch-like it sounded rather than the usual, innocent dolphin’s.

“i have everything i want,” he boldly claims, pacing before you, the cheap fluorescent lights of jisung’s home accentuates the harsh angles of his face. “money’s a given. power, too. with just those two, i can have the whole world at the palm of my hand—”

“let them go.”

you flinch when two burly men in suits start closing in on you from both sides. hands darting forward to grab both of your arms, until chenle gave them a hard stare, to which both retreated immediately. you understood what that look meant. no, not yet.

“geez… at least humor me, why don’t you?”

you don’t answer him.

“right,” he starts again, freezing you in place when he makes a beeline towards the dancer. “i have everything i want. well, used to. until this peasant came and ruined what we already have.”

jisung squirms and when he feels a cold circular barrel nudging the top of his head and his mom looks like she is ready to pass out. cold sweat starts building up in your forehead. you don’t know how you can get the three of you out of the house alive but if playing dumb can prolong your thinking time, then so be it.

“i don’t get it—”

“of course, you don’t!” you flinch, eyes trained on your ex-best friend and the gun he’s holding. “you’ve always been so sheltered, so naive, always hiding behind your older brothers and sisters to even realize what’s happening.”

“lele, please. just drop the gun first, we can all just talk this out—”

“see what i mean? naive!”

your heart shatters at the tiny whimper jisung lets out when the gun digs a little too much against his head.

“ever since you met this brat, you keep dragging him to our hangouts, trying to make him a part of our little party,” the heir explains through gritted teeth as he glares at you. “and you know what makes it worse? park jisung can’t fucking offer you anything other than a mediocre life. is that what you want?”

“jisung’s my friend. he doesn’t have to fucking offer me anything.”

he giggles like a madman. “oh, baby, i don’t think jisung feels the same way you do, though. have you ever seen the way he looks at you?”

and when your eyes flicker down to meet the dancer’s, the truth has never been more obvious when he fails to meet your eyes.

chenle clicks his tongue patronizingly as he pats jisung’s shoulder to feign comfort, before tossing the gun to one of his bodyguards standing behind him. “well, getting friendzoned sucks.”

“this isn’t a fucking joke—”

you yelp in surprise when the heir delivers a swift punch to jisung’s stomach. the boy bending in pain through the makeshift gag tied over his mouth.

“you’re right. it isn’t.”

you force yourself not to cower as chenle menacingly starts to approach you. a stoic expression on his face and you wonder for a moment, when did all of this even started?

“it is no joke that i love you—the one thing that i can’t have, the one thing so close, just an arm’s length away but still feels so far. but not anymore.”

you don’t where you manage to get the confidence nor the courage to blurt out what you were about to say next, but you regretted it all the same.

“this isn’t love. obsession, possessiveness, or infatuation is fucking far from love.”

the two consecutive sounds of a gunshot was deafening to the ears, but the heir supposes nothing can beat your screams as you fought against the arms of his guards, trying to get to the two people lying immobile in their own home.

“doing everything for this one person, is that not one of the criteria to say you love someone?”

chenle ignores the nasty spit you threw that’s dribbling down his expensive shoes. you’ll pay for that, one way or another. but that day is not today.

“jisung was our friend, you psychopath! this is insanity! you’re fucking crazy!”

when you try biting the hand that comes up to caress your face, one of his guards knees you in the gut. chenle wishes you didn’t have to force his hand, didn’t have to do this the hard way, but you leave him with no choice.

“you’re wrong. i’m not crazy—i’m just… in love. i did this out of love, i’m doing this out of love.”

[vizhi0nw]

Confidence

Pairing: Porco/OC/Reiner

Warnings: NSFW - oral (male/female receiving) handjobs, threesome, face riding.

Words: 4k

I’ve never written a fic for SNK before but I decided...why not. I hope I did Porco and Reiner justice. This is just smut with some backstory and feels (Reiner needs a big hug)

                                                          ---

“Reiner always looks so....sad,” Samira murmured into Porco’s ear. “Like he’s got a lot of thoughts cooped up in his head and doesn’t know how to let them out.”

Porco hummed absently. He, like Samira, couldn’t take his eyes off Reiner. The tall blonde was listening to Zeke speak with half-hearted enthusiasm, his posture slack and his head tilted to one side. His entire demeanor, the entire act screamed discontent. Like he’d given up even attempting to take pointers from Zeke and was instead more interested in the little line of fire ants crawling across the dirt next to the heel of his shoe. 

Samira and Porco were a little ways away, cooped up on a rickety wooden bench, away from the training ground. It was tucked away, secluded, and in the shade - it was the perfect little metaphor for her relationship with Porco, Samira mused. Tucked away. Secluded. She was well aware that people knew she and Porco were together, but it wasn’t something Porco had yet to feel comfortable flaunting in front of Zeke or the other warriors - though, Samira knew he’d like nothing more than to rub it in the Jeager’s face - for reasons she had yet to uncover. 

When Samira looked at Porco, his eyes were still trained on Reiner. His brow was furrowed, lips pulled taut into a line. It was one of the very few times Samira couldn’t read him, and it always seemed to happen when he was gazing at the blonde Warrior who had been a source of flickering ire in his life for as long as Samira could remember. 

She leaned up and gently kissed the exposed skin of Porco’s neck before nipping at his earlobe. “First Reiner, now you. Why the face?”

“He doesn’t have anything to be sad about. Not after I saved his ass on the battlefield,” Porco murmured. “I don’t know what goes on in that brick of a head of his.”

“Maybe you - we - should ask.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know,” Porco turned back to face Samira. “I’d much rather think about what’s going on in your head than his.”

“You already know because I tell you,” Samira giggled as Porco’s mouth covered her own, his kisses quick and demanding but to the point and oh-so arden - all him. When he pulled away, Samira tilted her head in Reiner’s direction. “We should talk to him. I know you don’t like to admit it to yourself, but you’re his friend.”

Porco snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Pock.”

“Friends on the battlefield, acquaintances off,” Porco replied. “If you insist on talking to him, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” 

Samira didn’t have to go far. Reiner was already heading towards them, his expression the same as before, though a bit less forlorn. Samira gently separated herself from Porco, leaving her partner to sit, arms crossed and with a sour expression on his face.

“Did Zeke chew you out too badly?” Samira inquired.

Reiner shrugged. “Not...as badly as he normally does. What I did on the battlefield was stupid. Reckless. I understand that now.”

“You’re back safe. That’s all that really matters,” Samira said softly. Reiner’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded his head robotically. Samira could see the flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, and she was glad Porco had decided to focus his attention on a browning blade of grass. 

Reiner, bless him, had always been terrible at hiding the fact that he was rather enamored with Samira. More than once, Samira had caught him gazing at her with half-lidded eyes, and he always seemed hesitant to approach, especially when Porco was around. Reiner wasn’t one to exacerbate tension, and Samira was positive he’d been spending prior months trying to crush whatever feelings he had for Samira with the same force and drive he used to crush enemies on the battlefield as the Armored Titan. To Reiner, Samira was unobtainable.

Perhaps his sadness was a byproduct of that. Samira wasn’t sure, but she felt she owed it to Reiner - he was a kind man, and his sense of duty rivaled that of Porco. He’d been one of the few people who had stuck up for Samira when Zeke had made it very clear that he harbored no fondness towards her. He was also heavily burdened with emotions from his experiences on Paradis, something Porco had only told her about in passing. Whatever had happened, whatever Reiner had done or seen, had changed him. 

“I’m back, but at what cost?” Reiner murmured. “I...I shouldn’t burden you with my problems, Sam. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I just noticed that you seemed upset. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m available. So is Porco, to be honest. I know he’s an ass but he does care about you,” Samira glanced back towards her partner. “Bottling things up isn’t healthy. Trust me, I know.”

Reiner let out a long sigh. He seemed as if he wanted to talk further, but pulled himself away. “I appreciate that.”

Samira squeezed his arm as he walked past. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, briefly, before his stride increased and he almost hurried away. Porco finally lifted his head to watch Reiner disappear back inside, once again sporting that same unreadable expression as before. 

One day, Samira would figure out what that expression meant.

                                                         ---

Porco squeezed out the sponge, letting a cascade of hot, soapy water run down the smooth expanse of Samira’s back. 

He felt content to just look at her like she was his prize, which she was. His greatest prize, more important and valuable than any victory on the battlefield. More important than Marley itself, though Porco could never bring himself to admit it to anyone other than Samira. 

Porco leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, one hand running across deep brown skin as she leaned back to rest against him. The thick, tightly packed coils of hair on her head were wet, washed, and smelled like mint. The water of the bath was still the perfect temperature, soothing Porco’s sore limbs and making him wish he could just last in this moment forever. 

He knew it would have to end, eventually. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to think about Samira and how her soft, flexible fingers were massaging the skin of his thigh -

“We should do something to help Reiner out,” Samira hummed. “He’s upset. I can tell. He needs...something. Help. I don’t know-”

“Talk to Zeke about it. Have him deal with it.”

Samira barked a laugh. “Me? Talk to Zeke?”

She was right. It was a dumb suggestion, and Porco internally cursed himself for not spouting out Pieck’s name instead. Zeke harbored nothing but negative feelings towards Samira, born most likely out of envy. Porco had something that he didn’t. 

Porco sighed and reclined back further in the bath. “Stupid suggestion, I know.”

Samira turned, sitting up a bit to straddle Porco’s hips. He groaned - she was tantalizingly close to him, his cock resting languidly against her inner thigh. He tried not to think about it while she began to speak. 

“The way you look at him sometimes...it confuses me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can usually read you like the back of my hand,” Samira murmured. “When you look at Reiner sometimes, I can’t read you. It’s like I’m back to when we first met - you had that same expression on your face when you looked at me. Like you didn’t know what to feel, how to feel.”

“I know how I feel about Reiner,” Porco didn’t even believe those words as they tumbled out. He grit his teeth and ducked his head, waiting for Samira to catch his flub. She didn’t. Like she usually did, she waited for him to compose himself, gave him time, before speaking. 

“You don’t always have to rush into things head-on, Pock. Much less your emotions. I know you think of...of Marcel, when you see him. I know how much it hurts.”

It brought Porco comfort that she did know, empirically so, as she’d lost two of her own siblings to war. She wasn’t just saying it as a pity response. The wounds were raw, real, and deep. Samira herself had yet to heal from hers, either, though she’d made a far better effort than Porco knew he had. 

She was better than him. So much better than him. Porco knew deep down he didn’t deserve someone like her. 

“Both of my brothers died saving me,” Samira whispered. “I knew I wasn’t fit for the battlefield, that I was weak, but I enlisted anyway and they paid for it.”

Porco gripped her arms almost instinctively, holding her tightly and hissing, “You are not weak-” 

“I was weak, Porco. I couldn’t do what needed to be done because I was scared. I told everyone I wasn’t. I pretended to be brave and capable,” Samira’s hands reached up to cradle Porco’s face. “Reiner was a child. You were all children.”

Porco leaned forward and rested his head against Samira’s shoulder. He kissed her damp skin, her shoulder, her neck, before kissing his way up her jaw and finally, her lips. 

“We can...we can try something. To help,” Porco whispered. “Just- fuck - just tell me what you want to do.”

                                                        ---

“Are you sure he’ll agree to this?” Porco dug his thumb into the tight muscle between Samira’s neck and shoulder, casually massaging out a knot beneath the skin. Samira hummed and tilted her head to the side, eyes fluttering shut. 

“I think he will.”

It didn’t take long for Reiner to arrive, shuffling into the room rather awkwardly before closing the door behind him. He looked between Porco and Samira, confusion etched across his face. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“Obviously,” Porco’s tone was smooth and curt. “We called you here, didn’t we?”

 “For what?”

Before Samira could explain, Porco spoke. There was a glint in his eye, and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kept a hand steady on Samira’s shoulder, his thumb now stroking patterns against her skin. “You know, Braun, you’re incredibly bad at hiding the way you look at Sam. Eye-fucking another man’s girl across a room isn’t exactly the brightest idea, considering who that man is.”

Reiner sputtered and Samira’s eyes widened at Porco’s words. She reached over to swat his chest, but he caught her wrist, his smile widening. 

“I should beat the shit out of you right now for that,” Porco said. “But I won’t. Instead, I’ll indulge you.”

“W-what do you mean?” Reiner’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes darting between Samira and Porco. 

“You want to fuck her?” Porco said. 

Reiner didn’t reply. Porco asked again, this time slower.

“I said, do you want to fuck her, Braun?”

“You can say yes,” Samira interrupted. “That’s why you’re here - to answer your question.” 

Reiner’s fingers fell away from where they’d been hovering over the doorknob, though they drifted back up when Porco instructed him to turn the lock. The blonde took slow, methodical steps across the room, coming to stop before Samira. His hands were shaking a bit as he reached out to clasp her face between his big hands. Samira began working at the buttons of his shirt, peeling the cloth away to reveal rippling muscles underneath. 

“I - thank you,” Reiner said.

“Just kiss her, you brute,” Porco rolled his eyes. 

While Porco’s kisses were demanding, Reiner’s were almost needy - like he’d never had them before and wanted more. He and Porco both worked to undress Samira, tossing her clothes away without a care as to where they landed in the room. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Porco moaned against Samira’s hair. 

Reiner nodded frantically, before gasping as he was wrestled onto the bed by two pairs of hands. 

“This is for you,” Samira murmured against his lips. She worked on undoing his belt, sliding it off and letting it clatter to the wooden floor. She spread her fingers before curling them around his clothed cock, palming him through his trousers. Reiner writhed against the sheets, bare chest heaving. His eyes travelled from Samira, to Porco, who was yanking his own shirt over his head. 

He was already hard when Samira pulled his pants and undergarments down past his hips and off his legs. His dick was impressive in girth and length, and Samira brushed her palm across the head as she crawled up to kiss him once more. She heard Porco aggressively ridding himself of his own pants, the bed dipping as he joined the duo. 

Samira pulled away and licked a stripe across his collarbone before resuming her journey down his chest, Sweat was beading on Reiner’s brow as he propped herself up to look down at Samira as she gave his cock a few tugs before pushing the head past her lips. 

Reiner’s thighs tensed. Samira felt a hand gently stroke her hair - Porco - as she slid down further on his cock. 

“Ah,” Reiner’s eyes were half-closed, the muscles in his lower abdomen tight. Samira felt soft breathing against her cheek as Porco leaned down, his own lips brushing over Reiner’s cock. He began to leave teasing, suckling kisses against the skin, drawing out filthy moans from deep within Reiner’s gut. He then laid his tongue flat against the broad base, licking a long stripe from root to tip. 

It was Porco who pulled Samira off Reiner’s cock, eventually, though not before smashing his lips against hers for good measure. Reiner watched, mouth agape, cock leaking and happy between his legs. 

Porco’s fingers snuck between Samira’s legs, swiping across her slick folds. 

“Sucking him off got you that wet?” Porco inquired, though there was no jealousy in his tone - only lust. “Fuck.”

Strong fingers gripped Samira’s face. Porco yanked her forward, crushing his mouth against hers, once more, with urgency. Samira felt the bed shift as Reiner began to try and sit up, only to be shoved back down by a strong push from Porco. 

“Stay still. This is for you, after all,” Porco kept a firm grip on Samira’s face, eyes travelling from the proud column of Reiner’s throat, down his barrel chest and hips. Gone was that same hooded-eyed look Samira was used to seeing, instead replaced by one of pure, unsullied desire. He wanted Reiner just as much as Samira.

Maybe that had been the source of “the look” all along. It was no secret to Samira that Porco, like her, had no preference for the gender of his partner - Porco had admitted, several times, that Reiner was an attractive man. Samira just hadn’t read into it as fully as she probably should have. 

“Why don’t you show him how you ride me?” Porco’s large palm drifted across Samira’s back as she happily clambered atop Reiner, his breath hitching as she rested her palms against his chest. She swung a leg over his hip,  and Reiner’s own hand frantically came to grip the base of his cock, sliding the appendage between Samira’s slick folds. 

Porco was watching, eyes narrowed to slits. With a snarl, he reached down to grab Reiner’s face between his fingers - the same motion he’d done to Samira moments earlier - so he could lean down and kiss him. Reiner gave a deep, rumbling moan, eyes slipping closed as Samira sank down onto him, inch by inch, velvety walls trapping his cock in a vice grip. 

It felt heavenly. Reiner felt heavenly.

The bed creaked as Porco pulled away from Reiner and flopped onto his back, the veins on his thick arms pulsing as he gripped his cock and began to stroke. 

“She feels f-fucking amazing, doesn’t she?” Porco could barely speak, and Reiner couldn’t speak at all - he just grunted and nodded in agreement. “Don’t ever f-forget how her pussy feels. You’re only getting it o-once.”

That, Samira knew immediately, was a lie.

Samira lurched forward, legs clamping around Reiner’s hips as her orgasm rocked her entire body. Reiner pumped upward once, twice, before he came - grunting out expletives and gnawing on his lower lip so hard that Samira was scared he would break skin and bleed. His dick was spent, sticky and still leaking as it slipped from her cunt and bobbed before resting against his stomach

“We’re ignoring Porco,” Samira said through her heaving pants. Reiner’s big hand was running across her hips, her lower back, and thighs. He had a half-dazed expression on his face, but perked up when Samira reached over to stroke her partner’s bare, heaving chest. 

“Fucking hell,” Porco moaned. “Both of you will be the death of me, I swear.”

“I couldn’t think of a better way to go,” Reiner replied. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Porco was laughing, shoulders bouncing. He reached out to grip Samira’s thigh, stopping her before she could climb off Reiner’s lap. “I want you on my face next.”

“P-Pock-”

A tilt of the head and a sharp look was enough for Samira to know that he wasn’t kidding.

This was new - Samira had never...well, Porco had never suggested it before during the countless times he’d taken her in this very same bed. She’d imagined it, of course, but she’d never imagined that Porco would ask her to sit on his face. He wasn’t a vanilla guy, but she could tell that Reiner’s presence in the room had changed the way he acted. Perhaps it was some urge to one-up Reiner, prove to him that he, and only he, could make Samira moan and scream and tremble all at once. Samira wasn’t complaining.

Always a competition, Samira mused. 

She allowed herself to smile as she swung her legs on either side of Porco’s head, making sure to give him room to breathe. She braced her hands on the headboard of the bed, fingers curling into the wood as Porco caressed her thighs, her stomach, and then her breasts, tweaking a nipple with his thumb and making Samira mewl. 

“Watch and learn, Braun,” Porco breathed against Samira’s folds. He licked a stripe from one end to the other, and Samira’s hips bucked, her grip on the headboard tightening. His mouth felt so good on her, suckling at her clit before he slid a finger into her tight cunt, crooking the appendage and drawing out filthy sounds from Samira’s parted lips.

Reiner seemed content to just stare, though Samira could see his eyes drifting lower and lower, past the smooth plane of Porco’s stomach to his erect cock. Reiner disappeared from her sight, suddenly, and Samira twisted her head and saw Reiner dive and slip Porco’s cock past his lips. 

“S-shit,” Porco’s hips bucked and he speared Samira on his tongue, fingers slipping from her pussy to reach down and tangle in Reiner’s blonde locks. “What’s got you so f-fucking confident?”

Samira threw her head back and laughed. Her knees and thighs burned but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to come, desperately, and for Porco to get her there. He used his free hand to shove two fingers back inside of her. She could hear Reiner behind her, heard him gag as he sucked Porco’s dick farther and farther into his mouth. 

Porco moaned. Fire exploded in Samira’s gut and she curled forward, and Porco lapped at her like a starving man. The only indicator that he’d come was a subtle tightening of his abs and the sound of Reiner milking him dry, sliding his cock past his lips. 

It took several moments for Samira to peel herself away from Porco, legs spent, her entire body feeling as if it were on a cloud. She collapsed between the two men, Porco remaining on his back while Reiner crawled up, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he wiped away the final evidence of Porco’s release on his lips and chin. 

There were no words spoken between the three, at first. Porco’s eyes were shut, as if he were sleeping. Reiner remained on his side, a distant look in his eyes. Samira was panting still, and she gave a soft sigh. She leaned over and pressed her lips against Reiner’s. 

“Why?” Reiner’s words were soft, though not accusatory. Curious. Just...curious. 

“It was her idea,” Porco mumbled. “You know how she gets. Relentless.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” Samira replied.

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Why?” Reiner repeated the question, this time a bit more forcefully. Porco finally opened his eyes, reaching down to yank the covers across all three of them.

“I...I wanted to do something for you, and I was tired of this little dance the three of us have been doing,” Samira answered honestly. “If I overstepped, I’m sorry-”

“No. I enjoyed it,” Reiner insisted. “I...I needed it. This. Thank you.” 

This time, it was Reiner who tilted forward to capture Samira’s lips with his own. When he pulled away, he leaned over to kiss Porco’s neck before returning to his side of the bed. 

Porco’s skin was flushed red, and Samira could see him struggling not to speak. He instead opted to toss an arm across Samira’s waist and turn over to bury his nose in the nest of coily hair on her head. He was the first to fall asleep, leaving Samira teetering on the edge of slumber and Reiner still wide awake, but beginning to drift off.

“He doesn’t hate you, you know. No matter how much he says he does, he doesn’t hate you,” Samira whispered. She absently lifted a hand to stroke Porco’s hair as soft snores began slipping from his parted lips. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because he’s able to love someone like me.”

Reiner gulped, his eyes drifting to Porco’s face. He reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, dousing the room in darkness. It was a while before he spoke again, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Good night, Reiner.”

[pumpkinov]

Where the Dust Settles

You can read Chap. 1 here and Chap. 2 here

Portia Collins, the sole survivor of Vault 111 has lost more than most. With the Institute defeated, she sets her sights to the next big jobs - unification of the Commonwealth wastelands and the large warship docked at the Boston Airport. More work for the General of the Minutemen, who is finding herself increasingly alone as her companions move on with their lives. John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbour is struggling to find his footing in the new political climate of the Commonwealth, and is finding a surprisingly vocal supporter in his local Minuteman General.

Chapter 3. Do you wanna come over, and kill some time?

Portia meets with an adoring audience, Hancock gets high. They walk home together.

Portia’s headache was back, and this one was a ripper.

She briefly considered decapitation, and settled for a stimpak. Two and a half years in the wasteland, and this was still the grossest part.

Well, maybe not the grossest, but she still hated it. She poked the needle through the delicate skin of her elbow and decompressed the vial, feeling the weird cold sensation of something entering her bloodstream. She’d left Preston, Nick and Piper at the Dugout Inn and headed straight home. Not that she spent much time here anymore, but Home Plate was hers and she could relax here, at least a little.

She sat in her arm chair, waiting for the Stimpak to work. It didn’t take long, the headache was already less crushing than it had been before. There was a stack of paperwork upstairs on the desk that she needed to look over before the final meeting tomorrow. And oh Jesus Christ what was she going to do about fucking Hancock.

He was right, of course he was right. She just hated being put on the spot like that.

And there was no way she could skip on the socialization of the night - the General of the Minutemen summons you to walk the dangerous roads between your settlement and Diamond City, and doesn’t even bother to speak to you?

She sunk a little lower into her battered chair, allowing herself a moment to scrunch her face up. She could have a cry later, maybe, as a treat. But right now, there was work to be done. Portia put her shoes on, grabbed her coat and her scarf, flicked off the lights and stepped into the market of Diamond City. It was snowing again, lightly for now. It lay across the ground, shimmering under the string lights running off the roofs in the square. She breathed in the noodle smell wafting in the air, and for a moment she felt a little lighter.

She was greeted at the door of the Dugout Inn by Nick, who was smoking out the front.

“Hey there kid,” his yellow eyes burned bright against the darkness creeping in from the corners of the old park. “How’d it go today?”

Portia sighed, and dug around in her pockets for a cigarette, “It went pretty good.”

“Is that so?” the old synth looked over at her, she could hear the faintest of whirr’s as his eyes focused on her. “Heard John had something to say at the end. He dropped past my office earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah, he did.” Portia lit her cigarette and inhaled, staring up at the sky. The snow was starting to land in her hair. “He’s right.”

Nick nodded slowly. “He is. But folks around here, they like their town the way it is. It seems pretty unlikely anything will change.”

She chewed on her lip a little, rolling her cigarette between her fingers. “Yeah, I tend to agree with you.”

“Most smart folks do.” Nick agreed.

“You knew him when he was a kid, right?” Portia asked suddenly, “What’s the Mayor’s deal?”

“John?” the detective seemed to deliberate for a moment.

“Yeah, is he all bark and no bite?”

More whirring, as mechanisms hidden under the plastic pulled Nick’s mouth into a smile. “Oh no, he bites. But under all that bark and all that bite, he’s a bleeding heart.”

Portia rolled her eyes, and Nick laughed.

Inside was even busier than the Third Rail had been last night. It was hazy inside, steam rising off everyone’s clothes dampened by the falling snow. The coat rack near the door was overburdened, but Portia had no choice but to dump her coat and scarf on top of the pile, it was a million degrees with all these bodies and the fire going. People reached out to her as she passed, she fixed a smile on her face as she desperately looked for a familiar face. But no Preston, no Piper. She almost reached the bar before being cornered by a woman, a trader from The Murkwater Construction Site to the south. There was a Minuteman checkpoint nearby, and they had helped defend the settlement from a supermutant raid a few weeks earlier. She grabbed Portia’s arm, desperate to tell her how her men had defended the farms, how they had saved this woman’s home.

“That’s the Commonwealth Minuteman ideal, to be ready at a minute’s notice,” Portia gritted her teeth, subtly trying to pull her arm out of the woman’s grip but it was a vice. Then came the wash of shame and guilt - this woman just wanted to tell her how much she appreciated the work Portia and her group had accomplished. And all she, Portia, the fucking General wanted to do was get away. It took her fifteen minutes before she was finally released - after which another family wanted to pass on their thanks for the Minutemen’s work protecting Oberland Station. A man touched her shoulder; he wanted to tell her that his son had died defending the Minuteman checkpoint near the entrance to the Glowing Sea, and how proud he was that his son had died doing something so honorable.

By the time Portia’s hands collided with Vadim’s bar, she was emotionally wrent. Vadim placed a glass of whiskey down on the bar for her, stopped and considered for a moment, then left the bottle. Portia stared at it for a moment - tempting, really. But she made the responsible decision, and knocked back the glass instead. She turned to face the room, leaning her back against the bar. There was a flash of red in the corner, and her eyes chased it without really thinking. There was something so distinctive about the mayor. He wasn’t particularly tall, or muscular, but his presence filled a room. He moved with his shoulders - they were broad for his frame, emphasized by the ridiculous frock coat he wore everywhere. He swiveled around, almost if her gaze had summoned him. He looked over, and winked. A wicked smile spread across his face, and he turned back to say his goodbyes to his captive audience, two women with drinks in their hands and fire in their eyes; before making his way towards Portia.

She watched him approach, feeling the heat creep through her stomach as he made his way through the crowded bar. Interesting response, best ignored. There was no time for nonsense like this. She wrapped her hands around the whiskey bottle Vadim had left on the bar and moved away, spotting Piper near the door. Was she avoiding him? Maybe.

Another few hours of greeting people, of being seen, and Portia was finally free. Preston had appeared, and eventually shooed her out the door, bundled in her coat and scarf, hands still wrapped around her untouched whiskey bottle.

“You look like you need a sleep, it’s fine, I can handle this!”

“I need a fucking coma.” Portia replied to him after he’d closed the door to the inn. She leant her forehead against the wooden door for a moment, before turning around and almost screaming.

“Mayor, do I need to make you wear a bell?”

He grinned, “Are you trying to collar me now?”

He was sitting on the stone wall, a cigarette between his lips and a jet canister in his hands. The snow had stopped, but the air was bitingly cold. Portia briefly considered her options, before heaving herself up to sit next to him. She nestled the whiskey bottle between her thighs as he handed her the jet. She turned it over in her hands, glancing around. There was no one else around, and she raised it to her lips and took a quick breath in.

There was the sound of rushing blood in her ears, and everything fell away for a moment. All she could feel was the freezing cold of the stone under her ass, which was steadily going numb.

It only lasted a moment, bit by bit the rest of the world returned. She opened her eyes to the sound of Hancock laughing, almost a growl in his throat. “What?” She asked blearily, pushing the little plastic container back into his hands.

“I’ve never seen someone look like they needed a jet hit as badly as you did when you walked out.” He chuckled, inhaling his cigarette deeply.

Portia hummed a little, the afterglow of the jet slowly working it’s way out of her system. “I fucking miss weed, man.”

“Weed?”

“Cannabis, it was a plant, you dried and smoked it.”

“Oh right, yeah I’ve heard of that.”

Portia sighed. “I smoked a lot of weed back in the day. I can’t believe that fucking scorpions survived the end of the world, but no more pot.”

Hancock slid the jet canister back into his coat, blowing a stream of cigarette smoke into the night sky. “If you’re looking for other things, I have enough daytripper to help you avoid reality until next week.”

Portia chuckled, and shook her head, “Mayor, not all of us can function on jet fumes and mentat dust.”

He grinned at her, “Heh, yeah it’s a skill I’ve spent years honing. I didn’t pick our General as a habitual drug user.”

Portia smiled a little thinly, “You all seem to forget before I went into the deep freeze I had a whole life, you know?” Hancock slid his hand back into his coat, this time producing a cigarette, which Portia took. “Is your coat the nuclear wasteland version of Mary Poppin’s bag?”

“None of that made any sense.”

“It’s an old story, she flew around on an umbrella and put kids up the chimney. It’s, uh, unimportant.” She saw his expression and laughed a little. “I’ve seen you pull a fucking shotgun out of the coat, how do you keep so much stuff in it?”

His eyes flashed again, “You’ll have to get me out of it, General.” He leant over and lit her cigarette, before returning the lighter to the bottomless coat, and sliding off the wall. He held his hand out, steadying Portia as she dropped down to the ground with him. They moved down the street, their breath and cigarette smoke rising in front of them.

“I hadn’t planned on my punch at the entirety of Diamond City,” Hancock said casually. “I was just thinkin’ and I just … said it.”

“Makes sense.” Portia was focused on her boots shuffling through the snow, “I should have realised dragging you back here was gunna stir some feelings up.”

He laughed, low and deep. “Sure stirred something up.”

Portia felt her stomach spike again, and frowned at herself. She lifted her chin and aimed for a professional tone, trying to shake the intimacy out of the moment. “What are you hoping to achieve, Mayor?” She noticed they were walking close enough for their arms to brush against each other; she took a slight step away from him. If Hancock noticed her abrupt shift in energy, he didn’t react.

“Honestly, General? I don’t know. I don’t expect them to go back on what they voted for all those years ago. But I also can’t resist reminding them of who they’re fucking with.” He stared straight ahead, and Portia found herself staring at his face in profile.

High cheekbones, the faint outline of lips still left in the scars of exposed muscle on his face, his dark eyes shone in an otherworldly way. There was a twitch in his set jaw.

When he had greeted her in Goodneighbour two years ago, she’d found his face confronting, upsetting; a constant reminder that she was in a completely different world. Now his face was almost comforting.

They’d reached the front door of Home Plate now, Portia turning the whiskey bottle over in her hands. Hancock glanced at her, the wheels in his head turning.

“Is this … is this your house?”

“Yeah.” Portia was distracted, digging her keys out of her coat pocket and unlocking her front door. Then the penny dropped, as she pushed her front door open and she felt the warmth behind her shift forward slightly. She spun around barring the door with her arm. “No, no absolutely not!”

He was grinning across at her now, leaning an elbow against her door frame. “One drink?”

“In my house? No way.”

He pulled an expression of mock hurt, “Don’t you trust me?”

His body was inches from her, the warmth radiating through the layers of her clothes. “In general? Sure - in my home? Nope. You’ll never leave.” Shit

“Is that a threat or a promise, General?” He grinned slowly, before shifting his weight off the wall and standing up straight again. “Fine, one drink, in the freezing night air?”

Portia stared at him for a moment, he stared back. He was always fucking smiling. Sometimes she couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her, or mocking her. He was still close to her, she could smell him. Smoke, and something heavier. Patchouli, maybe? Or something close to it. She rolled her eyes, and let her arm drop.

“I am going to regret this, aren’t I?”

He followed her through her doorway, reaching his arm out to close her front door behind them. “General, I am nothing but a gentleman.”

She stared over her shoulder at him, “If I catch you in my underwear drawer, I’ll break your arm.”

His laugh drifted out the door, before it snapped closed.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Letting Go.”

Wrote this today, hope you like it, and hope you all have a great day :)

“We have to take him to a hospital.”

His hearing echoed, his ears rang, and his body felt cold and numb. He hurt all over.

“No! That's the last thing he needs right now.”

“Not to be rude but, are you stupid! The last tie i checked, I am the only one here with a Doctorate in actual doctoring.

The world swirled slowly to the left and then to the right.

“Last time I checked I’ve been in his shoes before. You have any idea what they are going to do, they are going to assume he jumped off that bridge on purpose. They are going to strap him down, which is going to make things worse, they are going to bring in psych, who are then going to determine that he should be locked down. That is the last thing this man needs right now, and believe me I have been in his shoes.” he faded out and then back in again.

“Than what do you suggest.”

“You’re a doctor aren’t you, so as long as we have you, he is going to be fine. Let's just get him back to my hotel, but I am telling you the last thing he needs is a noisy smelly hospital room.”

“And how are we going to get him back?”

He faded back in and back out again, “I can carry him.”

“He weights over two hundred pounds.” “Than I will take lots of breaks.”

He faded out again, this time for a long while, waking up only briefly an unknown time later. He was lying, uncomfortably over someone else’s shoulder and staring at the ground as it passed by below him. Little streaks of light dotted his vision from the pain, and he felt back unconscious before he could really understand what was going on.

***

Kier Lindsay stared down at the young man, watching as the strange little alien creature got to work. He had once heard that multitasking was pretty much impossible for humans as the brain was too interconnected to allow for it, but his creature didn’t seem to have any problems. All four of its arms seemed to work independently of each other as it stitched the unconscious man back into one piece. Looking him over the doctor had determined that he had managed to fracture his good leg and some of the bones in his right arm and side, but otherwise he was less injured than they had hoped. 

Then again this was without considering the psychological duress he might be under at the moment.

He grimaced thinking about it.

He had been there before, he had been there and he had hurt a lot of people in the process.

He continued to watch as the alien stitched the other man up with great precision…

Man? 

Honestly he wasn’t much more than a kid, his face was still smooth, unscared by time . Not a hint of white showed in his blond hair, and as he slept, the lines of his face were soft enough that Kier couldn’t shake the feeling that he WAS nothing more than a child.

A child who had had responsibility placed on him far to soon.

To be only in you late twenties and have command of an entire galactic armada.

That was too much to ask for anyone, much less someone like him. Kier couldn’t shake the thoughts as he stared down thinking about how despite technically being an adult for a long enough time, he doubted this man had ever been given a chance to grow up, at least not in the right ways. Turned to the academy at age fourteen, he had been doing adult jobs for longer than most people. He had been thrown into an environment where intelligence and performance mattered but social opportunities were sort of lacking, and then to be thrown right onto the enterprise and into war before trying to recover and immediately turning back to the one group of people that had failed him so badly…..

Adam vir was just a kid, an overly optimistic too trusting kid who had been taken advantage of by the system time and time again. He was like a golden retriever hurt by his master but still loyal enough to come crawling back.

It almost made him sick to watch, but he knew just by looking at him that he would never consider leaving. 

Even if it were for his health.

Kier sighed and sat down by the bed staring at the boy with his chin cupped in one hand.

He had a son about Adam Vir’s age, a boy that was just beginning to pull his life together into some semblance of controlled. It had taken him a lot of mistakes and a lot of experience to figure out who he was, and he ached for the realisation that this man probably never got that.

He knew the feeling all too well.

He shook himself a little, dad mode was something you couldn’t really just turn off, at least not in his case. If there were people younger than him, he felt the automatic obligation to adopt them whether they wanted it or not.

Young people deserved guidance from someone who was older and the more people to do it the better. Lindsay hadn’t seen any of Adam’s family members at the trial, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but he also got the impression that maybe the had avoided telling them on purpose, which was another red flag he was going to have to discuss with the boy woke up.

If he woke up.

***

He woke up some time later, though he couldn’t have guessed what time. The room was dark aside from the blue light of the TV. A little bit of natural light filtered in from the window, but rain clouds dotted blanketed the sky above. Rain pattered against the window in sheets obscuring the city landscape.

He groaned and tilted his head to the side.

A soft whimper, and something warm and wet ran over the back of his hand.

He tilted his head to the side.

The room was small, only big enough for a queen sized bed, a tv and a small desk. There was adoor to a small bathroom right next to a door that likely lead out into the hallway. The hotel room was small, but clean.

And it wasn’t his.

He turned his head a little further, gritting his teeth against the pain as his bleary eyes fell on the silhouette of a man sitting at the end of the bed. He was slightly hunched forward one hand resting on his knee as he flipped through the channels.

“Adam, can you hear me.’

He turned his head a little further to the right, to where Kril was standing beside him, a look of concern on his face.

The silhouette turned to face him, no more than a balck blob against the light. It was impossible to make out his face.

“Where am I? He croaked

The man stood and stepped forward, stepping out of the way of the TV and allowing some light to fall on the side of his face, “My hotel room, sorry about how cramped it is, but until yesterday I was kind of short on cash.”

Adam blinked, the cogs in his brain grinding to a slow start as he stared at the man’s face, which was familiar but he just couldn’t…

“Cigarette.”

It was the first word his brain could think of to describe the man when he finally recognised him, and in his goggy state it was the only thing he could think of, “Where do you even buy those these days.”

“Lets just say if I could quit my smoking habit than maybe I wouldn’t be so short of cash…. Anyway, how are you feeling.”

“Like shit…. What…. What happened.”

The other man sighed and pulled up the chair from the desk, sitting next to him, “You must have had a pretty bad PTSD attack. Looks like you jumped off an overpass and then rad headfirst into a brick wall.”

He grunted, “that explains a lot I guess….” he paused, “I thought…. I thought I was doing fine. I felt…. Fine and now…” A hand rested on his shoulder, “I know, I understand.”

Adam blinked, squinting at him slightly in the darkness, “Who are you/”

“The name is Kier but most of my friends call me Lindsay. I don’t know why, guess our days in the army just sort of rubbed off on us, now we only refer to people by their last names really.”

“What were you doing at the trial.”

The man smiled a little sadly, “Watching some assholes git their comeuppance, oh, and being awarded about five million dollars compensation.”

It took Adam even longer to digest that, “You….. you’re Steel eye-” The last two words came out as a squeak.”

Lindsay turned on the light by the bed, bathing them both in a warm yellow glow. Now that Adam could get a good look at him, he saw an older man probably in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was steel grey but well groomed, and he had the body of a man half his age. He wore only a tattered flannel rolled up to the sleeves and a white T-shirt. The back and sides of his arms were dotted with familiar circular scars  all with a silver sort of sheen.

And, surprisingly, little silver dots….

Iron eye implants.

He turned his head to stare up at him, “You…. you are one of the five.”

“Yep, we never met during the war but I’ve been watching your career on the news for some time now. Some real impressive stuff kid.” he smiled, smiled and easy smile of someone who actually meant it.

Adam felt a sudden pang of guilt and shame.

For a moment he couldn’t figure out what it had stemmed from, until he realised. This man seemed fine, and here he was a complete wreck.

“How are you….. Ok after all that?” he wondered almost bitterly.

Lindsay shook his head, “Don’t start with that. I've jumped from one war to another my entire life. I have more experience than you.”

Adam went quiet, “So you were fine…. After steel eye.”

The man snorted, “No… no no, not even close.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The man shrugged, “Lost both my legs in the war, one above the knee and one below. When I got home my family didn’t have enough money to get me good prosthetics, so I was pretty much wheelchair bound for a year or so.” he sighed, “I came back a shell of a man to a family who really needed a father. It was so bad for a time, everyday I thought about just…. Not being there anymore. I didn’t  talk to my wife, I didn’t talk to my kids, and when I did speak I was angry all the time or apathetic.” His shoulders slumped, “For a time, I didn’t have much of a relationship with my middle daughter or my oldest son. I had drug withdrawals so bad I even wheeled myself halfway across town to try and find something…. Heroin maybe, anything that might take the edge off,” He snorted sadly, “I see it as a blessing now that no one would sell to me. I went over the edge drinking, and chain smoking and trying to bum pills off of any doctor I could find. Luckily with regulations on pills these days, I wasn’t given any.”

Adam felt his mouth go dry, “That bad.”

He nodded, “Woke up screaming most nights because of the dreams. For a while my kids moved out of the house because my wife was scared for thor safety.” He held up a hand, “Even during that time I would never have hit them intentionally, but my dreams were getting so bad that I would wake up flailing, and I would jump at the smallest sound. Anything could set me off.”

He sighed sadly, “But my wife bless her soul, is the strongest woman I know.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a photograph showing it to Adam with a look of pride so profound  it made even Adam’s heart ache.

What he saw was a nice family. Two younger kids, a teenage boy, and a woman.

She had short black hair spiked up and dark lipstick on, and the look on her face was indicative of someone full of mischievous humor.

“My angel. She stayed by me even though she should have left. I tried to get her to leave, even made my behavior worse at one point to drive her off. She SHOULD have left me, but she didn’t. I had the mot amazing support system. She held me from falling any further into it, and my little girl, my little girl Bethany, that little girl pulled me out by my hair and dragged me back to reality. She was too young to realise how horrible I was being, and she just thought I was sick. No matter how much my wife tried to keep hr away from me, she always came to see me somehow, with ‘medicine’.” 

He smiled, “Generally it was just a tube of baby M&Ms. I refused at first, but she insisted, and the one day I decided to take them just to quiet her down, she told me that I would be all better.”

He waited with pent up breath.

“That night, I slept without nightmares…. The placebo effect is a hell of a thing if a child can convince a grown ass man that M&Ms ar medicine. I woke up and my head had never been so clear in my entire life. I saw what I was doing to them, and to my little girl and to my other kids…. I have never cried that hard in my entire life, but it was just what I needed. Some emotion to break the cycle of anger and apathy. It wasn’t an easy road from there, but I finally got smart and started listening to my wife. Somehow managed to get my kids to forgive me, and from there we worked as a team to get me back on my feet.” he patted the cigarette in his pocket, “This is what remains from those days…. Can’t seem to quit, but working on it.”

Adam was quiet for some time, 

“It was that hard on your family.”

“It was. I am glad they stayed but at the same time I wish they hadn’t been so hurt by me.

He sighed and leaned his head back, “I don’t think that is possible for me.”

A hand turned to rest down on his shoulder, “I know it sounds hard right now but…. I have a theory if you want to hear it.”

He sighed, “Shoot, it's not like I have any other bright ideas.”

“What are you?”

“What do you mean.”

“I mean when all the trappings are stripped away from you, your job and your title…. What makes you…. You.”

He paused for a moment, opened his mouth and then closed it, “I…. Im a….I….” The other man waited, his eyes sad.

The only things Adam could think of were related to his job.

When he was silent for some minutes, the man patted his arm, “All these years of service and you've never taken time to construct a framework for yourself that can survive outside of your job. If you keep defining yourself by what you do and how well you preform than you aren’t going to last. You constantly do everything for everyone else, but why not think about doing something for yourself for once, be completely selfish. Don’t go on vacation because, I bet this will calm me down and make me a better leader when I return, go on vacation because you bloody well want to job be damned.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the man silenced him.

“Even if you love your job, you need breaks from it. You need to set the line to where your job ends and you begin, otherwise you won’t have a personality left when you are done. Take some time to fix YOU before lending yourself to everyone else.”

He rested his head back, “That sounds….. Difficult.”

The man patted him on the arm, “You’ve proven you can do hard things, now is just the time to do another hard thing.”

Adam nodded but inside his head he was beginning to feel a little hopeless. He knew that Lindsay was right. He knew that he was messed up, and everything he had done up to this point was just going to be a bandage. 

And until he was fixed.

He was going to have to give up a few things.

He hated the idea of hurting people like Lindsay had described, so…. So that meant doing something that he wasn’t going to like.

“Do you…. Do you mind if I…. speak with you…. On occasion.”

The man smiled, “I already put my number in your phone if you need me. I work law enforcement now so I might be busy, but if you need my help Ill do my best.”

***

He didn’t want the court’s blood money. He would have tossed it away if he could, but he knew that was just his confused mind talking. Money was money, so he mostly gave it away. Gave it away to his parents for their retirement, and to his brothers and sisters for their kids college funds. He gave some to his brother to get him a better house in a new area, but he kept some for himself. It would have been irresponsible not to buy himself a house, to get himself a place away from his job and the ship.

He didn’t know where to buy it at first thinking that earth was too mundane but anything further out was too far removed. So, he bought a little private property on the moon. It cost a shit ton of money but, he had that in spades now. He only told his family about it.

They weren’t exactly happy with them when he finally told them where he had been. They had wanted to be there to support him, but he couldn’t find t in himself to feel bad that they hadn’t see the pictures and the videos he had been forced to see. He apologized and promised he would do better in the future.

He felt disconnected from himself.

Out of touch.

The crew of the Omen was just as angry with him, perhaps even more so than his family.. The intervening days that led him back to his ship feeling detached was like…. Some sort of horrible dream. He felt like he was slipping backward down a slippery slope and watching the light fade away from him. 

He was scrambling on the rocks but couldn’t find purchase.

Perhaps it was the idea of what he had to do next that hurt  him so much. Hurt him so much that he didn’t want to think about it, but he knew he had to. He didn’t want to but he knew he had to. It was the only way he was going to be able to feel ok about himself, about fixing himself.

Maybe things would change when he finally came back.

Maybe when he recovered, he could change what he was about to do.

And maybe he was about to ruin it forever.

He walked down the hallway of the engineering corridor despondent, like he was watching himself in third person.

He reached out a hand that didn’t feel like his and knocked on the wall of the ship.

A familiar face turned to look at him from her workspace in the dark. Sunny stood and paused to look at him, “Adam, are you alright.”

“Sunny…. We…. need to talk.”

She paused eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Are you ok.” she repeated.

He walked in taking a seat on her work bench and staring down at his hands.

“Is this about, the trial….. I mean yes I am a little mad that you didn’t tell me. Is it because I’m a Drev, is it because it would have looked bad. I know I don’t understand human politics, but maybe….”

He held up a hand, and she grew quiet.

He sat for a long moment fighting himself on the inside,and then forcing himself to look up at her. He could feel hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes though, for some reason he couldn’t get them to fall.

She deserved that he at least LOOK at her.

He felt sick.

He just wanted to throw up. 

This…. This was the hardest thing he had ever done. 

“Sunny…. I… while I was away, at the trial.”

She stared at him slow horror and confusion passing across her face.

“Well, I learned some things about myself. Number one being that, I….. I never recovered from what happened to me. From Steel eye and the war. Ive been bandaging it up for the past few years assuming that I can fix it, but at this point…. I wonder if I ever will.” He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her, “I’m broken, and until I can fix myself…. I think its best if-”

“No, no no no that's not how this works.”

He continued speaking, “I think it's best if we take a break.”

“NO!”

“Sunny I love you but I. I am not Capable of being what you need or deserve.” he stood reaching a hand forward, “I can’t subject you to myself like that.”

She jerked away from his hand, “that should be MY decision it would be OUR decision.”

“Sunny please…. I am so sorry.”

“On my planet, battle pairs fight WITH each other no matter how hard the battle is.”

His voice shook timorous and fading fast, “And on my planet, sometimes loving someone means letting them go.”

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 13

cruel summer masterlist

AN: I’m obsessed with all your theories. Hearing from all of you made this week a little bit better. Enjoy this chapter of booze, bowling and jealousy.

Rowan doesn’t know what God he pissed off, but he feels like he’s being actively punished. All he attempted was one single day without Aelin, and instead, he ends up in a group hang with Aelin and the new guy she’s hanging out with, apparently?

His teeth grit as he thinks of Sam. Sam, who looked around the bowling alley and turned up his nose at the cheap beer and smelly shoes. Sam who wiped his chair down with a napkin before taking a seat. Rowan barely knows him, but he’s a hundred percent sure that he hates him.

At least he’s vaguely comforted by the fact that Manon is in an even worse position than him. Before bowling, she warned him of her entirely complicated situation involving Rowan’s two coworkers – he’s never seen Manon so vulnerable as when she explained that she thought Elide was into her. When she explained it, Rowan was inclined to see how she could misunderstand.

When Elide had confided in Manon that she’d had a crush on “someone” for years, and thought they liked her too, Manon assumed that “someone” was her. She knows firsthand how hard it can be to come out, and she thought Elide was just being delicate about it – saying without actually saying that she had a crush on Manon, asking her to make the first move. She didn’t realize “someone” is actually Lorcan, and now Manon’s trapped, helping Elide with the plan she thought was a ruse.

Rowan uses his frustration to propel the ball down the lane, knocking most of the pins down. He turns proudly and grins at the twin pairs of golden eyes that smile back at him. He can’t get over how much Manon’s cousin looks just like her, except he assumes with her natural hair color – a dark, dishwatery blonde, instead of Manon’s bleached platinum.

He’s only met her a few times before, but Asterin is fun. She’s the warm relaxed mirror to Manon’s shrewd ice queen. And he loves seeing how much she cares for Manon. As soon as Asterin heard about the Elide catastrophe confession dinner, she insisted on accompanying Manon and Elide on their next night out. And she’s been Manon’s hype person all night.  

He discards the ball and lets Manon step up to the plate. As she brushes by him she whispers, “Who’s the guy?” And Rowan shakes his head, shrugging her off. He doesn’t want to talk about it. At least not now. Not with Aelin in front of him. When all he wants to do is haul her into his lap and wrap his arms around her and let Sam know exactly what’s going on.

Rowan glances at Aelin, with her freshly dried waves cascading over her bare shoulders, which are exposed in her off the shoulder loose top that ends just above the waistline of her jeans, teasing him with a delicious strip of skin. Rowan frowns, wondering if the outfit is for Sam or for him.

Rowan takes his seat back at the table and tries to replace his emotionally turbulent insides with a mask of calm.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he begins.

“Clearly,” Aelin mutters under her breath, but Rowan hears her perfectly. He knocks her foot with his under the table, but she retracts it, moving her feet away from him and under her chair. It stings. He watches as her eyes glance around the table, landing slowly on Asterin.

“Asterin, I love your jacket,” Aelin says with a too-sweet smile.

Asterin removes her fringed suede jacket, revealing a threadbare t-shirt underneath. “Thanks!” she replies enthusiastically. “I found it at a thrift store last week and am obsessed.” Aelin smiles, waiting for Asterin to say something else. Asterin finally replies with, “I love your earrings.”

Aelin twists her long hair over one of her shoulders to fiddle with the large hoop on her ear and thanks Asterin. Rowan’s eyes bounce between the two women on either side of him, not exactly sure what the hell is going on.

“I’m going to grab a beer,” Sam interjects. “Can I get you anything?”

Aelin nods, asking for a Stella, and the knot in Rowan’s chest unfurls slightly as Sam departs from the table. Aelin’s foot finally returns a small nudge to Rowan’s ankle as she says, “I missed you at dinner last night.”

Rowan’s chest burns as he remembers the way Sam held Aelin’s hand over the dinner table last night, but he grins, regardless. He doesn’t want her to know how badly he’s bleeding. He’ll cover up all his wounds with smiles.

“Sorry. I was so tired from work,” Rowan says. “Plus, I had a new recipe for a bundt cake I wanted to try out.”

Asterin leans forward and puts her hand on his arm. He turns to her, her gold flecked eyes wide with wonder. “Wait, that cake Manon shoved into my mouth earlier was baked by you?” Rowan nods, and Asterin smiles widely. “Wow. That was like, professional.” She turns to Aelin and Elide. “Did you guys know Rowan is the best baker?” Asterin says.

“Yep,” Aelin says sharply. “I’ve had it.”

Her comment is interrupted by Manon’s loud strike, all the pins toppling over in a raucous heap. Elide leaps up from the table and squeals.

“My turn!” Elide pouts and asks Manon for help teaching her how to throw the ball. Rowan watches Manon as she helps Elide position her body squarely to the pins. With her hands on Elide’s hips, he notices that a distracted Lorcan, two lanes down, only downs one pin, much to his teammates’ chagrin.

While he’s looking away, Aelin grabs Rowan’s beer and takes a small sip. Her eyes peer over the rim, piercing holes into his carefully erected armor. “Busy day at work?” she asks casually, but her gaze is anything but nonchalant.

“No more than usual,” Rowan replies, grabbing his beer back and taking another long sip of his beer, and Asterin’s eyes flick between the two of them, curious.

“So, Aelin,” Asterin interrupts, attempting to diffuse the thick layer of tension settling over the table. “How do you know Rowan?”

“We’re friends,” Aelin says coolly, and Rowan tries not to let the word affect him. They are friends. Kind of. Maybe. “He works at my family’s amusement park.”

“Your boyfriend’s cute,” Asterin says, and he tries not to flinch when Aelin glances over her shoulder to where Sam waits at the bar.

“Oh, Sam’s not my boyfriend,” Aelin says. “Just another friend.”

Rowan tries not to flinch at the implication of her words, but he finds it impossible. He will be devastated if Sam is the same kind of friend to Aelin that he is. She pats his shoulder as she stands from the table, and Rowan can feel himself tense under her touch. Her fingers linger ever so slightly as she makes her way to the lane, and he can’t help but watch as her hips sway.

Asterin’s smile is feral as she looks between him and Aelin. “That’s the girl you’re supposed to be staying away from tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Rowan grumbles, annoyed that he’s so incredibly transparent when he’s working so hard to hide his feelings.

“Need me to run interference?” she asks, and Rowan smiles at the kind offer but declines. He turns his attention back to Aelin, who grabs a hot pink ball. She rolls a perfect strike, barely even looking.

“I think Manon needs you more than I do,” he says, glancing at Manon’s arm wrapped around Elide’s shoulders, and the way Elide can’t stop glancing across the room at where Lorcan sits with his teammates.

“I can be both your cheerleaders tonight, babe,” she says with an overzealous wink. “If you need a helping hand, just let me know.”

Aelin freezes a foot away from the table and mouths, “Babe?” while quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolls his eyes and finishes the rest of his beer.

Just as Sam returns to the table, it’s his turn, and they watch him throw a truly horrific gutter ball. The whole table chuckles softly as Sam admits bowling is not his sport.

“What is your sport?” Elide asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glancing Lorcan’s way again.  

“Sailing,” he says. Rowan smothers a sardonic laugh. Of course Sam’s sport is sailing. A sport where the equipment costs more than his yearly salary. Four times his yearly salary, actually.

“That’s not a sport,” Manon interjects. “That’s a trust fund hobby.”

“Tell that to my wall of regatta trophies,” Sam boasts, and even Aelin can’t control rolling her eyes at that, Rowan notices with satisfaction.

“Which reminds me,” Sam begins. “My family is throwing a big Fourth of July party on our yacht next week. It’ll be docked. No sailing experience required. You should come,” he says to Aelin. Then turns to the rest of the table. “All of you.”

“A yacht party?” Aelin says, and Sam flashes her a self-assured grin as he nods. “Oh, Dorian will die. He’s always wanted to do that, but his dad would never let him bring anyone on their boat.”

“Sounds fun,” Rowan says, forcing a smile.

As Sam continues to talk about the preparations for what is sure to be an extremely swanky party, Rowan begins to feel warm and in need of fresh air. He wishes he were a smoker, so he’d have an excuse to step out. Every time Sam name drops or makes an allusion to how much money he has, Rowan feels himself grow smaller. A few more minutes of listening to Sam talk and he can’t stand it anymore. He stands from the table, suddenly.

“Where are you going?” Aelin asks.

“Just gonna get some air.”

He bolts out the door before anyone can ask him anything else. The front of the bowling alley is far too well-lit with bright fluorescent lights, so he slinks around to the side of the building where the parking lot is mostly empty and he can remain covered in dark inky shadows. He leans against the concrete of the building and tilts his head back, trying to alleviate the tension that feels like it’s strangling him. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

His heart is finally starting to slow its pounding when he hears her voice cut through the darkness. “Rowan?” Aelin whispers. He opens his eyes and turns his head toward the sound, and he hears her soft gasp and jump. “There you are,” she says, approaching him slowly. Tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” Rowan finally answers, his deep voice filled with gravel.

“Are you?” she asks, finally coming to stand in front of him. In the dark he can barely make out the shape of her face, but still somehow her eyes glow blue and gold, reflecting the moon lit sky above. “Your date was worried.”

“My date?” Rowan asks, perplexed.

Aelin laughs humorlessly and clasps her hands in front of her stomach. That small sliver of bare skin still distracting him. “Yes, your date. You know. Blonde, very pretty?”

Rowan chuckles. “Are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

Aelin shoves at his chest. “Are you being obtuse on purpose right now?”

“Aelin, I didn’t even know you were coming tonight,” he says. She tosses her hands up in frustration to gesticulate wildly as she talks.

“I’m talking about Asterin, you moron,” she snips at him, and his chest warms as he grabs her hands, which are flailing mid-air between them. “Give me my hands back,” she warns him, but Rowan just smiles.

“You’re jealous,” Rowan finally realizes, and Aelin scowls, trying to pull her hands free from Rowan’s grasp, but he refuses. Instead, he pulls them into his chest and flips them around, so Aelin is the one with her back to the building.

“Am not,” Aelin insists, and he finally releases her hands, only so he can finally touch the skin of her waist that’s been tempting him since she sent that picture of herself hours ago. She shivers as his thumbs rub against her soft skin.

“You are,” he says, leaning down to whisper against the shell of her ear. His lips brush against it, and she clutches onto his shirt, pulling him down toward her. “I didn’t know you could get jealous,” he says, letting his mouth land on the bare expanse of her shoulder. “It’s kind of adorable.” He snickers against her neck, and she tilts her head to the side to give him more room, and her hands wrap around his waist to pull him closer.

“Are you finished ignoring me?” she whispers, and Rowan pauses.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he replies, and he feels her fingers tense against his back and then loosen.

“Okay,” she says, resigned. His lips brush against her neck, then her chin, then her cheek.

He shifts back to look at her, her chest heaving with labored breaths, her body curled around his, wanton and beautiful. And he just has to ask. Has to know. Even if it kills him. He still needs to know.

“You called us both your friends,” he begins, and Aelin’s eyes search his, looking for some hidden meaning to his words. “Is Sam your friend like I’m your friend?” he asks. Understanding flicks over her face as she shakes her head.

“No. Oh my god, no, Rowan.” Her voice is a thin whisper, but it’s firm. Resolute. “No one else is a friend like you. I promise, I would never.”

“Are you sure? Because… it’d be okay if… I mean, I’d understand if…” He tries to reply eloquently, but he can’t find the words. He has the worst habit of tripping up his sentences in front of her.

“Would it?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Because I don’t think I’d be as understanding.” She sighs. “I wanted to rip Asterin’s hand off you.”

Rowan smiles. “Yeah?”

“And like… maybe mount you in the middle of the room.”

“Mmm,” Rowan ponders. “That could be arranged.” He sighs, exhaling slowly as her arms wrap around his waist tighter. Rowan looks up into the night sky and then back down at her, trying to figure out what he wants to say. How he can say it without scaring her away. “I just didn’t know if being exclusive adhered to the rules of being casual.”

“Who says there have to be rules?” Aelin replies softly. “This is between us. We get to decide what that means. Fuck the rules. We make our own.”

Rowan wastes no time before crashing his lips to hers in a mess of lips and teeth and tongue. It feels like coming up for air again. The tension disappears from his shoulders as her fingers twine themselves in the back of his hair, which is almost long enough for her to pull. He feels like an addict, who’s getting his next fix. He breathes her in, letting her keep him as close to her as she wants. His hands go up her loose shirt, and he groans loudly when his hands come into contact with the underside of her breasts. She hasn’t been wearing a bra this whole time. He cups her as his thumbs run over her puckered skin, and she whimpers into his mouth as she grinds onto his thigh.

Rowan is about to slide his hands down the front of her jeans when a throat clears loudly in the distance. They both freeze, pausing and panting, waiting to hear who the voice belongs to.

“I’m not coming any closer because I enjoy my vision and don’t want to gouge my own eyeballs out,” Manon calls out to them. “But, there are three people at that table who realize you’ve both been gone for a suspiciously long amount of time, and I’m getting really tired of distracting Moneybags McGee. So come quickly.” Manon seems to realize her turn of phrase and groans at Rowan’s lewd snickering. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just… you know. Get back inside, please.”

“You could have come closer,” Rowan calls back. “We’re both fully clothed.”

“I couldn’t take that risk,” Manon says, and disappears back into the alley.

Aelin giggles into Rowan’s shoulder and leans her forehead against his chest. She kisses him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and hugs him tighter. She looks up at him and tilts herself up onto her tip-toes and kisses him softly.

“I missed you today,” she says, and he hates how much his heart blooms with hope at her words.

“It was one day,” he replies, smoothing her hair and shirt, so she doesn’t look like she’s just been ravaged in some back alley – even though, technically, that’s exactly what happened.

“Ask me how many times I got off thinking about you in that one day,” she asks saucily, and Rowan nearly chokes at the image of her touching herself.

“How many?” he asks, and she smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Um, yes. I really would,” he laughs.

She saunters away, and he watches her ass move side to side in her tight jeans. He runs to catch up with her, but he keeps his distance as they enter.

Back at their table, Lorcan has joined, much to Rowan’s surprise and Manon’s clear displeasure.

Rowan sits beside her and pats her shoulder. She throws him an aggressive scowl, and he retracts his hand. “So, Asterin clearly failed at her job tonight,” Manon whispers, and Rowan shrugs. He looks at Aelin, who smiles at him, before resuming her conversation with Elide and Sam and now Lorcan.

“I think I’m a lost cause,” Rowan admits.

Manon sighs sadly. “Me too.”

“Maybe we’ll both get what we want,” Rowan says, as they both stare across the table at Aelin and Elide respectively. Elide’s smile is lit up at something Lorcan’s said, and Rowan watches how Sam’s eyes follow Aelin’s every little movement.

“Maybe,” Manon says, but he knows she doesn’t mean it. Despite that, Rowan holds onto the small kernel of hope for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~*~

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters – ask me HERE

tag list:

@thewayshedreamed​

@b00kworm​

@alifletcher2012​

@aknymph​

@the-third-me​

@mymultiversee​

@superspiritfestival​

@empress-ofbloodshed​

@http-itsrebecca​

@queen-of-glass​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@westofmoon​

@rowaelinforeverworld​

@iliketoasterstrudels​

@bamchickawowow​

@hizqueen4life​

@faerie-queen-fireheart​

@giorgia-the-trashpanda​

@acourtofmoonlight​

@m-like-magic1​

@rolltide7​

@wordsafterhours​

@amren-courtofdreams​

@alserath​

@tswaney17​

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@joyceortiz13​

@itsme-malin​

@aesthetics-11​

@keshavomit​

@yingyingbearbear

@alxanxah​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@minaidss​

@meowsekai​

@deepdarktrashhole​

@samotita​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@ehazzard7​

@cursebreaker29

@flourishandblottsx​

@maastrash​

@nishlicious-01

@sailorsassley​

@aelin-queen-of-terrasen​

@pine-and-snow-blog​

@anunforseeablereader​

@galyxsy​

@greatwombatblaze​

@queenofbumblebees​

@kaitlynn1216​

@januarystears​

@officialasianbitch​

@jewel334​

@justgiu12​

@df3ndyr

@l0sts0uls1128​

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twenty-Four: We Help Out Willow’s Big Brother

Luz’s legs were burning.

She was pretty sure she’d never had to walk this far in her entire life. She’d been hiking a couple of times with her Tia Rosa when she was younger, but she definitely hadn’t enjoyed it. And it definitely hadn’t been more than an hour.

The walk down the highway hadn’t been that bad. They’d stayed off to the side of the road, and even been picked up by a nice mom in a minivan at one point. They’d told her that Gus’ dad had a fishing house along Turquoise Lake, and she’d dropped them off right at the edge of the highway. That had probably cut them about an hour of walking, but it was still slow and brutal.

Eventually, the highway had ended and a dirt road took its place. That’s when they started to move uphill. Luz could handle the straight line, but she was wearing vans and wasn’t at all interested in uphill climbing in flat shoes.

After about an hour and a half of moving along this uphill climb, Luz doubled over, clutching her stomach.

“Can we take a quick break? I’m dying here.”

Willow was more than happy to agree with Luz, dropping into a squat right next to her. “Sure, I’m beat.”

“I don’t know guys,” Amity said with a frown. Somehow, throughout the entire hike, she didn’t look even the slightest bit tired. She was sweating a little along her brow but otherwise looked unfazed. “We shouldn’t stop here. We’re exposed.”

“Don’t you guys think it’s a little strange we haven’t run into a single monster?” Gus added. He also looked a little worse for wear, he had shed his button-up and was now just in a t-shirt and jeans. But he was worrying his lower lip, looking around like they would be ambushed at any second. “I mean, we’re four demigods walking in a group, closing in on Mount Pelion. We couldn’t be bigger targets if we tried.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Willow deadpanned, taking a huge swig of water from one of the bottles they’d bought in Leadville. “I really don’t have the energy to fight a monster right now. We’ve been hiking for two and a half hours.”

“If we’re going to take a break, I think we should at least do it in the trees and out of sight,” Amity suggested, and Luz nodded, straightening back up.

“That’s fine with me, any break is a good break.”

They walked off the dirt road and down a little trail until they ended up a creek. Finding a good spot to sit along some rocks, Willow handed everybody a protein bar. Luz collapsed pretty ungracefully along a rock and closed her eyes.

“This is brutal,” she groaned, “and it’s only going to get more intense the higher up we get.”

“It depends actually,” Amity added with a shrug. “We might have to make our way around the mountain in a spiral. Lots of trails don’t go straight up.”

“How do you know all that?” Willow asks, and Amity tucks her arms around her knees.

“I live in the area, remember? My siblings and I go on hikes all the time during the school year.”

“So do you know the trail up Mt. Elbert?” Gus asks, and Amity shakes her head.

“No, we’re not allowed to go near Mount Pelion. I’ve done Mt. Evans a couple of times though.”

“Well that explains how you’re like, not even out of breath at all,” Luz says with a teasing smile. “You’ve got some superhuman hiking strength.”

Amity blushes, rubbing the back of her neck. “It just takes practice. Eventually, you stop noticing the burn in your calves.”

“Ugh, I wish,” Gus groans. “Mine feel like I’ve just run a marathon.

“Do you think we’re going to make it up the mountain before dark?” Willow asks, and Amity immediately shakes her head.

“We shouldn’t, even if we are in a hurry. The higher we get, the more brutal the winds are going to be. It’s just after noon, so we should hike a little longer before we take a break and look for camp.”

“Ok, then let’s get moving,” Luz said, and when she stood up, every muscle in her legs protested. “The sooner we get there the sooner we can stop.”

They started to make their way back to the dirt road, walking in pairs. Amity was leading the charge with Gus next to her, and Luz and Willow hung back, their feet dragging a little more than they would have cared to admit.

They were almost back at the dirt trail when Amity suddenly stopped cold, and Luz wasn’t really paying attention, so she just slammed into her back. Amity stumbled, but Luz reached forward and caught her arm, pulling her back.

“Sorry,” Luz mumbled, but Amity just held up her hand. It was so unlike Amity that Luz quieted immediately, as did Willow and Gus, who were now looking around the clearing with nervous eyes.

“Did you hear that?” Amity whispered, stiffening up.

Luz was quiet, listening to her surroundings as her friends did the same. At first, there was nothing. Just the rush of the creek and the swaying of the trees. But then…

RHEEEEEEEEE!

Luz was so startled by the cry, she jumped right back into Willow, who held her shoulders and kept her steady. Gus and Amity called out their shields, holding a protective barrier in front of them, but it wasn’t needed. The cry had come from somewhere deeper in the trees, and following that right away was another cry, this one human.

A very angry human, cussing so badly her Mami would have washed their mouth out with soap.

Then, another cry from whatever had made that noise.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Willow exclaimed, and all four demigods summoned their weapons. Aletheia spun into a sword, and Luz caught it, and charged through the forest with her friends, her previous exhaustion forgotten.

“What kind of monster is that?” Luz cried out as they sprinted through the trees. There was no doubt it was something from their world. No bear or wolf made a noise like that.

“I have a couple of ideas!” Gus offered, doing his best to keep up and not trip on the rocky ground. “None of them good!”

“Sounds about right,” Luz groaned, before deciding to just focus on running.

Amity eventually skidded to a complete stop right as they broke through a clearing in the trees, and Luz stopped a lot more dramatically next to her, her dominant foot slipping and resulting in Aletheia being held up against her face protectively. When Luz looked past Amity’s shoulder at what was making the sound, she gawked.

In the middle of the clearing, there was a gorgeous white and blue farmhouse, with a huge porch. Luz could make out a clothesline hanging from the top of the porch, and a couple of wicker sitting chairs. There was a variety of hanging plants in the garden, and a huge wreath over the door. And the clearing? It was huge.

In fact, the clearing wasn’t a clearing at all. It was more like a twenty-acre farmers' field, just sitting off the dirt road in mountain country. Luscious green vegetables were growing in the fields, along with potatoes, corn, beans, an orchid of apples, and there was even a gods forsaken red barn smack in the center of it with a couple of animals milling about. The enough was enough to shock Luz since she was pretty sure the soil quality up here couldn’t be great. They looked like they could be in Missouri, not Colorado.

But the biggest shock wasn’t the farm. It was the farmer standing just away from the front porch. The farmer’s huge hands were clasping a boar by the tusks, stopping it from charging. He grunted with effort, gritting his teeth and digging his boots in the dirt, his muscles rippling under a green flannel button up.

Luz had never seen a boar before, but she was pretty sure they were supposed to be that big. It was easily the size of a sedan, with massive beady eyes, and it was doing everything in its power to push against the farmer. It’s feet stamped into the ground furiously as it pushed, and Luz saw the farmer tense as he was pushed back an inch in the dirt, and all the shock drained from her body.

“We have to help him!”

Luz charged forward, her friends at her heels. She approached the boar with a furious yell, and with a quick swing, she managed to take the boar by surprise and cut one of the tusks off sending it spinning into the dirt. The boar was now moving off-balance, diverting away from the farmer and charging in another direction. The farmer stumbled and dropped to one knee.

Gus and Amity charged at the boar with their weapons and shields, keeping it away from the crops. Willow had already leaned down to help up the farmer.

“Are you alright?”

He took her hand and stood, brushing his hands down his dirty jeans. “Thanks, kid,” he said to Willow, his voice gruff and heavy with a deep southern drawl. “I’ll be just fine. But we better go help your friends, cuz’ they ain't’ gonna be fine for long.”

Luz spun around, and her eyes widened in horror. The boar had turned on Gus now and had knocked his shield out of his hand with it’s one good tusk and sent it spinning into the dirt. He stabbed forward with his spear, managing to turn the boar away from him, but now it had focused on Amity, rearing back to charge.

“Amity!”

Luz ran forward, but there was no way she could outrun the boar. Amity didn’t seem to need her help though, because as it charged she sidestepped, managing to graze the side of it with her sword. It wasn’t nearly enough to send it running, but it did squeal and give Luz, Willow, and the farmer enough time to make it to the other two demigods.

They readied their weapons, the five of them standing together and watching the boar murderously. Seeming to realize it was outnumbered, the boar huffed in anger, before turning tail and fleeing, exiting through the trees and out of sight.

Luz exhaled, turning to her friends in terror.

“What was that thing?”

“The Crommyonian Sow,” Gus said, his voice very small as he retracted his spear and picked up his sword. “The mother to the Calydonian Boar. It terrorized the village Crommyon and was later killed by Theseus.”

“Theseus?” Luz asked, her voice quickly rising in anger. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It’s not, Luz,” Amity said, and Luz’s gaze flickered up to look at her. Her eyes were wide, but not because of the run-in with the boar. “Your dream!”

Luz paled, and Willow and Gus turned to look at her in confusion.

“What dream?” Willow asked, and Luz recalled the dream she’d had of the mountain, from the fight between Theseus and Achilles, Belos’ order, and the Death Mist. When she’d finished, they both had gone pale as well.

“His exact words were ‘stop them before they find us’?” Gus repeated, fidgeting uncomfortably. “That can’t be good.”

“The Sow started showin’ up today, but it’s come back roun’ here three times lookin’ for trouble,” the farmer said, and Luz jumped, forgetting he was standing there. When Luz and her friends turned to look at him, he stuck his hands in his jean pockets, giving them a white smile.

Luz wasn’t sure how old he was, maybe somewhere in his early thirties? He had curly dark hair and a scruffy beard that made him look like a lot of the dads that dropped their kids off at Luz’s school in the morning. He had a deep tan, and his eyes were a dark green, that twinkled in a way that Luz pegged right away as not human.

Though she should have figured that out already based on the way he held back a boar with his bare hands.                                                                                

“I’m Demophon,” he said with a little smile. “Why don’t you kids come inside for some lemonade.”

Demophon’s house was really homely. It was an old farm style, with a lot of wooden furniture, and the décor was mainly light greens and blues. In the living room next to a couple of couches was a huge brick fireplace, sitting barren and unused. They sat down at the kitchen table that overlooked the farm fields, and Demophon returned from the kitchen with two pitchers of lemonade and plates of snacks: cookies, fresh veggies and fruit, and sandwiches.

They probably should have been more cautious, considering they didn’t really know anything about Demophon, but they were so hungry they couldn’t care less. Luz’s stomach grumbled in delight as she dug into a little tuna sandwich, washing it down so quickly with lemonade she barely tasted it.

“Thank you so much for the food, Mr. Demophon,” Amity said between bites, and he just shook his head.

“Demophon is fine, Amity. It’s my pleasure to help you kids on your quest.”

The four of them perked up, now looking at him with surprise. The farmer chuckled, but Luz noticed a slight lift in her shoulders. She did the same thing when she was worried about something.

“Yes, I know all about your quest. My mother sent me a message earlier this month lettin’ me know you migh’ be stopping by… and that you were on your way to free Lady Hestia.” For a moment, his nerves disappeared as he turned to Willow, his green eyes twinkling in pleasure. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, little sister.”

Willow dropped her sandwich on the plate, looking up at him in shock. Luz felt her mouth drop open and saw Amity and Gus tense next to her. Willow, eventually, was able to reply.

“You’re my brother?”

Demophon hummed, taking a seat next to them. He crossed his huge calloused hands together on the table and smiled. “Well, in a sense. Demeter is more of my adopted mother. But over the many centuries I’ve been alive, I have come to grow fond of her.”

“You’re Triptolemus’ brother,” Gus said, his voice lowering in realization. Demophon chuckled.

“Trip is my older brother yes. Though he rarely visits. He has many other duties to attend to.”

“But how… how are you alive?” Gus said in awe, and Luz realized that Willow and Amity were leaning in, desperate to hear his story. Luz really needed to brush up on her Greek mythology. Maybe she’d take it as her elective when she went back to school.

“What do you mean how is he alive?” Luz asked, blinking. “He’s a god, obviously.”

“No, Luz Noceda,” Demophon said with a shake of his head. He settled his warm green eyes on Luz with a smile. “I am no god. But I am immortal.”

Luz’s brow furrowed. “How is that different?”

“Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, but also fertility,” Demophon explained, nodding his head to Willow. “My birth parents were favored by my mother, just as Willow’s fathers were. In exchange for their adoration, Demeter sought to make me a god in their honor. She is the mother of the Olympians and worked with Hestia to have me stoked on their fires and made immortal. But halfway through the process, my birth mother found me on the fire and screamed, rippin’ me off the flames. The process was never finished, but it was too late to turn back. I was made immortal, but due to my… imperfection… I was never accepted into the Greek pantheon. So, mother let me have this farm here near Mount Pelion, and that’s where I’ve stayed.”

“Why weren’t you accepted?” Amity asked in shock when he finished. She was looking Demophon up and down. “You look godly to me. You held back that sow with your bare hands, and you certainly haven’t aged over the centuries.”

“There is more to being a god than just strength and immortality,” Demophon answered, his voice turning wistful as he talked. “You need drive: godly essence that comes from owning and having. You need to stand for something and have mortals who respect and favor you. Mortals don’t see me as a person who can grant them good fortune and prosperity, and I have no claim over any aspect of humanity.”

“Because the legends said you died in the fire when your mother found you,” Willow said, her mouth open wide with shock and realization. Demophon shrugged.

“Mortals rarely get the full story, and so they fill in the gaps with what they want to see. Complex situations confuse em’. I think you know what I mean, little sister.”

Willow flushed, and Luz realized that maybe Demophon had a point. Willow was teased for being “half a half-blood”, but she was one of the strongest demigods Luz knew. The more Luz looked at Demophon, the more sympathy she felt for him. It must be incredibly lonely, living for this long and never being accepted into the mortal world or the godly one.

“I’m sorry we brought the monster to your farm,” Luz said slowly, and Demophon looked over at her with the tiniest hints of a smile.

“Now, now of that, Luz. I’m no fool, and unless you’re the man that sent that beast, I have no quarrel with you. But you kids ain’t safe heading up the mountain until that monster’s been taken care of.”

Demophon stood up and went into the kitchen, but came back relatively quickly. He had a cloth package in his hands, which he handed to Willow.

“These are some of my mother’s apples. She has me grow them here in case harvest on Olympus is poor. It never is, so I always have plenty. When you need a boost, take a bite. Hopefully, it helps you on your quest.”

Willow held the package so gently in her hands, it was like she was afraid they would disappear. She looked up at Demophon in awe.

“These apples… they haven’t been trusted to mortals in centuries. Why would you give us something like this?”

Demophon’s face suddenly went dark.

“I want Belos gone just as much as the Olympians do. Hestia is the reason I’m here, able to tend to my farm and my livestock. She’s always been kind to me… kind to all who cross her path and say hello.”

He looked over at the huge fireplace in his living room, which was completely dark. His eyes were fixated on it, like the sight of it alone physically pained him.

“My fire hasn’t lit since she was taken,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on those last few words. “Without her, all the love and light and happiness that we know will fade from existence. Somebody needs to stop him, and get her back. If I were not bound to this farm, I would go up the mountain myself. I will do anything I can to help you.”

Demophon sat back down at the table and went back to cradling his calloused hands in his lap. Luz was suddenly struck with a pang of homesickness. Demophon did the same thing with his hands her Mami did when she was worrying herself sick about something. He was just as scared about the success of the quest as they were.

“You seem to admire Hestia a lot,” Luz said quietly, so quietly she wasn’t sure anybody would hear her. But Demophon looked up, and so did her friends, turning to look at Luz. She glanced at Amity, for only half a second, and realized that she was watching Luz with a careful expression.

Had she overstepped?

Demophon met Luz’s gaze, and that’s when Luz saw it. It was the same look Amity gave her when she was grappling with a decision. To tell or not to tell.

“I’ve had so few people I could truly call a friend while I’ve worked this farm,” he eventually said, glancing over at the fire. “I could always rely on Hestia to show whenever I lit that fire and passed on my offerings. There are so few certainties in a life as long as mine. If you were in my place, would you be happy with that changing in the blink of an eye?”

“No,” Luz said immediately. She couldn’t imagine just sitting at her Mami’s apartment while her friends were in danger. She’d do anything to protect Willow and Gus. She’d do anything to protect Amity.

She’d move the entire mountain by herself if she had to.

She opened her mouth to reply, to assure Demophon that they would do everything they could to save her, but she didn’t get the opportunity to. Because Amity spoke next, swallowing hard before shaking her head.

“I’ll get her back,” Amity said, leaning in to look Demophon in the eye.

It was so surprising Luz couldn’t help but turn and look at Amity out of the corner of her eye. Amity’s expression was startling. Her face looked exactly like how Luz was feeling.

“I’ll break her out of the cage and make Belos pay no matter what happens. I swear it on the River Styx.”

Outside, thunder rumbled. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Willow and Gus were looking at Amity with a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Luz didn’t really know what was happening, but judging by the equally as awed look Demophon was giving her, whatever she’d done was pretty serious.

“You don’t know what you’re promising me, kid,” Demophon tried, but Amity shook her head, leaning in again with such a ferocity Luz couldn’t look away no matter how hard she tried.

“I do know,” she insisted, reaching forward and gently resting her hand over his. “I know that nobody deserves to have someone taken from them. Being around the people you love makes life worth living.”

Willow cracked a small smile, nodding her head and leaning forward to rest her hand on top of Amity’s.

“She’s right. I’ll help too.”

“Me too!” Gus added, reaching forward to put his own hand on top of Willows.

Luz broke into a grin, nodding and adding her own hand to the now growing pile. “Obviously I’m in too. We’ll free Hestia, even if Theseus throws a hundred more stupid pig-boars at us.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t,” Amity deadpanned, and Luz laughed, hard enough that everyone at the table cracked into smiles. Even Demophon, who was looking so grateful Luz thought he might start crying.

“Thank you, kids,” he said, wiping at his face. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“We do know. That’s why we want to help,” Luz insisted, her whole body vibrating with adrenaline at what they were about to do. “Now let’s go make some pork chops.”

[let-love-run-red]

Vengeance

Hey I have a request if you're willing to write it. How about one where reader is married to Kylo and they have a kid, and reader is angry at Rey for what happened to Kylo and decides to hunt her down for revenge?

-I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind Anon, but this was my take on this, hope you enjoy!

Contains TROS spoilers

General tag list: @keithseabrook27​, @scarlettsoldier​, @simonsbluee​

Empress (y/n) Ren. The unseen second head of the First Order. Now Supreme Leader Mistress Ren, mother to Prince Lucdall Ren. You and his father had often called him Lucky, because that's what he was. He'd been born into the most powerful family. He was a gorgeous baby, and grew into a gorgeous child, with his father’s thick dark hair and strong nose. He had your attitude and your grace. He was already a strong force user and had been training with his father for the day he was to take over the First Order.

Until she came along. 

Rey "Skywalker." You growled every time you heard that name uttered. As you walked through the marketplaces of the planets that had renewed hope. You gripped Lucdall's hand tightly, tugging him along behind you. He was scared, he was confused. His father was gone, he didn't understand death. He was only four years old, he didn't understand why his father wasn't going to come back, he didn't understand why the two of you had to exchange your sleek black clothing for the dusty rags of peasants and slink about the planets in search of hidden First Order bases to regain your following.

There were few things he did understand. He understood that you, his loving mother, cried herself to sleep every night. He understood he must stay quiet, keep his head down, not let anybody see his face. He had made that mistake on Coruscant, somebody had seen his face as they walked through an alley and tried to harm him. Luckily for him, you were a talented warrior that had managed to grab Kylo's recovered lightsaber as you escaped the burning First Order ship with your son.

He also understood the name Rey Skywalker, or Rey Palpatine as you called her, was one to be hated. He saw the way your jaw jumped when somebody said her name, the way your hand itched towards the lightsaber on your hip. If the way you tracked her across the galaxy wasn't enough of an indication the way the rest of the galaxy flew banners with her name etched on them was. Lucdall wasn’t a fan of her either.

As you piloted the small ship you'd stolen off Jakku you listened to Lucky play with a few small toys you'd purchased at one of the marketplaces. They were simple, nothing compared to the various things his father had brought him when he was alive, but they were enough to keep a four-year-old entertained.

Especially a four-year-old with the force you thought as one of the toys hovered around your head. It was a stuffed Nerf. You smiled and brushed it away from your face.

"Lucky, mommy has to fly. Please keep the toys with you?" You asked. You heard a quiet "ok mommy" as the nerf floated back to where Lucky was playing. You heard a sniffle and risked a glance behind you to see Lucky in the middle of the few toys with tears in his eyes. You turned the ship on autopilot before standing from your seat and walking towards your son. He looked so much like Kylo, it hurt you sometimes.

"Lucky, what's wrong?" Lucky stood form his place on the floor and held his arms out to you. You picked him up off the ground and held him against you. He wrapped his arms around your neck and buried his small face in your neck as his small body shook with sobs. You rubbed his back and smoothed his hair down. You sat on the small bed in the cramped ship, trying to hold back your own tears.

Lucdall finally pulled away, wiping his nose and eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. He looked at you, his bottom lip quivering. You felt a pang of sadness looking at your son. The shirt was too large for him, and you could tell it itched by the way he kept fidgeting. He was barefoot, he'd long outgrown his boots. He was growing so quickly; you knew in your heart he was going to be at least as tall as his father. You hadn't been able to find new shoes that you could afford, so you'd wrapped his feet in cloth in an attempt to at least provide some barrier between them and the ground.

"I miss daddy." He said. Those words were enough to re-light the fire that fueled the anger in your heart against the last Jedi. You pursed your lips and used the edge of your sleeve to wipe Lucky's tears from his eyes. You pulled him back into your chest and brushed over his hair once again. It was nearly as long as Kylo's was, and still soft.

"When will he find us?" Lucky asked quietly. You took a deep shaky breath, and let it out slowly.

You had to tell him.

"Lucky, baby." You said softly. He pulled away and looked at you expectantly. He had the eyes of Kylo Ren. There was no doubt he was the Supreme Leader's child, no doubt he was the heir to the throne of the broken remains of the First Order.

"Daddy's not," You paused as you looked at him. How were you supposed to tell a child his father, the man he loved and looked up to, the man who was supposed to protect him and teach him how to protect himself, wasn't going to find him.

"Daddy's not going to find us baby." You said. Lucky's eyebrows furrowed tightly.

"What do you mean? Daddy always finds us." He said. You could hear the familiar buzz in your ears that happened whenever Kylo went on a rampage or Lucky threw a fit. The sound of the force in your son becoming angry.

"Daddy can't find us. Daddy's not coming back." You said. He didn't know death; you didn't know how to explain it.

"Daddy always comes back." Lucky said, more seriously now. The buzz was growing louder, you didn't know if you could handle a force tantrum right now. Kylo was always the one to calm him when he had a force tantrum. But Kylo wasn't here anymore, you were.

"Lucdall Ren listen to me." You said sternly. Your sudden change in demeanor shocked him out of the beginning of his tantrum, but only slightly.

"Daddy is not coming back. Some very bad people hurt daddy, very badly." You said. The buzzing in your ears subsided slightly and you let out a breath.

"Daddy can get better, can't he?" Lucky asked as his bottom lip started quivering again.

"Not this time baby. They hurt him too bad." You said. Lucky took a breath again, before leaning against your chest. You rubbed his back again and pressed your lips to the top of his head. His hair was covered in grease and sand. You glanced out the front window to see the planet Tatooine floating before you.

"I want to hurt them." You heard Lucky mumble. You pulled him back. His eyes had taken on an angry gleam, one you had seen in his father many times.

"I want to hurt the people who hurt daddy." He said. You heard a crackle in your ears and watched the toys on the floor begin to vibrate.

"No Lucky." You said, resting your palm against his cheek and pressing your forehead to his own. You waited for him to do what he'd done since he was a baby, open his mind to you and allow you to take away his anger. You were his mother, and you were hellbent on making sure your baby never hurt. Finally, Lucky gave in, revealing the anger and sadness that had been brewing in his mind since the downfall of the First Order. Since the two of you had woken one morning with Kylo missing and the First Order in shreds after the emperor’s fleet had been destroyed. You held it with you as Lucky fell asleep in your arms. It always took his energy to release his emotions, he would sleep for now. Long enough for you to finish what you had come here for.

You landed the ship on Tatooine as close to the old home of Luke Skywalker as you could without alerting the Scavenger. The nobody. You stood from your seat, dropping the rags that draped over you like a shawl and leaving only the tightly wrapped fabric secured by one of Kylo's old belts. His lightsaber attached to your hip, along with the daggers you'd stolen and bought as backups. You walked to where Lucky lay on the scratchy mattress, bent down, and placed a soft kiss on his temple.

"Sleep my prince, I'll return soon." You exited the ship, closing the hatch and approaching the settlement. She was force sensitive; you knew she could sense you as you approached. You had enough knowledge of the force to know that she could sense you. You watched as she appeared from the settlement, squinting into the sun. Her lightsaber on her own hip. You walked with purpose, the tails of your knee-length outfit whipping behind you as you did. 

She was the reason he was dead. The reason your son had to be raised without a father. The reason he was sleeping on a flat mattress on a junk ship rather than in his quarters on a star destroyer. She was the one that broke Kylo Ren, the one who killed Ben Solo, the one who destroyed your family. A smile broke her face as you approached.

"Hello, it’s been so long since I've had visitors. I'm Rey Skywalker, you are?" She said as you continued your approach. Her eyes flicked to the belt around your midsection, face falling as she recognized the lightsaber you drew and ignited.

"Allow me to introduce myself." You growled as you swung it at her. She ignited her own, blocking your rapid hits as you pushed her back further.

"I am (y/n) Ren, wife of Kylo Ren and Supreme Leader of the First Order." You said through gritted teeth. You pushed against her blade and lifted one leg, kicking her stomach and pushing her onto her back in the sand.

"Wife? I didn't think Ben was married." She said. There was that name, Ben. No. He was Kylo. You stood over her and raised Kylo's saber to drive it into her chest. She threw you off her with the force and you cursed as you landed and rolled to your feet, turning to face her and block her swing as your (h/c) hair whipped around your face. You used your other hand to grab one of the daggers on your other hip, preparing to throw it into her stomach when she used the force to throw the daggers from their place and bury them in the sand.

"He turned to the light on his own, he was good." She said. You growled and pushed back with Kylo's saber, catching her blade on the cross guard and pushing the tip into the ground. You kicked her in the head as she bent with her blade to avoid losing it and she stumbled backwards before lashing out with the force. She pinned your arms to your side as you thrashed against her hold.

"He was the strongest man in the galaxy, you ripped him away from me." You hissed. You could feel a crackling in your ears, and assumed it was from being pinned with the force. Rey stood form the ground, taking deep breaths.

"You're not force sensitive." She said breathlessly. You continued to struggle against her hold.

"(y/n), I don't want to kill you. Please, just go." Rey said. You could feel the force loosening its hold on you.

"I will not." You said as you broke free and charged her again. Rey lifted her saber to block your wild swings as you cried out in rage, stumbling when she pinned your red blade to the ground and threw an ill-timed kick to your back. You rolled over the lightsaber blades, landing down on one knee as Rey knocked the saber from your hand with the force.

"(y/n) I'm going to give you one last chance to run." Rey said. You lunged at her, dodging the saber blade and tackling her to the ground, knocking her own blade from her hand as you wrapped your arms around her midsection. She let out a groan as she connected with the ground.

"You ripped apart my family!" You yelled, pinning her to the ground with your knees on her hands and throwing hit after his to her face. She tried throwing you off, only for you to punch her harder.

"You are the reason we're alone!" You cried. Rey took a breath before throwing you off and rolling to her feet, spitting blood from her mouth.

"We?" She asked, using the force to summon her saber. You took a few deep breaths, scrabbling frantically for Kylo's saber. You couldn't lose it; you could not be unarmed.

"The First Order must die." She growled, wiping blood from her face and raising her saber.

"And it will die with you." She raised her saber, only to freeze with a gasp before dropping the saber.

"Mommy!" You heard Lucdall's voice. You turned to see him holding his fist towards the two of you, his hair flared around his head and his eyes a disturbing shade of yellow.

"Lucdall!" You cried, running towards him. He released his grip on Rey who fell to the ground clutching her throat and gasping.

"It's not possible," She breathed, looking to Lucdall in fear.

"He is, he can't be a force user." You scooped up your son in your arms, looking around frantically for Kylo's saber as you clutched Lucdall close. He wriggled in your grip as Rey stood and rubbed her throat. She retrieved the saber before approaching the two of you. You curled yourself around Lucky, holding him close while growling at Rey.

"If you come any closer, I'll kill you." You seethed. She looked on in pity, raising her saber to strike. You lowered your head and held Lucdall as he squirmed, before you heard two blades clashing. You looked up to see a glowing blue light holding Kylo's saber.

"Ben?" Rey asked. You looked up to see the shape of Kylo, as a force ghost, holding his own saber.

"You dare raise your hand to my wife?" He growled angrily. You looked on in disbelief as he pushed against Rey's saber harder.

"Dream of harming my child?" He shouted, swinging his blade and catching hers against the cross guard to twist it from her grip, he caught it in his other hand and flicked it on. 

"To use my family name against one of my own blood!" He cried, swinging the sabers towards her. She ducked and rolled away from him, scrambling in the sand for something. She continued backing away from Kylo. He was all grace, light on his feet and dancing through the sand as she slipped on her own clothes.

"Ben you were good!" Rey cried, digging in the sand once again as he approached her.

"A moment of weakness." Kylo growled, raising his own saber when Rey finally produced a bundle of cloth, ripping it open to reveal Luke and Leia's sabers. She ignited them both, standing to face Kylo. You watched the two face off, still holding Lucdall close. He had been trying to struggle out of your grasp since the moment Kylo appeared, recognizing his father’s voice.

"I want to see Daddy!" Lucky finally cried, causing Kylo to turn and face the two of you. Rey swiped at his midsection with the saber, having no effect on the ghost. Kylo turned to face her with anger in his eyes. He finally raised both sabers he held, kicking Rey down into the sand.

"You can't touch me." He said, crossing the sabers across her throat. She breathed out heavily as Kylo pulled the blades together, finally ending the Palpatine line forever. He let out a huff, dropping the scavengers saber next to her lifeless form, sheathing his own saber and turning to you and Lucdall.

As he approached, Lucdall suddenly grew shy, burying his face within your robes. Kylo knelt in the sand in front of you, watching quietly from a short distance. You stroked Lucdall’s back, feeling tears in your eyes as you looked upon the face of the man you loved. You smoothed your hand over Lucdall’s hair and gently pulled him away from your body, turning him to face Kylo.

"Hello little one." Kylo said softly to Lucdall. Lucdall glanced up to Kylo's smiling face before looking back to where Kylo sat in the sand, nothing being displaced by the ghost. 

"Daddy?" He asked, scooting forward slightly. Kylo grinned wider and nodded, sitting cross-legged in the sand. Lucdall stood from your lap, moving towards Kylo and reaching out a hand to touch his face. Lucdall hesitated before his hand connected with Kylo's face, and Kylo gently reached his hand to take his son's own. Lucdall looked down to see his hand through his father’s semi-transparent one.

"You've grown so big." Kylo said to Lucdall, voice wavering. Lucdall stepped closer to Kylo once more, leaning experimentally against his chest. Kylo wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close. You shuffled forward, running your hand over Kylo's bicep to feel fabric. You pulled back in surprise.

"How?" You asked. Force ghosts were not supposed to be able to touch things or interact with the world around them. Kylo opened one arm, pulling you against him and whispering in your ear.

"I don't have much time; I used the dark side to finish it. I won't be here much longer I just had to, I had to see you. To feel you, to hold him." He said, gripping the back of your outfit and burying his face in your neck as you brushed your fingers through his hair. You felt Kylo shaking and looked down to see him crying. Lucdall was crying as well, crying and clinging to his father's robes the way he would when he was young.

"Lucky," Kylo said softly when he pulled away from you. Lucdall looked up to meet his father’s eyes. Kylo lowered his forehead to press it against Lucdall's own before speaking. "my brave son. You are destined for greatness. Never forget your father loves you." He said, before releasing Lucdall from his grasp and guiding him towards you. He reached out to rest his hand against your cheek.

"And you, my beautiful beloved (y/n)," He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, "I will always protect you." Kylo said, before standing to his feet. He offered you his saber and you took it, reattaching it to your belt. You watched as Kylo turned his back to you walking into where the sun was setting before fading away with the dust. You felt tears slip from your eyes as you held Lucdall tighter.

"Come Lucky, it's time to go home." 

[jemej3m]

a comprehensive set of rules (p.2)

i have no control over my writing schedule. it has been completely consumed by this au. this is all of y’all’s fault. 

heavy tw: blood and gore and bodies. also, bad people talking about raping allison and using homophobic slurs.

*

July:

“Andrew,” Renee called out, rapping her knuckles on the guest bedroom gently. 

Andrew was currently living out of one, black suitcase: he’d spent half his time at different hotels and half his time at colleagues’ homes, though calling Allison a colleague was a bit of a stretch. Wymack had let him camp out in his girlfriend’s spare room, seeing as his place was apparently too small for the both of them. Dan and Matt had even let him crash on the couch between motel rooms. 

Andrew was really fucking excited to get his place back. According to Neil, his father was pulling out all stops to get rid of him, or whoever was aiding him. As far as Andrew was concerned, Neil was in more danger, but the man refused to exonerate himself from the situation. The next best thing was ensuring that Andrew was untouchable. 

“Andrew, can I come in?” 

Andrew grunted, still bent over his files in the middle of the room. He’d pushed the bed to one side to make room and was suddenly shirtless, fan pulsating in the corner. He never did great in the heat. 

“Oh,” Neil’s voice squeaked like an elementary schooler’s clarinet. “Uh - I can come back?”

Andrew squinted up at him. “The fuck are you doing here?” he got to his feet and made his way over, reaching up to tug on Neil’s hair. Definitely real. “Huh.” 

Behind Neil, Renee snorted. Andrew glared at her: she put up her hands in surrender and paced off to do something else. 

Andrew shuffled Neil into his room and shut the door, treading carefully around his work. 

“This...” Neil looked over it, carefully avoiding the many photos and files and labelled evidence bags as he walked. He was silent as he moved, unnoticeable if he wasn’t always on Andrew’s radar. 

He also looked much more presentable than the last time Andrew had seen him, which had been before Dimaccio was arrested. A button-down, much like he wore when they first went to dinner. The collar was irritatingly popped, and his trousers were properly pressed, the shoes delicately shined. He looked like a rich man’s son. 

Andrew hated it. He also hated how good it looked.

“Sit on the bed,” Andrew instructed. “I don’t need you scuffing anything up.”

“This seems like a lot more than what’s necessary,” Neil said, avoiding looking at Andrew as he tugged on a shirt. “Also a lot more than we originally discussed.”

Andrew pointed at the profile of a smiling woman, and various other men. “Williams. Reacher. Jenkins. The three of them worked tirelessly on gang violence. They completely eradicated the Terrapin family from the game. Countless Bearcats and Catamounts have been locked up by them. But as soon as they turned to the Wesninski family, they were never found again. Three different detectives. Almost three consecutive years. They deserve justice too.” 

Neil was, clearly, not expecting to have to put names and families to the bodies his father had diced and scattered. His expression had become shuttered as Andrew talked, fingers curling into tight fists, the fabric of his trousers ensnared between his whitened knuckles. 

"You’re afraid.” 

Neil looked at him, eyes blazing. “He is all I’m afraid of. I can’t just - turn that off.”

Andrew crouched down on the floor in front of him. “You’re allowed to be afraid. You have to promise me that you won’t run away because of it.”

Neil’s shoulders were curled inwards. “I don’t want to become him. I don’t -” he looked at the photos of the officers and the remnants of their bodies and the ruination caused by his father’s work. “I don’t want that. I don’t.”

“So leave it behind.”

Neil grit his teeth. “I can’t! Look at me. Look at me. You think this is my father? Parading me around at events, trying to find me a wife who can bear my child, tracking my every move? Of course it’s not. My father is someone else’s weapon, a well-enamoured thug at best. He’s a Baltimorean gangster. He’s not the one in control here.”

Andrew put his hand over Neil’s wrist and let him breathe for a moment. 

“They know that he’s fucked,” Neil continued, eyes squeezed shut. “They know they’re going to lose him. So I’m being conditioned. I’m being shaped up to replace him. You know I’ve been in New York for the past two weeks?” He shoved his hair out of his eyes. Andrew opened his palm upwards, and Neil let himself tangle their fingers. “I want to escape my fate so badly, but my family has been indentured to them for - I don’t even know. Forever, it seems like.”

“Who, Neil?” 

He let out an aggravated sigh. “Who else controls enough of the east coast to keep the fucking Butcher in check? It’s the bloody Moriyamas.” Andrew stiffened. “If you breathe that name outside this room, I’m dead. You’re dead. Everyone you ever loved will die. They’re so well protected that the crazy second son can go off and do whatever he likes, including training to be a police officer and almost killing the partner he’s given, but it doesn’t even matter. It’s hushed up within the week.” 

He held tight onto Andrew’s hand. “The best I can hope for is a negotiation. A price that I can pay off in - a decade, maybe. Possibly two. Maybe securing a new family to pass the relationship to. I don’t know.” 

“Then that’s what you do,” Andrew vowed. “We deal with the monster under the bed first. Then the basement that lets them out. Don’t run,” Andrew insisted, his hand having worked its way up Neil’s arm to grip the back of his neck. “Don’t hide. You can’t afford to, not now.”

Neil rested their foreheads together. “I’ll try.”

Andrew’s thumb brushed circles under Neil’s jaw. “That’s all I ask.”

*

Breaking news: Nathan Wesninski being brought to court for multiple homicides, including Baltimore police officers and Mary Hatford, his wife...initially being assessed for money laundering and tax evasion, Wesninski is now being persecuted for multiple acts of violence, mutilation and extortion. Police officers under Captain David Wymack have collated resources and new-found evidence and will attempt to put Wesninski behind bars permanently.

*

August: 

Andrew’s heart was pounding. They’d tapped into comms just over an hour ago, received the corresponding telephone data and locations, and now they were paging the block. 

It was eerily quiet, and too dark for a suburban area. The cul-de-sac had no streetlights and all the houses were either empty, with for sale! signs posted on their laws, or all the blinds were drawn closed. It was only nine in the evening. 

Andrew took out his gun as they approached the house. Renee was at his shoulder. 

The house in question was two-storey, seemingly empty, the garage locked shut. The gardens were immaculately kept, the painted finish on the house brand new. God knows what was happening within: Andrew hoped that whatever mess had been made within wasn’t irreparable. 

Andrew’s radio cackled. “How do you want to go about this, Minyard?” 

Andrew cracked his knuckles and fished out his lock picks from his back pocket as he radioed back. “Silent entry. I’m going to unlock the door, and only our squad heads in. Everyone else surround the premises if they notice and escape.”

“Alright, sarge,” Matt said, jokingly, a few feet behind Renee. Dan must have pinched him because he immediate said “Ow!” 

Andrew and Renee crept up onto the front balcony: Andrew crouched down and worked for about two minutes till the lock had opened. Kevin had already phoned the security firm to let down the alarms, so Andrew and Renee stepped inside, unnoticed. Dan, Matt and Kevin dispersed, but Andrew always headed to the basement. 

The light was on. 

“...We should get back to Junior,” one voice said. “God knows he’s probably slipped free by now.”

“You kidding? We had him practically halfway into a coffin. Let’s just clean this up first.”

“Maybe pretty Alli’s woken up. If Junior wasn’t so fervently protective of her I’d’ve had her bent over by now.” 

“Christ, Romero." But the man was laughing. “Maybe now’s your chance.”

Disgust crawled down his spine. He glanced at Renee, just as they approached the doorway: she had her eyes closed momentarily, lips moving with a prayer. The door was left ajar. 

One, he mouthed. 

“Didn’t think boss had the guts to get rid of little Junior.”

Two, she returned. 

“Maybe he liked that bitch of a wife, after all. He could’ve had a kid with Lola and gotten rid of the pathetic faggot, but he stuck by Nathaniel anyway.”

Three, they both nodded, kicking the door wide open with his foot and grasping his gun in both hands. 

“Hands up,” he growled. “Drop whatever you’re holding.”

“Kneel,” Renee said, softly. “We will shoot you if you don’t comply.”

Neither of the men had guns. They dropped their knives to the ground and knelt down, furious. By them was a body, heavily dismembered. The hair was neither auburn nor blonde.

“Basement,” Andrew barked into his radio, training his gun on the one he recognised as Romero. His hands were limp, twitching by his sides. Andrew wanted to cut them from his body and watch him bleed. 

The other three skidded into the room, guns ready. 

“Go find them,” Renee murmured, under the cacophony of Dan and Kevin wrangling the perps to the ground, Matt kneeling by the body. “Andrew, go.” 

He nodded stiffly, falling back. Up the stairs and to the left was the door to the garage, which he kicked down. Switching the lights on, he looked to the two persons still on the floor, tied up and beaten down. 

“Andrew,” Neil gasped, covered in blood and cuffed at the wrists and ankles. Allison seemed alright, if a bit groggy, with a gag in her mouth and her hands tied behind her. 

Andrew grabbed the hedge clippers from the wall of gardening tools and broke through the handcuffs, cutting Allison’s rope bindings and tugging off her gag. 

“Perps restrained, fall in through the front,” Dan said through the radio. “Victim dead. Get a stretcher: Forensics team definitely not necessary.” 

“We can’t be found here,” Allison hissed. “We can’t be brought in.”

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew muttered, fishing the keys to his cousin’s place out of his pocket. “Fine. If you can get him on his feet,” he jerked his head to Neil, who muttered I’m fine. “Go to Nicky’s place. I’ll meet you there later. Unless you need a hospital?”

“It’s all superficial,” Neil mumbled, wincing. Andrew felt concern curl and knot in his stomach. He looked to Allison. 

“Maybe you should do a first-aid cert.”

“Maybe that’s not a half bad idea,” she grunted, hauling Neil to his feet. 

“The back should be clear of cops now,” Andrew said, cutting through the padlock on the garage door. “Get out.”

“Good to see you too, Minyard,” Allison drawled, pulling Neil along. With a wink, they were both gone. 

Andrew rubbed at his temples, giving himself only a minute of reprieve, before heading back into the fray. 

*

Nicky’s house was cold and dark. The two of them had been on a spontaneous trip around Europe for the last few months, visiting Erik’s family. Nicky wasn’t stupid: when Andrew offered him this and that, he took it without question and knew there was a reason why.

“When I get back,” he insisted over the phone. “When I get back the three of us are visiting Aaron. Got it?”

“Fine,” Andrew had grunted, hanging up on his cousin without a goodbye. 

Neil had parked himself on the couch, staring at the ceiling with square bandages across his cheeks. Bruises mottled his skin, and his hands and forearms were mummified in a similar fashion. 

“I was going to try and contact you,” Neil said, not needing to see Andrew to know who’d entered the house. “I would’ve called you.”

Andrew sat on the end of the couch as Neil drew his feet up to give him room. “Right.”

The man struggled into a seated position. “I was.” 

“Should’ve let them kill you,” Andrew muttered, glaring at the unused television. Neil snorted, swinging his legs off the couch and settling next to Andrew. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” 

“Just - shut up.” 

For a while they sat in silence. Andrew lit up a cigarette and smoked it through to the filter. Neil seemed to lean a little closer, attracted to the scent. 

“Hey,” he murmured, when Andrew threw the stub onto the coffee table. 

Andrew turned and looked at him. His eyes were clear, purposeful. Andrew remembered their first date, their second. Cleavers and thugs and light, candle light and club lights, striping across Neil’s cheekbones like something from a painting. 

Kissing him felt - 

Normal. Right. Like coming home. Like finding - not the last piece of the puzzle, but the last edge, making a solid shape to be filled in, something clear and decisive. Andrew’s fingertips found his jaw and he felt Neil’s fingers curl in the collar of his vest. His police vest. 

It was enough to draw him to a stop, pulling back just enough for him to breathe. 

“You don’t swing,” Andrew accused, poorly hiding how winded he was.

Neil huffed, equally as breathless. “You don’t date.” 

Andrew’s teeth ground together. “You don’t date cops.” 

“And you don’t date mobsters,” Neil retorted. “What’s your point here?” 

“Yes or no?” Andrew demanded, because he needed to know. He needed to know for sure. Without a doubt, with complete surety, with perfect clarity - 

“Yes,” Neil answered. “Obviously.” 

“‘Obviously’,” Andrew parroted with a scoff. “I hate you.” 

When Neil’s lips curved up into a smile, Andrew kissed him quiet. 

*

September: 

“You know I’ve got a week off, after next week,” Andrew said, trailing his fingers over the threadbare t-shirt that Neil wore. He said ‘next week’ and not ‘Nathan’s trial’. They’d both come to an agreement that where they could avoid talking about it, they would. 

It was out of Andrew’s hands, anyway. All the evidence was with the prosecutor, and it was their job to put him behind bars. 

There was no way Nathan Wesninski was getting out, now. Not a single chance. 

Which meant there was no reason to talk about it. Or about Neil’s future inheritance of his father’s position, or Andrew’s award of recognition for his work. Which felt rather cheap, really - he was just lucky that Neil had decided to give him a second chance. 

Then again, policing was mostly luck, and a bit of charisma. Andrew was usually lacking in both, but right now, in the golden afternoon sunlight, with Neil in shorts and unkempt hair, he felt incredibly lucky. 

Neil craned his head back to look at Andrew. His new scars were bright red, but healed over at this point. “Just Chicago?” 

Andrew hummed assent, closing his eyes and pressing his nose to the crown of Neil’s head. Casual intimacy had always been - too much. Too soft, too nice, like it was covering up something sinister. Never had Andrew felt so relaxed, not even after sex, which usually resulted in Andrew grabbing his shirt, shoes, phone and wallet and leaving immediately. 

And they hadn’t had sex yet. Andrew didn’t know if Neil would ever want to have sex. That was - unsurprisingly - not the most important thing on Andrew’s list of wants and needs. 

Instead, here he was, lying on his back in Nicky’s guest bedroom. Neil was lying next to him, on his side, head cushioned on Andrew’s shoulder. And he did want this. He’d been tied up and exhausted for months: now it was all coming to its peak, the finish line right around the corner. And they were - okay. Ish. Maybe. Probably. Andrew wasn’t peeved about it. 

“Don’t die whilst I’m gone,” Andrew muttered, fingers threading through his hair. 

“I have to go to New York, anyway,” Neil said, sullen. “Might as well do it whilst you’re away.” 

“How many times are they going to pull you up there?”

“Till they’re confident I won’t screw everything up in the change-over, I guess. Or maybe it’s about the wife thing.” 

Something in Andrew’s chest twisted. He simply hummed. 

Neil shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Andrew properly. “You know I’m not going to go through with it, right?”

“And if they threaten you?” Andrew reminded him. “Your life isn’t exactly yours.”

“Fuck them,” Neil said as he leaned forward, forever antagonistic. Andrew sighed: Neil paused. “No?”

“Yes,” he muttered, pulling Neil down. One hand brushed along the slither of exposed skin that revealed itself as Neil’s shirt rose up: Andrew relished in the shiver that flitted across Neil’s skin. His scarred fingers - covered in circular burns from a dashboard lighter and various scratch ridges - felt familiar and known when Andrew guided them to the back of his head. Neil was careful, as always.

Andrew had intended on asking when the hell Neil had heard about Andrew’s past, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. He didn’t want to talk about it now, anyway.

Just as Neil let Andrew push his shoulder back, following him over to kiss him into the mattress, Allison’s nails tapped impatiently on the bedroom door. Andrew broke away, startled, just as Neil cursed, sitting up. 

“Yes, Allison?” Neil demanded, clearing his throat. “What is it?”

“You sound odd,” Allison remarked, door handle turning. 

“Uh - !” Neil scrambled off the bed, looking to Andrew with wild eyes. “I’m - naked! Don’t come in.”

“Right,” Allison drawled. “Should I just wait in my room for him to leave, then?”

“I hate you,” Neil complained. “What do you want?” 

“Andrew’s phone was going off in the kitchen,” Allison said, slyly. “Sounds like the prosecuting lawyer wants some of your time, Andrew. Nice of you to glide by without saying hello.”

“I’m busy,” Andrew retorted. 

Allison just laughed, strutting down the corridor with her heels tapping on the wooden floorboards. Neil crossed his arms, red-faced. 

“C’mere,” Andrew said, still sitting on the bed. 

“But Thea,” Neil tried. 

“The law can wait,” Andrew insisted, extending his hand.

The look in Neil’s eyes sent sparks flying across Andrew’s skin. 

*

“Took you long enough,” Thea Muldani said, a master of clipboards and abridged glares. She was a lawyer worth Andrew’s time, he knew that, but he also didn’t feel like putting up with Kevin’s heart-eyes or Renee’s unsubtle glances. 

Jesus Christ, he thought, slamming his bag on the table hard enough to cause everyone to jolt. “I’m here, now.” 

“Congratulations,” Thea remarked. “Don’t care. We have a problem.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. 

“Nathan Junior’s prints are all over a tonne of this evidence. If we don’t have him accounted for, defence is going to be all over it.”

“Are you serious?” Dan demanded. “Nathaniel would’ve been 15 when Mary was murdered.” 

“Doesn’t matter. If the evidence has been tampered with, it could be rendered useless. It would be extremely helpful,” Thea said pointedly. “If people’s CI’s could come forward and testify. We have almost no witnesses, except for Andrew and Renee, who claimed that Jackson Plank and Romero Malcom were acting on orders from Nathan whilst murdering Janie Smalls, last month. Neither of them will confess to any sort of collaboration with Wesninski, and two unidentified blood sources were found in the garage.”

“That sounds like circumstantial bullshit,” Dan argued. 

“And can we prove them wrong?” Thea shot back. “No. We can’t. For all we know, it’s been Nathaniel behind all of this instead. He’s certainly old enough now.”

Andrew stood out of his chair, grabbed his things and turned to leave. 

The lawyer gave him an appraising look. “I haven’t dismissed this meeting, Minyard.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew said. “If you won’t do your job, then I suppose I’d better go and fucking do it for you.” 

“It’s Thursday,” Thea reminded him. “Case starts on Monday.”

Andrew ignored her, making sure to slam the door on the way out. 

*

Romero Malcom was a sullen man. His skin was papery thin, even only a few weeks into his prison stay. Andrew couldn’t say that he pitied him. He sat down with his cup of coffee, leaning back in his chair with his leg crossed at the ankle. Romero was locked to the interrogation table opposite, shoulders curled in, fingernails scratching against the table top. 

Trying to get a rise. It wouldn’t work. 

“Honestly, between you and your sister, you seemed like the more rational one,” Andrew said, eyebrow arched. He put his coffee down and opened up his file. “Did you think about how your lifestyle had an expiry often? Nathan had Dimaccio as his right-hand man, but kept Lola as his carefully concealed weapon. You and Plank seemed just like...more prized cannon-fodder.”

Romero’s eye twitched. 

“You know, you said something that caught my interest,” Andrew leaned forward. “You said you’d’ve fucked Nathaniel Wesninski’s friend. What was her name?”

“Allison,” he said. 

“Right. You said you’d intended to rape her.”

“No wonder you’re so hung up on it, Doe,” Romero sneered. So they’d all done their research. “Well I didn’t, did I? Not that she’s shown up. She knows Nathan’ll kill her. He’s pretty sure she’s the rat.”

“Do you think she is?” Andrew inquired. “Mind you: I know who the rat is, and you don’t.”

“I think she’s the rat.” Romero sneered. “Princess bitch won’t be loyal to nothing but herself.”

“Which was why he asked you to kill her. She’d betrayed you all.” 

“We didn’t kill her.”

“No, but you were going to. He wanted you to kill all three of them.” 

“It was probably Junior that called the cops on us,” Romero scoffed. Andrew’s jaw ticked. “Fucking brat. It was about time.”

“About time for what?”

“To get rid of him.” Romero rolled his eyes. “Not that Plank could manage that, either. Useless. But Nathan gave us the call. We were waiting for it, honestly. Killing off Junior meant there was more of an incentive to keep Nathan out of jail. Otherwise there’s no other options.”

Moriyamas, Andrew thought, but he had no interest in involving them. “So Nathan called the two of you, ordered you to get rid of Allison and Nathaniel.”

“He didn’t want them showing their faces and causing trouble.” 

“So why Janie?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Romero laughed. It sounded like rusted truck breaks. Andrew was very close to knocking the scalding coffee onto exposed skin. 

“Nathan probably ain’t happy,” Andrew amended. 

Romero barked out another laugh. “He’ll be livid at this point. He sent me an email on exactly what he wanted me to do to your tiny little body, Minyard. An email. Who the fuck sends emails anymore? Anyway, yeah. He’s pissed.”

Andrew stood up from the table, carefully putting his audio recorder into plain sight as he picked up his coffee. “Well, I’d say it was a pleasure, but it wasn’t.” Romero looked at the recorder, slightly sickly. “Have fun in here, Malcom. I’m sure your sister sends her regard from max.”

With that he spun on his heel, the sweet sounds of Romero’s panic putting a hop in his step all the way out of the centre. 

*

“I’ve never...” Neil chewed his lip. “Get a blood sample? That’d put me into the system.”

“And help me identify your pieces as they come floating down the river, if your father’s bosses ever learn about this,” Andrew reminded him. “If I can prove that Romero and Jackson were ordered to kill you, there won’t be any ground to stand on. Neil. Remember what I said.”

The man looked at him from an extended moment of time, evaluating and revelautating. 

“Alright,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Okay.” 

*

October:

Andrew leant his head from side to side, letting his spine slot itself back into place. He hated everything about flying, so much so that even his cousin’s persistent chatter hadn’t been enough to distract him from his living nightmare. 

“Well!” his cousin said, somehow still animated. He and Erik had spent their time in Chicago getting over jetlagged and playing with Aaron’s new puppy, whilst Andrew spent his time watching their antics and silently drinking coffee with Aaron, save for the occasional question here and there. 

Heard you made a big bust, yeah. How’s the residency. A nightmare. Katelyn and I want a baby when it’s done, though. Interesting. You can be the Godfather. Save that for Neil. Neil? Like, the criminal guy? Don’t mention it. Andrew - I said, don’t mention it. Oh, fuck. You’re serious. Jesus Christ, okay. 

“Shall we get a cab?” Nicky inquired. 

“Neil can drop you home on the way to mine.” 

Nicky narrowed his eyes. “Neil? Like, absolute hottie Neil? Allison’s friend? The one you never called back because you’re an idiot?”

“I hate you,” Andrew insisted. 

“Oh my god!” Nicky squealed, tugging on Erik’s arm. “I didn’t know y’all were together. How long has it been? Andrew, you gotta tell me these things!” 

“On second thoughts, you should take a cab,” Andrew grunted, lugging his luggage to where he knew Neil would already be standing, waiting for them to arrive. 

Nicky’s laugh rang out like bells, just as Neil rose up his hand to wave the three of them over. 

Yeah, Andrew thought, letting Nicky gush whilst Neil looked at him like that. 

This isn’t half bad. 

*

And that’s how they got together! andrew will continually tell himself that neil inherited the syndicate after they got together, even if there was only like a month or so between their first kiss and nathan getting locked up. neil will continually tell himself that andrew was only interested in him for the case. they’re both stupid liars who are in love. 

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 7

7 Chapters already??

Warning for slight unrest at the beginning but they DO clear it up and everything is ok I promise they do (literally I can not stand to read angst so please always assume that if there’s a sad part it won’t stay that way, I fully intend to let Erica and Roman end up in the same old folks home)

Erica finds out about the support group (sort of) and Roman has to explain things

Tags: @maybege @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @obaby-wan @agent-450 @princessxkenobi

Masterlist

Erica decides to meet him at the door. She’d originally entertained the idea of asking him to have someone let her in like before but since this really is the breakup conversation this time, she doesn’t see the point in adding any cushion.

Ok so maybe she’s being a little harsh. But what else, exactly was she supposed to assume when Butch clammed up the way he did? And how dare Roman anyway? All the kind words that day, all the kindness ever since and now this? She shakes her head. She’d never explicitly said she didn’t approve of him going out behind her back but since he’s the one who asked to be official she assumed it was implied.

She shakes her head again, sighing dejectedly. She doesn’t actually think Roman would cheat on her, but it’s happened before, who is she to ask people to go without a “basic human need” anyway? What had she expected? So what he was the kindest, most gentle man she’d ever met, that didn’t change her, and it certainly didn’t change the past.

Or the fact she was now more convinced than ever that she’d never be able to love anyone like this regardless of how long she lived.

So maybe she’s more sad and heartbroken (cliché as it sounds) than angry, and maybe its good that Roman walks up before she can spring back to hating him.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

She looks up at him wide-eyed, somehow having missed any other noise that announced his arrival but doesn’t manage a word until he sits down next to her on the step, a hand resting against her bicep and eyes flitting between hers questioningly.

She scoots away, dropping her eyes to her shoes and rolling her shoulders back. She has to do this.

“I want to let you go.”

It wasn’t what she planned to say, she’d planned to be a lot firmer about the whole situation, brooking no opposition but, again, it isn’t as easy when she cares what he thinks.

He leans back, retracting his hand “Is it something I did?”

It sounds incredibly meek and Erica clinches her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, perfect. He’ll play innocent and she can already feel the anger rising and somehow it’ll become a screaming match and she’ll be able to have a reason to remind herself to hate him when she looks back on the last four months. Because that’s how it always is.

But somehow, her jaw doesn’t cooperate and relaxes itself, tears spring to her eyes and she sniffs angrily. Damn him.

She sighs, resolutely looking down the stairwell. “Nothing I don’t understand.” She sniffs again and tries to stop the trembling that she isn’t sure is caused by the cold or her emotions. “I tried to tell you then I was broken. I wish you had believed me.”

He curls in on himself next to her, “But” he croaks, sounding near tears himself which surprises her, “that’s what I’ve been trying to learn about”

She whirls on him, eyes flashing angrily, “By having sex with someone else?!”

He recoils as if she’d slapped him and she leans back at the sobering thought, maybe she’d been too strong, maybe—

“Who told you that?”

She blinks, “Butcher” she begins, and she looks away from the incredulous look on Romans face, it isn’t her fault Butcher has a sense of honor to hint enough at the truth. “I asked where you always go Fridays because I thought you had a deal to close and, he wouldn’t tell me what was going on and he kept getting weird and—”

The trembling is back full force and her voice breaks, when had she started caring this much for Roman?

His arm comes around her and her whole body jerks away, pushing herself to the far wall.

“Don’t. Touch me.”

He holds both his hands up near his shoulders placatingly, fixing her with a pleading look, “I can explain everything I swear it isn’t like that, could we, you look cold, could we go in?”

She grits her teeth to stop the shaking, but her legs tremble the slightest bit anyway (traitors), and she fights herself for several seconds before finally nodding. “Alright.”

He nods back, shaky himself, and stands from the step offering an arm to help her once he’s stepped up. She looks back at him, eyes falling to his arm before reaching up to the railing by her head and pulling her own self up. She’s owed an explanation and she doesn’t intend to give an inch until she gets one.

She catches him swallowing before sadly glancing at her and heading to the door reluctantly. His arm lowers so slowly she almost wants to reach out and take it anyway, sidle up to him and tuck herself in his side where she feels at home.

No. She made a choice, he’s opened this can of worms and she intends to let him lie in it.

He opens the door, toeing off his shoes carefully before glancing back at her.                                                                                                                                        

“I was thinking living room?” he offers quietly, and Erica nods bracing her hand against the wall as she takes her own shoes off. She’s wearing a long sleeved shirt from her old high school, new jeans and some combat boots, she takes them off grudgingly, knowing kicking Roman might not be as fun now if it comes to it but, well, she isn’t going to get dirt on the carpet. Because regardless of his behavior, she was raised right.

He falls into the couch with a deep sigh before leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. She sits in the chair across from him and raises an eyebrow condescendingly (even if she does feel the same way).

His hands slide through his hair and down his neck before he drags his eyes up to hers.

“I’m going to a support group.” Erica blinks. “It’s for Aces technically but I went to learn about them, and I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know enough yet, I wanted to, I don’t know, well” he looks down again and mumbles “I did want to impress you” before breathing in and flexing his jaw, seeming to force himself to look her in the eyes again. “But more importantly I wanted to understand you, so when you told me things like ‘I can’t sit in a chair to save my life’ and ‘cake is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to humanity!’ I’d understand. Because I didn’t understand any of that before.” His expression grows soft, “But I do now, and, I hadn’t known how to tell you but, I wanted to. I still do.”

She’s listened quietly through his whole speech, and the worst part is, she can tell its true. She decides to respond to the easiest part first.

“The chair thing is a queer thing and not everyone—”

“Well all those people are ridiculous. You aren’t straight, so you can use it if you want. I always thought you sat just fine but, I understand wanting to be part of something.”

She looks at her hands and wants to cry again, for an entirely different reason. She decides to move next to him on the couch. Taking his hand into her lap and holding it palm up in order to trace her finger across it.

“So, if it’s a support group for aces, do you think I could come along?”

He’s quiet for beat and she looks up at him questioningly, had she read him wrong?

“Oh darling of course!” His face splits with a grin, “You’ll never believe Butch, he’s fallen for the librarian and she’s the cutest little thing, they ‘put away books’ before we start somedays and he swears up and down that’s all it is but they’re definitely dating officially already or I’m an idiot.” He’s grown more and more animated through his explanation and Erica raises an eyebrow in humor at his last sentence.

“Well, I’m already an idiot for making you feel I didn’t want you.”

She softens, reaching out to hold his cheek in a sudden show of confidence.

“It’s just been so long since someone did, I wanted so badly for it to be true but, everything seemed to point to…” She trails off but he doesn’t interrupt so she continues. “Not everything, but, you know how I am.”

He turns his head slowly to nuzzle his nose against her hand, “I’m so sorry I left room for doubt. I should have swallowed my own fear and been honest.”

She looks at him with wonder, smiling softly, eyes still glassy. “Tell me more about the aces, please?”

He beams.

“So there’s a wonderful boy he’s named Tom, has the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen! He has an older sister Jenny, they keep an eye on each other, and Butch keeps an eye on Tom when he can, did you know he has a sister that’s on the spectrum?” Erica shakes her head, already smiling at the enthusiasm from her boyfriend (she thrills a little inside at the right she still has to call him that).

“He does, and they get along so well, he sees her every Sunday night when I’m not out. And then there’s…”

His words seem to fade as Erica continues to stare at him, everything fading to white noise as he looks between her and their hands and the window excitedly, as if talking about these people would summon them to his living room. She starts smiling softly and comes to a decision.

She’s going to kiss him.

She leans forward and presses her hand into his cheek, turning his head back to face her before looking in his eyes and allowing herself a smile before glancing at his lips and closing the distance. She presses her lips to his with a small bit of insistence, breathing him in, in the closeness they’re sharing before readjusting the slightest bit, tilting a little more to the side.

She realizes belatedly he hasn’t moved. Her eyes flutter open as she pulls away, eyes falling to the couch awkwardly as she purses her lips before chewing on them.

“I’m sorry I –”

“Please, please do that again”

Her eyes dart back up to Roman’s, wide with confusion before he goes on, stunned face confirming his words.

“I, I was just surprised, I wanted you to initiate but that was—”

“Terrible. I know.” Erica falls back against the back of the couch despondently. “I haven’t had a lot of practice” she indulges.

Roman leans so she has to look at him, “I was going to say amazing.”

She turns her head to him again.

“but um, if you need to practice” He raises his hand slowly, “I know someone who’d love to help with that.”

He smiles cheekily before she grabs both sides of his face and pulls them together again.

Their lips are crashing together, his hands coming to pull her closer to him by the waist, her hands cradling his face before one slides up to grip his hair. She keeps smiling into it and if it wasn’t for him tilting his head to re-capture her lips each time, they probably would have broken apart because she just can’t stop.

She does finally pull away, eyes flitting all over his face “I like you” she says breathily, “I like you, so much”

He smiles, teeth on display, and reaches up to pet her hair, chuckling softly.

“I like you more”

She immediately frowns at him and shakes her head fiercely.

“Not possible. I’m bigger than you, so I have more capacity.”

He frowns. “That’s ridiculous.”

She shakes her head. “Not in the slightest Roman Stanton and you know it.”

He stands, “Well I’m currently bigger than you, so I have the capacity to like you more.”

She laughs at him softly but doesn’t move from her spot, eventually reaching out and making grabby hands at him like a child. He smiles wider, sitting down next to her and pulling her sideways across his lap.

“I mean it my ace, I like you a lot.”

She breathes out a laugh from her place buried in his neck, “Dinner after the group on Friday? My treat?”

“I’d like that.”

She nods against him, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw before laying against him again and he leans to kiss the crown of her head before laying his head against her too.

**********************************************

[pleasancies]

Don't Snitch!

A short story introducing my OC's. Mike and Amelia! This is more of a one-shot but maybe I'll write a continuation someday.

content : beating, torture, broken ribs, vomit, lady whump, forced to watch torture, self-sacrifice, glass injury, defiant whumpee

words : 900+

****

Getting caught is a possibility. They arrest you, perhaps when you revealed too much on the internet. Or they saw you wandering around town past curfew with fat stacks of pamphlets in hand. Then they drill you with questions and several punches to the face. If you're lucky, you'll go home in a week and have people tailing your car for months. Mike understands this. It's a reality his seniors had crammed into his head ever since he joined the Network.

Sooner or later, Mike will sleep on the damp prison floor. As their efforts began to grow, so as the violence that oppose them. He heard of the murders, the brutal torture. Secret agents with no badge but all of the power in the world to break you. The Officers. Mike said he get how dangerous this mission is. Yet he still screamed as the strange man tackled him on his own doorstep.

For some, that possibility is already a reality. Amy spit on the ground, and despite her left eyelids swelling up so badly she couldn't see, it landed accurately on the Officer's shoes. A small victory, compared to the glass shards he forced her to kneel on.

"This isn't my first rodeo, Piggy. You can't get anything out of me."

Mike closed his eyes, but he can hear the loud crack from Amy's jaw. His partner spits out a tooth. This time she didn't care where it land. A drop of blood fell from her split lip.

"Amelia! Don't provoke him," Mike warned. It feels so pathetic to say. He was not even hurt. The Officer hadn't laid his hands on him except for strapping him to the chair.

Nobody bothered to reply. Amy groaned. She couldn't grit her teeth. The Officer grabbed her by the head, forcing her to a half-standing position. Amy yelped as her hands scrambled to reach her head. A futile effort, seeing the zip ties constricting her movements.

"It's Jason," The Officer said. "You're right. I won't get anything out of you."

Jason let go. Amy landed on her side, grimacing. At least the glass on her knees weren't sticking even deeper. She probably wanted him to think that way. But Mike's not that kind of person.

"Don't hurt her!"

Jason only gave him a quick glance before turning his face again to Amy. "No, you're a recidivist, Amelia. I've seen your files. The Network would have never trusts you for anything important, even if you took a bullet to the head for their secrets. They know you're being watched, and for that you're already marked."

Amy winced. Her lips quivering. She gasped before speaking with a mouth that barely moved.

"It's Amy. You c-cum soaked tur—"

Jason's leg sent her sprawling on the floor. Amy curled up in pain, glass shards slicing her back.

"Stop! Let go of her please!" Mike screamed. His fingers were frantically clawing at the zip ties on his wrists.

Finally, Jason looked at him. "I want the location of your local safe house."

"You know she has no idea where it is! Stop hurting her!"

"No, she's dispensable. You on the other hand," Jason trailed off. He gazed at Mike like he's a parent seeing a misbehaving child.

"Such a waste. A stellar record of achievements, and you choose to align yourself with garbage like her. This is your second chance. An address and you're both free. I would personally recommend you as an Officer if you plan to reform."

"Don't!" Amy shrieked. "Don't tell him!"

Jason stepped on her hand. He doesn't even look bothered as she wailed under his boots.

"No! Please," Mike thrashed around trying to get free, "She has nothing to do with this. Take me instead!"

"Don't do this Mi—"

"Shut. Up."

Jason slammed Amy to the coffee table. He took out the baton slung on his hips. One swing, right at the stomach. Amy doesn't shout. She heaved out the contents of her stomach, choking and gasping for breath.

"F-fuck—"

Another hit. The sound of bones breaking is even louder this time. Deafening like the shrill Mike lets out afterwards. Amy's face were wet with tears. A snot run down her nostril.

"She could die, you know. I cracked her ribs. I'm sure you understand what internal bleeding is."

"N-no, you don't. I, I haven't c-coughed any blood yet," Amy said between coughing and retching.

God, to have Amy's brazen ignorance.

"Do you want me to help you with that?"

Jason doesn't wait for an answer. He walked slowly as if he's merely fetching food from the kitchen. Mike slung himself out of the chair. Among broken glass he dragged himself by the elbow.

"No, no, no, no, no—"

Jason gently pulled up Amy's shirt. Mike's mutterings turned into a hitched sob. Blood trailed from his arms. An angry, dark purple patch spread across Amy's diapraghm. Jason put his hand on her ribs. And pressed.

Scream and bile rises from Amy's throat. The image of flesh and bones tearing apart was all too clear in Mike's head. He threw up in response.

Jason pulls away. "Mike? Anything to say?"

"Shut your mouth, Mike! It's not worth it," Amy's voice were somewhat muffled now. Her jaw is swollen and the bile and screaming had burned her from the inside.

Jason took another swing to Amy's side. She let out a pained moan. Tears freely flowing from her eyes and nose. Amy coughed. Blood sputtered from her mouth. Her breathing strained.

"Amelia—"

"Let me take this."

"That's not your call."

The Officer stopped, waiting for a signal.

"The safehouse is in Fifteenth Forest. They hid near a clearing on the south end of the city's border."

As Mike finished his confession, he found himself heavy with exhaustion.

"Thank you." Jason said. He brought up his phone and walked to the kitchen. Mike's house were suddenly silent. Fragments of his broken window now red with blood. What were they doing before all of this? Mike vaguely remembered Amy returning his books and stealing snacks in the fridge. It felt so long ago. Now she's slumped against the coffee table, chuckling. It was a bitter laugh, tinged with fear.

"Snitch, you just killed us all."

[youreverycolor]

An Unlikely Love: Text Wars (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: NSFW AT ALL. No prompt for this one. I just got in another mood. This is 100% pure filth. Please enjoy some masturbation, orgasm denial, spanking, sexting, oral sex, and good old fashioned fucking.

So much love to @madpanda75, @thatesqcrush, and @misssirenlove for love, support, idea-bouncing, and being frigging awesome. Can’t talk about smut and kinks with just anyone, you know.

Tagging: @danahart1 @nikkijmorgan @ele-esposito @dianilaws @sunnyfortomorrow @mommakat32 @lucifersadvisor @gibbs274 @oliviamariathegirl @evee87 @tropes-and-tales @garturbo @delia26 @neely1177 @jennisdirtyimagines @lostintech0011001 @letty-o @lucifersadvisor @sunnyfortomorrow @literallyprentissstwin @gibbs274 @dianilaws

Song: “Buttons” by The Pussycat Dolls (and you’re really gonna wanna listen to this one).

~*~*~*~  

It wasn’t even eleven o’clock and already Rafael’s day had made him pop four Advil. Nothing was ever easy anymore. Every case SVU brought him had some kind of glaring problem, from a lack of DNA to a non-complying witness, to a non-complaining victim. The latest one was against a frat house on Hudson University’s campus—again­—and, per usual, the school had covered it up. The victim had showered, no rape kit was performed. He hated telling Olivia that he couldn’t prosecute, but it seemed like that’s exactly what he would have to do. So, not an auspicious start to his day. He also had a hearing during which he suspected he was going to get metaphorically spanked by Judge Bates for filing an indictment prematurely. That was going to be a real slice.

Anna’s text tone broke the silence of his office. She was at home that day; her only class had been canceled so she had decided to spend the afternoon catching up on a novel. Expecting nothing more than a brief check-in, he opened the message and almost dropped the phone. He was looking at a photo of her, taken in a mirror. She was turned halfway around, dressed in one of his white button-downs, which she had rucked up just enough that he caught a glimpse of pink polka-dot cheeky panties. The accompanying text message was infuriating. How do I look? it read.

He immediately typed out a response, short and sweet. I’m at work, you know.

Thirty seconds later, the phone pinged again. You didn’t answer my question.

He groaned. This was a game, he knew, and she was winning it. This isn’t funny! I have a hearing in forty minutes and now all I’m going to be able to think about is fucking you.

He could almost feel her arousal from across town when she replied. I’ve been thinking about that all day.

He did not understand how just seven words could make him so painfully hard. Well, two could play at this game. You better still be wearing that shirt when I get home. If I have to suffer here all day like this, then I want the full visual later.

He didn’t get an immediate response to that and thought perhaps she was done tormenting him. He thought wrong. I’ll keep it on if you promise to get home on time. Otherwise, I might have to take care of myself via battery-powered means.

Then, a second photo came in. This one was full-frontal. She had undone all but the center button of the shirt, and he could see the outline of her breasts through it—especially her hardened nipples.

He almost came in his pants right there, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. Batteries aren’t the only thing that can keep going and going. I can and WILL keep you up all night. Don’t tempt me.

She sent one more text that made him grit his teeth. I hope so, Guapo. See you tonight.

It was only then that he realized that the front of his pants was actually developing a damp spot. What the hell was he going to do about this? The hearing was in half an hour, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand up properly. The photo was burned into his brain; even if he didn’t look at it again, it would still be there, as would the promise she made of keeping it on when he got home.

He looked at his closed door. Carmen was just on the other side of it, but the blinds were drawn. She couldn’t see in.

It was completely inappropriate, he realized, but he didn’t think he could wait until he got home. Not that that meant he wouldn’t want to fuck Anna just as badly—one glance at her wearing that shirt in person would no doubt make him immediately hard again—but trying to make it through the next six hours without a release would be impossible.

He got up from his desk, still hard as a rock, and locked the door. Then, he sat back down and unzipped his pants, pulling them down just past his hips so he didn’t accidentally leave evidence of his crime. He spit in his hand and rubbed the fluid leaking out of his cock over the head. It provided just enough lubrication to get him going. His closed his eyes and as he suspected, the image of Anna in those panties and his shirt was right there. When she acted like this, wanton and needy, he felt like he was twenty years old again—which would certainly explain why he was in his office, unable to keep his libido in check for even a few more hours.

He sometimes couldn’t believe he had a gorgeous twenty-five-year-old woman who loved him, much less one who sent him racy photos and texts during his workday. Even though he tried to pretend that he was irritated by it, he knew how lucky he was. And there it was—that image again, except this time, all she was wearing were those panties. God, the way her ass looked in them. But what he wouldn’t give to be able to pull them off of her, throw her on top of his desk, and fuck her hard enough to move it halfway across the room.

His hand moved up and down his length, twisting at the base, squeezing harder at the head. Suddenly, the Anna in his mind was on her knees in front of him, looking up with big, blue eyes—and still wearing that shirt. Her hair spilled down her shoulders and he wrapped his hand in it, pulling her toward his cock. She accepted him eagerly, taking him slowly in until she had him fully in her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks and, at the same time, ran her tongue up the front, which never failed to shoot lightning through his entire body.

The biggest difference between Anna and the other women he’d been with was that she actually enjoyed having him in her mouth. She told him so, often. And she was so good at it; he had no idea where she’d learned to do half the things she could do with her mouth, but he was more than grateful to be the one reaping the benefits. And her hands, Christ, she would use her hands on him at the same time, doing to him exactly what he was doing to himself.

He felt the tension in his thighs increasing, the way it did every time he entered her for the first time. Sometimes even just one thrust was enough to make him cum—he had to focus on first-year property law to keep it from happening. He imagined sinking into her from behind—his favorite position when he just wanted to fuck her senseless—and feeling her involuntarily tighten around him. His cock felt heavier in his hand then, like all the blood in his body had pooled there. He was close, so close. And then, he swore he heard her voice in his head, saying the dirtiest things imaginable: “Fuck, you’re so big, my God!” “¡Damelo duro! Ahora!” “Adie me lo das como tu.”

He was pumping faster now, gripping his cock like his life depended on it. He used his other hand to cup his balls, feeling them tighten slowly under his touch. Fuck, he thought, please, please, please…

It wasn’t until he thought about her wearing his shirt while he was fucking her—pulling her up toward him, pressing her back against his chest, rubbing her clit for her while he hammered into her—that he felt the familiar sensation of heat rushing to his core.

And then, suddenly, his office phone rang and startled him so much that he jumped in his chair. He grabbed the for it and tried to return his breathing to a normal rate before he said hello.

“Mr. Barba, this is Judge Bates’ clerk. The hearing was scheduled to start ten minutes ago, and defense counsel and the judge are waiting on you. Is everything okay?”

Rafael looked at the clock. It was half past eleven. “Yes, I’ll—I’m sorry, there was an—a personal—I’ll be there in five minutes,” he stuttered.

Fuck! he thought. And that, he knew, was exactly what he intended to do the second he walked through his door that night. He hastily pulled up his pants and used the hand sanitizer on his desk. Then, he grabbed his briefcase and whipped out his phone with the other hand. Just before he unlocked his office door, he sent a final message to Anna.

Anna was lounging in the bedroom with her novel, still wearing nothing but Rafael’s shirt and her panties, when she got his text. She lifted her phone and opened the message, heart beating faster as she read four little words.

You asked for it.

***

Anna heard the door slam from the bedroom and her heart leapt into her throat. She threw the book onto the nightstand and got up, legs shaking in anticipation. She knew she had worked him up beyond what she had even expected, just based on that last text he had sent. And that had been hours ago—he had the entire day to stew about it. She had only just made it to the bedroom door when he appeared in front of her. His suit coat, shoes, socks, and tie had been discarded along the hallway, leaving him in just his pants, shirt, and suspenders. His face was set to what she called Courtroom Dom: serious, brow furrowed just a bit, jaw set. But there was one difference—she had never seen his eyes so bright and so dark at the same time.

She momentarily wondered if he was as nervous as she was underneath all that bluster, but before she could think on it, he pushed her against the bedroom door, lifting her up by her thighs. She was always surprised at how strong he was; she was small, of course, but no one else she had been with was ever able to hold her up like this. Maybe that was why she found it so unbelievably hot. He kissed her, hard, like he was drunk on her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and could feel his erection straining against his pants.

“Too many clothes,” she finally managed to moan, trying to slip his suspenders off of his shoulders.

“You don’t get to dictate anything right now, cariño,” he replied. “Not after that stunt you pulled today.”

She smiled innocently. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t like.”

He set her down and took one of her hands and pressed it against his crotch. “Do you feel that? That’s been like that most of the day thanks to you.”

Her breath came quicker, and she felt wetness pool in her panties. “How terrible for you.”

He kept her hand on him, pushing into her as he kissed her neck feverishly. “I was late to my hearing because of you.”

“I don’t see how that’s my fault,” she cooed. The innocence in her voice contrasted with the sexual tension between them was almost too much for him. He spun her around and moved them into the bedroom, pressing her chest against a nearby wall. His fingers were on her hips, grabbing them so hard she was sure she would bruise. She didn’t care.

His teeth grazed her shoulder. “You got me so fucking worked up that I had to lock myself in my office and jerk off just to get some relief. Do you know how inappropriate that was?”

She decided to be deliberately combative. She almost wanted punishment at this point. “You jerking off in your office or me sending you photos?”

He bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder then. She felt like she might combust. “I have some bad news for you.”

“What’s that?” she asked as his fingers left her hips. One hand trailed down her stomach to the front of her panties, while the other reached under her shirt to palm a breast.

He put his lips right next to her ear and lowered his voice almost an octave. “I didn’t have time to finish. Which means you’re about to get good and fucked.”

She turned her head back to look over her shoulder at him. “What makes you think that’s not what I wanted?”

“Enough games,” he growled. He picked her up and all but tossed her onto the bed behind them. She crawled backward toward the pillows and looked at him exactly the way she had in his fantasy earlier: pupils dilated, lashes lowered, lips pouted just so. That look along with the real-life recreation of the photos she’d sent him earlier was hotter than it even was in his head. He made short work of the rest of his clothes and stood at the side of the bed. “Over here. On your knees.”

They had a safe word—Pennoyer—and she knew that all she would have to do to stop this game would be to say it. But it was precisely because of that fact that she didn’t want to stop. She loved rediscovering her sexuality with him as well as discovering new parts of herself that she didn’t know existed. For instance, she didn’t know that one of her kinks would be giving him a blowjob while he ate her out—especially when he was on top of her—until they did it, and suddenly, it was the hottest thing in the world. She didn’t know sex could be this fulfilling, even as he ordered her to her knees in front of him.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

She crawled over to him obediently, surrendering to him completely. But she didn’t wait for him to tell her what to do. She’d wanted this all day, and despite what he’d said about not being able to dictate anything, she somehow suspected he wouldn’t complain. Without any further prompting, she took him into her mouth, immediately moaning around him. The reverberation from that moan sent his hand into her hair—again, just as he had in his fantasy—and he groaned above her. She gripped his cock at the base, stroking him in time with her mouth’s slow movements, almost torturous.

“Fuuuuck,” he hissed. “Do you have any idea how hard I got thinking about you doing this?”

She moaned again. Her panties were practically soaked through by that point, and with his dirty talk, she didn’t think she could get wetter. Except she could, because then she looked up to him only to find him looking back at her. Her lips wrapped around him was indescribably sexy, but he knew what would make it sexier. He grabbed the shirt she was wearing and hiked it up, revealing those damned polka-dot panties and her tight ass underneath them.

She pulled away for just a moment, lips swollen with the exertion. “Is that what you were imagining today? My lips around your cock?”

Before he could answer, though, she went right back to what she was doing, taking him into her mouth completely. He gasped and nearly fell forward, bracing himself on the headboard with one hand. And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, one of her hands moved lightly up his inner thigh and he felt her fingers press against his perineum.

“Jesus Christ,” he roared. That hadn’t been in his fantasy, nor would he have ever thought to imagine it. The sheer intensity of just the lightest pressure there drowned him in pleasure, and he had to practically shove her away before he exploded in her mouth. “Holy shit,” he gasped. “What were you just doing to me?”

She licked her lips. “Again, nothing you didn’t want.”

His expression darkened again. “Oh, mi querida, you have no idea what I want. But I’m going to show you.” Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and crashed his lips to hers again. He swirled his tongue against hers, dragged it along her lips occasionally as he gently pinched one of her nipples. She squealed with delightful pain. He pulled back and looked her directly in the eyes. “You have a choice. Slow”—he dragged his tongue up her neck, over her throat—“or hard.” Then, he pulled her toward him as he leaned back, as if he was at prayer between her thighs. Off the panties came, flung over his shoulder to God knows where. He waited for her answer before he made another move. “Use your words, Anna. I need to hear the words.”

She was panting by that point, almost unable to form coherent thoughts, and he was asking her to make decisions? She managed one word: “Hard.”

He pushed her legs roughly apart and before she knew it, his mouth was everywhere: her thighs, her folds, her clit. She was so turned on that it all felt good. He lapped at her so ferociously that she was surprised he could breathe. When he dipped his tongue inside her, his nose brushed against her clit and she was so worked up that she might have orgasmed just from that if he hadn’t stopped. “What are you doing?” she whined. “Don’t stop!”

He licked his lips sinfully. “When I was in my office, I didn’t get to cum because I was interrupted,” he said, voice as dark as his expression. “It’s only fair that you should have to wait.”

Glorious bastard, she thought. But she knew how to get her way. “Please,” she gasped. “Please, please, Rafael. I need it. I need your mouth. I need you.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t resist her when she said she needed him. It was primal and sensual at once, like she was telling him there was no one else who could do this to her, and no one else she wanted to do it. And the truth was, he enjoyed licking her as much as she enjoyed letting him. He sat up just a bit on his haunches and pulled her hips up so that she was almost arched off of the bed. Well, she thought, this is new.

She didn’t have time to think anything more than that, because he moved his mouth back over her, this time sucking her clit and flicking it with his tongue at the same time. She started to quake from the toes on upward, and then she was splintering apart, undone by his mouth, undone by him. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m—oh, God, I’m coming!” He let her ride the waves of her orgasm, holding onto her hips so that he could keep fucking her with his tongue. The rush of liquid that came from within her was one of the sweetest things he’d ever tasted.

As Anna came down from her high, she was convinced of it—even if someone else did exactly what he was doing, it wouldn’t make her cum as hard, simply because it wouldn’t be him. It wasn’t the physical act of sex; Rafael was what made it so good. “You—you have no idea—how amazing—” she sobbed. He crawled back over her and kissed her once again, letting her taste herself on his lips. She drank him in, helpless beneath him, only able to run her hands through his hair and down his back.

“I have some idea,” he murmured against her ear. “Now, you have another choice. Do you want me to take you from behind, or do you want to ride me?”

After the orgasm she’d just had, she literally didn’t have the energy to ride him. “Get behind me,” she replied, giving him one last furious kiss.

She got to her knees with some effort—her legs were still shaking—and she felt him come up behind her, pressing just the head of his erection against her folds. He rubbed it back and forth over her already sensitive clit. She mewled in response, just wanting to feel him inside her.

Now he had her where he wanted her. She may have won the battle earlier that day, but he would certainly win the war. “You’re wetter than you’ve ever been, mi querida. Have you been this way all day?”

She lowered her upper body so that her ass was even higher in the air. That resulted in a firm smack against one of her cheeks, which only served to deepen her need. “You know, you talked about wanting to fuck me since this afternoon. So fuck me already! I’ve been waiting for it all damn day!”

He didn’t have to be told twice. With one swift movement, he plunged into her. It was better than fantasy, better than memory, better than anything. There was nothing like being inside her. He stilled for a moment to let her adjust to him, but when she looked over her shoulder at him, he pulled back out nearly all the way. She whined desperately, full of so much need and want and lust and love that she could barely breathe from it. But then he gave her what she craved—he set a steady, unforgiving pace, hitting the deepest parts of her with every thrust. She grasped the sheets underneath her, holding on for dear life as he snapped his hips against her. Every so often he would give her ass another smack and she would cry out with the pain and pleasure of it.

“This is what I thought about,” he snarled. “Pounding into your pussy, watching your ass, making you scream.”

She couldn’t respond. She just held on and focused on her heartbeat, her breathing, the feeling of him filling her up entirely. The entire room was filled with the smell of sex—it was intoxicating and was giving him almost a high. And that was when he remembered the last image he had before his fantasy had been ripped away from him.

He leaned forward just slightly and wrapped an arm around her waist, hoisting her straight up and sitting back on his heels so that she could be on top of his cock at the same time as he was behind her. Her shirt—his shirt—was pressed against his chest, still fastened by just one button, the fabric rubbing against his skin as she fucked herself on his throbbing dick. He was actually living his fantasy from earlier; the mere thought of that was enough to unravel him, but he held on, waiting for her.

He moved her hair away from one of her shoulders and bit down on the back of her neck, sending shockwaves through her core. They were both thinking it—this was, without a doubt, the hottest thing they had ever done together, and that was saying something.

There was a familiar tingling between her thighs. Everything faded away except the feeling of him inside her, still mercilessly thrusting as he reached down and rubbed her clit furiously. She found her voice just long enough to scream his name before time simply ceased to exist and stars burst behind her eyes.

He fucked her through her orgasm, and felt his start to build, just as it had that afternoon. Except this time, there would be no phone to interrupt him. Nothing could have pulled him away from her. And then he felt something shatter inside himself, along with a jerking of his cock inside her.

“Anna—Anna, oh God, oh my God, Anna!” he cried, practically screaming her name. Everything tightened, and he held her in place by her hips, thrusting into her one last time. She contracted her muscles around him, deliberately milking every last drop of him, which only served to drag his orgasm out even longer. And then they both collapsed, falling next to each other, completely and utterly incapable of moving. “That—oh, God, Anna,” he gasped, clutching his chest to make sure his heart was still inside of it. “That was the hardest I’ve ever come in my entire life.”

She was breathing just as heavily and gazing up at him, pleased with herself. The façade of Courtroom Dom was gone; once she could think clearly, she needed to come up with a name for this look in case she ever saw it again. For the time being, she would settle for gloating. “Was it worth the wait?”

He found the strength to roll onto his side and, with a hand on her lower back, pull her toward him. Then he kissed her, just as passionately as he had when he walked in the door. “Of every fantasy I have ever had,” he said, “you are the one that’s always worth waiting for.”

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Broken Trust - Llyr

Whumptober: Day 12

Back for today with my only other pre-written Whumptober prompt! This piece came out of a random prompted concept and subsequent discussion that led to me spontaneously writing a piece that worked perfectly for today’s Whumptober. 

THIS IS NOT CANON. It’s an AU situation where Hugh finds out that Llyr is a selkie and most events of the canon story don’t end up happening. This particular piece comes after he’s stolen Llyr’s skin and has been harassing him for multiple months over it, threatening to expose him to the crew if he doesn’t keep quiet. 

Content warnings: Nothing much except for fear of violence and a tense confession!

————————————

Llyr and Hugh have a particularly severe conflict, ending in Llyr running from the room they still share and the first person he thinks to go to is Ray. He needs to find a way out of this, and it looks like this is the only option left, as much as it terrifies him. He knocks on the door and when Ray answers...

"Llyr? What's- hey, are you crying? No, it's alright, here just-" Ray ushers him in and leads him to a chair with a silent hand on his shoulder, sitting him down as Llyr tries to regain his composure. "It's alright, whatever it is, just let it out. No good holding it in."

Llyr tries to laugh spitefully at that, but it comes out as a loud, desperate sob instead and he claps a hand over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to trap tears in them, but they slip out and roll down his face. He wants so badly to say everything and get it over with, but now that he's started crying, he can't stop. 

Tears that have been repressed for weeks on end flow in a constant stream. His breaths heave and his shoulders shake with the force of his despair and longing. Ray sits beside him through it all, a cautious, gentle hand settling on his back, the other coming up to wrap around him when Llyr melts into the touch.

He cries into Ray's chest and nearly feels worse for it. He's the one about to betray him, break his trust, reveal himself as the fraud he's always been, and yet he's taking advantage of the last bit of comfort the man's kind heart has to offer before shattering it. He cries harder. If he never stops sobbing, he won't have to say a thing.

Eventually, he does. After what could have been hours for all he knew, Llyr runs out of tears to cry. He pulls back slowly, reluctantly, from Ray's embrace, letting his face be held in careful hands as his captain gently wipes his tears away. Looking into Ray's eyes, he can see the silent question there but knows he won't say a word. Llyr will have to speak first. 

He crumples back against the chair, folding in on himself as he looks anywhere but at the other man. His heart beats with a steadily increasing flow of adrenaline, quickening his hitched breathing and shaking his blurry vision.

"Promise... promise you won't be upset," he says quickly, his voice a wispy breath. Llyr flushes and hangs his head a moment later. That was stupid. That was childish and stupid.

"Llyr, what's this about?"

"Me," he rasps miserably, "Who I am. What I am."

"I'd never be upset with you for being yourself." It's almost a question, all the confusion at what Llyr meant left unsaid but evident in his voice.

He does laugh, this time, an incredulous wheeze at just how wrong Ray doesn't know he is.

"You know- uh, you know selkies?" His voice cracks. "Mythical seal people?" 

"Sure, I've heard of them before. Why..." The selkie watches the realization form, the suspicion growing into a conclusion as his eyes look Llyr up and down again as if he's just seen him for the first time. "Oh. You..."

Llyr nods hastily, pressing his lips into a thin line, waiting for the inevitable. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the anger flare up, so he doesn't have to see the other shoe drop. Footsteps approach and he throws his hands over his head, curling up and trying to protect the most vulnerable parts of himself out of pure instinct. His shallow breathing is the only other noise in the room until arms wrap around him, pulling him in close against a flinch. Before he can ask what the hell Ray thinks he's doing, the other man speaks.

"Thank you," he breathes into Llyr's hair, "thank you for telling me; I know that couldn't have been easy, and you didn't need to say anything. I believe you. I'm not upset, and I'm not going to hurt you." 

Llyr is frozen. He can't believe the words he's hearing, can't take them at face value. There has to be some sort of catch. Catch. Like a fish. Or a seal. He might’ve laughed if it was funny. Llyr pulls back from the embrace and stares at Ray in disbelief. As desperately as his instincts need to find something wrong, there’s nothing to be found.

"If I may ask, why did you feel the need to tell me? And why now?"

Llyr sighs. This is the easy part. Some way, somehow, he's survived telling Ray and he'd rather not look any further into it than he needs to at the moment.

"Hugh... Hugh found out," he says bitterly, "He took my- uh, my skin. The cloak I had. That's my skin, and he took it; he's been keeping it from me and threatening to tell all you guys what I am and I- I can't. I need it to stop. I need it back. I'm sorry."

Ray frowns at that, growing angrier with every word Llyr says.

"Goddammit, Hugh," he mutters before taking Llyr by the hand and walking to the door. He speaks through gritted teeth and a forced smile. "Come on. You and I are gonna have a chat with him and see if we can't clear this up in a nice, civil manner." 

————————————

Tagging the Llyr crew on this, ask to be added or removed!

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​, @insanitywishes, @whumpingonarainyday​​, @burtlederp​​, @pepperonyscience​ 

[cilliansaccent]

Class of Temptation - CHAPTER EIGHT

Leave a like, reblog or comment below to show your support and love! Enjoy…

PLEASE READ:

No mention of Cillian’s true family or relatives. All names are made up.

This is a TEACHER x STUDENT fanfiction, it’s going to be kinky and very taboo!

I will write whenever the mood grabs me, so I apologise if there are long breaks between chapters :)

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Background: Tessa is a twenty-three-year-old model from a broken-up family, living in London with her best friend and starting a course on Drama and Theatre. Though, when she gets closer to the super hot Mr Murphy who is her much older teacher, there is a battle of lust and love between them. They’ll have to figure out what to do with their tight relationship as other issues begin to rise and nip at their heels…

Word Count: 5,088

!!Warnings!!: Mention of female x female sex after the bath Tessa has

Chapter Name: It’s Dinner Time

Brief Chapter Outline: Tessa returns from her week in Sydney only to be called on for Dinner with her so-called ‘family’. The night is a disaster, only she is saved by someone at the end of the night... 

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Cillian had not seen Tessa for a whole week and had not gotten a message from her either if she was away for work or not. It was a crucial time now as he was going around the class, while they worked on an essay, to see where each person was up to in their project. 

Julian seemed to be quiet, giving him simple answers. 

"Julian, I need to know if Tessa has been pulling her weight," Cillian said, having sat down beside the boy. 

"Of course she has. She's been working hard with me and doing anything she can if I am unable to do them." He said, focused on his laptop as he wrote his essay. 

"Okay. Good. But do you know where she is? She hasn't been here all this week." Cillian said, watching Julian sigh and sit back. 

"Honestly? I wouldn't have a clue, she's been talking to me but very little. Must be her work, probably has a tight schedule." He shrugged and resumed his writing. 

Cillian nodded but found it odd and went to everyone else before he went to sit down at his desk. He whipped out his phone, thinking as he stared at the screen. He had an Instagram but it was private and he barely used it, only to keep in contact with previous workmates... Nothing more. 

He pressed his lips together, Tessa had an account... And then? What was he going to do? Stalk her? No, he would see what she was up to. 

Typing her name away, she came up instantly and he clicked on her name. He saw the first photo, it was posted a few hours ago. She was with some girl who had auburn coloured hair. Both were standing beside a pool at night, wearing nothing but a bikini bottom that did little to nothing in hiding their backside, their... chests pressed together and grinning at each other. 

His brow rose as he quickly swiped to exit the photo. It seemed she was very busy these last few days, walking down a runway in some very skimpy lingerie. 

Okay. He was going to stop now and exited the app. This was so not right, staring at the ass of a student of his. What the fuck. 

Cillian shook his head and opened up his laptop, he would send another email to her in hopes she would reply back.

 ------

 Tessa was glad to be back home, she was extremely tired, jet-lag always got her the worst and she was close to her period since she had stopped taking birth control. So her moods were through the roof and Esther never seemed shaken from her snaps. 

Friday evening was spent unpacking her shit from her suitcase, after that she made a bath and put on some low-fi beats on Spotify and sunk into the water with a soft groan. She checked her emails and found two from Cillian, both concerned on where she was and why she had not checked in on him. There was no use to reply back as she was going to see him on Monday anyway. She'll explain then. 

Though a call came through her phone and she frowned as she saw Mila's name flash up. 

Tess answered the face time, "Hey," Tessa gave her older sister a smile. She still did not trust her enough for what she had done to her. 

"Hey, little sis. You relaxing?" She asked. She was laying back on a bed, it seemed. 

"Yeah. Came back from Sydney today." Tess replied. 

"Nice. What for?" Mila asked. 

"Company emailed me to see if they can do a temporary partnership and do some shoots and a runway for them. Then partied hard the last few days." And fucked Esther more than once. In a bed. With other girls and guys. Alcohol did things to you. 

"Damn, it looks like it. Those hickies says a lot." Mila raised a brow but Tessa could see the disgust in her eyes. 

"Yeah, I had heaps of fun. So what you call me for? Something important?" Tessa continued on, wanting to be alone. 

"I've organised a dinner tomorrow night with all of us." Mila had sat up, her hair falling around her shoulders. 

"Us?" Tessa frowned, tilting her head to the side. 

"Yeah. You, me, Aria..." Mila seemed to trail off and Tessa pursed her lips. 

"Who else, Mila?" Tessa said with more force, wanting to hear those words. 

"Dad and mum. And her sons." Mila glanced away knowing exactly what was going to happen next. 

"You're fucking kidding- No. I don't want to see that bitch or her devil spawns. I'm not going. Fuck that." Tessa snapped, anger shooting through her. 

"Tessa! Come on, Dad wants to see you so badly, at least do it for him-" Mila snapped back with the same annoyance. 

"No! God, I would rather sit with horse shit and eat dinner with that than see him or that witch he married." Tessa shook her head, "Fucking hell. You really are so fucking blind? What he do? Bribe you with money? Help you pay off those debts you got? Is that why you are all so mushy suddenly?" Tessa narrowed her eyes. 

"You're a bitch, you know that? You better be there tomorrow, or I'll come and drag your stupid ass out. You need to step up for once." Mila said furiously, "Fine. For Aria's sake cause she said she's coming. It would look bad if you didn't show up." With that Mila hung up. 

Tessa let out a cry of frustration and threw aside her phone, "Fuck!" She laid her head back on the headrest. 

"What happened?" Esther ran in. She was only in her thong and a bralette. 

Tessa glanced at her, heat pooling between her legs instantly, "Stupid family shit." She said as she sat up slowly. 

"I gotta fight anyone?" She came closer, crouching beside the tub. 

"No." She examined her face, then cupped it with a hand, "No fighting." She shook her head as her nose brushed hers. 

"You sure? You look like you want to." Esther murmured, her hand covering Tessa's. 

"I know. But I want to do something else, that'll help me calm down." She leaned in and kissed her hard and deeply. 

It wasn't long when Esther was in the tub, naked and moaning as Tessa fingered her beneath the water. They both touched and kissed and sucked, pleasuring each other before they both came with a loud cry. Water was spilt but neither of them cared as they got out, kissing each other still as they crumbled on to the floor in the living room to continued, locking themselves in a scissoring position and grinding hard against each other. 

The friction was amazing, Tessa thought. It always was. She could feel Esther's pierced clit rub against hers as they became more sloppy and faster as another climax tore through them. 

Esther then went down on her friend, taking in a pierced nipple first to tease her there. Tessa loved her nipple piercings to be played with. 

The night was erotic and hard, Tessa needed it. They fell asleep in each other's arms in Esther's bed as they had finished there. 

 Next Day, Nighttime...

 Tessa really couldn't believe she was actually going. Somehow Aria rang her up and begged her to go and not let her suffer on her own. 

She was doing this ONLY because of Aria.

No one else. 

Tessa pulled her black hair in a high ponytail, spraying back any loose strands. She applied make-up on, pulled on a white silk blouse that did not need a bra on (thank fuck) and tucked it into the uneven skirt that was red and had a crazy pattern of what was like flowers and shapes with gold, black and some browns. 

She grabbed her black leather cross-body bag, made sure she had her phone, wallet and keys. If she was drinking tonight, she wasn't going to drive. 

"'Kay, Esther, I'm going. See you later tonight hopefully. If I live." She muttered and heard the soft 'bye' from her friend and slipped on her pearly silk pointed shoes and took a Uber to the Hotel that the dinner was being held at. 

Arriving at the fancy-ass hotel, Tessa swayed her hips as she walked in, her expression dead serious with a hint of bitterness.

Still, it didn't sway the men watching her.

Once in the foyer she spotted Aria and walked over, "Aria. Hey." Tessa gave her sister a smile.

"Oh thank God you came." She stood. She wore a dress, tight at the waist and flared out. It was a deep green dress with a simple silver belt around her waist. She wore black flats and her black hair was braided out of her face.

"I'm only here for you, no one else." Tess hugged her gently.

"I'm glad. I can't believe we have to be here." Aria rolled her eyes.

"I know. I didn't even know they were already here." Tessa sat with her on the couch.

"What do you mean?" Aria looked confused.

"I'm the only one? Bastard is sending me cards and he sent one where he's coming for Christmas. I guess he couldn't wait for that." Tessa frowned.

"How? Wait..." Aria gritted her teeth.

"Mila gave him my fucking address, and I've been so careful to keep myself hidden from him." Tessa shook her head, still annoyed as hell.

"She did not! What the fuck, why you as well? She knows how much you hate him. Why do this honestly?" Aria scoffed.

"Because dad wants to bring the family back together, Aria," Mila said as she came around to stand before them.

"You realise that's a little late now? I don't want him in my life, nor does Tessa. And how dare you fucking give him her address!" Aria stood up, fuming. "You have no right!"

Mila rolled her eyes, "Shut up and let's go. They're waiting." Mila turned.

Tessa gripped Aria's arm gently and whispered, "Don't. Let's get this over with and leave as fast as we can."

Aria huffed and nodded as they headed into the restaurant. It was that soft whispering that filled the massive room, someone in the corner was playing the piano and everyone was well dressed. The walls were an off white with massive oil paintings of angels and warriors and whatnot. There was a big crystal chandelier with smaller ones peppered around the room in symmetry. It was like walking into a ballroom back in the early nineteen-hundreds.

Tessa brought her eyes back to the front and saw them all.

Grace, an old hag with a mean and wrinkled face, wore a necklace of pearl and diamonds with matching teardrop earrings. She wore a floor-length gown of blue silk with off the shoulder short sleeves. She had a fox pelt around her shoulders. Her brown hair tied up in a knot, not a single strand left out.

Her father, sitting on her left was in a classic, crisp cut suit. His black hair still thick was slowly showing greys but slicked back. She was glad she had her mothers eyes, blue instead of the shrewd brown eyes he had. They matched Mila's.

And on the right... The two fuckers Grace called sons.

Xavier was thirty-nine and had the brown hair and green eyes much like his mother. There wasn't much of a difference in the similarities they had. He had a little girl and was married.

His other brother, Ethan, thirty-five had reddish-brown hair and the prettiest of green eyes. But that was about it. He had a clean-cut beard and wore black glasses. Also, he was a father of two boys. Ew.

They were wolves with sheepskin on the outside.

"Ah, my lovely daughters." Jack, her father, stood and hugged Mila then faced Aria and Tessa and stepped to give them a hug.

Tessa stepped back with Aria, "Let's sit." Tess said and gave her father a tight smile and sat with her sister close. She was thankful that Mila would be the barrier between her and her father.

Jack frowned and sat down, "Okay... Well, how have you two been? How is the wedding preparations going, Aria?"

"Going fine," Aria said, her legs crossed and her hands folded on her lap.

"Do you need any-"

"Nope. I am very capable of doing it myself. Dorian and his family are helping me. I don't need any more help." Aria glanced at Jack. She could see he was annoyed.

Grace cleared her throat, "You both have not acknowledged me or the rest of your family."

Tessa slid her eyes to the woman, "What other family, Grace? Just an acquaintance that I need to deal for tonight."

Mila coughed, giving her a nudge under the table.

"As always, rude and misbehaved. You should come back with us, I can teach you some manners." Grace narrowed her eyes.

"I have some, don't need any crap from you." Tessa kept her gaze, she would not back down on this bitch.

"Anyway, I want to eat. Can we finally order?" Tessa said as she glanced over the menu and was set on what she wanted and waved the waiter over.

Once the table ordered and their wines were bought over Tessa was first to pour herself and Aria.

"Mine, too." Grace held her glass out.

"You got hands." Tessa set the bottle down.

"Excuse me-" Grace started.

Mila took the bottle, "Sorry. She isn't in a good mood." Mila poured the glass.

"Thank you. Should learn from Mila. She's been a very good girl these past few months. Very proud of where you are at." Grace nodded.

Tessa didn't seem interested in what Mila was up to. But it seemed like this dinner was not just a family dinner.

"Oh yes," Ethan chimed in with a wicked smile, "She's become our head designer, working alongside with mum with the designs for our company."

"And I woke with Gucci, Tommy Hilfiger and Prada." Tessa sipped her red wine more.

It made Grace stiffen a little, the light uplift of her nose, "But wouldn't you rather work with family than strangers? You wouldn't be where you are now without us."

"I can agree on that, the last bit, but I would rather work with all these other brands than your shitty company," Tessa said with ice laced in her voice.

"Tessa." Jack cut in, glaring at her, "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm tired and I want to go home," Tessa said, not even giving her father a look over.

No one spoke as their food finally came and silence fell over the table as they ate.

"I've heard you are doing... A course. On what?" Grace asked after she was done eating and took a gulp of her wine.

"Drama," Tessa said, eating her food slower.

"Drama? You want to be an actor?" Grace gave her an odd look.

"Yeah. Or, well, I hope so." Tessa shrugged.

"Why? Such a... Waste of time. Modelling is much better, no?" Grace tilted her head to the side.

"Well, I don't care much about what you think. I want to do this and so I will." Tessa shook her head and wiped her mouth when she was done.

"So you would rather throw away what you are doing for some sleazy career? Honestly, I guess it suits you." Grace muttered.

"Excuse me?" Tessa stilled.

"Okay, girls, please. Let's not start this, we are here for Mila's step in the right direction-" Jack tried to calm the situation down.

"Shut up. I knew fucking well not to come, I don't give a rats ass about Mila's 'step in the right direction'. What the fuck does that mean, huh, Jack? You still not fucking proud, hm?" Tessa raised her voice, people began to look over.

"Tess, just relax. All I am saying is that maybe you need to look to her, follow her steps." Jack frowned.

"I agree. Instead of all of these flights around to other countries where you can get god knows what disease and drinking and... Kissing women? Tessa, you can do so much better." Grace tried to act as if she gave a damn.

It made Tessa angrier, she glanced at the table with utter disbelief, "I hate every, damn, person on this table. Except for Aria who seems the only sane person here." Tessa threw down her napkin. "I'll do what I want to do, I fucking kiss whoever I want and I'll drink as much as I want. You," she pointed a finger at her father, "You never cared what I did. You never showed me any kind of love or kindness, you left me to fucking rot with these scumbags. And god above I pray that their kids see what fucking monsters they are."

"Don't you dare talk to your brothers-"

"They're not my fucking brothers, Grace!" Tessa yelled, people looked over, "You are nothing to me, bitch. Never was. I don't ever want to sit here with any of you."

"Tessa, please you are making a scene. Just calm down damnit." Mila grabbed her arm.

"Let me go, traitor. You knew I hated Jack and yet you still gave him my address. I hate you for doing that. I really do." She snatched her arm back and Mila looked hurt.

"Tessa. Enough." Jack demanded with a hard tone, glaring at her. "You really need to learn a lesson, I will not allow you to g-"

"You have no fucking control over me, Jack. None. I have my own job, you can't do anything." Tessa began to rise up. Aria had already escaped out of the booth, waiting to go. She wanted to go.

"I am your father-!"

"You are not my father, I lost him when he married this witch!" She pointed to Grace. "You mean nothing to me! I was happy without you all, I thought you would see the shit Grace has done but you don't. You have no idea what she did to me when you were not home. You never cared."

"I don't even know what you are talking about." Grace rolled her eyes, "Darling, she's going crazy. Let her leave. Besides, look at her. She has no shame whatsoever, look at those disgusting things on her neck. She'll turn into a whore and drunk much like her mother-"

Tessa felt her world stop and she grabbed the glass of red wine, nice and full the glass was.

And threw it at Grace.

She let out a cry as the wine-stained her ugly face and her white fur shawl, much like the blood Tessa felt down her face as she laid in the bathroom when she was only seventeen.

"You damn girl-" Grace was full of rage.

"Damn you too, bitch. Don't ever come back into my life," Tessa began to get out of the table.

But Ethan had snuck out a foot in time when the waiter was carrying over a very soupy like food.

Tessa tipped right into the man as the sauce went all over her. She fell hard on the floor, the metal tray smacking her in the head.

"Jesus Christ," Aria shoved the baffled waiter and tried to help Tessa up. Her silk shirt was soaked and exposed her skin beneath. Her make-up was running. "You really are monsters." Aria looked at the four at the table.

No one flinched or made a move to help, they were all fussing over Grace who was whinging like a baby.

The two girls left the dining room, everyone watched.

"Let me take you home." Aria held her little sister close.

"No. I- I need to just be on my own." Tessa shook her head, holding back her tears.

"Are you sure?" Aria frowned, "It won't be a bother."

"Please, Aria. I want to be alone. We get lunch tomorrow, yeah? When do you go back?" Tessa looked at her.

"Monday. I'll come to you at twelve?" Aria cupped her face with a hand.

"Okay. I'll see you then." She gave her a slight smile.

"Aria! Tess!" Mila called as she ran over, "God I am so, so so-"

"Leave it. We don't need it," Aria held up a hand, "Just go away. You showed us where you stand, oh precious one." Aria and Tessa left her standing there in the foyer.

"Call me when you get home, okay?" Aria said.

"I will. Goodnight, Ari." Tessa whispered and watched her leave.

Tessa walked down the street, arms wrapped around herself. It was quite cold but she didn't feel it, her mind blank but also roaring at the same time. Tonight was terrible, a big ass failure. She could not believe it.

She walked for however long, but as the rain began and grew harder she stood in the middle of the pathway, looking up at the sky, "Why!? Why me?!" She screamed in frustration. She shut her eyes and didn't know if she was crying or not.

Then she felt something warm slide down her leg and she looked down, lifting her skirt.

"Fuck." She cursed. Her period came.

Just then, light-flooded her as someone opened the door. She turned and squinted at the person who stood in the doorframe.

"Who- Tessa?" The Irish accent gave her those butterflies once more. "Is- Are you okay? You look like a mess." Cillian rushed down with an umbrella, holding it above her head to shield her from the pelting rain.

"Come in, come in." He placed a hand on her back and guided her in.

"No- I shouldn't Cillian." She tried to getaway.

"You are shaking and drenched and covered in what... Soup?" He glanced at her, not staying too long at her chest.

"Yeah soup. Bad accident. Cillian, I don't even know. I want to go home." She felt a cramp hit her and she groaned, hunching over.

"Are you hurt? Tess, talk to me-" He gripped her shoulder as his eyes drifted down to see what was dripping on his hardwood floors. "Holy fuck, are you bleeding?!" His eyes were wide.

"I got my period! Oh my god!" Tessa was so embarrassed! "I didn't bring a pad-"

"Don't worry. My sister leaves some here when she comes over. Let's go to the bathroom." He took her up the stairs and into the bathroom, he riffled around the cabinet and found a pad for her and a clean towel. He handed it to her. "Clean up, take as long as you want, and then we talk." He patted her shoulder and left her be.

She blinked and didn't waste time.

She got into the shower and kept her hair up so it didn't get any wetter, she scrubbed her face clean and then got out and dried up. She was glad she kept a pair of undies in her bag and used them with the pad.

But now it was clothes.

Just then Cillian knocked on the door, "Tess? I got uh, some clothes here."

Tessa wrapped the towel around herself and opened the door, hiding behind it, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. You don't want those ones again, do you?" He raised a brow.

"No, I don't." She smiled slightly and took the items and closed the door once more. It was tights that fitted her and a grey sweatshirt with a hoodie and a single pocket in front. It was fluffy inside it.

Tessa cleaned up the blood on the floor and anywhere else and gathered her dirty clothing and stepped out. Her hair was let down and was a massive fuzzball. Happens after the rain touches it.

She took a quick moment to admire the top floor. It was much like downstairs, dark wood with patterned cream walls that had photographs of what looked like Cillian's family and friends. It had a very Irish touch to it. It was like a cottage almost.

She could hear the fire downstairs and she headed down, Cillian had cleaned up the blood drops on the steps and blushed. She walked through the small hall that leads into a small kitchen and dining room in one.

Cillian was leaning against the counter, facing towards her as he waited for the kettle to boil, "Feel better?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah. Thank you. I'll make sure I return the clothes." She said, standing in the threshold awkwardly. She still had her clothes in her hands.

"Here," He leaned down and pulled out a small plastic bag and came over to her, "Put those in and come sit down, I'm making tea." He said.

"Oh, no. I don't want to stay any longer. I gotta head back home." She shook her head, not wanting to intrude any longer.

"It's only nine-thirty. Half an hour and I'll take you back home. Tea will help you." He said with that lovely, nonjudging smile.

She pouted, "Okay. Tea, half an hour, and I go." She gave him a look.

"Okay. Agreed." He said and went to go pour the hot water into two cups.

Tessa pulled out her phone and gave her sister a call, telling her she was safe and in bed and she would see her in the afternoon.

Cillian held the teas on their saucers, "Let's go into the living room. Much nicer." He said.

Tess followed him and she plopped herself on the two-seater as he handed her the tea, "Thanks." She muttered and took a small sip. Perfect temperature and she loved her Earl Grey teas.

The silence between them was... Good. She didn't feel any hint of awkwardness or any pressure to talk. The warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth would warm her, but would not melt the ice around her heart.

She took this moment to look at the room, a beautiful bay window overlooked the garden he had at the front, the rug beneath her feet was fluffy and a soft grey colour that broke up the dark wood that filled the room. He had a large flat-screen TV mounted above the fire and on either side was thick bookshelves full of picture frames, awards he had won from acting, books and what seemed like records for the record player he had tucked in the corner.

"Would you like some music?" Cillian asked after he caught her eyeing the player.

"Oh, no, no it's okay. I just haven't... Seen one since I left home." She sipped her tea some more.

"Oh? Your parents liked listening to it?" He rolled the 'r' a little and she found it quite cute.

"My father would play it on days that were hard, especially around the time we moved countries." She found herself saying and frowned.

"Where are you originally from?" Cillian asked, turning the cup in his hand around slowly.

"Sydney. But I... Don't remember much, vague memories. Mostly when I lived in Amsterdam and now in London." She murmured, trying not to remember those dark memories. They were not things she wanted to remember.

"Wow, that's alright. Did you like Amsterdam?"

Tessa took a moment to reply, struggling with the memories that were threatening to rip open the chest she kept buried deep within her.

"Tess?" Cillian's brows deepened and he leaned forward, his hand slipping over the softness of her wrist, "Hey, it's okay. You don't need to tell me."

She nodded only, "It was okay. But I'm happier here in London." She said, glancing up at him. The fire illuminated his face, bringing out those lovely freckles and making his eyes paler yet so staggering she couldn't look away. The firelight made Cillian seem so ethereal, the gentle curve of his neck to the curls of his hair.

Cillian was entranced by her. Her eyes seemed like glowing pools yet full of such pain and sadness, her skin rich golden from the light of the fire, hair as black as night in which he wanted to touch, run his fingers through the strands. And then... Those full lips parted slightly, and then the slender neck where he could see... Bruises? Or were they....? He gulped and looked away, sitting back and removing his hand from her wrist.

"Let me go clean up the kitchen real quick, and uh, I'll drop you off?" He said as he stood.

"Okay." She smiled, her cheeks were red as she passed her cup to him.

He nodded and left.

She watched the fire, she had just witnessed Cillian, her teacher, stare at her for a long time now. He was really looking at her. Taking the details of her face. She wondered what was going through his mind?

Was she pretty to him? Did she have something he liked? Or was she just some other student who was going to mess up in class? And the fucking hickies... Was she seen as a slut to him?

She sunk down on the couch, letting out a shuddering breath. Tessa was overwhelmed and wanted a break, real bad. But she was already halfway through her first term, it would be a waste to give it up now... But maybe it would be good. To get away from all those girls in her class.

Fuck she still hasn't said anything to Cillian about Julian. What a good friend she was.

Tessa shut her eyes, the words whore and drunk like her mother rang in her tired mind. She hadn't even noticed she had fallen asleep.

When Cillian returned to the living room he saw Tessa had fallen asleep. He wasn't sure whether to wake her up as this was... Not right. To have a student in his home... But god, the way she looked. So at peace. He sighed softly, it would be only one night, he thought as he came over quietly. He lifted her legs and stretched her out on the couch the best he could without waking her. Cillian grabbed the fluffy blanket and pulled it over her a little before he waited for the fire to die down some more.

Cillian gave Tessa one more look over. For such a young, beautiful girl, she had so much pain that twisted her heart beneath that skin. And by the looks of how she had stood in front of his home... Tonight had not gone well for her.

He could only wonder what had happened.

[shuttymcshutfuck]

I can be a handful, that’s why you have two hands

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast 

Type: hurt/comfort (possibly whump or fluff idk)

Word count: 1,108

Relationships: Juno Steel & Peter Nureyev (Jupeter)

TW: concussion 

Ao3 link

Juno gets concussed on a job (again) and shows a new side of himself. That side of himself is /very/ soft for Peter.

Peter thinks that by now Juno must have won an award for how many times he’s been injured during a case. Almost every case he went on he’d come back bruised, concussed or even with a broken bone or two, according to Rita. Peter knew that if he asked Juno he would get some nonsense line or just a simple “I don’t know.” Now that he’s on the Carte Blanche, it’s not much different. He tends to sacrifice himself less —which is always a plus — but somehow he still gets injured so often. Their current job is no exception. It was an easy heist, in and out in a flash. Just Juno, Peter and Buddy. It had been going well, until they had to split up to do their own tasks. Five minutes later, Peter heard Juno say he “might have a problem” over the comms. He was left alone for five minutes, that was it.

“I’m on my way,” Peter heard Buddy say over the comms. With a sigh, Peter made his way to Juno’s location to find Buddy shooting two very bulky men in suits. Peter gave her a look.

“It was on stun, don’t worry. Now go check on him while I call Jet to come pick us up.” She sauntered out of the room, pulling out her comms. Peter brought his attention back to Juno who was slightly swaying on his feet. Peter stepped over the guards towards him and grabbed his arms gently, leaning down a little to meet his face. 

“Juno, are you alright?” There was no answer. Peter could feel a vague panic rise in him but he pushed it down. Now was not the time. “Juno?” 

Juno finally faced him but his eyes looked right past him, dazed and unfocused. “‘m fine.” There was a slight slur to his words and Peter could tell he was definitely not fine.

“Sure you are. Can you walk?” Peter loosened his grip on Juno slightly but as soon as he did so Juno started to fall. In one swift motion Peter had him up in his arms, carrying him bridal style.

“You lovable idiot.” Peter shook his head as he looked down at the ex-detective in his arms. 

“Aww, you said you love me.” Juno gave Peter an overly cheesy grin with his eyes shut. Yup, he was out of it.

“Jet’s just outside and I’ve let Vespa know she’s needed in the medbay,” Buddy stated as she walked over to them from the door.

“Buddy, you’re so pretty, don’t think you get told that enough.” 

“Okay, he’s definitely concussed again. Vespa’s going to kill him.” Buddy moved to the door, holding it open for them. Peter was careful not to hit Juno’s head any more than it had been but they still moved quickly down the halls. 

“Hey Pete, you have the nicest eyes. They’re just so pretty.” Juno was looking up at Peter with wide eyes filled with… something. Love? Adoration? Lunacy? Who knows? This is a level of concussed that Peter has never seen before, and he’s seen Juno concussed a lot.

“Thank you, my dear. You keep talking and we’ll be back on the ship in no time.” And he did. Juno talked the entire way back to the ship. Mostly incoherent nonsense about Peter, like his eyes or his “smell”. Stuff that, had Juno been less out of it, he would not have said in front of other people. Thankfully, Buddy was nice and said she’d only mock him a little about it once he was more aware, and Jet didn’t really care too much. It was only when they finally got to the medbay that Juno had stopped talking about Peter. And that was only because Vespa started asking him questions. One, to check his head, and two, to get him to shut up about Peter.

“Juno, how many times are you going to get hurt during a simple job?” Vespa said through gritted teeth while she examined him. 

“No idea, wanna take bets?” Of course Juno would still be quick to fire back. Peter didn’t think that would ever go away. Even back in the tomb, it never went away fully. He watched Buddy move Vespa away from Juno for a minute to calm her down. It looked like she was about to make him even more injured. They both took a breath and walked back over so Vespa could finish patching him up. 

“Alright Steel, you’re good to go. Just keep an eye on him will you, Ransom?” Vespa walked out of the medbay with Buddy in tow, leaving just Juno and Peter. Peter watched as Juno moved to try and get off the cot he’d been laying on. Peter had a bad feeling that Juno’s legs would give out the second he tried to stand on his own, and they did. Thankfully, Peter swooped down and caught him before the floor did, putting an arm around his waist and Juno’s arm over his shoulder.

They walked like that — slowly — to Juno’s room, making sure that Juno didn’t try to walk on his own again. Peter walked him over to the bed and sat him down, moving over to get more comfortable clothes for Juno to put on. After motioning to Juno to take off his dress, all Peter received was a raised eyebrow.

“Wow, smooth. If you wanted me so badly then you could’ve just said.” 

Peter rolled his eyes and threw Juno’s t-shirt at him. “Just get your t-shirt on, please?” Peter couldn’t help the blush that spread across his cheeks. “How come you’re so flirty?” 

“’m just in love, that’s all.” Juno looked up at him with the same cheesy grin and Peter couldn’t help but melt a little.

“I think you mean concussed. Come on, into bed you go,” he said with a slight chuckle in his voice. He tucked Juno in and went to leave to get changed, but before he could go he felt a weak tug on his wrist. He turned around to see Juno looking at him with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Stay?” There was a slight quiver in Juno’s voice that made Peter wonder how many times he’d had to do this alone. He pushed away the thought and made a motion for Juno to move over. He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes before climbing in beside Juno, letting him curl up on his side. He felt Juno smile against his chest and sigh contentedly. Peter couldn’t help but smile too. There was no place he would rather be.