#6) yes about all might. if there's one thing he's gonna do it's spit blood on every mf in a metre radius

[hella1975]

MHA used-to-be-anon here with updates and reactions after finishing season one!

Aizawa is so relatable, but what's up with that sleeping bag? It's a huge mood and yet it also makes me think that his dearest-held dream is to be a caterpillar instead of a hero.

Of all the Quirks, no one has a bully detector? HOW is Bakugo in UA, honestly. Like, everyone overlooked the unstable bully vibes reeking from him because Ooh, Exploding Hands?? Unbelievable. I expect better integrity from such an esteemed institution

On the same note, I expect Bakugo to get an excellent redemption arc in which he actually apologizes for being a huge dick to Deku for YEARS, or I expect his intense and irrational pride to drive him to become a villain whose very existence haunts Deku

Deku continues to be cute af, no notes <3 Go little rockstar etc etc

French Laser Boy hit me like a poleaxe to the face, but I do like him

Momo really said "tits out" with her superhero outfit, huh? Respect.

Help Shoto is SO overpowered, it's hysterical. Cool af too

Emergency Exit Iida hjfhjghf, I love that uptight trust fund baby

I adore Uraraka and Tsu! Queens.

The principal is an animal???? Is that some kind of Quirk?????

Hmm. Don't like Mr. Hand Man. And I wanna know what's up with his face! The students looked horrified when the face-covering hand flew off, and then he shielded his face with his own hand until he could fix it. Like, that probably shouldn't be your biggest priority rn bud.

Side note: does All Might just. casually spray blood from his mouth when he talks sometimes?? And we're all fine with that?? Ok.

Thanks for the accidental recommendation, I'm greatly enjoying this <3

im so glad you're enjoying it! the hard thing with mha is that i DO actually really enjoy it, like as far as anime goes it's far from the worst one ive watched and especially in later seasons it actively becomes some of my favourite anime ever, but i feel like you still need to like... dismiss it? if you admit to watching it? and it's literally just because the fandom are so obnoxiously terrible about everything that you literally have to be like 'yeah i watch mha BUT NOT LIKE THOSE GUYS I WATCH IT IN A NORMAL WAY I SWEAR' and it's a bit frustrating lmao. so being able to rec it and someone actually enjoy it without taking the piss is really nice bc alas it IS something i love :)

[therealvinelle]

Hi, I was reading a post here in Tumblr about how Edward has two gifts, he can hear thoughts and is super fast, so I wonder what is your opinion about this topic?.

Furthermore, what others power might the Volturi's leaders and guards might have?

Edward has one gift, and it’s telepathy. Being fast isn’t a gift.

Strength, speed and even senses is varied among vampires. Some, like Emmett, are on the extreme end, but that doesn’t make Emmett gifted, nor does it mean that the rest are at an equal level. The Cullens have clear variations between them.

Physique appears to play a dominant role in how these variations play out: Alice, who was malnourished and never made it past 4′10″, is the physically weakest of the coven, while Emmett at 6′5″ and a mountain of muscles is the strongest. This is made very clear during the baseball game:

“Emmett was hovering close to third (base), knowing that Alice didn’t have the muscle to outstrip Rosalie’s fielding." (Midnight Sun, chapter The Game)

There’s also the fact that it’s taken for granted that Emmett would be intimidating to other vampires, and he is dismayed when James is more worried about Jasper, who is lean.

I suspect this disparity exists simply because a large frame means more tissue to have blood in. Newborns, animal, and human-eating vampires all having a difference in terms of strength is proof that blood has the final say in a vampire’s prowess, so Emmett being able to contain more of it than Alice and therefore being stronger makes sense to me.

This isn’t the meta for me to get into that, but I don’t think vampires have muscles in the sense we do. Or rather, we can’t know that they do. Renesmée is proof that Edward retains his human DNA, or she would be a clone of Bella. Nahuel is proof that Joham retains a Y-chromosome. Does this mean that vampires have different cell types? Does a vampire’s stone-like skin still contain human DNA? One would think yes - except, if you rip a vampire apart, you get rubble. The parts are all solid. There’s also Carlisle theorizing that vampires digest blood by absorbing it through porous tissue, which makes me wonder why he dismissed his digestive system (my guess: vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra. Carlisle couldn’t have done it on his own, and Aro is the only one mad and curious enough to be down for that). I’m getting off-topic - what I’m saying is, we don’t know how vampires work, meaning I can’t build this meta off of the assumption that they have muscles. I simply can’t know for sure that they do.

The important thing is that a vampire’s physique is a deciding factor in how strong they are.

There’s also Laurent’s warning about James, that he has “unparalleled senses”, meaning some vampires are better at sight, hearing, and smell than others. I can believe that, because we have canon examples of vampires being bad at tracking.

There’s Edward in Port Angeles, who couldn’t track Bella’s, his singer, scent to her location, and (I admit this one is conjecture but it’s so probable that I say it goes) Carlisle’s creator, who after taking care of the mob must have realized he’d bitten one of the humans, meaning a newborn would soon be loose in London. This is punishable by death by the Volturi. The fact that he didn’t return to finish Carlisle off means that he was unable to find him. I remind the audience that Carlisle was bleeding and suffering the effects by a venom intended to paralyze the victim. To put it this way, Carlisle wouldn’t have survived James, or anybody with a trace of tracking competence. By comparison, Carlisle was able to locate a dying Rosalie by the smell of her blood, even though there wouldn’t have been a trail for him to follow, as her body had not been moved.

When it comes to these disparities in strength and speed among the Volturi, I imagine Jane and Alec are the physically weakest members of the guard, and among the slowest. They’re prepubescent, meaning no muscle for them, and their height (a humble 4′8″ and 4′10″) implies very short legs. They’re simply not going to get as far as an adult would, not in the same number of steps. Renata at 5′0″ is another tiny vampire lady who likely isn’t very strong or fast.

That’s not to say I think these physically weaker members of the Volturi guard are necessarily useless in hand-to-hand combat, Alec at least is a boy stuck in a playful age, and the males around him are trained warriors. He’s probably picked up a few things over the years.

As for the others, Aro is described as frail-looking, which hints at him being quite thin. I don’t think he’s weak, if he couldn’t win a fight he wouldn’t be around, but I do think he’s probably below average in terms of strength. Caius I picture as a Harrison Ford type, so of course I’m gonna think he’s a bit burly, but this is me headcanoning and not actually hinted at in canon. Marcus is 19, so I imagine he can only be so strong.

Back to Edward’s speed.

He’s a 6′2″ teen, that’s code for “very long legs”, though I’m actually going to go ahead and posit that he’s not actually that fast. Strap in for this next part:

The guy was a teenager who lay dying for an undisclosed amount of time. The fact that Carlisle had the time to get to know his mother points to a few weeks, at least. And Edward was very ill:

Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. (New Moon, page 21)

Muscles atrophy quickly, never more so than when you’re a teen ravaged by fever, on your deathbed. And as I’ve explained above, I think your physique in life ties directly into your vampiric prowess.

I think Edward is certainly the physically weakest of the male Cullens, quite likely weaker than Rosalie as well, maybe even Esme.

Now, speed is not the same as strength. However, for humans, the two are connected. It’s the muscle fibers in our legs that determine our speed. Basically, type I fibers make an enduring runner, type II fibers make a speed runner. So, assuming that vampires retain their human musculature, one could argue that Edward had a lot of type II in life. However, Carlisle when he was human was able to outrun the mob he was with:

He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. (Twilight, page 158)

Carlisle clearly had a lot of type II fibers, and unlike Edward he was in peak physical condition when he died. He was also an adult who’d had more time to develop musculature, while Edward was a seventeen-year-old. If musculature was a deciding factor, one would think they would at the very least be of equal speed, though realistically Edward should be slower.

So, if it’s not muscles, what is it that makes Edward faster than the others?

It could be a matter of technique. Except, the way Bella describes movement when she wakes up as a vampire, it’s all very automated. Her body knows exactly how to do everything, and executes it without much input from her:

After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shocked me even more.

Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but it did not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively—about a sixteenth of a second later—I already understood what had startled me, and that I had overreacted. (Breaking Dawn, page 251-252)

Growling, crouching - those are all distinctly vampiric, non-human ways to act. Bella didn’t learn this, her body knew it of its own accord. When she later runs, she explains it as happening the same way - she just does it.

The way Bella experiences it, vampiric movement is like a package she downloaded, and that executes her instinctual commands with no need for her to actually know how to do any of this. Her grace is another example of this - Bella Swan may be in charge of her own consciousness, but the venom is entirely in control of her body.

Given these facts, I don’t think it’s technique that makes Edward a better runner than others. His technique is likely similar to everyone else’s. If it isn’t, if technique is what makes the difference, then who is and isn’t fast is an arbitrary process.

With that, we get to my controversial theory about why Edward is the fastest Cullen: he’s not.

Running and being fast is the only thing about vampirism that Edward enjoys. This is for another meta, but Edward is extremely depressed about every single other bit of it. Every aspect of being a vampire torments him.

Except the running. He enjoys all of it, especially being the fastest, so much. And as a newborn, he would have been faster than Carlisle.

But after that, when his newborn strength faded…

I honestly think that Carlisle decided to just slow down a bit when running with him, let Edward have this. It’s no skin of his back, and it makes Edward happy, so why not.

Esme joins the family, and of course she would be down for this. Nothing is more parental, more maternal, than losing at checkers to make your child happy, after all. Could also be she’s not very fast herself, but even if she were then she would downplay it to make Edward feel like Jesse Owens.

Enter Rosalie, who would think it’s completely ridiculous, yes, but she would also recognize this excellent opportunity to call in a big favor from Carlisle later on. There’s also the fact that I think Carlisle has a gift (yes, yes, meta is coming, people) that makes him very persuasive people. And also that for all that Rose gets a lot of bad rep, she is very generous and loves her family, if being fast makes Edward happy then alright.

Emmett is an easy-going guy, he goes along with things. Alice adores Edward and would go along with it. She also has tiny matchstick legs and couldn’t outrun him if she tried. Jasper could not care less.

Bella does get outrun by Edward after waking up, but she also did zero exercise in life (listing this in case musculature matter), had Renesmée devour her from within rendering her emaciated, and then died like a slasher movie murder victim. There’s not a lot of blood in her, and what little blood there is doesn’t have a lot to work with. She does defeat Emmett at arm wrestling, so I’ll concede that. However, there are enough extenuating circumstances surrounding Bella that I think my “Edward isn’t that fast” theory survives his ability to outrun her.

So, I believe Edward is the fast Cullen because Carlisle told a white lie in 1919, no one ever corrected that, and now it’s too late.

[chiliiscereal]

Well my standards have really lowered when I comes to writing fanfiction a XD

First I didn’t want to write any at all, then I didn’t want to write for any cartoons, then I didn’t want to write for cartoon turtles... and here i am.

Here I am starting a x reader fanfiction... with the 2014/2016 version of Raph

Still a bit uncomfortable with this but I had an idea so here we go! If I like it then I’ll keep going :p

Lol what am I doing with my life XD

Too tall

Raph x tall! Fem! Reader

Summary: yes this is me self projecting. Reader is 6 foot 4 inches tall and literally every boy she meets is too insecure to date her when she’s that tall. After a while of being treated like she unbreakable and a giant she gets tired of it. Luckily there’s someone else out there who understands how she feels.

———-

You tapped the cafe table impatiently, trying not to watch your friend and her boyfriend across from you. You attempted to look at the door instead. Maybe if you stared at it long enough then your date would show up.

“It’s okay! I’m sure he’ll show up.” She tried to console you as her boyfriend held her tiny little hand.

Perfect.

Small.

You looked at your own clenched hands and wished that yours could fit so perfectly in someone else’s hands. But, sadly, big hands come with height.

No boy your age ever came close to you.

It’s not that you minded.

It’s that they did.

You didn’t care that practically every boy you met barely went up to your shoulder. You wanted companionship. You didn’t need them to be a hulking giant. You needed someone who loved you.

This wasn’t Tall Girl for goodness sake.

You weren’t waiting around for some tall man to show up.

Unfortunately no guy was willing to step up to the plate.

Why might you ask?

Insecurity of course.

The last three guys that turned you down all said they weren’t comfortable with being shorter than their girlfriend. Others said they weren’t looking for a girlfriend.

Funnily enough they all ended up with girlfriends maybe a week later.

The other girls were incredibly tiny. They barely even made it to the boys shoulders. If that.

But you thought maybe this boy would be different.

He seemed like he was.

He seemed interested at least.

He SEEMED like he was excited when you asked him on a double date with your best friend and her boyfriend.

But an hour passed already and he wasn’t there.

You sat up with a bit of a huff. “It’s fine. Let’s just... let’s just enjoy dinner.”

Your friend frowned at you but decided to let it drop. She knew you hated whenever anything like this was addressed so she bit her tongue and changed the subject.

You couldn’t enjoy dinner or pay attention to anything brought up.

Oh you tried.

You gave it the old college try.

But you found your mind wandering back to the lost date way to often.

After another thirty minutes you stood up. “You know what? I’m kind of tired and I still have some homework to finish up. You two enjoy your date!” You grabbed your bag and walked out before your friend could even call you back.

You just needed some time to yourself.

Time to think.

You walked down the sidewalk slowly, half heartedly wishing that the boy would call you and give an amazing reason as to why he was two hours late.

You stopped yourself from reaching for your phone to check for a text.

No it was his loss.

Not yours.

Surely there was someone out there for you... waiting for you to come along.

Someone that wouldn’t care if you were a little taller than them.

You huffed and zipped your bag shut. Whoever they were, they definitely weren’t that boy.

“Hey girl, who you all dressed up for?” Came a voice from the alley you were about to pass.

“No time to talk.” You answered quickly and continued walking.

You weren’t about to give them the time of day. There was a tub of ice cream and a sappy romance movie waiting for you back at your apartment.

“Come on, a girl like you with legs like that? Surely you’re dressed up for somebody.” The man stepped out of the alleyway and leaned against the brick wall. “I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s me.”

Oh you wanted to turn him around and hit him with your bag.

But it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Hell no.” You stated curtly and walked by him briskly.

He snatched your wrist, effectively making your skin crawl. “Look at me when I’m talking to ya.”

He pulled you into the alley before you could stop him.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” You growled and tried to rip yourself away. “HELL. NO.”

“Come on, baby! Give me a chance-!” He attempted you sweet talk before he was interrupted.

You caught his hand before he could grab you anywhere inappropriate. “I have had a REALLY terrible day. I am a MINOR and if you don’t get lost RIGHT NOW then you’re gonna have some serious problems.”

He was close enough that you could smell the bitter alcohol on his breath.

He was probably a head shorter than you and had no idea what he was getting into.

“I don’t care if you’re a minor-.” He started.

Your fist smashing into his nose stopped his words.

“Like I said!” You growled as you shook the pain out of your knuckles, “I have had a really really REALLY bad day. And YOU are some little gnat just buzzing in my FACE!”

He gripped his nose with a cry, blood dripping down it like a waterfall. “YOU BROKE MY NOSE!”

“YOU PULLED ME INTO AN ALLEY AND TRIED TO TOUCH ME!” You shouted back, hitting him with your purse before he could charge at you. “YOU MADE THIS CHOICE AFTER I WARNED YOU!”

It felt good to take your rage out on somebody. And it was justified to! It wasn’t like you were just beating this man. He wasn’t letting you leave! He kept grabbing you before you could go.

————-

Turtles pov

They crouched above the alleyway, watching the man pull you into the alleyway.

“We gotta get involved man.” The red masked one whispered. “This doesn’t look to good.”

“I told you, we only get involved if it gets really bad.” The blue one responded with an eye roll. “We can’t risk being seen!”

“It already looks really bad!”

“If she gets anymore hurt then we jump in!”

The orange masked turtle jumped into the conversation. “I don’t know, I think my money’s on the girl.”

“Mikey shut up!” The purple masked brother whispered. “This is serious!”

“So am I! Look at her! She isn’t even scared!”

“I think she at least looks a little scared.”

“Probably cause she’s trying to keep herself from beating the shit out of him!”

Raph rolled his eyes and shoved his younger brother. “It’s our job to do the protectin’ round here. Shut up and- HOLY SHIT!”

The all gasped as you reeled your hand back and knocked your fist into the creeps nose.

“Damn that looked like it hurt.” Leo observed. “Maybe she doesn’t need our help.”

“I say we stay here in case it goes south.” Raph argued, waiting for Leo to argue with him.

“Fine, but we leave when it looks like she’s safe.” Leo nodded and looked back to the fight.

Raph didn’t have time to feel proud that he’d been listened to. Mikey was inching closer to watch. “What the hell are ya doin’?” He reached forward to pull him back. “She’s gonna see ya!”

Mikey leaned over the edge anyway. “Look at her go! I told you he didn’t stand a chance!”

“Who knew using a purse was so effective?” Leo nodded. “Think she’s got it?”

“Looks like it to me!” Mikey laughed and watched with glee. “This is real entertainment.”

“Mikey you’re too close to the edge!” Raph tried to grab him but was shoved away. “You’re gonna fall-!”

————

With that you shoved the man into the wall. “Are you FINALLY done? Have you FINALLY learned your lesson?”

He spit out the blood from his mouth and nodded. “Fine! Please just leave me alone!”

“Good choice!” You shoved him away from you. “Go before I change my mind!”

He was gone before you could even blink.

“That’s right! Get out of here!” You shouted to him as he scurried away.

You lifted your chin triumphantly.

Maybe you hadn’t gotten that date but you sure did beat the crap out of a creep.

You dusted your hands off and snatched your purse off the ground.

“If I catch you harassing anyone else you’ll get it twice as bad!”

No answer of course.

He was long gone.

Still, it felt good to shout.

You could finally go home.

You turned back to the edge of the alleyway with a sigh of relief.

You took one step forward.

Then, the least expected thing happened.

“OH SHIT!”

Next thing you knew you were on the ground after something very large crashed into you.

“What the hell!” You sat up and rubbed your head. “Who just sits on a roof above an alleyway?!”

You grabbed your purse quickly and stood up, ready for another fight.

It wasn’t another creep.

And from the looks of it... it wasn’t even human.

Well, THEY weren’t even human.

You didn’t know what they were.

Green...

Huge...

And shells...

The finally looked at you.

Why were they wearing masks?

What even were they?

Why were they there!?

The one in orange immediately scurried behind the one in red. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit!”

The one in red looked at you and then looked at the guy behind him. “You dragged me into this! You fix it!”

He pulled him forward.

Honestly you had no idea what to think.

There were two GIANT turtles right in front of you! And they were talking!

You gripped your purse a little tighter, waiting to see what they would do.

The one directly in front of you tried to speak only to look back at the red masked one and then back up at where they had fallen.

You looked from him to where he was looking quickly. “Are there more of you?”

He gulped quickly and attempted to hide behind the bigger turtle. “Uh... yeah?”

You took a small step to the exit. “Are you... are you gonna try to take my purse or something?”

The red one glared at you. “No! We’re just.. just here to protect the city. We ain’t monsters!”

You noticed him getting defensive immediately and nodded. “...okay then. Well, if you’re not going to rob me then I’m going to pretend I saw nothing and go on my way.”

The red one frowned.

You were acting waaaaaaay too casual.

Surely there had to be some other motive.

“Hold on a minute... you ain’t goin’ anywhere yet.”

You glared at him and held out your purse. “Are you gonna stop me?”

Mikey took a step back and Raph rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think a purse is gonna do much against someone like me.” He stated.

“I don’t even know who you are.” You stepped back again and tightened your grip. “I didn’t even know people like you existed until now.”

You looked them up and down, taking them all in.

This couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be.

“You say anything bout this and you’re dead, got it?” He pointed around you as if aggression could make you quiet.

“Can you at least let me go home and finish my ice cream before you decide to kill me?” You backed up again.

You were so close to running away.

So close to escape.

Before you could back up any further, two more creatures dropped from the sky behind you.

You jumped and scrambled away, nearly running into the red masked turtle.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the way my brother phrased everything.” The new turtle glared at his companion. “What he meant to say is that we protect the city. We were watching that man just in case he tried anything and these two,” he glared at the first two again, “fell off the roof.”

The one next to him pushed up his glasses. “I’m surprised you haven’t passed out from fear yet. The first person we met did just that!”

Your back hit the wall and you had no where else to go. “I’m not too sure if I won’t do that.” You glanced between the four of them. “What even are you guys?”

“Turtles!” The orange one spoke up before the red one could shush him.

“Mutants as well.” The purple one joined.

“And ninjas.”

“And teenagers.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Mutant turtle teen ninjas? I think you need to rebrand that.”

Maybe you were insane.

Here you were cracking jokes with large turtles at dinner time.

But so far they were harmless, despite their stature. According to the blue one they protect New York.

“Ya got a problem with it?” The red one grew even more tense.

You shook your head quickly. “No. Just... surprised.”

“And scared?” He added. “Scared of monsters like us?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you just said you weren’t monsters.”

That seemed to stop him.

So you continued with a deep breath. “You’re all just... really huge. I thought I was tall but standing next to you...” you swallowed and tried not to let your nerves get to you. You turned to the blue one since he seemed to be the leader. “...can I go now? I won’t tell anyone you exist or... whatever it is you want.”

The blue one was skeptical but the purple one butted in.

“Do you have a way home? Like a friend you can call?”

You opened your purse. “Yeah I should be able to call an Uber with my...” you pulled out the broken device. “...my phone.”

Well crap.

You stuffed it back in quickly. “It’s okay I’ll just walk-!”

“I can fix it.” He offered. “Besides it’ll be an extra security measure for us if we have your contact information.” He gestured loosely to the hand you’d punched the creep with. “We could also bandage up those cuts.”

You brought up your hand and inspected the blood with surprise.

Well... when were you gonna get another opportunity like this? It’s not everyday a girl gets invited into the homes of local mutants.

Besides you really didn’t want to walk home with your phone destroyed.

The red one looked at the purple one angrily. “You wanna being ‘er back??”

“Our job is to help people, Raph.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m with Donnie. It’s only fair since we broke her phone.” The blue one nodded.

“Well if it’s not too much trouble...”

—————

Next thing you know you were whisked away to none other than the sewers.

Well that kind of made sense.

No one would ever really want to go down there anyway.

The purple one, whose name you learned was Donnie, had your phone in his three fingers the moment you stepped foot in their home.

“I’ll do a little fixing up, maybe an upgrade, and Raph can take a look at your hands.” He muttered as he started to disappear into a lab like room.

Raph...

He was the red angry one wasn’t he.

The tallest and biggest out of them all.

He didn’t seem too happy about it either.

“Why me?” He protested. “What ‘bout Leo? Or-or Master Splinter? Heck, even Mikey!” He gestured to his orange masked brother as if to showcase how he’d be better at it.

You couldn’t help but silently agree with him.

Mikey seemed the most open on the way here. He’d talked your ear off the whole trip, asking questions about what it was like to be a human and bragging about all the people he’d saved. He’d even wanted you to play a video game with you when you got to their home. He’d been a bit overbearing but that was better than Mr. miffed muscle mountain.

“Hey you’ve broken the skin on your knuckles before. You’ve got experience in it. Just fix her hand and be done.” With that, Donnie was gone.

You shared an awkward moment of eye contact with Raph before he sighed.

“Well, I’m gonna go play my game.” Mikey dashed over to the tv. “Let me know when you two are done and we can play!” He grabbed Leo by the back of his shell and pulled him along.

You bit the inside of your cheek nervously.

It was just you two.

You and the giant turtle boy beside you.

“Aight well...” he cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll take you up to the work out room then?”

He stopped and you realized he was waiting for you to say something. You quickly tried to scrounge up a comprehensible sentence.

“Y-yeah, sounds good with me.” You followed after him quietly, holding your hand so the blood wouldn’t drip everywhere.

The room was smaller than you imagined but still... it was huge to you.

He began rummaging through a box on the table, fumbling with objects. “You can uh... you can sit down while I grab the-the stuff.” He told you quickly.

You didn’t know where to sit so you interpreted his words to mean that you should sit on the work out bench.

You watched patiently as he found the roll of gauze.

Clearly he was just as nervous as you.

You didn’t know why HE was nervous though. He was a giant turtle for goodness sake. He could snap you in half easily.

“Here lemme see that hand.” He shuffled over and reached out.

You gave your right one to him, trying to hold in your nervous shaking.

“Ain’t gonna bite ya.” He rolled his eyes.

“I know.” You commented, watching him start applying disinfectant. “Just never been in a situation like this before.”

He snorted and continued his work.

You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his. Ha. That was new. Usually it was you watching little pick me girls compare their hand size to their crushes. How strange it was for it to be you.

“And I thought I had big hands.” You couldn’t help but blurt out.

He kept his eyes on your hand, examining it a little more. “Ya call this big?”

“Yep.” You glanced around the room, taking in the ‘scenery’.

He snorted. “Damn tiny to me.” He pulled out the gauze and began wrapping your knuckles. “Look, I’m uh... I’m sorry ‘bout the way I handled earlier. My dumbnut brother got us exposed when ya clearly had the situation handled.”

You cringed, remembering that they’d seen you beating the creep. “Yeah I could have handled that better as well.”

He paused for a half second, as if considering his next words, and then continued. “Heard ya say you were havin’ a shit day as well.”

You weren’t exactly sure if you wanted this brought up in the middle of the weirdest experience ever but you were desperate for a smooth conversation. “Yeah, some jackass stood me up.”

He frowned and momentarily made confused eye contact with you. “Stood ya up?”

“You know, as in he said he was gonna go on a date with me and just didn’t show up.” You forced out a laugh. “But it’s fine I got ice cream at home.”

“Mmm.” He muttered. “Sounds like a douche bag.”

Well outta room! Part two will be up I had too much fun :)

[lady-ragnvindr]

Deadly Qingxin

Warnings:Angst

(Y/N is the archon of light and life)

"Everyone living being is born with a mark on their body some see it as a curse and some see it as a blessing but whether it's a curse or blessing depends on the person

These marks are called soulmate marks

For one to find their soulmate is a blessing but some people can go a life time without their soulmate

For the people who think of it as a curse are because......

Well everyone's mark starts of colorful

But if a mark cracks,fades or turns black one can assume the worst

When a mark fades it means ones soulmate no longer exist

If ones mark cracks it means ones soulmate has given up on the search

And last of all and possibly the worst if ones mark turns black......it means their soulmate has found another love

It's bad because the other soulmate would know when their marks turns black a sudden pain would erupt through ones body

Some people are lucky and it only hurts for a while..........

And some are not so lucky they get a disease from this...............

The disease of broken heart

Hanahaki disease

It causes the victim to spit up their soulmates favourite flower and the flowers will manifest on their body and coughing up flowers would become more violent and soon the flowers would suffocate from them

The only way to stop the flowers are if the victim finds their soulmate and the soulmate accepts their feelings but the feelings have to be real or it won't work

Some have died from this heart aching disease and it's truly sad".

"W-well Miss Y/N"

"Hm yes Hikari"

You ask the young abyss mage

"Are you ok?"

"Hm? Of course I'm ok why wouldn't I be?"

"W-well you have a black mark on your back"

"Pft-"

Aether spat out his drink

"What!"

You fake a smile and look at Hikari

"Yes Hikari I'm fine I'm one of the lucky few who didn't get the disease"

"Phew for a sec I thought you were gonna die"

Aether said with relief

"Well no I guess I'm just lucky huh"

You suddenly wince as you feel the familiar wave coming up your throat

"I'm sorry Aether but I have to go"

"What? But you just got here"

Aether had noticed you wince in pain and was now suspicious

"I truly regret that our meeting has been cut short but I have to go"

You get up and try to walk away when you feel some grab your wrist

"Wait"

You look back to see it was Aether who had grabbed your wrist you feel the wave in your throat rising so you struggle

"Why are you trying to leave so early?"

"Aether stop I need to no now"

"But why-!"

You fall down as a violent coughing erupts from your throat

Qingxin petals and buds and blood starts to pool out of your mouth

"Y/N!"

"MISS Y/N!"

Aether hold your arm to support you

As your violent coughing quiets down Aether sets you down by the tree

You take a few deep breaths and then look up at Aether he looked worried

"W-well I guess I own you and explanation"

"You sure do"

So you explained to him about your condition

".......C-can you tell me who is your soulmate.....or have you even met them yet"

"........"

"I-I have met them and I know where they are"

"Well why haven't you told them?"

"I-They look happy and I don't want to ruin it for them"

"Y/N!Your gonna die if you don't tell them"

"..............."

Aether sighs

"Look I'm sorry I just care for you ok Hikari could you please leave us alone so we can talk"

"O-ok my prince"

As Hikari leaves you ask Aether a question

"Aether do you want your sister to be happy?"

Aether looks at you

"Of course I do!"

"Then I can't talk to my soulmate"

"What!Why!?"

Silence envelopes you both

"Xiao"

"What?"

"My soulmate is Xiao"

"Xiao Xiao Xiao Xia-......... isn't Lumine dating Xiao"

"Yeh yeh she is"

"............"

"Here let me show you my mark"

You turn around and pull the neck of your dress down

Aether looks and see a mark

It looked like a Yaksha mask with wind spinning around it

"I-"

"I wish I could help you"

"Heh it's ok Aether you being friends with me is enough"

"........Does anyone else know?"

"Yeh Rex lapis the other adepti and Venti know they all know except for Xiao"

"................."

"It's ok their is nothing you could do about it Aether all I want is to spend my last few months with you"

"..........Y-Your wish is my command"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

2 months later

"Hey Y/N look I cooked you some Veggie radish soup please try it"

"Ok ok Aether let me try it"

"Mmm it's really good Aether"

"Glad you like it"

As you ate Aether started to think

Y/N has been getting weaker over the last two months she has lost her sense of sight as the flowers have covered her eyes she can barely stand and her coughing has become more and more frequent I'm not sure how much time she has left at this point I don't care about Lumine and I just want Y/N to confess to Xiao

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

6 months later

"Ok Y/N we're here"

As Aether lower you carefully onto the ground you felt flowe petals brush you skin and their sweet scent flood your nose

"Thank you Aether"

"It's no big deal"

As the felt the wind pick up the petals seem to brush against your skin as you felt the cool wind and the warm sunshine on your skin

Aether watched he was mesmerised by your beauty as the sun shined down on you and your hair flowed behind you even with flowers covering your skin you still looked beautiful perhaps even more with the flowers

Everything was peaceful for a few minutes

Then suddenly you started coughing

"Y/N"

Aether rushes to your side and takes your hand

You feel the warm blood on your hand

"Well Aether it seems like my time has come"

"Y/N no we still have time"

"Aether it was nice to get to know you"

"Y/N don't say that"

"I'm glad I met you"

"Y/N your no gonna die"

"I loved spending these last few months with you"

"Y/N!"

"I'm glad I spend my last few moments with you"

"NO!"

"!"

"NO NO NO NO NO IT WASN'T MEANT TO END THIS WAY YOU CANT DIE"

Your hand carefully finds its way to Aethers face as you caress it you say

"Aether......no one lives forever even god's can't do that"

"B-But this is to soon"

"Aether please I want this so please respect my wishes"

".........."

"Aether?"

"............"

"Aether"

".......fine if it's what you want"

"Thank you"

You suddenly use the last of your strength to sit up and kiss Aether on the forehead

"I'm glad I met you"

As you fall back Aether catches your body

"Y/N"

.

.

"Y/N"

.

.

.

.

.

It was as if the heavens grieved as well for it started to rain as the animals who had witnessed this dipped their heads

The wolves howled and the birds cried for the blonde male and h/c female in the middle of the flower field

They blonde male who usually had a smile on his face and was always cheerful no longer smiled his face was now covered in tears as the rain poured down his face

The whole world was grieving for the little h/c girl

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Well Life it seems as if your time was cut short............way to short since your time was not meant to come yet Life I will allow you to go back to the living realm since I will also have mercy on the poor boys soul though you might not reincarnate in your own body or have your memories you will find out who you are as you travel so please Life...................please find me in the lit realm I will wait for you"

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Death?"

.

.

.

.

.

.

As the world grieved no one noticed a f/c crack in the distance

Deadly Qingxin part 1 complete

So yeh this is gonna be a series that I might or might not continue it kinda depends on the readers if they want my to continue I will if no one request for more I'll just probably drop it but anyways this is for you the series is gonna lead up to a NSFW chapter at some point but for now this is gonna be a series stayed tuned if you want to see more

-Ender

Ohhhh this is an interesting take on the soul mate thing 👍 🤔

Yall better give support to these bcz I wanna know more 😤

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

ILLICITUS: CHAPTER 6

Prompt: Y/N is a respectful narcotics agent, she worked hard to have her work recognized in a prominently male work field. She‘s assigned to the most important case of her whole career, investigate and apprehend the biggest drug dealer of U.S.A, the only thing she didn’t count on, was for the bastard to be so damn charming.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Mob!Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, mentions of drugs, cursing, conspiracy.

Tagging: @ziasaph , @saccreigns , @marlananicole , @nicolewoo , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lilred91 , @lustyromantic , @bayley-no-friends , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: To catch up with the previous chapters just hit my Masterlist! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

The cool air of the air conditioning system was already burning my skin like ice. Thinking no one would ever come for me, I almost screamed for help, when the door suddenly opened.

“They’re gone. Come on out” Roman offers me his hand and I took it, appreciating the warmth of his palm on my hand as I crawl out of the little panic room.

“Thank you” I shivered and Roman hand me a black hoodie, which I assume it was his due to the size.

I sigh in comfort once the large fabric hugs my body and I am surrounded by his spicy, musky scent.

Roman motions for me to sit down on his californian king bed.

“What did you told them?” I ask eagerly

“The truth. That I didn’t knew where were you these past 4 days”

“Ok..did you told them where I was now?”

“Why would I hide you inside a panic room in my bedroom if I was going to tell them where you were right now, Y/N?” He cackled

I lightly smile at my own dumb question

“You’re right”

He takes slow steps towards the bed, like a predator to it’s prey. One knee sinking down on the mattress, beneath my legs, he lightly pushed me down and quickly hovered his body on top of mine.

“Where were you these last 4 days, Y/N?” He whispered, oh so softly.

“I don’t know. The only thing I remember is you calling me to have lunch with you so we could talk about the tracker”

“And previous to that?” Roman pecked my neck and face

“I honestly don’t remember” I murmured

“What’s this?” Roman asked, pointing to the side of my neck

“What?” I urgently questioned

“There’s a small mark on your neck, like a sting or something like that” He caresses the marked spot

“A sting?”

“Yeah, it almost looks like..” He trailed off

“Like what, Roman?” My voice is filled with despair

“A needle, like a needle mark”

I pushed Roman off of me and ran to his bathroom, so I could look on the mirror the so called mark.

“What the fuck?” I whispered in shock, touching the marked spot “How is this even possible?” I ask him when I caught his sight on the mirror

“I don’t know, but something definitely happened those 4 days and we need to know what it was”

“We?” I raised my eyebrows in shock

“Yeah, if someone is that eager to fuck you up they might be trying to find something about me, and I don’t like people sniffing around my business”

“How are you so sure this has to do with you?” I question him, slightly offended

“Has this ever happened to you before?” He asked and I shake my head

“So there’s your answer” He smiled pretentiously

I rolled my eyes, bumping into him lightly as I passed his figure leaned against the en suite bathroom and begin to gather my things to leave.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Leaving, I got work to do and explanations to give” I answered, lacing up my boots

“So that’s how’s gonna be huh? You just gonna use my body and then leave, like I’m some sort of cheap whore?” He pretended indignation but I could here the amusement behind his voice

“Oh I’m sure you can live with that. And if it makes you feel better, you were the best cheap whore I’ve ever fucked” I smiled widely making him laugh

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” Roman is now walking towards me

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, sir” I cackled

“Yes it is” He pushes me down on the mattress and covers my body with his “I didn’t even got the chance to eat this pussy” He pouts “One of the things I want to do the most since I saw you is to eat you out until you‘re begging me to stop. It’s not fair to leave me hanging like this” Roman sucked my bottom lip “C’mon, Y/N. You’re not gonna leave before I can taste that sweet pussy, right babygirl?”

His lips are brushing mine with every word he says and I can feel my strength slowly melting away.

“Roman...don’t make this difficult for me, please. I really need-“

“You really need to shut the fuck up and let me take what I want.”

His lips roam down my neck, towards my chest. Once he started to kiss the tops of my breasts my phone rang and Jeffrey’s name light up on the screen.

“I really need to pick this up” I whispered

“Really?” Roman groans in frustration

“Just let him waiting a few more hours, Y/N! He already waited 4 days anyways” He begins to grind his hips again and I answered the call

Roman looks at me in disbelief as I listen to Jeffrey’s ‘dad lecture’ of ‘what the fuck was I thinking and where the fuck was I’ these past 4 days.”

“I don’t know, Jeffrey. Everything’s blurred” I sighed “Ok, ok I’ll be there in 10 minutes” I hung up and Roman is just staring at me

“What?”

“You’re really gonna leave?” He sounds offended

“Roman, is not like I have a choice! I have to go”

“So I’ll have to deal with the situation with my own hands?” He motions to his fully erect member

“Sorry?” I awkwardly asked

“Not what I’d like to hear” He sighed quickly standing up and away from me

“Roman...this is a delicate situation-”

“And fucking painful” He adjusted himself on his jeans

“I really need to know what’s going on and-“

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever” He brushes me off

My brows raised in disbelief to such a childish behavior “Jesus, how old are you? Five? Well, excuse me for having a life where you are NOT my main priority but my own ass is! I have someone trying to do God knows what to me and why and all you can do is whine about the fact that we can’t fuck right now?! That’s really mature of you, congrats!” I spat, quickly storming out of his house and into my car on my way to the DEA building.

......................................................................

“So you don’t know what happened?”

“For fuck’s sake Jeffrey, I’ll tell you for the last time: I.don’t.know.what.happened! The only thing I remember is leaving your office to meet Mr. Reigns about that tracker thing, then my phone ringing with your name on the screen and your screaming of ‘Where the fuck are you?’ That’s all I remember”

“And that sting on your neck?”

“I just realized after you called, when I was on the bathroom”

“Well, there are no signs of physical aggression or sexual assault on your body and your blood exams came back clear. Whatever substance was injected on your body is long gone by now. Whoever did this made sure to use some type of drug that would not be detectable on a blood test.” He sighed

“So we’re back to square one?”

“I’m afraid yes, kid. But let’s not get hopeless, maybe something will show up” Jeffrey smiled fondly

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Matt picked through the door crack

“I found something”

Jeffrey beckons him to enter.

“What you got, tech boy?” Jeffrey rushes him

“Well, I was looking through some of Y/N’s internal number previous login entry days and there’s something off”

“What do you mean?” I asked

“Well, those 4 days you were missing somebody was logging on the system with your number and searched through some old case files”

“Whose?” Jeffrey questioned

“There wasn’t an individual’s name, just the operation name”

“Spit it out, boy!” Jeffrey spat

“Messiah. Operation Messiah”

“Rollins” Jeffrey and I both whispered

TO BE CONTINUED....

Please let me know your thoughts on this series so far? Some feedback is always appreciated.

[crimson-dxwn]

AT ODDS 6 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)

Summary: Tea gets spilled at Kyrimorut. Ordo gets involved. Ori makes a choice and a new enemy.

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one), medical shit, surgery, fucking SADS

As always, so many thanks to @detroitbydark who lets me screech about my weird fic and Kal and Ori! Also this is barely edited be kind, I’m on my psych rotation and barely scraping by. 

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

Kal realizes he’s slipped the figurine into the pocket of his bodysuit semi-consciously in his hasty retreat from the apartment. Knotted Jonah wood whittled smooth forms two stylized figures, one large and one small, their hands joined between them. 

He barely registers the ride back home and comming Mij. They need a plan, and they need one fast if they are going to find her. He knows little about how the Empire treats their prisoners compared to the late Republic, but he isn’t about to have any illusions of honor or fair play. After all, he doesn’t play fair himself. But there’s a hydrospanner thrown into the mix. What he doesn’t know is how the Imps treat prisoners with … unique health conditions. Or if they even give half a bantha’s shebs. Odds are they send men and women alike to those osik’la camps he’s gotten word of. Yeah, the Empire was equal opportunity like that. 

If Mereel can’t slice into the system remotely, they were going to have to do an old-fashioned infiltration. He’d ask his ad’ike if they were up to task, there’s no way he could ask to put them in danger, not after the entirety of their lives being war. It hurts him to even think about asking. But he has to do this, even if it’s just his sorry shebs. 

He tries to put on a good Sabaac face when he’s back in the karyai, discreetly gathering up all the surplus weapons they have that he finds might be useful for an infiltration into a heavily armed and fortified position. 

Mereel of course, catches on within minutes. 

“You’re going to find her,” Mereel interrupts. Kal yanks his head up out of the gun locker to look at his son. “And you didn’t even think to ask for backup?”

His son’s tone is accusing, edging on hurt. That he did not expect.

“It’s my fuckup, son,” he replies, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“What’s so special about this doctor?” Mereel slams the door of the locker shut. It’s obvious his ad’ika is protective. They all are. 

“She delivered your ba’vodu’ad, Mereel. I’m pretty sure she saved Parja’s life.” Kal says, keeping his eyes on his work, cleaning the weapons, arranging the ammo he needs. Sharpening his father’s three-sided knife. 

“And that’s enough to go up against the Empire? ”

He’s going to have to spit it out. Mereel is looking at him expectantly, sure that he’s going to change his mind, see reason. 

“She’s pregnant, son.” Mereel, who has been away for the events of the last few months, just stares back at him in a puzzled fashion, brows slightly furrowed. Looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Maybe he has. 

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

In comes a second voice, and the accusatory tone startles him enough that, when added to his baseline urgency and anxiety, causes his hand to slip and nick itself as he sharpens his knife. 

“Osik,” he hisses, holding pressure to the cut as blood wells, looking up to the figure in the doorway. Ordo. Mereel stares at his brother, unsure whether he is joking. Kal sighs. He should know better, trying to keep things from them. The last time he was successful at that was when they were four. 

“Does it matter?” 

“Maybe,” Ordo replies, just this edge of indignant, “is she carrying my vod?” 

A strange and protective piece of him flares at Ordo’s tone and Kal stands, still holding the cloth to his cut hand. 

“Most likely.”

“Then we need to get her back.” Ordo meets his eye finally and Kal nods, satisfied, and starts gathering ammo from the safes. This time Mereel moves to help, still in a rare state of stunned silence. 

By the time they’ve gathered what they need and loaded it into aayhan, Mereel has a willing team assembled and what they know of the building schematics up on a datapad in the karyai. Fortunately for them, the team won’t be breaking into any prison blocks, which are bound to be heavily guarded. 

“All we have to do is get into the information security room that houses the main terminal,” Mereel starts confidently. “We can stay far away from the security blocks and the bucketheads.” 

“Though it would be fun to bust some vode out of there,” Scorch adds. 

“Not our mission,” says Mereel, regret plain in his voice, “we’ll have to get them another time.” The realization that they were leaving prisoners at the mercy of the empire sobers the group even more. It was becoming more and more apparent that more planning was needed before they could root out the Empire on Mandalore. Meanwhile, Kal had set Uthan to the task of trying desperately to make their own homebrew vaccine. 

---

It’s been many many years since he’s fastroped. Lately, he has been finding that it’s been years since he’s done many things. Fastroping, underwater diving...fathering kriffing kids. He swallows, hard and regroups himself. Every single one of them needs to be focused if they’re gonna pull this job off. 

Yes, he’s fast roped before. But he’s never liked it. Where his sons get twitchy when confined to tight spaces, he finds himself sweating more than usual under his beskar the more stories they climb. Right now, they’re about ten stories up, far above the sensors of the garrison and way above his tolerance for heights. They have about a minute to pull this off before the Imps realize this transport is lingering too long in their airspace. 

Mereel, Sev, Scorch, and Kal are in Aayhan, hovering silently above the Keldabe imperial garrison in the inky black late summer night. The humidity sticks his tactical garments to his skin, making it itch and crawl in addition to his surging adrenaline. That was one thing that never changed, no matter how old he got, no matter how many missions he’s finished - that nauseating spike of pure fear and bliss. 

He gives the signal to move move move and soon he’s roping down, strong north Mandalorian wind whipping around him, soaking through his underlayer. The four of them land silently on the roof of the compound, and Scorch starts laying a strip charge along the floor to create a hole leading below, straight into the admin offices. Four sets of Mando armor gleam lowly in the moonlight. It’s a perfect night for an op like this, whipping wind obscuring any slight noise they did make and the faint whine of aayhan’s engines. The charges detonate with a controlled bang and flash of bright light that briefly blinds his HUD. Kal switches to night vision.

*His child*. It’s barely a concrete concept in his mind yet, but an instinctual piece of him knows the truth. The timing is too perfect for him to be wrong. The way Orla had looked at him in the med center…

The stakes are too high to fail, and distracting thoughts get men killed. Mereel leads the way through the door, rifle at the ready, and Kal banishes his musings to the back of his mind, pushed away by a fresh rush of adrenaline. It’s a stealth mission, and they navigate by night vision, as silently as their boots will allow. 

They stalk through dark quiet hallways lined with innocuous office doors until they reach the end, what is presumably the CO’s office, with its durasteel double doors and obviously larger size. 

Mereel starts in on slicing the door panel while Sev shoots out the camera in the hallway corner while the rest of them listen for any approaching patrols. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed they were there, whether it was the hole in the roof or the blacked out camera. The double doors open quietly and they head inside. Vau’s boys guard the door while he and Mereel crowd the desk in the middle of the room. 

“I need a few minutes to get into this,” Mereel says, eyes locked onto the screen before him. One of his slicing tools is between his teeth.

“You’ll get it, son. We’ll take care of anything that tries to get in our way.” 

So far it looks like no one has noticed them. The imps must really be confident in the plan to neutralize Mandalore with so few guards and patrols. Sweat drops trickle down the back of his neck and into his bodysuit.

Mereel studies the datapad stripping the system for a few more moments and turns it towards Kal. There’s a concerned look stretched across his handsome face. Together the watch the recorded scene on the screen before them. 

There’s Orla, still in her work clothes, talking with an Imp who’s behind this very desk, flanked by two stormtroopers. He knows those gestures - she’s spitting mad, barely containing the fury that was directed toward the man behind the desk. Without audio he can only guess as to the contents of their conversation. The Imp behind the desk gives a short reply and nods curtly to the right-hand trooper who, without hesitation, raises his blaster rifle and cracks her across the face with the butt end. She doesn’t even see it coming. Even in the shades of blue from the holoprojector the blood is obvious, trickling down the side of her face. 

Kal is livid, trembling so finely it’s barely visible, and he almost forgets where they are for a moment. Deep in enemy territory, with hostiles incoming any minute. 

Mereel makes a disgusted noise from deep in his chest as they watch her be pushed to the ground. They follow the video feed where she’s led to a cell. His breath catches. There’s a chance she’s still here. His hope is tempered, however, when an alarm starts to sound from within the garrison. A patrol must have finally found their breach point.

“Sarge?” warns a voice from outside the door. It’s Sev, by the gravelly tone. 

“Almost finished,” he shouts, over the screeching din. Mereel continues to work furiously, his bulk hunched over the console. He’s able to parse through incredible amounts of data with immense precision; Kal can practically feel the concentration rolling off him. 

“Wait,” Mereel says. Kal looks over at the screen. They’re centered on a video feed again, this time outside. The sheer amount of prisoners in line for the transport is shocking enough, but the fact that none of them are in armor is even more appalling. The Imps are slowly stripping their culture away, plate by plate. 

“She’s not on the manifest for this transport, even though the records say she leaves.” 

It doesn’t make sense. Unless… Kal knows Mereel must be thinking the same as him. Judging by the brutality of the footage they’ve watched, the stories from around the planet, he wouldn’t put it past the Empire to take care of a pesky problem in the easiest way they knew how. It wasn’t something that supposedly peaceful, orderly governments liked to keep records of. His dread and guilt intensifies, leadening his limbs already weighed down by heavy beskar. 

He chokes the words out. He has to know. “Is there any footage of…” Kal can’t bring himself to say them. It doesn’t need to be said, Mereel knows what he’s looking for. He’s been in a war zone long enough to know that armies aren’t sentimental. 

“No, no footage. Just them leading her away.” The alarm continues to blare. It could be minutes, seconds before they have to blast their way out. 

“Here.”

Kal steels himself to watch. It’s his fault, he reminds himself again. Two more fresh marks in his ledger. His arm reaches automatically to his son’s to steady himself. He feels Mereel’s slump ever so slightly, whether it’s in relief or defeat, he can’t tell. 

“I have what I need,” he says, “time to go. Debrief can wait for later.” Distant footsteps start to echo towards them, modulated shouts following close behind. They were about to be grossly outnumbered, by the sound of it. Kal shoves his helmet back on, heading through the doorway and signaling Sev and Scorch to follow. 

They wind through the garrison, avoiding both patrols and squads of stormtroopers sweeping the building. It’s laughably easy compared some of the other heists they’ve pulled - except he speaks too soon. As they make their way out of the back door of the garrison onto the Keldabe streets, one squad catches up to them. Ordo has aayhan back at Kyrimorut - earlier they had decided it was too risky for the four of them to fly home and possibly expose the homestead. So instead their plan was to run the winding streets and strategically borrow a transport. The problem is that Kal is pushing sixty and the other men are - physiologically at least - still in their early twenties. They’re a lot kriffing faster than him, even with his ankle fixed. 

The streets and alleys twist and turn, switching from ancient cobbles to smooth duracrete without warning. Easy enough to get lost if you’re a local, they are impossible to navigate as aruettiise. Soon the four are panting, ducked into an alcove off a cobbled alley. Finally, it seems they’ve dodged the patrol. Only time will tell if they were recognized. Kal finds he doesn’t much mind if they know his face. In fact, he hopes they do. He wants to meet that garrison officer. 

-------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Weeks later

19 BBY

Life isn’t all doom and gloom. They are kept...occupied. Like rats in a maze. Ori shares a bunk with another Mandalorian, the only other there. Taren is a kid really, small and slight except for her distended belly. It’s obvious she’s used to wearing armor by the way she walks, how upright she holds herself, arms swaying slightly away from her body. And how she closes in on herself when she realizes it’s not there, when it’s nighttime in their room and thinks Ori can’t hear her sob breathlessly into her pillow every night. 

It’s almost childish, the way they’re herded from room to room. Chaperoned and on a schedule, like one would handle a naughty child needing extra discipline. It was how she imagines Coruscanti boarding schools some of her medical school classmates attended - polished stone floors and crisp uniforms, all strict routines and synchronized repetition. It’s meant to numb the mind, making days run into weeks. She suspects they’re kept intentionally disoriented. After all, most of them are still political prisoners, and many she’s found have important connections on their respective homeworlds. 

They’re at lunch, scattered around their assigned tables. Generously, they are allowed to converse during meals, though their seats remain assigned. The ‘rehab center’ has proven to be much more expansive than she expected - some rooms are swallowingly large, like the one she is in now, and some are as small as a broom closet, connected by narrow winding hallways. The building itself could have been any number of things in a past life - a school, factory, or prison. She supposes it doesn’t matter much now. Today there’s a newcomer, sitting quiet and sullen at a back table with the Corellians. Time would tell if she was one of them or if she hailed from a different world. 

An arm jostles her, hitting her square in the ribs. It successfully knocks her out of her analysis of the newcomer. 

“-did you hear what I just said?” Taren says, mouth full of tasteless nutritional paste. It’s far from delicious, but you ate what they give out and she is hungry *all the time* nowadays. A fleck lands on Ori’s face and she wipes it away with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, al’verde.” Commander. Her eyes roll automatically. She knows she doesn’t deserve the title. Discreetly, Ori shushes the younger woman - they’re lucky the stormtroopers here don’t understand Mando’a. 

They put together kit for new stormtroopers, morning and night. It’s another endurable humiliation. She stabs at the cubes bitterly with her spoon, scattering crumbs across the table. They’re not allowed forks or knives, not after Taren’s first week. A tiny smile flits across her face as she thinks on the memory. 

 Ori feels like a geriatric compared to the spry warrior, though they’re less than ten years apart in age. She’s seen things in that time, lost people, buried dreams. Though Taren is looking older and older by the day, cooped up in this place. 

“Theera is gone,” Taren says, “she wasn’t at breakfast either.” 

Looking around and finding no sign of the woman, Ori hums an agreement. She’ll be gone for good soon, and her baby as well. Every time someone delivers it sends a sense of unshakeable dread down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. All of them are marching slowly towards that finish line. 

The artificial hierarchy into which they are forced has made the two Mandalorians de facto leaders, despite Ori being one of the newer inmates and to cement her as *alverde*; her medical expertise makes her invaluable. 

The room hushes as Dr. Loesch sweeps down to the cafeteria, all business in crisp grey scrubs, so confident in his admiration. He insists they call him ‘Doctor L’ like he’s a popular lecturer at a university. He’s the worst kind of hut’uun, just as bad as the rest of the Imps she’s met here. Loesch is in charge of their medical care, all 100-some of them, including herself. Loesch towers over most of them, even herself. 

As a physician, Ori is personally insulted at his complacency, the fact that he is perfectly content in his post and cemented in his belief that what he was doing is just, his complicity. She stabs at her cubes some more to try and make herself feel better. 

As a woman, she’s decidedly less surprised. Men like him are everywhere, tall and handsome, handed success on a silver platter, born into families of privilege and power. Taking and taking with no thought of the carnage they leave behind. 

He saunters his way over to their table and sits with a charming smile. 

“Beviin,” he starts, “I heard through the gossip chain that you were an obstetrician before you came here?”

It’s physically painful to keep her retort in hand. She’s been here long enough to see women sent to solitary. And to see them come back, changed indefinitely. 

“Mmm,” she mumbles affirmatively through a mouthful of cubes. She swallows. “Yes.” Keep it simple, that’s easy enough. 

He smiles sardonically. “How ironic,” he adds, obviously pleased with the revelation. Expectantly, he looks around the table to gauge his joke, and they catch on, laughing softly, nervously, afraid of what might happen if they don’t. Even Ori joins in, the butt of the low blow, though her simmering rage ratchets up another level.

They finish the rest of their lunch largely in silence and Loesch pulls her away when she files out with the others. 

“Ms. Beviin,” he says conspiratorially, “I know it must be difficult for you to be here.” 

The man over her, face too close for comfort, his voice deep and low. Alarm fills her as the other people in the room dwindle until it’s just the two of them and the scattered troopers on the upper level. All Ori can think about is where the nearest exit is located when she realizes he’s still speaking to her. 

“...what do you think?” He waits patiently, a benevolent expression in his face. He blinks too little, she thinks, and his eyes are devoid of expression, shining with an amused sort of malevolence. They’re a strange shade of brown...no, green? The little noise he makes in the back of his throat brings her back to their conversation.

“Ah...sure?” she replies weakly, stunned and frozen.

“That’ll be nice for the other inmates,” he says. Incredibly white, straight teeth flash as he smiles down at her. “I think it will give them comfort to have you there. I’ll have the guards collect you when it’s time.” 

——

Three nurses eye her from across the suite. They wear sweet matching hospital uniforms, in the same soft fabric as hers except in a delicate petal pink. With a pang, she misses her fellow nurses and doctors on Mandalore. Who knows how many had fallen ill? Been arrested? The way they clustered in a little group reminded her of her schoolmates, when they found out she didn’t like fighting, whispering rumors from across the room. That she thought she was better than them, that weird girl who was more concerned with grades than winning fights and impressing boys. Now they stand across the room from her like a little bunch of flowers in their coordinated outfits, identical and perfect. She’s an other in their world, someone to be feared and hated, pitied at best. 

Orla stands awkwardly, waiting for the show to start when her stomach flips. The scrub top she has on stretches across her middle awkwardly, pulling at the seams and the soft shoes that cover her feet are obscured by her bump. The strange sensation returns, a little differently this time, just the barest flutter, deeper down than that nervous feeling. Her baby. She lays a gentle palm over the swell, as discreetly as she can, still feeling the scrutinizing looks of the women across the room.

Another nurse wheels a bed into the room, complete with Theera shivering atop it, her hair and gown drenched in sweat. Orla rushes to the head of the bed as she’s prepped for the operation. Theera is dazed, too exhausted to make much sense of anything right now, glassy eyes focused on the ceiling. She smoothes back the sweaty hair from Theera’s forehead. 

“Hey cyar’ika. It’s Ori,” she says softly. The woman’s eyes focus a little, just enough to meet hers. She bumps their foreheads together. It was as much to comfort herself as much as the other woman. Non-mandos typically didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. She can’t squeeze her hand like she wants to - it’s being hooked up to IV tubing.

“I’m cold,” she mumbles. Some of it is adrenaline, some from fear, and the rest from the icy operating room temperature to keep the surgeons comfortable. Drenched as she is, it’s no wonder Theera is shivering. 

Ori asks the wary tech for a warm blanket, terrified of overstepping and getting her shebs kicked out of the operating room. She’s promptly ignored in favor of his work. Dr. Loesch enters the room and the nurses titter around him while he ensures everything is prepped to his liking. Ori settles for as much skin to skin contact as she can get with Theera, trying to warm her, mumbling comforting nonsense into her ear as Loesch starts to work. A warming bassinet waits ominously against the wall for its prize. 

A thin cry interrupts their mumbling and Theera’s eyes sharpen at the noise. Loesch holds the little thing over the curtain separating them indulgently, just for a moment. A boy, he says, and she and Theera find themselves mesmerized by the bloody little thing and his tiny squished face and flailing arms, already so angry at the world. He’s held up for a second, allowing Theera a cursory glance and then whisked away by the nurses to the bassinet. His mother is still paralyzed on the table and it makes it all the more unjust that she isn’t even allowed to touch her son, see him up close. The nurses at the bassinet laugh and coo, oblivious to Theera, who starts weeping pitifully. Fat tears slide down the side of her face, wetting the starched white sheet beneath her head.

Ori is in the middle of the absolute emotional chaos around her. Theera crying, Dr. Loesch talking with his assistant about weekend plans, and the nurses with the baby, who have turned back at the sound of crying to glare at them judgementally. She can practically hear them now. Serves her right, their looks say. She deserves it. The rage congeals around Ori, settling itself in her throat. This feeling is exactly what had put her in this place to begin with and she knows she has to control it, use it somehow. She watches them place a little bracelet around the infant’s ankle and scan it into a datapad. They don’t bother with Theera. It dawns on her then that if she’s lucky - incredibly lucky - she can use the Empire’s obsession with order against them. 

She makes her way over to the bassinet under the ruse of joining the indulgent cooing that is going on, trying not to throw elbows before she’s kicked out of the room. The little boy’s leg is caught for a heel stick an she gets her chance. The number on the leg band is just visible, only for a second. She sends a prayer up to the Manda that she gets it right. 

Taglist

@clonewarslover55 @simping-for-fives @808tsuika @jedi-mando @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @fractiouskat @passionofthesith 

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 11 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Basically all the shit in the readers history that hasn’t been mentioned up until this point. (Anxiety, mentions of abuse, stalking, arranged marriage) 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Are you sure about this?" 

You take in a heavy sigh as you adjust the tan trench coat around you. You nod, holding back bitter tears. 

"This is for the best, Arthur. I can't marry him. If I stay as a Grant any longer than I have to, he'll kill me. Or use you as leverage to make me change my mind. I can't let him do that." You insist, your (h/c) hair flowing in the wind outside the Atlantic City Airport. 

Your brother looks up at you with tear-stained cheeks. Being only 6 years younger than you made him 14. But he was wiser than he should be. He shouldn't have to lose his sister like this. But it was for the best. That was what you kept telling yourself. 

"B-but… what about Mom? A-and Dad?" He asked worriedly, his hands picking at the expensive leather jacket that you had passed down to him once he had turned ten. "Don't you want to at least say goodbye to them?" 

You grit your teeth as a few choice words threaten to surface. Thankfully, you swallow them. He didn't know. You made sure he didn't know. All he ever knew was that Mom and Dad were always 'busy'. He didn't need to know anything else. 

"No, Artie. I don't want to say goodbye to them. They're busy. I don't want to interrupt their meeting. It's just you and me right now." You explain as calmly as you can, giving him the most genuine smile you've ever given someone. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. He immediately reciprocates it, squeezing you as tight as he could.  

"I'm gonna miss you sis." He whimpers into your shoulder. For a kid his age, he was pretty tall. You softly let out a chuckle. He would be taller than you in a few years. 

"I'm gonna miss you too, little man. If things calm down, I'll reach out. I'll call you. Promise." You say, holding out your pinky. Arthur sniffles and wipes his tears with his sleeve. He then extends his hand and intertwines his pinky with yours. 

"You better not forget me." He insists, letting out a soft chuckle. You laugh softly back, cupping his cheek motherly and wiping away the fresh tears. 

"That's impossible, and you know it." You tease, gently pressing a finger to his nose. "Be good. Do what you're told. And follow your dreams, okay? No matter what Mom or Dad say is your destiny, make your own." You beg, squeezing your brother's hand for the last time. 

"I will. I love you, (Y/N)." 

"I love you too bud."  

○●♡●○ 

"Your what?" Spencer asks in disbelief, his weathered hands never leaving yours. His naturally focused eyes were now confused and frantic, trying to make sense of the words you just uttered to him. 

"M-my… my stalker. The part of my past I...I didn't want to get you into. I didn't want to put you in danger." You repeat a little quieter. Most of you wanted to curl up in a ball and die. At least then Peter would stop. 

"You had" Spencer stopped himself, letting in a small gasp of disbelief. "--have, a stalker, and you didn't think this was important?" He asks, his voice raising a notch. You flinch and try to pull your hands back on instinct. 

Spencer widened his eyes and immediately calmed his voice, taking your hands back into his. "I-i'm sorry, (Y/N). But please… why didn't you tell me?" He asked gentler this time. You let out a nervous breath and close your eyes, attempting to open the file in your brain you so desperately wanted to erase. 

"It… it might be better if I just tell you everything. I-if you'll listen to my sappy life story…" you insist, squeezing his hands for comfort. His touch was keeping you grounded for now. At least you had him. 

"O-of course, (Y/N). B-but you don't have to. I-I mean… if this is going to hurt you then I don't want you to feel like you have to-" Spencer began to ramble, his hazel eyes weighed with worry. Just like Arthur's. 

You stop him with a squeeze of your hands and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, you think. 

"7 years ago, I-I turned 18. My parents are very old fashioned. And they believed that since I was already going back to college and trying to be my own woman since I graduated with my doctorate in psychology that year, that they would arrange me a marriage." The words tasted foul in your mouth, almost making you want to spit them out. Spencer still listened, though he did look at you with a look of concern. 

"His name is Peter Calvin. The real-estate broker and investor. At 22 he was vastly rich. And he had everything he wanted. Except a loving wife who doted on him hand and foot. He's a narcissistic bastard who believes he deserves everything he wants. So as you expect, when I turned the proposal down instead of listening to my parents, he was livid. It began with letters. Like this one." You explain, gesturing towards the almost identical envelope next to you. "He would send me gifts, trinkets that I always threw away. No matter how many times my parents arranged for us to meet and try to get along, I always pushed him away. So then after three months, he escalated. He began to call my phone 27 times a day. Blew up my phone with texts. Filled up my email box with 10 or more a day. After that didn't work he began to threaten me. All the while he sent me letters. He would… detail our future together. He even detailed how I would bear him a son first. That we'd name him Oliver. Then I'd bear him a daughter. Name her after his mother." You felt your chest beginning to ache and your heart to pound as fast as a locomotive. 

All the while Spencer listened on in the horror of the past you had gone through. This stalker of yours was easily just like many of the unsubs they'd apprehended. Spencer had never had a personal connection with them till now. His eyes were opening to a different side of things. But he stayed quiet, wanting to let you finish your story before he made any attempt to say his piece. 

"Eventually he resorted to threatening my brother. Said that he'd kill him and my family if I didn't say yes. So… I said yes." You bit your lip, looking down as tears and a sob came tumbling through you. Spencer pulled you closer to him, embracing you in his arms to allow you to cry. You clung to his cardigan, not caring as much about replacing it this time. 

After a few minutes of ugly sobbing, you sniffled and pulled back, wanting to finish the rest of the story. "A-after a year o-of engagement and physical abuse from him I couldn't take it anymore." You let out a half sob, your voice breaking like glass. "S-so I stole a bunch of his money with his credit card and bought myself a ticket down here to Virginia. Gabriel lived down here, and I called him. He offered me a place to stay as long as I went to school and got the education I deserved. So I came here, changed my last name, number and even my social security number. Never looked back." You insist, squeezing Spencer’s forearms where your hands had fallen after he had held you to let you cry. 

You let out a long sigh, the tears drying up and tired hiccups were all that remained. "After a while, Gabriel qualified to go into training for the bareau. And I found out I was too. So we both applied. The rest doesn't matter. Just… know this is all sealed stuff. You're the first person other than Gabriel and my other roommate, Iris, to know. I put myself in witness protection to get away from this man. And now…" you trail, unable to finish your own statement. 

"(Y/N)..." Spencer spoke, barely a whisper. He didn't know what to say. You just shared with him yet again something no one else on the team knew about you. You trusted him with this. 

"I-I know… an FBI agent afraid of some real estate guy. How unique." You laugh bitterly, slowly pulling your knees closer to your chest. 

"Actually, I think you were actually brave for making the right decision for everyone, not just yourself." Spencer expressed, still looking at you in shock. The probability of what was in that letter couldn't be good. If they touched it, their DNA would be on it. This was evidence. If they could only find his and you're DNA on it, they could say that you both forged the note to frame Peter. And Spencer wouldn't allow that. 

His blood felt hotter than melted iron and his face felt stiff. His jaw locked in place as anger began to fuel him. He had heard this man's name before, when your mother said it to you. If only he had known the impact just saying it had on you. He was angry at Calvin. But also at himself for not deducing that something like this was happening. 

"(Y/N)... you kept everyone else safe at the cost of your own comfort. This-This isn't right. He should be in jail for ever touching you like that!" He exclaims, being careful not to raise his voice. 

"Yeah, except his lawyer is the best. His lawyer was able to convince the judge to revoke three protection orders I had filed against him. If I even tried to prosecute him, I'd just get thrown in jail instead. I… I'm just gonna have to change everything again. I'll change my w-whole name this time. Change my hair, move again. I don't think I'll even be able to afford one let alone lease one…" you began to ramble, panic quickly rising into your voice. 

It was Spencer's turn to silence you with a squeeze to the arms. You look him in the eyes, tears beginning to start another cycle. He reached a hand up and cupped your cheek, wiping away the stranded tears. You stared into his eyes, gazing up into hazel hues. 

"Hey… I'm not gonna let you lose everything you've worked so hard for. You are not gonna let him dictate your life. We're gonna bring this to Hotch, okay? Then for now, you'll live with me." 

You snap your gaze back towards his eyes after they drifted. Was he serious?! 

"Y-you can't be serious, Spence. You shouldn't have to-" 

Spencer placed a gentle thumb over your lips and shushed you. "I want to. You need to find a place to stay for now until we get him in custody. So... I'd say my place is safest."

You sniffled a little more, swallowing a lump of gathered excuses in your tightening throat. "A-are you sure about this, Spencer? You don't have two bedrooms, sure I can sleep on the couch…" you began to ponder. "But I'm messy sometimes. Annoying most of the time. And I am most definitely not the most pleasant person to be around in the mornings." 

Spencer chuckled and pressed a kiss to the creases in-between your eyebrows. You blush like a cherry as you stop in your tracks and stare up at him in shock. "You were pleasant to be around when you stayed over last time. Even if you end up a grouch who doesn't like socializing before 8, I still want to help you with this. You're… You're my friend." 

At this, you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. You knew deep inside that you really shouldn't be letting him help you. He could get killed, or even kidnapped because of his involvement. But right now, some help was better than no help at all.

"Thank you…" you whisper, squeezing your arms around his neck. Spencer hugs you tightly close to him, slightly burying his head in your shoulder.

"Anything, (Y/N)." 

○●♡●○ 

Hours later, the two of you sat in front of the letter, staring at it and pondering whether or not you should open it. Spencer had grabbed a paper towel and moved it to the coffee table. 

You had already called Gabriel and let him know of the situation. He said he called a few of his buddies from his job to watch over the apartment building for the night. 

You were now leaning against the tall doctor who was hunched over next to you, equally pondering the same question as you. But probably better than you. 

You were exhausted and tired of all the fear and panic. Your eyes were still puffy and you found yourself sniffling every few minutes. 

Spencer seemed to notice this however once he moved his gaze from the letter to you. "The handwriting, although made to be elegant, is bold and erratic. He wrote this in a hurry." He attempted, looking back up at you for approval. You took in a heavy breath and nodded, sucking in your bottom lip as you sigh it out. 

New approach, Spencer thought. 

"(Y/N/N)... I-I think you should get to bed. Try to sleep. We think our best when we're well rested, even in situations like this." He suggests, placing one of his broad hands on your back. 

You feel like crumbling underneath his touch from all of the stress. "I don't think I can even try to sleep…" you whimper, leaning closer to him for comfort. "Not alone…" 

Spencer frowned down at you. He rubbed your shoulder as he'd seen Morgan do to Garcia. You were hurting. And he didn't know how to fix it. And he was a damn profiler. A doctor. Where was all his knowledge now? 

"W-well… what if I came in and laid with you. Would that help?" He asked, turning to look at you. 

You thought the suggestion over. Having Spencer Reid in your bed would have normally made you blush like crazy, and made you insist that life was kidding you. But this was different. And as much as you loved Gabriel, he wasn't the type to stay and comfort someone. He cared, sure, but he didn't know how to truly sit and listen to your problems. He was usually the one who offered you a safe place to cry. And wouldn't judge you for it. Spencer, you knew was different. 

"Yeah… yeah I think I'd like that…" you reply, biting the inside of your cheek. Spencer smiled at you warmly, sprouting a couple butterflies. 

Spencer then stood up and helped you to your feet. His arm wrapped around your middle as he guided you back towards the bedrooms. 

"Now your going to have to direct me to which one is which." He comments, looking ahead at the three doors at the end of the hallway. "I think I'd rather not walk into someone else's room and see something I'm not meant to see." He teases, smirking at you. You let out a small chuckle and smile gently, getting Spencer to squeeze you closer. 

"It's good to see you smile." He says. Although it got darker the further into the hallway you both ventured, you could still clearly see the love in his eyes as he looked at you. 

"It's the door on the right." You instruct, gesturing to the door to your bedroom. The room you would soon be abandoning. 

Spencer took out the edge of his shirt from underneath his cardigan and used it to open the door, making you stifle a giggle. Spencer then helped you inside, easing you into your bed. He turned around and closed the door, leaving you to get comfortable in bed. 

When he turned around he was met with you curled up in a coocoon made of your comforter. He couldn't help but chuckle as he came over and sat next to you. "I don't suppose you'll be sprouting any wings any time soon, will you?" He teases, scooting closer to you. You huff, some of the blanket falling off your shoulders. 

"Shut up, Genius." You tease back, smiling at him as you do. 

"No, I don't believe I will. Especially since I just got you to smile." He reveals with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, as if it were a game changing thing. You roll your eyes and nudge him, yawning softly. 

"Yeah? Well I think you're gonna get me to fall asleep with jokes like that." You playfully retorted. He laughed and hugged you closer. 

"Then my job will be easier than I thought." He teased back. You shake your head and lean it against his shoulder hesitantly. You feel him tense up for a moment, almost too long of a moment. But just as you were going to lift your head up, he loosened up, letting you completely rest your head on his shoulder. 

"I...is this okay?" You ask softly, taking in a hard breath. 

"Yeah, definitely. You just get the rest you need. I'll be here." He promised. It was then you finally decided to let your guard down and begin to sleep. 

You feel his warmth radiating from him, lulling you to sleep along with his gentle touch. He had found a way to hold you through the blankets, and you didn't mind. His thumb caressed your arm as you felt yourself drifting off, easing your fears even more than they already had been.  

You had every right to be scared. To be utterly terrified. And you still were. But he made it easier. You began to second guess your own decision not to tell him how you felt. He was here with you when you knew that not that many people would do this for you. Hardly anyone on the team. Garcia and Prentiss might be good for a good cry and pep talk, but that wouldn't have eased you any more than just talking about what your plan of action was with Spencer. Morgan would probably hold you if you asked. But the bedroom was a no-go. JJ was a mother, so she would probably just offer you something to eat to get your mind off of it all. Hotch and Rossi were different people, but you didn't peg them to be cuddlers like this. Spencer was out of his comfort zone with you. And he made no attempt to make it known that he was uncomfortable with it. 

You didn't know where you wanted to go from here, other than heading to the BAU tomorrow and asking Hotch for help. But for now, you needed to relax.  

So instead, you eased your breathing and began to focus on the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and the gentle kiss to the forehead that you felt just as you drifted away.

[rextasywrites]

Little Darling 7 - a Lady Dimitrescu x Mia Winters fanfiction

"“Yes. I doubt you are gonna kill me after we have gotten so far with our plan. Go on, Alcina”, Mia said and closed her eyes, tilting her head a tiny bit. As if she was leaning in for another kiss from the tall vampire. This newfound bound of trust felt good and Lady Dimitrescu could barely contain herself anymore. As she drew her lips closer to Mia’s neck, she let every kind of sensation burn into her head. From the way Mia's skin felt, so soft and taken care of. A skin routine she’d have to ask her about. The way Mia's hair smelt and felt. It was freshly washed after Lady Dimitrescu had told her to take a cold shower after her latest anxiety attack - cold showers helped ground Mia and Alcina alike. Her shampoo was a creation from Lady Dimitrescu, a mixture of burnt wine stems and lye, something she had used back when she was alive."

the attack is drawing closer, but Lady Dimitrescu has some needs of her own. how is Rosy doing? Mia is falling apart, can Alcina catch the pieces and glue them together again?

two chapters in one day? hell yeah! enjoy it and let me know what your opinion on certain ideas is... ;)

Warnings: Blood drinking

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

It’s been three weeks since Chris Redfield disappeared with Rosy and Ethan started his one man army to get her back. Little did they know what would await them in the lab, little did they know what avalanche they set loose.

*

Something Mia loved about her body was that it adjusted to time zone changes rather quickly. Even back in the day with her ‘job’, she was the first one to get rid of any jet lags, and the last one to complain about troubles while flying. Even here in Romania, some of the worst days in her life, Mia could sleep rather well and without troubles.

The night before the vampires and her would head to the lab, Mia slept like a baby. Lady Dimitrescu must have put something into her food, but the relaxation was welcome as her stiff muscles ached for soft and comfort. Lady Dimitrescu had decided to stay over the night with her, not letting her be alone in fear she might do something...something she might regret later on.

Lady Dimitrescu was always cold - one of the perks of being dead. The only heat spurt she could experience would be when the mold was hungry and begging her for new blood. And one of those heat spurts was currently happening. Mia looked so delicious in her nightgown, barely reaching down to the middle of her thighs. Of course, Lady Dimitrescu could wait until tomorrow and drink from the fallen soldiers...but where was the fun in that?

Around two in the morning, Mia woke from her slumber to a Lady Dimitrescu staring at her. “...Did I do something?”, she asked once she noticed the stares from her new friend. Lady Dimitrescu shook her head, which confused Mia even more, “Then what’s the matter?”

“You look delicious.”

“...I am gonna take this as a compliment?”, Mia frowned as Lady Dimitrescu moved closer to her, placing a hand on her cheek.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean. My body is longing for you, Mia…”

“Wait, you want to have sex with me?”

“No no...don’t you worry. Only with your consent. But right now, I lust for your blood. Can you feel how warm I am?”

“Yes?”

“That’s the mold telling me to get blood into my system. The rare steak from yesterday didn’t do its job, and I can do so much until the mold becomes...unpleasant. So, my question to you is - Will you let me drink from you?”

Mia looked at Lady Dimitrescu as if she had asked to marry her, but oh well...not the weirdest thing that had happened in her life. “But where from? My neck? My wrists?”

“So you are alright with it?”, Lady Dimitrescu reassured herself and Mia.

“Yes. I doubt you are gonna kill me after we have gotten so far with our plan. Go on, Alcina”, Mia said and closed her eyes, tilting her head a tiny bit. As if she was leaning in for another kiss from the tall vampire. This newfound bound of trust felt good and Lady Dimitrescu could barely contain herself anymore.

As she drew her lips closer to Mia’s neck, she let every kind of sensation burn into her head. From the way Mia's skin felt, so soft and taken care of. A skin routine she’d have to ask her about. The way Mia's hair smelt and felt. It was freshly washed after Lady Dimitrescu had told her to take a cold shower after her latest anxiety attack - cold showers helped ground Mia and Alcina alike. Her shampoo was a creation from Lady Dimitrescu, a mixture of burnt wine stems and lye, something she had used back when she was alive.

“Just relax Mia. It’s gonna sting a little bit but I won’t hurt you badly.”, Lady Dimitrescu calmed Mia down once more as she had picked up how her chest rose and fell at an alarming rate. Her lips connected with the pulse point on Mia’s neck, slowly sucking on it before her teeth pushed out. They dug through the sensitive skin, making Mia jump in surprise. Lady Dimitrescu tightened her grip on Mia to assure she would stay put. Once Mia was calm enough, Lady Dimitrescu started to suck, taking in the metallic tasting blood. But there was an undertone. Something was tingling against Lady Dimitrescu’s tongue, and she had only felt that kind of tingle before.

A few minutes passed before Lady Dimitrescu let go of Mia. The other woman was still a bit shocked, but there was something else lingering in the air. Something so familiar yet new. They stared into each other's eyes, Lady Dimitrescu lapping away the blood from her lips, the bit that had spilled in her hunger. “Do you want to taste your own blood?”

Before Lady Dimitrescu could add something, Mia jumped on her lap, connecting their lips again. This desire, the need for closeness...it’s not that Mia was unfamiliar with it. No, Ethan loved her plenty of times before their world turned dark, but Alcina had her wrapped around her finger. Like a good little pet she lapped up every bit of blood still present in her mouth, the taste and texture appealing to a weird level. Mia couldn’t stand meats of all kinds, but the taste of human blood became more and more appealing. Guess that’s what staying with a vampire does to one.

“We shouldn’t be doing this”, Mia breathed against Alcina’s lips which were curled into a smirk.

“And yet we are doing it.”, Alcina chuckled as Mia got off her lap, shaking her head. “Thank you for letting me drink, my dearest...but I do have a question for you.”

“Hm?”

“I tasted you. And...I felt a weird undertaste that I had only had in a few cases over the hundreds of years, and-”

“Oh my God, do you mean I am ill? Do I have cancer?”

“No no, dearest...you are pregnant.”

*

“Mr. Redfield?”, one of the scientists ran up to the commander of the whole operation, out of breath and confused.

“What is it?”, Chris looked up from his coffee and newspaper, not too much interested in the concern of the man. They had everything planned through, why the sudden wave of nervousness?

The scientists pointed towards the direction where he came from, gesturing wildly, “You kidn- took a baby from the Winters family, right?”

“Yeah. Why? Spit it out!”

“We have a kid in the cell, demanding apple juice, fish craskers and a hug from her Mommy. And she demands to see her Mommy as soon as possible.”

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck no, not again…”

[erin-bo-berin]

The Game

MASTERLIST

I wrote this with season 13-15 Spencer in mind. The more confident Spencer that would shoot his shot (no pun intended) because this one gets a little crazy. But I’ve always imagined Spencer could be a little wild in bed at times, even be up for a game or two. ;)

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: Mature (smut)

Word Count: 4,888

Objective: Whoever can withstand any form of teasing the opposite partner dishes out, the longest, wins.

Rule 1: No sexual activities allowed i.e. no sex, foreplay or kissing on the lips.

Rule 2: Normal touches are allowed, no matter the body part.

Rule 3: You may tantalize in whatever forms you please as long as it doesn’t break rule number one.

Rule 4: The game is over whenever one party gives in to his/her desires.

Rule 5: Winner is treated to whatever they please (sexual or non sexual).

Let the game begin.

•

You and Spencer had this little game you liked to play occasionally. Simply nicknamed, The Game, it had become a part of your relationship. It wasn’t often that you played, but when you did it was always played with high intensity. Sometimes the game could get nasty.

Currently, you were in the middle of it.

Working at the FBI had not only tuned your attention to details, but it also made for a monotonous work schedule with little or no free time. Somehow with the invention of this game it seemed to spice things up both at work and in your relationship respectively.

It’d began the previous morning.

After a rough month of cases, there finally seemed to be a lull long enough for the entire unit to catch their breath. Staying so busy obviously led to little to no time for intimacy, so it had been a few weeks. This would make the game much more exciting. Spencer was competitive, always wanting to win and you had to hand it to him, he had won more times than he’d lost.

It was on the flight home when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Spencer.

Ready to lose again? 

You looked across the jet towards your seated boyfriend. He shot you a wink, knowing his request was automatically met with a yes.

That all you got pretty boy? I’m shaking.

You didn’t watch as he answered, instead you watched the three dots appear that indicated he was typing.

His answer was only three words.

You will be.

A tingle of desire shot through your body.

Bring it.

•

Today had started off slow enough. You had some work to catch up on so you’d arrived at work early. It was already a tough morning as Spencer had purposely slept shirtless the night before. It was early yet, but you somehow knew this time around things would be even more intense.

His personal best was 6 and a half days. That was as long as he’d lasted before you jumped his bones. This time you were determined to win.

Your glance at the clock revealed that it was 7 in the morning. You only had an hour and a half until the currently deserted bullpen would be filled with bustling activity. You picked up your mug and made your way to the coffee machine. That was something you and your boyfriend definitely had in common, you both ran on coffee.

You were just about to pour the leftover day old coffee down the sink drain when the sound of the doors opening startled you. You weren’t expecting Emily in until at least 7:45.

You yelped, jumping at the sudden noise, the coffee spilling all over your blouse. You heard the sound of chuckling.

“Great start to your morning, huh babe?” Spencer walked over, handing you some paper towels.

“What are you doing here so early?” you asked, blotting the stain.

He shrugged, “Just felt like being extra productive today.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was more likely he thought it would be a good opportunity to mess with you.

“Uh huh,” you said disbelievingly, “Thanks for making me ruin my shirt.”

“Anytime,” he grinned, walking away from you and towards his desk.

“Damnit,” you mumbled, realizing you wouldn’t be able to blot this stain away.

If you were lucky, you might have a spare shirt in your go bag. You paused, an idea forming in your mind. Since you were sure Spencer had an agenda of his own, you decided to pay back the favor.

“Spence?” you called across the room, “Is my go bag still by your desk?”

Your fingers unbutton your ruined shirt, trying hard to keep the smirk off your face. It was an ingenious idea, really. 

“Yeah, why?” His back was still turned to you, his attention on the files he was flipping through.

“Can you grab my extra shirt please? I’ll just wear that today instead.”

You walked to his desk, your shirt dangling out of one hand, your upper torso clad in only your bra. The moment he turned to hand you the garment, his jaw about hit the floor.

“Figured it’d be faster to just change here. You don’t mind, do you?” you smile sweetly.

“That isn’t going to work,” he muttered, forcing his eyes back to the file after you took the shirt from him.

You shrugged, purposely leaning across the desk when you kissed his cheek to thank him, so he could get an eye full of your cleavage. Lucky for you this bra was just a hair too snug and you had to admit, your boobs looked amazing today.

“Get to work big boy, it’s gonna be a looong day” you called, pulling the shirt on as you walked away.

•

“Kid, I see the wheels turning. Just spit it out already,” Rossi said.

The team was currently in the middle of working a case, everyone working their hardest to catch the unsub. Everyone was spread around the briefing room, you at the round table with JJ and Penelope. Your boyfriend stood in front of the boards that held all the case information, one hand resting on his chin as he studied the information laid out in front of him.

You never knew how, but there was a place Spencer went when he thought. He would space out and focus on nothing but the problem at hand. It was always extremely attractive to you.

“Okay, I think I’ve figured out his pattern. He started in the western part of Virginia right? Then headed to—”

You’re not gonna lie, you ended up missing over half of what he said. You loved when he showed off his knowledge and that brain of his, even just in his job. Your eyes wandered as he talked, eyes lingering on his hands. They moved with his words and you couldn’t help but think of other places those hands had been rather than just used at a crime scene or flipping through case files.

“Right, Y/N?”

You were completely zoned out and missed the fact you were being spoken to.

“Y/N?”

You snap out of it, realizing the entire team was staring at you awaiting the answer to JJ’s question.

“Oh uh- sorry. What was that?”

“I asked if you received the coroner’s report from the latest victim.”

“Right, yes.” You pull out a paper from a file and hand it over to her.

“I know your man is dreamy and all Y/N, but you gotta stop zoning out,” Penelope smirked to herself.

“Hush,” you chuckled quietly, turning back to the rest of the team.

Apparently she wasn’t the only one to notice your staring. Spencer’s smirk made your stomach flip. You weren’t going to let him win again.

•

An unspoken rule of the game was that when it was time to focus strictly on the case, you obviously did. The game would be put on hold until the case was finished. It was one of those days where you were rushing against the clock to catch the killer.

The team was split up, everyone doing different tasks. You, Spencer and Matt were currently sat around a table trying to make connections with an old case, to the one you were currently working on. It seemed to be the same M.O. 

“In 1989 Lila Long was found dead on the doorstep of her house,” Matt said, laying out the photo once again, “Stabbed 14 times.”

You nodded, chewing on your lip while you thought. It was presumed that she managed to escape the unsub who had grabbed her just blocks from her home. She had managed to make it to her front door where she died. It was unclear whether the unsub had caught up to her and stabbed her again or if she had succumbed to her injuries.

“I don’t think he found her again, as there isn’t any blood splatter here,” Spencer motioned to the picture, gesturing at the door, “We know there would be a specific pattern, but it was never recorded for sure because of the amount of blood found there.”

“Fast forward 30 odd years and another woman shows up dead on her doorstep in the same neighborhood,” you say, setting the most recent crime scene picture next to the older one.

“Rosalie Brewer, 51, blonde hair, blue eyes,” Matt reads off the file, “Exact same type of injuries, a dozen or so stabbings.”

“Are we sure it’s not just a copycat? The story does seem to be the local legend. Maybe someone decided to recreate the murder?” you ask, tapping your pen.

“I don’t think so.” Spencer rubs his jaw; you can tell his mind is whirring.

Matt and Spencer throw around some theories, your eyes focusing on Spencer’s fingers twirling his pencil as he thought. 

Maybe because it’d been a longer dry spell of no intimacy than normal for you, but your thoughts automatically turned sexual. Memories of how those long, slender fingers of his had traced your bare skin flashes through your mind. How they’ve dug into your hips and slid down your thighs before parting them and—

You snap yourself back to reality quickly. Now is definitely not the time to be thinking of such things but damnit did it set your stomach churning in desire. Thankfully, a distraction came in the nick of time.

“Guys, we have a suspect!” Luke rushed into the room, Emily on his heels, “I think he just might be our unsub.”

“Garcia’s on the phone with intel,” Emily set her phone on the table for all of us to hear. 

“So, turns out, Lila Long has a son. Yes my dears, you heard me right. Apparently she gave birth secretly 18 years prior to her death while out of the country. She gave said baby up for adoption and never looked back. Fast forward 18 years later little Adam, all grown up, goes looking for mommy dearest and let me tell you it wasn’t for a nice and cozy reunion. According to his adoptive mother he was always a difficult child with a very bad temper. It was so alarming to his adoptive parents that they made him see a therapist. The therapist notes that he showed bipolar symptoms, had a definite anger problem and at times seemed unhinged and out of touch with reality. It wasn’t until after his 18th birthday that he found out the true story about his birth mother; that she’d basically left the country to have him, secretly give him up for adoption and come back to the States like it never happened.”

“Let me guess,” you said, “That didn’t bode well with him?”

“Right you are. Adoptive parents said he made passing remarks about “hunting down the bitch”. They knew he was angry about how he came to be adopted but they never suspected he’d actually find her and kill her.”

“But he did,” Emily said.

“But how does that relate to our current case, Garcia?” Spencer asked.

“Get this: Rosalie Brewer was Lila Kong’s best friend and helped arrange for her to have her child in secret and even found the adoptive family. She just moved back to the neighborhood a few months ago. There was a witness report in the police files that she’d been seen at a local coffee shop talking to a man that no one seemed to recognize.”

Garcia rattled off the description of the man and sent over a picture of Adam. It was a dead ringer. Everything was a go from there.

•

Hours later, the case had come to a close. Adam, who had turned out to be the correct unsub had had so much resentment toward his birth mother and her best friend—accompanied with his unstable mental health—decided to hunt them down and kill them in cold blood. The reason for the 30 year difference between murders was the fact he hadn’t discovered Rosalie’s existence and role in the secret adoption until he was much older. In his mind, the job wasn’t complete until she, too, was dead.

You were exhausted; physically and mentally. He gave up pretty quickly and it could’ve been a worse take down, but the prior days of working hard had taken a toll. Currently, you were relaxing in one of the chairs on the jet, a blanket pulled over you. You thought you were the only one awake, when you heard your phone buzz in your lap, underneath the blanket.

You retrieved it and open a text message from Spencer.

Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at my hands today.

Another text popped up.

Don’t forget what I can do with them, sweetheart.

Like you could.

You text back, ignoring his provocative texts.

Come over here and keep me company. I’m lonely and cold.

A buzz came slower this time.

Giving in already? Thought you’d last longer than this.

You typed your answer at lightning speed.

In your dreams, Dr. Reid.

You hear a soft chuckle as he walks over to join you in the seat next to you.

“Why are you even still awake?” you asked.

“Just wide awake. You?”

“Same.”

It’s quiet for a bit and you’re sure he’s asleep when you hear him shift positions next to you, alerting you that he’s still just as awake as you are.

A wicked smile slowly spreads across your face as you get an idea. You’re grateful for the dark so he can’t see your expression clearly or predict what’s coming.

“Spence?” Your hand rests on his knee gently, innocently as if it’s just a typical lingering affection.

“Mhm?”

He looks over at you and you can barely see the outline of his face in the darkness.

“Remember the mile high club?” you asked nonchalantly, as if you were simply chatting about the weather.

“The mile high club?” he repeats, clearly confused.

“You know,” you bite your lip, even though you’re not sure he can see it and lower your voice just in case anyone else happened to be awake.

“That time on the way home from a case? When you were having a little problem?”

Your hand slides barely an inch upward and you hear his sharp intake of breath, whether from your touch or the memory you’re unsure.

It had been before the game had been invented. Spencer was extra worked up that day on the way home from a case, so you decided to sneak into the jet bathroom with him to give him some help.

“When I gave you a blow job right there in the jet bathroom?” Your voice is low, your lips by his ear.

“I-I remember,” he croaked.

“That was extremely hot. Trying to make sure you stayed quiet so no one heard us.” 

Your hand slides up his thigh and you smirk satisfactorily when you hear his breath hitch.

“But I could tell how hard it was for you. All you wanted to do was moan my name out loud and grab my head to push me farther down on you.”

He’s silent, his breathing becoming heavier. You’re turning him on and it feels good to be winning for once. You’re not one to dirty talk much, but for this situation, you were pulling out the big guns.

“Admit it. Part of you wanted the entire jet to know just how good it felt with my pretty little lips wrapped around your cock, driving you absolutely insane.”

A low groan escaped his lips and you find yourself having to muster up all the strength you have not to kiss them right then. His hand grabs your wrist, stopping your hand from moving any further.

“Give up now and you can have your way with me when we get home,” you grin triumphantly.

“Never.” 

He places your hand back in your lap, before moving to get up.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a matter to sort out,” he grumbles, making his way back to the bathroom.

You can’t help it, you laugh as he half limps toward the back of the jet.

You didn’t see him for quite awhile after that.

•

“Gotta admit Spencer, I’m impressed you’ve held on for this long.”

It’d been only a week. Usually the games were over pretty quickly as one—usually yourself—gave in after only a few days. But you were so determined to crack him.

“That’s just because you have no idea what I have up my sleeve. Points for you for getting creative lately though.”

You snickered. His most recent jet bathroom escapade had involved him and his hand only.

“I’m still waiting to see what you got.”

He was picking up files to be delivered to Emily’s office when he turned and nodded to your phone.

“I’d check your phone if I were you.”

Your brows furrowed, confused as you reached for your mobile device. You press the home button, lighting up the screen to reveal a slew of messages from Spencer, which seems to include several pictures.

Opening them, you see that it’s a variety of selfies only showing his face from the nose down, his lips the center of attention in every one. The last message was actual text.

I seem to recall your little fascination with my lips. Thought you might enjoy. You especially like it when they’re in other areas too.

You could kill him. It was one of your weaknesses, that’s for sure. You look up and see he’s halfway to Emily’s office now.

“Not gonna work!” you hollered towards him and he sends back a huge grin as if he knew you’re full of shit.

Which you are because now you’re beginning to weaken. But you’re still far from giving up.

-

You get him back at lunch.

You’re eating at your desk with your legs propped up, clearly giving Spencer a good view of them. He’s purposely ignoring you though, doing paperwork, much to your amusement.

You finish your sandwich and reach for the banana you’d packed earlier that morning. You’d been wanting to try this one ever since the game began for the first time. He just happens to glance up as you finish peeling your banana and you shoot him a wink and give a sly, suggestive lick to the side of the banana.

His tongue flicks over his lips as his eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes, the determination still strong in them. The desire is there alright, the will to give up, is not.

•

Fuck you, Spencer. No actually, fuck me.

The thought floats across your mind. It’s another day at the Behavioral Analysis Unit but damnit if Spencer doesn’t look extra good today.

He always looks good in his work suits and ties, but this one is beyond belief. Or it may just be the fact that you’re wound up and in need of release, but you’re pretty much drooling from afar.

His pants were probably the best part cause his ass looked amazing in them. You’re pretty sure if any of your other teammates were to notice you staring at your boyfriend across the room they’d see you practically in a puddle of your own drool.

“You’re not playing that game again are you?”

You jump at the sound of JJ’s voice nearly sending your pile of files, documents and paperwork flying off your desktop. You turn around in your chair to see her standing at the edge of your desk, an arched brow and amused expression on her face.

JJ was the only one of the team you’d actually relinquished details to about your teasing escapades. Being the one female you were closest to on the team, sometimes sex life talk came up and it slipped out once. She found it creative and intriguing, saying it was never a bad thing to spice things up. But now, apparently you’d been a bit too obvious.

“How’d you know? Is it that obvious?”

“Not exactly. But it was my first guess when I saw you ogling Spence like a dog after a steak.”

You chuckle snort, the simile quite an accurate description of yourself.

“Yes, but the stakes are high this time. It’s been over a month since the last time we..you know had time for anything.”

“By all means, continue on. Win this one for us ladies,” she joked, heading for the stairs.

I plan on it.

•

Okay, so, that plan is not going so well after all. 

It’s a slower day than normal and it’s barely past lunchtime. Spencer isn’t even actively doing anything other than existing and you feel like jumping out of your skin. How the hell he’s keeping his cool is beyond your comprehension.

You glance at your phone when you notice it light up in the corner of your eyes.

Hey, Y/N.

Are you a tardis?

Your brow raises and you reply.

A what?

A time machine. Just stick with me here.

Another text arrives while you’re still reading his initial reply.

Because I’ve heard being inside you will take me to magical places.

You stifle a giggle. 

That’s a pick up line made for you, Spencer.

Ooh baby, you make my floppy disk turn into a hard drive.

You laugh out loud causing a few agents to glance in your direction and you quickly hush.

Give me the chance and I’d be happy to turn that floppy disk into a hard drive.

The gray dots linger on your screen from some time before his answer comes.

Well, shit.

-

You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you all afternoon and you’re entirely grateful that you decided to wear the nicest, form fitting skirt you own along with a button down that shows just the perfect amount of cleavage to still be considered professional.

You cross the room to make copies and you feel his eyes follow you making you shiver. It’s been 12 days since the game started, a personal record for the both of you. The sexual tension between you and Spencer is so high you’re sure it’s gonna boil over at the most inopportune time. 

Instead of focusing on reports you need to file, your daydreams have become more prominent. All you want is him and you want him bad. You’re on the verge of begging just to be able to feel the amount of bliss he puts you in.

You almost groan out loud when you hear Emily ask him if he minds staying a little later to finish up the final reports. You’re not really up to being home alone so you decide to stay with him until he’s finished.

The number of people in the bullpen starts to dwindle until it’s just you and Spencer left. You’re swiveling in your chair, watching him, his face a mask of determination, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth. 

Oh, how much you want those lips on yours, on your skin, those hands roaming your body, squeezing the right places. To have his body pressed close against yours, so close that you can feel his erratic breathing and spiked heart rate against your own chest. You wanted him to make you moan, make you scream even, the building was practically empty at this hour anyway.

You weren’t sure when you got up, but you were halfway toward him when you croaked his name weakly.

Whether it was because of your tone of voice or he just could sense it, he looked up, jaw going slack when he saw your shirt half unbuttoned, your fingers fumbling on the bottom half.

“You win alright?”

In a quick as lighting movement, he’d stood, picked you up and deposited you on his desk, his lips firmly attached to yours.

“Let’s call it a truce, okay?” he murmured against your lips before resuming kissing you.

The kisses were hot and wild, all the pent up sexual frustration being released finally. His teeth scraped over your bottom lip, tugging on it gently before twirling his tongue simultaneously with your own. Your shirt was all the way unbuttoned and your bra pulled down before you comprehended Spencer performing the actions.

He moaned into the kiss, his hands cupping your breasts. You automatically arched into his touch, lavishing in it after going so long without it. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples eliciting a ragged moan from you. Your inhibitions were out the window at this point and you could care less what you sounded like, you just wanted more of him.

“If I knew you’d be this reactive to me, I would torture you more often,” he smirked, leaning down to place his lips around one nipple, sucking gently.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, a hand tangled into his hair.

It was like you were super sensitive to his touch because every little thing he did set your nerve endings on fire. You were throbbing with need and he was enjoying this way too much.

“You son of a bitch, you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” you half growled, pulling his face back up towards yours, pressing a kiss to his sharp jawline, attempting to kiss him again.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” he grinned wickedly, denying your lips of his.

His hand pressed flat against your stomach, pushing you backwards on his desk while hiking up your skirt. His lips pressed against the soft skin of your inner thigh as his hands spread your legs and pushed your panties to the side.

“Spencer, please- fuck,” you moaned, his tongue licking a slow path up you.

“Oh I’ll get to that eventually, just you wait,” he chuckled.

Your ability to form coherent words had vanished, so no remark came in response from you. All you could focus on was his mouth on you and that you wanted more.

You could’ve killed him when he stopped just on the brink of your undoing. 

“Darling, if I had to listen to you much longer I would’ve been done for,” he commented, kissing you again, helping you unfasten his pants before you climb in his lap.

The mutual feeling of ecstasy was all over both your faces the moment you lowered yourself down on him. You vowed then to always let him win the game after this because this was too amazing to miss out on.

“Oh fuck, Y/N, fucking hell,” he groaned into your neck, his slight stubble scratching against your neck giving you chills.

It was rough and border animalistic, your lust and need for each other more than either of you could handle. Your hips rocked roughly against his, fingers digging into his biceps. Your eyes may have rolled back in your head at one point.

One hand is on the small of your back to steady you as you move up and down on him, your back arched as the pleasure rippled down your spine. His lips trail down your exposed throat, marking you as his, his other hand squeezing your hip.

Your hands grip the back of his chair to aid you in your rougher and harder movements as your orgasm builds, the sensation of a pit of lava in your stomach increasing.

A sheen of sweat coats his forehead, stray pieces of his brown curls sticking to his forehead. Your own hair has partially come out of its ponytail, stray pieces hanging in your face. His hand moves from your hip pushing some stray strands from your face before giving you a brief kiss. 

His own release is quickly approaching as his head falls back against the back of his chair, teeth scraping his bottom lip.

“Oh yes, baby, yes,” he growls deep in his throat.

A hand snakes towards your core, his thumb circling your clit. Your climax hits you hard and fast causing your vision to nearly go white. Your breath catches, interrupting your ragged moan of his name.

He lets himself go then, his groans filling the empty room, his expression of blissful pleasure the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen him do.

As you ride out the aftershocks, his lips return to yours, kissing you more gently this time, the action full of love. Your hips have slowed then stilled when he breaks the kiss.

“God, you’re amazing,” he whispers, nudging his nose playfully against yours.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck so you can stay in his lap for a moment longer before you have to stand and clean yourself up.

“I think I have a new rule for the game,” you commented.

“What’s that?”

“Spencer always wins.”

[minnochu]

Lustrous (pt. 20)

Hybrid!Kook x f!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19 | Pt 20 | Pt 21

Warning: A little non-con if you think about it.

.

.

You have to commend Seokjin, for sitting through the obvious awkward tension between you and Jungkook. There was nothing wrong with Jungkook shoving you with the intent to make you fall to the ground, after learning how to slap out when falling on your back. It was shits and giggles at first, because how could you really take him seriously? 

You could only swear Jungkook was ready to leave the country when the warlock instructed him to get on top of you. The two of you were walked through basic positions like full mount, side control, and half guard, and how to maneuver from each. It was very unlikely that you’d have to fight like this, given you were about to fight a whole clan of witches and warlocks. Although, it was still knowledge that you were grateful to learn in the event that maybe just maybe you would be knocked off your feet and onto your back.

Or maybe Seokjin just wanted to have fun knowing both of your true feelings for each other and got off on exploiting it to the fullest. Embarrass the shit out of you both, obviously.

Your instructions were to get the wolf on his back in a full mount while he started off in half guard and was instructed to resist and move into a full mount. What could possibly go wrong, really? Jungkook and his superhuman strength, and your lack there of. Was this really a good exercise when every possible dirty scenario distracted both of you. 

Seokjin couldn’t have been that dense to not notice the flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes could barely look at the other. Certainly the other wolves inside couldn’t have missed the trace of attraction and excitement. Even Jungkook must have smelled it rolling off of you. 

Not that you stood any chance against the hybrid’s brute strength anyways. Even with the instructions to hold back, this was Jungkook he was trying to instruct. 

You were pinned within seconds, his legs on both of your sides. The same fate repeated with you starting on top and landing swiftly on your back once Seokjin gave the go ahead. 

“Ah… you really got me good,” You drawl as you finish up the day with spells, both offensive and defensive. Plopping down on the grass beside the wolf, you both sit in comfortable silence while replenishing yourselves with water. 

He sits silently beside you, tending to his own drink, although not saying a word in response. Curious, you glance over to his form beside you. The wolf anticipates your actions and quickly turns to look away, but the scarlet shade that colors the tips of his ears are bright and noticeable. 

“What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed about the little exercise we had to go through today?” you tease to his disdain. 

“Don’t act like you weren’t any less distracted, letting me pin you down so easily, are you actually a pervert?” He accuses back, although the flush on his face is darker and spreads to his cheeks now that he faces you, “I can’t believe I’ve been letting a pervert sleep in my bed…”

“You act like you don’t end up crawling into bed with me by the end of the night,” You scoff, though the playful lilt is still there, “What am I supposed to even do against your supernatural strength, hello?”

The boy makes a face, his expression twisted but you know that you’re technically right; given that he’s always adamant on sleeping on the floor and is found curled around you in the morning. You’re not sure if he does it knowingly, or just unconsciously finds your sleeping form and seeks out your warmth. That didn’t even make sense. His skin had to be multiple times warmer than yours. Especially when he almost always sleep in his wolf form, not mention with pounds of fur on his body with plenty of heat.

“...so what are you planning on doing?” He later asks after you both have taken a shower, dinner long past and gone, and you’re currently lounging on his bed with a spell textbook. 

“What do you mean?” You shoot back, laying on your stomach as he takes a seat on the other side of the bed.

He makes a gesture with his hands, and you’re just even more confused by his vagueness.

“Your coven,” He finally relents.

You wonder that too. Was it even right to call it your coven, when all you experienced for much of your childhood was endless loathing and ostracization. Were you really a part of the Blackwells, the people who had also killed your mother and used her body against you? 

You were bound to face them after all. They were going to keep coming after you with the intent to kill. What were gonna do? Talk them out of it? Were you going to avenge your mother? If they stayed alive… they’d continue to go after you and even hurt Jungkook the same way those bounty hunters had. 

“I’m not quite sure… I don’t want to keep hiding and running away… and I don’t want to keep putting you and the others in danger because of me…”

He scoffs. 

“You’re mistaken if you think a little wolfsbane was gonna take me out. Hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

You frown, “I don’t want it to happen again, at my expense.”

“Will you be fine… if it means having to kill?” he mumbles after a brief silence, watching as you flip through the pages. 

“I don’t have that kind of a resolve… I don’t think… I know talking won’t mean anything… but that kind of thing might be inevitable.”

Jungkook nods thoughtfully. If it really came down to it, he wondered if you could do it. He wondered if no one had stopped you, would you have gone through with your massive magical skill and killed both Seol and Suho? You held no killing intent, nor did he think you were ready to handle the weight on your shoulders at the thought of having taken someone’s life. It would ruin you. 

“Ah…. I’m feeling nervous…” You sigh, rubbing your palms together, “Practicing it is one thing, but having someone coming at you and actually hell-bent on killing you is another. And facing spells instead of animated mothers and weaponized hunters and an out of control hybrid, seems foreign.” 

The wolf shot you a dirty look for that last one. But you had a right to be nervous. The Blackwells were notorious, they were known to be both powerful and skilled. It’s no wonder they would not want their name tarnished by a witch who couldn’t siphon from her own innate magic and had to steal from others. 

Should he do it? 

There was no telling the future, but his gut felt heavy with nerves and dread. 

“I’ll tell you what,” he started hesitantly, gaining your attention effectively, “We survive your family, and I’ll let you in on my secret.”

Secret? 

His eyes flashed knowingly. A quick glare of his ocean hue and you figured he was referring to the identity of his imprintee. 

Oh. 

“Are you sure? Now that I think about it… I don’t think I should know…” You say suddenly, to his apparent surprise. If it was really someone else and he knew who it was exactly, what were you going to do with your feelings. Just the very thought was heart wrenching. You were getting so comfortable, feeling like home finally, having a place and family to return to and experience the ups and downs of life with. And yet here you were, dreading the thought that Jungkook was just out of your reach despite being right there sitting beside you.

The frustration is evident in the way his eyebrows furrow, the scrunch of his nose, and the frown that crosses his mouth. 

“Make up your damn mind, you kept running away ‘cause I wouldn’t tell you, and now I’m gonna tell you if we survive,” He sighs aggravatedly.

“Yes but now I’m saying you don’t have to worry about it because it’s not my business!” You snap back with just as much fervor, “And stop saying if! We’re going to survive you ass.”

He reaches to flick your forehead when his digit hits a hardened surface, clicking his tongue when you smirk triumphantly at your success in guarding your forehead with a crystallized shield that hovers just before it. 

“Stupid witch,” the wolf grumbles.

You raise a brow at that, “Oh? That’s new. But I’d prefer the term siphoner, given that I’m a mutant after all.”

He snorts. 

As the night grows later and he’s preparing his bag for the next day of school, your head falls onto your crossed arms. Eyes closed from studying spells and skills, you hum as you listen carefully to his footfalls on the wooden floor. The boards whine and creak before the mattress shifts and dips, springs squealing at the added weight. 

“Hey, get some rest already, you’ve gone through enough training today,” He mutters, grabbing the book and closing it. Stretching his arm, he reaches over your body to toss the book on his desk, but not before your voice startles him. 

Murmuring, voice no more than a whisper, wistful and almost dreamy as you instinctively shift closer to his heat. 

“Say, you tasted my blood…”

The word is almost like a trigger. His mind races, nearly choking on his own spit at the immediate mental image of you both in the forest. Heart beating right out of his chest. Your scent invading his senses. The excitement in both your scent and the loud pounding of your heart, urging him to continue. The way his mouth salivated at the thought of your blood, his stomach near growling in anticipation of having not been satiated with it’s required monthly intake at that time. 

How could he forget? Not when he felt dread fill his very core when he’d gone too far and nearly drank past what was healthy.

“Did you like it? You didn’t look quite happy about drinking the pig’s blood caprisun the other day.”

You giggle, having noticed the twitch in his brows in recognition of the liquid at that time.

“What the hell are you on about?” He grumbles finally, although he’s at odds with himself because of course not. Not one transitioned vampire would enjoy being a vegetarian vamp after having a taste of human blood, or another vampire’s in a hybrid’s case. 

To answer...

Of course not. Not when your blood tasted like liquid gold on his tongue. His mind went haywire the second just a drop of the sanguine liquid had hit his appendage, scent permeating the air and sending him into hazed fury of sucking your wrist dry. 

If he had no control, he’d have killed you then. If he had no control, you lying on his bed, defenseless and unknowing, would have him pouncing on you in seconds to just get another taste. 

You don’t respond, having already entered the blissful embrace of sleep. His eyes soften as he lets his fingers drop and brush over your wrist, grazing the area he’d drawn from. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you’ve secretly put a spell on me, you idiot witch,” He drawls, letting his gaze drag over your arm, along the curve of your shoulder, before settling on your neck. 

Dizzy. 

He can’t help himself. Maybe the nerves are getting to him the longer your situation draws longer. What were the Blackwells planning? Why not send someone of their own to do the job, rather than hire other beings who had nothing to do with their personal vendetta against you. 

“Fuck,” He mutters as he does little to resist his urge to shove his face in the crook of your neck. Curse the way you so coincidentally shift in your sleep, just enough to tease the supple flesh of your neck, curving and arching as you turn your head over and reveal more and more. 

His eyes flash dangerously. Marine hues glaring down greedily at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, trailing upwards towards your ear. Tongue peeking out of his lips, gliding over his bottom lip before scraping underneath the sharp tip of his canine. It was a soft reminder of his intentions. 

This was not about your blood. 

No, he thought with a sigh, leaning down to breathe in much of your scent. Warm vanilla and him. It was only faint, a possessive growl leaving his throat. Rolling around in the grass today drenched you in Jungkook’s scent, he oddly liked it. The shower had washed much of his smell away, but it lingered. It lingered as you lay in his bed, wearing his shirt because it comforted you in some way after all the things you’ve been through (despite his protest that you had your own clothes to wear). He secretly bathed in the fact, and sight, that you wore his shirt. 

It was like his own temporary mark on you. He could do it now, his wolf thought. Then the scent would stay longer and stronger, no one could approach you. Not those vampires, not those wendigos. Who would dare approach the mate of a hybrid? 

That sounded tempting. Little of his self control holding him back now, fingers curling into his bed sheets, so much that his knuckles pale and the fabric nearly ripped under the tension. 

Lips parting, he watches the wave of goosebumps rise over your skin once his warm breath washes over. You tense at the sensation, humming in your sleep before relaxing once more. 

His mouth parts, exposing his canines as he lowers his face into your neck, nose brushing against your hair. Blood rushes to his cheeks, savoring your mixed scent as he laves his tongue contently over your skin.

The tip of his fang scratches over the surface and he has to keep himself from keening as just the slight touch makes his senses burst. He’s tempted to bite down fully, sink his canines further, permanently make you his, when you sigh and he freezes. 

“Ju—ngkook…” you whisper softly, making his whole body burn with adoration at your voice calling for him. 

His clouded mind clears and he sits up immediately, covering his mouth with his arm. 

Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck indeed when his pack mates stare at him pensively in the morning. The scent is clear as day. No mark, thank gods, but it’s awfully clear that he’d tried marking you last night. Yoongi is the most prominent expression out of them all, his eyes flashing a warning gold hue at the youngest when you joined them. 

“I don’t wanna know,” the second eldest grit out after the meal while you were getting ready to leave with the three youngest members. He’d dragged the hybrid to the side, glaring accusingly at him. “But why the fuck would you mark her?! She doesn’t even know you imprinted on her. What if you couldn’t have stopped yourself? What if you suddenly awakened your other side and sucked her empty?!”

“Hyung relax, we’re lucky it was just a graze,” Namjoon steps in, expression stoic as he places a gentle hand on the elder wolf, “Punishable, but he was able to control himself at the very least and not leave a mark.”

Just one look from the leader of their pack is enough make the hybrid whimper.

Jungkook bit his lip. He’d gotten too ahead of himself. 

Yoongi saw this and let his expression melt. 

“I know you’re getting impatient aren’t you? A little bold, given that you were dodging her questions about who you imprinted on just days ago,” He teased, “I guess I commend you for stopping.”

The hybrid knew he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t breathed his name out last night. He would’ve kept going, just like that time in the forest, and that scares him. It was impossible, the amount of power you hold against him. The ability to captivate him and put him in a frenzy one second, and calm him and ground him back to reality the next. 

“Come on Jungkook, we’re gonna head to school without you.”

Your voice immediately snatches his attention, allowing one last glance at his scolding elders before joining you and Jimin and Taehyung. The two sharing a knowing smirk with him. 

“Can’t believe you beat me to it once again,” the vampire sighs dramatically, causing you to tilt your head at him curiously. However, both the hybrid and wolf jab him in the sides at his comment. 

You don’t question it as you wave to the older members and open the door. 

It’s not until you’ve opened the front door does your whole being stiffen with recognition. Dread filling your stomach at the impressive aura waiting for you outside.

“No!” You cry as you press your hand behind you, looking back to catch a glimpse of the boys’ startled expression as you hum the incantation of a simple skill, a blast of wind shoving the three back into the cabin and shutting the door as you fall forward onto your shoulder.

You don’t meet the wood of the porch, in fact, there’s no sign of forest life around you. Your body hit the marble hard. Definitely a potential bruise if you manage to figure out the fate of your sudden predicament. 

“My— look at how much you’ve grown.”

The voice confirms your growing dread and the reason for your senses going haywire at the incredible aura. 

Your head rising to regard the head of the Blackwells.

.

+Taglist! (Can’t tag in bold)

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[star-killer-md]

Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt. 6

Hi, so I’m just gonna leave this here and pretend it didn’t take me for fucking ever to get this done. Also like real talk, my classes are starting up soon and I’m working multiple jobs so updates from here on out might get a little sparse. I AM BY NO MEANS GOING TO STOP WRITING IT. Just like, it’s gonna take me awhile or the chapters might be shorter, who knows (not me). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this shit show and if you have any theories about where the hell this is going or critiques or just general explicit thoughts about Kylo please hit me up! I love you all, I hope you’re staying safe and healthy <3333

AO3 Mirror

Part 5

Warnings: nsfw, mirror sex, male masturbation, unconscious reader so not dub-con but just so you know, Kylo’s POV in some parts, I threw in some size kink if you squint cause he’s a big boy, possessive Kylo, slight boot kink, I think that’s it?

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!reader

Word count: 9.4k (god I’m so sorry this really got away from me)

He was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

Hadn’t until now.

But that wasn’t completely true. Of course he’d looked at you—noticed you, heard all the dagger sharp curses you threw his way like a child put in the corner impertinent and prideful and intoxicating in a way that pain often is. So, yes of course he’d looked, but you hadn’t been important.

And that was not to say that you were important now, just that—

Just that the sea was churning behind him, crashing against the shoreline and the Force was stirring. It was a wild thing, and sung like the insects hiding in the nearby treeline. He could feel the pull of it, like a chain that swung in the small space between your bodies. Connecting your throats—growing every shorter—rubbing him raw and bloody.

It was in you, whatever it was that tethered him like a boat to the harbor.

He was inside you too

“No one will ever feel like I do.”  

That’s what you’d said.

You were right, as much as he was loath to admit it, no one had ever felt the way you did clenching around him.

There was something primal that made him ravenous to pour himself into you. He was always too much too full to angryangryangry every waking second. Now, finally, it all had some place to go. Some well to fill—a space for all his extra self to belong.

For once, he found there was nothing more than the sound of the sea inside his head.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that revelation.

Who were you? What were you hiding and where was it buried?

Kylo needed to know and you were there, already limp and pliant with no jumbled slur of raging thoughts to cloud his path.

He found that slipping into your mind was one of the easiest things he’d ever done, like following the current of flowing water. Drifting in as if carried by the waves.

Flashes of memories rushed past him, mostly just amalgamations of indecipherable emotion—fathoms of pent up aggression Kylo was forced to wade through in order to reach the black depths of your head. At every turn he was met with his own face staring back at him.

He saw his saber, swinging in a red arch into durasteel paneling, saw himself through your eyes. Felt your awe, felt the stirring in your chest at the sight. He pushed on.

Past shots of offices he’d never seen, a barrage of falsely smiling faces, teeth gnashing, always hungry. He was walking down an endless grey hallway lined with First Order uniforms all towering over him—you—looking down, casting judgement like arrows in his back. Frustration morphed and twisted into a thick sludge of resentment that bubbled and clung to his feet.

With every pop a voice escaped, shouting “everything, everything, everything” in a sick, distorted roar.

And then he found it, the source of the muck that caked his path. A pit, deep and black as pitch that spit up it’s roiling contents and dragged him tumbling down, down, down.

He could barely make it out at first, but as he fell the dim red glow grew bright, crackling and electric and throwing sparks. At the bottom of the well the light bloomed like a pyre, some flaming effigy of pure potential. The heat of it licked at his skin, tracing the edges of every scar like it knew them.

Maybe it did.

Something like a shockwave rolled out through the Force, and he backed away from the raging flames. Back, back, back until he was kneeling again on the shoreline, your cooling body still pressed firmly to his chest.

The feeling of your weight, not cold and dead, but with life still in your limbs was alien to him. Kylo battled internally with the instinct to throw you off him to the ground. He could leave you here, go and wait or never come back at all.

It would be easy.

He could see it now:

Your face twisted, lips pulled back and teeth bared like you weren’t half his size. Like he couldn’t snap your neck with a wave of his hand. He imagined you naked, covered in dried blood and bruises bursting onto your balcony, tits on full display and your finger in his chest, vitriol spewing from your mouth.

It was comical really, how you puffed up like an animal threatened, small but vicious.

Yet even as he considered the scene, his aching knees were unlocking and shifting you, soft cock slipping out in a gush of your combined releases. Kylo swung your legs easily over one arm and climbed back up the beach towards your room.

The sun was starting to rise over the sea, casting gilded strips along its surface when he laid your limp form on the bed. Your skin was marbled with the evidence of your coupling and shone in the light.

Kylo stood silently above you, the ocean breeze occasionally ruffling his damp hair as he brought a hesitant hand to his jaw. The skin was swollen from when you’d raised your hand to him. His fingers dug into the bruise, and the stinging ache of it made his cock twitch. Your face, twisted and snarling and so defiant, so foolish, inches from his before your palm cracked across his cheek.

He dropped a hand down, stroking his half hard length and remembering how your thighs felt crushing his ribcage between them. His hips twitched up into his hand in slow, languid thrusts, precum and your residual slick easing the slide of his palm.

You weren’t afraid to fight back.

Kylo’s teeth tore at his bottom lip as he pumped his cock in earnest now.

You weren’t afraid of him , he realized. But you should be.

Especially now with how his mind was supplying all the numerous ways he could beat you into submission—fuck you into submission. God he’d love to watch you crack, it would truly be a feat worthy of celebration to break the will of a creature such as yourself.

But he couldn’t deny—certainly not while he’s jerking himself faster thinking of how delicious your wet cunt felt around him—that he liked when you bit back.  

His name rolling off your tongue was ricocheting around in his brain and he was sure it was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard in his life, that he would never get enough of it. He’d known that since the very first time he heard it, when you opened yourself up to him and came in his mouth, on his fingers.

A familiar warmth was building in his stomach as he thought of all the ways he could make you say it again. Thought of dipping into your head and erasing everything else but that. So it was the only word you knew.

That sent him, made him spill over his hand, white ropes of his cum painting your breasts. You looked good like that, he thought as he worked himself through his orgasm, breath rasping in his chest.

When he was well and truly spent, he let his overstimulated cock settle back against his thigh and dropped a hand to your chest. His palm spanned nearly the entire width of you, fingers swirling in the mess of his release and rubbing it into your abused skin until you were perfectly glazed in him. The sheen of it glinted in the light, a reminder that you’d been marked and would never know how completely he coated every inch of your body.

Even as the darkness whispered into his mind that this was potential, this was uncharted, this was the dragon that hid in the corners of ancient maps filled with unknown stars, Kylo didn’t tear his eyes away. Didn’t pull his hand from your breast where his fingers dug into the flesh and made their home.

Not until the sun had fully risen and you began to stir from the Force induced sleep he’d buried you under.

Not until the very last moment.

***

You woke to the sound of rushing water. It was dim though, out of focus like an echo nearly faded away. Your eyes were lead in your skull, struggling against opening to the soft light filtering into—

Well into where you weren’t exactly sure.

Thoughts were elusive and seemed to slip from your grasp or sit constantly out of reach. Details stood blurry behind a layer of foggy confusion. It was as if your brain had been frozen and restarted like one of the old monitors on the Bridge, leaving important documents to close improperly. You pushed incessantly against the film that seemed to separate you from full awareness until, finally, it popped and the world came flooding in.

Light, bright and all encompassing was stinging your eyes through the open balcony doors. The smell of salt and sand and sweat was everywhere. You were laying on your bed, the spot next to you cold and vacant—never occupied. Your chest and bare thighs were sticky as you peeled them apart and tried to sit up, feeling the uncomfortable squelch of something leaking from you onto the sheets.

And then you ached.  

The deep kind of pain that extends past your muscles and sent nerves misfiring with every movement. There was not a single inch of you free from the pulsating burn of it. You laid out flat on the mattress, moving your head as slowly as possible to take stock of the damages. Bruises littered you, mottled you in painful stripes. With every new mark catalogued another memory drifted to the surface:

Hips, his hands surrounding your waist to lift you clear off the ground, his cock slipping ever deeper inside.

Breasts, where the Force and his fingers had cupped and palmed and rolled pleasure into your flesh.

Chest, his bitten nails that scratched large welts which stung when you breathed in.

Legs, how he’d ripped you through the churning water and pressed deep into the meat of your thighs.

Neck, you could feel the dull throb of where he’d bitten into the skin, sucked hard and marked you with a small supernova of broken capillaries.

But the sting between your legs topped the rest. He truly had split you in half, his cock massive and leaving you clenching to your very core in its absence. His cum still dripped out of you in a slow stream. If this was the recompense you bore, there was no telling what he must look like.

You recalled the sole of your foot connecting with muscle and bone, the crack of your palm on his sculpted cheeks.

The way his mouth tasted, the fullness of his lips and how warm he was pressed against you with no space in between. The desperation for him, the sweet sting of him moving inside you, sinking into you, the fullness, the absolution. The presence of him not just in your body but in your mind, in your being, the relief of it—like the first breath after years of asphyxiation.

You could feel him still, you realized, a tingle at the back of your neck. A soft, comforting thump when you closed your eyes. Like a heartbeat. Kylo Ren’s heartbeat, faint but present, evidence of mortal flesh and blood. Your head on his chest, his voice a hush under the roaring sea.

“You aren’t going to die.”

It felt like a promise, and maybe it was.

But really, how long could you expect him to keep it?

And that was just the first of many questions. So many questions.

The sound of water was not the ocean, but the shower you realized and it filled the room with a hazy steam from the crack in the door. You thought about joining him for just a second, indulged in the idea of seeing him bare. Seeing the wounds he bore, the ones he let you put there.

But there was no time for that now, unfortunate though it was.

Instead, you tumbled out of bed onto shaky knees that nearly gave way as you looked around for something to cover yourself with, grabbing the first piece of clothing available. It was Kylo’s, you noticed as you tugged the massive black shirt over your head and watched it fall well past your thighs.

It smelled like him. You tried not to think about it too much.

You sifted through the mess of clothing on the floor and finally located your bag and datapad, tripping over yourself to crawl back onto the mattress. New messages flashed on the screen, although strangely none originating from the First Order. Each one another of Gahl’s staff asking you for speech revisions to be approved by the advisory committee and the last one a reminder of the day’s worth of meetings with campaign staff.

You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t really the meetings themselves that bothered you, that was routine, muscle memory at this point. But it was harder now, harder to sit still and spit out pretty fake chuckles to every pompous politician's horrid sense of humor, harder to slip in silent ultimatums when there was a knife positioned squarely at your back. When you could never truly tell who would be the one to twist the blade or at what point you would have outlasted your usefulness.

At what point it was your turn to become the next example of what pride does to the body.

No amount of whispered half covenants would be able to stop that, regardless of which masked, saber-wielding commander they came from.

Sighing, you tried to quell the constriction in your throat and typed away quick, formulaic responses. A few minutes passed until you heard the shower putter out and the soft sounds of the Commander dressing. He didn’t look at you when he pulled the door open and stepped into the room, shirtless this time and sporting a dark purple starburst that dipped below the waistband of his pants and circled over the ‘v’ of his hips.

You tensed at the memory of your bodies twisting in the surf and glanced away as he silently dug through his discarded clothes.

“That looks like it hurts,” you said, just to break the uncomfortable quiet.

Kylo regarded you in your seat by the headboard, eyes narrowing just a bit when he straightened and crossed the room. He stood by your side, taking the hem of his shirt between his fingers for just a second.

You felt him hum in your head, not nearly as loud as it was the night before, but still there—a pleasant weight in your chest. He liked the look of you drowning in his clothes. Liked the way you disappeared into them. Liked the reminder of how you fit well in the space he left behind. Felt his hand rip away like it had been burned.

“It doesn’t,” he said and turned his back to you.

As if you could hurt him.

You felt yourself flush at his response, electing to simply watch as he plucked another top from one of the piles and tugged it over his head. You lamented silently at the loss, earning you a sharp glare from the man in question. Well, at least he was giving you some indication now that he heard you.

“Yes,” he sighed, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. “You’re incredibly loud.”

Crossing your legs, you sat the datapad aside and leaned back against the headboard.

“Oh, well my apologies,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m not exactly familiar with how this works.”

He scoffed at your hand gesturing between the two of you, “I’m well aware.”

“Is being as aggravating as possible a personal goal of yours or something?”

Kylo’s hand shot out, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down the bed. Before you had the chance to register the stab of pain that accompanied the sudden movement, you were situated firmly on his lap, thighs spread uncomfortably on either side of his hips.

“Is being a defiant little brat one of yours?” he retorted, one hand gripping hard on your jaw.

You tensed your legs against the searing ache and dug one of your knees into the bruise on his side, “Only for you, sir.”

The hand on your jaw slipped down to wrap around your throat, clamping down on the vein there and you felt the surge of blood that rushed to his dick at the memory those words elicited. He liked them in your mouth, he couldn’t hide that anymore and it frustrated him, enraged him that you smiled at the thought. Stars, you supposed if you kept mouthing off like that Atreus would have to speed things up before Ren killed you for him.

Kylo’s fingers twitched around your neck, eyes flicking to the mark he’d left on the joining of your throat and shoulder which had slipped entirely from his shirt. He seemed to be debating with himself before dropping his head and sucking the abused skin back into his mouth.

Your fingers slipped instinctively into his hair. Whether you were trying to yank him off or push him closer, you weren’t sure but then his jagged teeth sunk into the worried flesh and you whined like something wild at the display of dominance and acknowledgment that last night had been more than just another dream.

When Kylo finished with you, he stayed soothing cool mint breaths into the sensitive skin under his lips. You wanted to ask him what it meant—the mark, the beach, the newly filled to the brim, shaking in your fingers feeling blooming into existence in the intercostal spaces of your ribs—but you knew he’d never answer that.

Luckily, the waiting game was your specialty. There was no one better than you at playing the long con. He’d crack eventually, they always did. So you hid your ace and plaid something a bit safer.

“How did I find you in the hall last night?”

The Commander huffed against you, lifting his head to nip sharply at your earlobe.

“Projecting,” he conceded.

“What does that mean?”

His hands drifted to your hips, digging in and forcing you off his lap and onto the floor. The wood dug into your knees and pressed valleys into the skin. Kylo motioned with a hand and his boots obediently floated over and settled in front of you kneeling between his legs. You frowned as he stared down at you blankly and his command dawned on you.

“Really?” you asked, unable to keep the incredulity off of your tongue.

He lifted his brows and rolled his lips together, and you found yourself understanding with terrifying clarity what that meant. If you were going to play games so would he, and Kylo’s preferred method always seemed to be humiliation in some form.

Jokes on him, you thought with a shrug. You had very little dignity left to be squashed under his boots which you ripped from the air by your head. His feet were massive, nearly the size of your thigh as you slipped one into the rough leather.

“Consciousness can be detached from the physical body,” Kylo explained.

His voice lacked any of its usual rasp or vitriol, he was simply saying the words, not forcing them out. You thought he’d make a good teacher if he wasn’t such an—

The boot in your lap ground down harshly into the especially sore spot between your thighs covered only by his thin black shirt. Your cunt ached as he pressed the toe of his boot into your clit. Gritting your teeth against the pain, you kept your mouth shut and nodded for him to continue, pulling taught all the laces from his ankle to calf. The muscles were impossibly hard under your fingers

“The Force can allow you to take advantage of that separation,” he continued, swapping feet when you’d finished the first, “so physically you remained here, and your consciousness was able to project elsewhere.”

Your hands guided his foot past the leather straps and hastened through the last few laces. When the last was tied off, you tried to knock his leg to the side, but he pressed it back between your legs, smearing you with rocky earth and grinding his heel once more on your slit.

“So everything we overheard then, that was real?” you continued, voice strained as you squirmed out of his reach. Shockingly, he let you.

Kylo shrugged examining your slick stain on the leather, “Projection involves a real place and time. Dreams are more abstract.”

You nodded, pulling the fabric tighter around your knees.

“What did he mean?” you asked quietly.

You were pushing your luck, pushing his buttons really but he should be expecting that by now. He owed you this, reparations for months of workplace abuse.

Kylo stared at you, his erection still obscenely on display from your view on the floor.

“Atreus, he said I was ‘in your head,’” you elaborated and Kylo nearly kicked your teeth in with how quickly he stood.

“That’s enough,” he grunted.

You watched on the ground as he walked out onto the balcony. The wind combed through the black waves on his head revealing whitecaps of pale, freckled profile to peek out. You decided to quit while you were ahead, letting him stew. This was the most he’d ever spoken to you in the years you’d worked as his one-woman political clean up crew. Maybe you’d celebrate when there wasn’t a hit out on you.

Stretching out, your eyes caught his mask staring at you dead and resolute from the small night stand. It was heavier than you expected, lined with deep ridges and scars just like the man who wore it.

Head wounds were almost always fatal. Just one blow to the soft flesh of the temple and that was it, end of discussion. They taught you that at the academy. Always aim for the head. You traced the cracks on its carbon black surface and tried to imagine all the people who’d aimed for the Commander’s head, aimed to land the killing blow and failed. You thought of his toothpaste sitting in the vanity in the bathroom. You thought of the bruises on his chest and the blood that had pooled under his pretty skin to cause them. You thought of Kylo Ren dying.

You put the helmet down, pulled yourself off the floor and left Ren to his thoughts.

The bathroom was still thick with steam when you started the shower running. You stripped his shirt from your back and folded it on the sink before stepping in. The hot water felt glorious as it pounded the soreness from your skin. Your fingers brushed carefully over the abstract painting of bruises, the mark on your neck particularly stark in your hazy reflection in the wall of mirrors facing the shower.

You should have expected the Commander would enjoy marking his territory.

Not that you were in any way his territory.

The idea of it certainly didn’t cause a shiver to run down your spine.

When you’d washed the silt and grime down the drain and dried yourself, you left the bathroom and dressed quietly. Your outfit was professional and understated, not drawing the eye and covering last nights events without being suspiciously modest. Kylo didn’t move or speak until you drifted out to the balcony to commune before your meetings began. You leaned against the rail next to him.

“Do you know anything about him?” you asked, gazing out at the waves as the rose and crashed and rose again.

“No,” he responded, and you were thankful you didn’t have to say the name.

It felt greasy in your mouth.

“Right,” your eyes closed against the salty wind, “well I suppose I’ll do some digging then. Know thy enemy and all that.”

He glanced at you, a full once over and nodded in dismissal. You shook your head and turned to head out, shouting back to him over your shoulder.

“Remember,” only your head remained peeking through the crack in the door, “don’t leave this room.”

The door slammed behind you with a crack. Well, he was developing a pattern to say the least, you thought as you wandered down the hall to the drawing room.

***

You did your best to conceal the limp in your step as you entered, slipping easily into the small crowd of legislative staffers and scanning the room. Gahl was nowhere to be seen and neither was his ‘advisor.’ Immediately you felt a weight lifted off your shoulders. You consistently spent among crowds of men who frequently murdered people for political gain, however, you’d miscalculated how much harder it would be to keep your cool when your life was the one on the line.

The room was bright and airy, a small table was lined with furiously dainty finger food which you perused but found no appetite for. You sighed and moved on, trying to decide which inane conversation to insert yourself into when one found you first.

“Good morning,” an increasingly familiar voice spoke from behind you.

You turned to find Lem crossing the room and leaving behind a group of idly chatting aides.

“Hello,” you plastered a smile on your face in greeting as he saddled up. “The Representative chose not to grace us with his presence I see.”

He chuckled, “You really do get right down to business don’t you?”

“That is why I’m here,” you picked a tea sandwich off the table and popped it into your mouth just for the sake of the gesture. It tasted like sand in your mouth.

“Well then, I suppose I don’t mind skipping the pleasantries if you won’t think less of me for it,” Lem conceded and turned to stand next to you, surveying the crowd.

“In fact, I might think more of you.”

You followed suit, taking in the gaggles of people as your new companion passed you a glass of something fruity and expensive.

“Well in that case,” he took a sip and tucked a piece of yellow hair behind his ear, “you’d be correct in your assumption, the old man’s been called away on important campaign related business.”

“Would I be right in assuming you know more than you’re letting on?”

Lem glanced down at you from the corner of his eye and took a sip of his drink, “I think we’re both seasoned enough players of this game to know the answer to that.”

You hummed in concession, “Can you blame me for trying?”

“No,” he admitted easily. “But considering the fact you’ve been casing me like a house for robbery I would have hoped that conclusion would have come faster.  

“I don’t know what you consider ‘casing,’ but I think you might be inflating yourself a bit there Mr. Alba,” you retorted, taking a sip and jolting a bit as the sweetness hit your tongue.

“A politician's assistant with an enlarged ego? Never.”

“Aren’t you a little too self aware to be in politics?”

Beside you, Lem laughed in earnest and you frowned, looking up at him. He wasn’t nearly as large as the Commander, so your neck wasn’t forced nearly to it’s breaking point in the process.

“You’re funny,” he said by way of explanation. “I didn’t think you’d be funny.”

“I’m just as shocked as you are,” you mumbled as a group of people bypassed you out into the hall.

“Well, you’re right,” Lem shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t initially intend on ending up in government work.”

That was interesting. You felt yourself falling back into an old rhythm. Maybe Lem was onto something—if you wanted to get to Gahl, what better place to start than with the assistant. After all, if anyone wanted to know all the dirt on Hux, you were certainly the best person to ask. Why would this be any different?

“Is that so?” you prodded, hoping he’d continue on his own.

Of course he did. These people loved to talk about themselves.

“The Representative was a family friend and I was but a directionless youth bringing shame upon our good name,” he lamented, gesturing dramatically to a false, sympathetic audience.

“Was it kindness or pity then?” you asked, smiling and nodding to one of the campaign managers when she dipped behind you for a fruit tart.

Lem huffed out a laugh again and shook his head, “Gahl wasn’t always like this, I recall him being far more benignant when I first started.”

You latched on to the remorse in his tone: a soft spot in the apple. A perfect opportunity for you to worm your way in and feast on the flesh.

“It's an occupational hazard, really,” you glanced at his profile through your lashes and caught the faintest twinkle of vulnerability in the set of his jaw, “the constant power struggle drains one dry of any remaining empathy.”

“Hm, that’s certainly part of it,” Lem continued and downed the rest of his drink. “But he hasn’t really changed all that much until this election season.”

You’d broken the skin, now it was time to dig a bit deeper.

“Gahl seems pretty cut and dry, from what I can tell,” you locked your thighs against the growing ache between them from standing too still for too long, “what would you say has changed?”

“Well in all the years I’ve spent working for him, I’ve never known the man to run a smear campaign, not like this one at least. Really you should have seen the ads we ran for him, absolutely brutal,” Lem was nearly ranting now, and it seemed you’d struck the nerve you’d been searching for. “And, I mean no offense, but he’d certainly never have interacted more with the Order than was strictly necessary, much less agree to meet with your Commander what-ever-his-name-is personally.”

God you wished Commander what-ever-his-name-is Ren was around to hear that. The look on his face alone would be better than any orgasm he could give you.

“No, no, I wouldn’t do any business with us either if I could help it,” you conceded and handed Lem a second glass.

“You’re very gracious, thank you,” he accepted the drink and sighed.

You tried your best not to sympathize, but you were weak and soft and couldn’t quite help the pang in your chest. As lukewarm as you were about Lem Alba, you could see the bags under his eyes and the sallow pallor to his skin and you knew the look he wore too well.

Damn your occasional need to not be a total piece of shit.

“Trust me, I understand your frustration,” you let out a sigh of your own.

Commanding officers were a trial.

“And not to mention, ever since he brought on that new advisor, he’s had no need for any of my input,” Lem grumbled, pinching the bridge of his round nose.

Well, never mind, maybe your horrible lack of apathy was going to come in handy.

“The slimy one?”

He turned to look down at you with an incredulous smile, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“What does he call himself?”

“Atreus,” Lem said, rolling his eyes. “Although I’m sure that’s not his real name. He seems to get off on being dark and mysterious.”

You could think of another person who fit that description, and both of them had wanted you dead on at least one occasion you were certain.

“Hm,” you nodded in agreement, “any idea where he came from?”

“None such luck, he just came crawling out of the woodwork one day a few months ago and well, you’ve seen the result,” he shrugged and finished off his second glass, taking yours from your hand and setting them off to the side. “Now, fancy a walk on the beach? I believe it’s my turn to take a crack at hunting for information.”

For a moment, you contemplated the likelihood that you were being played, that Lem was some elaborate plant and today was the day of your demise. But holding you hostage leagues away from crowds would invariably ensure your death would be wasted. Couldn’t stick it to the Order if there was no one around to watch. And not to stroke your own dick, but you were very well versed in picking up on genuine animosity towards superiors.

“I’m not entirely sure what you could possibly want to know that I have the answers to,” you said and turned to face him, “but I would love the excuse to skip a meeting.”

The sand was warm between your toes when you stepped onto the shore. A breeze stirred and kicked up the granules which bit at your skin. Lem walked beside you in silence for a while, swinging his loafers in his hand.  You looked out at the water, mind flashed with reluctant images of two bodies, bare and bruised, rolling in the surf.

“What’s it like?” your companion finally said, pulling you from your not so work appropriate thoughts.

“What’s what like?”

You turned to see Lem shaking his head and looking down at his feet.

“Working for the Order,” he clarified and you couldn’t stop the scoff before it blew past your lips.

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that’s what you really wanted to ask me?”

Lem held up a hand in surrender and swung to face you, “I promise, I’m being perfectly honest.” When you didn’t say anything, he continued, tone much softer under the crashing waves. “Are you always this mistrustful?”

You were certain that was meant to be a rhetorical question, but it triggered a bit of uncomfortable introspection. The answer was clearly yes, that was a given, a requirement. Of course you were, everyone who played the game of politics and treaties and thinly veiled threats was constantly waiting for someone to change loyalties at the flip of a switch. That was the rules, no one ever trusted anyone else father than they could shoot them. Alliances only worked when the playing parties were mutually benefitting or consistently in the other’s line of fire.

Truthfully, you hadn’t trusted a single soul since your academy days, and even that was questionable. You couldn’t trust your staff to do their jobs right, and the only conversations they ever had with you was nothing more than ass kissing lacking in both subtlety and class. The higher ups used you as a convenient garbage dump for all their internal screw ups.

Any human interaction you’d had during your time in negotiations was—stripped down to its roots—simply because someone wanted something from you.  

Intentions mattered, anyone who said otherwise was only kidding themselves.

“Work is fine, pay is good,” you kept your tone short, “why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I always wondered what it would be like to work for them.”

“Well, I’d say it’s exactly what you’d expect,” you backed quickly away from the incoming tide, trying not to ruin any more clothing that you already had.

“I don’t know,” Lem shrugged and followed you farther up the beach, “I figured it would be more exciting than this.”

He gestured around vaguely at the villa and the ocean. Your balcony visible from here, you realized. Soon the two of you would walk right across the patch of sand where you and the Commander had tumbled desperately into each other. When you had—

“It isn’t,” you quickly nipped that train of thought in the bud. “Just the same sport on a bigger playing field.”

“You’re not doing a very good job of representing your product,” Lem quipped.

“Well thankfully I’m a diplomat, not a salesman.”

You were standing right by the path to your rooms now, in between the parted grass you could still see the imprints of massive feet. Kylo must have carried you back last night, cold and wet and debauched. You could almost see him, muscles in his back rippling, your weight barely registering as he walked on legs like tree trunks up the small incline. The water would be dripping off his hair, coating each pretty strand and leaching away its softness.

“Isn’t it all the same evil though,” Lem mused, pausing next to you on the beach, completely unaware of what the sand here had witnessed only a few hours ago.

“Depends on what you define as evil.”

You wondered if Kylo could see you now, if he could hear you—really hear you. Wondered if you’d ever get to know what went on inside his head. Wondered if you’d even want to. Maybe that made you evil. Or maybe you were just weak.

“I think you’d know better than me,” Lem was staring off at the water when you turned and his neat hair parted with the breeze.

“Why’s that?” you asked, facing back to stare into the window to your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of something.

Just something.

“Well homicide isn’t included in my negotiating arsenal for one thing,” he huffed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I’ve never killed anyone.”

You didn’t know why you whispered the words, didn’t know why you said them at all, but there they were drifting out to sea like a rudderless ship.

“Why not?”

“Never had too,” you said simply, “not directly at least.”

Lem hummed thoughtfully, “But would you?”

You were still staring up at the curtain covered window.

“Is that what you think evil is?”

“That’s what I think devotion is,” Lem replied simply. “The evil is in refusing.”

A shadow passed across the glass, tall and menacing and real.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, after a moment of silence.

“Don’t know what?”

You shook your head, “I don’t know if I would kill someone, personally I mean.”

“Fair enough,” the sound of skipping shells rang out behind you as Lem spoke, “I don’t think anyone really knows until the knife is in their hand and the throat is under it.”

You aren’t going to die.

You could hear Kylo’s voice and the crashing of the sea—or maybe it was something else, something else entirely that was churning around you. Something red and crackling.

An act of devotion.  

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

***

You could feel his eyes on you the second you returned. It was well into the night after a day of meetings that ran too long. But one quick scan of the room and you came up empty of brooding men in flowing black robes. Despite his lack of physical presence, you swore you could feel staring, tracking the uneven movement of your legs as you took a step further from the door.

Kylo Ren was here somewhere, you could feel the weight of him, filling up all the extra space in the air.

The sullen feeling of being watched followed you, making your skin flush with gooseflesh, while you stood in the middle of the room. Something moved in the shadows of the balcony. You caught just a twitch from the corner of your vision, the heel of boot pulled back into the dark.

So that’s where he was hiding. Or maybe lurking was a more appropriate word for it.

When your eyes had adjusted to the low light of the moon, you could just barely make him out. Kylo was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the horizon, leaning back against the rail of the balcony. You couldn’t see his face, but you could easily imagine the blank, drawn expression. The regal tilt of his jaw and the sculpted profile of his prominent nose. The slight peek of his ears between dark waves of hair.

You paused for a moment, debating whether or not you cared enough to fill him in on what you’d gathered that morning. Lem had been more forthcoming with you for the rest of the day after your heart to heart and you’d been able to create a halfway decent profile of your target by the end of your last meeting. But there was palpable tension in the room that you couldn’t quite place, and it felt like one wrong step might find you backed up against the wall, feet dangling and throat crushed in an invisible grip.

Turning, you sat yourself gingerly on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes. When you dropped them to the ground though, you heard the rustling of paper. Scattered on the floor was the tattered remains of a padded envelope. You frowned, picking up one of the scraps to try and make out the writing.

Your name was scrawled in messy print, torn halfway through.

It was only when you noticed the small shreds of fabric littered among the mess that you realized what you were holding.

“I’ll have one of the aides send for some seaside appropriate attire, you might find you’d like to go for a swim.”

“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.”

It was the package Lem had given you days ago. You’d nearly forgotten about the awful conversation with Gahl your first night on Coruscant. Some part of you was glad you’d never have to see it in one piece, the memory of his hand on your thigh still made you gag.

You grabbed a piece of the ruined material and felt the rough outline of lace under your fingertips.

From the balcony there came the sound of shuffling boots as Ren adjusted himself and turned away from you to look out over the sea.

“You really shouldn’t open mail that isn’t addressed to you, sir,” you mumbled under your breath, but got no response.

In fact, the entire room was littered with the remnants of your gift from the representative. You wondered how long he’d been sitting there sulking over it. Something in your chest swelled at the thought of him, eye twitching just before he ripped the garment to shreds. You could hear the shout that would have torn through his throat.

Really, he fucks you once and he’s already jealous? Very unprofessional.

The thought did wonders for your ego.

And wreaked havoc on your incredibly sore pussy, that clenched involuntarily against a new rush of warmth.

But however much sick pride you took in exposing the Commander’s inability to control himself, you couldn’t shake the twinge of annoyance that bubbled constantly under the surface of your mind whenever Kylo Ren was involved.  

The boots, the cryptic half answers, the unclear label for whatever the hell had happened between the two of you buried in each other on the sand— that was one thing.

But this was a slippery slope and you weren’t one for simply riding along without question.

“Tell me what you want.”

That’s what he always said, be a shame if Ren couldn’t hold himself to the same standards.

Without bothering to look back at him, you stood back up from the bed, proudly displayed at the center of the room.

Slowly you lifted your arms, pulling away your top and letting it drop with a soft thump to the floor. You didn’t see him turn at the sound, but you felt it. Could sense where his eyes alighted on your bare back. They lit fiery trails wherever he paused on the blooms of broken blood vessels under your skin. You did your best not to shudder under his stare.

You worked slowly, peeling each layer off piece by piece. Made a show of it, ran your fingers along the soft skin of your arms and gave him a lovely view of your ass when you bent down to roll off your socks. You could hear the catch in his breath so faint under the sound of the wind, and wondered if he could see the wetness glinting off your thighs in the low light.

Wondered if he could smell it on you.

Never once did you turn to face him, waiting until you were completely bare to walk ever so slowly into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open behind you. Flicking on the soft lights you started the shower with a frustratingly shaky hand. Warm water rushed through the pipes and drowned out any sound from the main room.

You stepped past the two tile walls that blocked off the shower and let the stream of water tumble over you. It poured like a waterfall, cocooning you in the stream of it. You waited patiently to see what the Commander would do, if he’d take the bait.

Of course he did.

You didn’t have to wait for very long.

He took up the entire doorway when he entered, a massive wall of muscle and sinew that towered over you in a way no one ever had before.

It was thrilling.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, voice low and layered with poorly restrained need.

Kylo was still fully clothed, but the hard outline of his cock was clear against his thigh. You let the water run over your breasts, cupping them as though you were one of those ornate stone fountains.

“What does it look like?”

He rolled his lips, “All I see is a whore who has no idea what she’s getting herself into.”

He was right, you didn’t. But you wanted it anyway.

“Hmm,” you nodded. “So why don’t you show me?”

You stepped out of the water, leaving puddles behind as you crossed over to him, standing just out of arm's reach. Kylo’s fingers clenched at his sides, his neck tilted down to stare at the water running down your chest.

What happened next was not at all what you’d expected.

You’d thought he might snap the way he often did, might yell or bend you over the vanity and give you even more marks that would smart in the morning. But he did none of that.

Instead he lifted a single hand, his arm impossibly long and reaching you despite the distance. The second his fingertips landed on your skin, the world went black.

You felt like you were falling, your stomach doing flips as you tumbled through darkness. Everything was coming in flashes. Your feet—well no not yours, Kylo’s you realized—sticking in viscous black sludge that clung in sticky trails along the skin of your—his—legs.

A pit, gaping and horrible.

Something burning, something blistering and crackling and raging red. It rose above you, flowing strangely like liquid sloshing and rolling like a flash flood and you staggered back. Something was rushing by your ears, light blurring in front of your eyes like a ship just about to jump into hyperspace. All of sudden, you were hurtled back into the present gasping and pitching forward into the Commander’s solid chest.

He didn’t push you away, just stood as you breathed him in and tried to plant your feet firmly on the ground.

“What was that?”

Your voice sounded so small after the intense roaring of whatever he’d shown you. Kylo’s hand threaded into the hair at the base of your skull and yanked back until your knees buckled under the force and you hung limply from his grip.

“You would do well to listen when I say you have no idea what’s at stake here,” he hissed and you clawed at his hands.

“Maybe if you bothered to explain it to me, I’d be more inclined to agree!”

He shook you violently and you tried to kick your feet under you but the slick tiles offered no leverage. Kylo dropped a hand, fumbling with the button on his pants.

“I think you’re far too busy parading yourself around like the little slut you are.”

In one smooth motion, he freed his cock from the confines of his trousers. It was just as massive as you remember, red and leaking white beads of precum. He gave it two long strokes, holding you at eye level with his dick.

You really ought to keep your mouth shut, but despite the pain in your scalp, your cunt was clenching at the sight of rock hard and weeping for you.

“Am I a slut or are you just a possessive bastard?”

You could pinpoint the exact moment Kylo Ren snapped. The change was subtle, a short grinding of his jaw, just a flicker of his eyes before he had your head slammed down on the vanity, ass up and knees spread for him to settle between.

His hand in your hair tilted your head up so you could watch as he guided his length to your soaked lips. He coated himself in your slick, circling your entrance and nudging your stiff clit with every stroke.

“Watch and you tell me,” he grunted before ramming his cock into you.

It burned and stretched until you felt him in your throat, a choked moan rattling out of your mouth. You could do nothing but watch your reflection, tears beading at the corners of your eyes when he pulled out only to thrust back in. Kylo set a savage pace, the sound of slapping skin and his groans echoed around you.

You watched his face in the mirror, flushed bright red, one hand still on your head and the other steadying your hips as he drove into you. The drag of him was delicious, pulling pleasure out of places so deep you’d nearly forgotten they existed.

“So desperate for your Commander’s cock, aren’t you?” he growled, draping himself over your back.

His chest pinned your harder into the marble vanity, crushing your breasts against the cool surface while the hand on your hip reached around and pressed hard into your stomach just above your pussy.

“Feel that? Feel how this cunt was made for me?”

Kylo’s head dropped to your shoulder and his teeth sunk into the flesh, muffling the obscene moan that rumbled between his ribs when you tightened yourself around him. You whined, nipples straining against the cold stone and neglected clit begging for attention.

“Kylo, please,” you sobbed, forgetting the game entirely, all confidence leaking away and replaced by a hunger only he could sate.

“No,” he snarled, rearing back and yanking your head up with him. “You don’t get to beg now.”

You were absolutely ruined, skin more bruised than not and mouth hanging open in a silent cry. He met your gaze through the mirror, and you were entirely convinced it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Kylo’s lovely brown eyes were completely black with lust, his hair a crown of sweat soaked curls and a lovely blush that spread all the way to his ears. Plush lips pulled back to show his crooked teeth that splayed out like white gemstones.

He looked every bit a dark, magnificent prince. A fallen angel or a devil or any number of cruel celestial beings—in any case the man above you could not be human.

And yet, you knew he was.

You’d been gifted with the evidence of it, painted him with purple blossoms and seen him bare with scars and freckles and your favorite mole above his gorgeous full lips. The way his breath always smelled like toothpaste.

In all your life you’d never been known to take orders well from any man, but staring at Kylo Ren as he pounded his massive cock into you—meeting you head on without restraint, a comeback always at the tip of his skilled tongue—you thought you might not mind it so much if it was him.

And then his hips stilled, and he was looping your arms around his neck and pawing at your thighs before locking his arms under them and lifting you up, back against his chest.

“Fuck, Kylo—” you yelped at the change of angle and the strength of his arms to keep you aloft.

The shower sprayed down on him, soaking his clothes as he leaned back against the tile wall and fucked you on his cock. The mirror provided a full view of your bodies joining. You watched entranced as his arms flexed, biceps bulging while your pussy swallowed his length and your tits bounced with every thrust.

“That’s the only name I ever want to hear out of your mouth.”

He turned his face into your neck, lips and teeth sucking and nipping at the skin. It was too much, too much and not enough and you were overcome once again with the feeling of something filling in all your hollow spaces. And you knew in your bones straight to the marrow that the pit filled with churning, crackling magma was bubbling up again, accepting everything Kylo poured into you.

You clung on to the feeling and shouted through it.

Kylo, you called, breath coming in ragged gasps.

You were so close from just his cock in you, but it wasn’t enough.

You weren’t sure if anything ever would be.

Kylo, you repeated it like a holy word, long forgotten and imbued with the power of ancient gods.

He buried his head deeper into the column of your throat, squeezing his eye shut as if that could block out your cries.  

Kylokylokylokylokylokylo, you chanted in a never ending string until the dam finally broke and you felt his thoughts slipping into you like they’d always belonged there, like there had always been space for them.

It was all too jumbled for you to parse any meaning from it. Snippets of red hot anger revealed themselves to you in a shower of manilla paper. Voices, dark and malevolent whispered of challengers and danger and design. Your body, motionless on the bed painted in ropes of his release and the comforting weight of you in his arms, real, alive, willing and wanting.

Take me, if you didn’t know better you’d think he was the one begging, take all of me .

You nodded and nudged him with your nose until his lips were crashing against yours in a flurry of hot tongue and teeth. His arms left your thighs which remained impossibly in place, held up by invisible hands as he grasped at your chest, rolling a hard nipple under his thumb while the other found your clit and finally, finally rubbed frantic circles around the neglected nerves.

Kylo’s hips never stopped their frantic pace, his cock reaching its limit inside you, and finally he was cumming, sheathed in your heat and pumping you blessedly full while he sent you tumbling over the edge with him.

And as the waves of pleasure radiated over your skin, boiled in your bloodstream—as Kylo licked the backs of your teeth and swallowed down every cry that left you—everything faded out around the edges once again, although now for much more pleasurable reasons.

***

When you opened your eyes again, you were laying in bed. The sheets were damp, but not uncomfortably so.

And this time, you were not alone. Kylo’s hands, massive and all encompassing were splayed against your stomach and chest, one cupping your left breast gently in his palm. His body engulfed you from behind, bare skin hot against yours.

So hot, you thought something inside him must be burning.

Maybe it was.

Kylo? you wondered silently, unsure he could still hear you.

I’m here.

His hand on your chest flexed as he pulled you tighter. Something told you this was not the first time he’d held you like this, there was something too practiced about the placement of his body.

What is this?

You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by that, but he seemed to understand the question.

He was silent for a moment, I don’t know.

The lie was apparent the moment the words drifted into your head. And confirmation was echoed back to you. He knew, or at least knew some of it, just wouldn’t tell you.

That was okay, you hadn’t really expected anything else.

You’re safe with me, he whispered instead.

And that was not entirely true either, in fact you would not be here if not for him. But all of this had a certain inevitability about it that you couldn’t place. A feeling that this would have happened regardless, or a version of it with the same outcome.

You closed your eyes against the thought and nodded, letting yourself be held like you had so often dreamed of on lonely nights in your small quarters

You were safe then, safe but empty.

And really, that was so much worse.

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

Taglist lovelies;

@thewilddingleberries​ @kit-jpg​ @findyourdarkness​ @contesa-lui-alucard​ @isaxhorror​ @obsessionprofessional​

[marvelmadam08]

Baby Blues 11/?

Summary: Ace goes to his first doctor’s visit, and Alex checks in with her doctor.

Warnings: First shots, crying, doctor visits, slight jealousy. Fluffy Dad!Chris content. Body insecurities, health concerns, and mentions of sex.

A/N: Rest in Power to Chadwick Boseman, our Black Panther and King. He gave us so much while battling cancer, not just Black Panther. The work he has done in the amount of time he had left a mark, and cannot be replicated. Chadwick Boseman has been such a force in Hollywood that no one could ever forget him. My heart goes out to all his close friends and family.

Also, let’s not make this about Black Panther 2.

~~~~~~

6 Weeks Old

“I mean they can program a robot to perform surgery on a grape but they still have to jab a n-e-e-d-l-e into my baby’s skin for vaccinations.” Alex glared at a few of the other moms in the waiting room, eyeing Chris up and down with Ace. 

Chris fed him while Alex filled out the medical file. He was noisy drinking from the bottle, but he took to bottle feeding easier than Alex expected. She watched from the corner of her eye, Chris was a natural, jumping right into action whenever Ace needed something. Seeing him walk around the house with Ace never got old. He was always singing songs to him, some made up. Alex’s favorite so far was the one called ‘Doggies Are Friendly’, in attempts to get Ace to warm up to Dodger. No luck.

Overall seeing Chris Evans with a baby was enough to get any woman excited, and willing to give him more. So she could understand the gazes he got from the other moms, but that didn’t mean she had to just sit there and let them undress her husband with their eyes.

“Al, he can’t understand you.” He watched Ace, unaware of the extra eyes lusting after him

“He’s intuitive Chris, he knows what I mean." Alex frowned, thinking about the how upset Ace would be once he got his shots. She always thought her mother was being overprotective when she was younger but now she understood it completely. She could hear him crying now, and the thought made her eyes sting.

Chris finally looked up, after hearing the infliction in Alex’s voice ”What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say that, we’re not gonna bottle up our feelings.” 

She half shrugged “I guess it’s a mental thing. I mean I know he has to get the shots- I just feel like I’m a monster, purposefully putting him through pain.”

“Baby, it’s a required check up, the first of many shots down the road. You aren’t a monster, you’re a mother.” 

“Evans?” the nurse called out from behind the counter

“Are you gonna be okay?” Chris asked as they stood, shifting Ace against his shoulder to burp him

“If you’re asking me if I’m gonna cry, I’m making no promises.” she quickly admitted

Alex hovered over the nurse while she weighed and measured Ace, and checked his heartbeat. Ace’s face when the cold stethoscope touched his chest was adorably deadpan. However, Chris was the one with all the questions, discussing development stages with the nurse the entire time. Going over Ace’s feeding and sleeping routine, asking if the amount of sleep was too little or too much. Would changing the baby wipes would cause any rashes. How soon would it be before hiding out if he was actually allergic to food or animals. And he jotted it all down in his phone, Alex stopped the nurse short when she offered to give Chris her number for any future questions.

“Al, I can hold him.” Chris offered once it was time for the vaccine shots

“No, it’s fine. I can handle it.” She kept Ace’s head turned away facing Chris. The nurse took a step closer, syringe in hand, Alex moved away slightly. “Sorry.”

The nurse tried again, Alex turned the other way.

“Mrs. Evans, I need you to stop moving him.”

“Al-”

“Okay, you hold him.” she conceded, before handing Ace over to Chris

She chewed her nail and watched from her new spot. Ace cried the second the nurse stuck him, Chris felt tears rising to his eyes. He went to wipe them away before anyone could see but more spilled over hearing the cries getting louder. Ace fidgeted against Chris, a heartbreaking attempt for him to move away from whatever stuck him.

“It’s okay baby.” Alex did her best to soothe him while the nurse prepped for another shot. She looked up at Chris, his cheeks wet but he kept his face straight, Alex wiped the tears away from her husband’s face before repeating “It’s okay baby.”

Seeing Ace’s lip poke out while the nurse moved in to stick him again nearly made Chris go into full defense mode, but he bit the inside of his cheek when the crying started again. Ace’s, not his.

“It’s okay honey, we’re all done with the shots.” the nurse soothed, covering the puncture points with small smiley face band-aids

“Yay, all done!” Alex clapped while Chris kissed the top of his son’s head to calm him “You okay?” Alex gave her husband some comforting back rubs

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He sniffled

"Good because now we have to go to my appointment."

***

After chewing down the nails on her left hand, Alex was half through her right one when she was called into her doctor’s exam room. Chris offered to go in with her, but she quickly declined, knowing she would have to be undressed for part, if not most, of the check-up. She done her own self-examination last night, seeing how different she looked down there. 

She didn’t want to be vain about it, but the first thing that popped in her head once she looked was how much she needed to get a wax. The second was equally as vain as it was humbling when she thought about having sex with Chris again. Her husband, AKA, Captain freaking America, who could eat to his hearts content and still come out looking as cut as the day she met him. Alex wanted to kick him and kiss him at the same time.

“Well Alex,” her doctor spoke, going over her notes “my main concern for you right now, is your blood pressure. It’s a little higher than usual, what’s your diet like at home?”

“More red meat than before, loads of pasta.” Alex paused to think “I tried string peas, y’know just for research purposes, surprisingly good.”

She chuckled “I tended to lean towards the squash when my first kid was born, but peas were a close second. What about stress?”

Alex shrugged “Fine, I guess. I mean, I can deal with it.”

“Alex, you can’t take this lightly. Stress can be just as harmful as smoking, for both you and your son. You are still breast feeding right?”

“Yes, and I started pumping.”

She jotted down some more notes “Mhmm, and how’s that going? No issues? Low milk supply? Pain while nursing?”

“Aside from the nipple chaffing, not really.” Alex picked at her nails, her doctor noticed

“Alex, I can’t help if you’re not one hundred percent honest with me. It’s bad enough we have doctors that downplay our symptoms because of a bullshit theory that Black people, specifically Black women, have higher pain tolerance. Don’t put on a brave face, not when it comes to your health.”

“Well when you put it like that- I hate pumping, I hate feeding sometimes too. It’s like a bunch of pins and needles sticking me when I do it, just sucking the life out of me. I don’t recognize my body anymore, and I’m warning you now, it’s not pretty down there. As for the stress, my husband and I have been fighting over what’s best for Ace, and our marriage. Which makes me concerned for when I go back to working. My Dad damn near broke his back, my son won’t sleep for longer than an hour, and I think he hates our family dog.” Alex exhaled a sharp breath 

“You feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“If you don’t like the feel you have when pumping when why do it?”

“Chris wants to be included in feed Alexander, my son, which I get. He’s gonna be back and forth between working and home again, so he wants his chance to bond with him.”

“But breast feeding is also uncomfortable to you?”

“Only when he fights trying to latch, but once he does and he’s calm, it’s worth it.”

“Have you ever considered formula? Lots of new moms do it, even rotated between that and breast milk. It’s actually proven to help both the mom and the baby.”

“We’ve talked about it, I voted against it.”

“I’m not saying you should, ultimately it’s your choice, but I will recommend, giving it a shot considering the stress you might be going through.” she scribbled down a few more notes “Now physically, how do you feel?”

“In my vagina?”

“There too. Please scoot forward and lay back for me.”

Alex followed orders and put her legs in the stirrups “Mostly tired, out of everything I’m exhausted. I’ve been walking to try and slim down a bit, but the weight isn’t going anywhere.”

“That’s to be expected, a lot of new moms hope for the baby weight to drop right off.” Alex’s doctor explained while pulling on her gloves “However, a lot of it is your uterus trying to shrink back to it’s regular size after being stretched out for nine months. Perfectly normal to like your body isn’t the same anymore, because it’s not. It gets easier the more kids you have.”

Alex chuckled “I don’t plan on having another one for a while.”

“Are you taking birth control?”

“No, Ace’s spit up on my clothes is all the birth control I need right now.” Alex shifted slightly “Plus I don’t really get in the mood too often now a days. Not sure if it’s emotional or mental but I’m just not ready to bring intimacy back in just yet.”

“Well physically, you’re good to go. Stitches are all healed, no signs of infection or tears. I will recommend going easy though, as well as a birth control, in case your mood changes.”

“Thanks, what do you recommend for my marriage?” Alex asked jokingly

“I have an acquaintance who’s a marriage counselor. I can give you her contact information if you like.”

“Um- I think I’ll pass this time Doc.”

“Okay then, I’ll let you get dressed and just talk to Toni at the desk before you leave to set up your next appointment.”

Chris stood once he saw Alex reenter the waiting room, Ace was fast asleep in the carrier.

“What did your doctor say? How are you doing?”

Alex did her best not to hesitate “A little concerned about my diet, said my blood pressure was a bit high, but overall-”

“Are you okay?”

“Chris, let me finish.” she gave him a reassuring smile “I gotta fix my diet, limit my stress and my blood pressure will be fine.”

“What did she say about- other things?” he hinted, a light blush creeping to his cheeks

“Well- my insatiable husband- I should wait a little longer. Nothing is wrong it’s just what she recommends.”

Chris nodded “Okay, not a problem.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders “We’ll wait, doctor’s orders.”

“Doctor’s orders.”

[yamithediaperdork]

Don’t be a git all your life (Harry potter, XXX, ye be warned.)

Draco whined as he looked at himself in the mirror. here he was, a year 7 student and 18 god damn years old and because he kept wetting the bed every night for 2 weeks he was being forced to wear nappies at night by his own uncle. Truthfully he should of been nappied after his third strike but Snape twisted the rules as much as he could before even he had to make Draco pad up. Still it was easier to be mad at Snape then himself, and besides that Draco was still sure someone was making him wet despite being told that was stupid. Little did Snape or anyone else in the slytherin dorm that Draco was actually quite right. Not only had some of his late night snacks been tampered with thanks to help from students in hufflepuff, but his nappies had been toyed with as well, though the blond prat wouldn't find out how for a anther half hour at least as over in the gryffindor dorm they were waiting for things to quiet down for the night. Shockingly or not quite so much, with the ridicule the former top dog of slytherin had endured over his bed wetting and with Snape deciding to pamper him for the night well before Draco would of normally gone to bed, the blond decided to forgo his normal habit of sitting in the common room and being snide. Even Crab and Goyle had taken to calling him pee pants so he locked himself in his private room and decided to lay down early, only to groan and huff as the bed crinkled under him, Uncle Snape had gotten him rubber sheets to go with the terrycloth diapers and rubber pants. "Fuck my life.." Draco whined and tugged a pillow over his head.

"So, are we sure this will really work?" Ron asked for about the 12th time and making Hermione roll her eyes. "Maybe I should of teased it on you first if you think I don't know what I'm doing." she snapped, making the ginger go paler then normal. "You wouldn't! Harry!" Ron whined and looked to his best friend for help. "Hermione don't tease Ron like that. and sides, he's YOUR boyfriend..do you really wanna share him?" Harry asked. "Hmmmm touche..I guess your save for now." she teased and kissed Ron's cheek, then in a lower voice added "your still getting pegged tonight." The fact Ron was his girlfriends little butt slut wasn't exactly a well kept secret with Ron being a moaner and a pillow biter didn't really matter to him as he went crimson all over. it was in fact the problem of him being a little butt slut that had lead to tonight's fun and Draco's impending humiliation. Once Draco had learned of how the mud blood and the weasley did it, he'd gone out of his way to ridicule Ron and play up Hermione as some sort of butch lesbian, and had started up false rumors that Ron dressed like a pretty princess for her. needless to say gryffindor as a whole had decided to do something about it, and found the perfect revenge. the diapers that Draco currently had pinned snugly to his hips had been enchanted and weren't coming off till they were thoroughly soaked and were part of a niffy little portal spell. more to the point, the part where things came out, with it directed right at the blonds virgin though not for much longer's rosebud. the entrance for said portal was a flesh light that all the boys in the dorm were gonna make use of tonight. there was course a risk Draco would go running for help but Hermione and Harry doubted it, Draco would of been too mortified to waddle out in the bulky diaper while having his black cherry stolen.

Draco was having a miserable time trying to drift off, the crinkling of the sheets and his pants was bugging him plus if he was being honest he was used to rubbing one out before bed. Again he hadn't counted on how early his uncle had wanted to pad him and now here was, nappied like a baby and getting semi wood off and on despite NOT having a thing for the fucking things. With all the baby powder uncle Snape had used, Draco knew he'd have it under his finger nails and if Uncle Snape checked..so just reaching in there and helping himself out was out of the question. and there was no way in hell he was gonna risk pillow humping. it would be just his luck with how things were going as of late that he'd be fucking a pillow/the diapers and someone would come in. with his rep at a all time low as was, he didn't even wanna think about the rumors that would spread though the school if that happened. Laying on his back and trying to push out how much he wanted to rub one out and tune out the crinkling, Draco was trying to count sheep in his mind when something odd started to happen in the back of the nappy. Something was poking him..poking between his cheeks and then press on his.. "..Oh fuck all kinds of no!" Draco squeaked out even as he A) figured out was in his diaper and b) the head of a fat cock slipped into his hole.

"Fuck me, tight little git!" Harry grunted, sliding the flesh light down his 7 inch cock and making a face. "well always said he was a tight ass." Fred joked. him and George had come back for the night after hearing the plan, along with some other past members of the dorm. "Come on Harry, you're not gonna let a little thing like a tight hole stop you are you?" one of the other boys joked. "man, if potter can't get in I'm screwed." Oliver joked, stroking his 11 inches of fuck meat. "In hindsight, should of let Hermione go first.. fake cocks don't get bendy dick." Harry joked, pulling the flesh light back, and then ramming it back down.  "AHHH! THERE we go!"

Draco Screamed into his pillow, glad that for the most part his room was much more sound proof then anything anyone else had as the fat cock rammed it's way in and suddenly he was no longer a anal virgin. "No No no no no!" Draco whimpered and thrashed about, the fat cock was pushing all the way and FUCK!  it was hitting something in him that made his whimpers of despair turn into a slutty moan. 'ok..nope. I'm NOT being turned into a fucking butt slut.' Draco thought   rolling onto his back (which sadly helped the cock assaulting him get in deeper with each thrust and had Draco mewing like a fucking kitten, he moved his hands to try and tug off the diapers, he'd risk soaking the bed and getting a spanking from Uncle Snape if it meant stopping this before he assgasumed. Only as he tried to tug the baby pants down they refused to move. he couldn't even get his fingers under the slick material and whined, figuring uncle Snape had enchanted it to keep him 'honest', though then again he doubted his uncle would of arranged for him to take the dicking he was getting at the moment. 'then again, he's a weird one.. I keep finding pictures of Harry where he's drawn potters mothers hair on the kid..' Draco thought then gasped and clenched his cheeks. every fucking thrust was coming in harder and hard and hitting Draco's special place and the blond formally hetero boy found himself bouncing up and down in his diapers, trying to get the dick to hit his happy spot harder. refusing to surrender to just cumming from his ass, or at least that's how Draco painted it in his mind, he reached down and rubbed the front of his nappies with both hands.

"F-Fuck me! he's helping!" Harry gasped pumping the flesh light rapidly and wondering if he was going to end up with a right arm twice the size of the left if he kept this up. "Ha! knew he'd give in." Ron said and stroked his teenie cock, using a thumb and a finger on his 2 inches of glory. "Hurry up harry! I'm next!" "Oh Sweetie..Um..Maybe you should tamper your expectations.." Hermione said, sweat dropping as some of the other boys laughed. "What's that suppose to mean?" Ron huffed. "It Means she's not pegging you cuz your a hung stud ya git." George laughed. "I-I can still fuck! Hermione tell them how much you love it when we do it without the strap-on!" Ron whined and squeaked. "Ron, Sweetie? don't embarrasses yourself and just use this." Hermione said and handed her cute little dick lover the strap-on as Hary cried out and fired off a load. "...this is so unfair." Ron grumbled. "Aww, I'll use the blue dragon tonight after if you stop whining." "The blue.." Fred started "dragon?" George asked, both of them wearing amused looks. "Y-You two shut it." Ron whined and then took the modest 6 inch long but very thick dildo from his girlfriend and kissed her cheek, whispering deal in her ear.

Fuck, Draco had just creamed hard and taken a load up the ass. he could feel anther man's seed slowly leaking out of his once tight hole as he laid on his side, trying to recover. 'at least it's over..no way someone who just filled me THAT much has anther load in him..' Draco thought, looking down at his slightly puffy tummy and pushed a hand on it. instantly a wet farting noise was heard and he scudded up his face as he involuntary shat out a heaping load of man milk. '..right..lesson learned. don't do that.' Draco thought and whined, hugging a pillow close and getting ready to shut his eyes. cue a new challenger approaching and suddenly he was more stuffed then before, spit flying out of his mouth and bark coming out from the force. the small part of Draco able to think as this new massive intruder stuffed noted this had the makings of a VERY long night indeed.

After stuffing Draco and unknown to Ron, bringing him to 3 earth shattering orgasm, it was time to share the fun. every boy in the dorm and a few of the girls taking what was known as the Granger approach had they're fun with the flesh light, it was time for the main event. In truth, it had been a semi kindness on the behalf of the gryffindor's to have everyone else go first as by this point Draco's hole had been opened up and transformed from just a shitter to a full fledged boi pussy. Still if Olivier had gone first Draco might of ended up in the medical ward. Having a bit of a heart and knowing how many girls he'd left bow legged for hours, the ex captain of the team made sure to lube his horse cock up nice and slick and while he was more then a little eager to bust a nut, he took it slow for Draco's sake. Or at least that had been the plan but after waiting a hour for his turn, the second he felt the hot sloppy hole what was Draco's new pussy the stud's self control went out the window and he beat his meat with the flesh light like it owned him money.

"F-Fuck..So..So much..My..My ass.." Draco had need groaning, one his belly with his head hanging out over the bed with a waste bucket under him. the bucket itself had a coating of cum that the poor blond had ended up puking out because his guts where getting so filled and he was all but broken. "Puh..puhlease..nuh moar.." Draco whimpered. his cock couldn't even fire off any more shots of cum and he had been drygasming for the past three dicks. Somehow he didn't think his plea was gonna be answered and so he tried to push out as much cum into the seat of his swelled nappies as he could, not even sure if he had shit himself for real and vaguely recalling he had pissed himself once or twice. His efforts to dump his bowels were short lived as the biggest cock yet rammed it's way home and it was just too much for poor Draco, who deep down knew he deserved every second of this punishment and the blond blacked out.

Snape was tried and grumpy, well grumpier then normal but he knew he should do one last check before bed to make sure Draco had kept his diapers on. of course he could of locked them on but the prospect of doing that and then the boy -ugh- soiling himself and expecting Snape to help him change was more then a little unpleasant to picture. opening the door to his nephew's private room however the last thing he'd expected to find was Draco with his eyes wide up but glazed over and foaming at the month, making weak mewing noises and the back of the boys diaper was moving on it's own. the smell in the room was one of semen and shame and Snape toyed with what to do..then did the smart thing. he turned around and walked out, pretending he hadn't seen shit and left this headache for someone else.

In the whole messy aftermath Draco was left changed in many many ways. he found himself unable to cum anymore unless his ass was being used like a pussy and found himself needing diapers 24/7 for both needs even though he'd been healed up. His studies tanked and he was basically kept at the school by the grace of Snape and dumbledore who pitied the boy.. and by the fact in a degrading way Draco became more popular then ever as the boys was just a needy cock slut. Harry and the others were never busted though it was implied several times by various teachers that they had figured out what happened and the flesh light? Harry had decided to the disappointment of many that it was too dangerous to keep around their dorm, but did find it a new home in the hufflepuff dorm.

the end

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day seven

Prompt #6: “That was impressive.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Hayden Romero, Scott McCall

Triggers: Discussion of Death

Words: 1711

Author’s Note: Hayden’s adjusting super well to being a werewolf. Adjusting is what she does. But adjusting to everything else that happened to her... That might be a little more of a struggle. Set post-5B, pre 6A. Hayden POV. For @daughterofluthien

>> incremental steps

Running.

So fast and so far and so strong it feels like she’s flying, leaves kicking up under the balls of her feet and wind ripping freely through her hair.

It’s her favorite part of her new body.

She’s always loved to run, first out in the backyard with her sister and then on the field for soccer, but running alone has always been her favorite. It feels like nothing—no one—can ever catch her, ever tell her to stop.

There’s a power that thrums through her veins now, buzzing in time to the rhythm of her steps. This is running the entire preserve in under a half hour without pausing for breath; it’s pushing up off the ground and landing a dozen yards away without even trying, it’s leaping off a ledge and flipping three times midair to land—

“Oh, shit!”

It’s the quick pivoting of the body below her that saves her from crashing headfirst into it more than anything else, but the impact still sends both of them tumbling into the dirt.

“Sorry!” Hayden scrambles upright first, spitting leaves and shaking twigs out of her hair, slowly bringing her senses back down to the present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

She takes in the grey henley, crooked jaw, and surprisingly chill attitude at getting blindsided from a height of thirty feet. “Wait, Scott?”

“That’s me,” he says, sounding far too cheerful for the situation as he brushes his shirt off.

Hayden blinks, trying to refocus her eyes and tune out the sound of their heartbeats, hers purring gleefully along from her run, and his idling at a much more sedate pace. Her brow furrows.

“But—what’re you even doing out here? I thought you guys had lacrosse practice—” A new thought occurs to her and her blood pressure spikes, crashing her fully back into reality. “Wait, were you following me?”

“Uh.”

That’s a yes.

All the freedom she’d felt to just be from earlier vanishes, now viewed from the perspective of an outsider.

“So you saw—” Hayden flushes, remembering the excessive flipping she’d done. “Oh, god.”

“No, it’s okay, really.” Scott heaves himself back onto his feet, nodding towards the ledge she’d just jumped from. “Actually, I, uh—I was just going to say that was impressive.”

Hayden feels like the words should be mocking, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“…Oh.” She hadn’t been expecting that, and a warm rush of pride overtakes the heat of embarrassment. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Scott’s smile is warm, too. “I just—you’ve been adjusting to your powers really well. Faster than most people.”

Hayden’s pretty used to adjusting to things. Losing her parents, her kidney, her life. Gaining something for once is a nice change.

She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I had powers before the bite, even if they were a little different. Guess being a fish boy’s science experiment has some perks.”

Scott arches his eyebrows.

“Mason’s fault,” she says. “Their outfits looked like those weird old diving suits with like, the copper plating and tubes and stuff, and fish are—look, it doesn’t have to make sense.”

Scott laughs, and Hayden’s startled to realize it’s a sound she’s never heard it before. “Probably a good mindset for most of the things that happen around here.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that idea.” Hayden fidgets, her muscles upset at the sudden end to her workout. Too much thinking, not enough running.

Since Scott seems unbothered by the delay, she pursues it herself. “So like. If I’m doing great at the whole werewolf thing, why did you follow me?”

Instead of answering directly, Scott looks over at the ledge that’d started the whole altercation and nods towards it. “How’d you know you could fall that far?”

“I just—did? I mean, I’ve jumped pretty far by myself. And it’s not like it’s the first thing I’ve jumped off of.”

Scott nods. “Incremental training. You do something at lower levels of risk until you know you’re ready for the real thing.”

“Sure, I guess.”

Scott falls quiet, his hands slipping into his pockets. Hayden senses—something radiating off him, that wasn’t there before. She’s good at controlling the physical aspect of her powers, but the finer points like chemosignals or whatever are a little fuzzier.

Not that she has any intention of telling him that. She can figure it out on her own.

And if not, she can still read body language well enough to know that what she’s sensing in Scott is unease.

She really doesn’t want to have that kind of conversation right now.

“I probably need to—”

“The full moon’s coming up in about a week.” Scott winces, either at interrupting her or at the statement itself. Probably both. “I know we already gave you the basic run-through before you got bit, but. If you have any questions, I can help. Your first time can be a little… intense.”

“Apparently not just your first.”

It’s a terrible thing to say; she realizes that the second after it crashes into the conversation. But she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t thought about it.

A lot.

“Um.” Scott rubs at the back of his neck, turning into the massage just enough to avoid eye contact. “That doesn’t usually—I mean—”

He sighs. “There were a lot of factors involved.”

Despite how much she doesn’t want to have this conversation, Hayden doesn’t miss the way Scott’s hand drifts over his chest.

She checks her eyes for mercury sometimes, too.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, before she can think better of it.

For his part, Scott just cocks his head to the side. “For what?”

“I’m kind of—I mean, he used me—” Hayden gestures vaguely, hoping he’ll get the point. She’s not good at this. “With Liam.”

Scott, obnoxiously, just looks even more confused. “What—”

“Liam chose me over you.”

It’s blunt, but. Judging by the way Scott flinches, it gets the point across.

“He shouldn’t have done that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d have been a fan of not dying, but…” Hayden shrugs and her eyes focus on the scuffed up toes of her shoes. “…He shouldn’t have done that.”

Scott bites his lip, his eyes clearly focused elsewhere, then slowly drops down into a crouch on the forest floor. He looks up at her, and she takes that as an invitation to do the same. He only starts speaking after they’re both settled.

“Liam wasn’t…” Scott sighs. “Anger’s not exactly like that.”

Hayden’s own anger flares. “What, moral?”

“No, it’s like… you dying was a reality for Liam at the time, right? Whereas me dying was just… a hypothetical.”

“Pretty messed up hypothetical.”

“No argument there,” Scott agrees. “But being angry that you were dying—that was a good thing. The problem is that anger is really, really powerful. And sometimes we’re so angry about one thing, we let it make us do some other thing that winds up being just as bad.”

Hayden’s angry about a lot of things. Even before all this.

“So is that gonna be me? I’m just angry all the time until one day I snap and try to kill someone?”

“No,” Scott says. “You’re not a monster.”

“Then what am I?” There’s the anger again, and wouldn’t it be so ironic if this were what made her snap? “Because so far all I’ve accomplished is helping to get you killed, working for the guy that did it, and then just getting saved again.”

She can feel her claws wanting to come out, and she wants to run, to run where she can’t hurt anyone and no one can stop her and—

“Hayden, hey, it’s okay.”

A sense of calm washes over her, and when she glances up, Scott’s eyes are tinged crimson. She takes a deep breath, then another.

The claws recede.

“See? Incremental steps.” Scott smiles. “And I’m still here, so you didn’t get me killed.”

“You still died, Scott.” The anger’s gone from her voice, replaced by its worser cousin: fear. “And don’t tell me that didn’t matter because I—because I did, too.”

And there it is.

Treacherously, a tear escapes her eye, and she hastily wipes it away.

But not before making sure it isn’t bright and silver.

Scott doesn’t comment on it. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not the first time I’ve died.”

That is definitely not the sentence Hayden had expected to come out of Scott’s mouth, and if it’s meant as a distraction, it works pretty well. “That mean anything?”

“Means I’ve had more practice.”

Hayden snorts. She wipes at another tear, one that’s definitely still just salt and water. “Didn’t know it worked that way.”

Scott smiles ruefully. “I’m pretty sure I got worse at it every time, actually.”

“Your pep talks suck.”

The laugh from before returns. Hayden counts that as a win, somehow.

“Look,” he says, eventually. “The thing about anger is that it’s really easy to let it get anchored in the past. And life’s like that, too. But… if you get too focused on the past itself, instead of what it means for now, or even for the future, it’s easy to let it take you to some messed up places.”

“Like with Liam?”

“And a bunch of other people that had it even worse, yeah.”

Hayden considers this. “So what do you do?”

“Well, you don’t ignore it.” The way Scott says the words makes it abundantly clear that he’s tried. “And you can’t go at it all at once. So—” Scott nods towards the ledge—“you work at it a little bit at a time.”

The corners of Hayden’s lips quirk upwards. “Incremental steps?”

His responding grin is blinding. “You got it.”

Scott rises to his feet, dusting off his jeans again, while Hayden watches—this time, a sense of shared understanding between them.

Hayden clears her throat and looks up at him. “So what’s the first step?”

“For now,” Scott says, and he reaches his hand out to her, “think you beat me in a run?”

Hayden looks at Scott’s deep red eyes, then his hand, then his eyes again.

They’re a rich, warm brown.

She takes his hand.

“You’re on.”

[kpopwrites]

Drowning in A Dream Chapter 5

A/N: This one is longer than the others and delves a little bit into the boys and their backstories. It gets a little graphic, so be warned now. If I’m lucky, I’ll have chapter 6 out by tonight or tomorrow night!

TW: Possible smut in upcoming chapters, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, slight gore

   Perhaps it was Hoseok’s unhappy grumbling that woke you up for the second time, or maybe it was the warmth of Yoongi’s arms around your body. Either way, you awoke with a start. It hadn’t been too long of a nap apparently, since the sun wasn’t all the way up yet. Long enough to make Yoongi very unhappy to be disturbed, however, as he scowled at Hoseok, ignoring the man's upset rambles in Korean. “Hobi, shut the hell up.” He growled, sitting up. He didn’t let you go however, only letting you escape his embrace when you awkwardly got up, fixing your pajamas. “Is breakfast still available?” You ask nervously, clearing your throat. Hoseok’s eyes lit up as he nodded. “Yup! It’s only been about ten minutes since it was done.” You brows furrowed forward. “Only ten minutes? I feel like I’ve been asleep for hours.” You muse softly, chuckling. Yoongi only smirks silently in response. “Thank you for the cuddles darling. I never imagined you would be so clingy while you slept. Not that I minded of course.” With that, the mint haired man walked out of your room, Hoseok following shortly behind, both ignoring your flaming cheeks.

   After getting dressed and ready to leave, you went to the kitchen where everyone was seated at their spots. “Morning.” You smiled, waving at the group in greeting as you sat down in between Taehyung and Jin, the latter having been guarding your plate from Tae. “Yahhhhh, you messed up their makeup Yoongi!” Jin whined, turning your face towards him before he started fussing over you like a mamma cat. Yoongi chuckled, rolling his eyes at his older brother before starting to eat. Taehyung had a whole mountain of food in front of him, making you question where the hell he put it all. The man was incredibly fit and healthy looking. How could he possibly eat so much? 

   “Are you taking your leave after breakfast?” Namjoon asked, causing Jin to reluctantly release your face. You nod. “Yes, I have to work today, and after missing yesterday, my boss might be worried.” Jimin grins at you, putting down his cup of wine. “Where do you work, precious?” He asked, watching as Taehyung threw him a warning glance. “The Ravenhill’s history center. We just got some new documents proving a super famous local legend of the group of boys who came out here and were killed.” The air suddenly got very tense as Namjoon stared at you, the other boys having blank faces. “Oh? I’ve never heard this… legend. Would you tell us the story?” He asked, voice dark. His tone frightened you a bit, but you nodded anyway. “You may lose your appetites, however.” You warn before delving into the tale.

   “According to some newspaper sources and local legend, a group of young men came here a long time ago and tried to settle in these woods, build a new life for themselves after immigrating. Of course, the locals weren’t very nice since racism was a lot more prominent back then.” You pause to take a sip of orange juice before continuing your story. The men still had blank faces and the tension was clearly high, but you pushed forward. “After about two weeks of rising tensions, people say the spirits of the woods finally managed to take control of the group, causing the youngest brother to snap and murder his brothers.” 

   You glanced around, trying to ignore how scary each man looked at that moment. “The oldest was found without a head, having been decapitated with an ax in his bed. The police found the bodies in the order of their age, like the youngest had set it up or something. The second oldest was found next, completely cut in half and eviscerated, his internals hang out and scattered all over the barn floor. Next was the third brother, found with his tongue cut out and nailed to a wall, like someone didn’t like how much he spoke. He bled out from that. The fourth oldest had the most brutal, beaten to death with a farming tool before being crucified.” You shiver in disgust for a moment. “Are you alright? You don’t have to tell the story. It’s very fascinating to hear what the locals think happened however.” Namjoon hummed. 

   “Yes, I’m okay, I just really don’t like thinking of blood.” You admit before clearing your throat and continuing. “Take your time.” Taehyung interrupted you. “It’s hard for everyone to hear.” He smiled softly, almost sadly before allowing you to continue. “The fifth oldest had his throat slit, almost like a mercy kill. The police were pretty baffled by his death. The sixth was found with his stomach and entrails shoved into his mouth, like the youngest was making him eat his own insides.” Jungkook looked up from his plate. “And the youngest? What do the police say happened to him?” He asked, an edge to his tone. “Well, the legend says a group of hunters had seen the last kill and shot him down with a parade of bullets.” You say, shaking your head. 

   “After that, the police showed up and documented everything before taking the bodies of the oldest six to be buried before  burning the youngest’s body.” Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “Bullshit. You nor anyone else have any fucking clue what happened. Just cause they found the bodies. The automatically assume the youngest got cabin fever?” His temper was rising, the air sizzling around him and the rest of the table. “Jungkook. Do we have to go downstairs to cool you off?” Namjoon asked, his voice calm and emotionless. Jungkook ignored his brother, continuing a small rant. “They never buried the bodies. The bodies were left to rot since they were foreign.” He spit the word out like it was poison in his mouth before shoving his chair away from the table and standing up, pointing at you angrily. “Don’t listen to everything your precious grandmother had to say.”

   You frowned deeply, feeling your own anger rise up. “Don’t speak about my grandmother.” You warned, making Jungkook smirk. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do? I could rip you apart in my sleep.” He snarled back. “My grandmother defended the youngest, said he didn’t want to do what he did, but instead, it was the demon of Wrath possessing the poor boy.” You snapped finally, slamming your hand on the table. Jungkook’s eyes widened and all of the sizzle left the air instantly. He sat down slowly, ashamed. “Sorry…” He whispered, causing the others to stare at you, not bothering to hide their shock. “Jungkook, what happened?” Jimin whispered in Korean to his brother, clearly surprised. “I’m not sure… All the anger just… left.” He whispered back, fiddling with his hands. “One minute I was to tear (Y/N) to shreds, the next I felt bad for making them upset.” Hearing your name, you looked up, trying to understand what the two men were saying. 

   “Sorry. I didn’t mean to burst. I have anger issues, and they come out pretty uncontrollably when someone speaks badly of my loved ones.” You mutter. “You have anger issues?” Taehyung asked, looking at you. “Yes. I just work really hard in anger management every week. And working at a history center surrounded by things I enjoy is pretty calming.” You admitted, shrugging. “Anger management?” It was the first time you had heard anything but calmness or a strict tone coming from Namjoon, instead a tone of surprise. “Yes. My grandmother had me signed up for those classes since I was very little.” Namjoon nodded, seemingly in deep thought. “(Y/N), how long has your family lived in this town?” He asked after a moment, making eye contact with Jin as they seemed to silently communicate. “As long as anyone can remember, why?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. “No reason. You may want to take your leave. It’s a long hike back to town, and you don’t want to be in the woods after dark. Bad things happen out there.” Namjoon bowed his head as a farewell before excusing himself from the table.

   You nod, standing up and getting ready to say goodbye. To your surprise, Jin, Jimin and Hoseok gave you a big hug, making you promise to come back for a visit before standing aside. Taehyung held out a small bag of snacks. “In case you get hungry on your way back. There’s also some water packed and a sweater in case you get too cold. You can return it next time you visit.” He smiled softly, patting your head shyly before walking away. Yoongi and Jungkook didn’t say anything, instead both waving goodbye as you walked out the front door.

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[acequeenking]

Hadestober #6

6) Livin' it Up on Top - Hermes takes his sister back up, but her behavior worries him. (T; mention of Seph’s canon alcoholism.)

Of all his sisters, Persephone has always been his favorite. Always thick of thieves, the two of them, which seems only appropriate, given that thieves fall under Hermes' jurisdiction. Always had been, even as kids; if he dared her to do something, she would do it. If he challenged her to a race, she would run it. Thumb her nose at dad? 'Course she would. The other kids in their generation made excuses -- Persephone just set to beating whatever challenge was put in front of her. Made them quick friends, once upon a time.

Hermes used to joke that she and him  were the only ones who got a drop of daddy's wanderer blood; truthfully, they were just the two who had the most to prove, being the only two living in the mortal realm. Either way, they looked out for one another: Persephone never saw a bit of Hermes' tricks, least so far as any parental unit who might punish him for such was concerned; Hermes certainly never saw her off to the underworld for a midnight rendezvous with the biggest conquest. They've both settled down now, but Persephone, well, let's just say he still escorts her to and fro. 

Her little dalliance Hades may have been what turned her mamma's hair grey, but if she had known even half of what Persephone and her half-brother had gotten into in their travels together -- well, let's just say Miss Demeter's hair would be white if she had any left at all.

Which is, in short, to say: Hermes knows Persephone well. Knows just about everything a brother can know. So it's obvious, to him, when she ain't feeling too good. Not, he thinks, when she's mainlining three rum and cokes before the train even finishes it's first chugga up to the surface.  Barely said a word to her dearest brother before she's deep into the bar: another sign she isn't feeling too good.

"Slow down, green thang," he says, watching her slam back drinks. "Got a whole summer to drink your fill."

"Doubt it. He was early last time," she says. "And the time before that."

Hermes frowns; that much is true enough. Been a few days earlier and earlier every year. But Persephone had greeted him with a smile each time, and he'd let them go down with the last few days of summers still hidden in her bag, because he'd thought his sister would be a bit happier with her man. Hermes hasn't been married, himself; that life was never for him, but his sister, well, wasn't a secret she loved her man, and that her man loved her.

"He'll be early again, too." She smiles sadly, adds a little ice to her drink. Probably because Hadestown has been hotter than hell lately, because he certainly can't imagine she wants to slow down her drinking. "Be early a bit more every time. Give'em a few more years and he'll be picking me up in June." 

"He ain't gonna press it that far," Hermes says; Hades is unlikely to do anything that might ruptures the world order quite so badly. Always a balance between them, even if he tips the scale a bit. Hermes, being the god of rogues, cannot quite blame the man for trying to tip the scales a bit. Lots of times you can tip the scales without it quite being considered cheating.

"He will." She doesn't say anything more, and when he tries to offer her a bit of comfort in his words, she holds her hand up.

"Don't want to argue," she says, and there's an edge to sister-girl's voice, one he hasn't heard before. "Just pour another."

And so he does.

---

By the time they get up top, Persephone's had more than a few. Which...isn't so unusual; his sister has always been prone to her drink. She was never one for moderation, not in her drink and certainly not in her love life. He's sure that it must be hard for her,  coming home, as she does, every year, to a world that relies on her more and more and more, as the human population grows and grows, and leaving a man who resents her absence more and more. An inevitable position, the one his sister has found herself in.

"HEY!" She shouts as they step off his train. She's stumbling a bit, and Hermes puts his arm protectively around her shoulders. "Let's find a party, Hermes, bound to be one somewhere!"  Her volume is far too loud - alcohol working its charms, for sure.

"Why don't we go see see your mama?" He suggests  instead. Demeter has never been one to turn down a visit, regardless of her daughter's sobriety, though it's been quite some time since she's been so soused. Probably have words to say, but odds are Demeter will say them to him, and not to Persephone, and he's willing to take that lecture. 

"Do I look like I wanna be with my momma?" Persephone spits back. "I have been in hell for six months, brother, six months!" She grabs his hand with both her hands, the look in her eyes pleading. "I have been six months at his beck and call, and I ain't going straight to six months of being at hers. C'mon." She bumps his hips with hers. "I know you know how to dance, Hermes."

And Hermes is, indeed, a fabulous dancer. Doesn't mind tooting his own horn when it comes to the smoothness of his footwork. It wouldn't be the first time they'd gone dancing together, and Hermes knows damn well he's one of the few people who could dance with Persephone without her husband showing up in a jealous huff. He and Hades have worked together long enough that the man surely knows that for all he and Persephone have gotten along, they've never quite been tempted to turn their dancing horizontal. Neither of them has ever quite leaned in such a way.

"Please," she says, soft, and that sets all his alarm bells ringing, for Persephone has never been one to beg for anything. "I just gotta let off some steam." 

"Alright, alright," he says, giving in.  She laughs too loud, claps her hands in a childlike burst of drunken joy. "Alright," he says, alarm bells ringing in his head in seventy different percussive beats, all at once. But that said: it is unusual, but not entirely unexpected that she might want to blow off steam. Maybe it's been a rougher six months than it had looked. He'd talk to her about it, once she got some of that energy out.

He tilted his ear, listened for the best environment - ah. Found it. "Come on, sister girl," he said, strolling down to a bar where the booze seemed to be sweet on tap, and the jazz was, as was always his sisters penchant, lighter than air and darker than sin in its sound. "Good cabaret down the corner."

"Yes!" She pumps her arm in victory, and it reminds him of her younger self so much that his heart aches. He realizes, in that smile, just how rarely he's seen it, dropping off letters for the underworld's mister and missus, for the last couple of years. He swallows. Maybe this conversation is a bit overdue. But she's seemed to manage every other year so much better. Always got at least a smile out of her on the train, and a couple mimosas weren't anywhere near this six-whiskey-shots-and-still-going binge.

But he doesn't say anything. Just leads her to the club, where she disappears onto the dance floor. He joins her there for a time, but his bones - ah, they're old things now. Doesn't take long for him to slow down. The same can't be said of green young thang, however; she's still got energy for days in those legs. Makes sense, given how little she's been up top. Maybe Mr. Hades hasn't taken her dancing enough down there. Certainly seemed like he's been more than a little busy with his factories. Hermes tries to think of the last time he came in to them spending time together, and finds he cannot remember when it was.

"Save me a seat at the bar, handsome," his sister purrs, reading the furrow on his brow all too clearly.

"Let's talk when you tire out, sister." He gives her a look, and for a brief moment her composure breaks: the chin wobbles, the eyes look soft and wet for -- just a moment. And if he were not so good a friend, he doubts he would have seen such. He taps his eyes, and points toward her, turning the moment into a joke. The mood breaks, and she laughs and hits his hand in a friendly fashion, and he smile as he goes back to the bar.

He chooses his seat according to what Persephone tends to favor, and waits and waits for the little shoot to make her way over.  Seem simple enough. He'll let her tire herself out, and speak about her troubles in a space too modern for her mother to frequent and too loud for her husband to snoop on them.  But it takes Persephone a long time.

For a moment, his heart beats in hope as she comes closer; she comes to the bar, orders a vodka and cranberry spritz. Drops it down her gullet in one smooth move and winks at him, hoping back into the crowd without a word. His eyes follow her.

He watches her move on the dance floor - never really interacting with another else, but dancing so hard that she's sweating, like she can exorcise demons even her husband can't get out by moving herself on the floor.

"Your friend?" The barman asks, watching Hermes watch Persephone. He sees the concern in his eyes; Hermes looks a lot older than green thang, even if she's not any less ancient.

"My baby sister," he says; when the barman looks skeptical, he turns up the charm. Always has been a charmer. "Same father. Different mothers, obviously."

Bar man whistles. "Your daddy sure was punching above his weight, to get a girl like that at such an age."

True enough, and Hermes honestly laughs. "You don't know the half of it, brother. Not the half. My daddy could charm the wimple off a nun."

The barman laughs with him, and Hermes shifts his attention to flirting with the bar man, still keeping one eye out for his sister. Persephone keeps dancing, only runs to the bar to get another drink, and then another.

He keeps waiting for the talk, but before he knows it, the bar is closing, and the bar man's number is in his pocket, and Persephone is still dancing, still drinking and dancing, and he is very, very worried about her.

"Closing time!" She shouts into his ear; he winces.

"Sure is, baby." He squeezes her hand.

"Let's find another cabaret!" That's the thing about the big cities; never do sleep. He could certainly find her one.

"What about our talk?" He asks. "Besides, got to get you to your second home." She scoffs, and he ignores the scoff. "Orpheus has to be wondering where I am. You don't want to make him worry." Persephone has always had a soft spot for his boy.

But today she wraps her arms around his neck and gives him her biggest, widest smile. "Just one more, please?"

He frowns. He doesn't like the idea of not talking about whatever bug has crawled under her skin, and he doubts more dancing is gonna shake it out for her. Still, they are gods, and they have six months to have conversations, and there are plenty of less-charged times to have them. If there is one thing Hermes has learned, it's that they have time.

So instead of insisting on talking to her about her old man, about her new pains, well, he smiles, and says, "I suppose one more won't hurt," and he holds her hand, and they go dancing.