#GIVE ME REFERENCES TO ECHO BASE BEING NAMED AFTER HIM

[tending-the-hearth]

listen i hate saying this but when echo dies in the finale (because he will. i've come to terms with it, i don't like it, but that's where they're leading, and it's painful) i'm hoping that they pull out the stops for his death.

i've said it before, but echo's the character (besides rex) that we've known since "the clone wars" show started. we met him and fives in season 1, and the citadel arc was one of the most heartbreaking moments in the show because we saw how much echo meant to his brother and to the team.

and they're definitely building up to something dramatic, because now we've got the echo and emerie team-up, so he's got a separate storyline for a while, but i'm hoping his death, as one of the last tcw season 1 characters, is something big.

like i'm talking every member of the batch losing it, whether it's crying, collapsing, disbelief, something like that. the clones' theme playing as he dies. echo referencing his brothers who have died. at the end of the finale, rex getting word of echo's death, and completely falling apart.

in a perfect world, as echo dies, the rest of the 501st would be around him, just seen by him, ready to welcome their brother into their arms. 99 would be there, and the entirety of Domino would be grinning, just waiting for their final member to join them.

[lexluvswriting]

ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 1 [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> Content Warning/CW: x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. live, laugh, love 2 lesbian mothers!!

-> Trigger Warnings/TW: Eris Vanserra, mentions of racism, mentions of discrimination, mentions of forced removal from homes (cant think of the name rn), Beron Vanserra is a massive cunt.

W/C: 2.8k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: omg eris fic is here grahhh!!! the title for this comes from Vivaldi's Four Seasons Concerto album, which i do listen to while writing this, yes yes. Eris has is a massive dick, but i'd like to hope he's a massive dick for a reason that will (hopefully) be revealed better. Hopefully, reader holds him accountable & gives him a run for his money!! (you will). While reader is fem for this fic, there's no specified identity (except being from Summer Court). There are a few referrals to racism using the Courts of Prythian & the fae, so if this feels triggering or hurtful, please let me know if it feels like it's written badly/insincerely! i'm merely basing such references off of personal & researched experiences. TYSM for reading, please enjoy <3

A violin filled the studio, wafting around like a strong scent- hypnotic as you inhaled deeply, eyes shut to steel yourself and count in before your arms swung up and out, fingers and feet pointed within your ballet shoes as you began to dance. Careful, calculated steps sent you spinning around the room- the perfect prima of your time. A prime example for those who dream to even come close to your level.

In a room of fire, your movements were fluid. In a room of embers, you were a tidal wave. Your body poise and malleable as you stretched yourself alluringly to those who watched as you swayed for the sweet symphony of violins. Eyes watched you from a concealed viewing platform high above- russet spheres simmering with a flame of interest that was bound to end in a fiery mess.

“Her. I want her to perform for the Equinox.”

“She’s quite the star, isn’t she?” Your mentor nodded, eyes twinkling with pride, before he wore his favourite facade- an arrogant smirk on his lips as he inspected his manicured nails. Eris’ face was impassive, yet any trained, or similarly minded individual would see the need for greed in his russet eyes as he glared down at you, pupils flaring possessively.

“She’s my starlet, young Lord. I cannot let her perform without any… payment. She will be put through harsh training- stretching, extension of her muscles, and her diet will be limited- to ensure she is tamed and perfect for the Lord’s family. I know the Lady of Autumn thoroughly enjoys the…” He trailed off nervously as Eris held up a silencing hand, the young heir fixing him with a cold stare- despite the fire in his veins.

“Spare me. Your pocket will be stuffed accordingly. But I warn you,” With one hand he grabbed the collar of the weaker male’s shirt with a predatory grace,

 She must be perfect, or else we won’t have her, and the only old you’ll see is the Vanserra signet ring imprinted in your cheek.” His hand clenched accordingly, the Vanserra signet ring- the emblem of the Autumn Court banners carved in the pure gold, making Gustav still and nod compliantly. The heir dismissively waved for a servant to hand your instructor a list before storming out- ignoring your dancing figure.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Wrong! When we kick, our leg must come out-”

A cold hand clamped around your calf, another hand pushing just above your knee, the joint loose like a hinge. Your face was impassive- unmoving even as a small ‘pop’ echoed from somewhere in your knee. One of the junior dancers recoiled visibly, hiding her face behind her hands as a cluster of them watched you be used like a demonstration doll for your instructor.

“Stiff! Strong! Not flabby and weak. We are not caterpillars- we are butterflies. We are not brutish fires, we are?”

“Dancing flames.” The dancers replied in a drone of young feminine voices, with a few meek boys who looked like they were on the verge of clawing their eyes out. Gustav was being a right pain in the ass as always, but today he seemed more sharpened. Another lecture, another scolding, but it was always,

“For the better! I do this for your own good, my dears! When the Equinox arises and we are in front of your esteemed Lord, I know his lordship would enjoy seeing his dancers disciplined. Lean and poise. Controlled.”

The cold hand that held your leg squeezed once in warning- ‘I’m talking about you too’, before letting go, as your instructor sighed with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“That is why we dance the way we dance, and why I speak the way I do. Now leave me! And warm down appropriately or I will personally see to it that the muscles you take for granted will tear.” A curl of the lip in a low, warning snarl, before he waved with a sweeter disposition. 

“Adequate work today, my dears!” Footsteps echoed as the younger dancers left first, whispers filling the halls as they eagerly complained about their instructor. The older ones bid polite greetings of farewell as they followed, until you were the last to leave. The prima. Gus liked to call you the ‘Summer jewel in the Autumn box’.

“Ah, ah, ah! I mean it, my jewel. No going off and doing your own thing.” You pause. His voice carried a weariness of someone twice his age, before he covered it up with his usual airy arrogance, “The Lord will be hosting important families at this gathering. Something big is on the horizon and I know he will be watching you closely.”

Ah, yes. Kicking out all the non-fae and those who hail from other courts. The nationalist prick seemed to have no lost winks of sleep as he commanded his soldiers to haul families out in the night, dispatching them at random borders with no cares for the creatures that lurked with a taste for fae flesh.

“I’m aware, Gus. No sudden movements, no flashy shows of skill, Mother forbid I reveal I’m not some worthless foreigner with no talent.” You mocked mirthlessly, earning a sigh of defeat. 

“Wait a moment.” He roused, and the fingers that curled around your bag strap tightened slightly, your pointed ears twitching at the tone of his voice. But you slowly turned, a scowl on your unimpressed face as you nodded airly.

“You were selected personally to perform for the Vanserra family. Something about honouring the magic in the Autumn Court territory with dance and such.”

You paused, mind blanking, yet your demeanour remained even, “And you’re looking at me like that, why?”

He winced, knowing how keen you were to snap at any male- or anyone, really, who rubbed you up the wrong way.

“They left a list of… expectations. As in, mandatory requirements or they won’t let you perform. They expect you to be… um… Be polite, and uh, as he put it, ‘socially acceptable’. Speak in turn and only when spoken to-”

“He?” You snapped, visibly unimpressed and ready to pull out completely. What kind of prick-

“I don’t let you anywhere near me on a good day, Gustav. What in the Cauldron makes you think I’ll just-”

“They’re offering coffers of gold. The Equinox… well, after Amarantha… they need to regenerate the magic of the Autumn Court specifically, so they want to use the Equinox.”

You cringed at the mention of that sick tyrant, yet you weren’t going to just roll over and lie down because someone jingled a purse of gold. “What of the Spring Court and Calanmai?”

“I didn’t ask, because I know my place. And don’t start. I didn’t exactly feel like getting ripped a new one by the son of the Autumn Lord, [Y/N]-”

“Son? As in, Eris Vanserra? That oaf- that misogynistic, foul-mouthed, mentally decayed pig was here? And he spoke to you about me?” You snarled, lip curling back as you advanced forward slowly like a fox- a wolf, eyes narrowed.

“He’s offering coffers on behalf of his father, [Y/N]! Enough for you to be paid out well, and then some for the studio.” Damn right he put you first on the pay list, otherwise he wouldn’t have a damned head. Though, you personally couldn’t give a flying fuck about the Vanserra coffers. You wanted nothing of it, as tempting as it might have sounded.

“Get Nerissa to do it.”

“He wanted you-”

“I thought the family wanted me.”

“I… oh, fuck it- Fine! Eris came here alone! Came here alone, saw you, insisted on you with this list in mind and he said either you or no one at all.”

You or no one. You or nothing. You made a retch of disgust, laughing at the mental image. Who did he think he was? “Then I will snap my leg in half and shatter my bones into teeny tiny pieces for good measure.”

“[Y/N]-”

“I will swan dive off the nearest staircase.”

“No.”

“I’m not performing personally for a good-for-nothing family that are backwards in everything they do.” You reaffirmed, shaking your head, but Gustav stepped forward.

“[Y/N].”

“They singled out the non-Autumn Court dancer to perform for them. What powers do I possess to help the court that doesn’t even want us? A ‘summery breeze’? A ‘foreigner’s’ complexion? Absolutely not-”

“Please. We…” Silence, before a sigh. A sigh that made you glare silently. “I received a letter last night from the building owner. I’ve been falling behind on payments, and Beron’s financiers are… hungry- they see this old building and want to knock it down for something else. Something miserable and drab.”

You frowned, blinking at your instructor. Well, fuck. Your shared silence was long- his pleading, hopeful silence swirled like smoke with your prideful refusal, that melted like wax the longer it lingered.

“... Fine. But only because I enjoy this damned studio.”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Your life was, what you thought at least, a mixed bag. You were brought up in an orphanage- housing mostly Autumn children, all who seemed to smell the ‘impostor’ blood in your bones, weeding you out as an odd one out. Your appearance led the governess of the orphanage to believe you hailed from the Summer Court- as did russet and teal muslin you were wrapped in. You repurposed the seemingly sentimental piece of fabric into a scarf- letting it rest around your neck currently, as you walked down the path of the bustling town.

You were lucky to be recognised for your artistic performative abilities, earning a grant to allow you to perform in the Autumn Court’s national dance academy, as well as live in one the apartments they provided. Two old ladies next door adopted you as their honorary daughter, and you were grateful for their familial company, even if there was no blood relation. One of them, Ordelia, even pushed you to study at the grand scholar’s library, using her former connections to grant you access to all the education you could need.

It wasn’t wonderful. But it could be worse. At least you were making it on your own, sort of.

“Afternoon little doe! Will you come for dinner? Delia-dearest made pumpkin and feta soup the way you like it!” ‘Madame’ Primrose, one of your makeshift mothers, waved to you from her balcony, and you offered a small wave.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’m on a strict diet of greens and grains.” You pat your stomach with a sympathetic wince- greens and grains. Like a bloody farm animal. The silver haired fae seemed to nod sympathetically and wave a hand.

“You’re always welcome, dearie.” 

You stopped for a moment, looking at an old fae sitting on the corner of the little road, a vendor selling flowers. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, staining the sky pink amidst the grey from the overcast weather that settled. You smiled at the older male who offered you a bouquet of lavender stalks and crocus bulbs.

Pretty.

Your eyes widened slightly as you beheld the bouquet, cradling it against your arm while you fished out payment. As you dropped some coins into his hand, a scream made you both look to one of the older complexes, where a woman was pulled out by some Autumn Court guards with two wailing children behind her. Any passersby walked quicker, ducking their heads, and when you looked back at the old male you realised he had been watching you. He gave you a nod, as if you’d know what it meant, and you swallowed before walking past, your head lower than before.

Beauty was hard to come by in the Autumn court, no matter how colourful it looked.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Oh, it’s nasty business, it really is. My darling Ordelia was telling me how shameful he is- that Beron Vanserra. Nasty business. I remember his father- he wasn’t much better, but certainly more handsome.” You had succumbed to the dinner with your neighbour-mothers, though your portion of soup was smaller, as the sprouts and stalks you miserably chewed filled most of your stomach.

“You know, I could have married Beron.”

Your eyes widened, hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you didn't know whether to choke or chortle. “Primrose!” Ordelia huffed,

“I could have, you know! But I wasn’t interested in a man with no morals.” ‘Madame’ Primrose sighed wistfully, and you laughed softly behind your mouth while her wife rolled her eyes. While Ordelia had raven hair in a tight, disciplined bun, Primrose wore hers in a loose braid that cosied on her shoulder- her silver hair glistening in the gentle faelight of the small dining room you all sat in.

“You know, I hear that Lord Vanserra is looking for some pretty girls to match his sons. The heir will be attending the Equinox alone, can you believe it?” Primrose hummed, thriving off the gossip, but Ordelia watched you with a knowing stare- amused at the soft snort you let out.

“How fares the paper? Arwen mentioned that you were hitting some brilliant points. Politics might be your strong suit, should you grow tired of glamorous costumes and fast dances.” The Autumn-born female brought up your most recent studies, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she heard her wife scoff.

At a first glance, you used to wonder how they could possibly be mated. Ordelia, with her firm, reserved rigidness and disciplined personality, and Primrose- a Spring Court fae who was gossipy and eclectic, always buzzing with something to share. Ordelia was a former scholar for Beron’s family before she retired, while Primrose was the prima ballerina of her time, moving to Autumn in search of a grander role where she met her mate. Their love-story made you sigh a little every time you heard it, but you shook your head of distractions as you answered Ordelia.

“It’s um… definitely going. I feel a little foolish writing it but every time I hear about another family getting kicked out, I get even angrier, and determined to write more. Although… um, Gustav spoke to me about… performing a solo dance for the Vanserras. A part of the Equinox celebration-”

Primrose gaped at that, as if she had been asked to dance herself, “Oh, little dove! Well, what did you say? You worked for that position- I’ll tell you that for free! I can’t fit on my fingers the times I had to remedy your torn muscles. Did you say yes? Did you accept?” 

Ordelia nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of her soup before chuckling softly. “I would not be surprised if your radiance catches the heir’s eye. You’d be a different splash compared to the other dames he usually parades around on his arm. I think you’d certainly give him a run for his father’s money.”

“Ordelia dearest! What makes you think our little summer shell would even consider him?” Primrose voiced the disdain etched on your face, and you joked dryly, “I didn’t think you believed in fate and whatnot.” The Autumn female scoffed softly, shaking her head, “I don’t believe in fate, or destiny. I believe in the laws of attraction. You are everything his family lack, thus making you a match. Opposites attract.” You glanced at Primrose, and both of you made a childish noise of disgust as you shuddered, shaking your head as you finished off your meal.

“I’d rather have a kelpie as a bedside companion than Eris Vanserra.” You muttered, before taking all three plates to be cleaned. Laughter sounded softly behind you, and as you felt a small smile curl on your face, you abhorred the idea of being anywhere near the Lord of the Autumn Court and his family.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

After bidding your goodnights, you retired to your own apartment, basking happily in the moonlight that shone through the silent space. Peace and quiet. The best way to finish off a bleak day. Your calendar stared you in the face, the Equinox marked in an angry scribble of orange ink. ‘End of the week!!’

What a day. You rubbed your face, feeling a stirring in your stomach as you thought about the Autumn Court. You glanced at the daily paper slid under your door, seeing Eris’ face on the front page- his smug, arrogant, wicked, slightly crooked, unnecessarily charming grin staring you in the face, making your stomach tug. ‘Eugh. Imagine being fated to that beast?’ You’d rather eat glass.

You looked at the paper, baring your teeth at the male’s face before ripping it off and crumpling it up. A swift kick sent it across the small apartment, under your couch, and stayed there for a while as you grumbled softly. You got ready for bed eagerly, excited for the day to be over, only to reach under the small sofa it had rolled under and pick it up again, making a face at it before leaving it on the small table.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: i think that's all for now!! readers, pls let me know how we feel about this!!! (privately, in comments, on inbox, i don't mind)!! also in search for a beta reader [i draft everything on google docs, don't hurt me] (T-T)

[cloveroctobers]

FALSE STARTS — CARMY BERZATTO [Summer Writings]

A/N: Getting down to my final collection to these summer writings…I strongly debated if I wanted to even write for carm this time around, the man is always going through it…not saying that I won’t ever again because I ofc have love for the guy but whew!!! Never giving up on him but—you guys get it? You just have to let some things sink in after watching the seasons…so here’s something possibly short? Knowing me my definition of short is not always reliable kinda like Carmy’s mental state—OOP. Too much?

WARNINGS: Added a OC, another berzatto again to the mix because I can also see Kyle being on the show and I’ve got a soft spot for him as well SORRY! I feel it in my spirit for smile 2 that it’s NOT going to end well but let’s be delusional! Slight reference to that horror movie in here as well, Still x reader based but you just have a name since I didn’t want to write in 2nd POV, along with some background for you and Carmy’s friendship, language, mentions of s**c***e & some spoilers for season three if you’re not caught up yet!

SYNOPSIS: Carmy runs into more than just his past and blood, forever learning what his next steps are, if his head will let him that is.

*GIFS BELONG TO: @emziess + @andrew3garfield !

☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘

The last thing Carmy expected was to see, Joel Berzatto at the pick up window during the lunch rush. Carmy’s been on autopilot the second week into the grand opening and he was already frustrated with the new hires. They didn’t have what it takes and Carmy didn’t have the patience to teach them, especially when they didn’t put in the effort to learn.

All they cared about was a paycheck.

He couldn’t teach what should have already been known.

Carmy already shocked himself, not blowing a fuse, deciding to just head out back silently with a carton of cigarettes. He vowed at some point he was going to quit these things and faught hard about the stick that was perched in between his lips. He’s pacing along the rocks and dirt on the side of the bear, back of his lighter racking against his fingers as he took a two minute break.

There was no time to make it five.

“Carmen,” a voice greets, making his bright blues turn to the voice.

It’s Joel.

Michelle’s younger brother.

He’s got a bag to go, bunched up underneath his fingers and his badge on his waist glimmers from underneath his earthy toned attire for work. Carmen reminds himself to blink, coming to terms that this is indeed his family—on his father’s side—at his place of business.

“Joel?” Carmen echoes but it’s more of a question.

Joel snickers as there’s still a great distance between the two family members, “yeah I was wondering when I was going to get caught red handed.”

Carmen clears his throat after removing the cigarette from his lips, “you’ve ordered something to go?”

That’s obvious but he’s trying to fill up the silence, which is always so loud even in the city.

Joel scratches at his brow, a small smile playing on his face, “‘Course I did. I was in the area and my partner wanted some other shit, he’s vegan or vegetarian and I knew that would be a disappointment so I snuck over here to get my money’s worth.”

“Yeah?” Carmy’s eyes flick back to the bag, “what’s your poison?”

Joel laughs, “can’t ever go wrong with a classic, am I right?”

Which only meant one thing: Italian Beef with extra peppers, just how he always got it, even when they were younger. Joel was older than Carmy, more around Nat’s age but he always found a way to bring up something to talk about once Michelle, Mikey, and Richie brought the house down with their boisterous voices.

“I’ve mentioned to Sugar that Sam and I can’t wait to try out the dinner menu but it hasn’t been the best time…” Joel hints, almost as if he’s apologizing for not showing his face.

There was tension at the beginning.

Joel was this big detective.

Always the persistent one and trying to solve something. It only made sense that he chose this profession but Joel did piss the family off when he tried to come up with this conspiracy theory that Mikey didn’t kill himself and that someone else pulled the trigger. His perspective? It was probably someone who Mikey bought those painkillers off of and in Joel’s mind, he thought he was doing the family a good service but instead he had his own denial about Mikey’s passing as well.

There’s been two big death’s in Joel’s life that he had to face before with his fiancée who took her own life as well. A psychologist at that. That happened years before Mikey…and Carmy can only imagine how fucked he’s been in the head too and maybe detective work gave him some sort of solace—in a twisted way.

They were family after all and grief is handled in different ways they say!

Carmy picks up on the name referred to and questions, “Sammy? You guys are still together?”

Joel snickers but doesn’t seem offended by any means, “Yeah, can’t seem to get rid of her.”

He jokes but Carmy knows that would be the last thing Joel wanted.

“She always tells me to send her love whenever I do stop by for lunch…we just don’t want to disrupt anything you guys have going on.” Joel admits and that actually makes Carmy frown.

He clenched his eyes shut for a moment with a shake of his head, “she wouldn’t—you guys wouldn’t. You’re both family too…it’s just been a lot.”

“Yeah but at some point I think we’ve got to stop making excuses,” Joel shrugs, “No pressure on our end. You should stop by the house one day, Samora would love to see you. It’s been awhile you know?”

Carmy nods.

It has.

Samora’s been one of Carmy’s oldest friends.

The friendship happened to be one of those, catch you when I catch you type of things, or if seeing someone mutual and he so happened to come up, she always related her love for him. That’s just how they operated, even if was at a distance and there wasn’t any bad blood.

Life went on.

Separately for them.

And she’s apparently been going strong with his blood cousin, Joel, for who knows how long? Carmy can’t believe he’s almost forgot what it felt like to have a friend like her.

“Yeah, I should.” Carmy agrees, “Nat’s got your number right? I’ll have to get it from her and reach out to see what’s best for you guys?”

Joel raised his brows at this.

He didn’t think Carmy would even respond to that. Carmy’s always been the kind of guy that found the nicest corner in the room and chose to stay there, it was what he was comfortable with: seeing all sides of the room and the nearest exit.

“Well Sam’s mostly working out of the house now, business picked back up for her in the last year, thankfully.” Joel answers with an inhale, “I’m the one that’s mostly gone all the time not getting the chance to really live in the house but…whenever you want. We don’t mind pop in’s—usually.”

Carmy nods, “cool—uh? I got to get back in there but I hope you enjoy the sandwich and maybe fucking try something else huh?”

Joel’s always been the sandwich and chips kind of guy. Easy going. Compassionate and soft spoken. Carmy’s only ever saw Joel pissed one time as far as he can remember. Of course when carmy brought up the interest of taking cooking seriously, Joel offered a listening ear and would admit he hardly knew what kind of fancy dishes Carmy was talking about but once he brought out the sketches? Sold! Joel couldn’t be more thrilled to see Carmy finding something to be passionate about.

It took time but he did it.

Joel picks up on Carmy’s teasing tone and points the bag at him, “I don’t tell you how to run your business, Carm. So don’t get in between a man and his favorite hoagie.”

A crooked smile appears on Carmy’s face at that as he slowly starts to retreat, “alright, fair enough.”

“Keep it up, bear.” Joel tells Carm, “beginnings can be rough but everything looks phenomenal…from what I can see anyway.”

Did it feel that way?

Carmy couldn’t tell you.

A week and three months it took for Carmy to show up to the familiar Greystone. It was after the review came in and Carmy was back on mode: disconnect, taking a much needed walk that led him right back to the usual busy area where the home sat; that had history there. He’s not positive how long he’s been standing there, peering up at the picturesque home beyond the fence.

Eventually he works up the nerve to stand at the front door, head just kissing it as he debates about knocking. His stomach feels like an off track dryer machine and his head is telling him that he has no place showing up to this house. Samora wouldn’t want to see him and Joel was just talking back then, never expecting Carmy to take up the invitation.

Carmy’s got the number from Sugar and found out where they stayed. It was the same address of where Sammy grew up, a home from her great grandparents that was passed all the way down to her. Legally she got the greystone since her foster turned adopted siblings weren’t biologically in the family and only one of them seemed to put up a fight about it anyway, only wanting the cash and not caring about how significant the home was.

He remembered that.

And so, he knocks.

He’s heading towards the gate by the time the front door swings open but the sound of the woman calling out his name, stops him in his tracks. He exhaled, dropping his hand from pulling the gate back, lifting his head before turning back to the woman on the stoop.

“It is you! Well don’t just stand there, get up here you little turd.” She’s waving her hands along and Carmy moves.

They’re face to face and it’s been ages.

Both of their eyes traces over one another’s faces but Samora is the first to yank him by the shoulders into her arms. He’s tense but finds himself placing his chin into her own shoulder, shaky hands going to her spine. Samora’s hugs have always been tight but Carmy’s never had a problem with pressure.

Much.

“Damn, I hope I didn’t get paint all on your fresh suit. What’s that? Givenchy?” Samora pokes fun as she playfully flicks the tip of his nose.

Carmy smacks her hand away realizing that she is in fact covered in paint all over her shorts overalls and there’s a dry paint swatch right on her left cheek. A awful chartreuse color, which she always seemed to like the brightest of colors others like to hate on.

In a sense Samora tried to see the good in most things.

“No,” Carmy feels a small smirk appear on his own cheek, “you’re good.”

And she welcomes him inside.

The once old home has been refreshed and Carmy can’t tell you the last time he’s been in here but the changes are evident. The first set of walls were now white, making the short entry way feel bigger and as they both turn to the right towards the living room, the view of the front porch at night feels like many summers ago when they both would sit out there, him on his back, arms tucked behind his head and Samora right beside him cross legged as she stared out towards the traffic lights.

They could sit out there for hours together, comfortable in silence or Carmy listening to Samora curse up a storm when she got confused trying to learn chess with a board her great-grandfather made. A slab of wood with a built in drawer to keep the pieces on the side, it would get stuck sometimes but she always handled with care.

“Carmen Berzatto…can’t believe you came to see little ‘ol me…unless you’re looking for Joel?” Samora says over her shoulder, still waving him along through the dinning room towards the grand kitchen.

He awkwardly stands off to the side in the kitchen while Samora lets out a yawn with a shake of her head before moving forward with searching through the cabinets. “I uh—not necessarily.”

“He’s at work anyway, getting buried into another one of his insane cases that he’s not supposed to tell me about but we all know how I am—I’m going to find out regardless.” Samora places two shot glasses down, noticing that Carmy had moved closer to the island counter now.

He did know actually.

They went to school together, been through a lot of typical high school bullshit together. He always felt like the sidekick, whereas he was the shy and reserved one, Samora had other friends that she didn’t mind putting to the side to hang out with Carmy for. Her response would be whenever Carmy asked why she kicked them to the curb to be around someone boring would be, “I know who my lifelong friends are, surely.”

“Surely,” was always Samora’s word and, “Duh,” happened to be Nat’s.

Sophomore year when Konstantinos “Tino,” Pappas found his next target in Carmy and thought it would be funny to sic his Rottweiler on him one day (he had asthma and could barely run a mile but loved skateboarding) when he had to walk home alone after school one day, he glossed over it, saying that he just tried to hop the fence as a shortcut to get home and got stuck on it instead.

He didn’t mention the dog snatching his backpack, or the nasty nip mark on his lower back, his shirt ripping after it got stuck on the spikes, and colliding face first with a sharp rock, that left a faint knick on his cheek until this day, if you got close enough to see it you would notice. Donna believed Carmy’s lies although she knew Carmy was a more take his time kind of kid but all she wanted to do was get back to her daily cocktail, Nat was concerned but Carmy also brushed her off, saying he was fine, and when Mikey saw the marks, he hammered him with questions, leaving a teenage Carmy to grow sick of his big brother being on his case so he shut him out too.

And what did Mikey Berzatto do?

He went right to a sick Samora to find out what she knew. She had been home for the past three days, down with a fever she caught from her new foster sibling and swore that she would find out. Shook on it with the older Berzatto, who bid his farewells of how good she is to his kid brother, which meant she would always be good people in Mikey’s eyes. And when she did find out? She came right back to school that Monday, noticing the laughter from Tino and his friends down by their locker with a whole camcorder of the incident, which wasn’t far from her’s and Carmy’s.

Carmy lifted his hand to greet the teen but when she was on a mission? It was tunnel vision. She didn’t care if there were teachers at the end of the hall, she snatched the camcorder from one of Tino’s friends, shoving him out of the way, before getting to Tino. A fist met his eye that day and that resulted in a suspension and detention after learning what Tino did.

If you thought Carmy was pissed before about Nat’s overbearing nurturing ways and Mikey bugging him about the marks, then you can only imagine how annoyed he was with Samora after that. That resulted in a stupid fight and with Samora even dating Tino for two whole days—the goal was to break his heart anyway.

Teenagers? Am I right?

“Check this out,” Samora grins as she pours this green liquid into the shot glasses and makes sure to get a piece of cucumber? floating at the top to decorate it with, “I’ve been experimenting and since Joel can’t be my rodent of a taste taster tonight. I present to you chef Carmy, Cold Cucumber green Gazpacho. A chilled soup—as I’m sure you are aware of—since you know how I feel about soups in the summer.”

“…you want me to try this?” Carmy picks up the glass, eyeing it.

Samora dips her head, “surely and if you don’t do that pinched lip thing, then I know it’s trash.”

Carmy flicks his eyes to her with a frown, “what’re you talking about?”

She folds her first four fingers over her thumb, tapping them together, “I don’t know! It’s a thing! You do it when you’re yelling too but at least I know you’re focused so, go on.”

Carmy shakes his head with a slow close of his eyes. He didn’t know what she was talking about at all but he can’t say he was surprised she picked up on this, she was an interior decorator after all.

Detail was always crucial.

“That’s,” Carmy starts after seeing Samora toss her head back not long after himself, “fresh.”

Samora grins, “not bad for a beginner, huh? Easy peasy and quick! Make sure you shout me out if you make this an appetizer or something at the restaurant, will ya?”

“You got it.” Carmy comments making a mental note to do something green next time on the menu, savoring the smooth and freshness with a hint of a zing dish as Samora carefully places the bowl back into the fridge.

Sighing she turns to rest her elbows onto the counter, “Now…bestie Carmy Berzatto…what’s wrong?”

His eyes shift, “N-Nothing. I saw Joel the other day and he brought you up—

“How long ago was that?” She interrupts.

He fires back, “…awhile? Does it matter?”

“No…you know I don’t sweat the small stuff.” She blinks, “Long as I knew you were thriving then that’s all I can wish for but I know my friend and I’m sensing that you’re not okay. You’re avoiding.”

Carmy’s tapping his finger along the side of the glass but Samora doesn’t relax her burning stare, “what—

“Did you see your niece yet?” Samora quizzes and he quickly closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair, she can tell he’s mentally cursing at himself, “she’s a beautiful baby. I had groceries sent to Nat and Pete’s the other day—

“Is this your way of reminding me of how shitty I’ve been at communicating and being present because I don’t need it. I already feel that.”

Samora sticks her tongue in her cheek and pushes back, “No shock there, Carmy. I know you. So what exactly triggered you today that made you finally come here to see me?”

Carmy starts chewing on his lips, eyes not connecting with Samora’s as she tilted her head to the side, waiting. It feels like forever to get an answer so Samora moves around the island, squeezing his shoulder, “let’s go up to the roof, maybe the fresh air and not the fumes of paint will help ease you into it. Thanks for knocking by the way, I may have seen a glimpse of the other side because of it before you got here.”

“What?” Carmy spits out in concern as she pulls at his wrist.

Samora laughs, “if you tell Joel, I’ll have to keep you here and bury you in the front yard.”

Carmy blinks with a roll of his eyes.

They’re on the rooftop, there’s less cars as the night carries on. Carmy’s lost count of how many times the street lights flick from red, yellow, to green and back again. Samora allows carmy to take his time, one leg curled up underneath her with her head thrown back staring up at the twinkle of stars on a hot summer night. There’s barely a breeze but they’re alright.

“I saw the shit stain tonight.”

Samora tossed an arm over her forehead, leaned back in the comfy cushioned blue lounge chair, “yeah? There’s plenty here in chicago, so which one? Don’t tell me you saw the walking jump-scare, Tino?”

“Who?” Carmy presses but Samora can tell he’s not going down that path of the past.

She fans her hand to tell him to continue.

“This guy. One of the best chef’s I worked for in New York, he was at the funeral. There was a funeral for this restaurant, Ever.” Carmy begins to tell his old friend, mindful that she’s been out of the loop.

Samora looks around the night sky and snaps her fingers with a nod of her head, “yeah um, Chelly—mostly Stevie said something about a strict chef you were working with but of course it was vague, which leaves me to believe that you didn’t tell chelly much but she’s great at reading in between the lines much like myself.”

Carmy doesn’t tell her exactly what Chef David said to him a hour ago but tells her what his words made him feel yet again. Small. Incapable. How he has to triple check everything, take charge with no regard for his team that’s supposed to be family, and ultimately that he shouldn’t have a team because he was better off alone. How he should be grateful to be where he is now because of all that Chef David taught him.

“Oh nooooo, Chef charred asshole better be lucky I wasn’t there,” Samora mumbles, “He sounds like a narcissistic dick of a man who gets off on attempting to morph you into him and to me? That doesn’t sound like a brilliant or best of the best chef or even a person! it sounds weak and miserable.”

“It’s what I signed up for.” Carmy almost argues and Samora sits up.

She knows this stems from much more than what he experienced in that restaurant in New York.

“I haven’t been around you in a while but I’ve always been on the sidelines. You accomplished all of these things because you knew you could—you fought. You worked hard and earned this.” Samora reassures, “but these false ideas that you have because of what someone else caused shouldn’t diminish anything that you’ve done and continue to do.”

Carmy pulls out his phone and a pack of chewing gum, “tell that to my brain then. The review is up, Sammy.”

Samora’s eyes meet Carmy’s as he shoves a square piece into his mouth, elbows on his knees as they start to bounce, head dropping just a bit. She reaches for the phone, giving him a side eye since there’s no passcode on it, and is brought right to a webpage.

~THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE~

Reviewed by Ad. Shap

Carmen doesn’t have to look at Samora’s face to take in her reaction. He ultimately knows it’ll be different from what the blue in his brain says. There were many things wrong with the review, mostly wrong than good and that’s why he needed someone from the outside to see before seeing how the crew digested this.

Samora usually does this humming when she’s reading or thinking about something and that doesn’t seem to change. When she’s finished she puts the phone face down on the outdoor table and folds her fingers together as she sits back.

“Well…That was reminiscent to my short lived cookie career.”

Carmy widens his eyes as he sets them back on his friend.

She shields her face instantly, “whoa turn down the opacity on those things will ya?”

“Your cookie business failed.”

“Um, no. Fuck you for that by the way,” Samora glared, “I view it as that wasn’t the way the chapter was meant to be told. I wasn’t heavily devoted to culinary like you. Nobody is that I know of. It was just a hobby for me but you turned your craft into something much more: breathe, sleep—well—you let it consume you pros and cons. Surely these reviews are deeply important because impressions are…tricky but not everything is the way you see it.”

Carmy scoffs with a rub to his lips in annoyance, “what the fuck do you mean it’s not the way I see it? It’s my business and I’ve been backstabbed by a prick I worked with—

“Carmy—

“I can’t be a screw up! I won’t be. I’ve been at this for so long and I’m more than tired and shitty in the head but not enough to throw it all away no matter what some four eyed fucker with a typewriter for a laptop says!” Carmy is on his feet now pacing, “I picked up what Mikey left behind, I put in the time and the effort, I removed parts of myself to be untouchable—

Samora shakes her head, “you’re not though and some part of you knows that. None of us are unbreakable, babe. You just…start over as many times until it feels right.”

“See I don’t—

Carmy swallows the lump in his throat to speak clearly, “that’s the problem, I don’t think I know what feels right or if I ever did. I just know circumstances.”

Samora inhales as she gets to her feet too, “okay then. Take everything that you bottled up and let it out there.” She points over the edge of the balcony, “you have to try to acknowledge the good and let some things go or you’ll forever feel stuck instead of moving forward…but I’m no therapist just a decorator who’s still annoyed that you didn’t reach out to revamp the bear—but that’s another conversation, just a friend who knows a little something something that’ll help.”

“Uh, something something?” Carmy repeats feeling his heart race as Samora waved her painted hand out for Carmy’s tatted one.

He takes her hand as she leads the way to the balcony but not close enough to trigger any vertigo. Carmy always loved the view at Samora’s compared to his own childhood home, which contrasted with no view at all—his bedroom didn’t have any windows, just a closed in space—and he was stuck hearing the common yelling between Donna and Mikey.

Carmy could see the top of a neighbor’s red brick building (thanks to how many floors the greystone had) across the street, along with another home to the left and a row of other houses to the right. Behind the house across the street sat the changing color of lights and beyond that was the liveliness of Chicago in the distance, the farmer’s market he personally loved and had Tina make the runs to, other great eateries, and music spots also weren’t far from Samora’s.

The woman rests a hand right in the center of his chest and Carmy can feel himself panting, “No one ever has to know if you have it all figured out…nobody truly does. Put down some of those dishes bear, out there. Not to hibernate but to be the best version of yourself for you and not what anyone tells you, you should be.”

His eyes burn and he feels like he might let some tears fall some more tonight and he finds that comfort in Samora. Something good from his past that was still present although his version is always different, he doesn’t mind much if she see’s any water that slips from the corners. He knows she won’t say anything about it, and her hand doesn’t move from his chest as she’s almost coaching him how to deal with just a portion of his bullshit.

He couldn’t figure it out for himself.

Yet he was willing to learn.

The scream curdles from the back of his throat, bursting through his lips into the night. He curls into his stomach some, the weight present, the firmness of Samora’s hand on his chest, and his face is hot in the summer air, turning pink as he fights to breathe through his screams. Samora is right there with him, her screams were much more melodic, like she’s had the practice while Carmy is testing it out.

His screams have been buried just like everything else he’s bottled up for years.

After, his throat is raw and voice hoarse as he sniffs, he abruptly turns to Samora, pulling her into another hug. She isn’t tense against him, small laughter falling through her own lips while Carmy hold’s onto her.

Calming down.

“love you,” he manages to get out while Samora scratches his back.

She knows he means it and it’s probably something he needed to hear back as of lately.

Samora sighs, “love you too, turd.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pulling back to meet her stare and she winks at him.

“…if I didn’t love the both of you, I might be highly concerned at whatever the hell that was.” Joel announces his arrival after a few moments of silence.

His arms are folded but he’s got that Berzatto sly grin on his lips as Carmy slowly lets his hands fall from Samora’s forearms. The shorter haired man makes his way over to the two, hands going to both of their shoulders as he peers back and forth.

“You made it.”

“I—yeah.” Carmy clears his throat with a shake of his head, “I did.”

“Good,” Joel dips his head but it feels more like a question than a comment.

carmy shrugs.

Samora claps her hands gaining both cousins’ attention, “let’s have some of Mora’s Mosa’s as a celebratory of the night—was the work day alright for you, love?”

Joel awkwardly nods his head back and forth as a way to show that it was so-so.

“Works for me!” Samora yells, “to the kitchen!”

“It’s midnight, honey.” Joel tells Samora who twists her lips to the side, “and I’m sure Carmy doesn’t want any of that green shit you had in the fridge.”

Samora gasps, “damn, who knew my boyfriend would be my biggest critic?”

“Oh c’mon, don’t get sensitive on me now!”

She shrugs his hand from her shoulder while Joel’s low lidded eyes sends a look to Carmy who raises his hands in surrender.

In a hoarse tone he replies, “I actually like the gazpacho so…you’re on your own with that one.”

“Woooow, okay.” Joel breathes out a laugh, then bites down on his bottom lip while Carmy moves to grab his phone and fallen gum pack.

Carmy then turns to watch the two bicker like an old married couple but it doesn’t get loud at all. Joel does talk with his hands to get his point across and Carmy can pinpoint the exact moment Samora cracks, the corner of her nose twitches with amusement before Joel tests the waters, gripping her hips to place a tender kiss on her lips, which Samora seems to kiss back before they break apart. Smiles on both of their faces before they turn back to Carmy who’s attempting to sneak off down the steps.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Joel asks, “you think you can just go off when you and I didn’t get any one on one time?”

Carmy taps his phone against his hand, “It’s getting late, don’t want to impose any further.”

Joel rolls his eyes, tossing an arm across Carmy’s shoulder, “shut your trap, you’re home, man.”

And with that Carmy is led back into the house.

He doesn’t think he’s slept long, but when he checks the time on his slowly dying phone, it’s already later into the next morning.

8:37am and he has no idea what this day is going to look like but it’s a Sunday…maybe for once he doesn’t have to. One of the rooms he’s tucked in belonged to one of Samora’s adopted brothers, Jacobi, Carmy guesses since there’s still a large crack against the ceiling thanks to a lighting strike that occurred way back when they were all kids.

He sits up for a while, taking in the view one last time before he starts to make his exit. He’s walking down the path towards the gate and stops as he hears the front door open.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Samora tells him as he turns to face her, the woman hugging her robe to herself as she’s sitting on the front step.

Carmy stretches a small smile on his dry lips, “Never that,” he jokes, “thanks for always being here, Sammy. Dunno if I ever told you that enough…probably not since I’m always in my head but uh—give Joel my thanks too for me this time.”

Samora dips her head and says, “Surely.”

Carmy scoffs as he pulls the gate back before putting his palm up in the air, “see you soon.”

“After while, crocodile.” She kisses her fingertips before waving them at him.

Samora watches Carmy go, hoping he starts putting the pieces together instead of forcing it all apart like he’s always been accustomed to.

When Monday comes along, his hands are resting along the trimming of white counter as he’s slightly shifting his head back and forth at all the greenery situated in front of him.

“Morning Chef,” Marcus greets first as he’s followed in by Tina.

Carmy nods his head in greeting.

Tina’s eyes immediately go to all the herbs and vegetables, “Jeffery, what’s all this?”

“Something new, green, for the menu.” Carmy informs, “I realized we haven’t had family dinner in a while and i want all of your inputs for what we’ll have tonight.”

Tina and Marcus share a glance, having a feeling that this had something to do with the new review. They all briefly talked about it in the group chat over the weekend.

“Okay, cool. We’re gonna just go put our stuff down.” Marcus points and Carmy keeps his eyes on the ingredients.

“Take your time, Chefs.” Carmy calls out after some time as the two have already started making their way towards the lockers.

He closes his eyes, trying to slow the rising beat of his heart, deeply inhaling as he ignores the contrast of oxygen between his two nostrils, that was another problem he’s gotten used to, his eyes open just in time to meet the green again as the back doors swing open, revealing the rest of his team gradually.

Carmy had work to do and he’s never been afraid of hard work.

☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

[weirdowithaquill]

The Importance of Names in the Railway Series

It's been a hot minute since my last take on the world of Thomas & Friends - so here's one that has sort of been wandering about in the back of my mind for a while.

How important is a name to an engine? Cause we know the engines do put a lot of value into a name. Stepney and Edward say as such:

"[...] I think our Controller was right. All engines ought to have names." "Yes," agreed Edward, "it's most important."

And it's further reinforced by Bear later in the series:

"It's nicer than just having a number," he (Bear) says. "Having a name means that you really belong."

Donald and Douglas echo this by giving themselves names (partially to fool the Fat Controller) and the interesting thing is that Sir Charles actually uses their names almost exclusively from that moment on - unless referring to them by their new numbers.

Even BoCo gives himself a name! And it feels pretty on-the-spot too, seeing as he just goes "but you can call me BoCo".

But in contrast, every single rail-based 'villain' or 'antagonist' in the Railway Series only has a number, or is Diesel, who doesn't really have a name either. Check me! There's:

Diesel

The 'Big City Engine'

Class 40 (D261/D471)

D199

D40125

None of them have names - not even 'the Big City Engine'. They're given nicknames by the engines, but otherwise they are just numbers. And I think it runs a bit deeper than that. A little while back I did a post on the 'railway rulebook' - and something I said was that managers did everything in their power to both dehumanise the engines and make the engines loyal to them. What better way of doing that than only giving certain engines names? 'Flying Scotsman' gets a name because he's a prestigious express engine, but the engine who shunts his coaches? The goods engine who brought his coal? Why would management give them names - to do that is to undermine the class system they've built to keep the engines fighting amongst themselves. If the engines are on equal footing, then they'd want equal rights.

You know... this sounds a lot like the Communist Manifesto. I don't think the Rev. W. Awdry intended it that way, but it does.

But that's beside my point. Certain railways either don't want their engines to have names. In particular, I would point at the LMS and the LNER, which both had a massive roster of engines. Not only is recording all their names a pain, but it would also add a sense of individuality to them and muck up their spreadsheets. In most countries, people have an ID number for identification - and that's what these companies needed. Not names; numbers.

The GWR is a notable exception to this, and I think people have noticed that. Both Duck and Oliver arrive with names, and Sir Topham I was a Swindon-apprentice who would have grown up with GWR ideology. Edward got his name because he was built as an express engine, Henry and Gordon for the same reasons - and everyone else either gives themselves names or have names given to them.

Toby probably got his from his crew and the locals after decades of being in the same area - I mean, he literally runs into their town, of course they have a name for him. Percy is given his by Sir Topham, and we can infer Thomas and James got similar treatment. Donald and Douglas gave themselves names, and so did BoCo.

Another possibility is that a preservation society would give engines names, though that was more the engines on said heritage line - like in Stepney the Bluebell Engine, where Stepney refers to all his friends on the Bluebell by name, and says his controller gave out some names, like Bluebell and Primrose - but Adams and Cromford got their names from the other engines and they don't want the controller finding out. And again, Stepney and Edward both explicitly say that they believe engines ought to have names - and that they believe it really makes an engine feel like family.

This almost exclusively applies to engines in a steam-dominated society, and once again I have to return to my old nemesis: early British Railways. British Railways inherited a massive network that spanned a continent and had thousands of engines - not to mention the fact they were going to scrap all their steam engines and replace them with new diesel engines. Names were never ever going to be viable. But moreover, they were going to kill all the steam engines - if these engines were seen by the public to be very sentient and intelligent, then there would be an outcry. Dehumanising these engines was extremely important to their business model.

So almost every new engine built under BR got no name. And that includes steam and diesel engines. And this sort of environment, where engines referred to each other by number, became standard.

Names have a lot of meaning behind them. We give names to things we believe are very valuable to us, things we really bond with, like a teddy bear or a beloved family car. Names confer a level of love and care, as opposed to numbers, which have a level of 'repetitive factory conveyor belt' to them, for lack of a better term. These engines, referring to each other by number, didn't sound as human as those referring to each other by name.

For a good example, as mentioned above, the GWR gave all its engines names - and the GWR has the most engines from its company preserved. The fact that people knew these engines had names, and possibly by name, really contributed to how many were saved.

But what makes it even more interesting is the fact that often engines give each other names. Bear is given his name by the other engines, Duck is a nickname given to 'Montague' because he waddles. And I think the reason that none of these diesels have names is because no steam engine ever gave them a name, and company policy means no diesel has the mindset for giving out names either. Steam engines give each other names, but it becomes exclusive to them and friendly diesels, and thus dies out over the generations.

Engines today don't have names. They don't even really have a proper visible number. They have a serial number somewhere, but that's about it. And I think that says a lot about what happened to the tradition of names for engines.

To sum up a very long, winding ramble, I think names came from several places:

Themselves. Engines could name themselves, like Donald and Douglas - who got their names from (maybe) former drivers?

From crew and community. Toby most likely got his name from the people around him, being on an isolated tramway.

From their owners. Flying Scotsman, Mallard and Percy are good examples of this. It represents a level of importance and care for this engine, as well as in some cases reinforcing class.

From other engines. Duck and Bear are great examples of this, as they are given names by their friends that they like, as it makes them feel as if they fit in.

And these names were very common in the steam era as engines gave each other names and communities knew specific engines and gave them names. As everything became more commercial and bureaucratic, naming was lost. Numbers reinforced company identity and dehumanised the engines to make them less sympathetic to the public. Look at Donald and Douglas, who probably had their names for decades - given by their friends - but never learnt by management.

Wow, that took a bit of a dark turn. Thanks for reading, and as usual, none of the above pictures are mine.

[maraschinomerry]

You Are My Sunshine

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: sunshine x grumpy, based off this tiktok audio (the sunshine character needs comfort and surprises everyone when they go to the grump, who is equally surprised when they find themself hugging back)

Content: not-quite-enemies to friends, heavily implied previous non-con from another character and a non-graphic second attempt, emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: cheesiest title ever but the second I heard that tiktok audio I knew I wanted to write this for George, it reminded me so much of the way he seemed with Lucy until they bonded over pizza (but maybe a little played up to fully fit the grump persona)

Word count: 3.3k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor (taglist is open if anyone wants to be added!)

George knew you were going to be infuriating from the moment you set foot on the doorstep of 35 Portland Row.

He opened the door after the shrill bell echoed down the hall, to be met by your beaming face. Had he not been taken aback by how cute you were, he'd have closed it straight away.

"Hello!" you greeted him cheerily. "I'm here about the job - I'm (name), what's your name?"

Good grief, you were lively. One of the only perks of agent work was that everyone else was as sharp-tongued and hardened as he was, yet here you were with all the enthusiasm and energy of a puppy in a park. Still, no point being rude until you'd proven how unprepared you were. Then he could be smug about it too. "George."

"Nice to meet you, George. May I come in?" You'd noted his surliness, but it didn't phase you. Having tried everywhere else, you really needed this interview to go well. Normally by now you'd be thoroughly fed up with the rejection, it was bad enough the first time but the fourth was just upsetting, but you forced yourself to remain positive for a good first impression.

George led you silently into a cosy living room, where a boy and girl were chatting away in hushed voices on one of the sofas.

"Another candidate," George muttered as he sank into an armchair and buried his head in a comic. The other boy rose from the sofa and offered his hand. You shook it gratefully. "Anthony Lockwood," he introduced himself before gesturing to the girl, who waved briefly. "Lucy Carlyle, and I hope George had the good sense to give you his name."

You nodded and introduced yourself in return. They seemed an odd bunch - younger than you'd expected, with no sign of adult supervision, and simultaneously welcoming and closed off. Especially George, who hadn't so much as looked at you since you'd entered the room.

"I'm afraid I don't have any references to show, I had to leave my previous agency rather quickly after an incident, but I have a CV and my grade certificates to look over if you'd like," you explained, holding out a plain white folder to Lockwood. He rifled through it, noting aloud that you'd just finished at Rotwell, and you could have sworn George rolled his eyes over the top of his comic.

Lockwood laid the folder on the table. "Interesting stuff, but if you don't mind I'd like to give you a couple of tests." Hold on. The advert didn't say anything about that. Lucy must have sensed your alarm and been through something similar, as she offered you a reassuring smile. You wondered how long she'd been with the agency, how recently she'd done these 'tests'.

The tests came in the form of objects, covered by tea towels and unveiled one by one with dramatic flair. You were particularly intrigued by a jar of swampy green liquid containing a skull. Excitement crept into your voice when you realised it was a ghost jar, something you'd longed to see for years with no success, but it abruptly jolted to shock when the skull developed an almost-face and shot you a chilling grin. You struggled to regain your composure. George had lowered his comic now, watching you disdainfully, so you relaxed out of spite and resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow in challenge. No, it wasn't necessary, you were in a good mood and being polite. You needed the job.

The rest of the tests were a breeze. The taller boy, Lockwood, certainly seemed pleased with your results. As he opened his mouth to congratulate you, however, George finally spoke.

"Lockwood. A word."

The rest of you looked at him, and he glowered back. Lucy stood, smiling at you again. "Why don't I take you through to the kitchen, (name), since George appears to have neglected to offer you any tea." You followed her out of the room, the atmosphere behind you souring by the second.

As soon as you were out of earshot, George rounded on his friend. "You're not seriously thinking of hiring them." It was a statement, not a question.

"Why not? They did well, don't you think?"

"Sure, but try and tell me you're not going to get sick to death of them spewing sunshine everywhere they go within the first two weeks." Lockwood chuckled, mentally filing 'spewing sunshine' away with 'braying gallery for bellends' on the list of his favourite George-isms. George misinterpreted the laughter as denial, and threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, go ahead, but I'm calling it now. Two. Weeks."

—

You settled into Lockwood & Co. remarkably quickly, flying through the first two weeks. Lucy had bonded with you immediately, your cheerful demeanour bringing back her softer side, and even Lockwood found himself warming to you. The only person who steadfastly kept you at arms length was George. He was civil enough, having gradually come to terms with the fact that you were probably there to stay, but he never initiated conversations and ended the ones you started as soon as possible. Even in group moments round the dining table, he seemed immune where your presence began to make the others more animated. He had your back on cases as much as the other two, you couldn't deny that, but you were still wary around him. As the weeks went on and he was forced to acknowledge you more, he took to calling you 'sunshine' - never in a fun, playful way though, always "hold on, sunshine" when he was shooting down your optimism or "come on, sunshine" when you were forced to pair up and he automatically took the lead. If it had been anyone else calling you that it would have been sweet, but from him it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

—

"I think George hates me," you announced.

It was well over a month, nearly two in fact, into your employment, and you were sprawled on Lucy's floor as she lay above you on the bed painting her nails. She leaned over at your words, hair falling all around and casting a web of shadows across her face.

"What makes you say that?" she frowned.

"Oh, come off it, Luce, it's obvious. He still treats me like an interloper, barely registers my existence and when he does he never treats me like a real person, just calls me 'sunshine' like it's some horrible thing. If anything it's him that's the problem for being such a…" you trailed off as you struggled to think of the right analogy. "A storm cloud!"

Lucy giggled. "It's the hair, isn't it?" You laughed too, picturing his black curls as a dark cloud ready to burst.

The bedframe creaked as Lucy got up, moving to join you on the floor. Her nails, half finished, had been abandoned. "He doesn't hate you though, he's just not a people person at the best of times and I think he's got so used to being on the same page as me and Lockwood that not being able to figure you out has blown his little puzzle-loving mind. Not that that's any excuse."

You nodded. It made sense, but still didn't make you feel any better.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" she asked. You appreciated the offer, but it was better if you did it yourself. More mature, for one, and a chance to prove you weren't as one-dimensional as he must think.

—

As you expected, you found George in the library. He was curled up in his favourite armchair, one book open in his lap and another on the table beside him alongside a mug of tea. The gentle glow of the lamplight washed him in golden hues, emphasising his curls and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks. He glanced up behind his glasses at the creak of the door to see you lingering on the threshold, shifting uncomfortably. Although you were fully dressed, your anxious demeanour and lack of pretense made you seem more exposed than he'd seen you before.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not exactly like I can stop you."

"Well no, but I still wanted to be decent and ask. I'm not a dick."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You sighed. You couldn't resist having a jab at him, fed up with the way he'd been treating you, but getting him on the offensive wasn't particularly conducive to making him like you.

"It means you've been resentful or outright horrible to me since the second you set eyes on me and I don't understand what I could possibly have done to make you hate me so much."

George frowned, putting the book down and giving you his full attention for perhaps the first time ever. "I don't hate you." Lucy had said as much too, but that didn't mean you believed him. "And it's not anything you've done. I just…" His fingers played absent-mindedly with a small tear in the fabric of the armchair as he tried to find the words. You waited patiently. "I don't get how you can be in a job like this and still be so naive."

Something in you twitched, and you felt your blood start to boil. "I am not naive."

"Oh really?" His voice grew sharper. "So it's not naive to live a life in which any one of us could die or get permanently ghost-locked any given night, and still act like everything's rosy and we'll be saved through the power of friendship and happy thoughts? How can you think like that?"

"Because I have to!" The words exploded out of you, startling yourself almost as much as they did George, whose eyes widened as his mouth closed. You tried desperately to claw the words, the feelings, back in, but it was too late. Resigned, you sank into the other armchair, George's eyes on you the whole time.

"I've always been quite cheerful," you began, voice barely above a whisper like the outburst had drained all your energy. "When I was going through my training at Rotwell, it was my optimism that kept the rest of the team sane, because we all knew that if even I gave up then there was no hope for any of us. But my team leader, Miles, he thought I was naive too. Innocent. He… he took advantage." Your breath hitched, and you fought the urge to cry. Across from you, George unknowingly shifted forward in his chair, closing the gap between you a little. "After a while I could barely be in the same building as him without being afraid of what he was going to try. So I left. That's how I ended up here."

"I still don't understand, though," George said quietly. "How do you go through that and come out more upbeat than ever?"

You gave him a wobbly smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Because if I don't, that means he wins. And I refuse to let him take that away from me."

George was silent, but he nodded a little in understanding. Naivety he couldn't abide, doing it to be annoying was, well, annoying, but spiteful positivity he couldn't help but respect. Plus, it occurred to him that this was possibly the first time you'd opened up to anyone about your experience, to him of all people despite how he'd treated you. He watched you intently, grappling with the fact that you had suddenly become a much more complex person than he'd first believed.

You squirmed under George's intense gaze. It felt good to get that awful memory off your chest, but weird that of the whole agency it had been him you'd told first. He was utterly unreadable in that moment, face unexpectedly soft and yet with a hardness behind his eyes that you couldn't be sure wasn't still directed at you. You cleared your throat nervously, wiping a stray tear away with the side of your hand.

"Anyway, um, I should probably get to bed. Prepare for the case tomorrow. Good night, George." You got up hastily, moving to the door.

"Good night, sunshine." You froze. There was no malice in the word at all this time. When you turned in shock, you saw he had picked up his book again. It almost covered the lower half of his face, but just over the top of it you could see the corners of his lips turned up in a smile as he watched you leave.

—

The case was going well, you thought. It was an incredibly old house, all wood panelling and decorative columns, huge oil paintings and plush velvet upholstery. Lockwood and Lucy had ventured up the grand spiral staircase, leaving you alone downstairs with George, and after last night you felt a little more confident being around him, though he was still difficult to read at times.

"How about I head through to the kitchen and you handle the lounge?" he suggested. That was new; normally it would be an instruction with no room for input. You nodded, taking the door on your left.

The room was large but stuffy, a thick layer of dust coating what would once have been an opulent social area. Faded leaf print paper covered the top half of the walls, separated from the ornate oak panels below by a picture rail. At the far end of the room, the empty fireplace was surrounded by marble and a metal grate. The navy blue sofas were almost grey now, having not been covered to defend against the cruel onslaught of time, and likewise for the long oval coffee table in the centre. You scanned the room with your torch, looking for anything that could be a source. A rustle came from the hallway behind you; you were surprised George had finished so quickly.

"Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart."

The deep voice behind you sent a shiver down your spine. You turned on legs of jelly, one hand drifting to your rapier as you willed your expression to remain as neutral as possible.

"Miles. What are you doing here?"

The older boy stepped into the room with a lecherous grin. He looked exactly as he did two months ago. Just seeing him made your stomach turn. "My team is on a case up the road, and when I heard your little agency," he said the words with a sneer, "was in town, I felt it would be rude not to pay you a visit. You left me without saying goodbye, after all."

Everything you'd been through with him flashed across your mind, and you struggled to keep your voice from shaking. You glanced at where he blocked the doorway, your only exit. "You didn't deserve a goodbye," you said as confidently as you could.

"Oh come on now, baby, after everything I did for you?" He was moving closer, and you found yourself gripping your rapier tighter as you stumbled away.

"Don't come any closer, Miles, or I swear-"

He laughed, a wicked sound that rattled from his chest. He didn't stop moving. "Or what?" You felt the backs of your knees collide with the table, the impact buckling them and tipping you backwards until your shoulder blades collided painfully with the wood and a cloud of dust billowed around you. Still Miles advanced, pinning you down with a hand across your throat. You scrabbled feebly at his sides. He pressed down harder, spots dancing across your eyes as you gasped for air that wouldn't come. His other hand snaked down your body, unaffected by the way you clawed at it. "Look at you, silly little thing. You couldn't do anything then, what's going to stop me now?"

"I am," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

The hand left your throat and breath rushed back into your lungs. You sat up, coughing. As the room swam back into focus, you were met by George, backing Miles into the wall with his rapier brandished and a dark look on his face.

Despite being at the end of a very sharp blade, Miles still managed to look smug. "You their new boyfriend? Good luck with that."

"No," George almost snarled. "I'm their friend, which is far more than you can say. You're nothing more than a trespasser."

By this point Lockwood and Lucy had heard the kerfuffle and made their way downstairs, having located the source in record time; as soon as they saw George with his rapier drawn, they burst into the room with their own in hand. Wordlessly, Lucy positioned herself a little further back, her body between you and Miles, while Lockwood went shoulder to shoulder with George. A flash of recognition crossed his face (he did know the higher-ups from most agencies in the area, after all) and his jaw set.

"You need to leave," he stated dryly. "This isn't your case, and you aren't welcome here." While George was more than competent with a rapier, Lockwood's reputation preceded him, and his added confidence and unwavering blade made Miles gulp. He moved cautiously to the door, George on his heels to make sure he left. The older boy shot you one final glance, a vicious wink, before he disappeared. You collapsed against the table with relief.

Immediately, Lucy and Lockwood sheathed their rapiers. "Are you okay?" they asked in near unison. You weren't sure you could give an honest answer: blood was thundering in your ears, your lungs were still frantically trying to replace the air that had been pushed out, your knees and shoulders hurt and your neck was definitely going to bruise. Your vision began to blur with tears, but through them you registered the vibrant orange of George's outfit as he returned. The dam of emotions broke. You surged forward. Lucy opened her arms for a hug. Lockwood held out a hand for you to settle into his shoulder. George dropped his arms to his side in statuesque shock as you barrelled into him.

The others snapped their attention to George, and he blinked back in surprise. He glanced down to where your hair merged into his shirt, face buried in his chest as sobs wracked your body, arms wrapped around his waist under his open plaid shirt. He threw Lucy a panicked look - she was your best friend, shouldn't you have gone to her for comfort? Lucy simply nodded pointedly to you. Slowly, slowly, George brought his arms up and placed them delicately around your injured shoulders. The second you felt the contact, you melted further into him and he tightened the embrace. Lockwood and Lucy continued to stare, dumbfounded, and George felt something blossom in his chest. He was secretly honoured that you'd gone to him - maybe it was just because you'd told him exactly what had happened between you and Miles, but he hadn't expected that to be enough to change your frustration overnight. Whatever the reason, it had certainly changed how he felt about you. In that moment, as he brought a hand up to stroke your hair, he knew that he'd do anything it took to protect you, to prove to you that he was glad to have you on the team, to work to be worthy of being the person you trusted with all your emotions and secrets the way you had with this. And he was never, ever, going to let anyone make you feel the way Miles had, vulnerable and afraid, or the way he had, like you had to justify the way you chose to be brave and be yourself. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around his back to tangle his fingers in yours.

"Come on sunshine, let's get you home."

He didn't let you go the entire way back to Portland Row.

[chibi-celesti]

Was ki ra chs Chronicle=Key en grandee sos inferiare yor

(I will sing you a sweet lullaby forever, my dearest)

Twst Boys x GN! Reader, feat. NRC Staff.

Warnings: Angst, reference to Epic Mickey 1, more AT references

Synopsis: Confronting and halting the Blot Phantom was easy. Saying Good-bye is the hardest.

(You part ways with your friends to halt the Blot from tearing apart Twisted Wonderland)

A/N: I swear I'm not a fan of angst! This was a brain child idea at 3 in the morning, and that's it! It's based solely on this scene from Ar Tonelico 1 where one of the heroines, Misha(or Misya) fulfills her role as a seal to the main antagonist Mir. The title is named after the song of the same name.

~EXEC_CHRONICLE=KEY./~

It was exhausting, the hell you all went through. The past overblots seemed like child's play compared to this monster-no demon-of a Phantom. This beast was hellbent on ending the world; to make it repent for the sorrows of mankind's greed.

You feared that you and everyone else weren't gonna last long. The demon almost killed Crowley, but somehow he persevered and survived throughout the fight. For being the first person to hold back the beast long enough for them to arrive was no easy feat.

Through hard work, tag teaming with the unlikely-est pair of allies, and no casualties to boot, everyone managed to best the beast and send it back down into the depths of White Rose Castle.

“That…was easy…” You heard one of your friends pant.

“You could say…that again.”

A thump sound of someone collapsing caught your group's attention. Crowley had lost his strength to stand and looked scaryingly pale. Everyone had shouted his name, seeing if he was in stable condition. A few students and staff ran to assist him.

“I am fine, Everyone. But we still need to do something about that dreaded Phantom. If we do not stop it now, our world will never know peace again.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. You had an idea as to how to stop it. But you worry what the others might think.

The headmage knows the truth. So did the rest of the staff. They all knew if things got worse, you would be the sacrificial lamb on the altar for this.

The ground begins to rumble again, not giving you enough time to confess.

Suppressing the tears that threatened to come down your face, you called to the Headmage to get his attention. He looks to you, knowing it is time. Crowley nods to you, and weakly gestures for you to head towards the broken castle’s altar.

The rumbling continued on as you made your way to the altar. The flow of magic embracing you as you faced all of the friends, acquaintances, and of course your beloved, one last time.

“Everyone, thank you. For everything.”

Most looked a bit confused, while others felt something was amiss. Your beloved, however, felt his heart beginning to crack into pieces. He knew exactly what you were about to do.

“Please don't hate me for this. I was born to fulfill this role. And while it was for a short time, I truly loved every moment of freedom I had with you all.”

“Don't forget me… okay?” You felt the tears fall against your better judgement. Feeling the magic in the air wrap around you, you began to perform your lullaby for the Blot.

~Wee ki ra chs Chronicle Key, en grandee sos dius yor.

Wee ki ra araus tes soare an giue mea iem~

The song reverberated out the desolate ruins of the Underworld, in and through the vast Coral Sea and spread everywhere in Twisted Wonderland. Your voice echoing as a piece of Salvation to many, and a tragic farewell to the friends you loved.

“Hey, guys. The shaking stopped.”

“Looks like the Blot won't be bothering us ever again…right?”

The Headmage confirmed their words.

“...” Your beloved stood there, taking in what everyone noticed your actions have done, while also blocking them out. He calls out to you, hoping you would answer.

A hand placed on his shoulders told him what he wanted to deny. “Forgive us, but they cannot stop singing. Lest we want that foul beast to return.” Trein told him, wishing he could do more to reassure his students.

“So, they can't come back with us?!”

You faintly hear shouts of disbelief, but they were drops of water compared to the sound of your lullaby.

“Pup is doing this for all our sakes.”

Your beloved walked ahead, hoping to speak with you again. To see if you could hear him. He tells you he cannot stay, but that he will try to visit you. Not everyday, but he will. He promises to tell you about the world you're protecting. The lives and futures saved by what you, he and everyone fought to protect.

With that said, leaning onto Vargas for support, Crowley ordered everyone to leave White Rose Castle.

It was time to go home. Without you.

~Why does power dwell in those who do not wish for strife?

And why does power torture the sweet, innocent ones?~

-Misha

[catcas22]

Fortissax is Fia Theory

Alright people, grab your red yarn and thumbtacks. I need to share this with someone, so you all get to read my deranged ramblings.

Real talk, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

Thesis:

Proposition 1) Fortissax was consort to Godwyn and the mother of the Golden Lineage.

Proposition 2) Fia is the human form of Fortissax.

Some of this theory will be (I believe) airtight, some of it will be based on circumstantial evidence, and some will be reasonably plausible headcanon that I feel would enhance the lore. Take it or leave it as you like.

The part that I maintain is airtight.

In-game, Fortissax’s gender is never confirmed. Any time pronouns are used to refer to Fortissax, the game uses it/its pronouns.

This could be deliberate obfuscation on the part of the game devs. Fortissax’s gender could have been part of a big reveal that ended up being cut from the final product.

It’s also possible that the ancient dragons are capable of changing their sex (ASOIAF dragons seem to work this way), or they simply don’t attach the same significance to sex/gender that humans do.

The Golden Lineage intermarried with dragons at some point in history.

Godrick’s dialogue: “Mighty Dragon, thou'rt a trueborn heir. Lend me thy strength, o kindred. Deliver me unto greater heights.” [Emphasis mine]

Godwyn was the exalted noble who Fia was attempting to resurrect when she first saw the guidance of Grace.

Fia’s dialogue: “After I received the warmth and lifely vigour from a number of champions, I lay with the remains of an exalted noble, to grant him another chance at life.”

Fia after killing D: “Finally, it is returned to its rightful place. The stolen hallowbrand of the exalted noble. And now, I must bid you goodbye as well. Though I ask you deliver this message to the Roundtable Hold. I am Fia, Deathbed Companion. Hark, Roundtable. Disturb not the Death of Godwyn, the exalted.” [Emphasis mine]

The word choice here seems too intentional to be coincidence. Fia first refers to an “exalted noble.” Later, she refers to Godwyn’s half of the curse mark as “the stolen hallowbrand of the exalted noble,” then goes on to refer to “Godwyn the Exalted” within a few sentences. Godwyn is the Exalted Noble, the Exalted Noble is Godwyn.

Slightly less airtight, but still strongly implied.

Fortissax and Godwyn were an item. This is already pretty widely accepted fanon, but I’ll lay out the evidence anyway.

Basically any time Fortissax is mentioned, it is in the context of their close bond with Godwyn. On it’s own, this wouldn’t mean much -- strong platonic bonds are a thing.

But we also established that Godwyn’s descendants are also descended from dragons. Out of the four named ancient dragons (the game never gives any indication that feral dragons can take human form), Fortissax is the most likely candidate.

Gransax is dead by the time the war against the dragons is over.

Placidusax is in (self-imposed?) exile in Farum Azula.

Lansseax is a possibility, but we know from the description of Vyke’s dragon bolt that “Of all the knights, Vyke the Dragonspear was the one Lansseax loved the most.” This does not entirely rule out the possibility of a political marriage between Lansseax and Godwyn, but it’s worth noting.

Although it’s not airtight, Fortissax being Godwyn’s consort makes the most sense. When you take their close bond and Godrick’s dragon heritage together, the game does seem to be implying a union between the two.

Lichdragon Fortissax is a shade.

We have plenty of in-game precedence for echoes of a person remaining behind to fight while the individual in question goes on to do other things. See Royal Knight Loretta in Caria Manor, Festering Fingerprint Vyke in the Church of Inhibition, and Godfrey’s Golden Shade in Leyndell.

We never see Fortissax manifest in the physical world, only ever showing up in the mindscape (Fia’s mindscape? Godwyn’s? Fortissax’s?) where we fight him.

Think about the sequence of events here. Fia is sleeping beside Godwyn. We touch her, which takes us directly to the Lichdragon’s boss arena. We kill Fortissax, and exit the dream to find that Fia has brought forth the Mending Rune of the Death Prince.

The slightly shaky but still supported stuff.

Fia is the human form of Fortissax -- this is the big one.

We encounter Lichdragon Fortissax in what is seems to be either Fia’s mindscape or a shared dream between Godwyn and Fia.

If we accept the premise that Fortissax is Godwyn’s consort, it is worth noting that Fia also seems to have prior history with Godwyn.

Fia clearly considers herself Godwyn’s consort. Consider the lines: “For I am the companion of Godwyn, Prince of Death. I wished to be a mother to Those Who Live in Death.” And, “I will soon lay with Godwyn. To conceive my child, the rune.”

Fia also refers to herself as the mother of those who live in death. This would align with her being the consort of Godwyn, the progenitor of those who live in death.

Pretty clear-cut. Of course it’s possible that Fia is delusional and pursuing the fantasy equivalent of a para-social relationship, but I tend to doubt that due to this line, spoken if you try to kill Fia: “Godwyn... Is that you, dear?”

I don’t care how delusional you are, you don’t cry for your celebrity crush in your dying moments. She knew him before the Night of the Black Knives.

Fia’s “I was awakened by the guidance of grace, and chased from my birthplace” line actually fits with what little we know of Fortissax.

From the descriptions of the Aspects of the Crucible incantations, we know that the Crucible was the primordial form of the Erdtree. This supports the theory that the Erdtree is simply the latest iteration of the World Tree, which goes through different phases with each new age.

Dragonlord Placidusax was the god of the age preceding Marika. “The Dragonlord whose seat lies at the heart of the storm beyond time is said to have been Elden Lord in the age before the Erdtree.”

It seems logical that the ancient dragons would have their capitol/home base around their version of the world tree, just as the demigods do in the current age. Fortissax likely would have been born in the area that would later become the city of Leyndell.

Nothing in Fia’s lore contradicts Fortissax’s lore. Fortissax was probably Godwyn’s consort. Fia is Godwyn’s consort. We fight Fortissax in Fia’s mindscape. Definitely not an airtight case, but if you put it all together I think it logically follows.

The “moving into headcanon territory” stuff.

Fia was in Stormveil at some point.

The sorcery Rancorcall is found in the basement of Stormveil. This sorcery is notably used by Sir Lionel, Fia’s adoptive father.

If all of the above is true, this makes a ton of sense. After being driven from Leyndell, Fia fled to the castle of her son/grandson/distant descendant Godrick.

This also explains the Godwyn face in the basement. What little remained of Godwyn sensed that his wife was in Stormveil and attempted to quite literally grow closer to her.

Fia probably has Godwyn’s Great Rune.

Certain people were allowed to possess Great Runes prior to the Shattering. Rennala received the Rune of the Unborn from Radagon before he returned to Marika. Morgott used his Rune to authenticate his identity as a descendent of Godfrey (see Morgott’s Great Rune description), implying that he had it with him throughout his exile in the Shunning Grounds. It is plausible that Godwyn was also permitted to carry a Great Rune prior to the Night of the Black Knives.

Based on the image we see of the NBK during the opening cinematic, it does not appear that Godwyn put up much of a fight. We don’t see a weapon, dead Black Knife Assassins, or signs of a struggle. The staging looks more like an execution than a battle. Most likely, Godwyn was dragged out of bed and repeatedly shanked in the back before he had time to react.

We know that Tiche died covering the group’s retreat, confirming that the Black Knives did not make a clean getaway. Someone must have raised the alarm. It is highly unlikely that they hung around long enough to loot Godwyn’s Great Rune (if he had one).

Putting all of that together, if Fia/Fortissax was Godwyn’s consort, she was probably present during the assassination. She probably held him as he bled out, allowing his Great Rune to pass into her possession. Could Godwyn’s Great Rune plus the Curse Mark create the Mending Rune of the Death Prince?

The shade Fia left behind takes the form of Lichdragon Fortissax because Fortissax could have saved Godwyn from the assassins.

While Fortissax was by all accounts quite formidable, Fia appears to be much less martially inclined. We never see her physically fight in-game. She uses Death Blight to kill D and uses a death sorcery (I think it’s Rancorcall?) as a last-ditch defense if you attack her after killing her champions, but she would not have had access to either of these prior to the NBK.

If she witnessed Godwyn’s murder, she would certainly be tormented by the knowledge that she could have saved him had she been in her draconic form. I propose that this is the origin of Lichdragon Fortissax -- it is the manifestation of Fia’s guilt for her inability to save Godwyn from death, now fighting to save him from a fate worse than death.

Putting it all together...

            At some point following the war against the dragons, Fortissax wishes to settle down and start a family with Godwyn. To that end, the dragon takes the form of a human woman and takes the name Fia.

            On the Night of the Black Knives, Fia witnesses Godwyn’s murder. She is with him in his final moments, allowing her to see that he isn’t quite as dead as he should be. Despite her objections, the powers-that-be of Leyndell insist that he is definitely 100% dead and lay him in state in preparation for an Erdtree burial.

            Unwilling to accept Godwyn’s death and desperate to save him, Fia starts looking into death sorcery (probably under the priests of the Deathbirds -- see Death Ritual Spear description). She discovers a method that might allow her to resurrect him -- the rites of the Deathbed Companions.

            Fia does her hug/life-drain thing with a number of champions, most likely members of the Dragon Cult. She then attempts to lie with Godwyn in order to complete the ritual. In an incredible display of poor timing, Marika chooses that precise moment to send out the call to the Tarnished.

            Fia sees the guidance of Grace, she is caught with Godwyn’s body, and she is subsequently run out of Leyndell. Godwyn is buried at the foot of the Erdtree. Consciously or unconsciously, Fia leaves behind the Lichdragon shade in a last-ditch attempt to save Godwyn. For a time, she wanders the Lands Between alone, likely not doing very well in terms of sanity.

            Eventually she encounters Sir Lionel who, being a decent guy, appoints himself her protector and offers to escort her to wherever she’s going. With his aid, she makes her way to Stormveil, where she convalesces for a time.

            She eventually moves on to the Roundtable Hold, likely seeking access to more champions. Fia waits there, gathering life-energy and biding her time, until D arrives with his stolen half of the Curse Mark, at which point she enlists the aid of a helpful Tarnished to set her plan into motion.

So that's the Fia/Fortissax theory. What do you guys think?

Edit 1: I have been informed that Fia's defensive spell is actually Fia's Mist, not Rancorcall. My bad.

Edit 2: Showed this to my brother, and he had an interesting addition. What if Lichdragon Fortissax isn't just a shade, it's all the parts of Fia's psyche that make up Fortissax? Under this theory, she completely severs herself from her old life and gives up the ability to ever become a dragon again in an attempt to save Godwyn. Don't really have any evidence for it, but it's a cool interpretation.

Edit 3: Just a fun little coincidence. On one of the sword monuments, Forti is referred to by the title "Dread Fortissax." During the early stages of her assimilation into the Greek Pantheon, the queen of the underworld was often given the title "Dread Persephone." Probably doesn't mean anything, but I think it's neat.

[blodgmonster]

Throne of Glass reread thoughts that no one on earth asked for.

-- Duke Perrington throws her to the floor. IT'S HIM IT'S HIM KILL HIM NOW DONT YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER YOU PRICK.

-- ""Your Highness," Chaol Westfall snapped at her.

"What?" Celaena asked." Responding to 'Your Highness' because she fucking is. Oh, you beautiful, sassy bitch, I love you 💗

-- "Still the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back" echoes of ACOTAR

-- If Endovier isn't based on Auschwitz, I'll eat my hat.

-- Celaena chucking a flowerpot at Kaltain. Priceless.

-- "She saw the floor first. Red marble, its white veins illuminated in the light of the sun." Like a children's hospital.

-- Nothung. Dumbass name.

-- obsidian is a favorite of mine, and SJM just runs its good name through the dirt with all these obsidian eyes and the towers.

-- A complaint I've heard about this book before is how often someone sneaks up on Celaena while she's asleep. "She's an assassin! No one should be able to sneak up on her ever!" I'm sorry, are YOU able to control how deeply you sleep? Because I can't. I'll sleep through a thunderstorm and then get woken up by a child laughing outside. Like...it is what it is and I don't think it's something you can TRAIN. Besides which, she's spent a year in a death camp. She probably had to sleep through a lot of horrible noises.

-- "I can act and talk like a lady if it pleases me." Okay, Toph.

-- NEHEMIA

-- Chaol asking about her scars, "What did you do to deserve it?" Why don’t you SHUT THE FUCK UP? How could you ask someone who had been a SLAVE in a DEATH CAMP for a YEAR what she did to DESERVE being WHIPPED? He really is a piece of shit and I will never understand what Celeana and Yrene and Nesryn see in him. How does this grumpy loser keep pulling tens? They can do better.

-- hey look, it's The Walking Dead which had a cameo in Crescent City.

-- "The Duke was ambitious, but certainly not a threat to the castle or its inhabitants." DING DONG, YOU WERE WRONG!!!!

-- sweet baby Fleetfoot!!

-- I understand why Celeana didn't pick Dorian. He's the son of the man who destroyed your world (even if he is handsome, charming, loves books, and gives you a puppy. I'd be a goner for him). But to choose Chaol instead? Ugh. Just wait and hope for better things. Like Rowan. Or even Nox. Like CHAOL after SAM? Major downgrade, babe.

-- Kaltain having a peacock themed gown and mask at the ball reminds me of the wicked stepsister in Ever After. Excellent reference or fun coincidence?

-- "I name you Elentiya, 'Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.'" Oh, Nehemia. You deserved so much better. You deserved to live to see Aelin put things right.

-- "I've never had a pet. I never wanted one." Jesus, what kind of sociopath are you, Chaol?? Ugh. Massive red flag for me.

-- Nehemia giving her the staff. Hell yeah.

-- "it make no difference if my name's Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I'd still beat you no matter what you call me. " THAT'S MY GIRL

-- The plot is so...simple when you compare it to Kingdom of Ash. But it's still SO good.

[ro-is-struggling]

Nasty Naughty Boy || Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: An undercover mission puts you and Steve in a compromising position that will change your relationship forever.

Based on this request

Warnings: Set somewhere after Avengers 1. Shy!Steve, mutual pining, SMUT MINORS DNI, porn with a little plot (not really), dom/sub dynamics (kinda), dom!reader, sub!steve, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, hair pulling, pet names (baby, bad/good boy),

English is not my first language

Word count: 11300

Notes: I'm sorry if it's a little weird, it took me like a month or so to finish this and I had to take a break because of school and exams so the narrative might be a little inconsistent at times.

Also this filth is inspired by Christina Aguilera's song so I highly recommend you to listen to it

One could say that you and Steve were good friends and even better teammates. From the moment you joined the Avengers you and Steve had stuck together, working side by side on the battlefield. At first it was mostly due to the fact that you were the new recruit and he wanted to keep you around to train you and show you how things worked. But you quickly began to realize that you made an excellent pair on the battlefield, so you continued to work together.

One could say that after sharing so much time together, you were more than used to being together. You had shared dingy hotel rooms countless times, spent days inside the same van while surveilling a target. You'd even shared the constricted space of a trunk once, though it hadn't been particularly comfortable—it was a long story. This mission, however, was too much.

It was completely different from the situations you had faced so far and frankly you weren't prepared for something like this. Well, Steve wasn't prepared for something like this. The man was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, confident and precise, a natural leader. But out of danger, Steve was very different. Calm and reserved, and completely useless when it came to women. And you feared this mission had everything to do with women.

"What do you mean it's an adult party?" Steve asked Tony, horror drawn in his expression. He hoped he didn't mean what he thought he was referring to.

"I mean there's going to be all kinds of... adult activities and nothing it's off the table."

"It's a sex party, Steve!" Natasha interjected, tired of Tony's ambiguity.

"Jesus, Nat! I was trying to be gentle with the old man. Do you want to give him a heart attack?"

"Steve is a big boy, he can take it" your voice echoed from across the room, speaking up in defense of your friend. You knew Steve wasn't the innocent boy everyone thought he was, he was just shy and inexperienced. "How does this change things? I mean, we still have to go and find evidence of his activities."

"That's true, but you are going to have to be a lot more... friendly with each other in order to blend in and work without interruptions," Tony spoke with a mischievous smile on his face. "Are you guys sure you're up for the task?"

"Yeah, why not?" you shrugged. You had never been one to run away from difficult situations and after all someone had to take care of it, so why not? You were good at your job and felt comfortable around Steve, so you saw no reason to refuse.

Steve, however, took a few seconds to think about his answer. He knew he was the best person for the job. Although he was sure Tony would be more than happy to take his place if he asked, he knew that wasn't safe. If something went wrong Tony didn't have the strength or the skills to face the situation without a suit. He could get hurt. You could get hurt. And Steve wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something bad happened and he hadn't been there to prevent it.

He knew it made sense for you to go together. You had a lot of chemistry and it wouldn't be hard to pretend you were a couple or something. The problem was that Steve wouldn't be pretending. He was very much in love with you and having you around in a context like that would only make him nervous. He was shy and awkward when it came to women, not because he lacked experience but confidence. In his mind, he was still that skinny guy from Brooklyn that all the women ignored so whenever he saw a pretty girl he assumed she would never turn around to look at him.

But he didn't have a choice now. If he said no he would have to endure Tony's taunts for the rest of his life, treating him like an old virgin. And although Steve had never minded those kinds of labels—virginity was a social construct anyway—, he didn't want to give Tony the satisfaction. Besides, he was at risk of you asking him why he had decided to turn down the mission, and he was afraid he couldn't think of a convincing excuse that wouldn't leave his true feelings exposed. 

So, Steve came to the conclusion that the easiest option would be to accept, even if it didn't feel easy at the time.

"Rogers, are you still with us?" Tony's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "If you don't want to do it I'm more than happy to take your place. I have more experience in this kinda stuff anyways."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll do it" Steve assured before Tony started telling details of his past that no one wanted to hear. "How hard can it be?"

It was difficult, much more difficult than Steve had anticipated. For starters, he couldn't help but blush as you discussed the details of the mission, agreeing on the things you were willing to do and what were the boundaries you didn't want to cross. You were basically willing to do anything, feeling confident in yourself and your abilities to keep things professional despite what Steve's closeness might arouse inside you. But he was another story. 

It wasn't as if Steve really didn't want to have an excuse to wrap his arms around you and kiss you in front of a crowd of people, claiming you as his own under the gaze of those strangers. There was nothing he wanted more than that, but he didn't feel comfortable doing it. It wasn't fair to you when there was so much he was keeping from you. It felt like he was taking advantage of you. For you it was just another mission, but for him to have your hands all over his body, your lips against his skin, it was a dream come true.

"As much as I find it adorable that you're getting so flustered at the very idea of holding hands, we're gonna have to do something about it" your voice interrupted his thoughts. "We have to convince a whole party that we're there to fuck, you can't get all blushy on me."

"I wasn't blushing," Steve said in a strangled tone, knowing full well that was a lie. He could feel the blood pooling on his cheeks, making his face feel on fire. You looked at him with an arched eyebrow, wondering why he felt the need to lie about something so obvious. Didn't he realize that you knew him better than anyone else? 

"Look if you're not comfortable with this I totally get it. You have nothing to prove so you can just take a step back and let me handle this. I can find someone else or we can wait for another opportunity to get this dude." You really didn't want Steve to do something he wasn't comfortable with. You understood that this mission was too much, even for you. You worked well together and had a lot of chemistry, but the lines you would have to cross on this mission could damage your relationship forever. You understood if he didn't want to risk it or if he didn't feel comfortable participating in that kind of event with you. His well-being came first for you. The mission, while important, was not as crucial. You would have other opportunities to catch him or you could go to the event accompanied by another Avenger.

"No no, I want to do this with you," Steve hurried to say, speaking without thinking. When he realized the possible implications of his words he added, "I mean I'm comfortable with you. If I had to do this with someone, I'm glad it's with you."

You smiled at him, feeling a comforting warmth spread through your body at his words. "I'm glad it's with you too."

You extended your hand toward him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Steve's eyes traveled to your intertwined fingers, admiring the way your small, delicate hand fit into his. He loved the contrast, the feel of your soft skin against his. He admitted he didn't have the opportunity to hold your hand as much as he would like, which is why he appreciated that simple touch so much.

"But we really have to do something about your blushing, Captain." you joked with an amused expression. "We need to get comfortable with each other in that way."

"Okay, yeah it makes sense. Where should we start?" You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, a mischievous smile planted on your lips, and Steve knew he would regret asking that question.

You got up from your spot on the couch and extended your hand toward him. Steve watched you for a moment, knowing that if he took it there would be no turning back. You were about to embark on a dangerous journey that would jeopardize your relationship as friends and as teammates. If he got up from that couch he was assured that things would never be the same again between you. And as much as that worried him, he couldn't deny that he was somewhat curious about what the future would hold for you. Not to mention that imagining you carrying out such a mission with someone else sparked jealousy deep inside him. So he put aside his fears and took your hand, letting you lead him down the hallway to your room.

Steve didn't know what was on your mind and was honestly too afraid to ask, so he stayed silent, watching you turn on some soft music as he sat on the edge of your bed. His heart began to beat rapidly against his chest the moment your eyes fell on his, walking in his direction at a slow, torturous pace. He tried not to pay attention to the way your hips contoured with each step, tried to keep his eyes on your face, but ended up failing. It was as if you were doing it on purpose, as if you were actively seeking to drive him crazy.

"I put on some music so we don't have to sit in silence. I thought it might make this a little more comfortable." Your voice was soft, trying to calm the visibly nervous super soldier in front of you. "Steve, look at me," you commanded and his eyes fell on yours immediately, looking up at you with wide eyes. You took a small step forward, settling into the space between his legs to be closer to him. You cupped his face with your hand, your thumb providing gentle caresses over the skin of his cheek. You didn't miss the way Steve leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a few seconds too long as he blinked. "It's just me. There's nothing to be nervous about."

"Y-yeah you're right," he cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"It's okay, that's why we're here... to get comfortable with each other," you said in a soft, paused tone as you slowly let your hands explore Steve's body. Your fingers caressed his cheeks, moving down his neck to his shoulders. He was tense, you could feel it in the firm muscles under your hands, and you needed to change that. "Is this okay?" you asked him to make sure you weren't crossing any lines.

It took Steve a few seconds to comprehend what you had said, his brain overwhelmed by the slightest brush of your hands. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine." His voice came out much smaller than he expected and he wanted to punch himself in the middle of the face for being so pathetic.

"You're so tense, Steve. There's no need for any of it." Carefully you began to dig your fingers into his skin, massaging his shoulders and upper back. He closed his eyes, biting his tongue to keep from letting out the moan of pleasure that had formed in his throat. "Relax, it's just us here." 

Steve let out a long sigh as his brain tried to command his heart to calm down. Your soft voice helped his nerves, but the way your hands caressed his shoulders and back made his poor heart go out of control. It wasn't easy to relax when he had to fight the urge to confess how he felt about you. He knew it was a bad idea, that it would only complicate things even more between you, so he bit his tongue to avoid saying one word too many. Although with every touch of your hands on his body Steve questioned if he was doing the right thing. He was preserving your friendship and working relationship, but at what cost.

"You can touch me too, you know." Your voice brought him out of his thoughts and he opened his eyes to look at you, searching your face for confirmation that he had heard correctly. Instead of repeating your words, you simply slid your fingers down his arms caressing every inch of skin until you reached his hands. Then you took them between your own hands and brought them to your hips. "If we do this you're gonna have to touch me... and I'm gonna have to touch you. People at that party have to belive that we're there to fuck our brains out.”

You took pride in the way you were able to make him blush with just your words. You loved the way he trembled under your touch, looking at you with those big blue eyes full of curiosity and embarrassment. But there was something else flashing in them, a hint of darkness reflected in the pure ocean of his eyes. A stain that inadvertently let you know what was really going through his mind at that moment. It was the glow of desire, struggling to overcome the other emotions that kept it trapped. Steve wanted you. He wanted to touch your body, to feel your warmth against his as he let his hands explore your skin. So why didn't he?

In just an instant the atmosphere in the room changed completely. The goal of preparing for the mission and discussing what your limits were was forgotten after this new discovery. You forgot about the mission, your target and the party. All that occupied your mind was Steve and that little glimmer of hope deep in his eyes. And all you wanted to do was push him to his limit, corner him against a wall until he couldn't hide anymore and had to explain his feelings. Suddenly, the situation became a game to you. One that Steve was destined to lose.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" you asked, settling into his lap before he had time to understand what you meant. With one leg on either side of his body, you made a place for yourself on his thighs, your hands traveling to his shoulders for support. "Is this okay?" your breath mingled with his as you spoke. You were close, too close to each other. And even though it wasn't the first time you'd been in a similar situation, this time it felt different. There was a tension in the air that made it difficult for Steve to breathe, his heart pounding furiously against his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. He barely managed a nod, not trusting his brain's ability to form a coherent sentence.

"Good. You're doing so good, Steve." The compliment escaped your lips before you realized what you were saying, but you didn't have to worry about having crossed a line. Steve squirmed underneath you, looking up at you with wide eyes. There was something about the soft, low tone of your voice that sparked a flame inside him. It was sweet yet suggestive, leaving him desperate for more. He wanted to hear you praise him again, he was willing to do anything for it.

"Do you think that you're ready for something more?" you asked him and he swallowed hard. Your eyes followed the movement of his Adam's apple, momentarily getting lost in the veins that marked on his neck as you imagined yourself kissing and biting the skin until you left bruises. "Is it okay if I kiss you, Steve?"

"Yes," he said firmly, his eyes never leaving yours. It was the most confident you had heard him talk since you had begun discussing the mission. He was desperate for your touch and you couldn't help but smile, proud of your seduction skills.

Without wasting any more time, you began to lean toward him. You moved incredibly slowly, partly because you wanted to tease Steve—increase the tension until he went crazy— and partly because you wanted to give him time to think and pull back if he wanted to. But he didn't pull away, he remained firm in his decision as his half-open lips longed for the promise of your mouth's caress. He could feel his heart racing faster and faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps against yours as your noses brushed. You placed a hand on his cheek, your fingers gently caressing his skin. He couldn't take it anymore, the anticipation was a torture that was eating him up inside. So Steve decided to take matters into his own hands and took it upon himself to shorten the little distance that separated them.

The kiss began slowly, nothing more than an innocent brushing of lips as you processed the situation and got used to the new sensations coursing through your bodies. Unlike what Steve thought, it didn't take long for you to gain confidence and then your lips began to move faster. He tried to go slow, wanting to savor the moment in case he never had the chance to feel your mouth against his again. He wanted to memorize the texture of your lips and the taste of your mouth, to burn it into his mind so he would never forget. But then your hands found their place in his hair and Steve knew he was screwed.

Your fingers innocently played with his golden locks, twirling and tugging at his hair as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. You lost yourself in him, your brain reduced to mush, unable to do anything but respond to his caresses. But then you heard him moan. It was a faint sound that emerged from his throat and vibrated against your lips, but it was still the hottest thing you'd heard in a long time. So naturally you wanted to hear it again. And as you let your tongue explore his mouth, you tugged on his hair once more. This time the sound was clearer, a growl vibrating in his throat as he tightened his grip on your waist.

You felt your clit pulsing between your legs as you let Steve do what he wanted with you, his lips devouring yours with desperation. The kiss that had once begun as innocent turned into a sinful dance as your tongues fought for dominance. Steve's hands slipped under your shirt, arousing a pleasurable tingle on the skin beneath his touch. You could feel the wetness forming between your legs and without realizing it you began to move your hips against Steve's in search of relief. And you found it when your clothed center brushed against the firm bulge in his pants. You both let out moans of pleasure as waves of electricity coursed through your bodies, too lost in the moment to be embarrassed.

But then the voice of the artificial intelligence that was integrated into the Avengers tower interrupted you, snapping you back to the real world.

"Miss Y/N, I'm sorry to bother you, but Mr. Stark is looking for you."

You reluctantly separated from Steve, annoyed at the universe for choosing to interrupt you at that moment. "Tell him I'm on my way," you said to Jarvis, your voice cracking as you tried to catch your breath. When you turned your attention back to Steve you noticed he was looking anywhere but you. His breathing was ragged and his cheeks were flushed. He looked adorable and you had to fight every fiber in your being to not bring your lips together again.

"Steve, are you alright?" you asked him in a soft voice, lifting his chin to force him to look at you. For a second you worried that you had crossed his boundaries.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine... it's just that I... I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to... I-it won't happen again." Steve mumbled incoherently feeling his face light on fire under your gentle gaze. He couldn't believe he'd let himself get caught up in the moment like that. He should have tried a little harder to keep his composure, to keep a cool head to avoid this mess.

It took you a few seconds to understand what he meant, your brain still overwhelmed by his closeness had difficulty processing his words. But then Steve looked down and you understood that he was referring to the bulge that had formed in his pants. "Oh no, Steve, baby, it's okay," you rushed to say to soothe his embarrassment. "I'm not mad or upset. It's a normal biological reaction, there's nothing to be ashamed of. It doesn't mean anything."

Steve bit his tongue to keep from letting out a bitter laugh. That did indeed mean something, it wasn't just a simple mechanical reaction of his body. No, it was a reaction to you, to your closeness, to the warmth of your skin against his and the feel of your lips. You had that effect on him. You were the only woman who could make him feel that way, the only one who could make his cock hard just by kissing him and pulling on his hair. You had him completely at your mercy and you didn't even know it.

"We're not so bad at this," you said as you got up from his lap and walked to the door. "Keep it up and maybe things will go okay." You gave him a smile before disappearing behind the door, leaving an embarrassed Steve sitting on your bed, staring in horror at the challenge the future held for him.

Neither of you mentioned the events of that day again. You both unspokenly agreed to continue with the preparations for the mission as if nothing had happened, trusting that you would have no trouble at all pretending you were together. You thought about confronting Steve several times, telling him that you liked him and that you knew he liked you too, but you always regretted it at the last minute.

It wasn't because you were afraid he would reject you—you were pretty sure he was crazy about you—, but rather because of the effects your confession might cause. The mission ahead of you was very important and you could not afford to be distracted at this time. It was not the right time to start a relationship. You would have plenty of time in the future to explore your feelings, but right now you had to concentrate on the mission. Besides, it was fun to keep up that cat-and-mouse game you had going. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy teasing Steve until his cheeks turned red, so you had no problem waiting a couple of days. 

The time quickly flew by between planning meetings and discussions about what information was available to you about your target, which wasn't much. You knew he was smuggling weapons modified with alien technology, and after analyzing many hours of information you had come to the conclusion that he was using these big sex parties as a cover for his business. It made sense, it was an exclusive and private environment that allowed him to control the people who attended. Besides, it was too uncomfortable for most undercover agents to try to infiltrate, so he could do his business in peace and quiet and then go downstairs to enjoy the party. He thought he was being very clever, but he didn't count on the fact that you and Steve were not just an ordinary pair of agents. You were Avengers who weren't going to be scared off by a few kisses and a little intimacy.

After all, you didn't have to do much. Your main objective was to plant a bug in his office so you could hopefully get more information about his plans, and one on him in case he made arrangements with someone at the party outside his office. All you had to do was infiltrate the party, enjoy the event, and find the right time to do your job. It was relatively easy, much easier than other missions you had worked on together. The only big problem you had was that it was a sex party and Steve was the most self-conscious man you knew. But after your little encounter you were confident that things were going to go well.

When the day of the event arrived you both were quite nervous, but found comfort in knowing that you wouldn't have to stay there long. As soon as the bugs were planted you could get the hell out of there and never even think about that kind of party again for the rest of your lives if you wanted to. To be fair, the event wasn't half as weird as Steve had imagined. Yes, there were people making out and groping each other in the corners, and yes, there were a lot of people walking around with almost no clothes on, but it wasn't as terrible as he thought it would be. There was soft, sensual music playing in the background and the lights were dim, creating an intimate atmosphere that helped him feel a little more relaxed.

As soon as you entered the large mansion you could both feel a multitude of eyes on you, studying you from a distance with leering gazes. You ignored them for the moment, heading to the bar for drinks as you settled in.

"Have you seen him?" you asked Steve, raising your glass to your lips. 

"Not yet," he said as he scanned the room with his eyes. There was a large group of people dancing on the dance floor just a few feet away from you, a multitude of bodies rubbing against each other to the music in a promise of what the future held. Your target could very well be mingling in the crowd or perhaps sitting somewhere else on the opposite end of the room where you couldn't see him. You just hoped he wasn't in his office closing some deal with one of his associates because then all your effort would be partially in vain.

"Should we go out there and dance?"

"Dance?" repeated Steve with insecurity in his voice. He didn't dance. He didn't do it in the 40s when he actually understood trends and fashions, and he didn't do it now after spending over 70 years frozen. He wasn't good at it and in all the time you had had to prepare him, you hadn't guided him in that area.

"Yeah, you know, to cover more ground, look around without being suspicious."

"Y/N, I-" he mumbled, but couldn't figure out how to finish the sentence. However, you instantly understood what it was that was causing him so much doubt just by looking into his eyes.

"C'mon, it's easy. Just follow my lead," you encouraged him, rising from your seat at the bar and offering him your hand. Steve looked at you for a moment, his eyes traveling from the dance floor to your figure as he gathered the courage to take your hand. Finally he let out a sigh of defeat and downing the last of his drink he followed you to the dance floor.

You pressed your body against his, taking his hands and resting them on your waist. "Just let the music control your body," you whispered against his ear before you began to move. Your hips swayed to the sensual rhythm of the music, your body rubbing against his in an unsubtle way. Steve listened to your advice, letting the melody surrounding him take control of his feet.

Soon you found yourselves immersed in a sinful dance, moving through the sea of people around you as you let your hands explore each other's bodies. The mission was momentarily forgotten as Steve felt your ass rubbing against his crotch. He pushed his hips against you instinctively, desperate to feel your body against his. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers burying themselves in your skin with enough force to leave marks. 

Steve was trying to hold back, to keep things professional and not touch you unless strictly necessary, but it was difficult. And it got even harder when you pulled your head back by leaning it over his shoulder and exposing your neck to his hungry eyes. He wanted to bend down and mark you as his, use his lips on your sensitive skin until you were moaning his name. And he was about to do just that. Only a couple of inches separated his lips from your sweet neck, when his eyes caught a glimpse of his target in the distance. His mind came back to its senses at the sight of him, remembering where he was and the reasons why he was there.

You felt Steve's warm breath crash against your neck and you closed your eyes, eagerly awaiting the brush of his lips against your skin. You reveled in the way his body felt against yours, towering over you as his hands explored every inch of your figure. Your heart was racing with each passing second, noticing how his lips were getting closer and closer to your most sensitive spot. But at the last second, his mouth changed course, settling on your ear instead.

"I have eyes on the target," Steve whispered, making you open your eyes in confusion. It took you a few seconds to understand the meaning of his words and then your eyes scanned the room until they met the man you had been sent to spy on. 

"Okay, wish me luck," you said, detaching yourself from Steve's body and walking towards your target without looking back. 

Seducing him wasn't too difficult, he wasn't exactly the hardest man to charm. A couple of lustful glances from across the room, some flirtatious touching and a short kiss was all you had to do to distract him long enough to plant the bug in his clothes. Then you escaped his clutches with the excuse of going to get a couple of drinks to make the night more interesting. On your way back you sent a text to Natasha, letting her know that one of the mics was already in place. You hoped the Shield techs got something important out of it because you weren't willing to live in a world where you'd had to kiss that nasty guy for nothing.

When you got to the bar you ran into Steve, who had apparently settled in there to wait for you before moving on to the next part of the plan. But to your surprise he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by two women who were clearly interested in him, playfully touching his arms and giggling flirtatiously as they talked. And the worst part was that Steve seemed to be enjoying the attention. You could spot some of the mannerisms that indicated he was a little nervous, but he was playing along with them nonetheless. He was letting them touch him and his eyes lit up when he made them laugh. 

The scene made your blood boil, jealousy quickly taking over your mind. What did those women think they were doing, flirting so blatantly with him? Steve was yours and you were his.  You were the only woman who should be touching him like that, the only one making him blush. And you weren't about to stand there while those women threatened to take what was yours. So you walked towards them, pushing past the blonde who stood between you and Steve. She gave you a hateful look, but you ignored her as you took Steve's face in your hands and pulled him close to you to close the distance between you with a kiss.

Your lips crashed against his in a desperate kiss. There was nothing sweet and tender in the way your mouths connected, all teeth and tongues as Steve wrapped his arms around your body to pull you closer to him. You were proving a point, marking your territory, and you weren't going to separate from him until he melted in your hands. You were reminding him who he belonged to, who was the only one capable of making his cock hard with just one kiss. 

But you were also taking your revenge, punishing him for forgetting about you, for flirting with those women even though you both knew he had no feelings for them. So you let one of your hands explore his body, moving down his abdomen until you reached the bulge in his crotch. You felt him tense a little as you applied some pressure on his member, stimulating him over his clothes. You felt it harden under your palm incredibly fast, sending a surge of confidence through your body. You could feel wetness begin to form in your crotch, the passion of that kiss, Steve's hands on your body and the way he reacted to your touch were a lethal combination that forced you to close your legs in search of friction. However, when Steve let out a moan you broke away understanding that you had proven your point.

Looking around you noticed that the women were nowhere to be seen and you smiled proudly to yourself. "We should continue this upstairs, don't you think?" you said winking at him. You were trying to tell him in a subtle way that it was time to go upstairs to your target's office to finally end this mission once and for all, although the idea of locking yourself in one of the private rooms and doing what you wanted with him was tempting to you.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Steve muttered, a little disoriented. He was still struggling to catch his breath after that kiss and his brain overwhelmed by lust and desire was having trouble processing his surroundings.

You let out a chuckle at Steve's ruined state, pride and confidence swelling in your chest knowing that your touch affected him so much. Taking his hand in yours you led him up the stairs. Apparently there were a series of rooms there meant for people to... love each other in private. Any guest could access them which made your job much easier since there were no security guards or cameras in your way. The only problem you ran into was that the office door was locked, and even that wasn't a big issue. You were excellent at picking locks, so in the blink of an eye you were inside the room planting the bugs as you had planned.

The real problem came later. You were just finishing hiding a mic among the shelves of a bookcase when you saw Steve approaching the door, listening intently to the noises in the hallway with his super hearing. "What is it?" you asked him with some concern.

"He's coming. We need to get out of here." 

You hurried to arrange everything as it was, making sure the bug was well hidden. Then you ran to the door, escaping from the scene to avoid being caught. You took the time to re-lock the door, fearing you would arouse suspicion if you didn't do so. As you struggled with the lock you could see out of the corner of your eye a pair of shadows approaching up the stairs, voices getting louder and clearer. When you were done Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you into the first empty room he could find, closing the door behind him.

"Now what do we do?" 

"Wait here until he goes back downstairs or Nat gives us the green light to arrest him," Steve said, walking to the king size bed in the middle of the room. He sat down on the dark satin sheets, arranging a pillow on his lap to hide the prominent erection your caresses had caused. He was disappointed in himself. You two were in a pretty dangerous situation and all he could think about was how much he wanted to feel your hands on his body again, only this time without the barrier of clothing separating you.

Steve watched you walk around the room as you inspected your surroundings without much interest. His eyes were glued to your figure, that tight black dress you were wearing hugged your curves in the best way leaving very little to the imagination. He had fantasized about taking it off from the moment he saw you wearing it. You looked beautiful with the fabric wrapped around your body, but he knew you would look even more beautiful with nothing on, completely naked and exposed for him. 

Steve knew it was wrong to imagine such things about a teammate–a friend–, but he couldn't help it. His thoughts had only gotten dirtier and dirtier since the first kiss you shared, when he had the chance to feel the warmth of your body against his and hear the sweet sound of your moans. He wanted to feel you again, to hear the sounds of pleasure escape your lips as he took you to the edge. He didn't care if it was weird or creepy, he needed you and he didn't know how much longer he could go without feeling your hands on his body.

"So, are we going to talk about it or we'll just keep dancing around each other like idiots?" you spoke without even looking at him, interrupting his thoughts. Steve tensed, his heartbeat picking up pace as his nerves worsened. How you managed to sound so casual and disinterested was a mystery to him.

"Huh?" Steve murmured anxiously. "W-what do you mean, Y/N?" He knew perfectly well what you meant but still didn't want to be the one to say it. He wasn't willing to expose himself until he was absolutely sure it would be worth it.

"Really?" you said, turning to look at him with an arched eyebrow. "So we have to keep pretending that you are not hiding your bulge under that pillow?"

Steve's cheeks turned red in a matter of seconds, his mouth dropping ajar as his brain struggled to find the words to respond. He could barely maintain eye contact with you, terrified by your reaction and embarrassed by how little control he had over his body when you were around. "Y/N, I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I-" he tried to apologize, salvage some of what dignity he had left and hopefully avoid ruining your relationship forever, but stopped when you silenced him.

"It's okay, Steve. I'm not mad," you assured him as you approached him. "I'm actually really fucking turned on because I've never been with a guy that was so sensitive to my touch." You leaned into him, grabbing the pillow from his lap and tossing it across the room. Steve's eyes were glued to yours, completely captivated by your presence. You hadn't touched him yet and his breathing was picking up, pure anticipation coursing through his veins. 

When you settled into his lap he had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out a sigh of joy. He had waited so long to feel your body against his again, he was desperate. His hands found their place on your waist as your fingers fiddled with his hair. 

"I know you want me, Steve," you whispered in his ear in a sensual voice. "And I want you too... so let's do something about it."

Without wasting another second, you crashed your lips against Steve's. Your lips moved hungrily, exploring each other's mouths expertly. You both had waited too long for this moment and now that it was happening you didn't have enough patience to take it slow. You wanted to feel each other's body and you wanted to do it now.

Your fingers tangled in Steve's soft blond hair, using it as leverage to tilt his head to your liking to deepen the kiss even more. His hands tightened their grip on your waist, pressing you against his growing erection. When you rolled your hips you both let out a moan, breaking the kiss for a moment to enjoy the waves of electricity that coursed through your bodies. Your ragged breaths collided as your bodies moved in search of friction, your faces always staying just inches apart.

You took a moment to remove Steve's shirt, your trembling fingers struggling against the tiny buttons. The outfit highlighted his muscles in a delicious way, but you wanted to feel his warm skin under your fingers. Once he was freed from the dark fabric, you allowed your hands to explore his chest and abdomen as you trailed your wet kisses down his neck. You sucked and nibbled on every inch of exposed skin, searching for that special spot that would make him turn to mush beneath you. When you found it, Steve tilted his head to the side to give you more room to work, loving the sensation your lips on his neck aroused in him. His hands traveled to the zipper of your dress, yanking it down to expose more of your body to his hungry hands.

"Y/N, please I need you... I need to feel you," Steve implored in a deep voice that awakened a rush of pleasure inside you.

"Oh I know, baby. I know you do," you said, rising from the crook of his neck to look into his eyes. They were dark, much darker than normal, lust and desire being the only distinguishable emotions in his gaze. The slightly condescending tone of your words did nothing but widen his pupils, his cock twitching with pleasure inside his pants. "But you've been a bad boy... hiding your feelings from me, flirting with those women behind my back..." you clicked your tongue in disapproval. "And bad boys don't get to cum that easily." 

You placed your hand on his member, applying some pressure to tease him. He lifted his hips toward you, letting out a groan of pleasure and frustration. He was so hard you were pretty sure it hurt, but you didn't care. "You have to earn it, Captain. Show me that you can be good and maybe I'll take pity on you and let you cum."

"I- fuck, I can be good, I can be good... please," Steve managed to mumble, fighting the haze in his mind to form a coherent sentence. He couldn't believe how much your dominant tone turned him on. It drove him crazy to the point that he was willing to do whatever you asked of him just to please you. He wanted to be good for you, not only so he could finally relieve his painfully hard cock, but also to please you. He was dying to hear you say that he was a good boy. 

"We'll see about that," you whispered against his lips before catching them in a slow, sensual kiss that stole his breath away. When you broke away you rose from your place on his lap taking the opportunity to finish removing your dress. You slowly slid the fabric down your body, making a show of it in front of Steve's hungry gaze. The dress fell down your hips to pool at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and high heels in front of him.

Steve's eyes admired your figure as you stepped out of your dress and kicked it to the side. The red lace embellished your skin in the most exquisite way, hugging the curves of your breasts and pushing them upward, inviting his hands to touch them. It didn't do an excellent job of covering your private parts—he could make out your perky nipples through the fabric—, but it covered enough to make Steve feel the urgent need to tear the clothes off your body. He wanted to see you completely, to admire every detail on your skin. He needed it.

"On your knees, big boy," you commanded and Steve didn't need to be told twice. He slid onto his knees in a matter of seconds, looking up at you with hungry, expectant eyes. You reached out to touch his hair and he closed his eyes at the caress, leaning into your hand. You bit your lip to keep from letting out a moan, amazed at the way Steve reacted to your touch. There was something so erotic about having such a big strong man surrendered at your feet, kneeling in front of you waiting for you to command him on what to do. You honestly could have cum just by looking at him. He looked so desperate, completely surrendered to your mercy as he waited patiently for you to do what you wanted with him. It was the hottest scene you had ever witnessed in your life.

"I want you to put this mouth of yours to good use," you said, sliding your hand up to his cheeks, trapping his mouth between your thumb and forefinger to push out his lips. "Show me how much you want me, Captain, and then you can have your relief." 

Steve didn't waste a second, his hands ripping off your panties before he pulled your body close to his face. You let out a gasp of surprise, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't find his desperation arousing. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder to gain better access to your pussy, using his strong hands to hold you firmly in place. Then without any warning, he licked a long line from your center to your clit. You both moaned, you at the sensation of his lips on your most sensitive part, him at the sweet taste of your arousal. 

"Oh fuck," you exclaimed throwing your head back as you enjoyed the assault of his tongue on your clit. "Just like that, baby, don't stop."

Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body, pure ecstasy traveling along your veins in rhythm with your racing heart. You found it impossible to contain your moans as Steve fed on your sweet nectar, licking your folds like a starving man. Having him kneeling between your legs so willing to please you gave you a sense of power and confidence that made everything more pleasurable. It was as if he had forgotten about his own pleasure entirely, concentrating solely on making your legs go limp. Steve was so much bigger and stronger than you, he could overpower you with ease, use his super strength to throw you on the bed and do whatever he wanted with you. The fact that he didn't let you know that he wanted this as much as you did. Steve was choosing to submit to you, giving himself completely while using his mouth to please you just as you had asked. And that was perhaps the most arousing thing of the whole night.

"S-so good to me, Steve... so fucking good," you praised him between ragged breaths. Your words motivated him to continue, desperate to hear you praise him one more time. 

Steve closed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, drawing a loud moan from you. Your hands traveled to his hair, fingers gripping the blond locks for support. The act caused Steve's cock to twitch inside his pants and a growl vibrated deep in his throat.

"Oh you like that, don't you baby?" you said, half laughing and half moaning as you remembered that Steve had had the same reaction when you pulled his hair as you made out in your room. "Who would have thought that Captain America was such a nasty, naughty boy?" you added in a condescending tone.

"Only for you," he mumbled against your core. He was looking up at you adoringly, his big blue eyes shining with a special glint. It was a light that contrasted with the deep, dark lust in them. It took you a few seconds to understand that with those simple words he was trying to express how he really felt about you. 

"That's right, you're mine, Steve... and I'm yours," you admitted your feelings as well, feeling a comforting warmth run through you at finally being able to put your emotions into words. 

Hearing that his feelings were reciprocated gave Steve a new rush of confidence. He gave you a playful half-smile before continuing his assault on your pussy, determined to make you cum. His tongue caressed your clit, licking and sucking on your bundle of nerves as his fingers played with your entrance. It didn't take him long to insert the first digit, the juices of your arousal acting as the perfect lubricant. Your warm velvety walls received it gladly, tightening around it as he began to move it in search of your most sensitive spot. When he found it Steve added a second finger using them both to torture your G-spot as his tongue attacked your clit.

"Yes, oh god, right there... I'm so close, baby," you cried out in pleasure, moving your hips in rhythm with Steve's fingers as you chased your orgasm. "Are you gonna be a good boy and make me cum? Yeah? F-fuck, don't stop."

You could feel the knot in your belly tightening more and more, the world around you becoming a blur as you lost yourself in the pleasure Steve was making you feel. You used the leg resting on his shoulder as leverage to pull him even closer to you, the heel of your shoe digging lightly into his back as you pressed him against your pussy. He loved every second of it. The pain mixed with pleasure, the way your hips moved against his face, the sweet taste of your arousal and how your velvety walls closed around his fingers almost sucking them inside you. Steve loved knowing that it was him who had brought you to that state of total euphoria and desperation, proving that you were just as screwed as he was.

"Cum for me, please. I need it, I need to feel you cum all over my fingers and tongue, please" Steve encouraged you, his voice hoarse and broken with pleasure. It was the hottest thing you had ever heard and it was enough to push you over the edge. 

You came with a scream of his name, closing your eyes and throwing your head back as the pleasure consumed you completely. Your legs trembled, threatening to drop you if not for Steve's strong grip on your hips. He continued to assault your pussy, licking up every last drop of arousal you had to offer him and prolonging your climax.

"Are you okay?" Steve's soft voice brought you back to reality. Your eyes struggled to focus on him, the world around you a blur that your brain overwhelmed with pleasure struggled to process.

Your eyes met Steve's as he looked up at you from his position between your legs, big blue orbs filled with worry. The way he cared about you was adorable and so erotic. The innocence in his gaze contrasted with your arousal shining on his lips and chin, igniting a new flame inside you.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. I'm more than okay," you murmured as you pulled your leg off his shoulder and stood up on your feet with some help from Steve. "That was..." You struggled to find a word that could describe the ecstasy you felt, but there simply weren't any. All the words in the English language fell short when it came to describe the way Steve made you feel, not only sexually but emotionally as well. "Come here," you said, lifting him up to stand so you could kiss him and show him how good he had made you feel.

You tasted yourself on his mouth, moaning as you sucked his bottom lip between yours. Steve kissed you back with the same enthusiasm, his hands exploring your body and making their way to your bra. You allowed him to unclasp it—which he did surprisingly quickly—and you didn't even pull away from his mouth to slide it off your body. His hands took your breasts immediately, his fingers playing with your hardened nipples as if he knew exactly what to touch and how to do it to fuel the flames inside you.

"You've been so good to me, Steve" you whispered against his lips, your voice low and seductive as your fingers struggled with the zipper of his pants. "So, so good, baby. And you deserve your reward, don't you think, Captain?" you knelt in front of him as you slowly removed his pants, making sure he felt the brush of your fingers moving down his legs. 

"Yes! Please, I've been so good to you," Steve begged in a broken voice and you grinned mischievously as you discovered you didn't even have to ask him to do it. 

"You think you earned it, huh?" you continued your torture, taking the time to remove his shoes and socks before running your hands up his legs again until you reached his underwear. Your fingers played with the elastic of his boxers as you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Yes, yes! Please, give it to me."

"And what is it that you want, baby?"

"I want you and whatever it is you're willing to give me."

“Oh, really? Well that it’s so nice of you to say, Captain.” You smiled at him and Steve was alarmed. He knew that naughty look couldn't mean anything good for him. He was desperate, his cock was so hard it hurt. The tip was dripping precum like it was crying for attention. But he wasn't going to force you to do anything you didn't want to do. He was going to take whatever you wanted to give him and feel grateful that his dirtiest fantasies had come true.

"So what if I just want to torture you for a little while longer?" you asked him with amusement in your voice as your hands traveled to his cock. Steve let out a sigh of anticipation as he felt your fingers on the sensitive skin of his member and you smiled, noticing how desperate he was for some relief. You took the opportunity to stick out your tongue and lick a line from the base of his cock to the tip, paying special attention to the swollen, reddened skin covered in precum.

"I- fuckk, I'll take it," Steve managed to say, his eyes closed as he tried to control himself. Even though now you were the one kneeling on the floor, it was clear that you were still in control of the situation. And Steve wouldn't have it any other way. He found that he loved to obey you, to let you do what you wanted with him. He had never considered himself a submissive man, not in his daily life and not in bed, but with you it was different. With you everything was different.

"That's my good boy," you said, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth and sucking to reward him, your tongue savoring the salty taste of his arousal. Steve groaned, his muscles tensing as he struggled to keep from thrusting his hips into you. 

"I think you earned your reward, Captain," you added, rising from your place on the floor. He opened his eyes, looking at you with excitement and anticipation, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. "You've been such a good boy for me, you deserve some relief... So, I want you to use me, Steve. Use me for your pleasure."

He didn't need to be told twice. In a matter of seconds he had you spread out on the bed beneath him as his lips attacked yours with desperation. Even though Steve was in great need of some relief, he took his time with you, letting his hands explore your body and his mouth kiss every inch of skin within reach. Now you were the one shifting beneath him in search of friction, you were the one being tortured as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked, sending waves of electricity throughout your nervous system. Your core tightened around nothing as he took the time to explore your body, but you didn't complain. That was exactly what you wanted, for Steve to make you his any way he wanted, to use your body for his pleasure just as you had done with him minutes before. So as much as it was torture, you enjoyed every second of it.

Steve wasn't doing it on purpose. He wasn't seeking to get back at you for making him wait for some relief or to make you feel the same desperation he felt. No. He was doing this for his own pleasure. He enjoyed having you underneath him gasping in pleasure. He enjoyed the warmth of your body and the softness of your skin against his lips. He wanted to memorize every curve of your figure, every moan that escaped from your mouth. It all still felt a little unreal to him so he wanted to make sure to burn this moment into his memory including every little detail.

"Steve, please" you begged when you weren't able to take any more. It was like waking him from a trance, your voice bringing him back to reality and reminding him that there were much more pleasant things you could be doing with the limited time you had. 

He took pity on you and positioned himself properly between your legs. He stroked his member a couple of times, his hand going up and down in an almost hypnotic motion, before pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. "Are you ready?" he asked you, making sure you were both on the same page.

"Yes, please. I need you" you told him and that was all Steve needed to hear to continue.

He slowly slid every inch of his cock inside you, filling you to the brim. He was big and despite how well lubricated you were it took your walls a moment to get used to his size. He held still, giving you time to adjust to him as he lost himself in the warmth of your core. He was not the most sexually experienced man, but being inside you was unlike any previous experience he had ever had. It wasn't just the way your muscles clenched around his cock, but also the way his heart fluttered with joy at being connected to you in such an intimate way. He felt complete and that was something he had not experienced in any of his previous sexual encounters. 

When you rocked your hips against his, Steve knew he could start moving. He set a slow, sensual pace, allowing himself to feel every little twitch of the muscles inside you with each drag of his dick. He lost himself completely in you, intoxicating himself with the scent of your perfume as your bodies melted into one. 

The delicious sensation of your warm velvety walls closing around his member was almost too much. The way you clung to him, pulling him into you every time he moved his hips outward drove him crazy. "Such a perfect pussy for me, all wet and tight.... taking me so well" Steve murmured incoherently against the skin of your neck, increasing the speed of his movements.

The slow, sensual rhythm of his thrusts became fast and desperate. Each movement brought you closer to the edge and you couldn't wait any longer to feel the sweet relief you so desperately needed. Steve tilted your hips, his hands clinging to your skin as his thrusts reached deeper, grazing your g-spot with each little stroke. It didn't take long before you were a mess under him, crying out in pleasure every time he dragged his cock inside you. The knot in your belly began to tighten, waves of electricity running through you as you got closer to the edge. 

Your moans increased in volume and level of desperation, turning into a series of incoherent whimpers as Steve played your body like an instrument. He was a quick learner, needing only a couple of minutes to figure out what made you tick, memorizing your sensitive spots and the way your body reacted to his attacks. He loved hearing you moan, your voice was the sweetest melody and he was willing to do anything to keep listening to it. Every praise, every plea for more, every mention of his name that escaped your lips brought him closer to the edge. 

"Fuck, Steve. Don't stop, baby, right there" you moaned in desperation, feeling your orgasm approaching. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, searching for something to help you connect with the real world as your brain overwhelmed with pleasure became lost in the sensations. "I'm so close, Steve. Please, don't stop."

"I can feel that... gripping me so tight, f-fuck," he murmured against your lips, giving you a sloppy wet kiss before moving his hand down to your pussy to play with your clit. "Are you gonna come for me?"

"Yes, yes! But I want to feel you first. I want you to cum inside me, Steve. Please, I need you to fill me up, pleaseee" you cried out in pleasure, not caring how pathetic you sounded. 

Steve had never heard something so hot, every word going straight to his cock and bringing him closer to his orgasm. He noticed a single tear rolling down your cheek and it drove him crazy. The idea that you were so desperate to feel his cum inside you was more than he could take at the moment.

"You want me to fill you up, huh? You want to feel my cum dripping out of your sweet little cunt? Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Please, give it to me. I need to feel you cum inside me, please." you cried out as you dragged your fingernails down Steve's back. You were trying to hold in your orgasm, wanting to explode with pleasure at the same time he did, but it wasn't easy. The pace at which his hips were moving was devastating and the assault of his fingers on your sensitive bundle of nerves sent waves of electricity throughout your body.

"Oh fuck, you're so good to me, Y/N... so good," he murmured incoherently against the skin of your neck, letting his feelings take over as he chased his orgasm.

Steve's thrusts became faster and sloppier, his sensitive cock throbbing inside you with each stroke. You moved your hips along with his, purposefully tightening your muscles around his member to push him over the edge. He tried to warn you that he was about to cum, but his orgasm hit him with a force that left him unable to utter a single word. He could only let out a series of grunts against your neck as he released his load inside you, painting your walls with his cum. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his hot seed, his pleasure triggering your own orgasm. 

"That's it, take it. Take all of me, there you go, nice and deep" you heard Steve say in the distance as your orgasm washed over you. Your whole body convulsed beneath him, wave after wave of electricity traveling through your nervous system, but that didn't stop him. Steve continued to move his hips against yours, fucking his cum into you and prolonging your orgasm. 

It was too much, your poor overstimulated pussy was begging for mercy and more at the same time, confused about what it wanted. It was the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced in your life and if it wasn't because you were tired you probably would have tried to go for a second round. You were sure Steve wouldn't have had a problem either, judging by the amount of cum that resided inside you and the way his half-hard cock kept moving inside you you assumed he wouldn't even need to rest for it. You were really tempted, but in the end you decided not to put up any resistance when he pulled out of you.

You felt incredibly empty when he rolled over to the side, your pussy clenching around nothing, missing Steve's cock. Though you could still feel his cum sliding down your thighs and that was enough to keep a smile on your face as you struggled to catch your breath.

"God, that was..." Steve said between ragged breaths, searching for the right words to describe what he was feeling.

"Late," you completed his sentence and you both let out a laugh. "We should have done that a long time ago."

"Yeah, but luckily we have the rest of our lives to catch up." He leaned over to you, taking your cheek in his hand to pull you closer to him and give you a soft kiss on the lips. It was much slower than the ones you had shared so far, filled with emotion. It was a promise, a subtle way of telling you that he was more than willing to bet on your relationship if that was what you wanted too. It made your heart race and butterflies flutter through your stomach. 

However, the beautiful moment was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone resting inside your purse somewhere in the room. Letting out a grunt of annoyance, you broke away from Steve in search of the device, finding on it several messages from Natasha about the mission you were supposed to be leading.

"Yeah, just not right now," you said after typing a quick reply to your friend. "Nat says they got the information they needed about a future meeting and a possible buyer so we should probably get going before something goes wrong."

"Oh yes, you're right." Steve got out of bed, looking for his clothes in the mess of forgotten garments on the floor. His cheeks had turned a subtle shade of pink, ashamed that he'd lost control like that and ended up having sex with you in the middle of a mission.

“Although I wouldn't mind if you paid me a visit in my room later for round 2.”

[twig-gy]

me and @echoesofaheart made ship names for The Everything cause we’re insane

canon heart/mind: solar eclipse

canon heart/mind/soul: polytrident

> both of these are the usual names for them

canon heart/soul: night sky

canon mind/soul: the lights

> both of these are based on heart being the moon, mind being the sun, and soul being the star(s)

canon soul/whole: right angle

> two lines meet at a RIGHT ANGLE and then never touch, ever again.

apostasy heart/mind: 56 & 1/2 feet

> this is a house of leaves reference, and also a reference to a shadow is not cast by nothing. 56 & 1/2 feet is (house of leaves says) the distance required for sound to start echoing. if you don’t know why that’s significant read my fic

apostasy heart/soul: lunar eclipse

> “Lunar eclipses occur at the full moon phase. When Earth is positioned precisely between the Moon and Sun, Earth’s shadow falls upon the surface of the Moon, dimming it and sometimes turning the lunar surface a striking red over the course of a few hours.” - NASA website on lunar eclipses. the Earth (soul) dims the Moon (heart).

apostasy mind/soul: negative space

> “it’s a wound where a ship should be: a nothing that is significant in its emptiness: dead silence where you can hear yourself breathe and hear yourself stop.” - me

creature heart/mind: the lovers

> “The primary meaning within the Lovers is harmony, attractiveness, and perfection in a relationship. The trust and the unity that the lovers have gives each of them confidence and strength, empowering the other. The bond that they have created is very strong, and it can indicate that the two are joined in marriage, and other close and intimate relationships.” - (labyrinthos.co) [NOTE: i don’t actually care about tarot or if this meaning is accurate i just like Symbolism] [this was thought of AFTER the lovers reversed]

creature heart/whole: moonlight / full moon

> heart sees whole as his light and calls him that. his guiding light… this is also the explanation for sunlight

creature mind/whole: sunlight

creature soul/whole: absorbed light

> “something something the light of the stars and whole being the light something something light refracting, reflecting onto mirrors / but also. something something the fog steals away soul’s light something something they become more like each other, taking bits of the other, absorbing it” “absorbed light matches with sunlight and moonlight / but it’s less one gets the first half and whole gets the second, more they’re both all of it. they are the same, or that’s all they really care to think”

desire and design harmonia/apostate: paired hearts

> slight reference to “do you see it when i let mind sleep in my bed? do you see us leaning into each other like an attempt to pair our false hearts? do you see me burying my face into his hair?” from an occasionallycjshipping draft i wrote

desire and design harmonia/apostate/atlas: suicide prevention hotline (sph)

> they’re trying to stop whole and devotee from killing themselves

desire and design apostate/atlas: <6 feet

> based off of 56 & 1/2 feet. they’re close.

longing and distance eurydice/devotee/whole: evil suicide prevention hotline (esph)

> it’s like sph but flipped. eurydice is the opposite guy of theseus, and then everyone sph doesn’t include

longing and distance harmonia/atlas/eurydice: the lovers reversed (tlr)

> “REVERSED: Self-love, disharmony, imbalance, misalignment of values” - (biddytarot.com) [same note about tarot meanings applies here]

> self love as in selfcest :D also disharmony. making harmonia the opposite of himself.

> eurydice is literally reversing them.

[davyjoneslockr]

wait the mista thing reminded me do you remember that one quote murolo makes abt his stand being divided... what do u think that means if we apply it to mista bc murolo knows abt like bad company and the. other stand I forgot but he knew Things and ur the mista person.... so enlighten me if u can with ur very cool thoughts

YES I think about this so much. Like literally the first thing that came to mind when Murolo mentioned that was "wait. Mista though."

(For reference/anyone who hasn't read PHF, this is the quote in question:)

Obviously, by the time of Purple Haze Feedback, Mista has a "hollow pit inside," caused by the grief of watching his loved ones die and, very likely, having no other support mechanisms to process it (he's isolated from Trish, and his relationships with Giorno and Fugo are rocky, at best). At the same time, I think the Sex Pistols being a colony stand has to stem from something further back - after all, they've been a colony since he obtained them years prior (and his backstory seems to imply that, even before the stand arrow, they'd existed on some level, though they hadn't yet manifested).

If I can refer back to that Fugo and Mista post, I think what split the Sex Pistols might have been his very OCD-coded thought patterns. Just as All Along the Watchtower (a stand made from a deck of cards, which puts on performances with the "stage name" The Watchtower Troupe) reflects Murolo's belief that the world around him is flimsy and unstable, and that he can't trust anyone and must put on facades to avoid being betrayed; and how he claims Metallica, Bad Company, and Harvest reflected their own users' "hollow pits;" the Sex Pistols are another facet of Mista's life that give him routines and structure, even if it seems irrational to others. He actively has to take care of the Sex Pistols, feed them when they need to be fed, keep them in line behaviorally, etc, or he'll be defenseless, and tangible harm could come to him. Forgetting to, say, give the Pistols lunch would be, in Mista's mind, no different than taking the fourth slice of cake; in both cases, performing (or not performing) a specific, seemingly unrelated action puts him in danger.

The other thing that's interesting about the Sex Pistols, though, is that they're completely sentient. Historically, we see this with characters that have a strong resolve: Koichi, Trish, Giorno, and so on. At the same time, there's characters whose stands behave independently because they lack control over themselves - namely Fugo, to the point where Giorno expresses fear that Fugo dying without coming to terms with his anger/finding self-worth could cause Purple Haze to run wild like Notorious B.I.G. In a way, I think Mista's both; he has incredible resolve, yes, but it takes the smallest, most arbitrary thing to destroy that confidence. From his manga profile:

So the Sex Pistols are sentient, but unlike Echoes Act III, Spice Girl, or Gold Experience Requiem - who may act outside their user's conscious wishes, but always for the best - the way they behave is sometimes to Mista's detriment. They'll get distracted, fight with each other, feed into Mista's paranoia, and so on.

Going back to that Murolo quote does make me wonder, though - based on his theory as to why a stand splits into a colony, why aren't some other stands split? It would make a lot of sense for Purple Haze, Moody Blues, and Voodoo Child to be, for instance, because I'd say that Fugo, Abbacchio, and Sheila E all have their own "hollow pits" that shape them as people. Beyond Vento Aureo/PHF, it'd even make sense for Polnareff, Kakyoin, and Jolyne, off the top of my head. I'd even argue, if Keicho's obsession with his ambition is what made Bad Company a colony stand, shouldn't Giorno have a colony stand? Then again, maybe this implies something about Giorno - that, even if he tries to hide it, the people in his life are more important than his dream. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into this.

But thank you for bringing this up, this Murolo line lives in my brain rent-free and I've been looking for an excuse to talk about it with regard to Mista forever lol

[the-royal-petals]

I would like to introduce you all to my clone OC squad, the 380th!

I hope you like them!

This is going go be a long post so please bare with me! I would appreciate it if you looked through everything 💕

Trigger warnings -Mention of suicide attempts [ Mentioned in Bob's section and Kirk's section ]

Click on the clones' names to see more pictures of them :D

A 💜 emoji means next to their name means they have a post about them

Who are the 380th?

The 380th is a subdivision of the 212th legion, led by General Kenobi and Marshal Commander Cody. Although Kenobi holds the rank of General, the day-to-day operations are primarily overseen by Commander Cody, ARC Commander Bob, and Captain Tim. The legion is referred to as 'The Ravens' as a tribute to their Mandalorian comrade, Paxel Tassia, who joined their ranks. This nickname serves to assist Paxel in coming to terms with her past and embracing her new path. Known for their lively interactions and knack for accomplishing tasks in the most chaotic manner imaginable, the group shares similarities with the renowned 501st.

In order to prevent further mayhem, the Jedi Council has placed restrictions on the 380th's collaboration with the 501st. The Council fears that the combination of these two units' unruliness would only perpetuate the chaos, a concern amplified by ARC Trooper Fives and Hardcase; this was also argued by Anakin, who was immediately shut down after the argument was made about him trying to recruit Captain Tim three months ago.

The colours of the 380th is primarily consisting of, Yellow/Orange, Pink/Purple, White and Grey. The clones based their colours of Commander Cody and their Mandalorian friend who was known for her bright pink armour, combined, they created a unique design which would make them recognisable among the clones who had a single colour scheme. The White and Grey were additional colours added by Clone Sergeant Silver who had made the changes overnight, but not wanting to remove the grey from the armour, the 380th kept it.

Oh also, the 380th fucking love watermelon. If you want to befriend them, give them watermelon. Like seriously, they go feral for that shit. It’s gotten so bad that Cody has to avoid planets that have that fucking fruit and even lure them to other places with watermelon as said bait.

The clones of the 380th

You all know who Cody is so lets kick it off!

💜 ARC Commander Bob - CC 80085-1

As much as Cody hates to admit it, Bob is the official 2nd-in-Command whenever Obi-Wan isn’t around. He is the most playful one out of the 380th, often seen as energetic and selfless. Bob is always willing to greet and hug new people, sometimes without warning.

He enrolled in the ARC Trooper program a year before Fives and Echo, which enabled him to be their ARC Commander when they first joined. Some suspect that’s where the two troopers got their chaotic nature from. Despite his chaos, he is a good leader who cares for his troops, always giving them something to smile about when times get tough.

When he was a cadet, he was teased for his CT designation number, being called ‘Boobs’ constantly, and while at first it annoyed him, over time he grew to accept the nickname, soon finding the fun in it.  He sees Cody as a strong and capable leader, looking up to him in many ways.  Despite their differences, they are great friends and often annoy each other with simple jokes and pranks. 

There was one time he was asked to deliver some information to the clone base on Coruscant. Cody had conveniently forgotten to tell Bob about the change of location, so he sent him on a massive errand run, lasting a good few hours before he found the base. Needless to say he doesn’t run errands for Cody anymore.

He is insanely protective of his brothers and anybody he considers as a close friend, going as far as putting himself in danger to protect the ones he loves. Whenever anybody is feeling down or needs any support, he is the first one to their side and will not leave them until their mood improves. This was the case when Cherry was murdered by a Jedi and Chase was listed as a fugitive, but also during the time when Kirk struggled with his mental health and attempted suicide. He gave him the proper support and assisted in Kirk’s healing from the experience.  

Captain Tim - CT-84923

Unlike other captains in the GAR, Tim is seen as a stern and strict leader, following the footsteps and influence of Marshall Commander Cody He is one of the most resourceful clones in the 380th; only when a plan goes to shit. He is usually seen as sarcastic and serious, having the mentality that things must be done exactly as ordered.  But despite the orders, he usually ends up following the lead of his men—much to his dismay.

He is insanely protective over the 380th. He can and will bully his brothers for fun, but the moment someone else lays a hand on them, he will be the first one to stand up for them. Tim is the embodiment of the “organised chaos;” he is the organised and his brothers are the chaos.  Whenever something goes wrong, he will take the blame for it in hopes it’ll extend time to fix the problem.

Tim understands his men and their strengths and uses them to the best as his ability on missions. Like Bits, he is analytic and quick on his feet, able to compromise when he can. Tim is also close friends with Rex, Wolffe, Cody and Fox, wanting to be as good as a leader to them; and he may have taken a few pointers from Rex on how to deal with chaotic clones.

Whenever he is off duty, he is catching up on work or taking some alone time so he can regroup and gather his thoughts. He is a firm believer in getting a problem resolved as soon as possible rather than letting it fester and get worse.

Clone Medic Kirk - CT - 44431

Kirk, the dedicated medic of the 380th, possesses not only his invaluable medical skills but also a talent for photography. Amongst the clones, he is known as the "War Photographer," assigned by the Jedi to capture crucial media pictures and document significant incidents on the battlefield. This is also so they could prevent future incidents. While most of Kirk's photographs focus on the less graphic aspects of war, there are some that depict the harsh reality that is not suitable for the faint of heart.

These photos also require him to capture haunting images of fallen comrades. The photos take a toll on Kirk's emotional well-being, often leaving him feeling helpless and burdened by the memories they evoke.

In an attempt to shield his fellow clones from the distressing imagery, Kirk  keeps the photographs locked away in a drawer, preventing others from stumbling upon them. Once the mandated time frame for retention expires, he burns them, allowing the painful memories to be released and moving towards healing.

While Kirk maintains a certain emotional distance from others to protect himself from attachment, he consistently watches over and supports his brothers. He constantly reminds them to look after each other and cherish what they have. Despite Kirk's attempts to keep a low profile, Bob, Cody and Chase support him with whatever they can, noticing Kirk's emotional distance. 

Kirk's selflessness is well known among the 380th, as he consistently places the needs of others above his own. He is always ready to provide whatever care there is necessary. While he has close friends with Chase, he is close friends with Commander Cody and with the 501st medic, Kix.

Kirk also has symbols on his armour. The red insignia and the semicolon in mando’a. The semicolon is a symbol of mental health and not giving up, but also a symbolism for those who have attempted suicide in the past; Kirk being one of them. Kirk put it on his armour to encourage himself to never give up hope, but also to keep going through his struggles of mental health. He hopes this inspires others to do the same. 

After his incident, Kirk had to be pulled out of service for a month until he gained control over his mental health and evaluated until he was fit for duty again.During this process he had Cody, Bob, Irony, Obi-Wan and Chase by his side. Now he is encouraging and supporting other clones who need the help.

ARC Trooper Chase - CT-54323

ARC Trooper Chase is the most serious and disciplined of the 380th squad.  He respects Commander Fox and Wolffe, embodying a strong sense of duty, he follows orders without hesitation. Chase's no-nonsense attitude can sometimes lead to irritation when his fellow clones deviate from established protocols. However, beneath his stoic exterior, he harbours a profound love and loyalty for his brothers.

He can be seen as the most protective clone in the 380th, more than Kirk or Tim. Chase is extremely distrusting of Jedi due to an incident that occured many years ago where an ex-ARC Trooper, Cherry, was killed by the hands of a Jedi master, being depicted as traitorous and a fugitive to the republic. 

Chase knew that these allegations were false, knowing his brother was framed and in the process of investigating, he too was depicted as a traitor; because of this, he lost trust in the Jedi and the people who were supposed to be protecting them. During those investigations, two Jedi came forward, Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi, who believed Chase and helped  clear his name from the charges.

However, despite everything, he is still seen as untrustworthy and unreliable. Only his brothers see him for who he truly is. (Along with Plo and Obi-Wan.) Since then, Chase has been insanely protective over his brothers, not allowing new people to linger too long near them. It takes him a while to get to trust people; but once you gain his trust, he will fight for you.  Irony was also another member in the 380th who helped to find out the truth behind the incident. It was soon revealed that Pong Krell was behind the attack and the killing of Cherry.

Lieutenant Silver - CT- 51723

Out of the 380th, Silver is the collector and the most child-like. He has a massive interest in anything metallic and shiny, with exceptions to some other things. He is awfully cuddly whenever he finds a new friend and is always willing to trade with anybody for trinkets; in return  he gives out rations or even any supplies he finds on his travels. Silver is intelligent, strong, and loves working with other people. While he can be rather childish at times, he is a loyal and reliable member. Whenever he trusts somebody enough, he will make them a small keychain with their name on it and maybe with a gem or something else that reminds him of that person. To get one of these is an honour in his world. 

Every member of the 380th has one and to get one means you are an official member and have passed the test. Despite his nature, he is resourceful and intelligent. Some people may see his trinkets as a mess or an interference on missions, but on multiple occasions, he has used them as a weapon (handed over to Bits) or included in explosives to help get rid of the enemy. He’s one of the best at improvising.

Silver is also someone who helps design and improve the armour with modifications and even assist in repairs with Meddel whenever he can. If the worst comes to worst, he will help be the back-up mechanic, though that is something Meddel wishes to never happen.

 Lieutenant Bits - CT-81754

Whenever he’s not on a high-risk mission, he is always trying to find things to blow up, even if there is no need to. Bits is the bane of Tim’s existence and if Silver’s constant hunt for shiny stuff isn’t the thing that gives him a migraine that day, it’s Bits. He is constantly on the move and leaving things about—if he’s not sorting out their arsenal, he’s studying separatist buildings, if he’s not doing that, he’s helping to create new weapons. 

He is seen to be the most chaotic out of the group. He is always coming up with new ways to better their strategies and much to Tim’s dismay is essential to the 380th’s success. Whenever possible, he’s giving people the chance to blow things up with him. 

Bits absolutely loves food. He is also one of the only people in the 380th who can actually cook something edible and prevent them from living on watermelon for the rest of their lives.

Sergeant Irony - 69423

Known for getting into Ironic situations, Irony is the pilot of the 380th. He is loyal, kind and has a massive love for ducks. He has the ability to be quick on his feet, and the ability to use humour to diffuse tense and difficult situations. Irony is one of the more relaxed people in the 380th, willing to crack a joke about how ironic something is and see things for how they really are. 

He is a realistic sort of thinker and doesn’t really like to have things sugarcoasted. Whenever there is a problem, he doesn’t stop at anything until he finds out the truth, even if it means going against orders to find it. (An example of this was when Cherry was framed for being a fugitive, soon being killed by a Jedi, did he assist in exposing the truth. It’s because of him that it prevented Chase from being executed or court martialled.) This sort of thinking has gotten him into a lot of trouble over the years, but it has always been for the greater good. He has a fear of heights, which earned him the “Irony” nickname by Meddel. They are close friends and grew up together in the cadets program.

Meddel was the one who encouraged him to become a pilot in the first place. Irony is a person who searches for any kind of adrenaline, doing whatever it takes to find the joys in life.

He is the original creator of the codenames: “Mother Duck” and “Duckling.”  Much to the dismay of the 380th, he is the creator of other code names and nobody can really argue with it.

Corporal Beetle - 833713

Beetle is known to be the hermit of the 380th, known for his introverted and ‘dark light’ seeking nature. He’s very stealthy and good at sneaking around even if he doesn’t mean to. Many clones have reported him ‘teleporting’ because they didn’t see him move. 

He is a very reserved and cuddly individual who takes an interest in anything bright and colourful, which is why he’s close friends with Bits. You can usually find him hiding under the table or in a dark place with his datapad in hand. Bits is good at problem solving and has a good knowledge of computer and security systems. He’s the go-to whenever they need someone to sneak into place. 

It takes a while for Beetle to get to know somebody, but once he’s comfortable you can find him sleeping on Bits, Bob or even Cody. Whenever he’s not doing anything, he is usually sleeping. He’s known for creating drawing ideas for Silver and even handing him unique shiny things. 

Whenever he is not cuddling someone, you can usually find him alone watching people. Beetle is also very aware of his surroundings and is able to understand people’s moods before everyone else. He’s insanely good at reading people’s body language.

Corporal Meddel - CT-84324

Meddel is the engineer of the 380th and the backup pilot for Irony. He is meticulous and has a good attention to detail, being someone who has pride in his word and one of the most important members within the team. Whenever he is not flying ships or is in meetings, he is making sure the gear, weapons and machines are working and up to standard.

Whenever they get inspections, he is the first person to check over everybody before the Jedi enter the barracks. Despite being an introvert, he is good at teamwork and collaborating with his fellow clones, especially Silver and Irony. 

Meddel is always giving Silver his tools to use whenever he wants to make things, but other times he finds his tools going missing. Despite that, Meddel is very protective over his stuff and will go feral whenever people move something he had put into place.

Usually, he is found lingering around the hangar or flying with Irony in the sky. His favourite ship is the x-wing and has been trying to get one painted the colour of his armour, but Cody keeps declining. He also really fucking likes watermelon. He will do anything to get that shit. Not to mention, he was the person who got the 380th into that fucking fruit. It has gotten so bad that Cody has to check in advance that the planet they go to does not have any watermelon on it. 

Who do you like the most?

[redshoes-blues]

I just know tomorrow’s Bad Batch episodes are going to hurt and probably break me lol. I say this every week but I’m scareddd! Final predictions before I go to bed?

We’ll probably find out who Clone X-2 is in the identity crisis episode, though I think the title could be a double-meaning that also refers to Omega being (probably) force sensitive and learning more about what that’s means for her futur. The identity crisis could also refer to Wolffe and his place in the Empire/questioning his place there? But yeah. Probably Clone X-2’s reveal. I hope because I’m sick of theorizing every week about who it is. I want answers!

As for who the mystery clone is, it’s clearly someone important/known, otherwise they wouldn’t make a big deal out of the who question.

Most likely? Cody, probably. He went AWOL, after all, and it would be angsty. I keep thinking of how Rex in Rebels says Cody’s name when he’s having a panic attack, and wondering why he’d say his name. I always thought maybe he watched Cody die. But I’d love to be wrong and have Cody actually be AWOL and on his way to find Obi-Wan.

Could be Tech, who I think most people seem to be theorizing. I’m not very sold on that one just based on how he died, but it could be him! I mean, Echo and Gregor both blew up. I’d need a good explanation of how he survived, though. I’ve also wondered if it could also be a Crosshair clone, which is based purely on the sniping skills lmao.

Craziest options? I’m kind of hoping for something shocking…like Dogma. Or some other clone whose face would be recognizable right away. One of my brothers suggested Mace Windu, which is completely hilarious, and maybe even crazier than me secretly hoping that they’ve brought Fives back from the dead.

I feel like the reveal will be at the end of the first episode and it’ll be a classic cliffhanger leading into the second episode, which will probably be when all hell breaks loose. Cue the attack on Pabu or some other angsty situation that we’ll be left on the edge about until next week.

Also. I swear to god, if they give Echo a bunch of development in one of these episodes only to kill him off in a couple weeks like they did with Tech, I’m gonna lose it even though I can smell his death from a mile away.

Yeah. I’m scared!

Also, since I watch this show with my brothers, I have to wait to watch it until they’re home from school so…that’s going to be absolute torture. Wish me luck! 😭

[doodledgalaxy]

A part 2 to the Sandman Coraline au! This one is of Daniel and Lyta, but I plan on making a part 3 soon of him actually in the Dreaming. I also wanted to try a little bit of writing for this au, despite being based on two different scenes. (You can check out part 1 here)

Daniel crawled through the exit of the small door’s tunnel. Finally reconnecting his hands with the hardwood floor. Emerging, he dusted himself off and looked around. Finally, an answer to his curiosity.

The other side of the mysterious door had just been… another dull boring hallway.

‘Except’, he entertained, ‘this hallway is more grey and dreary. Makes our house look actually interesting.” All of the furniture seemed to be placed in the same spots as if it was a lifeless mirror of his new house. Wandering in further, Daniel turned into a kitchen.

Colors in the kitchen seemed to pop as if trying to climb off the walls. The table and appliances sat in familiar spots. Three beautiful, arched stained glass windows captured his attention instantly. Marvelously splashed with hues of red, blue, or green, all three put the boring ones in his home to shame.

“Hello, Daniel Hall. You’ve arrived just in time for dinner.” greeted a low rumble.

A sound that could only be described as if the deep dark expanses of space were going to read you a fairy tale and whisk you off to some new world. Daniel’s head whipped to the left to see a figure that had gone unnoticed. The man had his back to him. He was tall, topped with wild black hair that seemed to spike in every direction, and wearing a long dark coat that seemed to drape around him like living ink with what appeared to be stars decorating the bottom. The man stood at the stove, softly stirring the contents of a pan placed on the stovetop.

“How do you know my name?” Daniel questioned.

His eyebrows furrowed, surely he would remember meeting someone who looked so odd. The figure chuckled. The noise resonated through the room like an earthquake.

The man turned giving the boy a good look at his pale, almost paper-white skin.

Where the man’s eyes were supposed to be were two black buttons.

Lifeless, cold, and yet a gaze that seemed as if it knew long dead ancient secrets. The midnight sky of the buttons only disturbed by two reflections like stars twinkling in them to match.

The pot continued to be stirred, providing the only additional noise to the room.

The pot continued to be stirred, providing the only additional noise to the room.

The pot continued to be stirred, providing the only additional noise to the room.

Unfazed by such a statement, the other father spoke once again, “That’s because I’m also the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares. Although you may refer to me as just Morpheus.” Morpheus spoke of his title as if that meant something to Daniel. The boy had never even considered the idea of someone ruling over dreams or nightmares, it sounded rather absurd, yet this man declared such as his job.

“Perhaps,” Morpheus hummed, “I could look different. If that’s truly what you’d prefer. My appearance can be that of anyone, even your father.”

Despite the lack of proper eyes, his stare seemed to cut through the boy. Daniel’s reflection echoed in those horrible button eyes.

“No. You look fine like this.” Daniel shook his head. He doesn't think he wants to risk seeing a funhouse mirror version of his dad. “I didn’t know I had an other father.”

“Everyone has an other father. It’s just I happen to be yours.” After turning off the stove with a loud click and moving the pan off the heat, Morpheus approached closer to Daniel, a warm welcoming smile playing on his lips.

[imthebadguyyy]

A/N - based off of this sinful photograph

Suggested listening - Wildside by Normani and Kiss It Better by Rihanna

Wildside

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (fem!littlemix!reader)

Fandom - F1

Summary - You've been on tour for a while, and you miss your loverboy. But when he surprises you on tour, its bound to get spicy.

Warnings - smut (not well written)

The snap of hips. The soft groans and moans. The sound of pants. The sound of Rihanna's 'Kiss It Better' blaring through the walls. The bed knocking against the wall as Lewis's hands squeezed your hips, the intensity of the thrust pushing the bed against the wall. The high pitched moan that left your mouth as you reached your high, eyes closing as stars exploded behind your eyelids, as your boyfriend came right after you, your walls clenching as he came. Even after reaching your high, you didn't want to open your eyes, far too consumed in the earth shattering pleasure that was coursing through your veins, until a soft hand reached to pull your chin up, soft brown eyes looking into your own, clouded with lust and euphoria.

Pulling your mouth into his in a heated kiss, Lewis moved his hand to rest on your bare stomach, squeezing your tummy softly as he deepened the kiss. Pulling away he let his head droop onto your bare chest. "That was.." he began, far too blissed out to think of an adjective. "Godly" you said, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to come to terms with the intensity of your orgasm. Laughing he leaned back up to kiss your nose, before standing up and walking to the bathroom. You heard the tap running, and the sound of the dustbin opening and closing. You closed your eyes again, the aftershocks still coursing through your body.

Opening them again slowly, you saw Lewis walk towards you, towel in hand, and a lazy smile on his face. He gently cleaned your thighs, finishing with kisses on both of them. He reached up and wiped your torso, which was gleaming with a thin layer of sweat, before running the towel over your nose, cheeks, eyes and mouth. He dropped the towel in the clothes hamper near the bathroom door, pulling on his boxer shorts and and pulling out one of his t shirts from the cupboard. "What about the clothes on the floor" you piped up, finally beginning to wake up from your post pleasure state. "When did it get so messy?" He said, spotting 5 different clothing items in 5 different corners of the room. "When you decided to run your hand up my dress in a restraunt" you replied, throwing him a fake glare.

"You liked it" was his cocky reply, smirk spreading over his face as you flushed and ran a hand through your hair. "I did not" you lied, watching as he raised his eyebrows. "Oh really ? Thats not what you were saying 5 minutes ago- oh wait, you weren't saying anything at all. You were too busy moaning my name to say anything else-" "OKAY fine I loved it. Now shut up and bring your fine ass back for cuddles"

*-*-*

That was a month ago. Now you've been away for nearly one and half months, away with the girls on the LM5 tour. You loved touring, it was the best part of being a singer, getting to see the music you girls made together come to life on a stage in front of thousands and thousands of screaming fans. It was a thrill like no other. The only problem was that you were away from home. Distance was never an issue for the two of you, after all, he was a Formula 1 driver. It was very rare that he was home, except during the breaks and the gaps till race weekend, but ever since you two had started dating, he tried to be with you whenever you could. Sometimes, your shows would be in places where the races were too, and then he'd definitely turn up. But it was a difficult thing to do all the time, and some nights on tour were spent pulling all nighters as you talked to each other on the phone, till one of you eventually fell asleep.

But you knew when you started dating him, this wouldn't exactly be a regular relationship. The two of you were doing your dream jobs, and they were both extraordinary. And you were willing to put in the work you had to put in to make the relationship work, and you did. Yet here you were in Madrid, feeling heartbroken and desperately wanting your boyfriend by your side. It had been a rough couple of weeks, you were jet lagged and tired, and although this was the second leg of the tour, and you had had a break, it was tiring. It was hard going to bed every night alone, when all you wanted was to cuddle your boyfriend.

Little did you know, Lewis was feeling the same. In fact he had missed you so much, he had told Angela and his publicist to cancel all events for a week, while he flew out to Madrid to see you. He had missed you, he had missed you more than he could put into words. But he also wanted to surprise you. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled down to Leigh Anne's contact, and sent her a text.

Lewis, Leigh Anne

Hey. Is Y/N asleep ?

Hey! No, she's in an outfit fitting.

Okay that's good. I need your help with something.

Sure how can I help ?

I want to surprise her by coming to see you guys in Madrid.

Oh thats wonderful ! She's been a little down in the dumps. I think she misses you.

I miss her too.

Let me know when, and I'll send a car to pick you up.

I'll be there on Saturday. Landing at 3:15 and I should be at the hotel by 4:30. Then I can get ready and surprise her at the show.

Okay done. I'll send the car around 5:30,so you can rest for a bit. You should be here by 6. The show's at 6:15.

Thank you! Can't wait : )

I'm so happy youre coming to see her ! I'll let the girls know.

*-*-*

As soon as he had finished texting, Lewis decided to start packing, the prospect of seeing you again sending a buzz of happiness running along his veins. God, he had missed you a lot. He turned to Roscoe, the dog sitting by his feet, looking up at his dad with his head cocked to one side. "I'm going to go see Mumma, Roscoe" he explained, smiling as the doggo barked in response. He wouldn't be able to take him to Madrid, he'd have to leave him with a dog sitter, but he couldn't feel too bad about it, since he had had Roscoe with him even when you were gone. And besides, Roscoe enjoyed the dog creche. He couldn't wait for Saturday.

Later in the evening, he sat down with a glass of wine, while the ringtone of your FaceTime rang through the empty house. After a few more seconds of ringing, the call was picked up, your tired face coming into view. "Hi darling" he said, noticing the tiredness in your eyes, and how much you were struggling to keep them open. "Hi bubs. Did you finish eating?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. "No, I've ordered soup" (did anyone get the reference ;) "Oh okay" was the reply. "What about you? What time is it?" "Its 9:20 AM" you replied, gently rubbing your eyes again, forcing yourself to stay awake.

"9:20? Thats pretty late baby. Why are you still sleepy?" "We were recording till 4 AM, so Im functioning on like 5 hours sleep right now" "Oh damn. Go back to sleep then baby" "Can't, rehearsal" was you reply, making him furrow his eyebrows. "Okay I guess. But don't tire yourself out" "I won't" "I love you" he said, smiling at you. "I love you"

*-*-*-*

The Madrid show was always a fun one. The fans were loud and you loved it. They were one of the best crowds you girls ever played for, and the show had its own adrenaline and excitement. But it was difficult to give a 100% when you were tired, but you really tried, you did. During Power, you hit highnotes you didnt think you could, during Woman Like Me you danced like there was no tomorrow. During Wasabi, you brought your sass level up to a 1000. It was during Bounce Back that you caught sight of a very familiar face in the audience. Unable to actually grasp if you had actually seen Lewis, you turned to Jade, who was on your side, and looked back at the crowd and back to her, asking for confirmation.

The smirk she gave you was answer enough. After that, focusing on giving an excellent performance increased tenfold. Every swirl of your hips, every flip of your hair, every wink you threw at the audience, it was all five times sexier. In the crowd, your boyfriend was well aware of what you were doing, and it was fair to say that you were succeeding at it. He could feel an uncomfortable sensation around his pants region, as his cock twitched uncomfortably in his pants. He couldn't wait till the show was over, and you two could have a show of your own.

*-*-*

"That was amazing darling!" Lewis said, spotting the 5 of you in your dressing room. "Oh look its Mr. Loverboy!" Perrie said, cackling as you rolled your eyes at her, before running up to your lover and jumping into his arms. "Hiya Bub! I missed you!" "I missed you too love. That's why I surprised you. I couldn't stand another day without you at home" he said, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you stable as you jumped into his arms. A chorus of "awws" echoed throughout the room, as the girls watched your cute little interaction. What wasn't cute however was the comment Lewis made in your ear, hiding his face in your ear so that the girls couldn't see. "I can't wait to get back to the hotel. I saw the performance you were putting on for me baby. You have no idea how hard I got, how uncomfortable I was standing in front of so many people when all I really wanted to do was fuck you"

You could feel your mouth become dry, and your heartbeat quicken, and you could feel the area between your thighs become wet. You tightened your grip around him, letting your crotch rub against his very softly. "I think it's time to go" you mumbled against his ear. "Okay girls, as lovely as it was to see you, I think it's time we go back to the hotel. I'm pretty worn out from travelling as well" "Yeah I'm pretty tired too" you replied, faking a large yawn. "Alright then, we'll see you guys tomorrow!" Leigh Anne said, leaning forward to give you a hug. After you finished hugging all the girls, the two of you made your way to the car, eagerly waiting to get back home.

The car ride home was tense. The tension was apparent in the air, reverberating through the air, choking you in a way you revelled in. The air was thick with tension, and it was suffocating you in the best way possible. It was almost too much to take. When the hotel came into sight, you practically leapt out of the car, and rushed to the door, an equally ruffled Lewis beside you. But he was not going to give in to you so easily. He enjoyed seeing you flustered. And he was not a person that gave someone what they wanted when they asked for it,no. He was going to have you desperate for it. Smirking to himself, he made his way to the reception, grabbing you by the waist as he went.

Throwing him a confused look you followed, slightly frustrated. "Hello sir, how can I help you?" the man at the reception asked, eyes going slightly wide as he recognized the two of you. "Hi! I just wanted to ask, till what time is your pool and spa open?" He asked, sliding his hand down to the back of your dress. "The pool closes at 10 pm sir, and the spa at 9 pm. We open the pool at 7 am and the spa at 11pm"he replied, struggling to maintain his professionalism as he spoke to one of the best drivers in Formula 1. "Alright thank you. And what time does breakfast start?" Lewis asked, hand pressing down on your ass, ever so discreetly. "Breakfast is from 6-10 am sir" "Thank you so much"

Next to him, you were fuming. Of course he was going to ask questions to which he already knew the answers to. A painful throb between your legs made you let out a small whimper, and the man at the reception looked at you with concern in his eyes. "Ma'am are you alright?" He asked, eyeing your stiff posture and tense state. "Yes, just tired, thank you" you replied, a little stiffly, but it was hard to concentrate when Lewis's promise of fucking you senseless kept replaying in your mind. "Alright then, good night" Lewis said, biting back a smirk at your flustered state. He knew getting you all riled up would lead to some seriously earth shattering sex, and he couldn't wait. But first, he definitely wanted to tease you, to push you over the edge, just a little more.

Your room was on the 16th floor, and as the two of you made your way into the elevator, he eyed you up and down, eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts. The minute the door shut, he pushed you against the wall, capturing your lips in a steamy kiss you'd be remembering the next day. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing hard, eliciting a moan from your lips. The moment your lips parted, he was pushing his tongue into yours, his other hand coming up to pull on your hair roughly, relishing in the gasp that left your lips. As suddenly as he started, he stopped, pulling back and standing almost nonchalantly against the wall.

Trying to wrap your head around what happened, you gripped the wall with your hand, feeling your legs grow weak to a point where you felt like you couldn't stand on your own. You could feel your wetness dripping, threatening to run down your thighs, as the throbbing became even more painfully exciting. You looked down at the floor, eyes closing as your frustration grew more and more by the second. Finally, with a little 'ding', the elevator stopped at the 16th floor. The moment the door opened you stepped out on wobbly legs, trying your best to walk properly. But of course, that wasn't going to happen. As you turned one long corridor, Lewis suddenly grabbed your waist, pushing you against the wall again, to reach down and suck on your neck. You let out a gasp, and tried to run your crotch against his, but the retaliated with a slap to your ass, smirking when a high pitched moan left your lips. Lifting you up against the wall, he mumbled against your ear "the key card" your clouded mind was unable to process the words, too consumed by slight relief you were getting. "Get the key card baby" he repeated. This time you noted it, reaching down to his pants pocket to pull out the key card. You couldn't resist running your hand over his cock, feeling how rock hard he was. The thought of him fucking you senseless returned, and you let out a groan.

Grabbing the card from your hand, he opened the door, propping you up against the door in your bedroom. His eyes were filled with a raw, animal desire, as he dropped the card on the floor and reached up to unzip your dress. He ripped the zipper down, your dress falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. He locked his eyes on your heaving chest, hand reaching up to grab your chin, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand slid up your torso, reaching behind to unhook the red lacy bra you were wearing, letting it drop to the floor as he took in the glorious sight in front of him. You waited, wanting him to just touch you, but he just stared, eyes looking into yours, clearly saying "beg for it"

You couldn't help the soft "please" that left your lips, too desperate for some sort of touch. "Please what?' Lewis said, tightening his grip on your waist. "Please" was all you could say again, nearly whimpering again at the rough look in his eyes. "Use your words baby. Now, please what?" "Please just touch me!" You finally gasped out, moaning loudly when he licked a stripe down your chest before taking your right tit into his mouth. His hand fondled the left one, running his thumb over your erect nipple, the rough pad of his thumb sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His mouth sucked on the skin of your tit, before moving down to bite down on your nipple. You gasped again, pain and pleasure coursing through your body as his tongue ran over your nipple over and over till it nearly felt raw. He switched his actions, moving his mouth to your left tit instead, letting his hand harshly fondle the other. He continued the same process of biting, licking and sucking, till he was satisfied with himself. "I fucking love this baby. Seeing you all wet and needy for me. So what do you want? My mouth? My fingers? My cock? Or does my baby want them all ?" He asked, watching as your pupils dilated and you let out a strangled moan.

You let your crotch rub against his thigh, gasping when the friction went straight to your core. "Look at you darling. I asked you what you what you wanted, and you picked my thighs? Well, I want to see you dripping. I want to see you cum on my fingers, my mouth, my thighs and especially on my cock. I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again till you can't even stand on your own fucking legs. I want your thighs to be shaking around my head. I want to see you moan and groan and scream my name so loud, by tomorrow everyone in this hotel will know my name, because you'll spend all night screaming it" you moaned again, his words going straight to your core."Please Lewis, God, just make me cum please!" The desperation of your cry was enough for him to carry you to the bed, dropping your body onto the soft mattress.

He pulled of shirt, unbuttoning every button so you could see him do it. He could see your eyes grow dark, as his compass tattoo came into sight. You had told him it was one of your favourites, and he had used it against you ever since you had told him that. Smirking at you, he climbed onto the bed, lying down between your legs. You pushed yourself up against the headboard, spreading your legs wide for him. His eyes grew dark, as your core came into his view, shimmering with your juices. A near animalistic growl left his mouth, the sound hitting your core. He moved so that he was situated right in front of your core. He let his eyes take in the sight of you in front of him, snapping back to reality when you let out a groan of frustration. Throwing you a devilishly reassuring smile, he inched neared and nearer, till his nose was nearly touching your clit. Then he just lay there. Not moving. You could feel your heartbeat hammering against your chest, chest heaving up and down, an alarming intense feeling growing in your tummy. Finally, when it became too much you let out a small scream of frustration "Oh for fucks sake Lewis please just fuck me!" Your outburst brought a smile to his face. "Oh I will. Just not yet" and with that, he ran a finger along your slit, before finally slipping it into you. You let out a moan, finally getting the friction you had been desperate for. His fingers circled your clit, thumb gently pressing down, before he removed it,only to slam it back down on your sensitive clit, earning a scream of pleasure from you.

He slipped a second finger into you, scissoring around your clit, as your desperate cries of "oh, oh baby! Fuck, fuck lewis-" were lost in the heat of the moment. He leaned his head down to your core, letting his tongue run along your slit too, before licking around it, collecting your wetness on his tongue, before letting it harshly circle your clit. You bucked up into his mouth, feeling his tongue wrap around your clit. He sucked the nub harshly, his fingers still moving in and out of you. "Oh God, Oh GOD, Lew-I- oh! Oh God!" Your broken moans were music to his ears as he sucked your clit into his mouth. You could feel a strange intensity growing in your stomach, feeling a lot stronger than your usual orgasm. The band in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you needed that something more to help it snap. That something more came when Lewis sucked your clit into his mouth, letting it rest in between his teeth, before flicking it with his tongue.

With a cry of "Oh fucking hell, Lew-" you camr gushing into his mouth, your juices coating his fingers and gushing onto his tongue, as he let you ride out your orgasm on his deadly skilled tongue. Well, he had got his wish. Your thighs were shaking around his head, as your body tried to come to terms with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your body. Looking down, you saw him with his painfully hard cock, grinding down on the sheet, as he let out a moan at the relief the bedsheets gave him. Raising an eyebrow, you patted your thigh, signaling him to come over to you. "You loved on me so well bubs. But I can see how hard you are. Do you want to use me to get off?" You asked, watching the effect you had on him. All he could do was nod, as you sat up on your knees. "Stand up" you ordered, getting up from the bed as well.

You walked over to the wall, letting your body rest against it. Somewhat confused, Lewis followed you, standing in the space between your legs. "I tried to get off using your thighs didn't I? I think you'll enjoy it as much as I did. So use me. Use my thigh. Get off" looking at you in pure shock, your boyfriend moved forward, groaning when you pushed your leg against his throbbing cock. He relished in the friction, slowly beginning to move against your leg, moaning when he began to rub against your leg. He began to hump your leg faster, as the pleasure began to build up in his body, before you reached your hand down to cup his length in your hands, moaning when you realized your fingers didn't quite meet. You ran your fingers along his length. You pumped him, letting your thumb circle his sensitive tip, eliciting a soft whine from him. You circled faster, moving down to your knees, and letting your tongue run up his shaft very softly. Above you, Lewis slammed his hands against the wall, groaning when you took him into your mouth.

But a part of him still wanted to cum inside when he was fucking you (in a condom, because wrap it before you tap it) so he pulled you back up, smirking when you whined. "I know baby, but I just really wanna fuck you now. Back on the bed please, unless you want me to take you here against this wall" practically running, you clambered onto the bed. You watched as Lewis pulled out a condom, ripping the packet open before climbing back on top of you. He let his hand rest on your hip, eyes temporarily losing some of the animalistic need that had been present in them. Leaning down, he connected your lips together in a kiss, a searing, intense kiss that took your breath away. "Ready love?" He asked, looking into your eyes, looking to see if there was even a slight hint that you didn't want this. But you did.

With a sudden jolt, he thrust himself into you, groaning when your warm walls clamped down on him. His hips thrust into you, starting off slow, letting you adjust to his massive length. "My sweet baby,taking me so well. Does it feel good?" You couldn't even respond, mouth agape, as his the pace of his thrusts increased. "Answer me" he said, suddenly stopping. Almost crying out at the loss of pleasure, you looked at him with desperation. "Yes yes, fuck it feels so good, please don't stop!" "Thats all you had to say baby" he said, before pushing in again, slowly. Then, he pulled back out. Looking at him in confusion, you gasped when he slammed back into you, a high pitched moan of "Lewis!" leaving your lips. He moved so that he had a better hold of your hips, rocking the both of you back and forth, the intensity of his thrusts was so much that the bed knocked back against the wall. What he wasn't expecting was for you to take his left thumb up to your mouth, running your tongue over it before sucking on it.

Moaning, he started thrusting into you even harder, shifting so that he was directly hitting your g spot. "Oh, God ! Oh fuck, Baby that feels so good please keep going keep-oh!" The cry that left your lips was so loud, you were sure Perrie in the room next to yours had heard you. "Fuck baby, you take me so well" Lewis said, as he nearly hammered your g spot. He was so, so damn close to cumming, and when you leant up and bit a sensitive spot on his neck, he came, gushing into the guard between you two, but he wanted you to cum to, so he reached down to pinch and rub your clit, still riding out his orgasm in you, moaning when you came with a scream. He winced when your core spasmed on his sensitive cock, and he pulled out slowly, before collapsing next to you. Panting, you curled up to him, letting your hand rest on his compass tattoo. "Okay that was Godlike" you said, earning a tired laugh from your lover.

"Yeah it really was. I missed you" he said, allowing you to nuzzle into his neck, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "I missed you too" you replied, kissing the tattoo. "I love you too" As you lay there together, still revelling in the moment, your phone buzzed. Reaching over to check it, you saw your groupchat with the girls flooding with messages.

-*-*-

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Y/N, I'm filing a noise complaint. 🍆

Jade ✨ - Pez 😂 let them be. It's been a while for her.

Leigh 🦋- She really got some tonight huh? 😏

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️- LOL she did !! And it was obviously some goooood 'some' *wink wink*

Jade ✨- I could hear em too, and Im on the other end of the hall.

Leigh 🦋 - I know I did too! Must be some damn good sex. 😏

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Go Y/N !!

Jade ✨ - Can't wait till she reads this.

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Are they still going?!

Leigh 🦋 - No 😂 she's reading the messages. Y/N!! Yoohoo!

You - yes I'm here 🖕🏽

Jade ✨ - Did you have fun babe 😏

You - ..... yes

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - babe you can't really say no because we heard you

You- Im not saying I didn't have fun. But you guys need to calm down.

Leigh 🦋 - But its funnn

You - okay byeeee ❤

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - Going for a round 2 😏?

You - okay I said bye.

Leigh 🦋 - she is !!

Jade ✨ - Go babe !

You - I need to leave this group.

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - No we love you !! ❤

Leigh 🦋 - Yeah don't leave us ❤

Jade ✨- Don't leave meee ! ❤

You - Haha I'd never leave you girls ❤ now bye.

Jade ✨ - bye babe !

Perrie 🧚🏻‍♀️ - bye you sexy minx 😏

Leigh - bye hun 💙

*-*-*

Smiling to yourself, you put your phone away, to see Lewis looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Who was it?" "Just the girls" you said, cuddling back up to him. "What did they say?" Giggling, you looked up to him and kissed his neck. "They said they're going to file a noise complaint. And they asked me if we were going for a round two" "Were we really that loud?" He asked, looking at you in surprise. "Yeah, even Leigh heard us and she's at the end of the hall!" "Damn" Lewis said laughing. "Well," he said, looking at you again, with a cheeky look in his eye, "they were right about one thing" "And what is that?" You asked, smiling at him mischievously. "We are going for a round two"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

@maxverstappenx @grandestrategia (because you are worth it 🦋💙)

[rukunas]

I was thinking about Sukuna today <3 was thinking about bein his favorite lil concubine <33 who worships him like he deserves after a long day <333 just wanna be useful to my god :) just wanted u to know ily

oh. em. gosh. kat i love u and ur mind <3333333 mwah !!

warnings: smut, virginity!kink, asphyxiation, lowkey drowning (?), name-calling, cock worshipping, blood mention

“Where is she?”

Sukuna’s snarl echoes in the temple as he barges in, talons sharp and eyes narrowed. The servant closest to him squeaks in fear before bowing her head and pointing towards the bath house.

She refers to you, Sukuna’s handpicked fucktoy. He had found you months ago, hiding under a bed after slaughtering the people of your village. The memory is fresh in his mind: your forehead pressed up against the dirtied ground as you begged for mercy on your knees, offering the god anything. Anything included your virginity, promising him to be his concubine— so sweet, pure, innocent, left ripe and for the plucking.

Sukuna took it with gluttony. His pride still swells when he remembers the gasps you made at being split in two, the ring of blood and arousal around the base of him as you bounced on him like a cock-hungry whore. “Thank you, Master!” You weeped as you clenched and came around him, eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” It was then that Sukuna decided to let you live, he can do with a cute worshipper like you.

After long, exhausting days, like the one today, he likes to feel as worshipped as he was that day, wanting to bask in your cries and squeals. As he makes his way to the bath room, he sees you in the water. Your head is tilted back against the side of the large tub, eyes closed in relaxation. Sukuna greedily takes the chance to stare at your body, your breasts peeking out of the water prettily.

“Pet.”

Your head snaps up, eyes widening before you take on a small smile.

“Welcome back, Master.”

You move to rise before Sukuna lifts a hand to stop you. His fingers fiddle with his robe before it pools at his feet, giving you a perfect view of his monstrous body and hard cock, weeping white drops of pre-cum at the tip. You nibble your bottom lip in hesitation— Sukuna may have corrupted you, but you’re still a shy thing, blushing red when seeing him exposed like this.

Sukuna sinks down into the tub, right across from you. The second he’s seated, you move towards him, right between his thighs like you’ve been instructed to do so long ago. Your palm slips down to his length, slowly jerking him up and down.

“How was your day, Master?”

You bat your lashes as you peck him a chaste kiss on his cheek, hoping that his scowl would melt into a smile. You like him better when he’s kind, when he sweetly fucks into you like you’re more than a whore, especially when he so rarely yet graciously replaces his cock with his mouth, running his tongue on your folds and letting you cum as many times as you want.

But you always seem to forget that a whore is exactly what you are.

Sukuna’s frown deepens as he jerks you back away from his face, one hand moving to clutch your wrists and the other tugging your hair.

“I don’t keep you alive to ask me questions.”

He suddenly pushes your head underwater, watching as you flail before letting you come back up, gasping and coughing.

“So- sorry, Master.” Your voice is scratchy and you whimper, making Sukuna grin sadistically.

In an act of mercy, he pulls himself up so that his cock is no longer submerged, standing tall and proud in the air. You take that as your cue, bending down and lapping away at the tip, sucking like your life depends on it. Sukuna hums, arms moving to rest behind his head, another hand twirling a piece of your hair, the final moving to pinch your nose. He can’t be all that kind after all.

“Show me how sorry you are.”

Your life depends on it.

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