#Highly mentioned Rarely seen...

[prkhaven]

MOVIE STAR -s.jy-

Your friend’s attractive brother yearns for you? Well then he certainly can earn you

pairing— money struggling!jake x camgirl fem!reader

genre: smut minors do not interact, cam life au, friend’s brother au, p with very minimal plot, p with feelings, slight forbidden love

wc: 10.7k

warnings: kissing, profanity, mention of candy, heeseung cameo

smut warnings: filthy, protected sex, p in v, consented recording, masturbation, teasing, condom left behind, oral (f rec.), horrendously desperate jake, reader thinks jake is inexperienced (surprise he’s not), fingering, messy, wet, overstimulation, dirty talk, praising, usage of nicknames (baby, good girl)

The sugary flavor traced over your lip before voluntarily slipping back into your mouth. Your mouth pursed around the candy, crooking an eyebrow to your friend’s brother who fiddled with his fingers and averted his gaze away from you.

You pushed out the solid sugary candy from your mouth again with a pop before leaning back, tilting your head to the side as a side smile stretched at your face. While you heard him loud and clear the first time, you wanted to hear it again.

“Can you repeat that again Jaeyun?” You called out the foreign name you knew others rarely called him yet noticed his jerked reaction to it making your lips curl up

Jake could feel his cheeks burning up, his hand running up to his nape to fiddle with the back of his hair before poorly laughing. There was no right moment for this no matter how much he wanted there to be.

Either rip it off like a bandaid or don’t do it in the first place. Deep down he should’ve chosen the latter but it was too late to back out.

He licked his lips before diverting his gaze between you and the floor but when he looked back to you, his attention was drawn onto your chest for a split second before ripping his eyes away.

Sucking on the plush of his bottom lip, he awkwardly chuckled out a sigh before slowly lifting his eyes up from the ground. The more his gaze rode up, the tighter his chest caved in itself.

Yet, when you noticed his gaze rising up your legs, you uncrossed them without a word.

Jake gulped harshly, noticing the evident dip sitting right in between your thighs. Forcing his eyes away, he continued up until to your face trying his best to ignore the attributes he’s only seen through a screen every other week.

Unless you’re willing enough to have some mercy on him but he highly doubts that but it wouldn’t kill him to wish for that.

Your stained lips from the candy you were sucking on made him freeze, admiring how the shade matched you well. He was looking longer than anticipated and didn’t knock out the daze until you cleared your throat.

He sucked in a breath before looking into your eyes. Amusement was the first thing he noticed in your eyes but hidden underneath was something indescribable.

You smiled warmly at him suddenly causing his palms to sweat and clamped together as he discreetly tried to wipe them off with his pants. “Uh well you see, I don’t necessarily make the best pay in the world right now…”

You snort softly nodding your head, “So I’ve heard”

His eyebrows knit together in pure confusion and a slight of horror. You lightly chuckled pointing at your ear with the candy at hand, “You’re not exactly quiet when gaming”

His face grew hotter at the realization that you must hear him every time you come over. Unable to maintain the eye contact any longer, he looks away to close his eyes, hoping that if he denies the moment from happening it’ll seize to exist.

“So what about your money problem?” Jake lifted his hand to rub his sleeved arm in comfort when you circled back to the topic

“Now you see…” His voice strained trying to articulate the proper wording to form a sentence that wouldn’t come off so straight forward but enough to get his point across while also keeping himself sane which he knew was impossible whenever you were near

“You know my sister doesn’t really make the most money in the world either” The mention of your friend made you raise an eyebrow before motioning him to continue, “And there’s only so much that she can give-“

“You mean what I give?” You empathized the I in your sentence with a raised eyebrow

He tensed up, shouldering hunching up at your stern tone before slowly dropping them, afraid that any drastic movement will lead to his demise.

Nervously nibbling at his bottom lip, his fingers danced onto each other as he stared to the floor, “You’re a smart boy“ You stopped mid sentence, “Look at me Jake”

Your heavy sigh instantly gained his attention. While he’s not used to his name having such an effect on him. Oddly enough his body grows hotter the more he’s in your presence—regardless of you being his sister’s friend.

Your eyes roamed his face and neck, the smoothness and evident unblemished of it made your heart jump, “There you go” You smiled softly when he finally looked at you

He licked his bottom lip at the moment of silence, taking in the sight of your smile, “Like I was saying, you’re smart”

“You just need some confidence” You shrugged your shoulders, leaning back in the chair, your legs crossing over each other again as you rested your elbow on your propped up knee

Jake, unable to move his eyes off of you going into the exact spot that he found you not even 10 minutes ago. His interlaced fingers soon slipped out of each other, his shoulders pushed back to have his chest pump out.

You smirked at his now weak confident stance finding him cute, “Now go ahead and ask me the question” You wiggled your candy towards him

“Can I be a part of…” He took a gulp to wash away the nerves forming, “A video with you?”

Moving your head straight, your tongue lolled out to rest the sugary flavor on top of your taste buds before fully popping the candy back into your mouth and closing it shut.

Standing up from the chair you were in, you landed on your feet, dusting off your clothes. With each move you took, Jake watched you.

He shook his head to remain his eyes on the prize but the thought began to blur. “Found out that I do commission for those starring in?” You asked in a sultry way, your words melting his heart

He hastily nodded his head, unable to trust himself to say a word without embarrassing himself. His heart hammered against his chest when you took a step closer to him. You free hand motioned for him to step closer and instantly without a thought he took a stride closer to you.

Making sure he could hear you clearly, you sucked loudly on the candy humming in pleasure at the flavor on your tongue.

Jake peered at you, he saw your eyes closed and the sweet candy in between your lips sending goosebumps across his skin at the lewd sound before a familiar pop followed closely after.

Opening your eyes and looking ahead of you, your hand raised to his shoulder as he silently hissed upon contact causing a closed lip smile to rest upon your face.

You lightly pat his shoulder, “Sorry Jakey” The new nickname flipped his heart ignoring the clear rejection, only focusing on how you never strayed away from calling him by the name no one uses, “I don’t fuck virgins”

Then his heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

[◉¯]

Jake stared at himself in the fogged up bathroom mirror. Rubbing his hand over the glass to clear enough to somewhat properly see himself through the haze.

Pulling away his hovering hand, he pushed back his dripping hair, “Do I really look like a virgin?” He mumbled to himself before dragging his hand down his face in a loud groan

Ever since he heard your words, it’s played through his mind like a broken record. Everytime he vividly remembered the encounter, how your colorful lips uttered the words that crashed his world instantly.

There was the quiet ringing in his ears mellowing out the music playing in the background. He shook his head harshly to rid of the clutter in his head..

Bits of water flung around the bathroom as he roughly shook his head. He reached over to skip to the next song but stopped when a familiar notification popped up on his phone.

Nearly slipping at the water pooling at his feet, he grabbed the phone as his wet fingers hastily rushed to tap at the notification. However, his phone clicked on every other notification besides the one he wanted.

“Open!” He yelled not wanting to miss your live anymore than what he already has

A sigh of relief left him when he was finally redirected and your sweet smile coming into view. He could feel his heart pump out of his chest when your legs came into frame and pressed at your chest as you wrapped your arms at your knee.

He saw your eyes flickering around, presumably watching the comments, the endless high donations coming in from the moment you started the live and your viewer count growing by the second.

You softly giggle and a fluttering erupted in his chest until he felt his stomach fold in itself as one of your legs fell to the side. Your index and middle finger chased after each other slowly up your still perched leg to your knee.

The eyes that were once filled with wonder and faked innocence disappeared. You traced your knee in a slow manner before pushing your leg down to match the other side.

Jake gulped down the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off you. Grumbling under his breath in frustration seeing how the live comment section bursted. All those mindless praises flared something nasty in him.

He clicked to put it out of sight, only wishing to focus on you. Your hand helped stretch your neck, moving it side to side to release the supposed tension in it. You moaned in relief that quickly shot right to in between his legs.

Hearing it through his phone speakers and in real life was incomparable. No matter how good the sound system could be. Nothing could top hearing you in person.

As he stared at the screen, Jake’s eyes traveled down to the evident damping on your panties on full display. He pressed his lips tightly together as your hand dragged down from your neck down your body, passing through—stopping for a second at your chest, fingerings gliding over the material of your shirt. Your nipples harden through the tight material and his mouth salivated at the sight.

Was he insane for wondering how they would feel in his mouth? He can live with being known as insane when it comes to you.

Shaking the thought away not wanting to waste his time on that thought when you were right on his screen. Your hands continued down your body.

“Fuck” He muttered lowly when you teased the elastic band of your undergarment clinging to your body

A soft smile graced your face, bringing your legs together again before turning to the side as you hooked your fingers under and tugged at the material.

Pulling it to the side as much as you could before letting go to slap at your side making you yelp in surprise. You looked at the screen before shyly looking away to continue playing with your underwear until your finger slipped underneath again.

You peered over your shoulder to look at the camera, teasingly pulling down your panties off your covering mound. Jake who watched all of this felt his heart racing and then stopping once your panties passed your knees.

You raise your leg slightly up to have the piece of fabric hang from your ankle until you kick it off completely. And in a glory far too great for him, your wet glistening folds stared right at him.

His face dropped to appreciation the gift you granted him of such a sight bestowed upon his phone at full screen.

Your fingers inched closer to your throbbing swollen clit that begged for attention. Gracefully, you moaned the moment your finger grazed over it, head thrown out of frame.

Jake inhaled sharply, looking down from the screen for a second to see his hand wrapped about his throbbing hard on. He jerked back in surprise, just how that happened without him realizing.

Still, his attention span fell through when he heard the wet splotch erupt from his phone speaker and immediately brought his care back to you.

Left to watch you tap against your soaked self before stroking up before stroking down, spreading your folds apart to see your spasming hole.

You jerked away from your fingers rubbing against your clit until you slid a finger between. Jake watched how your finger slipped through and disappeared inside of you.

You let out a loud sigh as your body rested as you dragged your single out just a little before slipping it back in. But, after two strokes, you slipped another finger making you gasp, “So good” You breathlessly whined

Your two fingers pumped out just before your hole could flutter around nothing, you slipped them back in and through your moan, the squelch of your arousal mixing together with the collision of your hand made his head heavy.

The hand wrapped around his shaft tightened harder mimicking how you clamped around your fingers.

“W-wait” You wailed out yet your actions contrasted your plea

The whines bounced off the walls of the bathroom as you now rapidly thrusated your two fingers as far as you could inside of you. Your palm moving up and down against your clit every.

Jake felt excitement coursing through his body. While he knew he shouldn’t be watching you since you were his sister’s friend but that was the least of his concerns. Watching how you mindlessly thrust your fingers into you whilst rubbing at yourself, it was heaven.

Instinctively, Jake’s hand rose up to his tip before dragging back down to the base to match your pace. Holding tighter at his cock, his fingers ran over his slit, the leaking precum rubbed all around his tip. He loudly gasped, stumbling over his feet as he hobbled to the sink—both hands occupied until he threw his phone to the counter.

The hand holding the heft, he thrusted up into his first at your pace and lewd sound. Your strategic pitiful moans and hole taking two fingers made him snicker. “Put one more” His voice strained as his ears filled with the wet sounds of your hand rubbing harshly against your pussy

Knowing his request on the other side of the phone wouldn’t be answered, he closed his eyes shut to let his mind run wild. In his mind, you were wrapped around him instead of his hand, that it was your gummy walls tightening around him.

That those pornogrpahic but symphonic whines and moans were caused by him. He snapped his hips fasted into his hand, the sound of his precum leaking down his shaft fitted perfectly with yours.

“A little more” He whined, sweat trickling down his cleaned body as a familiar twist formed at his lower stomach, “C’mon you can take it- more!”

The humidity in the bathroom made the light headedness worse, his head lolling to the side as his jaw fell slack, succumbing to the pleasure of your sound.

The steamed room still has not fully dissipated and baring his eyes open just enough through his heavy eyelids, he saw the now three fingers stuffed inside of you—stretching you out beautifully.

Your free hand topped your laying one and helped guide your tired movements faster. “I’m gonna- I’m so close!” You blabbed as your legs clamped together as you chase your high

Yet, even though your core was out of sight, covered by your legs, your sound remained, growing louder by the second.

Jake fisted his hand even harder chasing the high, his knuckles burning at the cold tile rubbing against it but that thought flew to the back of his mind.

Tighter.

Resting his palm onto the counter to stabilize himself, he rammed himself in between his tight fisted hand as he let out his own growing moans until he came to an abrupt stop. Fingers wrapped around his tip as ropes of his cum shot out.

A loud noise erupted from his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut, his ears ringing from his orgasm; however, through the muffled silence of his heavy breath your loud whines ripped him back into his hazy mind.

Uncontrollably, his hips buck to the sound. His lips quivered as he tried to stop himself from moving anymore, far too sensitive to push himself even more but his body had a mind of its own.

Weakly peering open his eyes, he watched as you clenched around your fingers, painting them in your arousal.

“S-shit” Jake pitifully mumbled as his vacant hand wrapped around his other as he rutted back into his fist

His cock slipped in and out easier from his accumulated release. The blood flew from his head straight to his cock. He knew he had to stop but he just couldn’t.

As you slowly pulled out your fingers from your hole, it gaped with nothing to fill it. Your arousal smeared pussy glistened, making his cock jerk.

Trashing his body to pull away at the sensation, bits of saliva slipped down the side of his mouth to his chin as his hips kept dragging his still hard on out through his hand

The makeshift cage around him would have to suffice, “Fuck!” He painfully wailed as his second orgasm washed over him

As the white streaks shot out, his weak thrust came to a stop until clear excess spurt out. His chest heaved as he attempted to regain his breath. His hands loosening around himself, his eyes fluttering as he felt sticky all around.

The fog in the bathroom mimicked the one in his brain as he tried to stabilize himself on his wobbling legs. Shifting in between his feet as his other hand stayed to keep him from toppling over, he landed on his elbow.

His head hung low seeing the towel once wrapped around his waist discarded onto the messy floor. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh when he leaned forward to rest his head into the crack between his bicep and forearm.

Shaking his head and gulping the dryness away from his mouth, he coughed loudly and straightened himself as he turned on the sink and rid the evidence of what he’s done.

Scrapping in between the cracks of his fingers with soap, he ran his hands under the striking cold water until his hands were clean. He made a makeshift cup to fill and splash his face with the cold water.

Turning off the faucet, he shook his head and went to grab his phone to exit out of your now ending streaming. You waved goodbye to the camera with a warm smile like nothing had happened.

Jake’s finger hovered over the clear X in the corner to leave but his attention remained on shimmering self unable to click out until you ended it yourself.

Sighing heavily, he moved his finger away but a few droplets managed to land on his screen. Jake freezes and his phone nearly slips through his hand as he looks at his screen in horror.

His recent paycheck is now gone.

Your smile now brightened as you laughed lightly, looking directly in the camera. “Thank you for the donation… Dikeu”

[◉¯]

“Do you see him?” Your friend’s voice anxious as she stood beside you

You’ve been trying to see who your friend has been trying to point out for the past 5 minutes through the crowds of people.

You shake your head which made a frustrated noise coming from her as she pulled your arm, her hands at the side of you head as she guided your eyesight.

”Hey!” You started but when the familiar fluff of hair came into view, you had to hold back the rising corner of your mouth to keep still

“I see your brother” Jake who enthusiastically ran his mouth, his plump bottom lip jutting out when he said certain words

“No!” Your friend frustratedly sighed, moving your head further towards the one talking to her brother

“Oh you mean Heeseung?” You pulled your head from her hands but shifted your gaze from the said male back to Jake, who you’d rather focus on

You could feel the questioning gaze from your friend, “Got the hots for him or something?” You looked away and faced your friend who shied away and remained silent at your question

Letting out a small chuckle at the lack of response, you patted your friend’s shoulder making her look at you. “No need to worry, let me handle this” You smiled before walking towards the two males

Your friend quietly shouted your name—wanting to avoid drawing attention to the situation but you were already too far ahead that she sighed heavily and messed around with her outfit to deal with the growing nerves.

“Heeseung I’m going to be a deadbeat before I could even say I’ve lived life!” Jake frustratedly pushed back his hair, “I’m going to go out a celibate” He painfully chuckled as he dragged his hand down the side of his face

“Celibate is by choice” Heeseung laughed at his friend but Jake brushed him off

“Might as well be by choice at this point” Jake huffed crossing his arms over his chest

“Well it could be worse Jake, you could be going out a virgin”

Jake popped his arms out in a loud sigh, “I don’t even know how I’m functioning right now”

“This is the longest I’ve gone without fucking”

Jake started rambling but his friend tried to stop him but to no avail, he only continued, “I should’ve stayed a virgin if I knew it’d be impossible to get laid when you’re broke”

Even though he felt a tug at his arm, he pulled his arm away and roughly shook his head at his friend, “What? I’m telling the truth. No one is caring enough to pay attention to me when I don’t have a dollar to my name, let alone fuck me”

But before he could continue he froze when the familiar pitch of your voice came from behind, “Jake?”

Maybe it was his mind playing a trick on him but when he heard Heeseung say your name his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he realized he was foolish for even thinking you weren’t real.

Jake’s shoulders deteriorated into a slouch and his mouth fell open when he faced you.

“Sorry don’t mind me but I really need Jake right now” Before Jake had any chance to say anything, your hand wrapped at his bicep before tugging him to follow you

Not saying another word, Jake aimlessly followed you as he peered behind to see Heeseung staring right back at him in amusement, “Need you to focus here dikeu”

At the new nickname, he felt his body become rigid, his finger on his mouth to hush you, “Shh! People will hear you” His eyes flickered around to see the few peering eyes towards your general direction before managing to escape them outside

Your kind smiled dropped the moment you turned around to face him and let go of his arm, “So you are dikeu” Your arms crossed over one another, you thought it was a crazy coincidence but you didn’t actually think it was him

Jake froze upon the realization of what he let slip out. His hand flew over his mouth and his eyes nearly popped out of its socket as he screamed into his palm.

You jumped at the sudden burst of emotions, “Shh, this time people will actually hear us” Your hands moved up and down to quiet down his frantic self

Jake released the hand over his mouth to brush his hair out of his face with a shudder of his breath. This time he silently let out a groan as his eyes looked to the floor, unable to face you.

“Well I thought you heard of me because of your sister” When you spoke, Jake tried to keep himself from running in the opposite direction, “Not because you were subscribed”

Suddenly without fail, Jake’s knees gave out on him, he crouched to the floor, his caged in between his shoulders as his head hung low. His cheeks burned under his skin, the stretch of his finger playing with his nape but stopped when your hands pulled them away.

Lifting his head up to see you looking at him, your smile shining and radiating ease matching the soft rubs of your thumb against his burning skin.

“Is it true that you’re not a virgin?” When you asked the forward question, he flinched but not enough to pull away

His mouth screwed shut as his mind raced trying to find the words for a proper sentence. Harshly licking his drying lips, he looked to the floor.

Sighing softly, you called out his name to garner his attention, “Jake” The stern yet soft tone nearly had his heart ready to burst

“I’m not” His voice was quiet like a whisper that he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t already hyper aware of you

You bit on your tongue to hold back your grin. Tugging his hands to land on your lap making his gaze flicker from his hands on your lap and your mischievous filled eyes.

“You know I don’t have your number” You lowly hummed tilting your head to the side just a little, “You’ll give it to me, won’t you Jakey?”

Jake’s knees fully gave up on him only leaving him to land right on them. The words got caught in his throat so with the only option to aimlessly nod his head and for the first time, he saw your smile. A genuine smile.

[◉¯]

Groggily rubbing your eyes as a yawn slipped past as you scrolled through donations collecting your bargain for the week.

The high amount of numbers clicking into your bank a ccount until you stumbled upon the infamous username. A relatively high price paid towards you which you knew full well had just been recently added to his bank account before forfeiting to you.

Just what is dikeu doing? Your curiosity got the best of you as you decided to scroll through your account, a bigger wonder if there were any other traces of Jake left behind that you might’ve missed

Scanning through everything imaginable, it came up empty with the exception with the one recent donation. You huffed loudly as you leaned back, your arms folding over your chest.

Staring at the screen in front of you, you glanced at your phone before hastily grabbing it.

Supposed to be trying to sleep early in hopes of stopping himself from dwelling anymore on you and your sweet voice, enticing demeanor that dragged him right into your world.

However, his eyes shot open when his phone rang and his screen lit up in his dark room. Squirming his face into his pillow he heavily puffed before grabbing his phone and zeroing in on the notification.

Yet, when he did, he nearly fell off his bed when your name in bold letters with a small smile alongside it appeared. Scrambling to sit up as his fingers fumbled between the green and red button.

Pressing down on a random button, hoping that it was the one he deep down desperately wanted. He brought his phone to his ear and with a shaky voice when he heard the call go through,

“Hello?”

“I was starting to think you gave me a fake number there Jakey” Your voice from the speaker sounded clearer than anything he has ever heard before

He loudly coughed shaking his head knowing full well you couldn’t see him, “I’d be the biggest idiot if I did”

“But how come you called? You could’ve easily sent a text to check” Jake awkwardly squeaked out, his voice of pitch higher than usual making him cringe

He cleared his throat, shifting in his own bed as he waited for your response.

“Don’t know” You lowly hummed staring at your ceiling with a soft smile hearing his shuddering breaths, “Maybe just wanted to make sure that it was you”

As the silence grew more, you peered over to your computer, dikeu’s account opened and public for anyone to see that he only followed one creator on the whole app—you.

“Can I ask you something real quick?” Jake froze on his spot, his heart racing as he nervously fiddled with the collar of his shirt

“Yeah of course” His voice was soft and mellow, contrasting how he was during the beginning of the call

You smiled at his almost immediate response as you turned your body over to lay on your front. You sucked your bottom lip into an even wider smile, “Well as a clear subscriber for…” You squinted at the screen, “8 months, what concept or should I say video, is your favorite?”

Jake nearly sent himself off his bed again, the air caught in his throat. He patted his chest roughly, pulling his phone from his ear to see the call minutes going up by the second of his lack of response.

He could hear you faintly call out his name as he rushed to bring the device back to shell of his ear, “I’m here sorry”

“I was just not expecting that”

“What were you expecting?” He could feel your question gaze through the line

“I don’t know, maybe how was your day?” The tone of voice raised higher at the end of his sentence

Your laughter filled his ears prompting his own awkward one mixed with yours.

Instead of focusing on the answer right away, his fingers rubbed over Adam's apple while loudly clearing his throat to answer you, “I uh like-”

Jake took a moment and closed his eyes, he covered his face in embarrassment before going on. “I like the point of view one…” He quietly admits and your grin grows

“Oh really, why? Like imagining that it’s you?” Your slurred speech ran down to his body as he could feel his body instantly react to you

He stayed quiet for a second trying to rack his brain for something to say but it wasn’t quick enough for you, “Don’t leave me hanging, tell me what you like about it so much?”

His heart nearly jumped out his chest, he pulled his phone away as he silently screamed kicking his feet in the air before lighting patting his cheek to knock the senses back into him.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself to portray confidence because you can fake it until you make it, “Not even that, I just love how it focuses only on you”

You blinked at his unexpected response, you slightly perched yourself up from your bed. ”Is that so?” You gulped trying to regain your altered composure

“So you must hate it when there’s someone else in my videos” You slightly teased but he cut you off with a more factual information

“Well not really. You’ve only ever posted with two other people on your account. Everything else is just you” He corrected your previous statement and you pulled your phone to look at your screen

You brought your phone back to your ear in a hum, “Stalker much”

“I prefer the word observant actually” He chuckled unsure of where the sudden confidence came from but gripped it tightly not willing to let it go so easily,

“So then Mr. Observant, how would you like a hands-on experience? It’s better to witness it in person rather than watch through a screen” Expecting Jake to shy away from your shameless attempt

You didn’t expect for him to run head first into it.

“How does tomorrow night sound for you?”

Your wide smile unable to be contain anymore as you reply, “Sounds perfect”

[◉¯]

Jake was confident in his ability to please people, even if it’s been a while since he’s gotten together with someone. Yet, he’s so nervous around you.

His leg bounced up and down, unable to get rid of the jitters by screaming or moving around; he had to opt for a more discreet approach which failed either way.

“Damn you’re on the edge of the bed” You pointed out in a laugh, “It looks like you’re about to fall off”

“Sorry” Jake unconsciously apologized keeping his eyes trained to the floor instead of you

Hands on your waist as you focused on him. Shamelessly checking him out and the outfit he was wearing. You were finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t a virgin.

The white long sleeves that neatly cuffed past his wrist, a navy blue t-shirt with letterings you didn’t bother to pay attention to and light khaki baggy pants that suited him perfectly jumping up and down with each shake.

Your fingers ran over your lip with a laugh as you lightly shook your head, “Are you okay Jake?”

He slightly jumped at the sound of your voice growing nearer and he flickered his eyes around as you quickly nodded his head, shooting a thumbs up your way.

Both of you cringed at his antics, him finding it embarrassing while you found it endearing.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You tilted your head to the side, “I can just give you the money, free of charge”

Turning your body to rummage through your desk cabinets as you searched the packs of envelopes that held your emergency money in but froze when two arms landed on each side of you.

Your shoulders tensed up making you appear smaller the moment his breath tickling against your ear, “No. Let me earn it”

“Please”

You blinked as you twisted your head to see a fiery look in his eyes as he stared into your eyes. The previous look he once had disappeared into nothing as his plump lips hesitantly planted a kiss to the side of your head.

He pulled away for a second to take in your reaction but seeing a glint cast over your eyes for a second, he caught himself leaning in again to plant more pecks against your face.

“Jake” He jolted when you called his name so breathlessly but he didn’t stop—or more like he couldn’t

His lips messily parted from your head as he made his way down your face until he reached your jaw. His arms being the only thing keeping him up from toppling over. “What are you doing?” Your words contradicting your actions as you provided more access to your neck

The feel of his plush lips melted into your skin as you felt the faint smirk against it, “Starting to get ahead of ourselves aren’t we?” He nodded his head at your words while he softly sucked on your skin

You heavily breathed out as you slowly turned your body around to properly face him. Immediately his arms wrapped at you as your hands raked up until they reached the fluff of his hair before sliding through them, filling the cracks between your fingers with it.

The wet mouth never left your skin as he pressed kisses everywhere that skin showed. His hands softly digging into your side as he pressed his body against yours, “Hold on- Have to get the camera” You sharply inhaled when he nicked at your skin with his teeth

“Depriving me more of you huh? How cruel” He chuckled slightly pulling away to hover at your side as you rummaged around for your camera

“Let’s just use the phone camera. Makes it feel more natural” He pitched in making your scoff

“Or more amateur” You shot your head at him to see the sheepish grin he had plaster across his mouth

“Then let’s make sure it’s a hella good one” He giggled because making it feel more natural and real reminds you of the circumstances of this moment

This was your friend’s brother yet, you grinned aimlessly nodding your head in agreement. “Want to make your own point of view video?”

“Yeah… But might not be willing to share it with the world. I think I’ll be selfish and keep it for my eyes only” Jake hummed, his eyes flickering between your mouth and eyes, silently pleading for permission

“Kiss me Jake” Without having to be told twice, he captured your mouth with his

Your hands grasped his forearm as his hands shook, cupping your face. Feeling a dizzy sensation filling your mind when his hands retightened at your cheeks. Your hand traced up his arm to grab a fist full of his hair.

Lightly tugging at the fluff of it you giggled in the kiss, “Thought you so desperately needed money”

He chuckled, his mouth detaching and reattaching themselves onto yours, “Being with you is better than getting a penny”

The harsh flutter in your heart after his words made you press harder against his lips to keep him from saying anything more. He noticed your efforts and allowed his hands to roam freely over your back.

His fingers dug deeper into your side causing your mouth to part enough for his tongue to slip in. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders, his head tilting further to the side to deepen the kiss.

“Phone” You muffled into his mouth, a silent roll of his eyes he fished out his phone with one hand while the other remained holding you close

With his eyes still closed putting all the faith into his finger to click the right buttons and start recording. As he could hear the faint ping, he peeked his eyes open to see the red dot flashing with the timer running.

He smirked in the kiss before closing his eyes again, praying you both were in frame.

Your hands grabbed his face to not break the kiss. Your head begins to feel heavy and light at the same time as all the oxygen in your lungs left and mixes with Jake’s.

Your body was pushed back until the back of your knees hit your bed frame and immediately you fell back with Jake topping over you. For a split second, he pulled away to suck in an uneven breath before diving back into your lips.

His arm extended out as he tried to balance the phone whilst focusing on you. Being able to feel the light shake that ran through his body, you softly giggled before forcefully pulling away.

Yet, he couldn’t get enough—he didn’t want it to stop. Jake chased after you, messily pecking at your lips. He babbled something incoherent making you laugh and pushed at his chest to properly break apart.

You heaved with each pant you took as you gulped down a waft of air to even out your breathing. Jake stared at you with a crazed look in his eyes, his tongue running over his swollen lips before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

Quickly matching his energy, you broke out into a weak laugh with him as he landed his head into the crook of your neck. Your hands reach to hold him close.

Your arms snaked around his neck, he flushed his body onto you when he felt the faint shake of your head, he wasn’t sure what it meant but he couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“Prop the phone up. It’ll be better for you” You whispered loud enough for him to ear but he roughly shook his head

“I want to show you off” He murmured lifting his head and carefully leaning down to softly kiss you

You hummed happily when his mouth reattached to yours. The plush of his lips messily pressed softly against yours, the arms at the side of your head crawled into your side, his grip on his phone loosened while he poorly recorded the two of you.

Purposely letting out a louder sigh as your hands moved to his broad back, “Sound so pretty baby” He muttered against your lips before tugging at the bottom out then releasing them with a loud pop

You giggled at the action but your mouth suddenly dropped when he traveled down and planted wet kisses at your check to the shape of your jaw before trailing down to your neck.

The fingers that played with the fabric of his search divulged straight into the follicles of the fluffy hair, tugging at them which only urged the heavy sighs from him.

Turning your head to the side allows more access for Jake to lather himself over your body. With your peered open eyes you catch the discarded phone. You look back to your body whether both of Jake’s hands roamed your body.

Instead of being able to garner his attention, softly pleasurable noises left your swollen lips. You loosened your hold on his hair in an attempt to grab the phone and prop it up enough where you two show but Jake stopped you midway.

He yanked your hand back into his hair. “Let me take care of that” Your eyes widen in shock but your body shifted into a pliant state when you heard those words

Allowing your mind to drift away and appreciate the moment instead of focusing on anything else but Jake

You tilted your head back into the mattress, allowing yourself to get caught up in the way his hand glided across your body until it slid under your shirt.

A faint hiss escaped when the cold rough feel of his hands grazing your skin, his sole attention focused on you, “You’re so pretty. So fucking gorgeous. You’re just the prettiest person I’ve ever seen”

Jake’s voice was heavy but soft, something you hadn’t experienced with other guys before ever. Especially not with the two who showed up in past videos.

Your hands tangled deeper into his hair when you felt a wet stride trail down your stomach.

Suddenly catching your wide eyed gaze at the camera pointed towards you, Jake smirked, his plump lips bit down on the waistband of your pants.

Instinctively, your hands attempted to peel the phone away from his grasp to try and pan it towards him but he stopped you from doing so.

“I already told you, I want it to be on you” He told each trace of his skin on yours left goosebumps in its wake. Your body shakes when he fumbles over your lower body. It was swift and quick that you were left in your undergarments

Jake froze when he caught sight of the cling of your panties to your core, hugging and molding your folds through the thin material. His heart picked up in pace, he felt like he was in cloud 9. He shakily panned the camera over to capture the sight.

However it didn’t last long when his thumb ran over the growing wet patch on your underwear to worsen the damping.

Pushing further between your folds, slightly applying more pressure each time he slid in deeper, he focused on how the material caved inwards, spreading your folds apart.

“Ja-“ You mewled but stopped when his hand slipped from underneath and rubbed away at your flesh

He bit harshly down on his bottom lip to stop the pitched noise to leave his throat when he touched your glistening entrance. It soaked his thumb as he pressed it deeper in while the rest of his fingers pushed away the undergarment to the side.

The camera closed in on your soaked entrance as his fingers rubbed harder igniting soft moans from you. “I got you this wet? Could get used to see you like this” He hummed more for you than the camera before dipping his head to place a soft kiss against you

You jerked away from the plush of his lips instead of on your lips and neck, now on your sensitive folds. Jake smirked and was able to feel the cheesy smile, you lightly smacked the top of his head erupting a giggle out of him.

As he adjusted the camera to capture your wet folds, he stuck out his tongue to take a long stride against you. Your hands flew to his hair as tugging at the strands allowing you to press further into the sheets.

His freehand roamed over your body, tracing at your knee before prying yourself open even more. Scooping all that leaked out of you, he messily slurped your mess.

“So wet” He moaned into your glistening self, his quick nibbles at your making your body wither beneath him

Tugging harder on his hair, your back arched off the bed as the lewds noises filled the room. The shameless slurps, the heavy pants and growing moans as he messily pressed himself deeper in, his nose grinding into your clit.

His tongue flicked up at your folds, the wetness leaking from the corner of his lips and dribbling down to his chin. Jake’s free hand traced under your trumbling thighs, placing them on his shoulders.

Your legs tried to squeeze together for a moment forgetting that he was there but his hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, “Trying to keep me in place baby? Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere”

The deep rumble of his voice ran up your spine and clouded your head. Every calculated glide of his tongue left you dizzy but you yelped a broken moan when a finger slid into your gaping hole.

He was infact not a virgin nor inexperienced, just highly unlikely.

“J-Jake” You squeaked when another finger joined parting your spasming self more

The entire time, Jake never once looked away from you. He watched how your chest rose with each breath you took. Your bottom lip quivers and he smiles at you.

He adjusted the camera to zoom in on where his mouth was attached to you but his grip slipped when your legs caged him against your pussy as you grinded against his face and fingers for more friction.

“Someone is eager” Jake lightly chuckles but simultaneously curled his fingers into your gummy wall, grazing at them causing your eyes to roll back to the back of your head

“D-don’t tease” You huffed but he didn’t listen because he knew you didn’t mean those words, not when your legs hooked him into place as you chased after his mouth

The camera fell from his hand and landed perfectly on a bundled up blanket. Jake didn’t bother to check if it was catching the two of you.

Both his red knuckles and swollen mouth were deep in your pussy. As he pumped into you, his tongue flicked around your folds to gather any spilling wetness. There was no way he could risk losing what you taste like, needing it embedded into his mind forever.

With each curl of fingers, he would extend them out to scissor your fluttering hole open. The rapid kisses at your glistening spread apart folds as he lathered his tongue around, “I’m going to- Please”

“Come for me baby” Jake pushed deeper with his fingers and matched the ruts of your hips against his face

Throwing your head back, a louder moan ripped out of you as you tightly clenched around his fingers. Jake slurped up what you released making sure that he didn’t miss a single drip.

His fingers moved in pace to help you throughout your orgasm making you slightly jerk at the stimulation to which he only said, “Helping you”

He choked on his breath when he was pulled from between your legs and you slammed your lips right onto his. Jake stared at you in shock as he watched your screwed shut eyes while your mouth moved with his in sync.

Your hand tangling in his hair, legs wrapping at his torso to flush his body to flush on top of you, not wanting to let him go. His hand dug harshly into your side, his freehand perking up your leg as teeth clashed together from improper correlation, your tongues meeting another as you kissed each other silly.

His hand tightly grasped at your breast and squeezed it making you whine. You pulled at his hair, the lack of oxygen making you and him dizzy but unable to pull away from each other.

“I need to be inside of you please” Jake pleaded in between kisses as he chased after you when you tried to pull away for even more than a second to respond

“Condoms in my drawer” You panted out when you could’ve, hoping he managed to catch what you said

Yet, instead of freaking out since it’s been a while that he’s actually used one, he didn’t think twice of climbing off to rustle through your drawer and taking out two.

Perching yourself onto your elbow, you raised an eyebrow when you saw two packets between his shining fingers. It must’ve been written on your face because Jake chuckled and pressed a chaste peck to your cheek, “Trust me, we’re going to need ‘em”

The corners of your lips yanked up as you stifled a laugh but your smile quickly faltered when you saw how serious he was. You opened your mouth to question but Jake stood up from your bed and began fumbling with his belt.

Your eyebrows jumped as your eyes flickered down to notice the large bulge poking from within the restraints of his pants. Your mouth dropped when his pants did and he was left in only his boxers.

“W-what?” He asked when he noticed your surprised expression, “Is something wro-“

“You’re huge” You interrupted him as you gawked at his size

You’ve seen some different bulges before but never like this.

The wet patch changed the color of his boxers around his leaking tip making you gulp down the nerves. But those two words were like a switch in Jake’s head.

Something consumed his sense of rationality and sanity and threw it out the window, he took strides straight to you. His mouth twitched into a smile as with each step he took, he tugged his boxers down.

“Don’t worry, you can handle it” He hummed and you watched how a dark cloud filled his eyes

Your mouth opened to respond but when you caught sight of his hung self in all its glory, no restraints holding it back, you closed your mouth.

Your nerves skyrocketed when you heard the plastic ripping sound and you looked back up to see Jake leaning against his arms to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Want to put it on for me baby?”

Tilting your head to the side to see his cheesy grin, you bit on your bottom lip to hold back your gleaming smile. Grabbing the offered plastic and pushing his leaning body away from yours just enough to grab his twitching cock.

Jake whimpered at the tight hold you had around him, your thumb rubbed at the side of his shaft as you watched the precum leak more out of him.

Looking up through your eyelashes, you smirk as you leveled down to his cock. “Wh-Wait!” Jake’s voice strained yet it was too late as you dragged your tongue across his tip, licking him clean of the mess

Jake threw his head back as he moaned when you engulfed his bulbous tip into your mouth. Having to try his absolute best to stop himself from toppling over, he rooted in himself in your bed.

Although, you didn’t say much. Jake did. “O-Oh so good”

“Shit your pretty mouth is perfect to me” You dragged your tongue from the tip down his shaft to the base and you smirked when you felt an even heavier weight

Jake blushed when the next words fell from your full mouth, “You’re heavy Jakey”

His face burned in embarrassment but the pleasure was too good to care anymore. Using everything in his power to stop himself from ramming his cock into your welcoming mouth, he pushed your body back to the bed.

“Turn around” He snatched the condom from your hand in an unwarranted haste and you jerked at his sudden change of demeanor but a gush leaked out of you at the stern tone and hard gaze glaring into your soul

Your body was like fire and Jake was willing to get burned.

In all the times you’ve been around Jake, you had never seen this side of him before. Naturally, you were curious by how much you could poke at him before he snapped.

You knew testing your luck was dangerous considering how he could leave you all hot and bothered. But you remained sprawled on your back, your hands riding up your shirt to expose your skin.

You tilted your head to the side as you saw his jaw clench and his tongue poking the inside of cheek in annoyance. “I said turn around”

But he noticed your continuous lack of obedience, leaving him to sigh loudly and pinch the high nose bridge. The rationality that was already out the window dug a deeper hole followed by his dignity and sense of self as he was consumed by need and desperation.

“Be a good girl baby… Turn around for me” He stopped your treading up shirt and rested his hands at your hips, softly tugging at them to help flip you over

You looked up at him with a slight frown, “Why?”

Knowing better than to try and test Jake even more with the chance that he could leave you like this but you knew the chances were slim.

Jake landed back on his arms leaned down into your ear, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear, “How else would I fuck you nice and open?”

A cold shiver ran up your spine, unable to dwell on the thought any longer. Your body moved on its own onto your knees and below but before you could lay down, Jake stopped you.

“Hands and knees for me” He ran a hand over the middle of your back before trailing down your spinal cord softly grabbing at your hips and tugged you lower half back, “Good girl”

The chilling accented voice only lasted for a second in your head when you were suddenly stretched open as he slid into you. “Shit- So fucking good” He grunted as he pushed himself further into the confinedment you provided to him

Your jaw dropped as your head threw back as your folds pulled apart from each other at the intrusion. “Jake” You mewled his name

Jake dug his fingers deeper into your hip in response, loving the way you called out to him that he needs to hear it forever.

“C’mon baby you can take it” His thumb rubbed at your side to soothe your frantic self with hopes of helping you accommodate to his size that made you feel like you were being split in half

“You can take more than that-“ Jake grunted as he eased his cock more into your spasming hole, “Take a fucking cock in that sweet pussy of yours”

“P-please” You wailed, clawing at your sheets that crumbled underneath your bodies

Jake pressed his hand flat onto your back before snapping his hip drilling his cock to fill you up in one thrust. Your arms nearly gave up on you from the harsh jolt but Jake helped you stay up. Your fist gripped the sheets, making your knuckles turn white as your mouth fell slack.

“Please what?” Jake cooed trying to ignore how you gripped around him

Your mind felt like a jumble, not much thoughts coursing through but there one clear thing in it, “Fuck me please”

Jake smacked his tongue against his teeth into a giggle, “Well who am I to deny you”

He dragged his cock leaving only the tip inside before slamming his hips forward to meet your back. Your arms and legs felt weak and wobbled but the stretch overpowered any other sensations.

Repeating the same motion of his hips, each time filling you up more and more until he was balls deep inside of you.

Your eyes screwed shut when he soon found his pace. A rapid but steady pace that ensured his tip to poke your insides perfectly, teasing at your g-spot with each thrust. “So good for me- Taking me so well”

Your head hung heavy, your shoulders hunched up to your neck as moans slipped past your lips. You felt like you were floating on a cloud, each slam of his cock drilled your forward.

Deep down, if it felt like the roles were reversed, the upper hand you once had over him, flipped into him having the upper hand over you.

“Knew you’d be able to take me so well. Such a good fucking girl” Jake spewed, his hands running over your body before grabbing your sides as he slammed his hips to meet your

The warm wet confinement you provided for him was beyond anything he had ever felt before, it changed something in his mind and he’s sure he would rather lose everything than have to give you up after this.

The lewd sounds of when you and Jake met, his light grunts and strained out noises from each other you bounced off the wall. The supposed video long forgotten as Jake continued to piston his cock in and out of you

”M-More Jake please” You wailed as you body landed forwards, your head landing onto the pillow as you fisted the sheets turning your knuckles white

“You want more? Do you think you can take more?” He laughed but when you were going to respond he answered for you, “Actually, I know you can take more”

“Always saw how you were never truly satisfied” You clenched around him making him chuckle, “Am I right?”

You weakly nodded as a response, not trusting yourself to use words that wouldn’t only come out as a moan. Jake’s hooded eyes gleamed when he saw your action.

Slamming his hips harder against your back, he watched how sweat trickled down the side of your face. Your mouth falling slack when his tip teased at your g-spot, rearranging your insides to mold him.

The stretch of his cock left you delirious and full. In an attempt to push yourself back up on your arms, Jake put a hand on your upper back to hold you in place.

“Jake!” You squealed his name as his thrust soon grew unrhythmic

“C’mon. Fucking take it- Just a little more” Jake grunted when he felt you clamp tighter around him, forbidding him from leaving anymore than an inch out of you

His free hand wrapped at your hip moved across your stomach down until his fingers found the bundle of nerves to circle it. Your wails and moans turned into louder ones when he pinched at your clit to soothe over it before repeating the same process.

“Please! Please!” The weak pleas fell deaf on his ears but filled his mind instantly

“Please what? Talk to me” Jake groaned but was only met with strained silence as replies the more he rubbed down on your bud, “What were you asking for baby?”

Your mind was reeling, you weren’t sure what you were asking for but you just needed more of Jake.

“A-Anything please-Jake, just more of you please” Your slurred words weren’t nearly considered a proper sentence than what you had hoped but Jake easily managed to string them together

Placing his palm onto your clit, timing it perfectly to roughly rub at it with his thrust made you squeal.

“Take it baby. ’m going to fill you up so nicely” Your heart fluttered as any rational thought was long gone

“Please Jakey!” You whined when his thrust became faster

“Come with me please. Please. Please” The weak pleas from him made your stomach flip as the knot in your abdomen snapped

Jake gasped when you tightened as you came on his cock that was covered by the rubber plastic. Even through the material, he could feel each spasm holding his place deeply in you.

Your body shivered when you entered the state of pleasure, your head drifting into an ecstasy you hadn’t felt before. But that didn’t stop Jake.

He needed more—to take you to heights you have never seen before.

“Tightening around me so good baby. Just a little more. Promise” Jake’s erratic pace picked up again and the coil of where you met burned into his mind as he stared unable to look away from the masterpiece that was you

You loudly shudder at the continuing stimulation to your spasming self. Each glide into your slicken entrance was easier and messier. You released accumulated around his protected shaft until it was pushed to the base of his cock with each push.

Jake continued to move his hand over your clit, his thrust growing unrhythmic as his abdomen tightened. You felt the twitch of his cock inside your walls and you knew he was getting closer to his climax.

Consciously, you clamped around him earning a grunt from behind as the sound of skin slapping on skin grew faster, louder and more frequent. Pressing harder down on your bud, rubbing at the wetness making you moan loudly.

And with one deep thrust, he stilled himself buried inside of you. Jake’s ragged pants formed into strained whine and whimpers as his cum filled the condom.

The juts of warmth spurted inside but not painting your velvet walls white of him. Your hand fisted at your sheets as you buried your head deep into your pillow to conceal your shivers.

However, your breath got caught in your throat instead when Jake flushed his chest to your back. His hand hovered your fist to slide underneath to replace your sheets with his hand.

You tightly held his hand when wet splotches landed at your neck to trail under your ear making your shudder “Never doubted you for a second that you couldn’t take me”

You scoff, peering over your shoulder to meet his sparkly eyes staring right at you. Your scoff turned into a weak chuckle as you melted at his thumb rubbing over your hand.

“Take a deep breath for me baby” He softly soothed your side and you followed through

Sucking in a deep breath and shakily letting out a gasp at the foreign feel of emptiness as Jake slid out of you already too accustomed to being filled up by him.

However, instead of feeling completely empty like you anticipated, you felt something heavy still in you.

Jake got off of you only to push you onto your side where you silently hissed at the ache of your body but you looked behind at him to see him grabbing the discarded phone and it clicked in your mind.

“Jake! The recording!” Instead of being in a panic like you, Jake gracefully planted butterfly kisses over the side of your face

“What are you-“ You stopped mid-sentence when he raised your leg and brought the camera’s focus your gripping self

Your mouth drops when you see the left behind condom stowed deep in your pussy. Whipping your head towards him to see his prideful smile as he placed a finger onto your cheek to guide your attention back to the recording screen.

His freehand snaked around your waist to your swollen clit and softly rubbed at it making you whine and him chuckle. You watched as he inched down to where the rubber was still lodged in you until he stuck his fingers into the opening.

Your hand ran to grab his wrist, “S-sensitive” You warned before two of his fingers pushed into the buried condom to open it

The two of you watched through the screen, the seeps of his cum spilling out and landing to the surrounding folds as he messily rubbed over your coated pussy.

“Messy and sticky” Jake tooted his lips together, “What do you say? Do we clean it up or do we make it worse?”

The dark whisper into your ear had your heart hammering out of your chest that you were fearful he would be able to hear how close he was to you.

You gulped down the rising excitement, however it must’ve been written all over your face because Jake was already gleaming before the words, “We do need more content” left your mouth

“Good because I did tell you we were going to need two”

[◉¯]

You: I’ll send you the final product once I’m done editing

You: But I can’t deny that I have a feeling this will do numbers

Jake: Is this you basically inviting me to do another video with you?

You: Possibly

Jake: How about we do a little twist next time?

Jake: Let me hit it raw

You: Not yet

Jake: Aw :(

——

[writerofautumnnights]

A Dance with the Devil

*No spoilers. It takes place before the brothers return to Mississippi

pairing: Elias “Stack” Moore x Black!OC

sumary: Lena Pearl, a waitress in Al Capone's world, confronts Elias "Stack" Moore, a man caught in the same violent life she tries to escape. As tensions rise, they both face the uncomfortable truth about their shared darkness. Their connection is undeniable, but will it be their salvation—or their undoing?

warmings: angust, mention of death, internal conflicts, survival and violence. English is not my first language.

word count: 4,7K

-

The Green Mill - Chicago, 1929

The cutting Chicago wind was no match for the heat emanating from the basement beneath the old barbershop. Lena Pearl adjusted her string of fake pearls as she descended the wooden stairs that creaked under her careful steps. Her emerald-green dress – simple enough not to draw attention on the streets, yet elegant enough for the job – reflected the yellowish glow of the strategically placed lamps around the lounge.

"The princess has arrived," murmured Big Joe, the security guard stationed at the inner door. He was one of the few men Lena allowed to speak to her that way.

"Mr. Capone asked for you three times today."

Lena just nodded, without revealing the weight those words carried. Working for Al Capone was like dancing constantly on the edge of a cliff – dangerous, but impossible to walk away from. There was a strange vertigo in that routine, as if she lived suspended between the urge to disappear and the need to keep being seen.

The Green Mill was buzzing despite it being only Tuesday.

The economic crisis that ravaged the country seemed only to intensify people’s thirst. The saxophone wept on the small improvised stage while white men in expensive suits mingled with South Side workers – all equal in their pursuit of the oblivion only forbidden alcohol could provide. It was ironic – the deeper the country sank, the more vibrant that basement became as a refuge for broken lives.

"Bourbon for table three and a double whiskey for the man with the hat in the corner," said Gina, another waitress, hurrying by. "Oh, and watch out for that new guy. Stack, I think. He’s been watching you since you walked in."

Lena discreetly lifted her gaze toward the indicated direction. In the shadows, partially hidden by the haze of cigarette smoke, a Black man in a dark gray suit stared at her without disguising it. There was something in his eyes – not the usual lust or curiosity Lena was used to ignoring. It was as if he recognized her from somewhere impossible, from a life she had never lived.

She looked back. For the first time in a long while, Lena allowed herself to hold someone’s gaze. There was a restlessness sneaking under her skin – recognition, maybe? Or just loneliness? Elias “Stack” Moore wasn’t just a new man at the bar. He was a living question mark, a reminder that she could still be moved by something other than fear or cynicism.

As she served the tables, she felt the weight of that gaze on her back.

For the first time in ages, Lena felt the loneliness she carried like a second skin. Among so many, she was always alone – it was what kept her safe, what kept her alive in a world where women like her served only temporary, limited purposes. And now, there was a man who seemed to see beyond the role she performed every night.

"Miss Pearl." The deep, controlled voice surprised her as she turned from a freshly attended table. Elias was there, too close, too real. "Allow me to introduce myself, Stack."

"I know who you are," she replied, offering neither a hand nor a welcome. "And I’m working, Jack."

"Stack," he corrected, with a restrained smile. "Just wanted to say Mr. Capone speaks very highly of you. Says you’re the only honest person in the entire place."

Lena couldn’t suppress a half-laugh. “Mr. Capone has an interesting concept of honesty.”

“Maybe,” Stack stepped aside, allowing her to pass – a rare gesture of respect in that place. “But I’ve learned to trust his judgment when it comes to people.”

Before Lena could reply, the back door burst open violently. Two men in overcoats entered, followed by a blast of cold wind. One of them – short, round-faced, and wearing a dangerous smile – was unmistakable. Al Capone removed his hat, revealing his scarred face, and his eyes immediately found Lena.

“Pearl!” he called out, ignoring the bows and greetings around him. “Bring me my whiskey. The special one.”

Stack watched the subtle transformation in Lena, how her shoulders adjusted, how her expression closed off even more, how she became both more present and more absent at once. To him, it was like watching a butterfly retreat into its cocoon at the first sign of threat.

As she walked away, Stack felt a strange pang. Who was that woman, really? Why did she seem so profoundly alone, even in a crowded room? And why was he, a man used to staring death in the eyes – so unsettled by a simple waitress?

“Always on time, Mr. Capone,” she replied with rehearsed formality, already heading to the bar to fetch the bottle kept especially for the boss.

Elias watched her go, realizing in that instant what Big Joe had hinted at earlier. There was something about Lena Pearl that set her apart, not just her undeniable beauty or the dignified posture she maintained in a world that constantly tried to shrink her. It was something deeper, a quiet resistance that seemed to say:

“I’m here, but I don’t belong to this place. I never will.”

Lena returned with the special bottle of Scotch whisky – smuggled in recently from Canada, on a shipment that had cost three men their lives the week before, though no one spoke of it. She carried it on a silver tray, along with a single crystal glass. At Capone’s table, the men fell silent as she approached.

“Here it is, sir,” she said, placing the tray on the table and pouring the first drink with the precision of someone who knew exactly how much pleased him.

“Thank you, Pearl.” Capone looked up, his eyes lingering on her face for just a little too long. “I missed you last night.”

In the background, the piano began a melancholic melody, blues notes weaving through muffled conversations and thick smoke. The saxophonist – a middle-aged Black man with eyes that looked like they’d seen hell – joined in with a wail that made the hairs on the back of Lena’s neck stand on end.

“I wasn’t feeling well, sir. My apologies.”

Capone nodded slowly, not believing her, but willing to accept the lie – for now. He looked at her like a man who believes he owns everything he sees. And Stack saw it. He also saw the pride in Lena as she masked her contempt behind flawless professionalism. That was resistance in its purest form. And beauty. And pain.

Capone’s gaze drifted past her shoulder, noticing Stack watching the scene quietly.

“Stack!” Capone called, his voice shifting suddenly to a louder, more expansive tone. “Come meet the Green Mill’s crown jewel.”

Elias hesitated for just a second before approaching the table – but that brief pause seemed to stretch, as if he were deciding whether to dive or retreat from the edge of a cliff. His eyes met Lena’s, and in that brief exchange, there wasn’t just tension – there was memory. Not real, but instinctive. As if they recognized in each other something long forgotten, a shared pain disguised as strength.

“Mr. Capone,” Stack greeted with a nod. “We’ve already met.”

Capone raised his eyebrows, a smile with more teeth than joy. It was the kind of smile that served as a warning.

“Have you?” he asked. “My Pearl’s charmed you too? She has that effect on men.” He laughed, but the sound held no warmth – it was just noise, like ice cracking. “But she’s different. Not like the other girls around here.”

Lena remained still, like a painting of herself. Her face was neutral, expressionless, but her clenched jaw betrayed the tension underneath. Stack noticed and understood. Capone’s words, though wrapped in charm, were fences. A territorial warning.

“I can see that,” Stack replied, his voice even, but not his eyes. His eyes said something else. They said he truly saw Lena. “Some people carry their own light. Even in the dark.”

The saxophone, almost as if conspiring with the moment, let out a sharp note – nearly a wail. The music captured what words couldn’t: That something there was on the verge of breaking.

Capone took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes following Stack with measured interest. “Stack did us a big favor last night,” he said, his tone taking on a more performative flair.

“That issue with the Irish on the North Side? Taken care of.”

Lena’s stomach tightened at the violence in the memory. That morning’s newspaper headline returned like a punch:

Two bodies floating in the river,

Enough bullets to erase names, stories, families.

Now reduced to mere statistics – and silence.

“Stack has a steady hand,” Capone continued, his pride laced with provocation. “Not like those amateurs who make a lot of noise and do little else.”

Elias kept his expression unreadable, but his eyes sought Lena’s – for just a second too long. And she saw it. There was something there – a tremor, perhaps regret, or the shadow of doubt. Not something that could be said out loud. But it was there.

“I just did what needed to be done,” Stack replied. There was weight in his words and emptiness too. Like a man used to digging holes inside himself.

Capone laughed loudly, slapping the table with delight. “Modest! I like that in a man. Makes doing business easier.”

Then he turned to Lena with that look – the one that always reminded her of her place.

“Pearl, bring us another bottle. I want to properly celebrate Mr. Moore’s success.”

"Yes, sir," she repeated. But her thoughts remained tangled in the truth she couldn’t ignore.

Stack was like the others. A killer. A man who took lives for money, for loyalty to Capone, or for any excuse that helped him sleep through the night. And still… he had looked at her as if she were whole – as if both of them might find some kind of salvation in each other’s eyes. That hurt more than any lie. Because Lena didn’t want to feel that. She couldn’t afford to.

The music seemed to change, as if the room itself could hear her thoughts. It grew heavier, more oppressive.The bass throbbed like a broken heart, while the saxophone cried notes that clawed through the air, sharp with regret.

“Pearl?” Capone’s voice pulled her back. “The bottle?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

Lena turned toward the storeroom where the special bottles were kept, suddenly suffocated by the heat and smoke in the room. She needed air, space to think. To process the disappointment she wasn’t supposed to feel – Because what had she expected? That in this nest of vipers, one man might be different?

“Stack, go with her,” Capone ordered, voice casual, but his eyes calculating. “Show her which bottles we brought back from the Jefferson Park stash.”

Stack nodded and followed Lena, keeping a respectful distance as they moved through the crowded room. The singer had taken the stage now, her husky voice rising above the instruments, singing a blues made famous by Ma Rainey:

“Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… For a man’s got a heart full of jealousy...”

The lyrics hit like a warning, a painful truth that echoed in Lena’s ears as she walked, hyper-aware of Stack’s footsteps behind her. Every syllable a sting. Every note a reminder.

When they finally reached the hallway that led to the storeroom – away from Capone’s watchful eyes and his men – Lena stopped abruptly and turned to face Stack. There was fire in her eyes. But it wasn’t just anger. It was fear too. Of him. Of herself. Of all of it.

“The Irish,” she said, her voice low but laced with something trembling between disgust and necessity. “Was it you?”

Stack glanced around, making sure they were alone before answering. His eyes returned to her with the same intensity as before but now, there was a thread of exhaustion in them.

“Is that what matters to you?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. “Or is it just something to help you keep your distance?”

“Don’t answer a question with another question,” Lena snapped, anger rising in her like a rising tide. “Two families lost their sons yesterday. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Stack stepped closer – still composed, but his eyes betrayed a storm beneath. “Those men tried to kill three of ours last week. They were planning to raid this place tomorrow night.”

“Ours?” Lena let out a bitter laugh, but it came out like a blade. “So you're one of them now.”

“I don’t consider myself anything but what I am,” Stack replied, voice quieter now, as if speaking from the bottom of a well.“A man trying to survive in a city that only gives people like us certain paths.”

The music from the club reached them like a whisper, the blues seeping through the walls like the heartbeat of a wounded creature. It echoed everything they weren’t ready to say.

“And what path is that?” Lena asked, barely breathing.

“Killing for money? Doing the dirty work for men like Capone?”

“And what’s your path, Lena?” Stack shot back, eyes burning. “Pouring drinks for men who look at you like you’re for sale? Smiling while dying a little more inside every night? Pretending you don’t see the bodies being dragged out the back?”

Lena blinked, as if his words were wind throwing dust into open wounds. He was right and that hurt more than any lie.

"At least I don’t pull the trigger," she said, steady on the outside, but wavering within. Because she knew – even without blood on her hands, she was still part of that theater of horror.

"No," Stack murmured, his tone now more sorrowful than accusatory. "You just serve the drink that celebrates after the trigger’s been pulled."

The silence that settled between them was thicker than the stifling air of the corridor. It wasn’t just silence – it was the weight of everything they felt, and everything they wanted to deny.

The music outside seemed to swell, as if the saxophone understood the gravity of that moment. A melodic lament, like a warning that what was being said couldn’t be taken back.

"We need to get that bottle," Lena said finally, her voice slipping back into a practical tone. "Capone’s waiting."

"Capone’s always waiting," Stack muttered, more to himself than to her. "The question is: how long are we going to keep doing what he expects?"

Lena didn’t respond. The question echoed inside her like a prophecy. Then she turned and continued down the hall toward the storage room, her footsteps blending with the muffled rhythm of the blues that followed them like a ghost through the dimly lit corridor.

When they reached the door, Stack reached out and gently took her arm. It wasn’t force – it was an anchor.

"Lena," he said, a vulnerability trembling beneath the surface of his voice, "we’re not as different as you want to believe."

She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. And what she saw there – honesty, doubt, fear – scared her more than any threat ever could. Because it was real. Because she was on the verge of believing it, too.

"That’s what scares me," she whispered, almost regretfully. And then she opened the door.

Stack followed her inside. He closed the door slowly, like someone closing a confessional. The sound of music became even more muffled.

The pantry was a narrow cubicle, barely larger than a closet. Shelves of worm-eaten wood supported rows of carefully organized bottles–some with legitimate labels, others with homemade seals, all containing the forbidden elixir that kept Chicago running like a drunken clock. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, casting dancing shadows on the exposed brick walls.

Stack adjusted the red handkerchief in the breast pocket of his pinstripe suit–a touch of color in a man who seemed made of shadows and restraint. His presence there, in the tight space, was like an eclipse; he occupied no more physical space than necessary, but his aura filled the environment. He was the type of man who had learned to make the minimum seem impossible to ignore.

“Third shelf, second row,” he murmured, approaching Lena from behind. It was strange how he seemed to know the place better than she did, each word measured like expensive whiskey–warm, direct, impossible to forget. “The whiskey came from a shipment we received yesterday. Legitimate Scotch. A man died for it.”

“Just one?” Lena asked bitterly, stretching to reach the bottle. The movement drew attention to the scar on her right wrist, a thin, whitish line that extended across her exposed skin. Her sleeveless dress left her arms completely bare, revealing not only the scar but also the delicate strength of her shoulders.

Stack noticed, but didn’t comment. In his world, every scar had a story someone preferred to forget. He knew that kind of silence well.

“I like to know who I’m dealing with,” he said, his voice low like a confessional. “And so do you, right? That’s why you asked about the Irish.”

Lena reached for the bottle, her slender fingers closing around the amber glass. The liquid inside shimmered under the precarious light like melted gold. Gold with the taste of blood.

“I just want to know what kind of man I’m trapped in a pantry with,” she replied, without turning. “Self-preservation.”

Stack almost smiled. There was something in her calculated coldness that fascinated him–perhaps because it sounded exactly like the lies he told himself every morning when he woke up.

“You asked me if I pulled the trigger,” he said, advancing a step. The space was so tight that the heat from his body reached her back. “You want to know if I’m a killer or a man with principles?”

“Is there a difference in this place?” She finally turned, the bottle between them like a fragile barrier.

The proximity was dangerous. There, in the yellowish light, Lena could see the golden grillz that adorned his teeth, gleaming discreetly when he spoke, the way a vein pulsed almost imperceptibly at his temple, the texture of skin marked by years under the merciless sun. Too many human details for a man who should be just another customer, just another danger to avoid.

“In 1917, I enlisted in the 369th Infantry Regiment,” Stack said, his voice suddenly distant, as if he were reciting facts about someone else. “Harlem’s ‘Hellfighters,’ that’s what they called us. I spent 191 days on the front, without rest, without replacement. More than any other American unit.”

Lena wasn’t expecting a confession. Not there, not now. The entire Green Mill was waiting for them to return with a bottle of whiskey, not with war secrets.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand,” he said, his eyes meeting hers with uncomfortable intensity. “I wasn’t a violent man before the war. Afterward… afterward, violence began to make sense. Something about surviving changes the way you see the world.”

The smell of old wood mixed with the subtle aroma of whiskey filled the air between them. Outside, muffled by the thick walls, the piano melody continued, an ironic soundtrack for that confession no one had asked for.

“The Irish were armed,” he continued, something trembling beneath the surface of his words. “They were going to kill everyone at the Miller’s Club on 35th Street. There were women there. Children in the back. Employees’ children.”

Lena felt a shiver run down her spine. Stack wasn’t justifying himself. He was sharing a burden with someone he sensed might understand. The burden of impossible choices.

“I’m no better than you, Lena. I’m no worse. We’re just two survivors caught in Capone’s web, trying not to be devoured.”

The light flickered for a moment, as if the building’s electricity felt the weight of that conversation. In the brief moment of dimness, both their faces seemed more vulnerable, stripped of the masks they wore in the hall.

“Your eyes recognized me when I entered that room,” Stack murmured, his voice now almost a caress. “Why?”

The question caught her off guard. It was true–something about him had awakened an instinctive recognition, like an echo from another life. Was it the way he carried his own pain without ostentation? Or perhaps it was just the loneliness she recognized, so similar to her own?

“I know your type,” Lena replied, trying to rebuild the wall he was, without realizing, tearing down. “Men who think they can save the world, or at least themselves, by working for the devil.”

Stack’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile–that rare smile Gina had mentioned, like the sun breaking through at the end of a cloudy day. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to completely transform his austere face, revealing the man behind the legend that Chicago was already building around him.

“And you?” he asked, leaning slightly. The space between them diminished with each breath. The perfectly adjusted tie at his neck seemed a contradiction to the controlled intensity in his eyes. “What do you think you’re saving by working here?”

She could feel the warmth of his breath–whiskey and cigarettes, but also something cleaner, like mint. A man who arrived without making noise, who made entire rooms fall silent by instinct, but who cared about insignificant details like his own breath, even in a world of chaos. This disturbed her more than any threat.

“I’m saving the only thing I have left,” she answered with a honesty that surprised her. “The illusion that I still have a choice.”

Stack raised his hand, hesitant. For an instant, Lena thought he would touch her face – a gesture she wouldn’t know how to receive. But he only adjusted a lock of hair that had escaped her careful hairdo, his finger lightly brushing the skin of her temple.

“We all have choices, Lena,” he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. “They’re just not the choices we’d like to have.”

The distant sound of breaking glass in the hall brought them back to reality. The world outside continued its course, indifferent to the secrets exchanged in the small pantry.

“Capone is waiting,” said Lena, resuming her professional posture like someone putting on armor.

Stack nodded, taking a step back. The space between them expanded again, but something had changed in the air. An invisible bridge had been built–fragile, perhaps temporary, but undeniably real.

“You know what the hardest part of the war was?” he asked, as she turned to leave. “It wasn’t the combat, the bodies, not even the constant fear. It was coming home and discovering there was no more home. That the place we return to is never the same as the one we left.”

Lena stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Her back was to him, but Stack could see the tension in her shoulders, the rigidity that betrayed that his words had reached some deep place.

“You know that feeling, don’t you?” he insisted. “Of belonging to a place that no longer exists.”

Lena closed her eyes for a brief moment. Images of a simple house in New Orleans, the smell of jambalaya on the stove, laughter of children playing in the yard. A world that had collapsed so long ago that sometimes it seemed to have been only a particularly vivid dream.

“We’re taking too long,” she said, her firm voice contradicting the tremor in her hands. “And that’s dangerous for both of us.”

When she turned, bottle in hand, her eyes avoided his. Stack understood the retreat. He knew that dance too well–the cautious approach, the mutual recognition, and then the strategic withdrawal. It was the only way to survive when you carried more scars inside than out.

“What do you think Capone is really celebrating with this whiskey?” he asked, deliberately changing the tone of the conversation, offering her the exit she silently requested.

“Something none of us wants to know,” replied Lena, grateful for the change. “Ignorance is sometimes the only protection we have.”

Stack held the door for her – an anachronistic gesture of chivalry that seemed almost comical in that setting of criminality and survival. But Lena noticed how he positioned himself strategically, so that he would be the first to enter the dark corridor. Protection, not courtesy. The difference mattered.

As they walked back through the corridor, the sound of jazz grew progressively, like a tide rising to engulf them. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume mixed with tobacco announced their return to the real world– a world of masks and well-rehearsed roles.

“I know you don’t trust me,” murmured Stack, leaning slightly so that only she could hear. “And you’re right. But if you ever need help…”

“I won’t,” Lena cut in, but without the coldness from before. There was something almost like gratitude in her tone.

When they were about to emerge back into the hall, Stack stopped abruptly. Lena almost collided with his broad back.

“What is it?” she asked, alarmed.

“I saw something in the back of the storage room,” he replied, his voice suddenly tense. “Boxes that shouldn’t be there. With military markings.”

Lena felt a chill. Weapons. They could only be weapons. Capone was planning something bigger than the usual territorial disputes.

“Forget what you saw,” she whispered urgently. “For your own good.”

Stack stared at her, the dim light of the corridor creating shadows on his angular face. “Is that what you do? Forget what you see?”

The question hit Lena like a slap. For a moment, the air between them seemed too heavy to breathe.

“I survive,” she finally responded. “It’s what we all do.”

The music in the hall changed to something more lively, as if mocking the tension between them. A loud, fake laugh from Capone crossed the stuffy air, a timely reminder of what awaited them.

Stack held her arm gently, his warm fingers against her cold skin. “There’s a difference between surviving and living, Lena. At some point, we’ll have to choose.”

Before she could respond, he released her and went ahead, emerging into the golden light of the hall like a man without weight on his shoulders, his face already wearing the mask of efficiency that Capone appreciated.

Lena breathed deeply and followed him, the bottle of whiskey in her hands weighing like lead. As she approached Capone’s table, where Stack had already resumed his place, she realized something disturbing–for the first time in years, she felt fear. Not the familiar fear of Capone, of violence or poverty.

It was the fear of possibilities. The fear that perhaps, just perhaps, there were more paths than she had allowed herself to see.

When she placed the bottle before Capone, her eyes briefly crossed with Stack’s. In that silent look, there was an unspoken promise–or perhaps a warning. His eyes, which normally seemed always distant, trapped in a past he never talked about, were now firmly anchored in the present. In Lena. In possibilities too dangerous to name.

“Stack!” Capone’s voice cut through the air. “Where’s your brother tonight? We need the best for tomorrow’s job.”

“Smoke is taking care of that business in the South Side,” Stack replied, his voice returning to its usual formality. “He’ll be here early tomorrow.”

Lena noticed how Stack transformed near Capone–every movement calculated, every expression a perfect mask. It was as if he stacked layers of protection between his true self and the world. Stack. The man who always had something stacked: money, marked cards, too many secrets.

The future was as uncertain as Chicago on a foggy night. But one thing was certain: that meeting in the pantry had planted a seed of doubt that, like the weeds in the city’s abandoned lots, would be difficult to eradicate.

And as Capone raised his glass in a toast, celebrating some bloody victory, Lena knew that something had changed inside her–something silent, dangerous, and irreversible like the tick-tock of a time bomb hidden in the city’s basements.

Nobody knew for sure where Stack had come from, only that he appeared in Chicago–along with his brother–on a night of heavy rain, with a worn suitcase and a look that said he had left more than memories behind. Now, Lena wondered what else he hid behind that gaze which, for a brief moment in the pantry, had lowered its guard only for her.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

-

Heyyyyyyyy,

There's no tag list, I just had to launch something that was burning in my mind as soon as I left the cinema. Feel free to show your love. Until next time 🥹❤️

~

[controld3vil]

letting them pick your weapon

pairings: yelena belova, bucky barnes, john walker, robert reynolds/sentry, ava starr/ghost, taskmaster (comic ver.), alexei shostakov/red guardian x gn!thunderbolts!reader

synopsis: The fact that you value their opinion catches them off guard.

notes -> working on requests rn, but inbox’s still open !! I WANNA WRITE MORE tags/cw: inaccurate characterization/have not seen the film, minor scene mention (it’s in the trailer!), descriptions of weapons (flash bombs, bucky’s grappling hook, retractable shield, emergency teleporter, static boots, weapon gauntlet, combat enhanced gloves) headcanons can be read as platonic/romantic

YELENA BELOVA

-> believed you were joking at first. her? you have lost your mind if you thought she would be a good idea to offer advice to. but because it’s you, she’s willing to consider your preferences and style of combat. most of the team already use guns, tactical knives for hand-to-hand combat. you’re a great candidate for any challenge, so she’s not going to pick something easy. if you wanted easy, you would’ve asked someone else. 

“Well, I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” The former Black Widow turned to you with a delighted grin slowly spreading across her face. It’s obvious how smitten she is after your suggestion regarding the weaponry. Valentina had experts for those kinds of things: weapons, gear, and training. Yet, you sought her out for her opinion. Yelena rarely swoons at compliments, but you make her feel lighter on her feet on rare occasions. 

“Is it so wrong not to?” you jest with a smirk. You continued down the hallway of the Tower. The armory is built with a fingerprint pad at the end of the hall. Once you are allowed access, the bulletproof doors open. 

“You’ve got quite the selection,” Yelena notes, her eyes scanning the close-combat display. A few new additions catch her eye – one’s she’s certain weren’t there last week. It’s obvious you favor hand-to-hand combat over long-range, but she has no intentions of making this easy for you. Yelena knows you enjoy pushing boundaries, not just with weapons, but with strategy, roles, anything that keeps you one step ahead. “You’re still positive you want my advice?”

“Of course!” You beam, scanning down the aisles of the collection Valentina has managed to grab for the team. This was something you wished you had, and not just a temporary use. Still, you’re unfazed by Yelena’s pondering. “You’re one of the best I know of.” 

“That you know of,” She corrects, placing her hands on her hips. She’s thinking carefully now. What to give you. Would you like what she suggests? It shouldn’t matter as much, but Yelena now considers your combat style. The way you navigate around the battlefield, how you look both ways before crossing an alleyway. You’re very meticulous when it comes to closed operations, which is why she works so well with you. 

You see her grab something from a barrel, close to the heavy weapons. She holds it in her hand, feeling the weight of it. Her palms bounce the spherical object up and down as if it were a baseball and not something to be messed with. Yelena seems satisfied, as you can tell by the glint in her eyes when she turns to you. Her grin is devilish as she picks up a few more and lays them out in her hands. 

“Flash bombs, huh…” Your expression is neutral, studying them like an ancient artifact. You rarely use them, as it really depends on the mission. If it were a search and rescue, you wouldn’t think to use flash bombs. But then again, it’s slowly that you realize how typical your preferences are. “Never used them.”

“Exactly the point,” the ex-assassin beams with a lighthearted jab. “We rarely use flash bombs– makes it more fun when we do.” 

“So you’re suggesting them because you think they’re fun?” You crossed your arms, a smug smile tugging at your lips. You knew better than to expect Yelena to take your request seriously. She was trying to make peace with a past she rarely spoke of. But still, she had a way of making her life a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Flash bombs are like party tricks–best when no one sees them coming,” she said with a pout, holding one up like it was a priceless treasure.

BUCKY BARNES

-> question your mental fortitude. are you serious? but then he listens to you spouting about his days as the Winter Soldier. he doesn’t think highly of those days but the way you boast about his expertise is almost bizarre. do you admire him? that makes him feel oddly appreciated and conflicted. however because of your persistent pleas (you said please once!), he complies and leads you to his room. 

“Where did you think we were going?” The team leader grumbled, eyes fixed ahead as he passed Walker’s door without so much as a glance. There was a hint of playfulness in his voice–subtle, nearly invisible–but you caught it. You always did with him. 

He didn’t look at you. He rarely did when he was in one of these moods. Still, you followed close behind, practically on his heels like a loyal, overly eager puppy. And you couldn’t have looked more pleased. Because the truth was, you never expected to be allowed into Bucky’s room. 

“I mean no one’s allowed in your room,” you said, your voice light, stating the obvious. 

That made him stop. 

Bucky turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. To anyone else, he probably seemed annoyed–grim even. But you had spent enough time watching the subtle gestures to notice the truth. The slight droop in his eyes. That flicker of something softer. 

“Well– you’re the leader,” you added quickly, voice quieter now, “and out of respect, I just… never thought I’d be invited.” Now he looks at you even more deeply. Great, now he looks like a kicked puppy. 

“I mean, I appreciate the kind assumption, but really–” he pauses, eyes locking onto yours with surprising intensity. “You’re always welcome. If you need anything, that is.” 

You nod, taking in the quiet sincerity in his words. For a moment, it felt like you two had cleared the air. The weight of the conversation felt lighter, more comfortable. 

When he opens the door, he steps aside to let you enter first. 

Bucky’s room is nothing out of the ordinary. It was plain and expected, maybe, but not without hints of the man who lives there. A few photos hang crookedly on the wall. Clothes are scattered on the floor, like they were left there in a hurry or maybe forgotten. He doesn’t spend much time here, but it’s undeniably his space.  

“Sorry for the mess.” He passes by you and heads to his closet. You watch as he grabs a case, pulling it down with the kind of care that says it’s something important. You have no idea what’s inside, but you can guess. What screams Bucky Barnes? Probably a custom-modified handgun. Maybe a combat knife with a story behind it.

“Here it is,” he says, setting the case down on the bed. You stare at it, curiosity buzzing as he unlatches the safety lock. His gaze flicks to yours for a split second before he opens it. And when you finally see what’s inside, you can’t help it. 

You laugh.

Bucky turns to you, almost abruptly. “What’s so funny?”

Your eyes cross his. “Is this the grappling hook you used to destroy that military vehicle when you were chasing us?” Recognition flickers in his face. The realization hits him–it is the same one. And for a moment, his expression is as unforgettable as the day you first saw him, tearing across the empty drylands on that motorcycle like something out of a war film.

“Oh… right,” Bucky says, rubbing the back of his neck, guilt creeping into his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t exactly plan that part out.”

“It’s alright…” You said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The light streaming through the window catches the gleam of his metal arm, making it shine with an almost haunting beauty. “We're past that now.”

His eyes held a longing, a deep, mysterious intensity that you couldn’t quite figure out. He glances back at the grappling hook, it’s been since the beginning of your journey together as a team. He hasn’t used it since then, storing it as a keepsake, but now he’s looking at you.

“It’s yours now."

JOHN WALKER

-> gives you a skeptical look. you know yourself best, why would you go out of your way to ask him? doesn’t turn down the suggestion, but will constantly ask you why. He's been in the military, served two tours in Afghanistan. All he’s ever good for is punching things and shooting. And now, Valentina has given him a mediocre shield in place of Captain America’s. It’s safe to say he doesn’t choose his weapons, he earns them.

“I thought Yelena would be the one to ask, not you.” Walker doesn't seem just mildly annoyed; no, he’s genuinely in disbelief. No one’s ever asked him for a weapon before, and while his options were somewhat limited, he’s beginning to think that with the super serum coursing through him means he’s capable of more than he used to be. But his go-tos have always been the same: his shield and gun.

“You’re a strong guy,” you shrug casually, stripping off the protective gear you’d brought along. The two of you had just finished an operation, and the exhaustion was settling in, yet you couldn’t ignore the curiosity that spurred your suggestion. “I trust your instincts.”

Walker just stares at you, the look on his face speaking volumes. Seriously? He’s caught off guard. After everything that’s happened, now you’re asking him? But you can see he’s weighing your words, even if it’s only for a moment.

“You should trust your intuition,” he says, his tone softening just a little, though the faint skepticism still lingers. “Choose whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

“Comfortable?” You raise an eyebrow, pretending to think it over. “Well, if comfortable means picking a weapon that might get me killed, then… sure, I’m all in.” You smile, as if this were no big deal, even though deep down, the weight of your decision isn’t lost on you. “I trust you enough to make it interesting.” 

The former soldier exhales, clearly irritated, though mostly with himself. You weren’t going to give up, and he knew it. If he let this go now, you’d just come back tomorrow with the same question. You were rarely this persistent, but when you were, there’s no way of convincing you out of it. He could either make a decision now or risk you asking him again later. 

“Fine,” he muttered, scanning the armory. 

As you busied yourself, putting away gear and organizing supplies, Walker moved around the racks, his eyes flickering over the options. But the more he looked, the more he found himself caught in a mental loop. 

The rifle? Too heavy. That pistol? Not enough range for someone with your skills. That polearm? Too awkward for you to wield efficiently.

Finding a weapon that matched your needs, something that fit your style, was proving to be harder than he anticipated. He muttered under his breath, his frustration slowly building. Then he stole a glance at you, assessing. His eyes narrowed, running through the possibilities. He paused. The mission… in that moment. He remembered how you struggled to dodge the bullets while also taking down some thugs. His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he sighed and reached for something on a high shelf. 

Before he makes it down, you’re already by his side. 

“Whatcha got there?” You look eager, excited by the fact that Walker was this tolerant of your persistent pestering, that he’s willing to go through with his promise. 

“A retractable shield.” He removed the cover, and there it was. The shield was smaller compared to Walker’s, but confident in size to contract in and out like a gadget. It had a charred black matte finish, with dark silver lining across the edges. It had an adjustable cuff. It resembled similarly to a Wakandan shield, which Bucky saw during his time there. It was beautiful. “It was a prototype Valentina had ordered for me, but I never used it. I got this one already,” he gestured to his shield, clasped behind his back. 

“If you like, you can keep this one.” 

“Wait—really?!” 

“I mean— I don’t use it, so it’s all yours,” he says delicately, placing it into your hands. “I can teach you a few tricks, too, if you like.”

ROBERT REYNOLDS/SENTRY

-> extra extra nervous. you asked the guy who doesn’t need weapons or any kind of gadget to fight. if any of the members were in the room, they would be looking at you like you were crazy. bob’s first answer is no, but after seeing you pout at his refusal, he’s quick to please you. but then again, he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“Okay! Knives, guns—uh, what are you looking for?” You appreciate the effort of his trying to act like he knows what he’s doing. But he’s trying desperately to meet your expectations. Bob looks nervous, like a lamb to the slaughter in the weapons room, jumping from cabinet to cabinet, looking at all of the variety. 

“Just something new to try out,” You grin, letting his nervous energy follow him around. You stand by the doorway and watch as Bob tries to analyze each piece of equipment. 

“Uhm—are you looking for something practical or—“ 

“Bob,” that startles him, making him freeze momentarily before meekly turning to face you. He was expecting you in mad rage, yet you weren’t. You just had a cute, goofy smile on your face. “Pick something with your heart. I know whatever you choose will be fine.” 

It’ll be fine. He thinks to himself, before nodding, allowing his nerves to slowly subside. Bob takes a deep breath, and in slow strides, he reaches out to something. 

When he turns, your gaze follows, all innocent and cute. 

“Ahh, an emergency teleporter!” You’re in awe because it was something you didn’t think Bob would pick as his first choice. There were plenty of gadgets you thought of— force fields, bulletproof vests, iron-plated brass knuckles. 

“Thought it might come in handy,” he nervously laughs, fiddling with the device, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Uhm— you know, in case you have to go on missions with me— and I don’t know— if something were to happen—“ 

You could practically see his thoughts unraveling from where you stood, Bob always rambled when he was anxious. But the fact that he was worrying about your safety left a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest. 

“Hey– I get it,” you say gently, taking the teleporter from his hand. Only then does he realize he’d been speaking out loud, not just thinking it. He freezes, suddenly stiff and wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights. Embarrassed and tense. You offer a reassuring smile, one that says you don’t mind if anything, you appreciate it.

“It’s smart to have a backup plan,” you add. “And hey, maybe once this mission’s over, we’ll use it to teleport straight to that pizza place.”

AVA STARR/GHOST

-> pokes fun at you. jokes about all the possibilities of how you’ll slip up with whatever item she picks. obviously you don’t take it to heart, but ava’s light-hearted nature is a breath of fresh air— after so many grueling missions, her jokes are something that keeps you motivated for the next. need advice on using the element of surprise? she’s your gal! 

“I mean, come on–sneaking in with suppressed pistols but still blowing the whole operation?” Ava giggles, clearly enjoying herself while you look away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. 

“It was one of my first missions, okay?” you snap, pouting as a hot mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbles up inside you.

“Yeah, yeah—amateur,” she teases, ducking her head and biting back another laugh. 

“Oh, like you didn’t have any screw-ups when you started?”

“Don’t even get me started.” 

You raise a brow. “Well? I’m listening.” 

“I’m not telling you,” Ava says with a teasing hum as she strolls toward the armory, already scanning the gear selection menu. You trail after her, fuming. 

“I just told you my most embarrassing story, and you won’t even share yours? That’s not fair!” Steam practically pours from your ears. You’d laid bare your humiliating failure, and Ava–cool, composed Ava, refuses to give even a scrap in return. 

But instead of responding, she flashes a sly smile. “Because I got you something better.” She stops in front of a reinforced gear locker, a sleek metal container stacked with tactical essentials: vests, gloves, helmets. Everything you’d expect. But apparently, Ava has something different in mind. You pause, watching as she places her hand on the scanner. With a soft click and mechanical hiss, a hidden shelf slides out. 

It gleams. Brand new. Sleek like fresh sneakers out of the box. Ava hums before she accesses the armory, heading to the gear selection. 

“For when you’re trying not to sound like a herd of elephants,” she smirks, nodding to a pair of matte-black static boots. She leans casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised in silent amusement.

You blink at her, deadpan.

“Seriously?” 

“I mean, I can hear you walk from your bedroom to the kitchen–from my room,” Ava says, casually shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You blink. That’s new information.

“Wait… I’m just a loud walker?” She gives you a pointed look, and suddenly it all clicks. “That explains why Walker’s always giving me weird looks,” you mutter, half to yourself. “Guess my feet have a mind of their own.”

Ava snorts. “No, love–you just have really bad shoes.”

TONY MASTERS/TASKMASTER

-> looks your way in deep silence. for how long you’ve known each other, you’re starting to believe tony chooses not to talk. he expresses much more with his actions, such as offering you extra bullets, or medical tape if things go south. tony is an experienced man with many talents, he’s able to copy and replicate his opponent’s moves. he’s done the same with teammates, with you when training, allowing you to point out the mistakes you hadn’t seen there before. sometimes you think he knows you better than yourself. 

“A weaponized gauntlet, huh?” you say, not even pretending to be surprised when Tony hands it to you, seemingly out of thin air. No trip to the armory, no formal request. Apparently, Tony knew you were going to ask him about this and waited for you to ask. 

You study the gauntlet closely, fingers tracing its sleek design. Every button, switch, and panel feels deliberate. Precise. You press one. Click! A retractable blade slides out with satisfying ease. Another press–a grappling line. Then a short-range stun charge. Then a blinding flash ejector. You can’t help it. A grin creeps across your face.

This was so him. 

Tony embodied versatility in his work. He didn’t rely on brute force–he struck with speed, precision, and timing. This gauntlet? This gauntlet was just like him: tactical, efficient, and sharp.

“Thank you,” you say softly, still a bit in awe as you reset the device to its default mode. Your eyes are locked on the gauntlet, taking in every detail. But Tony’s? His eyes haven’t let you once. 

If the circumstances were different, you might’ve mistaken this moment for something romantic.

“It’s pretty neat, has everything I need,” you say, trying to fill the silence with something, anything. You don’t mind the quiet, not really, but sometimes the stillness between you feels too heavy not to break. Tony doesn’t reply. Not verbally, at least. But you can tell his focus has shifted, drawn in closer. He’s leaning slightly toward you now, just enough for you to notice the space closing. 

You feel compelled to try the gauntlet on. As you unfasten the straps and slide it onto your wrist, it clamps down, not tightly, threatening. More like a perfectly fitted bracelet. Secure and purposeful. There’s a subtle hum as the device calibrates, adjusting to the shape of your hand. The pressure eases, and it begins to feel more like a part of you than an accessory. Almost like a second skin. 

Tiny scanners flicker along your fingertips, mapping them precisely–each digit now linked to a specific function, a silent promise of the power you had. You lift your pointer finger, and almost instantly, a blade slides out with fluid precision. 

“This feels like straight-up nanotech…” You murmur, raising your wrist toward the ceiling light, eyes wide with wonder. You probably look like a kid on Christmas morning. If a civilian saw you now, they might assume you’d completely lost it. 

“Where did you even get this?” you ask, unable to hide your curiosity. Tony tilts his head, deliberate and unreadable. You already know he won’t answer, but that never stopped you from asking him pointless questions anyway. It’s become a quiet repetition between you. 

You lower your arm, bring the gauntlet down to chest level–just enough to create a sort of invisible line between you and him. A barrier, but a playful one. 

“If you ever need it,” you say, mimicking his earlier head tilt with a smile, “just ask.”

ALEXEI SHOSTAKOV/RED GUARDIAN

-> very excited. so excited you asked him! alexei is really a lovable guy— even though he often doesn’t use any weapons or gadgets, he thinks of his teammates whenever he goes out window shopping. he sees a new brand Glock 19 by the window? yelena would love it! an energy stabilizer on the dark web? bob’s gonna flip! but you? good old you get special treatment because he’ll personally get you whatever you want. 

“When I heard you needed a new weapon, I was so happy!” Alexei beams as the two of you make your way into the living room. His accent thickens with excitement as he waves a hand. “Not in a bad way, of course, but it’s good, da? Trying something new!” 

“You get me, Alexei,” you say, arms crossing instinctively. Apparently, you weren’t the only one picking up on your growing restlessness. Same weapons, same tactics, and same rhythm, it all started to feel stale. You figured switching things up might help you see things differently. 

Everyone on the team had their niche. Alexei, with his brute strength. Bucky, his guns, and that metal arm. Ava could phase through about anything. Everyone had their thing. And you? You’d been stuck in the same position for far too long. 

“That is why I was so excited when I found this,” he says, crouching to pull a box from under the couch with a mischievous grin. 

Your brows lift, your curiosity piques. “What’ve you got?”

“Close your eyes!” he orders, and you obey, hands outstretched like a kid waiting for a surprise. Behind your closed lids, you hear the ripple of tape, the crinkle of bubble wrap, and then clank... a solid metallic sound, followed by the stretch of fabric. Then something is gently placed into your palms. 

It’s lighter than you expect. Smooth and flexible, but as your fingers trace further, you find the contrast, the cold, hard metal beneath the fabric. 

“Open your eyes!” he announces, barely able to contain his excitement. 

You do. And you’re impressed.

Combat-enhanced gloves, sleek Kevlar-weave across the surface, making your hands feel impossibly light and agile. Carbon-titanium plates reinforce the knuckles and strike zones, and the inside? A smart gecko-grip polymer, designed to boost grip on any surface. 

You stared, stunned. Not just by the gloves, but by the fact that Alexei went through the trouble to find them. Valentina might have gotten you something, if she wasn’t constantly ranting about budget cuts. But this? This came from someone who genuinely wanted to help. 

“You really are the best,” you say, laughing softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, the gloves still clutched in your hands. He lets out a big, satisfied huff of a laugh, and when you pull back, his smile nearly outshines the room.

Who could hate him? You hadn’t known Alexei that long, but somehow he already understood you better than most. 

“I know you like your shooting and whatnot,” he says, mock innocent. You roll your eyes and give him a playful jab to the shoulder. 

“But I also know,” he grins, “you really like punching things. So I thought–'Hey, you know who’d love combat gloves?’”

You can’t stop smiling. It actually hurts a little, but you don’t care. 

“Then I saw them, just sitting there in the market! I couldn’t believe it. Like the universe wanted me to buy them for you!”

“Universe said received,” you say, voice bubbling with gratitude and affection. You look down at the gloves, then back at Alexei. You’ll get him something too. Not because you owe him, but because it’s rare to be known like this. And his gift? 

It’s perfect.

[styllwaters]

If you’re taking requests I’d enjoy seeing some wildlife from the Arrows’ home planet.

An arrow ask is like treasure to me so I held off answering for months because I wanted to draw something special baha sorry anon. Same goes for every other ask but rest assured I will get to them Here's a menagerie of balloon animals who share Hanidias with the arrows. All have evolved in accordance with the planet's low gravity conditions.

More info and facts below the cut :]

BELLS A common sight on nearly every continent of Hanidias. Bells resemble jellyfish and crinoids in appearance and have a limited range of movement, only able to control their altitude by inflating and deflating their gas bladder. They are subject to wind currents and they will often be blown in to urban areas in large swathes. When aeroplankton is in abundance, 'blooms' of Bells can appear, which can consist of up to 50,000 individuals or more. These can blot out the sun and cause major blockages on skypaths. When this happens specialised teams of arrows are called in to 'vacuum' up the mass. Bells are frequently involved in collisions with vehicles travelling at high speeds.

BLANKETS

Blankets are widely considered a staple food across the globe. I've mentioned them before in this post. I know you asked for wildlife and these guys are domesticated but they're an iconic part of the landscape so I figured they deserved a spot. The largest blanket farms can be viewed from space and cover millions of hectares. In the wild, individual plankton produce an adhesive substance and cling together in thin white sheets which drift freely in the wind. The feeding tendrils of arrows and kites are specially adapted to break apart these structures for consumption.

HARPOONS

Swift and efficient hunters, harpoons are one of the most commonly feared animals among arrows. They're frequently portrayed as villainous characters in folklore and media. Harpoon populations have faced decline in the past due to poaching (their spears are highly sought after) but conservation efforts have proved successful. Males are distinguished by the extra point underneath their spears. NOMADS Desert-roaming solitary animals, nomads are a rare sight. As their name suggests, they travel for miles in search of food and water. They 'walk' by propelling themselves along the ground with their tentacles and are supported by their enlarged gas bladder. They are capable of gliding short distances.

KITES

Arrows share approximately 95% of their DNA with kites, who are considerably larger. They are characterised by their small bell-to-body ratio and relatively low contrast in pigmentation. Modern arrows appear to exhibit neotenous features with lankier proportions than their ancestors. Kites have less maneuverability to escape predators such as harpoons, instead opting for camouflage with dark colouration to blend in with the landscape below. For context most flora on Hanidias is primarily black and grey.

Kites are often seen sporting tassels on their membranes, sessile filter-feeding parasites which hitch rides on large animals. In large numbers they can weigh down the kite and cause skin irritation.

[benevolentbones]

gideondaughter!reader and spencer first time talking when the team goes to dinner and spencer is just a mess talking to her

thank you sm for the request!! hope you enjoy<3 requests are still open i’ll be working through them!

kids table | spencer reid x gideon!reader part 1

part 2

warnings: mentions of alcohol, light flirting.

word count: 1.5k

summary: it’s gideon’s birthday dinner and the team are here to celebrate.

“are you sure he booked it for 8:30?” jj hummed, holding her clutch purse close to her sage green maxi dress.

“yes. gideon party of nine at mastro’s, 8:30pm.” spencer recalled, having the time and place drilled into his mind in fear of being late.

“party of nine? but there’s only eight of us?” elle’s brows contorted, she counted everyone in the room. jj, morgan, reid, garcia, hotch, prentiss, herself and then gideon who was yet to show, that was only eight.

“maybe he’s bringing a date?” penelope chuckled, her hands smoothing down the hem of her fitted pencil dress.

“gideon? with a date? i highly doubt that.” morgan snickered, leaning against garcia.

the group of agents waited rather impatiently for gideon to arrive to the restaurant. all adorned in their best dress for the awaited man of the hours birthday dinner.

hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb.

“it’s only 8:25, he will be here.” he muttered out.

spencer began to fumble with his hands, he would class himself as a fairly patient man, the only thing on his mind currently was who the mystery ninth guest could be. he didn’t like not knowing things, it was part of being a profiler he guessed.

the doors to the dimly lit restaurant swung open, jason gideon walking in full stride with a grin on his face. he wore a navy blue suit jacket paired with his signature chinos.

“finally you’re here, they’ve been complaining for the last ten minutes.” prentiss sighed, placing a hand on her hip.

“its not even 8:30, i said i would be on time- but y/n here couldn’t find the shoes she wanted to wear.” gideon let out a small chuckle as a figure walked through the doors behind him.

a girl, roughly in her early twenties stood beside gideon. her hands clamped together in front of her, a black satin dress adorned her figure, hugging her nicely, which she paired with matching black heels.

“well i found them in the end, dad.” she mumbled out, greeting the group with a small smile.

half the team stood there it awe, mouths gaped and eyes locked on the latest arrivals.

“you clean up nice, jason.” hotch nodded towards the older man, then turning his sights on you.

“beautiful as ever.” he smiled, which he rarely did, and leaned over to give you a hug.

“thanks uncle aaron.” you grinned back, embracing his warm hug.

“i’m sorry you need to catch us up real quick- dad? uncle?” morgan titled his head like a confused puppy.

“i didn’t realise you’d have trouble putting two and two together, morgan. this is my daughter, y/n.” gideon mused, ushering you further into the room.

you held out your hand, derek quickly took it in his, giving it a small shake, cogs in his mind still visibly turning.

“and aaron isn’t actually my uncle- he just acts like it.” you pulled your hand back, returning it to your side.

gideon quickly introduced you to the rest of the team, everyone seeming to come to terms with the fact gideon had a ‘secret’ daughter that he never once brought up.

all the while spencer stood, hands glued to his sides as he eyed you. he had never seen someone so perfect, the way the dress hung from your frame, the way you politely greeted every member of the team.

when gideon had finally reached him to introduce y/n to him, he was caught off guard.

“reid, meet my daughter y/n, im sure it’s not as hard for you to understand.” gideon hummed, making a dig at morgan who had migrated with the group to where the table was set up.

unlike the others, you kept your hand to yourself, but shot spencer a sweet smile.

“it’s really nice to meet you dr. reid- my dad has told me so much about you, i know you’re not big on handshakes.”

spencer’s heart was practically doing backflips at this point. he was completely enamoured by you.

“really nice- to meet you too.” he managed to stutter out.

gideon internally rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was happening.

“how about we sit down and look at the menu.” he began to usher his daughter towards the table, spencer following quick at his heels.

by the time the three of them had reached where the table set for nine was, the rest of the team were sat, eagerly awaiting them. the only free spaces were at either end of the rectangular table, and an extra place next to the end seat.

“hey gideon come look at this” jj beckoned the older man over, to the head of the table. he briefly turned back to his daughter, before he could utter a word she nodded, knowing that she wouldn’t be sitting with him.

“guess we can sit down at the end together.” you affirmed, shuffling to the free seats with spencer by your side.

once seated, everyone began flipping through the menu, all besides spencer who’s gaze every so often flickered over to the girl beside him, who seemed deep in thought about what she was going to order.

“what are you going to get?” she asked, attempting to make quiet conversation with the man at her side.

spencer hummed, he had researched the restaurant before hand noting all of the dishes he might like.

“the uh- the pasta, i think.” he paused for a moment. “what about you?” he cursed the heat that rose to his face, lifting his hand to loosen the dark purple tie around his neck.

you smiled, still scanning the menu, taking glimpses of spencer in his flustered state.

you had heard many things about most of the team throughout your fathers years of working with them, and when he finally allowed you to meet them, you were most excited to meet spencer.

“i might have that too, it sounds good.”

a few hours had past since everyone had sat down, everyone had finished eating and were now onto their fourth round of drinks, all besides you and spencer.

everyone was deep in conversation about a case from a few years back, obviously you had no clue what they were talking about.

you turned to spencer, who seemed to have gotten more comfortable being in such close proximity to you.

“i swear it feels like we are sitting at the kids table at a christmas dinner.” you giggled to yourself.

“i know right- it’s it’s like we aren’t even here.” spencer returned the chuckle, his heart beating a little faster.

“how are you enjoying the night- i hope im not boring you too much, if you want to join the rest of them feel free.” you mumbled out, eyes migrating to your hands that you had placed on your lap.

“no no- i like it here, i like you- i mean i like being with you i-“ spencer fumbled on his words, causing you to smile. god he was a complete mess.

you reached a hand over, placing it on spencer’s forearm. he could swear his skin felt like it was burning from your touch.

“i like being with you too, spencer.” you whispered out, a soft pink blush dusting your cheeks.

his hazel eyes locked with yours, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat. he was partly confused as to why someone like you had enjoyed his awkwardness and rambling.

to say he had little experience talking to women in more than a friendly way, was an understatement.

he was completely out of his depth, and the fact that your father, his boss, sat at the other end of the table made things a little more awkward for him.

“you look really-good tonight, by the way.” he managed to mumble out, without sounding like a complete idiot.

this caused your face to flush, darting your eyes away from him briefly.

“thank you spencer.”

“would you maybe want to-“ before he could continue, gideon had stood up from the table, all eyes were on him.

“lets go y/n, your old man is getting too tired for this.” he joked.

“oh right-“ you stood up quickly brushing off your dress, you did a small lap of the table thanking everyone for the lovely evening and telling them it was great to meet them.

you then followed gideon out of the room, all remaining eyes were now on spencer who slumped down into his chair.

“that’s rough man, you had all night and didn’t even ask her out.” morgan shook his head lightly, feeling somewhat bad for the boy genius.

before spencer could say anything, he watched you dart back into the room, a piece of paper in your grasp. you quickly placed it in spencer’s hand before pressing a light peck to his cheek and running off out of the restaurant again.

the now flustered brunette un crumpled the paper, scanning the scribbled words.

thanks for talking all night, id love to go out with you sometime x

555-555-555 - y/n

“never mind- atta boy!”

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

[wandasaura]

CRAZIER

summary — casey came around and she changed everything

warning(s) — established relationship, marriage, alludes to previous slow burn, useless lesbians in love, casey novak is down so bad, mentions of court preceding, law school, open investigations, and arrests, slight canon compliant themes/elements, neck kisses, kissing, public affection, slow dancing, mentions of courthouse elopement, domestic fluff

authors note — enter casey novak !! highly recommend listening to crazier by taylor swift while you read !!

Growing up, your mother had always referred to you as her fairy. It had come to fruition when you were about six, if memory serves you right so many years later, but regardless of when it first came up, it had stuck up until the day you moved into a dorm room with a girl you didn’t know and big dreams of becoming a prosecutor. You’d been specific about that goal, because too few people you know recognize that a prosecutor is a lawyer but a lawyer is not always a prosecutor. The distinction in your goal gave your mother hope that you wouldn’t fail in college, not completely anyways. She knows that the start of your life is only just beginning, that there will be hard times and grief not only for physical people. You didn’t know that, but when it hit you hard in the second month of your freshman year at Harvard Law, it shattered you somehow, and you’d thought to call your Mom in tears, because surely this is the moment that you’re supposed to confide in her, but it feels like too big a hit to your pride to admit that maybe this is all too big for you too soon.

With hindsight, eighteen years old is so little. You pride the little girl in you every day for being so assured in her passions, because as an adult, a woman who has seen the world be unkind and cruel in unimaginable ways, you know just how much strength it had taken little you to keep persevering.

Fairy followed you in birthday cards and Facebook posts until your mother unexpectedly died of a heart attack at seventy-eight. You’d graduated from your masters program at Harvard with honors at that point. You’d been holding a picture of her looking so radiant beneath the sunlight on the day of your ceremony when you’d gotten the news. It had felt like some sick coincidence at the time, and it still does now when you let yourself think about it.

Her house was sold three months later. Not because you wanted to relinquish the one physical place you had left to remember moments with her in — you don’t even want to think about how every establishment from your childhood has either attempted to modernized itself and lost its feel, or has just disbanded as a company entirely — but because there just wasn’t enough money to keep the lights on and yours whilst you prepared to take the bar exam.

Begrudgingly, you’d done the dirty work of clearing everything out, because if you didn’t do it, nobody was going to do it, and the hypothetical financial burden as a current and perusing student was a great motivator during your grief. In the process, you'd found a little yellow journal tucked into a corner of her closet that you’d never seen before. You’d thrown it to the side for later on, more worried about why your mother had so many pairs of flip flops when New York City was no place to be walking around so exposed and she rarely ventured out of state without you.

It had taken you a week to even remember that you’d left the journal on the counter, but when you’d gone in to lock up for the last time, an owner already lined up because the property was gorgeous and considerably spacious for its location, you’d grabbed it in a haste, overcome with guilt that you’d nearly forgotten it.

As compassionate and empathetic a woman as your mother had been in her life, she wasn’t a sentimental woman. You hadn’t found much worth keeping whilst cleaning out her house, outside from her Valentines decorations specifically and a handful of her nicer fragrances, but the journal had intrigued you enough to be saved.

You opened it over a bottle of wine, and when it hit you that the words etched on the page in fading black ink were diaries entries from the first few years of your life, you’d knocked the bottle off the counter and had to spend the next ten minutes sweeping up glass.

You’d never poured much thought into your devoted nickname. It had always just been there, and you’d dutifully accepted it, but when your eyes glazed over an entry dated May Seventh from the year you’d turned six, you had answers to a question you hadn’t fathomed. So tenderly your mother listed your wildest attributes — how you seemed to never have a path to follow, how you just drifted with the wind from time to time, content with whatever it led to. She noted that your mischievous smirk was something she adored, how your eyes twinkled and even though it gave her a headache, she pretended not to notice when you got into situations you knew were toeing the line. You hadn’t remembered being so mischievous, that small detail of your younger years was a development, but you could still see the likeness in her attention to your weightlessness in life.

If you didn’t know what you wanted to do, where the end goal was for you, you’re certain that you could’ve made a life for yourself out of anything. Even with the tunnel vision you’d suffered during the fundamental years of your education, you could see how in your day to day life, between your carefully planned out study schedule and necessary working hours, you still had no real plan. You chose dinner based on a whim, you changed plans whenever it felt compelling to sacrifice sleep for a beer, you skipped town on long weekends because scenery played a role in mental health and you’d scream it from the roof tops proudly.

Fairy had fit you so beautifully until it didn’t. Until you were two months into your bar preparations and an obnoxious ginger waltzed into your life. She’d sat down at your table in an overcrowded cafe near Harvard, a graduate from the same year as you, though somehow you’d missed her face in all the lectures you anticipated. She didn’t say a word to you until her pen ran out of ink, and she curiously looked at your spread of utensils and supplies.

You hadn’t seemed to be able to get rid of her after that day. You found her everywhere, and when you didn’t, she found you. Even if she was slightly abrasive and quick to prove her passion, even if nobody was questioning it, you found that she was an excellent study partner, and her couch was ten times comfier than your shitty half price mattress had ever been.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, but slowly, she started to change you. You’d always known where you wanted to end up, where the end goal was for you no matter how long it took to get there, but you’d overlooked how simple and rewarding small things could be in the in between moments until she did them, until she opened your eyes and made you believe in every single romcom you’d ever seen; even the ones starring Drew Barrymore. It was stupid, childish, a real hit to your ego when you’d realized that as a woman with a Masters in law weeks away from taking your bar exam you were head over heels with the ginger — who wasn’t a ginger anymore — that infuriated you easier than anyone ever had, but it had only further propelled you on your strive for success.

Casey laughs about it now, years into your marriage, because somehow, she’d been oblivious to your mutual feelings up until the night you’d both received the news of your passing of the bar. But, in the weeks that led up to your separate exams, you’d been inseparable. By the of the first week, she’d come to learn that you need food before seven o’clock or you turn into a real pleasure, and by the end of the second, you learned that she is the worst version of herself in the morning unless her body decided without an alarm that it was ready to wake up. Even though you’d wanted to strangle her at multiple points during those weeks, those slow burning weeks where neither one of you realized the other felt the same way, but you’d survived it because you could survive anything with Casey.

“I could literally ring Hewitt’s neck.” You seeth, slamming your laptop closed, raking a hand through your hair as your skin tingles with stress. The Manhattan courtroom wasn’t all that different from Brooklyn, but your eyes notice the lack of rust in the door hinges and metal embellishments. Brooklyn holds no candle to the work that goes on in Manhattan, but it has you, and that’s what keeps it afloat, even if Jackson Hewitt is the dumbest individual you’ve ever met and somehow your overbearing DA.

“Uh,” Casey tutts, readily shooting up from her slouched position to wag her finger in the air, Your eyebrows raise in amusement, lips twitching as you try to act unswayed by her dramatics. Not a damn thing has changed since you’d met her all those years ago. “No Jackson Hewitt conversations in this office. I told you that already.” She scolds, looking rather disappointed in you for a moment before she gives herself away with a broad grin.

“This place is so much nicer.” You huff, choosing to abandon your workload for the night even if that wasn’t the wisest decision you could’ve made. Even though life with Casey is anything but romantic a majority of the time, you still find a fairytale in everything she brings to your day. It doesn’t feel important to focus on court hearings and emails from your boss all telling you how to do your job better, meanwhile his suggestions are just things you’ve asked him for and have been denied, that will still be happening tomorrow, but Casey won’t be wearing your favorite blue shirt tomorrow, and her hair won’t be on day three of no shampooing tomorrow, and tomorrow, you’ll have already lived whatever number day of loving her this is, and the fear of not taking advantage of every second you have together haunts you. Your mothers unexpected death haunts you. It changed you. Or, Casey allowed it to change you. Before her, you hadn’t known your mothers death had sparked a fear of loss in you. How beautifully twisted the weight of love. You hate it immensely. “What do you think would happen if we switched for a day? I take Manhattan sex crimes, you take Brooklyn persons crimes.”

Casey hums taking your inquiry seriously, as she always does. No thought is to outlandish for Casey, in fact, the more obscure the better. That’s one of the things you adore about her. She can talk about anything, and she will talk about anything, and nothing is ever too small or too silly to her. She’s a child at heart, truly she is because during one case, when she’d been all tied up and bent out of shape of a child with Williamsons, she’d come home fuming about grilled cheese, how she hates them, how they’re the most disgusting excuse of a hot lunch she’s ever come across, and how Katie was absolutely right and valid in her adamant disgust. You don’t think Munch would believe you if you told him that Casey was silly like that, passionate about the littlest things, but then again you think he would. Casey and passionate are synonymous.

“Stabler would probably be less of a dick. He likes you.” Casey hums, because there’s nothing wrong from Brooklyn outside of its need for an upgrade. She loves these hypotheticals, these situations that you create in your head and then serve to her on a silver platter. You think it keeps her brain moving enough to make her feel like she’s not letting her skills go to waste when the time clock punches after every day. You know the feeling of wasted potential too well, but Casey knows how to distract you too.

“Because I scared the shit out of his little punk when he thought it was cool to shoplift.” You defend, and Casey knows that it’s partly the truth, that Elliot had developed quite the amusing obsession with you after you’d manage to break through a wall in his son nobody in his squad could so much as chip. To this day you don’t know what broke through to Dickie back then, but he still refers to you as ADA even in adulthood. “I think Munch would be the one to give me a problem honestly, and then he’d get all passionate and rope Fin into it until all your little cop friends hated my guts and wanted the worst for me.”

“Probably.” Casey hums, and your nose twitches as her willingness to agree. Decades and a marriage later, she never tries to sell you a lie, even when she knows you're no better at taking criticism now than you were in the bright eyed years of youth when you’d met. “Munch is their backbone. He’ll flip Cragen on you easy.”

“Gee. Thank you, sweetheart.” You grind your teeth together, suddenly not interested in this little hypothetical with Casey. You married her, you love her with your entire being, but she is absolutely infuriating when she wants to be. She knows what she’s doing, she knows that she’s digging her claws in, riling you up. She knows that once you explode, she can coerce you into doing anything with her because the adrenaline of your affectionate annoyance is a drug like no other. She should know. She’s drunk on you half the time, and she’s certain her boss is catching on. Finally. It’s taken him a while. But the way he’s started to narrow his eyes at her n passing is answer enough. He’s perplexed by her duality. Cornered by his own realization that Casey Novak is an impossible creature to learn in any regard. Unless its you.

Casey bubbles with amused laughed, the light catching on the strawberry hue to her hair. It’s not quite ginger anymore, though she had gone back to that dark flaming color recently per your request. It had faded since January though, naturally, and she thinks she’s going for a more strawberry blonde color now. ‘I’m being serious. Benson wanted to eat me alive and Stabler could only picture me on a little league field.”

“Okay, it wasn’t a little league field. It was a standard softball field. There was no attempt to diminish your street cred in his recognition.” You roll your eyes fondly, but Casey knows all of this, and she tries not to let her lips waver as she lures you into her trap. It’s so easy. It’s been easy since you’d both stopped resisting what you felt for each other, but now that she knows you — really, truly, deeply knows you — it’s so much easier. “And secondly, my love, you are the most irritating person ever when you want something done your way. You gave Benson about five reasons to hate you during your first day alone. I should know. Brooklyn gave you the case and I oversaw it.”

Casey twirled a pen between her fingers, black ink because she hates blue, and leaned back in her office chair, both elbows on the armrests. ”I’m passionate. You said you liked that about me.”

“You’re also incredibly self-assured and arrogant.” You scoff, and while Casey isn’t unaware of those traits, it’s still her turn to be shocked at your delivery. “But I believe I’ve said I like those things too.”

Casey smiled, unable to fight the urge anymore. Maybe she didn’t have you exactly where she wanted you yet, soft between the palms of her hands, but you had her in that exact predicament now. Her eyes softened with her expression, a sigh slipping off of her lips that sounded particularly satisfying from where you sat across the room, watching her closely. She pushed her chair away from the desk, standing up tall. The carpeted floors prevented her heels from making any sounds, but there were still padded thuds to her footsteps before she stopped in front of you, a single hand — the one with her wedding ring — extended toward you. “Come with me?” She asked hopefully, no further hints in her question.

“Where are we going?” Your eyes squint curiously, but your hand is already in hers when you finish the question. Casey doesn’t answer, she never does if she wants something to stay a surprise, and you appreciate that her passion isn’t narrowly channeled into her career. Casey Novak is the most passionate woman you’d ever met, though it had taken you a couple of months to see how much she cares about the people she loves.

She doesn’t tell you to bring your bag, nor does she collect her things, so you can’t imagine that you’re going very far from here. You cling to her arm as she walks you down the hallway, only slightly aware of how you pin her bicep between your breasts. Casey doesn’t notice, too busy letting her eyes wonder around the courthouse, seeing the ghosts of your younger selves in the halls.

Five years ago, you’d gotten married downstairs on a whim. Casey had pull with basically everyone in the courthouse — and somehow yours —, so when she’d shown up with you on her arm after a valiantly fought for guilty verdict, requesting to elope at the earliest possible convenience for the man named Evan, it had happened within the hour, right downstairs from her office, on a random Wednesday.

Your eyes trace the door too, because they do every time you walk by even when you don’t recognize that you’re doing it. It just feels unconscious, like a part of you still lives inside of that room. You’ve been inside it again twice after, and each time you’d smiled wide and flushed with a radiant youth. Casey thinks it's cute, but she admits that when she passes it every morning and afternoon, she wears the same flustered smile.

When she leads you into the empty courtroom, you don’t have to ask what she wants. A shadow of a smile stretches across your lips. It’s delicate, fragile, it could dissolve into tears in a minute. Casey smiles, leading you farther inside, until you’re right in front of the Judge’s stand, your matching kitten heels clacking on the tile floors, the acoustics almost haunting if you weren’t so familiar with them now.

Her arms loop around your waist, and when she pulls you into her chest, you’re back in the three minutes of your first dance as a legally recognized married couple. Your head falls onto her chest, and you step and sway with her easily, never forgetting the melody you’d set the first time, because it’s the only one you’ve chosen ever since.

Her heartbeat is faint, but if you press your ear into her chest enough, you can hear it pounding under your touch. You can still make her nervous all these years later; she can still make you nervous.

When your lips press into the column of your neck tenderly, her hips, gripping your hips tight. You sigh, sinking against her, trailing your lips and those soft sweet kisses up until you reach her jaw, taking a chance to nip at her smooth skin.

“I love you.” You hummed against her jaw, but in a second you shrieked, being spun around by Casey before she encouraged your back to dip, supported by a practiced hand. You giggled manically when you finally found her eyes, slightly dizzy from the unexpected twirl. Casey smiled, her eyes wild, ablaze with affection and love.

“I love you.” She hummed, pulling you up to kiss you, keeping your body trapped against hers. You didn’t mind, deflating into her touch, letting the world be only the two of you for a minute. Nobody else was coming in tonight. The janitors had already been through, the judge long gone; you had the courtroom to yourselves for as long as you wanted.

When you pulled away, only because your body found it necessary to breathe and you couldn’t do that with her actively stealing air from you, Casey dropped her forehead against yours, panting softly, her breath hot. Her eyes flickered to yours, that soft green shade that twinges so carefully between the lines of grey whenever she’s sad or wearing dark colors, all consuming. You smile, still panting, face still tingling, lips still buzzing, but you smile because its all you can think to do when she traps you in her eyes like this.

Casey’s the go-getter in your relationship. You have your goals and your passions undoubtedly, but she’s the reckless spontaneous one that somehow always has a plan and a vision and a way to make the impossible happen. When she’d found you in that cafe, your entire world had been upside down. Every down was a torrential downpour, but then came Casey, and even with her infuriating arrogance, she never seemed to have even a chance of rain on her radar. You remember thinking she was a fool for studying so hard. She made everything seem like it came so easily. She dominated everything with ease, like it was fun, a little game she had the pleasure of playing at no disservice to herself. You were just as good a prosecutor as Casey Novak, but you’d never have the innovation that makes her so useful in open court. That only makes you love her harder in your darkest moments now, because you know that she has you, that if you can’t seem to figure out how to fly with the wings you’d tenderly grown and poured into on your own, she’ll guide you until it feels natural again.

Your mother had called you her fairy for years of your life, and you think if fairies are akin to butterflies in any way, then it still fits you perfectly.

“What would’ve happened if you never sat down at my table?” You ponder, because its a valid hypothetical, though one that Casey refuses to consider. It terrifies her that your entire relationship, entire painfully and beautifully paved path, is all traced back to one moment of brazen confidence in a moment of overwhelming stress. If she’d been just ten minutes later, when most everyone had cleared out, she would’ve had no reason to sit down at your table in defeat because the entire cafe was full.

“I really don’t care.” She tells you, and it makes you laugh, and she kisses you again, and nothing has ever felt more right than Casey's lips on yours. “I love you.” She says again, but you could listen to it on a loop for the rest of your life.

“I love you.” You settle, because it gets you nowhere if you tack a ‘more’ on the end of it. You’re married to a prosecutor, and your wife, well unfortunately she’s married to one too, and the both of you can surely argue until you’re blue in the face and still without a solution, so any ‘I love you mores’ had been barred from even entering your relationship at all. “Spin me around again?”

Casey didn’t answer, she just did it, and that was pretty much exactly what it felt like to do like beside her every day.

[fairestwriting]

Octatrio! With a shorter crush that can pick them up easily and does so in a bout of excitement, princess style!

Azul Ashengrotto

He wants you to think highly of him. Like, really wants to. A lot of the time, when you two are talking, that’s what’s in his mind. But much to his dismay — and no matter how clear you make that you find it endearing — he actually gets flustered very easily. He’ll try everything in his power to play it cool, but there’s only so much one can do to try to hide a blushing face.

And he thinks about you a lot, much more than he wants to let on. This includes coming up with ideas of how to bring out that enthusiastic side you have that he likes so much. Azul will remember each and every interest of yours that you mention, then plan out a way to casually bring it up some other time, maybe even get you a gift that’s related to it. There’s always a tailored justification on why you don’t need to pay him back for it too, “kind” enough for you to feel special, but not so much that it feels unbelievable.

The princess carry is a popular trope, and you’re small enough the thought has crossed his mind. Azul might not be the strongest guy around, but he’s definitely not weak, though he’s not really confident enough in his skills to really try, and there’s also things like timing to keep in mind, what even would be the right moment to do something like that— There’s a non zero chance that very thought would be on his mind right when you lift him up, even.

Actually yelps when you do it, drops whatever he’s holding, it’s a whole situation. He doesn’t know how to respond, both because he didn’t expect you to be strong and because you’re carrying him, he won’t even register whatever words you say. Floyd cheers you on if he’s nearby. When you put him down, Azul apologizes for his "unflattering" reaction in a voice that sounds like he’s trying really hard not to faint.

Jade Leech

He did have a feeling you were stronger than you looked, pretty much since you two met. It wasn’t something he guessed right off the bat, and he even doubted it a little bit sometimes, but he watched you close enough to be able to tell. It’s not that hard to notice, if you just look at the way you handle heavier objects and such… or at least that’s what he would tell you.

But of course, thinking you’d be able to lift him was far from what he had guessed. He’s very tall, clearly taller than you, and even though Floyd exercises more, Jade does still have a pretty decent amount of muscle. He’s not light at all! Even a lot of people around his height would have trouble lifting him up, and you just did it like that? So effortlessly? Definitely a way to get a very rare, very wide eyed look from him, that maybe no one has even seen in years.

“Oya, since when are you this strong?” He asks with a chuckle. He’s pretty good at getting it together and putting on a composed look, even when you’re carrying him around in your arms like that, but you’d have to be really oblivious to not notice the underlying shock. Jade will laugh along with you about whatever had you so excited in the first place, but the main thing that’s really in his mind is a reminder to watch you even more closely now. Where does that strength come from, after all? You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you…

Sort of wants you to do it again, but mostly starts to want to be the one to do it to you instead. Maybe it's something like payback. He has good self restraint, he’s not just going to scoop you up into his arms unprompted and carry you off wherever… But if the opportunity comes up, like if he takes you hiking and you comment about your legs being tired, he’s not ignoring it. Smiles slyly at you in a way that makes you wonder if that’s the reason he invited you in the first place.

Floyd Leech

Like Jade, he can tell you’re not weak, but it works completely different with him. He’s not really watching you per se and it’s much more of an instinctive feel. And on top of everything, you’re just so cute and tiny? He didn’t have to think to pick your nickname at all, you couldn’t be anything other than Shrimpy. He would’ve given it to you even if it meant taking it from someone else.

Floyd himself will pick you up a lot when he gets excited, laughing and twirling you around. It doesn’t actually matter how heavy you are, you’re light as a feather to him, his cute little Shrimpy that he could toss around if he wanted— He says that to you, straight up, with a huge cheerful smile on his face. He’ll never be quiet about how cute he thinks you are, doesn’t matter if you only met a few days ago.

If you’re excited about something while talking to him, chances are that he is too. You’ll be happily talking back and forth, sharing whatever comments first come to mind, and it was really just a coincidence you happened to get the urge to pick him up first this time. If you had been even just one second late, he would already have you lifted off the ground.

He’s surprised when it happens, obviously, but honestly a lot less shocked than most people would be? Maybe he just had a feeling all along, Floyd is just like that sometimes. He’s still laughing and joking with you about whatever the topic was before, with a side of "Woah, Shrimpy is so strong!", he doesn’t care how many things he ends up knocking over from getting twirled around by you. Will return the gesture when you put him down, lifting you higher than he ever had before. It genuinely makes him happy that you can do the same. Doesn’t mean he’s ever going to stop fawning over you being smaller than him though, you’re his little Shrimpy no matter what— Maybe even more than before now.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[jpitha]

The Oxygen Breathers

I thought I posted this one here, but it looks like I didn’t, so here you go!

It was always an event when the Humans visited.

They'd arrive in their sleek, smooth, thick ships; completely at odds with the other ships of the Coalition. Human ships always looked like they were grown rather than built. People would whisper how the Humans made their ships as tough as they were. How human ships could go atmospheric and land on the ground.

It was nonsense of course, no ship - human or otherwise - could do that. Kre'kk figured that the Humans probably spread that rumor themselves.

After they'd arrive, they would come out of the docking umbilical in their small, highly polished suits. They were a rare class of sapient indeed.

The Oxygen Breathers.

Most 'civilized' people in the Coalition came from worlds with manganese sulfur atmospheres. The humans with their oxidizer for a breathing gas were seen as brash, reckless folks who make decisions without proper consideration. Given the reactive nature of their atmosphere, it's practically a given that they too are more reactive in their choices.

Kre'kk stands at attention at the end of the umbilical ready to welcome the humans for their - hopefully - short visit. They come from a high gravity world with a single massive moon - fully a quarter of the size of their own planet itself - so their environmental defaults are... somewhat extreme compared to the rest of the Coalition. The never fail to mention the moon.

As they approached, they reach one half unit away from Kre'kk and stop. He looked down at them - they were about half his height - and he made the Universal Gesture of welcome. The humans reciprocate and Kre'kk’s head frill rustles.

"Welcome to Coalition Orbital 43559 - known to the Lemilar as 'Habilamen.' I am Administrator Kre'kk and I welcome you as equals for you visit."

The human at the head of the group is wearing a slightly different suit. Still polished and reflective, but where the rest of the humans are wearing suits of pitch black - darker than interstellar space - this one is a deep vermillion red. Kre'kk is drawn to the color. It's so rich! It almost looks wet.

When they begin to speak, a simplified icon of a human face is projected onto the smooth polished surface of the helmet. It seems that the humans have taken some care to make themselves look less frightening in their environmental suits. "Thank you for the greeting, Administrator Kre'kk. I am Captain Margaret Kellerman and this is my crew." She gestures behind her. "We plan on staying only for three cycles demi in order to take on a load of Ribanium and trade with any interested parties. I will share with you a manifest of what we have available to trade." She gestures on her arm, and the file appears on Kre'kk's pad.

Kre'kk is taken aback at her voice. It's so clear. She seems to be speaking through a translator, but it is getting the nuance and overtones of the Lemilar Trade Language perfectly. She could have a career as an entertainer or storyteller easily if she was a difference species. Kre’kk swallows. "Uh, thank you Captain, I have received your file and will distribute it. Please make use of our facilities during your stay."

Captain Kellerman's helmet flashed a icon of a face, smiling - without their teeth - broadly. "Thank you Administrator Kre'kk, we shall."

For two cycles, Kre'kk held out hope that the human's visit would be without incident. They came in quietly, did some minor trading, loaded their Ribanium and spent a… reasonable amount of money on entertainment and refreshments - suitable for their systems - while on board. Kre'kk felt they were trying very hard to be model visitors. Apparently they knew humans had a reputation in the Coalition for being... rowdy.

On the last demi cycle before the Humans were scheduled to depart a group of Felimen came over, angry. They had spent the entire two cycles previous loudly complaining that the humans shouldn't be here, and that they had captured Felimen colonies long ago and had begun the process of 'poisoning them' to be more suitable to them. The Human authorities maintain - and have the receipts to prove - that they purchased the planets legally from the Felimen, and never attempted to hide their goals of colonization and geoengineering. Regardless, a long, bloody war had followed and the humans had pushed the Felimen to capitulate and were currently engaged in a Cold War with each other.

Kre'kk was alerted as soon as the shouts started. The Felimen seemed to come to the humans wanting to cause trouble. For their part, the humans tried their best to talk the Felimen down. Their helmet icons were looking sad and quiet and they gestured in ways to try and reduce tension. The Felimen were having none of it though.

As Kre'kk undulated over to try and calm them, one of the Felimen in the back had wheeled out a battle rifle. Kre'kk had no idea how they had snuck it in, but it was completely banned on the Orbital and was cause for immediate expulsion. Before he could sound the alarm and get the Orbital authorities to come, they fired at the group of humans.

It proved to be a fatal error in judgement.

One of the humans in the front of the group was struck directly in their center of mass. They staggered back, and their suit showed significant damage. Luckily for them the suit was not penitrated. The humans reputation for building strong was well earned apparently.

Faster than Kre'kk could follow and only confirmed by viewing the security footage after the fact, three of the humans brought massive slug throwers to bear. Kre’kk knew that the Coalition sapient races find chemical powered metal slug throwers to be far too heavy to be hand weapons. If they are used, they're tripod or vehicle mounted. The humans are apparently experts in their manufacture and use, and can swing them around like they weigh nothing.

The noise of the slug throwers in the hall was deafening. Kre'kk winced as his active noise cancellation dampened the noise and wondered how the humans could take the noise without being injured, but he assumed they must also have some kind of noise cancelling built into their environmental suits.

They fired for a short time indeed, but it was more than enough. All of the Felimen were dead, with the ones in the front unrecognizable. The silence in the hall after they finished firing weighed heavy. It felt like an eternity after they had stopped before the station alarms sounded.

Kre'kk moved over to the humans. They were checking eachothers suits and cleaning up the small yellow colored pieces of metal that come flying out of their throwers when they fire. "Brass" is what they call it. Kre'kk gestured an apology. "I'm sorry. Battle weapons are banned here. You're going to have to leave now."

Captain Kellerman's icon showed pure fury. Her gauntlet covered hand pointed at him accusingly. "You're going to take their side, Administrator? You were here, you saw them. They shot first! They damaged the suit of one of my crew! It was through the luck of Forturne herself that his suit was not pierced!”

Kre'kk slid back one half unit unconsciously. "Be that as it may, you responded with… disproportionate force to their attack. It was uncalled for."

Captain Kellerman sputtered, her melodic voice taking on frightening undertones as the translator worked overtime to relay her fury to Kre'kk. "Uncalled for!? Administrator Kre'kk with all due respect you are out of line. You know about the war I assume, but do you know what they did to our colonies? They dropped nanobombs on our legally purchased colonies. They weren't trying to take back land, they were trying to obliterate us. I was there, I saw it with my own eyes."

Kre'kk was taken aback. This was not part of the standard narrative about the war. "I did not know that no, the Felimen-"

"The Felimen tell their own version of the war in order to garner support and sympathy against 'the aggressor human' I'm sure." Captain Kellerman sounded bitter in the translated voice. "Kre'kk. Your people border the Felimen opposite us do you not?"

"Yes, our territory borders theirs but-"

"And have you by any chance heard of some border worlds coming under some kind of unknown trouble? Maybe a strange illness, or unusually strong weather on the worlds?"

Kre'kk's frill rippled worriedly and he said nothing. He had heard about things like that.

Captain Kellerman cleared her helmet. Suddenly, Kre'kk saw her clearly. Small, with bilateral symmetry, close set binocular eyes and a small mouth, this was the first time Kre'kk saw a human as they are, not as their icons show them. They are predators. They are hunters.

They are terrifying.

Kre'kk unconsciously made a gesture of fear and slid back another half unit. Captain Kellerman's face contorted into a snarl. "Know this Kre'kk. It's only a matter of time before they do to you what they attempted - and failed - to do to us. Think hard about who your friends are and who in the Coalition you can come to for help when they start dropping nanobombs on your worlds." Just as suddenly as it had cleared, her helmet darkened again, and the cartoon icon of her face returned. It felt like a mockery to Kre'kk now.

The humans picked up the rest of their debris and freed their weapons. Faster than Kre'kk could ripple, they were all carrying slug throwers. "We're leaving, Administrator Kre'kk. If any Felimen even come within 5 units of us-" The people behind her cycled a round into their rifles for emphasis "-we will take it as a provocation and will respond with 'disproportionate' force."

"Y-yes Captain. I will relay this information."

"Oh and Administrator Kre'kk? Your Station will be added to the list of Orbitals where humans will not go. We will do no trading, sell no wares, and offer no defense. You and yours will do well to consider your stance vis-a-vis us and the Felimen."

Without another word, the group of humans turned and marched towards their ship. Shaking, Kre'kk signaled that they were not to be interrupted and made sure their warning about Felimen was relayed.

After they left and the mess was cleaned up, Kre'kk sat in his quarters and stared out the window at the planet below a long time. One of his creche mates was living on a newly founded colony bordering Felimen space. He began composing a message to beam to her asking if she had any plans about moving back.

[echantedtoon]

Unforseen Part 1

Your entire town was haunted, that's why barely anyone lived in the district and those whom did rarely left their homes unless it was absolutely necessary. You never believed in spirits until you started encountering them outside your home and one in particular kept following you around. 

(Homicipher au where the Ghost Apartment residents are spirits haunting a town and Y/n isn't a killer. Will include stuff not cannon to the game. Including none cannon guesses to some of the characters backstories.

Warnings for blood, death mentioned, and reader cutting her hand on a rock by accident.)

Have you ever heard of the phrase 'if its too good to be true then it probably isn't'?

That phrase exists because often when something does sound too good to be true it almost always is the case. However sometimes we had to learn that important life lesson the hard way, and you were one of those people who learnt first had you shouldn't take everything at face value while also never taking anything for granted. 

Even now as you attempted to ignore the figure peeping over the other side of your desk, dark hair cascading from a pale grey head without any eyes to be seen. The figure being only barely lit up by the light of your laptop as you attempted to do some online courses and not pay attention to the curious figure that blended into the shadows perfectly. 

Key word being tried because of the fact you couldn't ignore him when a hand curious reached out across the desk and snatched away your mouse quickly vanishing back into the darkness before your hand could stop him. Instead your hand smacked down onto the hardwood with a thud.

"Hey!" F/c orbs glared harshly into the darkness beyond the lit screen. "Give that back!"

"HEHEHEHE!!" A high pitched laughter was your only playful response from the blackness.

A sigh escaped your lips. It wasn't always like this. It had only started when you had moved to this quiet town in the middle of nowhere. You needed a place to stay after rent had gotten too high and your ex roommates decided to bail on you without a warning. So facing homelessness and struggling with money, you did what anyone in your shoes did. Look online for the cheapest place you could find. Your desperate search for any cheap apartments, anyone who was renting a room, ANYTHING! That's when you came across what seemed to be a miracle.

A small house in a town you never heard of just a few miles away from where you currently worked. It was a cheap house. For what you were renting the apartment for two years you could pay and completely own your own house fully. Something like that was like a god send, but you were HIGHLY SUSPICIOUS. This had to be a trick. A scam. There's no way that anyone would sell a house this cheap without it being a scam of some kind. There just HAD to be a catch. But you were very desperate, and you decided to contact the number listed for the real estate agent. What the heck? There was no harm in talking to the guy and checking out the place. At worst it'd just be another dead end. 

The man seemed very professional over the phone and answered all your questions politely just like the realtor that you rented your old apartment from. So really there wasn't any red flags then. You took that as a go ahead to set a date for a walkthrough of the house and see if you really wanted to go through with the purchase however... Something still didn't seem quite right. You looked up the realtor's name and found him to be a legit business man in that profession so it wasn't likely it was a scam but the off feeling didn't go away so you opted to bring along your dad on the day in question to go see the house.

"Gosh. The place sure is in the middle of nowhere isn't it?"

That was your dad's first comment about the area you were in. Following the location given to you leading you to a whole town in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by thick woods and old roads. Perhaps that was the second red flag seeing an entire town so empty. So.. abandoned like this. It doesn't make much sense. Maybe this was a scam trying to sell old houses in the middle of nowhere. You felt better having brought along your father but still something felt off. Eventually you found the house, and the realtor man waiting for you on the porch in front of said house. Everything seemed normal. He greeted you both, shook your hands, and after a few icebreaker sentences asked if you'd like to look at the inside of the house.

From the outside it looked completely normal. Maybe a bit run down and old and the lawn needed some mowing, but nothing that screamed red flags. The guy was as normal, polite, and professional as he had been on the phone as he walked both yourself and your dad throughout the house and spoke about when it was built, how long the last owners had lived there, and the few repairs made to it. Both of you went through the usual testing the lights, and turning on the kitchen sink to check the running water. Everything seemed to be working. By the cheap price you were expecting to find a real fixer upper here. 

"Doesn't anyone else live in this town?," you eventually asked the man curiosity finally getting the better of you.

"Oh yes. Mostly older folks and their carers but there's two of three families too and some caretakers for the houses until they can be sold," he confirmed.

"Then why does it look like the entire town is empty."

It was finally then that the realtor looked worried about something. "Well a lot of people prefer to live closer to the nearest town with active businesses, but I will be honest. Most people pass over here because of the rumors surrounding the area."

"Rumors?"

"Yes. I'm afraid that many people seem to believe that the town and surrounding woods are haunted. I don't believe that of course but superstition can scare away a lot of people."

Ah. So that was the entire reason why the house was dirty cheap. No one in their right mind would want to buy a haunted house in the middle of no where miles from the nearest town with any stores. That'd be pretty inconvenient for a lot of people but desperation and fear of homelessness was a powerful factor in your decision to make the purchase, signing on the papers and moving everything you owned with your parents' help into your new house. And everything seemed to be perfectly fine the first few weeks. 

They mostly consisted of you cleaning out your house and fixing up the lawn to get things in order. Moving your furniture around for for own needs. Fixing up an Internet connection for online classes. Things such as that. It really wasn't very exciting but nothing bothered you.

But something still felt off about the silence.

It wasn't the peaceful nature silence that you would experience on nature hikes or drives through the country, it was more of the creepy silence you'd seen in way too many horror movies when all the animals went silent when the monster was getting closer and closer. Even though you saw nothing wrong with anything. The unusual silence was creepy as was the unusual emptiness of the town but you concluded it was still better than being homeless. For a roof over your head with working water and electricity, you'd put up with the silence for now. Besides you could always move again once you graduated college and saved up enough money to move again.

However you did encounter one of the locals at last. The only working store just outside of town, mostly used as a pitstop by others just driving through but sometimes you'd stop for snacks before making the hours long run to the next town over for groceries. He was an odd older man whom looked the same age as your grandfather. He eyed you from the window before you made your way inside and began digging in your pockets for your credit card to pay for gas. 

"Just gas?" He grunted out.

You nodded pulling out the card. "Yep. Just gas."

"Good. It's not a good idea to stay in this area after dark." He just watched you swipe your card. "Take my advice and don't stop until you reach the next town over."

"Oh. I'm not passing through, I live here," you clarified making him raise a brow, "I just moved in a few weeks ago."

He grunted. "Then they decided to not make themselves known to you yet. Or they haven't noticed that fresh prey came right in."

You looked at him blinking. "Excuse me?"

"The spirits of course!", he clarified with narrowed eyes, leaning forward to make you lean back. "They roam these parts you know."

"Uh .So I heard."

"You don't believe me." He scoffed rolling his eyes. "The non-believers are always the first ones to go first. The fact you hadn't seen them yet means you're either lucky or they're planning on doing something big for you."

"Uh..." You weren't sure what to say to that but leaned back when he leaned over the register beckoning you to come forward.

"Let me give you some advice for how to survive around here. There's certain rules to follow if you want to avoid trouble. Firstly, never go out after dark. That's when they're most active but they can still come out during the day as well so keep your eyes open at all times too. However if you must go out at night then make it brief and always keep at least one light on. They absolutely love the dark."

You took a step back to avoid the way he was almost in your face however that didn't stop him from holding up his hand with two fingers.

"Don't look them directly in the eyes and ignore them all times if you absolutely can. If you initiate contact then they'll take that as an invitation to continue contact." A third finger. "There's a lot of them around here but most of them are harmless and just long lost spirits still roaming around such as that poor Bride of the man who was in the bad fires years ago. However there's quite a few of them that's quite dangerous."

"Danger..ous?"

He slowly nodded. "Yep! The first ones that come to mind is that one that looks crazy and carries around the giant machete. Cross him the wrong way and you might join the spirits but he usually wonders the woods and doesn't come into town too often so I wouldn't worry too much about him. It's Scartella that I'm more worried about."

"Scarletella??" You were very confused as he nodded. "Who's he?"

"He gets his name from the bright red clothes and hair he sports, and the rather unusual red umbrella he always seems to carry around. He only shows up when it rains but by fair he's the most deadly. If he approaches you and ask for your name do not under any circumstances answer him! He'll steal your soul away!"

"Uh...right." This guy was crazy and watched way too many horror movies! Slowly you tucked your card back into your pocket since it was paid. "I'm going to go now-"

"Then there's the fellow who just likes to creep in gaps and crevices and ask for organs. He's completely harmless after all as long as you say no. He'll pout but he'll leave you be. Then there's the fellow who's always helping that disembodied head. He's mostly harmless but has taken some corpses for his morbid research. Just don't try harming the head and he'll be ok with you-"

"I best be going!", you proclaimed loudly before turning on your heel and walking towards the door. "Thanks for the gas but I REALLY better get going." And get away from this crazy guy.

"Don't say that I didn't warn you!", you heard him call after you as the bell chimed above the door.

You didn't look back. Just got into your car and drove all the way home feeling your hair stand on end from the creepy encounter. That was definitely spooky but you chose to ignore it in favor of getting home. Out of curiosity you decided to look up the area on Guggle just to see what would pop up and was surprised to find so many urban legends surrounding the area. There was TONS of them. From the tragic tale of a bride dying on her wedding day long ago to someone being executed by having their head chopped off to even sightings of a strange person in a wheelchair said to have been a patient whom died in a hospital that once stood here. 

However you didn't find any legitimate records anywhere to back up these legends. The only confirmed death registered for this area was a camper who got lost in the woods and was later found deceased from a tree having fallen and crushing him and that was two years ago. There wasn't any urban legends of a deceased camper around to add to the mix. After scrolling through the pages and pages of legends you called it quits convinced they were nothing but what they were.

Just urban legends without any truth to back them up.

That all would change one fateful night. You had driven hours to the nearby town to shop and visit family, so you got home late. Everything was fine. The sun had just set as you stepped out of your car bag of groceries in one hand and house keys in the other as you approached the front door. Nothing but silence was all the streets offered you as you fiddled with the lock and letting the door creak open a bit as you went to go put the key back into your pocket-

"Give finger?"

You snapped up at the sudden voice only to find a face in the gap of the door staring at you-

You screamed bloody murder. You screech echoing out through the streets and the bag falling from your hands. Bread and apples went thudding along the porch as you turned to run back to your car in a panic. The sounds of a car door slamming behind you echoed down the streets as you fumbled with the keys to your car. The rippling sounds of a revving engine and screeching tires was the only things left behind in the darkness. You didn't stop out of fear until you got to the little gas station where you fumbled with shaking hands to call the police.

"Hello? Police! I need help! Someone broke into my house!"

I took hours for a squad car to get to where you were at which point you gave a statement before leading them back to your house. The door was still slightly sharp and your groceries were still scattered about the porch where they were dropped. You stayed right across the street watching with shaking hands as they entered your home and lights turned on as you saw their figures watching through your home. After a while they came back out without anyone in cuffs. 

"There's no signs of anyone being inside the home, and no forcibly entry."

"But there WAS something there! I saw him in the doorway!!"

No matter what you said the police had nothing else and left leaving you standing there in the streets in front of your house. You couldn't get yourself to go inside opting to sleep in your locked car that night before going on the next morning with a tire iron from the trunk in search of the guy you saw checking every closet, under your bed, and even in the kitchen cabinets but found no one. It was both relieving and weirded you out. 

You know you saw someone last night! He was right there! Was it just a hallucination? You had been pretty swamped with work and homework so maybe all the lack of sleep combined with hearing those ghost stories all the time we're starting to get to you. Yeah. That must've been it.

You would've just been satisfied to go on with pretending to have never seen him before if it wasn't the last time you had a paranormal encounter with a spirit. The second encounter you had was with a weird ghost that looked like a bloodied nurse. It was when you were outside really early one morning. You had gotten some flower seeds and wanted to make your house look less creepy by planting some flowers near it, however first you had to clear away some rocks where you wanted to plant them. It'd take a while to make a flower bed so you wanted to get started early. The sun was barely starting to come up when you started moving some of the rocks when you grabbed one and a moment later you were dropping it in pain.

"Ow!" Instinctively balling your hand into a fist and clutching it to your chest, you hissed in pain. Slowly you unclenched your hand to take a look at the cut upon your palm. "You gotta be kidding me. Well that's just great." A sizable cut was across your palm from the jagged edges of a rock and even in the dim light you could tell it was bleeding. "Ow, own, own. That hurts."

"Your hand?" 

You jumped at the feminine sounding voice next to you and when you turned...You froze. 

What you were met with was a woman covered in blood.

Or you assumed it had been a woman by the sound of the voice and the fact she wore a nurse's gown along with a hair net and medical mask. However you only froze meeting the black void like orbs that was in the place of eyes and the fact her entire outfit was covered in copper colored stains.

"Your hand?" She repeated holding up her own hands "injured? Sick?"

You couldn't say anything. Too frozen to speak or do anything as she produced a roll of bandages from no where and a few seconds later your entire hand was wrapped up. 

"Heal! Fix!", she exclaimed loudly satisfied with the care she gave before turning to walk away.

She walked across the lawn slowly disappearing into thin air and vanishing as if she had never existed as the sun slowly rose higher and higher. You stayed standing there frozen until the warmth of the sunlight made you flinch and finally move around.  You couldn't write it off as a freak hallucination from stress and lack of sleep this time. Perhaps if there was no proof of her ever being there you could've done that but there was NO way you could logically explain why your entire hand was wrapped up in old gauze. But BOY you tried! Tried to convince your terrified self that you were imagining things and you had wrapped up your own hand without remembering...

Yeah. That didn't work.

You couldn't step out of your house for a good while too afraid of what else you might witness and your lights were kept on nearly every night but that didn't stop the random hauntings you'd witness. One day you went out during the day a pair of muddy footsteps just walked down the sidewalk appeared on the ground next to you. You jumped back and watched in disbelief as they zoomed down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner leaving behind muddy footsteps in plain daylight for anyone to see.

Another time you were just in the kitchen and you peered out of the window to look out only to scream and scramble back as a sheep's head popped up from under the windowsill. The child like entity giggled at their mischief before running away completely disappearing. Sometimes you didn't hear them at all but caught a glimpse of something peeking out at you from time to time from a crack in the doorway or an open drawer and one time under your bed. It might've been the same entity you saw the first time these things started and you started the habit of keeping everything closed. Sometimes you saw legitimate ghosts like out of the movies floating about randomly and one ghost stereotypically under a sheet dragging along the ground down the road.

It all was eventually too much and you decided now would be the perfect time to go stay with your parents for a long, long while. Packing just a suitcase, you got in your car and just drove out of town. Stopping only by the old gas station just outside of town to get gas for the long drive and maybe some snacks. The old man from before of course was there and the first thing he did seeing your frazzled frame was to throw his head back and howl in laughter!

"So I see they finally decided to come out to you, Young Lady! Tell me do you believe in the supernatural now?," he asked between laughs.

You only managed a deadpanned tired look. "Leave me alone. I just want some gas."

"Who was it? Mr. Gap?," he asked ignoring your words genuinely interested. "He's always usually the first one to show up and he's the most frequent fellow."

"Mr...What?"

"Mr. Gap," he repeated, "That's what locals around here call him because of the fact he appears whenever there's gaps between things. Almost every spook here has a nickname like it since no one knows their true names. Which ones did you see?" He sat back arms crossed amused eminencly. "I'll probably be able to tell you their names."

You weren't sure how to feel, what to think, or what to say...but you couldn't tell someone that you were seeing ghosts. Your family and everyone else would think you're crazy! Maybe you were but you were sane enough to know that you weren't seeing things and at least this man knew who you were talking about and believed in them..So you told him the few entities you've been seeing.

"That's Mr. Gap alright." He nodded along with your story. "Oh. So you met Ms. Nurse. She's helpful when she wants to be." He laughed again. "Hooded Child is always playing tricks on people." And then the ghosts- "Mr. Cloth is the only ghost I know of that wears a sheet over him."

"What do I do to make them stop?"

"Stop? This whole place was theirs way before you and I came along young lady! If anything you're trespassing on their home. They won't stop living how they've always lived, that's like telling a bird to stop chirping or a flower to not smell nice. They're not going to do it just because you find it inconvenient. I'm sure if you were a ghost you'd certainly be annoyed by people acting that way towards you."

"I wouldn't be haunting people and scaring the living daylights out of them!" You shook your head. "Can I just buy gas please?" 

He shrugged. "Sure. Just don't say that I didn't tell you so."

You bought the gas and filled up your car quickly and got back in. Only when you tried to turn it on...Nothing happened. You kept turning the key but nothing kept happening. Until you defeated got out of your car and slunk back into the station to the old man's surprise.

"Back already?"

"There's something wrong with my engine. C-Can you help me?"

"Sure! I've worked on cars before." He got up and you both went out to take a look under the hood. You watched as he hummed and fiddled around with a few things before looking at you. "How old is this car?"

You shrugged. "I-I don't know. It's preowned." You couldn't afford a new car on your college kid budget.

"Well that might be your problem." He closed the hood with a loud THUD. "The battery's dead."

You stared at him gobsmacked. "WHAT?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET BACK?...Can you drive me?"

He shook his head. "I live in the connecting house and I own no car. Never needed one. The nearest mechanic is in the town over and they wouldn't be here until morning. You can either sleep in your car for the night or your welcome to sleep inside but you'd have to sleep on the floor."

"No thank you." No WAY you were staying with a stranger or sleeping in your car in the middle of nowhere. Looking up you noticed that the sign was only barely in the middle of the sky, that meant it was just almost noon. "If I start back now, I can probably make it back home before dark."

"You sure?"

You nodded. "Positive." You stepped back to walk back down the road where you came from. "I'll be fine. They don't show up a lot during the day anyways."

The older man hummed. "Alright but you be careful on your way back. Sometimes the woods can be more dangerous than the town."

***********

[fatuismooches]

Silly thought: What if the Traveller accidentally kidnaps Dottore's lover?

This will happen way before they meet them. The Traveller somehow, is able to sneak into the main lab of the Doctor and finds his test-subjects. Of course being the hero that they are, releases them and offers them refuge in the Teapot (I'm still pissed that the Teapot is hardly mentioned in main story quests it could be a Trojan horse but nooo)

They come across this 'test-subject' who has heavy security for some reason. Determined to not leave anyone behind, they break through the defences to get to the hapless 'civilian.'

The Traveller gets there and takes away the 'test-subject', the Traveller hopes that they wake up once they are in the Teapot.

[Dottore's spouse wakes up from their refreshing nap and finds themself in a completely different place with a lot of strangers. Why are Dottore's test-subjects out? Actually - where even are they?!

And Dottore returns to an empty lab 😋 rip to the Traveller. Dottore is going to rip Teyvat from the ground up and he wouldn't find his spouse until the Traveller makes the connection.]

The Traveler thought that they had prepared to the fullest, heading into Dottore's lab. Carefully scoping it out, even managing to get their hands on the mapped layout somehow, observing the patterns and schedules of the guards and agents who seemed to be placed everywhere... general sneaky stuff, that wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded as this had to do with the Doctor after all. Nothing was ever simple when it came to the Harbinger, but despite all odds, they got lucky, only because the segments were no more and they chose a day Dottore himself was not there (that was also painstakingly planned). Of course, once the Traveler successfully completed their mission and freed all those poor souls, they felt rather good about themselves. Any plan of the Doctor's thwarted was always a good thing.

When the Traveler comes across such someone so highly tucked away, they automatically assume the worst! You must be an invaluable test subject who provides him great research but through immeasurable pain (just look how tired you were)... one that he can't keep his eye off! What a terrible fate you've been subjected to, one at the hands of the mad Doctor! Worry not, the Traveler will save you (not)!

...However, the blond failed to obtain information on a very, very important factor - the little-known soft spot of Dottore.

Now poor you, expecting to wake up to a familiar ceiling and maybe even your husband's embrace, but instead the sky above is more blinding than anything you've witnessed in years. And there's a strange bird floating spirit thing. AND the infamous Traveler and Paimon are worrying over your well-being... even more so when you start getting overwhelmed knowing you're far, far away from Dottore.

Now of course, test subjects are just test subjects and although losing them was a waste, he could always procure some more. You, however, was a completely different story. Needless to say, the agents are quite scared to go near the Harbinger as they've rarely seen him in his state - absolutely silently seething. The only way to salvage the situation is that the Traveler just needs to hope a hair hasn't been touched on your pretty head.

(Cue the freak out between Paimon and them once they realize the truth. Even still, the Traveler is semi-convinced you might be brainwashed or something - the whole Akasha terminal thing in Sumeru was enough proof. They're a bit reluctant to hand you over but seeing the way you bolt toward the Doctor was enough to convince them...)

[blue-blue-blooms]

Eddie Munson Headcanons

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader Headcanons

You and Eddie meet because Dustin asks you to sub for Lucas for their DnD meeting.

Your first official meeting with Eddie isn't that great. He's apprehensive of letting you play with them because he thinks you're not well versed on how DnD works. But you surprise him with how well you can play, and he asks you to join the Hellfire club.

You don't attend every single meeting. Unlike Dustin and Mike, you actually have a life outside of DnD. Surprisingly, Eddie's fine with you missing these meetings, which surprises everyone else since he refuses to be this lenient with them.

But the others aren't you. They don't have your soft smile, the mischievous glint in your eyes, the lilting tone in your voice that you often use to tease him. It's safe to say, he's incredibly obsessed with you.

He asks about you often when you're not around. What does she like? What kinda music is she into? What do you think her thoughts are on people who play guitars? Does she ever mention me? What's going on with her and Harrington? Dustin finds it only mildly nauseating.

The both of you rarely get to hang out alone so he's always devising different ways he can get alone time with you. He'll tell you the wrong time and arrive early so he can get 10 minutes with you. Or he'll linger in the back and ask you to clean up with him after a DnD meeting.

He's incredibly soft around you, borderline shy. Sometimes, he even stumbles over his words. I heard you and Harrington are pretty close. I mean, Dustin mentioned it in passing. We talk about you a lot-I mean he! He talks about you a lot. He thinks really highly of you, it's actually kinda annoying how obsessed he is. Not that you're annoying! It's just, I mean, I've never seen someone, like, that close with their older sister before. So...you and Harrington?

He finds every excuse he can to touch you. His hands linger a second too long when he's passing you something. He always puts his hand on your back when you're walking, gently guiding you. He'll pretend there's something in your hair so he can touch it.

Yeah, he's pretty smitten with you.

[palesweetscherryblossom]

In the arms of a Snake

Warning: Possessive behavior, Shigaraki gets a bit murderous, mentioned child neglect, infertility, overall fluff

It was rare for children to be seen in the forest, especially in Shigaraki’s part. Humans didn’t stoop too low, at least that’s what Tomura wanted to think. He stared down to the hypnotized child in his arms, currently staring at him with red tinted eyes, replacing their e/c.

But Tomura couldn’t help but take this as a blessing. Many nights he and his mate had often lamented about their lack of hatchlings. Every egg laid always a dud, every mating season a cruel taunt to them.

Dabi had always looked so miserable whenever spotting broken egg shells in naga nests, curling up in the nest as he stared blankly. Shigaraki felt himself grow giddy with the prospect of Dabi getting to hold you, to experience the joys of parenthood. Teaching you to hunt, running around in the spring and summertime, snuggling up in the colder months.

The deal was only made sweeter when you cuddled up to his chest, trying to get warm. “Nn.” You murmured, hand reaching for the necklace Shigaraki wore. You fiddled around with the skeleton fingers and little quartzes, absolutely enamored with it. “Hmhmh, we’ll get you something like that soon. Then you can be just like papa.” Shigaraki chuckled. You shivered after a particularly cold wind swept over the forest, swaying the branches and rustling the bushes. “Cold..” You whined lowly, trying to get more warmth. Shigaraki shushed you gently, patting your head.

“We’ll bundle you up nice and snug when we get there.” Shigaraki assured as he spotted the telltale cave in the distance.

After many months of sleeping in trees, on rocks or in burrows, Shigaraki and Dabi had found their permanent home in a cozy little cave. It was ideal, next to a lovely little pond and fruit trees. Shigaraki slithered inside, greeted with the sight of his handsome mate.

Dabi was an oddity amongst naga, for his gnarly burns set him apart as unique. Not mention little “inconveniences” that wasn’t apart of naga behavior. He had to have his food cooked, had to be careful with sheddings and was sensitive to certain things.

Shigaraki loved him the same, he found his swift movements and dry attitude humorous. Not to mention kindred spirit of being mistreated by the ones who were supposed to care. The delicious scent of roasting meat filled Tomura’s senses as he entered into the home. Dabi stopped tending to the fire and directed his attention towards Tomura. A dry yet playful smile rested on his scarred face.

“Took you long enough, had me thinking you were caught or something.” He slithered on over to his mate, who in turn acknowledged him with gentle peck on his cheek.

“As if, firecracker. I’m almost hurt that you’d think so highly of those parasitic primates.” Shigaraki taunted back before smirking. “Did you eat yet?” He inquired, Dabi shook his head.

“Nah, takes awhile for this stupid boar to roast.” Dabi then caught the scent of something unfamiliar. It wasn’t rare for Tomura to come back reeking of something unfamiliar but this had a special tint. Sweet, delicate. Like baby powder and peppermint.

Then blue eyes wandered to the hazy child in Tomura’s embrace. “Tomura, where? How?” Dabi for once in his life, felt completely flabbergasted by something Tomura brought home. Tomura smirked pridefully almost, his tail gently wrapping around Dabi’s in an attempt for comfort.

“This is our hatchling. Poor little lamb was left out in the forest with no food or water. Oh, the poor baby was crying and screaming.” Tomura’s heart ached at remembering your sad little sobs. “I had to put them in a trance to relax them.” Dabi was hyper focused on you, his eyes expressing longing and sympathy. It was like he was staring at himself, lost and afraid. “C-can I hold em?” He asked shakily, gently holding your relaxed body as you let out a tiny confused mumble.

“It’s just papa Dabi, no need to be afraid of him, hatchling.” Tomura cooed sweetly. Dabi stared at you, slithering over to the nest.

It felt strange yet pleasant to feel your body on his chest, your soft flesh and breathing a far cry from the cold eggs he felt before. Tomura joined his mate, nuzzling his neck as Dabi cuddled you tenderly. “They’re never going back.” He hissed, Shigaraki nodded.

“We’ll keep them nice and secure in the nest. It’s where they belong now.”

Welcome home

@messedupcookiejar

[yandere-sins]

Guard #500

a/n: It's been a hot minute but I just got this idea for our beloved prince so I just went for it. Hopefully it comes across as fun as I had while writing it ♥

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Pairings: Yandere!Guard!Malleus Draconia x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Malleus eating out reader, Mentioning of a one-night-stand), Abuse of authority, Manipulation, Mentioning of Reader unintentionally cutting on a knife (but no further actions in that regard), Mentioning of knifes/assassination/dead/dying, Slightly unhinged behavior from the Yandere, Slightly gorey description, Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

There was something especially cruel about having your failure rubbed into your face.

He didn't even need to say anything, much less move. It was enough for your former target to stand outside your cell, unfortunately, alive and well, taunting you with his silence. Malleus Draconia was probably the most feared name one could hear when you were sent to prison for your crimes. And the more grave your crime was, the more you had to fear him.

"It doesn't suit you," he finally said after staring at you for a long time. 

The two other guards at his side eyed him, confused about his statement. You stopped pretending to read your book, an activity you abandoned the moment he stepped up to your cell. Your mind was too nervous to concentrate on the words, but even so, you had the desire to pretend he wasn't there, hoping he'd leave.

"I don't know much about fashion—I should ask Schoenheit about that," he directed the last few words at his fellow officers rather than you. "But orange doesn't seem to suit you."

"Unfortunately," you sighed, pretending not to have a nervous tension all throughout you just from speaking in his presence. "The dress you saw me in last was just too pretty for prison."

"Unfortunate, indeed."

More silence, and you finally put down the book, looking up at him. You held no personal grudge against the man. He hadn't done anything to you yet. It had been a failed assassination, one you had been paid for and which would give you a nice retirement once you got out. Some guy stuck in this prison with you wanted him dead, hired you, and now the biggest blow was that to your ego. 

Malleus Draconia, however, still sent shivers down your spine.

He had that authoritarian aura around him and the piercing green eyes to match. When your gaze met his across the dancefloor of his private estate, you had felt your heart miss out a beat, your body tensing, trying to decide whether to run or approach. Something about him just drew you in, magically even. And at the same time, you felt like prey even though you were hunting him. It had been him who had walked up to you first, asked for a dance, and you foolishly agreed, letting him sweep you over the floor and into his bedroom like a fool. You could have killed him there, easily, and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. 

But you couldn't. Not when he looked at you with the adoration of a lover. He was a rare jewel you could never possess, but you seemed to be the treasure of a lifetime in his eyes. 

Never before had you let anyone deter you from your goals. Becoming an assassin hadn't been an easy task, betrayel your every-day business. You took advantage of your victims for as long as you needed, and then you stabbed them in the back, not caring if they knew it was you, cursing you with their dying breaths. But you did it well. Discreet and highly compensated, you thought that was all that mattered at the end of the day.

So why did the memory of that night still heat up your face?

You wanted to appear cool and unbothered by him now that you two were locked in this prison together. But how could you when you still remembered the dragging of his fingertips along your skin? The reverent way he parted your legs to fit himself between them, like the missing piece of a puzzle. 

How could you forget the way his scent drafted all around you? His sheets, his hair, his body rubbing against yours, melting you into a malleable silhouette of passion and desire. If you took off your clothes, it was most likely you'd still find a hickey or lovebite left behind in the moments of pure lust, and when you touched yourself at night, you still imagined his image that of a slightly disheveled god looking down on you with the mercy and the grace of a servant. 

At this point, you thought you saw Malleus' smile widen as if he could read your thoughts. Perhaps you never had the kind of pokerface you thought you did. But one way or another, he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking of, even if just because he was thinking of it, too. 

"I liked you so much better, draped in my green sheets. But that's nothing that can't be arranged even now. I look forward to your next attempt, little assassin."

He left, appearing pleased with himself, to the absolute horror of you and the two other guards, who took a double take at their superior before shooting you dirty glances. That's right, you thought, almost wanting to say out loud, "I fucked your great Malleus Draconia."

But you didn't. Instead, you shrugged, feigning your return to read your book nonchalantly as if nothing that happened was a big deal. You had no beef with them, and trying to hide your embarrassment by sticking your nose in your book was better than letting them see how failure raked its claws over your back.

It felt almost the same as how Malleus had done it. 

"Is this-- this even allowed?"

Your head fell back the moment you uttered your momentary concerns. Driving your fingers through the silky black hair, Malleus' eyes shot upwards, the green ever so piercing. However, instead of the fight and flight from before, now, the only thing it caused inside you was desire. 

Everything about him was so regal, from how he knelt on only one knee beneath you, to how supportive his shoulder was to your leg draped over it. His hands were buried in your hips, enough to keep you steady but also to direct you exactly where he needed you to be. You were a helpless mess, whining when he pulled his tongue torturously slowly out of your cunt, and you bit your lip when he licked over his, your slick making them shine like some kind of fruity gloss. 

"Do you not like it?" he murmured from between your legs, taking another full drag through your folds as if he was licking the spoon after eating a delicious dessert. "I suppose it hardly measures up to the splendor outside this prison, but I hope you can appreciate my gift to you."

"All I did was get beaten up by my employee, and you gift me a whole-ass cell for myself, prettied up to make it look like your room?"

You weren't sure whether to freak out or to laugh. Not having to share the public amenities and a room with three other stinky inmates was undoubtedly a welcome gift. Still, you were hardly deserving of it after trying to kill the man who presented you with it now. 

"I'm still sorry about that; I should have come earlier," his gaze dropped, the light diminishing as he looked at your stomach. The bruise wasn't forming yet, but you knew it would come sooner than later. Even if you trained yourself to be a better assassin, you weren't immune to damage. 

"But I promise to make up for it."

His eyes darted back to meet yours. Gone was the moment of regret; now, all that you saw before they lidded in the process of staying true to his words, was determination. 

You felt his tongue slide back over your clit, the unnatural longness of it wrapping briefly around the nub before he began to suck. There must have been a world record somewhere for getting Malleus Draconia to eat you out, but he, surprisingly, proved to wear the badge of honor when it came to servicing someone. 

It was wrong, but it felt so good.

Biting your finger, you held back the moans as you felt him probe at your entrance again. However, another uncomfortable thought crossed your mind, and as you pulled the finger from between your teeth, Malleus entered you, slipping right along your walls and making you buckle over.

You were glad for him supporting your body, feeling as if you might collapse there and then. "W-What about the others?" you stuttered, unable to shake the feeling even though his actions were very much shaking you. "What will they think if they hear us?"

"Let 'em," Malleus muttered against your pussy, not sounding so dignified with his tongue inside you. "They can 'now who you belon' to."

"Sir!" you gasped, only to let a loud moan escape. It was hard enough to keep up with your worries while your inside clenched around his tongue as if your life depended on it—although he seemed to not mind it in the least. Still, you didn't want to hear dirty talk from someone who was supposed to hate you more than anyone else. And although you felt a real orgasm build, hard and fast, you couldn't shake the embarrassment of being paraded to his goons.

"W-Wait, stop!"

God, you hated yourself. You were so close.

However, Malleus complied. Immediately, all movements ceased, and he looked back up at you, expecting your next command. You were troubled with catching your breath first, but eventually, you shook your head, and you felt the drag of his tongue as it pulled out—not without its tip going left and right, mind you, tasting as much as it could. 

"You've done—ngh!—done enough. I appreciate it, really. But I can't accept this—any of it! I just... I can't. This has to stop."

Malleus stayed silent, gazing at you with a mix of disappointment and, what you could only describe, defiant refusal. "We will not," he finally concluded, and you gave him a confused look as he gently dropped your leg to the side so you could stand on it again before getting up. 

"Is this not exciting for you? Have I been neglecting your needs? Given how... wet you are, I thought I was going in the right direction, but I can improve my technique if you give me pointers."

"W-What? No! It was fine—great! You were doing everything right, it's just..." Your shoulders sacked as you gestured around the room. "I shouldn't be rewarded like this for trying to kill you. Look, I have nothing against you personally. It was just a job. And what we had was great, but it wasn't that good for you to treat me like this. I mean, shouldn't you hate me? Why are you doing this?"

To your complete bafflement, Malleus chuckled while you were getting worked up about the weird circumstances you two were in.

"Hate you? How could I? You led me right to the people who wanted me dead in the first place. I recognize your role as a pawn in the scheme, but is that it? Do you think this to be boring, now that it is just between you and me? Do you miss the excitement of getting a job done?"

Turning sharply on his heels, every one of his moves so deliberate yet fluid, he stepped over to a small box on the table, opening it and taking something out of it. Turning towards you again, he only needed to snap it open to reveal the sharp, silver blade of a knife that you thought must have definitely been illegal to be brought into this prison.

"I thought of this, too, you see. That you might need some more excitement. So, here."

Taking your hand in his, he placed the cold jack knife in your hand, directing its tip towards him. When you looked up at him in shock, you could hardly figure out what he was thinking. You thought yourself good at reading expressions and little signs, but with Malleus' formal training, it was hard to make anything out. With the eyes of madness and the smile of adoration on his face, you couldn't make out a single thought in that head of his. 

"Go on, do it. Stab me, cut me, rip me open if you must. Make a mess of my body. And then let me return to where I belong, at your feet, between your legs. Let me nourish on your juices so it may be the last taste on my lips before I perish. And when I am down there, please use me for your desires so you might remember me fondly as well."

"You're crazy," you muttered, doing the only right thing you could in this situation—pulling the knife back to the point you cut yourself before throwing it to the ground so he would stop almost piercing himself on it. 

"Hm, crazy," he pondered, nodding his head thoughtfully. Even in the face of this situation, with his eyes closed, his face serene as a moonlit night, and his hair ever so slightly disheveled from you meddling with it before, he seemed completely composed. He looked nothing but otherworldly, as if he shouldn't be walking among humans but belonged to the creatures written in books. It was unnerving, just like his words. 

Malleus could have had anyone. Surely people would line up to just awe at him for a split second. They'd pay more than you could ever earn in your measly life just to be regarded by him once. Yet, he choose the assassin who wanted to murder him. Who failed yet helped him. You thought you'd eventually meet your employer now that you were in the same prison and get a reminder not to speak of who hired you. You didn't know Malleus would be watching, being able to figure out who wanted him dead just by observing you. 

And because of this, and perhaps the fling you two had on the night of his assassination attempt, he'd come to want you.

"Perhaps I am "crazy". It doesn't feel bad," he admitted, opening his eyes again to look at you. Nothing of the unreadable curse you saw before remained in his gaze. Only pure, unfiltered adoration now filled it. He looked at you like only someone madly in love could. You never thought someone could ever look this way at you, and if not for the nagging fight or flight instinct returning to the forefront of your mind, it almost pulled at your heartstrings.

But before you could react, he leaned forward, picking you up. You squeaked as he lifted you high in the air, your legs wrapping around his torso instinctively. He walked as if you weighed nothing, carefree and playful, tilting his head to nib at your hand that was gripping his uniform jacket before mending the agitation on your skin with a few pecks of his lips.

You eyed the door, waging your options. If you hammered against it, screaming for help, the two guards Malleus left in front of it might think he's in trouble and come in, even though he ordered them to stay outside. Something felt terribly off with this man you once thought to be this elegant, otherworldly prince who could do no wrong. You thought he joined the side of justice to keep up his image, but the amount of mercy he was showing you and only you bordered on selfishness.

It would be better to leave before it was too late. You shouldn't humor a beast that seemed to be starving, fixating itself on the only prey that had no choice but to obey when it was in a helpless position. 

"Crazy or not, stabbing me or not. Either way, let's return to the matter at hand: you didn't cum yet, did you? However am I going to deal with it if my darling is dissatisfied with me?"

In a swooshing motion, you were thrown forward, falling right on your back, only to be caught in softness and comfort. The mattress of the bed he provided you with molded to your body, the pillows and sheets guaranteeing you a good night's sleep on imaginary clouds. And even better support for other activities.

"And just so you know..." Malleus added, climbing on top of you, straightening his back only to pull off his jacket before he hovered closer than ever to you. As if he had to completely erase any distance keeping him from you, his body sticking against yours like a magnet. He was mesmerizingly pretty and you still couldn't believe what he was doing. All of this was wrong, and some feral instincts from a century ago feared he'd rip out your throat as he buried his face beneath your chin, kissing along your neck. 

"I soundproofed the room but I plan to let everyone hear us."

You gulped, and he chuckled, involuntarily feeling the movement press against his lips. 

"You already belong to me," he stated matter-of-factly as his face popped up in front of yours again. You looked at the door once more, fearing it was too late. You were trapped, caught like a princess by the dragon, but there was no knight in shining armor to save you. 

"And I'll prove it to everyone and you if I must."

[blankblankdead]

l&ds | ideas of caleb

just some headcannons i had of the puppy dawg colonel because its juneleb!

caleb keeps a photo of you in his wallet!!!! he didn't know he could do this but after hearing his subordinates do that with their wives / gfs and seeing it once in an old movie you had put up one night, he secretly printed out multiple photos of yours. fat wallet? this man's currency is your photocards.

similar to these photos, he screenshots or snips out any article of the Association that mentions you. "hunters' group successful in clearing out area xx-yy" with your team's photo on the front page that caleb meticulously cuts/crops to include only your face. all of this is stored in a usb drive he hides in his office.

almost all divisions in the fleet are suspicious the colonel has a girlfriend. as adjutant you overheard many subordinates even put bets on how long their colonel will take to cheat on his "gf" with ...you. they're eyeing his behaviour whenever you're with him and even tried to ask the colonel himself before deciding against it for their safety.

caleb doesn't send letters. well, not exactly. he sends rare gifts that the fleet found while inside the deepspace tunnel usually along with the consistent "a rare gem like you <3" serenades. you're concerned with how many valuable materials are actually stored in your home back in skyhaven in the guise of a gift. you're scared to even touch them.

his subordinates are afraid of walking in his office. not because he's intimidating, but the paranoia of bumping into his model aircraft figures (some of which you gifted him) and breaking them scares them more than being fired(pun intended).

some caleb based mc and LIs ideas too.

you wonder how far the fleet's influence goes until one day you find some of onychinus' customers are names you've read in caleb's reports.

the association and fleet has never had explicit meetings or talks, but you're shocked to hear your partner share the fleet's internal politics that you've overheard caleb talk about on the phone.

thankfully you weren't in your hunters' uniform when a fleet's lower rank officer bumped into you at akso hospital. intrigue grows when you're later notified by your primary care physician that he'll be in up in skyhaven again for a week for some highly confidential work.

caleb agrees to your simple suggestion of enhancing the fleet's common room with some brighter and comforting decor. next time you visit, you can't help but analyze where have you seen such paint strokes on a canvas before.

[emmerwrites]

Ain't No Grave

Pairings: Spencer Reid/ Reader Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort Summary: During Revelations, Spencer has been beaten, kidnapped, and tortured, but all he can think about is getting home to you. Inspired by the song Ain't No Grave by Crooked Still, I highly suggest listening to it while reading this. Season 2, Episode 15. Heavily based off of the episode. Warnings: Major Character Death (He comes back tho), graphic descriptions of death and seizures, CPR, emotional whiplash, mentions of religion, use of Y/N, POVs switch a few times. A/N: Hi! I just wanted to add that while I do describe what Spencer is feeling during his seizure in the fic, please keep in mind that this is not what all seizures feel like or look like. This is physically based off of the canon of episode, but mentally what I had felt during a post-traumatic seizure I had after a pretty bad concussion, which is why I feel comfortable writing it. WC: 1.9k

39 hours. Or was it more? Less? Either way Spencer had no clue. His great mind was reduced to mush from a combination of the repeated drugging and blows he was taking to his head. Everything was spinning, and blurry; as he desperately tried to focus on Hankel. 

“Confess!” Another blow connected with his temple as Hankel swung down on him. He looked at the camera, staring at the blinking red light, were you watching this? Spencer rarely prayed, but he hoped by some miracle you weren’t. Grabbing and painfully pulling a chunk on Spencer’s hair Hankel hissed again, “Confess your sins”. 

When Spencer didn’t respond, because frankly he didn’t have time to respond, Hankel grasped onto the chair, and with a great force threw him backwards. That great mind short-circuited, time was moving too fast, why couldn’t it slow down? He thought. It took his brain too long to process what was happening. 

He was falling. 

༺♰༻

Back at that awful house, you stood there, your fingers gripping the chair so tight that you were going to snap the wood. Your heart was in your throat and beating so hard you were sure you were going to throw up, but even as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. As you watched the screen with an unbreaking gaze, you were frozen, trapped in time as you watched Spencer’s chair tip backward and his muscles lock up.  

To your right Garcia gasped, “Oh my god, he’s killing him”. 

“Oh god” You covered your mouth, and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. You knew the team wouldn’t judge you for it, hell, everyone else in the room was either crying or consumed with rage. Despite the screens being tiny, you were watching Spencer seize- no die- on multiple computers. You could feel your own airway narrowing as Spencer foamed at the mouth, his limbs twitching and jerking in uncomfortable ways, eyes rolled back into his head. And then he just…stopped. These horrible sounds gasped and struggled and fought their way out of Spencer’s throat.

“That’s the devil vacating your body” Hankel said with a tone of such conviction. You knew then you were going to kill that sick bastard. 

 Spencer stopped moving, stopped breathing, and you thought for a second you were going to die right there as you watched him die. You knew in this line of work the danger of death loomed at every turn, in every dark room, backalley, and basement. And yet, even with the knowledge this, it could never have prepared you for what you were watching happening on the screen. 

༺♰༻

An immense amount of pain shot through his skull, before the pain was replaced with a hazy fuzzy feeling. His body hurt, but he was only vaguely aware of the discomfort. Spence felt lighter than he had ever felt in his life, is this what an out of body experience feels like? The colors around him were bright and vibrant, the second most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life after you. God, how he wished he could see you again, you were the only thing keeping him safe and sane after every trial that Hankel had put him through. He felt like he was dancing amongst the clouds, the colors around him danced with him, turning he saw a figure, and he could’ve sworn she looked like you. There were no features on this woman, he was in fact just a warm powerful energy that he felt himself being drawn to. 

He was so close, outstretching his arm to grasp her hand. But before he could make contact he was pulled away from her, being ripped backwards and neck breaking speeds before he woke up. Gasping and back on the floor of the cabin.

༺♰༻

Hankel left the camera frame for a minute, leaving everyone in that cramped room to stare at the screens showing Spencer’s lifeless body. JJ and Garcia were crying, Gideon had excused himself to the bathroom, Hotch was staring blankly at the screen, Morgan was trying to hold back his anger, but you? You were vibrating, emotions rolling off of you in waves. You loved Spencer, hell, you would move the earth and the heavens for you if he asked. You would follow him to every city, every country, and you would follow him to death. But now? Standing in that small dusty room? You were ready to do anything to get him back. 

Hankel re-entered the frame, and Hotch sprinted upstairs to grab Gideon. Clenching your hands into fists, your eyes narrowed, fixation on the screens. Nothing could’ve prepared you for Hankel rushing in and performing CPR on Spencer’s limp body. A sputter, and then Spencer’s head rolls to the side. Hearing Spencer’s voice is like a melody to a childhood song long forgotten to testaments of time. 

That peace doesn’t last for long. You blink and Hankel is pulling Spencer back into the chair and telling him to choose a member of the team to die. And then the gun was pointed at Spencer’s skull. Anger flared within you, and a tear slipped down your cheek. You were shaking, you knew that, everyone knew that based on the brief look Gideon had shot you as the gun was raised. 

“Choose” Hankel’s voice echoed, and he pulled the trigger. No bullet. 

“Choose” Again, he pulled the trigger. No bullet. 

“Choose” Hankel asked again, voice unsettlingly calm.

“No” God dammit Spencer, your internal thought’s begged. Hankel pulled the trigger. No bullet. Spencer might be a genius, but his life was in the hands of lady luck. 

“Choose” There was no immediate response from Spencer. He paused, licked his chapped lips, glanced at the camera before looking Hankel in the eye. Spencer’s voice crackled through the shitty computer speakers. 

“I-I choose…Y/N” You thought your heart was going to explode. What? No, this couldn’t be happening. All eyes in the room turned to you, but your eyes remained fixated on the screen.

“She’s a classic narcissist. She thinks she’s better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4 ‘Let him not deceive himself, in trust, in emptiness, In vanity, in falseness and futility. It advises that these will be rewarded with nothing or emptiness” . You didn’t care to hear the rest of what Spencer had to say. You turned on your heel and left the room, you paused when you heard the bullet fire, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Pacing back and forth in the kitchen you see it. A bible. In record time, you pull the book open and flip through the pages, desperately searching for Genesis 23:4. Up until now, you had never cracked open a bible, having never grown up with the teachings of a religion, and searching these foreign pages for a desperate answer you almost wanted to cry. Before the academy you swore to not believe in any gods, because you wanted no man to hold such power over you, and yet here you stood, frantic and desperate searching the bible for an answer. 

The team began to file into the kitchen looking at you with forlorn expressions. “I’m not a narcissist” you bite out. Gideon and Hotch begin to speak over each other trying to reassure you. Continue to flip through the pages at such a pace that not even Spencer could replicate you murmured under your breath desperate for an answer. Then it hits you. The realization hits you with the force of a freight train and you nearly want to cry. Just as you’ve made the connection the passage to Genesis 23:4 stares up at you “I am a foreigner and stranger among you. Sell me some property for a burial site here so I can bury my dead.”. 

You look up at the team, mouth open, and flipping the bible around to show them the verse. “Spencer and I argued about the definition of narcissism the other day, he’s in a cemetery!” Hotch and Gideon shared a look of shock, and Garcia was rushing back to the computers. 

“Marshall Perish! There’s a cemetery in Marshall Perish” She called, her voice like heaven as she delivered the news. You double checked your gun was in its holster before you were bolting out the door, the team following close behind. “Bring our boy back home!” she yelled after us.  

We will. Come hell or high water. 

༺♰༻

It was Tobias who always showed Spencer kindness, and while it was few and far between because Rapheal took the reins, he was grateful. Right now, Hankel was giving him water, the feeling of the cool soothing liquid ran down his throat, a couple of drops escaping and running down his chin. 

The first few times that Tobias had drugged him, he had resisted, but now, Spencer knew it was an act of kindness to take him out of his misery. This time, Spencer welcomed the feeling of the cold medicine running through his system. 

Under the influence of the drugs admitted everything. Everything about Diana, about how he went behind her back and got her admitted to a mental hospital. Looking up at Hankels’s eyes, he knew he was done for. And he didn’t care, he knew his chances of ever seeing you again were slim, why prolong his own suffering?

“Grab a shovel”

༺♰༻

The team was closing in. You had arrived at Marhall perish no more than 10 minutes ago and just found the cabin. With a sturdy kick, Morgan knocked down the door to the cabin. Your heart beat faster. Spencer wasn’t there. You move swiftly through the woods, and you can faintly hear Hankel yelling at Spencer, and then you spot them. While your heart was racing a minute ago, it nearly stopped at the sight of them. Spencer was knee deep in a grave, bloody and bruised, with Hankel Standing over him. Spencer had a gun raised at Hankel, and when the man took a step towards him, Spencer pulled the trigger. Except there was no bullet. You could see the fear in his eyes, as he pulled it again, no bullet. Hankel’s laugh echoed through the cemetery, and that was enough to snap you out of it. Anger coursing through your veins you stepped forwards and made the shot. Hankel collapsed forwards, onto Spencer, and you ran. You ran like hell. 

You quickly reached the pair, and the sound of your gun firing led the rest of the team to finding all three of you. You pull Hankel off of Spencer, not caring what happened to that bastard. Spencer looked up at you with a mixture of surprise, gratitude and horror. The look didn’t last long as he sat up and threw his arms around your neck. 

“I knew you’d figure it out” He whispered, his tears running down your neck, and soaking into your shirt. But you didn’t care. Spencer was alive, and that’s all you truly cared about. Returning the embrace, you made eye contact with Hotch, and gave him a look to give y’all a minute. The rest of the team was dealing with Hankel’s body and the ambulance, when you heard the three words you never thought you would ever hear again. 

“I love you” Spencer shakily breathed, Tears pricked in your eyes, and you squeezed hardened, just to prove he was real. 

Pulling back, you looked at him, your hands moving up to cup both sides of his face. Your thumb gently stroking his blood soaked hair. He leaned in for a kiss, a chaste brush of the lips that conveyed the message that he needed to get across. Both of you sat there, chests heaving and sniffling Foreheads pressed together you whispered. 

“Let’s get you home.”