#Privateer 2: The Darkening

[dduane]

After knowingly being a fan of your Star Trek work since the 90s, and having pushed Young Wizards on as many folks as I can for the last (how long have I been on here?) dozen years or so, and having bought the full download pack just before UK sales went on hiatus due to taxes, I have finally, finally started reading SYWTBAW. I'm instantly in love. The character introductions are perfect. The system explanations are natural, fitting with what the characters know themselves. I'm so happy! But that's an aside, a happy bonus...

I have been a fan of the X-Com/UFO game series since I first discovered it, which was when they brought the game to the Playstation in '95? Wow, that game was wild. I would go visit my friend and play with him, working on tactics for missions for hours on end, then come home and boot up my own system and run more missions on my own. I had multiple memory cards so I could save while engaging the enemy and also keep a save safely back at base if things went pearshaped. When I finally entered the PC-owners market in 97, it was one of the first games I installed there and I still have a copy on every computer I've owned since, and play regularly. I have the official strategy guide, and (the point of this message) I have the tie-in novel that you wrote! Finding that was a lucky thing, I've never seen or heard of another copy. I love what you did with the story, how it ties in well to the mechanics and spirit of the game without remaining constrained to the specifics of the game engine's limitations due to programming requirements.

When it came to writing about games, and writing for games such as Wing Commander, did you (do you still) play (m)any of them to learn more about the systems and lore?

Firstly: thanks for the nice words about my work. :) Much appreciated.

In answer to the question you wound up with: I'm not gaming actively at the moment... there's too much other stuff going on locally that requires my attention. But when I've been asked to participate in a game-based project, I absolutely spend as much time playing it as possible before I get down to work. I'll never be able to spend as much time on it as any given game's major enthusiasts would. But I do my homework, and make sure I have the data I need to handle the story issues and to drive a decent plot.

When I was working on Privateer 2: The Darkening, this wasn't so much of a problem, because I came in as cold as anyone else: nobody outside EA had played the game before. :) That said, I hadn't been hired for my expertise as a gamer, but as a screenwriter. I did spend a lot of time with the game designers and engineers, watching how gameplay was supposed to go and working out how I could best reinforce that rhythm in the way the scenes I was writing played out. It was a really enjoyable collaboration, as the engineers were as fascinated with what I was doing as I was with what they were up to. If there was a downside to the experience, it was having to be more or less a prisoner in Slough for six weeks while the writing and rewriting happened. But this kind of thing is an occupational hazard, best taken as gracefully as possible. (Though that wasn't hard in retrospect, especially considering the cast who wound up speaking the lines I'd written. Clive Owen, Brian Blessed, Mary Tamm, David Warner, John Hurt, Mathilda May, David McCallum, Jürgen Prochnow,... my God, what a lineup.)

X-Com: UFO Defense, though, I'd known for a long time and had played quite a bit: so when asked to pitch, I more or less came in hot with a bunch of issues that I felt needed more attention than they'd had in the actual game. I was delighted to get more or less carte blanche to handle them, and to create a bunch of edgily professional characters to run around destroying the bad guys. It was also, frankly, a ton of fun to use the narrative to blow up or drop alien spacecraft on things that (in real life) were annoying me in that timeframe. For example, in the culmination of one battle I dropped a big alien ship through the beautiful Renaissance Revival roof of the main rail station in Zurich because I was cranky about some slippery floor tile they'd installed downstairs in a refurbishment of the ShopVille shopping center. (I mean, seriously, people track huge amounts of snow and slush in down there when they come off the escalators from street level: why would you not put nonslip tile on that floor? It's deeply irresponsible. So they had it coming.) :)

...Anyway, it was really enjoyable having a chance to play around with what I imagined Earth's geopolitics to be doing under gameplay conditions, while also enacting a more than usually complex game scenario in prose. I don't know if or when I'll be doing that kind of work next, but writing the X-Com: UFO Defense novel definitely left a good taste in my mouth.

Thanks for asking!

(ETA: and here are those tiles. ...The cubical affair in front is an art installation: an illuminated "fountain". It was originally made of wires or strands of plastic cable, down which drops of glycerine, or something like it, slowly slid. But they seem to have swapped that out for water. And, oh look, there's video!)

[retrocgads]

USA 1997

[lov-3-rs]

“Show me some fuckin respect”

part 2

ghost and you have been at each other’s throats all day because apparently you don’t give him “enough” respect.

He walked up closer to you having you back up into a wall and even only inches away from your face, under the mask you could hear the grinding of his teeth and feel his hot breath seething out of it.

damn you really pissed him off

“give respect get respect” you say in a tone that would most definitely get your own ass whooped by your parents.

his eyes darkened and his hand moved so fast to grab your jaw you didn’t have time to react, “I am YOUR lieutenant, YOU listen to ME and YOU will do what I say without any questions or backtalk, do YOU understand private?” you were still so caught off guard by the grip he had on your jaw you couldn’t speak and…

and.

oh fuck this turned you on.

you couldn’t help but smirk in his grip which only became tighter “Answer me now” he shook you a little causing you to come back into reality “yes sir i’m sorry it won’t happen again” you groaned, Ghost tilted his head looking at you and even with the mask on you could see he was wearing a smirk through his eyes “you like this shit? huh? you like me grabbin you like this?” you moaned nodding your head yes and squeezing your thighs together.

god this really turned you on.

Ghost slowly let go of your jaw and his deep british accent “get on your knees private” you stand taken back a little.

my knees? why would he wan-

oh

oh

You slowly get on your knees still looking up at him, “go on then show me how sorry you really are” your heart is beating so fast right now “sir are we even allow-“ ghost grabs the back of head grabbing a handful of hair and forcing you to look up at him fully “what the fuck did i just say about questioning what i tell you?” you can feel yourself dripping through your fucking pants by now “not to do it” he loosens the grip on your hair “look at you listening for once” you tilt your head back down to the massive bulge in his pants that’s in desperate need for attention and release, you unzip his pants for his fat cock to slip out.

will this even fit in your mouth?

His dick is hard and veiny with pre cum leaking out of it, you grab the base of his shaft and start stroking it while you put your mouth on his pink tip and lick up the pre cum “Fuckin hell” his grip on your hair gets tighter once again as he pushes your head further down his cock “Fuckin look at ya, you’re a fuckin minx” drool was dripping from your chin down your neck and on his cock, you could feel the tears running down your face from the gagging you were doing, Ghost groaned and face fucked you till your lips were nice a swollen “sh-shit i’m gonna fuck that little hole of yours after I cum in this bratty fuckin mouth you got” your jaw was sore and your panties were soaked but you kept sucking and swirling your tongue around his dick “shit i’m gonna cum” he pushed your head all the way down to the bottom of his cock and painted your throat with his warm cum, after a couple of second sitting like that you finally pushed yourself back so you could finally breath. You were a mess with your hair knotted, drool and tears streaming down your face but god he loved it, Ghost zipped himself up kneeled down to you “come on It’s my turn to show you how sorry I am”.

and oh boy.

did he have a way of showing it.

[hoony2k]

CUT THE CAMERAS!

The last thing you expected was to see your and your bf's names on the newest relationship reveal headline above a giant picture of you two hiding in a darkened alley sharing an ice cream..what now? (Part 3)

Part 2.

Part 1.

PAIRING: ot7

GENRE: fluff, crack, slight angst

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 600-700

NOTE: hii this was fun to write. Hope you enjoy

Requested masterlist

★ HEESEUNG:

actually fuming because there is no way a random reporter kept stalking him and exposed his relationship without your consent, it's less about him because he's worried about your reaction. Besides, he had created an entire plan to introduce the new status and the fact that someone spoilt is really gets to him. He wanted a special announcement, maybe even a letter of how much he adores you and loves his fans yada yada. The last thing he expected to see was for someone to take away his reaveal from him. When the anger dies down, he just knows that he wants to go public. There is nothing to be scared of, he never liked meeting in secret anyway. Doesn't deny the allegations, accepts them with his whole chest.

★ JAY:

he texts you saying "it's fine" and "to relax" but he's crying shaking panicking. He can't let his girl see all that because he needs to be rational about it, at least try to pretend he's not seconds away from sprinting to your dorm to check if you're fine. But in the end he'll be actually cool about it, after speaking to you about it, he'll end up listening to your decision. Whatever you say comes first for Jay, whatever your decision is will be his. After the shock settles, he'll actually be cool headed about it. There's nothing to hide and he is confident in himself and you, you handle yourself well and so does he. After he agrees with the rumours, he'll be private about the relationship but will slip small bits here and there.

★ JAKE:

he’s panicking because this was not on this New Year’s list. A part of him wants to pretend that nothing is wrong and the other wants to hide away until the hype dies down- but that’s not possible. So, with frazzled nerves, he picks up your call and asks you what you want to do, your decision will be his. Of course, it could be easy to deny it, pretend a couple of friends were hanging out yet a part of him wishes you want to agree with the rumours. He’s tired of hiding and pretending you don’t exist. He doesn’t care if the worlds collide or the sun burns everything, he wants to go public, even if it means being forced to say yes or no to fans who have been speculating ever since the news came out. Ultimately, he shares his opinion with you but will choose whatever you’re comfortable with because it’s not just his career that will be affected.

★ SUNGHOON:

at first, he’s over the moon to see people complimenting the pair and wishing the news to be true but when he sits down and lets the news digest, he feels sick. Someone snapping a picture of you when you were so vulnerable and unaware of what would happen the next day, it’s a horrible thought and although the picture includes him as well, he ignores how his privacy was overlooked and worries for you. he feels powerless because he should have known, he should have covered your face with his body but dwelling in regret won’t help anyone. So what he does is that yes! Park Sunghoon is dating one of the most spectacular idols but also someone is getting sued by him, his company and your company. Everyone sleeps happily.

★ SUNOO:

completely unfazed, checks the news, texts you good morning, and does his usual routine, moisturised, unbothered, relaxed. He has nothing to fear, he had prepared soft ground for the reveal, whether it was a reveal without his and his partner’s permission. He genuinely has nothing to fear because everyone has heard of friends to lovers and the number of times, he mentioned you and vice versa did not surprise anyone. Everyone was practically waiting for the announcement. News agencies can say whatever they want, and make up whatever narrative they can based on one picture, he knows that his and your response to the situation will matter more than some random news headline. So he waits for you to make your move and decide. In the end, going public doesn’t seem like a scary idea to you, especially when you know Sunoo had your back throughout.

★ JUNGWON:

one of the worst things that could ever happen because one, he was NOT mentally prepared for this and two, they did not ask for permission. Isn’t that illegal? Shouldn't this be illegal? Sure, he’s an idol but he’s also got a personal life. Immediately begins to wonder what went wrong, if he didn’t scan the environment well or whatever he can do to ensure nothing like this happens again. Does not text or check the time, he will call you and would prefer if you two can decide on the spot because he wants this to be dealt with now. Mulling it over and waiting to drag it out will only harm your career as nasty people will sprout random nonsense just for fun. After the decision has been made, he’ll consult his manager and no, he will not change it even if he gets pressurised to do so. It’s a mutual decision and he wants you two to be on the same page.

★ NIKI:

shocked for a minute, wants to be comical about it but instead chooses to think about it deeply. He has experienced first-hand how disgusting people on the internet are and it is no doubt that you have been a victim of them as well. He does like you and wants to be with you for a very very long time so accepting/rejecting the rumours is not his main priority, it’s his relationship. As much as he wishes he could spend time with you in public without masks, holding your hand without a worry in the world- he can’t. so unfortunately, he’s going to deny the allegations for your safety. Logically, neither you or him are ready nor established enough to face the heat. Whatever lies the companies can come up with, you two will agree and have to continue being secretive about it. Perhaps one day, Niki can sit next to you on camera, maybe even caress your hand and call you a nickname, but it’s not any time soon. He’ll have to make peace with playing subtle pranks on you.

Thank you so much for reading!

Please do not copy/translate/edit.

[astralnymphh]

have u ever thought bout cowboy!ellie 👉👈

remembered this ask exists sorry it took me so long i literally have so much on my plate. but like. whenever I think of cowboy!ellie, I think of a red dead redemption 2 crossover. okay, I've only played the online game so far but GOD I would do anything for her ♡

imagine giving her a lap dance at a saloon. like in one of those private rooms. all decked up in ur' cute leather boots and long chiffon skirt bunched up on her lap, cotton chemise tossed goddess knows where— tensing your thighs around the flex of hers, squeezing a darkened blotch upon the material of her pants, wriggling the uncomfortable–ness of pooling sleek betwixt your smushed folds. ellie, so undeniably enamored in the dance your hips give, coos in that swirly drawl that's got ur' insides wrenching out gushes upon gushes of arousal, "bless you baby, workin' those hips like ya' own my fuckin' lap. ohh, fuuck— leakin' already? wanna stand n' turn? show me how she look?" and the top of her hands are so dimpled pushing her grip harsher on your ass, fondling fingerprints in the pads of fat through thin layers of fabric, drawing her hand up to land a smack every now and then, going, "yeah?" when you kick a yelp from your panting pout, ughh and she'll chuckle dry with a slanted, open–mouthed smirk, watching you squirm and defile that thigh of hers with your bewitching mien. ♡

m' like tired rn so this is a bit lazy rn but someone remind me to write this more detailed or give me a scenario for later.

she's like full evolution farm!ellie

[eroselless]

PATO - ONE

series masterlist | part 2 | part 3

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: angst, fighting, mentions of pregnancy

note: I don’t listen to Billie Eilish all that much but my best friend got me hooked on her latest album and for some reason, Wildflower inspired me to write this. Might not have any correlation but ya know, when life give you lemons. Also here Charles and Carlos aren’t as close as they seem to be in real life. Hope you enjoy it!

MONACO, DECEMBER 2022 

You stand in the dim light of your living room, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows across the floor. Two years' worth of memories are strewn across the carpet like scattered leaves on a chilling autumn afternoon. Your chest heaves as you face Charles, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

“I feel like I’m drowning here, all on my own,” you breathe, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “You’re never home, you’re always away! What about us?”

Charles runs a frustrated hand through his hair, his agitation palpable. “You fully know that racing isn’t a hobby for me; it’s my passion, my life. I thought you understood that,” he spits out, his words sharp with frustration.

“I do understand that!” you exclaim, hands going up to rub at your eyes. Your face is slick with tears, they seem to fall at a never-ending pace. “But passion shouldn’t come at the expense of our relationship. You could come home, but you don’t!”

He shifts uncomfortably from across the room, his eyes darting away from yours to the carpeted floor below. His nostrils are flared in anger as he speaks. "So, what are you saying? You want me to give up my dreams? To stop racing?"

"No, I want you to find a balance. I want you to make time for us, for me. I can't keep feeling like I'm always second place. When you do come home, which is hardly ever, it’s like you're not even here. You’re closed off, cold. We barely spend any time together, and when we do, it’s like you're trying to hide me away.”

Charles’s eyebrows furrow, his jaw clenching as he shoves a finger in your direction. “I keep our relationship private to protect you from the media circus, you know that!” he interjects. "I can't believe you're being so selfish, Y/N," Charles snaps, his fists clenching at his sides. "You knew what you were getting into from the very beginning."

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders sagging with exhaustion. It's an excuse you’ve heard time and time again, and there's only so much of it you can handle.

“Selfish?" you shoot back, your voice trembling with anger. "I'm the one who's been here, supporting you, waiting for you, and now I'm asking for a little bit of your time, and I'm the selfish one?" Your chest aches as you take a breath, your resolve melting away.

"And you fully know that I can handle whatever the media comes at me with,” you sigh. You turn and make your way down the hall, to your room, Charles following close behind you. All he can do is stand and watch as you start to shove things in a backpack. 

As you pull on a jacket and prepare to leave, he reaches out to stop you, his voice small with confusion. “What’s going on?” he asks, his hand reaching for yours.

You swat his hand away, your heart heavy with sorrow and frustration. “We're just two people trying to make a relationship work. But if you can't even be here for that, then what's the point?” you argue, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You don’t need to worry about keeping us a secret anymore, Charles.”

There’s a tense silence as he struggles to process your words, tears beginning to prick at his cerulean eyes. You stare into them, searching for a sign, a plea for you to stay. But you see none. And with a heavy heart, you slip out of the door, leaving him behind in the empty silence of your once-happy home.

You gaze out the window, eyes tracing over the contours of the darkening landscape. Raindrops patter slowly against the glass, each droplet a melancholic echo of the turmoil raging within you. Outside, the trees and grass blur together, mirroring the jumble of emotions swirling inside your chest. Your hand falls gently to your tummy and you can't help but glide your fingers over it tenderly. 

With trembling fingers, you reach into your bag and pull out the pregnancy test, its plastic casing cool against your skin. The two bold lines glare back at you, a stark reminder of the life beginning to grow inside you. Fear and uncertainty fill the cavities of your chest, threatening to overwhelm you. You close your eyes, tears tracing silent paths down your cheeks once again. 

Leaving Charles before telling him about the baby feels like abandoning a ship in the middle of a storm. Guilt gnaws at your chest as the train hurtles further and further away from Monaco, the distance between you and Charles widening with each passing moment.  You couldn’t shake the truth that seemed to present itself in bold letters before you. Charles may have been there, he may have laid in the same bed as you but for some time, his thoughts were miles away.

Another fear blooms at the edges of your mind. At 21, you never expected to face the daunting prospect of motherhood on your own. It's not the path you imagined yourself on at all. You thought you would marry Charles and share the joys and challenges of this baby with him.  But now, as the reality of your situation sinks in, you find yourself grappling with the harsh truth that you are all alone in this journey.

You loved how passionate he was about racing, and admired the fire in his eyes as he chased victory on the track. But in his relentless pursuit of glory, he seemed to have left you behind with nothing but his silhouette, a mere afterthought in his quest for greatness. 

In that moment, you realize that in many ways, you'd have to raise the child on your own regardless of Charles's presence. His absence has left you feeling isolated and alone, grasping at the fragments of your fractured relationship. If you'd stayed, who knows if he would have changed? The uncertainty weighs heavily on your heart, threatening to drag you under.

With a sigh, you feel yourself sag further into the train seat, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. The ticket inspector’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you hastily produce your ticket, handing it over to him with a shaky hand. Across the aisle, you catch the gaze of a woman's eyes full of unspoken sympathy as she watches your fingers tighten around the pregnancy test. You give her a tight-lipped smile as the ticket inspector hands back your ticket before turning back to the window, your gaze fixed on the blurring landscape outside as you hurtle toward an uncertain future.

a/n: a little short for the first chapter but they’ll be a little longer in the future, hope you guys enjoy this first one :) also if you made it this far, I just wanted to share that the word pato means duck. It's not too important for now but it will be later! As always, thank you for reading!

[writingsfromhome]

Impossibly Real

A/N: cute little story about being in a rough dating world and having a nice neighbour friend.

Part 2

———————————————————

I memorize the face on my phone whilst standing in the middle of my building lobby. I study it as if I hadn’t been staring at his pictures since we both swiped right a couple weeks ago.

“Hot date?” A voice calls out. I look up to the source—one of my neighbours with takeaway in one hand and a case of beer in the other. The smell of his dinner makes my stomach rumble—I’d skipped dinner myself for this 8pm date.

“A very hot date,” I respond. Harry was one of the first people I’d interacted with when I moved to this complex a year and a half ago. He’d helped me move my boxed mattress in and I thanked him with a lukewarm beer. Ever since, we’d pick up on conversation every time we saw each other.

Most of those times were when we’d both be rushing out to work in the morning. Sometimes he’d walk to the tube with me, both of us going in opposite directions. Other times his girlfriend would pick him up.

“Let’s see,” he switches his beer to the other hand and holds his hand out.

I pretend to open the app and look for my date’s profile as if it hadn’t been open for the last three hours. He makes a sound of approval when I pass it over.

“Right?” I grin as he scans the profile.

I wasn’t always lucky in love. When Harry first met me I was fresh out of a 3 year relationship, and the only things to follow were bad dates and lonely nights.

“Likes pizza?” Harry says like he’d just caught sight of the guy’s private pictures.

“Yeah? So what?” I feel my defences go up. “Who doesn’t?”

“Yeah but that’s so…basic.” He hands the phone back. “That’s like saying ‘Drinks tea’ or ‘breathes air’.”

“No it’s not!” I wanted this to be a good one so badly, I wouldn’t hear any of Harry’s slander. “It’s relatable, and shows he’s down to earth.”

Harry groans. “Remind me what you do for work?”

I squint at him, unsure where he was going with his. “Analyst.”

“Ah,” he switches his beer back to his other hand and it snaps me out of the moment. I always lost track of time talking to Harry and this couldn’t be one of those times. I had somewhere to be!

“Ah what?” I glance at the door.

“As an analyst you’re used to reading into things-“

“Piss off!” I shut him down. “I’m leaving now.”

“I’m joking!” Harry calls out. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

I don’t respond to him as I walk away but he calls out my name.

“You look great, it’ll be a good date.”

“Fingers crossed,” I echo. “Enjoy your night.”

I find a taxi quickly and sit on my hands the whole way there so I don’t pick at my nails. There was no such thing as out of my league, I remind myself. He was just going to be a guy. A good looking guy.

***

“I’m getting a bit tipsy,” Dave admits. It was half past 9 and we’d had 5 drinks total, one of those being a nervous shot when he hadn’t showed up in the first ten minutes.

“We should get something to eat!” I suggest.

He grimaces. “It’s a bit overpriced in here.”

Oh. He was cheap.

That was rude. I snap out of my darkening thoughts. I couldn’t help it: not only was Dave late, he looked 5 years older than his pictures, which wasn’t a bad thing, but he was also 5 inches shorter than his profile stated.

It was awkward when he came in and I got up to hug him. I’d worn my 3 inch heels expecting to still come to his chest but we’d met at eye level instead. I didn’t want to make it awkward so I had sat down quickly. I regretted wearing these heels. They were chaffing against my feet even whilst sitting.

And the whole evening had been stiff conversation, like rubbing sandpaper against itself. It had ended in a dull evening. He was cute. That was all he had going for him.

“There’s a really good pizza place around here!” I say casually, like I hadn’t Googled the vicinity for an hour after we’d made plans. “I heard it was rated top 10 in the city.

His grimace comes back, it made him more unattractive the more he did it.

“I can go for some chips. There’s probably one down the road, you alright for a walk?”

“Great!” Maybe some fresh air and a change of scenery could spice the night up.

He pays the bill—maybe he wasn’t so cheap, I think. That is until we get to the chips shop and he hangs back for me to order for us. And pay.

I can already imagine retelling this date to my girl friends. They were all engaged or married so my dating stories were always amusing content for our hangouts.

Crossing from 20 to 30 made the stories more tragic than amusing, but I lived to laugh and that’s what I usually did after getting over bad dates like this one.

“It’s a nice night,” Dave says when we get our chips. He douses his in ketchup like a toddler would. Gah!

“It is…”

“Let’s take these outside.”

I’d rather not, with my heels digging into the backs of my feet and the blisters chafing against the fake leather. But I agree.

“So what’s with the pink?” He asks randomly.

“What?” I say over a mouthful of chip. I didn’t care how disgusting I was at this point. He’d done the bill-for-a-bill thing without asking and I’d lost any hope I had for the evening. I may as well be gross.

“The pink, you’ve got it at the bottoms of your hair and your earrings, your lips and your skirt and your heels-“

“I like pink.”

“That’s obvious,” he says dryly. “Is there a story behind it or something? Usually only schoolgirls wear their favourite colour that much.”

And usually only younger boys have fries with they ketchup rather ketchup with their fries, I want to say. But I keep my mouth shut.

“I think it’s overrated that getting older means getting all serious and boring. Pink’s my favourite colour and the world can know it. Be brighter for knowing it too.”

I keep my tone light yet Dave seems to takes my personal philosophy as a direct attack.

“But it’s a bit juvenile isn’t it? You don’t have to be boring just because you’re an adult but no one’s going to take you much seriously all dressed in pink. It’s a bit childish.”

“Not childish enough for you to want to go on a date with me,” I say. My pink hair was on display in my profile as well as many pink outfits throughout my linked Instagram. I know he’d seen it.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, not like that.” He backtracks. His face turns my favourite colour, even in the dark.

“When grown men are obsessed with Star Wars or Lord of the Rings or whatever, nobody bats an eye. They show up with fictional characters on their shirt and tattooed on their arms and it’s all dandy. But you think the world’s going to take me less seriously because I wear a lot of pink?”

“Okay I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.” Dave backs down like I knew he would. I’d known too many boys like him, who charged up when they thought they had an ounce of intellect over me. Reciprocate with even an ounce of assertive energy and they back down like a well-trained dog.

This night was tragic. My hopes up for nothing. And my feet were blistered for no damn reason.

“I think we’ve understood each other just fine.” I wipe my hands on a napkin and toss the rest of my chips away, ignoring the look Dave gives me. “It was a night, I’m going to head home now.”

“Look I-“

“Goodnight.” I walk away. I had no idea what direction but as long as I can end the night with the hope-zapper Dave.

***

On the lift up to my flat I look at myself in the mirror. Dead eyes, flushed and puffy face from the alcohol, and my hair was voluminous from the windy night air. I couldn’t wait to get to my flat and take my stupid heels off. They were so painful they’d now actually gone numb.

My phone rings as I get to my door. Dave. The nerve of that guy!

I put it on silent and fish out my keys but my phone buzzes a second time and I drop them.

“Fuck!” I say just as the door behind me opens.

“Woah!” Harry steps back into his flat after nearly tripping over my crouched figure.

“Ugh sorry,” I stand back up, keys looped around my finger.

“You’re back early.” Harry slowly eyes me from top to bottom. It makes my stomach feel like a washing machine on high. “Nice night with pizza guy?”

“Pizza guy was just like the others.”

I lean against my door and ignore my phone that’s now gone off for the third time in my purse.

“Fair enough. He did say he likes pizza.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I whine. “I just wasted £30 on shite company.”

“Can I offer you a beer or have you had too many?”

I look down at my watch. It was half past 10, and I had work tomorrow but life was short and I was miserable so I follow Harry in.

“I’ll just toss this later.”

It’s only then I realize Harry had a trash bag in his hands and he was in his boxers and a robe. He rests the bag near his door and motions to the fridge as he walks down his hall. “Grab me one too?”

I’d been in Harry’s flat a few time, once when I baked too many sugar cookies for Christmas and he invited me in to eat with him. Another time when he was having a birthday party. I had thought it was cute his friends had done that for him old school. The last time was when my wifi stopped working one weekend and I had to ask him to use his. That was a nice day, both of us were going through busy season and had worked side by side on our laptops until Harry announced we were losers and should stop working to get dinner and watch a movie. That was one of my favourite days living in this complex so far.

I’m still standing in his kitchen when he comes out with sweatpants.

“Why are you still standing there?”

I look down at my shoes and so does he.

“Don’t you want to take those off?” Harry lifts one brow, confused.

“I’m scared.” I say. I didn’t know what I’d find. I felt like I was standing in a pool of blood.

“Why?” Harry was lucky he didn’t know the fear of taking off awful shoes after a long day of breaking them in. Men were lucky that way.

I shift my heel away from the back of the shoe and pain shoots up. It sounds sticky. I whimper. “Can you get me a chair?”

“What did you wear?” Harry’s staring at them with a mixture of fear and confusion. He carries one of his dining chairs to me. “Those are like, torture heels.”

“Tonight was torture.” I sit down and cross my foot over my knee. I take a deep breath. Harry hovers above me not able to look away. “Here goes nothing.”

I pry the shoe away and nearly cry.

“Oh my god!” Harry shouts. “Yo-you’re bleeding! What the f-“

“Oh my god,” I was dripping onto his floor. “Can I get-“

“Tissue!” Harry’s already throwing me his roll but I knock it away.

“I need help. Getting. To the bathroom.”

“Right right.” Harry kicks my shoe away and leans down so I can wrap my arm around his shoulder. I feel like an injured football player but so much more pathetic as I limp to his bathroom.

He sets me down on his toilet seat and blasts the tub with water.

“Sorry,” I limp to the edge of his bathtub and swing myself so that my feet dangle in. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your night.”

“I’m glad you did,” Harry’s voice still carries a hint of shock. “What is wrong with you? That’s diabolical you wearing shoes like that! What’s wrong with trainers? Or sandals? Don’t girls like strap sandals?”

��It just comes with being a woman okay?” I couldn’t answer all his questions. “I still need to take off the other one.”

I was more scared for my right foot than my left.

“Just…deal with that.”

Harry’s tub is filling with water and it stings everywhere it touches my foot. But especially my heel and all of my toes. I switch the knob to cold.

“Okay,” I take a deep breath. “The other fucking shoe.”

I can feel Harry peering over my shoulder. This one feels glued on and I squeal as I comes off. My foot looked like a bruised and crusted mess.

“Holy sh-“ Harry whispers. I dunk it fast in the running water and nearly topple backwards but Harry catches me with his knee and then stays there so I have somewhere to lean. It was nice.

“Bloody hell,” I swear as my feet sting and paint the water pink. “Genuinely so sorry about this.”

“Don’t be.” Harry shakes his head. “But please toss those shoes in the bin and never wear something like that again.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not. It’s very possible.”

“I love heels! I just need to break these in.”

“They’re breaking you love.”

I feel him stiffen behind me which makes me suddenly self-conscious. I didn’t really read into his words, love was just a term of affection used around my friends. But apparently it wasn’t something Harry used lightly.

“They are. These ones are going in the bin, DNA and all.” I try to continue casually. This was so weird. Weirder than it needed to be given Harry and I were mates at most; I’d met his girlfriend, I didn’t think of him anything more than a neighbourhood friend. We certainly hadn’t hung out outside our flats before.

“Maybe burn them to be sure,” Harry finally responds. His voice is a bit rougher than before. “Don’t want to get accidentally framed with the free DNA.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be too obvious a murderer to commit anything stealthily. They’d identify the pink-haired giant walking away.”

“You’re not a giant. You’re not even 6 feet.”

“I’m nearly 5’9 which is tall enough for a woman.”

“I don’t think so.” Harry brushes my hair behind my shoulder and a shiver runs up my spine. Maybe I should turn the icy water off. “Plus I like the pink. Makes you more interesting to look at.”

“So I’m not interesting to look at regularly?” I tease. I look up at him and the back of my head hits his thigh.

I see his adam’s apple bob and I suddenly feel vulnerable sitting here like this. I lean forward so my feet are steadied against the tub which is agonizing for my bloody feet but at least I wasn’t leaning against him.

“I said more interesting.”

The room grows quiet and I try not to read into it. Harry thought I was interesting to look at. Okay.

I turn the tap off and the silence in the room becomes unbearable.

“Have you got any plasters?” I turn inch by inch so I don’t slip on the lip of the tub or need more help from Harry. The energy in here was weird and him touching me was going to make it weirder.

“Yeah,” he’s eager to leave only to come back laughing. “They’re actually here. I…”

He opens a drawer and pulls a box out along with a tiny vial.

I take it from him, some sort of ointment oil. Why not.

“Motherf-“ I bite my lip as the ointment stings my cuts. “Why wouldn’t you warn me!”

Harry laughs again and it eases the tension a little. “I thought you knew it would burn!”

“I don’t treat cuts often jeez!”

“Sorry! That friend—you met him at my party, black curly hair, the one who does custom stuff?”

“Oh yeah I remember.”

“I helped him out one summer. I had to hand cut all these signs using one of those exacto blades? Cut my hands up so many times I had to buy something for them after one of them got infected.”

I wrinkle my nose at the idea of an infected cut and douse my other foot in the oil, swearing as I take the pain.

“I have a roll and cotton if you want to bandage your foot?” Harry suggests. “I don’t know if regular plasters cut it.”

“That’s so dramatic,” I usually stuck a couple plasters on and got on with it. But this was also the worst I’d ever had with breaking shoes in.

“Let me-“

“No!” I push Harry’s shoulder away as he leans down with the roll of bandage he’d procured. “Harry do not touch my foot!”

“I’ve dressed grosser,” he holds my heel gently and I try to yank it away again without falling into the tub but it’s impossible. I settle for pushing him away.

“Harry please! I’ve intruded enough stop touching my disgusting foot!”

“I’ve seen you wash it. It’s not disgusting, just bloody. Now stop squirming about!”

“Why are you…” I trail away because he wasn’t listening. He dabs my foot with a cotton pad and then begins the process of bandaging my heel and then my toe. I try not to squirm at how embarrassing this was.

Harry’s gentle and attentive as he moves on to the other foot which should make me feel okay but only adds to the humiliation. We were so not close enough to do this—I don’t even know if I’d do the same for him.

Another part of me knows I would. Despite knowing him in passing, plus a few solid occasions, I could tell Harry was one of the good guys. He was always chivalrous around the building, friendly in any interaction I’d seen with him, loved enough to be thrown a surprise birthday party, and caring enough to always ask about how I was doing. And to do this.

When he glances up I don’t expect it. Our gazes clash and the weird energy from before creeps in again.

“Sorted,” he lets my foot down gently.

“Harry I owe you like…a massive dinner, and drinks are on me forever forward.”

“That’s not necessary,” he chuckles as he puts his little first aid kit back. “Just don’t wear heels like that again please. It’s not worth it.”

“They’re so pretty though,” I sigh. They’re now discarded on the tiled floor, the insides bloody.

“Let’s get you that beer,” he holds a hand out.

“I can’t. I’ve kept you late and you probably-“

“One beer.”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“Just one,” his tone is gentle but he’s not taking no for an answer.

“Fine!” I admit defeat. He helps me up and together I limp to his couch.

We sit in silence for a bit while we drink. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but the events of the evening play in my head.

“He actually insulted me.” I blurt. Before he can ask questions I explain. “Firstly he was late, then he was droning on and on about shit I don’t even remember anymore. Then he was cheap about food, but because he paid for drinks he got me to pay for chips. Then he said I wear too much pink and nobody would take me seriously as an adult. That it was childish.”

“Really?” Harry leans forward from his end of the couch. “He said all that?”

“Yeah! I said men are allowed to wear their Star Wars shirts and Lord of the Rings bullshite. And when a woman wears more than one article of pink she’s childish?”

“What a prick.”

“I know!”

“You’re too good for someone like that.”

“Thank you,” I sit back, seen and validated.

“The pink makes you cool, stand out in a crowd. He’s just blind to look at you and think that. Or he’s just intimidated.”

“Oh yeah he lied about his height! So I stood there in those stupid pink heels taller than him.”

“That must have got him,” Harry grins. “I actually love that story.”

His words warm me.

“You’re so nice Harry,” I tell him. “Honestly you’re like a gem of a guy.”

“I’m not that nice-“

“Don’t tell me you’re a bad boy or something because you’re a solid good guy. Rare. Never change.”

“Hmph,” he clears his throat.

“Your girlfriend’s lucky. A lot of us have to put up with trolls before we find a good guy like you.”

Harry stays silent. Maybe I’d said too much. Maybe I should stop drinking.

“We broke up. Wasn’t good enough for her.”

Shite. Blistered, bloody, bandaged foot directly in mouth..

“I-I’m sorry. To hear that! Oh my god yeah I guess I haven’t seen her in a while-“

“Yeah been a few months now. I’m mostly over it.”

“How long were you two dating again?”

“Almost 3,” Harry twists his mouth to the side. I’d never seen him look bitter before. “I accepted it, the end of us. Until I hear from a friend she jumped right into another relationship. So…that must have been behind the scenes near the end of our relationship.”

Bitter indeed. “That’s a shitty way to find out too.”

“I wish she was just honest. Y’know like, I met someone else whatever. At least that way I took the hit at once and then got over it. Instead after a month of moving on I just got punched all over again.”

“That’s a dick move.” I agree. “I’ve seen you so many times the last few months why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t want to bring down the mood. Felt too loaded for a conversation on the lift.”

“You could have saved it for a walking-to-the-tube conversation?”

“Then just part ways after dropping that on you?”

“Isn’t that perfect?” I tease and he covers his face. I change the subject. “My 3.5 year relationship ended when he said he didn’t see me as marriage material.”

“I thought it was a mutual breakup?” Harry asks. I’m surprised he remembers what I told him when I first moved in.

“I lied. I didn’t want you to see me as your pathetically lonely neighbour.”

He laughs at that. At least I’d gotten a smile back on his face. “I thought it was a bit suspicious but I didn’t push it. Every time I saw you when you first moved in it always looked like you cried.”

“Oh my god!” I cover my face. “Don’t tell me that! That’s so embarrassing!”

It was true. I cried for three weeks straight after the breakup but I also thought I was sly enough to get around unnoticed.

“It’s not a big deal! I used to worry about you.”

“That’s another thing that’ll keep me up at night now—but see that’s sweet! You barely knew me and you worried. Like! You were raised right.”

“Sure,” he smiles my way with a laugh in his eyes. He was enjoying making me squirm but it’s this smile, one I’d never seen before directed at me, that made me squirm the most.

“Okay now stop being sweet and kick me out.” I gingerly stand and suck up the fresh pain that comes back.

“You can stay as long a-“

“Harry.” I look at him seriously. “I know we both work demanding jobs, and that’s what we have to do tomorrow morning. It’s past midnight and I should go.”

He sighs and gets up to help me hobble to his door.

“Good thing I live next door—oh my shoes. They’re in your-“

“I’ll get them to you later.” He promises.

“You just want to try them on in private.” I tease as he opens his door. He waits while I fish through my purse again for my keys. I remember then the missed calls from Dave—that feels so long ago.

“I like my feet whole.” He chuckles. “Plus I’m tall enough.”

“Some girls think 6 feet is short.”

“How do you know I’m 6 feet?”

I turn my key and let my door swing open.

“I’m good at telling heights.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Well,” I turn back to him and put my hand on my head. “I get my height and then just measure against the person. I gauge the inches which if I’m close enough-“ Harry moved closer to me so there’s only a few inches between us. “Uhm. If I’m close enough it’s easy to count up or down.”

“So you count up-“

“Three or so inches.” I look up, determined to meet his eye. It was just Harry. I didn’t need to feel weird around my neighbour Harry.

But I can’t look away. I never noticed the depth of his eyes; they’re mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

“It’s a neat party trick.” He says so low, but we’re so close it’s loud as hell to my ears. Or maybe that’s the blood rushing through my head.

“Don’t really go to enough parties to turn it into a trick.” My voice comes out squeaky and I clear my throat. “Mostly useful to compare a dating profile to the real thing.”

“Hm,” he hums. His fingers toy with the pinks of my hair before draping it behind my shoulder.

“I should go.” I say for the millionth time.

He looks at me again and I forget why I should go. His gaze drops to my lips and I feel hot—hotter than the pain on my bloody feet.

“You’re the real thing.”

It’s unconscious, the way I arch up to him. It’s natural, the way he meets me halfway. It’s unforgettable, the way his soft lips feel on mine.

Until I lean my weight on my toes and I’m reminded of my broken feet, this evening, and who I was kissing.

I couldn’t be kissing my neighbour! I saw him nearly every damn day!

“Har-“ I push gently at his chest and he’s quick to move back.

“Sorry I-that-“

“No I’m sorry that was me-“

“We should…”

“Yeah.” I grasp behind my back until my hand touches my doorframe. “Um…thanks for everything. Tonight.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s flushed and somehow more attractive than I’ve ever noticed. He also has a smidge of pink lipstick at the corner of his mouth but I file that away for later. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” I turn and quickly close my door, knowing Harry was not going to be the first to leave. Despite my head telling me not to, I turn and peep through the peephole. He’s still leaning against his doorframe, head bowed, running his hand through his hair. I watch him mutter something and then go in. I stay there until the automatic light switches off and then sink to the floor.

Harry. Friendly, funny, neighbour Harry. He’d dressed my bloody feet, served me beer, and then kissed me.

I touch my lips. I wasn’t even mad about it. This was going to be complicated no doubt, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

***

I manage to avoid Harry for a week. Which is a pretty impressive feat given our doors nearly open onto each others.

But he catches me on the lift after work one day. There’s already two others beside me and Harry nearly misses the lift, slipping in just as it’s closing. He does a double take when he sees me.

“Hey.”

“Hey!” Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

“Smart choice of shoes.”

We look down at my Stan Smiths.

“I’ve learned my lesson…for now.” I look back up at the row of numbers. The lift stops on floor 5 and the couple get out.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states simply when the door closes.

“I have not!” I finally look at him and nearly lose my breath. When did he become so attractive?!

“We see each other almost every day living the way we do. And you’re telling me we managed to miss each other for a week?”

I shrug, “it’s been a weird week.”

“When did the weird week start?”

Saved by the bell. The doors open to our floors with a ding, but Harry blocks me from my front door.

“Are you serious?” I try to sidestep him but he stays in my path.

“We should talk.”

“We’re talking now.”

“C’mon.” He sighs and moves out of my way. I sigh myself before opening my door and leaving it open behind me. He takes the hint.

“I want to apologize for that night.” Harry says. “I was just feeling vulnerable and it shouldn’t have happened-“

“You’re joking right? I was going on about how good you were and I got a little too into it I think. I totally kissed you so I’m sorry. For making it weird-“

“I kissed you,” Harry tries to correct me.

“No I kissed you so I should apolog-“

“No.” Harry cuts me off.

“Why are we arguing about this?” I throw my hands up. We’re standing in the entryway going back and forth about this. It was stupid. “We’re both sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. Let’s just move on okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “So we’re friends? You’re not going to avoid me in the building?”

“No.” I put my hands on my hips. “Cuz I wasn’t avoiding you in the first place.”

He laughs, throwing his head back and my breath catches. I lied. I wasn’t sorry I kissed him but I was sorry it ruined our friendship. Damnit.

“You’re impossible.”

“I thought I was the real thing?” I ask without thinking.

Slightly healed, but still bruised foot, directly in mouth!!!

“Impossible things can be real,” Harry’s mood changes. He stands taller and he takes a step towards me. “Do…do you want us to just move on?”

I don’t know how to answer that.

“I…we live right next to each other Harry. It’s-“

“Unconventional but not impossible.”

“Impossible.”

“But it can still be real.”

I can’t help it. I grin at how serious he was being with his play on words. He was serious about this though. It scared me a little.

“A date.”

“What about it?” I ask.

“We go on a date, see how things are. It they’re weird we go back to friends like we always were. If it’s good…”

“Okay. How about Friday?” I wanted this as much as it seemed like he wanted it. Dating was hard, apps were impossible. This good and kind man standing in front of me was impossible and real.

“Friday’s perfect. Wednesday would be even better.”

“Today is Wednesday.” I say before realizing what he meant.

“It is.”

“Okay. Pick me up at 7?”

“I’ll be on time.” Harry’s grin is contagious.

“Great.” I watch him walk back to the door.

“One favour?” He asks. I ask him what it is. “Wear something pink?”

“Most definitely.” My heart surges and I feel seen. So seen.

I think he was the real thing too. Impossibly real. And possibly something more than neighbourly friends.

Excited and hopeful were an understatement. I couldn’t wait.

[notsosweetchan]

Part 2 for show time???? Please? I don't usually like the camboy trope, but something about that Chan one was so 😩

That private show sounds tempting lmao 👀

ʚ♡ɞ Show time part 2 ˚ʚ♡ɞ

Notes: Check out part 1

Warning: Camboy AU Smut

Paring: | Chan x Reader |

Chan's eyes widened as he read the private message. He didn't usually do private shows for just anyone. But there was something about @shyY/N that intrigued him.

He glanced at her profile and saw that she had been a loyal follower for quite some time now. His index finger hovered above the keyboard for a moment, before he typed out a response.

"Hey there @shyY/N, I don't usually do this but... for you, I'll make an exception. Name your price and time?" he sent the message, his heart racing in anticipation. He'd always wanted to connect with someone on a more personal level than just through a screen.

Y/N couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Chan's message. She could have sworn her heart was going to leap out of her chest. She quickly responded, "I-I umm.. I don't know how much to offer or when I'm available whenever you are."

She bit her bottom lip nervously as she waited for his response. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and she didn't want to mess it up. “How about three days from now and we can discuss the price then, just you and me, no one else” he winked at the camera before signing off.

Y/N couldn't believe her luck. A private show with her favorite cam model, it was like a dream come true. The next three days couldn't come fast enough, she thought about their private show every waking moment. That day finally arrived, Y/N couldn't sit still, her stomach in knots of anticipation.

She logged into the website and waited for Chan to go live.Chan was nervous but excited as he prepared for his private show with @shyY/N.

He'd never done something like this before but there was something about her that made him want to take a chance. He lit some candles and dimmed the room lights, trying to set the mood. When the time came, he went online and waited for her to join.

Y/N logged on and waited with bated breath. Chan's face popped up on her screen, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey @shyY/N, it's so good to see you again," he purred, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

"H-hi Chan," she stuttered, suddenly feeling shy. He chuckled softly and told her to relax. They began to chat, talking about mundane things at first, trying to break the ice between them. Slowly but surely, Y/N started to feel more at ease.

As they continued their conversation, Chan leaned in closer to the camera, their faces inches apart. "So tell me, what do you want to see tonight?" he asked huskily, his eyes darkening with desire.

Y/N blushed bright red but found her words. "I-I'd like to see you touch yourself for me," she whispered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Chan smirked and obliged, his strong hands unbuttoning his shirt revealing his chiseled abs. Y/N's mouth watered at the sight, and she couldn't help but rub her thighs together to quell the building arousal between them.

Chan made eye contact with the camera as if he could see her, then unbuckled his pants, revealing his half-hard cock.

"Tonight is all about you," he purred, "Tell me what you want me to do."

Y/N took a deep breath, her confidence growing by the second. "I want you to touch yourself for me, show me what makes you feel good," she purred back, amazed at her own bravado.

Chan didn't hesitate, his calloused fingers stroking his shaft to full hardness. Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen as he brought his other hand up to tease his nipples lightly.

"Like this?" he teased, "Or do you want something else?" Y/N's mind was reeling with possibilities but she settled on one. "I want to see you use that toy again," she breathed, referring to the one he'd used during his public show.

Chan obliged, reaching under the bed for the very same toy. He dipped it in lube and slid it ever so slowly into himself, moaning for her benefit. The sight of him moaning in pleasure made Y/N so wet she could feel her juices trickling down her thighs. She unbuttoned her pants and slipped a finger inside herself, mimicking his actions on the screen before her.

"Are you enjoying the show so far?" Chan asked, picking up the pace.

Y/N could only manage a moan in response as she watched him pleasure himself. It was like they were in the same room together, his moans echoing through her speakers.

He pulled out the toy and put it to his lips, teasing the tip before whispering, "I wish it was your pussy."Y/N moaned louder now, her walls clenching in anticipation.

"I wish it was too." The words left her lips before she could stop them. There was an electric charge between them even through the screen. Chan must've felt it too because he slammed the toy back in deeper than before, groaning out her name. “Oh Y/N, fuck me Y/N, please fuck me.“

Y/N picked up the pace, her fingers flying over her clit as she watched him fuck himself.The room was now a cacophony of their moans and the sound of their virtual union. Y/N couldn't believe she was doing this but it felt so right.

Chan's eyes locked with hers through the camera as he sped up his thrusts,moaning her name like a prayer.” I want to make a mess for you Y/N, I want to fill you up with my cum.”

Y/N couldn't take anymore, her orgasm hit her like a freight train. arching her back, pleasure coursing through her veins like lightning. Chan moaned out her name one last time before shooting his load all over the camera.

They both lay there panting, trying to catch their breaths. Chan was the first to speak up "So what did you think of your private show?" he winked, his voice slightly hoarse from earlier exertions. Y/N couldn't find her voice, so she simply sent him a screenshot of her satisfied pussy, sticky with her arousal.

Chan's eyes widened in awe before he replied, "Damn, I hope I've lived up to your expectations." Y/N couldn't stop the blush creeping up her cheeks, "You more than surpassed them." Chan smirked, "I'm glad,maybe we could do this again sometime perhaps in person?"

Y/N bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. "Maybe," she teased, signing off with a wink. Chan smiled to himself as he shut down his cameras for the night. Little did he know, it was the start of something more than either of them could have ever imagined.

[circeyoru]

The Cat On His Shoulders = Requested

[Alastor x Demonic Cat!Reader]

The Request

There were rumours that The Radio Demon fancies cat above all other creatures, even his own kind, that being deers, because of the black cat with red eyes that would always be around him no matter the situation. Be it a stroll through town, lunch at Cannibal Town, an Overlord meeting, a murder spree, and even to the tailor. There was always that black cat around him

Some demons thought it was Alastor’s soft spot, a weakness to exploit. The fools. You made your appearance and put those demons in their place. Turns out it was a demonic cat, one of the hellborns of Hell with the ability to shapeshift from animal to humanoid form. Your ability was even more unique, weak on your own but once paired with a sinner, you gain power and in turn boost your paired sinner’s abilities as well

Your meeting was funny to say the least. Alastor found your wounded cat form fighting for life and took you back with him to nurse you back to health, thinking you would make a good pet to pass the time. His mother and him have had a fondness for cats before and now that Alastor had the time, why not take care of one?

The moment the two of you stared at each other when you were in your humanoid form was mere silence. You immediately tried to flee since you were practically stealing from an Overlord, but Alastor was faster and got a hold of you with his shadows

“I’m sorry for hiding my identity from you, Sir Radio Demon.” You bowed your head in apology, your cat ears pinned to your head while your tail drooped lifeless. You had been acting as a cat would to avoid suspicion on you. You actually liked that Alastor was taking care of you and though treating you like a pet, he was kind. Kinder than other sinners that would take advantage of you

Alastor was quick to brush you off, nearly kicking you out the door if you were to be caught earlier on. But the two of you had spent time together for quite some time that affection was built up. You offered your ‘pairing’ ability to him. Explaining that while it was similar to a contract, it was exactly ownership of another, though others of your kind were treated as such

“My dear, how do you know I won’t treat you the same? Treat you like a slave and have you locked in a cage just to do your role as a power-up item?” Alastor’s aura darkened to seem threatening to you

“Because you were kind to me. I earn it for lying to you for so long…” Your answer was what led him to agree with your proposal, that and the fact that you weren’t lying about your ability. Just with you around, without the pairing, you boosted his powers as he did his battles while you watched from the sidelines. He noticed and kept you around most of the time. With a pairing, he’d be even more of a threat

In the beginning, you were treated as you were, albeit with the difference of your humanoid self roaming around his home. You knew his ‘thing’ with touches, so you’d avoid any direct contact with him. He was more comfortable with your cat form, but soon grew to like your humanoid form as well

Alastor loves rubbing your ears and patting your head. In turn, he actually lets you play with his ears and hair, only in private! To protect you better and make sure no one can just snatch you away, you’re in cat form and always on Alastor’s shoulders or in his arms. He loves your involuntary purring as well when you unconsciously nuzzle closer to him

You’re this close to him in public because if you die, your paired sinner would have their powers and abilities cut down to a mere 30%. While you can boost their powers at least 2 times depending on your closest and energy, you can cause just as much harm. The pairing thing is a double-edged sword

A skill the two of you found out about you was your ability to permit travels to other rings, only to your paired sinner. You once opened a portal to return to your home ring, Sloth, for a moment but then Alastor accidentally tripped and sent the two of you through the portal and both of you ended up in Sloth

It was a pleasant surprise, but Alastor couldn’t exactly do much else risk attaching too much attention to your abilities. While it was known that some abilities and powers manifest after pairing for your kind, never had you heard of this one. No wonder your friends were this wanted

You actually were there when Alastor and Husk made their bets. A mistake was Husk including you in the deal as well. With Alastor’s signal, you activated your ability to boost the odds in Alastor’s favour, Alastor needed luck and skill, you’ll give all that he needs

While you didn’t hold a grudge against Husk for including you in the deal, Alastor sure did. You watched from the sidelines how far Alastor bullied Husk into submission. You even told Alastor it was fine since you were used to it. His response was, “My darling, as long as you’re by my side, I will never let you be treated as a mere object to be used.”

You were already loyal before, but now you can say you fancy him. No surprise that Husk realized he actually had no chance against Alastor when you were near him. There were times when Husk tried to use you to threaten Alastor to break the deal, but you were no push-over, just because Alastor always protected you doesn’t mean you’re defenseless

There were times when Alastor was more protective and possessive of you, practically when you attracted other demons and sinners’ attention while being in humanoid form. He’d have his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him or have his arm linked with yours. At first you’d have trouble walking from the closeness. But you knew Alastor was just being careful

Don’t ask why, but you never saw it coming when Alastor asked for you to be his. Not the pairing or the soul contracts. But as in a romantic relationship. You nearly fainted but managed a soft ‘yes’

Nothing much changed from his nicknames for you would go from ‘dear’ to ‘dearest’, ‘sweetheart’ to ‘sweetie’, and the most fatal one was ‘My love’, that would left you shifting back to your cat form to hide from pure embarrassment and shyness

You humanoid form was more of a special sight for him now since you’d take that form when you were behind closed doors with him. Alastor loves hugging you from behind, “My love, you look ravishing as usual. Will you accompany to the bed?”

You’d giggle back, knowing that he’d have you lay your head on his lap while he reads whatever he fancies aloud, indirectly lulling you to sleep. “You’re clingier today.”

“Only for you.”

Note: Haha, it's one of the older asks. You can probably tell I write and post whatever I have inspiration on

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[blughxreader]

Speaking of the A/B/O verse and how sexually charged it is...

How would the batfam deal with their omega sister going into heat?

This is under the assumption that the reader is the only omega in the pack.

I prefer the version of heats/ruts that are non-fatal and last a few days each month (instead of menstruation). (Or a week long heat every three months, whichever.)

Prescriptions are readily available for heats/ruts, so people can go years without having them. I think several members of the Batfam are on medicine to make life simpler.

Like, what if Gotham crime spiked during Batman's rut cycle because he disappeared for a few days each month? Gothamites on twitter would have a field day with this information lol.

@ btmnboobies tweeted: "batman horney leave starts on monday. if u jerk off all day then youll be fapping the same time as him"

@ ticklealphauwu tweeted: "batman is getting plowed time to rob a bank"

So, realistically, omega!reader would be on heat suppressants.

BUT IF, for drama's sake, there was no way to avoid a heat, then I can see two options:

1. They rigorously screen and import the best heat companions, then never repeat one. It's common for long-time heat partners to become attached, so you'll never see the same alpha twice.

Of course you'll get this talk: "tell them anything and they die. I programmed artificial intelligence to listen for key words, so I will know." and the alphas will be monitored for a minimum of five years afterwards.

Each member of the batfam would rather cut off a limb than have a stranger fuck you in their own home, but it's better than you being dead (or ruining your relationship by fucking you themself).

2. Or, Batman would go to the JL.

If a JL member has a darling who happens to be an alpha, then I can see Batman considering setting you two up.

Or he'd ask a favor of Clark or Diana.

Can you fucking imagine him asking for a meeting with Wonder Woman in private and it goes

Batman: Your world has similar genetics and rituals as ours. WW: Yes, in some ways. Batman: And casual partners during times of need are commonplace. WW: Quite... Batman, expression darkening: ... My daughter... WW, finally smiling: Oh, I see. You trust me. Batman, looking physically pained: Yes. Her first heat is at home coming and we are looking for long-term solutions. For the time being, would you mind... *grinds teeth*... assisting? WW: I would be honored. :)

Then Wonder Woman plows you all weekend

Damian would be torn between "hm yes a fine arrangement becoming of my cherished sister" and "NONONO YOU CAN'T GET MARRIED YOU HAVE TO LIVE WITH US FOREVER"

because DUH you'd want to lock her down. A golden opportunity to escape the batfam shows up in all her short skirt and big muscled glory.

Lol it's a silly thought but probably the only way you'd live a semi-normal life. Until WW turns out to be a crazy yandere too? 👀

[retrocgads]

USA 1997

[i984]

Sweet Words Make a Lovely Shade | Part 1

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, mentions of gore, Wednesday being uncharacteristically tame, reader likes to test boundaries, Wednesday gives bone-breaking hugs, no beta; we die like my brain cells.

|Summary|: You test your luck by putting Wednesday Addams in a compliment jail. 

|Word count|: 2.7k words

|A/n|: I ended up not changing a thing. I took some liberty with your request 💡anon, hope you still enjoy it! | Part 2 is available in my masterlist.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Love  

It does wonders for a person. 

And for you? Well, it makes you spew the utmost revolting, foolish, and absurd things out of your mouth—Wednesday's words, not yours. You think it's her way of saying she likes the compliments you practically shower her with. 

At first, you didn't even realize you were doing it. You could be sitting next to the raven-haired girl in class, having some lunch together, reading books in the library, or on your occasional walks around town, and you only have one single recurring thought that you can't seem to get out of your mind; 

Wednesday Addams—your precious sadistic little girlfriend—is so pretty.  

And not to be shallow or anything; after all, you like her for many different things. Her intelligence, wittiness, and her I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. Her obsession with everything macabre, the monochromic-colored outfits that perfectly suit her, and the way she uses words you can't even begin to comprehend half the time. 

But then there's the way her hair has that lustrous glow, and then the rare grin she cracks when it's just the two of you, the constant little pout in her lips, and don't even start about her plump dark burgundy lips; Oh, you wanna kiss her-  

"-so bad," you mumbled out absent-mindedly, and Wednesday slowly looked up from her double cap—mouth gaping slightly at the suddenness of your words—her eyes blinking rapidly at you.  

"Oh- no no no I was just thinking and I got distracted because your lips look SO pretty!" Your voice was louder than you had intended for it to be, and you quickly covered your mouth—a pointless act as the slip-up had already been done. 

Wednesday only spared you a sharp glare before standing up from your shared sofa booth, already heading towards the Cafe entrance. Before you can even explain yourself, she had already bolted out, leaving you and her double cap behind. 

You know that Wednesday is not big on PDAs; soft kisses and gentle touches are reserved for private quarters. And even then, you can tell that her moves are calculated—afraid of doing too much that she'd find herself in a compromising position. 

But you didn't miss the darkening of her freckle-painted cheeks as she snuck a peek at your figure from outside Weathervane, and that's when you realized; 

Oh.  

Well, this is gonna be fun. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You walk to your dorm room with a dopey grin on your face, recounting the things that happened earlier.  

You've figured it all out. Wednesday might act like she isn't affected by other people's words and opinions about her—and in most cases, this is true—except when it comes from you.  

She caught you wearing a hoodie of hers? Now you have three more in your closet. You respond a beat late to some disputable thing she mentions? She immediately apologized for being insensitive and asked your take on the subject. You told her that she looked good in that checkered sweater? Now she wears the piece of garment all the time. Ask her to binge-watch all 10 seasons of My Little Pony with you? It would give her nightmares for weeks, yes, but absolutely.  

You quickly realize that you're one of the few people lucky enough to have Wednesday tolerate you to a certain degree. So you do the obvious—run after Wednesday after leaving some money on the table, and then shout at the top of your lungs, "I LIKE YOUR LIPS WEDNESDAY ADDAMS"  

You swear to God, you've never seen someone bolt out of your view so quickly. She didn't even spare a single disapproving glance at you—on normal occasions she would—but now, as people stop in their tracks to see who your words are pointed to, she's gone, nowhere to be seen.  

It's cute, how much she's affected by your words. And that's why, as you open your dorm room door, you walk straight to your thinking desk past a figure, planning to come up with new ways to fluster your girlfriend. 

Wait. Past a figure? 

You turn your head to see Wednesday Addams standing still, looking daggers at you, and you know things are about to go down.  

You smile coyly at her while taking a seat. The raven-haired girl's gaze trails your every movement. She looks almost predatory in this state. Like she's about to tear you apart to shreds. 

You hold your head high as you speak, "Is something wrong, Wens?" A pet name. You've heard Wednesday made it clear time and time again to Enid that she was against pet names. And you've never called her one before. But you're willing to gamble your life this time just to see how far she would tolerate you. 

So you maintain your perfect facade, and it was all worth it as you see Wednesday's eyes widen at the morbidity of your words—the good kind, you'd assume—and you saw her mouth open and close a couple of times, trying to say something deprecating and failing acutely.  

She stands awkwardly like that for a moment; her hands making little gestures as if she was trying to make a point while maintaining her look of utter disbelief at your behavior. 

You figured if you didn't egg on her a little more, she wouldn't let her guard down, so you decided to turn your back on her and pulled out a book to read. 

"What are you doing?" You can hear the stress in her words. You can picture her look right now; her jaw clenched, teeth gritted, brows furrowed in dismay. 

"I'm reading a book, as you can see with those pretty brown eyes of yours." You flipped a few pages, eyes tracing along the shape of letters and words, not really paying any mind to the actual content. 

"All right then," exasperation is evident in her voice, and you have to fight yourself from snickering at the situation. 

You've always been very careful around Wednesday, trying not to agitate her into giving you snarky comments—she still gives them nonetheless, and you find it amusing as time goes by—but curiously, she's not giving you any at the moment. And if you are to guess, it's probably because she physically can't bash you for your words. Not when she's fighting for her life with feelings she refuses to acknowledge most of the time. 

You hear her footsteps grow distant—she's heading for the door, you figured—and you don't even bother to look up as you say, "Come back soon, tesoro,"  

The sound of footsteps ceased. 

"Are you really going to keep doing this?" You can tell by Wednesday's voice that she is trying so hard not to burst at your display—you were never like this after all—from rage or the compliments, you don't know. But you figure you'll find out if you pick the right words. 

"Keep doing what, Wens?" You spin in your chair to her, your voice dripping with honey, with faux innocence. You can see her face turn colors into one of carnation, her lips thinning into a line as she tears her gaze apart from you. 

"You. Know. What." Wednesday strains every word, her tone is low as if to intimidate you, but you know the ball is in your court. 

"What? Telling you how pretty your lips are? In front of a lot of people? 

"Yes, exactly-" 

"And that I wanna kiss those lips of yours so badly? Dark plump lips like yours are my favorite, by the way," you look at her in the eyes as you speak, and you let your gaze trail down her face, and Wednesday fidgets with the hem of her top. 

"Oh wait, actually, you are my favorite." 

Wednesday glares at you—an act that usually works with Enid and everyone else when she wants to avoid certain conversations—but you are unfazed. You have her exactly where you want right now, and judging by the absence of a knife in her hand, you're going to assume that she's more than okay with what you're doing.  

"But wait. Oh. Is this about the fact that I know you blushed so hard when I complimented you? Every single time, did you notice that?" You stood up from your seat, throwing the book atop your desk.  

"I know you like it, Wens," you smirked, the nickname easily sliding out your tongue the more you said it, "I know you like me."  

"Oh, you are so full of yourself-" 

"You know what else I like? The way your pout grows bigger—as we're speaking right now, yes," and you see her face growing a scowl as you take a step closer towards her, "and now you're clenching your jaw slightly, god, you look so cute doing that."  

"I do not look cute, and if you cut my words off-" 

"Do you know that your micro facial expressions are probably the most adorable thing I ever get to witness?" 

"-again, I will cut your tongue and force-feed it to you."  

You ignore your girlfriend's words, continuing the torture you've devised for her. "No, not probably. Definitely the most adorable thing ever."  

A broad grin sprouted on your face, the one Wednesday always calls 'the idiotic grin' but you know she secretly likes it, and you can't be happier right now. You're experiencing a power trip; adrenaline rushing through you to continue your teasing despite the possibility of being mute in the future. 

"And that? Right there. Just now. The way you just announce dangerous threats? And sometimes about people's demise? Now, that is attractive."  

Wednesday decided that she's had enough of your antics. Her hand reaches for the doorknob, and you trail after her out of your dormitory. 

"Do not follow me," Wednesday hushed, and you walk beside her trying to catch up as she seems to speed up her pace.  

"I'm not following you, we just happen to be walking in the same direction- Oh, hi Bianca!" You see the girl waving back at you as you both walk through the quad; Wednesday did not acknowledge Bianca's presence as usual. 

"Oh yeah, that reminds me. Remember when you totally beat the shit out of Bianca in that oral test last week? That is also incredibly attractive."  

Wednesday seemed to pay no mind as you continued your horrible strings of compliments, except for the fact that she's practically running through the corridors right now, embarrassed of being caught blushing by any of her peers. 

You know that at this point, you're threading a thin line between her turning into putty at your words or her leading you to a grave site, ready to smash your head with a rock once you get there. 

Well, she's heading towards Ophelia Hall now, so it's safe to say you won't be visiting the realms of the dead today. 

"It would be wise for you to quit whatever skulduggery you're doing if you don't want me to slice your head off at fencing class-," 

You raise your hand in mock defeat at her words, and you can see Wednesday's knuckles turn white in a fist as she continued her words, "-which will start in a couple of hours. So, leave me-" 

"Oh yeah, that got me thinking of how good you look when fencing. I mean, there's a reason why I never ever spar with you during class."  

"Yes, and it is your remarkable ineptitude in the sport." 

You shoot her a look of false hurt at her words, "How dare you- Well. I mean yes, but also have you seen yourself?" You speak out of breath, your legs slowly catching up with Wednesday's pace.  

"Yes, of course. I've been staring at a mirror in the middle of my sparring," Wednesday rolls her eyes at you, "and that's why I've been on a losing-" at this, you can see Wednesday practically seethe in anger as she chokes the word out, "-streak against Bianca Barclay."  

"No, silly, it's because I would be in complete awe," you decided not to comment further on the sore issue, opting to clear out the tension with—yes you guessed it—more compliments.  

"I mean, the all-black outfit? Your menacing strikes and your calculated steps, not to mention your disheveled hair and the concentrated look on your face?" You clasp your hand in front of your chest, eyes looking up dreamily at the memory, while the girl beside you scoffed in irritation. 

You're now at Ophelia Hall, and Wednesday continues her brisk walk toward her shared dorm room. You don't have much time left if you want to break her composed demeanor. 

"And yes, if I sparred with you, the exact situation you mentioned earlier would've happened. My head sliced off the very first second into the spar." 

"And I'd assume you wouldn't want that. So don't make me do it." 

"Quite the contrary, I wouldn't mind. I bet dying by such skillful hands would be an amazing experience." 

You can see the door now. Wednesday knows this as well. If she gets inside and locks you out, maybe you'll shut up and spare her from the torture that makes her gut feel like it's ripping her apart from the inside. 

"What do you think of adding my head as a mount on your room's wall? I'm sure Thing would appreciate the addition of another dismembered body part in the room." 

If Wednesday wasn't agitated before, she definitely is now. As she opens the door to her dorm room and turns her body to you, you can see that not only are her cheeks of blossoming color, the tips of her nose and ears are as well! It's as if this is the first time blood has rushed to her face, and you'd argue that she looks dangerously magnificent like this; face sneering but eyes unable to maintain eye contact with you. 

She spared you only a short pointed glare, before closing the door to your face. You can hear her voice ring moments later, "Stop pestering me on my writing time or I will take you up on that offer. If you decide to omit my warning, make sure you say something adequate, as I will personally make sure it will be written on your gravestone as your last words."  

Her threats have never felt so empty, not with her obviously shaky voice—not when you know she's staring at her typing paper blankly right now, unable to type a single word as you can't hear any clacking sound of the machine's keys. 

The gears in your mind turn at an insane speed, and with the bravado only you possess, you belt your next words for the whole dormitory to hear,  

"I AM CRAZY FOR YOU, WEDNESDAY ADDAMS!" 

There was only silence. Then, you hear the rapid clickety-clack of your girlfriend's shoes, and you jump backward when Wednesday yanked the door open. 

This is it, you thought.  

You had been too cocky, thinking that you could get away with harassing the raven-haired girl—if compliments can be considered harassment, that is—and now you're going to pay the price. In the most gruesome way imaginable, if you know anything about your girlfriend. 

Wednesday storms at you, and before you can even try to escape, you feel her arms wrapped strongly around your figure in a death grip. She's about to tackle you to death, and you brace yourself for the upcoming impact- 

-that never comes? Her arms just stay there, her head buried against your chest, and you are at a loss for words. 

It's unfair, how easily she makes you feel flustered. You've been trying to get a reaction out of her all this time, and she barely cracks. But now as she hugs you, you practically melt into her embrace; your mischievous agenda is long forgotten. 

When you regain your senses, you take a breath— about to comment on the situation before she cuts you off with a; 

"Shut up. I hate you."  

You smirk at her words before sighing in contentment, eyes closing as you soak in the rare moment, "I love you too." 

"But I will never shut up about this- OW-" 

Wednesday left you rolling on the floor in pain after landing a punch in your guts. 

"Now, you will."

[rulesheart]

Slow down

Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

——-

YOU MAY REPOST BUT PLEASE DO NOT STEAL. THIS WORK IS MINE.

——

—-

A;N: Hi, yes I’m back for like the hundredth time. I haven’t even finished the show, yet I’ve been eager to write for this man. I also haven’t written shit since the Conrad smut so be proud of me. And, I kinda forgot to check my inbox for requests…My bad, forgive me and give more so I can use them. Anyways, I wrote this because I haven’t seen many Xavier smuts and it gave me motivation. Also, I wrote like a bunch in this then none of it saved. So, that’s kind of what delayed the release. I was pissed. But Please enjoy it bc it was overall put together so fast. <3

Summary: Xavier doesn’t seem to like it when Tyler is around. You find it ridiculous and decide to reassure him in a more pleasure-able way.

——

Likes, reposts and comments are very welcome!

——

Warnings ; cussing, handjob, p in v / riding , begging and more or wtv.

……………

For the past few weeks you had been hooking up with some boy. And by some boy I mean, Xavier Thorpe.. 6 foot 2 in height, messy brown hair that hung just at his shoulders. Larger blue eyes, slender body and contagious smile.

You didn’t think it’d happen. But you were alone at your new school. He happened to be there and it went on from there. He even took advantage of the time he had with you ; sneakily leading you into a janitors closet after class to leave you both a moaning mess.

Somehow managing to sneak into a shower with you. Almost got caught in a darkened classroom once too. Yes, It was quite risky. But he liked the rush as well as you did.

And when you two first started hooking up, he introduced you to everyone in the friend group. Including Tyler, the one he hadn’t liked so much. They had a rough past and Xavier couldn’t stand to forgive him for it. He played as nice as he could. Til he found Tyler sneaking into any scene that you were in.

And god, who knew how jealous a Thorpe could get? He’d take any chance to correct Tyler on where his place was. Meaning a few steps from you and no skin to skin contact. But Galpin’s secretly loved to play games. He’d brush his hand against yours sometimes. Grab a hold of you alone as if he had something private to tell you. And it was all in front of him.

And that’s precisely why Xavier hates him. Not only is he unable to be a decent human being. He’s also incapable of standing his own ground with someone he’s possessive over.

You.

—-

“You know I didn’t like seeing you two together.” He speaks up after laying under you.

You sigh while you adjust yourself, knees around his thighs as he looks into your eyes. His scent of cinnamon and apples linger through your nostrils. His hair also laid back onto the black fluffy pillow beneath him.

You clear your throat. “You’re right, I do know. But…I can’t reject his attention. I’m not that kind of person.” Your arms are crossed, pushing up against your bra.

He huffs in response. “You can be every kind of person. I’ve seen and been around it myself.” Xavier reaches his hand over and brushes it against the side of your bare arm. He feels the soft and warm surface of your skin.

“Can’t tell if that was supposed to be an insult or compliment Mr. Thorpe.”

“Maybe both.” His eyebrows raise for a quick moment and you can immediately sense he’s joking.

You shake your head in annoyance. And he follows the sight of your hands as they slide his sweatpants to the end of his thighs. A small bit of excitement surges through him. A woman that takes the lead is quite attractive to Xavier.

You mess with his waistband, trailing the fingertips against the band border. As you do so, he glides his hands to your ass, giving it a tight and possibly firm squeeze.

“He was staring at your ass.” Xavier interrupts again. Clearly his jealousy is still present. Why not spark a little something?

A quiet chuckle leaves your mouth. Your tongue tracing over your lower lip. “What can I say? It’s nice. At least he didn’t act on his thoughts of it.”

A large amount of air is inhaled from his nose. He’s biting on the inside of his cheek.

“Fuck you. You know how I feel about that shit, okay?” He lifts his head up while his brows furrow.

This time you return silence. You’re over it. A little something should shut him up. Your fingers pull the waistband down, revealing his length.

Suddenly, you wrap your hand around him, giving a few slow strokes. Xavier’s expression from before seems to have dropped; His head also along with it, hand gripped around your arm now.

“That’s…” His words trail off to a small hum. “Good.”

A small smile appears on your face. His soft words bring a small sensation to your stomach. Your thumb and index finger form a O around his slightly leaking tip. Then creating fast circular motions around it. He lets out a struggled breath, tightly shutting his eyes closed.

“Shit. Slow down—“ He curses in small pleasure. His shoulders tense up then his grip around you growing tighter. Immediately, you let go of him and slowly lift yourself up some more to align with his tip. His eyes open to gain sight of your leading again. You grab a hold of him, lowering yourself on his length. His hands snap to your hips, squeezing the skin harshly as his thoughts loosen up a bit.

You let out a relieved sigh. A light and soft wave climbs up from your thighs to breasts. The feeling of him inside you is unforgettable every time. You come to think if you’ll ever get tired of it.

You carefully push your hips back then right into his direction. Another sensation you feel. Xavier raises his head up again, but with his jaw hanging in awe. His hands grasp the curves at your sides harder. Creating a burning touch to your skin.

You continue the same rocking motion as before but to the pace of your liking. Which builds a stronger feeling through your body as well as his. Your nipples are growing harder through your bra. The cold air is hard to breathe in as well. Xavier’s scent still filling your nostrils.

You place your hands on-top of his, guiding him to rock your curves harder on him. Xavier struggles though, and only makes out a few rocks. He lowers his head back down before stopping himself from motioning you any further.

You’re only able to make out a few words for a second. “So— do I ride Tyler like this now?”

Xavier closes his jaw before speaking. He creates a hum, indicating his no as a response. “HmMm, just me. Please let it be only me. ”

He faintly chuckles after his words, trying to catch his breath and still focused in his pleasure.

“That’s right, just you Xavier.” You say, nodding your head reassuringly.

Your response makes him bite roughly on his wet and pink lip.

You rock your hips at a faster pace. Slipping your hand into the front of your panties. Creating a slow motion on your clit, driving your pleasure to more satisfaction. Xavier admires how good you’re making yourself feel. It turns him on to where his skin begins to grow hot. A slight redness appearing to his cheeks.

“Fuck— you’re driving me crazy.” He huffs while trying to catch his breath.

You continue rocking yourself as you love hearing his deeper voice. It relieves you.

After a few more motions you easily slip your hand back out of your panties. Placing both of your hands on his bare chest that’s heaving up and down. It’s soft, warm which brings a certain comfiness to your body.

His hands begin to rock your sides again. Strongly now, without struggle. He’s close and needs you. He always seems to push himself through the pressure whenever he is.

“Please make me come.” Xavier asks nicely, then opening his mouth for no words to come out. You move your eyes to his, which helps him. “Do it.”

“please.”

“please.”

“please.” He whispers over and over. His begging makes your stomach twist. He hated begging most of the time, yet you loved it when he did. And he’d do anything for you wether you asked or not.

So you decide to fulfill his and your needs. Your hips begin to move at a rougher and faster pace. Causing Xavier to furrow his brows in concentration. Your mouth opens in neediness.

Skin grows hotter, parts aching and orgasm almost reaching it’s point. You moan quietly, softly and Xavier follows after you but with a light groan. His eyes shut tightly along with yours.The strong wave hits the both of you. Causing a louder moan from you, and a groan from him.

“Holy shit—“ you quietly whisper. A smile appears on him and your mouth follows.

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ~ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐨𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

previously titled Talk Dirty

word count: 1.7k

genres/tropes: romance, dealer!chris, sturniolo au, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

teaser: here

summary: Christopher Sturniolo has built an unshakeable empire in Los Angeles, California. He manages "business transactions" and "cargo export and intake" along with his two brothers, Matthew and Nicolas. One night the three gentlemen attend a high-end nightclub in the more affluent district and are met with a nervous bottle-girl working her first shift. Christopher strikes up conversation in the way only confident men can until an accident causes her to spill a drink on him. In a panic, she drags him to the bathroom to clean him up, and, quite amused, he lets her. Thus, their strange friendship begins.

warnings: drug usage, alcohol consumption, guns mentioned and used (non-sexual context), smut, mature themes and topics

notes from bambi: this is a multi-part series, and updates will be sporadic. lmk if you're interested in this one <3

Cassandra's POV:

The year I almost died held more excitement, danger, and tenacity than any one person deserves to encounter. Definitely more than I knew to prepare myself for…I wonder sometimes, as I look back on the events of these last few months, if the choice to go back and change anything is one I would make. 

But then, if I did, I would never have met Christopher Sturniolo, and I can confidently say he is worth every moment I spent at gunpoint.

My life as a bottle girl seems so far away now, though at the time, I couldn’t imagine anything more glamorous. Every darkened hour of my shift filled with music and soft neon, running trays of drinks beneath beautiful people on shining poles, weaving past tables covered with swaths of chips and cards and surrounded by only the most elite clientele Orange County, California so graciously offered.

It stands to mention that at the time I felt I had no talent, no prospects, and no education, and therefore would only get so far in life. Until Christopher, I sold myself short in every aspect of my life.

The hour of 2 a.m. always buzzed–the air itself breathed to the rhythm of some unknown heartbeat, all exemplified by the lively hum of the building of vices I called “work”. At 2:07 a.m. three gentlemen in dark suits accompanied by a small entourage were ushered into Private Room 9 and as I only just clocked in, I took them onto my books for the evening.

Pressing my hand on the opaque glass, I pushed the thin, floor-to-ceiling door inward and braced myself for whatever I might encounter. Working in the pleasure business left no room for shock or awe, and though I knew better than to comment on anything I may see, my face hadn’t quite picked up that particular skill.

The entourage caught my attention first. A dark-haired and strikingly beautiful young woman sat primly on a cushion near the darkest corner of the room, running her elegant fingernail along the edge of her empty glass. To one side of her sat a scantily-clad, gorgeously built man with a side shave, his curls tamed into a neat row down the back of his neck, and to the other side, one of the men in suits. I realized then that every man in a three-piece that sat before me also wore the same facial structure–I was looking at identical triplets. 

“You look so pretty!” the man with the side shave said to me, reaching over to lay an arm behind the girl.

“Thank you, sir, I try,” I responded, hoping to keep the conversation light and fast to disguise my glaring inexperience. I was rewarded with a simple chuckle–nice job. “How can I serve you tonight?”

One of the triplets spoke up. His voice had a gravelly quality that I made sure to note internally. “Pinot noir for the room, please.” He carried on with his individual order as I kept meticulous, if not shaky, written record in my notepad. 

“For you sir?” I directed this to another suited man, this one sporting a deep red tone to his hair. 

“Champagne, thank you.”

“Are we celebrating?”

The last triplet, who had up to this point remained silent, cracked a smile in the soft lighting. “You could say that.”

“And you, sir?”

He lounged in the plush couch beneath him as if completely at ease, which rendered me baffled–though perhaps this scene didn’t phase him as it did me. The first shift at a new job has a funny way of making you forget everything you’ve ever known.

“What do you recommend?” This one’s voice flowed like honey, smooth, slow, warm. 

I paused, thoughts trampling over themselves in an effort to tumble most ungraciously from my tongue. “...That depends, sir. What taste are you looking for?”

He waved his hand. “Christopher. Call me Christopher. You’re an employee, not a servant.”

The room chuckled along with him and returned to their own conversations. 

“Alright…Christopher,” I said, tasting the name for a moment before releasing it. “We have an excellent collection of reds, if you’d like a variety…Though I have to suggest the Oak Knoll Merlot, she has a bit of a plum taste without being too sweet,” I suggested. I clenched my fists slowly in the hope none of them would notice they’d previously been shaking–I really hoped I’d just told him the right shit, because if not, this night was about to go downhill very quickly.

Christopher nodded. “That one, then. Thank you.”

I dipped my head and turned to leave. 

“Miss,” his voice hummed, “What was your name?”

I looked back at Christopher and his loosened black tie, laid in such sharp contrast to his white button-down. “Cassandra.”

He smiled again. “Pleasure, Miss Cassie.”

I ducked out of the room as blush bloomed across my cheeks.

My heart thundered down to the main floor and all the way to the bar. With trembling hands I poured the wine, and unsure wrists did their best to support the tray of drinks. Weaving back through the crowd, I managed to keep from any mishaps, but only barely. One misstep and hundreds of dollars would splash all over patrons, staff, and the freshly cleaned floor–and off of my already-measly check. Finally off the social level, I ascended the underlit staircase and made my way toward the private rooms. The music pounded through the walls, our DJ losing himself in the height of his set, and the floor seemed to breathe in time with the sultry bass. Room 1, 3…5, there’s 7, 9, here we go…

I leaned against the door with my hip and entered the room once more. A faint, sweet smell touched my nose, and it twitched of its own accord.

“She’s back,” said Side Shave. “Hey, girl.”

“Hi,” I offered weakly, trying my hardest to focus on the drinks in hand. “Champagne…for you,” I said as I placed the tall flute in front of what I hoped was the right triplet. He smiled, revealing a small gap in his teeth. Dark red hair, gapped teeth…that’s one of them. Now how to tell the other two apart? 

“For you…” I murmured to the one with the gravelly voice, and he nodded his thanks. “The Pinoit for the room,” as I placed it on the low center table, “And the merlot for you, Mr. Christopher.”

At that moment, the glass door shattered into a thousand pieces, and I yelped, jumping in shock as the wine went flying all over Christopher.

Christopher's POV:

A man fell unconscious on the floor as bits of glass tinkled down around him. The culprit responsible for the door, I assumed. Looking around, I took note of the lack of injury, at least injury of the physical. Poor Cassandra stood frozen in shock, hands trembling, face drawn, taught with fear. “Matthew. Nicolas,” I said, “Please call security and have this man removed.” My brothers nodded and, after carefully stepping over the slovenly, drunken man on the floor, disappeared down the hall. “Ms. Thompson, take our lovely server to the bathroom please-” Tara stood to lead her out, but Cassandra suddenly leapt into action. 

“Your shirt, I am so sorry sir, let’s get you cleaned up, I–oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry, I–” As she rambled, Cassandra took a firm and unyielding hold on my wrist, dragged me up from the couch, and before I could say a word, she tugged me around Tara and Larray, out through the door frame, past the arriving security guards, and down the darkened hallway. I blinked rapidly for a moment as my body ceased to become my own, held captive by the strange woman who led me toward…the bathroom? 

Sure enough, she ducked into the Women’s room, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit in apprehension. “What exactly are we doing in the restroom?”

Her breathing had become labored as she gulped oxygen around her stuttered apologies. “Your shirt, sir, it’s going to stain, we’ve got to–here I’ll just…”

My jaw went ever so slightly slack at the sight before me. Cassandra, who only moments before had been a simple picture of nightclub elegance, now furiously loosened my soaking tie, unbuttoned my dripping shirt, slipped them off my body, and threw them into the sink, running the water as cold as she could manage, scrubbing away at the red-stained fabric. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to–You have to know that was an accident, oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry–”

In her manic cleansing, she failed to notice my hand until it rested on her shoulder, at which point she jumped, and my lip twitched. “My apologies. I don’t think you’re of any use to anyone if you deprive your body of air and keel over dead on the tile.”

She stood stock still, panting from the exertion of the past few minutes, her eyes locked onto mine.

“I know this wasn’t your fault. It wounds me that you think I’d be so unfair,” I said with what I hoped was a comforting smile. “After all we’ve been through together, you really think I’d take something so accidental and make it so personal?” I prayed she understood the sarcasm.

Cassandra cracked a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared, though I would have none of it. “I saw that smile. There’s no going back now, I’m afraid.”

She looked to the floor and took a moment to breathe, or so I assumed. When she turned her gaze to me again, I saw a pooling of tears at the base of her eyes. 

Change the subject, you idiot. “Where did you learn the cold water trick for wine stains?” I asked, hoping to give her time to recover.

Cassandra went back to scrubbing relentlessly at my now-sopping wet shirt. “I know that cold water is best for blood stains, so I assumed it would work for wine as well,” she said quietly, the soft hiss of the water almost beating her out for volume. I snorted. “Do you deal often with blood-stained clothing?” Her gaze snapped to mine, and, realizing my mistake, Of course she does, you dolt, she’s a woman, I tried to recover myself. “Or do you take every man to the bathroom and strip him naked?” And now you’ve accused her of prostitution. Zero for three, Christopher.

pt two: here

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thanks for reading!

- bambi <3

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 4

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 3,100 Warnings: Ass-kicking and violence, some perilous situations…

Part 4: On the Inside Out

You were bored out of your mind. 

After a few days of watching mindless TV, getting your meals dropped in by Frank, and generally no interaction from anyone else in the meantime, you were about to go fucking insane.

You reminded yourself not to antagonize your keepers. Being left alone was a blessing, really. There were certainly worse things that could be happening to you right now…

But you were also thinking of doing something crazy, like escaping. 

You’d considered climbing up into the air vent (too small), and attempting to knock out Frank the next time he delivers your food (he was three times your size and you had nothing even approaching a weapon in here). 

The only option you had left was jimmying the lock with your only hairpin. And you were feeling just reckless enough to attempt it.

You believed Frank was standing guard for most of the day, then switching for the night shift. You thought you could hear when Frank handed off his watch, and whoever it was, you didn’t think it was Tony. You hadn’t heard that fucker’s voice since the first day.

So whoever the second watch was, it was someone you hadn’t met yet. But sometimes there was a gap of silence between when you heard footsteps walk away from your door, and when footsteps approached again, making the light darken in the crack beneath your door. 

You knew by the TV guide that it was about 2 p.m. So you dressed in a pair of jeans, a shirt, and some sneakers that were too small for your feet, but it was the best you had. 

You braided your hair to keep it out of the way. And now that you were ready, you moved quietly to the door. You held your breath while standing there, listening. 

Like clockwork, Frank’s booted steps walked away from your door, but there was no change-off. Maybe he was going on lunch break.

But this was your chance. 

It took you quite a few minutes, but you managed to pick the lock on your door with the hairpin. You were slow to open the door though. It couldn’t be this easy…

And yet, no one was there. 

You were cautious as you walked out, surveying the hall from left to right. It was empty. 

You hurried down the hall, looking for both an exit and a weapon. You found a candleholder on the wall, and you pulled it off with only a little bit of struggle. It was pretty heavy for silver, but it would do as a makeshift weapon. 

You turned a corner and found a fork in the path—a large hallway versus a narrower hallway. 

What the hell? How big is this place?

You took a chance on the larger one. 

But just your fucking luck, as you turned the corner, you ran right into Tony.

“What the fuck?” he uttered. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “How’d you get out of your room?”

“With a bit of class, jackass,” you snipped, and punched him across the face.

You didn’t wait for him to recover, and you proceeded to beat him with the silver candleholder—first in the face, then the stomach, and finally between his legs. 

He bowled over with pained grunting. Payback was a fucking bitch, wasn’t it?

While he was nice and doubled over, you stomped on his broken foot, making him howl and well up with bonafide man tears. You saw them in his eyes. But you elbowed him in the throat to quiet him, and finally grabbed his face, bringing it down sharply into your knee. 

Tony fell to the ground in a bloody, unconscious heap.

You couldn’t pause to catch your breath though. You booked it down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and towards the nearest exit you could find—a pair of French doors. For the first time in days, you got a glimpse of sunlight and the outside world. 

But before you could reach the doors, you were yanked back by the arm into someone’s firm chest. You fought the hold, but it was ironclad. 

When you realized who it was, you looked up in angry resignation. 

It was Soldier Boy, of course. He was looking down at you, not sure if he should be stern or amused. 

“What a naughty little girl,” he drawled. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t mind your fucking manners.”  

Soldier Boy dragged you into what you assumed was the kitchen. He then plopped you down on a chair. 

“Sit your ass down and don’t move,” he said sternly. 

He seemed to like casual dress pants and buttoned-down shirts, now that he was “out of uniform,” so to speak. These were beige and dark green, respectively. The top buttons of his shirt were hastily done and his hair and beard were damp, which told you he was fresh from the shower.

Likely he’d been exerting himself. You didn’t want to imagine what he’d been doing beforehand. 

“Or what?” you snapped. He chuckled.

“Bad girls get punished. Is that what you want, sweetheart?” he asked. 

You read the threat in his eyes…so you relented, but your lips were still pursed. 

“Can you at least stop calling me sweetheart?” you grit out. He frowned.

“Jesus, you’re a bitch,” he snarked. “What the fuck is wrong with women today? Can’t pay ‘em fucking compliments, got a mouth worse than a goddamn truck driver.”

“You realize what the hell’s coming out of your mouth, right?” you retorted. He raised a brow at you.  

“Out of curiosity,” he said, “why’d you break Tony’s face? And his foot…and probably his ball sack.”

“He’s a dick, that’s why,” you shot back. “He shouldn’t be able to create more dicks.”

Soldier Boy actually cracked—with a suspect snort, which he tried to disguise as a clearing of his throat. 

But you spied the curve of his lips as he turned from you to grab a couple of glasses. He poured you a whiskey. Unbidden, it reminded you of your shared drink at the club. Something you were sure he intended, by the smugness in his eyes.

You raised a brow, but you took the glass from him and downed it in one. You winced only a lot at the burn down your throat. You peered down at the glass.

“That’s expensive stuff.”

“Damn right. And you just downed it like a fucking college keg,” said Soldier Boy. He poured you another one though, and the two of you drank. 

You never thought that you’d be drinking with him. He was both exactly what you expected, and yet nothing at all. 

So far, for example, he hadn’t harmed you. At least not himself. 

He hadn’t forced himself on you either. And from what Butcher had recounted, this man enjoyed his pleasure. The fact that he hadn’t touched you—in either way—had you both grateful and suspicious. But mostly suspicious. 

“All right, get up,” he said suddenly. 

That doubled your suspicion. “Why?”

“I’m gonna show you something.”

He pulled you up by your arm, and to your surprise, led you outside through the French doors. 

The day was beautiful and bright. There was an enormous pool, and an expanse of a manicured green lawn. Around the corner from the pool, between the shade of large trees, you spied a garden with pretty yellow flowers.

“Whose place is this? The Legend’s?” you asked. Soldier Boy gave you a shrewd look. 

“Good guess, but no,” he said. “This is my place. Bought it in ’73, before the tourists started clamoring in. This city’s just not the same. Bunch of overpriced clubs and hipster fucks.”

You were surprised he knew what hipster meant. He must’ve been doing some research of his own during the past few months. 

“Easy access to drugs though,” you pointed out wryly. They were, more or less, in the heart of the cocaine capital of the world. Though whatever Soldier Boy wanted, you were sure he could get it as simply as ordering off the McDonalds dollar menu. 

He smirked at that. And he led you further through the backyard, if you could call it that. It really was a virtual paradise back here, with acres of land surrounded by jungle trees and a mountain face. 

There must’ve been a waterfall as well, because you could hear running water and mist rising from the east. He took you in that direction.  

“But wait, we didn’t see any property in South America registered in your name,” you said. “And I was thorough. I combed through the CIA’s records, as well as Vought’s.”

“I wasn’t able to buy it back from Vought until recently. Can you believe those cocksuckers took possession of all my assets when I went under?” Soldier Boy said in irritation. “Fucking bastards. After everything I did for them, I had to buy back my own land.”

That made you pause. The CIA had put pressure on Vought to comply with their manhunt for Soldier Boy. They’d released records…but apparently Grace hadn’t been given everything.

You now knew that Vought had known Soldier Boy’s whereabouts, likely for months, if not since the beginning. 

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if Vought had facilitated Soldier Boy’s escape. He was right about one thing: he had solved a major problem for Vought in killing Homelander. 

Since then, the company had reverted back to Stan Edgar’s control. He was in the process of disbanding what remained of the Seven, along with dropping out of the superhero industry entirely. According to your connections still remaining at Vought (besides Yvette), the company had all but finished developing V24 for the military. 

A fantastically fucking stupid idea. 

“Ooh, your gears sure are turning, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy remarked. He was eyeing you with a knowing smirk. You looked up at him in annoyance. 

“Where the hell are we going?”

He nodded ahead and showed you the boundary of his property—the edge of a damn cliff. It was a steep decline of rock all the way down to a ravine far, far below. It had to be hundreds of feet down. 

You were scared to look down, and you had a feeling he could tell. His lips twitched, and he let go of your arm, encouraging you to take a good look.

“It goes like this pretty much all the way around,” he said. “You were probably out for most of it, but you got here on a helicopter. Then a car took you up the driveway into the property. Your friends aren’t gonna find you in a hurry. And that’s if they’re looking for you at all.”

You shot him a look at that. If they’re looking for me…

What an asshole. But you couldn’t deny, you’d had similar thoughts. 

Hell, they probably thought you were dead already. Maybe Annie or Hughie would still be holding out for you. Though you very much doubted that they were actively looking for you, more than they were looking for Soldier Boy. 

You felt the mist and a gust of wind sweeping up to kiss your face. Your stomach twisted at the height of the cliff, but you took a steadying breath. At the moment, you sort of missed his steel hand that had been wrapped around your arm. 

“Okay. So what do you want?” You turned to him. “How do you think this is going to play out?”

Soldier Boy gazed down at you with wry amusement, and a hint of disbelief at your cheek.

“I think you better realize the kind of situation you’ve gotten yourself into, baby doll,” he replied, with an arching brow. 

You crossed your arms and glared at him. 

“I got myself into? Your attack dog kidnapped me, tried to kill me. On your orders,” you snapped. “If you’re such a good Samaritan, why don’t you just let me go?”

Soldier Boy laughed in your face. Your eyes narrowed as your arms uncrossed, hands moving to your hips. The wind was starting to pick up now, hitting your back with a bit of unsettling force. 

“Seriously. Put another greasy bag over my head and dump me in the middle of the goddamn rain forest with a cell phone. I’ll find my way home and never come after you again,” you said, with all the conviction you could muster.

But really, it wasn’t all a lie when you let a sliver of desperation through. 

“At this point, all I want to do is go home,” you said. It was all but pleading.  

Soldier Boy had crossed his arms while you were speaking. He’d listened, mostly amused, but he reacted to the vulnerable shift in your words, in your eyes.

Shaking his head, he reached for your arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You backed away from him on instinct, and his brows crunched in annoyance. 

“I’m not gonna tell you again—” he said.

“Don’t touch me,” you said hotly, again dodging his hand reaching for you. 

Until the back of your heel slid over a corner of slippery grass and stone. With a gasp, your knee buckled and your arms flailed as you lost your balance. You managed to catch the way Soldier Boy’s eyes widened, his hand going out to grab your wrist.

Another gust of wind and wet mist coursed between you as you reached out for his hand. 

You felt the brush of his fingers as you fell.  

Of course, you screamed horribly once you realized what was happening. Wind whipped at your body as the spot where you’d been standing (and Soldier Boy) grew smaller and smaller. 

From his vantage point on the cliff, Soldier Boy sighed in annoyance. 

He did jump in after you though. 

He expertly dove, letting his heavier weight pull him down farther and faster than you. He tucked and rolled until his feet were below him, and he found purchase on a platform that you hadn’t seen from up above. And he caught you in his arms. 

You panted for breath and couldn’t help but cling tightly to his neck. When you realized what just happened, you glared up at his smug face. 

“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, annoyed at your own breathlessness. Honestly though, you were surprised he’d saved you at all. 

Soldier Boy just rolled his eyes and walked up the narrow path, which you had a feeling only he could safely navigate. Once, he’d had to jump quickly to avoid the rock crumbling beneath his feet.

Once he reached the top, you tried to disentangle yourself and struggled against him until your feet were on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your lower back and pulled you flush against him. Your hands were trapped against his chest, and once again, you glared at him.

“That was a dumbass fucking move you just pulled,” he remarked. “Next time you wanna take a swan dive, I won’t stop you.”

“Fine by me!” you sniped back. “Now let me go, damn it!”

You twisted in vain against his hold. But it seemed he’d had enough of you, because Soldier Boy grabbed your arms and shook you once—firm enough for you to shut up and listen.

“All right, enough goddamn it!” he shouted. “It’s in your best interest not to fucking test me.”

His voice was raw steel and grit, and maybe an edge of menace. His grip was bruising. You could almost feel your bones creaking, and you weren’t able to swallow a whimper of pain. 

His grip eased then, though he didn’t release you.

Your breathing shallowed while staring into his eyes, and you knew he meant it. He could easily end this (and you) if you weren’t careful.

Protect yourself, you heard your sister’s voice in your mind. So you quieted and let him lead you back to the house. 

He later pushed you back into your room. You tripped and hit the bed with no small amount of force.

You glared back at him…but then you realized something. 

Soldier Boy was a man out of time. He’d spent forty years in captivity. That alone would be enough reason for some serious therapy and social deficits. He also clearly held ideals from the times he was raised in. A full century ago.

So maybe being a “difficult woman” wasn’t the way to handle this. Maybe…maybe you had to try and endear yourself to him. (Even though that thought created bile rising in your throat.)

Before he shut the door, you called out in a softer voice. 

“Wait,” you implored. 

He hesitated. You got your feet under you and approached more calmly.

“Just tell me one thing,” you said. “Why are you letting me live?”

Soldier Boy looked down on you, and his lips formed a grim, more amused smirk. 

“You seem to think your friends are going to get the best of me,” he said. “I just wanted to give you a front row seat when I slaughter every last one of those goddamn morons.” 

You pursed your lips. Perhaps he hadn’t touched you (yet), but there were very few redeeming qualities about this man. If I’d even call this piece of shit a man. 

Still, you didn’t rise to his bait. 

“Look, I’m clearly not a threat to you. I’ll stay out of your way,” you promised. “Just…let me stretch my legs once in a while. I’m going crazy in here.”

Soldier Boy took his time as he looked down at you, scrutinizing your face. You stood tall meeting his gaze, but you took pains to soften your eyes and look vulnerable. Defeated.

You were performing harder than you ever had before in your life…and after a moment, it actually paid off. 

Unlike you, he took the bait. His hand rose to brush your chin with his thumb. 

“All right. But if you give me more trouble than you’re worth…” 

His fingers tightened along your jaw, and you held your breath. You didn’t have to fake your fear as you shook your head slightly. His lips quirked with a grin, and he dropped his hand. 

“Fine,” Soldier Boy agreed. “You got yourself a hall pass.”

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 She's in hot water now. Or is Soldier Boy? We'll just see, won't we. 🤔

Let me know what you thought of Part 4! It was certainly fun for me to write.

Next time, she starts to get to know Ben, the real man beneath the persona:

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away. 

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open. 

What you found seared your eyes.

Keep Reading: PART 5

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[dduane]

What animated shows, movies, special and other animated media u worked on?

They're all listed over here:

...Or nearly all. On some of the animated-work listings, IMDb is missing numerous episodes because the shows in question did "gang credits" that could make it difficult to tell how many eps a given writer had worked on.

Additionally, on Dinosaucers I can confirm that I did many more than five episodes: but many of the ones I wrote were uncredited, or credited to other writers, for assorted reasons. (On the other hand, I'm sure I did not write thirteen episodes of The Biskitts. ...Maybe two or three.)

HTH!