#but at least my walls aren’t made of crates and i have a door

[johntorrington]

just found this virtual tour some guy did of the cape evans hut. ough.

[againstacecilia]

A Desert Sunset

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1414

Rating: Chapter is T, series is E so minors DNI

Warnings: Another light chapter so nothing to worry about here. 😊

A/N: The first couple of chapters are a little shorter to get some backstory in before the meat of the story takes off, I'm so excited to get further into this world. 😍 As always, thank you to the best beta reader @creatively-analytical, your help on this project and your friendship is appreciated more than you know! 💖 Asks are always open!!

I’m coming, Arlon, I promise…

The thought weaved through your dreams like a prayer, whispered on space-kissed darkness through streaks of hyperspace. For days, it’s all you could focus on in the silence of the ship. You had managed to get a handful of answers from your stoic companion: the fact that his ship was called the Razor Crest, that he had been a bounty hunter for many years, and that he never took off his helmet (well, at least not in front of other people), but that was it. Outside of brief exchanges, both you and Mando chose the silence of your own thoughts. 

After a few days, Mando dropped the Razor Crest out of hyperspace for a fuel stop. You chose to stay on the ship the entire time you were on-world; you weren’t out here for sightseeing, you were here as a necessary stop on a much larger journey. Within a few hours, you and Mando were back in hyperspace. 

You had taken to sitting in the cargo hold of the ship near a heat vent to stave off the cold of space. You’d grown up surrounded by nature with the sun on your face and wind in your hair. The vacuum of space was foreign and scared you, almost as much as your companion had that first day. But, over the first part of your journey, you saw that Mando was just like any other man. Proud of his knowledge, sure in his motions, and strong in his convictions. You got a brief look deeper into him one night right before you landed on Jakku.

You were bundled up in blankets on a small cot Mando had purchased for you during your stop to refuel when he stepped out of the fresher. Clad head to toe in his armor, the steam from the show billowed out the door and clung to the metal helmet, beading and dripping down onto his shoulders. 

“What is your armor made out of?” You blurted, curiosity taking control before sense. 

“What?” Mando said, head turning to look at you.

You sat up, sheepishly looking at your hands. “Your armor, what’s it made out of?”

He watched you for a moment before answering, “Beskar. It’s a metal strong enough to withstand large amounts of damage.” 

“Thank you,” you said, before laying back down and turning to face the hull of the ship. 

“You can ask me more, if you’d like,” the Mandalorian said from behind you. 

You rolled over to look back at him. You did have more questions, a lot of them, but you didn’t know where to begin. Picking one at random, you asked, “Where are the rest of your race? Tonis said there aren’t many of your kind anymore. What happened?”

The Mandalorian pulled a crate near your cot and sat down on it with a nearly inaudible groan. “We aren’t a race, Mandalorian is a creed. We come from many races and peoples and we swear to live the Mandalorian way. Many of us were wiped out long ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, shifting back to a sitting position and leaning against the wall. 

“It is what it is,” Mando replied with a shrug, “Now I must help my people rebuild. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way?” you repeated. Mando just nodded, not explaining any further. You’d have to be content with that for now. 

“So, why bounty hunting?” you ventured. 

“It pays the bills,” he responded, “And I’m good at it.”

“Fair enough,” you chuckled. “So, why’d you take this job?”

He was silent for a moment, head slightly cocked to the side while he studied you. “Tonis is a good guy. He vouched for you and your fiance so I figured you had to be okay.”

You nodded, throat suddenly tight from the unexpected emotions flooding you. I never knew Tonis cared.

“We should get some sleep. We’ll make it to Jakku tomorrow.” Mando stood and moved the crate back to its place. 

“Thank you,” you said as he headed to his bunk. “Really, Mando, thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, and climbed into bed, shutting the pneumatic door behind him. 

- - - - - - - -

True to his word, the Mandalorian was landing the Razor Crest onto the sands of Jakku the next day. After days in space, even the endless desert was a welcome sight as the ramp lowered. You stepped out into the blazing heat and covered your eyes with a hand. 

“I’ve never felt heat like this,” you commented, sweat already beading on your brow. “Is it always this hot here?”

“Pretty much,” Mando responded as he pushed some buttons on his wrist to close the ship. “Let’s get going, we should try and find some information on your fiance.”

The walk into town (if you could call it that) took an hour. By the time you arrived in the cluster of tents and canopies you had stripped down to your sleeveless base layer and already had gone through your entire canteen of water. Your mind was foggy but the shade of the gauzy fabrics creating tents over the inhabitants was a balm over your hot skin. 

You let Mando take the lead on asking around for Arlon. For a couple of hours, you followed around and listened to how he interacted with the people of this planet. You marked how he asked just the right questions and how he sifted through the information the locals gave him. By late afternoon, you both stopped to rest. 

“It looks like he’s been here recently,” Mando said, constantly scanning the crowd. “No one has seen him leave, but that doesn’t mean much on a planet like this. Last time he was spotted was 2 days ago.”

“That’s pretty recently,” you exclaimed, excitement trickling into your veins, “He might still be here!”

Mando focused his attention on you, reading the change in your mood. “Don’t get too excited just yet. Like I said, he could’ve left in those two days.”

You nodded, trying to keep your excitement at bay. It had been weeks since you’d seen Arlon, you could wait a few more days to find him properly. “So where do we look next?”

“We stay here for tonight, but we’ll have to head back to the Crest. Too many scavengers on this planet to leave it for long.”

Walking all the way back to the ship was the last thing you wanted to do, but there wasn’t much as far as night life to miss out on so you set off. The walk back was quiet with Mando lingering behind you, but the ship eventually came into view as the sun began to set. When you reached the Crest and finally looked up, your already short breath was snatched completely from your lungs.

Every color imaginable blazed across the sky. Orange and yellow glowed above the horizon, melting into reds and pinks. As you lifted your gaze above your head, pinks turned to purple then to the deep blue of night. The first stars were twinkling high above you as you took in the majesty of the most beautiful sunset you’d ever seen. 

On silent feet, Mando stopped beside you. You weren’t sure what he saw through that helmet of his, but you couldn’t imagine it could be anything as beautiful as the painted sky above you. “This is… Incredible.”

Mando grunted noncommittally and pushed forward, opening the ramp to the Crest and walking up into the dark cargo hold. You stared at him dumbfounded. How could he just walk away from something so amazing?

With one last look at the sky, you followed him into the ship. The moment your feet were off the ramp, Mando slammed his hand into a button and the ramp closed up, sealing you both in the dark. 

“What’s your problem?” you asked into the silence. 

The only response you got was heavy footfalls heading to the ladder. As your eyes adjusted, you saw his cape swish and he disappeared into the cockpit. 

For the rest of the night, you sat on your cot with your back against the wall and facing the ladder. You had done nothing wrong, and his attitude was out of line. You deserved an explanation, and you were going to get one the moment he came down to go to bed. 

He never came to bed that night, and you fell asleep propped up against the hull.

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[thefrontallobediaries]

GOAT CHEESE IN MY FINGERNAILS.

9/6/22 

Went to the consignment shop today after my morning shift in the hopes of finding the Perfect Cardigan and to see if I could make any profit off of some clothes I don’t touch. It was pouring rain and I was hoping I’d make some money to reduce the absolute mountain that will be my credit card bill this month thanks to you (yes I’m blaming you, the need to reinvent myself, to feel myself metamorphosize without you), but the employee avoided eye contact while telling me “we didn’t find anything today.” I thought the rain would  put them in a generous mood but maybe it was the opposite. Didn’t find the cardigan either. On the bus back I saw a man wearing the same Gap crewneck sweatshirt you have and it made me mad. Why do I see you everywhere? I made a little charcuterie board when I got home: a pear, crackers and goat cheese from work, all fancy and organic. See, there are perks of working at a coffeeshop/bakery/provisional store I tell myself. Access to fancy food. 

The cafe owners (who are also a couple, lol) left to go abroad today and while they absolutely need the break I don’t know how to run the cafe without them busting through the doors at random times during my shift with more cold brew and cookies. How do I describe the place. The cafe is rustic but not dated, indie without trying too hard, a co-op that’s not a co-op. It’s painted pale seafoam green and open wooden crates line the walls where the pantry staples go. The coffee is good, artisanal alcohol and seasonal produce sit in the open fridges. At least I don’t have to worry about it going under. It’s too busy and the regulars alone keep the place afloat. The owners stopped by one last time before catching their flight to drop off some cakes and remove the mask mandate sign from the front door and I told them to have a good trip and to relax, please. She said “bye baby!” and went back into the dark green van they use to make deliveries. She is my New York City mom. 

I want to be better without you. To thrive without yearning to be with you ever again. I know you don’t want me anymore. We aren’t talking. It’s a two month “break” so we can both process the two and a half year relationship we had, and to try to be friends after. Just friends. But I won’t be the first to reach out. Not this time. You meant so much to me even after we broke up and I’m now realizing you only talked to me when you wanted attention. You never asked me how I was or what I was up to. I wanted you to, pretended that you cared. We broke up 8 months ago and I thought of it as “ we aren’t together right now.” Now I need to think of it as “we are never getting back together.” I’m getting there. The first day of no contact I started a list of all the things I would tell you when we spoke again but I stopped the day I made it. You’re not getting the two entrees I made, not even those. You’re getting nothing. I just removed you from the shared note with some of my nudes which I will call progress. I saw you three weeks ago, at your house. We slept in the same bed. None of it was right. The sex was aggressive and violent on your end, forget any intimacy or passion - it was violent and you lasted less than three minutes each time. I asked you what was up with that, and you wouldn’t say. Maybe it was because you were cheating on your new girlfriend. Maybe you wanted to feel me one last time. Maybe it was never about me at all and you’re just selfish and impulsive. I was weak and wanted to feel you too. But it wasn’t right. I should have slept in your sister’s room.  

What will fortunately (and unfortunately) keep us together is the cat we adopted over quarantine when we lived together in LA, back when I thought we were soulmates and had extra love to give away. Now I wish I could have rationed that love, maybe we would have lasted (I need to stop thinking like this). Now he lives with your parents and they love him dearly and he gets to watch the birds all day and get fat in upper class suburbia. I want to have him live with me, but not until I have a job where I get to work from home at least some days. You want him to live with you for a bit, but you know how social he is. You’re never home and your new K-Town studio in LA is tiny, I hear. 

Your mom told me. She is one of the most maternal people I know. She took me in and provided for me while we were together like I was her own child. She even gave up her writing office for me when we were living at your parents house so I could take Depop pictures with a real set up. Her office had the best light. She gave me an I-Bond when I was at your house three weeks ago. For $10,000. Did she think we were going to last? She’s just as pissed at you as I am. She says I’m the whole package. I talk to her on the phone at least once a week. I asked about you, but you’re not talking to her. I feel her pain. 

I’m seeing a new person too. He’s gentle and cares about me and we go out all the time. We once took the Staten Island ferry just to go to the only Dairy Queen in New York. He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t think he will be. I need to tell him that. Is it fucked up that I’m going to dinner with his parents (again) in a few days? I never said I was a good person. 

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Kisses and Near Misses (Riff x Reader) Part 11

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

AN: My laptop is fixed and the fic shall resume! I’ll post every two or three days again until this fic finishes. Thank you for your patience.

Previous Part // Masterlist // Next Part 

The Turn

Your name: submit What is this?

It felt, at least to Y/N it did, like he was somewhere he wasn’t allowed. The bell hanging over the door alerted Valentina that he was inside. They made steely eye contact for a second before Y/N dropped it to look at the new pinball machine in the corner. In the polished glass top, he could see her still looking at him and the medicine cabinet she was lining with chocolate.

“Is Tony about?” He asked.

“He’s downstairs.”

“Can I go see him?”

With a wave of an elegant hand, Valentina stepped down from the ladder, “I haven’t seen you in so long, Y/N. Not since you moved in with Riff.”

Y/N blinked, “He moved in with me actually.”

Avoiding Valentina’s raised eyebrow, he ducked down the stairs with its door slamming behind him to announce to Tony he was there.

A neatly made bed was tucked behind some draped fabric for privacy. Postcards stuck on the walls provided a little homely touch alongside the four shirts folded on his shelves. The shelves lined with products for another shiny day upstairs weren’t the best bedroom companions, yet they remained the biggest feature of the basement besides the boiler. Even the lighting was depressing. Singular bulbs hung dusty and dim, barely qualifying for their jobs as Tony dithered about around the produce.

Despite the loud entrance, Tony did a double take upon seeing Y/N in his basement.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Tony paused before he put the box down hard on a nearby crate, “You’re not here to see how I’m doing.”

Shaking his head, Y/N said, “I need a favour.”

“What?”

“You gotta talk to Riff about his deal with the Sharks.”

Tony smiled in spite of himself, hauling the box back up onto his hip. He walked past Y/N to set it down and tapped his pen on each item inside, his sigh delayed by the need to carry on with his job. 

Y/N prompted a response, “It’s getting out of hand.”

Instead, Tony said, “He lashes out with things he doesn’t know. He’s always been like that. I was the same.”

“But you aren’t anymore, and I don’t want him to have to go to prison to change. He might not even realise he can stop before it’s too late.”

Stopped, leaning on the box’s edges with both hands, “Why are you asking me now? What’s he planning?”

“He’s been targeting the Sharks since they moved here, but more so since one of them attacked me. It’s been getting more violent, and it feels like a Rumble is gonna happen soon.” 1

“So he sent you here to talk me into comin’ back, didn’t he?”

Y/N couldn’t lie, so he let his lack of an answer speak for itself.

“I’m not goin’ down that road again,” and Tony went back around the shelves to get the next box. Y/N followed after him, almost slipping on the tiny step he didn’t realise was there. 

“And I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to talk to him for me.”

“Why can’t you?”

“You’re his brother, I’m just his roommate.”

A short snort escaped Tony and he evidently had no shame in his laughter, “Let’s not kid ourselves, Y/N. He’s a high school dropout running a gang like family, but he moves in with some random bartender and trusts him with Jet business?”

“Shut up!” Y/N crossed the room quick, shoving Tony with a spare glance at Valentina’s shuffling feet above them. Once in the clear, he hissed again, “Shut up.”

But Tony continued, “If that’s the case and he won’t listen to you, then he probably won’t listen to me.”2

“There’s a chance though. Look, I know we aren’t close but you and Riff are! Please Tony! Can’t you try?”

And Tony silenced him with a look. What a simple expression to cut off a man whose passions were inflamed. It doused the coals and smothered the smoke out of existence. Y/N couldn’t look at Tony now, in case he saw himself reflected in his eyes, what he’d become. A beggar, someone using others to stop something he didn’t like, and it wasn’t working. He was only making it worse. 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it,” said Y/N. He backed off towards the stairs. They seemed a lot taller than they had on the way down, steeper too. “‘M glad you’re staying out of trouble.”

“Unlike you.”

“I thought I could. I really did.”

Leaving Valentina’s fast proved easier than expected. It was the easiest thing he’d done all day. So it was all going to be worse from now on. The stubborn mule that was Riff was still lurking around the corner. 

He pushed off the wall the second he saw Y/N. “Well?”

Y/N answered slowly, “He won’t hear anything about it.”

Sighed, biting the inside of his cheek in a way that twisted his lips into a contorted grimace. When he released his jaw, he said bitterly, “You were right: longshot.”

This feeling twisted inside of Y/N’s chest, the feeling that being correct was considered a bad thing, and an apology escaped his lips before he could think of anything else, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” Under the shroud of the alley, Riff pulled Y/N into a hug in the dark of the alleyway, even daring to plant a kiss on Y/N’s brow, “It’s like you say: he’s layin’ low for his parole officer.”

“Prison must’ve done something for him.”

“Yeah, took him away from his family when they needed him most.”

Y/N freed himself from the embrace early, preparing a tentative request, “Have you told the Jets you’re planning a Rumble?”

“Not yet. Biding our time. Why?”

“Surely you can hold off for a little longer.”

“It’s been four months already.”

“Not even half of what Tony spent in prison, nowhere near the amount he’d risk losing if he got caught again.”

Riff mulled over this request, before nodding and Y/N masked his short-lived relief as Riff gave his terms: “I’ll wait until Tony changes his mind. Or they get too much of a problem. Whichever comes first.”

The pair walked down the alleyway, a foot apart, on their way to the apartment. Dusk was drawing in and folks were already filtering to their own habitats, their troubles ready to be put aside for tomorrow’s platter. There was still sunlight though. Still time to do something about what had happened, what was happening, and what might happen next.

“Riff.” Y/N’s pace buffered as he transferred his walking energy to keep talking, “Have you thought that maybe there’s more to life than fighting over a few city blocks that’re already trying to kick us out? It’s a small world, but not that small.”

“If we don’t have the West Side, we have nothing.”

Riff kept walking, his misguided arrow tattoo pointing the way forwards. As Y/N made a short effort to catch up to him, a fact was circling his head like water around a plughole: that the “we” Riff was referring to was the Jets. From the moment they stepped back onto the street to the last second of consciousness in bed with Riff’s steady breaths against his neck, Y/N was thinking “what about me?”. 

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

1 Negates the fact that Y/N literally started it by shoving Manolo to the floor then ran away at the dance.

2 Tony is aware that Riff is not straight and dgaf. He just wants to get his life back together.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 11.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Maya Jump Scares (My Fave!), Sweet Yoongi, Talks of BDSM, Mentions of Hard and Soft Limits, Sexual Teasing, Introducing OC to BDSM, Kissing, Panty Kink, Use Of The Color System, Bondage, Training Orgasms, Daddy Kink, Breast Play, Degradation (Slut), Squirting, Mentions of Lactation Kink, Yoongi Cries, Pet Names, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Edging, Multiple Orgasms, Embarrassed Yoongi

A/N: Good luck. I'm fucking DEAD. Always a shout out to the greats @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna

Yoongi probably hasn't slept this well in a long time. Probably since he was a kid.

It's difficult for him to rouse from his slumber. It's comforting to feel your limbs contorting around his. He can feel himself drooling on your pillow distantly.

Everything feels like a dream right now. 

He can feel your head laying on his arm. His hand is pressed to your stomach still and he feels such peace.

Opening his eyes, he can make out the chandelier on the ceiling. The daylight rays that bleed through the window bounce off of the Swarovski crystals that hang and they sprinkle the walls and ceilings with rainbow lights.

He would have never noticed these things before. Did last night change something in him? 

Looking around the room, he jumps at the sight of Maya as she leans against the marble wall.

He sighs loudly, his hand running through his hair as his heart beats rapidly.

"What?!" he mouths to her.

Looking over at you, he brushes some hair off of your sleeping face. The baby must be making you so tired.

You did work hard last night on the delicious dinner you made. That might tire you out too.

Maya raises her eyebrows at the both of you in bed.

You groan at the light that now shines on your face since your hair has been moved.

Throwing your body over Yoongis' with a whine, he shushes you gently on instinct.

"Go back to sleep, little dove. You're alright." he whispers gently.

"It's twelve o'clock." Maya mouths to him, holding up his Rolex watch.

He's late for work.

Looking down at you, he watches how peaceful you are in your sleep.

He doesn't care about work. He's perfectly content where he is. 

He flicks his hand, telling the woman who is like his mother to go away. 

With a smile, she bows her head. "Sir."

"Yoongi?" your voice is laden with sleep.

He finds himself smirking as you whisper his voice.

"Right here. I didn't leave," he promises as you pick your head up off of his arm.

"I slept like a brick," you mumble.

Chucking to himself, Yoongi can only agree.

"Me too. I'm late for work." he jeers.

You sit up quickly, eyes roaming the room before finding the digital clock by the bed.

"It's twelve! You're so late!" you gasp loudly.

"It's okay, I'm the boss, little dove."

"That's not a good excuse," you jeer, shoving his shoulder with a laugh.

He finds himself chuckling as he lays back down on the pillow. "I can work from home."

You pout at him, combing your hair over your shoulder as you sit up against the headboard.

"I haven't been up to the third floor, yet." you admit, stretching your limbs to a satisfying degree.

"I can show you what's up there. Maybe after we eat some brunch," the father of your child suggests, laying back down on the pillow.

"I'd like that," you reply, warmly.

Last night, you discovered so much about the man lying beside you. You could never imagine how hard his life has been. It's really a shame. 

But, there are times you find his sweet side peeking out. And you decide to focus on those instances from now on instead of the others.

He deserves it. 

You deserve it.

"Why haven't you made yourself at home?" Yoongi asks, gently.

Looking around the room, you notice the cardboard boxes of paintings and stuffed animals. Small little knick knacks piled up without a place to go.

Humming unsurely, you look around the room. "I just didn't feel like my stuff was good enough to put in here maybe? I didn't really feel the need to do it." you reply with a shrug.

Yoongi scoffs gently as he stands, twisting his back with a groan. The sounds of his bones cracking echo throughout the large room and you smirk as he walks over to the boxes.

You watch his legs contort and flex through his briefs and the image of his pert backside makes an eyebrow raise.

He is really good looking.

Picking up a stuffed red panda, he tilts his head at the cuteness. His eyes look down into the box and he notices just how many stuffed animals you have.

"Jesus, why do you have so many?" he asks with a laugh, continuously picking up some of the toys big and small.

Sitting up to look past him, you giggle.

"Every year during the Fall Festival, I get at least two. Their fun to get! Makes fun memories!" you reply happily as you stand up.

"You can remember every single memory for each stuffed animal?!" he sounds bewildered and it makes you laugh.

"Of course!"

"No fucking way!" he jeers.

Stepping beside him, you watch as he rifles through the box.

Pulling out a panda at the bottom of the box, he hands it to you.

"What memory is that, smarty pants?" he quips, leaning against the glass door to your balcony.

Your lips purse as you stare down at it.

"Well this is Yukhoe, I got him at the fair… seven years ago, I think? I won him for getting the most consecutive balls in the one thousand point hole during skeeball."

"Bullshit!" Yoongi cries with a laugh.

His laugh is so pretty. Even the gummy smile he gives you is heart stuttering.

"I'm serious!" you reply, shoving him gently with your hand.

He snorts loudly, rolling his eyes as he folds his arms.

"You should put them up if you have so many memories," he insists looking around the room.

You hum unsurely, placing the toy down to grab at your stomach.

"Or maybe you can put them in the babies' room? That'd be nice," Yoongi mumbles absentmindedly.

You find yourself smirking even amidst your morning sickness. He's being so kind. It's making butterflies appear when you thought it could never happen.

Finally, he looks back down at you. He notices how you clutch onto your stomach, how you lean against the armchair for support. 

"You feel sick?" he takes it upon himself to tie your hair up without argument.

"Just a little," you reply.

Helping you sit down, he crouches beside the chair. He rubs slow, soothing circles to your back as you rest your elbows on your knees.

"It'll go away," you promise. 

"I know, little dove. Sesame gremlin is really molding your body to how it sees fit," the CEO whispers.

Your heart feels warm as he speaks such kind words.

"You remembered," you whisper in awe, turning your head to look at him.

He smirks, furrowing his eyebrows. "I remembered? That you called it a sesame gremlin?"

You nod happily as he chuckles.

"That's our baby name for now, why would I forget that?" he asks, confused.

"Just didn't think you cared that much," you reply, the nausea starting to ebb away.

"Oh, I care. It's just hard for me to show it sometimes… Most of the time." he whispers, brushing some stray hairs away from your cheek.

You hum sweetly, a noise that fills the man beside you with glee.

"I feel a little better," you whisper, sitting back up.

"Good. Let's go get you some water and food, hmm?" he asks softly, helping you stand.

Watching you walk away to the bathroom, Yoongi can only describe this past encounter as comfortable. It just seems right. It feels domestic and warm. 

It feels so perfectly his.

"Frederic, that was amazing!" you say, setting down your fork.

The chef looks up at you from the pan, a wide smile set on his face.

"Madame. You flatter me. I am just your humble serviteur," the man says, bowing to you.

Yoongi rolls his eyes with a chuckle. 

It didn't take long for him to call his office and tell them that he would be working from home. But, it was just long enough for him to begin missing you while you were in the shower.

He's starting to become attached to you. He's only ever felt attached to Maya. 

"You have to go work, right?" you ask him as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

He nods slowly, picking up his coffee while turning to you.

"Yeah, just gotta go over a few documents. You can come up with me though, if you want to. Bring a book or something?" he sounds shy as he asks you.

Not too long ago, that question would have made you feel uncomfortable. But now, you're more than content with agreeing.

"Sure, I'm almost done with a book I took from the library," you reply as he helps you down from the stool.

"What book are you reading?" he finds himself asking, his arm extends, politely telling you to walk first before him.

"Atlas Shrugged," you reply, ascending the stairs.

The prospect of you reading such a large book makes him impressed.

"When did you start reading the book?" he inquires softly, the both of you landing on the second floor.

"Two days ago," you say, walking towards your studio to grab the book.

"You're almost finished with a one thousand page book in two days?!" his voice is filled with awe as you pick up the hardcover book.

Turning to him, you press the book to your chest with a smile. "Well yeah, it's a great book."

His lips purse, seeming impressed. "Well goddamn, you're an enigma aren't you, little dove?" 

 The third floor is perfectly grandiose. There are small cases filled with what seem to be heirlooms lining the marble walls. 

"No one really comes up here." Yoongi explains as you walk through the large hallway.

The two wings at the top seem to be filled with crates and boxes. There are white sheets that cover many pieces of furniture and at night you would hate to be up here. It seems like it would be creepy and daunting.

"Most pieces of furniture and the art and statues in the crates haven't been added down to the museum wings, yet. I just leave them up here." Yoongi says as you wade through them all.

"So interesting," you quip, lifting a white sheet to look at the pretty furniture beneath it.

"Kinda creepy." Yoongi says, folding his arms.

You hate to admit it but you nod along with his words.

"Just a little," you reply with a giggle.

"Come," he whispers softly.

As you continue back to the main hallway, you feel his hand on your lower back once more and it fills you with a sense of calm. 

He's getting good at that these days.

"This is my office," he says, opening up the double doors.

Everything in this room is pristine and you can tell that it's never been used before last week.

As you go to step inside, your feet linger as a black door down the hallway catches your attention.

"What's that room?" you ask, curiously.

Your feet taking off without you.

"Oh, little dove! Wait!" Yoongi cries out as you step in front of the door.

It has a fingerprint key to it. Seems secretive.

"This is just a room of my hobbies and stuff," he sounds absolutely embarrassed.

His hand rubs at the back of his neck and you notice how his irises shake with nerves, looking from the room and then back to you.

"Show me," you whisper as he leans against the wall.

He hums unsurely. 

You sound so excited about it. 

"It's really not for you to see." he replies.

Frowning, you tug on the door handle which gives no reaction.

"Come on. It can't be that bad. Unless, you have dead bodies in here," you joke.

Rolling his eyes, he sighs gently. He doesn't want to see you frown. So, against his better judgement -- he puts his thumb on the fingerprint scanner. The noise echoes throughout the silent floor and he clears his throat awkwardly.

"It's a BDSM room. I've never used it though," he says quickly, opening up the door.

"Whoa," you whisper as the room is opened up to you.

Automatic lights turn on as you step inside. 

The walls are all black marble and the large bed that sits at the far end of the room is mocha brown. 

You can tell the sheets are satin and luxurious even from far away. 

But, the main thing that catches your attention is the multitude of cabinets and drawers that line the walls almost artistically.

Yoongi watches you with nervous eyes. He watches how you run your hand over the wooden fixtures that line the walls.

"What's this?" you find yourself asking.

You point to a large black X figure that is attached to the wall.

The CEO rubs his hands together nervously, pushing himself off of the door frame to walk closer.

"It's an X cross. You hop on these footrests and you get shackled to it," he sounds uncomfortable as he speaks.

"Cool." you reply, setting down the book to hop on.

"Whoa! No! You're pregnant, be careful!" he whines, putting his hands on your rib cage to keep you up against the cross.

"So? Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I'm broken," you quip, putting your hands on his shoulders.

"Little dove," he admonishes softly.

He looks up at you on the cross and the dirtiest things begin to flit through his mind.

Imagining you naked, with your hands and feet shackled to the cross. Seemingly incapacitated as he strokes your pretty pussy. 

What would it be like if your belly was bigger? He'd be able to rub--

"Get down," he begs.

Rolling your eyes, you hop off of the cross.

"You're no fun," you quip, walking around him to the wall of riding crops and canes.

"I am fun!" he retorts, folding his arms once more.

"What's this?" you ask softly, your fingers running through the multitude of leather strands that hang from the top.

"It's a flogger," the father of your child mumbles through gritted teeth.

He sighs softly as you pull it off the wall.

Rearing back, you snap the flogger to your hand and your palm sings with the devilish sting.

"Ow," you whisper softly.

Yoongi watches your eyebrows contort in pain and he's quick to rip the toy from your grasp. It tugs at his heart.

"Stop. You're going to hurt yourself," he admonishes, once more.

The way he speaks, even if it's supposed to come out gruff and annoyed, it just sounds caring and worried. Which is why you're perfectly okay with continuing along with your nosy inquiries.

"Do you like to flog people? Or hit them with this?" you ask, taking a large, thick cane off of the wall.

The way he sighs, it makes you smirk.

"Depends on the situation. How bratty the sub is being," he throws the word bratty right at you and it makes you smile.

"So would you be caning me or?" you quip as you turn to him.

His tongue licks at his lips at the prospect of it.

"I would be fucking wrecking you until you're begging," he mumbles, pulling the thick cane out of your hand.

"So let's play," you whine, tugging his hand over to the bed.

His eyes flutter shut and it takes all of his inner strength to pull away from you.

"You're pregnant. Stop it," he chides, hanging the toys back on their appointed shelves.

"No fun," you mumble, sitting down on the bed.

The bed hugs you comfortingly and you hum in appreciation laying back.

Turning to you, the father of your child watches as your shirt rides up. He can see the small little bump beginning to form and he clenches his teeth at the sight.

"I have to work," he reminds you, watching you run your hands over the satin sheets.

"Go ahead. I'll be here, playing with myself. You have vibrators?" you giggle as his eyebrows furrow.

"Come on, little dove," he says, already heading to the doorway. 

With a small giggle you stand up, you'll break him. In time.

It's difficult for Yoongi to pay attention to work, once again. His eyes keep drifting to you over his laptop. You finished the book in the first hour that you've been in his office. 

Now scrolling through your phone, you pretend not to notice how he stares at you over the lip of his computer.

The light from your phone highlights your swollen breasts and the CEO finds himself shifting in his seat a multitude of times. 

Just thinking about you in that room is doing things to him. He constantly tries to swat away the thought of having you in that room. But it's becoming more difficult as the hours go on.

What's so wrong with having sex with pregnant women? 

There's really nothing wrong with it per se. But he feels like they should be more paternal, no? You're carrying a child, would you also be indulging in sexual acts? 

He doesn't know how to feel anymore. Like he's thought countless times before, you're fucking with his head.

"This says that Doms and Subs have a contract," you speak aloud.

Yoongi huffs out gently, putting his hands over his face. 

You're getting too obsessed with this.

"Sometimes," he replies softly.

"Do we need to have a contract?" you ask with a smile.

He snorts gently at how pleased you look.

"No, little dove. We're not having sex, so of course there is no need for a contract." he says through gritted teeth.

You are really something else.

Crossing your legs, you scroll through the website.

He tries to focus on the many words that are staring him in the face but he keeps looking back at you as your eyes continue to light up.

"Oh! Soft limits. Let's start here," you say happily.

Yoongi puts his hands in his hair, tugging softly on the strands.

He feels like he's going crazy.

"Y/N, please," he whispers, almost begging you.

"We promised each other that we would be truthful to one another."

Rolling his eyes, he replies. "Yes, in the sense that if either of us asks a question we would answer it honestly. Not in the sense that if you suddenly find yourself on a BDSM website, you feel compelled to tell me the truth about what soft limits you're setting for yourself in a non-existent dom slash sub relationship." 

Scowling playfully, you roll your eyes.

"Well. My soft limits are as follows."

Yoongi sighs loudly, grabbing the glass of whisky off his desk to keep his thoughts at bay.

He feels his lips tugging upward as you look through the website.

So annoyingly cute sometimes.

"Breast bondage is a soft limit. Because they hurt a lot right now," you murmur.

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, his eyes narrowing at you.

You're trying to rile him up. He can feel it.

"Little dove," he warns you as you lean closer to the desk.

"Nipple clamps, not sure if I'd be okay with that right now. Anal play, never done it so I'm not sure if I'd like it. Over the knee spanking, won't be able to do that soon." 

Yoongi sips his whisky slowly, letting the warmth of the alcohol curl around his muscles.

"You've never had your ass played with before?" he asks, obviously intrigued.

Got him.

"No. I've only ever been with a few people before and they didn't seem into that sort of stuff," you reply.

He scoffs gently. Your ass is one for the ages, you should have been played with.

"Maybe after you give birth, I'll show you." he suggests above the lip of his glass.

"Sounds like a promise," you quip.

He smirks gently, leaning back into his chair. "Maybe, little dove." 

"What are your limits?" you inquire, trying to push him more.

He hums, closing his laptop. Clearly, he won't be working anymore today.

"I usually only write hard limits. No fecal or piss play. No straight jackets. No pony play. Shit like that." 

"I have no idea what any of that means besides the shit play," you reply, making him laugh.

"Why are you so obsessed with this all of a sudden?" Yoongi inquires, raising his eyebrow.

"Well it's something you enjoy, so I'm curious about it! You took an interest in my painting. And, I like the idea of getting interested in what you enjoy. You seem very safe and protective of your hobby and that's great!" you say happily, leaning against the desk.

The CEO hums gently at your kind words.

"You're so sweet," he mumbles, resting his chin on his hand.

Fine, he'll play along.

"Is fisting a soft limit or a hard limit?" he inquires.

Locking your phone, you turn your chair more towards him as he throws his feet up on the desk.

"I've never tried it before but it seems painful," you reply honestly to him.

His tongue slowly licks over his lips at the simple thought of you beneath him.

"What about butt plugs? Any preference?" 

"Never tried them," you whisper, picking up your glass of water.

His lips sputter as you tilt your head. 

This feels so free and so right. It's playful and fun. The sexual tension just adds to how normal this all feels.

"You haven't tried a lot of stuff, have you?" he asks, taking his feet off the table to stand.

"No actually, I haven't. I've always been kind of prude when it came to sex. Me and you in the back room was just a one off really. I don't really do that sort of thing," you explain truthfully.

He hums in agreement, rounding the desk. "So I'm special?" 

You certainly think so.

"Maybe," you whisper, your head tilting as he steps behind your chair.

"If I show you my hobby one time, will you leave it alone?" he asks gently, bending down to your ear.

His breath is warm against your now flushing skin.

Since getting pregnant, when you aren't feeling sick or tired, you've found yourself overwhelmingly horny. It's almost a fucking sin.

"I don't think you'll be able to satiate yourself after just one time," you quip, feeling his hands run over your shoulders.

"Oh, little dove. I have the patience and strength to keep myself at bay." he replies, his lips drifting over the shell of your ear.

Yoongi thinks if he can just get this out of his system once then it'll be safer. He's been without sex for a while now and he's perfectly okay with keeping it that way. He'll just take back some wank bank footage and then he won't have to continue thinking about it.

"Will you be gentle with me?" you find yourself asking, your voice sounds small and it makes Yoongi's cock begin to harden beneath his briefs.

"I'll take very good care of you, little dove. I promise." he says, holding out his hand.

You feel excitement starting to creep through you. You've been thinking about this for a while now, if you're being honest. When you had sex with him in that back room, it was the greatest sexual experience you've ever had.

Taking his hand, you find him smiling down at you. 

"Come on, little dove. Time is money." 

His voice is more playful this time around and it makes you giggle. Winking at you, he tugs you out of the large office.

"We'll go by the color system for today, okay?" the father of your child asks softly, unlocking the secret room with his fingerprint.

"Color system?" you ask, gently.

He hums in agreement, running his hands over your sides as the door shuts behind him.

Bending down, his eyes flicker to your lips. 

God, he hasn't kissed you in so long. Is this something else he can indulge in just for today?

Taking shallow breaths, his hand cups your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the softness, breath hitching as you wait patiently.

This feels so right.

Without a second thought, he presses his lips to yours. 

You've almost forgotten what he tastes like. You've forgotten how excited and on edge you were in that back room.

Groaning against your lips, the tip of his tongue traces the seam for you to part for him.

His hands grip at the globes of your ass. "Jump." he whispers against your lips.

Doing as told, you mewl into the kiss. You wrap your legs around his strong waist, hands carding through his hair.

His tongue is rough over yours, taking the small gasps and moans you give to him freely.

Yoongi walks towards the bed, laying you down gently as he climbs over you.

Pulling away from you, his lips are red and raw. His eyes are hooded with lustful intentions.

You've both been thinking about this for a while now. 

"What do you say to me if you want to play?" he asks, sitting up.

Your eyes trail over his body, finally landing on his erection that strains almost painfully through his pants.

Licking your lips, your mind completely goes blank.

"Little dove, you answer me when I'm talking to you. Or have you forgotten?" Yoongi asks, running his hands over your clothed legs.

Your mouth opens to reply but it isn't fast enough for the CEO. 

Pinching your inner thigh just hard enough to cause a reaction, he smirks as you squeal softly.

"Answer me, little dove. Or I'll go back to my office and we can forget all of this playful fun," he threatens.

Pouting up at him, he simply chuckles.

"Daddy." you whisper.

"That's it." he replies, bending back down to kiss you.

You can feel your loins beginning to curl and unfurl with hopeful desires. 

"Take off your clothes only on the upper half of your body. I wanted you stripped by the time I get back to this bed," Yoongi's voice is dominating as he whispers against your lips.

Reaching up to kiss him once more, you find him already pulling away. 

"You're not going to fuck me?" you ask, quickly taking off your clothes to accommodate his words.

"No, little dove. You're pregnant," he reminds you, digging through a drawer for rope.

You roll your eyes at his words. It's always pregnant this or pregnant that.

"It's perfectly safe to have sex while I'm pregnant y'know," you tell him hopefully as you unhook your bra.

"I'm sure it is, little dove." he replies softly.

Once he finds rope that he thinks is suitable, he tugs it in his hands a few times to hear the fabric snapping back onto itself.

The sound sends a shiver down your spine, your heart starts to beat faster with excitement.

"Are you naked for me?" he asks, focusing his eyes on the many toys that hang on the wall.

"Yes," you reply, breathlessly.

He's afraid to turn around. What if he falls deeper into his lustful ways for you if he sees you so bare before him?

He has this unrelenting fascination with you so far. Something that truly makes his palms sweat. You're so good and kind, so beautiful and understanding.

What if he just continues to fall? He doesn't know how he'll be able to cope or cushion himself.

He musters his strength. 

Turning around, he takes in your swollen breasts, your veins visible against your skin from how huge they're already becoming. Your nipples are bigger, darker and puffy.

"Oh fuck," he curses under his breath.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He's not going to be able to keep this at a one off at this rate.

"Are they okay?" you ask nervously, looking down at your breasts as he continues to ogle.

"You're gorgeous," he assures you, walking slowly back over to the bed.

With the sweet compliment soothing you, you find it easy to lay back.

Drifting his thumb slowly over his bottom lip, he takes you in.

"Take off your pants," he instructs as he sits on the edge of the bed.

He watches you do as told, his eyes drifting over your breasts to the small bump that's growing slowly but surely.

You're a vision to look at. 

Unfortunately for Yoongi, he's already becoming attached to you in everything. 

"Give me your panties," he commands.

"I think you have a panty kink," you quip, throwing your underwear on his lap.

Chuckling, he stands up putting your panties into his back pocket.

"Just your panties, little dove. We're going to go over some instructions before we play, okay?" he asks, running his free hand over your bare side.

The warmth of his hand makes your body go rigid. You nod understandingly as he bends down to kiss you.

"When I'm with a new sub or," his thumb grazes over your cheek as he pulls away from you, "a very beautiful mother of my child. There needs to be rules." 

"I'm listening," you reply, earnestly.

"We're going to use the color system. Green means it's okay to keep going. Yellow means to proceed with caution. Red means to stop. If you say red at any point, that's it. It's over. We don't have to play anymore. If it gets too much you have to make sure you tell me red, do you understand?" his voice is gentle as he explains.

"Alright, that sounds fair." you say as he lets the rope fall loose from his hand.

"Can I tie you up? Is that okay with you?" 

The prospect is too good to deny. You nod with a small smile, sticking out your wrists.

"Repeat your colors for me while I tie you up, little dove." he instructs, pulling your arms over your head.

"Green for okay, yellow for slow and red for stop." you repeat for him, the neediness starting to seep into your voice. 

"Good girl," he praises you.

Pulling the rope tighter, he makes sure you have breathing room but not enough for you to get out.

"You're good at tying knots," you compliment, tugging on the restraints.

Yoongi chuckles as he slips down the bed to tie your feet. "Just call me a boy scout."

With a giggle, you wiggle your hips playfully as he travels south.

His eyes narrow up at you, a glint of happiness flitting through them as he smiles. He nips at your outer thigh, earning a gentle groan from your lips.

He doesn't even need to watch how fast his fingers move to tie you up, he could honestly do it with one hand behind his back. Instead, he decides to focus on you. To focus on how you squirm for him and how shallow your breathing is. He watches your chest heave up and down, your nipples turning into stiff peaks at his longing gaze.

He wants to remember this, remember all of this because this is a one off. And, he has to remember it as such.

Hopefully.

"You okay?" he asks, finishing up the knot tying.

"More than okay," you reply.

"We're going to try to train your orgasms, little dove. Make it so that your orgasms belong to me and only to me," his voice is gruff, the prospect of having your orgasms to himself and only himself is sending him into overdrive.

"You can do that?" you find yourself asking.

Situating himself between your stretched legs, he begins to smirk.

"I can, if you want to give your orgasms to me. Do you want that?" he asks, brushing some hair behind your ear.

While he has been caged off, you haven't been. You understand him more than ever and it would be special to have him control something so powerful. He's already given you a child, given you somewhere so grandiose to live. You can give him your carnal pleasure. 

So you nod.

"That's my girl," he whispers with a wink.

Bending down, his lips trace over your jaw. He takes in every hitched breath and every signal of rigidity as it sets into your bones.

"Your tits look so good." he compliments, earning a gentle gasp from you.

Your head turns, wanting to give him more access to the column of your neck. 

"You're going to need patience, little dove. You need to give yourself over to me completely, do you understand?" 

You can feel your arousal beginning to soak the sheets beneath you, your hands strain against the ropes begging to feel his body. "Y-Yes Daddy, I understand," you whisper softly.

"Good. I'm going to let you cum once and you tell me when you're about to cum, do you understand me?" he asks, pulling away from the shell of your ear to lock eyes with you.

You feel yourself falling into his mocha irises, can feel yourself wanting to give him your everything. "Yes."

"Good," he kisses your lips gently.

His lips continue to kiss over your skin, your hips bucking into the air for more.

"Behave or I'll stop," he threatens against the column of your throat.

Your eyes flutter shut, lips pressing into a straight line as he gently suckles on your skin.

He leaves small cherry blossom petals in his wake as he continues to lavish on your skin. 

This training is something Yoongi has always been good at. He's always thrived from being in a position of power. But for once, he has an overwhelming urge to please. Something he hasn't felt… well ever. 

Moving his hands up your side, you gasp loudly as he gently cups your breasts.

He shivers at how full they feel in his hands, how swollen and sensitive the skin is beneath his palms.

"Oh, Daddy!" you moan as he squeezes softly.

"What's your color, little dove?" he can barely contain himself above you, his cock is so hard and throbbing within the confines of his jeans.

"G-Green, Daddy. Feels so fucking good!" you whine, your head lolling back as he continues to squeeze.

"Fuck, I bet it does," he whispers, kissing over your collarbone.

Pulling away from you, he can see how flushed your skin is. He can see how swollen your clit is already becoming and he knows that he can make you cum easily without even having to touch you.

"You're a little slut, aren't you?" 

You whimper at his words. It takes you back to the night you were together.

You enjoyed hearing how dirty he could talk. How perfectly degrading his words can be.

"Your slut, Daddy. I promise," you moan out as his knees knock your legs open wider.

"Yeah, I bet you are. Pregnant with my baby and letting me take your pleasure how I see fit," he mumbles.

Biting your bottom lip, your body shudders as his thumbs swipe over your sensitive nipples. 

You gasp loudly, your body undulating beneath him.

"I've-I've wanted you to touch me for so long," you moan, tugging on the restraints. 

His lips turn upwards into a smirk at your words. He's been wanting it for a while too.

"Me too," he replies truthfully.

His thumbs and index fingers nibbley roll your nipples.

Trailing his eyes over your body, he can see how much arousal is trailing down your perineum and soaking the bed. His eyes flutter shut at how gorgeous and vulnerable you are beneath him. 

He lets his lips trail over the curve of your breast, releasing one to reach for the apex of your thighs.

Your body shudders under his touch, preening for more.

Picking up your spilt arousal on his fingers, he suckles on them. God, he almost forgot what you taste like. 

"Jesus Christ." he mumbles.

His tongue peeks out, flicking quickly at your stiff peaked nipple.

Your gasps and moans goad him on, he can barely pay attention as your breath becomes shorter and stunted.

You can feel the band within you tightening.  

You would have never thought that you could be on the brink of an orgasm with Yoongi just playing with your breasts.

"D-Daddy, I'm so close." you whine, spreading your legs wider with hopes your center will be touched.

He hums in agreement as he forsakes one breath for the other.

He makes a mental note of how sensitive you are for him. 

Suckling your nipple into his mouth, he moans against your skin. 

"Daddy, I'm cumming!" you moan loudly, your back bowing off of the bed as white hot pleasure courses through your bones. 

He pulls off of you, rolling and pinching your nipples with his fingers until you're orgasming beneath him.

Your ears ring, mouth going dry as you babble his name incessantly.

"Good girl, little dove." he praises and he raises an eyebrow as you squirt onto the sheets below you.

He takes all of this in. Every little reaction you had to his advances, all of your ques to elude to your orgasm. You'd be very easy to train. 

He waits patiently for you to come down from your orgasm, stroking your skin lovingly.

"What's your color, beautiful?" he asks softly, palming the erection in his pants.

"G-Green." you whisper, already wanting more.

You don't want this to end, and you don't want this to be a one off.

"Well aren't you just such a good little sub," he jeers, bending down to kiss you.

You could get drunk off of his kisses. They make you feel on top of the world. You want to please him, really and truly please him.

"Can I suck your cock, Daddy?" your voice is so innocent as you ask.

He groans gently, cupping your cheek. "No, little dove. That isn't a part of this." he replies, against your lips.

His hand drifts from your cheek to between your breasts before finally situating over your stomach.

He swallows thickly, feeling how hard your womb is beneath his hand.

"Please? If it's a one off, you should get pleasure, too." you suggest coyly, thrusting your breasts closer to his face.

His gummy smile appears then, almost breaking your fragile heart. "I'm already getting pleasure from seeing you beneath me."

His thumb drifts slowly over the almost invisible bump on your stomach.

You begin to pout, tugging roughly on the restraints that hold you bound.

"Yoongi, please?" you whisper, eyebrows furrowing as you beg.

He sighs gently, his bottom lip purchasing between his teeth as he thinks.

He really shouldn't. This isn't right.

"You're pregnant," his excuse is sounding weaker and weaker every time he says it.

"So? Doesn't mean I can't suck your dick, Daddy. Wouldn't you like to feel my breasts in your hands while I suck you off?" 

He groans gently at your questions, you can see his cock throbbing at your words.

"Little dove," he says breathlessly.

"I'll swallow for you, Daddy. Let you cum in my mouth." you whisper, laying back on the bed.

His eyes roll back at the prospect of it all.

"Maybe when my tits get bigger and filled with milk, you can suckle on them." 

"Jesus, when the fuck did your mouth get so filthy?" he wants to sound appalled but it comes out amused and turned on, as it should.

"Guess you'll have to clean it out. Let me suck your cock." you reply with a smirk.

"Oh fuck." he grumbles, unbuttoning his pants.

"This is a one off!" he reminds you gruffly, tugging down his pants and brief.

Untying your hands, he sighs gently to himself. He's going to give you whatever the fuck you want from now on, isn't he? What the fuck is wrong with him?

As you wait patiently for him to finish untying you, you stare at his cock as it rests against his stomach.

Even on the first night you were together, it's still a beautiful sight.

"This is supposed to be training." he mutters to himself.

You giggle to yourself as your wrists become free.

With over zealous confidence, you press your hands to his chest. Shoving him down, he laughs loudly.

"Watch yourself, little dove!" he chides, holding your hips steady as you straddle him.

You wrinkle your nose playfully at him and he can only smirk.

Man, you're infectious.

It feels good. Like, tingles inside of oneself and giddiness in spades.

Gripping both hands onto his shirt, you raise your eyebrows.

"This shirt was made in Italy." he warns you.

With a careless shrug you rip it open, hearing the buttons pop and scatter along the marble floor.

He shakes his head with a chuckle as you stare down at his toned body.

God, he's so fucking hot.

Your eyes drift over the planes of his abs and they get softer as you look at the small circular burn marks from cigarettes.

"Wait," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

You keep your eyes on his face as you bend down. 

"I don't normally let people touch my-- oh, God," he cries out as your lips drift over his skin.

Your lips feel healing against his skin. His hands grip at your sides rougher as you take your time worshipping his stomach.

His breathing is ragged and his palms are becoming sweaty.

"You're very handsome," you say, kissing over the biggest burn.

His body shivers and undulates under your touch.

He's never felt such odd comfort before.

"O-Okay. Little dove, e-enough," he practically begs.

Maybe he needs training too. Training on how to be loved.

You take pity on him, leaving his burn marks alone for now. 

He sighs gratefully, bringing his hand to his face to wipe away tears he didn't know had even arrived.

"You're so sweet, little dove." he mumbles, carding his fingers through your hair.

You smile up at him kindly, the act making his heart beat quicker inside of his chest.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you run your lips over his long length earning a hiss through clenched teeth from the father of your child below you.

"Fuck," he curses, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

Wrapping your hand around his length, you watch precum begin to pearl incessantly at the seam of his mushroom head.

You look up at him for confirmation and he smirks at your subservience. 

"Very good, little dove. You may." he says, gripping your hair tighter with anticipation.

Swirling your tongue around the head, you take immense pleasure in the way he groans. The groan is long and stunted and you know you're pleasing him already.

"That's it, baby." 

The pet name slips so freely and he doesn't take it back as you bow your head down farther.

"Fuuuck, keep going." he instructs.

Licking his tongue over his lips, he curses gently beneath his breath as you begin a rhythm.

Stroking whatever doesn't fit in your mouth, you can hear words of praise leaving his lips like a prayer.

Your arousal has started to drip down your thighs at this point and Yoongi stares for the longest time, dying to be inside of you.

"Take it all. Like you did the night we made our baby," he commands.

With a gentle moan, you swallow around him. Gagging and sputtering on his cock, your vision becomes blurry with tears.

"Fuck, you're so good at sucking my cock. Jesus Christ!" he moans loudly, his eyes rolling back as you hollow your cheeks around him.

His free hand comes up to palm your swollen breast, being as gentle as he can in the throes of his pleasure.

"You're all mine, huh? I can just take you up here whenever the fuck I want, can't I?" he asks through gritted teeth.

His mouth is getting looser as his pleasure takes over.

You moan in agreement, getting sloppier on his cock. Precum and spittle stream down your chin as you continue to please him.

"You're such a bad girl, little dove. You're too good at sucking my cock, gonna make me want you over and over again."

That's the plan.

With a gentle whine, you let him into the recesses of your throat. His head falls back to the bed, his hips gyrating and thrusting on their own.

"Little pregnant slut, begging to be full of me when she's got my kid inside her. That what you want? You want to be my pregnant slut?" 

You moan loudly against his cock as he begins to precum once more.

Tugging his hand off of your breast, you pull it to your parted thighs.

He curses loudly, feeling how much of your arousal is soaking his fingers. He begins to rub quick circles on your swollen clit, feeling it throb beneath the pads of his fingers.

"You're gonna kill me." he threatens through gritted teeth.

Rocking your hips in time with his fingers, you practically lose yourself when his cock begins to throb for release in your throat.

"Squeeze my thigh when you're about to cum." he warns you and you moan in reply.

Everything about this is so perfect and so yours.

You forget everything going on besides just the two of you in this bed.

It's like it's meant to be.

"Messy little thing," he praises, letting your hair go to wipe your chin.

Sitting up on one elbow, he watches you in your entranced pleasure.

He can feel himself coming to an end but he edges himself, pushing away his orgasm until you do.

With a loud whine, you squeeze his thigh harshly begging to cum for him.

"Uh uh. You wait until Daddy says you can cum." 

You mewl sadly around his cock, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Countdown from ten and then cum." he instructs.

Doing as told you count slowly, breathing shallowly through your nose as he continues to fuck up into your mouth. 

Reaching ten, you squeeze his thigh again.

"Good girl. Cum." 

On his command you cum around his cock. Moaning and undulating as you see stars.

He curses loudly, feeling the vibrations in your throat around his pulsing cock.

"Swallow." he groans out, falling back onto the bed as his thrusts become sloppy.

With a few more thrusts, streams of his cum meet the back of your throat.

You swallow diligently, adoring the taste of him with a whine.

He groans breathlessly, his eyes fluttering shut as he becomes boneless on the bed.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!" he asks, putting his hand over his heart. 

Swallowing all of him, you let your mouth hang open. He grips at your chin, pulling your face down to his eye level.

"Good," he replies in a whisper.

He sighs loudly, running his hands through his hair.

What just fucking happened? 

How did that just turn into some of the best foreplay he's ever had?!

"That was a one off?" you quip, sitting back against the headboard.

He rolls his eyes, sitting up at the end of the bed.

"That was a one off?" he retorts with a whiny voice, grabbing his briefs.

Your mouth falls open as he stands up off the bed.

"You're mocking me!?" you gasp loudly.

"Shut up." he mumbles with a chuckle, bending down to kiss you softly.

His eyes widen at how normal that is before he's pulling away quickly. 

"This was a bad idea!" he says quickly, grabbing his pants. 

You watch how nervous he is and it makes you sad. He doesn't even know what normal is.

"Was it a bad idea? Or are you just scared?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He picks up his shirt, looking at the broken buttons.

"This shirt was from Italy! I had it hand stitched by a ninety eight year old woman living in Florence!" he yells, shaking the shirt in the air.

"Well buy a new one, you love buying stuff." you suggest.

"She could be dead before I get my next order in!" he replies, shaking his fist quicker.

"Are you ignoring my question because you're embarrassed?" you ask, tilting your head.

He grunts angrily, busying himself with untying the knots.

"Miss Therapist, keep your questions to yourself!" he cries out, giving up on the knot untying.

He paces back and forth, his hands in his hair.

"You could kiss me again, that might be an idea." you suggest.

He grits his teeth, his mind running a mile a minute.

This was just a bad idea all together. He should have NEVER given in! He should have just ignored it like he always does. He's still falling, maybe even faster now.

Fuck!

You can see his eyes flickering back and forth nervously.

"Okay!" you cry out, clapping your hands.

Jumping off of the bed, you step into his path. He stares into your eyes as you look up at him.

Grabbing your wrist, he struggles against you slightly. You tuts your tongue, placing his hand on your stomach.

He looks up at the ceiling, pieces of black hair falling into his eyes. 

"It's not wrong that we did what we did. If anything it was nice. Don't let your guilt eat at you," you tell him.

He sighs loudly. 

"I just don't… know how to feel. You know how I get by now…" he replies softly.

"I do know. And, that's why I'm telling you it's okay," you promise.

He closes his eyes for a mere second. Looking back down at you, his eyes open.

His gaze fixes to his hand on your stomach. Then to your swollen breasts which are now covered in small marks made by him.

"We're being truthful with one another still?" he asks.

"Always," you reply earnestly.

He takes a moment, pulling you over to the bed.

"This just feels right, it feels too good… I've never felt this or had this before. And, when I thought I was getting it, well… look at that catastrophe." his voice falls flat, looking down at the marble floor.

"You still have to learn what happiness is, Yoongi. You don't have to be afraid to feel something new. And, if you do then you can tell me all about it. I'm just across the hall." you whisper, nudging your shoulder against his.

Warmth is the first thing he feels after he hears your words.

"This wasn't a one off, was it?" he mutters, earning a laugh from you.

"Doesn't have to be." you reply as he puts his shirt on.

"What if I get the urge to kiss you?" he sounds shy as he asks you.

"Then just do it. You have my permission," you say simply.

He smiles to himself gently, his eyes drifting over your naked body.

"Well, that sounds okay then." he says softly. 

With a hum, you kiss his cheek.

"What if I want to kiss all the time?" he asks, pulling your clothes away from your hands.

"Well, maybe not all the time," you jeer, laying back on the bed.

"But you said I have to learn happiness, and maybe kissing makes me happy." 

You giggle at his sweetness. "I think you're going crazy."

"Me too." he whispers, bowing his head down to kiss you.

As you continue to kiss slowly, your stomach rumbles hungrily.

"Someone's hungry." Yoongi mumbles against your lips.

Smirking against his lips, you feel your clothes return to your lap.

"Can I have my underwear?" you ask, putting your bra on.

"No. They're mine." he replies, helping you put on your pants.

"What, are you making a Y/N pantie collection?" you quip, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your shirt.

Yoongi takes in this moment, feeling how compassionate and fun you are. How absolutely radiating with beauty you are. 

"If you're a good girl, maybe." he jeers back, helping you stand up.

Snorting gently, you roll your eyes.

"Can't believed you ripped my fucking shirt, like a pregnant wild animal." he mumbles, motioning his arm for you to walk first. 

Laughing together, you open the room door.

Standing before you is Maya, a hand on her hip and an eyebrow quipped up to the sky.

"Jesus!" you both yell at the sight of her.

With a small smirk, she simply shrugs.

"Madam. Sir." she says, happiness enrapturing her voice as she takes off down the hall to his office with a feather duster in hand.

Yoongi snorts loudly, tugging his shirt closed. 

If this is what happiness is, he might just be okay with delving into it.

"Let's go get you some food, little dove."

Next Chapter ----->

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Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[rexscyarika]

Di’kutla Mando’ad

⚠️18+ MINORS DNI⚠️

Wolffe x afab gender neutral reader. Reader is a Mandalorian bounty hunter that now works for the GAR.

Warnings and such: Establishment bdsm (dom/sub) relationship (up to you to decide if that extends to romantic too as it’s never stated either way), orgasm denial, spanking, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, sex in a gunship, public flirting, flirting with Sinker, mention of mlm Boost cause there are no cishet characters in Star Wars, degrading/name calling, use of military titles during sex, manhandling, teasing, praise, pet names including sweetheart and little one, hair pulling, use of the color system, aftercare, begging, dirty talk, brat taming but not really good brat taming cause you got exactly what you wanted by being a brat tbh, implied past threesomes, implied possible future threesome with Sinker (a sequal anyone 👀), hint of an armour kink, military title kink, mention of knives and I think that’s all I hope *edited to add* piv sex

Mando’a translations (I hope there’s not so much it gets confusing to read, if there is lmk, but I love this language sm and writing with it helps me learn it lol)

Cyare/cyar’ika: Darling/beloved/sweetheart

Gedet’ye: Please

Elek/‘lek: Yes

Ad’ika: Little one/sweetie/darling

Al’verde: Commander

Mando’ad/Mando’ade: Mandalorian/Mandalorians

Ori’jate: Very good

Beroya: Bounty hunter

Ruus’alor: Sergeant

Haar’chak: Damn it

Shabuir: Fucker

Di’kut: Idiot/fool

Ner: My

She’cu: Nine

Gar: You

Title means “Foolish Mandalorian”

Ps idk what toilet paper is called in the Star Wars universe so I went with “‘fresher rolls” don’t @ me.

You glanced past the holo projection of the Kel Dor to your frustrated Commander. His hands were flexing by his side and his body was rigid. He shifted impatiently on his feet as he nodded along to whatever the General was saying. The way his muscles rippled under his plastoid armour made your mouth water and you couldn’t wait to feel yourself underneath him. Submitted and begging for release. You knew he’d pounce soon, you knew how to play him. Sure you could just ask him to rearrange your guts but where was the fun in that? You’d been extra flirty with him all morning, an extra touch there, a lingering hand here, a breathy and sweet tone to your voice as you followed his orders.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Anything for you, sir.”

“You’re armour looks extra good on you today, Al’verde.”

An “I’d sure love to cyar’ika.” After you heard a hissed “fuck me.” under his breath after he had spilled hot caf on himself.

He had given you a couple warnings. Ones you responded with by a flutter of eyelashes and a mockingly sweet “Sir, yes, sir.”

What really wound him up though was what you were doing as he spoke to the General. You were sat beside Sinker on a nearby crate, your knees touching and a hand on his thigh. You had removed your helmet and sat it beside you so Wolffe could see every bite of your lip and flutter of your lashes you gave his vod.

You turned your attention back to the silver haired trooper, leaning in closer than necessary to hear his story.

“So Boost goes up to him and the di’kut says: Hey are you a lightsaber cause I’d like to impale myself on you.”

The poor man barely gets that sentence out before he’s wheezing, you joining him promptly after. Wolffe’s head snaps up to you guys and you can feel his gaze burn through you, you just know his lips are pulled into a tight line under his helmet. He turns his attention briefly back to Plo before he is dismissed and you hear footsteps coming your way.

You tried to stifle a smirk as you ignored him.

“How many times do I have to tell him to stop with the pickup lines, he’s never gonna get laid.” You rolled your eyes and huffed in mock exasperation.

“Or maybe a haircut.” You added with a snort.

“I keep telling him that! But he-“ Sinker immediately stiffens and removes the hand that had travelled to your waist as he noticed Wolffe. He stands up and gives his C.O. a small salute. Not really necessary or protocol but he was afraid he had crossed a line and didn’t want to take any chances.

“Commander.” you purred, lifting her head and blinking up at him with hooded eyes. “How’d the meeting go, anything new we need to know?”

He ignored your question but continued staring daggers into your soul as he spoke to Sinker.

“A new shipment of supplies is due to be dropped off anytime. Go and make sure the shinies don’t spill them again.” His voice was gruff and commanding, trying his best not to snap at his vod. After all, it wasn’t his fault you were being a needy little slut.

“Yes sir, right away, sir.” You heard him reply, his shoulders relaxing and a relieved sigh leaving him as he walked away.

You stood up and looked towards Sinker, huffing in mock disappointment.

“Rude. I was having a nice conversation with him.”

You turned to grab your helmet, settling it onto your head before turning back to your Commander.

“He was telling me embarrassing stories about Boost, it was quite entertaining.”

“Uh uh.” He replied, taking a few steps towards you. His voice, deep with irritation and lust, sent a wave of arousal straight to your core. “Entertaining.” The word was laced with sarcasm and a touch of a snarl. He stepped closer, you could hear his breathing through the modulator now. A hand came up to run along the top of your belt, sending shivers through your spine. His other hand came up to rest under your helmet, pulling your head up to look at him. “You’re quite the needy little thing aren’t you, sweetheart?” It was more of a statement than a question and you just scoffed at him and shifted to hide the arousal that was building between your legs. “I asked you a question, beroya.” He growled, his grip on your helmet increasing. You responded by stepping back, your hand moving up to flick his away.

“I’m going to help Sinker.”

You huffed, turning to walk away. His hand hadn’t left your belt, however, and he tightened his grip and pulled you towards him.

“Foolish Mandalorian.” He snarled as he snaked his other hand around to land on your lower back and pull you flush against him, causing a small gasp to travel through your modulator.

“Shabuir.” You fired back, your hands coming up to push at his chest, not that you really wanted to get away mind you. But you knew the more resisting you did the rougher he would get. And the rougher he got the more heat gathered between your legs. And the names, oh the names. Coming from anyone else you probably would’ve pulled your blade on them, but the way he said them in that voice of his, especially modulated through his helmet, turned your limbs to jelly. They were like a condescending prayer falling from his lips and travelling straight to your cunt. He knew this of course, this wasn’t your first time and you had discussed your limits to avoid well, you pulling your blades on him.

He growled your name, a low sinful warning as his hand left your belt to grasp your throat, not hard enough to bruise but certainly not light.

You light out a low whimper at that, the sound, along with it being enhanced by your modulator, sent a shiver down the Commander’s spine.

“Color?” He murmured, somehow flipping his voice to be soft and gentle, his hand moving to gently rest against the back of your neck.

“Green!” You nearly gasped out. You were starting to lose your composure and you knew he could tell that to.

He immediately straightened up, his voice becoming hard and commanding again.

“Then I think it’s time to teach you a lesson in following orders, little one.”

He turned and started walking towards the nearest gunship, his hand pulled tight around your waist.

You stumbled alongside him, his words having weakened your legs even more.

“Easy there.” He chuckled. The sound a low and deep rumble in his chest.

It made you stumble again. The bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Despite your weak legs you managed to make it to the gunship where Wolffe hastily opened the door and ushered you in. The door hadn’t fully closed by the time he had pushed up against the wall. His hands came up to remove your helmet and discard it alongside his own and he wasted no time in claiming your mouth, only pausing to order you to keep your hands clasped behind your back. His tongue found no resistance through your lips and he pulled moans deep from your throat as he explored your mouth. While his mouth was busy his hands came to grope and grab at your ass before moving to remove first your belt, then your codpiece. He teased his fingers just inside your waistband, enjoying the way your moans turned to whines.

Just as you were about to pull away and spit a snarky comment at him for taking his time he finally moved his hands down to slide a calloused finger through your folds. A surprised whimper left your lips at that.

He hummed approvingly at the wetness he found there, slowly sliding his finger in before he moved to nip and suck at your neck. His finger didn’t move, not until he slid another to join, at which they both stilled inside you again.

You tried to roll your hips against him, desperate for any kind of friction, but you were met with his other hand roughly shoving your hips back against the wall.

“Ah ah, you take what I give you, cyar’ika.”

You whined into his ear, trying to think of something snarky to say but you were at a loss for words.

“Aw, all tongue tied are we?”

You opened your eyes to meet his as he pulled his mouth from your neck.

You opened your mouth to disagree but it turned into a surprised gasp as he rutted his fingers up inside you, fingers curled expertly to find that spongy spot.

You saw a sly smirk form on his lips before your eyes closed in bliss. He still wasn’t moving quite enough for your liking but at least he was moving you thought.

He brought his mouth back to yours to swallow your moans as his thumb came up to gently circle your throbbing clot.

His hand moved from your hip to grab a handful of your hair. He didn’t pull at first, just kept a gentle pressure pulling at the roots.

“Wolffe.” you moaned out, his hands sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His fingers stilled inside you, making you let out a small whine. He used his grip on your hair to turn you to face him.

“Excuse me?” He growled, meeting your gaze with darkening eyes.

Your own eyes widened at the realization of what you said. “Commander! Sorry, sir.”

He gave a hum of approval and started pumping his fingers inside you again, only this time it was faster and harder. Every push inwards had his fingers brush against that sweet spot and you could feel your orgasm approaching.

You could feel his gaze travelling over your face as you twisted and groaned beneath him.

His thumb came to swirl around your clit again, causing you to cry out. You let your head fall back against the wall as you prepared for the wave of pleasure to wash over you. You could feel it building and building, burning hot, deep within your core. However, instead of the sweet release you had been craving you got a sudden emptiness as he pulled his hand away. You clenched around nothing and let out a whine, snapping your eyes open to look at the culprit. You shivered at the sight. He brought his fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking off the taste of you. His eyes were closed in bliss and he let out a groan around his fingers. A long, deep, sinful sound that shot straight to your soaking cunt.

You watched him with hunger, trying desperately to keep your hands to yourself.

He removed his fingers with a pop and let his eyes fall to your exasperated state. Which he let out a chuckle at.

“You didn’t think you were going to get away with being a brat, did you?”

The venom in the way he said brat and the way his lips turned into a snarl made your pussy throb even more than it already was.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly and he raised his eyebrow in a silent warning.

“No, sir.”

“Thought so.” He let his hand fall from your head and he walked over to some stacked crates, gesturing for you to follow him.

He ordered you to turn around once you had came to face him. The break from him touching you and the brief walk was enough for you to gain back some control of your thoughts so you opted to have a little fun.

“No.”

“Pardon that sweetheart?”

“I said no.” You crossed your arms over your chest and popped your hip out, meeting his gaze with one of defiance. “You didn’t let me cum so I’m not going to listen.”

His jaw tightened and before you knew it you were bent over the crates, face pushed against the cold medal and hands held tightly behind your back. You gasped as you felt yourself being pushed even harder down onto the rough surface as he bent over to bring his lips against your year.

“Watch it, Ruus’alor.” He practically spat, giving your neck a hard nip to prove his point. The use of your title send a shock of arousal through your body and you shivered against the feeling of his breath on your neck.

He straightened up and roughly pulled down your pants, your underwear going with them. The Commander waisted no time in bringing his hands to grope your ass, and his mouth to bite at the soft flesh. Your groaned and leaned into his touch, encouraging him to move his mouth lower.

You were met with a harsh slap to the sensitive skin.

You let out a surprised yelp and your hands moved to grip on the edges of the crate.

You received another slap, this one slightly harsher. You felt him straighten up again as he spoke. “Did you forget how to count, sweetheart? That was two.”

“Sorry, Sir.” You mumbled into the table and were met with another slap.

“Three.” You gasped

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

“She’cu.” You choked out. That was one of your tells it was becoming to much when it came to impact play, slipping back into your native tongue. You two had been quick to figure that out when you started. It wasn’t always negative when you started speaking Mando’a however. Most of the time it meant you were on the verge of an orgasm or you were just so lost in the pleasure you forgot how to speak basic.

His hand moved to rub soothing circles over the reddening skin as his other trailed up and down your waist.

“Ori’jate ner Mando’ad.”

You relaxed under his touch, your breathing coming deep and easy again. Your cunt ached from neglect, you needed him inside you, now.

“Gedet’ye Al’verde.”

“What do you need Cyar’ika?” He leaned his body slightly over yours. You sighed under the weight, it was comforting.

“Gar, Al’verde.” You whined, trying to wiggle your hips against his codpiece. “Need to feel you inside me. Please.”

He brought his lips to the back of your neck and kissed you softly before answering. “Only because you took your punishment so well.”

You managed a breathy thank you before he pulled away to remove his codpiece. You shivered in anticipation as you watched him expertly remove the armour. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips when he removed his cock from the confines of his blacks. He was rock hard and slick with precum.

His gaze met yours and his lips turned up into a grin. “What you’ve never seen a cock before?” He teased taking himself in hand and giving himself a couple pumps.

You managed to roll your eyes and mumble a “Just fuck me already.” as you turned your head from him.

“With pleasure.” He cooed, lining himself up with your aching hole and placing a hand on the small of your back to press you further into the cold surface of the crate.

You both groaned in tandem as he began to push himself into you. He slowly moved deeper until he couldn’t go any further, stopping to take a minute to make sure you were well adjusted before he started moving. As he stilled inside you he moved his body over yours again, taking a hand to gently pull your chin towards him. He kissed you, it was slow and gentle, and you returned it eagerly, clenching around him when he gave your lower lip a little nip. He released a curse into your mouth at that.

“Ready?”

“‘Lek.”

He attached his lips back to yours as he slowly started pulling out of you, eagerly drinking down every sound you made. You thought he was going to pull out of you completely before he buried his hips against yours in one swift motion. His cock hitting deep inside you caused you to cry out and push back against him, seeking more.

“So eager.” He breathed against your lips before pulling out and snapping his hips in again, faster this time.

This caused you to roll your head away from his, resting your forehead on the crate, hands clinging desperately to the sides as your Commander’s movements quickened with every thrust. His breathy groans left your ear as he stood up, placing his hands on your hips in a tight grip.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

You only groaned in response, the praise sending a wave of pleasure down your body and causing you to clench around him. He hissed at that before speeding up his thrusts and somehow managing to hit even deeper inside you.

Your words were coming in garbled mix of basic and Mando’a now, the pressure in your core steadily growing.

“Are you going to cum, sweetheart?”

You managed to nod in response before crying out in frustration as his movements slowed.

“Do you think you deserve to?”

“Elek, Al’verde gedet’ye!”

“Hmm. I don’t know about that.”

His head lowered to your ear again.

“Good Mando’ade listen when their Commander tells them to behave.”

He brought a hand to your ass in a light slap, making you jump slightly forward in surprise, well as far as you could being pinned against a metal crate.

“They don’t continue to be brats and flirt with my vode.” He added, moving his hand to grip at your hair. “Maybe I should call Sinker in here so he can see what he’s missing.”

Your breath hitched at that.

“Or maybe I should just pull out and let him take care of you. After all sweetheart, you seemed mighty eager to let him fuck you.”

You buried your head against the cold metal as a whine escaped your hips and you clenched around his barely moving cock.

“Hmm what a filthy little thing, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He chuckled, suddenly snapping his hips back towards you in a deep thrust.

You let out a choked cry. “Haar’chak Al’verde, gedet’ye!” The pressure in your core was overwhelming, you felt like you could burst at any second but his movements were to slow too let you. Tears pricked your eyes as the pleads fell from your lips. His cock inside you was too much yet not enough at the same time. Your body was heated with pleasure but also a small amount of smugness. You had him exactly where you wanted him, pushing all his buttons to get what you wanted.

You hadn’t realized you had been whining apologies to him until his movements sped up again.

“There you go, cyar’ika.” He breathed out as he set an unforgiving pace, hips angled to hit your g-spot and his hand leaving your hair to rub circles on your clit. You couldn’t form words at this point, just moans and gasps as you chased your release. You could tell he was close too. His thrusts had become more erratic, and the hand at your hip had tightened its grip. Your mouth fell open in a shout of his name as his next words pushed you over the edge.

“Cum for me, ad’ika. Make a mess on my cock.”

And you did, your orgasm rippling through you in it’s unforgiving intensity. You felt yourself clench hard around him, the action causing him to spill inside you with a sputter of his hips and curse of your name from his lips. You became slightly numb as you came down from your high, barely registering that Wolffe was pulling you into his lap. Soft praises fell from his lips as he gently held your head against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist, trying to get as close as you could despite the armour you both still wore above your waists. Your breathing came slow and deep, synching to his. Once you had gained some semblance of control you looked up at him to find him studying you intently.

You raised an eyebrow at the question that was pulling at his lips.

“Would you actually wanna fuck Sinker?”

You giggled at the disbelief in his voice before you moved your head into his chest to hide the red that was creeping up your face. “Maybe.” You mumbled, partly hoping he didn’t hear you.

“But it’s Sinker!” He groaned in confusion.

You popped your head back up that.

“I happen to like Sinker quite a bit thank you very much.” You huffed in defence. Not that it had any real heat to it you as you knew he was teasing. He really was quite fond of the trooper but he liked it give him a hard time.

He chuckled at you, more moving of his chest than actual sound. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shared you, cyar’ika. As long as you remember the rules.”

You rolled your eyes at him, of course you’d remember the rules.

“Not without you and you’re in charge.” You sealed your words with a boop to his nose, causing him to return your eye roll.

“That’s my good little beroya.”

His words made you flush again, but it turned into a grimace as you felt the mess between your legs.

“You made a mess Wolffe!” You tutted in mock annoyance as you stood up in search of something to clean you up. You couldn’t see his face but you’re sure he rolled his eyes at you again. You let out a small cheer as you opened one of the crates to find it filled with ‘fresher rolls. Grabbing one you turned back to find your Commander walking up to you with your discarded pieces of armour. You put them back on after cleaning yourself up as best you could. Once you were done you looked up to find Wolffe staring at you with a smirk on his face.

“What?!”

“Your armour’s sexy.”

“No your armour’s sexy.” You replied tapping a finger on his chest as you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

He let out a snort before handing your helmet to you.

“Why thank you, cyar’ika.” You purred, lifting it from his hand. Before you could put it on however, he grasped your chin between two fingers and pulled you up to kiss him. It was deep and passionate and made you melt into his touch. He pulled away with a smirk, leaving you out of breath and on slightly shaky legs as he put his helmet on.

“Why don’t we go and check on your darling Sinker? Make sure he hasn’t knocked out any shinies.” He sighed in slight exasperated at the second sentence as he turned to open the door out of the gunship.

You scoffed at his words but also put on your helmet to follow him. Sinker has been know to get a little... snippy at shinies here and there. You’ve had to step between him and a terrified trooper more than once. Not that you haven’t had to do that with Wolffe mind you, he was just as bad if not worse. You grinned as you stepped out of the gunship, a small limp finding it’s way into your step. You couldn’t wait to see Sinker’s response to your little proposition you had prepared for him.

[liliesinrequiem]

Poem

A/N: I’m back! With another Kaeya fic. This is technically set during the Windblume Festival with certain changes. I hope you all enjoy <3.

This could also be read as a sequel to: Forfeit (Kaeya x AFAB!Reader). It doesn’t have to be read before this one really since you aren’t really missing much. You can if you want. 

Pairing: Kaeya x Reader

Summary: Kaeya convinces you to write a poem during the Windblume Festival. You refuse to show it to him after hearing his ‘poem’ and avoid him for the rest of the day until you were unable to. 

CW: Mentions of alcohol

“Why don’t you try and write a love poem then?” he asked. A teasing smile on his face. 

“My way with words is incomparable to yours,” you said. He was the most convincing person that you knew. There was a reason that he was so loved. Just from speaking with him for a little while, a person would totally be enraptured by him. A charming man, truly. 

“Didn’t you write that one riddle when I had to arrest those treasure hoarders? The one that could’ve been out of a romantic novel,” he said. 

“I was inspired,” you mumbled. That whole setup had been some of your finest work. The maps and the riddles were something that you had dedicated some time to. Of course, he’d given a lot of guidelines as to how they should be. You’d just done a lot of the creative work. Everything just fell into place so well for him in the end. The dinner you earned was nice as well. 

“Then be inspired again. I’ll show you mine if you write one and show me,” he said. 

A fair trade you supposed as you took a piece of paper. The poem came easier to you than you expected. Maybe your own heart did have some inspiration that you did not desire to admit. 

“That’s what you were writing this entire time?” you asked after his poem was read out loud by Venti. You were tightly holding onto your own poem, wrinkling its prior smoothness. Whatever thoughts you had in mind of sharing your own poem had vanished into thin air. 

“Poetic, no?” he asked. You glared at him. Poetic? Sure. A love poem? No. Beyond that, when did he even have time to learn the language of the Hilichurl? 

“I feel like I have to fail you for this,” said Venti, confused by what he had read.

“Please do,” you said. 

“Did you write a poem, (Y/N)?” asked Paimon, pointing at the piece of paper in your hand. Everyone’s eyes turned to you and you could see how the Captain was smiling. Embarrassment filled your body as you folded it quickly and shook your head. He would not manage to win.

“Nope! This is just a list of things I have to do at the moment. Now, if you’ll excuse me!” You stored the poem in your dress as you left the room and the building. You’d rather be outside and help out there than remain within the same room as Kaeya. 

---

“Lumine!” you said as you saw her a while later. You’d been helping out Noelle with carrying around some materials that were needed for the festival. But your friend was much faster and stronger than you were so she was probably at the destination. 

“(Y/N)! Captain Kaeya asked us to search for you! He wants to talk to you,” said Paimon. 

“Oh? He couldn’t search for me himself?” you asked. A question that probably sounded meaner than you intended it to. 

“He said he was too busy finishing up some paperwork for Jean,” answered Lumine, “So we came looking for you. 

“You’re too kind. No wonder you’re an Honorary Knight. But I can’t go right now.” You continued, “Tell him that I can speak with him later.” You really did not want to see him. You felt...slightly hurt. You weren’t even sure why you were. Actually, you did know why you were upset. You just didn’t want to admit it. In truth, you had hoped that his poem would actually have meaning. Unrealistically and stupidly, you had hoped that his poem might’ve been a confession. 

But that was the thing about your relationship with him. It was more of something that you were walking in the dark, with no real designation of whether or not you were going in the right direction, and hoping that you end up at the right place. For all you knew, Kaeya was probably waiting for the day that he’d drop you and move onto the next one. Even with that possibility, you continued giving your heart to him. Whether that was stupid or not, you were still not fully sure. Some days it was worth it and others, not so much. 

“We could help you so that you can talk with him. He said it was urgent,” explained Lumine. You didn’t doubt that he had told her that. He probably believed that if you were told that it was urgent, you’d drop everything and run to see what he wanted to see. You usually did but you felt that you had to hold your ground for a while longer. 

“Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll talk to him when I can. He’ll understand,” you said. You bid them farewell and continued carrying the crate.

---

You’d managed to avoid him for most of the day. That was until you were called to Angel’s Share and asked to take him home. When you asked why they couldn’t, excuses came flying at you. Sister Rosaria said that she couldn’t as she had business to take care of and Diluc couldn’t either since he had to close up the place. Convenient that they both chose to do that now. 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” You only mumbled a ‘no problem’ in response to Diluc’s gratitude as you pulled Kaeya to lean on your shoulder. The promise of free drinks motivated you to get the job done quickly. 

“(Y/N)-” “Captain, be quiet. I would prefer if you didn’t get sick on me,” you cut him off. The walk back to his apartment was a hassle. It was either that he continued trying to ramble to you or that he was leaning too much on you and you had to take small breaks. You truly were exhausted from those crates earlier.

“Where’s your key?” you asked when the two of you stopped in front of his door. A fruitless question as his mind was somewhere else you would soon realize.

“How come you didn’t come to me when I asked earlier?” he asked. You didn’t answer as you checked both his pockets and fished out the key from the left one. To ask the question again would probably cause him to start talking about something else and you most definitely did not want to talk about anything. 

“(Y/N),” he said.

“What?” Your voice sounded more angry than you meant. You pushed the door open and kicked it to close when the both of you got through. You sat him on his bed and started to look around the cabinets for a glass to fill it with water. 

“Have you been ignoring me?” He sounded hurt. A rare sight to ever behold when he was constantly brushing everything off. Kaeya was rarely a vulnerable person. Years of having built up the walls around him to keep people out led him to being closed off from everyone. The fewest times that he was vulnerable was in the dead of night or when he was drunk. Every single thing that he ever expressed during those times had been stored into your heart. 

“I’ve been busy today,” you answered as you handed him the glass of water. You turned to start looking for some clothes for the night. You doubted that he’d appreciate sleeping in his work outfit.

“That’s never stopped you before,” he countered as he drank the water. No response came from you since you knew him to be right. There was one time where you had to finish up something for Lisa and stopped doing it because he’d bothered you enough to do something for him. The librarian was upset and you only barely learned your lesson.

“Was it because of my poem?” You wondered how he even managed to figure that out. 

“Maybe,” you said, “I just expected a bit more from you.” The poem that you had written for him was still in one of your dress pockets and felt like a stone that weighed on you. You’d poured a bit of your heart into it and the courage to give it to him withered away when Venti read his poem.  

“I wrote an actual one,” he said. You placed some clothes on the nightstand and turned to look at him.

“Is that so?” you asked. You steadied him from falling over after you made your question. Just how much alcohol did he consume? The tab he had must be astronomical. Maybe not as bad as Venti’s or what yours had been at one point, but it had to be huge. Though you were jealous of his ability to remain coherent enough with everything in his system.

“Yes,” he said, “It’s here.” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his shirt. “Read it,” he said as he pushed the paper into your hands. 

You shook your head. For all you knew, it could be another joke and you weren’t sure that you could handle it. At least not with him looking at you while you read it. “Let’s get you to bed, Kaeya.” 

“But I want you to read it,” he whined. 

“And I want you to sleep because you’re drunk,” you said. 

After you’d spent some time convincing him to change and to get ready for bed, you sat down at the edge of the bed and opened up the paper. He’d fallen asleep rather quickly and you breathed a sigh of relief as your eyes traveled to the first words on the paper. 

“(Y/N),” began the poem. 

---

In the early morning, Kaeya woke up with a mild headache. Memories of the day before were hazy as the hangover hit him hard. He looked at his nightstand and saw a glass of water and a small bottle of medicine. 

Beside the nightstand was a small piece of paper. On it, there were three words: To My Captain. 

[kaijurakunsobs]

The Beauty in Empathy

master list

ya boi took all the time in the world writing this but here we go baby! also...yall get soft!Heisenberg content

⚠ Trigger: Panic Attack, PTSD

Summary: the travel to the village has left you shaken up and unsure of what to do with your life. You lack direction, an objective, something to anchor you give the sense of control, it doesn't matter what, you just need something to control.

It, almost, feels nice to come back to the factory, not carrying for the ache in your limbs or the blisters on your feet, you need to feel safe in any way shape or form, and the closest thing to a safe heaven...is the factory. Where no one can touch you, where Heisenberg's sole presence is enough to ward off unwanted visits, where you could run through the maze of corridors and find refuge in some empty room.

There was so much going on, the euphoria you got that morning over the small win against Heisenberg was gone now, replaced by uneasiness, fear of what you don't understand, of what you had gotten yourself into. But you don't let panic subdue you again, taking deep breaths, you run to the living quarters, crates creaking with the movement, fresh vegetables, and cans making so much noise, you were sure the Lord would come and yell at you, he never comes, not even when you almost throw down the door and begin to scream, he's not there.

It takes you a bit to calm down and regulate your breathing, you feel disoriented, suddenly everything is too much and you begin to get rid of the rope wound around your shoulders and hands, wincing when the crates and sacks do so much noise.

And there you stay with your head pressed against the door and eyes shut, remembering how your mother used to cook and clean when stressed, she said cleaning your living space clears the mind and keeps us sane, cooking fills the soul and your stomach with the warmth of your home.

That makes you get up slowly, moving to the kitchen to clean it and the fridge thoroughly, ignoring your aching and shaking limbs in favor of putting everything away and leaving out some ingredients to make a simple vegetable soup. Taking a cutting board and knife you start chopping and cutting vegetables, casting a glance at the clock in the wall and wondering, when will Heisenberg come back and if you should leave him something to eat.

You are done cooking, letting the soup boil, and slowly make the room smell deliciously, remembering how your mom used to cook this soup when you were distraught or sick, you are distraught indeed, but getting lost in memories of people that don't exist anymore feels...useless, painful, stupid.

All of your attention is brought back to the mess on the table and coffee table, all those blueprints and papers just laying around, feels wrong. Picking up every single one you do quick work of rolling it and placing it upright in one of the crates the Duke used to pack your groceries, carefully stashing papers and placing them with the prints, dropping the crate over the kitchen table, grabbing the broom and sweeping the small living room.

With a prideful smile, you stare at the much cleaner area, serving yourself a generous portion of soup and taking a seat at the table, it tastes just as good as your last meal last night, you feel pleasure by eating something this warm, feeling the heat go down your throat and radiate through your entire chest and bleeding down your body, it's nice a feeling. But the heat doesn't linger long and the cold of the world beyond the factory hunts you.

You lost it all so fast, everything stole away by Miranda and the creatures that attacked you, yes, you have a "home" here and a room, and Heisenberg's presence seems to guard off against anyone coming close to this place, but you have no control over anything anymore, and that's what scares you, the lack of control over something.

Routine...that's a way to control your life, something so easy yet so valuable right now, that you don't fight off the prospect of binding yourself to something as monotonous as routine. You were adventurous and brave, now you are scared and ready to find some resemblance of normality, it might be hard, seeing how Heisenberg seems to be more on the chaotic side, but, starting tomorrow you will need to work on that, you need to reclaim a bit of your life.

For now, the best you can do is rest, tame your emotions, abide by the contract you made this morning, maybe...if you play your cards well, you get more perks or small liberties.

Heisenberg drags you out the next day to finally help him with the ventilation, barely giving you time to eat anything and forcing you to chug your coffee, running after him to not be left behind.

The Lord can see you, scribbling something on one of his old note pads, stopping outside of certain rooms to scan the place and write down more notes, mumbling to yourself about what you will need to fix the room. So you are a planner, he likes that, you could also be faking it in favor of getting on his good side, let's see how well you do.

"Let me get this clear" you sigh putting on a pair of his gloves, looking at the rather shabby board connecting the railway and the hole in the wall where the ventilation duct is visible "I have to go across this, get inside and then find the problem?"

"Yeah, basically" he's looking at you, judging your reaction, half expecting you to back off and run away "Is there a problem, sweetheart?" he leans close to you, blowing smoke in your face

With a huff, you take the cigar from his hand and take a drag and puffing the smoke back on his face, jumping over the railing and swiftly balancing over the board towards the hole "You better find a way to pass me whatever I need, cuz im not doing the trave back and forth every fucking time!"

Karl grins at your boldness, smoking his Cuban cigar like it's nothing, raising a brow when you finish it "Will find a way, don't worry about it"

"You better do, Karl!" turning around you grimace looking at the duct, there's water and cobwebs "This is asinine..."

"You will do amazing, darling!" he screams with a lot of amusement when he sees you climb into the duct, enjoying the view of your ass "way better than I could do"

"Oh, bite me!" you yell back with a bit of humor, quickly crawling to the spot marked on the map he gave you the day prior, only stopping to wipe off the sweat from your forehead and assess the damage "Hey, Heisenberg! We have rats here...seems they been doing a number on the ventilators' wiring!"

"Fucking hell! again?!" there's a moment of silence and you use it to look around, definitely, there are rats here, he should think about acquiring some cats, "Think you can fix it?!" you hear him clearly as you make your way back

"If you have some electrical tape and new wires? I could do it today but the rats will come back and eat the new wiring!" he sees you come back, looking at him expectantly

He waves dismissively, turning around to dig through the toolbox, he swears he saw some spare wires here..."Oh don't worry about that, darling, you fix the wiring and I'll just let the lycans have a feast on the vermin" he says as if you knew what he's talking about.

"The WHAT now?" Heisenberg chuckles at your expression, smiling a bit when he tosses the tape and wire in your direction barely catching them.

"More fixing and less asking, you can meet the pack later after we are done with everything you need to work on!"

You hate the way he's smiling, it makes you shudder and feel weary for whatever he's planning.

And you are right in feeling apprehension, Heisenberg keeps dragging you around, helping you up when the repair it's too high, happily taunting you when he sees you stand on a piece of metal, watching your legs wobble and the slight terror when he screams for you to balance yourself because he's not going to save you if you fall, cackling when you tell him to shove it and balancing on the metal sheet.

At the end of the day, he's surprised at how unbothered you seem at being covered in grease and sweat, nonchalantly cleaning your face with your sleeve "And here I thought you were lying about being a mechanic, color me impressed"

"I told you, I'm a woman of my word, I would never lie to you Heisenberg~" something stirs inside him in the way you smile, cocking your hip to the side, he hates your guts but he gotta admit, you are a sight for sore eyes "This has been a beautiful day and everything, but! I'm in need of a shower and I wanna eat something"

"Not yet princess" you yelp when Karl grabs your shoulders and quickly pushes and guides you "You were curious about the lycans, yes? I think is only fair for you to meet them, seeing how you will be staying here for a long time, it's better if they understand that you aren't food"

"WHAT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?" you try so hard to hold onto the door frames, make him stop by refusing to walk, try to walk backwards, only making him grow annoyed and throw you over his shoulder "HEISENBERG I'LL DECK YOU AGAIN, PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN!"

"I would LOVE to see you try that stunt again, girly. It's quite clear your daddy never showed you to be more respectful, I might need to teach you so manners" he has the good forsaken audacity of slapping your ass with his free hand

Heisenberg grunts and chuckles when you trash in his hold, trying so hard to run away from him "HOW DARE YOU?! IM BEATING YOUR DUMB FACE WHEN YOU PUT ME DOWN!" you make him laugh when a yelp scapes you the moment the cold air of the outside hits your skin and at least has the decency of softly putting you down, raising his hands as if ready for you to pounce "DON'T you dare to do that again, got it!?"

"We'll see if you mishave and threaten to punch me again, there must be some punishment, don't you think?" he's all smugness when he speaks, puffing up with pride when you blush and begin to frown, getting ready to tell him off only to get cut off when he whistles.

The sound is loud and fills the still air with a disturbance that feels disrespectful, making you wince when he keeps whistling rhythmically, that reminds you of how your grandfather used to have whistle based commands for the digs in his farm, which means...that the lycans are dogs, probably, and Heisenberg just lets them roam around, there's a small chance that the dogs are trained to chase or hunt vermin.

You both stay outside, waiting, getting a bit excited at the idea of seeing a dog after so long. Karl lifts a brow at the eager look on your face, wondering if you even know what's going to happen or if you are that stupid. He's ready to see your reaction, heard you scream in terror, or try to run back to the factory, although, he hopes you don't do that otherwise the lycans might give change and end up killing you.

The cocky smile on his face grows when he sees you pale in horror when the lycans come running, snarling and snapping their fangs at each other. Heisenberg was ready to hear you scream and see you escape, but he is not prepared for what you do next.

All that eagerness, the small hope you felt, all die when you see those beasts, all running to you like it happened that day, the phantom pain in your side makes you choke and freeze, these aren't the same beasts that...killed you...but the memory is still fresh, a part of you tells you to run, to hide, you scream or fight! but the rest of your body refuses to move. The closer they get, the louder the voice in your head becomes, so...you run and hide.

Last time you tried to run to your home and that got you almost mangled, this time? you let instinct guide you, pulling Heisenberg's coat up and hiding behind him, like a child would do, both arms winding around him with crushing strength.

In another situation, he would have made fun of you, laughing and asking where all that bravado of yours had gone to! But he can feel your chest rising and falling so fast, your entire body is shaking so hard it's making his necklaces clink and your teeth clack, you are muttering something but he can't tell what, more importantly...you are crying. He knows the signs of shell shock, oh he knows them too well, whatever happened to you, the lycans triggered a flight or fight response in you, a very strong one.

You can't hear anything over the ringing in your ears, so it's impossible to hear when Heisenberg whistles and makes the lycans scatter again. You do feel his hands peeling yours off him, the weight of his coat covering you and how, strangely, careful he is when picking you up, barely able to register his voice telling you to put your arms around his neck, the firm hold of his hands on your legs and what you guess, was a huff when you locked your legs behind him.

He's beyond surprised when you willingly allow him to pick you up like this, a million questions running through his head over your reaction. Guilt taking a hold of his heart knowing he made you THIS scared, to the point of sobbing on his shoulder and refusing to let him go even after making it into the living quarters but he manages to convince you to let him go, sitting you where you can see him cook and barely hear him talk...something about helping him with a reactor? you are not sure.

Karl watches you eat slowly, looking for any sight you might throw up or if the shaking in your hands gets so bad you might be unable to eat. He goes as far as to escort you to the bathroom, leaving you a new shirt and alone. There are no words to be exchanged but you know, he will come back to check on your jittery self and take you back to your room.

Once alone, you let shame eat you alive, wondering if he thinks less of you, if he will make fun of what just happened, or if tomorrow he will relegate you to some stupid minimal task thinking you are some weak damsel in distress. Dread crush you, not excited for the next day.

Waking up is torture and dressing up is suddenly the toughest task you have been saddled with, the smell of coffee fills the kitchen and, to your disgust, you see Heisenberg dump what might have been three spoonfuls of sugar on his cup. The man perks up when you get close to the table,

"Alright darling, let me start by saying..." here he goes, he's going to laugh and humiliate you "I'm NOT your fucking delivery man" Heisenberg throws a utility belt at you, the weight of the tools on it make you tip back and almost lose your footing "I went to the Duke to see if he got me some new stuff and he said your tools and boots arrived early, I only brought all this back so you won't lose time passing you anything"

"Eat something, we have time" He knows he shouldn't bring back up what happened yesterday, giving you time to process it all and think about what his next steps should be regarding the lycans and your fear of them.

The day is just like yesterday, but you pick on the subtle differences, Heisenberg seems more aware of any sounds that might startle you, steering you away from areas where he knows the lycans are chasing after rats and having a feast on some other things. You don't comment on it, smiling inwardly at his attempts to prevent you from going into another panic attack.

You are sitting in front of a broken generator, judging the damage and sighing when you come to the sad conclusion that you might need to rebuild the entire engine, Karl is close by, two rooms down from where you are. Getting up and stretching is a small pleasure, hearing your back crack loudly, groaning over the stiffness on your neck.

"I got you bad news, backup generator number eight? dead as fuck! I might need to rebuild it which means I'll be doing a list of what I need" you say while entering the room, his back is facing you and he seems to be deep in thought hunched over something.

Getting close you can see him pulling pieces towards him the metal listening to his command and coming his way, a screwdriver in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other, he seems to be struggling to assemble something.

Smiling a bit, you are careful when putting your head on his shoulder, effectively making him jump "Whatchu doing~?" Heisenberg curses under his breath, looking at you to the best of his abilities

"Reactor, damn thing keeps exploding whenever I do test runs" he feels you hum and see your hand get close to the project without touching

"Maybe it's the material or the lack of a cooling system, but that's my opinion" you straighten back "And like I said, the generator is dead, gone, either replace the whole unit or we rebuilt it"

You hear him grunt and pat his pockets looking for something, soon the smell of tobacco fills the air and he too gets up, looking at you, clearly thinking something or how to say it "Princess, about yesterday..." you go stiff, immediately looking away "I don't know what happened before you were brought here, but I do know that it's important for your safety that the lycans learn that you are a part of my..." at this he hesitates, chewing his cigar "family, so if you ever need it, they will come and help you"

He waits for you to say something or to see if you panic again when he sees no sight of terror he continues "There's a small group of lycans that are a bit more tamer, and I was thinking about introducing them to you, one by one"

"You want me to just do what, play fetch with them, scratch their bellies!?" there it is, your panic begins to raise and before it explodes, he grabs your shoulders making you look at him.

"You won't be alone, I'll be there and if the lycans try to EVEN bite you, I'll kill them on the spot! I will even teach you how to control them, that pack will be your...personal guard, but I'll be there"

You relish in the feeling of his gloves hands over you, thinking slowly about this. You need routine and maybe training the beasts to obey you might be good...having control over another being could be good and Heisenberg said he will be there the whole time, something about his voice makes you trust him. "If you leave me alone even ONCE, I'm destroying your knees with a wrench"

And there's that wolfish smile and hearty laughter, with renewed joy he pulls your hand telling you about how you will have the right to do that if he abandons you ever after this, he's staying with you throughout the whole process. Heisenberg catches you off guard when he takes off his coat and drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you outside, standing next to you.

"Let's start with whistling, ok?"

You must admit, you have a lot of fun learning how to do the right whistle command to call this particular pack, laughing a bit when Karl squishes your face whenever you fail to produce the right sound, once you get the sound right, he teaches small commands, how to make one sole lycan come to you, have them stop dead in their tracks, among others and how to make each whistle sound loud.

He does chuckle when you jump the moment the pack comes bolting from the woods towards you, the grip on your shoulders return and that anchors you, giving the stop command and smiling once the small group stops, Heisenberg all but smiles proudly when you take control and pick one lycan to get close and dismiss the others.

"Once it's close enough" Karl whispers low enough for you to hear "take off your gloves and let it smell the back and palm of your hands" he sees you nod and waits for the lycan to get near you, his hands sliding up and down your arms, he can feel you tremble a bit when you take off his gloves and let the beast smell you.

The lycan looks up to you, then at Heisenberg, opting for keeping its attention on you, you called it after all "It won't bite you, it can smell that you belong here, it knows better" Even with his reassurance you are weary of the beast, everything inside asking you to run away, yet you stay put, dogs can smell feat and react to it and that never ends well.

"What else can they do?" Karl can hear the terror in your voice but feels proud of your bravery, quickly teaching you what other tricks the thing can do.

By the end of the day, you are rather surprised when he cooks dinner again, he's actually pretty decent, his cooking lacks a bit of salt but it's good and he's doing his best to have you well fed.

"May I ask...why are you being so nice?" you ask him looking at his back "I've been a bit of a brat"

He laughs looking at you over his shoulder "I suppose...I understand what you are going through" he says, turning his attention back to the stove.

You want to ask him what happened to him, what made him so emphatic out of the blue but the tone of his voice and the stance of his body is enough indicator that this time is not the right moment to ask about it, perhaps one day, you two can share the pain that haunts you both.

[yandere-daydreams]

darling escapes from atsumu & runs to osamu for help, not knowing that the twins share the same feelings for her

I try to keep my Reader-Inserts gender neutral as often as possible, but I /love/ the idea of escaping from one brother, only to fall into the loving arms of another. At least Osamu’s a little nice, or, he can be, at least. He tries to be. Sometimes. Maybe. If you’re really, really lucky.

Title: Trade Off.

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Dehumanization, and Slight Infantilization.

~

Osamu greeted you with a hug.

From anyone else, it wouldn’t have been surprising. What kind of friend wouldn’t hug you - a missing person, a victim of something awful with the evidence littered all over your skin, in burns and cuts and too many bite-marks to count, but Osamu had always been reserved. A hug from him was like rain in the desert, snowfall in the tropics, and despite everything you’d done to earn something more than just a stiff embrace and a moment of uncharacteristic affection, you’d cherished it. You’d fallen into it. You’d wanted it and you’d loved him for it, if only because it was something Atsumu’d never do. If only because it reminded you how different he was from his twin, despite their identical appearances.

If only because, from that point forward, you’d been sure you made the right choice by running to him, before friends and family and a dozen more reasonable choices. You were still sure.

It’d proved he cared about you, and that was something his brother could never do.

Even now, his protective fondness hung in the air, laying over you and keeping you warm like a blanket of worried glances and soft touches, Osamu taking any excuse to rest his hand on your shoulder or let his fingers brush against yours, little things to reassure himself that you were there and you were real, even if hours had already passed since you turned up on his doorstep. You’d already told him about Atsumu, how he’d turned into a monster overnight and the more palatable parts of your captivity, and he’d sat across from you in the cramped living-room, nodding occasionally and letting you speak, getting you a cup of something hot and herbal when your eyes went cloudy and your hands started to shake. You drank it down, thankful for the excuse to stifle the words you found pouring off of your tongue, despite your best efforts to hold them in.

Osamu took your story in stride. With his chin resting on his fist, he scanned over you, his gaze lingering passively on Atsumu’s shirt, the only piece of clothing you’d been able to grab before you fled, and a particularly bad bruise over your shoulder, dipping down until it reached your collarbone. “Want to use my phone?” He offered, his voice flat, but the question itself full of concern. “Your folks must be worried sick. I wouldn’t blame you for wantin’ to get out of here sooner than later.”

You should call someone, your parents, the police, someone, but a selfish, exhausted part of you just wanted to curl up on Osamu’s couch and spend a few more days in denial, pretending the past few months of your life hadn’t happened or dismissing the fact that they’d continue to take a toll on you. Embracing the idea wouldn’t be a good idea, but it couldn’t hurt to indulge it. Get a few hours of sleep, see if you could find a decent pair of pants. Take in Osamu’s hospitality rather than try to tell yourself you didn’t need it. “I need a little time,” You said, shaking your head idly. “You don’t mind if I hang around for a while, do you? I just… I’d like to get my story straight. Saying ‘my famous boyfriend locked me in his basement because he loved me’ might not go over well with the police.”

That earned an airy chuckle. Osamu stood, taking you by the hand to help you do the same. “C’mon. I have a spare room I’ve been fixin’ up, you can stay there for as long as you need to.”

You smiled up at him, and he smiled back. You weren’t sure whether it was relief, joy or gratitude that flooded into your body before you could remind yourself to be cautious, but you let Osamu guide you through his home without complaint, only letting go of his hand when he came to a white door at the end of a long hall, and Osamu had to fish through his pockets to find its key.

‘Fixing up’ had been an understatement.

You weren’t sure if Osamu and Atsumu had a younger sibling, any cousins they favored, but if they did, those kids must’ve been spoiled rotten. The walls were painted a rich, pastel pink, the desk and the bed both new and trendy and absolutely covered in trinkets and toys, things that fell somewhere between decorative and unnecessary. There weren’t any windows, but with a flip of a switch, a small army of lamps lit the room with a soft glow, making you want to fall onto the plush rug that covered most of the floor and lose yourself in the unadulterated homeyness. You couldn’t say you were difficult to impress - with Atsumu, your ‘room’ was either an empty, darkened closet or a crate, sometimes big enough to accommodate you, sometimes not. This felt… extravagant, in comparison. More than you deserved. More than you could accept without paying a price.

It made sense when you heard the door close behind you, a lock clicking into place and Osamu’s key slipping back into his pocket. Your heart still froze into your chest, your pulse slowing down and racing at the same time, but it made sense.

You swallowed your nerves hastily, forcing yourself to turn around and cross your arms over your chest. A futile gesture, considering Osamu’s height and your blatant frailty, but it was too early to grovel. If he wanted to push you around, you’d prove you could push back. “Let me out, now. I don’t know if you think this is funny, but--”

“I started putting this together the day after ‘tsumu got to you. It was already too late, no one knew what ditch you’d died in, but what the hell, right?” He walked past you swiftly, not bothering to acknowledge your rebellion. He didn’t speak loudly, nor was he any more imposing than he’d been a minute ago, but what he was saying, how casually he was saying it, was enough to render you speechless. Absentmindedly, he slid open the closet’s mirrored panel, rummaging through its contents as he went on. “It wasn’t hurting anyone, and if I was gonna get my hands on you eventually, I’d have a plan. He’s too impulsive, never had to wait for anythin’ in his life. I was worried he was gonna break you, for a few weeks.” He paused, pursing his lips as he found what he was looking for. Clothes were thrown at your feet, a full outfit too sheer and too minimalistic to be for your enjoyment. “Change. I’ve wanted to rip those fucking rags off of you since you got here.”

You didn’t bother responding to that. You had a feeling it would only fuel his smoldering hostility. “This isn’t--” You bit your tongue before you could finish. ‘It’s not fair’ was something a child would say, and you were an adult, a capable, independent adult. Clearly, you’d already done something to make the Miya twins think otherwise. “You have to let me go, Osamu. I just got away from your brother, I just got free, you can’t take that away from me. We’re supposed to be friends. You’re supposed to care about me.”

“I’m doing this because I care about you.” On their own, the words might’ve been kind, empathetic, but whatever warmth his gaze held was balanced out by the way his lips curled back, how his tone turned into a snarl so easily. “What would you do if I opened that door? Run off and tell the cops? Knock on doors until you find someone willing to believe that a celebrity and his twin both tried to kidnap you, back to back? Or, would you go crawling back to ‘tsumu, see if he still wants you after you let his brother put his hands all over you?” He had a way of laughing at his own jokes, the noise so arrogant, so confident, so annoying, it was hard to believe he’d ever found anyone else funny. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he couldn’t. “I’m trying to be nice, but if you make this hard for me, I’ll make it hard for you.”

You grit your teeth, but your body betrayed you, eyes flickering down to the cloth at your feet. “I can manage on my own--”

“Don’t lie to me.” His fingers were in your hair before you noticed he was moving, forcing your head to bow as his blunt nails dug into your scalp. “You’re helpless, and you know you are. If you aren’t in ‘tsumu’s bed, you’re gonna be in mine, and you’re smart enough to make the right choice. Fucking change, before I start to think it’d be easier to throw you out myself.”

You stiffened, going rigid under his palm. Then, you kneeled, taking up the silken fabric and casting him one last glare before retreating to the other side of the room, turning your back to Osamu as you slid Atumu’s shirt over your head. 

 Just exchanging one kidnapper for another.

~

Silently, Osamu watched as you fled and regrouped, facing away from him to hide the way your shoulders trembled, your body shaking so violently, Osamu couldn’t be sure whether or not you were trying to make him pity you. He didn’t mind, though. He’d been waiting months for this. Years, honestly, but Osamu’s teenage daydreams hardly centered around taking in his brother’s wayward brat. If Atsumu had tried to train you, he’d done a piss-poor job. You were as obedient as you would’ve been fresh-off the streets, and now you knew all the tricks and tactics of a well-worn captive.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he was disappointed. Already, a collection of incentives were burning holes in his mattress, tucked under his bed and waiting to be used the first time you acted-up with something more aggressive than words. Luckily, you were too preoccupied to notice his mouth moving in a silent prayer, words of thanks that you’d turned down his offer to use his phone. If you thought to go through his messages, his call history, you wouldn’t have liked what you found. He was already planning for how… distressed you’d be, at the next trade-off.

If you were this fussy to fall into Osamu’s care at all, he couldn’t imagine how you’d act when Atsumu’s next turn came around.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 18/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall (THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R) See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Halfway to home, Mulder stops the wagon.  The horses have started to shake their heads against their harnesses and begin to snort and whinny.  He cocks his head a bit and stares east, out into the sky for a few moments before he sets the brake and gets down from the seat.

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asks.

Mulder works to try to calm the pair of stallions hooked to the wagon, rubbing their foreheads and jaws.  “You know that article you were reading in that journal?” he asks Katherine.  “About the weather lore?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I think these boys are trying to tell us something.”  Mulder nods off to the east.  “You feel that wind?”

“A bit.”

“There’ll be rain soon.”

“Will we make it home?”

“I think we’ll be in ahead of those clouds out there.”  Mulder climbs back up onto the wagon seat and releases the brake.  “At least, I sure do hope so.”

The weather vane at the ranch is quivering, pointing to a southeasterly wind.  Melvin and Trevor are outside, moving the livestock into the barn, when Mulder and Katherine drive up in the wagon.  Richard is closing up the shutters on the house.  Jesse and Jimmy aren’t there, having left the day before for a trip out to their family’s place.  

“Go on and grab up what you can from the back of the wagon,” Mulder tells Katherine.  “I’m going to help secure things out here and I can bring in the rest when we’re done.”

“Alright, be careful.”  Katherine loads a crate to the brim with packages and goes off to the house.

It takes some time to get all the animals moved from the pens to the barn.  The goats complain the loudest about their new accommodations and they bleat and kick the walls and leap up onto workbenches and leap off, agitating the suckling pigs and making them squeal.  Trevor provides them with fresh hay and carrots and they settle down.  

Mulder goes to the stables to check on the horses.  They move about restlessly and Mulder goes from stall to stall, giving each one his individual attention for a few minutes to try to keep them calm.

“Trevor and I are going to pack some bedrolls and he’ll bunk in the hayloft tonight,” Melvin tells Mulder.  “I’ll stay here in the stables and make sure they don’t fret none when the storm starts up.”

“You don’t think we’re expecting a twister, do you?”

“Naw, I smell the rain and my knee always acts up when we’re expectin’ a doozy.”

“Just got a couple bottles of a liniment from the mercantile today if you want me to leave one with you.”

“May not help much, but I could give it a try.”

“I’ll see if Katherine can fix up an early supper and pack some things up for you.  You have your slickers and boots on hand?”

“Told the boy to have ‘em at the ready.”

“Richard staying in the bunkhouse?”

“Reckon so.”

“I’m going to latch the doors tonight, but if you need anything, I expect you to come for me.”

“I ain’t worried about nothin’.”

“Alright then.”

Mulder fills a crate and brings it to the house and then runs back to get the last of the goods.  Katherine is in the kitchen with a fire already burning in the stove and chopping vegetables.

“Leave the crates and I’ll put everything away later,” she says.  “I figured I should get a start on supper early just in case.”

“I was just telling Melvin I’d ask you to do that.  Can I help with anything?”

“Get the lamps lit?  It’s a little dark with the shutters closed.”

“I can do that.”

Mulder lights the lamps in the dogtrot and then brings one of the ones from his room into the kitchen for more light.  He sets the table while Katherine finishes cooking and he tries to help unload some of the supplies, but he can tell she tires quite quickly of instructing him on where things should be kept so he leaves it be.  He takes the bottles of liniment and the package of denim trousers.

Supper is a quick affair.  The boys barely sit and barely eat.  Katherine seems to have anticipated a swift departure and she’s packed up some tins with more than enough provisions.  At the first sound of the slight patter of rain, they’re gone like buckshot, abandoning dishware and cutlery at Katherine’s insistence and then it’s just the two of them.

“I was afraid they might break a dish in their haste,” Katherine says.  “Are they always like this when we have a storm?”

“You’ve never been in a Texas storm before, have you?  It’s not something you want to get caught out in.”

“No, but I’ve been through my share of hurricanes.”

“Then you should be just fine.”

Mulder offers to help clean the dishes so Katherine can get the goods put away.  He has his part done faster than she does and so he goes to check that none of the shutters are loose and that the back door is securely latched.  The rain is coming down steadily and hard.  He can hear it on the roof and on the porch.

Curious, he opens the front door to see what things look like.  He’s lucky that the wind is blowing away from the house and that the deluge is moving away from the door and not towards it.  There’s lightning in the distance, but he doesn’t hear any thunder.

“Kate?” he calls.  “Come take a look at this.”

Katherine emerges from the kitchen, bringing the lamp with her.  He takes it from her when she gets close enough and sets it down on the entry table.

“Goodness,” she says.  “It looks as terrible as it sounds.  Will the boys be alright out there?”

“The roof on the barn got replaced last autumn, so it should stay pretty dry.  I’ve spent a few storms out there myself and am no worse for wear.”

Katherine leans against the door and stares out at the rain.  Occasionally, the side of her face is illuminated with a quick flash of lightning.  The thunder begins to softly growl as the storm moves closer.

“I’ve never really liked storms,” she says with a sigh.

“Why not?”

“They can be so terribly destructive.”

“That’s true.”  He watches her watch the storm.  She wraps her arms around her waist and shivers slightly.  He steps towards her and brings his arm across her body to hold her elbow.  “Are you cold?”

“A little chill, is all.”

He steps even closer so that her shoulder rests against his chest and he brings both arms around her loosely, holding her sideways.  He can feel her twisting her wedding ring around her finger against his arm.

“I want to ask you something,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

“I saw how quickly you took your place in assisting the doc today with the Skinner boy.  And I may not have been conscious after my fall, but I know how you treated me during my injury and recovery.  Nursing folks seems to be something that comes natural to you.  Why did you tell the doc you couldn’t go out and help him now and again?”

She rolls her head back and to the side to look at him.  “That wasn’t in our agreement.”

“I guess I missed the fine print in our marriage certificate where it says you have to give up on your dreams.”

“My dream was to be a doctor.”

“I think you’d make a mighty fine doctor.  So, why didn’t you jump at the opportunity for some tutelage?”

“I had to leave that behind a long time ago.”

“Katherine.”

“So now it’s Katherine, if you think I’m being unreasonable?”

He moves one hand up and strokes her cheek.  “I don’t think you’re being unreasonable, I just want you to be happy,” he tells her.  “I don’t want you to ever regret marrying me the way you regret marrying Jack.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about that.”

“No?”

She opens her mouth and is interrupted by a clap of thunder so loud that it leaves Mulder’s ears ringing.  Katherine gasps and turns into his arms with a shiver.  He holds the back of her head and tightens his arm around her waist.  The grandfather clock in the hall chimes eight times.

“What were you going to say?” he asks, when it falls silent.

Her voice trembles when she answers.  “I was going to say that...that I stopped feeling so regretful as soon as I met you.”

He can’t help but kiss her then.  He’s been feeling like that for a long time, like all the sorrow he’s been through in his life, the loneliness he’s felt, the opportunities he’s rejected to chase this dream of his, all suddenly made sense to him when he married her.  

He learns what lust really feels like in this moment.  It’s a powerful urge, to want someone so much and so badly.  It’s like something has taken over his body and makes his hands clutch her hips, makes his groin ache so badly that he has to push his hips into her belly, makes him groan into her mouth as she pushes back.  Whatever is happening he wants more of it.  Wants to rut against the door with her legs wrapped around him, wants to pull her skirts up and feel the back of her thighs in his hands, wants her hands kneading him all over instead of just his shoulders, wants his skin against her skin and nothing between them.

He has to pull away from her to catch his breath and because his heart is racing so fast his chest feels like it might burst.  Her head rolls against the door, back and forth, and then her eyes open.  She looks intoxicated, eyes dark, cheeks red, lips swollen.

“Please,” she says.  “Don’t...don’t stop.”

↭

She’s never felt this way before.  Never felt so overwhelmed with want in all her life.  She wants Mulder to kiss her again, she wants to feel his weight on her, she wants to touch him in all the places she knows are sinful and for him to touch her in the places that are too sinful to even touch herself.  She thinks that everything she was told was wicket as a girl was a lie.  None of what she feels now can possibly be wrong when it feels so right.

Mulder pulls her away from the front door and slams it shut.  She holds onto one of his hands with both of hers and follows him into his bedroom.  Her knees are shaking and her heart is pounding.  There’s an unbearable ache deep in her belly and between her thighs and it’s so unnerving for her to think that he’s the one that brought it there and the only one that can take it away for her.

Mulder shuts the bedroom door very softly and they stand before each other in the lamplight.  He’s only inches away, but it feels too far.  She breathes in the musky scent of him and sways on her feet.

“Kate,” he whispers, and catches her with an arm around her waist, hand pressed low on her back.  She gasps as a swoop of heat arcs low in her pelvis.  Is this what swooning is?

“I want to lay with you,” she says.  

“I want to undress you.”

She nods and then turns in his arms so he can undo the buttons on her skirt.  She feels him tug and pull, tug and pull, tug and pull, undoing each button down from the small of her back to just below the curve of her buttocks.  The skirt falls and she steps away from it and then turns to him again.  She helps him with the buttons on her blouse, moving up from the bottom as he moves down from her throat.  They meet in the middle and then she can shrug the shirt off, leaving her in her chemise and bloomers.

“Now, you,” she says.

He nods and pulls his suspenders down from his shoulders one at a time.  He tugs his shirt off first and then crouches down to unlace his boots.  After he kicks off his shoes, he unbuttons his trousers and pushes them free of his hips.

“I’ll need your help,” she says, leaning against the edge of the bed and pointing one foot out to him.

Mulder kneels down and takes her foot onto his leg.  He doesn’t apologize this time when he touches her ankle like he did when he helped her onto the horse.  Her foot rests high on his thigh and he looks at her as he pushes each button free.  The anticipation of removing the shoe is actually making it hard for her to breathe and it certainly isn’t helping with the ache between her thighs.

Finally, Mulder pulls the first shoe from her foot and she sighs.  He pushes the hem of her bloomers up her leg and then draws her stocking down.  She bites her lip as he softly massages her calf and ankle and then draws one hand over the top of her foot and rubs his thumb across her toes.  He brings her first foot back to the floor and then has to repeat the whole process with the other.  By the time he’s finished, she’s panting and trying not to squirm.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, massaging the back of her ankle.

“Alright.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just continues to massage her foot.  The storm outside swells and the rain splatters against the walls and the widow.  Lightning flickers through the slats of the shutters and thunder rumbles again, but it’s lower this time.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says.  “I was nearly engaged once, but we never...it was a long time ago.  What I mean to say is, if I do something wrong, if...well, if there’s something I should be doing that I’m not, you just tell me.”

She doesn’t know what to think about what he’s just told her.  It surprises her, to say the least, given her experience with men.  She also feels a pang of sympathy for him.  There are things that she hasn’t done either, though she won’t tell him of it now.  Despite having been married, she’s never seen a naked, aroused man before.  Jack would not let her look and would not let her touch him.  She’s also never been nude in front of any man.  Intercourse was always something stolen from her, something she had no participation in other than being there.  It was painful, it was unpleasant, it was beyond her control.  What’s happening now is different, and she knows it.  She doesn’t know what to expect either or what to do.  Not really.  Perhaps she should tell him she’s in the same place that he is, but she doesn’t know how to explain.

“Come here,” she says.

He stands up on his knees and then gets to his feet before her.  She slides off the bed a little and then takes his hips and has him take a step even closer to her.  She unknots the drawstring on his drawers and hesitates when the underwear loosens and slips down his hips a few inches, exposing the top of his penis.  She tries not to stare, but she can’t help it.  It’s wet and glistening and twitches slightly when she tugs at his drawers to bring them off completely.

She holds him where her palms fit nicely at the muscular dip below his hips.  Her fingers curve naturally with the swell of his buttocks.  He clenches and shifts his feet.  His hands curl into loose fists and his fingers twitch.

“Can I touch you?” she asks.

He nods quickly and then grits his teeth and swallows.  “Oh hell,” he groans when she wraps her hand around him.  For a moment she thinks she’s done something wrong, but then she looks at his face and his eyes are closed, chin dropped nearly to his chest, mouth open.  She flexes her fingers to open her hand and then closes it around him again and he sways.

“Oh yes,” he moans.  “Oh, Kate.”  Even though his penis is hard, the skin is unexpectedly soft like velvet.  She pets him lightly and then uses her thumb to stroke up from the bottom of his shaft to the top.  He grabs onto her shoulder and his knees bend a little.  

Without even thinking about it, Katherine takes Mulder’s hand from her shoulder and brings it down to her breast.  He squeezes her almost experimentally at first and then more boldly.  She gasps slightly when his thumb rubs over her nipple and the grip she has on his penis tightens a bit.  He groans and sways again only this time his hips jerk towards her and then back.

“Oh Kate that feels so good,” Mulder says.

Encouraged, Katherine continues to pet him and rub him and he groans again and then covers her hand with his and curls her fingers into a tight fist around him.  He moves her hand up and down in his, faster and faster.  His hips jerk in time with the push and pull of their hands.  He makes soft little grunting whines in the back of his throat and squeezes his eyes shut.  Blindly, he gropes for the edge of her chemise and lifts it up until he’s holding her bare breast in his hand and kneading it in time with her strokes.

“Oh, oh...oh I...I…”  Mulder’s head falls back and he bares his teeth and groans from deep in his gut.  His hips jerk forward and his buttocks clench and Katherine feels the warm rush of his seed spilling through her fingers and into their joined fists.

Time seems to come to a standstill for a few moments and then Mulder lets go of her breast and lets go of her hand and his eyes come open and his mouth rounds into the shape of an ‘o’ and then he hastily begins pulling at his undershirt to whip it over his head.

“Forgive me,” he says, wiping at her hand with his shirt.  “Oh, Kate, I’m sorry.”

“Why?  Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen?”

“Yes, but I didn’t intend to soil your hand in the process.”

“I don’t feel soiled.”

“That eases my embarrassment some.”

“Please, don’t be.”

Mulder tosses the undershirt away and then seems to realize he’s naked and moves his arms around like he doesn’t know what to do with them.  Katherine laughs and then grabs his hand and pulls him towards her.  She lays back where she is and he bends over her with his hands beside her shoulders on the bed.

“Do I get the honor of touching you now?” he asks.

“If...if you would like to.”

“Would you like me to?”

She takes a deep breath, swallows once, and then nods.  He pushes away from her and then takes her hands and pulls her back up so she’s sitting at the edge of the bed again.  He pulls the lace ties of her chemise apart and pushes the straps over her shoulders.  She shivers when her chest is exposed, sending gooseflesh up her arms.  He gazes at her openly and just the thought of him wanting her in such a way makes her nipples tighten painfully.

Mulder leans closer to her and touches the neglected breast he did not give any attention to previously.  He cups it in his hand and then bends his head and puts his mouth on her.  She is caught off guard and pushes his head away, blinking in surprise.

“What are you doing?” she asks, pulling her shoulders into her body a bit and covering her breasts with her arms.

“I wanted to...is that not okay to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t do it then.”

“You wanted to?”

“Well, yes, I...yes.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know.  If I ask you to stop, will you?”

“Of course.”

He says that like it’s a given that ‘please, no’ and ‘don’t’ are magic words that people just adhere to.  She knows they’re not always heard and she knows they’re not always respected.  She also knows she shouldn’t judge Mulder by the poor character of other men.  He’s proven to her several times over that he is kind and trustworthy.  She opens her arms, baring her chest again to him, but she’s trembling all over.

“Alright,” she says.  “Go ahead.”

“Are you cold, honey?”

She shakes her head no in response.  His eyes roam her face for a few moments and instead of going back to her breast he kisses her.  She responds instantly, bringing her arms up and over his back to pull him closer.  He’s warm and the sparse hair on his chest tickles her breasts when she brushes against him.  He slides his arm under her and lifts her up slightly as he crawls onto the bed.

She’s still on her back, but he’s on his side.  He moves one hand over her body, down her arm, up her arm, over her breast, around her hip, across her belly, up her neck, over her breast again, down to her navel.  

He pulls his mouth from hers and she protests with a whimper, but he starts to kiss her face and then her neck and then her shoulders and her insides start to feel like melting butter.  She’s liquidy and soft all over.  He kisses the top of her breast and the side of her breast and then the inside of her elbow where her arm is bent to hold his face in her hands.

“Mulder,” she whispers.  

“Kate,” he murmurs back.

The way he says her name makes her body flush.  She pulls his head up so she can look at him and he cocks his head a little and rubs his jaw into her hand.  He touches her face and draws his thumb over her hairline and to her ear.

“Will you take your hair down?” he asks.

“Okay.”

They have to untangle their arms a bit so she can sit up and she pulls her braid over her shoulder and unties the band keeping it in place.  She unravels the plait with the pull of her fingers and the curls spring free.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, running his fingertips over the waves of her hair reverently.

She shakes her head a little in disbelief and then lays back again and stares up at the ceiling.  She folds her arms up to cover her breasts and finds herself nervously twisting her wedding band again when she tries so hard not to.  He lays down beside her again and props himself up on one hand and then reaches over to lightly cover her wrists.

“What is it?” he asks.

She shakes her head again.  When she was younger, the other kids at school wouldn’t play with her because they thought redheads were witches.  Her brother once told her that no one would ever want to marry her because boys thought freckles were disgusting.  Her mother once told her it was a shame she’d inherited her grandmother Scully’s nose.  Jack had told her repeatedly that her body felt like a bag of bones and that it repulsed him.  

“Kate?”

“You don’t have to lie to me.  I know I’m not very pretty.”

“Not pretty?  The first time I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“I was unkempt and exhausted the day you met me.”

“That does not mean you weren’t beautiful.  Who told you you weren’t pretty?  That horse’s ass, Jack Willis?”

“Everyone.”

“Then everyone is wrong.”

“Everyone is wrong, but you are right?”

“In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever been wrong?”

She smiles a little and then begins to laugh.  He smiles as well and brings her hand to his mouth and kisses her wrist.  In the hallway, the grandfather clock chimes nine times.  The rain falls as steadily as it has been with no signs of stopping.

“I’ve never done this either,” she says, and he gives her a questioning look.  She shakes her head a little again and brings his hand back to her face.  “Not like this.  I want you to keep touching me.”

“That’s good, because I really want to keep touching you.”

She leans up and kisses him this time and he kisses her back.  She shifts closer and pulls him to her so that she can bring one of her arms around him and stroke his back.  She wants to wrap herself around him and maybe stay there for a little while where she knows she’s safe.  

He touches her a little more confidently than he had before.  He’s more firm, squeezes her breast a little tighter, doesn’t hesitate to pull her hips up towards his and push his body against hers.  He’s hard again and she knows that consummation is imminent.  She’s not nervous about it and doesn’t feel a sense of obligation to go through with it.  She wants it to happen.  She’s ready for it to happen.

Mulder’s fingers brush the top of her bloomers and he blindly unknots the drawstring.  Once the stays are loose, he slides his hand inside at her hip, lightly caressing her backside before moving around to the top of her thighs.  He breaks from kissing her to look down and she watches his face as he brings his hand between her thighs.  His fingers move gently through her curls and slip easily into the natural groove there that brings him inside of her.  His eyes widen and his lips purse as though he’s surprised.

“You feel so...so tight,” he whispers.  “Will it be okay?  Will I hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine,” she lies.  It’s never not been painful.  She only hopes it won’t be this time.

He pulls his hand out from her bloomers and then she helps him pull them off her legs and just like that, she’s laid bare for him.  Unabashed, unashamed.  She opens her arms to him and when he comes down to her, she opens her legs as well.  

“If you need me to stop,” he says.  “I will.”

“I won’t,” she answers.

He moves awkwardly over her.  Bearing in mind he has no experience, she folds one knee up and rubs encouragingly at his shoulder.  She watches him fumble between touching himself and touching her and he blows out little puffs of frustration from his pouting lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I thought...I thought I would just know how to…”

“It’s alright.”  

Katherine wets her lips and then reaches down and takes a hold of him.  She shifts her hips and brings the tip of his penis to her folds and probes gently until she feels him begin to slip inside and then she stops and shifts again.  She lets go of him and then holds onto his hips as he pushes his way into her.  His body hunches over hers and he presses his head into the bed and pants into her shoulder.

“Oh my God,” he moans.  “Jesus, Kate, you feel so good.  Is this okay?  Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she says, and it isn’t a lie.  She feels a slight sting at first, but then nothing.  Nothing but the hot velvet feel of him inside of her.  For the first time, it doesn’t feel like an invasion, it feels like a welcome home.

“I...I have to move,” he says.  “Can I move?”

“Yes, move.  Please.”

He brings his hips back, but only marginally, like he can’t bear not to be as fully enmeshed in her as he can be, and then he pushes quickly back into her and moans.  She slides her hands over his buttocks and squeezes.  His hips jerk again and he cries out her name.

“You feel good to me too,” she tells him.

“I do?”

“Yes.  Yes.”  And that is not a lie either.  He has a way of undulating his hips so that his pelvis slides against hers and she can feel something building inside her, something glorious.  Her toes begin to tingle and she feels fire in her cheeks.

“This is incredible,” he says.  “I can’t believe how incredible you are.”

“Oh!”  Something happens in the next snap of his hips.  Her chest raises up into his and her head falls back.  Mulder buries his face into the straining muscles at her neck.  She can’t take a breath, can’t say a word, can’t do a thing but claw at his buttocks as her body folds up into his.  She feels as though she’s riding a wave.  No, she feels as though she is the wave, cresting and falling and then oozing towards land.  She feels as though she’s just been released of a heavy burden that she wasn’t even aware she was carrying.

“Kate, God, oh…”  Mulder holds her tightly to him as he spills into her.  She feels the warm rush of it flood through her and she’s not repulsed, like she would be with Jack.  She isn’t eager to get away.  She wants him to stay longer, stay as long as he can.

“Don’t go,” she whispers, when he shifts above her.

“I won’t,” he says, but it’s not a promise he can really keep.  He finally has to move from between her thighs rolls to his back beside her.

They lay side by side for some time and then Mulder gets up and he goes to his wash stand.  He pours water into the basin and wets a rag and then wrings it out and pats his chest and face a few times before wetting it again and cleaning himself between his legs.  He wets and wrings the rag again and then brings it to Katherine.  She reaches for it, but he sits down beside her and cleans her thighs himself.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Should I get a nightdress for you from your room?” he asks, draping the rag over the rack at the side of the stand.  “Will you be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be right back.”  Mulder goes out into the hall and turns off the lamps and then checks the door.  He brings the lamp in his room over to the bedside table and Katherine moves off the bed so he can pull the bedclothes down.  It’s apparent he expects her to stay with him tonight.  She had hoped he would ask and never thought he would just assume that is the way it would be.  She lays down and he brings the sheets over her.

“Can I hold you?” he asks, when he slips into bed behind her.

She blinks in surprise, but nods.  He turns away to put the lamp out and then lays down and brings his arm around her.  His chest is pressed to her back and his legs curl into the shape of hers.  His knees jut into the bottoms of her feet.  She lays her arm alongside his and he turns his hand into hers so that their fingers lace together.

She doesn’t fall asleep immediately.  It takes some time for her heartbeat to slow, for her eyes to droop, for the rain to lull her.  The grandfather clock chimes ten times though she hears it as though through a dense fog.  She feels Mulder move behind her, feels him lean over her and kiss her cheek, but she’s too sleepy to respond.

She thinks he might whisper ‘I love you,’ but it might be a dream.

[janetbrown711]

"You're everything to me" - Dot

Yakko didn’t dare let his siblings out of his sight the whole way back to Acme Falls. He couldn’t convince himself that they were alive if they weren’t right beside or in front of him. This feeling of protectiveness was only heightened when they were offered a ride from none other than the Baron himself.

Yakko had tried to refuse most adamantly, but he knew that they’d have to walk to Acme Falls by foot if they didn’t accept and Dot was still sick and weak (as well as injured from the cannonball) so they really didn’t have a choice.

Still. Yakko sat across from Plotz with his arms wrapped around his tired siblings and he watched the man with anger and curiosity as to what made him change his nature so suddenly.

Neither the Baron nor Yakko spoke much once in the carriage, and Wakko and Dot eventually went to sleep, which Yakko thought was fair. They had had quite the day, and it wasn’t over quite yet. They were still going to get Dot’s operation done, and the sooner the better.

“So... I know you’re wondering why I offered you a ride back to Acme Falls. You’re suspicious, which I don’t blame you for,” The baron spoke. Yakko rolled his eyes slightly.

“Considering how much you’ve always been out to get us and just about everyone else in the town? Yeah, I’d say I have a right,” Yakko glared. “And especially when you consider the number of times you tried to kill us today alone.”

“Right... yes...” The Baron looked away and held his hat in his hands, embarrassed.

“I know what I did, and I apologize. My greed overtook me as Baron and I promise to never collect another penny for the king ever again,” He promised and Yakko looked him up and down, unsure.

“Well- the King won’t be in power for much longer anyway, so I suppose I’ll need to do more...” Plotz said and looked out the window.

“What do you mean by that?” Yakko raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, well after seeing what the King did to Dot, the guards quickly turned against him, and with rebellions against the king getting stronger in other towns it’s only a matter of time before he’s gone and the people will start looking for the true heirs to the Warnerstock Throne,” Plotz explained.

Yakko froze.

“I... uh...” He couldn’t respond. For years he had wanted nothing more than Salazar to be punished for his heinous crimes, but... well.. that????

He hadn’t expected that.

“Oh yes, there are quite a few rumors going around as to where they could be,” Plotz said, completely unaware they were sitting right across from them. Yakko gulped.

“Well... I uh, hope they find them,” Yakko said, wishing to end the conversation as soon as possible.

“Yes well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” Plotz agreed.

“I do want you to know I am very serious about this apology. I don’t apologize very easily, but please, do let me know if there is anything I can do for you three,” He said, looking back at Yakko.

“Well, I do know the people of Acme Falls probably want their money back,” Yakko said.

“Consider it done. Once we get back, I’ll make sure to get started on returning all of their money I still have,” Plotz said, and Yakko nodded and the two returned to their silence, which relieved Yakko.

At least Plotz wasn’t trying to be all ‘buddy-buddy’ with him. Now that would’ve been awkward. However, Yakko really didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts right now, so begrudgingly he started up another conversation.

“So... now that you won’t be tax collector, what do you think you’ll do?” Yakko asked. Plotz put back on his hat and thought a moment.

“I think I’d like to open a restaurant,” He said. Yakko blinked, expecting him to say more, but he didn’t.

“Alright,” Yakko said.

“What about you three?” Plotz asked in response. Yakko sighed.

“Get Dot her operation... go home... relax...” Yakko said, hugging his siblings a little closer as he looked out the windows into the mountains.

He still couldn’t believe how close he had gotten to losing them, and how he did almost nothing to prevent it. He just sat there, dumbfounded. He was always so useless like that...

“Are you alright?” Plotz asked, and Yakko noticed a tear had managed to escape his eye.

“S-sorry, yeah,” He said, quickly wiping it away. He was usually much better at keeping a brave face...

“It’s alright, you went through a lot today. You should allow yourself to rest,” Plotz advised. Yakko knew he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t like that it was coming from him of all people.

“Yeah maybe,” He shrugged.

After that, they all rode in silence, and Yakko just hummed songs to himself to try and distract his thoughts. However, the songs made him tired and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

He was woken up when the carriage jerked to a stop and they were back in the town square in Acme Falls. Yakko nudged his siblings awake while Ralph held the door open for the groggy Warner siblings.

“Where we goin’ Yak?” Dot asked, rubbing her eye, wincing in regret as she remembered that was the bruised side of her face.

“We’re going to stop by Dr. Scratchnsniff’s and give him the payment for your operation, which will hopefully be tomorrow,” Yakko said. “Then, we’re going to go home and we’re going to have a conversation about that little stunt you pulled,” Yakko looked down at Dot and she looked away from him in shame.

“Well... thanks for the ride,” Yakko said to Plotz.

“No problem,” Plotz tipped his hat at him. “You three have a safe walk home, alright?”

“We will, thanks,” Wakko replied. Plotz nodded, and Ralph closed the door and drove the carriage away.

Taking a deep breath of the cold winter air to revive himself, Yakko started walking to the doctor’s office, holding his siblings’ hands as they went.

The streets were full of happy people as they all unpacked from their journey past the mountains. A few congratulated Wakko and reminded him to spend his ha’pennies well before going back out and drinking more of whatever that elixir Dr. Scratchnsniff and Hello Nurse had made while on their trip (a story he’d have to ask for later).

Eventually, they made it to the doctor’s and knocked on the door, scowling at the closed sign.

“Excuse us, the sign says- oh, hello Warners,” Hello Nurse smiled down at them.

“Hi! We’re here to pay for Dot’s surgery,” Wakko said, showing her one of his ha’pennies.

“Well... the doctor said to keep out all business... but I suppose I can make an exception for the three of you,” She winked and let them in.

“Why’d he say that?” Wakko asked.

“Oh, we recently had a breakthrough with our elixir and the people are loving it,” She said, petting a cat that was on her desk as she sat down. “He’s trying to figure out how to make more before we run out and never find it again.”

“Faboo,” Wakko smiled. Hello Nurse chuckled and nodded.

“Indeed... so when do you think you’ll be ready for the surgery?” She asked Dot. Dot’s tail twitched nervously.

“We were hoping for tomorrow,” Yakko spoke for her. The nurse nodded.

“Well... I’ll have to talk to the doctor, but seeing as this is a dire need and you’ve waited plenty long enough, I’m sure he’ll agree,” She said confidently before writing something down on a piece of paper and leaving, leaving the Warners with nothing to do but sit and wait.

“Are... are you sure you wanna do it tomorrow?” Dot said.

“I’d ask for them to do it tonight, but it’s getting late enough as it is,” Yakko sighed, rubbing his face.

“Why?” Dot asked.

“Why?” Yakko couldn’t believe what he heard. “Because I want you to be safe and okay as soon as possible. I need to know you’re okay, actually okay, and that you aren’t going to die on me the moment I take my eyes off of you,” Yakko said, looking at her. Dot clutched her shawl tighter and looked away.

He was going to say something, but that was then the nurse reentered and Yakko had to fill out the paperwork, and they were forced to put a pin in that for later. With tired eyes, Yakko filled out the boring and long paperwork as best he could before giving it back to the nurse and handing her the ha’penny, and heading back to their home.

When they arrived, Yakko couldn’t help but relax. Despite everything, they had made it back alive.

However... he knew the upcoming conversation was going to get a bit messy. He sighed, taking in a deep breath.

“Meet me around the fireplace sibs, I’ll be there in a minute,” He instructed. Wakko and Dot didn’t argue, nodding and heading off.

Yakko leaned against the wall and grumbled, trying to collect his thoughts even though he was tired. However, that really wasn’t working so he decided he’d just try to be as understanding and a good listener as much as possible before going in. He figured trying was the best thing he could do.

Yakko went in.

“Look Dot, I’m going to be honest, I was really, really hurt by that little stunt you pulled,” Yakko said, sitting across from Wakko and Dot on a crate. “So... I just want to know... why?”

“I... I knew I was slowing you down. I was coughing, I was weak, a-and when the cannonball blew everything up I-i just thought that if I could just distract Salazar and everyone else then maybe you’d take the chance to go for the star,” Dot looked at the ground.

“But we wanted to reach it together Dot, we weren’t going to leave you behind,” Wakko said.

“I know, that was the problem,” Dot looked at him. “I-i wanted to be left behind, b-but you guys were so stubborn, s-so I knew I had to do something to help,” She said, glancing at Yakko.

“And what would you have done if your plan hadn’t worked, hm? What if Wakko didn’t realize you were alive before he made his wish and instead he had wished you were alive? Then what?” Yakko crossed his arms.

“I-i don’t know,” Dot sniffled, and Yakko realized she was crying.

“See, that’s the problem. You didn’t think any of it through. You didn’t think about what your death would mean to me and Wakko.”

“O-of course I did Yakko! I just knew th-that you needed to reach the star first,” Dot objected.

“Dot, if you died, none of that would’ve mattered anymore,” Yakko said, his voice cracking under emotional stress. Dot’s face froze, and a deafening silence entered the home.

“Dot... the whole reason we went after the Wishing Star was for you, so we could pay for your operation,” He explained softly.

“When you went limp in my arms... I just... I just fell apart...” Yakko practically whispered as tears streamed down his face that he hurriedly tried to wipe away, trying to bottle it all up.

“I already lost Mom and Dad... I couldn’t lose you too.”

“Y-yakko I-i’m sor-”

“A-and then when Wakko ran out there a-and I heard the cannon go off... I thought that was it. I sat there, like some idiot, and just... I just-” Yakko looked at both of his sibs and broke down, burying his head in his hands and sobbing. Wakko and Dot looked at each other before running over to their brother and hugging him as best they could.

“I-i promised her, I promised I could take c-care o-o-of you t-two a-and th-then y-you guys j-just- j-just-” Yakko’s whole body was shaking.

“Y-y-yakko I-I’m so sorry,” Dot was sobbing just as much as he was.

“M-me too, I-i n-n-never meant to scare you,” Wakko apologized too.

“A-and with the bridge, a-and y-your cough, a-and the guns, a-and the avalanche...” Yakko’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about all the times they’d nearly died today alone.

“I-I just ca-can’t lose you guys,” He sobbed, hugging them closer. “Y-you’re all I have left. Y-you guys are everything to me.”

Wakko and Dot could only nod, not daring to break their embrace and lacking the words to express how much he meant to them too. Dot sniffled and gave it a shot.

“I-i’m still h-here Yakko, a-and so is Wakko. W-we aren’t going anywhere,” Dot said between sobs mixed with a cough.

“Y-yeah! Me and Dot aren’t going anyw-where,” Wakko hiccuped. Yakko did his best to embrace those words; to hold them close and wrap himself within them. He focused on feeling his sibling’s arms around them and felt himself calm down more.

“I-i know,” He said, placing a hand on one of their arms. “I-i just... I was terrified...”

“I-I’m so sorry Yakko, I p-promise, I’ll never, ever try that again,” Dot said, squeezing him tighter.

“You better not,” Yakko said, half-jokingly, “Or else.”

“O-okay, okay I promise,” Dot chuckled.

Eventually, all three of the Warner siblings' tears ceased, and everyone felt much, much better, though it left them all exhausted. However, none of them wanted to split up, so they all decided to sleep in Dot’s bed for the night. After all, it was plenty big enough for all three of them.

Slowly and tiredly, they all climbed in and cuddled close against Yakko, both of their heads resting on his chest so they could hear his heartbeat.

Yakko wrapped his arms around both of his sibs, and closed his eyes, secure in the fact that they were safe, they were home, they were alive, they were together, and everything was okay.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Specs

(Please ignore how awful my gif is)(Requested via message)

(I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while!)

- You met Specs while walking to work in the morning. He was out selling his papers when you and a few of the other girls you worked with passed him.

- He quickly snatched the hat from his head as you walked by, eyes seemingly locking onto you even though you were in the middle of a small crowd.

- The two of you met each other’s gaze and without meaning to, your steps began to slow. A small smile found its way onto your face before you hurriedly made your way back to your group. As you reached your friends sides, you spared one last glance at the boy over your shoulder. You were secretly pleased to see that he was still watching.

- Normally Specs wouldn't linger in a selling spot for too long unless it was raking in a good profit. But let’s just say that he had a bit of an ulterior motive when returning to the area.

- Day after day, you would continue to see him while making your way to work. Your friends began to tease you about it, grabbing your arm and giggling in your ear as you passed him. You felt flattered by the attention but you still wondered if he was actually attracted to you and if so, was he ever going to approach you?

- It was after about two weeks that he finally did. You passed his usual selling spot in the morning and found that he wasn’t there. So, with a little dash of disappointment settling in your stomach, you headed off to work and went about your day.

- You walked out the doors of your work at the end of your shift, wiping your hands on your dress and pulling the hair from your face. It was then that you saw him, his body leaned casually against the wall of the building besides yours.

- He kicked himself off of the wall once he noticed you, pulling the hat off his head as he made his way over.

- He tries his hand at a polite, gentlemanly introduction, fiddling with the hat in his hands as he spoke. He “confessed” that he’d been watching you “for a little while now” and explained that he wanted to get to know you more.

- You smiled and agreed, glad that he had finally decided to try his luck with you.

- Your first date was that same day. The two of you walked around town together, getting to know each other and sweetly flirting. By the time you had to return home, you had already promised to see him again the next day.

- The two of you shared your first kiss on your fourth date. You’d been sitting together in one of the many alleyways of the city, recounting different stories from your day when you started to notice him looking closely at your face.

- You ignored it for a while, figuring that he was probably distracted by a smudge of dust or paint, something that often found its way onto your face after a long day. It wasn’t until you began to walk home together that you finally learned that there wasn’t anything on your face.

- The two of you were just about to say goodbye when he hesitated for a minute, glancing down at what you finally comprehended was your lips and asking if he could kiss you. Now, how could you say no to that?

- Pda wasn’t exactly very common back then so the two of you keep your affection to yourselves for the most part. Although the newsies are far less worried about public decency and reputations, Specs in particular is trying very hard to be a gentleman for you; at least in public.

- Forehead kisses as he wraps his arms loosely around you, keeping you close to him.

- Never ending pecks on the lips. He’ll keep moving in for another one unless you push him away.

- He’s sort of a geek compared to his fellow newsies; he doesn't do nearly as many crazy stunts as them. Maybe he’s more mature, …or maybe he’s just less coordinated than everyone else.

- Even though he’s a geek, he still does crazy/ridiculous stuff; he just doesn’t do acrobatics while doing so. Locked yourself out of your house? He somehow knows how to pick a lock. Forgot something somewhere? He’ll run all the way back there to get it for you!

- He’s kinda slow in the reflex department; you’ve been his savior more than a few times. You’re probably one of the only reasons his glasses are still intact.

- Specs is generally pretty polite but he is not a morning person at all. Be careful when attempting to wake him up, you may end up snatched and cuddled against your will or aggressively grumbled at.

- All the newsies would absolutely love cuddling with their girls and you cannot convince me otherwise. Some may be more shy than others but they all secretly love it. Specs typically sleeps/rests on his back so he’s pretty fond of the sweetheart cradle.

- He’s not ashamed of the fact that he likes when you baby him but he’ll get extremely embarrassed if anyone somewhat comes close to guessing that he does.

- He may be a little rough around the edges but he always tries to treat you like a lady; at least when he can help it.

- Getting visits while or after he sells his papers.

- He would genuinely wait around for hours just to be able to spend a little time with you. Get off work at seven? Well he gets off at five but he can stand to wait a little. Its worth it, right?

- People are just used to seeing him sitting on a crate outside your workplace, fiddling with whatever he can find to pass the time.

- He has a habit of holding/playing with things when he’s stationary so expect to have your hand occupied quite often.

- Piggyback rides. It may not be proper for a lady such as yourself but frankly, you don't give a damn and neither does he if you don’t.

- Likes bothering you in that playful boyfriend sort of way. You get teased, poked and prodded, especially when the two of you are alone together.

- He’s always got something to say. The two of you could have a full conversation about literally nothing at all.

- He’s happy to let you lean on him. What’s the difference when it’s a cute girl doing it? He’s used to having the other newsies use him as an arm rest so having his adorable girlfriend resting against him is a welcome change.

- I don’t know if it’s just me; but he looks so much better without his ridiculous top hat on?? Thank god he takes it off around you.

- He doesn’t have much; if any, pocket money so you’re not going to have any expensive dates. That being said, he tries to do something nice with what he has.

- Little love letters filled with misspellings and awful grammar. They may not be the most poetic things in the world but you adore them all the same.

- Walking around town together. You may have seen it all a hundred times before but it seems entirely new when you’re with him.

- Cozying up in secluded corners.

- Refers to you as ‘me old lady’ when talking about you to other people. He doesn’t use too many nicknames when talking with you though. He isn’t a big charmer so he isn’t used to the concept. He probably calls you “missy” jokingly but that doesn’t exactly count as a nickname, does it?

- He both follows your orders and disobeys you like you’re his mother. He’s constantly on that line of I will blindly follow you and I will make you make me.

- He may give you a little shit now and again but he’s a ride or die and thats a fact. When it really comes down to it, he has your back no matter what.

- The newsies may not seem like the most sensitive people in the world but Specs is a bit more empathetic than most. He hates seeing people; especially you, all sad or distressed.

- He may not be the greatest at it but he always tries to comfort or cheer you up in any way he can.

- He’s not used to people really caring about him and his wellbeing so it’s always a shock to him when you worry about his safety or try to take care of him.

- You once brought him some food because you were worried he wasn’t eating enough and he nearly cried. You should have seen his face when you handed it to him; it was like you were giving him a hundred bucks.

- Occasionally you’ll sneak him into your house when your parents aren’t home so he can take a warm bath in a tub that he actually fits in and eat a full meal.

- Sometimes the two of you will walk around town together, pretending that you’re both a wealthy couple. You put on posh accents and look through the windows of shops you could never buy from, boasting about how you’ll get this or that and talking about other “rich person” things.

- He saves up money for an entire year just to be able to buy you a Christmas/birthday gift. Either that or he’ll attempt to make you something, usually some kind of newspaper flower.

- How jealous he gets really depends on who it is that he’s meant to be jealous of. If it’s another newsie flirting then he’ll just tell them to get lost but if its someone with more class than him then he feels more threatened. Why would you chose him over some upper class fellow?

- He may act aggressive with the guy but he’s more reserved and feels like he has to take more shit if the fella decides to get smart. He doesn’t want to be put in the refuge for soaking him if his parents take it up with the law.

- Nearly all of the newsies would be protective of their girls and this trait isn’t lost on Specs. He’ll stare down people he doesn't like, keeping you behind him and puffing out his chest whenever they turn up.

- He’s always keeping an eye out for you and lingering around. He usually isn’t too far from your side when he can help it.

- He always stands behind you as you’re sitting down, holding the back of your chair and keeping a close eye on everything that’s going on.

 - He’s surprisingly fast on his feet and is an arguably good bullshitter/liar which he used for both good and; occasionally, bad causes. He can’t lie to you very well though; you can always see right through him.

- Most of your fights are pretty trivial so it isn't hard for the two of you to makeup. A lot of the time he’ll just forget that you were fighting or what you were fighting about and continue on like nothing happened or admit that he doesn’t even know what you’re supposed to be bickering about.

- You get a ‘love ya’ every time you’re saying goodbye or whenever he just feels the need to say it.

- The two of you will undoubtedly be pretty nervous when introducing him to your parents. The look on his face when you and your father first laid eyes on each other should be framed.

- He’s genuinely ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He’s one of the older newsies too so marriage might be just around the corner; if your folks will allow it.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Duplicity

An AU where Kaidan joins Cerberus for the events of ME2.

Chapter Eight: Visitors

"You could have changed first," Mary's eyes flickered to the man, "it would have made a better impression."

This was the Commander on her best behavior, attempting not to scorn the man she once loved. The man that had carried her broken body from the field and into safety. The man that blushed and rubbed at his forehead under her scrutiny, unconsciously buying himself further slack with a motion that brought her back to the old days. She thought reaching him was impossible then; now it was somewhere between impossible and a nightmare. The dissonance firing off in her skull was astounding, painful.

"I was worried about," he choked out, in the husky tone that made her heart flutter, " you."

"We should worry more about ourselves- really, Kaidan? Mouthing off to the Illusive Man?"

Honestly, she was proud of him. Other than the one time he killed a superior, he was quite mellow toward most authority figures. The point value tripled because it was toward the Cerberus ring leader. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, fiddling a while before he would answer.

"Commander, the writing's on the wall here- he sent you... us into a trap. It was negligent at best, he could have easily told us. Given us a chance to prepare-"

"Leave that sort of thing to the three billion dollar asset."

"Four billion," Kaidan smirked, "that also happens to have a death wish."

Mary's eyes fluttered away, losing her will to act brave. Her heart was allowed to fear for another, "maybe I was aiming for you."

His dark eyebrow raised.

"Besides, I can at least try to end my life in the way I see fit."

It was a harsh kickback from the moment of vulnerability. It was too easy for her to return to a level of comfort with Kaidan; why wouldn't it be easy? They had spent nearly a year together more than enough time to grow close, to learn all the ticks and what they meant. Plus, she was bitter. Angry, he had a part in bringing her back to this fucked reality. One where she was shackled to Cerberus. Where her autonomy was a fading illusion, Mary was trapped, and rattling at the bars wasn't enough. Whether it was the nuclear option or falling into submission wasn't entirely clear, both paths still fought.

His other eyebrow joined, creasing toward the center. Reflexively frowning at Shepard's insinuation, a hand returning to massage at his temple, he had no defense. Nothing that would change her mind anyway. He loved her; that was obvious. He couldn't stand to lose her, but he had already told her that. It was in the galaxy's best interest to have her around and kicking Reaper ass, in that there was no doubt. Mumbling and fumbling over words wouldn't budge the Commander. There was no reason even to attempt such a thing.

"I won't apologize for bringing you back."

"What about working for Cerberus?" Mary spat.

Kaidan barked, the aggressive tone an accidental exhaling of emotion, "did Chakwas or Joker get this lecture too? Or is it just me?"

"Does it matter?"

"So Joker gets a warm welcome, you end up drunk with Chakwas, and I end up dodging crates? How is that fair?" he questioned with folded arms.

"They didn't see what they did first hand," she reeled, "they... you... didn't... you knew they killed my unit. You met Toombs."

"And hearing about it wasn't enough?"

Mary's throat bobbed, "it's different."

"Don't BS me, Commander," he retorted sternly, "we're way past that."

"I expected better of you."

"Why? Why just me?"

"You're a good man, Kaidan. I don't like being wrong," Mary went cold, folding her arms over herself, "I don't like thinking I misjudged you."

"Let me get this right...because of our relationship, you expect me to live up to a lofty standard?"

"Hardly lofty. Terrorist organization hardly seems your style," Mary's eyes barbed him with daggers.

"Yet you stick with them."

"What choice do I have? Can I just leave? They've brought in everyone I care about, the Illusive Man has already proved he doesn't mind using anyone connected to me as bait," she looked away, "I'm trapped here."

Kaidan lowered his arms, daring to close a portion of the distance between them. He wanted to assure her, to assuage Mary that she was not the only one caged. It wasn't the time, "I felt the same way when the Council... the Alliance threw me aside. Knowing the Reapers are coming is terrible stuff. Instead of waiting around, I did something."

"You went too far, Kaidan."

"The same could have been said when we mutinied."

"We didn't experiment on people."

"Yeah, Cerberus has a lot to answer for," Kaidan retreated.

Mary didn't answer, watching him coldly. He was sure if she could move from that bed she would have decked him hard on the way out. But she was stuck- tied to the bed by medical tape. She seemed in fine condition to anyone else, but he could see the subtle wince when her breath drew too deep, or her volume grew too loud. Kaidan knew Mary better than anyone.

"What am I supposed to say, Mary? Surviving tore me apart. You, you already know what happened at first, but I had the chance to do something. To fight against what I knew was about to happen," Kaidan stepped forward, "maybe we'll never be what we were. But don't judge me, and let me help. I know how this looks-"

The biotic finally dared to meet her gaze- just in time to watch the tears spring from her eyes," just stop," Mary pleaded, looking at anything else that could distance her, "it may have been two years for you, I get it. You've mourned me. It's only been a few weeks, I felt myself die... just to wake up, and everything is... different. I'm still not sure if I'm in hell or not. Cerberus wasn't even a place I'd be in my nightmare."

Mary's bright eyes suddenly caught him, "and you're with them."

Kaidan moved forward, a hand extended as the Commander curled into herself, pulling up the blanket in vain, hoping it would hide her. Sheild her from the vulnerability she was not willingly presenting. It leaked, and it was unfair of him to take advantage of her. In a previous time her guard would have dropped; now she fought to keep it up—only a part of her struggle to keep sane in this new life. His hovering arm dropped, retreating several paces to force himself to stop.

"I didn't want to believe it," Kaidan stalled, looking at his feet, "but I've been thinking, realized that some of these people are good people. Maybe misguided, but... good."

Mary nodded, keeping her head turned away from him.

"Look, I didn't come here to lecture you," Kaidan sent over a dossier from his omnitool, "I brought some good news. If pulling in someone else we know into this mess is good news."

She shook her arm free of the blanket, the orange illumination of her face revealing a subtle shift in her state. The corner of her lip pulling up after the initial pass of regret filtered over her face, at least the tears he should do nothing about slowed to a trickle.

"There are more dossiers, but I knew this one would be most the important."

"Send them over."

Mary scanned the other two, far more passive in her reading of the other potential members of her crew. This was his cue to leave, so he moved to do just that.

"Just be more careful next time," Mary murmured, following his path out of the medical bay.

Kaidan paused, nodding before ducking out of sight.

~~~

"Thanks Shepard, I will," Liara smiled warmly.

"I'll talk to you later, Li Li," Mary stood, acknowledging Miranda's sideways look with a lop-sided smile. Trotting down the stairs from the administrator's office.

"Jealous, Lawson?"

"No, I-" Miranda smiled nervously, "you aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"Not until I find the perfect nickname."

"Oh god," Miranda muttered, massaging her temples, "Miri and nothing else will be acceptable."

"Really?" Mary prodded but gently offering concern rather than utter mirth.

"Is it not embarrassing enough?"

The Commander grinned smugly, "no, it's just-"

"Just what?" Miranda blew with hands moving to her perfect hips.

Mary didn't avoid the conversation out of pettiness- Joker's voice drowned out the moment, pulling away from the lightness of her mood.

"Shepard, we, uh, have a visitor? Some Kai Leng he claims to be Cerberus."

"You let him on the ship?"

"Let is not the word I'd use."

"And everything was going so well," Garrus quipped, the quicker of her companions to read the shift of Shepard's energy.

"Mr. Moreau is correct, Mr. Leng is here on the Illusive Man's orders," EDI pipped in, "I had to let him in."

"You better hurry; he already pissed off Tali."

"I'm on my way, Joker."

"A stowaway problem, Shepard?" Garrus asked with a cock of his head.

"Miri," it was too grave for a lighthearted nickname, "do you know a Kai Leng?"

"That bastard."

Mary cocked her head, her smile fading into a frown, "Miranda?"

"This isn't good news, Shepard. He's the Illusive Man's personal pet," she spat.

"Threat level?"

"Ten."

Mary picked up her pace to the Normandy, ignoring the sideways glances and concerned looks she received. The doors to the ship were open for her, and an over-the-shoulder call from Joker directed the party to the shuttle bay. The elevator felt like it took centuries, and neither of her companions wanted to say a word. Not even a half ignored news clip to pass the time. Leaving her to claw at her vambrace, annoyed to be tramping through her ship in unclean armour. It was a minor detail, but she hated bringing unnecessary germs onto the belly of her ship. She had a quarian to consider.

As if that was her greatest worry at the moment.

Mary stormed into the cargo bay, surprised to find three figures, and notably the lack of a certain Quarian. The krogan presence was less of a surprise, if there was a fight Grunt would find it. With his space overlooking the bay, he didn't have to pry, and furthermore, Jack's latest biotic blast wasn't easily ignored.

"If you think I'm letting you take me now," Jack heaved, dodging a projectile and returning a side-stepped shockwave, "you're fucking wrong!"

"Jack!" Mary screamed, breaking the biotic's concentration, and then her head swiveled to the stranger, "you must be Kai Leng."

"Shepard," the dark-haired stranger drawled, sending an instinctive shiver down her spine.

She wouldn't be intimidated, ignoring the gnawing sense this man would as quickly kill her as he would shake her hand, but it couldn't stop the protect folding of her arms over her chest, "why are you tormenting my crew?"

"Lawson," he continued, the smug smile leaving as he examined the turian, "and this must be the one known as Archangel."

Mary stepped in to partially block his view of Garrus. She knew that look.

The mixed heritage man extended out his hand- Mary had never wanted to do anything less, but this was a power move. Declining would give him the literal and figurative upper hand. Fuck, his grip was tight, overbearing.

"I was sent here to help; after all, the fate of humanity is resting on your shoulders," Shepard felt the omitted words from his saccharine tone.

"I don't need the kind of help that torments my crew."

"I corrected your blatant disregard for Cerberus' confidentiality."

A chuckle escaped Garrus's airway, on inspection, Miri sported a fleeting smirk. Spurring Mary on to laugh in his face, "yeah, from stolen Alliance and Turian designs."

"This wasn't part of the deal, Shepard," Jack butted in.

"You'll get those files back."

"Will you?"

"You'll learn soon enough that Shepard gets her way, Leng."

Kai Leng took his turn to chortle, "so quick to betray Cerberus, Miss Lawson?"

Miranda exhaled slowly, "what's the harm in a few classified files," her tone almost defeated. Mary and Jack meeting each other with a curious look.

"I'm sure you can find your way to temporary quarters?" Mary returned her attention to the stranger, "The Illusive Man and I need to have a chat in the meantime."

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter One

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

“This is a story, told the way you say stories should be told: Somebody grew up, fell in love, and spent a winter with her lover in the country. This, of course, is the barest outline, and futile to discuss. It's as pointless as throwing birdseed on the ground while snow still falls fast. Who expects small things to survive when even the largest get lost? People forget years and remember moments. Seconds and symbols are left to sum things up: the black shroud over the pool. Love, in its shortest form, becomes a word. What I remember about all that time is one winter. The snow. Even now, saying ‘snow,’ my lips move so that they kiss the air.” - Ann Beattie, Snow

WINTER, 1918

Tommy returned from France in the afternoon, after days of riding in a cramped train. Before that, he was crammed in the back of a cattle truck, and before that, well, he was deep underground, caked in mud and blood, digging away in a French tunnel.

It was cold when he stepped off of the cart, shoulder-to-shoulder with his brothers and the hundreds of other men who piled onto the platform. Former soldiers, all of them. Former. What did that make them now?

The sky was a broad, gray hand, and the wind smelled like snow. It was that certain smell that came around when the trees were bare and noses were red. Clean and winter, wide open. Like the whole world was about to change.

For two weeks after returning home, Tommy filled his days with other people, so as to avoid the quiet. Work with Polly in the shop, cards with Arthur at the Garrison, guns, and horses with John, nights with the same pool of working girls over and over again. Without people, the emptiness that came along with the quiet consumed him. He tried to remember what he was like, before the war, but he soon learned that it was impossible to recall, because he was in the after now.

At night, he would lie awake in bed, smoking an endless chain of cigarettes to avoid sleep. Not that it came easy to him, anyway. But there were times, albeit few and far between, where he would fall asleep, and he would find the quiet. Or, rather, the quiet would find him.

The quiet parts were all nightmares, dark rivers of mud and lost souls. He could never tell whether they were souls he knew now, or if they were people from the past, soldiers, screaming in voices made of wire. He would wake with a start, panting and covered in sweat, followed by a sense of relief that it was over. It wasn’t real. Sometimes the dreams would follow him during the day, usually in the sounds of shovels scraping against his wall when it was just him, alone in his bedroom, and the only other noise was the heavy thumping of his heart.

When the dreams that chased him into the day became more frequent, the cigarettes in bed turned into a pipe of opium. It kept the quiet out.

There were few opportunities after the war. Most jobs were an exercise in shared misery, toiling away in a factory for 15 hours a day- at least. So, he took matters into his own hands. It started as glancing encounters with petty crimes. Little shipments of illegal goods, a fixed race or two, then a little more, and a little more… Instead of people, Tommy found a new way to keep the quiet at bay.

Organized crime was a lucrative business, after all. Under the umbrella of the Peaky Blinders, it gave his family name a new sense of meaning, a sense of power.

And then, as if by divine intervention, a crate of guns were dropped at his doorstep. From that moment on, just like the smell of snow, the whole world changed. His whole world changed.

THE BRINK OF WINTER, 1919

He was at The Garrison with his brothers, sipping whiskey and listening to the two of them argue. Cards were scattered across the table, each play held in place by half-empty pints of beer and overflowing ashtrays. Their shared cigarette smoke made the air in the tiny room hazy and thick, so much so that Tommy could feel his eyes stinging each time he blinked.

They were in the middle of a card game until Arthur was losing and subsequently blamed it on John for cheating. Arthur had put a heavy wager on himself winning, which was a poor move on his part- John always cheated at cards. Tommy shook his head, their bickering nothing but static in the back of his mind. Another way to keep out the quiet.

Their argument was interrupted by a knock on the window that separated their private room from the bar. Arthur’s words slurred together and bellowed something along the lines of “open up,” at whoever was knocking. The barkeep, Harry, poked his head through.

“Good, uh, morning,” He nodded to the three of them. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but, there’s a boy here asking for Mr. Shelby.”

“Which one?” John laughed, sipping his pint as he elbowed Arthur in the side.

Harry leaned away to shout a question at someone from across the bar, before turning back to them. “Thomas, he says.”

“The one who matters the most,” Tommy deadpanned, a slight smirk on his lips. He waved a hand at the barkeep. “Send him in.”

Harry muttered a quick “yes, sir” and promptly closed the window.

Arthur, who sat closest to the door, kicked it open. A young man, who really was more of a boy, after all, stood before them. Removing his cap and gripping it tightly in between his fingers, he took a few hesitant steps into the snug.

“Mrs. Gray says she needs you at the shop, Mr. Shelby,” He shifted from foot to foot. “At once, she said.”

“At once,” Arthur repeated with a grin, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.  “What did you do now, eh?”

“Looks like I’m on my way to find out,” Tommy pushed himself up from the booth and finished the rest of his whiskey in one swig. “Tell Mrs. Gray I’ll be right there,” He nodded to the boy and flicked a spare coin from his waistcoat at him. “Go on now.”

Tommy shrugged on his cap and jacket and followed the boy out of the pub, a fresh cigarette perched between his lips. He walked through the streets of Small Heath with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching the boy’s pace hasten in front of him from under his cap. The sky was dark, a thick curtain of gray, save for the tiny bulb of sun that just barely broke through the clouds. It was ominous, no doubt threatening a chilling rainstorm later, or perhaps, snow.

It was almost winter again.

He tipped the brim of his cap to the nameless working men who flitted in and out of the betting shop, a cloud of breath escaping their lips with each hurried “G’day, Mr. Shelby” that they gave him in passing.

The shop was busy, filled with the chattering of hopefuls who placed bets, the sound of a man shouting names and scratching too little chalk across the green board. He noticed his aunt, Polly Gray, hunched over a desk, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. She fidgeted with a cigarette in between two fingers while she read over what he could only assume was a packet of ledgers.

He stopped short in front of her. “You needed me?”

“Oh, Thomas,” She flicked the ash from her cigarette and sat up, the legs of the chair scraping against the uneven floorboards. “What’s your schedule for tomorrow?”

“Not sure,” He replied, “Depends on who’s asking.”

Polly scoffed, beckoning him to follow with a flick of her wrist. “Your aunt’s asking, come with me.” She led him to their family’s parlor, allowing him to step ahead of her while she drew the curtains that separated them from the rest of the shop.

“I have a favor to ask,” She glanced at him from over her shoulder, balancing the cigarette between her lips while she tied the curtains together tightly. She let out an audible sigh and finally turned around to face him.

Tommy leaned against the wall, still tending to his own dwindling cigarette. “What’s the favor?”

“I need to hire someone.”

“Who?”

“A friend,” She replied. “Well, the niece of a friend.”

“Niece?”

“Are you a fucking parrot?” Polly snapped at him. Shaking her head, she leaned over the table to twist out the remaining stub of her cigarette into an ashtray. “I’d have already hired her myself, but since you’ve been back, I need to jump through a few more hoops before making any executive decisions.” She sighed, clearly bitter. “Nothing gets done without your knowledge.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Who is she?”

“I know her aunt from church, she asked me if I could get her a job.”

“You’re asking me for a favor? For another favor?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Seems like a bad deal to me.”

“I didn’t ask if it was a bad deal or not, I asked if I could hire someone.”

He exhaled, bringing the cigarette to his lips and looking away from her. A headache started building up in the back of his skull. “Why here?”

“She trusts that I’ll look out for her niece,” Polly answered quickly, “She has many children of her own, she can’t afford another mouth to feed anymore. Her husband died in France,” Polly paused, taking a seat at the table. “The bottom line is, she thought to ask me for help, and that means something.”

“What’s the name?”

“Caldwell.”

Tommy remained silent for a long while.

“She’s having hard times, and doesn’t want to kick her own flesh and blood out onto the curb.”

“Aren’t we all having hard times?” He raised an eyebrow.

“She’s desperate. Will you help me, or not?”

“This isn't women’s business.”

Polly rolled her eyes. “Her aunt was good to me, while you boys were away at war, back when it was women’s business,” Polly rolled her eyes. “I’m just trying to pay that good nature forward.”

“Since when did you start paying things forward?”

“Since today,” She huffed, “I’ll ask again. Will you help me or not?”

“Why should I waste company resources on a girl we don’t know, for a job we don’t have. Have you met her before?”

Polly glanced away from him, purposefully silent while tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Her aunt says she’s a good girl.”

“A good girl,” Tommy scoffed, dropping the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray at the center of the table. “Exactly what we need, a good girl . So you don’t know her?”

“Says she’s a hard worker too.”

“Do you even know her name?” He narrowed his eyes at her and then added. “Besides the surname.”

Polly avoided his gaze, instead fidgeting with the golden rings on her fingers.

“Would you just give this a chance?” She cleared her throat. “You don’t even have to hire her. But would you at least see her? Interview her?”

“What job am I supposed to interview her for?” He blankly stared at her. “What have you promised?”

“I haven’t promised anything.” Polly continued, “But I know she’s good with numbers. She’s got certifications.”

“Ah, certifications,” He rolled his eyes, sarcasm lacing his voice. “I’d reckon then that she could find a job, literally, anywhere else.”

“It’s not that easy, Thomas,” Polly shook her head, “If you don’t want her working in the shop, we can find something else for her to do. It’ll be my responsibility.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Her aunt trusts me, she knows I’ll look after her. This is important to me.”

He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. The headache that started in the back of his skull had traveled all of the way to his forehead now. When he opened his eyes, he saw a worry wracking his aunt’s face. He began walking toward the curtains but stopped short.

“I’ll see her tomorrow,” Tommy turned on his heel to face her, emphasizing each word with a jab of his finger. “Three o’clock at The Garrison. But if she’s even a second late, it’s over.”

Polly smiled, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you, Thomas.”

Tommy tossed a cigarette stub onto the sidewalk and twisted it into the cement with the heel of his shoe. He pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and peered at it, then glanced up at the gilded sign of The Garrison. It was almost three o’clock.

I’m asking as a favor, Thomas. Ridiculous. He was quickly learning that most favors were an additional headache for him.

The pub was empty, save for Harry who was wiping down the bar top. The barkeep caught his eye and tilted his head in the direction of a booth, where his aunt and another person sat. From where he stood, the other person was the back of a neat head of red hair. Polly didn’t notice him initially, seemingly engrossed in conversation, so he tipped his cap to Harry and made his way into the private room.

The window to the bar popped open, and the barkeep, ever-dutiful, appeared.

“Whiskey,” Tommy said, never looking directly at him. He took a seat at the booth and dropped his cap onto the empty space next to him. “And tell my aunt that I’ll be waiting in here, I’d like to speak with her first.”

Harry muttered a quick affirmation in response and disappeared from sight. By the time he returned with his drink in hand, there was a brisk knock at the main door to the room. Before Tommy could say anything, the door swung open, and it was Polly who stood there.

“You didn’t even say hello.”

“This is your favor,” He gave her a pointed nod. “Not mine.”

She rolled her eyes.

Tommy jerked his chin toward the pub. “You walked her here?”

“Keep your voice down, she’ll hear you,” Polly glanced behind her quickly and waved a hand at him. “Yes, I walked her here. I wanted to make a good impression.”

“A good impression, eh?” He motioned to her with the drink in his hand. “You’ve got an hour of my time. Bring her in.”

He didn’t have the slightest clue as to what job he was interviewing her for.

Polly couldn’t have left him anymore unprepared. He didn’t know anything about this girl, besides her surname, and perhaps that she could add a few numbers together, and her aunt was poor as the poorest. He vowed, at that very moment, that this would be the last time he would do a favor for anyone ever again.

He had better things to do. Better things that specifically involved a misplaced crate of guns that had fallen right into his lap a few days prior, and were currently gathering dust in Charlie Strong’s yard.

Polly left the door ajar. He turned to the frosted window that gave a blurry view of the streets beyond the pub. The sky was still overcast, just as it was the day before. The clouds were significantly darker, it looked like snow was more likely than rain. Then, an unfamiliar voice tore him from his musings. It was crisp and clear, with an accent that hinted at expensive schooling.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Shelby.”

When Tommy turned to look at her, he wondered if he’d managed at all to mask his surprise. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t… this. By the sound of her accent and smooth skin of her face, this girl, or woman, rather, in front of him couldn’t have been any older than twenty. Young, with fair skin, dressed sharply in a cream blouse and green skirt, not a wrinkle or crease in sight. In one hand, she held a folder, and with the other, she brushed a few auburn curls behind her ear. She looked at him expectantly, giving a flash of a smile framed in bright red lips.

Polly painted him a completely different picture. He assumed this girl would be showing up in moth-eaten clothes, raspy voice from working in a factory of some sort, gangly and thin. She was thin, yes, but didn’t look impoverished. She looked like a high society bitch, dropped in the middle of a dreary factory town. It was humorous, in a way.

He took a measured sip of his drink and motioned for her to take a seat.

“Miss Caldwell, was it?” His voice trailed off as he studied her, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

“Anna,” She answered, smoothing out her skirt on her lap. “Anna Caldwell. Thank you for seeing me today, especially on such short notice.”

He could see why Polly walked her here, and it became quite clear to him that it wasn’t just to make a good impression. She, Anna , that was her name, didn’t fit in around Small Heath one bit. It was evident in the way she was dressed, and the way she spoke.

She looked greener than the fucking grass at Easter. Certainly didn’t fit in around Small Heath. Certainly not fit for waltzing around Small Heath.

“Yes, well,” He cleared his throat, “Polly spoke very highly of your aunt.”

“My aunt speaks highly of her,” She replied. “They got to know each other during the war, as I suppose many women did.”

Tommy nodded, reaching for his drink. For a while, he attempted to make small talk. It was like pulling fucking teeth. Eventually, he reached his breaking point and decided to cut to the chase. One could only talk about the weather for so long. An attractive woman, he supposed, made it easier, but he wasn’t here to make nice with her, he was fulfilling a favor for his aunt. It was a business transaction, as simple as that.

“Why do you need this job?”

“Well,” She opened her mouth slightly, and then closed it, clearly taken aback by the bluntness of the question. “My aunt is a busy woman. I’ve been staying with her for a while now, and I think it’s time that I start finding my own work, to support myself. To ease the burden on her.”

A politer explanation of the situation in comparison to what Polly told him. He suspected it was a half-truth, on Anna’s part.

“I see,” He extended an open hand to her. “You brought a resume?”

Anna nodded fiercely, carefully opening the folder and handing him a thick piece of paper. He took it from her and slowly began scanning each line. She didn’t have much experience, in, well, anything. There were a few CPA courses dated from a couple of years back, a reference or two. No example of any steady job. In fact, she had never worked at all.

“There’s been few opportunities after the war, finding work has been difficult.”

Few opportunities after the war, he hummed at that.

“Where are you from?”

“A little village far from here,” She answered, shaking her head ever so slightly, causing a few strands of hair to fall in her face. “I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Humor me.”

“Eastcliff, it’s far south of here.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” He turned the page over. “And you’re living in Birmingham now?”

“Yes,” Anna folded her hands on the table. “A few streets away from this place, actually.” She glanced around the room. “Although I haven’t come around here often.”

He fought a smirk from appearing on his lips. Of course, she’d never come around these parts.

“You took some CPA courses?” He raised an eyebrow, peering at her from over the paper.

She nodded, leaning close to him to point at something on the paper. As he laid her resume on the table, her fingertips brushed across his knuckles. His eyes flicked toward hers and held her gaze. He noticed her cheeks flush, if only slightly when he pulled his hand away. She cleared her throat and tapped a finger on a certain line.

He looked at her hands while she spoke, her words melding together and becoming a lull in the back of his mind. Her hands were smooth, not a callus, or scar for that matter. Not the hands of a factory girl. He glanced up to her face next. Murky blue eyes, fair with a dusting of freckles across her nose, red curls framing her face. No work experience, few references, allegedly from a small village in fuck knows where. It was almost like she appeared out of thin air.

“Well, Miss Caldwell,” He finished the rest of his drink in a single swig. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Gray, and see what we can do.” He reached for her resume, “May I?”

He really had no intention of hiring her. There was no job available, especially since she barely had any experience in, well, anything. It would take a little more than a pretty face to change that. She would turn out to be a bad investment.

“Of course, please keep it.”

Tommy folded it into a small square and tucked it away in his jacket. Standing from the booth, he gestured to the door. “After you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby,” Anna turned to him, smoothing all of her hair over one shoulder. It was long, he noticed, stopping just below her collarbone. “I appreciate the time you took to speak with me today.”

He shook his head. “It was no trouble.”

Polly approached them from the booth she was sitting at, placing an empty glass on the bartop in the process. “Anna, would you give me a moment with my nephew?”

“Of course,” She nodded, her heels clicking against the floor as she went to retrieve her coat from the booth she was sitting at earlier.

“So?” Polly asked him under her breath, eyes darting between him and Anna. “What did you think?”

Tommy leaned against the bar, watching as the girl bundled herself up in a wool coat and matching hat. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I expect you to do the right thing, and help someone out.”

He rolled his eyes, the right thing. “She doesn’t seem to be struggling,” Tommy jerked his chin to Anna. “Look, she has a nice coat.”

“Oh, please,” Polly hushed, nudging him in the side as she walked by.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Shelby.” Anna waved before stepping out of the pub. “Thank you again.”

“I’ll be right out,” Polly shouted to her when the front door closed with a jingle.

“I don’t know what to say, Pol,” He pulled his cigarette case from his waistcoat and placed it on the bar. “There aren’t any open positions at the shop,” He nodded to the door, “Especially not for a girl like her.”

“What do you mean? I’m sure she’d be a fine secretary.”

Tommy scoffed, perching a cigarette in between his lips. “What do we need a secretary for?”

“Having one would keep the shop running smoothly, we could always use the extra hands there. Doing the boring work you boys don’t like. There’s more to this business than just blood, you know.”

“I told you I’d interview her, and I did.” He cupped his hands around the lighter, waiting for it to catch. “She has barely any working experience on her resume besides a few courses. Hiring her would be a waste of time and resources. How old is she?”

“Twenty-three.”

“In that case, she could make some good money on her back,” He dragged the cigarette from his lips and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“You’re despicable.”

“It’s an option.” He shrugged, glancing at his aunt from the corner of his eye. “I interviewed her. Favor fulfilled.”

“What am I supposed to do? Go out there and tell her there’s no job here for her?”

“This was your idea” Tommy deadpanned. “I already told you what she could do. Plenty of men around here would be willing to pay a pretty penny for a night with her.” He pointed to the door with his cigarette. “I’d bet, barely broken in.”

“Is this fun for you?” Polly snapped, jerking her head toward him.

He chose not to answer.

They stood in bitter silence, save for the sound of Polly incessantly tapping her foot on the ground. He glanced around the empty pub, dim light filtering in from the windows. In a few hours, the place would be booming with people, with just Harry managing the bar by himself. It was fine enough for him to do that during the war, there were barely any men around then, anyway. Nowadays? With the men back and in desperate need to drink away their sorrows, he was in over his head, each and every night.

Tommy grimaced. An idea trickled into his head. He peered at his aunt from the corner of his eye and cleared his throat.

“You’d be doing the girl and her aunt a favor if you just told them to pack off,” He reached for his cigarette case and shoved it haphazardly into his coat. “You had to walk her here, you say she’s good. Why would you even want her working with us in the first place?”

“Her aunt trusts me,” Polly sighed. “She knows I’ll keep an eye on her. Can’t say many other places offer that- peace of mind.”

Tommy hummed in response. He turned on his heel to face the bar and started banging his open palm against the bar top.

Polly raised an eyebrow at him.

Red-faced at the sudden noise, Harry came running from the back room.

“Another drink, Mr. Shelby?” He nodded his head toward Polly, tossing a stained cloth over his shoulder. “Mrs. Gray.”

“No, no drink,” Tommy spoke with a cigarette between his lips. “Are you still hiring?”

“Hiring? For the extra help around here?”

“Exactly that.”

Harry paused, glancing from Tommy to Polly then back again.

“Well, uh, yes. Yes, I am.”

Tommy tilted his head to Polly. “Would you look at that?”

Harry knelt behind the bar and began rifling through the shelves for something. Bottles and other miscellaneous items clattered together while he searched. “I put an advertisement in the paper,” He called from below. Eventually, he stood up and placed a crumpled newspaper in front of them. “Not many applicants, though.”

“You’re kidding, Thomas.” Polly took a step closer to the bar.

Tommy thumbed through the newspaper to the advertisement section. He scanned through each job posting line by line, until one, in particular, caught his eye.

“Here we are,” He folded the paper and handed it to Polly, tapping a specific headline with his finger. She snatched it from him and brought it close to her face, eyes narrowing at the fine print.

“She’s never done this kind of work before,” She muttered, never looking directly at him.

That was evidently clear to him. Her hands were a dead giveaway. He still wasn’t even sure if she had done any kind of work before. “You said she’s a hard worker, eh? There’s always time to learn.”

Polly didn’t reply, still clutching the newspaper tightly. She shook her head.

“You can go out there and tell her that it’s either this,” Tommy motioned to the pub around them. “Or on her back. It’s your choice.”

She glared at him, her lips forming a tight-line. Lifting her chin, she tucked the newspaper under her arm. “I’ll show her the advertisement.”

“She’ll be on the company payroll.” He raised his cigarette to her. “Favor fulfilled, Pol, and then some.”

Polly wordless turned on her heel and adjusted the velvet cap on her head. The door to the pub jingled as she stepped out.

“How about that drink?”

Tommy gave him a curt nod. He rested his elbows on the bartop, staring at the glossy wood.

“Huh, would you look at that,” Harry muttered as he uncorked a bottle. “It’s snowing. Early this year, isn’t it?”

Glancing out of The Garrison’s frosted windows, he saw that it had indeed started to snow. Tommy pulled the cigarette from his lips and sighed.

He swore that he had no intention of hiring her.

[whimsicallyreading]

Who Cares

Masterlist

Hunt was soaked in blood.

From beneath his chin, to the toes of his heavy, leather boots. It coated him like a second layer of crimson skin, and Hunt was aware that anyone who came across him would think he was a walking nightmare.

This wasn’t the first or last time he’d walked around publicly in such a state. The Umbra Mortis was no fairy tale told to keep children in bed. He was a living, breathing male that walked the streets of Lunathion daily.

Bryce’s new public status meant that cameras followed her everywhere. Hunt’s name was elevated with hers, but people hesitated pointing their lenses at him. They still cleared the sidewalks when he passed by.

It stung.

Hunt landed on the roof of their apartment and made the slow descent to his floor. Red foot prints followed his wake but he didn’t look back at those. He would leave a tip for the janitor later.

He stepped through the door and kicked off his shoes. Bryce, on the other hand, would murder him if they ruined her rugs.

A low, rumbling ground broke through the silence and Syrinx came barreling from his crate. The little beast charged at the intruder prepared to chew their bones with his need-like teeth.

“Syrinx,” Hunt huffed and got down on his knees. “If you bite my ass again I’m going to turn you into a pair of socks.”

Syrinx skidded to a halt, taking Hunt in with his amber eyes. Once he recognized the male under the blood, his tongue flopped out and his disposition sweetened.

“There you are, Beastie.” Hunt scratched Syrinx’s ears. “Bryce will be home soon and I need to go wash off before she sees me. I’ll take you on a walk after. How is that?”

Syrinx made happy, snuffling sounds and pranced back to his bed. Content to finish his nap and wait for all of his friends to arrive.

Hunt opened the door to his bathroom. Bryce had all but moved him into her room, but claimed this room still belonged to him. She wanted him to have the autonomy of his own space.

Hel, he loved her.

They also shared her bathroom now. Conserving water was her rational for that. Hunt didn’t want the blood to stain her tub, though, so he would use this shower.

Isaiah had called to inform him of a couple shifter radicals, intent on usurping the Wolves of the city and attempting to plant bombs in Moonwood. His friend was loathe to ask, but Hunt understood the request.

Dispatch them quietly.

Hunt wouldn’t deny that was his forte, and Isaiah asking out of respect was different than doing it because Micah ordered.

He is was halfway through cleaning the feathers of his left wing when he heard the apartment door slam open.

“Hunt,” Bryce’s voice screamed, filled with pain and terror.

Leaping from the shower, Hunt barely wrapped a towel around his waist before bursting into the living room.

Bryce was standing by the front door next to his bloodied boots. Her face was pale, legs trembling, and tears were running down her freckled cheeks.

“Bryce, what the Hel is wrong?” He gripped her shoulders and scanned her body for damage. Nothing was out of place besides the tears ruining her makeup.

Mentally he was swearing, if one of those fae bastards had harassed her again on her way home he would-

“There was blood-“ Bryce choked between sobs. “All the way down the hallway. On the walls. The floor, I thought, I thought-“

Shit. He was an idiot.

Hunt pulled her to his chest, neither caring that he was wet or that one wing was still stained and dirty. He could feel Bryce’s heart racing, and her whole body shook in his arms.

He carded his fingers through her hair. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”

Bryce thought she was walking into another massacre. Another body. Another friend and another love death. He must have made a bigger mess than he’d thought.

“I didn’t know you had a job today,” she cried, her face stilled pressed into his chest. “You can’t do that to me.”

“I’m really freaking sorry,” Hunt apologized, feeling more like a bastard with every sob. “Isaiah called and I didn’t even think to call you.”

Bryce leans back and slams a fist again his chest, and damn if it didn’t hurt. “You moron! You didn’t even consider letting me know?”

Her sorrow was replaced with a burning rage that confused Hunt. “It wasn’t a serious job. Just messy. I didn’t think it was important. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s important,” Bryce growled, her freckles scrunched as her face contorted in anger. “It doesn’t have to be important. I care about you. I want to know because I care if you come home looking like a freaking reaper.”

Hunts eyebrows drew together, “It’s just my job, Bryce. I’m lucky to have one.”

“I know it’s your job,” her voice becomes quiet and her eyes look pained. “But don’t lie and say it doesn’t take a toll on you. We are mirrors, remember? You can’t lie to me. If I’d known I would have been here waiting for you.”

Hunt takes a risk and dips in to kiss Bryce. Nothing like the swift pecks they often exchanged, this was deep and passionate. He gripped the back of her hand in his fist and pulled Bryce closer to him.

When they pulled back, she looked flustered.

“I know you care,” Hunt chokes around the emotion building inside him. “It just surprises me how much sometimes.”

Bryce sighs and takes his hand, leading him back to the shower he left running. He sits on the side of the tub, still in his towel as she picks up a loofa and gets to work on his other wing.

They are silent as she works. Hunt can scent the fear that’s still leeching its way from her system. When she finishes, Hunt wets a rag and wipes the makeup and tears from under her eyes. He presses a kiss to each one when they are cleaned.

“You have a different kind of love Bryce,” He whispers foreheads pressed together. “I’ve never met a heart like yours. Sometimes the honor that you’ve made a place for me inside of it still hits me. I’m truly sorry for scaring you.”

Bryce looks up at him, her red lashes brushing against her eyebrows. “I wish you would stop forgetting that you aren’t alone anymore. You won’t ever be alone again, Hunt. I care if you are okay.”

Tears sting his eyes and he blinks them back. What a foreign concept. He’d spent most of his life in servitude but here was this girl, a literal princess who cared if he came home in a good mental state. Who’d washed him more than once. Who got a spark in her eyes whenever she saw him experiencing or enjoying something new.

Bryce, who made sure he had autonomy in their home, their relationship, their things. Because she wanted his freedom for him even when Hunt didn’t think he needed it.

“You aren’t alone either,” Hunt kisses her again. Deeper. More frantically.

Her hair is damp from the steam and sticks to his skin but he couldn’t care less as her arms wrap around his shoulders. Bryce cups both sides of his face in an iron grip.

Hunt lifts her off her feet and they stumble into the hall when they hear a gasp.

They rip apart and Bryce’s eyes widen in mortification at the couple standing at the door. “Mom! What the hel are you doing here?”

Ember and Randall are staring at them from the doorway. The latter looks like he wants to run back at the door or decapitate Hunt. Ember seems unbothered, her hands resting on her hips and a tight grin.

“Did you forget we were coming? Of course you did,” Ember sighs. “Tell your Angel to go put some clothes on, and perhaps clean yourself up as well?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Randall manages to strangle out, he looks to his wife. “Ember, I’m going to kill him.”

Ember rolls her eyes, “You can kill him later.” Her steely look turns towards Bryce. “We’ve had a long trip and I can assume you don’t have a room ready for us?”

Bryce murmurs under her breath away as she ushers Hunt out of sight. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have Hunt’s room ready.”

“We will be waiting,” Ember sings as she and Randall drop their bags by the front door.

Bryce’s bedroom door shuts behind them and Hung runs a stressed hand through his damp hair. “That’s not how I wanted to officially meet your parents.”

“Well get over it,” Bryce throws a pair of shorts at him. “Nothing ever goes as planned with them.”

Hunt can’t help but think being almost naked and making out with their daughter had to at least be on the worst end of that spectrum. Still, he was resolved to try and fix this. He wants to exceed their expectations of a boyfriend.

For Bryce? There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do. How hard could impressing her human parents be? They’d chatted over video call before. He liked both of them. Hunt can rectify this situation, he assures himself.

At least, he hopes he can.

What happens when Val’s client never arrived for their appointment? She stress writes quinlar fluff on her phone while sitting on a grooming table. Hope you guys enjoy <3 

Taglist- (let me know if you would like to be added or removed :D)

@cursebreaker29

@firestarsandseneschals

@royalsqueeze

@julemmaes

@tillyrubes10

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

[no-mourners-at-my-funeral]

Careful - One Shot

Summary: Why did she even care? She told herself it was because her reputation relied on him. As long as Kaz Brekker was considered dangerous, his little spy would be feared as well. And fear was the surest form of respect. Without him, she could very well end up back where she started, or maybe somewhere worse. But it was more than that. She didn’t want him to die because… because…

Pairing: Kanej (Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa)

Warnings: Violence, Implied PTSD

Author’s Note: This is my submission for @weeklygrishaprompts​‘s Week 1 challenge. The prompt was to have a torn piece of clothing, counting down from ten, and hiding under a bed or in a closet. I hope I got this part right, at least. I notice that in the books, it’s always Kaz freaking out when Inej is injured, so I decided to reverse that, so now Inej is freaking out while Kaz is injured. Enjoy!

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3.

Careful

There was an itch on Inej’s foot.

She had been hiding under the bed for the better part of an hour. Laying under her back, barely breathing as she listened to the conversation going on around her. If anyone found her here, she could be killed for breaking parlay conduct. Kaz could very well suffer the same fate.

“You’re in too deep, Brekker,” the Razorgull leader, Oller, was saying. He had a quiet voice, product of a throat injury that had happened when he was young. But listen to him, he still sounded so much more mature than the boy he was dealing with. “My advice? Find a nice job in the country. Something that will keep you off of your feet.” Inej imagined the older man giving a pointed glance to Kaz’s bad leg.

To his credit, Kaz didn’t seem to react to Oller’s taunts, if they could even be called that. “Oller, we both know that isn’t going to happen,” he replied smoothly. “And definitely not while your gang is poking their noses where they shouldn’t be.”

“Poking our noses where they shouldn’t be?” Oller gave a wheezy chuckle. “Oh, I wholeheartedly disagree. We have every right to be involved in your little schemes. You think no one will notice, but I see you. You’re a smart kid, really Brekker, and I have to applaud you for that.”

A rat scuttled behind Inej’s head, and she bit her lip. The Drekig Hotel was utterly filthy, inside and out, infested with rats and all manor of deplorable creatures. But it was also neutral territory, a good place to meet when you wanted to make less-than-legal dealings in secrecy. Gang bosses would often meet here when they didn’t want prying ears listening in on their conversations, when they didn’t much desire the fanfare of the Exchange.

Currently, Kaz and Oller were sitting at a small, flimsy little wooden table in the corner of the hotel room. From where she was laying under the bed, Inej could see their feet - Oller’s toes twitching whenever Kaz spoke, as if he was having to restrain himself from punching the younger man in the face. Inej knew the feeling. And Kaz’s feet, utterly relaxed, bad leg stretched out at a comfortable angle, cane leaning against the wall beside him. Thoroughly relaxed.

She knew that Kaz would be keeping a calm composure, but she also knew that internally, he was probably seething in frustration. He had been going in circles with Oller for the better part of an hour now, with little success. At least he had managed to get Oller to admit that he was attempting to spy on the Dregs (or their private coffers, more than likely), but even that felt like a meaningless victory.

“It’s not a matter of every right , Oller,” Kaz was saying. “Saying you have a right to something implies that there might be some good in this world to ensure that right. Maybe that was how it was in the old times, but well, that’s why they’re called the old times.”

Oller’s foot flexed. His composure was cracking, bit by bit. Like the tide hammering away at a stone wall. Eventually, the tide would win. “Well, Mister Brekker,” the older man replied, “I must admit, you are a brilliant one. Could’ve made a beautiful contribution to the Razorgulls. Almost makes me sad about what I have to do next.”

Inej’s eyes widened. She realized what was going to happen a second before it did. Before she could even hear a reaction from Kaz, she had slid out from under the bed in one fluid movement. She jumped to her feet just as the door swung inwards, revealing a group of Razorgull lieutenants, crammed into the small hallway.

Oller let out a brief choking sound at the sight of her in the hotel room before recovering from the shock. He turned to his soldiers. “Well?” he hissed. “What are you waiting for?”

There was no time to plan anything. She exchanged a glance with Kaz, and he gave her a small nod.

The room was small, and Inej hated fighting in the enclosed space. She had pulled out two of her knives - Sankta Alina and Sankt Petyr - and was moving as gracefully as she could with the area she had. A Razorgull pulled a knife on her, and she ducked down, slashing at the exposed skin on the back of his ankle. He let out a yelp as blood spurted from the spot. She came up behind him, giving him a good whack over the head, and he fell over.

The fight felt like a dance, like a routine she might have performed on the trapeze, once upon a time. The Razorgulls had no grace to them, but they were all several times larger than her, and they were strong, and quite a few of them had guns. She could only spare Kaz a few glances, but he was holding his own. She had to trust that they could both do this.

She saw a Razorgull raising his gun before Kaz did, and lunged forward, jabbing Sankt Petyr into the man's throat. He choked, and Inej cringed. She hadn’t meant to kill him. But then he was falling to the ground.

She didn’t see his finger curling around the trigger until it was too late. A gunshot rang through the room, and she let out a gasp, bracing for the pain. But none came.

And then she turned, and saw Kaz, blood already staining his black vest. Dimly, she was aware that the Razorgulls were retreating, their job seemingly complete, but she couldn’t concentrate on that through the ringing in her ears. Kaz was glancing down at his wound, eyebrow raised, as if he hadn’t realized he was even capable of being injured. Inej hadn’t thought he could, either, she realized.

She came to her senses as the last Razorgull ran down the hallway. She threw one of her knives, and it stuck into his back, and the man collapsed. For once, she didn’t stop to say a prayer to her saints for the man’s life. She was already moving towards Kaz.

“We need to get you to the Slat,” she said, moving a hand to Kaz’s wound. He swatted her hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, but his voice was shaking, and he already looked paler than normal.

“You aren’t going to make it back if you don’t put pressure on that,” Inej tried. Kaz gave her a stormy look, before pressing a gloved hand against the spot. “And we need to get you back to the Slat. Or to Nina.”

Kaz shook his head. “No,” he gasped. “There’s a safehouse a couple blocks away. It’s closer.” And it’s away from prying eyes , is what he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to. Inej understood what it meant to appear weak in front of others. Do that, and they might always think of you that way. And Kaz couldn’t live with the humiliation.

Inej nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. “We’ll go there.”

Kaz attempted to take a step forward and let out a small noise that reminded Inej of an injured bird. His hand clenched over his wound. And Inej moved forward again, placing her hand on his side.

“I said don’t touch me,” Kaz growled, but his voice was weak, without its usual ferocity.

“You won’t make it to the safehouse on your own, Kaz,” Inej reasoned. “You have to let me help you.” At Kaz’s pointed glare, she added, “Which would you rather have survive, your pride or your body?”

She could see he was debating with yourself. “Another Suli proverb?” he muttered under his breath, before giving her a tight nod. She moved so that he could lean against her side, as Kaz gripped his cane with his other hand. They made slow progress through the hotel, past the fallen Razorgull in the hallway and down the creaky wooden stairs. They took the back exit out, avoiding the crowds on the street out front.

And so they made their way through alleyways. Kaz would let a hiss when his wound was particularly agitated. Inej could help but notice how much he was leaning on her, increasing the pit of worry in her stomach. Their skin wasn’t touching, but his skin was warm in the spots under the fabric of his clothes.

Why did she even care? She told herself it was because her reputation relied on him. As long as Kaz Brekker was considered dangerous, his little spy would be feared as well. And fear was the surest form of respect. Without him, she could very well end up back where she started, or maybe somewhere worse. But it was more than that. She didn’t want him to die because… because…

The safehouse Kaz had referred to was a small back door in a sweet shop that led down into a basement. The place was coated in a heavy layer of dust, and the scent of rotting produce made Inej wrinkle her nose. After a brutal hurricane had hit Ketterdam about a decade back, many businesses had chosen to move their products from storage areas in basements to private banks. It left plenty of empty spaces, cracks for people to slip through.

Kaz slumped down against one of the walls, gesturing to a box in the opposite corner that seemed considerably less dusty. “There’s a first aid kit in there,” he told her, and she didn’t like how weak his voice sounded. “It should have some bandages inside.”

“Alright,” Inej said, darting over to the other side of the room. Opening the crate, she saw an assortment of guns, knives, and some canned goods. And in the very bottom, a small metal box with the symbol for healing painted on it in red ink. Picking up the box, Inej quickly moved back to where Kaz was sitting.

Inside the box were a couple towels, some bandages, and a small bottle of iodine. Inej gave Kaz a meaningful glance. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt,” Inej told him.

Kaz shot her an icy glare. “I can do it myself.”

“No, you can’t. Your hands are shaking,” Inej pointed out. Kaz looked about ready to murder her right then and there, but he moved to pull off his vest before wincing.

“Let me help you,” Inej said. It was hauntingly familiar to her first words to him, but she didn’t dwell on it. Kaz seemed disgruntled, but he didn’t protest as she gently helped him pull his blood stained vest over his head, only letting out a few grunts when he agitated his wound.

Once the vest was off, Inej could see that Kaz’s button-up shirt was stained with bright red blood, and there was a large tear where the gunshot was. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” she asked, and he nodded. She turned her attention to the washcloth, dousing it in a healthy splash of iodine.

When she turned back to him, the torn shirt had been discarded on the floor next to him. His chest was bare, and her eye flicked once to the tattoo on his bicep - a capital “R” - before she returned her focus to his injury. “The bullet didn’t go through,” she observed. “Can you feel in there?”

Kaz grimaced, before nodding. “Yeah.”

Inej sighed. “I’m going to pull it out,” Inej told him, grabbing the iodine bottle. Kaz’s eyes widened.

“No,” he choked out. “I’ll do it.”

Kaz,” Inej reasoned, “you’ll only injure yourself if you try to do that in this state.” Kaz pursed his lips. “ Kaz . You have to let me help you.”

Kaz dug his gloved fingers into his palms. For a moment, Inej was afraid he might refuse. How well did they know each other, really? They fought together, sure, and everyone felt a little bit closer after that. But virtually, she knew nothing about him. Not about his family, and what he liked to do. About what made him smile, really smile. But she did know that he didn’t want to die here, in a dusty basement, when he could live to fight another day.

He nodded, and Inej found herself letting out a sigh of relief. “Be quick,” he told her.

Inej poured some iodine on her hands, in the absence of proper sanitary options. It would probably sting incredibly for Kaz, but it would hurt a lot more when she pulled that bullet out. She handed him one of the washcloths still in the first aid kit. “Bite down on this,” she instructed him. There wasn’t a lot more she could do.

She took in a deep breath. She was stalling, and she knew it. “I’m going to count down from ten,” she told him, “and then I’m going to take out the bullet.” He gave her a curt nod, and she forced herself to breath. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if she panicked now.

“Ten.” She steadied herself, flexing her hands.

“Nine.” She would have to be quick. She knew the longer she messed with the wound, the more chance she would cause further damage.

“Eight.” Kaz’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was breathing heavily.

“Seven.” This was just like when she would any other wounded Dreg.

“Six.” Except it was Kaz, and if he died…

“Five.” Well, then things would be considerably different for her.

“Four.” She heard Kaz take another deep breath, and she took another one to match him.

“Three.” She braced her right hand against his shoulder, and he flinched, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter.

“Two.” She didn’t move her hand, but she gave him a comforting squeeze.

“One.”

She didn’t hesitate before moving her hand to the wound. Kaz was trembling under her right hand, but she forced herself to stay steady. He didn’t scream or cry, but the silence felt almost worse.

There . Her thumb and pointer finger found the small bullet, and she pulled it out as delicately as she could before tossing it on the floor with a small ping . As soon as she was no longer touching Kaz, he seemed to visibly relax, and she allowed herself to take a few gasping breaths. The worst of it was over.

Kaz spit out the washcloth, and Inej silently handed him one of the ones she had soaked in iodine. He dabbed at the wound with it. “Put more pressure on it,” Inej advised him, and he did.

No thank you. No acknowledgement of what she had done. But when he looked up at her, their eyes met, and somehow, that said more than a thank you ever could.