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thedevilspearl · 11 months

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➛ out of office hours

a/n: been craving a ceo!luci for so long so i decided to write it myself and i’m in love with him >_< am also thinking about him falling in love with you and i just—! <333333

tags: 4.2k words, ceo!lucifer x secretary!reader, female reader, dom!lucifer, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside, ass slapping, degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation. minors do not interact!

you always felt the need for professionalism in your role as a secretary. especially with a boss as hot as yours.

he was terrifying at first, you will admit that. but having the raven–haired man bare down at you with those unruly eyes was the most exciting thing about the job. from the beginning, he watched you closely, his gaze raking up and down your form, taking in the way you do things so perfectly.

your profession is simple enough; organising files, preparing his documents, reading and directing e–mails and scheduling all of lucifer’s appointments are the routine kind of things you do.

but every now and then, a splash of wild colour enters the monotonous life as a secretary, and you find yourself on your knees beneath your cold and grumpy boss.

“that’s it,” lucifer sighs. “just like that.”

today was a world–wind of emotions for both you and lucifer. as the ceo, he is bound to have days filled with stress. and on those days, your bound to feel it tenfold as you are the one doing all of the work behind the scenes, supporting him as best you can.

through all the excessively long and draining meetings and the ruthlessly hectic business environment, you both managed to make it back in the office, despite it being late into the evening, long after business had closed for the day.

he finishes up some work on his computer, work you will need to catch up on later, and hums from the warmth of your mouth running up and down his cock. he relaxes into his chair, no longer paying attention to his screen and looks down at you tucked snugly under his desk.

squeezed in the space between his thighs, you forge eye contact with him as he brushes his hair back with slender fingers, revealing a slightly sweaty forehead and reddened cheeks.

you’re aware of how hard he tries to maintain the classic ceo persona — an emotionless robot who cares only for money and power — but when he’s with you, when he’s fucking you and using you and allowing you to use him how you please….it’s a marvel, to say the least.

his blush is enhanced with the ruby glimmers in his irises but the dark, lustful entity behind those eyes spur you on.

a mixture of whispery groans and praises escape him and you take it as your signal to suck in harder, then to tease him by pulling back and swirling your tongue around his cock, paying extra attention to his sensitive tip before taking him whole in your mouth again.

“mmh….fuck, keep doing it like that.” he orders and you obey.

you wonder if the pleasure you thrust upon him is what takes his moodiness away. seeing him slip into his relaxed self, his greedy and self–indulgent self while he gets off on your mouth is surely a sight no one else would see.

as far as you know, you’re the only one who does these things with him.

not that it’s an exclusive relationship, but lucifer has expressed he would only do such things with people he trusts and you happen to be one of them. conveniently, the only one he has regular access to.

and that’s how this situation began.

it’s rare, but every now and then when either of you need relief, you use each other. there are rules in place, of course. there always are with a man like lucifer.

the typical things like no strings attached and no kissing.

but your least favourite rule is no fucking.

feelings, kissing and fucking: all three of them would decimate the professional boundaries you have in place.

but that’s not to say you don’t have fun without all of that.

using your hands and mouths on each other is satisfying enough. and the opportunity to even look at lucifer’s cock, let alone suck him dry, is more akin to a blessing.

the feel of his cock in your mouth will never grow old. you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder and humming so the vibrations can send waves of pleasure up his cock and into his body. he twitches, rutting his hips into you, no longer restraining himself.

his hand plants itself into you scalp, using your head as he pleases until hot cum blasts into your mouth and his hips stutter between your lips. you watch with wide eyes as his face contorts in pleasure, and you feel your panties grow more soaked in your arousal.

you had already removed your shoes and blazer, but while you swallow the remnants of lucifer’s cum, you unbutton your shirt and kick off your skirt, leaving your bra and panties for him to remove. he steadily reaches behind you, not breaking eye contact, and unclasps your bra.

his dark orbs finally move away from yours, only to remain stuck on you breasts and perky nipples. you don’t miss the swipe of tongue across his lips; he’s hungry.

pulling him from his trance, you work on his own shirt, unbuttoning and pulling it from him with zeal. he meets your eagerness by pushing you down on his desk, tracing his fingers over your ankles and up your calves. he leaves kisses along the inside of your thighs, promising to go further.

and when he reaches the apex, he chuckles softly at the soaked stain leaking through your panties. you bare your wetness proudly, and his cock twitches knowing it’s all due to him. one chaste kiss over your panties causes you to quiver and a moment later, your panties are ripped from you.

your pussy glistens in the dimmed light of his office and your boss, who is a man with little time, wastes none when it comes to devouring you.

his hot mouth collides with your already burning pussy and you whine wantonly. he slobbers all over you, mixing your arousal with his own saliva before sucking it all back into his mouth. his tongue tickles between your folds, swiping up and down and swirling circles at the top where your most sensitive part hides.

and just when your clit is ready to explode with pleasure and send it adrift throughout your body, he smacks harsh, wet kisses on your lips, sucking and nibbling like his life depends on it.

“fuck! lucifer!” you squeal. “please make me cum!”

he buries his head deep between your thighs and you lock him in. you yearn for release and grind your hips into his face, to which he responds by licking and sucking your pussy with more vigour. and as you rock your pussy on his face, the pleasure builds up and explodes in an electrifying burst.

ripples of exultation flood your body, nourishing your flesh with the meaning of true bliss; a cause for you nerves to jubilate and rejoice. sparks dance along your skin and lucifer pulls away, gasping between your trembling thighs with his face glossed over from your pussy.

he kisses his way up slowly, leaving marks on your stomach and giving special attention to your breasts. he eyes you as he takes each nipple one after the other, and sucks. falling onto your elbows, you throw your head back and attempt to catch your breath, but lucifer makes that difficult as his lips snake up the skin of your neck and capture your lips in his own.

the sweet taste of your essence coats your tongue, but what surprises you more is how casual lucifer’s lips feel against yours. it’s the first kiss you’ve shared, yet it feels like you’ve kissed him a million times before, like he’s the only man you should ever kiss.

tiny cracks appear in the set of rules. he shouldn’t have kissed you, and you most certainly should not be kissing him back.

but you wrap your arms around his shoulders, silently telling him you are fine with this. more than fine, actually. you would rather die than move away from him now.

wrapped so closely together, embraced in each other’s lips and arms, it feels like it should be no other way.

his tongue reaches in and toys with yours in a playful fight for dominance and you hope this forbidden kiss could last forever, but you pull back slight when his cock rubs against your sensitive clit.

a single look to him to ask what he is doing earns a single look from him, signifying what he wants next.

you shouldn’t.

you absolutely should not do this.

but no matter how many times you remind yourself how wrong it is in these few short moments, your body speaks for itself and you nod. lucifer’s shoulders visibly relax, as if he was scared you would say no.

you can’t feel guilty about this, not when lucifer wants it as much as you. he strokes his cock, eyes furrowed from the battle waging in his mind. he’s as conflicted as you, but in times like this, he is hopeless in the fight against his lust.

“are you sure you want this?”

“yes,” you gasp. “are you?”

“i wouldn’t have gotten this far if i didn’t.”

you hesitate for a moment, but he assures you with his charming words, whether they speak the truth or otherwise.

“you needn’t worry about the repercussions. this is purely for stress relief.”

you’re sure the sinking feeling in your chest is a bad sign, knowing it hurts that all of this is just for the release of pent up stress. but still, your body is greedy enough to bury that bitter hesitance deep down and replace it with more lust.

“then stop talking and do it,” you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer so his cock prods your entrance. “don’t take your time with me, lucifer. i’m not a patient woman.”

his softness is gone instantaneously and like a flash of lightening, you are shocked by how quickly he can switch from his relaxed and vulnerable side to his authoritative and commanding façade.

“you ought to show more respect to your boss,” he leans down, close enough for his lips to graze your ear. “you’ve forgotten your manners.”

“i hardly think manners are necessary. with this, at least.”

“hm, well, you see,” he taunts. “i won’t give you anything unless you ask for it nicely. and you’re not a patient woman, so how long are you going to wait for it?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, hoping lucifer would hop straight into fucking you senseless. but you forgot how much of a control freak he is, and how everything happens his way or it doesn’t happen at all.

you hoped the lenience and generosity he has for you would work in your favour, but apparently not.

“i don’t need to ask again,” he warns. “tell me what you want and say please.”

you bite your lip, glaring at him daringly but a single stern look puts you in your place and speaking the words you both desperately need to hear.

“please, i want you to fuck me.”

he stares you dead in the eye as he utters another order.

“say it again.”

“please, lucifer,” you whine. “fuck me, please!”

in a moment’s turn, he flips you so your feet touch the ground and his large hand on your lower back pushes you into the edge of his desk, while the other lines his cock with your sopping entrance.

he slips in, teasing you and earning a moan as he slowly rocks his hips, entering you further with each roll of his hips.

you push your body against him, and his cock digs further into your pussy. you keep rocking, both in unison until his cock is deep enough for you to scream his name.

“lucifer—ah!”

your squeal is cut short when he ruts into you again, slamming his hips against your ass and groaning from the tight warmth of your pussy enveloping his aching cock.

both of you are so lost in the wonders of each other’s body that the abrupt, high–pitched chiming almost goes unnoticed.

shrill ringing of the telephone on lucifer’s desk threatens to dampen the mood. but lucifer’s cock has only just entered and you’re not far away from the best part of the night. to hell with the phone call, lest it disturb your secret pleasure time with your boss.

“what are you waiting for?” lucifer rubs your hips with a subtle but notable thrust of his own. “aren’t you going to answer it?”

“what—ah?!” you gasp, doing your utmost to stay upright on his desk while he pounds into you. but your elbows have turned feeble from your orgasm, trembling as you try to hold yourself up with them. “i can’t do that!”

“answer it.”

his curt order is enough to make you obey, as is the harsh grip on your ass cheek. you lean over the desk a little further, reaching for the phone. this is a terrible idea but you can’t seem to break free of the spell lucifer has cast on you — you’d obey every last one of his orders.

“h–hello?”

in the process of lucifer figuratively rearranging your guts, he seems to have also turned your brain to mush and you cannot comprehend the words coming from the speaker.

all you can feel is lucifer, and how he hovers lower and lower, leaning down on your body until you’re squished between him and his desk. he grinds his hips into you, leaving chaste kisses along your shoulder blade and when he is flush against your ear, he whispers.

“focus.”

but you’re incapable of doing anything, including focusing on the phone call.

you have a client in one ear, and your boss in the other ear. neither of which can hear the other, but what is certain is that they can both hear you muffling your moans with a hand clasped over your face, and your entire body shakes as lucifer refuses to cease fucking you brainless.

“hello? is anyone there? i can hear you breathing.”

within seconds, you move the phone away from your mouth, ready to hang up but lucifer’s reflexes are quick enough to grab your arm and bring the phone back to where it was moments ago.

“answer him,” lucifer whispers. you shake your head with tight lips, holding your breath as to not make a sound while lucifer holds the phone against your face. and into the ear he has claimed, he orders, “speak. now. or i won’t let you cum.”

you open your mouth, swallowing in air before finally speaking.

“this is mr. morningstar’s office. how can i help?”

“i wish to speak with lucifer himself. this is urgent.”

your mouth hangs open, silent moans causing your body to convulse as lucifer grinds slowly and deeply in your pussy. you’re hanging on by a thin thread, but lucifer brings your attention back from your oncoming orgasm.

“you want to cum, don’t you? be a good girl and do your fucking job.”

lucifer pushes himself up and switches up his pace from slow ruts to harsh and fast thrusts. each of them knock the air out of you as you try to speak.

“i must apologise, sir. you’re calling during his out of office hours so unfortunately i can’t let you speak to him at the moment.”

“why the hell not?!”

“this is his personal—ah!” you stifle a yelp to the best of your ability, praying lucifer would have some mercy and not humiliate you — or allow you to humiliate yourself. “this is his personal time but i can pass on a message.”

the man continues to speak and with shaky hands, you reach for pen and paper, turning your moans from lucifer’s cock dragging in and out of your pussy into hums of acknowledgement in heed of the man’s queries. you only hoped they’re disguised enough to not spark intrigue on the other end of the line, because that would be the end of all the professionalism you held.

you slam the telephone into its holder, ending the call as quickly as possible.

“what the hell was that?” you whine, clenching down on lucifer’s cock as you near the bliss you’ve been longing for. your complaints are disrupted with stutters caused by lucifer’s thrusts. “do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“you’re the one who answered,” he bites back, landing his hand down harshly on your ass once again. “not me.”

“you told me—ah! to answer!”

“and you could have refused.”

you lower your head, biting back a moan. you could have refused, but the outcome of tonight’s session would be a lot different if you didn’t answer. perhaps, lucifer might have stopped immediately, leaving you on the outskirts of blissful territory.

or alternatively, he may have begun to fuck you harsher, rougher, meaner; punishing you for not obeying his order. but you wouldn’t think of it as a punishment, as long as you get to cum.

“that’s right,” he continues. “you’re so desperate to cum, you don’t care if someone hears you getting fucked like a whore.”

an especially loud groan escapes you at the sound of the new nickname. you quite like the sound of it, but your body more so and lucifer can tell from the quivering walls of your pussy.

“you like that? you like being called a whore?”

“yes!”

“i fucking knew it.”

he thrusts impossibly harder and your body collapses, allowing him full control of your pleasure. and he gifts it to you on a golden platter.

“go on. you’ve been a good whore, so go ahead and cum,” he grunts. “cum for me. cum all over my cock like the desperate, pathetic bitch you are.”

“fuck! ah!” you can’t even warn him of your orgasm as you clench your walls, feeling his cock in greater detail as it rubs you in all the right places. “fuck, luci— feels so good!”

“that’s it, baby,” lucifer hums, emptying his own load in you. “good fucking girl.”

his words are dragged out, mellowed by the pure ecstasy he has found in your pussy. and your pussy, too, feels awestruck from the new sensations of him filling you up, not just with his cock but with his cum, too.

you’re taken over by bliss and warmth, limbs trembling from the sheer shock of it all. never had you imagined how one of your worst days would end with such astoundingly good sex. you ebb and flow with the pleasure, letting your body relax and the feelings to wither away slowly while you catch your breath.

but lucifer doesn’t give the feelings a chance to subdue and picks up the pace. with hands grounded in your hips, he pushes all of his might into one more round. the stickiness from your mixed arousals leaking out of your pussy allow him to fuck you with ease, and not minutes later, your screaming and thrashing with a new, heightened pleasure.

your tip–toes graze the floor, pressing into the ground as hard as you can to stabilise yourself. but lucifer fucks you ruthlessly and when he rips another orgasm from you, your legs fly up and outward and your hips rock against him and the desk in a most embarrassing manner.

your limbs flail and your body convulses and lucifer relishes, knowing he is the reason behind your wild pleasure. he wonders if anyone else could make you like this, to drive you insane with pleasure that you no longer have control over your body, even for the short–lived moment of him fucking you through your orgasm.

perhaps, that is why he keeps going. because he wants this moment to last forever.

having your tight pussy wrapped around him and your wildly beautiful moans filling his ears for eternity doesn’t sound bad at all.

but he, too, has limits and feels himself slow down. his thrusts become sloppy and gentle and his guttural groans are replaced with heavy breaths.

“fuck….” he gasps and he truly can find no other words. “fuck.”

collapsing into his chair, he watches your body twitching as you lay exhausted on his desk with you red ass on display and his cum dripping down your legs.

when you finally regain control over your limbs, you slowly rise, stretching to ease your muscle. but your whines and groans and the sight of your sullied body keep his cock hard for longer than he thought.

“are you alright?” he asks breathlessly. “rest longer if you need to.”

“no,” you state, looking at him over you shoulder before backing up. “we’re not done yet.”

lucifer is surprised. under the assumption that you would be as spent as he is, he does not expect you to find his cock and slip it inside of you again. but that’s exactly what you do.

“oh my god….” you moan, hypersensitive to any and all ministrations against your pussy. but still, you want more, you need more. “please, it’s so good!”

lucifer supposes he should let you continue bouncing on his cock given that he released all of his stress on you. the least he can do is allow you to use him until you’re satisfied. but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down. his fingers fit into your flesh like second nature.

his added strength makes it easier for you, and you focus more on finding your next orgasm.

the usually quiet office of morningstar corporation’s boss is now filled will all sorts of obscenities — from your desperate gasps and moans to the squeaking of lucifer’s chair, and the abrupt slaps cutting through the air to the scuffling of paper on his desk when you grab onto it for stability as rapture fills you for the last time, teaching you that the joy and delight you find in melding your bodies together is the most sinful of utopias.

pleasure turns to pain, and pain turns to pleasure as you are overwhelmed with the orgasms you have endured.

lucifer’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you back into him with one hand straying to fondle your breasts. breathing in your scent, he grounds himself in you and you lay limp in his arms as all the glee and elation filling your body slowly slips away.

regaining your stable mind and body, you realise you and your boss have a lot of discussing to do. and what follows can either make or break the relationship you have with him as your boss and you as his secretary. all professional boundaries have been broken, and the flimsy rules you had in place to ensure your situation would not advance to the level it did tonight are left far in hindsight.

there’s not a single directive you left untouched. but knowing you broke all the rules, and that lucifer instigated most of it, is worrying as much as it is electrifying because you know that extra care and attention from lucifer isn’t just for the sex.

he appreciates your abilities outside of the sexual encounters you share.

as you would both understand, your role is merely to serve him and his company. he receives corporate aide from his directors but still, he trusts your intuition. he listens to your gut feeling as if it were his own.

he has a habit of asking your opinion when it comes to high–risk decisions, or urging you to tell him your opinion on a new client he had a bad feeling about. although you’re in his presence for admin only, lucifer ensures you are there for more than that.

that you are there for him and not just your job.

in more ways than one.

and he proved that tonight when he kissed you. the first rule of your arrangement was no feelings and no kissing. but lucifer, a man who lives by rules, had thrown it out the window. it only made you more curious as to what would come from it.

surely, you would stick to the scope of your professionalism. at least, what’s left of it. but his lips against yours, the soft drag of them across your skin, the sweet whispers that meant something entirely different after he kissed you….is it really worth the cost of losing your livelihood?

“we should do this more often,” he breathes into your mouth, enveloping your lips between words. “i’m beginning to despise how rare of an occurrence this is.”

“we do this often enough,” you warn him, rising from your place on his lap.

but he doesn’t let you escape. he grabs your wrist and pulls you back into him. your butt is awkwardly positioned near his softened cock but you rest your shoulder on his chest with your arms tucked between your bodies.

“if you don’t wish to do this again, then just say the word. but for now, let’s stay like this a little while longer,” he speaks softly into your hair. “i had a long day.”

“i did, too.” you hum.

his big arms wrapping around you feels foreign. but still, it feels natural to slide your head onto his shoulder and rest in his embrace. you have been intimate with lucifer in more ways than one, but this….sitting in his lap, bare and vulnerable, and holding him back while he kisses and caresses the skin on your neck and shoulders….it’s a different type of intimate.

a type of intimacy you never imagined he would be capable of.

“i hope i made your day better, even in the slightest.”

“trust me, lucifer,” you smirk. “you turned a really shitty day into a really good one.”

the both of you relish in each other’s soft laughter, but taking notice of the darkened sky has you realising this moment will soon come to an end, and you will need to part ways and pretend none of this ever happened, even the new additions to your extra duties to your ceo.

your heart sinks, knowing you have grown fonder of these encounters, fonder of the man beneath you. and you don’t want it to end despite all the alarm systems in your body telling you otherwise.

you ignore them for now, relishing in the warmth from lucifer while he is still here with you.

with a smug smile, you think to yourself: enjoy it while you can.

“and me?” you ask playfully, nudging him to open his eyes. “did i make your day better?”

you hear the soft inhale he takes, discreetly breathing in the air you give and allowing it to settle his beating heart and erratic nerves. you will never know, but even in your no strings attached relationship with him, you turned him from a purely lustful man into a man capable of love.

“yes,” he chuckles, and he looks at you in a way you’ve never been looked at before. lucifer is so adoring in his gaze. “you always do.”

you smile giddily. to yourself, or to him, you’re not quite sure. perhaps it’s the after–effects of your multiple orgasms that have you grinning and kissing him again. or maybe it’s a new chapter unfolding between you.

either way, the future of your position with him and the company is a lot less daunting when lucifer is close to you like this.

“how’s that for stress relief?”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me x female reader

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weirdmarioenemies · 27 days

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I am going to like totally finally finish ranking the Mario galaxies today. Stop Me.

Thank you for you're patience. We can talk about the top 5 galaxies now

I'm not gonna bother with any prelude, you've waited for this for like years now I know you want the Goods so here you go!

5. Blue Grass Galaxy

Tier: S+ Debut: Super Mario Galaxy 2

Blue Grass Galaxy is quite possibly the most elusive galaxy in the series. It was shown off briefly in the first ever Super Mario Galaxy 2 trailer, but when the game came out, it seemed like it was nowhere to be seen... Not even datamining could find it!

But as it turned out, we just weren't looking hard enough, because if you manage to grab every Green Star as Mario in a single sitting in under two hours without losing a single life, and then beat the Perfect Run, also without losing a single life, you unlock... A series of Red Stars for each Galaxy! And once you collect all of those in under an hour as Luigi without losing any lives, once again followed by another perfect Perfect Run, you unlock a bonus Hungry Luma on the World Map, who needs to be fed 9999 Star Bits on all three save files (so have fun speedrunning the green and red stars again!) before finally transforming into the Blue Grass Galaxy.

Of course, because the files for the Blue Grass Galaxy weren't included in the game, you'd need to download it by using a special, randomly-generated code on the Wii Shop Channel, but once you finally did, you could finally play the Blue Grass Galaxy to your heart's content. I know it might seem like quite the grind to get here, but man, every second you spend in the Blue Grass Galaxy is so immaculate, it makes the whole grind worth it. I almost don't have the words to describe how good it is, you'd really need to experience it for yourself! Sadly, you can't anymore, ever since the Wii Shop Channel shut down... Ah well. You really had to be there, I guess. I know some people were disappointed by it just reusing the Puzzle Plank Galaxy music, but I love that music so much that I don't mind.

My only gripe with the galaxy, and the main reason it only landed in the #5 spot, is because of the name. They called it the "Blue Grass" Galaxy, but that grass is very clearly green. This might seem like a pretty petty reason to put it so low, but when you get up that high, the small things can make a big difference, you know? If they called it the "Green Grass Galaxy" or the "Blue Sky Galaxy," I could easily imagine it getting the #1 spot, but respectable effort nonetheless, and a worthy reward for Super Players.

4. Wet-Dry World

Tier: SS Game: Super Mario 64

I know what you may be thinking. "What could Wet-Dry World be doing on a list of Super Mario Galaxies?" Well, it's a World in a 3D Mario platformer where you can collect Power Stars. Need I say more? And ever since Throwback Galaxy confirmed Whomp's Fortress is a Galaxy, it's easy to extend this logic to the rest of Super Mario 64. So Wet-Dry World gets to make the top 5 also.

I mean, how would it not? It's a galaxy with a cool and unique gimmick! The idea of the height you enter at deciding the water level when you enter in is super cool, and I love all the ways they tie this gimmick into the galaxy's different missions. And while this might seem like a small thing to a lot of people, as a mod of Weird Mario Enemies, I can't help myself: I will ALWAYS love a galaxy that includes such memorable enemies as Chuckya and Skeeter! So Cool!

Even in a time before Super Mario Galaxy, they managed to get the "otherworldly" feeling of this location down pat! I mean, there's the fact the skybox is distinctively underwater, even when you're on dry land, there's the fact the way you adjust the water level is via these abstract crystals, there's the whole abandoned underwater city, giving hints as to long-gone civilizations and possible Wet-Dry World Lore, this galaxy has it all! I know some people say it has a Negative Emotional Aura, but those people just don't know the meaning of good atmosphere.

3. SNES Mario Circuit 3

Tier: Good Debut: Super Mario Kart

For the #3 slot, it should only make sense that it's a place with "3" in the name. I know lots of you were probably expecting SNES Bowser Castle 3 to end up here, but it's just hard for me to ignore SNES Mario Circuit 3's legacy. I mean, it's been in five different games for crying out loud! It's hard for a course to show up in five games if it's not really good, right?

SNES Mario Circuit 3 may seem like a really basic course at a glance, what with it being completely flat and everything. Not a lot of bells and whistles in this one, that's for sure. But a better look at it reveals it to be a surprisingly technical track, with some tight turns that require good brake drifting to take optimally, and a bevy of off-road shortcuts that reward players for good item usage. While lots of courses get by thanks to their flashy gimmicks and setpieces, SNES Mario Circuit 3 cements itself as a fan-favorite as a pure test of players' skill. I mean, again, I have to assume it's a fan-favorite if it's in five games.

I also need to give a shoutout to SNES Mario Circuit 3's Atmosphere. The course has hardly changed at all since its original incarnation on the SNES, making it like, totally retro, and the staircases and flagpoles representing the original Super Mario Bros. only help to cement that identity. It also gives the course a very unique, almost liminal sort of feeling. The yellow sky is also an interesting touch. Is it merely set at sunset, or is it a biting commentary on how 30 years of go-karting have caused enough pollution to change the color of the sky? I'll let you be the judge.

Either way, it makes sense why this course has cemented itself as such a fan-favorite, and manages to always get picked in Mario Kart 8 Deluxe online lobbies. It's just that Good!

2. Milky Way Galaxy

Tier: X Game: Real

i live here hi!!!!!! :D

1. Sling Pod Galaxy

Tier: The "S" is for "Slingpodgalaxy" Game: Super Mario Galaxy

It's always the ones you least expect who win in the end... I may have ranked it dead last when I started this series, but by using the momentum of the Sling Pods, it managed to slingshot itself allllll the way to the top! Bet you didn't see this one coming! But really, it should be obvious. This galaxy is an incredible test of timing and precision, offering a good challenge for skilled players, and with an aesthetic reminiscent of the beautiful Space Junk Galaxy, it ends up winning me over in more ways than one!

There's no question that as soon as you have enough Star Bits saved up to reach Sling Pod Galaxy that you should make a mad dash to the Fountain and shove them all into that Hungry Luma's mouth, because the Sling Pod Galaxy is an experience you'll never forget! And since it's a great place to farm Star Bits too, it practically pays for itself! Bonus!

Wow! What a wild ride that was !!!! hopefully we all learned something at the end.

i'll post the real top 5 some other time i'm sorry

#super mario galaxy #super mario galaxy 2 #mod hooligon #april fools

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fag4dykestobin · 8 months

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i kind of sat down and thought about steve and robin cooking together, and then i entered a fugue state and came out of it with a little over 1.7k words written about them being domestic besties (domesties?). so um. enjoy :)

Robin has destroyed one of her mom’s pans again, so she’s been banished to Steve’s house.

Well, okay, let’s back up.

Robin, waking up and feeling especially productive, had taken it upon herself to make some scrambled eggs. Nice and simple, right? So she had grabbed the first spatula and pan she could find, and… scrambled those eggs! She even remembered the salt and pepper! Unfortunately, as Robin had remembered after she oh-so-lovingly scraped off the nonstick coating, metal utensils and nonstick pans didn’t really get along. Oops. Panicking, she had scraped her mess into the trash and called Steve to pick her up. So, really, she had banished herself, preemptively.

“How the hell did you even do this much damage?” Steve asks, holding up the pan. The look of befuddlement on his face is picture perfect; you could teach children how to identify emotions with that face. Robin would pinch his cheek if she wasn’t so embarrassed.

“I don’t know! I just tried to make some eggs!”

“Rob, there’s like, a solid cube of—”

“A cube is a 3D object, dingus.”

“This is a 3D object!”

“Not in that way! It’s not a cube! You mean a square!”

Steve throws up his hands, one of them brandishing the pan and waving it around. “Fine! There’s a solid square…” Steve gives Robin a look. She nods her head at him in acquiescence. “... Of coating rubbed off of this thing. Why were you punishing your eggs like that?”

Robin leans back on the counter she’s been sitting on, legs swinging. Her heel hits the cabinet once, and Steve’s eye twitches, but he says nothing. Because he loves her. But she tries to avoid doing it again, for his sake. “I had to get that yolk distributed! I was working fast, Evie, the burner was on and I wanted it evenly mixed—!”

“So why didn’t you mix it in a bowl before that?!” Steve looks so stressed. It's kind of funny, given how unimportant the subject matter is. Robin suppresses a grin.

“I forgot! I was groggy!”

Steve groans, setting the ruined pan down and rubbing a hand over his face. “... When we move in together,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at Robin, “I am keeping my metal utensils in a locked safe.”

The warm, fuzzy feeling that always appears when Robin is reminded of their future together, their permanence in each other’s lives, it fizzes and pops in her chest like a sparkler. It’s still such a comforting feeling, even after all these months.

It doesn’t stop her from antagonizing him a little. “Like I don’t know what combination you’ll set it to,” she scoffs. “I could just break in. To spite you.”

Steve sits with that for a moment. “You’re breaking my heart, Robbie, you know that? You break my heart.” Not a real comeback. She’s won their battle of the bits, this time around.

“Well, anyway,” Steve continues, “I am really hoping you didn’t eat those eggs after seasoning them with metal filings.”

“It wasn’t— I don’t think the coating is metal. I don’t know what it is, actually, but I don’t think it falls under metal filings.”

Steve hmms. “Well, it’s not, like, plastic, right? Or silicone? That would just melt.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Well, it can’t be metal, because it loses a fight with metal spatulas.”

Steve thinks for a second. “Is… God, I mean, I guess there are other, other uh… what’s the word? For, like, not from plants?” Robin scrunches her brow in thought. “Synthetic? Inorganic?”

Steve snaps his fingers. “Yeah, both of those work. There’s probably things that aren’t plastic or metal that can be used to cook with, but it feels weird. That there’s another category out there.”

Robin nods in agreement, and they sit in companionable silence for a moment, contemplating on the nature of cookware.

“Anyway, no, I still haven’t eaten.”

Steve curses, gets up from leaning on his kitchen island, and steps over to the cabinets where he keeps his pots and pans. “Yes, God, okay, let me feed you. Still want eggs?”

“You know it!” Robin says, and Steve gets to cooking, bustling around the kitchen with practiced motions. It’s nice to watch him cook. He gets very focused, in a way that doesn’t usually come naturally to him. Steve doesn’t usually like talking while he’s cooking, but he hums bits of songs, bobs his head to the beat.

In no time at all he has a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Robin, and she hops off the counter to sit at a stool at the kitchen island. She grabs the plate from Steve and smacks a wet kiss on his cheek, making him roll his eyes with a smile and subtly wipe her spit off.

Steve takes a seat across from her, and she notices that he doesn’t have anything. Did he already eat? “Did you already eat?” Robin asks.

Steve blinks. “Oh. No, I forgot.” He has a tendency to do that; when he cooks for someone, he can get so caught up in it that he forgets to make some for himself, and is left to scramble afterwards. “I’ll make myself some eggs after you’re done.”

An idea comes to mind. An attempt at redemption, maybe. “Let me?” Robin asks.

“And let you ruin my pans? No thanks.”

A flash of genuine hurt passes through Robin, and she lets it show on her face in the form of a pout. The comment isn’t unfounded, but… “No, please! I know what I did wrong, I’ll do better this time. I’m not sleepy anymore, either.” She just wants to take care of Steve like he takes care of her. She wants to feed him eggs, goddamnit! When was the last time anyone fed him eggs? Actually, if she thinks about that one, she’ll get sad, so she stops thinking about it.

Steve can obviously see her earnestness, and he softens. And rolls his eyes. But that’s just him being Steve, so Robin loves it. “Whatever you want, Birdie. Just don’t burn them. Oh, and use garlic powder.”

So Robin practically inhales the rest of her eggs and toast (very tasty, as always) and gets to work. Steve sits at his stool at the island, trying and failing not to watch Robin like a hawk as she bumbles around his kitchen (“That’s not enough garlic powder, Rob, put some more in there, it won’t bite!” and “Use the small pan on the top shelf— no, the other small pan. No, the other—”), but she does eventually get a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. Not as good looking as the one Steve presented her, but it smelled good, and didn’t have weird inorganic pan flecks in them. Steve gives her a sloppy kiss on her cheek this time, over-exaggerating and putting way too much saliva in it, seriously, was he a dog or something? Robin BLECH’d and rubbed at her cheek, but he looked happy at his plate of food, so. Overall success, even if sacrifices had to be made.

Robin leaned on the island on her elbows, face a foot away from Steve’s as he picked up a forkful of egg. He side-eyed her.

“Do you… want some…?”

Robin waved a hand at him. “No, dingus. Eat it! Do you like it?”

“Okay, okay!” Steve rolled his eyes and ate his forkful. Robin stared at him as he chewed, looking out for emotions such as delight and wonder, but also disgust and revulsion.

She found nothing. Steve looked normal. He ate another forkful, eyeing her.

“So?” Robin prods.

“They’re eggs?” Steve says, mouth still half full.

“Swallow!” Steve rolls his eyes and does as she asks. “Nothing else? They’re just eggs?”

Steve nods, shrugging a little. Robin feels a little let-down. The first time Steve had made her eggs, it was life-changing. He put heavy cream in them. Robin doesn’t think her parents had ever bought heavy cream in their lives.

Robin guesses that it makes sense, though. This is just how he makes eggs, duh. Still, it makes her feel kind of bad, that she couldn’t give Steve the same feeling he gave her.

Steve seems to sense her inner turmoil. “They’re— it’s good, though! You did a good job. I do like it.” He seems kind of… embarrassed, but grateful. “You didn’t have to make them for me. Thanks.”

Robin bumps his shoulder with her own, and then retreats to her seat, allowing him a bit more personal space. But not too much! She kicks at his shins, and he kicks back, a smile on his face.

Cleanup is easy as Steve washes the dishes and Robin dries. It’s the small, domestic things, like this, that make her so excited to eventually live together. It’s so easy and companionable, full of chatter about band practice and Dustin’s latest science experiment. She can’t wait to graduate.

After the dishes, though, they’re both at the kitchen island again, silently staring at the pan Robin had ruined at her house earlier.

“... It seems like a waste to throw away,” Robin complains.

“I know, right? But it’s, like, useless now.”

Robin hums. “I mean, no, it’s still like… metal. I feel like we should be melting it down.”

Steve stares at her. “In what world would it be more useful melted down?”

Robin squawks, indignant at her idea being challenged. “You know what I mean!”

“No I don’t! Do you just want a, a… what’s the word? A bar of metal.”

“Ingot.”

“Do you just want an ingot hanging out on our mantelpiece?!”

“Well, I didn’t before, but now I do!”

They look at each other for only a moment before dissolving into simultaneous giggles, shared joy crackling and leaping between them.

Steve settles down first. Still grinning, he turns to put the pan at the very top of a relatively bare cupboard. “Fine, we’ll just… keep this to be melted down later.”

Robin can’t do anything to stop the twin grin on her face, not that she would ever want to. “I love you, Evie.” The words come easy, and the delight and surprise on Steve’s face is as wonderful as always. He pulls her into a hug.

“I love you too, Rob.”

#this is my first time writing them and i think i have a good idea of them but. well. all first times doing anything can end up rough #i am largely happy with this though i just love these two. da besties #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #stranger things #quincy.txt #i will post this to ao3... tomorrow....... i stayed up way too late to write all of this but i was on a roll #oh and yeah i didn't alternate steve's pronouns here and that is mainly becuase i have a Timeline in mind for her gender journey #and he is not here yet. i imagine this to be in like november. a few months after starcourt but before s4 #took so much effort not to alternate the pronouns though sorry stevie i love you bbg you are always bigender don't worry #my fics

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void-ink-studios · 6 months

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Gala of the Gods (Part 3)

Alright, Part 3 is here!

You get art this time around as well, as I couldn't resist drawing their fancy outfits! Hmm, nothing like attempting to draw these characters for the first time in fancy clothing with patterns and shit, I'm a smart one.

Hope y'all enjoyed this little 3-parter. If anyone have more ideas, I'd love to hear it, because I like writing these two.

Also, before you read, just as a heads up, it gets a little suggestive at the very end. It's a firm fade to black, but it is a thing that exists. Look for a line of dashes if you'd rather not read it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 -You Are Here-

Word Count: 2,300

The Organizer was not a god of... standard form. She wasn't a god of standard anything, to be fair. Scarab couldn't recall many run-ins with her, as their work very rarely overlapped, but that did not make sitting in her office with her staring down at him any more comforting or less nerve racking.

There was a constant noise, as her many, many arms carried on with her daily tasks. Some were writing, others were stamping, some were shredding, it was all happening at once. Her many eyes free roamed around the office as she worked, but she had decided to keep maybe half a dozen glued to the two gods sitting across from her desk.

Lucky them.

No one spoke for a long time. Scarab just nervously fiddled with his can, while Prismo seemed to be doing his best to will the floor to swallow him, shoulders coming up to his ears.

"I thought I had made the policy of fighting at my Gala very clear." Her voice echoed all over the room, rather than coming from some visible mouth. The both of them flinched at the sudden break of silence. "Scarab, while I might be less surprised due to past behavior, I must say I'm still disappointed with your recent track record. Prismo, I can't say I expected to see you in my office of all gods."

"But-"

"I-"

They both started at the same time, but were silenced by a single raised hand.

"However. I am not all-knowing. That is the Observer's job. Prismo, you are not one to cause problems often. And Scarab, despite your difficulties with others, you always filed your paperwork on time. So, I am giving each of you a chance to explain yourselves."

Scarab waited for some signal from her that he was permitted to speak.

"...Prismo, it was you who started it, so you will be first to explain yourself."

Prismo audibly gulped.

"O-Okay... I'd just like to clarify, Scarab and I were not fighting, not in the way you might be expecting. It was my fault..."

Scarab's eyes widened, about to jump in, but was silenced by a hard glare from the Organizer. She gestured for Prismo to continue.

"I lost control over an aspect of myself, and started lashing out. Scarab was just trying to neutralize the threat and calm me down. He wasn't trying to hurt me. Just stop me from hurting others."

There was more silence as the Organizer mulled this information over. Her gaze shifted to Scarab.

"Scarab. Can you confirm this story?"

"Yes ma'am. I was not trying to do harm onto Prismo. I had never seen that aspect of him act out, and I was not sure if or when he could regain control. So I worked to put a stop to it. The only weapon I used was a glorified flashlight."

"I see." Scarab saw distantly a set of arms start sorting through a filing cabinet. "Can you tell me why this aspect of Prismo got so out of control? Last I understood, Prismo, you had achieved complete control and cohesion with all aspects of your dream form. Has this changed?"

"No, no! It's, uh, different..."

"How so?"

"Well... my nightmare aspect only flares up under extreme negative emotions... Stuff life fear or really bad sadness or... when I'm really, really angry. That's what happened tonight, ma'am. I hit a boiling point and it... blew up."

She gave a pointed gaze toward Scarab, causing the beetle to sink into his seat.

"No! It wasn't Scarab's fault!"

"It wasn't?"

"No! I mean, Scarab's related, but it wasn't his fault!"

"How is he related, but not his fault, Prismo?"

Prismo ran a hand through his curls, trying to collect himself.

"So, Scarab's been under my management after the whole Fionna and Cake fiasco, right?"

"Yes, I remember signing that change of management form. I must say, I was a bit confused when I heard you had volunteered. My understanding was the entire incident was caused by a conflict between the two of you."

"It was but... well, the whole thing was my fault to begin with. I did make a rogue universe, and Scarab was just doing his job. He went too far at the end, and it was definitely more personal than his other cases, but I still did what he said I did, and he was right to try and do his job."

The beetle sighed. This was a conversation they had had many times. A lot of confusing feelings had needed to get detangled if they were going to live together. They had forgiven each other for quite a while.

"So, what did Scarab's assignment to you have to do with what happened tonight?"

"Well, Scarab and I have been getting closer. Bonding. We're actually really close now." The Organizer have him a very knowing stare. "I consider him one of my best friends and... I've been learned a lot about him. A lot about how he's been treated by our coworkers and... it wasn't nice and it wasn't fair. I've been getting more and more angry at the others for how they've been treating someone they don't even know, particularly Orbo."

Prismo's hands clenched into fists as he took a deep breath. The Organizer hummed. "What happened between you and Orbo?"

"Orbo cornered me tonight and tried to convince me that Scarab was changing me for the worse because I've been less than nice to him and others who keep trying to act like Scarab's some sort of monster. I got sick and tired of people acting like I was stupid for helping him, that I'm being manipulated. I'm tired of hearing 'Poor Prismo, getting stuck with Scarab, it's so sad for him', like I didn't volunteer for it!"

Scarab felt his mandibles tense... that's what had happened...? Orbo said that...? Was it... true... was he changing Prismo for the worse?

"Orbo making these comments are... interesting."

Scarab raised a brow. "Interesting how?"

"Because he filed complaints and write ups for you every Glob Forsaken time he thought he could."

All color drained from Scarab's face. His heart raced, and he started shaking enough for his carapace to click together.

"He what?!"

"He's submitted thousands of these things over the years. Pretty much none of them went anywhere because the Observer never confirmed the infractions described in the write-ups. Of all your write ups, only three have ever been acted on."

"...Three...?"

"Yes. The first two had notes that Orbo had the authority to discipline as he saw fit within reasonable boundaries. The third lead to the decision to move you into Prismo's management."

Authority to discipline as Orbo saw fit...

He touched the cropped stumps of his former antenna... he felt the lingering burn in his shoulders from his ripped wings...

"Do you... know what those punishments were...?"

"I was not privy to details. Just that they were carried out, and you returned to your duties."

There was a heavy pause, as both Prismo and Scarab processed that news.

"Well, if what you say is true, and I will be calling in the Observer to confirm, then it seems a meeting between Orbo and I is in order. However."

Prismo took hold of Scarab's hand.

"You two did break one of my only rules of the Gala. While it might not have been a true fight, it did cause panic and damage in the Judgement Hall. While it was not either of you who instigated the conflict, it was you two who escalated it to physical violence. It needs to be addressed."

The Organizer pinned the both of them down with a withering stare. Scarab would never not feel like he was a child around her.

Especially now. He saw the way her hands moved, the relentless precision with which she worked. It would be... frighteningly easy for her to pull his arms or legs off... He cast a worried glance to Prismo. His mortal body was much... softer than Scarabs... it... wouldn't survive getting plucked apart...

"...As punishment, you two are going to be my assistants for the time being. Prismo, your job as Wishmaster is still in effect, and you both will be allowed to return to the Time Room. However, you should expect paperwork to periodically be teleported into the chamber. I expect you both to work to complete that paperwork in a timely manner, as accurately as possible. You will be granted limited access to the divine records room for reference. Failure to perform this new duty will have me dragging the both of you back in here. And I won't be as nice next time."

There was a decisive stamp suddenly in front of them, as the Organizer slid a piece of paper in front of them.

Scarab read it. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He almost wept. Paperwork. He could handle that. He wasn't getting pulled part today. Prismo wasn't getting pulled apart today.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am" they both said together.

"Good. Now, off you go, I have a Star Core I need to speak with."

Before either could say another word, they were warped away in a rainbow of light, and deposited quite ungracefully on the floor of the Time Room.

"Ugh, that sucks a lot when someone else is warping me... Paperwork's gonna suck though, right Scrabs?"

Prismo rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. He spotted Scarab in the corner, huddled down, making himself as small as possible. His heart squeezed as he crawled over to him.

"Hey Lovebug..." He tried to put his hand on his shoulder, but the beetle shied away from the touch. "...Are you okay...?"

Scarab sighed a tired chirp. "No Prismo... I'm... not okay. You were... so angry... you were angry because of me... You're... you're very frightening when you're angry..."

Prismo frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, Lovebug. That wasn't your fault..."

"But it is... You've been so... so kind to me, Prismo... So accommodating and forgiving and sweet... You're making enemies out of friends over me... And... what have I done? What have I done to deserve any of that..."

"Scarab, no-"

"Look at me, Prismo" he snapped. "I'm... not worth this... I'm not good, not like you. I've just been... a problem. An obstacle. Something to work around..."

Scarab's voice sounded so small... Prismo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

"Scarab. You are not an obstacle. I do those things because I want you to feel safe and cared for. And... tonight, you've done more than anyone really has before."

"...How...?"

"Look... When Nightmo takes control, there's not much hope for me coming down on my own. He's a protective measure, but he works too well. He feeds off of negative feelings, the fear and anger around him. He just gets bigger and bigger and more hostile, until there's nothing left to feed on. He has to be subdued or he'll destroy everything around him. I've... I've never seen him back down willingly. Not until tonight."

Scarab looked into Prismo's eyes, wide and uncertain.

"But... but he didn't back down, I had to neutralize him..."

"Scarab, you talked Nightmo down. Yeah, you had to get him small enough to pay attention, but it was your words that got him to fall back. He... He knows you're safe. He'll retreat because he believes you'll protect me. And that's... never happened before. Ever."

Scarab saw the tears pooled in Prismo's eyes, a sad and tired smile spread across his face. He pulled the beetle closer to give sweet kisses to his cheek and neck.

"You've been opening my eyes, Scarab. I was only everybody's pal because they thought I was... in on the joke. I didn't even realize what complete and total wads they were, because they thought I was "cool" or whatever. I don't want to be friends with people who could do the things they've done to you, just because they think no one will care. I have standards. And now I know they don't meet them. I'm not losing friends over you, I'm just finding out who really is and isn't a friend."

Prismo placed a soothing hand at the base of one of Scarab's wings.

"So no, Lovebug. You're not making me worse. You make me, even the worst parts of me, feel safe. I love you. All of me loves you."

Scarab should've been a bit embarrassed by the noises he was making, but it didn't particularly matter now. Not when the two trapped each other in a tight embrace, and a loving kiss. Mandibles threaded through gray hair, talons touched the soft skin they found, and gentle hands soothed aching shoulders.

"I love you too, Prismo" Scarab whispered as they separated for air. He chirped softly as the Wishmaster continued kissing at his neck, his wings twitching and fluttering as best they could.

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

"...You're so beautiful. You look so beautiful like this..."

Prismo's hands held his waist firmly, thumb rubbing at a seam in his carapace.

"Hmmm... What are you planning, oh great Wishmaster?"

"Well... We do have these bodies. For a little bit longer. I've got no plans for right now. But I could. Or, we could cuddle. Up to you, Lovebug."

Prismo busied himself with Scarab's neck again as the beetle thought. Or, well, as he tried to, but his own shell was suddenly feeling a bit warm. One of his claws traced around the Wishmaster's neck and shoulder.

"I... I think you're quite beautiful as well, Prismo. I'd be... willing to explore whatever plans you might come up with."

Prismo gave him a peck on the cheek, a maybe slightly smug grin on his face.

"I think that can be arranged."

And he closed the door of the Time Room.

#prohibitedwish #my art #digital art #scarab x prismo #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #prohibitedwish fanfic #wrath of the wishmaster

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sgiandubh · 9 months

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I was wondering if anyone else had this same fear as mine? I’m not sure it’s really a fear but I think there are going to be sex scenes in Sam’s upcoming project and who knows maybe Cait as well.

Is it crazy to feel uneasy, fearful, nervous or any of those emotions about watching Sam or Cait do sex scenes with people other than each other? I know it’s their job if the script has these scenes but maybe I’m worried that what I see on screen with them in their sex scenes with each other and how special it is isn’t as special as I think?

It’s probably an irrational fear and no it’s not the only reason or even the reason why I am a shipper. Their chemistry on screen sent me down the rabbit hole and it was really what has happened off screen that made me a shipper.

Sorry I think I rambled quite a bit there but you seem to welcoming and friendly and most importantly rationale.

Dear Uneasy Anon,

Let the woman in the audience who was NOT even mildly - how can I put it elegantly - ehrm.. unsettled by The Reckoning cast the first stone at your question and my answer.

*crickets*

I thought so.

I remember my stupefaction on a balmy late August night (not unlike this one) when I watched these scenes for the very first time. Shouted like a crazy woman at 4 AM something along the lines of OH, DEAR ME, WHAT THE HELL (literally: what the mother of all devils, told you that being a native speaker of obscure idioms is infinite fun)? And then immediately hit rewind, questioning my sanity and grateful I was under the radar.

I had never seen anything like this on a screen, let alone in what I thought to be a whachamacallit divertimento (Sam, who? Caitríona, who?). And chemistry is a paltry, almost sorry term to describe sexual attraction, in their case: these two were not blocking anything, and I do not mean it in a lewd way, but in an emotional one. A much more serious affair than a, heh, hydraulic incident while having to put up with carpet burns.

What we saw there were two people very much attracted to each other and yes, clearly in the early stages of falling deep and hard in love with each other. And I do not mean Jamie and Claire, here, for I have never made the confusion. Let's not be hypocrites: what consistently happened on and off-screen, in the Season 1- Season 3 interval, despite all the hurdles and the shitshow, is a real story on the constant brink of taking over the performance side of things. So much so, that at some point I almost completely blocked the characters and had to re-watch, for the sake of keeping up with that neglected storyline: it was embarrassing, but in a good way.

That was not acting, dear Uneasy Anon, and bless his heart, he repeatedly spilled the tea about it. Knowing that and having experienced that Mach3 impact yourself, I doubt you would feel uneasy by S/C shooting formulaic sex scenes with other people. An example: When the Starlight Ends. I howled in my popcorn. That is to say that particular movie was a doomed project. That is also to say: you'll know how 'not special at all' that is, when you watch it.

So, in a nutshell, I can only offer you this answer, along with the hope that it makes sense or helps you somewhat: you may feel uneasy because you know how rare and fragile that is and also because you are probably afraid of breaking that spell. But you immediately tell me that it is their off-screen shenanigans that made you a part of our rank and file: what you call fear is nothing else but maybe a bit of projection and certainly a deep fascination. You are desperately normal, dear Anon. Last but not least, remember FDR: the only thing to fear is Fear itself. Go ahead. Watch those with an honest eye. I guarantee there will be absolutely nothing to write home about.

This, however (emphatically NOT The Reckoning). This always punches me in the damn gut. This is better than Mantegna's Saint Sebastian. Objectification, schmobjectification:

#Anon

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arazialotis · 11 months

Text

Ceilings

Pairing: Dean × Reader

Word Count: About 3700

Summary: The reader is finishing up a hunt and is hesitant to head back home. Inspired by the song Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine.

Warnings: Mild Smut, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Season 15 Spoilers

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

---

The brown spot in the corner of the ceiling held your attention. What had once been a pristine and ornate building had since fallen into a state of disrepair over the decades. The plaster moldings reminded you of art deco, and the crown cornices on the border showed a level of craftmanship barely found in today's practices. Yet, from years of neglect and lousy state budgets, necessary upkeep and repairs had long since been postponed. As a result, moldings had crumbled, cracks ran up the wall and into the ceiling like tree branches reaching for the sun, and that brown spot now grew wet with condensation as you watched it gather in the middle. The drop was near heavy enough that at any moment, it would fall. The sheriff would have to situate his trash can under it if this rain was to keep up or grow any heavier.

Dean cleared his throat and, from the matching red leather chair beside yours, nudged your knee with his, effectively breaking your concentration. A warm smile grew as he longing looked at you. His suit coordinated well with yours, navy blue and a green tie that failed to compete with his eyes. You felt a flush crawl into your cheeks, and you pinched your lips together, mixed emotions welling up.

"I still can't believe it," Sherrif Cadwell huffed, signing off on the last of his forms. "If I hadn't been there with you, seen it with my own eyes."

If you had to guess, he was younger than your typical run-ins with sheriffs, early to mid-thirties. But the optimism for growth and change for his township and the system at large clothed him in a juvenile naivety. Additionally, you couldn't deny the fact that he was attractive. His eyes shone like stars in the night sky, his nose was slightly crooked (you learned during your time on the case together) from a bar brawl he was the cause of during his college years, and his lips were full, the kind that would feel plush against your most sensitive spots. You couldn't help but squirm in your chair, but you could feel Dean take notice as his gaze traveled over you.

He continued. "Honestly, I still feel like I need to check myself into a psych ward."

Your chuckle drew his gaze from the papers. "Even after years in the business, I feel the same way. Someday I might grow used to it."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without you, Agent Steinhardt. Thank you again." He conveyed with the utmost sincerity.

Your smile filled the room full of sunshine on this rainy day. "I think we are past the pretense of FBI and aliases now."

His demeanor matched yours. "I'm not convinced. I know an X-files agent when I see one."

"If you ever do cross Mulder or Scully, put in a good word for me. But seriously though, if anything," You struggled to find the right words. "Out of the ordinary comes across your path again; the number on that business card will ring true."

"And is that number good for ordinary things as well? Say, uh, dinner or drinks before you head out of town?" He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

You looked down at your feet to conceal a blush. It wasn't the first time someone had made a pass at you on a job, but Sherrif Cadwell was the first to stir up this reaction. You took a deep breath and recomposed yourself. You could feel Dean's eyes burning against you, analyzing each move, every reaction. His finger sat against his lips, silencing himself, waiting for your response.

A pit formed in your stomach. "While I'm truly flattered, Zack," You paused, the words caught in your throat. "My heart belongs to someone else."

You looked to Dean, but he remained the same, piecing a puzzle together, trying to communicate something unspoken. Despite your interest in Sherrif Cadwell, nothing compared to the energy and the swell of your heart while looking at him.

"I understand. It wasn't my place anyways, but I knew I'd be kicking myself in the ass later if I didn't take a shot." His bashfulness and sensitivity tugged at the strings of your heart, making it even harder to turn him down. "Whoever he is better know how lucky he is."

"He knows." Dean's voice was a warm whisper that barely registered.

The sheriff stood, signifying the end of the meeting; you rose as well, the old chair groaning as you did. Zack extended his hand over his desk, and you accepted, shaking it.

"It was a pleasure." He ended.

Upon leaving his office, the single room spilled into a once grand hall with polished mosaic tiles and pillars that supported high arched ceilings. The sheriff's department was small, consisting of three other staff. Their open office was bordered by low wood paneling, separating them from the other departments this building housed; the drain commissioner, mayor, parks and recreation, to name a few.

You were at the gate that you could probably step over when Sherrif Cadwell called after you.

"Hey!" His steps were heavy as he rushed to catch you. "You forgot this."

Zack held up one of your many homemade EMF meters. It was still switched on, barely crackling static as it scanned the area. No pitches squealed, or lights flared. You took it from him, switched it off, then threw it back. He caught it with ease.

"Keep it." You instructed. "It could come in handy."

A few more thanks and pleasantries were exchanged, but eventually, you found your way to the main lobby. The rain pounded like crescendoing drums against the roof. An employee who entered the building through revolving wooden doors lowered their umbrella, shaking off the rain droplets before leaning it against a coat rack. You had lacked the foresight.

"We could just swipe that one," Dean remarked.

A faint smile accompanied the short huff of an uncomplete laugh. Not entertaining the thought further, you pushed through the revolving doors requiring more exertion than anticipated. Immediately out of the building, you were drenched. You didn't stand a chance. The marble steps lead down to the street and across to a park that might be a nice place for employees to lunch, given lighter weather. That Impala waited for you, parked just a few paces away at a meter. You looked up to the sky, blinking away the rain that fell into your eyes. You hoped for a break in the clouds, even a thin patch where the glow of the sun hinted that it still existed.

"Y/N," Dean feigned impatience, but you could hear the amusement in his voice. "Let's go."

You looked at him longingly. He was your sun and your storm.

"What?" He questioned. "What? Oh, don't get all romantic on me now. You wanna dance in the rain? This isn't a Gene Kelly movie."

Your lips pinched together, holding your breath as he stepped closer to you, his radiance not hindered in the slightest by the downpour. His begrudging attitude melted to tenderness as he took your hands in his. Goosebumps prickled up your skin as the space between you closed. And then he spun you around like a leaf dancing with the wind. Laughter finally consumed you as you ran to the Impala. The keys jingled in your hand, and the hastiness of escaping the rain caused you to fumble with the lock.

The door creaked open as you found refuge inside. Your shallow breaths quickly fogged up the windows.

"Fantastic," Dean said dryly. "This is great for the upholstery."

You shimmied out of your jacket, and Dean's sarcasm vanished at the sight of your soaked white blouse now clinging to the peaks of your breast. The sheer fabric revealed the outline of the bra underneath, yet even that barrier did not hide how the chill of the rain had affected you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him swallow a lump in his throat. You fished for your heels, throwing the shoes in the back seat along with the jacket.

"You could have said yes," Dean whispered. "To the sheriff."

You gripped the steering wheel tight, staring blankly ahead as a pit knotted in your stomach.

The words that left you were barely audible. "I didn't want to."

The car's bench squelched under your weight as you shifted, and he drew in from the passenger seat. "Why not?"

A sharpness caught in your throat. Your eyes drifted to his; every detail, from the gold hidden in the forest of his irises to the freckles that dusted his face to the faded scar just above the bow of his lips, was perfect.

Your voice caught, but it still came out in an echo. "You know why."

Dean inhaled sharply, his eyes lingered on your face, only once looking back down at your blouse. He searched for permission, and when he was met with no resistance, his hand snaked behind you and into your hair, guiding your lips to his. Although there was a hunger present, his kiss was soft like clouds. Not the clouds above currently carrying the storm, but pillowy white clouds scattered on a summer's day. A delicate moan escaped your lips and into his, craving more, to which he took every advantage of your parted mouth. The fog layered thicker onto the glass windows, and you'd have to turn on the defroster before driving away.

Your heart pounded against the cage of your chest as you parted, never wanting to end the moment. As you turned the key, the engine sputtered to life with a rumble of thunder. It sat idle, and the warm air began to erase the remnants of your breath away. But even as it became clear enough to drive, you sat unmoving. The rolling of the engine and the patter of the rain were the only sounds. Dean lounged against the passenger door; one arm outstretched on the top of the bench, the other brushing the stubble against his jaw. His boosted confidence apparent from what had been shared seconds before.

He grew impatient, waiting for your next move. "Are you heading home?"

Your sharp inhale was the only response.

He turned it over in his head. "It's late enough, and we could afford an extra night."

Your toes curled in anticipation, hoping for ulterior motives behind his statement.

By the time you arrived back at the motel, the room had been cleaned. It was a simple establishment, but the family who owned it poured their souls into keeping it welcoming and updated. The bedsheets were crisp from a recent laundering, and they smelled not like the fake cheap lilac fragrance most cleaners were filled with, but real, fresh lilacs just beginning to open on a bright spring day. The tulle curtains swayed in front of the open window. There was no fear of the world outside peering in; the motel was near vacant, and the storm would drown out any sounds from within.

From Dean's outbursts to his impulsivity, one would think that would translate to a fierce and forceful lover. Of course, he could be in the heat of the moment, but that was not his default. Instead, he was tender and giving and took his time, extending precious moments to last deep into the night.

Seeing you now, wringing your hair with a towel and the wet clothes hung to dry, he restrained himself. The only sign of hunger in his eyes, the way he drank you in, and the flick of his tongue over his lips. He closed the gap between you. Goosebumps prickled on your bare skin from the chill carried on his damp clothes. His hands hovered over your shoulders, electricity sparking in the space between.

Your hands trailed up his chest, your breath shaking as you did. Your hands reached his tie and loosened the knot before snaking it around the nape of his neck and letting it fall to the floor. Continuing their journey, your hands moved to his shoulders. A small chuckle flew from both of you as you clumsily attempted and failed to remove his jacket. He helped you along by shrugging out of it. Next were the buttons of his dress shirt that went more slowly. Dean stared down at you in admiration as you carefully undid each one.

When he was finally fully free, your breath caught gating your emotions, and you met his eyes again. Dean guided you down to the bed, and you landed gently on the down-feathered comforter. His lips showered your neck in kisses as intimate as the sweet hymns whispered from Orpheus to Eurydice. His eyelashes against your cheeks felt like wisps of the wind carrying with it the song of chickadees.

Bracing himself with one hand above your head and the other gliding against your waist to steady both of you, you granted him passage to paradise. The praises and moans were as delicate as the rest of the encounter. Attentive to every reaction and response, he composed his movements into a soothing melody. Dean took your hand in his; the other left your waist as he fisted the sheets in his palm. Your souls entwined together, locking for all eternity. The drop ceiling with beige vinyl tiles stared down at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, and your free hand drifted down to your apex to help reach release.

Long into the night, when it was over, Dean laid on his back, panting to settle both his breath and his heart. You laid on your side, intently studying the curves and angles of his body. With a final deep breath, he found balance. The sheets rustled as he turned to meet your gaze. His brow furrowed, unable to read you.

"Sweetheart. What is it?" His asked.

You couldn't muster the words and shook your head no. He drew you into him, cradling you. Safe in the cocoon of the sheets and his arms, you breathed in, trying to capture his faint scent competing with the lilac. Juniper and eucalyptus. Or was it cedar and sage? You couldn't recall and drew in deeper.

"Don't leave me." You whispered into his chest.

"Never." He promised.

---

Sunlight poured into the room. The brightness disrupted a pleasant dream. Birds chirped and splashed in the pools of puddles outside the window. Your eyes blinked open, no longer able to grasp the dream. Where Dean was supposed to be was cold and empty. The sheets crinkled as you reached over, searching for him.

Your hair was brushed aside as a peck greeted your temple from above. "Time to get up, sleepy." His voice much deeper than when he called out your name last night.

A whine was all you could conjure. You pulled the comforter over your head, hoping it would cave you into darkness and hide you from the day. You wished to stay in the relief of sleep forever. Dean's footsteps grew farther away.

"I'll head back without ya." Dean teasingly threatened.

So much for promises.

---

It was silent on the road home. There was no music, no words exchanged, only the constant rumble of the engine. The roads were eerily empty, and all that surrounded you were yellow fields of wheat and corn ready for harvest. The flatness of the plains stretched incessantly as if you were caught in an endless loop, never to arrive at your destination. The steering wheel was cold in your hands, and the Impala complained when you accelerated. Perhaps louder than normal, and it felt like you had to push harder, almost like tar had built up in the interior. She certainly needed a tune-up once you got back to the bunker. Dean stared out the passenger window, his knuckles brushing lazily over his lips, watching the rows and rows and rows of fields go by. Lost in a thought that he wasn't going to share and you wouldn't ask about.

A sign welcoming travelers to Kansas signaled the growing end to your journey. Your breath shuttered. Dean's eyes glanced at you, but you refused to acknowledge him. Like a toddler testing boundaries, he nudged your knee with his. A gesture that normally would cause a blush to rise, fondness to grow instead stirred up panic. Your knuckles grew white, gripping the steering wheel. Fifteen minutes out from Lebanon, a cry escaped your lips. Dean saw then tears had started to stream down your face. You pinched your mouth closed, ashamed of losing control. Dean shifted towards you, his arm resting over the bench. His hand drew up your neck to the base of your head, massaging small circles.

"Shhh." He cooed. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." He repeated the mantra to calm you.

You finally broke on your way through town—the whimpering and shaking breaths held back for no one. Dean held the nape of your neck in his hand but had ceased movement, staring ahead as you drove closer to the bunker, praying you could maintain control of the Impala despite your state. He could no longer provide you comfort.

Pulling into the garage, you parked the car but didn't have the strength to shut it off. So it sat there running idle. Your growing pain manifested into sobs and wails. Dean pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to his shirt as if he would vanish at any moment.

"I can't do this without you." You sobbed into nothingness.

He pulled you back, his eyes raking over you almost to see if you had been injured. "What are you talking about? I'm right here, Y/N. I will always be right here."

He placed his hand over your heart as if taking pulse and then against your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning against his soft touch. His thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek, but more kept coming. His soft lips hovered over yours, but the taste of the bitter ocean was too distracting to claim the solace he offered.

The Impala sighed as she was granted permission to rest. The engine clattered as it began to cool. You curled into yourself, lying on the bench with your knees tucked into your chest. Her tin roof sheltered you, and the tan upholstery above yearned to blanket you, for she too, wept.

---

Miracle was under the table in the library, curled up around Sam's feet as he typed away on his laptop, consulting a few reference books now and then. Aside from the clicking of the computer keys, the bunker was silent. Sam's hair was tied back in a half-bun, a new style for him, but it concealed the unkemptness better. His tired eyes checked the cell phone, scrolling to your number but hesitating not to let worry get the best of him.

Miracle's ears perked up, and his collar jingled as he lifted his head, catching the sound of a door that opened as silently as possible, like an intruder not wanting to get caught. A whisper between a bark and a ruff huffed out as he alerted Sam of the sound of friend or foe; to Miracle, it was still to be determined.

Sam reached down and scratched behind Miracle's ear reassuringly. "Who is it, boy?" He exaggerated the enthusiasm of his voice. "Go get her."

Miracle barked louder this time as he stood, his tail half wagging. Sam continued to encourage him along. The clatter of claws echoed against the concrete as Miracle finally took the initiative to investigate for himself. Sam waited for you and Miracle to return to the library, and he waited some more, but soon he found himself wandering the halls, hoping to check up on you.

You stood on the threshold of your old room. Everything was in place just as Dean had left it. The bed was neatly made, the weaponry displayed on the mantel, and the few touches you added. You couldn't bear to remove your items from the room but couldn't bear to sleep there either. Miracle sat patiently at your side, his tail thumping against the ground. He pawed at your leg, and you half-heartedly ran your fingers over his soft fur. Miracle nudged you further, hoping for more effort, but was happy to receive any amount of attention. Your duffle fell at your side; unpacking would halve to wait until tomorrow. All that had happened in this room replayed in your memory.

"Hey," Sam called from down the hall. You had been near radio-silent; he was anxious for an update, but more importantly, how you were holding up. "How'd the hunt turn out?

When he reached you, his brow furrowed, and his features dropped. Your eyes were red, and your cheeks were puffy. Even without the sniffle topping it off, it was obvious you had been crying.

"What happened?" He asked. "Are you hurt?"

The levees you had forced up to walk back in here broke yet again. So many tears had been wept it was impossible to believe more would come, but they did. They poured out.

"Oh, Y/N," Sam's voice shuttered.

He grabbed you by the arm, forcing you against himself. His solid frame anchored you and held you so tightly it almost hurt. Sam was the only rock you had left to stand against the pounding waves. Your cries of anguish muffled into his flannel. Sam had thought he, too, had run out of tears to cry, yet holding you in your shared pain caused his eyes to well up. He tucked your head under his chin, hoping to provide you comfort, and protection, and peace like a hen gathering chicks under her wings. For what seemed like an eternity, you held each other there, sharing and spilling tears until you were too exhausted to shed any more.

Your voice was worn and hoarse, but you had to ask, desperate for a ray of hope. "Will it ever stop hurting?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know." He answered honestly.

And you didn't even know if you wanted it to. The pain, the loss, the grief, it made Dean real. It meant your time together on this earth had meant something. And the memories, the visions, imaging he was still with you, though they burned, they let him live on.

You buried yourself further into Sam. "I miss him so much."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too."

---

#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spnfandom

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pruning-the-minds-garden · 1 year

Text

Unsafe Hypnokink Creators and Hypnotists List

And other unsafe persons

This list is to lead to the posts that I come across that detail credible (and I am using my own definition of credible; I'm not a lawyer nor a court of law) accusations of wrongdoing by hypnokink creators, and therefore people to Avoid. The article names here are going to be the names of the people who are detailed in the linked article, and where parenthetical attribution is given that is to indicate that the post is not written by me. I'm doing a Read More in order to make sure that as I edit the content below the cut (the list of creators), it updates the text that appears on Reblogs.

Potentially Unsafe Hypnokink Creators:

Nimja (via FetLife and his website): Dealing with underage partners, mistreating partners, dubious content in files. A list of red flags in Nath's dealings with him, which I also find to be credible. Evidence. Evidence. (by @writtenbynath)

Blueberry Empire (via Discord and YouTube): Transphobic and homophobic attitudes by creator as well as a history of allowing underage persons on her NSFW server. The Tumblr post is written by me, but that comes from a Twitter post written by someone else.

Inventive Mind (via Discord and FetLife): Highly abusive and non-consensual brainwashing and cult leader-like behavior, all laid out here. (note: link removed because someone was using the linked page - and my link to it - for nefarious purposes. Suffice to say it supports my prior point.)

NeuralNets (On FetLife, Reddit, and as AKAs DeepDreamStates, NeuroPlex here on Tumblr. Probably more places also): Since he basically asked me to, here's a basic primer on NeuralPlex's history of misdeeds and abuse. The essentials of it is that he doesn't directly create himself, but he sets up the structures for and allows to flourish, a culture of abuse and dangerous parasocial relationships - that is, a cult of personality with them at the center - on his Discord server and takes an attitude toward safety in his files that is at best perfunctory ("this is what I have to do in order to get to the good stuff") and at worst performative ("be careful with this file because it's really powerful!" is NOT a legitimate content warning, except to them it sometimes is). While I'm sure there are a lot of people who like that sort of content, you should know that if things go bad - and that's a nonzero possibility - then he is not going to be there to help you after and is going to sweep you under a rug after. It has happened before.

Dr. Headcrash: This one is most directly supported by a sort of secondary accusation, but that speaks back to a larger pattern. So, Headcrash is known to have abused past partners and there have been issues with conventions out on the West Coast for that reason, and so I feel the need to add him here as an unsafe creator/hypnotist. He doesn't have a Tumblr so far as I'm aware, so this links to his Twitter, but I'm sure he also has a FetLife as well.

Professor Mesmer: This person used a combination of recreational drugs and hypnosis, most especially b*mbi content, to condition and abuse a number of people across several (at least three) years. Because of a combination of safety and ethical concerns with the specific pieces of evidence to which I was linked I will not link them, however I find based on those links that the accusations are credible. All I'll do by way of substantiation is say to contact Bubbles for more, if you have questions. But, be polite. Update: This is one of the rare events in the hypnokink community to break out of the hypnokink community and get noticed by the wider world. Here is a Buzzfeed News article about Professor Mesmer. Yes, he is "James."

Vassalreturns: This person has an admitted - by them - history of serial (in the dozens of past partners/victims) abuse and consent violation. I do not know the precise details, but they describe violating limits, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, and other classic abuse tactic in broad terms without specific details. I take them at their word. They are a creator of b*mbi-themed bimbo hypnokink content, and with their admitted history of abuse (which was shared with me on the condition I not broadcast it publicly, but I have vetted it and found it to be authentic) the fact they focus on "extreme" BS content is especially concerning. Also concerning is their language around their history, which shows less a genuine desire to change and more a belief that they are not capable of it coupled with a desire to fail to change and thus indulge in what is to them a forbidden fruit. Here is my post on the topic.

Other potentially unsafe people:

Ernesto / -stealth-; a photographer who advertises a willingness to take pictures of especially young, attractive women in his area for free. He buys dinner and transportation and then holds the pictures hostage in exchange for a glowing review, and uses the shoot as a chance to take advantage of his prospective model while emotionally abusing and threatening her. This is a pattern of behavior. It's also not new, but I was just made aware of it and it's ongoing.

savagemadeink: For harassing and aggressive behavior toward a content creator.

The Whack-a-Mole Rogues' Gallery:

This is the place where I will link to the rogues' gallery of predatory hypnotists who I come across on Tumblr, as I come across them. These are people who almost always delete their blog within a week or two of being called out, but reappear a month or two later under a different pseudonym (hence the name, based on me playing a never-ending game of whack-a-mole with them). I'm going to link their blog even though the link will almost certainly go dark, and link to the evidence. Since all of the accusations are basically copypasta of one another - disregarding consent, bad safety practices, treating subs poorly, etc - I'm not going to detail them. Read the evidence links for more.

Hypnotica2: Evidence

I will add to this as needed and as more come across my dash. This list is also still under construction.

#hypnokink #safety #consent

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hotchs-bitch · 11 months

Text

4 AM

Credits: prompt idea from @foxy-eva Criminal Minds Writing Challenge! Hurt/Comfort prompt: Nowhere else to go: Person A didn't know where else to go in a time of need, so they ring B's doorbell. Betaing credits to @doctorstethoscope and @greg-montgomery- I would never post anything if you guys didn't tell me to <3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner (post-slash?), Aaron Hotchner & blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n) (platonic-ish)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Unrequited love, discussions of divorce and parenting, Hotch's take on Haley leaving him, big sexy man cries a little, mentions of cases, angsty

A/N: I'm back with a song fic about Hotch's marriage crumbling, because apparently that's the only thing that can drag me out of my burnout era. Inspo song is 4 AM by Cate, and I highly recommend giving it a listen!!

Yes, this is angstier than I meant for it to be. Yes, I'm already working on a part 2 :)

Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut. Happy reading <3

Next part | Series masterlist | My masterlist

Why don’t you come over?

It’s only friendship we’ll risk

You can cry on my shoulder

If it’s her that you miss

Are you thinking of me

In a new light?

‘Cause if not wе could pretend for the night, for thе night

“Why don’t you come over for a little bit tonight?”

“It… it doesn’t even matter–”

“How long is your drive?”

Aaron’s sigh into the phone receiver is audible. You can almost picture him right now, his face screwed up in frustration and two fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I’m… not far. I’m at a motel twenty minutes from Quantico. She offered to stay at Jessica’s house, but… I don’t want Jack to know what’s going on.”

This certainly wasn’t the conversation you were expecting to have when you phoned your boss in the evening, intending to apologize for the late hour and let him know that you would be sending a file to him that would need to be reviewed first thing in the morning. You were expecting a brief, rushed call. You weren’t expecting him to pocket-answer the phone so that you had an accidental front-row seat to the sound of your boss checking into a motel room for one guest.

When he finally heard your voice calling out, “Aaron!” from his pocket and realized what was going on, he had bashfully explained; another fight with Haley, a bad one. You know that they’re all bad these days, but his admittance meant that it was worse than usual. It had ended with both of them packing bags, insisting that the other stay at their house, and Hotch driving off before she could.

You can’t pretend that you aren’t a little surprised that he shared all of this without much prompting. But now, you just want to see him and know that he’s okay. You just want to make this better… but how can you do that?

Maybe it’s not your place to get involved at all. You would be the first to admit that, sure, you have a minor crush on your very married colleague, and maybe that means that you should be staying away from his marital problems with a twenty-foot pole. But if he needs help, you’re certainly going to offer it.

“I don’t want to say it, but… do you really think Jack doesn’t know? You two have been having a lot of problems, and he’s a smart kid.”

“I know. I know. But it’s not… we can work it out. We can figure something out. There’s no need to stress him out or make him think that we’re going to get a divorce. I don’t want him put through all of that, for something that won’t happen.” The pain in Aaron’s voice is as audible as his words, and the sheer emotion behind it… it just breaks your heart.

It’s your turn to sigh now, letting your head tip back and rest on the back of your couch. “Are you sure you don’t want to come over? It’s really no trouble, I promise. I’ve got a guest room; you can stay as long as you need.”

Now, there’s a familiar firmness in his tone. It’s that decisive I-know-best voice he uses when he really believes in what he’s saying. “I’m sure. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be home by tomorrow. We’ll work this out. I… appreciate you speaking to me about this. I’m sure it’s not why you called.”

If he could see you, you would wave a hand in the air as if to say, ‘Don’t worry about it’. “Anytime, Aaron. And that offer stands, you hear me?”

This standing offer of yours might be a bad idea. What if he takes you up on it? What if he comes over, seeking your company? Your conflicting feelings for him are easy enough to set aside at work, but if he’s coming over because of his rocky marriage that’s a whole other battlefield you don’t have a clue how to navigate.

Aaron loves his wife. You know that he does. He adores her and their son, right down to his nightly phone calls with them on cases and the picture of the two that he keeps in his go bag. But sometimes, on the occasional event that he relaxes around you, you can’t help wondering if he could ever think of you the same way he thinks of Haley.

He could, you’re sure of that. He’s a red-blooded man, and even though that’s a little cliche of you, you can’t help but wish he would think of you as more than a colleague. You’re a woman who sees him more often than his own wife does, and that’s got to count for something. Does he really just view you as a colleague and friend, or… does he ever view you as something more?

Sometimes, you think maybe he does. During your last case – an abduction in South Dakota – the two of you had been canvassing together down a busy street when a biker rode past. Aaron had noticed in the nick of time, pulling you in towards him and out of the way of harm. He loves his wife more than anything, and you know that he was just keeping you from getting hurt. But for a moment, for just a split second, you had let yourself imagine that it was a gesture of more-than-friends, that he was pulling you in because he wanted to be closer to you.

So maybe this offer is a terrible, awful idea. You can admit that it probably is, but at least he doesn’t seem to be taking you up on it.

“I hear you.” There’s a bit of a smile in his voice now, as though he knows how serious you’re being and he finds it amusing. “Thank you, again. Have a nice night.”

Before you can respond, he hangs up. With a sigh, you set down the phone. It’s starting to get late now; you might as well go to sleep if he’s not coming over.

–

When you wake up, your bedroom is completely dark. Your alarm isn’t ringing on the nightstand, and when you roll over in bed you read the time on the digital clock. 3:46 AM.

So what the hell woke you up?

Your answer comes in the form of a knocking sound, loud enough to get your attention without being an obnoxious pounding sound. The noise is coming from… somewhere, so you get out of bed and slip on a robe over your pajamas to find the source of the noise.

The hunt leads you to your front door, where that steady knocking is coming from the other side. Someone is knocking on your door, at the late hour, and in a haze of grogginess and confusion, you wrench the door open.

“What is- Aaron?”

He’s standing on your step, his hand raised like he’s ready to knock again. His face… god. His face is full of pain, unimaginably pure pain, and he nods at you. “Hi. I’m sorry, I… you were sleeping. I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

His voice breaks a little, and that’s when you reach out. With one hand on his shoulder, you steer him into the house and close the door. “Are you okay? You didn’t… what?”

When you guide Aaron to the couch, he sits down without hesitation. His voice is drenched with despair when he says, “I didn’t… know where else to go. You said that the, er, offer was standing, right?”

“What? Yes, of course, it is. Aaron, what’s going on?” You sink down onto the couch next to him, watching him inhale deeply like he’s trying to ground himself. The tiny part of you that preens when he says that he didn’t know where else to go… well, you try to fight that part back. Right now, the priority is Aaron. The priority is not your ridiculous, unrealistic crush on him. “I thought you were staying at the motel tonight and going home tomorrow.”

“I did, too. Haley texted me a little while ago. She… she told me that she wants to figure out a… custody agreement that recognizes her as Jack’s primary parent. She wants to… work that out before she gets her lawyer involved.” He gives you a sardonic little smile, one that fills you to the brim with empathy as he continues to speak. “Apparently, when she said she would stay at her sister’s house, she meant indefinitely. I can expect to be served the… papers in the next week.”

He says ‘papers’ in a bitter tone, like the very sound of the word puts a bad taste in his mouth. It’s not hard to piece two and two together, and you slowly reach for his hand. He lets you take it, and you give him a moment before you ask the question.

“You and Haley are divorcing?” Compartmentalizing this has to be one of the most strong-willed things you’ve ever done. This isn’t the time for your feelings and emotions to be anywhere near the surface; not when Aaron needs you like this.

At the d-word, he flinches a little like he’s been wounded. He obviously hasn’t come to terms with the idea of it yet, and you wonder how long it’s been since she texted him. “We aren’t divorcing. She’s divorcing me.” His correction is swift, and his voice is brittle; it feels like he’s close to shattering. Seeing him like this – so vulnerable, so broken – is completely alien to you.

“Aaron…” You don’t know what to say, so you squeeze his hand. In lieu of any other words, you ask the stupidest possible question. “How do you feel?”

He laughs a little, at that. It isn’t genuine, but it’s not a cruel laugh either. It’s a little bit cynical, a little disbelieving. “I just found out that my wife is leaving me. It’s 4 AM, and I’m tired, and I can’t go home. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, right now.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. It was dumb of me to ask.” You move a little closer to him, the couch cushions shifting under you until you’re almost pressed against him. “You can talk about it, if you want to. You can tell me everything that’s going through your head.”

Aaron takes another deep breath at that, and his hold on your hand tightens a little. “She isn’t happy. She hasn’t been happy, and we both knew it. I just… I didn’t think this would happen. I know she wants me around more- wanted me around, I suppose. Lately, most of our fights have been about work. Haley wanted me to leave the BAU, the Bureau if it came down to it, and I refused. And I can’t blame her for wanting a normal life, or wanting me to work at a 9 to 5, but… I can’t do that.”

His monologue has shaken every remaining ounce of grogginess out of your system. Aaron so rarely opens up, especially about personal matters. Listening to him talk like this, you could go all night long without a cup of coffee.

Come to think of it, coffee is a really good idea. Standing up, you give him a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m just going to make us some coffee. You look like you need it.”

The open-concept design means that you only move a few feet away to get to the coffeemaker in the kitchen, and you look over at Aaron as you scoop grounds into the basket. “Why can’t you leave the BAU?” Your question is soft, not accusatory.

He hears your tone, the general curiosity, and sighs. “When I was a lawyer, I prosecuted dozens of murder cases. By the time they reached my desk, it always felt like it was too late. And I wanted to, uh… stop them, before they got to my desk. We see a lot of things, you know? Jack… I don’t want him growing up in a world like this, with serial killers around every corner. I want to make the world a safer place for him. I suppose I thought that… I thought that because I’m doing it for my family, that would make it… easier for her to deal with.”

By the time Aaron finishes speaking, you’re handing him a cup of coffee. It’s sweetened with a bit of sugar and some cream; he usually drinks it black, but you know he considers any other kind of coffee to be a treat. If there’s ever been a time for him to deserve a treat, it’s now.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him as you sink back down onto the couch with a mug of your own. “I know that you and Haley might have different ideas about what parenting should look like, but… you’re doing this because you love him. You want to protect him, and keep him safe and innocent. That doesn’t make you a monster for missing bedtime.”

It’s silent for a long moment; the only sound is both of you sipping your coffees, and then Aaron hums quietly. “I just… I never want him to know what kind of people are out there. He’s a little kid. I’m supposed to be there to tell him that there isn’t a monster under his bed. Instead, I spent his birthday in Mississippi looking for a guy who hunts his victims by actually hiding under their beds. I can’t blame Haley for being upset with me.”

You’re still trying to think of a response to that when he speaks again. His voice softens now, and when you glance over he looks away quickly. It’s not quick enough, and you still make note of the tears in his eyes that he’s obviously trying to hide. “We’ve been together since high school, you know. Graduation, college, law school… all of it.”

“I had no idea,” you murmur. You knew that Aaron and his wife were together for a long time, obviously. But to be together since high school? That’s a hefty chunk of time; it’s more than half as long as he’s been alive. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I… I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“If it helps, neither can I. I don’t… I have no clue how I feel,” he admits, setting down the coffee cup. His gaze is still averted, but you can see the tears shining in his eyes. “Things haven’t been great for a while, and I know that. I’m not an idiot. But she’s always been there by my side, always. And now… she won’t be there, anymore.” His voice breaks a little on the last word, and it just… breaks your heart, all over again.

When you speak, it’s a little more tentative. Between his strict professionalism in the office and the reason for this impromptu 4 AM visit, you’re worried that you might be crossing some sort of line here. He’s got a wife at home; technically, he’s still married. That, and the reason for your offer is more selfish than you care to admit. But you don’t mind that as much as you probably should. After a pause, you say it.

“You can say no, but… do you want a hug?” Even as you ask the question, you start to get to your feet. Maybe to give him easy access, or maybe just so you can busy yourself with the coffee mugs if he says no.

A soft ‘oof’ escapes you when Aaron gets to his feet and hugs you tightly, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask. His arms wrap around your waist while your own come up to reach around him, rubbing his back gently in as reassuring of a manner as you can. Yes, your reason for this hug is selfish… It's selfish to take pride in the fact that you’re the one comforting him, reassuring him, and hopefully making him feel better.

You’re just about to let go – the guilt-ridden confliction of your emotions is almost too much to handle – when you feel and hear a sharp intake of breath against your shoulder, under your hand. It’s paired with the softest, most broken-sounding sob you can imagine. Aaron is trying to hold back that flood of emotion, that heartbreak that seems to surround him like it’s stuck alongside him inside an impenetrable bubble, and you tighten your grip on him a little.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, and you hope that you sound soothing. You hope that you can calm him, help him in some way. “You can let go, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Aaron doesn’t respond. He’s silent against you as his face presses into your shoulder, but his back moves under your hand when he takes in another deep, shuddering breath. It isn’t until he pulls away and lowers his head that you realize that the shoulder of your robe is soaked with tears that you couldn’t feel through the layers of fabric.

His head is still down, and he wipes at his face like he can’t stand to have tears running down it. “I’m sorry,” he says after a long moment, and he turns away altogether while he presumably collects himself.

You allow him this privacy, this pseudo-solitude to wipe his face and straighten his posture and do whatever else he can to recover from his moment of sheer, sheer vulnerability. He’s starting to turn back by the time you say, “Don’t be. You’re hurting, Aaron. I want to be here for you, however I can be. If you want to talk about how much you miss her, and cry on my shoulder…” you shrug one of the aforementioned shoulders, a gesture meant to play off the tension of the moment, “Well, I’ve got two of them, so feel free. Whatever you need, okay? That’s a promise.”

With a little nod, Aaron wipes a hand under both eyes again. “I understand. I really appreciate it… I appreciate you. Just having you here, with me… it’s helped more than you know.”

A tight smile graces your face, and you pat his forearm as you step back. The coffee is starting to wear off, and you can feel the exhaustion down to your bones. It’s on his face too, in his eyes and the way they’re growing heavy with the need to sleep. “Of course. We can talk more in the morning, but I think for now you should try to get some sleep. Okay?”

Aaron straightens up, and you don’t miss the way his jaw flexes as he tries to suppress a yawn. “I think you’re right. Thank you, again.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” you promise, leading him down the hall towards the guest bedroom right next door to yours. “Just get some rest, and… tomorrow can wait. Everything else can wait, for now.”

“It can wait,” Aaron agrees with a solemn nod, his voice quiet. He thanks you once again before you step away from the door, listening to it shut before you turn off all the lights and return to your own bedroom.

By the time you slip under your blankets, you can hear soft snores floating through the shared wall. It’s still hard to tell if you’ve overstepped, or if you’ve crossed some sort of line tonight. But for now… Aaron might have Haley in his head, but he’s fast asleep in your guest bedroom. You’re going to support him through this next stage of his life. Whatever the next few weeks or months may bring, you’ll be there.

You aren’t going to change his mind on anything. If he wants to contest the divorce, you’ll be there for him. If he wants to do it amicably, you’ll ask how you can help. If he realizes somewhere along the way that you could be the one for him, you certainly won’t argue.

You’ve already waited without hope for years. If he winds up single then maybe, just maybe, he’ll think of you in a new light one day. And if not… maybe you can just pretend he will, for tonight.

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Tell me what you thought <3

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fluffypotatey · 9 months

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Say what you will about Arthur and his utter lack of game, but always appreciate the fact this man looked at Morgana, duchess of drip, and decided a dagger would be the best gift for her.

And when it was pointed out that it might not be her style, he went "ah shit you right" and just had the fucking thing tricked out. That was his solution. That was his thought process. Not that a knife was inappropriate, but that it needed to be a custom piece. No basic bitches in this household.

Mans said "what shall I get my significant annoyance this year?", shook his braincell like a Magic 8 Ball, and came up with "knife."

We stan one princely himbo.

ngl i like to use this as proof for Arthur and Morgana being so close and knowing each other so well because i have such a soft spot for my pendragon siblings 🤧

(thoughts under the cut bc….*coughs* i suffer from pendragon sibs brainrot)

listen, listen to me: these guys really did only have each other when they were younger and surrounded by nobody but stuffy nobles and an emotionally repressed/abusive father. Arthur lost his mother king before he got to know her, and Morgana lost a father whom she knew and loved so dearly. they were children who never really got to grieve what was lost from them (although, in some way, Morgana was given some time to grieve and mourn but never for too long).

Arthur has known Morgana for her spunk and rebellious nature against the status quo King Uther enforces since they were children. She was always trying to learn to fight (see her bragging about beating Arthur when they were younger in 1x10) and probably taught herself secretly how to use a sword (or had some help as well 👀 but that’s just a headcanon). She was always at odds with Uther about magic (while Arthur would receive severe punishment for disagreeing with his father, Morgana’s anguish was treated like the flights of a lady’s emotions).

It would be offensive (towards Morgana) if Arthur were to ever gift her something so stereotypical and stuffy on her birthday. He most likely knew that she would have wanted something to use to protect herself: ergo, dagger.

Fuckinnnnnnng, read what Arthur says about his gift omfg 🫠

ARTHUR Beautiful, isn't it? Feel the balance, feel the sharpness of the blade.

I AM PUNCHING THE WALLS 🫠🫠🫠🫠

This man put so much thought and care into this gift for her. Listen, she was his first friend, the first person to not treat him like he was fragile or the fault of his mother’s demise. She was Arthur’s sister before he even knew that’s how he saw her and their relationship. Morgana meant so much to him, your honor, I fucking can’t. They loved each other so much despite the gradual rift that he gained when we first meet them in s1, your honOR—

But then you have Merlin’s comment:

MERLIN Well, I'm no expert, but don't women normally go for pretty things? Like, maybe, jewellery?

(yes he said this as a way to deter Arthur from sticking with a dagger bc of the vision he saw but still)

And so Arthur Dumb-of-ass & bi-of-sexual Pendragon takes Merlin’s advice, realizes that yeah, Morgana still likes feminine things like dressed and jewelry and pretty shit. LET ME BEDAZZLE THIS DAGGER JUST FOR HER

LOOK AT IT

THE FUCKING PENDRAGON COLORS YIU CHEEKY FUCK ARTHUR 🤧 AND LOOK AT HER REACTION TO IT

SHE LOOKS ENTRANCED BY IT???? MAYBE TOUCHED (<- fluffy is reaching, she has gone insane) MAYBE EVEN CONSIDERING THAT ARTHUR DOES CARE AND MAYBE SHE COUOD TURN HIM AGAINST UTHER TO JOIN HER???? (<- fluffy.exe is suffering malfunctions. delusion file has been corrupted)

Literally every other noble gifted her a fancy hairbrush (those fucking posers) and you would think! With how much this show presents Arthur as emotionally repressed and very obtuse when it comes to women, you would think they would regress his character (again) to make a joke out of him (again) not knowing what to give Morgana for her birthday

BUT THEY DONT!!!!

NO! THEY SHOW HIM BEING CONFIDENT IN HIS DECISION FOR IT TO BE A DAGGER THEN NERVOUS ABOUT HIS CHOICE BC MAYBE IT’S NOT A GOOD DAGGER THEN PROUD BECAUSE NOW IT IS A BEDAZZLED DAGGER

WHAT THE FU—

Not only that, BUT SHE TAKES THE DAGGER WITH HER WHEN MEETING MORGAUSE (s3’s big bad villain who is the new up-and-coming High Priestess after Nimueh, whom Merlin smited (smote? smitten?) and does not give any fucks about Uther or Arthur. Both could just die for all she cares.)

I would never lie to you. Transcript speaks the truth. Also, what other dagger would they speak about??? It’s Arthur’s gift and she was so touched by it that she decided to use it for her nefarious schemes of regicide!

OH YEAH AND AFTER THIS WHEN SHE’S IN A COMA YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT ARTHUR SAID

ARTHUR To lose her now, like this...I've grown up with her, she's like a sister to me. I'd sacrifice my place on the throne for her to see another sunrise.

*deep breath*

So much shit could have been avoided if these dumbass Pendragons just talked to each other T^T Jfc, Arthur loves those close to him so deeply. He is so loyal to them that it blinds him, that he would willingly give up anything just to keep them alive and happy.

ough, yeah I’m okay (<- liar)

#sorry anon i’m sure you were just shitposting but my mind fell into the pendragon sib brainrot and spiraled from there #this was in fact a bbc merlin meta by the unwell (me)#now onto the weather #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana #merlin meta #long post #used receipts (aka the transcripts coming in clutch)#asks #anonymous #thank you anon for reminding why i love them #pendragon siblings #pendragon sibs

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staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

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I saw one of your story posts mentioning you might take writing requests for trauma comfort... I've been struggling to write this story myself, and I'm looking for a particular flavor of comfort story.

Everyone seems to always latch on to how Hunter is so perceptive and notices things... but there's things he doesn't notice, even with all his sensitive senses. Particularly when there's not an actual immediate danger with a straightforward solution of "shoot it dead" or "talk to it"

Would you be willing to write something where Crosshair is the one to observe, first notice, and recognize tbe fact their new female member of the team, despite being a very active useful member, is tip-toeing around under the weight of past traumas? Then goes out of his way to take care of someone just as stubborn as he is.

I used to live with abusive housemates. While they weren't physically abusive, they were very creative in every other way of hurting their resident empath and later, attacking my whole family. It took me months after we finally kicked them out, for me to realize that i was literally tip-toeing in my own house afraid to make any noise and break tbe quiet, because i used to get badly berated for even small things like rolling in my office chair to my secobd desk while i did filing and paperwork. I didn't sing or play music for a long time, and i still find myself struggling to talk to people.

I like the idea that Crosshair would be the first to recognize long term behavioral patterns while Hunter is very fast in the uptake with someone who's state has changed in the moment.

You're under no obligation to settle this, of course, so please don't feel pressured! I just love the detailed and thoughtful, realistic way you handle writing about things like this.

My sweet darling, I am so sorry it's taken me so long to finish this. Your request became incredibly personal to me, and I both found myself inspired and struggling with how to respond! I'm honored you came to me with this request - I know how hard it is to admit to being hurt like that. Please be kind to yourself as you heal and know that I'm always happy to offer whatever support I can!

Sharp Eyes, Gentle Hands

Warnings: reference to past emotional abuse, fantasy profanity

WC: 2,253

The silence following the gentle hum of the ramp closing left me sinking beneath a deep sigh of relief. Wrecker had sought me out to say goodbye, and I’d peaked from the little kitchenette of the Marauder in time to wave to Hunter and Echo, but Tech and Crosshair were already out of sight. Still, I found myself treading lightly about the ship as I restocked supplies, updated the inventory manifest, and addressed minor maintenance needs that didn’t warrant Tech’s expertise.

This was the beginning of my second three-month tour with Clone Force 99. I’d been assigned to them as something of a secretary in the hopes of improving their less than ideal track record of finishing their paperwork, but had gradually taken on additional small tasks as time passed. While skeptical at first, the boys seemed to have begun warming to my presence, and I was too eager to maintain that trend, even if I was still only trusted to guard the ship during actual missions.

At present, that extra task consisted of reattaching a cabinet door in the storage room that Wrecker had been a bit too forceful with. After muscling it back into its original shape – mostly – all that was left was to screw it back in. I was so caught up in my work, I barely noticed the hum resonate through my chest, nor the moment that tone gradually gave way to murmured words until, just as I stepped back to appreciate my work, I found myself shamelessly singing aloud.

Satisfied, I gathered the tools and headed into the cockpit to return them. It wasn’t until the shouted gasp tore from my throat, body shying back so violently that I nearly slammed into the wall that I even noticed him. Crosshair wordless lifted an eyebrow at my reaction before returning his attention to the helmet in his hands, fingers skillfully toying with the internal gages as though nothing had happened.

“Um, sorry I-I didn’t realize you were still here.” The apology clawed stiffly up my throat, fire burning across my face. He didn’t bother looking at me as he merely responded with a disinterested grunt. Teeth gnawing against the inside of my lips as I vainly willed my heart to ease its panicked pace, I rushed to quietly place the tools back in Tech’s storage, shoulders tucking firmly about my chest.

“Why do you do that?” The words slipped from his lips almost as though he was talking to himself instead of me, but I balked at the silence that followed, fingers shifting nervously at my sides.

“Wh… do what?” The beginnings of an apology sat like poison atop my tongue, demanding to be voiced in the futile hope that it might defuse whatever confrontation was to come.

“If you’re that scared of us, why did you stay?” His arms crossed his chest, confusion just breaching the innate impatience in those sharp eyes.

“I-I’m not… um, I’m sorry you thought that, but I promise I’m not-” My words died the instant he stood from the chair, helmet laid forgotten atop the seat. My gaze instantly darted to the worn metal beneath us as that too-familiar dread locked around my chest, breaths carefully shallow, silent, lest even that somehow worsen whatever offence I’d already made. But he said nothing in the long seconds that followed, and, hesitantly, I stole a timid glance at him. His brow was cocked, but, still, he made no effort to lash out or reprimand me, merely waited for me to finally grasp his point, and my heart dropped.

“No - I’m sorry; it’s not…” The flurry of excuses tangled over my lips, the beginnings of a tremble just beginning to creep over me. “I’m not… I’m not afraid of you, I’m just… trying to stay out of the way.” I assured him, but he merely rolled his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, those frightfully intense eyes burring into me.

“You practically flatten yourself against the wall when we walk too close to you. You stopped eating the yellow ration bars after Wrecker mentioned they’re Hunter’s favorite, even though they’re your favorite, too. I don’t think you’ve ever instigated a single conversation unless it was to update a report, and even then you act like…” His teeth ground together, words suddenly falling silent. I’d felt myself sinking beneath every wretched observation, shoulders bunching around me, expression carefully blank; waiting.

“Look, I’m not…” When I risked another fleeting look up to him, I was shocked to see his glare turned pointedly away from me, jaw shifting stiffly around unspoken words. “You don’t need to… hide every time we’re in the same room.” The discomfort in the softness he was trying to force into his voice was obvious, but the simple fact that he was making an attempt left me speechless.

“Kriff, I don’t even know what I said that made you so damn timid.” A touch of that impatience returned, fingers snatching the toothpick from his lips, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me, and that made the guilt stirring in my chest all the more prominent.

“It… it wasn’t…” My hands drew together in front of me, thumb absently picking at my nails. “My-my last crew was… pretty strict with me.” I barely breathed the excuse, unable to risk meeting his eyes. “I just… I didn’t want to cause trouble here, too.” He leaned absently against the back of the co-pilot chair, watching me with a silence that left my skin crawling.

“You realize we share living space with Wrecker?” The skepticism in his blank statement wrenched a burst of laughter from me before I could rein it back, teeth clicking together even as my lips still pulled up into a small smile. For the briefest moment, something like relief seemed to flash through his eyes, and a sliver of that tension slipped from my shoulders.

“We’re not regs.” He continued dismissively. “Whatever osik they pulled with you isn’t how we operate here.”

“It wasn’t regs.” I felt myself tense for some reprimand in the face of my quiet correction, but he didn’t move, gaze watching me silently; waiting. “I was assigned to a mercenary battalion before this.” His head tilted back slightly, eyes narrowing. “That’s part of the reason I ended up here: I requested an assignment with a clone squad, but the regs don’t usually work with freelancers, so…” I motioned subtly toward him, shoulders drawing tight into my chest.

Crosshair was silent for a long moment, expression painfully unchanged. My mind raced for some way to anticipate what he was thinking – was he annoyed to learn the reason I’d ended up with them? Was he enraged that I feared the same treatment from his brothers that I’d received from the mercs? Was he completely indifferent?

Movements unrushed, void of the impatience I’d expected, he retrieved his helmet and started toward the ladder.

“Gonna do a patrol.” He explained, slipping on the bucket. “I’ll let you know when I’m back.” I couldn’t begin to fight the shock from my eyes, the silent gasp from my lips, immediately aware of his unspoken offer: he was giving me space; allowing me a moment to collect myself in the comfort of isolation… and I didn’t have to fret over not realizing when he returned…

“You should sing more often – Echo and Wrecker like that sort of thing.” Again, I found myself utterly frozen, jaw shifting uselessly around words I couldn’t begin to form, but he didn’t wait for a response. With a few swift movements, he was gone.

Things changed after that. Not with any grand or outwardly notable gestures, but it seemed to shift the very dynamic of the squad in the most subtle ways. It started with caf.

It was hardly unusual for the sniper to be the last to force himself into the kitchenette to join us, jaw ground against the early morning grogginess. I was just finishing the breakfast scramble as he trudged to the caf machine. Without a word, he set a steaming cup on the counter beside me before taking a seat with his brothers. I stared blankly at it for a moment, only then realizing that I’d fallen into the habit of waiting for the others to get their own cups before getting some for myself. When I stole a brief glance toward him, he showed no indication that he’d done anything abnormal, head tilted back against his chair with his eyes closed as though he might steal even a few seconds’ more sleep.

Then it was the arguing. Echo and Tech’s banter rarely escalated, but when it did, neither were innocent of resorting to shouting on occasion. I couldn’t remember what had prompted the latest disagreement, but their voices boomed throughout the entirety of the Marauder until even Hunter stepped in in a futile attempt to silence them. I’d made the mistake of treading into the cockpit just as things between them began to grow heated intending to merely return Echo’s power calibrator and quickly found myself frozen in the corner, waiting for a safe moment that wasn’t soon to come.

Long after the Sergeant had joined the fray, succeeding only in adding to the chaotic flurry of raised voices, Crosshair stormed down the ladder, brows pinched and lips wrenched into a scowl, but then he saw me, sharp eyes instantly noting the tool clutched in my grasp. Ignoring his brothers, he merely held his hand out to me, motioning for the device. I tried not to let him see the slight tremor in my limbs as I hesitantly placed it in his waiting palm. Saying nothing, he merely nodded toward the ladder. I was halfway through the porthole when I heard the loud thud followed by a shocked cry of pain, and, in the next breath: silence.

That was the last time any of them got into a shouting fit like that around me. Twice, just as tensions were beginning to rise, Hunter went so far as to conveniently find a reason to summon me. It didn’t take long to realize he’d caught on and was too willing to use my presence as an indirect means of quelling tempers. The second time, he shot me a knowing wink, and I found myself biting my lips against the fit of quiet laughter.

When we found a rare moment of calm, Crosshair pressed things a bit further. A fire crackled in the stillness. We didn’t have to return to Kamino for a few days, so we made camp beside a small lake, secluded in a forgiving wilderness. I barely noticed the lithe man lean toward Wrecker, lips shifting almost silently, but then his brother’s eyes shot open, excitement lighting his face.

“You can sing?!” My heart dropped, body instantly going stiff.

“…uh…” Caught, I could only stare at him in shock, gaze darting briefly to see the subtle smirk on the Sniper’s lips before the towering clone was talking once more, pleading.

“Will you sing somethin’?! We hardly ever get to hear music!” The refusal clawed at my throat, aghast at even the thought of denying the innocent delight in his request.

“Wrecker.” The warning in Hunter’s voice was enough to dampen the large man’s glee, and I found myself distraught to see his smile fade.

“M… maybe just one.” I agreed nervously, and the thrilled gasp it earned was nearly enough to ease the frantic racing of my heart. Echo and Tech glanced up curiously, and I had to pointedly ignore the feeling of everyone’s eyes watching me.

The first words left in something nearer to a whisper than a melody, but the hint of pride just threatening to shine in Crosshair’s gaze emboldened me in a way I would never have expected. By the second verse, I left the lyrics dance over my lips. My cheeks were still flushed, blood still pounding through my ears, but I couldn’t dismiss the simple joy as I took in the wonder in Wrecker’s face, Hunter’s quiet smile, Tech’s datapad lying forgotten beside him.

In the days that followed, I’d caught most of them occasionally humming the tune, and, more than once, found myself joining them with a shy grin.

That innate need to tuck into the wall as we passed each other slowly began to fade, but the next few times it happened with Crosshair, he wordlessly touched his hand to my arm and guided me upright. It was never a quick movement, the gentle pressure an invitation instead of an order, and each time, I found my heart racing long after he’d left.

After several weeks of those quiet moments, I intentionally bumped his shoulder with mine in a moment of frightful bravery. The look of pure shock in his suddenly wide eyes nearly sent me fleeing, certain I’d made a terrible mistake, but then his lips curled into grin, breath catching in a silent chuckle. His hand reached up to carefully ruffle my hair before he continued on his way.

It wasn’t perfect. I still found myself unable to find my voice unless someone else spoke first; felt that panicked dread if I set something down too loudly or made simple mistakes, but that fear faded quicker, my responses felt a little less meek as they drew me into quiet conversations more often. It wasn’t perfect, but the patience and kindness they offered allowed me to take those first steps toward making it better.

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lullabyes22-blog · 7 months

Text

Snippet - Indulgence - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco and Mel get frisky. At a distance.

cw: phone sex, explicit language, degradation, ice play, begging, presumed voyeurism, orgasm denial, emotional manipulation.

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

"You would do well not to taunt a man with no qualms about bending you over his knee in private."

Snippet:

Confidential: State Files – Piltover & Zaun.

Memorandum of Encrypted Telephone Conversation

Subjects: Councilor Mel Medarda & First Chancellor Silco

Declassified and De-encrypted Under Authority of the Intra-agency Security Panel

E.O. 12596 Section 4. D(x)

Councilor Medarda: Silco?

Chancellor Silco: Councilor, I did not expect to hear from you so soon.

Councilor Medarda: 'Councilor' again, is it?

Chancellor Silco: My word. It seems I am in trouble.

Councilor Medarda: Not quite yet.

Chancellor Silco: Mel, then. Does that better suit?

Councilor Medarda: I would have hoped you'd drop the 'councilor' entirely.

Chancellor Silco: Forgive a tired man for reverting to habit.

Councilor Medarda: Tired?

Chancellor Silco: It has been a long evening.

Councilor Medarda: Is everything all right?

Chancellor Silco: Never better, Councilor.

Councilor Medarda: Your sarcasm does little to convince me.

Chancellor Silco: My word is not enough for you?

Councilor Medarda: Your word means little without context, and you know it.

Chancellor Silco: And yet I offer it freely.

Councilor Medarda: Willing to give. Never to share.

Chancellor Silco: I've shared many things with you, petal.

Councilor Medarda: Petals and promises. Both so easily broken.

Chancellor Silco: Are you looking to start an argument, or are you simply bored?

Councilor Medarda: If I'm starting an argument, you're letting me win.

Chancellor Silco: Or I'm warming you up for the real thing.

Councilor Medarda: I'm warm enough, thanks to the fire.

Chancellor Silco: Metaphorical, I’m sure.

Councilor Medarda: And yet…

Chancellor Silco: And yet?

Councilor Medarda: Will you indulge me, Silco?

Chancellor Silco: Always, Mel.

Councilor Medarda: Tell me where you are right now?

Chancellor Silco: In an undisclosed location.

Councilor Medarda: The loo?

Chancellor Silco: Your sense of humor is unrivaled.

Councilor Medarda: And your stubbornness, unsurpassed.

Chancellor Silco: I thought that was one of your favorite qualities of mine.

Councilor Medarda: It could easily become one of my least.

Chancellor Silco: You've yet to outlast me.

Councilor Medarda: Or perhaps I have, and you've merely forgotten.

Chancellor Silco: Oh, I'd remember such a thing.

Councilor Medarda: Even if your memory was hazy the morning after?

Chancellor Silco: Our morning after?

Councilor Medarda: Yes.

Chancellor Silco: You wound me, petal.

Councilor Medarda: I do hope so.

Chancellor Silco: I've told you that I'd be busy. That doesn't mean—

Councilor Medarda: Busy with what?

Chancellor Silco: Nothing I would burden you with.

Councilor Medarda: Is the line secure?

Chancellor Silco: Naturally.

Councilor Medarda: Then we'll return to my request.

Chancellor Silco: Divulgence or indulgence?

Councilor Medarda: Tell me where you are.

Chancellor Silco: In the bath, if you must know.

Councilor Medarda: Is this a joke?

Chancellor Silco: Why should that be a joke?

Councilor Medarda: You don't strike me as a man who lolls about in the tub.

Chancellor Silco: What do you picture is my usual manner of bathing?

Councilor Medarda: A high-pressure spray of boiling hot water.

Chancellor Silco: Just add salt.

Councilor Medarda: Or me.

Chancellor Silco: You're in rare form tonight.

Councilor Medarda: And you aren't appreciative of my...form?

Chancellor Silco: You would do well not to taunt a man with no qualms about bending you over his knee in private.

Councilor Medarda: Oh, I have every intention of taunting you.

Chancellor Silco: To what end?

Councilor Medarda: Whatever I desire.

Chancellor Silco: Which, as usual, is a great deal.

Councilor Medarda: Do you hold that against me?

Chancellor Silco: So far, it’s been a mutual pleasure.

Councilor Medarda: And yet you sidestep the question.

Chancellor Silco: Did I not answer you properly, Mel?

Councilor Medarda: We're having quite a few conversations in half-measures tonight. I wonder if that’s what I can expect on my visit to Zaun.

Chancellor Silco: Do you require reassurance?

Councilor Medarda: I'm in the mood for something more practical.

Chancellor Silco: Oh?

Councilor Medarda: Your attention. With others, I've never had to strive for it. With you, I feel as if I have to beg.

Chancellor Silco: Have you ever begged before?

Councilor Medarda: Once or twice.

Chancellor Silco: How many men, would you say?

Councilor Medarda: Only two, and not both at once.

Chancellor Silco: Shame, that.

Councilor Medarda: I ask for indulgence, and you give me depravity.

Chancellor Silco: Do you dislike it?

Councilor Medarda: No…

Chancellor Silco: Then let’s take it up a notch. Where are you?

Councilor Medarda: Why?

Chancellor Silco: Tell me where you are and let the indulgence begin.

Councilor Medarda: In bed, by the fire, and my hands—

Chancellor Silco: Your hands are gifts of the gods. But they aren't mine. Is that it?

Councilor Medarda: I still feel them, Silco. Three weeks later, and I feel them. It's almost as if I could—as if you were here. Touching me. Your breath on my skin. Your voice in my ear. Whispering to me. Asking me what it is I truly want.

Chancellor Silco: Ah. Now there's poetry I can get behind. Go on.

Councilor Medarda: I'd rather hoped...

Chancellor Silco: Yes, Councilor?

Councilor Medarda: You could provide the next verse.

Chancellor Silco: Oh, is it a duet? I do like a good song.

Councilor Medarda: I have little doubt that you're a talented vocalist.

Chancellor Silco: Yet voice is a poor substitute for hands.

Councilor Medarda: They're an adequate replacement when paired with an excellent imagination.

Chancellor Silco: And yours, as I know well, is exceptional.

Councilor Medarda: It can only reach so far.

Chancellor Silco: Shall we put it to the test?

Councilor Medarda: How?

Chancellor Silco: Are your doors locked, Mel? The windows shuttered? Can anyone hear you?

Councilor Medarda: My staff are gone. I'm alone. Completely.

Chancellor Silco: Is your mouth dry?

Councilor Medarda: I'll need a sip of water if we continue.

Chancellor Silco: Go pour yourself a glass. Have you any ice?

Councilor Medarda: Yes...?

Chancellor Silco: Fetch a cube. Pop it into your mouth.

Councilor Medarda: Why?

Chancellor Silco: Indulge me.

Councilor Medarda: ...

Chancellor Silco: How is the ice against your tongue?

Councilor Medarda: Heavy.

Chancellor Silco: Good. Keep it in your mouth.

Councilor Medarda: Mph!

Chancellor Silco: Does the cold burn?

Councilor Medarda: A—a little.

Chancellor Silco: Take the ice out. How's it doing?

Councilor Medarda: Melting.

Chancellor Silco: Wrap your lips around it. Suck.

Councilor Medarda: Mnnn...

Chancellor Silco: That's good. Now dance it down your chin. Let it trace the curve of that swan’s neck.

Councilor Medarda: Oh…

Chancellor Silco: Run it along your collarbone. Let it dip into the hollow of your throat. Feel the chill of the water. The sting of the cold. Remember where my hands have touched you. What they did. How they felt. Let the ice do the same. Savor how it burns. You're burning too, aren't you, petal? I can hear your breathing break. How much heat do you have to share?

Councilor Medarda: More. I've so much more.

Chancellor Silco: Not all at once, I think. You're a woman who can endure a slow torment. Who needs it. Who always craves more.

Councilor Medarda: Gods.

Chancellor Silco: Take the ice. Move it down. Slowly. Feel it against those perfect breasts. Let it tease a nipple. Let the chill make it stiffen. Trace it in slow circles. Back and forth. Get them puckered tight as if they're begging for my mouth.

Councilor Medarda: Ohhhh.

Chancellor Silco: Sensitive, aren't they? You don't know how they'll be worshipped when we next meet. I'll spend hours lavishing them. Hours. Would you like that, Mel? Nothing but your sweet skin beneath my tongue. My teeth, too. You liked that last time, didn't you? And when I bit down, and sucked, how you shuddered.

Councilor Medarda: Don't...

Chancellor Silco: You don't enjoy it when I bite?

Councilor Medarda: Ye-es.

Chancellor Silco: Good. I enjoy your pretty little sounds when I'm tasting you.

Councilor Medarda: Gods, Silco.

Chancellor Silco: Hmm. Just like that.

Councilor Medarda: I hoped you'd warm me. Not... not this.

Chancellor Silco: Then we're of the same mind. But for now, we only have this. The ice. Our game. You understand? I want you to feel. Not think. Feel. Let the cold be me. My lips. My tongue. My teeth. You'll get the real deal soon enough.

Councilor Medarda: You swear to that?

Chancellor Silco: Upon my word as a Zaunite. For now, I want you to run the ice along your belly. Into your tender little navel. Let it sit a moment. Let it make you shiver. Let it remind you of all the other things we've done. The ways I've touched you.

Councilor Medarda: Gods, it f-f-feels strange.

Chancellor Silco: You've never tried this on yourself before?

Councilor Medarda: I'm not that adventurous.

Chancellor Silco: You are tonight. Keep going.

Councilor Medarda: Mnn...

Chancellor Silco: Run the ice on the inside of each thigh. Up and down. Feel the burn. The heat. The wetness. Remember how my hands felt there. My tongue. Remember how I sank to my knees for you. My teeth raking across that beautiful belly. My mouth in the softness and curls below. You smell divine. Has anyone ever told you that?

Councilor Medarda: You've yet to tell me anything about that night. Your thoughts. Your feelings.

Chancellor Silco: A grievous oversight.

Councilor Medarda: You sound... breathless.

Chancellor Silco: My bath grows cold while I listen to you. But I won't rush this.

Councilor Medarda: Why not?

Chancellor Silco: Because I love the sounds you make.

Councilor Medarda: I'd love yours, too, if you made more.

Chancellor Silco: And here I've been talking enough for two.

Councilor Medarda: I meant for things other than talking.

Chancellor Silco: You want a warming or a whipping, Mel?

Councilor Medarda: Both.

Chancellor Silco: Greedy thing. The ice... does it ache yet? Is it melting? Is your sweet cunt throbbing?

Councilor Medarda: Ye-es.

Chancellor Silco: Then use it before it’s gone.

Councilor Medarda: What—?

Chancellor Silco: Slide it between your legs.

Councilor Medarda: N-No!

Chancellor Silco: Why not?

Councilor Medarda: It's—it's too cold.

Chancellor Silco: That's what I'm here for. To warm you.

Councilor Medarda: Silco....

Chancellor Silco: You mustn't keep me waiting, Mel.

Councilor Medarda: You're t-t-terrible.

Chancellor Silco: Do as I say. Slowly. Feel the cold. And know it's only a substitute. A reminder of what's to come. When you see me again, the next time I touch you, there will be no games. No distance. Just us. Just my mouth, and my fingers, and my cock. And you'll want it so badly, it will be agony. I'll make you ache, petal. And then, I'll give you everything you deserve. Do you want that, Mel? Tell me.

Councilor Medarda: Gods, yes. I want it. I want you.

Chancellor Silco: Then stop fighting, treasure. Open your legs. Open them wide. Down the ice goes.

Councilor Medarda: Ohhhhhh.

Chancellor Silco: How's that feel?

Councilor Medarda: Cold, cold, cold.

Chancellor Silco: Imagine that it's me. Warming you up. Nuzzling into that pretty little mound. Running my tongue over those soft sweet lips. Back and forth, back and forth. Letting the chill numb the pain, while the heat builds inside. Then I'll go deeper. Spread you open. Drink from you. How would you like that?

Councilor Medarda: Yes. Gods.

Chancellor Silco: Are your legs shaking, petal?

Councilor Medarda: Yessss...

Chancellor Silco: Too cold? Shall we heat things up?

Councilor Medarda: Please—!

Chancellor Silco: No fear. You're warmer than ice. Hell's teeth, you're a furnace. Burning up with bliss. I haven't forgotten. How could I, when the image of your perfect cunt is branded into my mind? When I close my eyes, it's all I can see. Those tender lips. That sweet pink clit. How you drip for me. All the ways you taste. Like salted caramel and sherry. You've no idea how badly I want another taste.

Councilor Medarda: S-S-Silco....

Chancellor Silco: When we meet again, I'm going to eat you up, petal. You'll be in my bed, spread out like a gourmet meal. And I'll be a starving man. I'll take my fill. You'll give me every last drop. You'll beg me to lap you up. Then you'll scream for me, Mel. Just like in the tunnel. You remember, don't you? How you begged for more. How you pulled my hair. Clenched your thighs around my head and ground into my face. It was divine. And it will be again. Won't it?

Councilor Medarda: Pleasepleaseplease...

Chancellor Silco: Ice doesn't listen to pleas. Neither do I.

Councilor Medarda: I can't take it!

Chancellor Silco: You'll bloody well take everything I give you.

Councilor Medarda: Ich bitte dich...

Chancellor Silco: That's more like it. There’s that Noxian fire coming to the surface. I won't have you holding anything back. Give it all to me, Mel.

Councilor Medarda: Mein Gott. Bitte... ich bitte dich. Bitte...

Chancellor Silco: You're getting close, aren't you? Is your sweet cunt throbbing? Are you dripping for me?

Councilor Medarda: Ja. Bitte. Ich bin so nah.

Chancellor Silco: Say the words.

Councilor Medarda: I'm close. I'm so close. I need it.

Chancellor Silco: Not that. The other word.

Councilor Medarda: You don't mean...?

Chancellor Silco: Don't tell me you're shy?

Councilor Medarda: It's too vulgar.

Chancellor Silco: Therein lies the joy.

Councilor Medarda: If someone found these tapes....

Chancellor Silco: How could they? Not with the encryption. Unless we wanted them to. Unless you'd enjoy having a few Council members listen in. Is that what you'd like, Councilor Medarda? For all of Topside to hear how filthy their golden dove can be? How she begs a born sumpraker like a slut in heat? How she creams herself when he puts her in her place?

Councilor Medarda: God damn you.

Chancellor Silco: It'd be an exhibition for the ages. So say it. Say the word.

Councilor Medarda: No!

Chancellor Silco: Say it. Or we play no more.

Councilor Medarda: This was not what I called you for!

Chancellor Silco: What did you call me for, Mel?

Councilor Medarda: For comfort. For warmth. Not this.

Chancellor Silco: This?

Councilor Medarda: This... cruelty.

Chancellor Silco: Shouldn't I be cruel? After the way your city treated mine?

Councilor Medarda: Silco. Don't do this.

Chancellor Silco: If not cruelty, then what, Mel? What do you crave? What would satisfy you? Tell me. Say the words. And I'll give it to you. Whatever you want.

Councilor Medarda: Please, I...

Chancellor Silco: Sssh. Hush, now. It's all right, Mel. We'll stop. Just say the word, and we'll stop.

Councilor Medarda: No-o...

Chancellor Silco: Of course not, petal. How could I? When you sound like that. When you beg like that. You're close, aren't you? So achingly close. It's unbearable. And I wouldn't dream of depriving you. Just say you need me. Say your little cunt is dripping for my cock. That your pretty thighs are spread. Your perfect skin shining with sweat. Say you're ready. So ready. And then I'll give it to you. I'll give you everything.

Councilor Medarda: Yes. Gods. Yes.

Chancellor Silco: How often has a man heard you whisper "cunt?" Go on. Say it.

Councilor Medarda: …my cunt...

Chancellor Silco: Keep going.

Councilor Medarda: My cunt is weeping for you, Silco. I can't stand it. Please. Bitte. I need it. I need you.

Chancellor Silco: That's good. Keep begging. Let the whole damn city hear you. Who cares? What have you got to hide? Nothing. You're sublime, petal. You're a work of art. The sweetest fucking masterpiece in Topside. And you're mine.

Councilor Medarda: Yours. Yes. Yours.

Chancellor Silco: And is your dripping, gorgeous cunt ready to be filled up?

Councilor Medarda: Gods, yes—!

Chancellor Silco: How's the ice?

Councilor Medarda: It's...

Chancellor Silco: Nearly gone?

Councilor Medarda: And it's not—not—

Chancellor Silco: Not enough?

Councilor Medarda: It's not your tongue. Or your hands. Or your—

Chancellor Silco: Say the word.

Councilor Medarda: It's not your cock.

Chancellor Silco: And does your wet little cunt need that?

Councilor Medarda: Yessss.

Chancellor Silco: Are you begging now, Mel?

Councilor Medarda: I am. Please. I'll go crazy if you don't touch me.

Chancellor Silco: What’s a girl got to do to earn a fuck around here, hm?

Councilor Medarda: Don't call me a girl.

Chancellor Silco: Fruit of the forbidden tree, then.

Councilor Medarda: Sweet, ripe fruit. And it's going to waste.

Chancellor Silco: Not if I spend it in one place. Okay, petal. Take the ice. Slide it in a little deeper. A little higher. Let it kiss your clit.

Councilor Medarda: Aahh, gods!

Chancellor Silco: Rub the ice over that precious bud. Back and forth.

Councilor Medarda: I'm too sensitive. I can’t—

Chancellor Silco: Trace around it. Gently. Up and down.

Councilor Medarda: Mmmhhh.

Chancellor Silco: Run the ice in circles 'round that little nub.

Councilor Medarda: Oh, sweet Janna. It feels—

Chancellor Silco: Feels what?

Councilor Medarda: It feels good.

Chancellor Silco: Hmmm. Let it feel good.

Councilor Medarda: Please, Silco.

Chancellor Silco: You want more?

Councilor Medarda: You.

Chancellor Silco: You've already got me. Willing and able.

Councilor Medarda: What…?

Chancellor Silco: My cock is ready for you, Mel.

Councilor Medarda: Oh, Gods. Were you—?

Chancellor Silco: Guilty as charged.

Councilor Medarda: This whole time...?

Chancellor Silco: It would've been a waste to stop, considering it's why I was in the bath in the first place.

Councilor Medarda: Sweet Janna.

Chancellor Silco: Do I even have to ask how wet you are?

Councilor Medarda: No. Gods.

Chancellor Silco: Let me in, then.

Councilor Medarda: Oh, oh, oh...

Chancellor Silco: Trace a finger along that soft little mouth of yours. And I don't mean the one on your face.

Councilor Medarda: Ahhh.

Chancellor Silco: That's right. Feel those pretty pouting lips.

Councilor Medarda: I'm going insane, Silco.

Chancellor Silco: So am I. By Kindred, you've no idea how much I want you. I'm rock hard. Aching for you. My fingers are cramped from stroking myself all the while. Think you can take all of me at once? Even if it hurts? Because I'm dying to split you in two, Mel. To fill you up until there's nothing left. No empty spaces. Until you forget your name. Your title. Your family. Until you don't know anything but the feel of me. Would you like that, treasure? Is that what you need?

Councilor Medarda: Ja. Bitte.

Chancellor Silco: Ssh. Don't cry, petal. There's no reason for tears. Not now.

Councilor Medarda: It's too much.

Chancellor Silco: Then it's time for me to take the reins. Let's finish this.

Councilor Medarda: Yes. Please. Finish me.

Chancellor Silco: All in good time. Take what's left of the ice. Push it in. Use in two fingers.

Councilor Medarda: Three.

Chancellor Silco: Like a tight fit, do we?

Councilor Medarda: You felt—bigger than this.

Chancellor Silco: You coy little flatterer.

Councilor Medarda: It burns. Oh, gods—!

Chancellor Silco: You can't handle a little fire, Mel? A little hurt? What do you need, then? To be wrapped in cotton wool? Swaddled in silk? To have the world fawn and fall at your feet? Is that what you expect? Poor lamb. That's not how things are.

Councilor Medarda: You—you promised no cruelty.

Chancellor Silco: I'm not cruel. I'm honest. And the honest truth is that the world will hurt you. I'll hurt you. But it won't always be painful. By the end, it will be glorious. You'll ache in the best possible way. You'll be remade. And no one will be able to hurt you again. I swear it.

Councilor Medarda: Please...

Chancellor Silco: Sssh. No more games. Use your fingers, Mel. All three. Push 'em in deep. Feel how soft and hot and tight you are. Now imagine my cock in their place. Splitting you open inch by inch. Stretching that perfect little cunt. I've never met one quite so greedy as yours. I think you'd devour me if I gave you the chance.

Councilor Medarda: Please, Silco.

Chancellor Silco: Now push. Hard.

Councilor Medarda: God-d-ds.

Chancellor Silco: Find that sweet spot. That one that makes you moan and beg and cry out my name. Curl your fingers. The way I know you do when you’re alone.

Councilor Medarda: I, I think...

Chancellor Silco: Think what?

Councilor Medarda: Found it.

Chancellor Silco: A treasure hunt, is it? Well done. Now rub that spot, darling. Rub it nice and slow.

Councilor Medarda: Ohhhh.

Chancellor Silco: Now go faster.

Councilor Medarda: I-I...

Chancellor Silco: Picture my cock. Slidin' in. Deep as it'll go. Filling you up. Stuffing you full. How'd it feel that night, Mel? To have all that inside you? Did it hurt that time? Because you're so small. So delicate. And my cock's not a gentle thing. But you took it. You took it so well. You clenched your beautiful legs around my hips and pulled me deeper. Begged me for more. I tried to be gentle with you, I swear. But you wouldn't have it. You needed me hard. You needed me rough. Didn't you, Mel? My sweet little whore?

Councilor Medarda: ... Silco....

Chancellor Silco: Go fast, now. Fuck yourself. Make it hurt.

Councilor Medarda: More. Oh. More.

Chancellor Silco: I'll give you more, Mel. So much more. You've got the ice. You've got your fingers. You've got my voice. Now use all three. Imagine. My weight on you. My fists in your hair. My teeth on your neck.

Councilor Medarda: Yesss.

Chancellor Silco: And then I'll take one of those pretty tits. And bite down. Hard.

Councilor Medarda: Please.

Chancellor Silco: Take those nipples between my teeth. And suck, and suck, and suck, until you're clenching so tight around my cock. Until you're halfway to madness. Then I'll grab your hips. And sink into you. As hard as I can. As hard as you can take it. And then some. And you'll love every minute of it. Won't you, petal?

Councilor Medarda: I'm, I'm, I'm...

Chancellor Silco: Then I'd turn you around. Get the lay of the land. Dig my fingers into that sweet arse. Spread you wide open. And I'd fuck you from behind. Like the bitch in heat you are. Make you scream my name, Mel. Make you sob and sob and sob, until the only word on your lips is my name. And the only thing on your mind is me. Me. Mine.

Councilor Medarda: Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods....

Chancellor Silco: I'll watch as my cock fucks into you. Again and again. Watch that perfect cunt swallow every inch. I'll fll you until you're never empty again. I'll keep filling you until you come.

Councilor Medarda: Silco—oh Janna—I-I'm—

Chancellor Silco: Every single inch of me. You'd take all of me, wouldn't you?

Councilor Medarda: Gods, yes.

Chancellor Silco: Let go, petal. Come on. Let it go. Come for me, Mel. Come for me. Now.

Councilor Medarda: Silco. Oh gods. Silco.

Chancellor Silco: Louder. Let the whole blasted city hear you.

Councilor Medarda: Gods. Gods. Gods.

Chancellor Silco: Let me hear it, Mel. Give me everything.

Councilor Medarda: Oh—!

Chancellor Silco: Fuck.

Councilor Medarda: ...Silco…

Chancellor Silco: Sssh. Breathe, Mel.

Councilor Medarda: …Can't…

Chancellor Silco: Breathe. In, and out. Deep as you can. That's good.

Councilor Medarda: Ohhhh.

Chancellor Silco: Mel?

Councilor Medarda: Mmm?

Chancellor Silco: How'd we fare?

Councilor Medarda: I…I can't see.

Chancellor Silco: Gone blind, have we?

Councilor Medarda: I meant you.

Chancellor Silco: Still on the line, petal.

Councilor Medarda: Did you...?

Chancellor Silco: What can I say? The duet was inspiring.

Councilor Medarda: Duet, was it?

Chancellor Silco: That, and the fact that you said "Cock," and "cunt," and, most importantly, "Silco" in tones I've never heard. It was enough to send a man over the edge.

Councilor Medarda: Gods, you are intractable.

Chancellor Silco: How's your wrist?

Councilor Medarda: Sore.

Chancellor Silco: Good. Once it's better, we'll see about a different sort of sore.

Councilor Medarda: My sheets are a mess…

Chancellor Silco: A job well-done.

Councilor Medarda: I'll have to change them before the servants do.

Chancellor Silco: Ah, to have servants. Every mess mopped up. Every mistake swept away.

Councilor Medarda: There were no mistakes tonight. Only indulgences.

Chancellor Silco: And they're rarer than most.

Councilor Medarda: Rare enough to trigger a regression?

Chancellor Silco: I don't quite follow?

Councilor Medarda: You sound different when you're... when we're... like that. More—

Chancellor Silco: Uncouth, I'd wager

Councilor Medarda: —Honest.

Chancellor Silco: If you'd known, you would've taken advantage sooner, eh?

Councilor Medarda: Just... the way you sound. It's warmer. More human.

Chancellor Silco: You're waxing poetic now.

Councilor Medarda: Do not dismiss it. Your voice is a honed weapon, and you know how to wield it. But here? Between the two of us? There's a tenderness that is rarely present. I could swear I'm with a different man.

Chancellor Silco: Would you prefer a different man?

Councilor Medarda: I'm quite satisfied with the one on the line. Even if he is an elusive trickster.

Chancellor Silco: From Piltover's Golden Fox, that's quite a compliment.

Councilor Medarda: Is there no honesty you esteem, Silco? Nothing that isn't a game?

Chancellor Silco: Games are more fun.

Councilor Medarda: This wasn't a game.

Chancellor Silco: An indulgence, rather. But are you sated, Councilor? May this waterlogged prune retire for the night?

Councilor Medarda: Yes, though "prune" is hardly how I picture you. Water seems your natural element. You bask in the sunlit shallows. But you truly thrive in the deep, where no one can see you. That's where you're strongest.

Chancellor Silco: And yet what sea does not kiss the shore?

Councilor Medarda: Will you?

Chancellor Silco: Will I what?

Councilor Medarda: Kiss me.

Chancellor Silco: On the lips or elsewhere?

Councilor Medarda: Surprise me.

Chancellor Silco: Hmmm. We do love surprises, between us, don't we? Very well. I promise you this. When you next descend belowground, the darkness will cover you. But so will I.

Councilor Medarda: I'll look forward to it. Silco?

Chancellor Silco: Yes, Mel?

Councilor Medarda: What do we say now?

Chancellor Silco: What we've always said. The same as the first time we said it.

Councilor Medarda: Until next time.

Chancellor Silco: And many times after.

Councilor Medarda: Vielen Dank für alles.

Chancellor Silco: Das war nix.

[END MEMORANDUM]

#arcane league of legends #arcane #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane mel #mel medarda #silco x reader #melco #silco x mel

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bellaireland1981 · 1 year

Text

Starting Over | 3

Summary: You come home to work to find your husband of three years in bed with your supposed best friend. It’s the wake up call you finally needed to take your two year old daughter and get the hell out of Texas. With nowhere to go you head to your big brother in San Diego. The sagger squad takes you under their wings, and shows you what having a family means. You get a fresh start… will you find your happily ever after?

Characters: Jake “hangman” Seresin x Sister! Reader, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin! Reader (Eventually), Hangman x Phoenix (eventually) , Adorable OC Gracie! The Dagger squad

Word Count: 5313

Warnings: Angst, cheating husband, emotional abuse, eventual fluff, smut in later chapters, Sweet uncle Jake, Adorable Rooster with a toddler… if I miss any please let me know.

A/N: I don’t own the characters or storyline for Top Gun Maverick. All OC’s are mine. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO COPY OR REPOST MY WORK TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM! DON’T STEAL! Reblogs, likes and comments ALWAYS welcomed. THANK YOU @waywardodysseys as always for reading over my work and helping me flush out ideas!!

Taglist is open! If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know! I tried to keep track!

CH 1 CH 2

“You definitely have enough of a case with the text messages and voicemails alone to be given a fairly cut and dry divorce on grounds of emotional and mental abuse, Y/N.” Lauren Kennedy said, the next day. Jake had once again worked his brotherly magic and arranged for Penny to watch Gracie while you had the appointment. “I have to tell you, even given the fact that he is in Texas, the nature of these texts and voicemails becoming increasingly hostile and threatening, I would recommend requesting an order of protection as well for both you and Gracie. With that said, I’m assuming you want complete custody of the child?”

“If there is a way to make sure he has absolutely no rights to her, that is what I want.” You said. “I don’t want or need child support from him. He’s admitted to never wanting her, does that count in our favor?”

“It does.” She said, “Would the protection order be something you would be willing to pursue?”

“He’s never physically laid a hand on me. Would a judge even order it without him physically harming me?” You asked

“With the escalating calls and texts, I would say the probable cause for him to become physical is not too far fetched.” She said gently, “I’m assuming you haven’t listened to the more recent calls or the messages he has sent your brother?”

“No.” You admitted, “It became too much and Jake just got me a new phone and number so I wouldn’t have to. If you think it’s for the best and necessary then yes, I am willing to request the order of protection.”

“I think it’s always better to be safe than sorry,” She said, “especially when a child is involved.”

“I will do anything to protect Gracie.” You said. “I have to be honest with you Ms. Kennedy, I don’t have a lot of money. I have a credit card I was able to get without Trent knowing, but he never let me have access to our accounts.”

“I’m willing to take you on as a client at a very low rate.” She said, “I was you, Y/N. My story is almost identical to yours. I was able to get out because I had people helping me. Now, I get to do the same thing for other women. There is a whole amazing life waiting for you. I’m going to help you grab it with both hands.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” You said, wiping away the tears that were streaming down your face. “Thank you… It doesn’t seem like enough… but thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She smiled, “I’ll get started on the paperwork and get it all filed ASAP. I’ll just need to know if there is any personal property you’re wanting me to include in the papers?”

“No, I got most of Gracie’s stuff before I left and I don’t care about any of my stuff.” You replied, “I’d honestly be shocked if any of it was still there anyway. I just want to be done with him and to move on…and I want my maiden name back.”

“That’s an easy enough fix once the divorce is finalized, I can walk you through that process.” She smiled, knowingly. “I’d say we should be able to petition the court for a name change for Gracie too.”

“That would be amazing.” You replied, “I want to cut him from my daughter’s life completely so she never knows the pain of a piece of shit father.”

“I will get this ball rolling and keep you in the loop on where things are at all times.” She promised, “I have to caution you that he may escalate in behavior once he’s served with papers. I urge you to keep up what you’ve been doing and not engage with communication. All communication can go through myself and a lawyer of his choosing if he hires one.”

“Trust me, I’m more than happy to not have to talk to him.” You answered, “It’ll make Jake happy too. He’s definitely not a fan of Trent’s.”

After leaving the lawyer’s office you sent a quick text to Jake to let him know it had gone well. You stopped off at the grocery store to pick up the stuff you’d need to make dinner. You decided to use your credit card instead of the card Jake had given you. You mentally added finding a job to your to do list though. Once you had everything you needed for the dinner you loaded the car with the groceries and headed back to the house.

“Thank you so much for watching her, Penny.” You said once you were inside and set the bags down on the counter. “I hope she was well behaved for you.”

“She was an absolute angel.” she replied, smiling, “It’s no trouble at all, Y/N. Honestly, I’m happy to help whenever I can.”

“I’m blown away by the amazing group of people my brother’s surrounded himself with.” You said, “It’s definitely not something we were used to having growing up.”

“I gathered as much.” She said, smiling gently. “I’ve had a soft spot for your brother since he first got to Top Gun as a new recruit. Saw right through the tough guy, cocky aviator act.”

“I’m glad he’s gotten better at letting people in.” You smiled, “He’s one of the best men I know. I might be biased because he’s my big brother and practically raised me himself, even though he was just a kid, but they don’t come better than Jakey.”

“You know,” Penny said, “I know you’re going through one hell of a tough spot right now, and it might seem a little hopeless, but as someone who’s been in your shoes, Sweetheart, I want you to know… you’ll find happiness after all of the dust settles.”

“I think one I’m free of Trent, I just want to focus on being a good mom to Gracie and building a new life for us here… one where Jake doesn’t have to support us, preferably.” You replied, “Maybe I’m just meant to be single. It’s not like men will be lining up at the door to date a single mom…an unemployed one at that.”

“Well the unemployment part I can help with.” Penny said, “I could use some help at the bar during the day. Keeping track of the ordering and the paperwork side of the bar is not my favorite. If you’re interested, I’d happily throw that stuff your way. It’s part time for now, but it might help get you back on your feet.”

“I don’t have anywhere for Gracie to go while I work right now.” You replied, “I’d love to accept the job…can I have a few days to try to find a sitter?”

“Of course.” Penny replied, “Let me know if you need any help. Once school is out for the summer, I’m sure Amelia would love to babysit too if you need it.”

“Thank you, Penny.” You said, “For everything.”

“Of course.” She replied, smiling, “You’re family now, Y/N. I know you’ve heard it a lot since getting here but it’s true.”

“I’m starting to think coming here was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You smiled, tears once more forming in your eyes.

“It’s your fresh start.” She said, “Now’s your chance to make the life you want…for yourself and Gracie.”

“I was actually talking to Jake about maybe going back to school.” You admitted, “I need to get through the divorce first and find some semblance of a new ‘normal’ for Gracie and me, but then… maybe.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Penny said. “And don’t close yourself off to other possibilities either. You deserve a shot at happiness after this is over.”

“So I’ve heard.” You replied, “I just highly doubt men are lining up to take on a 26 year old divorcee with a toddler.”

“I can name one, that from what I saw when we were here helping get Gracie’s room set up, would be more than happy to be at the front of that line and be given a shot.” Penny said, “I don’t know how Jake would feel about it, but I for one can and will vouch for him.”

“Who?” You replied, shocked. You hadn’t noticed anyone paying any more attention than the others.

“Rooster.” She smiled, like the cat that caught the canary. “He was lookin’ pretty smitten with you and he definitely fell head over heels for that little girl.”

“Bradley?” You asked, eyes wide, still reeling from this tidbit of information. “I think he was just being nice. He’s really good with Gracie, but all of Jake’s friends were.”

“Just my observation.” She said, not wanting to spook you, “Just don’t count yourself out from finding a good man. Trent is the exception, not the norm. Real men, secure men…they don’t treat women like that.”

With those words of wisdom, Penny said goodbye and told you to call her about the job. Once she’d left you turned on music quietly in the kitchen and got to work preparing dinner for your brother. He had sent a text earlier to let you know the whole squad had jumped at the chance at a home cooked meal. You seasoned the pork roast and started it cooking so you could add the bbq and shred it later. The chicken you were frying so you needed to wait until closer to dinner. You got the ribs ready to start cooking before adding them to the oven. You planned on putting them out on the grill when it got closer. Once you had the meat sorted, you set to work whipping up a batch of the honey cornbread that Jake loved, opting to bake them into muffins for the safe of ease. Once those were in the oven baking, you set to work mixing up some bbq sauce. You hated to have to cheat and use store bought as your base, but you quickly added everything you needed to make it better. By the time you were cleaning the kitchen up from your first round of cooking, Gracie was waking up.

You wiped your hands to dry them and headed back to her room to change her diaper before bringing her out. She was starting to show signs of being ready to potty train so you made a mental note to pick up pull ups and a toddler potty next trip to the store.

“Hi, Gracie girl!” You said, walking into her room. She was sitting in the middle of the bed, surrounded by pillows, looking very much like the princess Jake called her. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Mommy!” She said, her little voice still sounding sleepy, “You back!”

“I’m back, Sweetheart.” You smiled, reaching out to pick her up. She happily stood and toddled to the edge for you to pick her up. “Let’s change your diaper then you can play while mommy makes you a snack ok?”

“Otay, Mommy.” She said, “Nanas?”

“Absolutely you can have a banana.” You agreed, “Did you have fun with Miss Penny?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, happily, “Penny pway!”

“Penny played with you?” You asked as you changed her diaper.

“Yes!” She confirmed, “Mommy, Unko Jakey home?”

“Not yet, Sweetie but he’ll be home soon.” You assured her. “Uncle Jakey’s friends are coming over tonight too.”

“Woosta?” She asked, her eyes getting big. “Pwease, Mommy?”

“Rooster will be here too.” You promised, your mind quickly drifting to the last part of the conversation with Penny. You knew for certain that Gracie was taken with Bradley. She’d latched onto him almost from the instant they met. It made you wish her own father was as attentive and sweet with her as Bradley was.

You set Gracie down on the floor by her toys and went to cut up a banana for her. You put the banana into a bowl and then set it at the table by her Booster chair and got her a cup of milk in her sippy cup. Before you had a chance to go collect her though, the front door opened and you heard her squeal in delight.

You stepped into the living room in time to see Jake drop his flight bag and swoop Gracie into his arms, grinning ear to ear…both of them. He moved away from the door, kicking it closed with his foot, as he smothered Gracie with kisses, earning himself full on belly laughs from his niece.

“You’re home early.” You noticed, “I figured you’d be home closer to dinner time.”

“Mav had us knock off early.” Jake replied, laughing with Gracie. “We were in the air all morning and then went over next week’s plan for the new recruits. Wrapped up early so he dismissed us. Everyone was in a hurry to get out of there and get cleaned up. I think they’ll be descending on us here soon.”

“Home cooked food is really that much of a draw?” You asked, surprised, “Don’t any of them know how to cook?”

“Some better than others.” He replied, “But a home cooked meal they don’t have to prepare themselves is definitely a draw.”

“Well, then I guess we are going to make this a weekly event.” You declared, “I can’t have them starving from their own cooking. They’ll get at least one good meal a week.”

“I’m sure they won’t say ‘no’ to that, Tulip.” He grinned, “Thank you, by the way. I know your ulterior motives behind this dinner….and the weekly dinners you’re proposing.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bubs.” You winked, knowing he was right. You were doing this on purpose. You wanted to give his friends, Phoenix specifically, a chance to see the real Jake more often. “Go shower, you smell like jet fuel. Then you can help me by keeping Gracie occupied while I cook.”

“Deal!” He said, handing Gracie to you and picking up his bag from where he’d dropped it, “Be right back Princess G, then we’ll play! Uncle Jakey will take you outside.”

You managed to get Gracie strapped into her booster seat to eat her banana while you got out everything you needed to get the sides going for dinner. You checked the meat, pulling the ribs from the oven and letting the cornbread muffins continue to bake. By the time you were ready to start getting the ingredients out to coat the chicken with before frying, Jake was walking into the kitchen in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Brave to wear white when around Gracie.” You teased, “And barbecue sauce.”

“I love living on the edge,” He laughed, “What can I say?”

“While you’re outside, can you start the grill?” You asked, “The ribs need to go on to finish cooking.”

“Sure thing.” He replied, “Anything else I can do to help?”

“Just keeping Gracie entertained is a huge help.” You said, “Besides, this is your ‘thank you’ dinner. I’m not letting you help.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss on your head and getting Gracie from the booster. “Come on, Princess G. You can help me start the grill and we’ll play outside while Mommy works her magic in the kitchen.”

“Pway!!” She clapped, “Byebye Mommy!”

“Have fun, Sweetie.” You laughed, “Listen to Uncle Jakey.”

The two of them left the kitchen and you returned your attention to getting dinner ready. Once the muffins were done you set them to cool. You decided to add loaded smashed potatoes to the menu for the night, so you set potatoes on the stove to boil. Once they were done, you’d smash them onto a cooking sheet before loading them with cheese, bacon bits and chives and would bake them until the cheese melted. They were also one of Jake’s favorites. The two of you had done most of the cooking growing up. He’d loved it when you’d learned to cook, and had happily turned that task over to you.

“Hello?” You heard a voice from the front room.

“In here!” You called, continuing to move around the kitchen, preparing the dinner. You figured Jake’s friends knew to just come on in.

“Damn, it smells amazing in here.” Bradley said, stepping into the kitchen, holding a small bouquet of flowers. You felt warmth creep over your face and it had nothing to do with the stove being on.

“Hopefully it all tastes just as good.” You replied, smiling.

“I’m sure it will.” He said, then remembering the flowers, he blushed slightly, holding them out to you. “I brought these for you.”

“They’re beautiful, Bradley.” You replied, smiling as you gently took to flowers, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome” He said, smiling back, “Didn’t want to come empty handed when you were gracious enough to invite us all for dinner. Thank you for saving me from my own cooking.”

“Jake said some of you cooked better than others.” You laughed, cutting the stems and placing the flowers into a pitcher as a makeshift vase. “I’m happy to cook for you all. You’ve been a huge help since I showed up on Jake’s doorstep, this is the least I can do. I also told him I’m making this a weekly thing, so whoever is available can come over and I’ll feed everyone.”

“You’re a goddess.” He declared, winking, “You should know that strays, when fed…keep coming back.”

“It’s a good thing then that I don’t mind picking up strays.” You laughed, opening the fridge. “Do you want a beer?”

“I’d love one, Y/N.” He replied, “Thank you.”

You handed him the beer, reaching back in to grab one for yourself. You popped the cap off the bottle and took a drink before setting it down on the counter.

“Can you do me a favor and run these out to Jake?” You asked, picking up the platter of ribs, “They need to go on the grill.”

“Absolutely.” He replied, taking the platter and his beer and heading out to the backyard.

You took a deep breath, finding yourself smiling as you continued to prepare dinner.

Everyone started arriving after Bradley got there, including Mav who had graciously accepted the offer to not eat his own cooking as well. You’d managed to get the rest of the food prepared and set out on the counter so they could come through buffet style and pile food on their plates. You plated some of the food you knew Gracie would like and be able to eat on her plate, getting her set up at the table. Bob, Phoenix, Bradley, Jake and Mav sat around the table. Coyote, Fanboy and Payback sitting at the kitchen island with their food.

You sat down between Gracie and Bradley once everyone had their food and were settled.

“This. is. AMAZING, Y/N.” Coyote groaned in delight, digging into his meal. “I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”

“I will definitely have to run extra miles tomorrow,” Fanboy added, “Extra time in the gym for sure once I fill up on all of this.”

“Thank you for feeding me.” Bob said, “This is the best meal I’ve had since I was home last year for Christmas.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You smiled, heat creeping over your face at the praise. You weren’t really used to people complimenting your cooking. Trent had always complained it wasn’t good enough.

“I told y’all you were in for a treat.” Jake said, beaming at you, “Y/N offered to feed you heathens once a week. Dagger squad weekly dinner?”

“I am so here.” Phoenix said, “But Y/N, you are not cooking every week. That’s not fair to you.”

“I honestly don’t mind.” You shrugged, “I like cooking.”

“Well, we’ll at least help.” Bradley added, “Or order takeout occasionally to give you a break.”

“Ordering takeout defeats the purpose of a home cooked dinner night.” You laughed.

“OK then occasionally you let us grill or something so you’re not doing it all.” Bradley suggested, “I mean, we can pretty much all grill at least.”

“I suppose,” You acquiesced, “But only occasionally.”

“We’ll negotiate the frequency later.” Jake added, knowing how stubborn his little sister was. “Who’s up for the zoo tomorrow?”

“Zoo!” Gracie cheered, “Aminals?”

“Princess G has spoken.” Jake laughed, “Yea, baby girl, we’ll go see animals!”

“I’m in!” Bradley said, winking at Gracie, “Wanna see some lions and tigers, Princess?”

“Wions! Woaw!” Gracie clapped, giggling.

Everyone laughed at her imitation of a lion. You brushed her hair back from her face, dropping a kiss on her head. It made you heart melt to see your little girl happy and surrounded by people who loved her. Jake, catching your gaze, offered a smile and a wink. He knew this was all still really new to you.

“I’d love to see some animals!” Bob added, “Can I come too, Gracie?”

“Yes!” Gracie said, causing everyone to laugh.

“Alright, then!” Jake said, “Dagger squad field trip to the zoo!”

After dinner you’re clearing away the leftovers, placing everything into containers and putting it in the fridge when Phoenix comes into the kitchen with Jake. You picked up a dishcloth and dunked it into the soapy dishwater to start the dishes.

“Put down the rag and step away from the dishes” Jake ordered, “Get yourself a drink and go sit down. Relax.”

“You cooked,” Phoenix said, “That means no kitchen clean up.”

“No arguments, Tulip.” Jake said, seeing you were about to protest. “Drink and go relax.”

“Yes, Sir.” You mock saluted him, then tossed a smile at Phoenix as you grabbed a beer and left the kitchen.

You walked into the living room to see Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy on the couch and floor playing a video game on the TV. Bradley, Mav and Bob were entertaining Gracie with all of her toys in the corner of the living room. You smiled as you watched the three grown men playing dolls with your toddler. You quickly pulled out your phone, snapping a picture before you made your way over to them.

“Mommy, pway too?” Gracie said, looking up from her toys. Bradley looked up, smiling at you, scotting over to give you room to join them all.

“Mommy would love to play, Gracie.” You replied, setting your beer down on the cabinet before dropping down to the floor to join the baby doll party. “In the interest of full disclosure, I definitely snapped a picture of you three playing dolls with Gracie. I fully plan to add it to a picture show at her wedding someday.”

“Wow.” Mav laughed, “She’s already getting blackmail photos.”

“I for one am happy to contribute to happy memories for this cute little Princess.” Bob said, handing Gracie a princess doll.

“I will happily embarrass myself if it makes the two of you smile.” Bradley agreed, reaching over to ruffle Gracie’s hair.

“She is an amazing little girl, Y/N.” Mav said, “You’ve done a wonderful job with her. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, suddenly choked up. “You have no idea how much it means to hear that.”

Bradley reached over, gently squeezing your shoulder in comfort, offering a gentle smile.

You let Gracie continue to play for a few more minutes until Jake and Phoenix were done in the kitchen. You smiled watching them laugh together over something as they walked into the living room to join the rest of the rest of the group.

Bradley leaned over so he could whisper, “I see your game plan, Little Seresin. Count me in.” He winked when you shot him a guilty smirk.

“Gracie girl, it’s bath time!” You told your daughter. “Tell everyone thank you for playing with you.”

She toddled over, hugging them one by one. When she got to Bradley, flashed him a big toothy grin. Your daughter had good taste in men, you had to admit. She was clearly taken with him. He hugged her tightly and dropped a kiss on her head before releasing her.

“Have fun, Princess.” He said, “Get squeaky clean!”

“Otay, Woosta!” She agreed, letting you lead her away.

“I’ll tuck you in and read you a book when you’re all clean, Princess G!” Jake promised his niece.

“Otay, Unco Jakey!” She said happily.

You got her into the bath, washing her hair and body before letting her play for a bit. She loved the water and bath time so you always hated to rush her.

While watching her scoop water with her toys, someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called. Phoenix poked her head in, smiling.

“Mind if I come in?” She asked

“Join the party!” You invited her. She opened the door further, stepping in.

“Thanks again for having us all over for dinner.” She said, “And for offering to put up with us all once a week to feed us.”

“It’s really no trouble at all” You promised, “I’m happy to have you all here. So is Jake. He might not admit it often or freely, but you all mean the world to him. He loves having you all here.”

“It’s nice to see him with Gracie…and with you.” She said, “He’s softer.”

“I hate to ruin his street cred but Jake’s always been a softy” You said, “He just had to develop a harder shell because of our parents.”

“I like the softer Jake….” She admitted, “Maybe too much. It’ll only end up complicating things.”

“I have a feeling it’s a whole lot less complicated than you think.” You said, “And for the record, I’m pretty positive that Jake likes you too.”

“Mommy, me done.” Gracie said, standing up in the tub.

“Ok, Sweet girl,” You said, “Let’s get you out and ready for bed.”

“I’m gonna head out, but I’ll see you tomorrow for the zoo.” Phoenix said, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

“Night!” Gracie said, smiling at her.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.” She said.

“Goodnight, Nat.” You smiled. You got Gracie out, wrapping her in a towel and carrying her to her room. You got her into her PJs and combed her hair, drying it as best you could with the towel. Tomorrow would be a pigtail day for sure.

You were getting her settled into her bed when Jake appeared in the room.

“My girl ready for me?” He asked.

“She’s all yours, Uncle Jakey.” You smiled. Before leaving the room you bent over and gave her baby girl a kiss, “Goodnight my little Angel. I love you. Sweet Dreams.”

“Wuv you Mommy.” She smiled back sweetly.

You picked up the wet towel and took it back to the bathroom, hanging it over the shower to dry before making your way back out the living room. Everyone had left except for Bradley who was picking up the toys and placing them all back into the toybox in the corner.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You said, smiling as you popped down onto the oversized stuffed chair next to the couch. “Thank you, though.”

“It’s not a problem at all.” He replied, “It was just a few dolls and their accessories.”

“For someone so small, Gracie is a single toddler tornado some days.” You laughed, “Keeping up with her is a full time job in and of itself.”

“I can only imagine.” He replied, offering a smile as he lowered himself down onto the couch. “She’s great though. She naturally pulls you in. I swear she can make anyone fall in love with her in 5 seconds flat.”

“Apparently not her father.” You replied, sighing, “But pretty much everyone else yeah. She’s my whole world.”

“He’s a worthless bastard with no spine.” Bradley said, his voice taking on an angry edge to it. “He doesn’t deserve Gracie. Or you for that matter. He sure as fuck doesn’t deserve the title of ‘father’.”

“You’re very sweet, Bradley.” You smiled, “I’m kinda hoping that soon, he won’t be anything to either of us.”

“I hope so too.” He agreed. “You both deserve so much more, Y/N.”

You felt butterflies take flight in your stomach at his words. It had been a long time since you’d felt those.

“Can I get you a drink?” You asked, trying to keep from being awkward, “There’s leftover dessert too if you would like some of that.”

“I should actually get going, but thank you.” He said, flashing a sincere smile your way, “Dinner really was amazing and I’m already looking forward to next week.”

“Let me know if you ever have any special requests.” You offered, “I’m always game to make new things.”

“I just might take you up on that.” He replied, “I’ll see you tomorrow for the zoo. Make sure to lock the door behind me, ok?”

“Be ready to chase after Gracie.” You teased, “She’s a handful. And I’ll lock it behind you.”

Jake came in shortly after Bradley had left. You were on the chair again, your head laid back on the cushion.

“She’s out.” He said, sitting on the end of the couch closest to you. “Thanks for tonight, Tulip. It was really nice having everyone over.”

“You’re welcome Jakey.” You replied, rolling your head to face him, too tired to pick it up off the back of the chair. “They’re a lot of fun. I like them.”

“You’ve definitely secured yourself a squad full of best friends now.” Jake chuckled, “How did it go with the lawyer? We haven’t had a chance to talk since I got home.”

“It went really well.” You reported, “She’s going to take the case and said she’d charge at a very discounted rate. She thinks I should file an order of protection too to be on the safe side and that any contact with him will go through her.”

“That’s amazing, Tulip!” He said , his whole face lighting up with a smile. “Did she give a timeline?”

“Not really. She’s going to get papers started to serve him.” You said, “She said he might start calling more or escalate once he’s served, which is also why she wants me to file an order of protection.”

“I fully support that.” Jake said, “I also wouldn’t put it past him to come out here, Tulip. We need to make sure you and Gracie are safe.”

“I don’t think he’d come all the way out here, Jakey.” You said, “His pride will be hurt but really I’m giving him what he wanted… to be free of my and Gracie.”

“Don’t underestimate him, Y/N.” Jake insisted, “I’ve heard the messages he’s left you and for me. I’ll feel better if we take precautions to keep you both safe.”

“I’ll be careful.” You promised, “I’m mostly with you anyway except for when you’re on base. Penny offered me a job today too. She said she needs someone to help with paperwork and the inventory side of things…I told her I need to work out childcare but I’d get back to her.”

“I can ask on base for recommendations for a sitter or daycare.” Jake offered, “Someone’s got to have good reliable sitters.”

“They can’t cost an arm and a leg though either.” You said, “Working just to pay daycare defeats the purpose.”

“I’ll ask around.” Jake said, “In the meantime, you are well past exhausted. Go get some sleep, Tulip. We’ve got a big day at the zoo ahead of us.”

“You’re right.” You replied, stretching as you got up. “Goodnight Jakey. I love you.”

“I love you too, Tulip.” He answered, “Sweet dreams.”

After you headed to your room, Jake checked all of the doors, making sure they were locked, before he turned out the lights and found his way to his own bed.

A/N: Hoping you all are liking this series so far! Please let me know your thoughts!

Taglist: @gracespicybradshaw @awesomebooklover17, @bethabear12, @krismdavis, @mygyn, @ayniebop, @hisredheadedgoddess28, @jstarr86, @cherrycola27, @harrysgothicbitch @caidi-paris

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun fanfiction #Miles Teller #starting over

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