#folks getting locked into closets left and right

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization: 

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died. 

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this? 

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion. 

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room. 

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters. 

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.” 

There it was. The truth. 

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield. 

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong. 

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety. 

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. 

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

 It was a guard. 

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this. 

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls. 

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground. 

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat. 

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned. 

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you. 

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you. 

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in. 

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged. 

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you. 

And so they did. 

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades. 

 He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length. 

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing. 

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . . 

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent. 

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face. 

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.” 

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on. 

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust. 

He had to pay for what he did to you. 

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault. 

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway. 

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt? 

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway. 

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start. 

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead. 

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all. 

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely. 

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore. 

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head. 

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved. 

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out. 

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you. 

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you. 

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood. 

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide. 

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin. 

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell. 

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck. 

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again? 

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences. 

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone. 

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation. 

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you. 

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power. 

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.” 

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was. 

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night. 

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.” 

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved. 

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?” 

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides. 

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub. 

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs. 

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again. 

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep. 

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would. 

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now. 

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now. 

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly. 

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this. 

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.” 

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd. 

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated. 

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would. 

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump. 

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in. 

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin. 

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off. 

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off. 

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[leeofthevoid]

Not so Meet-Cute

Part Two: Did we or Did we not?

Farleigh Start x Reader

a/n: This is just a thing I had in my drafts.

Word Count: 2218

Warnings: Strong language, Explicit Content

You and Farleigh didn’t exactly have the meet cute you desired to have. 

It was the most awkward meeting you had since secondary school and it sucked ass. India hyped you up so much about how great he was and how you could at least bed him for one night since he was just that good.

Yeah…No fucking way. 

Everything went okay for the date but man, he didn’t even try. Flirted with all the girls and guys you walked past while having that park date his cousin and India prepared for the two of you. Apparently you two would click like puzzle pieces, but what did those two know about games that make you think hard. At the end of the ‘date’ you were left with two melting cones of ice cream while Farleigh had a different woman in his arms, flirting with her. A fucking twat. 

After a year of getting over that disaster, you are so tired of university and the fact that you had no avenue to destress, or what common folk say sexual frustration. You needed sex!

“India, I don’t think putting me in a shirt that spills my boobs out will attract the attention you think it will.” You comment as she hands you this corset type black top with matching A-line red skirt. “Relax, love. It’s our first day back in university and you deserve to turn heads.” You huff out a sigh of defeat and just grabbed whatever it is she asked you to wear. 

You put it on and felt like the air was squeezed out of you. “My! You look so gorgeous babes, I’d snag you up if I swung that way.” You rolled your eyes as she adjusted the clips behind your top, making it at least breathable. Guess you won’t be eating today. 

India was right, you did get a decent amount of attention. Even got yourself to turn heads from multiple people. Damn that diet and exercise bit your mum asked you to do with her over the summer payed off well. People started to reserve seats for you that you had to fight to get the year before. They complimented your hair, your eyes, your body. Well at least you had free lunch. 

Everything went well…Until a little disaster happened. It was your afternoon class and you might have had a little too much of Annabel’s vegetarian sandwich when you heard a small tear on you. You looked down and it was your top, not big enough to be of alarm though, maybe get it stitched after your classes. 

It did not go as planned. It started to rip off half an hour into class and you had to slide out from the room to run to the nearest bathroom. You barged in and opened the only cubicle that was working when the whole corset ripped in the middle of your chest, exposing your boobs if you didn’t hold on to it tightly with your hands. Curse these fabrics. Your friends all had classes and you didn’t even bring your own sweater. In short, you are fucked. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your wails were silenced when you heard a crash and the sound of footsteps hurriedly coming in, followed by sounds of…Kissing? No, moaning! Fuck!

“You’re doing so good for me, now be a good boy and open that door.” That voice sounded familiar and you were not excited about it. The other person…Guy whines as he tries to open your cubicle. The fuck is up with these bastards. 

“Shit it’s locked.” 

“Then force it open!” The more annoying voice said as the one pulling your door tries harder. After a few annoying and grueling moments of their struggle, you opened the latch and scowled at them. “Do you fucking mind?” You said, clutching the cloth on your chest as the other guy’s eyes widened. 

Holy fuck? Isn’t that Andrew? He was an apparent pussy-enjoyer and acted like that hetero straight guy. Guess the closet can be invisible. 

“Oh fuck.” Andrew said as he ran out of the bathroom. You are now left with that annoying shit you were praying to be so wrong about. 

“Hello, Farleigh.” Voice dripping with distaste, clutching on your top harder. 

He chuckled as he looked at you. Up and down with a wolf-whistle. “You look scrumptious, darling. Least you can do after ruining my little afternoon fuck.” He smirked, leaning on the door of the cubicle. “This is the women’s bathroom you little shit or did all that disease you carry finally blind you?” You said with annoyance,  crossing your arms over your chest securely, but your struggle didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Would have been a good insult if you weren’t in a bit of a situation yourself.” The sing-song voice was just adding more insult to injury. He was having a blast. 

“Well at least you get to witness what nice looking tits look like.” You proudly said while you sat on the cover of the toilet, crossing one leg over the other. “What good are those tits you flaunt if no one even sucks them.” 

“It’s called class, Farleigh. Bet you don’t even know the term ‘standards’. Yeah you should try that.” 

“Little Andrew too low for you?” He had an amused expression, waiting for another jab. 

“I guess you just take scraps now at this point. You desperate bitch.” You smiled up at him and raised your eyebrows. 

It would have been a victorious moment if your stupid corset did not eventually give out. It ripped fully and loudly like it sided with Farleigh. You clutched on it for dear life, eyes full of fear when you heard Farleigh’s guffaws. 

“Fuck! You know if you-you…Pffft.” He doubled over and clutched his stomach. “Shit, okay I’ll stop now. Pfft. Yeah okay I’m done.” 

“Fuck off, Start!” 

He collected himself and gave you a little smirk. “But…I’m your only hope at this point.”

He was fucking right. You had no choice. That evil grin on his face was slap-worthy but you wanted to go back and change without flashing the whole campus. You sighed in defeat and rolled your eyes. “Fine. Can I borrow your sweater?”

He smiled at you and looked at the spare knitted sweater hanging around his waist. “I mean…” 

“Farleigh!” 

“On one condition.” 

You groaned, “What!” 

“Well…A favor for a favor.” 

This bitch! Seriously! 

“Spill the fuck up or I will fuck your face up.” He gave you a challenging look before clearing his throat. 

“Go to my dorm later. I need to destress.” He winked as he threw you his sweater that you quickly wore to conceal yourself. He left before you could ask more and now you owe him a favor. 

Knowing Farleigh…It was a hundred percent sexual in nature. 

India heard about it, minus the Farleigh part. She just assumed a desperate boy offered you his sweater and tried to shoot his shot. 

You wish it was, could have been easier. You got to change into a more reasonable shirt but still kept the skirt going when India suddenly got a text from Farleigh. 

“Hey babes, remember that hot american cousin Felix has?” 

“…Date cheater?”

“Yeah. Well he told me to remind you about the favor.” 

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “India I have somewhere I need to be.” Your best friend was confused but simply nodded her head. 

You knocked on Farleigh’s door and immediately got pulled in. “What the fuck?” 

“Annotate my essay.” He pulled you to his desk and gave you a pen then jumped on his bed. That was…Unexpected. He was in thinner clothes, hands occupied with a book. Said nothing else to you and read his book. 

What the fuck? Okay then. 

The room eventually fell silent as you worked on his paper. Imagine being in your former shitty date’s dorm, annotating a decent essay. It was crazy. 

“Are you done?” He broke the silence, sitting up on his bed with a bored expression. It’s probably been an hour and surprisingly, you were done. “Yes, actually.” He wasted no time walking and leaned on the table, looking over your shoulder, checking your work. 

“Wow, tits and brains? You are the package.” You rolled your eyes while you looked up at him, eventually locking eyes. “That’s it? No weird sexual favors that usually get asked around?” Farleigh chuckled.

“Would you have given me a handjob if I asked?”

“No.” 

“See?” Well. He does have a point. You weren’t very discreet about disliking him. Even Felix knew about it. He squinted his eyes and then tapped your nose. 

“Actually…Wanna make-out? Just bored.” 

You know, if it weren’t for the lack of sex and fun, you would have never. But the curiosity and the boredom got to you too. 

“Sure.” You shrugged and broke eye contact by looking down at his desk again. 

“I mean, you did ruin my make-out session a few hours ago so…” You looked back at him with a scowl, his face visibly closer to yours.

He bit his lower lip, suppressing that fucking smile of his. “You know, what never min-“ 

Getting cut-off mid-sentence with his lips on yours was…Annoying. It was kind of an enjoyable annoying though. 

He was quick to spin the chair you sat on and held on the two armrests while slowly kissing you. Soft and tender like you imagined. 

He pulled you up the chair, hands snaking on the small of your back and the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The obvious size difference was a struggle, pulling you into his bed while you both traded desperate kisses. 

He sat on his bed, pulling you to straddle his lap. Man this fucker really loves dragging you around like a ragdoll, but the insults can wait. Pushing away from each other didn’t even last a few seconds until one of you pulled back in. 

He was so nice. So delicate. His lips were soft and his tongue, god his tongue worked wonders. He knew where you liked it and where you’d react, sliding down your bottom lip and exploring your mouth. He chuckled lowly when he could get a moan out of you, and even more so when his hands held a more sensitive part of your body. The room got degrees hotter than how it should be. 

“How far are you taking this?” You asked, out of breath. 

“Anything off limits?” His ragged voice, deep and velvety worked wonders on you but you had to stay vigilant. He’s still Farleigh.

“Anything down is a no-go.” 

“And tits?” 

“Fuck fine! Since you were so easy to insult the-“ He cut you off again with that big hand of his , massaging on your breast. It was just the right pressure to make you gasp. “Fuck.” You whined, causing you to wrap your arms around him. 

All of a sudden his door burst open. “Farleigh you won’t believe this, India said Y/N  got her shirt-“ Felix looked at the two of you on Farleigh’s bed, gossip cut short.

“Damn it Felix, knock mate. This is the fifth time!” You quickly got up from his lap and fixed yourself. “Hello, Catton. What did India say?” 

“T’s nothing. Carry on.” He quickly closed the door behind him and left. 

“I’m going.” You said while looking for your things, Farleigh just nodded and fell back on his bed. “See you around.” He said as you closed the door. 

The days after felt normal. India got the appropriate rundown of events that happened, excluding the parts that she would definitely share Felix. There were a few changes, being with Farleigh in the group. Having a bit more colorful back and forth when you are in the same space. The playful smirks and coy smile he has when his arms are wrapped around other people. Maybe let’s not forget the lingering touches he gives you when people are too occupied. 

“You know, that little toy you brought is interesting.” You jolted up as Farleigh dropped on the couch, bottle of cheap wine in hand. “Don’t get too interested now, I just managed to catch that one.” The party was muffled from where you sat, only the ones that passed out or was making moves with eachother settled in the living room with the two of you. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“David?” 

“Mhm?” Farleigh nodded then took a swig of his drink. 

“Huh…” There was a visible look of dumbfoundedness on your face when you realized you lost your date for at least half an hour now. “Holy fuck, I just lot my ticket to shagville.”

“Oh god…Ew!” Farleigh cringed, scooting away from you. “Seriously? Shagville? The fuck are you, ninety?”

“Oh, you’d want that so bad huh?” You teased. 

A comfortable silence enveloped the room. Farleigh continued to take drinks from his bottle while you lit up a joint he borrowed from you once in a while.

He blew raspberries, playing with his bottle or poking you. “So…”

“So…?”

“Wanna make-out?” He asked, voice slurring a little.

You shrugged, checked around th room for a few moments and just accepted the fact that your date is not coming back. 

“Sure.” You shrugged.

He nodded and stood up pulling you with him in search of a place to fool around.

a/n: Part two?! SMUT?!

[avi17]

Wayne is the one who taught Eddie to play the guitar when he was little. He's got a beat up old acoustic in the back of his closet left over from a younger, freer time- he's not great, nothing complicated, but he can manage American folk tunes and bluegrass and stuff he and the boys used to sing in the army (at least the ones that were halfway kid-friendly).  Eddie stayed with him a lot growing up, with his mom sick and his dad in and out of the Roane County jail, and one of the easiest ways to cheer him up was always music, so Wayne would hoist the guitar and Eddie into his lap and play for him, sing in that hoarse smoker's voice and watch Eddie's little hands grab at the strings in fascination. 

(He learns some more kid friendly songs once this becomes a regular thing, and Eddie begs to hear Puff The Magic Dragon approximately 200 times. If only he'd known where that fascination would lead him down the road 😆)

When Eddie gets old enough to start learning to play himself, it doesn't take Wayne long to realize that the kid's got natural talent, a hell of a lot more than he ever did. So when Eddie finally comes to him for good- eleven years old, scared and angry and resentful of the parents who couldn't take care of him anymore, Wayne gives him the old acoustic and a book of tabs he got at the Salvation Army thrift store, knowing that Eddie will get a lot more use out of it than it sitting in his closet.  And boy does he- yeah, Wayne has to sleep in earplugs for the first time in years, but Eddie's eyes are so bright when he shows off a new song he's learned. He's happy, and that's all Wayne cares about right now. 

(Wayne's a little horrified when Eddie takes a paintbrush to the poor old thing, but he's mollified by the Woody Guthrie reference since he used to play his songs for Eddie all the time. After Wayne tucks money away for years to buy him an electric, he mostly switches over as his tastes get louder and harsher, but he still breaks out the acoustic sometimes when they have an evening together. Wayne loves those evenings.)

---

Steve took piano lessons as a kid. It was kind of the done thing when you were a rich kid and your parents wanted you to be cultured, but the thing was that Steve was actually decent at it and didn't hate it. He's not great at reading music- it tends to jumble itself up on the page the way that words sometimes do too- but he can pick out stuff he hears on the radio and it's nice sometimes to get lost in a song and play it over and over until he gets it right. It makes him proud of himself, in a way that not a lot of things do.

But it was never a talent his parents had any interest in actually nurturing, just another box to be ticked in what their son ought to be, and when high school and sports come around, they aren't especially subtle in letting him know that it's time his focus shifted elsewhere.

For a while he still plays when they're gone, but they've got the kind of upright piano with a cover that locks, and before a particularly long trip when he's sixteen (the longest yet, and he's trying not to feel weird and empty about that), they lock it to keep the dust out.  They don't unlock it when they get home, and when Steve finally asks about it, carefully casual, his mother shrugs and says she can't even remember what she did with the key- "and really Steven, you should be concentrating on your college applications anyway"- before heading out to her morning exercise class. 

It stays locked after that, just another thing in the house to look pretty and not be touched.  He tries not to think about it. The repeated monster invasions help, but it's still just sitting there, reminding him that he doesn't get to have the things he really wants. 

---

Some time after Eddie gets out of the hospital, Steve drives him to Bloomington to go to a music store- it's a miracle they managed to rescue his guitar from the ruins of the old trailer, but everything else is gone. He can't afford to replace his amps and other gear yet, but he at least needs picks and they're cheap.  While he chats with the guy at the counter, Steve wanders over to the new digital keyboards they have on display and runs his fingers over the keys, wondering if he even remembers how- sixteen feels like a lifetime ago with everything that's happened. There's no one else in the store, so fuck it, he turns one on, figures out the electric piano setting and turns the volume down pretty low and just plays around. He's really rusty (god knows the mild brain damage hasn't helped) but there's still muscle memory under that, and he manages to plunk his way through a couple songs. He's really concentrating, and doesn't realize Eddie's checked out and done until he looks up to find him standing a few feet away, eyes the size of dinner plates. Positively gleeful.

"Stevie, why have you never told me you played?!"

He tries to stammer out something about how his parents made him learn, he's not a real musician like Eddie and he doesn't even have access to a piano now anyways so what does it matter- but it's too late, Eddie knows now.  And more than that, he'd seen the little smile on Steve's face while he'd played and realized this is something Steve misses.

---

It takes another couple years, until they've got their first crappy little apartment of their own- Steve studying to get into community college, Eddie working in a garage and getting more involved in the music scene- that a buddy mentions wanting to sell his old keyboard so he can upgrade. Eddie asks if he can hold onto it for a couple months and he saves, just like Wayne once did, to buy it for Steve. It's worth the extra antsiness from cutting back on weed and cigarettes to see the way Steve's face lights up when Eddie dramatically unveils his big surprise, the feather-light way Steve touches it at first, like he's not sure he's allowed. The slightly bone-crushing hug he gives Eddie afterwards that may or may not involve a few tears.

It becomes sort of a thing for them after that, one night a week if they can- grabbing a couple beers and maybe splitting a joint if they're not too tired, Steve on the keyboard, Eddie on his acoustic, just playing whatever they've been working on that week, humming or singing if they feel like it.  Steve picks out all the pop songs from the radio that he knows Eddie will theatrically pretend to hate, but they don't sound so bad when Steve plays them and really it doesn't matter what he plays because what Eddie loves is that his boyfriend is being creative, and doing something for himself just because he wants to. And Eddie sits with his feet in Steve's lap and plays all the stuff that Wayne used to play for him, stuff he'd never play with his band but that still feels like home to him.

(When Wayne finally makes it out to see their new place, they pull out three beers from the fridge instead of two and he joins them. Sings along with Eddie on the guitar, then motions for Eddie to hand it over to "see if his old fingers even still work". (They do.)  Listens quietly to what Steve's been working on, partly watching him but mostly watching the way that Eddie looks at him. Steve's shoulders are tense at the end in a way that he never is with just Eddie, but Wayne gives him a little smile and a gruff "that wasn't half bad at all, son"- which Eddie will tell him later is effusive praise coming from him- and he relaxes, laughs. Thinks that maybe this is how a family is supposed to be.)

[operationslipperypuppet]

Absolutely am feral for all your hardshine. Anything about them post Hardwon’s return in C3 or sometime in the 200 years between C1 and C3?

Oh, thank you! To do a slightly shameless plug, the last chapter of part 2 and part 3 of this series are specifically what could happen post-reunion.

Between campaigns:

As they travel Bahumia, helping repairs in the aftermath of the cataclysm, people they meet keep assuming they’re married. It’s never said to both of them at the same time. Hardwon’s at a bar, ordering more drinks, and the bartender says “I think your wife is looking for you”, and Hardwon turns to see Moonshine scanning the dance floor for him, inviting him over as soon as she catches his eye. Moonshine is buying food for an upcoming trip in the Stormborn, and the cashier says “Your husband is about to topple an orange pyramid and get crushed” so Moonshine sends PawPaw over to stabilize the display. What they don’t do, when this happens, is correct the speaker. Ever.

I’ve mentioned this before, but i do think they co-parent Big Bev. He considers them both to be his parents. I don’t think surnames are all too popular or necessary in the Crick, but they tend to use them for official business, especially since they have to be more organized given the current political situation in the Living Wood. Ranger captains all choose their own last name for business, and Cybin is off the table, since about 80% of them are or consider themselves Cybins. For official purposes, Big Bev is a Surefoot.

They get into a hotly contested debate over who will get to be Bev’s best man at his wedding. It’s one of the biggest “arguments” they ever have, and no one else in the world would actually consider it an argument. In the end, Bev asks them both, they share the role beautifully, and their speech causes so many tears that the other speeches are delayed by 10 minutes so people can regroup. They also dance every dance of the night together.

Often, they go out and wingman each other. When they do, they gas each other up so much, and regroup for confidence every couple hours. Anyone they’re trying to hook up with sees this, and assumes (correctly) that the two of them are in love. More often than not, they end up going back to the ship together. But they might be happier that way.

Post-Reunion:

If you have read this fic of mine, you may have noticed that Hardwon grabs Moonshine’s hand when he finishes hugging her hello. He doesn’t actually let go of it for 2 hours. She doesn’t mind. Winch, upon meeting Moonshine and Bev, also assumes that Moonshine and Hardwon are married, or at least have been together for a while. He does not bring this assumption up with anyone, but is happy for them. A bit sad it was left out of the books he read about them, because it would have made them more interesting.

Bev is very much over their bullshit at this point, and is at any point minutes away from casting Zone of Truth and locking them in a closet. Erlin keeps stopping him, but it’s getting harder every day.

“Hardwon Surefoot: Small Folk, Big Fuck” makes its way to the Astral Plane much faster than anyone could have anticipated. Lucanus actually hears it first, and sends a singing telegram to their house in Gladeholm so they all hear it right away (he’s gotten into pranks recently). Moonshine laughs so hard at the words that she nearly falls over. And, perhaps, it finally does lead them to have a discussion they’ve successfully put off for two centuries.

[justices-blade]

a hazy memory

✧ meme-ories!

cw // death, neglect, abuse

It's spring. The Missus is dead. It's good that she died in spring, he thinks, because if it were autumn or winter, they'd really be doomed. More hooks would go empty, coats without owners stowed away for the next ones to grow into them. Spring means it'll keep being warm for a while. But spring is when people sow — It's far from reaping season, promising only an unstable outlook on Daein's cracked and dry soil.

It's obvious that chaos follows.

Some older kids tried to fill the empty space the Missus left behind in different ways — There's a boy and a girl who really worry about the really little ones, but there's also a gaggle of three that only care about who's holding the cane. The Missus at least only walloped you when you were bad. One of the kids was the same. The other two didn't care.

Not that anyone ever really was sure of what being bad was.

He doesn't remember a lot of those days, doesn't remember how long they lasted or why. He remembers their chores being thrown left and right but noone knowing what exactly the Missus-only-chores were. He remembers a kid they found in the closet with the working lock, forgotten by the Missus and everyone else to boot — Number twenty-one. She's dead too. He remembers it's hard to dig graves in the middle of Nevassa, so they put the Missus into the closet with her. He remembers the snitch trying to run off to snitch. The two kids with no sense and the canes threw him in with the Missus and twenty-one. He's still alive and snot-nosed when they fish him back out. He isn't a week later. The three of them are stinking up the place something fierce.

Most of the kids try to stay in the house — Convinced it's safety, convinced it'd keep giving them food and shelter. But one by one, the hooks start going empty, anyways — Craftier kids taking their coats, stealing from the pantries before they leave, taking blocks and blankets and pillows and little packs and leaving the rest with less and less. Sometimes folk from the neighbourhood come and knock and ask questions and the older kids pretend the Missus isn't dead in the closet with seven and twenty-one.

It's spring. The Missus is dead. It's good she died in spring, because that's the best time to get orphaned for real, because it gives you enough time to learn how to be an orphan before the hard months set in. So Finch and ████ slip away, too. What else are they supposed to do? It's obvious that the kids who dip first get the most out of it.

The Missus is dead. They don't need to follow her anymore, so they don't.

[screwtoddstevesherdaddynow]

Chapter 1: “Unexpected”

(So I’m not sure how far this is gonna go. Depending on the readers and the amount of attention I may continue. I hope this is good and please be honest. I’m getting back into writing!)

Mornings always started out the same. Feeling the sun creeping into my room across my tired face, through the blinds. Birds on the branches singing their morning lullabies. It felt like a scene from a book. After waking up, I sat up in bed and stretched both arms above my head. It was 6:45 am, as always woken up before the alarm clock went off. Always been the early bird of the Harrington family. Mom said it’s something I got that from her. Along with the strawberry blonde locks of hair and her green eyes. When asked what I inherited from dad, she’d laugh and say his last name. My brother Steve had gotten all of my father’s qualities. His hair, his height and dare I say his knack for ticking my mom off. Granted both of us kids were good for that. Dad also. Our mom was a no nonsense woman, who was highly respected in Hawkins. Member of the PTA and President of the Hawkins Chapter for the WAR group. WAR stood simply for Women And Rights. That’s right folks, Mrs. Sandra Harrington, political woman of the year. We were all proud of her though. Dad especially, knowing he married one powerful woman. He was no different. Instead of politics, he was busy ruling in stocks and the market. He knew when to buy, when to sell, when to pull out from a deal. Always making sure those who worked hard and paid close attention got their buck. Given how busy both of them were with their professional lives, we didn’t see much of each other. Steve and I were on our own most of the time. We’d have our grandmother stay with us when our parents were out of town. She stopped coming out when we had gotten older. As I was trying to remember the last memory I had with Grandma, my alarm had started to go off. At that moment I knew I had to crawl from my bed and start the day.

Made my way to my bathroom and began to ready myself for school. Wrapped my hair in my shower cap and started the water so it’d be warm. As the water warms, I begin brushing my teeth. Once I had rinsed my mouth from the toothpaste, I took my pajamas off and thrown them next to my hamper. Knowing well enough if caught, I’d be lectured as to why we place them in the hamper and not next to them. Stepped into the shower and washed myself up. After drying off, I went to my dresser and pulled out my usual type of outfit. A pair of Levi’s and my cut off black tee. Pulled my button up flannel from my closet and put that on once my other articles of clothing were on. Rolled the sleeves of my flannel up on my arms. Once I was pleased with that, I began to start doing my hair next. Nothing over the top. I braided it to the side and left some tendrils framing my face. Last thing was my makeup. Applied a little blush and mascara. As I was finishing up, I heard the shrill voice of my wonderful butthead brother.

“Rosie Denise Harrington! Get your ass down here. I still have to pick Robin up for school too.” Steve yells from down stairs. Did I mention that not only is he my big brother, but my chauffeur too.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back. Quickly, I put my converses on and tied them. Grabbed my backpack and headed down the stairs to meet Steve.

“Why must you take forever to get ready?” He scoffed as we both walked out the door. I looked at him and stuck my tongue out.

“Oh you’re one to talk. Mr. I use Farrah hairspray!” I teased him.

“Hey! Not another word. You know that’s my secret.” He snapped at me. I get in the passenger seat while he gets in on the driver’s side of his car. “Only you and Henderson know that I use it.”

“Good choice of people to know.” I laughed knowing Dustin and I tease Steve all the time about his hair. He told at one time that it was his babe magnet. Not only did we laugh, but Robin too, causing milk to come out her nose. Steve ignored my response and had changed the subject at that point.

Once we made it to Robin’s house, he had started telling us both about the new girl he had been talking to. Her name was Heidi and apparently she giving him vibes that she could be the one. I turned around in my seat to face Robin. Both of us rolled our eyes and imitated him while laughing. She was like the sister I had always wanted. Not that I don’t appreciate Steve and having him as my brother, but having Robin in our lives has been great because I finally have someone who I can talk to about girl stuff. Given that my mom wasn’t around as much, it was nice knowing Robin was there. We’d talk about our crushes; boys I liked, girls she liked. She was always always at our house if we weren’t at hers. I would hangout after school and watch her practice with the band while we both waited for Steve to pick us up from school. Steve would let me stay at the video store while they worked so I’d have somewhere to go if Dustin and the gang were busy. Being older than them never was an issue. We all looked after one another.

Once we had reached the school, Robin and I climbed out of the car and started walking across the parking lot to go into school. We waved and told Steve we’d see him later that afternoon. We started getting closer to the door when I felt someone push me forward. I fell to the ground, hitting my knees to the cement. Ouch! I felt a stinging pain in the palms of my hands after getting up from the ground. I brushed myself off and looked at Robin.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” She put her hand on my shoulder. I nodded as I picked my backpack up.

“I’m fine. Didn’t expect to be pushed or anything, so that was a surprise.” Looking at my palms. They were red, but thankfully I wasn’t bleeding. “Dare I ask, why?”

“Well if I didn’t push you, you would have been hit by that van.” She pointed in the direction of the parking lot. I looked over and seen a beat up caravan parked. The door opened on the driver’s side and out jumped this tall figure. He was wearing a leather jacket with a denim vest over it. The best displayed some for creature I couldn’t make out. He had holes in the knees of his jeans and wore a shirt with an image of a demon… I think? His hair was long and wavy around his face. He popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Eddie Munson. Before I knew it, I started my way towards him. Robin following. “Um uh, what are you doing?!”

“Hey jackass!” I yelled to Eddie, making my way towards him. He looked up and was confused.

“Eddie.” He smugly said. “My name is Eddie.”

“Wha- I know that.” I crossed my arms and glared at him.

“Well then why’d you call me jackass? If you know my name.” Taking a drag off his cigarette, he mumbled.

“You could have ran me over! Do you not look where you’re driving?!” He noticed my arms flailed when I expressed myself.

“I do. I just however wasn’t this morning.” He took another drag and exhaled. The smell of the cigarette smoke reminded me of when my dad would have his buddies over poker. It was, nice. “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be looking next time. I had dropped something and had gone to pick it up.”

Before I could get another word out, I heard the loud ringing of the bell. Robin tugged my arm and spun me around to face her.

“Let’s go Rosie, he apologized. We cannot be late again.” She was rushing to go. I nodded and we started towards the school entrance once again. I opened the door and heard someone yell from behind.

“Well goodbye to you too, Harrington!” It was Eddie. He put out his cigarette and flicked it across from his van. I gave him a fake smile and flashed him my middle finger. He smirked and reciprocated.

Once inside, I thought to myself about the last time I had even talked to that guy. I couldn’t even place the memory, I had thought he graduated. Oh well, if I can make it the rest of the day with my only hiccup being that I was almost hit by Eddie, I’d be fine. Right?

Okay so this is chapter 1. I’m not sure on a title of story yet but let me know what you think. This will determine chapter 2!

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Visiting a Sick Little Bird

 The following takes places in a sort of AU in which Tim is staying with his biological mother Janet, who is a good parent. This One-hot I dedicate to my very good friend @thattimdrakeguy who has a great blog with especially great analyses of the character of Tim Drake I highly recommend you check out. Likes, Replies and/or especially Reblogs are greatly appreciated and if you ave any constructive criticisms, Please feel free to voice them. I am willing to hear suggestions. Otherwise, please enjoy this little meh-sterpiece of mine. 

    I finally reached the street I was looking for, stepping out of the bus that got me from school all the way to here instead of my place. Finally, since it was Friday and I told my folks beforehand, I begin my stroll towards my partner’s place. Poor elf got himself a bad flu since yesterday, reason why he couldn’t make it to our classes, lucky him, but hey no hard feelings about that, he needs someone to keep a good watch for him. His mom, Senator of the state just an FYI, is gonna be gone all night so when I made the offer to be the guy to watch over him, well, thank Lord almighty Momma dearest and I are on good terms since she said ‘a-okay’ and well here I am, making my way there...just maybe two more house to my left and then....

  Hold up...right forgot about intros...my bad. I thought you might need a little bit to know about yours truly before you can move on with this silly account. The name’s Dowd, Bernard Dowd. You can me Bern for short. You’re looking at the best Robin truther right here. I got the know-hows and outs about our favorite Boy Wonder and who’s under that Robin Hood mask. Also, I know you ladies are probably thinking about locks and these shredded biceps of mine and you’re just drooling ain’t ya? Well, I really like the fondness and heart eyes but I am very sorry,I got a date already. A date I should be close to now that I stand outside of a familiar house on the preppy side of Gotham. 

  Right underneath the address number was some tiles with letters on it that allow me to double check it clearly, ‘Drake’. Yep, this is the place. Stepping onto the doorway patio, one press on the fancy doorbell followed by a very nicely ring I gotta tell ya, next thing you know, there’s my date’s Mom, the Senator herself answering the door for me. 

  Almost instantly, a smile propped up on her face and she stretched out her hand to shake mine. “Oh Hello, Bernard! I am quite glad were you able to make it.” 

  Grinning both out of friendliness and to make sure I don’t get on her bad side, cause then it’ll be really bad, I shake her hand in turn. “Oh please, Mrs. Drake, it’s just like an awesome like honor to be drop by.” 

  Soon enough, Mrs. Drake lets me step right into her frankly gorgeous mansion of a place and before I can probably do a bit of snooping around and sightseeing, she quickly and thankfully leads to the main reason I’m here. After going up to about two floors on the stairs and after a little walk down to my left to a certain bedroom door, A certain sign with a ‘T D’ on it is all the more apparent on who’s dwells in here. 

  “ACHOO”

  That sneeze from inside had that familiar squeak and pitch I know and love. Yep, my date, Tiny Tim’s in there. Boy though did that sneeze sound loud. Good thing though I had a flu but got better from it around two days earlier. Less chance of me coming down with anything so hey that’s a plus. 

  Mrs. Darke and I step into the room, I see the things I usually see here; Superman poster on the right wall, old school TV box on a dresser next to the left one, his bed scooted up next to his window, glass doors for his closet and right on the mentioned bed, there he....

(snickers) I’m sorry but...(snickers) Teddy Bear Robin Imprinted PJs? I mean it was a flannel shirt and pants meant for his size so there’s that...but (snickers) really? 

  And I thought Ives was the spoiled one between us. Thankfully, I kept the my laughter at such a fuzzy outfit to myself as Mrs. Drake makes her way next to her little man, placing one of her hands through his sweaty, slick, black hair. And already, I can see the little guy getting a noticeable blush on his face that’s not fever related. Frankly, if my Mom tried being...well, all Momma ish on me right in front of my crush, I’d blush too, hard. 

  “Felling a bit better, Little Timmy”, Mrs. Janet asks in that type of cutesy voice like how Moms talk to babies. Rightly did the Timster’s blushing darken a bit. 

  “(Cough) Mom”, he whines a bit, “Not in front of him.” 

 Mrs. Drake had a sweet giggle that I can hear clearly out of response, so much so I even started a bit of lightly chuckling myself. Poor fella’s been going through this for about an entire day and a half by now so maybe I should hold it in. Or least I tried cause then my boyfriend turns his gaze towards yours truly and lets me know right away that he heard that.

  “Dude, seriously?” Well, yeah, seriously. 

  Though I gave it a quick thought for a reasonable answer. “Hey Timmers, I’d bet you’d feel the same if my Mom did that for me.” 

  Before saying anything, my boyfriend paused in his try for a comeback, pondering a bit before finally breathing out, slumping back on his pillows and shrugging with his shoulders. “Yeah, good point.” 

  Mrs. Drake and I had a good laugh at that before she then whispered a sweet nothing or two to her little boy’s ear, gave him a quick kiss on his forehead, pulled up his Bat-blanket up to his shoulders and finally began to make her way to the door, not before wanting to chat with me. 

  “Thank you so very much for volunteering to watch Timmy today, Mr. Dowd. It’s very appreciated.” I cannot help but now blush in turn. Don’t if it was being very much taking in Mrs. Drake’s compliments or just the stuffiness int his room, but I was blushing. Maybe it was the first one since I was also rubbing the back of my head. 

  “Um”, I briefly tried thinking of anything to say back cause to be frank, it was out of nowhere, “pleasure’s all mine, Ma’am.” 

  She then gave me a nice pat on the back with a firm nod before opening her mouth once more. 

  “Okay then, within two hours, Timmy’s morning dose of his medicine should be wearing off so you’ll need to give him another daytime dose of it. It’s the bottle with the orange stuff. The green one is the one for four hours after that, that’s for nighttime. Also, I have made some soup for you both which is in the big pot in the kitchen stove. And Finally, make sure that he gets some good sleep later tonight, it’ll help him get better much faster. Now as for your bed...”

  Boy, I can tell Mrs. Drake really had this all sorted out with each and every small thing she’s letting out for me to hear all at once. Then again, I tend to drone on and on about my totally correct and accurate theories about who can Robin be so frankly, who I am to say anything about this. That said, I get the basics: my boyfriend’s medicine taking, where the spare blankets and pillows are at when it’s time to crash, the soup, no wild parties while she’s gone (Well...yeah, I get it but still sorry Ives, sorry Darla) and also she might be at that place all night so she’ll be like ultra late or the like. 

  I nod as she wraps up all that and more. “You can count on me for all that. Miss.” Thankfully I didn’t need to bluff cause it was true to a large extent. Mrs. Drake nodded a-okay in turn. “Thank you, oh so very much.” 

  With that, Mrs. Drake takes her purse that was hanging from the edge of the bedroom door on her way out and to her appointed big gov thing. She gives my boyfriend an....admittedly...adorable air kiss before giving a standard “Love you, sweetie” before finally closing the door. 

   Now it was me and my teddy PJs wearing boyfriend. So I guess it was time to actually point out said Robin Teddies on his sleepwear. 

  “So...Dude...you got that thing you wearing from a Build-a-Bear and ordered life size or something? No offense, just asking.” Jeez, that came out wrong did it. Yeah, now that the guy I get heart eyes over now starts blushing again while looking at himself, oh yeah, that was just something a bit not cool. 

  To my deep down surprise, he did answer that; “Well...kinda a bit”, he says while rubbing the back of his head, “I mean, either I wore this all day or like....maybe Mom getting like footies like I had when I was really little. Believe me, I mean when I was very, very little” 

  As he finished explaining himself, I make my way to his bedside, taking a seat on a spot close enough for just lightly bump an elbow before slinging my arms around my doofus of a boyfriend. “It’s fine, Teddy Tim. You gotta believe me, I’ve seen more cutesy than I can count all at once compared to that.” 

  The blushing on the Timster’s face toned down a bit and he let out a good laugh at that. Quick save, Dowd, crisis averted. Too bad, that sweet laugh of his got cut short by a sudden fit of coughing. As he finishes said coughing, I noticed a tall plastic glass of water on his nightstand, take it in my hands and offer him to take a sip, trust me, post cough spitballs and such are just nasty in more ways than one and good ol H2O helps big time with that. Thankfully, he takes a good sip from the plastic glass before I put it back where it goes and allow him to get comfy again. 

  My boyfriend had a pouting look on his face. “This sucks.”

  I shrugged my shoulders cause he was right. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Though hey given how long my battle with flu lasted before I got totally better; “But hey, maybe this thing can blow over by tomorrow or even tonight, Dude.” That seems nice to say as a small smile goes up on Tim’s lips. 

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Bernard.” 

  With that arm around his shoulder, I bring him a bit closer to me in a one arm hug. Hey, come on, whatcha expect?

  “So I guess, I’ll be your doctor for today then”, I say with my usual ‘sarcastically quirky jokester’ voice, only to him to again give a small laugh at that. 

  “That’s funny; I thought Mom was doctor and you’re the nurse.” Oh very well played, pal. Well, too bad for you, you’re dating the undisputed universal champion of snark and joke city....rough neighborhood. 

  I snort out a small laugh before bringing my boyfriend’s face facing mine and giving something on my mind in response. “Yeah, but let’s face it, at least my jacket showcasing”, I buff up my right free arm, showing off its biceps, “these rocks and I don’t have to wear any outfit for the ‘HELLLOOOO Nurse’ crowds.” 

  Again, that very sweet laugh by boyfriend has...it just gets my heart pumping a but faster ya know? 

  “Yeah Man, I hear ya.” 

  I take my arm off his shoulder and smack my hands in a clap for preparation. “So...um, need anything right now Tim-Tam?” 

  About twenty minutes later......

 I try my best right here; two hot bowls are chicken broth and mixed vegetable goodness, the smell making nose all sorts of joyful, said bowls on a bigger wooden tray, me trying to climb up the last for steps before finally, I reach the top and quickly find my way back to Timster’s room. Upon seeing me, Tim sits up on his bed and straightens his calves underneath the Bat-blanket for his own bowl. Whew! After trial and error beforehand, I finally managed to get a bowl on Tim’s lap, spoon included. Almost immediately the little guy lightly blows with his breath and slurps up whatever broth and vegetables he got on said spoon. Now don’t get the idea that my last tries with got the wooden stairs wet or anything. But yeah, at least at the end of the day, even the best of best like yours truly can get clumsy. But I did wipe up anything that could’ve spilled so no harm no foul.  

  Sure enough, I too dig in for my bowl. Time to see how Mrs. Janet makes this classic dish. 

  Nearly Seven Hours later....

  Well, this is it. After some soup drinking, me explaining once again my tonally correct theory on who Robin is (SPOILERS....he’s obviously Ives, come on, how’s the blond hair and his own glasses not a dead giveaway for a disguise), jamming to some White Album, and basically a whole of things him and I did today, only now is the smaller guy between us after so long, it’s about darn time this guy passed out. Well not that I knocked him out or anything but most certainly that green medicine Mrs. Janet told me about sure did. 

  After such a day for me, now clad in a spare white T and black bike shorts and having just give a good scrub and brush to my pearly whites, I guess best thing I can do is go on the opposite of Tim on his bed, looks like plenty of room. As I was about to do so, and thankfully for me, Tim-Tam rolled over to his left side; Goody, there’s my space, now just to get under the Bat-blanket and start lay down on the....

 Suddenly, I felt my boyfriend’s feet slightly on my socks under the blankets, man are those things warm. But hey, bet it was much worse yesterday. As I set my head down on the pillow and pull up my spare blanket to cover me further...I just gotta wonder....why him? 

  Do I ever regret my feelings for him...never, and anyone who says otherwise can get a pass from me for listening to their drabble. But out of everyone I could’ve found myself with all these....spikes in my heartbeat...this sense of closeness....something I don’t think I ever gotten from standing next to Darla or my earlier attempts for a date. Nope, it’s him, the very fella right next to me on this soft bed. Why though? What is it about Timothy Jackson Drake that makes me....feel something? 

  My questions get interrupted as Teddy Tim rolls over so that his lightly snoring face was on my right side. Dang...it’s...just...wow. I have never seen such a sight this up close and...peaceful. I don’t know the exact answer but upon me giving this guy a kiss on his cheek, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close to me...I’m sure it’s there. 

  So yeah, bottom line before it’s off to dreamland for me....I love this doofus alright....I just do. 

[cocoabubbelle]

Watching “Scooby Doo, Where Are You?” (1969-1970 CBS) + Thoughts

Episode 6: What the Hex is Going On?

What? The Creepy Mansion from the theme song makes it episodic debut here? 👀

Guy in a dapper suit walking like a stereotypical zombie isn’t ominous at all.

Who is Sharon?

The confirmation that Shaggy has a lot of athletic interests might explain why he stays decent shape despite his concerning appetite for chocolate burgers and hotdogs.

Scooby can’t share even if it’s someone else’s food.

Since the whole premise of the series is proving the unnatural to actually be natural via [semi]logical means, I’m guessing that Uncle Stuart (the man doing the zombie walk from earlier) is either the culprit with a mask or impressive make up effects, is in on the scheme, or is already senile in his middle-age.

Scooby doo is pretty good at many things; a watchdog isn’t one of them.

Scooby gang walk past Sharon tied and gagged behind secret passage inside bookcase.

I’ll be impressed if Shaggy’s random roller skates are more than just a one-scene gag.

Scooby shares food when it serves his best interests; in this case, distracting the menacing bulldog. (Is it a bulldog? I don know breeds.)

Scooby you better not be thinking of eating the skeleton that is supposed to be Uncle Stuart. Real or not, that’s both gross and wrong.

“It sure would help if we could find another clue.” “Uh huh, I think I found one.” “Groovy! What is it?” “Him.” *👉🏻* 🧟‍♂️

Scooby ditches Shaggy and hides in a room full of food which he feasts on instead of trying to save him from the ‘ghost.’ Man’s best friend indeed.

Shaggy’s more offended that Scoob didn’t invite him to eat the food in the adjoining room than he is that Scoob left him in the first place. Clearly he forgets that Scooby rarely shares his food.

Velma x Shaggy flirting via testing a fingerprint kit. Even Scooby thinks that technique was cheesy.

Shaggy gets back at Scooby for stealing and not sharing food by swiping four of his Scooby Snacks. Scooby does not approve 😜

The ‘ghost’ obviously holding Shaggy’s shoulder in a firm grip doesn’t convince Daphne that he’s not actually a ghost, but him leaving fingerprints on a doorknob does. I’m concerned for you, Daphne.

Shaggy used to know a girl named Crystal Nerdlinger. I need fanon ideas on their relationship and history STAT.

Scooby Gang gets locked in Tomb, suffocate from the lack of oxygen, then die.

Jk there’s a convenient secret passage easy to find and use that leads them back to the main mansion.

Fred has no boundaries when it comes to snooping around other people’s places. If he weren’t one of the designated good guy main characters, he’d probably be considered a criminal.

Danger-Prone-Daphne strikes again. Apparently it’s a rule that storage closets be filled with avalanche-like messes.

Clueless old lady customer confuses a Great Dane dressed up like a Swami to be the actual Swami. Either her spectacles aren’t working or she thinks it’s normal for an Indian Hindu monk to look like that and she’s racist or senile.

Shaggy throws voice to help Scooby with the Swami con.

“Oh Swami, tell me, what do you see in the crystal ball?” “My reflection.” 😆

The fact that there is a pail of red paint and a brush underneath The Swami’s table suggests that the actual one is also a con artist who also interprets his customers’ demand for their palm to be red as literal.

Animation Blooper: Velma’s right arm looks ridiculously buff and lumpy in a few frames.

Day 4 of Fred setting up a trap to catch the culprit…will it work as planned ?

“Ah, good. You brought the fortune. How fortunate for you.” Top tier writing, folks.

Offscreen moment where Scooby gang rescued Sharon and she helps out to catch the culprit. Writers apparently thought viewers would be too interested in the catching of the culprit rather than how this plot thread got resolved. Writers were wrong.

Well, whaddya know? Fred’s trap worked as planned. Good job Fred.

I told you it was Uncle Stuart.

Sharon’s dad thinks it’s more important to feed the Scooby Gang than it is to learn his relative’s reasoning for trying to scare them away from their fortune and kidnap Sharon. Sharon’s dad has his priorities mixed up.

Scooby continues to not share food with others.

Day 6 of no “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids.” I wonder what else my childhood lied about?

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Jason Aldean’s Publicity Stunt

(Is This a Manufactured Agitprop?)

7/22/2023

Stephen Jay Morris

©Scientific Morality

            If I seem mordacious, it’s because I like being a dick to an asshole. Like other critics, I refuse to write epigrams to up and coming artists so to get some free coke from an A&R guy. Sorry! Let us get to the subject at hand.

            It’s no secret that, politically speaking, I am way to the left of Bernie Sanders—I am on the extreme Left. How extreme am I? I would call the FBI and have myself arrested!

At any rate, when I judge a song, I objectively critique it by its music. Believe it or not, the lyrics are meaningless to me. If you, the songwriter, are reliant on lyrics and the music is mediocre at best, then you have a major problem. Maybe you should consider being a slam poet instead of a musician.

            Meet Jason Aldean. He sings country songs about the usual subjects:  heartbreak, hard work, and family. The usual, shit-kicking music, subjects. Country music used to be about struggling in a capitalist society, such as featured in Johnny Paycheck’s song, “Take This Job and Shove It.” In this song, he tells his boss to piss off. It would take over 200 pages to list all of those songs.

Jason has done pretty well in the country gendre. Also, he has a cool name. It sounds a lot like James Dean. No, he is not Hollywood handsome, nor does he look like some rugged character from a Spaghetti Western. He looks like a guy who does people’s taxes. He wears cowboy costumes from the stereotypical closet of central casting. Well, this is entertainment and I suppose you’ve got to dress the part.

                        What I’ve always hated about modern country music is its fake populism. You know—the “common folk!” The “salt of the earth” white people with two blue eyes, crying in the rain. One problem with that designation is that not all families are pure of heart. Some have racist views, others are dysfunctional. People label them with all sorts of epitaphs. “Trailer Trash” is my favorite. Many cannot afford to pay rent, so they become homeless and go dumpster diving to find food. Whenever some outlaw, country, bad boy writes about white pride, he, she, or they don’t speak for the White working class. (I love using pronouns, it drives CHUDS insane!)

            One remarkable thing I can say concerns Aaron Lewis—the tattooed, heavy metal, Jewish guy that recorded a country/blues song called, “I Am the Only One.” He presented it in such a way that it sounded like it came from the heart. That is the essence of agitprop songs. They sound personal, but they are merely cheap talking points from Right wing groups. Aaron’s songs had all the rhetoric of the political Right at the height of the Trump administration, in 2021. One thing I admire about him, though, is that he owned up to his song and couldn’t care less about what people thought of it. Even though he suffered from misology, he was honest.

            There are many types of racism. There is blunt racism. There is passive/aggressive racism. The latter has been utilized over ten decades. In 1988, Bush senior ran for president. There was a campaign poster with a photo of an African-American criminal. The text read, “AL GORE furloughed dangerous criminals! Make Bush president and he will lock these criminals up and throw away the keys!”  That criminal was Willie Horton. The defender of this poster said it was not about racism, it was about crime. Well, No. The poster depicted racism through visual association. You could get accused of racism because you thought that what you saw was racist. It was just a coincidence that the featured subject happened to be Black. Visual racism is a loophole in latent racism.

That is what Jason Aldean did in his video for his song, “Try That in a Small Town.” It contains news reels of Black Lives Matter protests and coincidental images. At best, this video is advocating vigilantism, or at worst, a race war.

            The song? Yeah, what about the song? The music is lackluster, country rock music, the likes of which we all heard in the early 70’s. Like from the Almond Brothers. It is just repetitive chorus/verse shit, where a bridge is way too far. The music is pedestrian and bland, so you fall asleep and do not even hear the words. Perhaps, that is intentional.

            Now, let’s talk about the message. There isn’t any. if I really push the issue, I guess the message is: (Drum roll please! Tat a tat tat!) “Don’t come to our town and express your free speech here, cause me and my buddies will beat the shit out of you! Or if crime is your bag, get out those AR 15s and shoot to kill!” Here’s is a suggestion: Start a neighborhood watch!  May you should do what Jesus suggested and turn the other cheek! And I am not talking about butt cheeks. Is the NRA financing your recording sessions?

            Ever since Merle Haggard released that conservative pile of shit song, “Okie From Muskogee,” back in 1969, he regretted it. It turned out that the song was a satire about Rednecks. Modern Country music has become the gendre of reactionary messages. Remember Toby Keith’s song, “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue”? Yeah, kick those Arabs asses! Every time you release a jingoistic song, you regret it.

So, what happened to all these guys? Luckily, Merle Haggard overcome that novelty song and released personal songs that made him legendary. Toby Keith has cancer and has tried very hard to make a comeback. How about Aaron Lewis? He might be in rehab.

            So, Jason, what about you? If you are lucky, you might be a one hit wonder and, like Ted Nugent, play at Klan rallies. That tweet you put out; did you write it yourself? Are you trying to sound like a Boy Scout? You say you wrote the song for small town communities. Why, in your video, were there only white guys holding guns in front of a Tennessee courthouse? The courthouse where the heinous lynching of a Black teenager took place in 1927?

Come on, dude! You are full of shit! If you think you are going to disambiguate the whole conservative movement, you are wrong!!! Are you doing incurvations for Trump? Be a real American and stop it! Our grandfathers fought foreign enemies in the 40’s. What have you done to fight America’s domestic enemies? Nothing! That video has given you 15 minutes of fame. That was the whole idea, right? When it’s all over, your label will dump you and, this time next year, no one will remember your name! My advice to you is invest your money and watch it grow. Try buying stocks in fossil fuel!

Later, dude!

[halloweeneveryday]

Army Base

After retiring from the service in 2009 I was in Iraq working as a contractor. My job entailed traveling all over the country making sure specific things got done. Sounds like a lot but it really wasn’t. In the end of August of that year I was detailed up to Mosul. I traveled, worked out the issues and on the way back I was directed to go thru Balad to hitch a ride back to Baghdad. While waiting for the ride in the air terminal there was a Battalion of Army Support folks who was also traveling. Many of them were sick, cough and hacking up a lung. I tried to stay as far away from them as I could. My travel continued without them, but I was to live to regret it. A week later I came down with Swine Flu thanks to all the coughing and hacking Pogs back at the airport terminal.

I went to the Dr. on post and because I was retired military I was seen, he said that I was too immediately to go into quarantine. My barracks did not have individual bathrooms, so I was led to the truck by my buddy and driven the five miles to the other side of the base complex to Camp Liberty. I was sent down the road past the PX, on down to the right hand side past the Y (if you have been there you will understand) and almost to the end of the road, (two large campsites short) down by the Wreck yard where they brought all the destroyed vehicles. Then way back to almost the Eastern outside wall of the camp (I was one camp short of the wall). The camps were about twenty trailers long all surrounded by concrete T walls, you could drive between the rows. Then 10 of those rows wide made up a “camp” with a large space to drive semi-trucks between the “camps”. My “hut” was the one on the end. It connected to another living space thru a shared bathroom.

My buddy kicked me out of the truck and I walked between the T walls up to the door and opened it. The dust on the floor didn’t bother me at first, everything is dusty in Iraq. My buddy followed me in and we looked at the …dusty, dusty accommodations. I walked over and flipped the mattress over to a clean side and sat down. The room had a desk, a walk in closet and the shared bathroom. It also had an air conditioner that when turned on pumped out very cool sweet smelling air. It was then when I noticed the calendar hanging on the wall; July 2007, two years before.

My buddy told me he would go and pick up my poncho liner and laptop that was in my day pack so I could watch movies while I waited out my seven days of quarantine. He also told me he would bring me meals during the days I was staying. I thanked him and he left. It was mid afternoon and I was tired so laid down and tried to breath while resting; feeling sick as a dog. It was then in the quiet that I thought I heard someone talking outside. I could not catch the conversation, which bothered me some, as I could not hear if they were speaking English or Farsi. The hut door was locked and I went on thru the bathroom to see if the other hut door was locked which it was. I kept the lights off so no one would know that I was there and come looking.

When My Buddy came back I told him what happened. It was getting dark by then. He had brought my laptop, poncho liner, and in an afterthought he included a nice Tanto knife I traveled with as I was not supposed to have a firearm for some reason. He left and I curled up in my poncho liner and was soon fast asleep.

I woke later that night sleeping on my side facing the wall. It had grown quite dark in the room. Still facing the wall I could hear voices speaking quite softly but distinctly, “You ask him”…”no you ask him”. At this point I was wide awake and staring at the wall. Did I forget to lock the door? Who was in here with me? Something kicked the bed frame and I thought someone was just trying to figure out why I was sleeping in their room. So I rolled over and looked around, no one was in the room. I got up and checked the doors and under the bed, you could say I was somewhat shaken by the encounter so far.

After everything was checked including the closet (yeah I’m a big scardy cat retired Green Beret). I turned on the closet light but closed the door almost too, so I was in the shadows in the room and the room was lite so I could see. If someone was messing with me I was not going to take it. I was sick and feeling pretty crappy.

This time I wrapped up in the poncho liner facing the room. Things got quiet after a while so I drifted off to sleep. I was again awaken about an hour later by those same voices asking the same thing only this time a voice stated clearly “ I’ll ask him”. It was at this time I was laying on my back and something climbed up on the bed and sat on my feet like you would do during the sit up event for PT. Needless to say I was wide awake and “they” had my full attention. With a sharp intake of breath, what/whomever was sitting on my feet jumped off. I sat up and there was no one in the room that I could see. The smell in the room which was cool dusty turned into a sharp burned smell, I thought it was coming from the air conditioner and got up to check. While my back was turned I heard the voice say distinctly again “ask him”.

I told “them” in my best SGM voice to stand easy and I would be with them in a minute. I walked to the door and went outside leaving the door open. It was early morning around 0400hrs the sun was just starting to light up the sky. I sat down on the steps and waited for my buddy. At 0600 he showed up and looked at me strangely asking why I was out on the steps as he handed my breakfast to me. I told him we were leaving. He laughed and said no you have six more days of quarantine and to go back inside and relax. I told him “No I’m good”.

He found me sitting in the shade of the T wall for lunch, same for dinner. He was starting to wonder what was going on. I told him “I will tell you if you take me away from here”. He just laughed as he drove away. That night the same things happened again and more.

The next day I was sitting on the steps when four of soldiers carried a Private by the legs and arms into the room next to mine, and flung him on the bed. They dropped a box of MRE’s and a 12 pack of water and laughing said “Later Loser”. I stayed outside till around 2300hrs then went in and prepped for the nightly activities.

The following morning around 0500hrs I was out sitting on the steps, when the door to the other hut burst open and a very scared Private ran out. He looked left and then right breathing pretty hard like he had just run a marathon. I smiled at him and said “Hows it goin”? He sat down and tried to light a cigarette. His hands were shaking so bad he could not light the match and gave up after a few seconds. I could tell he was pretty shaken by something.

He looked right at me and said, “Did you……”

I said “You met them too I see”, and he calmed down a little.

I said “I don’t think they are going to do you any harm, but it is a little unsettling”.

He said “Yeah I’m leaving, they can’t make me stay here”. I laughed and said I have four more days and could use the company. His mind was made up and when it got light he went in and packed up all his stuff and left.

My buddy was true to his word and each day he brought breakfast, lunch and dinner like clockwork; each time finding me sitting on the steps or in the shade with the door open waiting.

Finally on the last day he came by for lunch and said “time to leave so we can go get pizza”! I had all my stuff packed and shut the door then jumped in the truck. He then asked,” now are you going to tell me what’s going on” I told him not till we were away from that place.

We drove over to the billeting office to give the key back. We went inside and had to wait as a tall muscular black Army CW4 was chewing out one of his Soldiers. He was not in a good mood. When he was done I walked up and introduced myself as the guy staying in the Quarantine Hut. He asked if there were any problems as he reached for the key. I looked him in the eye and as he grabbed the key I hung on, saying ”Chief you need to cut that key and the key to the other side of that hut in half and never issue it to anyone ever again. He was not amused, asking if anything was wrong with the hut. I told him “Chief just go spend one night there and you will understand why I am telling you to cut those keys up. He got pissed and took the keys. I left with my buddy looking at me like I had lost my mind.

At Pizza an hour later I told my buddy what had happened that whole week, leaving nothing out. He thought I was full of crap.

A week later I was walking thru the PX at Camp Liberty, looking at all the pawed over items thinking if I could use another T shirt with a slogan on it or a new 501 shirt with my buddy in tow, when down the aisle I see the Chief running at me. He grabs my arm and says he cut the keys in half and no one under any circumstance will stay in those huts ever again. This shocked and surprised my buddy. The Chief said he was pissed at me when I turned in the key thinking I had trashed the place and went over to check it out. It was getting dusk when he went. He found the rooms’ neat and tidy, but also found “them” and they wanted to talk with him.

I later learned that the camp was handed over to the Iraqi Army; I always wondered who got those rooms and just how that went for them.

IN SUMMARY: I think it was a unique experience. I think that there were approximately seven to ten distinct “individual” entities present at any given time during my stay. They did not follow me outside, nor did they follow me into the bathroom, which I thought was nice of them. They did go from room to room where people were staying. When they made their selves known, it was usually during the late evening to morning, usually gone before the sun was up. I felt that I could not help them but did tell them that they were quite possibly dead and that they needed to “move on”. I did not get any names from any of them; it just seemed that it was not important to them to tell me. It was more of a can you see me and do I exist type experience.

I have thought on this many times and have told a few people. Most think it was made up by me being sick. I don’t think so, usually when I’m sick I dream about fly fishing in cool mountain streams. The Private and the Chief were also involved and I did not know either before I was sent into quarantine.

source: https://www.reddit.com/r/ParanormalEncounters/comments/r2xc39/a_unique_story/

[walkthroughsfromthegeek]

Arcane: The Miller Estate, Episode 1 - 4

https://archive.org/details/1100_the_miller_estate_episode_1 https://archive.org/details/1100_the_miller_estate_episode_2 https://archive.org/details/1100_the_miller_estate_episode_3 https://archive.org/details/1100_the_miller_estate_episode_4

Walkthrough below:

Arcane: The Miller Estate, Episode 1

It all began when Prescott Bridgeman, my father Gregor and I spent a week in Duncan Creek, on the coast.  Prescott had received a letter from his former landlord; I think she was called Mary Miller.  She owned a Victorian estate over there; a charming place she used to rent to rich tourists during the summer.

Unfortunately, she could no longer find any customers, because her house had acquired a nasty reputation.  Her last tenant, a scientist named Alvin Carter, had stormed into the town’s general store one day, screaming that the house was haunted, and then he had vanished without a trace!  Over the next few days, the villagers noted other mysterious disappearances: first it was dogs, then cattle, then some of the tourists.

The area’s folks were quite superstitious, you’ll understand; that was more than enough to make them stay clear of the house…

1. Click on the cellar doors close to the left path. 2. Click on the matches on your inventory.  Prescott will light a match. 3. Click on the lantern on the floor on the left side of the trunk.  This will let you see more in the room. 4. Click on the yellow raincoat.  It will fall to reveal a hook.   Click on the hook to take it. 5. Go out of the cellar and go to the well.  Someone will jump out and talk to you hysterically. 6. While looking down, click on the up arrow and Prescott will turn the wheel to get to the end of the rope. 7. Click on the hook and then on the end of the rope.  Prescott will attach the hook and will lower the rope/hook down to get a bucket with a torn piece of paper. 8. Click on the down arrow and Prescott will go back to the cellar. 9. Get the key on the firewood crate on your left.  Click on the key and click on the trunk.  You will find it is empty.  Go back out to the main screen. 10. Click on the rug underneath the trunk.  This will reveal a trapdoor. Prescott will go down. 11. Click on the down arrow to go forward.  Prescott will be facing a wine rack. 12. Click on the top left barrel.  Prescott will find it is empty, too, and find it strange. 13. Click on the bottles on the right side of the wine rack.  Prescott will pick up one of the bottles.  Note the number 7 on it.  Go back out to the main screen. 14. Click on the wine rack and put bottles on all holes under VII.  This will open the top left barrel and reveal a secret entrance.  Prescott will go in and find the Elder Star symbol.

Arcane: The Miller Estate, Episode 2

I was scared constantly, day and night.  It was exhausting.  Irrationality was seeping through the cracks of our world, intent on corrupting the minds of my peers for generations to come.  We had to act!

Miller Villa was Irrationality’s focal point.  I sensed it immediately.  The entire house emitted an ominous aura of evil.  My father Gregor searched the ground floor study.  Prescott stayed outside to survey the area.  But I could not help feeling that someone was waiting for me.

I had to know more… I had no choice.

1. Click on the stairs to go up. 2. Move your mouse to the open door.  Ophelia will sense something.  Click on it and go in. 3. Click on the window.  Ophelia will look down and find a cave under the estate. 4. Click on the dresser to get a closer look. 5. Click on the photo.  Ophelia will sense a vision. 6. Click on the top drawer to open it. 7. Get the paper inside.  Click on the encircled article to read it. 8. Go back out to the dresser and click on the lamp to turn it on. 9. Go back out to the main screen.  You will see a shadow in shape of a key on the wall.   10. Click on the dresser.  Click on the lamp to get the key. 11. Click on the armoire.  It is locked.  Drag the key to the armoire to open it.  Ophelia will find a skeleton in the closet – literally.   12. Get the paper from the corpse’s hands.  It is a torn piece of paper.  Get back out and Ophelia will mention a dagger in the corpse’s hands. 13. Click on the hands to get a closer look.  Click on the following to get the dagger:  Right thumb  Right pinkie  Left thumb  Left pinkie  Left index  Right ring finger  Right index  Left ring finger  Left middle finger  Right middle finger The idea is to start from the top, then bottom, then top, then bottom, and so on.  If you mess up with the sequence, all the fingers will re-clench, so you have to start over.  Once you have unclench the fingers, the hands will fall to the side and reveal the dagger.  Ophelia will take it and will see the Elder Star symbol on the dagger and another psychic vision. 14. Go back out to the main screen.  Go out the door and down the stairs. 15. Click on the double doors on the right.  It’s locked. 16. Drag the newspaper to the door.  Ophelia will slide it under the door. 17. Use the dagger on the lock.  Ophelia will dislodge the key and drop to the newspaper.  She will go into the drawing room. 18. Click on the French doors.  Ophelia will find someone creepy looking in. 19. Click on the fireplace.  Get the paper.  You can read it if you like. 20. Go back out to the main screen.  Click on the right bookshelf.  Click on it again to get a full view of it. 21. You will see 12 statues.  Click on the 5, 11, 3, 10, and back to 5.  This will form a star and the statue in the middle will light up. 22. Click on that statue and Ophelia will get a psychic vision about the well.

Arcane: The Miller Estate, Epsiode 3

As our investigation progressed, events became more and more obscure.  Evidence I had discovered suggested the presence of the Elder Star.  Still, I hadn’t a clue why this secret evil society would be interested in the Miller Estate.

The ultimate truth was, as I would find out, more horrible than I could possibly imagine…

1. Click on the desk for a closer look. 2. Click on the white sheet of paper.  You can read it if you like. 3. When you move your mouse over the bookshelves, a magnifying glass will appear. 4. Click on the ladder, and then click on the spot where the magnifying glass was on the bookshelf. 5. In the right bookshelf, click on the third blue book from the left.  You can read it if you like.  It’s about the Theory of the Leys authored by a Cardinal Kardec. 6. Go back out and do the same thing on the center shelf.  Click on the second yellow book from the right.  You can read about the Duncan Creek Guide and about the caves along the cliff. 7. Click on the globe on the right.  Gregor will mention that it has some sort of mechanism.  Click on the following buttons:  New England – this is the button on the top right corner of the US.  Peru – this is the bottom-most button.  England – twist the globe around towards the left and click on the topmost button you see. The globe will open up to reveal a book. 8. Click on the book in your inventory.  Get the gem on the center of the cover.  Click on the book again to go to the main screen. 9. Click on the door to your left.  Gregor will open it and turn on the switch. 10. Click on the switch to turn the light off.  Go in to the dining room. 11. Click on the window.  You will see Ophelia outside. 12. Click on the painting.  Note the 4 on the billiard ball, the 4 of diamonds card, the 4 sails on the ship painting, and the 4 o’clock on the clock. 13. Click on the covered platter on the table.  It is empty.  Click on the platter on the table to put in your inventory. 14. Drag the platter to the window.  Gregor will focus it towards the chandelier and reveal a green gem in it.  Get the gem.  Go back out to the main screen. 15. Click on the cupboard on the right.  Get the candelabra on the shelf.  Go back out to the main screen. 16. Go back to the library.  Move the ladder to the grandfather’s clock.  You will see another gem on top of the clock.  Drag the other gems to the other blank places.  Click on the key on the right side of the clock.  The first gem will light up.  Move the clock hands to 8 o’clock.  Click on the key again.  The 2nd gem will light up.  Move the clock hands to 12 o’clock.  Click on the key again.  The 3rd gem will light up.  When all gems are lit up, the clock will move to reveal a secret entrance. 17. Drag the candelabra to Gregor and he will go down the stairs.  The door will close behind him. 18. Click on the crowbar hanging on the wall on the left side of the door. 19. Click on the panel below the crowbar.  Arrange the gears from largest to smallest, going left to right by dragging the gears to the holes.  This is a trial and error, but you can make sure they are all moving by putting one gear in and testing it by clicking the switch off and on and so on.  Once you’re done, go back out to the main screen. 20. Drag the crowbar to the boards covering the elevator. 21. Click on the lever and Gregor goes down to the unknown….

Arcane: The Miller Estate, Episode 4

My father was a wise man.  From what we saw at the villa, he quickly inferred that we were indeed up against the Elder Star, a secret society led by one of those terrible men who deliberately defy the Heavens.  Ironically, this one called himself Cardinal.

My psychic powers had given me visions of this man, but I had yet to grasp his final intentions.  It is so hard to understand what drives a man who consciously chooses the side of Evil…

1. Click on the well to go closer.  Click on the well again.  Ophelia will see a psychic vision.  Go back out to the main screen. 2. Go up the path towards the cliffs.  She will say there is something at the bottom of the cliffs. 3. Go down the steps.  She will go into a cave. 4. Click on the triangular pipe on the left side of the walkway. 5. Go forward and you will see an opening.  Click on the wall beneath the opening. 6. Reassemble the ladder:  Click and drag the pieces to the right spots on the wall.  The piece in your inventory goes to the top right hole.  The other same shaped pieces go in the other corners.  The 4-pronged pieces go in the 2 center holes.  If a piece won’t go into the hole you’ve dragged it to, try another hole.  The long rods are the rungs of the ladder.  The short ones are the sides.  If you don’t reassemble the ladder quickly or make too many mistakes, the tide will come in and you’ll have to start over. When you reassemble the ladder, Ophelia will climb up and will meet up with Prescott who came in another way.  Prescott will tell you the accounts he has experienced. 7. Click on the door in front of you.  Click on it again to go closer.  Prescott will notice a torch on the other side. Go back out to the main screen. 8. Go to the left door. 9. Click on the trunk, which will open.  Get the gun inside.  Go back out to the main screen. 10. Go to the right door. 11. Click on the powder horn on top of the crate.  This will load the gun.  Go back out to the main screen. 12. Click on the gun and aim it at the jug on the right of the doorway. 13. Take the paper.  Click on it to read it if you like.  It is a map.  Go back out to the main screen. 14. Go back to the right door. 15. Click on the wheel.  This will open up the gated door. 16. Drag the gun to the top of the chain to hold it down.  Go back out to the main screen. 17. Go through the maze quickly to avoid the monster.  The correct path is:  1st intersection – RIGHT  2nd intersection – RIGHT  3rd intersection – STRAIGHT AHEAD  4th intersection – RIGHT If you did this right, you will face a doorway.  Also, Ophelia will say something just before the 4th intersection.  Go inside the door.  You will find Gregor trapped. 18. To free Gregor, remove the boards.  Click on the board that has no other board lying on top of it.  This board will disappear.  Click on the next board that has no other boards lying on top of it, and so on.  Keep going until all the boards are gone.  If you click on the wrong board, you’ll have to start over.  If you did this right, Prescott will pull Gregor out. 19. Go to the door in front of you.  Gregor will explain something in this room and about the black stone in the middle of the room. 20. Drag the 2nd torn piece of paper to Prescott.  He will show it to the other 2.  Drag the other piece of paper to Ophelia.  She will show it also.  The 2 pieces will be joined, but Gregor cannot determine what it means. 21. Drag the reassembled paper to Prescott’s lantern.  It will reveal a secret message: “By the Guardian’s Sacrifice, the Stone shall Reveal the Final Truth”. 22. Drag the book to Gregor.  You can read it if you like. 23. YOU MUST SAVE AT THIS TIME.  Click on Ophelia’s diary on the bottom right corner and choose SAVE GAME. 24. Drag the dagger to Ophelia.  She will show it to the other 2. 25. Drag the statue to Prescott.   Ophelia will hand the statue to Prescott and the statue will glow and emit the light of energy towards the dagger. 26. The monster comes!  You must hit the monster with the dagger 3 times.

The black stone in the middle of the room will glow and shoot out energy bolt to the sky.  In comes the Cardinal, saying that they have unleashed the power and the stone….

[mcphersonfryputnam]

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[binniesthighs]

coax the cold | reader x chan

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: smut, lil bit of fluff 

Tags: softsub!chan, softdom!reader, virgin!chan, shyyyy!chan, lowkey awkward chan hehe, tinder hookup au, college au (very US college haha--or at least how I know it), guided sex, cowgirl, reader has nipple piercings sooo nipple play (my new kink) , hair pulling, use of petnames, praising, protected sex, fingering (f), someone’s impatient ;) 

Word count: 4.2k 

Recommended listening: bite by troye sivan 

*photocreds to OP! 

[02:05] 

you are messaging: chan 

me: i’m here by the bike locks? is this the right place? i don’t see a door anywhere? 

Buzzing above your head, a streetlight flickered from the erratic flying of moths to the addictive yellow glow. You were never really a squeamish person, but when it came to moths, there was only so much that you could take in the uncomfortable silence of the parking lot. 

A group of girls with their cropped shorts and bralettes came barreling out from a pair of doors farther down the building with music screeching from the phone speakers shoved in their tiny pockets. 

“You’ve got the addy right? You didn’t hear anything about it getting shut down? Becs was telling me that they were doing ratios so it looks like we can’t bring the guys--” 

You tapped on your phone screen to see if you had received a reply or if the little flame icon would flash while you watched the minutes tick by. 

You had a little shame about the position that you were in, and you started to care less and less after seeing this guy’s pictures. He was somewhat illusive from what you could tell. The way that he texted in all lowercase made him seem approachable but he still wasn’t one ask for pictures of your tits or send the odd drunk text asking for you to come over. 

You had send the message at this hour. It was likely that you were impatient from “playing the game” but he seemed intriguing enough. 

The Friday night was filled with energy from the other side of the street across from the apartment complex. His place was situated right on the edge of campus next to a couple run down houses with windows lit by multicolored string lights and creaking doors which let out vibrating trap songs every time someone opened them. You had left a house similar to that before coming here right when it was getting boring and the boys were getting a bit handsier than you would’ve liked. You were done making out with randoms in hallways who tasted like watery beer and bad decisions. 

“Um, hey!  Are you y/n?” The stranger’s voice called from a fire escape door. 

He was dressed simply, sort of like someone who didn’t care, or someone who hadn’t left their room since the morning. In this lighting, his hair seemed to be some kind of dark burgundy brown which was a bit different from his caramel blonde hair from the photos. You would’ve felt lied to on another occasion, but the simple trait wasn’t a game changer. 

“Uh-yeah, that's me.” You smiled bluntly, not really sure even what to say in a situation like this. 

Up close you saw what the pictures really didn’t give him justice: a faint press of dimples and stretching veins on his hands. You assumed that he was a bit smaller under the giant black hoodie that he wore, but he had that same kind of coziness that was just a little too dangerous for a hookup. 

“I live on the third floor.” He informed you while leading up the hollow sounding cement staircase. 

“Mm. Okay.” 

The stranger turned his head briefly to smile back at you, “I-Its nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” You nodded, even though he didn’t see. 

This young man’s room was nearly exactly as you had pictured it to be element by element. Like every other boy his age, he had a gaming set up with color changing LEDs on the side of his machine and a smaller TV that was hooked up to some console you didn’t care to know the name of. The floors were nearly clean and the bed made--almost like he had planned for it to be that way; you could see the dirty clothes peeping from under his bed. 

The banged up beige walls were decorated with posters of indie bands that you had heard of once or twice. He had somewhat of an organized open closet that held types of CDs and vinyl too--the room itself smelled a bit dusty like the protective covers of those albums that you associated with a record store. 

“You can...we can sit down if you’d like.” He rather awkwardly gestured to his full sized bed. You prayed that once you pulled the covers back later there would be no white stains. 

“Okay.” 

“I could-um, turn on some music maybe? If you would like?” 

“Sure!” You piped trying to sound as confident and in control as possible--it was clear he wasn’t. 

He fidgeted with his phone and a bluetooth speaker which startled him when he turned it on. Just like the posters on his walls, he picked some soft sounding acoustic song with a crooning folk singer that sounded like he was singing with the exclusive use of his head voice. 

The stranger sat next to you clasping his hands in front of him and eyes glued to the floor. 

“Sorry...this is my first time doing this.” 

“Doing...?” 

He smoothed back his dark locks, “You know...meeting up with someone like this after meeting through an app. Um...what do you study?” 

“Biochem with a graphic design minor. You?” 

You weren’t sure if this was a hook up or an interview. 

“Poli Sci Human Rights stuff and sound engineering on the side.” 

“Huh...thats...cool.” 

Both of you nodded your heads in the silence to which he cleared his throat loudly to feel the space. 

“C-can I get you anything? You thirsty or something? I can steal some of my roommate’s Smirnoff Ice--” 

“--No. I’m fine. Thank you though.” 

He smiled sweetly to hid the fact that he was rubbing his sweating hands against his pants. 

“But...how this usually starts off, you could lay down and maybe, I could get on top?” 

“Oh!” He squeaked, “Sure! I can do that.” 

The bed groaned out with the shuffling of bodies and your hookup sighed out with a shaky breath and squirming legs. “Like this?” 

Rather than saying more, you crawled carefully over to him to the tune of his quickening chest and widened eyes. The shier he got, the harder it was for you to keep it in--he was ridiculously cute and your mind could only run wilder thinking about how he would react to everything you were about to show him. Your hands crept to the hem of his hoodie where you teased cold thumbs to his torso. 

“I’m gonna take this off you, okay?” 

Chan nodded eagerly with hair fluffing once you pulled it over his head. 

“Take mine off?” You hushed into his ear to which he smacked dry lips to obey you. 

He took his time pulling it off you; he savored the way that your bare body looked in front of him with glossy eyes that shone with the soft pastel glow from his computer in the opposite corner of his room. His chest heaved with his excitement which only held even more shallow breaths once your top hit the floor. 

“I-I can touch you?” 

“You can touch me anywhere you want to, baby.” You followed his head back to the pillow where you parted his quivering lips with your own. You could feel his shock get caught in his throat, then snake out hotly from his mouth to yours. He kissed you carefully, but growing in greed once you ran the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip. His curious hands wrapped around your back where he rubbed lightly at your sides, then traversed to your chest. You sunk deeper onto him to the tune of the music skipping to the next song which sounded nearly like a chilled out pairing of twangy guitars. As far as you could tell, it sounded something like Grateful Dead. 

As your hips melded into his, Chan’s whole body jerked feeling the sudden contact of your pussy grind against him. As you had expected, he had hardened instantly, and his length bobbed and tented the thick fabric of his sweats. You kissed him deeper, exploring the corners of his mouth and the inside of his lower lip while tugged at the plush skin gently. 

You should have guessed, but this boy didn’t have a clue how to take a bra off, so you did the job for him, sure to give him a display at the same time just for the dramatic effect of your surprise. 

“H-holy shit.” Chan oggled your breasts from below. You were certain that he didn’t notice the way that he slicked his tongue slowly over his lip at the sight of you. 

“You can touch them too.” You purred back into his ear, and he eagerly brought thrilled hands to your nipples. 

“They’re really...um, pretty.” He said with fluttering eyes from your breasts to your eyes. What a gentleman he was being. 

You toyed with your delightfully hardened bud in your hand while he played with the other. You pulled lightly at the sliver stud piercing there to show him that he could do the same and wetted your fingertips with your tongue to bring the wet to your skin. He kneaded at your breast firmly at first, cupping it in his hand, then moved his attention to your sensitive skin aroused just from the softest touches. 

Your tiny moans was all the validation that he needed to squeeze harder and pull rougher. It was as if you could see his cute pent up fantasies unfolding right before you in his sparkling brown eyes. 

“Mm, that feels so good.” You coaxed him further, going to grind you ass harder into his own lap and indulging in the way that even in your shorts, your folds could part around the thick imprint of his dick. 

You collapsed over his face to align your nipples nearest his tongue which he gave no more thought. Chan kissed at them with trailing breathy moans of his own that melted into you and vibrated against the metal made one with your hardened buds. He sucked too with a flicking tongue that sent heat straight down to your clit. Each time his flattened tongue would return with the wet of his spit, you felt weaker and weaker for this boy becoming more tantalizing by the second. 

“Want to--want to take off even more?” The phrase barely escaped your lips. 

“Mmhm.” He agreed, then took to shimming off his pants quickly and watching you do the same, revealing your sky blue panties that always soaked in the way that you liked them to. 

Your show continued on, and you took two of our fingers to rub over your clit while facing him. He too had wetted a spot into his boxers that adorably bunched around the upper parts of his thighs. With your free hand, you slithered to his erection and traced the outline, leaving him on a teasing squeeze. 

“B-before we do anything else...I have to tell you something?” The young man hesitated, causing you to draw your hand back. 

“What is it?” 

“This is like my, first time, first time. You know?” 

“You’ve never--” 

“--I know. It’s...kinda embarassing...and the fact that it’s happening this way...” 

“You don’t want it to happen this way?” 

Chan stammered, but shook his head vehemently, “That's not it. I just don’t want you to be dissapointed...since I don’t really...know what I’m doing too well.” 

He cracked with a hopeful smile, and you couldn’t stand it any more. 

“Babyboy, you’ve got nothing to worry about, I don’t mind.” 

“You don’t?”

“No,” You scooched next to him to twist a couple of his deeply cherry red strands into your fingers, “In fact, the fact that you haven’t done this before...really turns me on. Got it?” 

Chan gulped, “S-so...what-what can I do for you? I’ll do anything?” 

You pressed a light kiss into his forehead with a hand trailing up his thigh and back to his dick which still throbbed with his excitement. 

“How about, you show me how you jerk off this cock of yours, angel? And I can show you how I do the same? For starters?” 

He licked his lips once more, hooking his hands under his waistband and freeing his cock pink, and even thicker than you had imagined. You slid yourself unto his arm to cuddle up close to him, one of your legs swung over his so he could see exactly how you played with your clit. 

He wrapped his hand around his dick with a tug which elicited a tiny “ah!” from his mouth. 

“That’s it...jerk your cute cock for me...just like that.” 

His eyes devoured the circles made by your hand between your legs--you strung together your slick between your fingers to him to see. The clear stringy cum shone on your fingers, making the other boy whimper out seeing how it coated them. 

“I want to touch you too...down there, so bad.” He pleaded after pumping faster at himself. 

“Oh? Pretty boy would like to feel what it’s like to touch my dripping cunt, hm? You know that watching you makes me like this...?” 

Chan gasped out at the thought, letting out an “mmhm.” that cracked in his throat. 

“C-can I?” 

The heat of your naked bodies intermingled and turned the air of his small room dense, and each of your senses became hyper aware in your own arousal: every hair that stood on end, every flinch of his muscles beside you, you could feel it all. 

“Of course you can.” 

Chan shifted, leaving his dripping cock to pulse on your thigh where he flipped on his side to dip his hand between your folds and against your swollen clit. 

“Rub in circles baby, or whatever feels right to you...you’ll know if it feels good for me.”

He nodded with hands trickling down to your pussy heated between your legs. 

There’s something different about him, it could be the fact that you know next to nothing about him, or how he makes you bothered. 

Slowly, his fingers dip between your folds slicked from your teasing--and the way that there mere sight of him teases you. Your back arches from the press of his fingers, and your bud throbs under each and every swipe of his fingers. 

“Feels good?” He whispers into your ear, tickling it. 

“Mm-yes.” With your free hand, you tangle your fingers into his hair to pull right at the roots. You bite a kiss into his lip while drawing him closer to you. His lips are plush and quivering like they can’t decide what to do with all the simulation at once. 

“Harder...you can press harder,” The words were airy on your tongue while your hips writhed. 

“Like this?” He circled harder, wider with his digits mixing with your cum. 

The room appeared to blur in your euphoria. Coupled with the gentle music playing there was a kind of peace to this boy and everything about his little space. The further he continued, the more you longed for him fully--to feel every inch of his length inside of you as you fucked him for the first time. 

Your hand grabbed at his hair even tighter: a symbol that he took as a good sign. He laughed out a little at your response. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He coos. Against your thigh, his dick bobs with a flared tip, begging for more attention. 

You moan out for him as you dig your heels into his bed, and watch the way that your nipples harden around the metal piercings just from his touch. 

“Just you wait baby, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” Your kisses pull at his lower lip as you fill his mouth with more moans. “You don’t even know how fucking tight it is, how it feels when I pull you inside of me and how the friction feels when you’ll fuck me.” 

Chan shivers from your words with a gulp and lets his fingers fall down to your entrance where is curiosity gets the best of him. You wince feeling his fingers fill your pussy with the wonderful way that you desperately close around his digits. 

“Shit.”

“Are you ready?” You ask him permission before trailing a hand down his torso. 

“--Yes,” He nods quickly, “Please. God--I want to feel it. Show me.” 

You twitch from the lack of contact to your pussy when you swing your leg to straddle him. Your hips meet his, and he struggles for a moment over where to put his hands. In one motion you grind your dripping folds over his bare dick, slicking him up and down with the light grind of your hips. A broken gasp escapes from his lips which you catch with your own mouth in a kiss. His closed eyes flutter from the feeling of having you so close...but not completely yet. 

“Got a condom, angel?” You caress down his cheek and let your thumb linger over his bottom lip. 

Chan gives you a grunt in response before contorting his body to the side table where he fumbles for the plastic wrapper. His curtains dance a little with a breeze caught in them, likely from the window being open. The air smells a bit like water, and it’s cool and crisp in your lungs. It cools the surging heat that your body succumbs to. 

You move for him to roll the condom on, tracing the muscles of his chest. His skin is untouched, unmarked, and suddenly all you crave is to see him bruised and scraped in pink. You dig your nails into his chest seeing the way he jerks at himself just a bit more while looking up at you in awe. 

“H-how do we do this?” He asks. 

“Just...do as I say...’kay?” 

Your date nods, letting you take complete control over his body. You start at his neck with kisses that turn heavier and heavier then darker and darker. He busies his hands by cupping into your breasts and tweaking with the hardened buds. 

“Just lay still, I can put in the work pup, okay?” You reach for his erection further down his body, and he finds handles in your hips and ass. 

“I can do that.” He sighs out with a little groan feeling your hand squeeze at him. 

At first, you tease your entrance with his head, barely letting him feel anything besides your clit against his pink tip. His skin grows dewy in his anticipation, and he licks at his lips which dry from each breathy exhale he uses to steady himself. You take your cum to wet at his dick with your hand, and push harder at his sides with your thighs. 

“Tell me if you ever want me to stop, got it?” 

Chan hastily nods, digging deeper into your sides. 

“Fuck, just--fuck me already...I can’t...it’s really...hurts to wait--” 

“Getting demanding now are you?” You tap a light slap to his face. “You’re doing what I say, not the other way around.” 

“S-sorry...” He whines. 

You resume, sitting properly on his length: all the way down, all the way to your cervix which screams in ecstasy from feeling him fill you so deeply. 

“Fuck.” He groans, but his curse is intertwined with a beautiful giddy smile. “Its really tight. Oh god--” 

You lean over him to attach your lips with his once more--a tiny distraction from the way that you start to roll your hips over his length. Chan freely lets his moans tickle your lips, each of them more gruff than the last as he looses himself in you and your rhythm. He’s dizzied: lightheaded--even you can tell. The new sensation takes him over, and he’s left a mess for you: hips trembling while you work your pussy up and down his length and his fingers claw into your shoulder blades. 

Chan’s Adam’s apple bounces as he gulps dry, forming praises the best that he can. “Feels...amazing...” 

You sit back, allowing his full length to tease your g-spot as you fuck him rougher, indulging yourself to all the pleasure that he can give you when you let him in as deeply as possible. He notices the change, and supports your body up with hands running up and down your chest, and down your arms where he pulls at the skin with his short nails. 

“You like this?” You gasp between each roll of your hips. “How my cunt feels on your cock? How I can use you like this? Use your words Channie.” 

“Yes. Fuck yes. Yo-You look...mm--” 

You giggle a little at the light pink blush to his cheeks and the way that he stumbles over his words. 

“Think you can last a little longer, baby?” Your fingers creep to his throat where you tease at squeezing his neck.  

He pauses, loosing himself in it again before giving you a rushed answer: “I think? It’s just...really intense I think that I’m c-close already.” 

You permit him only a couple more seconds of you, then glide off him carefully to which he whines out in confusion. 

“Your turn to fuck me now. Come on, behind me.” 

Chan looks bewildered and breathless, but he does as he’s told and tosses aside stray pieces of clothing on the bed to get to you. You hoist up your hips for him after burying your face into the mattress. To guide him further, you fuck your fingers for him too at this angle, only stopping once you feel the pressure of his cock once more. He slides himself in agonizingly slow until he bottom’s out with a choked moan. 

“Fuck me baby boy. You know what do to.” 

Your date’s hand finds your hips once more which he firmly grasps, then begins screwing into your pussy already blazing with heat and your orgasm building from before. He finds his pace after a while and fills the room with the fleshy sound of skin on skin. Your own fingers find their own way back to your clit where you rub in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Oh,” He gasps quietly. 

Your nails bury into the comforter of the bed, and your teeth clench harder as he milks himself into you and grows in pace. 

“Fuck yes baby, fuck me just like that. You’re doing so good; fucking my pussy just like you should...” 

Your orgasm quickens hearing the praises come from the bottom of your heart and the way that he grunts out hearing them. For someone who’s never done this before, it’s unbelievable how good he is at it all. 

He shudders, and you feel yourself tighten around him further, sensing both of your release coming near. Your hookup doubles over your back, burning you with the heat from his body as he fucks into you with reckless thrusts. 

“Shit, I’m so, so close.” He admits though clenched teeth. 

“Me too baby, finish me off, cum inside until you’re throbbing and you can’t take any-anymore.” 

A switches flips within this once innocent man, and you feel the bed creak as he kneels on one leg, then lifts one to stamp upon the bed to better his angle. The new position directly sends your g-spot into flames, and you shake from limb to limb feeling your orgasm right on the brink. 

He growls upon his release, finishing it off with shallow breaths once he nearly collapses over your back to feel each drop of his cum release inside of your pussy. You rub your orgasm out until you see lightning behind your eyelids and it’s heightened by the way that he twitches with his cum against your deepest spot. 

“A-are you okay?” Your adorable date immediately asks once you gasp and writhe under him. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine...fuck,” You laugh out, “That felt unreal Channie.” 

He shakes once his softening dick leaves your hole, and you get a good look at this stranger: chest flushed and hair messed over his forehead. He falls down to his side on the bed still breathless and letting out happy little laughs. 

“I’m sorry if that was like, really fast. It just all felt...so good, and, I couldn’t really control it--” 

“Mm, don’t you worry.” You sweep down to kiss his gasping mouth. Silently, you thank whoever it was in the universe that let you meet this boy on this night, and whoever willed you to leave that party. 

“What do we do now?” Chan asks, still bare for you to take in wholly. You wanted to tell him, but couldn’t find the words. He was kind of beautiful. 

“Whatever we want. I could go, or I could stay. Really anything goes.” 

His chest is peppered with your purple love bites, and you wish then to give him even more if you have the chance--whenever that might be. 

Chan tilts his head, “Stay?” 

“Well, we still need to get to know eachother don’t we?” 

The handsome stranger grins, and lets his hand trace the side of your face. The cool of the room feels addictive against you, and it weaves around your neck and against the little hairs of your arms. 

“You’re right.” He nods, “There's only so much you can tell about a person from these kind of dating apps.” 

“That’s true.” Your hand discovers his collarbones, which you trace lightly. “It’s nothing like the real thing.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes  @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

[highqueenofelfhame]

fafs, twenty four

so i was definitely going to wait to post this until tomorrow or the day after but then decided to say fuck it and in the spirit of rowaelin month am just giving it to you now, whatever. who needs rules. or regulations. not me.

follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites and turn on post notifs to receive updates (i don't do taglists anymore, sorry folks!) masterlist//support me with a ko-fi//redbubble

It was nowhere near the worst injury she’d ever had, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant.

The living room floor of one of her smaller sanctuaries had been turned into a makeshift operating room. A trash bag was laid out beneath her, rustling with every move she made. The first aid kit that had been untouched and hidden under the kitchen sink was open with all its pieces scattered around her. A brand new bottle of vodka sat to her right, several shots worth already buzzing through her veins. It would take at least one more swig before she got started, but it was already difficult to slide the thread into the needle, so she was holding off until she was just about ready to begin.

Gods damn the agent that shot her. Aelin would bet money that it was Remelle, the blonde bitch that had been pawing at Rowan for years. Before, when she was Lilian, she’d heard a wide array of stories about the woman and her unwanted advances. Ever since Aelin had been introduced to the FBI as a criminal informant, she had shot daggers at her in every meeting, likely angry Aelin was spending so much time with Rowan. Despite how much of that time was angry banter from Rowan, no matter if Aelin was trying to thaw out his icy inner and exterior.

None of that mattered now. She could have Rowan if she really wanted him. Maybe they were already together and--

Aelin stopped those thoughts in their tracks, eyes focusing on the task at hand. There were bigger things to worry about, like getting out of the city and, most importantly, the bleeding wound on her thigh. She chewed on her lip until the thread finally made it into the curved needle, and she held back a cheer as she sloshed some vodka over the wound on her thigh. Hissing through her teeth, she thanked the gods that it wasn’t any worse.

It wasn’t even that bad, considering everything else she’d experienced. There was the time Arobynn had stabbed a dagger through her palm, and she’d had to stitch up the injury herself. She wasn’t sure how many times she’d been sliced and jabbed in training. Her list of broken bones and scars was a long one. Once she got older and was better at her job than all of the men combined, training had become more of a game of survival. They had been out for blood, shedding hers in red tears on the floor until she managed to incapacitate them enough to claim the victory for herself.

This gunshot wound was minor. It hadn’t nicked anything major, and it had taken a while for Aelin to realize she’d even been shot. The adrenaline from running from the full force of the FBI had been enough to repel the pain until she was nearly to her safehouse. She was four blocks away when she realized her pace was slowing and that there was a sharp, hot pain throbbing in her left thigh. A glance down told her everything she needed to know. She had limped straight through the front door and to the first aid kit, where she now prepared to stitch her own leg up.

At one point, there had been a numbing agent in this bag, but she remembered using it on Sam after a nasty fight with Arobynn one night when she was twenty-one. Since then, she’d seldom been to this safehouse and had neglected to restock her kit. There was barely enough of the nylon thread left over, but she would manage. Aelin made a mental note to have someone, either Nox or herself, replenish the missing items.

With a deep breath and a final swig of vodka, she picked up the forceps and shimmied the tension from her shoulders while she hunched over her leg, ready to begin.

With the first stick and the drag of the thread through her skin, Aelin bit her lip so hard she drew blood. It was a bizarre and uncomfortable feeling accompanied by a slight burning sensation. Several times she groaned while she sewed her skin back together. By the time she was finished, her mouth tasted metallic, and the trash bag beneath her was covered in droplets of blood. Her bare thigh looked grim and would leave behind a jagged, ugly scar, but she doused it once more in vodka before wiping away the blood with a damp piece of gauze. Her hands were mostly steady while she placed a bandage over the top and taped it down.

It was just another painful memory that would soon fade to silvery skin. How many more would it take until she was free?

Shaking her head to pull her from any thoughts too negative to deal with right now, Aelin smiled a bit. She was almost pleased with herself for handling the entire situation so well, but the reality of the situation was soon to crash down on her. It didn’t take long for her to get up, going about the tiny house and jerking all the curtains closed. Hardly any natural light was able to filter in through the gaps in the curtains for how tightly she’d twisted at the blinds until they were sealed completely shut. Thumbtacks were shoved into the walls to keep anyone curious from peering inside. She would move to another place in a day or two, she promised herself, after she had time to dye her hair and her wound wasn’t so fresh.

Every lock on every door was twisted into place-- seven locks on both the front and back doors. Only two of those locks could be opened with a key from the outside. The other five were inside only, a variation of deadbolts and chain locks that made her feel secure.

Only when she was satisfied that she was as safe for the time being did she go to the single bedroom and lock the door behind her. In a handful of heartbeats, she collapsed on the old quilt and drifted into a fitful sleep.

~*~

The news that it would take weeks, maybe months, of physical therapy to have his shoulder back to one-hundred percent was irritating to say the least. Rowan would be out of work for a while, but that wasn’t the most frustrating part of the situation. He would be wearing the restrictive sling for weeks, only to take it off when he changed clothes or showered. They didn’t even allow him to take it off to sleep, for gods’ sake. Rowan would be sleeping sitting up for the foreseeable future, and he was fucking annoyed about it.

The last few nights sleeping in the hospital had been anything but fruitful. Not only was he woken by the nurses coming in to check on him every few hours, every single time he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position, he was reminded of the sling. The pain was nearly suffocating. Rowan had heard from Fenrys about how bad shoulder injuries were, but this was on another level of anything he had ever experienced.

So why he was standing in the abandoned apartment of the woman who had shot the bullet through it in the first place was beyond him at the moment.

It wasn’t the apartment littered with cameras and paid for by the bureau. It was the one she’d lived in privately before her beating and arrest. It was the one decorated with opulence and taste. With artwork that wouldn’t surprise Rowan to find it had been stolen and was priceless. The one with books stacking shelves every which way, those novels bookmarked and annotated, as he had just learned. Like she loved them so much, she couldn’t help but document her favorite and least favorite parts.

The linens closet was filled with the softest blankets and nicest sheets Rowan had ever felt in his life. Silk sheets were currently stretched over the mattress in her bedroom, a thing that Rowan had thought she’d quipped as a joke once.

“Sorry, the sheets aren’t Egyptian cotton for whatever the hell you’re used to,” he’d said, a bite in his tone as he showed her the dump of an apartment the bureau had decided on for her.

“Silk,” she winked. “Feels good against my skin when I sleep naked.”

It hadn’t been a joke. He ran his fingers over the fabric and almost smiled at the memory but forced his lips into a frown instead. As he looked around the room, the nearly ostentatious yet somehow tasteful room, he missed her. He hated himself for it, but he missed her. The woman had shot him through the shoulder, but the pain in his heart was somehow worse. His first thought when he woke in the hospital from surgery had been about if they’d found her and she was safe, gods above. Everything about himself was secondary, and he didn’t really care.

But they hadn’t found her. There was no trace of her after her anklet was cut. Nobody had seen her; traffic cams had stopped picking her up like she had just… vanished. He hated that she was so good at her job, so good at being a criminal.

Deep down, Rowan knew that wasn’t what bothered him. It never really had. There wasn’t a part of her soul that he had seen and didn’t understand or want to love. Nothing she had ever done had pushed him away in the slightest. Her honesty about her life and the vulnerability she had shown him only made him respect and love her more.

He wasn’t mad that she shot him. Was he annoyed that he couldn’t use his arm? Of course. But he understood. Rowan understood that she felt backed into a corner and betrayed, and she went into fight or flight mode. In this case, it had been fight and flight. He had stepped too close and got shot in return. It was fair. She was used to fighting her way out of situations, so of course, it was the route she’d taken.

He just wanted her to slip up for once so he could just find her and talk to her. Figure out whatever the hell was going on when they’d argued before she shot him, then disappeared in the middle of the day in a bustling city. Rowan wasn’t even mad that she hadn’t been caught. In fact, he was glad they hadn’t caught her.

Rowan didn’t want her to be found. The full force of the FBI would rain down on her like a hurricane and she would be shown no mercy. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted her suffering in an interrogation room, throwing around the word allegedly like she used to throw daggers. For her to be thrown back in that dismal jail cell awaiting a death sentence that almost assuredly awaited her for what happened at the bureau.

But he was still frustrated as all hell that he couldn’t find her now, no matter how much he didn’t want her rotting in prison on the outskirts of the city.

It was while he stood with his fingers running over the silk of her sheets that he heard the jingling of keys at her front door. It was surprising, considering he’d had to pick several locks to get up here in the first place. Rowan flattened his body against the bedroom wall, listening to the front door open and close.

The footsteps that followed weren’t Aelin’s, though. They were a little louder, carrying a larger and heavier body. Rowan moved to stand in the doorway, startling the man in the center of the room. He dropped the bag he was carrying, swearing loudly as he bent to pick it back up.

“Gods above, Suit,” he murmured, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing here? Getting something for Celaena?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Rowan inquired, noting that the bag he carried contained nothing of real importance. If anything, it looked like a combination of garden tools and art supplies.

“I think I stashed something here if we’re being candid and off the record, which I would very much appreciate if we were, by the way. I’ve come to collect.” Haversham -- Rowan still didn’t know the man’s real name -- began digging around Aelin’s bookshelves, looking behind and even inside some of her books that turned out not to be books at all. They looked like books, but when opened in the middle were hidden pockets. Some were empty; some weren’t. Rowan noticed a few that had different bits of identification tucked away. None of that seemed to be what Haversham looked for as he simply closed them and put them back on the shelves.

“Where is she?” Rowan finally asked, a little boldly.

“Can’t you check that fancy anklet you have her wearing and figure it out? I haven’t seen her in a week. She isn’t calling me back, either, so when you do see her, can you tell her that I…” The man trailed off after looking up from his search and seeing Rowan’s face. Rowan’s hard, unyielding face and the concern that was likely etched in his features. The wrinkle between his brow, the stiff way he held his lips. Haversham’s head tilted curiously.

“Holy gods, did she make a run for it?”

“Something happened at the bureau. I can’t find her. Neither can they. But I need to talk to her. I can’t help her otherwise.”

“Do you want to help her?” The sound that came from Rowan was nearly a growl, and Haversham retreated a step with his hands raised defensively. “Look, I’m just saying. She wouldn’t make a run for it unless it was something serious and you’re incapacitated at the moment. Which leads me to believe that she did it; otherwise, you wouldn’t be hurt at all. Celaena wouldn’t let somebody hurt you. So either you really fucked up--”

“I did, but only by not protecting her and defending her when it mattered.”

Haversham twisted his mouth to the side while he gave Rowan a hard once-over. It was like he was assessing everything he knew about his character while deciding if he would help him or not. There was a prolonged silence that made Rowan want to throw something at the man, but he waited it out.

“I’m only going to help you because you make her happy. And I don’t mean superficially. I mean that for the first time in the eight years I’ve known her, she’s been happier and more alive than I’ve ever seen her. I know she trusted you more than she’s ever trusted anyone else. More than me, which doesn’t say much considering I think she trusts me as far as she can throw me. But she trusts you more than Sam even.” Finally, he ripped a page from one of the books and began to scrawl across the page until it was nearly full. When he handed it to Rowan, he realized it was a collection of addresses. Some were in the city; some were in other countries. Some were a handful of hours of a drive into nowhere. One was practically around the corner from where they were now.

“What is this?”

“Safehouses. Those are the ones I know about. Celaena has… a lot of secrets. I don’t know even half of them. I have my suspicions about a lot of shit, but I’m letting her come to me with it when she’s ready. So I don’t know all of her safehouses, but I know those ones. Those are the ones she’s let me use in times of trouble. That’s the only help I can really offer you besides calling if I hear from her.”

“Thank you,” Rowan said softly, and he meant it. It was the biggest and only lead that he had on her whereabouts, and even if she wasn’t crashing on a bed in any of these places, it was a start. It was the only hope he had so far that maybe, just maybe… he might find her.

~*~

Rowan had decided to start on the outside and work his way in, and it was wasting a lot of time. Everyone he was friendly with at the bureau was constantly calling and texting to see how he was doing, asking what he was up to. Fenrys told him he’d stopped by his apartment a few times this week, and he hadn’t been home. Rowan replied, saying he was just taking some time to himself, which seemed to satisfy the man, and that had been that.

In reality, Rowan had been in Terrasen trying to find Aelin. She wasn’t in either of the two listed near the border of Adarlan, so now he was slowly working his way back toward Rifthold. It just didn’t seem likely for her to be hiding somewhere in the city, not when she would have to leave for food and other necessities at some point. So he’d gone as far out as he could before making his way back. So far, it had turned up nothing. Both of the cabins he’d visited in the woods had seen better days and likely hadn’t seen Aelin in years.

He was driving toward his fourth destination now, so deep in Oakwald, he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t back in Terrasen at this point. The location pinged on the Adarlanian side of the border, but he had little hope of actually finding her. There were only two safehouses left on the list, and both of them were in the city itself. Would he still check them? Of course. But did he think that she was stupid enough to be there? Absolutely not.

The energy of the place was different as soon as he made it up the drive. Halfway up, a gate that covered the driveway, and Rowan had to abandon his car and hop the fence. It was a bit of a feat, as it was taller than him, and he only had one good arm to use, but he managed. Even if it had taken him three times as long as it usually would have. Feet pounding down against the dirt so hard it caused a small cloud, he proceeded up toward the small cottage with a little more confidence than he’d had the rest of the drive.

Smoke was wafting from the chimney, and a dim glow flickered in the window. The window that a lithe body stood in, peering through the curtains and backlit by the fire. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was Aelin, knew he’d been spotted, and knew she was watching. How she had known he’d arrived, he wasn’t sure. Being overcautious her entire life likely meant that there were tripwires that alerted her of his presence somewhere on the driveway.

As he got closer, she disappeared, and the curtains slipped back into place. When he got to the door, he reached out but hesitated for a moment. Aelin clearly didn’t want to be found and was clearly mad at him. What if she did worse than she had the last time they’d seen each other? Part of him thought she wouldn’t, but he hadn’t ever thought she would shoot him, either. Rowan wasn’t sure how many times she had told him she hated guns, but desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

It took more courage than he cared to admit to turn the knob. Much to his surprise, the door opened, and he slipped inside, shutting it behind him quietly. To be frank, Rowan couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to find her at all, much less on a list of places that Haversham managed to remember.

As his eyes adjusted to the room, he saw Aelin sitting across the room with a bottle of rum in one hand, balanced on her thigh. She was slumped down a bit in the chair; her hair dyed a muddy reddish-brown color. A dagger was in her other hand, being twisted in circles against her bare leg. Rowan wanted to tell her to stop, that she would hurt herself, but faster than he could register, she was moving. He was stunned further into silence by the whistling of the wind and the slight breeze by his ear. A loud thud had him whipping around to the door.

Embedded in the wood, millimeters from where his head had just been, was the dagger she’d been holding, and when he looked back at Aelin, she was smirking.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Pairings: Arvin Russel x Fem!Christian!Reader

Summary: Arvin knew he shouldn’t have left you alone with that new preacher... 

Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, cursing, Teagarden being a perv, really nothing out of the ordinary for this movie. 

Word Count: 5250

_________________________

“Arvin! Stop!” You giggled, pushing your boyfriend off of you as he nibbled up and down your neck. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, he just loved to hear you laugh and he knew how much the action tickled your skin. “You’re so annoyin’!” You laughed, cheeks flushed red as you gently pressed on his head to try and move it. 

He pressed himself up, looking down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay his eyes on. Arvin was straddling you, his knees trapping your hips beneath him. A hand was placed on either side of your head and he looked down at you, “But you’re so pretty when you laugh.” 

“Oh? And I’m ugly all the rest of the time?” You asked jokingly, hands reaching up stroke up and down his arms. 

Arvin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering just above your lips. Both of your guys’ eyes were still closed as if it were a romantic moment until he whispered, “Ugly as a mule.” 

You both busted up laughing and you shoved him, his body rolling onto the blanket beside you, “I’m breaking up with you.” You teasingly told him. 

“Ah, c’mon. You know you love me.” He looked over at you, loving how the autumn sun lit up your features. 

“I tolerate you. Don’t get it mixed up.” You rolled your head over to see him already admiring you. Your smile got bigger when you locked eyes with him. 

“Well I love you.” Arvin admitted sweetly, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek and kissing you one more time. 

Arvin made you feel beautiful and special and safe, all those things that no boy had ever made you feel. He always had. Even when you were children back in middle school and neither of you really talked to each other, when you saw him around the halls, a peace just settled over you that made you feel like you were on top of the world. When the two of you began dating ten months ago, that never changed. 

“I love you too.” 

The two of you laid back against the yellow blanket with little orange flowers on it, the one that you’d taken from the linen closet back home. This was yours and Arvin’s favorite place, a little clearing in the woods. The grass was tall enough to be soft but not so tall that it hid critters. Flowers lined the edge of the woods in the spring. It wasn’t springtime now but that only meant that instead of a display of white and yellow flower buds, the pair of you had a beautiful show of brilliant reds and oranges from the falling leaves. 

Everyone in town knew you were together. Word spread fast around Coal Creek and it was nearly impossible to hide anything. Your families were both supportive of the relationship. Emma loved that you were involved with the church and put effort into the community when you could, often participating in bake sales around town. She liked to tease that you won Arvin over with your “man catching apple cobbler” as she now called it, since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend over a slice of the delicious dessert after a Sunday service. 

Your parents liked Arvin as well. Even after Fred Dinwoodie had told your dad about what Arvin had done to Gene, it surprisingly made him like Arvin more. “You got yourself a good man who knows right from wrong and ain’t afraid to stand up for the people he loves.” Was what he’d said, which had surprised you. You knew that Arvin had beaten all the boys right after he’d done it, since he came to you to help him calm down and ice his knuckles. You were terrified for your parents to find out, though, sure that they’d tell you to break up with him for fear of violent tendencies. Thankfully, that day never came. 

It was nice out there, bundled up in a warm brown coat, laying on Arvin’s chest, and watching the leaves fly across the crisp sky in the breeze. 

“We should probably get headin’ back.” You said reluctantly, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

“Why’s that?” Arvin perched on his elbow to watch you tighten the jacket around your frame, a cool breeze hitting just right. 

“The new preacher asked me to come by this afternoon. Said he needed help planning a fundraiser to raise money for the less fortunate families in town.” You traced a finger over his knuckles gingerly, small pink marks littering his knuckles from his attack on Dinwoodie and his boys still healing over. 

“Ain’t you one o’ them less fortunate families in town?” He asked, trying to find a way to talk you out of this. Ever since Preston Teagarden had humiliated Emma on his first day, Arvin had it out for the man. 

You scoffed with a chuckle, “Yeah, but you are too and your grandma is still always bringin’ stuff to church. Just cause I’m broke as shit doesn’t mean I can’t try to help other people who are broke as shit.”

Arvin stood up with you and helped you fold up the blanket, “I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im.” 

“I agree that he was totally out of line callin’ your grandma out like that two weeks ago but I’d like to think that maybe I can talk to him about it.” The two of you began to walk back to Arvin’s car, grass swishing under your steps. 

Arvin’s face twisted, “I just don’t trust the man. He’s always up there on that damn stage actin’ all high ‘n mighty every Sunday like he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He reached forward and opened your door for you, closing it after you slid onto the seat. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. 

“He’s a sinner like the rest of us. It’s just about doing what you can to make yourself better.” You responded, looking over at Arvin sweetly. He gave you a skeptic look and sighed deeply as he turned his attention back to look towards the road. With one hand on the steering wheel, he slid his free hand over to hold yours gently. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio quietly playing in the background. 

Arvin loved you. He really really loved you. You generally had your wits about you, a heck of a lot more than most of the girls in Coal Creek, not allowing your religion to totally cloud your vision. You were a good girl, good enough to make his grandma happy and not cause too much trouble around town, always helping those in need, but not so pious that you made everyone else around you feel like a sinner. You were still fun, you still made mistakes. Arvin felt like you were something between ethereal and real, somehow elevating him as a person but also showing him just how good life could be. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel like you were making a mistake with this preacher. Of course, with your caring nature, you would help him, especially knowing it was for the poor folks in town. But something about Teagarden just made Arvin’s skin crawl. He just couldn’t put his finger on it… 

The tires rolled to a crunching halt on the gravel outside of the church. The graveyard to the side looked dark and gloomy as always, the cloud of loss looming over almost everyone in this town in one way or another. The church, though, stood small and humble in the field, white paint chipping after years of weathering. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You leaned over and pecked Arvin on the cheek. 

He let out a heavy sigh, “You really sure you don’t just want me to take you home?” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a sweet smile on your face, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be fine, Arv, but thank you for the concern.” Opening the door, you climbed out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“What? No. I’m givin’ you a ride home.” Arvin looked offended that you even suggested such blasphemy. 

“I don’t want you to have to drive all the way back here for me and I don’t know how long this’ll take. Besides, I don’t live too far from here.” You shook your head, leaning against the open door.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, “What kind of man would I be if I let you walk home alone at night? I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘n that’s final. I have to run to the market anyways to get some stuff for my grandma so I’ll just do that ‘n come back here for ya.” 

With loving warmth welling up in your chest, you leaned into the car, holding onto the roof for balance, while you kissed him on the lips, “I’ll see you in a few then.” 

Pulling yourself back out of the car, you closed the door and waved before spinning to walk towards the church. Looking behind you, you gave Arvin one final wave before disappearing through the door. 

The church was empty, though you expected nothing less on a Saturday afternoon. The pews were empty so you wandered into the building curiously. You closed the door behind you as you walked further in. “Hello? Reverend?” 

Preston Teagarden approached from the door off to the side of the main stage, where his office had been located, “Y/N! Forgive me, I expected you to be a little bit later.” 

You stopped in your tracks, “Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t say an exact time. Just afternoon…” You chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling bad for arriving early. 

“No, no, it’s no problem at all,” He waved his hand dismissively. Teagarden made his way down the aisle a few rows before stopping, “So from what I’ve heard, you are the one to talk to about fundraising” 

Flattered, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Oh, well I don’t know about that… I’ve done a few fundraisers but I wouldn’t say I’m the one to go to.” 

“Nonsense, girl! I’m sure you’ll help plan something amazing. Now, why don’t you come over here and we can start talking about it.” He gestured towards the pew he was leaning on and waited for you to sit down before sliding in next to you. 

Your legs crossed when you sat down, “So, I was thinking about this for a few days and the high school has a harvest festival every November. If we set up a bake sale, we could easily raise a few hundred dollars, at least. Everybody loves Mrs. Lyle’s lemon bars and I’m sure those alone could rake in a small fortune.” You giggled a little at your small joke and the preacher did as well. 

As he did so, his arm slid behind your shoulder so smoothly, you almost didn’t notice at first. Almost. Though the action took you off guard, you chose to write it off. People had done this before to you platonically so this probably didn’t mean anything. Just a show of interest in what you had to say. 

“Mmm, you’re makin’ me crave some sweets,” Teagarden chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then back around the room. 

“Well I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. Coal Creek ain’t got much but if we got one thing, it’s some mighty good bakers.” You dug around in your bag that you’d brought, searching for the journal that you’d been planning this event out on, “I actually did some math and I was thinking… we could charge a dime per cookie or a dollar a dozen, yeah? And then maybe a quarter for a slice of pie and then a dollar twenty five for-” 

The preacher stopped you, placing his hand on the notebook, “You really thought this out, huh? You sure are one smart girl there, Y/N. You go to the high school?”

The older man had scooched closer to you sometime during your ramblings and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by his presence. His body was nearly flush against yours and his arm around your shoulders were trapping. 

He’s a preacher, he wouldn’t do nothin’, you tried to convince yourself but Arvin’s voice came ringing in your ears: I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im. Trying not to be obvious, just in case you were misreading things, you slid away from him just slightly to put some distance between your bodies. As you did so, however, Teagarden’s hand closed around your left shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently. 

Your eyes widened when you looked over at his grip and your heart began to pick up pace. “Yeah.” Your voice was shakier than you thought it would be. 

“What are ya? Junior, senior? You look young… but definitely not a little girl.” His eyes raked tactically over your body. Your legs were shaped out well in your cuffed denim jeans and your white and pink striped boat neck long sleeve shirt was far from revealing but Preston was well aware of the way the stripes curved out of place over your breasts. 

“Senior. I’ll be graduating this June.” Now your voice was solid and low, just teetering on threatening. 

The preacher smiled, “Ah, ain’t that exciting. Such a smart pretty little thing going out into the real world. It’s good to see a nice Christian girl going out there but y’know, the real world is real bad. Believe you me. You gotta be real careful out there. Temptation and sin ‘round every corner. The devil hides himself, y’know? Wraps up all his evil and disguises it as everythin’ you ever wanted.” 

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You stated quietly but firmly, looking up to lock eyes with him. Arvin was right. Something was certainly off about this man and you were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

Preston smiled proudly, “That’s right. Now, you gotta make sure you ain’t fallin’ into any o’ his traps.” 

Your jaw clenched and your eyes darted around the room before landing in your lap, “I’d like to think I got a good ‘nough head on my shoulders to see Satan working in disguise.” 

He tsked, “That’s a good start but you can’t go relyin’ on your own knowledge of the world. You need to let God tell you what’s right ‘n wrong. Trust in Him.” His hand on your shoulder shook you slightly for emphasis while his other pointed upwards towards Heaven. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which you could have heard a pin drop before he spoke again, “How is your walk with God?” 

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes, “It’s alright. Could be better but everyone’s could, I s’pose.” 

“I agree,” Preston’s leg started bouncing and he looked towards the front of the church, where he typically stood preaching, “E’ryone could walk a little closer. Myself included.” He gestured to the front of the church, “Why don’t we pray? C’mon over here.” 

He stood up and walked up to the head of the room, just below the cross. Cautiously, you followed him. “I like to think as a man of God, I can do some of His work. Or rather put the good word out there and try to save as many souls as possible. Why don’t you get on your knees? Lemme pray for ya.” 

A shiver ran through your spine as you knelt down on shaky knees, eyes going up to the large black cross that hung on the wall. Please, Lord, get me out of this. You prayed silently. 

Preston stood behind you, his hands coming to your shoulders as he began, “Lord, today we pray for Y/N and her excursions into the world as a young woman. Help her see through the devil’s delusions and guide her through this world. Lord, I pray that you see Y/N in everything that she is as she dedicates her whole self to you. Give her strength, amen.” 

“Amen.” When your eyes slid open, your whole body was shaking. 

“So you say you got some good judgement?” Preston asked as you stood up, “Say you walk in the light?” 

“I try to but we all have our slip ups.” You answered humbly and honestly, avoiding his eye contact. 

Preston hummed, “I seen you with that Russell boy. Y’all going steady?” Silently, you nodded in response. “There’s a lot of temptation in relationships like that.” 

It was clear what he was insinuating and it actually made you mad. What right did he have to be poking around in your romantic and sexual life? “Has he ever touched you?” 

The bluntness of his question hit you like a rock, “With all do respect, Reverend, that ain’t really none of your business.” 

He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just concerned ‘bout that boy dragging you down into temptation. Sullying your position with the good Lord, ‘n all.” 

“Arvin is a perfectly respectful man. He ain’t draggin’ nothin’ or nobody down.” Your voice was getting more aggressive. 

“So he hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t seen you…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Like I said, that ain’t none of your business. Thank you for your concern for my soul but what Arvin and I do is between us and the Lord. I don’t need no middle man reverend to redeem me.” 

He shrugged, “But you know, one of the best ways to get right with the Lord is to surrender yourself. Fully.” He took a few steps towards you and your breathing hitched. There was a sexual tension in the air that made your skin crawl. 

“I’ve already given my life to the Lord.” 

You weren’t giving in quite as easily as Preston had expected. Those other girls, Lenora and Jeanette Reaster, had been easily manipulated into giving Preston what he wanted. Just tell them they were unclean and needed to get right with the Lord and right into his trap they fell but you… you were different. Smart in the worldy kind of way. You were the first girl to give him a hard time but Preston would be lying if he said he didn’t like the chase. 

You were staring daggers at him, your jaw clenched, and your body standing tall and strong. It was almost as if you were trying to prove a point. You could have run, could have darted out screaming about what had happened, but you didn’t. There was no proof and Preston knew it. This was how he got away with it all. No proof, all words and small touches that were just innocent enough to be misread. It wasn’t until he got them in the backseat of his car or in the office in the back of the church that he actually touched them but by then, it was consensual. Sure, for Lenora and Jeanette there was the issue that they were minors but that was the fun of these little towns like Coal Creek, The girl always took the fall. It was always her fault. Preston could get off scotch free and he knew it. He loved it. 

Almost like something out of a movie, he reached down and gently settled one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pressing his lips against yours without giving you a chance to object. You yelled indignantly against lips but when he pulled away, the hand on your cheek moved to cover your mouth. Preston leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I am an extension of the Lord’s work. Surrender yourself to me fully to surrender yourself to Him.” 

** 

Arvin watched as you walked into the church with a distrusting pang in his gut. There was just something about that reverend that didn’t sit right. It killed him to watch you leave, knowing that you were alone in there with him.

But he also knew you were a big girl. The logical part of his brain kept screaming at him that he was being irrational. The reverend was probably an okay enough guy. He’d never be number one or even number twenty on Arvin’s list of favorite people but that didn’t necessarily mean that the preacher would kill your something. Besides, Arvin really did need to run to the market. Lenora had requested some pecans for a pie she wanted to bake and his grandma  needed more milk. It would be a quick trip as town was just a short drive down the street. 

Reluctantly, Arvin backed out the driveway and sped off down the street. 

The entire time that Arvin was at the market, there was an unsettling tingle all around his body. It got harder to ignore as more time passed. The longer he left you with Teagarden, the worse he felt. 

“Just these.” Arvin threw a bag of pecans and a gallon of milk on the counter and paid for it quickly, rushing back to his car. He wouldn’t be having these feelings for no reason. Best case scenario, you were absolutely fine and Arvin was just being paranoid. Worst case scenario… Arvin couldn’t think about it because every time he thought of one, another worse one popped into his brain. 

It had only been about twenty minutes since Arvin left you alone with the preacher. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long planning a fundraiser would take. Church activities had never been his thing but he supported you as long as it made you happy. 

He sat in the car in the church parking lot, lighting up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Arvin’s leg bounced anxiously as he watched yet another late autumn storm roll in. The clouds cast a dark gloominess, turning the minimal light left from the mostly set sun a shade of grey.. There Arvin sat for another five minutes, awaiting your exit from the building but it never came. 

Fuck it. Arvin twisted his hat on straight and threw the door open, nearly stomping out. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something was wrong. He could feel it. 

Sure enough, when he threw the door open, he was horrified. Preston Teagarden had you locked in a tight embrace, his hands running over your breasts. The two of you were standing in the middle of the aisle, right in the center of church. You had a furious look on your face, “I swear to God you touch me like that again and I’ll cut your damn dick off!” You gripped desperately at his hand that was groping you, trying to pry it away but to no avail. 

The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw both yours and Teagarden’s attention. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Arvin wasted no time running into the conflict. Teagarden dropped you and your knees buckled from the unexpected action, landing you on the ground. 

He put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, now, let’s talk about this like real men.” 

Arvin threw one solid swing to his chin, sending his head flying sideways, “You ain’t no real man. Real men don’t gotta go around gropin’ girls to get off, you sick fuck!” Another punch landed on his opposite cheek and it sent Teagarden to the ground. 

You scurried away from him and stood up just ahead of Arvin. Preston cowered, hiding his face, “Please, please, have mercy.” His pleading eyes went from Arvin to you and he lingered on your gaze, knowing that he had a better chance with the mercy approach with you. 

He found none. Even with his blood smeared face, his teeth stained crimson, and the way his body shook, you just scowled down at him, “I’m gonna tell e’ryone in this town what a disgustin’ man you are. You think you can get away with this, you’re dead wrong.” You sent a swift kick straight to his stomach, making him curl into the fetal position with a loud groan of pain. 

But then he laughed. He actually laughed. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You and Arvin both spat in unison, blood boiling. 

Preston laid his head back and closed his eyes, an almost serene look of confidence contrasting the blood that covered him and the swelling of his lip, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. You came to visit the church after hours under the guise of helping me with a fundraiser. But then you used your womanly charms to try and seduce me, a married man of God.” 

“That ain’t what happened!” Arvin yelled angrily, fists clenched by his side. 

When the words left the preacher’s mouth though, your heart dropped. You knew the truth, Arvin knew the truth, the reverend knew the truth. But none of that mattered if the Reverend told everyone his concocted story because he was a man of God. Why would he lie? 

A sadistic smile spread across his face, “It is if I say it is. Ain’t nobody gonna believe two teenagers over a preacher.” 

“He’s right.” Your voice faltered as you spoke, nearly coming out as a shattered whisper. When Arvin looked over at you, your face had paled and you looked utterly broken. 

It wasn’t so much that the assault itself was enough to break you, though, of course, it had definitely left you with the lingering ghosts of his filthy hands on your body. It was the fact that you knew he’d get away with it, that no matter what you or Arvin said, the town would believe Teagarden. 

Arvin swallowed hard, trying to see through the blinding rage. As a boy, he never truly understood the bias that women faced when they were victims of sexual assault- how it was perceived as their faults in towns like this. It had never happened to anyone he knew so he never had much reason to think about it. Now, you were forced to live with knowing that you assailant was going to keep his position as a fucking preacher in town and that you couldn’t do anything about it. 

Arvin wouldn’t let it stand. 

He stomped forward yet again and knelt over Teagarden, sending blow after blow into his face. Bone crunched bone with a disgusting crack with every hit and you flinched every time. 

Your eyes were wide with terror. Arvin’s violent past with Gene Dinwoodie and his boys was not unknown to you. You were the first person he’d gone to after the attack, in fact, and you’d actually supported him for the most part, only wishing that maybe he didn’t send them all to the hospital and only roughed them up a bit. Actually watching him beat someone to the brink of death though was something else entirely. 

“Stop!” The word left your mouth before you even knew you’d thought it. 

Arvin stopped and looked over his shoulder at you in surprise. He was doing this for you after all. 

“Don’t kill ‘im. Please.” You begged, your voice heavy.

“What?” Arvin wasn’t actually sure what he’d intended on doing to the preacher. Sure, he wanted to kill him. That horrified, angry look in your eye as he touched you made a fire burn in him so bright, he didn’t know if it could be put out. But Arvin had never wanted to be a killer. He only wanted to prove a point and make sure that the message stuck. Now that he thought about it, though, he would have to finish the job or the preacher would tell him he’d attacked him. 

Your eyes were almost brimming with tears, though none fell. This whole evening had been too much. First the assault and now watching the love of your life throw his good conscience away for you. You wanted the preacher to pay as much as he did but this just didn’t feel right. 

“P-please… I don’t want you takin’ the fall for none o’ this. He don’t deserve to die but I think a good beatin’ will give him some time to reevaluate ‘imself.” You’d walked towards Arvin and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. 

Arvin couldn’t fathom why you’d be protecting this monster. The question was clear all over his face. Why? 

“I’m not asking you to stop for him. I’m asking you to stop for you. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands for me. Not for this.” His heart broke seeing you look the way you did, your eyes shining with tears, and your hand a little shaky. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. 

Arvin grabbed the preacher off the ground by the collar and pulled him up almost a foot, leaning down to get in his disfigured face, “If I ever hear that you went near Y/N or any other girl again, I will find you and kill you. If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you. And if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will fucking kill you. You understand? Consider it that mercy you kept beggin’ for.” 

He dropped the preacher gracelessly with a thud and wrapped an arm comfortingly around you. For a moment, he was scared that you’d flinch away. You’d never seen him when he let his anger get the best of him and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t want you to think that he was a violent man because he really wasn’t. Arvin just cared for a special few so much that he’d do anything for them. He’d never hurt someone he loved though and needed you to know that. 

Thankfully, you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his car, leaving the preacher an unconscious mess in the middle of the church. When you exited the building, night had fallen upon Coal Creek, casting a fitting darkness over the town. 

“Thank you.” You said simply and quietly, looking over at Arvin sincerely on the drive home. 

“For what?” 

“For everything. Just bein’ who you are.” You paused with a heavy sigh, “But promise me something?” 

Arvin looked over at you, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to show you he was listening. 

“Promise me you won’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble for me.” 

He shook his head, “He deserved-” 

“I know what he deserved,” You interrupted, “And I am so grateful that you stepped in to help. But I don’t want you gettin’ yourself thrown in jail or killed for me.” 

There was short silence before Arvin looked over with the most sincere look you think he’d ever given you, “I can’t promise that. ‘M sorry, Y/N, but if I ever see you in danger, I’m gonna do what I need to do.” 

It wasn’t the response you’d been hoping for but this boy had the ability to make you feel more loved than anyone else you knew. You only wished he understood that you only wanted what was best for him, just like he did for you. “I love you, Arvin.” You admitted, sliding across the seat to lay your head against his shoulder while he drove. 

“I love you too.” 

[millllenniawrites]

warmth (Poe Dameron x Reader)

words: 5.6k yes it is the longest thing on this blog shush

summary: The Resistance’s victory celebration quickly turns sour when their trusted Commander, Poe Dameron, recognizes a toxin in the air. This favourite doctor is the only one he trusts with the information he has. You’re the only one you trust to look after him.

warnings: smut (this is 18+ people); afab!reader; porn with plot; sex pollen so that automatically makes it dubcon; doctor!reader; swearing, drugs, dirty talk, Poe Dameron is so whiny when he’s horny holy fuck; bondage; oral (f receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it up folks); pet names (good girl, honey, sweetheart, baby); this relies on Poe’s spice runner past (the one I use in Helix, not the gross canon one) but it’s not directly dealt with and it’s super vague 

a/n: I was trying to find a place to feature Kade Sol who is my baby sunshine light of my life from the Helix series and I snuck him in here! also this was a worldbuilding writing exercise that somehow turned into the filthiest smut I’ve ever written so there’s that 

__

As the last First Order ship disappeared from the sky, a victory cry sounded through the Resistance fighters. Poe Dameron landed on the tarmac of Cida’s Travel Station, popping the hood of his X-Wing. He grinned, watching the rest of Black and Blue squadron land around him, all hopping out of their ships and rejoicing on the deck.

They didn’t lose anyone in the air today. That alone was cause for celebration.

It had been three weeks of trying to break the First Order’s blockade on the Cida system. King Caran had graciously accepted the help of the Resistance, backed by the New Republic’s ships, and allowed them to set up a temporary base on Cida Prime. In exchange for liberating their system, His Majesty had granted the Resistance usage of their hyperspace lanes, which would cut the transport time from the Hosnian system to D’Qar in half. An easy trade, if anyone had bothered to ask Poe.

Which no one did, these days. But he was doing his best. 

Kade, his captain, shook him from his thoughts as he called from the ground, “The King is asking for you, Dameron.”

He dropped out of his ship, quickly hugging Kade, grateful as always to have his best friend by his side, before jogging into the command centre of the makeshift air base, where King Caran and Admiral Ackbar were waiting.

“Commander Dameron,” the King’s booming voice sounded through the small room as Poe entered.

Poe bowed low, nearly folding himself completely in half. “Your Majesty.” 

A pair of Cidan guards’ in navy uniforms flanked him as he trailed behind the King and Ackbar. Poe found himself tuning out the negotiations, agreeing with Ackbar on instinct as the two men spoke. They took more twists and turns than Poe could count. He began marking various basins, leaking different coloured smoke as landmarks, in case he needed to find his way out. 

Not that he thought the King wasn’t deserving of their trust. This was a war. He just wasn’t going to risk it. 

As they entered what appeared to be the King’s office, Poe felt almost out of place. Like he was floating, a gentle burning feeling in his gut the only thing grounding him. 

In a turn of events Poe was not expecting, he found himself missing you.

He loved Kade. Of course, he loved Kade. His second. His partner in crime. But the flight home was sure to be a boring one without you.

It wasn’t tradition, necessarily. But each time the two of you had taken a mission together, it had been a resounding success. And on your way home, he’d celebrated between your legs. 

And you’d taken care of him after, like the good girl he knew you were. 

The burning moved lower, a sweet smell settling in his nose. One Poe recognized, from a time before the New Republic Navy. 

Fuck.

Voice panicked, “King Caran,” Poe stood, realizing he had interrupted the King. Breathing heavily, he scanned the room, eyes locking on a small stone in the corner. It sat on a warming plate, small tendrils of yellow smoke disappearing into the air.

Caran laughed, following Poe’s gaze. “You know your therapies, my boy.” The man seemed… pleased. Proud. “A gift, from us to you.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Poe coughed, a phantom of the sensation he had only felt once before aching deep in his lungs. “Most organisms outside of the Cidan’s can’t handle Stiima the way your graciousness can.”

“My apologies, my friend. We thought that it would help to calm things. For negotiations, of course.” Caran met Ackbar’s eyes, anxiety evident. “Please understand it is simply the way we celebrate such a great success as we have seen today.”

“I understand, your Majesty.” Ackbar side-eyed Poe, concern evident. “Are you alright, Commander?” 

The ringing in Poe’s ears drowned out the last of their conversation. The next thing he knew, he was back on the tarmac, shouting, “Kade. Get everyone in the air. Now.”

He beelined for his shuttle, locking himself in the cockpit. Hand clenching as he felt himself relax into the passenger seat, the pain of his nails digging into his palm grounding him. 

“Poe, you good?” Kade banged on the door.

He didn’t answer, focusing on the 

Kade finally got the door open. “Poe, what the fuck?” 

“Fly.” Poe said through gritted teeth. “I need you to fly.” 

So Kade did. 

They didn’t dock to the main carrier, flying above it. They would wait until it jumped to hyperspace before they followed. 

Poe watched as fighter after fighter flew into the large ship. Ears filled with cotton, he barely heard Ackbar’s order over the comms for anyone in a shuttle to stay away from the ship.

Code Orange.

Quarantine protocol.

Poe couldn’t stop his mind from going back to you. The last time you were on mission together. The way your mouth felt.

Your eyes. 

The innocent way you would smile, naked and spread out under him… 

“Poe?” Kade asked, sitting forward in his seat. “Are you alright?” 

Poe hit a comm button on his dash, connecting him directly to command. 

“Commander Dameron, are you alright?” A young man’s voice came through his headset. 

“I need you to connect me to med.” 

“Is someone—” 

“Connect me to med, officer. I need to speak with the doctor.” 

*

You opened the hull door of Poe Dameron’s shuttle, a small case of bacta and other various medications tucked under your arm. Coughing into your mask as you entered the dark ship, you quickly located the panel to seal the door behind you, saluting the mech on the ground that would lock you in after the door eased shut.

The convoy had landed hours ago. The medic team had been slowly working through shuttles, administering antidotes to those that could take them.  

It wasn’t poison. You’d ruled that out early. But the obvious effects of dehydration were evident. Poe seemed to know what it was, from the way he sounded in the recording Ackbar had passed off to med, but no one else was familiar with the symptoms everyone seemed to be presenting. 

Looking around, you stayed still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. You had been in his shuttle before; you knew you were in the cargo bay, and if you followed the wall to your right, you would find the ladder that would lead you to the cockpit. Your mission. The plan. Assessing Poe and Captain Kade Sol’s symptoms. 

But if you went to the left and pushed the thin black curtain aside, you would find the small closet that served as his bed on long missions.

Your bed, when you joined him. 

It was hard not to smile, remembering the long nights in hyperspace with the famous Commander. The way his curls tangled around your fingers. How his stubble felt against the inside of your thighs…

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you shook your head with a small embarrassed laugh and began to work your way to the ladder.

Even with the grey cloth pulled tight across your mouth and nose, you could still smell the musk of the air, heavy in your lungs. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it had a true weight to it, like slightly overripe fruit or warm spices, much worse than the three shuttles you had cleared before this. The rungs of the ladder were warm like the air, slick with moisture, a telltale sign that Poe and Kade had done as asked. There had been no air circulating in the ship since they landed. If any of the airborne toxins had gotten into the ship, it wouldn’t have had the chance to escape outside. 

You smiled as your hands brushed their oxygen canisters, hearing the slow leak of fluid. Always thorough, Dameron…

Your hands grazed the small railing that guarded the catwalk to the cockpit as you made your way down to the sealed door.

“Commander Dameron? Captain Sol?” you called, hoping they could hear you through the dense metal. “It’s Doctor--”

The hiss of the door caused you to jump and you stepped back, taking in the form of the Captain. The large man nearly filled the doorway, dark clothes making it difficult to see him in the blackness of the ship. “I know who you are. Command came through a little while ago.” His voice as gruff as always, but he said it with a smile. “I’ve had no symptoms, but I figure you still need to check me out?”

“Yes, Captain.” You nod, “If you wouldn’t mind going back into the cockpit for me…”

He grumbled something you couldn’t make out but did what you asked, sitting in the only passenger seat in the small room, empty save for them.

“Where’s Commander Dameron?” you asked as you knelt in beside Kade, fingers on his wrist.

You ran through the basics of your training as he talked. 

“Poe didn’t get so lucky. Got hit worse than most people, from what we’ve heard. He was in the King’s office. Said something about a… diffuser?” When you nodded, he seemed to relax. “That’s why he made the call. Asked me to lock him up until a medic got here. He was specifically asking for you, so I guess we got lucky.”

You were grateful for the dark, hiding the way you flushed. “Guess so.” Unable to hide the warmth in your voice, you gave Kade a small smile. “There isn’t a brig on this ship. Where—"

“His quarters. Stun cuffs magnetized to the wall.” He seemed almost embarrassed, ducking his head. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, exactly. Just that he hasn’t really stopped making noise since about twenty minutes after we landed.”

You hesitated. Generally careful about the information you give out to patients, you weren’t sure it would be appropriate to explain, but Kade and Poe were a package deal. Rarely did you see one without the other. They’d been joined at the hip since long before they had defected to the Resistance together.

“It’s a potent aphrodisiac.” You murmured, standing behind him and tilting his head to check for discolouration on his neck, “Most people got hit with… well, let’s call it Level 1 symptoms. Loose tongue. Unable to really control what they’re saying, or at least not thinking it through. Level 2 are action: making choices you wouldn’t ordinarily make. The… aphrodisiac part. If you get to level two, we’ve found they wear off in about three hours. No antidote needed. Just fluids and rest, after it all. But you’ve been in here almost a whole day…” and Poe’s condition hadn’t improved.

“Which means what? He’s at level 3?”

There wasn’t a level 3. 

Coming around in front of Kade, you nodded slowly. “Was he complaining of… pain?” you flinched as you said the word, knowing the man had no idea what you were truly asking.

“Right before he asked me to gag him. He had moments he was lucid… basically told me to leave him locked up, no matter what he said.” 

There was only one other person that had said the drug hurt, and she had been fine for a few hours now. 

Kade chewed idly on his bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. “Not easy being locked in while your best friend is raving like a madman.”

“The gag was a good call. He’ll thank you once he’s back to himself.” You tried for another smile. “You seem okay. Vitals are normal. Rosa is just outside. I’ll let her know that she can open the door. She’ll give you a mask and escort you to showers, and then back to your quarters. They’ll send a medical droid to check you out fully before you’re allowed to intermix with the base. Just in case.”

“Thank you, doc.” Kade stood, heading out the door to the rest of the shuttle. “Poe is—”

“I know.” You nodded, not really thinking through your words. “Closet. Curtain.”

Kade paused, turning to look at you for a moment. His eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before he dropped down the ladder. You appreciated that he hadn’t said anything, having a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t know you only off your medical reputation.

Your excursions with Poe were a relative secret, not wanting command to restrict you going on missions together because of your… you weren’t really sure what to call it. Enough people had stories about him that you knew you weren’t exclusive, but being with him was different. It had always been different. 

Though you supposed all the people he took to bed could say the same thing. 

You pushed the heavy curtain aside.

He was laid back on his cot, only one of his boots on. Poe struggled against his cuffs, attached to the wall above his head, and whined through the gag in his mouth. The bed squeaked and shook. It was a significantly less pleasant sound when you were standing there, not on top of him…

You shook your head quickly, a reminder that you were working, before you knelt on the ground next to Poe’s head. His eyes widened as he focused on you. Reaching for the fabric cutting into his cheeks, your fingertips grazed his jaw. “I’m gonna remove this, okay?” you murmured before eased the gag out of his mouth, letting the loop of dark cloth hanging around his neck.

“Sweetheart…” he whined the moment his mouth was free to move, his voice cracking around the dryness of his throat. You set your med case on the floor and opened it quickly, digging through bandages and bacta patches before finding what you needed. You lifted a small canteen to his lips, letting the water trickle into his mouth. He coughed, spluttering a little before he was tilting his head away, gasping, “Please, sweetheart. I need…”

You shushed him gently, swiping a cloth over his lips. Trying to distract him, you softened your voice, “You got everyone out before it could get bad, Poe. Everyone else is safe.” 

He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, seeming to relax a little. Your eyes found his throat. Watching him breathe, swallow, reminded you of the way his skin tasted… 

Fuck. 

You coughed again into your mask, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.” and ignoring the way Poe whined as you let the curtain fall behind you. 

Once you were a few steps away from him, you could breathe a little easier. The air was hot, fucking scalding through your mask, and you tilted your head back a bit to force yourself to breathe deeply. Slowly. Calmingly. 

You reached up, touching the pad of the in-ear to firmly press it into your head, “Rosa? You copy?” 

The woman’s high voice came through, louder than before. Her voice seemed to be directed straight into your skull. “Everything alright in there, doc?” 

“Everything’s fine. Commander Dameron has symptoms we haven’t seen before and I think I’m contaminated. It’s not bad. I can work through it. But I’m going to take my comm out just in case.” You really didn’t need command hearing your unfiltered thoughts.

She grumbled, “Maker. You sure you’re alright?” You swore you could almost see the way her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yeah, Rosa. I’m good. Level 1 or less. Just make sure those doors stay locked until we come off it. Don’t open them for anyone. Even the General.” 

She turned on the link long enough that you heard her laugh before she said, “Sounds good. If we need you, we’ll come through the cockpit.” A brief pause, “Stay safe, doc.” 

“You too, Rosa.” 

Pulling the plastic out of your ear, you double checked that you had it turned it off before returning to Poe’s side. 

He relaxed the moment you were back in view, hips stilling on the bed. You tried not to stare at the obvious tent in his pants. 

His eyes seemed to focus better than before, saying quietly, “I heard you. Talking to Rosa. You shouldn’t have touched me.” 

He was right. It was probably your proximity to him that did it. But you had to do your job. That was your only priority, of course. Of course…

“Like I’ve ever been good at keeping my hands to myself with you around.” You froze as the words slipped past your lips, unable to stop them. 

He didn’t seem bothered by the sudden accidental honesty, but his eyes glazed over again, trailing over you. “I miss your hands…” he groaned, biting his lip and sending a wave of heat through you. 

“Careful, or I’m gonna put that gag back in.” Voice sounding forced even to your own ears, you sat down on the floor, your back resting against the bed. 

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand, until he repeated himself. “Take yours off. The… the mask. If you’ve got it…” 

He was right. If you’d already been exposed, there wasn’t any point in keeping it on. It was hot. There was no one in there but you. You weren’t hurting anyone. You could take the mask off. It would be fine. You—

“Sweetheart…” Poe groaned, rattling the cuffs. 

You ripped the mask off your face, tossing it near your medical kit. 

“G-good. Can you… can you please take my arms down, honey?” he tugged at the cuffs again. If you had turned to look at him, you would have seen the desperation you knew was painted across his features. “It hurts.”  

His whine sent a pang of guilt through you. “Why did you know what the drug was?” you asked, hoping it would distract him.

“It’s used in party drugs. The way it burns… it’s not like anything else I’ve ever—” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, despite the way his pants were twisted around his legs from hours of struggling. The fabric stuck against him and pulled, and he moaned, guttural and sweet and chipping away at the wall of self-control you had haphazardly built against him. 

“Poe,” Meant to be chastising, the word landed somewhere in the realm of yearning and breathless. 

“Anything, sweetheart. Please.” Rolling his head back and forth on the bedroll under his head, he sounded close to tears as he whined, “I think my dick is going to fall off if you don’t touch it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, helping to break the cloud of arousal circling your head. “I don’t think that’s a medically sound diagnosis, Commander.” 

“Say that again…” he breathed. 

“Medically—”

“No.” 

Your sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the shuttle. 

“Commander?” 

He tilted his head back, groaning, “You say my title and I can’t stop thinking about being inside you.” 

“It’s just the drugs.” 

“You know it’s not just the drugs.” You could have sworn it was a growl with the way the low sound of his voice tore through you. “I need you to touch me, honey.” 

“Will you stop talking if I do?” 

“Come lay with me and give me one hand back. Then I’ll stop talking.” 

Negotiating meant he was lucid, if only partially. 

“I thought you said it makes it worse if I touch you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, like that could block out the image that his soft gasps conjured in your mind. 

“It’ll get worse before it gets better.” 

“Always got a fucking answer for everything…” You grumbled, but it worked. Carefully, you eased yourself up off the floor and onto his small cot and leaned over him. One ring of the cuffs released with the click of a few buttons. 

After freeing the gag from around his neck and tossing it to the floor, Poe’s free hand immediately reached for you, gripping your thigh. Even though the thick fabric of your pants, you could feel how warm he was. “Sweetheart…” 

“You said you’d stop talking.” 

“Lay down. Lay down and I’ll stop talking.” 

You had agreed to it. And when his fingers dug into your thigh and the wave of relief washed over you at his touch, you weren’t about to argue. 

So you laid down, back to him, letting his free hand roam up and down your side. Under your shirt. Down under the top of your pants that he didn’t bother to undo. There wasn’t any focus to his movements. Where he touched you, you relaxed, and as his touch moved on, your skin burned. 

You didn’t notice the high-pitched whine leaving your parted lips until Poe’s hand came to rest on your throat. 

“Does it hurt?” He traced from your jaw to your collarbone, over and over, putting just enough pressure on your neck that you were gasping. 

“N-no… Are you…? Does it hurt for you?” 

“This is better. You being close makes it better.” 

“It’s just warm.” That was the only way to describe it. It was like he had set you on fire. Everywhere he had touched ached. 

He groaned, breath hot against your ear as he rutted his hips against you. “Let me help, sweetheart…” No amount of squirming was going to make the heat go away and you couldn’t figure out how he could be so slow about all of this. “I can make you feel good. I can make it go away. Please…” His fingers trailed across the exposed skin of your stomach, soothing the burning feeling that wracked your body. 

You gripped his wrist, bringing his hand up under the hem of your shirt, needing his cooling touch. Arching your back, your ass grazed him and you groaned together.  

“Please sweetheart.” he begged, voice low and sending vibrations through your back where he pressed against you. “Let my other hand down. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He rattled the cuff still glued to the wall for good measure. 

He didn’t have to ask you twice. Rolling over, you shoved him onto his back and swung a leg over his hips. Grinding down as you reached over him, you released his hands, leaving the cuffs on the wall, up and out of the way. He was quick to flip you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head as his lips met your neck. 

“Pretty girl…” Poe murmured as his hand tangled in your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your neck. “Such a pretty girl for me… so fucking sweet…” 

“Poe… Poe, please.” The whine left you before you could fully decide what you were begging for. Just more. More of him. His hands on your body. His lips on your skin. 

The heaviness of the air weighed you to the cot, your knees down to the thin mattress as he slotted himself between your legs – still fully clothed – and you fell apart in his arms. Gasping into his mouth, body convulsing, you could barely move with the way he was positioned above you. You couldn’t open your eyes. You could barely breathe with the way every small movement sent searing heat straight to your core. 

“Fuck.” His dark eyes focused on your heaving chest. “Do that again.” 

He fought with the ties on your pants, tearing the sides as he forced them down your legs, taking your underwear with them.

 It was all you could do to keep from screaming as he sunk two fingers into you. 

Each movement of his fingers battled the heat coursing through you and let you come back to yourself, if only for a moment. His other hand splayed out on your stomach to keep you still. He pushed your shirt up and you ripped it over your head. 

Your head spun as you realized he was still completely clothed. 

Leaning down, he sunk his teeth into the inside of your thigh. Where you expected pain, pleasure ran down your legs. Following his trail of bite marks with soft kisses, up closer to where you needed him, he blew softly on your folds and you cried out, bucking off the cot. 

You could hear the squeaking of the bed as you squirmed. Each laboured breath Poe took as he nestled himself between your trembling legs. The rasp in his voice as he murmured, “...wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen...” before he lowered his face to meet the apex of your thighs. 

His mouth on you didn’t offer the relief you were so desperately searching for. It somehow made it worse, every swipe of his tongue followed by a trail of fire. 

You pushed at his head but he barely responded. “Poe… Poe please… I need your cock…” 

He hummed lightly against you, his tongue working you slowly, like you weren’t threatening to burn up underneath him. 

Finally, you grabbed onto a handful of his curls and pulled. 

He only looked up in mild annoyance. Gripping your wrist tight, he forced your hand to the cot. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.” Though the words were soft, his tone was gruff. 

Poe slowed his soft circles on your clit and you whined again, pushing up into his mouth. “Stay still.” He mumbled against you. 

Each of his motions were so methodical, you could have sworn you were the only one dealing with symptoms. Until he glanced up at you with his almost-black eyes. 

You stopped breathing.

You weren’t afraid. You could never be afraid of Poe. But you’d never seen him so unhinged. Like he was going to jump, and you were coming with him. 

He snatched up both your wrists, leaning over you. Tipping your head back, you tried to kiss him but he moved further, up above your head. 

In one quick motion, he locked both your hands in the cuffs on the wall. 

“I need it. Please. I need--” He didn’t finish the sentence, hooking his hands under your knees and spreading you out for him. His tongue found your clit again and you couldn’t hear your own scream over the rush of blood in your head. 

He’d always been accommodating. He took constructive criticism well and was determined to get you off, no matter what he had to relearn, when the two of you had fucked before. 

Now, he took each of those little pieces and, like he’d been given the code to your body, he took you apart. 

Every stroke of his tongue would have seemed planned if not for the way he moaned into your skin, the way he grinded his hips into the cot beneath him. You gave up fighting against the cuffs, instead focusing on rolling your hips against his face. 

He held still, letting you move the way you wanted. Letting you use his tongue. Guiding your hips. It wasn’t until he set you down and you opened your eyes that you realized that he was dripping with you.

His chin glistened as he sat up and yanked his shirt over his head. His eyes didn't leave yours as he undid his pants, shucking them off and tossing them somewhere with his shirt. You didn't care. You didn’t care where his clothes were or where yours had disappeared to. 

“My-- the cuffs. Poe, I need to touch you…” 

Your hands were in his hair the moment he released you, pulling his mouth to yours. He tasted of you, and the heaviness in the air, and the familiarity of him that you’d grown so intoxicated by. 

Ordinarily, he’d tease you. Just like this, your legs spread for him. He’d drag the head of his cock over you until you stopped threatening him, until you melted and became putty in his hands and your begging became wordless. 

But he didn’t have the patience. You could see it in his face. He angled his hips, sliding into you slowly. 

With this, there was relief. But it came as quick as it went and you were again whining under him, your cunt clenched tight around him. 

He pushed deeper, his face tucked into your neck. “Relax, baby. Relax. You’re so-- so fucking…”

You didn’t know how he was going so slow. You didn’t know how he managed to stop, only halfway inside you. 

All you knew was that you needed him. 

You pulled his hips into yours. After two orgasms, there was no resistance. He bottomed out, gasping into your mouth. “Pretty girl…” 

“Fu… Fuck me. Poe please please fuck me--” You pulled at his shoulders, his hair, grinding up into him as much as you could with him fully on top of you. “It hurts. Please…” 

Whatever well of self control he’d been drawing from seemed to have dried up. Snapping his hips into yours, he kissed you. 

His tongue dominated your mouth, not giving you space to breathe. Or think. Or do anything other than take what he was giving you. Your nails dug into his upper arms, leaving little crescent moons behind. His soft gasps of encouragement had you writhing beneath him. 

“Perfect little… You take me so well, honey. Like you were fucking made for me…” 

His words alone threatened to take you over the edge. 

The burning came to a throbbing head in your core and you arched up into him, trying to pull him closer. Deeper. Anything to quell the fire inside you. 

“Poe… Commander… P-please let me cum…” You weren’t in control of your words anymore. You weren’t in control of anything. “I need you.” 

You wrapped your legs more tightly around him and his hips stuttered but he wasn’t stopping. Not for fucking anything.

“Let me feel you, pretty girl.” He growled against your neck. 

And you unraveled. 

The relief washed over you in waves as you lay beneath him. Between each peak, you could hear your own panting, feel the way your body fluttered around him. 

You floated in the bliss.

Vaguely, you felt yourself roll over. Something cold dug into your side, but you couldn’t figure out how to move. Or figure out how to want to. 

Your chest was still heaving as he traced along your ribs. A warm body came flush with your back. Fire trailed his dancing fingers. 

“Sweetheart…” A soft moan at your ear. Breath, warm on your neck, sending a ripple through you. He pressed his hips forward, his hard cock sliding against your ass. “I need more. Please?” 

You shifted your aching hips back towards him. “Please.” 

*

You weren’t sure how long passed before you returned to normal – sated and thoroughly exhausted, but normal. Your skin no longer burned at the gentlest of touches. You could stand to look at him, to draw over the planes of his chest as he laid beside you without feeling the unyielding need for his cock inside you. 

Your fingertips traced gently over the straining cords of muscle in his neck and he shuddered. 

“You bit me.” He finally whispered. 

You dissolved into a fit of giggles, curled up against his side. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you onto his chest. 

“I’m sorry.” You laughed against his neck, kissing over the hickies you’d left behind. 

“Don’t be. It was hot.” 

“Where’d I bite you?” You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him. 

He tapped his upper arm, right underneath a series of bite marks. Ducking your head, you kissed over them, murmuring soft ‘I’m sorry’s between pecks. 

“It’s okay. Really.” He tapped under your chin and you met his gaze. “Was that okay? We’ve never used cuffs or anything before and I’m really sorry--” 

You kissed him to cut him off. “I’m okay. I trust you. You know that, right?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled on top of you, an intensity in his eyes that would have scared you if you didn’t know him. 

“I’m glad it was you.” Forehead pressed to yours, you shuddered as his soft breaths fanned across your lips. “I was hoping it would be you.” 

Your breath caught. Gently, you brushed away the curls that fell in his face, tilting your face up and bringing your lips to his again. 

He mumbled between kisses, “Can I take you for dinner?” You were too stunned to say anything, letting him kiss your bottom lip gently. He lingered at the corners of your mouth, leaving light kisses behind. “Hm? Will you let me take you out, sweetheart?” 

“On a date?” 

“If you don’t want it to be a date, it can just be a thank-you dinner--” 

“It can be a date. Can it be a date?” 

Giggling against your mouth, he said, “It can. I’d like it to be.” 

“We should probably get out of this shuttle first.” 

“Maybe put some clothes on before that?” 

“Maybe.” Your nose brushed his. “Maybe I’d like to kiss you first.” 

“Maybe I’ll let you.”