#i’m fucking greying at the temples use your brain

[fingertipsmp3]

The way I had to TA a class full of STEM bros on international women’s day 😭

[dilemmaontwolegs]

For the Love of God(dess) || CL16 {2}

Summary: Greek God/dess AU. You show Charles a part of your world and he shows you a part of his. Warnings: angst, fluff WC: 2.6k Part One || Two

The old stone path should have been worn for all the centuries that it had been used as the entrance to Olympus but it was still as perfect as it was the first time you walked it. Nothing ever changed, not since the war ended and a new hierarchy settled among the gods. For two thousand years nothing had changed in the Eternal City.

“Love, what have you done?” The imposing form of Ares filled the road to your temple, his arms the size of your waist. His molten red eyes barely glanced at the man at your side before snapping back with a double take. “Kàrolos?”

“Uh, so everyone keeps saying,” he answered quietly, his eyes sizing up the God of War as he spoke for the first time since arriving through the portal. “And you are?”

“Intrigued,” Ares said with a smirk. “Good luck.”

The god vanished and Charles rubbed at his head, murmuring, “Fucking weird dream.”

“You’ll wake up soon,” you sighed. It might not be the wake up he expected, but it was coming - you just had to find Athena. “I know someone who can help make sense of this, we just need to get you back to my place first. It’s right over h-” your words froze as turned towards your temple. 

Where grey stone walls had stood, great white pillars of marble rose. Where empty garden beds lay, hundreds of white roses bloomed. 

Your temple had been restored.

“This is your home?” Charles asked, a little awestruck by the sounds of it. It was quite amusing that he walked among the gods but he found beauty in a building of all things.

“Our home.”

“I have a home - in Monaco.”

You opened your mouth to argue but saw the quiet desperation in his features. He was clinging to his humanity and it forced you to remember that this wasn’t the Kàrolos you knew, this was a stranger. The only resemblance they held were their eyes, but they were the window to the soul and they still had the same soul. 

“Let’s just go inside.”

The doors beyond the marble arch swung open on your approach and the interior had changed just as much. The vast room was open to the sunlight and a fountain filled the centre, the sound of bubbling water a calming feature. Open arches led to more rooms but you made your way to the furthest one. 

Charles followed sedately into the bedroom and out onto the balcony that overlooked the city. Above rose the peak which Zeus had claimed, his golden palace glittering beneath Apollo’s sunshine. Below, the forests of Artemis spread far and wide with lush green canopies and the Orlias river winding through it. 

Your palms warmed on the stone railing as you watched a herd of deer pick their way to the river for a drink. “I know you have a million questions and I’m sorry for…everything.”

Charles’ shoulder leaned into yours as he drank in the scenery but he jumped back when an owl swooped in, the spotted wings brushing his cheek. A flash of light burst from the owl and bare feet touched down on the balcony. 

“Hmmm, you have had quite the night, Love,” she said with an appreciative look over Charles. She reached out to his face with a smile and wiggled her fingers. “May I?”

“Why? What are you going to do? Who are you?”

“So many questions,” she laughed. “I am Athena, I am knowledge, and if you want the answers then you will let me touch you.”

He looked to you for help and gods damned if it didn’t make something in your chest hurt before you nodded. He swallowed the fear of the unknown and trusted you as he stepped into her waiting hands. Lightning shattered his brain, blinding him with flashes of images that moved too fast to see. But he knew. Knowledge expanded and exploded in his mind at an exponential rate until he knew everything. Thousands of years of history burned into his retina in less than a second. The history of the gods and goddesses that called this place home. The history of the wars and the destruction it brought. The history of you and everything you lost.

He knew it all. And it hurt more than the pain that splintered his head.

He didn’t even realise he collapsed until he felt the softest mattress dip beneath his weight as you laid him down. Your concerned face appeared above him, the sun catching your hair and weaving a golden halo around the strands. A thought crossed his mind and he laughed, shaking his head.

“What?” you asked curiously as his fingers twitched like he had to fight the urge to reach out to you.

“When we met I thought you looked like a goddess, but of course you do. You are.” He looked to the balcony but the owl had already taken flight back to her palace on the hill. “I’m not him, you know.”

“I know.” The man you loved had died a long time ago. You had your time together, no matter how short, and you had mourned for him. It was time to move on. “I don’t want you to be Kàrolos. I want to learn who you are, Charles.”

“And what if you don’t like who I am?”

“I am the Goddess of Love,” you teased, climbing onto the bed to sit beside him. “My arrows don’t work unless there is compatibility between the souls. Psyche is probably better off explaining that but my power only amplifies what attraction is already there. Can’t say I have been on the receiving end of it before. This will take some getting used to.”

“What will?”

“The want, the need to touch you,” you confessed as you looked down at your hands that gripped the bedspread tightly. “It is difficult to be this close and not reach out.”

Charles frowned. “You loved Kàrolos but you didn’t use an arrow?”

“Not everyone needs an arrow to fall in love. Like I said, it only amplifies. People find love on their own everyday, only some need a little poke in the right direction. Those friends who have been dancing around each other for years, the abused who don’t think they are worthy of being loved, the colleagues who only flirt at work. The fates weave their tapestry with a trillion threads of life and when there is a snag, like two lovers who failed to meet, then I repair it so the loom can continue its creation.”

Charles blinked as he began to understand how complex the roles of the gods were. “Fuck.” 

You laughed and his lips tugged up at the sound. 

“I don’t mind, if you want to touch me,” he admitted quietly, reaching for your hand and unfurling it from the bedding. His hand was larger than yours but your fingers settled between his comfortably and your body sagged with relief. “So what do we do now?”

You shrugged, not exactly knowing the answer yourself. Time was plentiful so there was no rush, but you were eager to find out who it was your heart had been given to. “What do you enjoy?”

Charles’ smile dropped as he suddenly remembered the world he had left behind. “Shit, we need to go back. I have a race this week.”

–

“Breaking News: Peace had been brokered between nations all over the globe in a dramatic turn of events. For more information we will be heading to our correspondent at the United Nations HQ…”

Charles turned off the TV in the hotel but he didn’t miss the way your eyes remained fixed on the screen, or the way your lip wobbled. Crossing the room, he grabbed your hands and bent his knees so you were eye to eye. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault,” you whispered through the lump in your throat. “I failed my duties.”

He looked back at the TV where you could still see the breaking news. Peace had come after two thousand years of skirmishes and wars on the mortal plane. There should have never been wars to begin with. 

“That isn’t your fault,” he argued, but he had the knowledge of the gods, he understood how your power worked. The gods were a fragile ecosystem that required balance. You were the balance to Ares’ power and his effect on the world.

“I was weakened when Kàrolos died, I lost half of myself, half of my strength. It left Ares unchecked - of course it is my fault.”

Charles wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck so you couldn’t stare at the TV. “You’re making things right now, that’s what matters.”

“It’s not even me,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s you. I couldn’t do this on my own.”

“Come on,” he said as he started to drag you towards the door.

“Where are we going?”

“You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.” 

Charles drove to the circuit he would be practising on in the morning and it was relatively quiet as he led you through the paddock. A few teenagers excitedly asked for photos with him and you smiled as he stopped to talk with each one. He was so different to Kàrolos. Kàrolos was a warrior, proud and unmoving. Most children gave him a wide berth when they saw the scars that littered his body. It wasn’t in him to idly chatter or placate others, the only soft spot he had was for you. 

“You’re very patient,” you commented as he waved goodbye and continued to the edge of the track. 

He smiled shyly and looked at his shoes as he shrugged. “I try my best to talk to fans, especially when I have the time. Take a few laps with me?”

You followed his gaze to a Ferrari that was parked in the pit lane. “I’ve never been in a car.”

“No, really?” His eyes were wide with disbelief and you laughed at the innocence in those eyes. 

“I go where I want, I’ve never needed to drive.”

He grabbed your hand and excitement flowed through you as he set a quick pace to the car. “Trust me?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.

You were immortal so it didn’t matter if he crashed. Sure, it would hurt but you would eventually heal. But the question felt heavier than just asking if you trusted him not to crash, more that you could trust him to keep you safe. “Yes, I trust you, Charles.”

You slipped into the seat that was moulded to cradle you before he bent down and buckled the clips in for you. His cologne reached your nose at the close proximity and you inhaled deeper as you committed the rich scent to your memory. 

“Is this comfortable?” he asked as he tugged the harness.

“It is…managable.” Restrictive, confined, and claustrophobic came to mind but you didn’t want to worry him as he went around to his side. There was energy in his step that had been missing in Olympus, an ambience that brightened the moment he arrived at the racing track, and you wanted to keep that light in his aura. 

“We’ll take the first one slow,” he promised as he started the engine and gripped the wheel. 

You had flown into battle on the back of a pegasus, you had held onto the fins of charybdis as they raced through Posiden’s domain. Nothing came close to the thrill and the speed of Charles’ car. 

Your heart jumped up your throat as you were thrown back into the seat and then the world around you blurred. Everything faded away except for the window ahead and you didn’t dare blink in case you missed a moment. There were no thoughts on the what ifs of the future, or the regrets of your past. There was only the car, and Charles grinning at you.

“Are you sure this is slow?” you asked with a giddy laugh as the adrenaline reached your head and the initial surprise was erased.

“Hold on, cherie.” The engine roared louder and like a beast it leapt forward. A scream of exhilaration filled the car as Charles lassoed the metal beast and wrangled it through each corner until he finally slowed to return to the pit lane. 

“I finally understand the obsession,” you admitted as he parked back where he had left. Your fingers were almost stiff where they had gripped the harness over your chest and you flexed the feeling back into them before unbuckling it. “I can’t even describe it, but I feel alive - if that makes sense? I can’t think quite clearly now.”

“I understand.” Charles smiled softly and wiped away the stray tear that ran down your cheek from having your eyes wide open for so long. “It’s getting late.”

You climbed out of the car and looked up to see stars dotting the desert night sky. It felt like time stopped while you were in the car but nothing could stop time and it all came rushing back. “Can we do this again?” you asked, a little sheepish at how needy you sounded.

“Of course,” Charles promised, taking your hand as naturally as breathing. “After this race it’s winter break and I am all yours.” He stumbled and caught himself. “I mean, if you want to hang out and, uh, stuff. I don’t have any plans, but if you do we can figure something ou-”

You rose onto your toes and kissed his cheek that was turning pink in the moonlight and he fell silent. “I don’t have any plans either.”

Charles stared at your lips, still feeling the warmth on his cheek and he touched the skin as a smile tugged at his lips and he nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay.” 

“You’re cute,” you said as you felt the urge to kiss his lips next.

His nose wrinkled at the compliment. “Cute?”

“Amongst other things,” you added, biting your lip to keep your other thoughts to yourself. 

He grew confident and curled his finger under your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and pulling it free from your teeth. “You’re beautiful.”

Your lungs refused to work as his head dipped down slowly, giving you time to change your mind. You could still feel the remnants of that thrill in your veins and the charge was electric as you gave into your desire and threw your arms around his neck. The kiss started slowly, hesitation holding you both back as you tasted the chemistry, but it grew deeper as his arms curled around your waist, pulling your bodies flush. 

The track faded away as you spared one last critical thought to teleport back to the hotel room. Charles blinked as he looked around the bedroom, but the surprise turned to a smirk. “That is handy.”

“You can do it too,” you said as your fingers traced the hem of his shirt. “You can just have to picture the image in your mind.”

Cold kissed your skin and you looked down to see your own shirt had disappeared. 

“Holy shit, it worked,” he gasped. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

Your shirt returned in an instant but it was now the same shade of red as his team colours. 

“I wasn’t complaining,” you smirked but the humour dimmed as his hands came to rest on your waist that was still wrapped in red cotton. “We can take it slow, Charles.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you, not your regrets. I want you to be ready.” Ready for an eternity together.

Charles sat at the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap. “The first thing you should know about me is I have never been good at going slow,” he admitted as he cupped your cheek and crushed his lips to yours.

[hyunverse]

dimples ★ jeong jaehyun.

jaehyun x gn!reader. fluff, oneshot.

wc: 587 words.

note: first!! ever!!! jaehyun fic!!! he might be a lil ooc lol. also i would like to dedicate this one to my bae @ch3rryd0ll for dragging me into the fandom ily forever <3

Inspired by a video of Mark saying that to make Jaehyun feel better, just poke his dimple with your finger.

The smell of Jaehyun’s cologne tells you he’s home, aside from the hushed pitter-patter of his footsteps against the wooden floor. You look up from your book, watching as he enters the room. His mannerisms tell you everything you need to know — he did not have a good day. 

Silently, you watch as he shrugs off his coat, tossing it onto a chair before taking off his socks. It’s not until you clear your throat that he acknowledges your presence — a small smile on his face, yet the stress in his eyes still apparent. 

“Hi babe,” he mutters, to which you reply with a “hey.” 

The conversation ends there, as Jaehyun disappears into the bathroom. You continue to read your book — or at least attempt to, your mind still occupied with what could’ve happened to your boyfriend, and the ways in which you could comfort him. The sound of water splashing becomes your white noise, along with the occasional sounds of Jaehyun rummaging around. The smell of his coconut shampoo (technically yours, he has a habit of using your products) leaks into the bedroom, and you smile. You’ve missed his presence all day, and you couldn’t help but bask in it, albeit it’s merely in the form of his scent. 

Soon after, Jaehyun comes out of the bathroom, a towel loosely hanging around his waist, raven hair wet and messy. Once again, he silently goes around the room, putting on a pair of grey sweatpants and drying his hair before getting in the bed with you. 

With Jaehyun finally beside you, messy-haired and so damn kissable, the bedroom walls finally feel like home again.

“Rough day?” you whisper, dog-earing a page before setting your book on the nightstand, “So pouty.”

“Mm,” he hums, his pout intensifying at your comment, “Missed you.” 

You chuckle, letting him cuddle into your side and place his chin on your shoulder. He’s talking less than usual, but you thank God he’s at least still clingy. 

“Missed you too,” you reply, pulling up the duvet to cover the both of you. 

Gently, you trace a hand up and down his chest, in an attempt to soothe him. The pout on his face remains. You could practically see his brain still racking, stressing.

“Want to talk about it, baby?” you question, pushing his hair back. A small sigh escapes your lips when he shakes his head.

“Talking about it could make you feel better,” you try again, rubbing a hand on his temple. Again, he shakes his head. 

“You sure?” you try again. This time, you poke his dimple, smiling to yourself.

Just like that, Jaehyun gives in to you. His pout turns into a small smile, growing wider as you continuously poke his dimple. Soon, he lets out small laughter, tilting his face away from you, as though to shy away. 

“You’re so cute,” you giggle, running a hand on his side, the other still poking on his cheek, “So fucking cute.” 

“That’s all you,” he chuckles, meeting your gaze. This time, he genuinely smiles. One that makes his dimples deeper, and his eyes crinkle. “I was stressed, but you just made it all better.”

It’s your turn to smile wide, “Okay, I’m glad. You can talk to me every time you’re having a hard time, y’know?” 

Jaehyun nods, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You’re now laying chest to chest, his heart thumping against yours. Tenderly, he places a kiss on your forehead, then your lips. 

“Okay, baby.”

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[jade-kyo]

Season 15 post Restoration thoughts

Back when Restoration was first announced I rewatched the shisno trilogy to weigh the pros and cons of everything getting retconned. I’ve decided now that Restoration has aired to do another rewatch like that but this time more just general thoughts and headcanons

welp let’s get started!

Oh hey this is actually funny

Still say Dylan’s original cameraman was funnier, they should’ve kept him instead of Jax. Frank you will always be famous to me.

KAIKAINA MY BELOVED

Bringing back Vic was a big brained move fr

On the topic of Vic I’ve always liked the theory that he was actually one of the alpha fragments, specifically the love fragments… hmm things to consider

The whole situation on chorus is also interesting… further things to consider

Oh hey look at that Dr. Grey actually sounds like herself. What a wild concept.

The reds and blues are actually friends and act like it? WHAT A WILD CONCEPT

Grimmons closet sex you will always be famous to me

But also Church basically writing gay smut of his friends is very funny

Man this is actually funny. Wild concept.

Nah but there’s a legit joke about them getting a bad movie bro predicted the future

Canon band au

I love how all the things Carolina mentions happening are so low key compared to the others. Like yeah Grif convincing Simmons GoT was real is wild meanwhile there’s actual dinosaurs

Yeah the whole red team and blue team thing IS outdated. Concept wild.

Genuinely love how you can tell just how much Carolina loves these idiots and their shenanigans. Such a concept.

“No he means Church” frothing at the mouth

OH HEY THEY GENUINELY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER AND ABOUT CHURCH. WILDEST OF CONCEPTS

“I’m not in the military anymore” yeah Grif that sure is a GREAT point. Concepts are wild.

But also can’t believe we’ve had to watch grimmons get divorced twice

PROTECTIVE TUCKER MY BELOVED

Dead beat dad Tucker jokes my BELOATHED

Man remembering the characters ranks. Really concept the wild.

“We’re having fish” bro why did you say it like that makes you sound like a cannibal 💀

Loco you will always be famous to me

“You don’t have to destroy the past to have a future” what a great way to show that you can let go of the past and trauma while also honoring the memories of those you lost. Concepts really do be wild sometimes.

Damn I think I’m coming back around on carwash- I am not immune to hand holding and funny take off your suit bits. Platonic or romantic they make me feral. I’ll take it either way.

Freelancer death room is a genuinely cool and fucked up scene

As much as I’m enjoying this rewatch I still can’t stand the Sarge butchering that starts in this season and just get progressively worse

SERIOUSLY VIC IS A FRAGMENT HE LITERALLY SAYS “it’s me!” IN REFERENCE TO THE ALPHA

Y’all were right Temple is totally gay for Biff

Oh god I forgot about the shitty animation

Also werent the simulation bases started after Tex fled from PF?? And also after Carolina went MIA???

Rip Biff bro did not deserve that but to be fair the second he said his girl was pregnant he was doomed by the narrative

Caboose cursing my beloved

Donut is a furry confirmed

TUCKER ASKING CABOOSE HIS THOUGHTS AND EVEN AGREEING AHDKGAKSH

While I am enjoying this rewatch I think I figured out what always bugged me about this season. The reds and blues are the wrong kind of dumb. Like yeah they’re idiots but you seriously didn’t consider once that the blues and reds might be lying to you? Especially after everything that happened on Chorus?? But especially Carolina and Wash not really questioning it??? Like idk it just feels off

Temple has so much potential as a villain cause like he’s not wrong… and I think evil sim troopers is such a cool concept…much to be considered

Oh actually acknowledging how much they’ve accomplished especially on Chorus?? Of concepts to be wild

Another thing that bugs me is this constant use of “good guy/bad guy” language. just feel off for the themes of RvB.

Ah yeah Grif’s volleyballs

Grif might be able to give Wash a run for his money on that Sarge impersonation

LOCUS!!!!!

Locus-Grif team up my beloved

METAL GEAR REFERENCE SPOTTED !

EVERYONE BEING PROTECTIVE OF CABOOSE

But also I think Caboose not understanding death is weird like yeah he’s dumb but again not that kind of dumb??? Idk just one of those things that doesn’t entirely sit right with me

I do like the interactions between him and the team tho

Loopy Wash my beloved

Again will never forgive what they did to Sarge

Locus is gonna steal yo kneecaps

Ah yes Church’s obsession with fucking up Wash continues.

Honestly in hindsight I don’t actually love Wash getting shot. It really feels like they just use him as an angst punching bag because he’s a fan favorite. And this is coming from someone who LOVES angst

Also I feel like Tucker rushing out is ooc when a big part of his arc on Chorus was him doing that, getting people killed, and then learning that sometimes you gotta think things through. Kind of the start of how they undid and then redid his arc

OKAY BUT GRIF AND TUCKER MOMENT!!!!!!

Okay again this weird insistence of all the enemies being comically evil shitty people is very antithetical to the core themes are RvB

Everybody shut the fuck up the Caboose and Tucker moment after Caboose ties the guys shoelaces together is so fucking cute holy shit I am frothing at the mouth I love them so much

My hatred for anything time travel related remains

AUDIBLE GASP

GRIMMONS WHY ARE WE HERE MOMENT MY BELOVED

Yeah Sarge your monologues ARE better. Sure wish they’d remember what those monologues actually meant for your character development. Wilds the concept huh.

Man Grif choosing to stay with his friends no matter what. Truly concept in my wilds.

LOCO NOOOOOOOOOO!!

Oh god they hit you with the Caboose feels that should be illegal

Still don’t like that Caboose got to say goodbye tho. I said it last time but it’s too- fairytale-ish. The themes of grief in rvb have always been about how it’s unfair and a lot of the times you don’t get to say goodbye and you don’t get closure but you still have to learn to let go and move on despite it all. Want it noted this is also a criticism I have of the Chex stuff in restoration.

Furthermore Tucker really was prepared to create a time paradox in order to bring back Church AND THEY JUST NEVER CIRCLED BACK AROUND TO THAT???? Bro Tucker grieves Church so much and they just never address it

Also Vic’s sacrifice is further proof that he’s an alpha fragment

GRIF SIBLINGS MY BELOVEDS!!!!!!

Dylan’s speech at the end is very good and it makes me love the simulation headcanon more cause that means it’s technically Church, or at least what Church believes/hopes the world would think of the reds and blues.

Also can’t believe Temple, Bucky, and Cronut are all still alive and they just never brought them back in any way.

ALSO CAROLINA SINGING AKHSKAHSKHDKSJ

CABOOSE DRUM SOLO

Alright then that’s seasons 15! …. On my hands and knees begging for forgiveness S15 TAKE ME BACK IM SORRY I WAS EVER MEAN TO YOU!

But in all seriousness I’m way more open to this as a possibility of what happens next than I am Restoration. This is just glorified fanfiction and like it’s fun! I have fun watching it! I’ve got my complaints but still at least it gets that these characters care about each other. It may not have the strongest writing but it’s not terrible and you’ll catch me rewatching it and enjoying it from time to time.

… do I have to watch s16- can’t I just skip it? Please no amount of Restoration sucking is going to make me like that season. I might just skip it and if I’m ever feeling more up to it I’ll circle back around to it. In all honesty I think 16 and Restoration are on the same level for me. Bad seasons that I mostly ignore but I will on very rare occasions rewatch them if not just to bitch and complain. I do think Restoration is a little better than 16 but still easily in the top 3 worst seasons of RvB.

Welp in that case you will most likely see me talking about s17 next unless I’m just really feeling the self hatred enough to watch 16

[apollodarling-writes]

Since I’m 50% a sadistic freak. I was thinking. After us rejecting Levi and such and him just wanting us. One day we walk into his office and up to him. He kinda confused because we always avoid him now. But we grab him and kiss him. Big ole smooch on his mouf. We grab his face and caress his neck. Then after a second we pull away and are like. “ Sorry just wanted to confirm my feelings for you. They remain the same. There are none. Well toodles Levi thanks for the help 😘” blowing him a kiss and walking back to the door.

I’m gonna need a part two

PART TWO:

tws: noncon elements, noncon kissing, levi is feral and it’s not cool, levi doesn’t take no for an answer, levi calls you names, abuse, levi goes in depth abt the people he's murdered, levi threatens the reader, also reader is afab but no specific gender terms are used

You were going to leave after that?

You were going to leave him?

Levi shoots out of his seat and throws open the door, gripping your arm and silencing your screams with his hand. He watched as the smug look in your eyes bled into unadulterated fear, a smirk of his own plastered on his face.

"You think," He chuckles, voice strained. "You think you can just toy with me and leave?"

Your eyes fill with tears, adrenaline seeping into your system as you finally comprehend the situation you were in. Levi drags you into the room and shuts the door with his boot, not phased in the slightest as you bite into his hand hard enough to draw blood.

"No, no. You don't get to leave after playing with my feelings like that." Levi tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. A shudder runs down your spine as you gaze into the abyss of the Captain's optics; the grey of his eyes had turned to an inky black, consumed by obsession and undying love. He takes a seat in his chair, forcing you into his lap- forcing you to straddle him.

"I'm aware that your pitifully stupid brain hasn't fully comprehended what I'm capable of, so let me spell it out for you." The Captain leans down and presses a kiss to your temple, watching with sick pleasure as you thrash as he grips your hips and rocks you against the strain in his pants. "Listen up, sweetheart, cause this is the only confession you'll- nngh! - get from me."

Levi groans as you struggle against him as you unknowingly bring him closer and closer to his high with each twist and turn you make. Every scratch and bitemark you leave only get him off faster, Levi choosing to see it as you marking him as your own despite knowing you hate his guts.

"I'm the one killing all of your friends, baby. Erwin was the first to go, then that Kirstein boy and Connie- ffffuck! - and next will be Armin Arlert if y'don't listen to me." Levi mockingly smiles at you, baring his teeth and successfully cornering you.

Your eyes glaze over and your brain disassociates from your body as Levi greedily swallows your lips with his own, his tongue tangling with yours.

You didn't have the choice to disobey anymore.

You didn't fight back as he kissed you with increasing ferocity. You didn't fight back as he stripped you of your clothes or made love to you. You let him have his way.

I'll figure it out later, is what you chanted in your mind as Levi came inside of you for the umpteenth time, your vision bordering black as he continued to fuck you unconscious.

I'll avenge them.

[ant1quarian]

Damian(oc) x Gn!Reader

TW: ANGST, mentions of death, gore, bullets, broken bones, blood, guns, life threatening situation, crying, fluff? Established relationship.

He was dead. He was dead. A mantra you continued to repeat to yourself as you struggled to take in the just-as-stunned male standing in front of you.

“You’re dead,” You whispered. Your breath barely carried on the frigid morning air, but you know he heard it. How could he not, with those wolf ears atop his head, swivelling back and forth now and then to pick up on the quietest of sounds. Things you couldn’t hear, and were afraid to discover.

“You- I saw-” You were choking up now, the tiniest beads of tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. You’d suffered days, weeks, months of grief, thinking that your partner was dead. 

You’d seen his body, blood running out from his mouth, bullet wounds pouring out a similar crimson liquid upon the grey concrete floor. He’d been dead, right?

“I know,” His voice was husky, timbre, and cracked slightly. It reminded you of shattered glass, and bloody fists. Of bones cracking, and echoing screams. Of the past he was never meant to endure, and of the future you two built, and watch disintegrate, floating away like ashes on the wind.

“How-” Now it was your voice that was cracking, trembling, as your own body began to shake.

His eyes made contact with yours. The abandoned old concrete building seemed insignificant now. As did the absolutely obliterated landscape that sat outside. Remnants of Tidaholm, a once popular destination point, left in nothing but ruin.

You watched as the shadows seemed to cling to him. He took a singular step forward, the light meeting his body in the gentle way it always used to.

His coal-black hair took on a dark brown hue as he stood there, unsure of what to do. He was conflicted in so many ways, and broken in so many others.

Your eyes met, and you finally saw his neutral facade drop. His eyes were endless landscapes of destruction and rebirth, like rolling clouds generating mighty claps of thunder, a pine forest shrouded in deceiving fog. So familiar. So alien.

The light glinted off the one crystal tear that fell from his eyes as his ears and tail drooped. His fists clamped together as he stared at the floor.

“Fucking hell,” His voice was shaky, desperate, “I’m sorry, love. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Damian,” You were powerless to stop your body from running towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“(Y/n),” Barely as loud as a breath, but you heard it. His warm arms pressed around your waist as he pulled you into a desperate hug.

Memories crashed in front of your vision like a tidal wave, forcing you to remember the days you always tried to wish away.

Hand grabbing your arms, forcing them behind your back as you were kicked to your knees, the bare earth barely managing to cusion your fall. The cold metal of the barrel of a gun pressing against your temple.

Damian, getting carted away by countless ZEO- Or the “Zeltar Extermination Organisation- agents, his ear flicking back to hear the quietest “shoot her” from the commander next to you. 

Events had passed by extremely quickly then. Damian shoving against the guards, effortlessly snapping through the chains that had bound him bare milliseconds ago. 

The roar-howl of a Zeltar in their strongest form; a petrifying twelve-foot pitch-black wolf with glowing gold eyes, and fangs as long as your forearm and hand combined.

There your memory blacked out, obviously too traumatic for your brain to render.

“”M sorry,” Damain muttered, like a ghost wishing to deliver a final message to a loved one, but never getting the chance.

But he wasn’t just a ghost. He was real. Really real. Warm and as living as he ever was.

“‘S alright,” You whispered, reciprocating the tight, life-line hold he was giving you, “It wasn’t your fault Dame.”

“I love you,” He was well and truly sobbing now, showing a side of him he neglected to show any other person that wasn’t you, “A-And I’m sorry you had to go through what you did b-because of me.”

“I knew what would happen anyway, asshole,” You cry-laughed into his shoulder. You’d called him that so many times in a joking manner, to the point where it hurt every time you heard someone use it as an insult during the time you’d grieved for him, “You’ve always been a danger magnet.”

You felt him laugh through the tears that were drenching your shirt, followed by several hollow coughs as his body resented him for making a noise he hadn’t in almost a decade.

“And you walked right into it,” He removed his head from your shoulder before placing a hand on your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. The softest of smiles accentuate his face, allowing you to see the barely-sighted dimples in his cheeks.

His face is tear stained, eyes red-rimmed, but his eyes shine with love, to the point they were positively glowing. In your position, you can glimpse the specks of gold adrift in his eyes, like the golden sun’s rays peeking through the darkest of clouds.

“I love you,” He repeats. This time his voice is slightly scratchy, but changes tone, instead of staying in it’s usual monotonous shadows.

“I love you too,” You sniffle, a smile slipping over your face.

“God I’m an idiot,” Damian laughed, wiping his face, one arm wrapped around your waist.

You giggle, placing both hands on the sides of his face and brushing his surprisingly squishy cheeks that you remember teasing him countless times about, “You really are.”

And then he kisses you. Your lips meet for the first time in– what feels like– and entire lifetime. There was no way to describe the pure ecstasy you felt. Fireworks and sparks were dull compared to the adrenaline that coursed through your body.

All too soon you parted, having to take a break for breath. It was a shame, really, because you could have kissed him for centuries more.

Then an unrelenting urge to laugh bubbled up in your body, and you gave into it. It took a second before Damian was laughing with you, moving back as he took your hand in his.

It was rough, calloused, but so, so gentle.

“Tell me, if he offered you a bloody hand,

Would you take it,

Just because it was his?”

You remembered Noah- your closest friend- asking this of you as he helped you come to terms with your own emotions years ago.

And you never had any doubt that you would always, always take that hand, no matter the circumstances.

“Ready for the next hellish adventure?” He asked, a familiar mischievous twinkle worming its way into his soft gaze.

“As long as it’s with you,” You smiled in response. Any other time, you would’ve cringed how cheesy that reply was. But right now? You couldn’t have given a fuck even if you tried.

Because he was here with you. He’d been given another chance at life, and it melted your heart to know he was going to willingly spend it with you.

[traeysl]

top! stoner aizawa + m! skater reader

a/n - faded while i wrote this so it’s prolly ass , but enjoy , flithy sluts . otherwise reqs open send em maneee <3

warnings . age gap ( 40 - 19 ) , drug use , marijuana use , unprotected sex , intoxicated sex , breeding k. , petnames , standing nelson position , dumbification , dubcon , implied voyeurism , weed virgin reader , reader cheats on bf , amab!reader , ass is called 'pussy' a few times , aizawa’s horse cock , pussy pounding .

you caught a glimpse from across the concrete . baggy shirt that hugged his secretly broad shoulders at the top , jeans definitely a size too big for his waist , and the gruff , stoic expression that complimented his aesthetic .

that was all it took to have your chest swelling .

the finely aged man was not your partner– and yet he sent waves of lust brewed with anxious nerves straight to the tent in your sweats .

you gaze motionless for a few more moments , frozen in time . a warm laugh , short , and charming in tone pulls you back to reality .

your beloved todoroki shoto ; current boyfriend and dick hook-up . chatting up a trio of skaters with a hint of suggestion on his lips .

your head hesitantly flows to meet the eyes of the mystery man you eye-fucked earlier . you couldn’t tell if it was the brutal heat making you hallucinate , or he was actually walking towards you . either way you mirrored his actions , drifting closer his direction .

“ i know teens have a habit of being stupid , but don’t just stand in the middle of everything . idiot . ” he half scoffed , half traced your dick-print with his pupils .

“ thanks for the concern , douche . but i’m fine . do you even know what the fuck you’re doing , old man ? ”

old man ? does he know what he’s doing ? who did you think you were addressing with that attitude . certainly not him right ?

“ come with me and i’ll teach you everything i know . the real question is , pretty boy . can you handle it ? ”

your soft , plump lips quivered in response – which aizawa translated as a yes . he knew how badly you craved the paralyzing chill of feeling full , stuffed and bred so deep your brain converts to mush . but he couldn’t front his desire so carelessly , he was calculated and patient yet you brought something much more primal to his surface .

that’s how you ended up with a rolling tray between your legs , while aizawa gently guided your fingers around the blunt . yes , he was going to be an ass and let you take puffs from a blunt your first time smoking .

” so , you’ve never smoked before ? ” he repeated slowly , as if you had just commit the most heinous crime imaginable .

the skin on your cheeks danced between a variety of shades , guilty flashes of embarrassment trail heat up your neck .

“ no , shouta , i haven’t . at least give me credit for wanting to– i’ve just never got around to it . ” you pleaded , resting the back of your head over his shoulders so your eyes could lull at his dark ones .

the surrounding area smells faintly sweet , knit with a hint of sour body musk amongst the overbearing reek of weed– it swallowed your lungs whole ; flourishing what felt like new life through every inch of pink flesh .

once you finish rolling , shouta nestles the tip between your lips and instructs you to take a few puffs while he holds the opposite end to his lighter .

you watch the flame gracefully eat away at the blunt roll , the aftermath erupting into a shade of firey orange laced with ashy grey .

the drugs bleed through your system , traveling through your lungs , coaxing a tingling sensation from your veins . your brain is heavy and numb , blanketed by a relaxing state of stupidity .

smoke begins pouring from behind your teeth . a large cloud slipping from your lips and flowing through aizawa’s , who catches the smoke and mimics your puff .

” how’d that feel , baby ? ” his eyes scanned over your face , twisted with shock , sweat rolling down your temple and dampening your skin . which , without fail tugged a shit-eating grin from the corner of the shouta’s mouth .

your body language spoke for it’s self , minuets of deafening silence clashed with heavy breathing . in an flirtatious attempt to break the silence , aizawa makes his advance .

and when you feel his grit palms smooth over your hips carefully– the aftershock from his cold flesh causes you to gasp .

chasing the opening he created , he once again seizes the opportunity .

pouncing over you without hesitation , tearing away your garments one piece at a time .

he squeezes your hand in an unspoken declaration of love and in moments you’re left droopy-eyed , folded in half , bent and breathless – ankles pushed up past your ears with your back arched blissfully against aizawa’s equally as bare chest .

” p- please i’ll be good , promise ! put it in , sho~ ” the way you speak his name while helplessly clinging to his wide shoulders . shivering , pleasure already coiling inside your stomach .

he snakes his large forearms under your knees , coming to an upright position on his feet while his hands clasp over either side of your head .

a few messy , wet kisses are placed down the crook of your neck before your sloppy hole absorbs his first thrust .

plap. his girth takes you by surprise , gummy walls immediately constricting in retaliation to his monster cock .

it’s like your hips grow a mind of their own , bouncing and bucking back against his . every rut from his pelvis fits the curve of your ass just right , sending drool twitching down your chin . jaw left slack , eyes sinking back into your skull .

plap. plap. plap.

you feel your ass stretch tremendously , accompanied by a lingering burn around your rim . in order for your hole to be able to swallow his thick cock , your insides mold around his shaft and leave an imprint of him on your walls .

he quickly finds rhythm in snapping his hips roughly , catching you by surprise . reveling in the way your eyes widen after he pulls you down to his hilt . he’s fucked you stupid– patiently sliding in and out of you while you babble and struggle to remain bouncing on his dick .

that is until your hips give out under you , breaking down from fatigue and gory bruising .

“ stretching you so good you can hardly think , hm ? you like being helpless . dumb ? ” he rolls his hips up after every other word , kissing and sucking on your neck to sweeten the deal .

when you can’t muster up a reply , he only fucks up into you even more vigorously than before .

“ come on , say it baby . you want me to make you a mommy . no condom , im already fucking your brains out– ” shouta grunts , balls deep . you’re reduced to nothing but a sniffling , whiney mess underneath him .

“ cum . . ah! please i-in me ! fuck , zawa~ ” loose strands of his lengthy , dark hair brush against your cheek ; masking the bottomed-out look you have on your face .

shouta creases his brows , letting out a breath he didn’t know was was in him . by now his balls continued to grow heavier by the second , threatening to spill their contents and paint your insides white .

which , to be real , is really what you wanted anyways .

” sweet ( y/n ) , take my kids . f-fuck ! ah.. shit !! gonna fill this cunt . ” he whispered your name like a mantra while he drained his cum in your ass .

he kept a brutal pace as he fucked you through your chemically infused orgasm . all you could do was hope he understood the plea your eyebrows acted out . irises drowning in hot tears while your silent mouth lay agape– tongue lifeless from overstimulation . you looked as though you could be pronounced brain dead .

making sure not a drop went to waste he proceeded to fuck his creamy load right back into your puffy hole . slimy cum trailing down his ballsack , all to ensure his seed reached the deepest parts of you .

with quick thinking from aizawa and the miracle that is modern technology . you didn’t have to explain a single thing to your bratty boyfriend either .

a slutty creampie picture would resolve more than your words ever could , right ?

© traeysl , do not plagiarize or repost .

[geeky-politics-46]

NSFW Alphabet

Dr. Stephen Strange

Charector as depicted in my mini-series "Friends, Just Friends".

Includes both before & after Part 2 - “The Confession”.

Smut/Explicit content - 18+ only!

Back to "Friends, Just Friends" masterlist

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Before it was minimal. Cleaning each other up & checking in about what had just happened. Maybe holding one another but not in an overly romantic way. You usually always spent the night after you fucked, but you also occasionally did that on nights you didn't fuck & both just wanted company. You usually fell into easy conversation after sex, lots of laughing at stupid jokes or stupid things other people had done. Maybe watching TV or a movie &/or snacking on something. It wasn't a hump & dump, but it wasn't exactly romantic. It was comfortable & easy.

Afterwards the biggest change was the want to hold onto each other after sex. You still had your conversations, but now they were had while you were either spooning or laying face to face playing with each others hair or running your hands up & down arms or sides. You also both preferred to stay naked now. The feeling of skin on skin making you feel closer.

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

In Stephen's eyes your smile could literally light up a room. When you smiled you smiled with your whole being. You could be the literal sunshing breaking through the storm clouds in Stephen's mind when you smiled at him, because of him. He also loved your tits. Whether it was looking at them, touching them, licking them, or just burying his face in them he didn't care. His day was always infinitely better if he could start or end it with his focus on your tits. He loved how soft your skin was under his lips & fingers. How he could feel your breath hitch at the slightest brush over your nipples. You could get so sensitive seemingly out of nowhere. He also discovered how much he enjoyed seeing you wear jewelry he had given you, specifically necklaces that dipped between your breasts. Your body decorated in a marking from him, much more elegant than a bruise & meant to be worn out where visible. Your chest marked for all to see.

You loved Stephen's grey patches of hair at his temples. You had always had a thing for silver foxes & it just suited Stephen so well. If your hands were in his hair that is always where they were. You also had always loved his eyes & the way they would literally sparkle, especially when he was feeling mischievous. He tried to keep his face stoic most of the time, but his eyes always gave away his true emotion if you knew what to look for. Since the accident you also developed a fierce love for Stephen's hands. Partly you thought it was to show him that his scars were not something to hide or be ashamed of. It was also because his hands had turned him into such a vastly different person. A man who was so much deeper. A man who rebuilt himself from his rock bottom only to emerge better & greater for having been there. If it weren't for those hands, the ones that were scarred & shaky, neither of you would have realized the love of your life was right in front of you all along.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Two words: inside you. He loves cumming in you how you will beg for it as he pounds into you. He loves feeling his warm cum filling you as climaxes, occasionally the feeling of it will even trigger your own orgasm. He loves seeing his cum leaking out of your pussy afterward, feeling pride that you trust him enough to let him mark your body in such an intimate way. You both knew each others histories so well by the time you started fooling around that condoms had never really been used. He knew you were on birth control so that wssn't a worry, except for the rare occasion you missed a pill. When he heard you swear at yourselfunder your breath as you looked at the blister pack something snapped in his brain & what he wanted more than anything in the entire world was to fill you until you were dripping, only for him to stuff it back in & fuck it farther into you with his fingers. That triggered thoughts of him locking the two of you away somewhere with the intent of not leaving until you were pregnant. Stephen has 100% developed a breeding kink because of how much he loves to cum in your pussy.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He kinda wants you to call him daddy. He has never brought up the name to you, feeling like it might weird you out a bit. A consistent among all of the Avengers was parental issues, absences, or deaths & you were no exception. So he wanted to tread carefully in case the thought was a big turn off for you, but man was it a turn on for him. In his fantasies you would beg Stephen with needy little whines of "please daddy", "daddy I need your cock so bad", or "can I have your cum daddy? Want to be your good girl."

It also got him thinking about how he wanted you to actually make him a daddy. As mentioned above, something felt so primal & animalistic about cumming in you & knocking you up. Seeing your belly grow & your breasts swell with milk, proof to the whole world that you were all his. He couldn't help but imagine a couple little perfect mixtures of the two of you, creating plenty of chaos. Then putting your perfect little demons to bed before retiring back to your shared bed where Stephen could worship you like the goddess you were & try to convince you to give daddy a couple more babies.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's not inexperienced, but it's not like he's a huge playboy either. He was always too busy with his career to ever really let himself enjoy the social perks of being a hot shot wealthy doctor when he was younger. He's had a handful of flings & one night stands, a couple relationships. The only two that ever seemed important were you & Christine.

His idedtic memory is the ace up his sleeve in most situations, including in the bedroom. All it took was finding those little sweet spots once & he pretty much knew how to drive you wild. He's determined to get to the point he can make you cum faster than that little bullet vibrator can, & yes he's timed it.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Before the accident he preferred positions where he was in control, which usually meant he was on top of or behind you. Missionary was always a good fallback position since you both liked to talk dirty & it could be spiced up by hitching your legs over his shoulders or pushing them open towards your chest. He could let his brain get lost in doggy style. He could just close his eyes, grip onto your hips or shoulders, or fold himself over your back, & let himself enjoy the moment.

After the accident any position that requires him to balance his weight on his hands becomes problematic. In missionary he had to balance on his forearms & even then his arm strength would fluctuate from day to day. He couldn't grip onto you the way he liked from behind anymore. So positions where you had more control or used more strength became you go to's. Specifically cowgirl & reverse cowgirl. His favorite though was lotus, where you were seated in his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist. It allowed either of you to be in control, you could slide yourself up & down or grind against him or he could bounce you on his cock. He especially loved that his face was basically eye level with your tits & he could literally just face plant into them.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

You are one of the few people who knows that Stephen Strange does have a goofy dorky side to him. However that side never makes an appearance during sex. Before or after was a different story, & Stephen had been known to make some smartass comments at an opportune moment mid-fuck, but goofy never. Partially it was because he would get so caught up in things, letting his body just go. It was also partially a pride thing. Few things can kill a mood quite like a woman bursting out laughing while naked in bed with their partner.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Neatly trimmed. Never too short or bare as he uses an electric razer. Shaky hands & razerblades are already a questionable pairing but most of the time he can get away with minimal cuts on his face. He doesn't even want to take the chance down there. Frankly if he tried & something went wrong he would opt to bleed out on the bathroom floor before going to the ER for that. The electric razer/trimmer eliminated that risk.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

There has always been a sense of intimacy with Stephen, but it was less of a romantic intimacy & more of a trust. That was how your arrangement had come to be after all, you knew you could trust each other especially when you were vulnerable. You always clicked & felt like you fit together. If anything as time passed you felt like you fit together even better, rough edges worn away & molded to each other's touch. So when you became a couple the same intimacy was there, but now you saw it in a new light. He loves to watch your face, whether it's gazing into your eyes or seeing your features change as you get closer to your peak. He loves to whisper I love you against your skin, like it's a secret between the two of you but one that he never wants you to forget. If he could he would seal the two of you away from the rest of the world in one of those moments.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

This was one of the areas of his life that his accident had completely changed, & it was quite possibly one of the most humiliating. Once his hands had healed enough that he dared even try to jerk off he quickly became frustrated. It would start off fine, but after a while his grip would weaken & he couldn't get the friction he needed or his hands would start to ache. He spent many nights winding himself up only to end up with blue balls because his hands couldn't get him to the point of release. When he tried to use his magic to steady his hands long enough that he could cum he kept losing focus as he would near orgasm inadvertently edging himself over & over. Eventually he had resorted to grinding & humping against the mattress or a pillow. It worked but it wasn't as good & because of the mess it wasn't ideal for quick stress relief. Once you had realized the problem, having walked in on him wildly humping your pillow, you told him that if he wanted all he had to do was ask & you would happily assist no reciprocation required. Ultimately he would rather have sex with you than jerk off anyway, but he still hates the idea that his hands had even messed up masturbating.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has developed a bit of a voyeurism kink somewhere along the line. You have lost count of the number of times you have caught him watching you shower. He would sneak in & stand in the doorway or lean against the counter as quiet as he could. Then he would just enjoy the show & wait for you to notice him. It may have actually started because he liked to overhear your terrible singing in the shower, but now he really just likes watching you in your own little world as your fingers slide over the curves of your naked body. On several occasions he's had to start rubbing over himself when your hands caressed your soapy breasts, watching your nipples hardening as your palms skimmed across them, or as your hands slid down your hips & between your thighs. Since then he wouldn't admit it to you but he had been desperately trying to catch you masturbating. He fantasized about finding you naked & spred out. Little whimpers falling from your lips as you teasrd your fingers around your wet pussy. He wanted to see you so needy & desperare your cunt would be quivering at the slightest brush over your entrance before watching you fuck yourself silly with your fingers or a toy. Your body was a piece of art to him, & he could watch you all day long.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Stephen's bed is definitely the most preferred location. It was much bigger & plush than your own at the Sanctum. Meaning more space to roll around & switch positions on without fear of rolling off the bed. It was also the place Stephen most let his guard down & your Stephen came out. When you were just fooling around that was pretty much the only place you fucked.

After his confession he had taken you anywhere he could get away with: bent over the bathroom counter, the shower, a secluded hallway at the Sanctum, his desk, a spare room or closet at the tower, etc. You also both wanted to recreate your 1st tryst after declaring your love for each other. When you made love on the floor in the library. You'd have to be very sneaky as Wong would have both of your hides if he caught you there again. His bed was still top of the list, but once you were his he couldn't keep his hands off of you where ever he could have you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Before you fell in love the motivation for both of you was pretty basic. Sometimes you sought each other out for comfort, to release stress, or simply because you were really fucking horny but couldn't be bothered to get a date or were sick of dating. You cared about each other, but the reason you were fucking didn't go that deep.

After you were a couple the motivation was far different. Most of the above reasons still applied, but now there were much deeper reasons too. You wanted to show each other just how much you loved & needed one another. To show how special you found each other. You wanted to worship their body & make them feel good. You wanted to really connect & let the world around you fade away. Sometimes it was still pure lust & animalistic heat, but it was a passion of 2 people driven together by both the mystical forces & the forces of nature. At the root of it all, soft or rough, was a love that burned bright & the need to express it to each other.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything you both aren't abundantly enthusiastic about is a no. His day to day life is stressful enough that he firmly believes it's not worth doing something one of you has to try to talk the other into. There is plenty of stuff you guys have brainstormed on & are both excited to try. Some things he honestly just thinks involve too much work. Most bondage stuff he has no real interest in trying, he's satisfied leaving it at handcuffs & a little spanking. Anal is a take or leave thing. It's enjoyable but if you aren't into it he's not heartbroken about it. He has no interest in a 3 way or swinging. He wouldn't mind the 2 of you watching others, or even someone watching the 2 of you, but he doesn't want anyone else touching you like that. He is far to posessive to even be okay joking about you fucking someone else.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Before everything he would have hands down preferred for you to suck him off. It's not that he didn't like eating you out, he did, but he loved how his brain would switch off the minute your tongue touched his cock. It was like he short circuited & he could never get enough of the vision of you looking up at him as your mouth slipped down his length. He still loses his mind when you blow him, but he's more focused on being a more giving lover now that you are officially together. He will take every opportunity he can to make your eyes roll back in your head & moan his name. He hated to think of anyone else (*cough* Bucky *cough*) lapping at your sweet pussy, but every once in a while his mind would punish him with that image if he felt he was being too greedy in receiving. On those occasions he would make you cum at least at least once with his mouth alone before making love to you only to wake you up with his mouth the next morning.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

This hasn't changed much since you became a couple. It very much depends on how you are both feeling. Some nights it's slow, passionate, & deep. With Stephen dragging out his thrusts & whispers of adoration. Other nights you compete to see who can pull the most obscene words & sounds from the other. You both got off on hearing the other talk dirty, & could spew filth that would make pornstars blush. It's the reason why your Christmas present to Wong was noise cancelling Bluetooth headphones. Then there were those nights it was a mix of both. Those usually started off more slow & sensual but around the halfway point it was like something in your brains snapped & you both needed it hard & fast. His slow calculated thrusts turned into pounding you as deep as he could with you rutting against him. Both clawing at each other pulling your bodies as close together as physically possible & wrapping around each other. Deep hard kisses full of tongues & teeth, mumbling praises both sweet & filthy into each other's lips.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Stephen is pretty anti-quickie. Being a surgeon he likes doing things precisely & would much rather take a few hours to do something to the best of his ability than take a few minutes to do something half way. Oral & fingering, or anything that could be considered foreplay, is fair game to fit in the quickie framework. So you both still got plenty frisky in the heat of the moment when it hit, & maybe there was one or two quickies here or there, but for the most part full on sex was saved for when it could be done right.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

It depends on the risk really. He likes trying new things with you, but wouldn't want to do anything that either of you wasn't into or that could harm your relationship. His favorite risky thing was teasing & playing with you in public. He has found hospital galas & Stark's parties are much more tolerable when he can have his fingers teasing your pussy. It is for that reason nearly every dress you have worn to an event like that since you became a couple has a thigh high slit on one side, so he could easily slide one hand inside your leg & brush against the soft lips of your warm pussy. Letting the wetness that starts to gather smear until your entire cunt is slick for him. Just enjoying the way the pads of his fingers slide over your sensitive flesh, grinning to himself in his own little world as you try to keep conversation or hold in your noises. His favorite time was when you cracked & moaned mid sentence talking to Nat & Steve. Once they figured out what was going on Steve turned redder than a stop sign & tried to leave so fast he nearly clotheslined a waiter, Nat snorted wine out her nose & fell face first on the table laughing. You were so embarrassed you left early that night, which made Stephen's night a double success.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

His stamina is impressive, which he credits to learning to meditate & his training as a sorcerer. He was never fast, but now he could stretch one session out for a couple of hours. Switching back & forth between more teasing touches or using his mouth & fingers, to driving his cock hard into you over & over as deep as possible. Your sessions tend to start a little slower & build in energy as you go. He isn't a super soldier or anything so you are limited to only a couple rounds a night max, but he knows how to make the most of every second & pull every ounce of pleasure possible from your body.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

They aren't a normal feature in your playtime together but they weren't unwelcome. Stephen was well aware of your decent sized toy collection & once in a while he liked to use your small vibrator on you either as foreplay or for extra stimulation while he fucked you. He secretly wanted to watch you ride one of your dildos but he hasn't had the nerve to tell you in such explicit terms, he had just said he liked when you showed him what you liked when you played with yourself. There were several toys you both wanted to try together including a vibrating cock ring, & you had promised him that at some point you would get & wear a discreet remote control vibrator to help keep him entertained at social events he didn't want to go to. After learning about how his hands sometimes interfered in his own solo time you brought up the idea of him getting a stroker toy or fleshlight, saying that it might help when his grip was acting up. He wasn't crazy about the idea, he had been jerking off since he was a teenager without the assistance of a toy & it just seemed like it would be a hassle, but he didn't say no because he knew you were probably right. So you were currently hiding a clear stroker sleeve toy in your room that you were waiting for a special occasion to surprise Stephen with. You figured if you used it on him the first couple times, showed him how good it could feel & some good memories to think of when he used it, that he would warm up to the idea of using it on his own. As much as you both loved & preferred to play with each other you knew it was important that Stephen be able to enjoy his own solo play time too. You had your toys for when he wasn't there, or for just whenever, & you wanted him to have his too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a big tease but hates being teased himself. He loves letting his hand linger on your low back only to slide down & grab your ass as soon as people look away. Or sneaking a playful bite on your shoulder or neck if he is standing behind you in a meeting. When you are standing farther away he has taken to using little bits of magic to tease you. Creating little tingles & tickles on any exposed skin. Always ending at the sweet spot just behind your ear, leaving you struggling to stay quiet. He's also been known to tease you with his fingers under the table at formal events. Tracing the tips of his long digits up your thigh, every so often ghosting against the crotch of your panties as he whispers filthy things in your ear trying to get you to relent & leave to go back to the Sanctum. Now god forbid you try to flip the script & tease him. He practically has a meltdown. He starts whining & pouting, saying that you are being mean holding out on him. The only teasing he doesn't mind is sending him dirty pics or texts. If anything when you're apart he'll be the one bugging you to send him new ones.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

No one has ever accused Stephen Strange of being a quiet person, aloof yes but quiet no. So if course it only makes sense that Stephen Strange is a massive fan of dirty talk. Not anything particularly degrading but lots of just any & all filth. Whispering in your ear when you are in public about how he can't stop thinking about how sexy you were riding him that morning or what he plans on doing to make you scream later. He loves when you call him Doctor & prefers that or his name to any other pet name, although he has decided he likes when you call him love. You were always sweetheart, or recently baby or love, until things got really heated. When things really got going he would call you his good or bad girl, depending on which the situation called for, or called you his little slut. That one drove you absolutely wild. You would be praising each other & begging for more. "Oh God Stephen, you feel so good inside me." "Oh yeah? You want it harder baby? Such a good little slut for me." "Yes Doctor, your little slut. Only for you. Need you to fill me up Stephen." Sex was almost never quiet between the two of you, & thank god the Sanctum has thick walls. Although there was an unspoken rule that Wong would never speak of anything he may happen to inadvertently overhear.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He is secretly a sucker for soft passionate cheesy romantic sex. The whole shebang too, complete with candles or a crackling fire. It waa hard for Stephen to feel truly close & intimate with people so the "romantic movie" kind of sex always seemed like something he would never really experience. Obviously life isn't like a romantic movie, especially for the sorcerer supreme & a sorcerer in training who both work with the Avengers, but every once in a while he wanted to create that perfect illusion for the two of you. So he would pull out the candles, sprinkle the rose petals, & lose himself in your love story.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Average girth. Length is definitely above average, & he knows how to use it. Plunging his cock in deep & purposely dragging his long length along your upper wall as he pulled back making sure to hit the spot that would make your pussy flutter around him.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Once you are officially a couple there is a good few months where he can't keep his hands off of you. It didn't matter what time it was, where you were, or who was nearby. He had all this pent up want for you, to hear you moan his name & proclaim your love for him, that now finally had an outlet. After that you two slowly start to settle into a routine, you still had to have each other a minimum 3-4 times a week but life can be crazy & sometimes you have to save the universe instead of spending the day fucking each other silly. That being said, he would still have you everyday multiple times most days if he could.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Both of you were insomniacs so there were plenty of nights neither of you really fell asleep. Opting instead to read or watch something. Usually though you were the first one to start succumbing to sleep when it did come calling. Once he noticed you were asleep he would set his own book aside & just lay watching you for a bit. Watching how your chest would rise & fall with your breath. Noticing how your nose would start to twitch occasionally, presumably when you were dreaming. He would memorize how beautiful you looked completely relaxed next to him; completely at ease. Even before he said it out loud it was that moment when he knew he loved you. Just for a moment before settling in to snuggle around you & force himself to sleep he would press a kiss to your forehead & let himself imagine what could be. The life he could have with you as his wife & the mother of his children.

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[qtsickchiq]

ONLY YOU

with Haitani Rindou

“What have you done this time Rin?” You asked with a serious tone glaring at the younger brother of the Haitani who is currently sitting in the opposite of you.

You are surprised when you heard about the news. You knew something would happen in that Kantou incident but this exceeds your expectations. You make some time to visit the Haitani brothers at the Juvenile Centre.  

Rindou has his usual bored expression on his face. “It’s none of your business y/n.”

“So this is how you’re speaking to me now huh?” You mumbled under your breath, gaze trailing down to the man in front of you. The young man let out a loud sigh as a response to yours.

“You know what Rin? I’ve enough. Let’s end this.” You whimpered, your fist tighten around your dress.

He raises a brow, trying to catch the things you were saying. “What nonsense are you spitting out now?” He let out frustrated chuckles.

“I don’t see any way we are going to work.”

“Stop, you can’t leave me. Not now.” He hissed, slamming both of his hands on the table.

“Rin, this is not going to work! You don’t even give a damn about me, about our future. Have you ever thought of me in that brain of yours?” You wail as the tears start rolling down on your cheeks. He flinches back, his eyes widen at your words. He was at a loss for words. It’s true, he know it himself. He knows damn well.

You looked at him, teeth gritted, frustration clear in your eyes. “As I thought, let’s end this. I can’t keep waiting for you like this.”

He tried to grab your hand but you end up slapping his hand away. “I’m sorry please- please don’t leave me.” He whimpers. He lowers his head and his eyes were teary, hands slightly trembling.

“I love you Rin, I love you so fucking damn much that it’s hurting me. I just want you to give a damn about me for once.” You murmur as you slowly getting up from your chair, wiping away the tears on your cheeks using both of your sleeves.

“I know.”

That was the last time he saw you. He hadn’t seen you at all for the past years. It’s been years but he still gets dreams of you. He missed you so much. He missed your soft-spoken voice when you talks to him, your sweet laugh when you laugh at his boring jokes, your honey sweet lips when it touch his. The thoughts of you linger in and out of his mind. He regrets everything he has done to you before.

He can’t stop loving you. Believe him, he tried. He lies awake every night, trying to think of ways to get you out of his mind. But he fails every time. He tried looking for you several times before but you keep on avoiding him. He still waits for you days by days even until today.  

“Rindou, what are spacing out now? Come on, let’s enjoy the drinks. ” A voice greeted his ears and snapping him out of his pondering. Sanzu give a curious stare at him, brows knitted together before a grin emerged on his face. “Come on.” Rindou shrugs, running his fingers through his hair while following his friends from behind. Many years have passed from the incident and he’s in Bonten now. Sanzu drag him away as he passes him a bottle of alcohol.

With the loud music booming at every corner of the club, Rindou can’t help but to let out a sigh. His eyes are wandering around the club. He leaned back at his seat, having his second drink of the night. That is until he could catch a glimpse of you. What the fuck. You walk briskly to the dance floor in your low cut red silk dress draped around your body. You raised softly curved arm, and a myriad of gold bangles jangled to the rhythm of the mounting beat. You are dancing along to the music with a glass of wine in your hand. He keeps his gaze trailing down to you, not noticing the ways the other Bonten members are staring at him.

The older Haitani brother raises a brow, clicking his tongue. “Hey what’s wrong Rindou?” He was only greeted with silence from his younger brother. Rindou plopped down in a chair, his intense gaze fixed on you. Ran turns his head to look at the way his little brother is looking, his lips slowly curving up into a smile as he realizes the things that are bothering his brother “Oh is that y/n?” A loud laugh erupted from Ran.

Rindou shrugs it off as he leaned back at his seat. He flicks the lighter in his hand and watch the tip of his cigarette ignite as he inhale it and blow the heavy smoke from his mouth. It has been years and you are still able to catch his attention from everything. The most beautiful creature he has seen in his entire life. His steady gaze on you gave no indication of what else was on his mind. Fuck, he misses you. He wants to touch you. He wants to stroke your cheeks once again, while looking into your lustrous eyes. But he understands that you hate him now. He doesn’t want to be a bother in your life again. He hurts you once. The last time he made you cry was something he doesn’t want to remember ever again. All Rindou could do was to stare at you as you drown yourself deeper in the glass of wine, giggling. Everything felt so heavy to him.

That is until he notices that there’s a group of men staring at you with their lustful eyes as they are laughing to themselves near the bar. They are pissing him off. He tightened his grip slightly when he saw the men start making their way towards you. Without a second thought, Rindou clears his throat as he stands up from his seat, slowly walking towards you. His hands touched your waist and then he slipped his arms around you from behind and drew your back against his chest. You are too drunk to notice. He shot them a glare.

One of the men yells, “Hey! What the hell?”

“Don’t even think about it” He bits the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress his anger.

“Huh?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t even think about touching my woman.” His voice is harsh and cold. He harshly grips your wrist, pulling you away from the creepy men. His eyes are flashing anger.

Your lips parted for a second trying to recall the man that is fully dressed in suit. You winced when you recognize him. “Wa-wait…hic…Rindou??”

“Let’s go.” He grumbles under his breath. He pulls you closer as he walks out from the club heading to where he parked his car. You try to jerks your hand away, but his grip is stronger than yours.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I… hic… if I wanna go…?” You mumble to yourself before you stumble forward losing your own balance. Rindou quickly catch you in his arms. He let out a heavy sigh.

“You had enough. Let’s go.” Picking your unconscious self in bridal style, he gently places you in his car.

The moment you blinks your eyes you were already in an unfamiliar bedroom. Your ears perked up from Rindou’s voice, you take a glance to see the man standing right next to a window talking to his phone. He already changes from his suits that he was wearing at the club earlier to a comfy black t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

A deep furrow ran across his forehead, “Yeah, I already went home. There’s something I have to take care of. See you tomorrow, brother.” He ends the call, placing the phone in his pocket.

You sat up in the bed and look around, with your hand rubbing your head to ease the throbbing in you temples, “Rindou? What’s happening here?” You clutch the comforter to your chest.

“I didn’t lay a finger on you.”

You flinch as you hurriedly look over yourself underneath the comfy comforter. Yes, you are still fully clothes. Rindou let out a loud sigh as he passed you a glass of water.

“Um, thank you for saving me.”  You mumble under your breath. His lazy eyes are staring straight to you. You took a sip of the drink.

He scoffs, “Don’t bother.” He makes his way to a chair beside the bed. “Who the hell think it’s a good idea to drink more than you can handle?” He asked, placing both of his hands in his pockets.

You shot him a glare. Ah! Now you remembered. You were at the club earlier with you friends celebrating the promotion you just got from work. Rindou suddenly stands up from his chair, making his way towards the huge wardrobe in that bedroom. You turn your head to stare at the man who is busy looking for something in the wardrobe. He did change a lot huh. You push the thought from your mind as you can see him coming towards you. He passed you a new freshly clothes.

“Wear this. I don’t think you’re comfortable enough in that shitty dress anyway.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “Excuse me sir? This dress is beautiful okay.”

“Well seems like to me you couldn’t even breathe in that dress.” His brows knitted together, pointing his finger to your dress. Rindou admits to himself that you do look gorgeous in that dress but none of it matters at this moment. He only wants you to be comfortable enough.

You shrug, “Fine.” You grab the clothes from him as you stripping yourself, taking off the silk dress from your body. Rindou roll his eyes as he turns his head away from the sight. You glance down at the shirt that is way too big for you as you sniff it, you can smell his scent there.

You took a deep breath as you turn your head to face him. “So how are you doing now?”

“M'doing fine.” He mutters to himself.

You frown, clicking your tongue.  “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing.” He murmurs as he place a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, his long fingers then searched inside the nightstand and finally emerged with a match.  He lights up a cigarette in his mouth, blowing the heavy smoke out.

You waited for his reply in tense silence, but his response filled you with equal anger. You shot a glare at him. “Rin, I’m talking to you. At least make some efforts in replying.”

“I am.”

You glare at him with frustration clears in your eyes, teeth gritted. “Fuck off!” You curse as you plops yourself on the bed yanking the comforter over your body. You turn your face away avoiding his stare.

Rindou raises a brow at your sudden outburst. He puts out his cigarette as he slowly scoots over to sit next to you. “Language babe, anyway where have you been all these time?”

“Home duh.” You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“I’m serious now y/n.” He hissed, grabbing your wrist forcing you to face him. His brow knitted together.

“Oh now you know how to communicate properly. Why the hell do you care about me anyway?”

He slammed you down with him being on top of you. Both of his hands stay on the side of your head supporting him. “Because I was fucking looking for you, you dumb woman.” His body stays in between your legs.

You wince as you tried to escape from his grasp, “You what?”

He places his head on his palm, trembling as he stared down at you. Tears burned his eyes and his lower lip trembled, “I was looking for you all these years y/n.”

You scoff, “What the hell are you saying now? I told you we won’t work!” You tried to push him away. Your eyes were filling with tears.

His troubled gaze came back to your face, pacing from your eyes to your lips. “I don’t fucking care. I’ll make it work. I can’t live like this y/n.”

“How the hell you want to make us work if you don’t even give a damn about me before?” The tears are spilling past your eyes as you sob.

“I care about you y/n!” He grabbed your shoulders, pulling you roughly against him and kissed you in a demanding way that roused more anger than anything else. You flinch as you push away from his grip.

“LIAR!!” You scream pulling away to glare at him with tear-filled eyes as you wipe your lips with you hand. “Don’t you dare lie to me in front of my face? You barely made time for me before. Where were you when I need you the most? All you think about is your gang shits and fighting alongside your brother! Have you ever thought of me? How long do you expect me to wait for you?” You began to cry, you sob muffled as you leaned forward against your arms, hugging your knees.

His heart instantly drops to his stomach. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I fucking love you, babe.” He slowly lowered his head, gathering you gently in his arms. He pulled you closer in an embrace. “I love you, y/n. I love you so fucking much that it hurts me so freaking bad to not being able to stay by your side. I’m sorry, please forgive me. I miss you so fucking bad. Let me fix this and I know we weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one. I care about you. I fucking do. Just for once, please trust me this time.” His warm lips brushed your forehead, peppering it with kisses. Lips quivering as the tears flow from his eyes. You bury your face in his chest.

Your hands making your way to hold his back as you fall deeper in his embrace. “I can’t Rin, I’m married now.” You whispered in his ears.

He jolted away from you, eyes widened from your statement. He gripped your wrist hard, lowering his head to look at you, “You what?”

You let out a giggle, “I’m just joking, you silly.”

He sigh, “That’s a dumb joke, I was about to kill your husband if it’s true.” He frowned as he releases his grip from your wrist turning his head away from you. His lips pressed in thin line.

“Sorry~” Your eyes brimmed with tears of mirth and the smile tugging your lips broke into a grin. You place your hand gently on his hand to pull him back in your embrace. An annoyance huff could be heard as he nuzzling himself into your hair, sliding his fingers down to your hair. He leaned back in your grasp, staring straight into your eyes.

“Say do you still love me?”

“No.” You shook you head with a smirk plastered on your face.

He rolls his eyes,“Y/n…”

“Hold me?” You held your arms out, welcoming him in your embrace. “Of course I still love you, you dumb ass. How can I forget my boring high school sweetheart?” You chuckles as you strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

He cuts you off, “Shut up.” He was sitting on the bed, legs spreading as he places his hands on the back of your thigh and pulls you forward him. He makes you sit down on his lap, inching his face closer to you.

“But you said you missed me earlier.”

“I do.” He slowly lowered his eyes as his lips touch yours. You surrendered yourself to his warm lips and secure embrace, clinging to him as your heart stepped up pace. He grabs his shirt from the back of his necks, and yanking it off over his head. “You’re mine”, his gaze trailing down to you and his warm lips kissed their way down your neck and across you shoulder. You both fall deeper into the warmth of each other.

You blinks your eyes, hours has passed. The birds are chirping and the sunlight is peaking through Rindou’s bedroom curtains. You can feel his warmth surrounding you as you can feel his arms around you. You leaned closer to him. You both are cuddling together under his comfy comforter. You glance at the clock showed 9 in the morning.

“Hey Rin~” You face the beautiful man that is snuggling closer next to you. Enjoying the sight before you, he is still half asleep. You brush your fingers to his face gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ears.

“Hm?” His voice is raspy from the sleepiness.

You huff your cheeks and lips forming a pout. “I’m hungry, let’s go out for a breakfast.”

His arm is sneaking around you waist gently to hold you closer to him, “M’no. Stay here with me.”

“But, I’m shooo huuungry~” You whines.

“I’ll cook for you later.”

“What?”

“I’ll cook you Katsudon, it’s your favourite right.” He stops, his eyes are wide open after realizing what he just said “Shit” He quickly covering his face with his hand, looking away from your stares to hide the light shade of pink on his cheeks.

You sat in confusion before it finally clicked. “Eh you still remember about that? I mean yes, it’s my favourite since high school. I can’t believe you still remember that.” Wide smile plastered on your face as you pulls his hand away from his face. “You love me that bad huh.”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off by dropping himself on top of you, nuzzling his face on your neck. He’s blushing red. You blink before letting out your giggles. You tried to suppress your giggling, but ended up bursting into laughter

You put a hand on your mouth as you laugh at him. “Say, do you truly love me?” You gently stroke his pinkish-purple mullet hair with your hand.

A scowl appeared on Rindou’s face as he glances at you. “I said it already yesterday.” He mumbles to himself, sighing into your neck and ignoring the fluttering of his heart.

“Come onnnn say it again.” You chime, grinning at him. “Say it.” You giggle softly staring at him as your fingers gently tracing the tattoo on the left side of his naked body.

He let out a loud sigh as he gently pulls your wrist making you face him. He leans his forehead to yours.  He smiles as one of his arm trailing down to wrap around your waist to bring you closer to him. The other hand of his is gently brushing your cheek. “I love you y/n, I love you so fucking much and trust me I won’t ever let you go ever again. You are my one and only. ” You both giggle as you both dozing off in each other’s arms.

yours truly @qtsickchiq​​

[little-spoiled-brat]

Congrats on 100 followers ! You deserve every one of them and more :)) Your content is always so good, thank you so much for feeding us so well :)

Okay I finally made my choice and I'm coming to request for 6 and 25 from the NSFW prompt with Levi :))

WRITING PROMPT # 10:

"don't tempt me, i'll fuck you on this desk"

"look at the mess you've made"

pairing: levi x reader - nsfw, minors dni

cw: possessive levi, rough sex, teasing, slight masturbation, choking, fingering f receiving, degrading, slight overstimulation, belly bulge, dumbification, praise kink, squirting

author’s note: did i got carried away with this? maybe.

- after hours -

it was the end of a rather tiring day, you barely got to see levi today and you were just glad that you were back in his office. however, a frown formed on your face upon seeing him still working on paperworks.

you sighed, closing the door with a soft click and walking over to his desk. levi looked up from his paperwork and patted his thighs, a smile formed on your lips and you happily obliged to sit on his lap.

you straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around your waist. he placed a kiss on your temple, gently running his hand through your hair.

“it felt like i haven’t seen you all day, brat” levi sighed tiredly as you buried your face into the crook of his neck and placed a light kiss on the soft skin in return.

”come to bed, you need rest” you said, pulling away from him and ran your hand through his hair as he hummed in satisfaction, his eyes closing.

“tch. i still have paperworks to finish” levi grumbled, opening his eyes again, snaking his arms around you to continue scribbling on the paper on his desk.

you sighed in defeat, kissing his cheek before getting off of his lap. you took a chair and dragged it beside his before plopping yourself down on it.

it didn’t take long until your eyes were wandering over your boyfriend — his focused grey-blue eyes, his slightly parted lips, his muscles that contracted whenever he wrote something down, his thighs-

“oi, y/n. what the hell are you doing?” levi snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked up at him. heat rose to your cheeks once you realized that while you were busy gawking over you boyfriend, your hand had found their way onto your clit — onto what was his.

and levi did not like it when you touch what’s his.

a lightbulb lit up inside your head and you continued to rub your clit through your sweatpants as if nothing was happening. you watched levi’s jaw tense at your actions, his eyes slowly filling with undesirable lust.

”don’t you have paperworks to finish? get back to work” you said as levi glared at you and a smirk pulled up in the corner of your lips.

”i will when you stop touching what’s mine” levi hissed through gritted teeth and you stopped touching yourself.

“good girl”

fucking hell.

you stood up, taking off your sweatpants and your underwear before sitting back down on the chair. levi’s eyes drifted back to you, finally catching up on your intentions.

“don’t you fucking dare“ levi warned as you moved the chair a bit so you were directly facing him. your hand trailed down your clit again, circling the sensitive bud in small figures of eight. “fuck, levi”

“brat” levi growled, a warning tone to his voice but you kept going, you slipped two fingers into you and moaned loudly on purpose.

“oh shit, levi. that feels so good” you moaned, throwing your head back and slowly pumping your fingers in and out as your eyes closed. “oh fuck me”

“don’t tempt me, i’ll fuck you on this desk” levi growled, his hand wrapping around your throat as your eyes flew open. your hand flew to his wrist, holding on tightly.

"please"

without a second thought, levi picked you up and swiftly swiped away every paper off his desk before placing you down on top of it.

“flithy brat” levi hissed, inserting three fingers inside of you and pumping them in a fast pace. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your velvet walls sucking his fingers in oh so deliciously.

“t-too f-fast” you said, the knot in your stomach quickly building up. you tried to close your legs out of instinct but levi pushed your thighs apart.

“no. you’re going to take everything i fucking give you, filthy slut” levi spat, venom lacing his voice as you whimpered. your breathing became heavy, holding onto his arms desperately as the knot started to break.

”fuck! levi!” you moaned, back arching as the first wave of pleasure came washing over you. levi wrapped his hand around your throat and pushed you back down flat on his desk.

“w-wait, levi” you whimpered, reaching for his wrist to stop him from inserting his fingers inside of you again. he simply glared at you, pumping his fingers in and out again.

“look at you, already being a mess and you haven’t even taken my cock yet” levi teased, curling his fingers to hit your g-spot. you moaned at his words, gripping the wrist of his hand that was around you throat for leverage.

the pleasure was already starting to become too much and levi was just getting started with you.

it didn’t take long until the second wave of pleasure washed over you. your body was already trembling from the earth shattering orgasms levi caused twice in a row.

you looked up at your boyfriend with half lidded eyes as he tenderly cupped your cheek, letting you breathe for a few minutes.

then it was his cock you were taking.

“shit, you’re so tight“ levi groaned, sliding his entire length inside of you, your arousal and orgasms from earlier acting as lube for him.

“w-wait” you breathed out, pressing your palm flat on his abdomen to silently tell him not to move. levi understood, staying still for a few minutes to let you adjust to his size.

“you’re being a good girl so far, brat” levi whispered, leaning down and kissing your forehead tenderly. you smiled up at him and pulled him down to connect your lips together.

“you can move now” you whispered into the kiss as levi slowly started thrusting in and out of you. he did a few test thrusts before settling for a steady but still fast pace.

“y/n” levi moaned in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. his voice — his damn seductive voice moaning your name in the most sinful way.

levi shifted his angle to hit that spongy spot inside of you that makes your brain melt with every thrust his hips made against yours. he chuckled smugly, adoring the light bulge of his cock on your lower belly whenever he thrusts into you.

“brat” levi called out as you looked at him with empty eyes, lips parted in pleasure and overall fucked dumb over his cock. this boosted levi’s ego even more.

he chuckled, wrapping his hand around your throat once again and squeezing lightly. “are you fucked dumb because of my cock? hm?”

you nodded pathetically, not being able to form any understandable sentences for him. levi leaned down and kissed your lips before thrusting in harder, his gentleness leaving just as fast as it appeared.

“l-levi!” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut and he spread your legs apart even more. the all too familiar knot started to form in your lower stomach again.

“fuck, i’m close” levi groaned, his thrusts slowly getting sloppy. he felt you tighten around him before and he knew you were also close.

“c-can’t h-hold anymore, n-need to c-cum” you whimpered, trying your hardest not to release without levi’s permission. he moaned at your words, his thumb reaching down and rubbed at your sensitive clit.

“cum for me. don’t hold back, brat” levi said and you did. you fell apart for him, the third wave of pleasure washing over you and you kept eye contact the entire time.

“that’s it, good girl. good fucking girl, y/n“ levi praised, pulling out and replacing his cock with his fingers to prolong your orgasm even more.

“f-fuck, l-levi. gonna m-make a mess“ you moaned, trying to grab at his wrist like before. with a few thrusts of his fingers, you came for the fourth time and squirted all over his desk.

levi moaned, releasing his cum on your stomach at the sight of you squirting. he carefully pulled his soaking fingers out of your aching cunt and licked them clean, all while looking you in the eyes.

fuck, that was hot.

“you taste so good, brat” levi said, kissing your lips and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you wrapped your arms around him, running your hand through his hair as the both of you came down from your highs.

“i love you” you whispered tiredly and levi smiled, kissing your forehead lovingly. “i love you“

he pulled you up from his desk and handing you your underwear and sweatpants from before as the both of you got redressed.

“look at the mess you’ve made“ levi said, glancing at his desk where traces of your juices and his cum were still evident on the usually neat surface. “eh? your cum is also on there, don’t blame it all on me”

”tch. still partially your fault” you pouted as levi chuckled and ruffled your hair affectionately, grabbing something to wipe his desk clean. you collected the papers that he ruthlessly pushed off of his desk from earlier and organized them in a neat pile once the desk was clean and in prestine condition again.

levi let you straddle his lap again, his arms caging you in while he worked on the papers that were temporarily abandoned because of you intimate session.

levi kissed your forehead once more and it didn’t take you long until you fell asleep in his arms.

[tooruluv]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee​ <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour. 

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat. 

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal. 

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name. 

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything. 

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy. 

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked. 

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories. 

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead. 

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes. 

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything. 

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same. 

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was. 

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that). 

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day. 

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing. 

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect. 

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea. 

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy. 

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class. 

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else. 

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting. 

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with. 

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity. 

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath. 

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy. 

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

 I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools. 

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger. 

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt. 

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight. 

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself. 

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder. 

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in. 

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.” 

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

tag list: @katsulovee @paradisebabey @seaofemptygold @zhaixiaowen @daylghits @haikyuusimp91 @darknessyournewfriend @samwise-though @liaxxx109

[camillathe6th]

PR. Picture of health

CONTEXT: @kittlesandbugs gave us the Classic care-for-your-sick-partner prompt so here we are. Everything belongs to Malin Rydén and Fallen Hero. WHAT TO EXPECT: Silly pre-HB days, no tricky business. 

2012.

“I’m telling you, our best bet is the delivery entrance.”

“Sentinel can take us over the east wall, no need to infiltrate.”

You set down his cup on the dirty littered desk and then haul your ass up next to it, smack on the old newspapers, feet on the empty chair.

This is nice. Right under the central heating’s blast. You’re shivering like a dog in the rain, and the fever blows your brain in full fog.

“Not both of us at once,” you say, and then stop for a second to cough like death warmed up; a sound throat deep, a little reminiscent of a spike strip dragging through cement, then you’re good to go again:

“And then what? We run through the warehouse completely exposed? Sentinel can’t fly through roofs, and their watchtower has a view to the east.”

He rubs at his forehead, hard enough to kick the migraine out. You know he really feels like shit because the glasses are out, and the hair hasn’t been fussed with in two days. From here you can hear him breathe through his mouth. Eyes swollen. Cough dry. You flick his forehead and chin-nod toward the steaming cup.

“What is it?” he says.

“Tea.”

He grabs the handle.

“That’s a lot of attention to redirect at once, Tiny. Through the delivery entrance.”

“I can handle it.”

“Honey?” he says after a swig of tea.

“Yes.” You grab his pen and draw the line from the exit to the torture chambers. “Through here we steer clear of—”

“I meant you, honey,” he drawls.

You look up and snort, snot-wet, when you find him puckering his cracked lips. Fossilized smolder.

“Gross. Don’t even try. You keep your fever, old man.”

“You’ve got my fever, rat-face.”

“You’ve got my fever first, grey-hair.”

“I don’t have grey hair!”

“Are you sure?” you bat your eyes at him, sinus-pain be damned, and pilfer his tea quick enough that he can’t stop you.

Not that he tries. He just pops an Ibuprofen and sniffs.

“Can’t be bothered to find a mirror and check right now.”

“You must be on the brink of death.”

The hot water settles in your stomach, tasteless, just right, nice and heavy, scalding enough to keep you awake. That’s good. A coat of dullness applied to the pain in your throat. You close your eyes. There’s a hum, a long hum. It might be you. You think he replies something, blurry, soothing-deep, but the light ahead buzzes softly, hypnotic, like a purr, like a whirr, and for a moment it’s all you hear in the cotton of your ears. For a moment…

Something falls on your knees. You jolt back to life. In your lap Ricardo has laid his stupid head.

“Don’t forget your Ibuprofen,” he mumbles.

Under your slow hand he’s burning up—temple to forehead, and further, glowing hot under the lovely hair. When you take his glasses off, his mouth brushes your wrist thank you.  

“Hey, Ricardito. Are you delirious enough to accept that my plan is better?”

He laughs a little.

“I’m—”

But no dice: that’s when the door slams open, CLAC and BLINDING through your pain-brain. You both jump with a whine.

“Go home,” Steel barks, a vision of bulky assholery looming in the doorway. “The Void will still be terrorizing the city on Monday.”

“You go home!” you yap right back.

“I’m not sick. You both are.”

Now that’s going too fucking far. Ricardo straightens up, and you twist fully; in perfect harmony the croak-gasp springs from you both: 

“We’re not—”

“—fucking—”

“SICK!”

[mommyofkittens]

Hello! I updated the story " A Court of Fallen Heroes " on Archive of our own! Check it out and tell me what you think about it. What are your favorite tropes? What would you like to see next? Do you feel like something is missing from the story? Make sure to notify me, I am open to anything.

PART 1: Pit of Despair

Chapter 1: 3:33

   " Goddamit, Nadia. I sucked so bad today at that blood donation. " I complained while rummaging in the dark of my bag for the keys to my small apartament. " I have no ideea why the fuck did I sign up for that volunteering thing. "

          The stinging odor of disinfectant irritated my vision. Not to mention the grey walls that were stained with white dots of solution for killing beetles were making me feel even dirtier than I actually was.

          " It wasn’t so bad after all, doctor Appleheim didn’t stick the syringe down your throat at the end. " Nadia lets loose a high-pitched laughing on the phone that has me rolling my eyes, " At least you didn’t popped the poor man veins like me. " She complains and I search the red dots splashed on my shoes, remembering the disastrous moment.

          Nadia was my first friend from university and that is only because she basically jumped me on one of the anatomy laboratories, recognizing me from the day we submitted our files. I was quite impressed, I could never recall a person’s face if I only saw her once. Well, it was not because I had bad memory or short memory, - I got a handfull of healthy brains in my skull thanks to my reading addiction – but rather because I was not paying attention to anyone near me that day.

          There were actually five girls in our group that we could call quite good friends, but the two of us were always inseparable. We even wanted to do our license together, in the last year of med school.

          The familiar smell from my little apartment relaxes my muscles instantly and I take a moment to shrug the bad energies off of me. Amber, from the parfume I always wear, and hyacinth from the mini freshener I had on the shoe closet. Opening the lights from the main hall, I’m greeted by my cat’s deafening meow. " I missed you too, little boy. "

          I throw my shoes on the floor tiles, remembering myself to wipe the dust from the dark cherry color.

          The past weekend was one of the hardest calamities I have ever endured this year. Not that the last of it was any better: my love life was badly affected by my family intrusion of my intimacy and as a repercussion, so was my family life. Also, my grades from med school suddenly dropped as a result of my insomnia and constant tension.

          And I am not even adding that heavy weight I feel on my chest or the fact that I should start working soon because I had no financial support anymore.

          " How do you feel? " Nadia asks after a long pause of silence.

          I still on my own tracks and watch the cat caress my feet. Did I ever told her about my personal problems? Fuck, how could I forget that? I never liked to play the victim.

          Not good, I tell myself. Like I was kicked in the nuts and one of it got stuck in my pelvic bones.

          " You’re talking about the fact that I can’t catch a vein or?... "

          " Yes, what else? " a note of concern staines her honeyed voice, " Something else happened? "

          Oh, so I didn’t tell her.

          " No, no, what could happen? "

          Fucked a girl, that’s what happened.

          I snort at my own lying ass and lock the door behind me. " I am a little upset, but nothing some alcohol can’t heal. "             

          " Alright, dear, " Nadia chuckles and I feel her small smile through the phone, " I’ll do the same. See you tomorrow! "

          I threw the phone on the pile of folded blankets and stick my fingers in my eye holes, trying to stop the thriving headache in my temple.

          I knew it was not going to be alright. My parents were so ashamed I was dating a girl they kicked me out of the house. It was that or the possibility of losing the only person I have loved and turned my love back multiplied.

          I unpack my bag and sit on the edge of the bed, allowing myself some time of peace. The book that I finished last night laid on my night stand, making me feel stuck in their world of faes and happy endings. My bed was neated and the white sheets seemed so appealing to me, an open invitation to a death sleep. I could already depict the coldness of them engulfing me whole, promising me a short termed patch for my damaged heart.

          Closing my eyes, I listen to the ticking sound of the clock that my father gave me. I guess it was a present to remind me how a waste of time I was for him.

          Of course I had no peace of mind in my own home. He was everywhere. " Sooner or later I’ll take the syringe from doctor Appleheim and stick it in my throat by myself. "

          These emotions, the anxiety and haste made me feel so tired. Was it ever going to end? This constant sense that my every step was being watched and analyzed, my never ending bad luck? Is my existence a joke to some higher divinity that gets bored every now and then and throws some bad shit into someone’s life just for fun?

          " Come, Icarus " I mumble and open my white blouse, swearing at the shit material of these doctor uniformes that made me sweat like a man, " your whore of a mother needs a drink. "

          I get up and change into a green hoodie, tying my hair in a knot at the back of my head and making a mental note to wash it tonight. I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and I instantly regret it. I looked hazardous, my green mascara was smeared under my eyes making the dark circles turn purple, my scalp was still stained from my red dye and the broken blood vessels from my eyes overpowered the grey irises.

          Maybe I was going mad after all, and I was barely 23.

          After several unsuccessful attempts to find a wine glass, I satisfy my needs with a pink cup for coffee that says: ‘ Don’t be a whore, suck some coffee! ". I fetch the white wine from my almost empty fridge and officially start my lonely night.

          The cat jumpes on the table and meows, considering me with his golden eyes. I stare right back, taking a massive sip from the alcohol and admire the only patch of white fur around his neck. Nausea hits me when I remember that chilled night of December, when I stumbled over his paralyzed body at the trash. Some stray dogs found him helpless and too small to fight back or know who’s the enemy and skinned him alive. Since then I protected him with my whole being.

          My throat starts burning and I sigh, burying my tears in the past. If I let myself fall prey to crying, I don’t think I would be able to stop for years. Even so, I can’t stop wondering what would happen if I wasn’t me, if I could be someone else, start something new, do things better. I wish I could repair everything wrong in my world, but I know I don’t have the strength nor the courage to do that. I was scarcely able to handle the things with my family back home, how the hell could I cope up with something bigger?

          I sniff the sweet scent on the wine and throw my head back, easing the feeling of sadness. Not even this damned alcohol can help me.

          A strange sensation of not belonging overpowers my senses and my limbs tremble under the weight of my own body. I feel the time pass by me, making me feel older. My soul seems heavy and my exhaling is stuck in the middle of a breath.

          Is this a panic attack?

          I touch my neck from instinct, feeling the heated chain around it and open my eyes, focusing on the clock from my father. A moment passes by before I realize the weirdness of the situation and I lift my brows in confusion. The clock hands didn’t work anymore, fluttering in a repetitive way at 3:33 a.m.

          " What the shit? I just got batteries for you... " I moan and put the half drank wine on the kitchen island.

          I barely make a move towards the hanging object, when a dreadful element catches my attention.

          My cat. My immovable, frozen Icarus, stretching after a mosquito on his back paws, holding himself like a statue. My mouth drops open, without being able to believe what I was witnessing. For several minutes I am not able to make a move, examining his tiny body and waiting for him to sit back down. His mouth is slightly opened, letting the sharp fangs visible and his slit pupils are fixating the imperceptible fly.

          With the only sound around me being my acute heartbeats, I lift my shaky hands and touch his frozen torso. The bile is rising in my esophagus when his rubber like skin comes in contact with my icy fingers.

          The shock is rapidly replaced by the feeling of fear and helplessness.

          Was I high? Was the wine old or expired? That wasn’t even a possibility.

          " This must be a joke " I can’t even hear my breathy voice as I launch to the bottle, searching the little sticker on the side. Nothing alarming poppes, but at the end of it, a red sentence makes the hair on my neck rise.

          ‘ Open the door. ‘

          A shiver runs down my spine and the sensation of being watched creeps behind my ringing ears. I take a step back and pinch myself, making sure I was not in a disturbing nightmare.

          I was so used to having them lately, that sometimes, right after I woke up, I still saw the scenes in front of my eyes: a spilled cauldron drowning me, dark shaped-like creatures grabbing my legs from my bed and that fucking peculiar lady with ink black hair and a pair of green eyes that seemed sick and eerie. Maybe I had sleep paralysis, but I never suffered of one before and I knew it wasn’t manifesting like this.

          I check my phone with the intention to call back Nadia when the hour gets my attention. 3:33, the worst half of 666. When I tap the clock to check the whole hour, I see the interminable series of 3. I turn back to the one from my wall, and a hole formes inside my stomach. 3:33. I thought it was barely 9 p.m.

          Now, I was not scared anymore, but fucking terrified. If the lights abruptly went out, I think I would curl on my floor and have a heart attack.

          Dizziness hits my consciousness, and then, as if my cat being stuck in the air and the clocks showing a strange hour wasn’t enough, someone knocks on my front door.

          My mouth dries up and my blood runs out from my cheeks. The coldness from my apartment makes my extremities’s temperature to drop and I am not able to move from the spot where I was looking directly at the doorknob. I turn my head slightly to read the label from my wine bottle and consider the opportunity to just strangle myself by the ceiling.

          " That would not be an option. "

          My shrill scream bounces off the white walls, sounding pathetic and petty. I jerk so bad backwards, that I step in my cat’s water bowl and slip, hitting my head on the sink and making me see double for a split second.

          The place where I hit my skull pounds deep in my brain, and I start wondering if I fell before I drank that wine and this is just a result of my unhandiness. But the tall, slender man sitting in the middle of my kitchen was as real as my pain behind my eye globes. He seemed so effortlessly classy and… harmless that I almost relax in his presence. The black suit was tailored on his body and seemed to be in a perfect match with his dark laced boots.

          I feel his brown irises searching me, as if I was the one who broke into his house and looked like a wild animal on the loose.

          He dodges the light blue carpet that was covering my white floor and offers me a hand with wrinkled fingers. He was so pale that I couldn’t understand how he was not see through.

          I swallow the vomit back and shiver, feeling the water dampen my pants and hoodie.

          " My apologies, miss, but you were not answering your door. " he admits after I don’t move from the spot where I was rooted. " I was afraid you might have changed your mind. "

          His voice was so… narrative, like a story teller. It was so clean, with barely any inflexions and no accent to stain his phrase. But, even with this composed figure, my intuition kept raising red flags on the back of my head.

          " My, my mind? There was a reason why I was not answering the door. " I find myself speaking lowly, using a cracked tone.

          I couldn’t even recognise myself. My head was empty, still loading the fact that someone got into my home without entering the front door.

          And I live at the 3rd floor on my block.

          My complexion takes him aback and he exhales and lifts his dark, full brows in sign of surrender. He withdraws his hand, takes my cat gently from the table and sits him nicely on his lap when he takes a seat on one of my chairs. " If you like your ass to be wet, I don’t mind, I just hoped we could talk like some civilised… creatures. "

          He stoically declares, petting my cat’s head and admitting his existence with a tedious look on his face.

          The man’s features were alarming. They seemed old and young at the same time, with small wrincles on the sides of his mouth and a strong jaw with dinky stubble piercing his follicles.

          " You entering my house with no invitation is not civilised. " I bark and gather the courage to lift my body from the water puddle. " What is your name? "

          " I go by the name of Samael, " he declares, making a slight bow with his head and offers me the other chair from the table, " but you can call me however you feel like it. "

        The movement takes me off guard and I switch my attention to the top of his head. A bizzare comparision to his dark suit, was a strand of white kept hidden between his rich, raven hair caught in a low ponytail.

          " Don’t touch my cat. " My order came more like a request, so I clear my throat, and move to stay as close as possible to the knives in the support.

          " Those won’t save you. " He sternly warns me and puts Icarus on the seat besides him, turning his focus on me. " I came here because you wanted a change, I am here to offer you that chance. "

          " I have no idea what are you talking about and how on earth you could help me, but I don’t want anything from you. " I make myself clear, rumaging my brain after something I could use in my defence.

          Samael chuckles, and the sight seems both wrong and forbidden to look at. " If you wanted to be left in peace, you wouldn’t have said that. "

          I blink in utter disorientation, starting to feel overpowered by his suffocating presence. The headache from earlier catches my temples in a cage, biting down on every nerve in that region. I clench my fist several times, feeling my fingers swollen and stiffened.

          This man’s presence held something wrong and out of this world. The energy around him was as contrarious as the sun and the moon: it was loud and calm, lightweight and obscur, a breath of air and a hand around your throat. From time to time, when he peerced me with his gloomy eyes, I had the impression that he was feeding himself from my own energy resources. He walked, stood and watched like a man bored by existence itself, like he attended every single historical decision and wasn’t surprised by anything he encountered.

          " Look, " I dare to speak, unable to put a finger on what was going on around me " my cat is frozen, I think I am on drugs and I almost pulled someone’s vein out of his arm today. " I list, watching Samael’s unmovable posture " I am in no mood for tricks, whatever hack you used on my phone, it was funny, alright, give me back the batteries from my clock and switch this plush cat with my real one. "

          " Oh, but this is your real cat. " He simply states, leaving me dazzed.

          I wanted to punch him in the face so bad and mess up that strict façade of him.

          " Listen to me. " He asks, finally standing up from his seat and coming towards me, cornering me, scaring me. " I am not here to hurt you, I heard your cry for help and I am here to offer a bargain. "

          Now that Samael was closer, I could see the hiding viperin figure behind his chiselled features. The man was tall as a tree and smelled like old, dusty books and forest after rain. My kitchen looked smaller and bland with him in the middle of it, overthrowing everything with his sultry presence.

          " What bargain? " I fell into his trap, suddenly bewitched by his face.

          I couldn’t take a hold over my body anymore. I was watching everything from the outside, through a blurry curtain that was restricting me from taking my physical being back.

          " I can give you freedom, peace " I have no reaction as he comes closer, touching my rosy cheek with a frozen hand, "  the chance to make everything better. "

          My spirit revolts inside me and I feel the temperature from the room starting to rise, like the energy particles hit each other, staggered by an invisible force. The beats from my heart sound like a distant echo, crying for help and I realise then, that I was having palpitations, that my blood wasn’t reaching all the sectors of my body and that I couldn’t think straight.

          " You are able to start over, with all the knowledge you have now of everything that happen. " Samael carries on, unbothered, clawing at my cheek with his fingers " but with one condition: never spoil anything from the future to the ones from the past, otherwise you’ll change the course of events, and things may go to the wrong path... people may die, others may not be born. The universal balance will be broken and the worlds will crumble on top of each other. Be careful. "

          I feel my skin pulled from my face, gathering under his nails.

          " What is the price? " I ask mechanical, hearing my eardrums thudding continuously.

          I catch a glimpse of blood running lazily down my collar bone and damping my hoodie and some loosen strand of my hair, making it even redder than before. I can’t even totally feel the stinging sensation.

          A brush of air start ruffling the papers I had scarced on the table. The lighting bulbs flicker furiously and I catch a glimpse of the creature standing in front of me. His face changed with the intermision of darkness and light, molding his face from the composed human to a horrific complexion.

          His mouth was wide as if he couldn’t close it completely and a pair of irregular, blood stained lips surrounded it. His tongue was sharpe and scarred by the uneven fangs sticking out of his gums. His orbs were black and his skin was purple.

          " Your name and a drop from your blood should be enough. " Samael smiles victoriously as he makes me shake my head with his hand in sign of a silent acceptance.

          What happens next is over my power of understanding.

          He pushes me, but instead of hitting the wall, I start falling through what seemed an interminable void of circles. I hardly even get to see anything, too terrified of the thing that’s waiting for me on the bottom. I catch a flash of a city, a city built near a river and try to cling to the nearest building, but fail. Something from another level hits my rib cage and I open my mouth to scream, but the falling speed cuts my breath and I start waving my legs and hands. Sparkles obscure my vision as the pressure gets higher and the colours from all the worlds overwhelm my senses. The five amprents on my cheek start burning and the pain in my lungs gets oppressive.

          The last thing I see before I hit the bottom of a lake is a war on a mountain and a burning flame cutting through the darkness.

I generally update between Friday and Sunday. The writing takes some time because english îs not my first language and I try to make everything as correctly as possible. I know that grammatical mistakes reduce the pleasure of reading.

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

What I Want - Part 2

AO3 Link

Chapter Title: What I Need

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: Following the awkwardness of the night before, you go to an old friend to try and process your feelings for Crosshair.

Click here for Part 1

Warnings: 18+, a bit more frisky business but not full on so rated 18 just to be safe. Swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: You ask, you get!! Thanks so much for all the support and love for part 1 ❤️. As a thank you, I bring you part 2, I hope you enjoy! If this one takes off a bit as well, I do have an idea for a little bonus chapter around the Bad Batches' reaction. As always, feedback/comments are massively appreciated along with reblogs. Fic is below the cut off, thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @aerynwrites @shannon-lynn-21 @saltywintersoldat @tired-night-owl @wille-zarr

A comm alarm beeped softly, slowly pulling you out your slumber. Giving the device a sleepy glare, you shut it off and huffed back onto your bunk. Wrecker’s snores were echoing off the small ship barracks, you rolled your eyes at his sleeping form across the room as you swung your legs over the side of your top bunk. Below you, Tech slept soundly, he managed to fall asleep with his goggles on which were now sitting wonky on his relaxed face. He also had a datapad clutched to his chest, almost like a teddy bear, which made you chuckle to yourself.

You’d barely slept after getting back from the mission but being a General stopping over on Coruscant meant rest would be a pipe dream. Your alarm was set to get you out of bed and ready for the first of what you were sure would be a hundred and ten briefings today. You were always happy to shoulder the politics for the team, removing that burden from Hunter so they could keep to themselves. But today, you could really do without it.

You looked over at Hunter and Crosshair’s bunks, the former sleeping up top with an arm over his eyes. Probably to block out the few small coloured lights on the ship that shone from critical systems, preventing the room from being truly pitch black. You didn’t envy Hunter’s enhanced senses, they seemed to cause him quite a bit of discomfort when they weren’t on missions. You should probably pick him up an eye mask one of these days.

Below him, Crosshair slept with his back to the open room. One of the few times you ever saw his body relaxed was when he slept. You cringed as you remembered yesterday’s awkwardness with the sniper and mentally cursed at yourself for causing, what was, an easily avoidable situation.

Shaking your head you jumped silently off of your bunk, mindful to not wake any of the batch. You gently removed Tech’s goggles, placing them in their usual spot before moving over to grab some fresh robes and head for the fresher. Today was going to be a real drag.

—————————————————

“Hey! Look what the Lothcat dragged in” someone called after you as you trudged up the steps to the GAR Headquarters. You turned around to see none other than Anakin Skywalker jogging up behind you.

“Nice to see you too Skyguy” he chuckled at the nickname as he threw an arm around your shoulders.

You fell into companionable chatter as you made your way to your first meeting, the dark halls of the military headquarters looking indistinguishable as you attempted to find the correct room. Members of the Coruscant Guard patrolled the halls, nodding politely to you both as you strolled past.

Eventually you found the room where Mace, Plo and Luminara were waiting, along with some clone and human high command. You stood outside the door for a moment, readying yourself to seal your fate of being talked at for a solid eight standard hours.

Eventually you caved, mostly as you were on the verge of being late if you debated standing outside any longer. Begrudgingly, you sat through briefing after briefing. All the voices and different rooms blending into one grey blur as you tried to take in what information you could, but your tired and stressed mind was having none of it.

While it was nice to catch up with some of the other Jedi, you always felt a bit out of place among the perfect members of the council. More so now than ever.

You ended up wandering back to the temple with Anakin where you both retired to his room and you flopped down onto his simple bed with a whine.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been off all day” Anakin was the closest thing you had to a brother, you trained as Padawans together and due to your similar age you became fast friends. You knew about his marriage to Padme and decided that if you could offload your dilemma on anyone, it’d be him.

“I fucked up” you groaned out from behind your hands.

“What’d you do?” Anakin replied in a playful tone.

“I might’ve got a bit hot and heavy with one of the clones in my squad, led him on and then cut it off” Anakin raised an eyebrow at your confession. “And now he’s pissed at me”

“Why?” You weren’t entirely sure which part of that entire thing he was questioning.

“Because I started the whole thing, I wanted it. Then all of a sudden I did that whole guilty Jedi, must follow every word of the order thing, gave him some pathetic look which said really sorry I can’t have attachments mate, hope you understand. He called me out on it before I could even utter the banthashit excuse and then he stomped off and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“In his defence, seems like he was probably wound a little tight” Anakin replied with a chuckle which you just groaned at.

“He has every right to be pissed. Hells, I would be if the roles were reversed. Whats with this whole self-righteous act us Jedi have going on?”

“Look, it’s hard being a Jedi at the best of times. It takes an inhumane amount of self-control, which is why its not a path for the weak. But being a Jedi while at war… it’s a lot. You’re emotions are running high, you’re forming bonds with soldiers on the battlefield that you shouldn’t be, but none of us can help it because it’s uncharted territory. Maker knows I’d hunt down anyone who hurt Obi-Wan or my Captain. Yes, It’s not the Jedi way, but neither is fighting a grand-scale war.” Anakin’s eyes were alive with emotion as he spoke, be he quickly caught himself and then it was gone.

“My point is, don’t beat yourself up so much. No one is getting kicked out the order or in his case reconditioned if that’s what you’re worried about. Figure out what it is you want, and then just be discreet about it” you looked at Anakin like he’d grown two heads, he just winked at your confused stare.

“Okay let’s keep it simple. Are you attracted to him?” You thought back to the night before and firmly nodded in response.

“Do you like him as a person?” You pondered his question.

“Well, it’s Cross. I wasn’t sure if he even liked me for a long time. He’s closed off, anti-social, but he’s also a good guy, cares about his brothers, has saved my ass multiple times, and he is kinda funny in his own, snide way” you rattled off with fondness in your words.

“Well then I suggest you go and talk to him.” Anakin replied, giving you a knowing look when he spotted the small smile on your lips as you spoke about the sniper.

You took a deep breath, glad to have finally gotten that off your chest and feeling content that you now knew what to do next. “Thanks, Ani”

“Ugh please don’t call me that” he moaned back, apparently only Padme was allowed to get away with that one.

————————————————

Your walk back to the Marauder felt like it dragged on and on. Your brain ran over a thousand scenarios of what to say, how he’d react and you were about to short circuit. There was so much risk, so much possibility, that you did your best to shut your mind off and let yourself handle it in the moment. These things never went as planned anyway, it was best not to guess.

The large door to the ship hissed open, your boots clanking on the metal surface as you cautiously walked into your home. It didn’t take you long to find Crosshair, he was sat in the main hull methodically cleaning his hand blaster. Everyone else must’ve been asleep. He was just in his blacks, the material hugging him in the most wonderful way, it’s like whoever designed those things was trying to trip you up. The contours of his arm muscles flexing as he worked, his strong chest looked practically chiselled at the heart of his lean frame. You had to force yourself to calm down a little bit.

“Uh, hey” you greeted awkwardly. “Mind if I join you?”

You took his silence as a well he’s not saying no. He didn’t spare you a glance as you walked in and took a seat opposite him. As a General in the GAR, you rarely got nervous. War, as a concept, was simple. You knew your purpose, your objective, you had a job to get done and you’d do it. The risks never stopped you, rather they fuelled you. Probably why you’re such a good fit for the bad batch.

But this right now, personal feelings, not knowing where you stand with someone you care about. Because if you were honest, you really did care about Crosshair, the same as you did the rest of the team. You’d only been with the squad just under a year but you’d gladly lay down your life for any of them in a heartbeat. If you could at least get back to where you were before the other night, you’d be over the moon.

You weren’t used to being so nervous, you let your hands fiddle with you dark Jedi robes as you readied yourself to speak again.

“Look, I’m not here to throw some crap about being a Jedi at you, I promise. And I’m sorry for trying it before” he still didn’t look at you, finding his blaster much more interesting. But you could tell he was listening, you had his attention. Might as well keep babbling.

“In terms of an explanation for what happened yesterday, well I guess I panicked.” You sighed as you tried to find the next words “The way you made me feel that night, I… I’ve never felt like that before and everything i’d been taught over the years screamed at me that what I was doing was dangerous and wrong. I now realise that I’m just an idiot. I make my own decisions and I… uh -well, I stick by that one, starting something that is.” Still nothing.

“I know this is probably a long shot. But in the interest of being transparent” you rambled “uh… if you want to go down that road again, I’m up for seeing what happens, can be as casual as we like. I promise I won’t freak out on you again.” You chuckled and thought you almost spotted a slight pull in the corner of Crosshair’s lips “But if you want to go back to how we were before, I’d also really like that.” You watched him for a while as he gave no acknowledgement of your words, his cleaning finished as he now gave the weapon a once over in his hands. Having said everything you needed, you got up from your seat, looking away from him.

“Well, if I can do anything else, let me know” you turned on your heel to leave, feeling slightly defeated but glad you’d at least made the first step.

“I could think of a few things” he finally spoke as he leaned back into his seat and continued to stare at his blaster, still not meeting your gaze.

Well that caught your attention, you turned back around to face him as he carried on ignoring you. While his tone was unbothered as he spoke, you knew him just enough to know his words held a meaning. He was playing with you, back to his usual teasing and you could’ve laughed at the relief that washed over you. This you could work with. A cheeky idea popped into your head and you’d decided to run with it.

“Oh really?” Throwing caution to the wind, you strode over to the sniper slowly. His gaze finally meeting yours after all this time, watching you as you got closer and closer. Practically drawing you in with his amber eyes. You pushed him back by his chest, creating enough room so you could straddle his lap. “Care to elaborate?”

He huffed out a short laugh at your words, his face overall unbothered but his eyes, they were burning into you. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure it out”.

You hummed in response, deciding to kick things up a notch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your faces just breaths apart. “Something like this?” You asked, pausing for another second before bringing your lips to his in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. You felt his hands come up to rest on your back, pulling you closer as you continued your slow dance. This was so different from the other night, where before there was desperation and lust, now there was something more… tender, passionate. You were quite glad you weren’t standing as the way he moved against you would’ve definitely made your knees weak.

Dragging yourself away from his lips, you searched his face. His mouth pulled into a barely there smirk “That’s a start.”

“Who said I was finished?” And just like that, the last few strands of tension between you both snapped and you relaxed in his arms. You fisted your hands into the front of his blacks and pulled him back to you, his tongue slipped between your lips, curious and demanding. He was everywhere again, filling your nose with the scent of the standard cheap GAR soap but mixed with something earthy, something so distinctly Crosshair and you couldn’t get enough.

You could tell why the Jedi order frowned upon such activities, kissing Crosshair was intoxicating. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the handsome clone in front of you and just how much you wanted him in that moment.

His hands wandered lower and lower down you back until they rested comfortably on your backside, pulling you further up his lap. Feeling mischievous, you started trailing kisses along his jaw. Setting a teasing, languid pace as you mapped out the spots that made him squirm. Crosshair was never a man of many words, so you made it your mission to see just how vocal you could make him.

As your lips met his pulse point, he gave a loud exhale and you smirked in victory against his skin as you continued the onslaught on his senses. You definitely seemed to be doing something right as his hands found themselves in your hair, clutching slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you. Even while trying to gain the upper hand in the situation, he always had some control over you. It was maddening in the best way, setting your veins alight with desire.

Determined to get another victory you traced your tongue against the base of the side of his neck and trailed it all the way up to the bottom of his ear, which you teasingly took into your mouth, teeth grazing the soft skin. A strangled moan escaped the clone and that was the moment where you knew you were hopelessly and utterly gone. Your mind filled with nothing other than wanting to be closer to Crosshair.

“Not very Jedi of you” he commented, slightly breathless when you finally stopped teasing him and came back up to meet his eyes. Looking down at where your bodies were pressed against one another, you chuckled.

“What exactly about this situation led you to believe I was ever a model Jedi?” You smirked, though it was only visible for a second before his mouth was back on yours, devouring you as his hands greedily roamed your body.

You continued making out like teenagers for most of the evening, taking the time to explore each other, enjoying the closeness. Contentment settled over your body, almost as if this was were you were meant to be. If Crosshair’s arms were where you belonged, well, you could think of worse places to be.

Back to Part 1

Back to Masterlist

[lyallblacklupin]

Hey. I don't know if you are still taking prompts... but if so, I may have a challenge for you. 😉

Remus has to stay in the hospital wing for longer than usual. Sirius is secretly dating Remus and can't stand being away even though Madame Pomfrey says no visitors.

Thank you for such a cute prompt. I hope I have written just like you wanted. <333 Happy Reading! Stay Magical!

Rating: Teens and Up Audience.

The night was befalling as the walls of Hospital Wing started darkening, and the torches around the room ignited flames automatically with a thud. The room is filled with utter silence of the unoccupied beds with Remus Lupin being an exception, laying exasperatedly awake with bandages wrapped around his left leg. His stomach growled but it was the least he cared about because of the aching on the tips of his fingers and toes as his chest was in a constant state of agitation. He wanted something. No, he was craving for someone. He couldn’t stop his brain from the race of unwanted thoughts.

What if he doesn’t want me anymore?

What if he has realized that I’m not worth dating?

What if he is better off with my absence?

Suddenly, his thoughts came to a halt when his senses heightened with someone’s fastidious and highly familiar presence. Remus didn’t even have to look to recognize because it was none other than Madam Pomfrey. He loved her but not momentarily—infact not from the past five days who had strictly banned any visitors since his and Sirius’ fight. Speaking of, he shut his eyes as the memory enrolled in his mind all over for the hundredth time.

“I could have killed you!”

“But you almost killed yourself!” Yelled the boy who Remus was in love with.

“That is the last thing to be worrying—“ But he was not finished when the boy lunged at him and yanked him by his fists clutching his hospital dress, bringing him eye to eye and nose to nose as he growled, “Don’t you ever fucking say that. If you don’t care a shit about yourself then at least care about me! Us! But you don’t! You don’t care about us! Fuck you, Lupin!”

Remus’ heart was hammering in his chest, the pain of his broken leg was long forgotten. The tears glistened in the boy’s hard eyes. And before he could lift him his hand to hold his jaw, to soften the clenched face, to wipe his hurt away, Madam Pomfrey burst inside with her raging thunder.

“Mr. Black! Hands off this instant! How dare you bully a patient like that!? And within the Hospital Wing!” And he loosened his grasp which left Remus with an empty feeling in his chest. Even if he was being held brutally, he didn’t care because he was held by the foremost person in his life. The person he would never wish to leave.

“He’s my—“ He tried but his voice was a whimper in comparison to Madam Pomfrey’s.

“A week’s detention Mr. Black for scaring my patient like that! None of your friends will ever visit the Hospital Wing! Now off you go before I take away the house points!”

He gave Remus one last look of misery, tears still swimming in his heaven-made silver eyes, and scurried away from the hospital.

Remus numbly watched Pomfrey re-bandage his wounds. He suddenly felt so despondent and lonely after rethinking everything. He had hurt his favorite person in the world. And all that person had done was the care and love him with his deepest sincerity. He also knew that his lycanthropy had always been on his mind that even led him to convince the rest of his friends to become Animagis just to protect Remus from hurting himself. And now Remus had done the very same thing by not allowing his pack to accompany him to the last full moon. His broken leg and severe wounds were the aftermaths of his isolated transformation

He didn’t want to admit that he regretted his decision because deep down inside he had been unbound from the usual fretfulness of hurting his friends. He’d been better off hurting himself than hurt them, especially Sirius Black.

Now, it had been five days and Remus had not seen him. Neither James nor Peter.

“Ma’am?” He didn’t realize he had called her before she looked at him in question while applying the salve on the half-healed wound. He hissed in pain but asked anyway, “When am I getting discharged from this bed and these walls?” The bitterness cut through his voice sharply which made Pomfrey look up in surprise.

“Well, Remus. I expect to call me Poppy instead of Ma’am after five years I’ve been treating you.” Remus suddenly felt hot with embarrassment, “And it will take few more days until your walk starts, and then you’ll be well enough to join your classes and friends.”

The way she spoke, Remus felt like he had centuries to wait. He flopped down on his bed again with disappointment, the hollowness in his chest created a bigger void. A Sirius Black void. He needed it to be filled by that very person. The longing was more than Remus expected, intense enough to cause burning in his eyes as his throat began to constrict gradually, tightening his chest. He held himself until his throat had turned thorny. He let out a shaky breath and tears spilled down his temple, founding their place in his already messy hair. He cried silently. He ached and ached until sleep drifted him away.

Even in his dreams, he saw dark hair rippling like the black sea, shiny grey eyes like silver orbs, and fair skin like snow accompanied with pink flushes on the dips of the body. And then he saw a hand reaching out to him and just as he tried to grasp it, the hand flew away with a burning brush on his arm. The sensation was warm enough to jerk him from his unconsciousness. Remus’ eyes opened up to the same ceilings of the hospital wings. The room was still inky blue. He saw his dinner tray on the nightstand in which the food had gotten cold and dry. He immediately touched his left arm where the same sensation was tingling his skin. Or maybe he just felt it in reality? But no one was there. Remus was alone and cold.

He tried closing his eyes again, feeling no appetite at all, but he sensed a faint noise of rustle. He ignored it before it came back again with a feeling of fingers brushing his arm again. He sat up abruptly, clutching his sheets to his chest. His eyes were scanning the room desperately when—

“Moony?” Remus screamed when he saw Sirius’ head appear in the mid-air. Sirius rush ahead to put his hand on his mouth, “Shh! Please! I don’t want to get more detentions, Moony!”

It was all too much to process; Sirius appearing like a genie with no body—before he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, and Sirius’ warm and sweaty hand on Remus’ mouth, and most importantly, Sirius was here in front of him after five fucking days. He removed his hand once Remus calmed down.

“Look, Moony, I’m sorry—“ He never got to the end of it because Remus shoved Sirius in his embrace. The embrace that was yearning for Sirius only. He thought he might have thrown away anyone if they had tried hugging him before his boyfriend. Remus squeezed him impossibly closer and tighter. He was clutching him like a lifeline. He had his face nuzzled in Sirius’ chest. His fragile arms were strongly wrapped around Sirius’ torso. He was relishing the scent, the touch, the love, and everything he had missed.

“Fuck, I missed you, Pads.” He grunted in his collarbone, “I was longing for you…”

“I’m here.” Sirius cooed in his ear, pressing a kiss beneath it, “And I’m not going.”

“You’ll have to,” He chuckled, traveling his hands to find Sirius’ and intertwined them both.

“Eventually, yes but don’t ruin the moment, Moony.” Remus was torn between tightening his embrace or pulling away to gaze at Sirius’ face but then he felt the other move away. They parted from their lingering hug, and Sirius delicately held Remus’ face and bent down to kiss him. Remus felt his body was set on fire. They kissed languidly at first until their desires amplified their passion. Sirius dug his knees on the bed while Remus complied by pulling him in his lap. Suddenly, his boyfriend gasped and jerked away.

“Remus! Your leg is broken and—I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just my calf area. I was not hurt okay?” Remus shushed him, peppering kisses on Sirius’ hands. The other boy nodded but frown still sitting on his face. He sat against him on the bed and Remus didn’t leave his hand. He just wanted them to be touching like an assurance of never parting again. They sat in silence. The flaming torches on the walls had already died out.

“Why did it took you so long?” Remus asked sheepishly, running circles on the outside of Sirius’ palm to make him sure that he was not mad.

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Sirius spoke softly, “Had to sneak out from James’ hell hound eyes. And the last two days were spent in getting caught by Mrs. Norris. That fucking cat.”

“I love cats, okay? Don’t insult them.” Sirius cocked his eyebrow at him, “Yeah but she is such a pain in the arse.” They giggled. Remus couldn’t avert his eyes from Sirius who was avoiding his gaze, “Last two days, huh? It’s actually been five days. Are you mad at me?”

“Moony, how can I be mad at you?” The gentleness in his voice was powerful enough to cause Remus to feel hot behind his cheeks, “But yes, I admit that I was angry. I thought you didn’t want to see me. I thought that you’d want some space. But then I couldn’t stay away from you for so long. Life has been terrible without you.”

“Life has been terrible without you too, Sirius. I missed you so much. I felt bad the second you left this room. I felt so sorry to hurt you like that—“

“Your pain is my pain, Remus,” Sirius said sternly. His eyes are hard as steel. “You can’t isolate yourself like that. I know you fear hurting us but Moony, can’t you see? You are already hurting us like that. James has been quiet lately and Peter…well, he is just following his pursuit. What I mean is, none of us can see you wounded in hospital for like a week because of us. That we weren’t able to protect you.”

“It’s not your responsibility—“

“It is. You are mine.” Sirius squeezed their already entwined hands. The words were like a gush of affection in Remus’ heart. He was suddenly out of arguments. He smiled at the boy before him who smiled back weakly, “And yes, it’s been only two months since we started dating, but you already feel like my responsibility now.”

Remus arched an eyebrow at his flustered expression, “Wow, that’s quite patriarchal with few amendments since a man is claiming his supremacy on the other man.”

“Wha—you dominate over me all the fucking time!” They broke out in fits of laughter but then immediately clapped their hands on each other’s mouths to keep it down. Funnily, the more they forced themselves to be quiet the more laughter bubbled out of them. Remus suddenly grabbed Sirius by his collar and crashed their lips together. Their giggles were turned muffled until they were silently devouring each other’s mouths. Sirius was now moving from his jawline to his neck, and Remus turned into mush as the warmth began pooling into him. He just wanted to stay like this forever.

Suddenly, they both froze when the sounds of approaching footsteps came from the hall. Sirius lunged down to the floor to grab the invisibility cloak, and suddenly the door swung open.

“Mister Lupin?” McGonagall?

“Professor McGonagall.” Remus’ voice shook.

“I am sorry for barging into the Hospital Wing just like that, but I wanted to ask if Mr. Black might have stopped by here?” Even in the dark room, Remus was able to see the grave creases on her forehead. He gulped and eyed down the floor to found Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

“Umm…No, Professor.” He stammered.

“Well, that lad is one hurricane, isn’t he?” She sighed, “I hope you are recovering well, Remus.” Her voice softened and a hint of a smile passed her face. He nodded and then she was out of the hospital.

After he had made sure that there were no sounds of any footsteps he said, “What did you do now?”

“I came during my detention with McGonagall.” Sirius peeked through the cloak, with his entire body invisible.

“Okay, you look very creepy like that.” He stood, brushing off the dust from his trousers, “Come here, now. I want to relish you till my heart is contented. You are getting more detentions anyway.” He opened his arms for Sirius who fell into them with the goofiest smile on his face.

“You are such a masochist, Moony.”

[cdroloisms]

idk why but i imagined vegas 2.0 as two soccer moms (the politics bois) trying to outdo each other while their sons are dragged into it (green bois) in a rlly fvcked way. e.g.

maybe big q reconsidering dream's usefulness by saying sam's enough as protection and has other things to offer to the team as well. wilbur steps in by suggesting a duel between sam and dream then, to prove it then. maybe while it happens, wilbur whispers to quackity a list of what is still physically broken abt dream post prison (so many unhealed bones, barely healed muscle, he can barely stomach food so he had like 1 steak in the past few days, etc.) and of course, he mentions dream's most powerful asset, the revive book :)

-🐇

LMAOO

this is hilarious and also accurate as hell ,, thank you anon because the image of c!wilbur and c!quackity as PTA moms is completely sending me. this prompt (as most vt2 related things are) was really fun !! it also kinda ran away from me, which is why this ended up being almost 6k words instead of my usual 1-2k for asks, but i hope you enjoy it regardless :]

tws: implied torture/abuse, death, violence, blood, injuries, conditioning, dehumanization, panic attacks, emotional distress, trauma, unhealthy relationships (so many unhealthy relationships), smoking, dark contents, dark themes, vt2 au is always really dark so definitely proceed with caution !! dark portrayals of c!quackity, c!sam, c!wilbur, and c!dream

It starts, as many things do nowadays, with a board meeting - which seems to be as much of a sign as any that everything is going to go to shit. Board meetings for Quackity, much like Wilbur’s stupid group therapy sessions, are just a thinly veiled attempt for the two to fight for control of pretty much everything - ranging from the casino schedules to the laws still being written for Las Nevadas to what food to stock in the vending machines. As Sam is still sitting on his false throne of moral superiority and therefore less inclined to indulge himself in the same blatant corruption that characterizes their discussions, and Dream - more than anything - knows his place (which hardly gives him any position to wrangle for power among the likes of Wilbur and Quackity), the fights for control more or less remain restricted between the two. More often than not, they devolve into proving their superiority over the other by using their control of Dream (which naturally never means anything remotely good for him as a consequence) so when Quackity strolls over, all tight-lipped smiles and a cigarette held between clenched fingers, Dream really doesn’t feel anything other than dread.

Still, orders by Quackity are still orders - Dream knows this fact better than he knows that he’s alive and breathing, better than the fact that he’s out of the prison, better than he knows his own goddamn name - and Dream is far too well-trained to ever consider trying to rebel. So when the time comes - 7:30 pm, sharp - Dream is in his chair, spine straight and head alert like a goddamn dog, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive. Sam comes over first, leveling him with a heavy, distrustful stare as he sits down in the chair across from Dream, the expression nearly enough for Dream to roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fear that rockets through him, still, at the sight of the Warden so close to him. Sam has made it more than clear from the very beginning that he has no trust at all for Dream, that if he had his way then Dream would be locked up for the rest of eternity in a labyrinth of blackstone and obsidian, forever guarded by his ever-present supervision. Dream feels his ears burning with heat as he dips his eyes low to the surface of the table, wanting no more than to curl up and hide under the scrutiny of the Warden’s glare.

Quackity enters next, throwing open the door of the conference room loud enough to make Dream jump out of his seat, looking at him with an upturned corner of his lip when he comes back to himself enough to notice. Dream stifles a shudder at his visible good mood, all-too-aware of what that usually meant for him in the cell, stiffening further with a growing ringing to his ears as Sam and Quackity talk and Quackity sweeps past his side to get to his seat at the head of the table, carelessly brushing his fingers along the back of Dream’s neck in a way that makes him freeze, stock-still, in his chair - feeling his fingertips ease themselves over the ridge present there from a thick band of scar tissue, a deep, jagged thing that had been carved from the blunter back edge of Quackity’s axe when he had lost his temper and let the thing slam against the back of his neck, hard enough that it probably would’ve paralyzed him completely if it weren’t for Sam’s use of almost a full chest of regens. Quackity remains over him for a few more seconds, leaning over his chair to talk to Sam as he runs a light, possessive hand over the topmost bumps of Dream’s spine, before settling over into his chair, watching him with a small smirk as he keeps a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.

Dream hates the prickling shame and terror that keeps his muscles tense as he stares at the table’s surface, still feeling the ghost of fingers tracing over skin and bone along the back of his neck, keeps his burning eyes trained on the surface of solid wood as he tries to steady his breaths. It’s all he can do to press down his flinch when Quackity, with a frustrated yell, slams his fist against the table a few minutes later, rage simmering underneath his words as he speaks.

“Where the hell is Wilbur?” His glare slides across the room, landing on Dream, making him shrink back in his seat, heart thudding in his ears. Quackity doesn’t stop staring at him even as he pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pants pocket, lighting it and bringing it to his lips and letting the silver-grey threads of smoke fill the room and press against the inside of Dream’s lungs. “It’s ten minutes til 8 - I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Sam digs his fingers into his temples, already looking exhausted. “If you want, Q, we can always start without him and catch him up later. Depends on you.”

“No, then I’ll have to repeat myself and it’ll be pointless and ugh,” Quackity makes a vaguely frustrated noise as he finally turns his eyes over to Sam, making Dream’s shoulders shudder as he finally finds the air to take a breath, “We’ll just have to wait. Fucking idiot. I knew I shouldn’t have worked with any of these fuckers.”

In true Wilbur fashion, it isn’t until fifteen minutes later when the taller man finally makes an appearance, the entire time tense as hell as Quackity takes slow, steady drags of his cigarette and taps his fingers impatiently against the table’s surface. He offers one to Sam, who goes on to decline, making a short quip telling Quackity to watch his health for the future that promptly falls flat. Dream thinks he’s a fucking hypocrite, considering his whole deal with weednip or whatever Ant has on him, but doesn’t voice the thoughts as he sinks down in his chair, wishing more than anything to disappear. Against the fabric of his shirt, the right side of his chest itches, and he presses his palm against the place where he knows there is a small, irregular grid of pockmarked scars from when Quackity had taken smoke breaks in the middle of sessions.

“There you all are,” Wilbur smiles as he slides into the room, a covered metal tray held in his hands as he kicks the door closed and slides the tray onto the table with an awful screech. “I’m sorry for being late,” he continues, sounding not very sorry at all, “but I made some food to make up for it!”

He takes off the cover with a flourish; underneath, sunny yellow squares, nearly blindly bright, look up blankly under the conference room’s overly harsh lighting. They smell sugary and vaguely sour, stinging his nose slightly, and seem to be coated with a fine dusting of powdered sugar.

“Lemon bars!” Wilbur grins, just left of sincere, “they’re gluten-free!”

“God,” Quackity laughs, sounding slightly incredulous, shaking his head. Dream’s gut rolls at the sound, Wilbur’s smile growing wider, even more dangerous, at the tone. It’s familiar, the way the two of them challenge each other, and in a rare moment of solidarity Dream watches from the corner of his eyes as Sam’s shoulders hunch as well. The two of them always bring trouble, even normally, but when they’re in this mood? Actively challenging each other, toeing the line, trying to find the limits and push them just because they can? Dream shivers in his seat, grip tightening on his own arms; this, he knows, is when they are at their most dangerous - and he has the scars to prove it.

“Gluten-free, huh? Really leaning into the whole ‘PTA mom’ schtick today, aren’t you?” Quackity smirks. “Should I call you Linda from now on?”

“I don’t know, Quackity, I was just thinking that I would make a little healthier treat for all of us, you know?” Wilbur brushes off the remark easily, taking a seat and immediately kicking his feet up onto the table. “If you want it, of course. I would hardly want to get in the way of your professionalism, Mr. President- do you have one of those? Or are you going for a more authoritarian approach”

“Fighting words from someone who rigged an election as President,” Quackity drawls, “and couldn’t even win it, might I add. “

“Oh, Big Q! You fail to understand, I wasn’t criticizing you at all,” Wilbur smiles, jagged, “we agree, I believe, on the failures of democracy. Unless you’ve forgotten our conversation, already?”

“Of course not,” Quackity snorts, and Dream doesn’t miss how his gaze shifts towards the side of the room, landing on Dream and making him curl further in his seat. “I’ll save you from me trying to pick your brain, this time, but don’t worry. You make yourself…rather hard to forget.”

Wilbur claps, seeming satisfied with this round of verbal sparring, and the sharp sound of his hands meeting together nearly has Dream jumping in his seat. “So! Lemon bars- does anyone want any?”

Dream is keenly aware of two pairs of eyes landing on him, Wilbur and Quackity watching for his reaction with bated breath and narrowed eyes. Panic crawls up his throat; he knows the purpose behind their stares, knows that he’s once again become the object of one of their power struggles. Quackity’s orders rattle in his brain, his thoughts a messy jumble of pins all knocked loose from his time in the prison, hopelessly unorganized and running on little more than instinct. Wilbur is expecting him to eat, to give into his sweet pastries and sweeter words; the lesson not to eat, move, think without permission, hammered into him between chunks of potato and battered ribs and blood gathered in the crevices of his skin, keeps his hands at his sides instead of reaching towards the pastries still set in the middle of the table. Even with Quackity at the opposite side of the room, Dream swears that he can still feel the pressure of a hand against the back of his neck, pressing just hard enough to make itself known from the feeling of fingers pressing into either side of his spine - he doesn’t even quite feel himself shaking his head, only really realizes what he’s done when he hears Wilbur sigh in frustration and meets Quackity’s satisfied gaze.

“I’ll take one,” Sam says, sounding exhausted, eyes flitting from Wilbur to Quackity to Dream with an increasingly long-suffering expression. His face twists around the first bite of the bright yellow pastry, nose scrunching as he puts it down, missing a half-moon bite along one corner, and drags his fingers over the table to ease off the remnants of powdered sugar. Wilbur watches him, seeming amused, and Quackity rolls his eyes as he pulls a binder out of his inventory.

“Now that everyone is finally here,” he starts, directing a particularly dead-eyed stare at Wilbur, “we can finally get on with the meeting. I was thinking we could go over the budget, today, if that’s alright with the rest of you.”

It sounds innocent enough - which is the first sign of many that this meeting, whatever it is, is going to be anything but pleasant. The grin that steadily grows on Quackity’s face does nothing to assuage Dream’s anxieties, only pushing them higher as the man flips open the binder and messes with it for a few seconds longer before seemingly finding what he’s looking for.

“I think we all know that until Sam finishes with the bank, funds around here are going to be a little bit tight,” Quackity begins, waiting for all of them to nod before continuing, “And we really need to save wherever we can. I recounted the budget yesterday, just to make sure that we’re all on track, and- well,”

Quackity points to a circled series of red numbers that Dream doesn’t understand but can assume mean little good for them. Sam makes a low, considering noise, sounding strangely concerned, and Wilbur actually seems to close his mouth and lean forward in curiosity.

“We have a deficit,” Quackity continues when they’ve all settled back into their seats, “and we’ll get it all back once Sam gets the bank up and running, but for now our funds are...limited. I don’t want to stop progress on Las Nevadas, of course, we really don’t have time to waste. So I thought we’d have a meeting today to discuss the budget and eliminate any expenses that we might find-” Quackity gestures with a smooth twirl of his wrist, “expendable.”

Sam hums. “Do you have anything in mind, Quackity?”

“A few,” Quackity flips to the next page, where he’s seemingly jotted a few notes - different things that they can put off for the moment, it seems, and the money that would be saved for forgoing them temporarily. Dream reads down the list quickly, stilling at the last item.

“Quackity,” Sam sounds twenty times more tired already when he speaks, tone flat and a little irritated. “Why is Dream on the list?”

Quackity shrugs. “Hear me out, now- most of our money right now is going into living expenses for the four of us. Having more people here, until everything becomes more sustainable, is a huge drain on our resources. I’m just listing all our options.”

“So what do you want to do?” Sam huffs. “Throw him back in Pandora?”

Quackity shakes his head.

“Wilbur does have the revive book knowledge, you know,” he says, and Dream’s blood runs cold. He can’t run, can’t move; he’s stuck in his seat, heart hammering faster in his chest as the other three hardly spare him a second glance. Sam purses his lips, a considering expression flashing over his face, as Quackity presses on. “Seriously- listen, Sam. There’s nothing that Dream is really offering, at the moment, that the rest of us can’t handle. Wilbur has the revive book, you can act as security to take out any threats - really, we shouldn’t be pissing anyone off until everything officially opens, and we can always retrieve him then when we need him. He’ll be out of the way, which means he won’t be able to start any fucking trouble,” Quackity laughs, short. “It’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know, Quackity,” Sam says, the words slow, but the tone is familiar enough for Dream to know that he’s already mostly given in. “It’s a risk, isn’t it? None of us but Dream have really used the revive book, before.”

Wilbur doesn’t even look at him when he chirps a reply. “That won’t be a problem, Sam. I’d be very happy to test it out, if you want.”

Quackity leans forward, and Dream nearly gags; he’s preening in his spot, eyes dancing as he smiles up at Sam. “Anything else you can think of?”

“I don’t know,” Sam trails off, and Dream looks down, only barely staving off the panic squeezing around his lungs and tears burning in his eyes. It’s nothing he hasn’t envisioned before, nothing he hasn’t expected, but this- he feels like such a fool, for hoping- “If we get ambushed, Q, I really don’t know if gear is going to be enough. You remember what Technoblade did last time.”

Quackity huffs, sounding annoyed, but nods to concede the point. “That is...fair. But then again, we don’t exactly know how good Dream is either, do we?” Quackity finally leans over to look at him, and Dream feels himself choke on his own breath at the dangerous gleam in Quackity’s eyes, all-too-familiar in their scrutiny, looking at him the same way they had pinned him to the floor of his obsidian-walled hell. “Anything to say, Dream?”

“I-” The words shake on Dream’s tongue, and he only barely manages a dry swallow as he struggles through the rest of his sentence, shrinking back from the heavy weight of three pairs of eyes fixed on his own, “I can be useful, s-” he only barely manages to bite down the word, a new wave of shame making him shrink back further past the fear. Quackity’s lip twitches upward.

Wilbur twirls a pencil in one hand, looking spectacularly bored; Dream’s chest shrieks with a harsh spike of envy at his composure. “How about you prove it?” His eyes are laughing when Dream gets a good look at them, amusement clear at the idea. “Put on a show?”

Quackity rolls his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“You want to know if Sam can serve as an adequate replacement for Dream’s combat prowess, no?” Wilbur leans back in his chair as he talks, still focused on spinning his pencil over and between his fingers, “Why doesn’t he prove it? Let them duel, one on one. If Sam kills Dream, then you’re right, we’re done, and we can all move on with our days. If Dream wins, then he’s proved his worth, and we can figure out the rest of the budget after. What do you think?”

Quackity’s lips press together, seeming displeased, but he doesn’t say anything in return. Sam, ever practical, drums his fingers against the table.

“That sounds...fair,” Sam purses his lips. “How would we judge this? Equal gear?”

Wilbur only smiles wider as he shakes his head. “I was thinking we would make it a little more accurate to reality, if Dream’s services were truly to be needed. Sam, you can keep your own gear, and Dream should use his own. I guess on your end we can fight until you yield, but for him…”

The words are left unsaid, but Dream flexes his hands underneath the table as he catches onto the implications. For him, it’s a fight to the death.

Sam shrugs. “That works for me. Dream?”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? “Okay.”

“Wonderful!” Wilbur claps, bringing his hands to his chest and looking thoroughly thrilled at the prospects of the potential duel. Quackity glares at Dream but doesn’t say a word, and Dream hunches into himself, nearly folding himself in half as he ducks as far as he can down his seat. Sam pulls out his sword, flipping it around and testing its weight, and Dream doesn’t quite manage to suppress his full-body shudder at the sight. “Let’s get started, then.”

They move out in a roughly single-file line out of the conference room, Wilbur making idle chatter as Sam continues to examine his armor and weapons as they walk. They settle into an open space in the still-unfinished casino that Wilbur looks around for a second and then deems appropriate for the duel. Sam sets down an enderchest to gather his necessary materials, and Dream settles in front of it himself afterwards, shifting the lid open with shaking hands as he tries to work through his inventory.

He’s started the process of building up his gear again in his spare time, but he’s not had the time to finish gathering netherite for both himself and Wilbur - Wilbur meets his eyes with a sly wink before equipping the set of netherite armor that Dream had crafted for him, and Dream stifles a desperate snarl. He doesn’t even have the other set (still a gleaming blue from unplated diamond) enchanted, outside of a Sharpness book that he had slapped onto a diamond axe. He gathers the rest of his supplies with careful hands, trying to press down the increasing trembling of his limbs from his growing panic, flexing his arm around the weight of a shield once again and pocketing steaks and golden apples from his hoard.

He has no potions, no good weapons, not even a properly enchanted crossbow to offer the slightest bit of an advantage. Dream lets his eyes flick up to where Sam is waiting at the opposite side of the room, standing up straight with enchanted netherite covering him head to toe and a familiar axe slung over his shoulder, and tries not to break down right then and there. It’s too familiar, too reminiscent of obsidian walls and netherite pressed against his ribs and demands that he behave, and despite the glittering white walls and high ceiling and cold night air he swears he could fall just from the memories alone. Drowning within them, he distantly remembers a duel long-past under a bright blue sky, Sam laughing under a swirl of potion particles on the grass surrounding the Community House lake, and wonders which of the memories hurt more.

“Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream stills in his place, slamming the lid of the enderchest shut as his heart hammers in his ears. Quackity watches him intently, expression twisted in disappointment, and some beaten, instinctual part of him whines uncomfortably at the sight. “Hurry up.”

Dream nods, because of course he does, and stands with the results of his mad scramble to gather anything that could be useful in the duel to come - a few gapples, steaks, a sword, a bow lacking any enchantments at all, and an axe and shield. It’s a rather pathetic ensemble, but it’ll be enough. It’ll have to be enough.

“Ready?” Wilbur takes place as referee, standing off to the side with a smile on his face as Dream stands across from Sam, holding his axe with a white-knuckled grip as the Warden - expression unreadable through the shadow of his helmet and the mask fixed over his face - squares his own stance in preparation for the fight. “Good luck.”

Wilbur’s arm cuts a line in the air as it drops, and the Warden explodes into action, lumbering forward as he raises his axe over his head to bring it down. Dream tumbles in the opposite direction, letting a long held back, battle-trained part of himself take over as he rights himself back on his feet, swinging up his shield to catch on the downward arc of Warden’s Hammer, frantically pressing back the dregs of fear and panic staining the corners of his vision black as he moves.

The Warden hits slow but hits hard, too big and bulky to really avoid any quick attacks but too well-armored to be easily defeated despite that. He’s a classic tank - Dream skitters out of the way of another hit as he reaches for memories of him that won’t leave him gasping, information on his opponent that didn’t come from within the prison and all its horrors.

He’d dueled Sam before, he knows; it wasn’t the same, as Sam was trying out a Turtle Master potion and intent on proving the superiority of Resistance IV against Dream’s own combat prowess. He’d failed, then; Dream forcefully steadies another breath as the sound of the Warden’s armor clanking against the ground almost sends him into another panic. He’ll have to fail now, too.

Fortunately, he’s been allowed food to heal - without it, this fight would probably be near impossible. As it is, even without the potion, the principles of this duel are the same. Dream swings up his axe, catching the blade hurling towards him in the crook where the head meets the handle just long enough to pull himself out of the way and let the Warden’s weapon fall uselessly to the ground. Dream raises his head in the second he has, tracing his gaze over the Warden’s armor in search for places to exploit. Even the best defenses aren’t perfect. All he needs to do is survive for long enough to chip through it.

A fumbled dodge leads to the Warden’s blade skimming past his skin, carving a thin red line in the skin of his upper arm. He hisses as he dives out of the way of the next blow, the twinges of pain from the area almost enough to make his vision unfocused, almost enough to send him tumbling head-first into the part of him screaming submit submit submit if you don’t fight back they won’t hurt you more. He grits his teeth as he swings forward, knocking away the axe coming towards him with his axe long enough to push forward with his shield and knock the Warden further away from him. He can’t afford to flinch, can’t afford to let fear take control of his movements as it has so many times before. The keening desperation running through his veins is familiar, but desperation can fall both ways, can make him fight or flee - and there’s only one real option that will end with him getting out of this alive.

Dream stands and forces himself to meet the next swing hurling towards him dead on, raising his shield to catch the blade and pushing forward past the shuddering shock in his left arm from the force of the blow. His own blade arcs downward in the next second, scraping against the Warden’s netherite armor with a metallic screech. He manages to get in two more blows before the Warden’s next attack has him backing away to dodge, shaking off his arm to get his shield ready for the next attack.

He has to stay on the offensive, keep pressing the Warden back and forcing the other to play defense. He’s still weak from the prison; in terms of brute strength, he’s no match from the Warden, not after months of starvation and torture stuck in a box with hardly enough room to stretch his legs. All he really has going for him is his speed and his experience, neither of which will do him any good if he teeters over the edge into the panic attack he’s been trying to hold off the entire time. Dream runs forward, not giving himself more than a second to breathe as he rushes the Warden once again, switching weapons mid-leap to a sword that will allow for quicker blows in the time that he has the Warden off-balance enough to attack freely. He scores a series of glancing hits on the Warden, none doing any major damage but altogether enough to make the Warden back off, wary, with a gasping note of pain, and Dream shakes his head to force himself to focus before running forward once more.

The Warden pulls out a shield of his own, and Dream switches back to the axe and swings it squarely into the shield, then twists himself around to the Warden’s unprotected back to catch him with another heavy blow that leaves him reeling in the second he takes to recover. He’s clearly untrained with a shield, his left arm clumsy as he tries to block Dream’s blows, and Dream uses the opportunity to score another few solid hits to the Warden’s sides and legs, getting a good blow with the blunt side of his axe into the back of one of his knees, leaving the warden limping when he pulls away.

Dream has hardly come off unscathed in the fight - he wheezes out a heavy breath through his teeth, chest aching from a hit that had broken one of his ribs. The exertion and anxiety still pressing at the back of his throat has left him light-headed, and he bites through a crisp, almost sickeningly-sweet bite of golden apple to close a wound bleeding sluggishly on his side. Neither of them can go on for much longer; the Warden’s grip tightens on his axe, and Dream swallows past the shudder that arises from the sight.

Once again, he raises his axe and runs into the fight, parrying the coming strike and twisting out of the way to strike at a joint of the Warden’s armor with the flat of his blade. The Warden’s arm raises, and Dream bites off a yelp of alarm as the handle of his axe is levied against his unarmored side, knocking him off-balance and falling back onto the ground, too disoriented to catch himself. He lands on his left arm, and his vision goes white as it gives out with a sharp crack.

Through half-lidded eyes, he can make out the Warden stalking closer, axe raised and ready to end the fight - end him. His chest shakes in a pathetic wheeze for breath, arm completely useless from where it’s screaming in pain underneath him. He needs to move, now, if he wants to survive this - fear swells forward, unhindered as his focus is broken by the vice grip the pain has on his skull - he’s shaking, now, the terror so familiar he can taste it - salt and iron and sticky-sweet health potions against the backs of his teeth-

The Warden raises his axe.

No.

Dream raises his sword just in time to catch the blade hurtling towards his neck, uses his foot to kick against the Warden’s grip on the handle. The axe clatters out of his grip, falls forward - Dream rolls away, breathing harshly around the pain threatening to make him black out. Unarmed, the Warden takes a second to grab a sword from his inventory while Dream forces himself back to his feet and kicks the axe as far away as he can.

He’s so flooded with panic he’s choking on it, broken arm hanging limply by his side as he charges forward, sword in hand. He won’t die, not after all this time, not after all this effort - he throws himself at the Warden, batters him with jabs and thrusts that force the other man to back away and parry, snarling wordlessly as he brings his sword to slash forward again and again.

His attacks are messy, uncoordinated, but the Warden is tired and disoriented from the loss of his weapon - he flinches back as Dream hits him in the jaw with the hilt of his sword, only barely matching his blows as he continues to push forward. Any hits that he scores on Dream are brushed off with a growl of pain and his sword moving even faster in his fury, and it’s not very long at all before he’s knocked flat on his back with a sweep of Dream’s legs, gasping for air as Dream pins him to the ground with a blade pressed against his neck.

Dream meets his wide eyes with his own, lips curled back in the same desperate rage that had moved him forwards despite the black creeping into the corners of his eyes and the lancing pain tying its strings around his neck and leaving him gasping for air. The sword in his hand bears threads of blood along its edge, pressing deeper into the Warden’s neck and drawing crimson up to the surface - a thousand fearful, angry thoughts swell up to the front of his skull in a singular, white-hot point. It is the Warden underneath his feet, at the end of his blade, cowering beneath him as he had cowered before - the Warden, the cause of his pain, the reason behind the ache in his gut and the stinging pains in his limbs and the piercing agony from his arm and chest. It would be so easy to push just a little harder, to press the sweet blue blade down and down and down until the Warden is gone and the Warden is dead and the Warden can’t hurt him anymore-

“Down, Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream backs off immediately, losing his grip on his sword as the command has him dragged back by the neck like an invisible leash and collar pulling him away. Sam settles back in a sitting position, still wide-eyed, wincing as he moves and bringing a golden apple from his inventory to heal the worst of his injuries.

“Eat,” Quackity commands again, and Dream only barely manages a stiff nod through the nausea and dread curling around his chest as the adrenaline begins to fade away, fumbling with the golden apple he finds in his inventory and nibbling at it to tide off the worst of the pain.

“Bravo, bravo,” Wilbur grins from the side, clapping slowly as he walks back into the middle of their makeshift arena - he’s taken his armor off again, but it doesn’t make the sight of him any less intimidating. “What a show! We should do that more often, what do you think?”

No, Dream almost screams, I can’t- but Quackity beats him to it, glaring at Wilbur with an incredulous expression.

“We don’t have the time to waste on your fucking ‘shows,’” he snaps, crossing his arms as he swings his gaze over to Dream. “Fine. You’ve proved yourself. Now hurry up - we have to clean up all of this shit and then figure out the rest of this fucking budget.”

Dream pulls himself to his feet, watching from the side as the Warden does the same.

“Make yourself useful and clean off all your fucking blood from the floor,” Quackity meets his eyes with a vicious glare, waiting until he stammers his way through an agreement before turning to the other two in the room. “Sam, Wilbur - with me. I want to get this money issue figured out tonight.”

Dream watches them go as he shuffles to the cleaning closet, feeling a shudder crawl up his spine once they’re out of sight. Make yourself useful, Quackity’s voice rings in his head, and Dream bites his lip, only stopping when he accidentally breaks through skin and the taste of blood floods his tongue.

He has a feeling that those words are going to haunt him for a long, long time.