#impact rated folding doors

[daphranko]

Living Room Enclosed Miami Large coastal enclosed living room idea with white walls and a marble floor

[distantdarlings]

HIS OWN MEDICINE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Your best friend, Pansy Parkinson, suggests fixing your boyfriend’s flirting problem by giving him a taste of his own medicine.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in v) Unprotected, spanking, top!theo, bottom!reader, fem!reader, mean dom, innocent reader?, degradation, name-calling, weird authoritative thing going on with Theo (idk), one (1) use of ‘daddy,’ mild breeding kink, flirting while in relationship, jealousy, not fully proof-read (lmk if I missed any!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

nobody - Toby Mai

- - -

“I don’t want to hear another fucking excuse, Theo!” you screamed, rage flushing your cheeks. It took everything in you not to strangle him right now.

After the third time catching him flirting with another girl, you were ready to walk again. You weren’t even sure how many times you’d broken up with him, and how many times he’d broken up with you.

But you were about to add another time.

“Please, baby, you know it’s not what you think,” he begged, trying to grab your hands. “She’s just a friend—we were just chatting.”

“Usually, you can chat with people without your hands wrapped around them! You seemed pretty fucking cozy with her!”

“Baby, come on…,” he cooed, trying to press some kisses to your fingers. Angry, you yanked your hand out of his grasp and tore out of the room. You heard the door slam behind you and ignored the gasps of shock as you shoved through a group of students moving in a unit down the hallway.

You could hardly stand that stupid man right now. If you saw his face again within the next 48 hours, you would punch him.

As you flew down the steps of the Slytherin dormitories and toward the mostly empty common room, you nearly knocked a petite woman over.

The two of you crashed into each other and grunted on impact.

“Watch where you’re going—Merlin! What are you doing down here, honey? Are you crying?”

It was Pansy, one of your best friends in the entire world. Though the tears had been pooling in your eyes since you stormed out of Theo’s dorm, her question had pushed you over the edge. An angry sob left your lips.

“Oh no! What happened?” she cried, wrapping you up in her small frame. Shamelessly, you wept into the folds of her robes. She smelled comforting, like home and daisies. You could hardly hold back the tears that poured down your cheeks.

“It’s Theo!” you gasped. “I broke up with him again!”

“Oh…again?” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “What did he do this time?”

“He was rubbing up on that stupid Gryffindor girl from last time—laughing and going on! I hate him! I never want to see him again!”

“Why do you let this keep happening?” she asked nonchalantly, patting your head soothingly.

“Me?” you scoffed. “He’s flirting with other girls!”

“Okay, but…you also keep getting back together with him,” she shrugged.

You pulled away from her and glared a bit. You knew your decision-making on the love aspect of things had never been terrific, but you couldn’t help it. Theo was so good to you (besides the flirting thing).

You had tried to rationalize it repeatedly, telling yourself he was just a friendly guy, but he never acted that way to other guys—only girls. And you’d realized your rationalization was stupid. And that he was just flirting.

“Listen,” she started again. “I get it more than anyone else. Theo’s very hard to resist—I’m just saying he’s attractive!” She quickly rushed to defend her words because, after all, though you and Theo were “broken up” right now, you’d likely be back together before the end of the week. That’s how pathetic you were.

“If you don’t want to break up with him, how about you talk about it with him,” she suggested. “You need to sit him down, get stern with him, and tell him that he’s not going to talk to these girls the way he is anymore.”

“I’ve tried that already, Pans! I practically scream in his face every time he does this shit!”

There was a moment of silence while the both of you seemed to mull the issue over.

“Well, then, how about we try something else?” Pansy said, her eyes glinting mysteriously. Your shuddering breaths paused for a moment as you looked up at her. Whatever she was planning couldn’t be good just by the look on her face.

“Er, what do you mean?” you asked, a bit of anxiety creeping up the back of your neck.

“If you can’t get him to stop in your own way…maybe it’s time to give him a taste of his own medicine.” She smirked wildly, her eyebrows rising above her bangs.

“You don’t mean—? Oh, no! No, Pansy! I’m not doing that. I can’t do that when I’ve shouted at him for doing it for so long!”

“Exactly,” she said. “You’ve asked him to stop repeatedly, but he’s not interested in discussion. He needs a threat.”

Despite the growing burning in the pit of your stomach urging you to accept her suggestion, you still felt horrible even considering it. Theo had never cheated on you; you just felt as though he was too friendly with other girls. But maybe Pansy was right. Maybe he wouldn’t understand how frustrating it was until he experienced it himself. It wasn’t like you were going to actually cheat on him. Maybe you could just talk to one of his friends and pretend to flirt. Just a little bit.

With the end of your free period growing closer, you decided you would make Theo jealous at dinner. You just had to decide who you would select to help with your antics.

***

Your eyes surveyed the Great Hall, flashing back and forth across the immense tables. Familiar faces glanced back at you in passing, their eyes aimlessly wandering as well. You couldn’t help but smirk just a bit, knowing your plans. Poor Theo had no idea what he was in for.

After weighing your options for a few minutes, you finally decided that if you really wanted to get to Theo, you needed to hit close to home—too close to home.

Your eyes locked on a familiar face you had often stared at, even before you got together with Theo. Mattheo Riddle.

A dark, brooding masterpiece of a boy. Truly, someone you’d be fawning over if you weren’t currently with Theo. But, saying that sounded like a broken record, considering how many girls and boys begged Mattheo for a second glance. You watched him closely, observing for a few moments.

His dark was clenched just a bit as he ran long fingers through his raven curls. It was entirely too much for you to watch…just looking at him had a bit of heat pooling in your stomach.

You couldn’t lie. In the few moments you’d forgotten about Theo and planned to make him jealous, the rose-colored glasses had come off, and the dark green ones had slipped over your eyes. Your chest was pounding, and it wasn’t for Theo at this very moment.

A prick of courage coursed through your veins and with a deep breath, you were moving quickly toward your target.

Enzo, Theo, and Mattheo sat at the edge of the Slytherin table closest to the Great Hall’s entrance. They gathered around each other, snacking and laughing. Mattheo sat on the table with his feet settled on the bench, Enzo sat just next to his legs on the bench, and Theo sat opposite Enzo. Maybe it was cheesy, but even Mattheo’s small rebellion of sitting on the table rather than the bench was calling your name. To not sound like every Gryffindor currently drooling over Mattheo, he really did have the perfect bad-boy vibe. He was like a sexy Muggle film.

Mattheo’s legs were spread with his elbows settled on his thighs—a dominating posture. His robe was settled over the edge of the table, and his tie was loosened, exposing a sliver of bronze chest and a singular chain dangling beneath the collar of his shirt. Merlin, this was sinful.

Theo caught your eyes and smiled brightly. He waved you over. That particular movement snagged the attention of Mattheo and Enzo—both of whom found your eyes and smiled in return. Maybe you were over-confident, but you could have sworn Mattheo had looked you slowly up and down as you approached.

Granted, you had changed up your outfit before coming to dinner. It was simple, but you were sure it’d get the job done with how it framed your figure and dipped down your chest. Your hair was styled, and Pansy had granted you her talent for makeup. You felt gorgeous, so you assumed you looked it.

Your wand was slid into the small decorative belt that came with the dress, and your hands were tightened behind your back in a sort of mock innocence. You smiled brightly, eyes only on Mattheo.

Completely ignoring Theo, you walked straight up to the two boys sitting before him. The both of them were looking you up and down now.

“Hey, Matty,” you giggled, stopping just before him. Smirking, he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you between his legs, your hips bumping against his core.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered. “You’re awfully bubbly this afternoon.” His voice vibrated against your ear, sending a violent chill down your back. You tried not to let your facade fall, but damn, he was good. You couldn’t tell if he was just playing along, seriously into it, or reading your mind. Who knew? Legilimency ran in his family.

“Baby?” Theo asked gently. You could just barely hear his voice past Mattheo’s warm body. “Matty?”

His poor, confused voice made your heart sink a little bit. You immediately felt bad. But this was for his own good. He was feeling what you felt every time he pulled this shit with other girls.

“I can’t help it,” you smiled. “I was excited to see you.”

“What the fuck? What did he do to get all the attention?” Enzo joked, smiling crookedly.

“Aw, but I was excited to see you too, sweetheart,” you cooed, leaning over Mattheo’s thigh to gently touch a finger to his chin.

“I think someone’s had a bit to drink,” Theo said sternly. You finally made eye contact with him. He was fuming. You swallowed nervously but ignored his threatening gaze. You were doing this for a reason.

“I’m completely sober, Theo,” you said blankly.

“You wanna go somewhere, mama,” Mattheo whispered against your cheek, his lips brushing your jawline. His arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist, his grip domineering and his scent overwhelming. Why did you want to say yes? Were you a bad person? You weren’t sure. This was a bad idea.

You giggled to avoid answering his question. Enzo’s eyebrow quirked at you before giving a glance to Theo.

“Well, I didn’t want to have to be the one to say this. But, personally, I feel that we are all close enough now to discuss these things.” Enzo nodded his head. “Have we truly ever considered the possibility of a foursome?”

Theo choked on his drink, Mattheo pretended to gag, and you gasped sharply.

“I’m just saying…it’s a valid question.”

“Enzo, shut up. Now.” Theo gripped his cup tightly, his knuckles bleeding white across his skin.

“Mattheo, take your fucking hands off of my girlfriend,” he said, turning to the man above you. “We need to fucking talk.”

His eyes never left yours as he pulled himself away from the table and walked toward the door. He didn’t even need to look back to know that you were trailing behind him with a half-defeated look on your face.

You were a bit frightened of the consequences of your actions, but you were certain that once you explained yourself, he’d be more understanding. You hoped.

Once the two of you were just past the doors of the Great Hall, Theo grasped your hand roughly, and, after being forced through a sickeningly tight tube with a loud suctioning sound, you were standing in Theo’s dormitory. You were a bit dizzy from Disapparating after not doing it for so long, but no amount of churning in your stomach could distract from the raging boy storming straight for you.

“What the fuck was that?” Theo shouted, forcing himself up against you. The pressure of his chest pushed you back up against the footboard’s bedpost. As the wood dug into your back, a gasp left your lips.

The way he looked down at you, fuming and jaw clenching, had you flushed ever so slightly. You didn’t know what it was, but his anger wasn’t pleasuring you as you thought.

An hour ago, you’d have assumed that you would feel amazing because of revenge. Not … something else.

“I was just…,” you trailed off, his eyes drilling holes through yours. Your hands wrapped around the bedpost behind you as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

His jaw ticked.

“You what?”

“I’m sorry,” you flinched at the volume of his words. “You’re always so friendly and touchy with all of your girl friends—I just wanted to make you feel the same way.”

“Feel what way?” he demanded.

“Jealous,” you whispered, embarrassed. Your eyes tore away from him and cast to the floor. Despite the confidence you’d had a few hours ago, you felt like the smallest woman in the world now.

“Jealous? You’re so pathetic,” he whispered, his voice suddenly soft and chiding. The word made a heat pool between your legs. Your lips parted in a silent gasp. You refused to look at him.

“Instead of just working through our argument earlier like adults, you thought it’d be a good idea to throw yourself on my friends to get a reaction out of me?”

“Well, when you say it like that—”

“Was it Pansy?”

“What?”

He sighed and clenched his jaw in frustration. “Did Pansy Parkinson put this stupid idea into your head?”

You looked down. You were too embarrassed to answer, but he knew. He scoffed and placed a surprisingly gentle finger beneath your chin. He tilted you up to look at him. His eyes were softer now.

“I know that Pansy is a bad influence on you, but you still have to be taught a lesson,” he murmured, his eyes ranging from soft and caring to lustful and mean.

“But, I–”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, voice stern as steel. “Don’t talk anymore, okay?”

Your lips snapped shut and, falling into an embarrassingly well-rehearsed routine, you nodded and forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. However, he had no issue doing so. His crystalline eyes never left your face except for one agonizing second when he dragged them down the length of your body.

You then forgot all of your previous endeavors and realized that Theo was going to have his way with you. He wasn’t more understanding, nor had you gotten your revenge. But none of that mattered right now. The heat pooling between your thighs had blurred all possible thoughts that might pass across your mind. The only thing you could see, smell, taste, hear, feel was Theo, Theo, Theo. You sucked in a shaky breath.

His fingers slid around your upper arms, pulling you closer to him. The way he touched you was gentle and slow—a precursor for the aggression that was to come.

“Turn around and bend over,” he whispered. His voice was nothing less than demanding. You couldn’t help but comply as if everything depended on your ability to follow his directions. Which, at this moment, it felt that way.

You turned and laid your torso across the length of his bed, tucking your arms beneath your chest. Your cheek lay against the satin comforter as your breath exited your body in short, shuddering pants.

“You deserve this,” he murmured. “You know you do.” His hands—so gentle—pushed themselves beneath the hem of your skirt. Your eyes clenched shut as your core pulsated in time with your rapid heartbeat.

The tips of his fingers caressed the curvature of your bare hips. With your intent to seduce, you’d figured you better dress the part as well as act it. For exactly that reason, you’d worn no bottoms beneath the tight dress. You could hear Theo inhale deeply as a single thumb slid over wettened, hot folds. You gasped sharply at the sensation.

“You wanted this,” he growled. Honestly, you hadn’t considered this as one of the outcomes of your little venture, but you wouldn’t deny what you currently wanted. With a whimper, you nodded your head and pushed your hips back against him.

A small grunt left his lips as your ass came into contact with his core, already engorged and pulsing, just as you were. You concealed a smirk. Perhaps it was the false persona you had put on this evening, but your confidence shone through the room like a lightbulb.

“Very well,” he sighed. “You’ll get exactly what you wanted, you pathetic slut. The only way you can get what you want is to show your ass in front of all my friends, huh? You couldn’t just fucking ask?” With each rhetorical question, he tore another piece of clothing from himself. His anger radiated off of him.

“My advice, love?” He rolled the fabric of your dress over your ass, allowing the cool air to bite at your core. “Next time…just fucking ask me to ruin this perfect cunt.” He pushed into you with a relieved groan.

The lack of any preparation had you biting into his comforter. Perhaps no foreplay was your punishment, but he felt too good for you to complain about it.

His hands gripped your hips like a vice as he pulled you back onto him at a sickening pace. He hit every spot inside of you with a bruising force, so hard that your face slid back and forth across his slick comforter. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep a hold on the surface. Theo’s rage-filled thrusts knocked you loose from any grip you gained on his sheets like it was nothing.

“If you ever pull something like that again, I swear to Merlin, I’ll beat the fuck out of any man who touches you,” he breathed through ragged thrusts. “I don’t care if it’s Mattheo or Enzo or some random guy—I’ll fucking kill him.”

His words pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Shamelessly, you moaned his name as if it were the last thing you’d ever say. He looked like a god behind you with his hair stuck to his forehead and his lips parted, his sweat circled the air, his name tasted perfect in your mouth, his moans were glorious, and he felt delicious inside you. Again, Theo was all you could see, smell, taste, hear, and feel.

“Yeah, baby? Does that feel good?” he whispered to you, taunting you endlessly. “Who fucks you like this, huh?”

“You,” you whined, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I couldn’t hear you, baby. It sounded like you said Enzo. Was that right?” he cruelly teased you. His hand came down hard across the brunt of your ass cheek. “That’s what you fucking get. Now, who fucks you like this?”

“You!” you tried again, desperate to feel your release.

“Mattheo? Oh, you’re really trying me today!” he shouted, bringing his hand down against you again. You yelped beneath the bite of his hand. You could practically already see the handprint forming across your skin.

Theo suddenly grabbed your hair roughly and pulled you against his body. Your back was pressed to his front, and his cock was hitting a devastating angle inside of you.

“Who fucks you like this, bitch?”

“You, Theo! Fuck, nobody makes me feel like this! Theo, Theo, Theo…,” your voice trailed off pathetically as he pounded into you with a force like no other. You wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.

One of his hands was wrapped around your stomach while the other remained tightly curled in your hair as he fucked up into you relentlessly. The coil in your stomach that only seemed to build when Theo handled you the way he did began to wind up in your stomach. Each thrust from the man behind you had it curling tighter and tighter, threatening to combust at any moment.

“Fuck, Theo, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, baby? You’re gonna cum for me? Cum for me, baby…cum on my cock, sweetheart. Let me fill you up, darling. Please, baby, let me cum inside you. Make me a daddy, baby.”

And with those words, you were cumming against him harder than you ever had before. Honey spilled from you and coated his lower stomach and your thighs. The tension from your entire body locking up had Theo’s legs beginning to shake. Whispers of strained “fuck, fuck, fuck”s resonated throughout the room as Theo fucked himself through his orgasm. Just before you could protest at the overstimulation, he came into you, filling you up just as he had promised.

The feeling of every inch of his arousal overflowing from your core nearly made you needy all over again. You might've asked him for a round two if not for the overwhelming exhaustion that had just flooded your body.

Between the rapid pace he’d set and the abuse you’d taken from behind, the two of you were laid out. Both of you collapsed against his bed, chests rising and falling rapidly, beads of sweat dripping, eyes fluttering closed. You were sure you’d pass away if you attempted to move, so you laid completely still.

“How was that?” Theo asked, chuckling breathlessly. You refrained from rolling your eyes at his awkwardly-timed question.

“It was really good, you dummy,” you laughed, wiping a bit of sweat from your hairline.

“Good,” he whispered, rolling over to face you. “Because if you ever pull anything like that again, I’ll kill the man who touched you then I’ll fuck you in front of him.”

Merlin.

- - -

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[bandgie]

Poor Baby

Idol!Bangchan x sexworker!reader

a/n: a lot of you guys asked for a part two of this post and I will provide!

synopsis: You need to make end meet with your bills. When your boss gives you a huge opportunity to make big money, you hop at it (even if it impacts your dignity). Lucky for you, your favorite customer happens to be coming in that day.

cw: 18+ MDNI, glory holes, PIV, no protection (use it!), fingering, oral (f!receiving), pussy slapping, cursing, cock drunk reader, reader is called Nyx/Chris is called Koala, mentions of Lee Know, cum eating, Chris is more confident this time, Chris is called 'daddy' and he plays into it, brief mentions of sub-space, idk that's it

3.9k words

"I dunno, sounds too risky," you bite your fingernails as you speak. The offer is a good one, triple your hourly and bonus tips. You were on the verge of not being able to make rent, but your boss literally put this opportunity in your lap. Had you been a higher rating girl, you wouldn't have to resort to being a gloryhole.

"Okay I see what you mean," he starts, "but it's only for the weekend. Five hours tops! I'll give you a 20 minute break in the middle of it." Your boss looks at you with expecting eyes. You would take the deal in a heartbeat, but it goes against the only rule you have. "I don't feel safe letting my clients raw dog me. What if they get me sick?"

Your boss shakes his head profusely, "No! Come on Nyx, you know I wouldn't let that happen to any of my girls. They'll take the test to see if they're clean in advance. I get it, it goes against your morals or whatever, but it's big money. Huge! People with names are going to come, literally, and I know you need this more than ever. It's why I came to you first."

You sigh, looking down at the hands in your lap. He's right, and he's a good boss. You have a good job, nice coworkers, and a boss who genuinely looks after you. That's hard to find in this business. After all, you do need the money. Doing this gig for the weekend will help tremendously, and you might even afford to take a few days off.

Finally, you nod. "Yeah I guess you're right. When should I show up?"

It was a lot sooner than you had anticipated. You and the other girls weren't allowed to know who was coming. Like your boss said, they were well-known, so they preferred to keep their identity a secret. That part did make you a little nervous if you're being honest, but you found comfort in knowing that they wouldn't be able to see you.

It would be better this way. Have half your body in a wall, legs open, let the dude use you until he cuts in mere minutes, and get on with the next. Men cum easily, especially when they used women like a fleshlight. Perhaps time will go fast like that, and you could start planning on what you can do on your mini vacation.

So here you were, upper body laid on a small bed chest down with a bar in front for support. Your lower body was out through the hole, legs standing for support. It was slightly uncomfortable, but you could manage. Other women were in different positions all around you, some higher and some lower. Your boss and a few of other workers helped lube you up. You're thankful for that because you know damn well the men coming in would just rail into you.

A few minutes passed before you could hear shuffling, murmurs, the unbuckling of pants. You tensed in anticipation. You were grateful they couldn't see you, but not being able to see them was an entirely different story. You gasped when you felt fingers explore your folds. They were impatient, violating, and too harsh. You bit your lower lip from barking at the man, trying to think of all the cash you'd be swimming in soon.

It's just for the weekend.

-

Chris found himself, once again, in front of your establishment. He had already gone though the club, the secret sunflower door, the code. The only difference was that he was accompanied by none other than the person who told him about this sex club, Lee Know. They both wore disguises, face masks and hats to conceal their face.

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this again," Chris groans. Lee Know only smiles and laughs. Minho pats him on the back, "You're the one that agreed. Plus they have something special going on. You'll like it." Chris follows Minho from the main floor of the sex club and into the back. It's the familiar path to where he met you, but way further back.

Christopher would be lying if he wasn't anticipating on meeting you again. It's embarrassing, but he jerks himself off at the thought of you. The way you feel, the way you taste, how patient you were with him. He would rather die than tell Minho about you, he would get teased until the end of days. It's silly to think he'd see you here, but he can't help but hope.

"Something special? Is that why I had to get tested for STD's?" Chris questions. Rather than giving a verbal answer, Minho hums. He didn't have to do that before the session with you, and you let him go raw. Maybe it's only for special event, he thinks.

Chris and Minho approach a booth with a person inside. She wears a plastic smile on her face, hair done perfectly and acrylic nails. "Names please?" Her voice is almost drained out by the moans and slapping sounds coming from the other side. It's just a curtain that covers it, so all sounds can be heard.

A blush quickly finds its way to Chris's face and ears. He's so flustered that Minho has to answer, "Koala and Rino." The lady in the booth seems completely dismissive about what's going on behind the curtain. She looks through a few pages before nodding, "Ah I see you right here. Please enjoy your time, the session ends in about 2 hours."

Lee Know nods in response and grabs Chris by the sleeve the drag him behind the curtain. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He couldn't even comprehend the sight at first. Men were covered in sweat, pants completely down. Cum was stained below where the women were placed. The smell was strong, and it made Chris grimace.

He turned to Minho, expecting the same reaction. Instead, Minho was looking as if he was at heaven's gates. "Isn't it beautiful?" Chris stays quiet rather than answering. Minho walks further in and Christopher trails behind. The women have only their lower body sticking out, some in doggy others in missionary position.

Chan has only seen glory holes in porn, never even considering seeing one in person.

"So here," Minho points at the wall above one of the women, "is the name of the hole. They don't provide pictures, which sucks. If you see a name you like or know, you just basically fuck it. Cum in it, don't come it. Touch it, don't. The main rule is to not reach in the cut out. Keep your hands to what's exposed, or you'll get kicked out. They're pretty strict when it comes to shit like this."

Chris doesn't bother asking how Lee Know knows so much, it's in his name afterall. "I dunno," Chris tentatively looks around the room. Other men seem to have face masks on, but some don't. He can recognize people form TV, the news, even some older politicians. Lee Know sighs, "Bro, they don't care about you. No offense. They're just here to get their dick wet and leave. It's only gay if you make eye contact."

Lee Know's joke lightens the mood, and Chris finds himself laughing alongside him. They did pay a pretty dime to be here for the special event, he might as well enjoy it. The two men go off in their separate ways not long after. It feel weird for Chris to window-shop like this, almost uncomfortable. It's not until he comes across a familiar name that makes his heart skip.

Nyx, he almost sings. You have your ass out at the height of his hips. He takes a few steps closer as if he couldn't believe it's actually you. Chris takes note of your of your swollen clit, the gaping hole, the cum that drips down your thighs. Without thinking, he reaches out his ands to rub your ass. Not sexually, but more in a comforting way. He can tell this takes you by surprise because you jolt.

"Poor baby," he says sympathetically. It's not loud enough for you to hear, but he can't help but want to console you. From the description he read of you before, he thought this was the last place you'd be. His hands stay soft, and he finds himself kneeling. He can feel the wet floor staining his pants, but he doesn't care.

To put on a show, you wiggle your ass for him. You think the man behind you is going to shove himself in, but you feel a hot tongue. You gasp as the sensation. Since you first clock in, no one had eaten you out. You honestly didn't expect anyone to. You're covered in other men's cum, who in their right mind would consider such a thing?

Chris would, in a heartbeat. If it's to soothe you, he would do anything. He feels like he owes you something. Sure he paid you after the last interaction, but it still felt like it wasn't enough. Tasting men's cum isn't pleasant, but hearing your muffled moans though the walls was worth it.

It reminds him of last time, how desperate you sounded with his mouth on you. He wished you could see his face, watching as your mouth twisted in pleasure. Even now, he's still wishing for the same. His mask is pulled down under his chin while he devours you. Your legs struggle to keep you up right, but you stay on your tiptoes.

You can hear him slurping behind you, his hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep you spread. His tongue flicks over your bud and goes back to teasing your entrance. You could feel your arousal seeping out, and that seems to spur him on more. Your hands grip the bar above the bed, and you so desperately want to grip his hair instead.

Despite being here for three hours, you haven't came. You've gotten close to finishing, but men always finished before you did. It left you frustrated, yearning. You pray that the man eating you keeps going until you cum, but you know better than to hope for that. Instead, you try to grind against his face with what little movement you have.

"Shit. You like that baby?" You hear him ask. His voice is vaguely familiar, a twist of a distinct accent you swear you've heard before. You nod though he can't see. "Fuck yes. Don't stop," you moan. Perhaps it wasn't smart to command the client to please you, it's the other way around after all. To your surprise, he keeps going. He has his tongue dip inside your pussy, feeling your smooth walls.

It's so unbelievably sexy of him to eat you out. He must look humiliating; on his knees, sucking out the cum of other men into his mouth, the filthy sounds that leave his throat. He's eating you like he's never had a good meal in his life, like he missed your pussy. His tongue is experienced too, and you can't help but think this is also familiar.

That recognizable knot in your stomach gathers, and you begin shaking. If he pulls away now, you think, I'll quit. You don't even have to tell him you're close, he can feel how you tighten around his tongue. He quickly pulls away and shoves a finger inside before you could complain. It's difficult to eat you out now that his finger is in the way, but he can use his other hand to replace his mouth.

Chris rubs your clit in circles while he pumps you with his other finger. You squeal at the impact, feeling how his hand meets your ass when he goes deep. Your toes curl, eyes roll back to your head, and loudly moan when you cum on his fingers. It's been so long, so long since you've cum from a client. The last time was with that Koala guy, the one with the...accent.

Realization hits you quickly. You don't even have the chance to say anything with how he finger fucks you through your orgasm. "Wait! wait wait wait..." Chris immediately stops when he hears you. He gently removed his hand from you and you almost fall limp. His hands catch your waist and he keeps you up.

"Are you okay?" His voice is full of concern, full of care. Yeah, that can only be one person. You laugh breathlessly, body still quivering from your recent orgasm. "Shit Koala. How long has it been? Like three months?" You imagine he's choked up, unable to answer you. You've had a lot of customers, and it's impossible to remember them all. Koala, however, has left quite the impression on you.

He laughs awkwardly, "Something like that yeah. Uh...how ya been?"

You blow a raspberry and chuckle, "I don't think I'm in a position for a little reunion. You came here to fuck no?" Chris is a little stunned with your words, but agrees. "Yes. Well no. I mean yes, but not like-" he keeps rambling. You take pity on him and decide to take the lead, "No no I get it. You came here to fuck my pussy right?"

Chris feels like his face is on fire. He wish he could deny it, but he can't. He did come here with hopes of seeing you, to feel you again. Sure he could have fucked any girl here, but how could he when he knew you were here. All pretty and prepped for him. "What if I said yes?" he teases. "Would that make you happy?"

It's surprising to hear Koala tease you back, but you're more than happy to oblige. "Hmm...maybe. It's been a while since you've fucked me, might not be as good as before." Chris laughs, hands squeezing your ass, "I think you know you're lying to yourself. Got you cummin' on my tongue in minutes. Imagine what I could do with my cock."

His confidence has you horny. Before, he was pliant and submissive. He's a totally different man now, who knows what happened in three months. It could also be the fact that he can't see you properly, so it gives him some courage to be bold. No matter, you find it beyond attractive.

"All this talking and no fucking," you complain. "Maybe you are rusty."

In all honesty, Chris hasn't really fucked after you. He rarely did in the first place, but he genuinely thinks no one can compete with your cunt. He knows you're joking with him, but it still makes him nervous. Three months is a long time, he might have lack in some aspects now that he's the one taking control.

Still, he's given such a golden opportunity to show you that he can please you. Chris's grip on your ass tightens for a brief second before he grabs ahold of the base of his cock. It's already hard, red from screaming at Chris to put it in. He uses one hand to guide his cock into your abused hole and the other to rub soothing circles on your waist.

You can't help but smile. It doesn't how dirty he can talk or act, he's still a gentleman at heart. The nearly forgotten stretch makes you whimper when he puts his tip in. His cock is hot and can easily slide in with no problem. Despite that, he still take his time. Chris really wants you to feel how you pussy stretches around him, how he can glide against your warm walls.

Your knuckles turn while from gripping the bar so hard. You almost want to scream at him to hurry up and fuck you. Instead, you find yourself whimpering the contact. Your hips move against him to try and slip his dick in. It works a little, feeling his cock roughly an inch deeper. You can hear him moan behind the wall, a breathy higher pitched whine that makes your cunt wetter by the second

"You still sound so pretty," you whisper. You doubt he can hear you from the other men and women fucking, but he does. Little did you know, that he has his ear against the wall. Chris just needs to hear how you sound, what noises you make. He knows he must look so pathetic, and he's grateful that Lee Know is no where in sight.

Finally, he fills you up completely with his girth. Your legs twitch and squeeze together at the intrusion. You can feel the tingles that travel up and down your body from pleasure. Whimpers and moans leave you lips when he starts thrusting. You're thankful for the wall that separates you two. Before, you had tried to remain professional. Now you can be as loud as you please without worrying. Well...that's what you think at least.

The combined feeling of your soft pussy and beautiful moans break Chris's sanity. Both of his hands grip your sides so he could bring you to meet his thrusts. It's so loud and wet, he thinks you two must be the loudest in the room. Chris loves watching as your cunt drools on his cock, leaving strings of arousal on your ass and his thighs.

You're on the verge on tears letting this man fuck you relentlessly. It feels so indescribably amazing, you let your mouth hang open. "Oh fuucckk," Chris hears you groan. Heat and pleasure remain in your lower stomach, slowly building. It's torture with how it feels like too much and not enough all at once.

You find yourself wishing you could use your hand to rub your clit, but the wall prevents that. instead, you try grinding your thighs together tightly for stimulation. It works, but at the cost of choking Koala's dick. He whimpers, almost pained from the sudden tightness. He moves his hands to the inner parts of your thighs and spreads them open in response.

"Gonna break my fuckin' cock," he mumbles, lightly laughing. Chris resumes his thrusts, but he notices the constant moving of your hips. So much so that he even slips out momentarily. He thinks that it's getting too much for you, but the way you're begging for him to shove it back in says otherwise.

"What's the matter baby?" His voice is light. His strokes are softer now, giving you the ability to speak properly. You take a few heavy breaths before answer, "Touch me." You sounds so desperate, so out of your character that Chris almost wants to tease you further.

Almost.

He concludes that you must be getting close, just wanting to extra rubbing to really get off. Chris grants your wish and uses his fingers to rub circles on your clit. Your reaction is immediate, bucking and crying out in gratitude. Chris smiles fondly at how your body replies to his touch. Now he can tease you without feeling guilty.

"What do you saaayy?" He speaks in a sing-songy voice. Had you been fully cognitive, you would've cursed him. You headspace isn't working though, and you find yourself expressing your appreciation quickly. "Thank you daddy. Thank you thank you. I needed it sooo bad."

The pet name throws him off, making him stutter his hips for a split second. Chris deeply blushes at the term, unsure if he hates it or loves it quite yet. "Yeah? You like daddy's big cock in you?" He decides to test it out. Maybe it's because you're beginning to enter the sub-space zone, but you cum unexpectedly on his dick.

Chris feels you twitch around him and convulse. There was no warning, save for how creamy his length had gotten from your excitement. He almost praised you for how beautifully you painted his cock. Chris pulled himself in and out of you slowly to watch the white substance spread.

You couldn't stop moaning, fully crying from the orgasm. You normally had a good gauge on when you could cum and how to prolong it, but Koala had proven to fuck you up in more ways than one. You body shook and hugged his cock practically lovingly. Feeling him slide his dick slowly inside of you only make you wail louder.

Once Chris felt like you had come down enough, he fucked you with intent. He doesn't know how he was able to last this long, but he's chasing his own orgasm now. You can do nothing else but to take it. You groan everything he hits your deep, tip touching your womb. You can feel your cream dripping down your thighs.

This only encourages Chris more to finish. He wants nothing more than to mix your arousals together. Chris throws his head back and groans, letting his dick settle fully inside you when he cums. Hot spurt bursts in your tummy and you moan at the warmth. You usually detest having clients cum in you, the clean up was irritating. Koala, however, is an exception. He's invited to cum where he pleased when it comes to you.

Hearing him though the walls is bliss, and you wish you could see his face. He's probably still wearing that stupid mask, you think.

Chris lets himself give a few more good thrusts before pulling out, leaving you empty. He uses his thumb to spread your pussy lips to look at how your cunt pools his cum out. He hums at the sight, and gives your pussy a slap. You jolt and yelp at the contact, still sensitive.

"Guess I'll take you answer as a yes," he suddenly says.

Rather than leaving, Chris keeps massaging his cum and your own around your lower lips. You sigh contently as you feel him explore your folds. He's not doing it hard enough to give intense pleasure, but enough to feel soothing. It must be a mess down there, but Chris is entranced by the sight.

He so distracted that he didn't hear Lee Know's footsteps coming at the side of him. It's not until Chris feels his presence that he turns. They make eye contact for a moment before Chris straightens up, wiping his wet hands on the wall. The men have a silent exchange of words before Chris withdrawals his hands from you.

Before you can protest, Koala gives you brief reassurance. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You hear his footsteps leave along with another pair of feet. His sudden departure leaves you feeling somewhat cold, but you quickly dismiss the feeling. It's business, nothing personal. It's something you've had to remind yourself for years working this job. This particular instance, though, leaves you more than just your pussy empty.

-

"See you tomorrow," Lee Know mocks Chris's earlier words on the way home. Chris has no choice but to put up with Lee know antics. He keeps rubbing in his face how he got to fuck five different girls while Chris only did one. Not that it really matters to Chris, but he knows that Lee Know is much more aware of his little crush now.

After finishing up his laughter, Lee Know throws an arm over Chris's shoulder. "I'm just teasing you man. But I was right you know. That you would like it." Chris can't help but smile upon seeing his friend's cheesy expression. "Yeah yeah, whatever," he playfully rolls his eyes.

"But really," Lee Know questions, "You'd be down to go again? Just for her?" Chris stops walking for a second to think, eyes up to the sky. The night is clear, stars and moon shining down on them. He doesn't know you well, only that your pussy and his cock belong together. Going to that club often would hurt his wallet over time, but he's starting to think that it may be worth it.

"Yeah, just for her."

a/n: really hope you liked it! feedback is appreciated. I am not planning on making a third part to this imma be honest, but I might write an epilogue if it's highly requested.

update!: third part here

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Imposter: Neige LeBlanche

He’s the shining crewmate in cyan

With a reputation of snow

He’s innocent in any situation 

There's always an out 

Even if he’s found with blood splashed on his suit

He’s nothing but an unfortunate witness traumatized beyond belief

So traumatized he can’t recall who it was

Until its most convenient

“I-i’m so sorry everyone…I witness something so horrible the least I should do is be able to help…I-i’ll try my best for everyone.”

So it's best if he travels with you

The crewmate so determined to find the imposter

Or even the unconvinced crewmate who keeps giving him the side-eye

So why don’t you pair up with him?

Despite his flawless alibi, overwhelming lack of evidence, and testimony from trusted crewmates your friends

Somehow he can’t get you close enough

wHy ARe yOu BeINg sO dIfFiCUlt!?

At this rate, he’ll the imposter have to kill the whole crew before you give him anything but a passing gaze glare

But he’s a good crewmate liar

You’ll have no choice but to believe him when they eject the ‘real’ imposter:

You stared through the impact glass at the vastness of the space and the decreasing figure of the purple suit. A haze of finality and unreaching, endlessness ebbing your resolve, you tightened your fists; digging your nails into your palms. It hardly did much to distract you from the feeling in your heart but you’d take what you could.

“(Y/n), Rook set a course back to Innersloth…we’re going home.”

You ignored him, not even bothering to look at his worried reflection behind you, keeping your eyes on the spot you last found the supposed imposter’s floating body. The news brought nothing but guilt and rage. At who? You, the remaining crewmates, the dead, Neige? Even with the evidence pointing to your dearest friend and the innocence proclaimed to him you couldn’t ignore the feeling in your gut. 

The same one that told you to stay with your friend, even when he insisted you two split up for just a second. The same push that had you doubting the one in cyan from the very beginning. Even with his innocence being proven every time without fail, you couldn’t disregard the compass that held tried and true for this whole nightmare.

“(Y/n), maybe you should join me in the cafeteria! I recently made a pie for everyone to enjoy!”

“...Not everyone.”

Neige stiffened before letting his eyes and lips curve into a smile as he shed a tear. 

“You’re right *sniff* Not for everyone…but maybe in their honor?”

You resisted the urge to sneer at him. That voice. That face. Those tears. He was doing it again! Whether it was acting or mimicry it didn’t sit right with you; it never did. And even now in the wake of the majority of your crew’s death, it didn’t incur the empathy he so often elicited from onlookers. In your deepest of hearts you rationalized that was why he seemed so insistent on trying his tactics on you. 

“You can enjoy it without me…who’s to say the imposter really is off the ship anyway?”

At those words he made a face, puckering his lips and folding his hands to protest. You spoke, glaring at the despicable reflection of yourself in the window.

“ We’ve been wrong before. What’s to say we aren’t again?”

“B-but nothing has been broken! And we’ve split up many a time before and none of us have died! Don’t you think that means we finally got rid of the—”

“Imposter? Please, it make more sense to stay hidden now since they want a free ride to headquarters.”

Tightly closing your eyes,  you turned narrowly missing the ungloved hand attempting to grab your shoulder. Making your way out of the bay you went for the door, flashing a look toward Neige who hadn’t turned around and was still facing the window. You turned your attention officially storming off, to do whatever it was you felt like doing without his presence. 

The imposter stood still, blankly smiling at the star system as he tightly clenched his fists. Of course, it’d be like you to suspect such a plan. Only you. But you were just so uptight how could you go bringing such negativity to the Innersloth head quarters after such a hefty loss? It’d be best for him everyone if you had a relaxant relaxed a little. Smiling a bit after such dark times was healthy. And only a good crewmate would keep their remaining teammates healthy, even if their suspicions were debilitating to that health.

Right?

[waffles-art-writing]

Water Logged - Task Force 141!Platonic x F!Reader - JOKER

Summary: PART 2 of One Hell Of A First Mission. You end up crammed in the back seat between your team mates. You become aware that both you and your Scottish Teammate find the funny side to most things, you find out having to swim with a balaclava is like breathing through a wet sponge.

Proofread: NOPE

Pairing: Task Force 141!Platonic x F!Reader

WordCount: 4.2k ish

Age Rating: 16+

Codename: JOKER

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: COD Violence, Swearing, description of injuries, Weapons, fighting, fluff and angst if you squint. A lot of time skips sorry. Sorry if its not identical to the game… ENJOY! Oh and Graves… he’s just a warning within himself.

Please go read the previous parts here MASTERLIST

If you want more please comment! Reblogs are appreciated!

Also sorry if it’s not any good, I’m going through a huge writers block…

Taglist: @studywithrosie01 (idk if you still wanna be tagged so I’ll tag you till you tell me otherwise if that’s okay?) IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED PLEASE COMMENT!

——————————

You sit crammed in the back seat of the vehicle. Ignoring how uncomfortable you are squished up against Soap and Ghost. Your arms crossed, legs crossed, practically twisted like a pretzel. Graves is in the front seat while Alejandro is driving, happy as Larry they are compared to you and your squished team mates, that could be compared to a can of sardines. You bite your tongue when the vehicle hits a pothole, Soap groans lightly and Ghost just tightens his grip on the seat. “Fuck this” you spit out, pushing yourself to stand, slipping over the back of the seat into the free space in the back.

“What the fuck” Soap states, looking over you, who looks a lot more comfortable than before. “I hate being crammed between two men who smell like shit” you chuckle, leaning onto your arms that are folded over your knees. “I don’t stink..” Soap growls, huffing as he turns back around to face the front. Ghost glances at you, you just shrug as you smile under the joker smile on your balaclava.

An hour passes of you sitting in the back, almost falling asleep in the darkness of the night and the few street lights that you pass by. You snap awake when you feel a hand shaking your shoulder, your mind groggy from the light slumber your brain was dancing with just moments ago. You groan lightly as you sit up, stretching out. You go to lean against the door that would open for you to be able to access the back from the outside, however your back doesn’t touch anything, you tumble out of the back. Going head over heels out of the vehicle, your gun clanging to the ground as you squeeze your eyes tight, bracing for the impact of the ground. Nothing comes, your body doesn’t hit the ground, warmth is raiding off two spots on your upper back.

You crack open your eyes to come face to face with Alejandro, his smile wide with a light chuckle. “You alright there Joker?” He asks, you just nod as he helps you up. “Yeah… thanks Alejandro.” You chuckle lightly, rubbing the imaginary kink out of your neck as you stand there looking down at your boots. “Any time.” He states as he pats your shoulder, you smile lightly, your mask shifting.

A deep voice sounds out from your left, you look over to see Ghost holding your rifle. “Oh… thanks Lieutenant'' You state, taking the gun from the taller man with a cold gaze. He just hums as he turns away, walking towards the large building you’re all supposed to be on top of. You strap the rifle to your back as you approach the building, following the rest of the team in, to your annoyance Graves is behind you.

He attempts some small talk but you shoot it down quickly with a “Shut up yank.” This caused the rest of the team to look over their shoulders down at you, Soap almost tripping up the stairs, Ghost almost getting whiplash with how quickly he looked at you. Along with nearly causing Alejandro to have a coughing fit when He coughs into his hand to hide his smile, you just keep your eyes forward passing the others on the way to the roof.

You perch yourself on one of the air condition units, looking at the fancy mansion in the distance, Ghost is a few paces in front of you, just off to the right. Alejandro, Graves and Soap all stand at the edge using binoculars to look at the mansion. Your mind focused on the heavy foot patrol around the compound, wondering how on earth you guys are gonna get in without a problem.

“Las casa de Sin Nombre?” Soap asks, which makes you look at him with a raised brow. ‘When did he learn that?’ You question, even Ghost glances at the Scotsman then to you. Alejandro sighs lightly before speaking “No. One of his Lugartenientes” you stand from your spot, walking up to stand next to Ghost. “The Cartel’s Lieutenant” you mumble to yourself, even though Soap states it louder. Alejandro states ‘Nice, brother. You’re learning’ in Spanish. Ghost looks over at you to see if you're gonna translate quietly again, you glance up at him briefly. “He praised him,” you shrug, looking back at the others.

“My sources tell me all the VIPs in Las Almas will be there tonight.” Alejandro continues “Some are invited, others are, umm….” Graves speaks up this time, his accent strong “Volun-told…?” “Yes,” Alejandro confirms.

“What’s the meet about?” Graves asks, looking over at Alejandro, who in turns says ‘Us’ in Spanish which you just whisper a quiet ‘us’ while motioning to everyone for Ghost. “Las Almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire.” Alejandro states, Ghost looks over at the Mexican “Sin Nombre will be there, yeah?” His accent is not helping his pronunciation of the Spanish words. “No guarantees but this is our best shot” Alejandro states while he turns to Ghost, walking a few paces closer.

Graves and Soap have done the same, Philip Graves taking the talking again with “Then we take it.” Which causes your skin to crawl,“I got enough Shadows here to take over the whole damn country.” “I’d prefer if you didn’t.” Alejandro protests, you take a step forward to defend Alejandro when Graves speaks up again.

Your actions fall short when Soap and Ghost give you a slight shake of their heads, you just let out a quiet huff as you back down. “Just saying … one house shouldn’t be a problem” Graves states, “We need Sin Nombre alive.” Ghost growls, Graves just lets out a small half chuckle of a huff, looking from Ghost over to the compound.

“Well…” he pauses. “Then we need to meet him.” He turns to look back at the group before looking at Soap who questions how. Your stomach sinks at the next statement that comes from the Shadow Company leader “Give ‘em what they want… Intel.” You glance at Soap then to Ghost “They wanna know who’s here. Let’s tell ‘em.” Both you and Alejandro ask “In person-?” You shift in your spot, uneasy with where this is going.

“Correcto… Get one of us inside, find the boss… roll him up” he states, looking around the group then to Alejandro properly.

There’s a brief pause before both you and Soap step forward with a “I’ll do it.” You both look at eachother, both not willing to back down. “Joker no, you gotta stay out here. You’re too…” Graves starts, his excuse fading quickly when you look at him. “Because I’m weaker? A girl? So fucking what Philip, you don’t get to say what I do.” You growl, he steps up to you, nose to nose at this point. “You ain’t going in there, we need you out here with Ghost.” He sneers. “You don’t give me orders mate, Ghost or Soap can but you can’t. SO, get off your high horse and realise I am as skilled as the rest of this team.” Graves backs down when he looks you in the eye, knowing how stubborn you are from previous encounters with you. “Lass, you stay out here with Ghost. Be my eyes for me on the outside.” Soap states, trying to level with you on you not going. You stare at the blue eyed Scotsman, brows furrowed under your mask. “You’re with me Joker, I need you with me while Graves goes and gets the Shadows” Ghost states, an order. You look to Alejandro to gauge his opinion, he just looks at you and Soap. “You go in there, and they’ll kill you.” He shakes his head lightly at you. “We need your eyes out here.” You just huff and back down, stepping out of the circle as the rest of them continue their conversation.

You follow Ghost to the spot he will be situated to be eyes for Soap and Alejandro, you’re there to watch his back as well as signal spot anything that Ghost doesn’t spot. You think its stupid in reality, this man is a bloody Lieutenant, he didn’t get to this point because of luck. He got his title because of skill, he knows how to keep himself concealed when sniping, he knows he’s vulnerable when he’s laying on his stomach and looking through the scope. You’re mere six feet away from him, knowing he likes his space just by the aura that radiates off him.

You haven’t talked much with your Lieutenant, you translated some words for him when he cocks his head to the side, or just doesn’t reply to a question. You have been his shadow for most of this mission, except for when you got separated and had to be by yourself for brief moments of time. You and Soap grew close quickly though, but you never talk much unless you’re spoken to, so right now you're a little anxious for Soap who is now being escorted into the large building.

You don’t talk over the comms, Ghost taking that role pretty well in all honesty. But once Soap is allowed to walk around the building, by means of Alejandro helping after getting inside and getting a disguise. You pipe up to tell him there’s a large trellis for him to be able to climb to help get to the balcony . “What now?” Soap asks, his voice crackling to life in your ear. “Y’know those plant thingys for them to grow up a wall…” you can see him shrug lightly through your scope. “For fucks sakes… a plant ladder Soap… that black thing with leaves” you hear a long “Oh” before you see him climb it with slightly difficulty before jumping the rest of the way to latch onto Balcony rails.

“Thanks Lass.” He states, you just hum in response. Moments pass as you quietly watch the building with baited breath. Your heart sinks when shots ring out, chaos ensues quickly onto Soap and Alejandro. You don’t have eyes on them, they are still inside the building. They just broke into the room with Sin Nombre in it, which turns out to be the woman that Soap got the displeasure of meeting down stairs in the makeshift interrogation room.

You go to push yourself from the ground, to run and help your team but a hand quickly catches your wrist when you go to get off the ground. “Don’t do anything stupid, kid.” That’s all that Ghost says before letting you go and nodding to you, that’s all you need before you’re bolting towards the compound. You’re just over a few hundred metres away from the fire fight, you can easily get there in a quick minute.

You sprint through the small forest that sits at the bottom internet he hill, jumping over and dodging low hanging branches. You see that the guards are scrambling to get to Alejandro and Soap, you take advantage of the distracted guards. Sliding up behind them one by one, taking them down like it was nothing, slicing their necks, kicking their legs out from under them. A quick bullet to each of their heads before moving to the next part.

“They’re on the roof, Joker, get yer ass there now!” You hear Ghost growl in your ear, your heart skips a beat when you realise how high the roof is from your position in the ground. You shake off the icy feel of dread, quickly scaling the same trellis that Soap used. You know it will take too long to find stairs to the roof, the next best thing is using the window sills to grab the gutter of the lower roof.

You shimmy across the small outcrop of stone, grabbing the edge of the roof as soon as it came into reach. The tiles creak under your weight, threatening to slip out from under you as you push yourself up to stand. A bullet flies overhead as you peek out to see where your team is. “Fuckin hell” you curse, throwing yourself over the small wall and into the flat surface of the roof you find yourself pinned to your hiding spot.

You hear a yell from a woman, you realise it’s the woman from earlier. The one you need, the one you need to detain as quickly as possible. “Put your hands where I can see them!” You yell, your rifle aimed at the woman’s back, right where her heart would be. Both Soap and Alejandro come sprinting around the corner, coming to a screeching halt when they see you aiming at the woman. Your breathing is heavy as you keep your eyes on the target, not batting an eye when you realise Shadow Company have arrived and are just hovering off the roof in a chopper.

You’re not even registering that anyone is talking to you, or to anyone for that matter. You’re solely focused on not letting this woman who you don’t even know the name of, out of your sight before she’s cuffed and taken to the base. Moments pass before Alejandro is cuffing her and dragging her away, you lower your gun as you let out a S breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. “Lass?” You whip around to see Soap, a small smirk on his lips as he looks at you.

You probably look like shit, you haven’t slept in days, haven’t been able to actually make yourself look presentable. “Hey…” you state quietly, barely audible over the sounds of the chopper, Soap approaches you when you adjust the balaclava slightly. “Thanks… to be honest we thought she was gonna be gone” he states, his hand clasping your shoulder with affection and gratitude.

You nod as you place a hand over his, he sees that you were worried, his grip tightens. “C’mere” his voice soft as he pulls you into his side, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “Let’s go kick some cartel arse, aye?” You just nod with a small chuckle as you pull away from the side hug, your eyes crinkle under your mask as you look up at the Scotsman.

——— Time Skip ——-

You’re beyond exhausted, you successfully got the missiles disarmed from the oil rigs and the large container ship. You despised being on the ship, the slippery deck and rocking of the ship on the stormy sea wasn’t helping you. The motion made you feel sick. The rain pelting down didn't help with the thunderous sound of the waves and cracking of lighting overhead, especially when the smaller containers started sliding across the ship.

You were almost crushed by one before you were dragged out of the way by Soap. Now you're in the back of one of the vehicles of the convoy, Alejandro in the front passenger seat, one of his men driving. You’re crammed in the back with Soap and Ghost again, your head lulling back with your eyes locked on the ceiling, your wet clothes now damp still sticking to your skin. Soap is man spreading, Ghost doing the same as you're crammed between the two. The sound of the rain hitting the windows and roof almost sends you to sleep, but you sit up when you feel the vehicle slow to a stop outside of the compound. Alejandro’s compound.

You lean forward, intrigued by the sudden stop. Alejandro gets out and approaches Graves, they both seem tense. The rain continues to pound against the metal of the vehicles. You can barely hear Alejandro and Graves talking, Ghost and Soap step out of the vehicle now standing in the rain. You go to follow the Ghost but he stops you, his body in the way. “Hold your tongue okay?” You just nod as he moves away, you stand next to him, slightly behind and furthest away from the others.

You can barely make out the conversation, your heart starting to pound in your ears as the rain slides down the back of your shirt, you left your jacket in the back seat. Your mask is drenched and sticking to your face uncomfortably. “Are you threatening us?” Ghost growls out, stepping forward. You look over to Graves, your eyes narrowing. You scan from the American over to Alejandro then to Soap, you want to say something, but you follow Ghost’s order.

You can’t hear a word that is being said, you're too preoccupied with watching all the Shadows slowly moving into defensive positions around you. There’s one behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck are standing on end. Suddenly Alejandro lunges at Graves, chaos erupts. You snatch the knife from your thigh holster, taking a large step backwards and lunging low, whipping around and slicing through the heavy military issued pants, digging deep into the Shadows knee.

Slicing through the tendons causing him to stumble, missing his shot. His body slumps to the ground when you hear a sickening wet thunk, one of Ghost’s knives embedded deep in the shadow. You see Johnny on the other side of the car, the brake lights bright in your eyes as you go to help him.

A hand grabs the back of your vest, dragging you backwards. “Get out of here now!” Ghost yells over the rain, shoving you towards the dark forest. “But-!” “JUST GO! GET OUT OF HERE KID! BOTH OF YOU! GET OUT OF HERE JOHNNY!” Ghost growls, his eyes filled with a swirling storm of anger, concern and desperation.

You nod as you grab hold of Soap’s vest, dragging him towards the concrete barrier. He manages to get to his feet, sending himself over the low wall. Soap slides down the slope, firing back at whoever is shooting at him. You didn't quite make it over the barrier in the same spot as Soap, you had to dash a few metres away from him. You flung yourself over the low wall, sending you into a tumbling mess down the slope, narrowly missing the trees and rocks.

Coughing as you push yourself to your feet, your legs feeling like jelly as you stumble through the thick bushes.

“Fuckin’ hell” you curse, you look up to see the light pollution form the nearby town. Branches and twigs snap back in your face as you push your way through the bushes, eventually stumbling into someone's backyard. Your arms are scraped and sliced to shit by the trees, your leg feels like someone kicked you with steel caps. You limp your way to the back door of the house, no lights are on. “Please no one be home” you mumble as you try the door, no luck. You crouch down, hissing when your leg protests against the movement. Ripping a small blade from your ankle holster, you smirk, thankful you didn't lose it in the tumble down the hill.

The house was practically empty, very few helpful items were scattered around. You managed to find bandages, which came in handy to do a half ass job of wrapping your knee. “Joker… this is Ghost. How copy?” Your earpiece crackles to life, you tried your comms before, just after entering the house to no avail.

“Alive… surprisingly” you mumble. “Good to hear from ya lass” Soap’s voice comes through, you smile gently. Happy to know your team is alive and well… maybe the well bit can be disregarded for you. “Good. Are you hurt? Ain’t bleedin’ out like Johnny are ya?” Ghost asks, you shake your head as an answer, even though he can’t see you. “I wouldn’t say bleeding out… but I don’t have as much blood in me as I had at the start of this god forsaken mission.” You state, falling quiet when you make your way down a dark alleyway between two houses.

You hear a small chuckle from Soap and a quiet sigh from Ghost. “I ain’t gonna drop dead if that’s what yer worried about L.T” you quickly add. Pushing your way through a door into a small corner store. “Good, cause I don’t wanna come back and hunt for yer body” Soap jokes, his accent thick over the comms. “We aren’t gonna do any hunting for anyone’s bodies, so keep your eyes peeled and ears open.” “Yes sir” both you and Soap reply.

What feels like an hour is more like ten minutes, you drop down from a balcony, your leg giving way immediately when you land. On your hands and knees you suck in a sharp breath as you lean back onto your heels, you have all agreed to meet at the church in the middle of the town. You’ve made a lot of distance from the very outskirts of town to nearly the middle quickly, light footwork on the tin and tiled rooftops made it easy.

Yet when you decided you needed to go by ground, you had to drop from a significant height.

You whip your head to the side when you hear a low voice talking, shuffling backwards on your ass. Crawling down a few stairs and sticking close to the wall you end up half submerged in a flowing river, a river that’s going through a tunnel. You are pretty sure it used to be a walking tunnel or driving one by the sight of nearly submerged cars.

You can hear Soap talking through the comms, replying to one of Ghost’s shitty jokes. Yet it sounds like Soap’s voice is echoing, like you can hear him talking before it comes through the comms. The next thing you hear is boots hitting the ground and a quiet groan, you peek over the edge of the wall, your hand gripping a pistol you snatched from a Shadow you killed. The dead man's rifle strapped to your back.

You stand quickly with the pistol raised, your eyes locking onto sky blue ones. “Soap?!” You question, lowering the gun as you hobble up the few stairs, drenched from the waist down. “Lass?” The Scotsman asks, his eyes widen as he realises it's you. “I’m assuming you found each other?” Ghost asks through the comms. “Yeah, found her swimming with the fishes” Soap jokes, placing a hand on your shoulder and bringing you into a small side hug.

“What…?” Ghost questions.

“I was hiding in the water cause I didn’t know it was Soap… it was gross” you chuckle, stepping away from Soap with a limp. “What’s wrong with you?” You shrug to the man's question, looking down at your knee.

“I think It got dislocated… but somehow popped it back into place?” You cringe when you lean into it more. “All I know is that it hurts like hell, and I just want to get out of here…” you growl out, moving to walk back down the stairs. “I second that.” Soap states as he follows you.

You’re soaked through, you feel like you swallowed more water than humanly possible. You ended up underwater, sneakily taking out some shadows yet one was able to get the upper hand on you. You ended up back to the ground under the water, desperately holding onto what little air you had left in your lungs before Soap shot the man point blank in the head. Your throat hurts, lungs burning like someone lit a fire in them. The urge to rip the fabric off your head to be able to breathe is strong, yet you flex your fists when Soap looks over his shoulder at you, you’re both holed up in the back of a small store now, trying to figure out where all the Shadows are located.

Ghost is saying something over the comms, you’re honestly not listening to his growling tone. “Joker? You good Lass?” You look at Soap like he’s crazy, in this situation he might as well be. “I feel like I'm breathing through a wet sponge, so I’m just peachy” the sass in your voice causes the Scotsman to chuckle. Suddenly Ghost’s rushed voice breaks through the silence and multiple gun shots ring through the air and the comms. You don’t hear everything as it feels like there’s water lodge in your ears, next thing you know is your sprinting through the open, firing at anything that moves and screams out nonsense.

Ghost is quick to climb the gate, landing with a thump next to you. Soap and Ghost talk as you watch as multiple shadows flood into the area, you hear something about needing a getaway vehicle. “I saw a pickup just across the way when we were running, looked like it still had life” you comment, which sets the plan into stone. Get to the pick up, get the fuck outta here without being shot dead.

You duck and weave through vehicles and tables, shooting and throwing whatever projectiles you had at the Shadows who were not being as effective as General Shepherd expected them to be.

You reach the pick up first, ripping the door open and cramming yourself into the middle, Soap close behind and Ghost throwing himself into the driver’s seat. You can’t do much other than duck down, allowing Soap to shoot and Ghost to drive. You slam into the dash when Ghost slams on the gas in reverse and hits one of the Shadows “I HOPE YOU CAN DRIVE MANUAL!” You yell over the chaos. “FUCK OFF” Ghost sneers as he jams the stick shift into first.

You chuckle quietly as you stay low, preparing for a shitty ride to wherever you are heading.

[milkteamedley]

The Trouble With Corsets

Fandom: Genshin Impact Rating: R Pairing: Neuvillette x fem!reader Words: 732 Warnings: Oral sex (fem receiving), implication of more, slight breathing problems (from a corset tied too tight, no choking or other breath play during sex)

You go to a party with Neuvillette, but the 'after party' is what you'll remember.

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

Neuvillette had been around more than long enough to know how upperclass parties worked.  People gathered in a large room, champagne flowed, and things were discussed.  Things that went right over your head.

The looks you received all night, however, did not.  You had gone into this party feeling anxious, all dolled up in the flowing dress Neuvillette had gifted you when you said you didn’t own anything appropriate for the party.  You were just a member of the Adventurer’s Guild, one who’d testified in court one day and caught Neuvillette’s eye.

He was softer and kinder than you expected.  And the gazes he tossed your way all evening almost made up for the fact you’re pretty sure the woman who helped you dress tied your corset much, much too tightly.

The evening ended early when Neuvillette finally noticed your discomfort- despite looking your way, he’d been constantly distracted by this noble or that one.  You’d smiled and nodded, introduced yourself when asked, but mostly you’d stayed silent.

The party had been near the opera house, and on the aquabus ride back to the Court of Fontaine, Neuvillette turned to you and said, “You didn’t have to stay if you were uncomfortable.”

You assured him you weren’t, though at this point you were gasping.  Definitely too tight.  But how were you going to undress yourself when you got home?

It turned out you didn’t need to.  As soon as the door to your tiny apartment was open, Neuvillette had you in his arms, kissing you and gently running his fingers down your back.  You were already dizzy, and it wasn’t from the one glass of champagne you’d had at the party.

By the time you both reached your bed, he’d started undressing you.  And when he got to the lace on your corset and tugged, you found yourself gasping.

And for some reason, that made you both laugh.

The corset was tossed aside to the floor even before your dress was.  It was clear he understood the discomfort you had endured.

“Let me assure you,” he said as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss, “they are not meant to be that tight.”

You wanted to reply, but the kiss distracted you.  And then his gloved hand was exploring your body, over your curves, admiring you like you were a treasure.

That’s what you were to him, and he genuinely looked regretful he hadn’t noticed your condition earlier.  You try to assure him that it’s okay, you didn’t want to embarrass him, but that just seems to make him more regretful.

“You could never embarrass me.”

Your face is flush as he removes your dress as well- it gets thrown to the side, ending up over the chair at your desk.  An idle thought drifts through your mind that you don’t want to ruin that dress- you hadn’t seen the price, but it was probably more Mora than you made in half a year.  But that thought didn’t last long.

Not when he’d removed your panties and was pushing your legs apart.

Your moans were always his favorite, and the noises that tumbled from your lips as his tongue pressed against your folds only encouraged him.  He moved his attention to your clit and you were squirming.

But then he was removing a single glove, and the moment he pushed two fingers into you, you cried out his name.  He was gentle but firm with you in bed, always.  The thrust of his fingers in your wet cunt went deep every time.  Your legs were shaking.

“Are you going to cum?” he whispered against your folds.  All you could do was nod.  “Then do it.”

As if that command was all you needed, you hit your climax, stars bursting in your vision and your back arching to take his fingers back in.  They were still thrusting, milking every bit of pleasure he could from you.  You felt like if he kept going, you’d reach another climax.

And then he pulled his fingers out, and he gazed at you.  Your chest was heaving, your body covered in sweat already.  A whine left your lips as you pressed your legs together, just trying to get some stimulation.

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  “I’m far from done with you.”

It would be a long night.

[shiny-jr]

why are you in my apartment? (I)

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Albedo, Bennett, Diluc, Kaeya, Razor,

Summary: Everything was supposed to be better when you got your own apartment to call home. So when you got home one day, why was was there some weird guy in your home?

Note: The guys are separate, for obvious reasons. Too many characters is too much chaos, makes things harder to write. Anyways, this idea has been in my drafts for a while. Happy to finally get it out. And yeah, it’s basically the same as the other two I made but the other two were for Twisted Wonderland (TWST). People seemed to really enjoy those though, so here I am with this genshin version. I was gonna add Venti but I figured if I ever do a part for Zhongli, I can just do Venti at the same time as I write his. Double gods. 

You worked and saved to be able to live in a spacious apartment in the downtown area. The buildings had decent security, the apartment itself was in a low-crime area, and there were a bunch of stores nearby for the basic necessities, not to mention you worked from home half the time and the other time work was just a few blocks away. Everything was perfect...! Until it wasn’t. Your seemingly perfect life was thrown completely off balance when you returned home and found your door unlocked.

Like any reasonable person, you were worried. Were you just forgetful this morning or had someone broken in...? Not wanting to call authorities right away and make a fool of yourself if you had forgotten to lock your door today, you carefully proceeded inside, with your phone gripped in hand and your makeshift key weapon in the other hand. Steadily you crept inside, looking left and right, your heart rate accelerating as you noticed a few things out of place. A remote controller not on the coffee table, a blanket you forgot to fold now folded neatly-- Just then, you heard a voice and footsteps, and when the stranger entered your line of vision, you screamed as they jumped in surprise and exclaimed,

“W-Wait!” 

One game. You downloaded one game, Genshin Impact, on a whim, and now this strange man claimed to hail from the nation of Mondstadt from that very game. It was incredibly difficult to believe, almost impossible, if it weren’t for their striking resemblance to the character and their sparkling vision on their person. What was more of a shock? They claimed to know you as the player. Of course before they knew nothing of your looks or true personality, but now here you were in your divine grace, the real deal right before them! You can be sure that they will take advantage of your kindness as you allowed them to stay until they could find a way to return home. But really, why want to go back when you were here?

Oh, but you want to know how it’s like living with the guys from Mondstadt, hm?

ALBEDO 

Chemicals...? Why did your apartment very vaguely smell like a science laboratory? Wait a moment... The place seemed cleaner, but things were missing. Books from the shelves, the local flower you placed in a vase, even the second remote to the television were just some of the things not where you left them. It’s as if someone had taken them. Which may explain the rustling you heard from the kitchen. Cautiously you crept closer, keeping your phone in one hand and your keys to use as a makeshift weapon in the other. 

Upon stepping inside, you saw a blonde stranger rummaging through your kitchen drawers. His hair reached to his neck and was partially tied back, his teal eyes seemed to grow brighter with interest upon pulling out any kind of mechanical or electrical kitchen appliance. On the table in front of him, he left books and the remote controller that was taken apart to the smallest buttons. 

The jingle of the keys in your hands alerted him to your presence. His teal eyes went from the items, immediately to you. However, he seemed to brighten up even more when his gaze landed on you. Immediately he took notice of how the sharp ends of your keys stuck out between your fingers, paired with how wary you appeared and how tightly you gripped the strange device in your other hand. The intruder could instantly piece together what was happening. 

Resting his hands on the table where you could see them, he spoke in a quiet voice as if not to startle you, “Ah, I see... Wait. There’s no need for that. I mean no harm. Perhaps I should explain.” 

So this is your residence. Do people of your world normally live in these packed complexes? 

What’s he often doing in the apartment? Well, a mix of things. Albedo is greatly intrigued by this world. There’s much more to learn and discover here. He’ll get the hang of things pretty quickly, and it’s fairly common for him to share his discoveries with you. 

What does he enjoy the most? Possibly going out to explore with you, finding someplace new and making paintings or sketches of you living normally in the environment. These are such sweet serene moments he wishes to capture and frame on the wall to admire over and over again. 

In the mornings, he makes lunch for you since he is a decent cook. Albedo lets you go to work, he doesn’t interfere because he knows it’s what sustains your way of living. In the mean time to fill the void of loneliness, he busies himself through various manners. Continuing research, exploring, even painting commissions and babysitting the kid downstairs. The last two are how he earns an income to pay you back for allowing him to stay with you. But even as he does all this, he grows disinterested until you are somehow involved. 

He has the strangest habit of just... staring. Watching your every move, exactly how he studies his subjects. Taking mental note of your choices, your words, your expressions, your habits, everything. Sometimes even creating certain scenarios or situations just to see how you’d react, just to pick apart your every move. Will you go forward with determination, or will you hesitate and squirm with discomfort under his intense gaze? 

If you ask if he missed you, he’ll answer honestly, yes. He’s polite but blunt at times, so of course he’ll be honest with you. It’s strange, he doesn’t quite miss anyone like this. Is that so embarrassing for you to hear? Hm, how interesting. You were the one that asked. 

Of course Albedo knows you. Previously, he only knew you as the player that controlled selected vision-wielders. The mystery intrigued him. 

How did this player control them? Were they a higher being invisible to the eye? Did they wield some magic that allowed them control? These were the first questions among the endless that followed, when you first captured his attention. And he wasn’t getting tired of you, for better or for worse. 

When he appeared in your apartment and eventually realized who’s house he was in, he immediately felt overwhelmed by everything around. In this small space that was yours, there were so many items, tools, and devices he had never seen in his entire life! There were so many new things that captured his interest, so many of your things–– he was so busy examining objects that he very nearly missed your presence at the door to the kitchen. When he looked up, there you were. The player, the very subject that puzzled him and kept him intrigued, who’s existence and control linked to his world seemed impossible. But it wasn’t impossible, because he’s felt your graceful presence in Tevyat, and how he feels it here as he stands feet in front of you. 

“Hm? You got an apology from that noisy neighbor? I see. You must be happy then... Did I say anything to them? Goodness, no. Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t say a word to them. Their conversations bore me. I wouldn’t want to speak to them anyways. But if you’d like, I suppose I could have a word with them to silence them for good.” 

BENNETT 

Smoke...? The smell of smoke permeated throughout the apartment. Oh no–– did you accidentally leave the stove on? What something burning? In your rush to get to the kitchen, you completely missed the little details around your abode. One of the framed pictures with broken glass but placed exactly back where it used to be, some goggles forgotten on the coffee table, and one of the clay pots was cracked. However, all those details escaped you as you ran into the kitchen, dearly hoping that the kitchen wasn’t burnt down. 

When you stumbled in, you came to a screeching halt upon seeing a stranger with pale hair attempting to put out a fire in the microwave. His green eyes were wide with panic, which only seemed to worsen when his eyes landed on you. Torn between wanting to question why a stranger was in your home and stopping the fire, you ultimately chose to put out the fire.

As you were doing so, somehow keeping calm yourself, you heard a young man beside you speak in rapid sentences, so fast you struggled to comprehend. But by both the fear and guilt etched on his freckled face, you were able to deduce that he was apologizing. As the fire was dying out, you were able to make out the occasional word. Something about being lost and exploring when he accidentally started this fire and he’s so so sorry, player. Whatever that meant.

When the fire was finally out, he heaved a huge breath of relief. This time he spoke softer, “Wait, I-I’m so sorry, player...! Ah, what have I done...? I really didn’t mean to do this! This is all going so wrong...” 

Woah, you live here? This is so cool! He can’t believe he’s here, in the player’s home! Don’t worry, he’ll try his very hardest not to cause any more trouble!

What’s he up to? Lots of things actually. Although he tends to stay out of the apartment and work outside. Besides, working outside is what he’s best at! He has a lot to do in order to pay your back for your incredible kindness! That, and he doesn’t want damage your home somehow. 

What does he enjoy the most? Well, he never asks, but he feels so blessed whenever you willingly spend time with him outside the apartment. If you’re on a lunch break, he’ll want to explore parts of the city with you! Traveling is a must. If you take him for a small trip on the weekend, he’s over the moon. 

After Bennett failed tried to make amends by cooking for you on the first day, he’s been prohibited from even entering the kitchen unless you’re present. It’s a shame because he really want to make breakfast for you... But! He won’t be useless! He picks up odd jobs like pet-sitting, making deliveries, etc. There’s always an accident, whether he drop the food or the pet escapes the apartment, but he always powers through it when he remembers that all of his efforts are for you! He refuses to keep a cent of his earnings, and insists that you take every dollar. Please, he’s just trying to be useful to you. Is it not enough...? 

Bennett has this horrible habit of letting his insecurities take root as soon as one thing goes wrong, and you can imagine how many times that happens. He feels like he’s going to break down, even if it’s something like accidentally breaking a plate. He just has this huge fear that one day your patience will reach it’s limit and you’ll no longer want anything to do with him, you’ll realize that he really is the most unlucky boy in the world. It’s why he depends so much on your praise, even if it’s something kind you said offhandedly, he’ll treasure your words. 

Oh, he misses you so much! He wishes he could just go to work with you. He’d even be happy being the janitor at your workplace! But he doesn’t want you to think he’s being too clingy... And if he were there and you were to accidentally spill hot coffee on yourself, he wouldn’t stop believing it was his fault. 

To be honest, Bennett didn’t recognize you at first. But he felt... safe. Like nothing bad was gonna happen in this strange place. That’s when he picked up your photo in the frame, and he accidentally dropped it out of shock. Just seeing your face gave him a warm feeling, the same feeling he got whenever the player was controlling him. 

Being in your presence, gave him a particular comforting feeling. He could only describe it as the kind of feeling you get when everything seems like it’s gonna be alright! It’s what the poor pale haired guy desperately needs, a sense of peace where he isn’t constantly wondering what horrible unfortunate accident is coming next.

The adventurer was so confused when he appeared in your apartment. For a moment he thought he fell into a hole in the ground and ended up someplace completely different. But upon closer inspection, he could only piece together that he was in a place that belonged to you. Hurriedly he tried to clean up the glass from the frame he broke, accidentally cutting his finger in the process. He tentatively made his way around, reminding himself to be more careful. These were your things after all! That’s how he eventually ended up in the kitchen. Curiosity getting the better of him as he tapped a button on the microwave, and it began to spark and sputter. That’s when you came in, and boy was he surprised. He couldn’t stop stammering apologies, pleading for forgiveness. He’s so sorry, please believe him, he didn’t mean to cause this! He just wants to be of use to you...!

“Here! This is enough to cover groceries, right? Ah, this...? Don’t worry, I just fell while I was walking the neighbor’s dogs, that’s all! It’s not that bad! But I really appreciate you worrying about me, heh, I’ll be fine though, really! Umm, wait, you don’t have to bandage me up. You do so much for me already...! T-Thank you... You’re so nice to me. I’ll do better, so just don’t get sick of me, okay...?” 

DILUC

Roses...? Why did it smell like roses and the slightest hint of ash? Wait a moment... The stray books you left on the side had been neatly placed on the bookshelf, the paperwork you left on the coffee table has been organized, and there were fresh roses in the usually empty vase. These were some things you noticed that were off, but it was overall... cleaner. Someone had obviously entered your apartment. Before you could decide whether to proceed or not, an unfamiliar figure entered your field of vision from the hallway. 

A tall intimidating man with crimson red hair paused, both of you freezing in place as your eyes met his surprised red ones. Slowly he lifted his hand, possibly as if to show he meant no harm, but in response you only gripped your keys and phone tighter. Judging by the guy’s build, he could probably take you down instantly, but damn it you would go down fighting. 

You’d make sure the whole apartment complex heard the commotion and someone would surely come to your rescue. The redhaired man kept calm, but it was clear he was taken aback. When he finally made the move to take one step forward like he was approaching a cornered animal, you screamed and made a dash back for the door. Almost instantly a gloved hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries for help. He expertly maneuvered with one hand to separate your items from you and hold your wrists behind your back. 

You could feel the unnatural amount of warmth his body emitted as you struggled but could not escape his firm hold. Beside your ear, you heard his steady voice, “Wait. Hold still, and be quiet. I won’t hurt you, you have my word. I’m going to let go of you and we are going to have a little chat. Do you understand?” 

This is your home? He sees... It truly is best that he came along. There’s much to be done now. 

What could he possibly be doing? During the day, he remains at home, taking care of matters there. If you do spare time for him, he enjoys going to cozy cafes with you and taking simple walks. Even reading at home together, sounds like a wonderful evening. 

Diluc enjoys hearing about you. How your day went, what you want to do later, stories from your past, hopes for the future, really anything. Wait... where’d he get those credit cards from? NO! Don’t use them on the items you offhandedly mentioned wanting! 

Somehow, he got credit cards, and there is seemingly no limit on them. When you go on evening walks with him, it takes everything not to look at the shop windows. God forbid you do, because Diluc is watching. If you so much as look at an item for more than a milisecond, he’s buying it. He loves to spoil you with luxury items. And you’re just flabbergasted. Like the time he went to buy toilet paper and came back with Chanel and Gucci. How does he pay it all off? How is he not in debt? It’s a mystery. 

During the day he’ll go through your bills, help with paperwork, and he’s taken up the task of cooking. But at night is when he’s most active. He’s tried to keep it a secret, but you figured it out when you saw he wasn’t sleeping on the couch at midnight (he refuses to sleep near you, probably because even the sight of your bare ankle is scandalous to him. What is he, a Victorian maiden?) You like to refer to him as batman. Seriously? A filthy rich man fighting crime at night like some vigilante? Sounds like batman. What you don’t know is that he rids the street of scum for you. 

Diluc is extremely protective. Everyday he insists on walking you to and from work. He’s pretty weird(?) definitely stoic, possibly paranoid? Once he sat on the couch, watching the rain hit the windows as he murmured something about if only rain can wash away sins of the criminals lurking in the back alleyways of the city. Dude... you only asked if he wanted to join you on the balcony over coffee to watch the storm. 

Of course Diluc knew you. He worshipped you back in Tevyat. In his mind, you, the player, who controlled vision-wielders to fight off evil, was truly just and admirable. 

Now that he knows you as just... you, he still holds you in high regard but he’s come to view you a bit differently. Here, in your world, you are not a higher being like in Tevyat. Here, you cannot even defend yourself. You are truly so fragile and oblivious to all the dangers in the world. So, he swears to protect you, whether you want it or not. 

At first, he was extremely apprehensive when he appeared in the apartment. He had been fighting an abyss mage and now it was... quiet, with only the noise of a city, in this strange and unfamiliar place. Immediately he began to investigate his surroundings, looking out the window, examining items, and observing pictures. It wasn’t until he took a proper look at the photos, and stared at your face in the image, was he able to piece together where he was. Your face instantly made him feel at peace, much to his initial confusion. It was the same sense of peace he felt whenever you controlled his movements to walk along on the roads of Mondstadt. How was he here...? How was this possible? He certainly wasn’t angry but–– he never expected to meet you like this!

“Where are you going? Out...? I see. Wait, it will only take me a moment to get my coat. Hm...? It’s only a short walk? You know how dangerous it is, and the sun is setting. I will not take any risks. If it’s a private matter you’re tending to, I’ll wait outside if I have to. But for your own good, I will be accompanying you.

KAEYA 

Cologne...? Why did your apartment smell like cologne with traces of alcohol? Did a drunk from the club across the street somehow get into your home? You were beginning to doubt the idea with the lack of a mess. In fact, the place looked slightly better. There were blue flowers in the usually empty vase, sweet smelling candles had been lit, and the curtains on your balcony were open. At this rate, you were expecting some eligible bachelor to pop out of nowhere. Like on those stupid romantic TV shows where you marry someone you just met. Wait a damn minute... was that someone on your balcony? 

Whoever was on the balcony must’ve heard your arrival, because they turned around and reentered the living room space. It was a tall slim man with long thin dark blue hair tied in a small ponytail and one visible light purple eye with the other concealed by an eyepatch. He offered such a welcoming and charming smile, it almost made you feel out of place, like you had walked into his home.

Maybe you should’ve been comforted by the fact that the intruder was a seemingly suave man, but you were only unnerved as so many questions went through your head. It was clear to him that you were not letting your guard down, judging by your stance and how you warily eyed the front door as if considering the option of fleeing. That certainly wouldn’t be good. He didn’t want you to go running down the hall screaming bloody murder. 

So he lifted both his hands, a sign he meant no harm. And he spoke gently, “Woah there, there’s no need to be so nervous now. Wait, before you go and do anything rash, let me have a word with you. Won’t you?” 

This is yours? How quaint. Well, he’ll be a fine addition to the place, and make your residence a little more homey. 

What could he be doing in the apartment? Honestly, you really have no idea what he gets up to. He’s a bit of a mystery, and he seems to prefer keeping that air of enigma. Must be some kind of defense mechanism or something. But he goes out all the time. 

When you do spend time with him, most of the time he often coincidentally bumps into you on the street. From there, he invites you to outings. Teasing must be his hobby, because boy does he enjoy seeing you flustered or slowly getting on your nerves. Inviting you to a drink over a nice chat as he tells stories seems to be his favorite. 

But maybe his fun tormenting you is worth it... maybe. He wakes up early to cook you breakfast and lunch, as he mentally plans what restaurant he’ll take you to for dinner when you coincidentally bump into him in the evening. He pays off part of the rent, and obviously has money to spare. You just don’t know how he does it, and he won’t reveal his secrets no matter how many times you ask him. He’ll only smile knowingly, amused by your curiosity that he refuses to satisfy. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he knows a lot of people. Somehow he knows all the tenets and others around the block, more than you ever knew in your years living here. 

Kaeya got wasted once. Perhaps he got too carried away with trying the wine of this world, or he simply underestimated whatever he drank. The point is, you had to pick him up from the bar across the street and help him home, as he had to practically lean on you for support while he murmured something incomprehensible about you the entire time. This was when you saw a sliver of his true colors. He got so dramatic just because you were watching TV and not him. Yeah, he touched you often, usually just to embarrass you, but he’s never been this... clingy, it almost felt concerning with how bad it was. When he had his eyes closed and you got up for a drink, you swore you never saw him get up so fast. Nor had you ever seen such a look of fear in his eyes, which disappeared once he saw you. That’s probably one of the last times you’ll see him so obvious with his feelings for a long time. 

Don’t ask him if he missed you. Just don’t. He’ll take the question and turn it right back around, making you the flustered one. It completely backfires on you, and now you’ve got a smug calvary captain as he relishes in your precious reaction. What’s wrong? Did you really miss him that much~? 

Who’s he if he doesn’t at least know about you? As the player, a mysterious being, you fascinated him so. And now, the more he learns about you, the less he’s satisfied. 

There’s so much more he wishes to know, but he’s already learned everything possible about you. He’s learned your preferences, your dislikes, your habits, hobbies, and has even managed to know so much about you that at times he can accurately predict your decisions before you make them. And well, he doesn’t want to leave yet. Perhaps staying may be for the better...

When he appeared in your apartment, for a moment he believed he was in some strange dream. What an unusual place, it was unfamiliar but it felt so... comforting in an odd way. But, this was far too real just to be a dream, is what he quickly realized. This serenity he felt... it didn’t take him long at all to recognize it and make the connection. That’s when he began poking around, taking mental note of everything to paint a picture of what kind of person you truly were as he mentally prepared himself for your arrival. But despite all his efforts, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him. On the outside he was cool and relaxed, but on the inside he felt his heart palpitating. He could only hope that your godly powers didn’t extend to your home realm, and you didn’t hear his frantic heartbeat masked by his smooth voice. 

“I plan our evening ventures? Of course not! How can I foresee where you will be?... You believe I’m stalking you? Why I would never! Why would I go through such lengths just to see my roommate whom I already share a home with? You wound me so! Do you truly think so little of me? Is it so bad to want to share a meal with you?” 

RAZOR

Dirt...? Your apartment smelt of nature with its pine and grass scent. It almost smelled... funky. Like someone needed a deep soak in some sweet smelling herbal soaps. On the floor there were the slightest traces of dirt as if someone didn’t wipe their shoes at the front mat, and there were nearly-crushed daises in the vase on the table. Someone had obviously been here. Just then, your eyes noticed the moving figure over the balcony. It appeared as if they had been interested by the potted plants you grew, at least until they saw you.

You locked eyes with the stranger, freezing like a deer in the headlights. As he slowly stood up from his crouched position beside the flowers, you were able to notice his features. Watchful red eyes, long messy gray hair, a few scars with the most prominent being on his left cheek. The strange young man remained unsmiling and silent, only placing you further on edge. 

When he took one single step forward, you shifted the keys in your hands so the sharp ends pointed out between your fingers like brass knuckles. The unwelcome guest immediately took notice of this and took a step back to where he stood originally. That serious look on his face softened very slightly, now displaying hesitance. It seemed that he sensed your growing fear, and he was trying to ease it away. 

Slowly he held up his palms to show he had nothing. When he saw your shoulders lower as the thick tension vanished, he finally spoke. “It––It’s okay...! I’m good. Wait, uh... you player? I’m very happy to see!” 

Your home is... cozy. He likes it. But strange, filled with lots of new things. Also, he smells. He’s getting a bath immediately. 

What’s he up to at the apartment? Actually, he’s usually not even at home unless you’re there. There aren’t any forests for miles, but there is a humongous park a couple of blocks away with lots of wilderness. That seems to be his preferred place to spend time when you’re at work. 

What does he enjoy? Picnics at the park, showing you all the best spots he’s found to nap in the sun, even locations where he can forage fresh ingredients. Razor always looks so proud when he can show you what he loves, that you don’t have to heart to say no when he asks to stay a bit longer here. 

Razor always makes sure to wake you up early, he’s like your personal alarm clock as he pokes your cheek to wake you up. He cooks your lunch and breakfast too. He’s decent at it but when he tries to make it cute like in those videos he saw on your phone, it looks really messy in the end. Once you’re away though, Razor has to go out. If he stays cooped up in your apartment for too long, he starts feeling lonely, abandoned even. Your home is filled with your scent, he just can’t help but think about you. It’s why he always goes out, to distract himself or else his patience may snap and he may seek you out at your workplace for himself. 

The concept of paying to live in this space, paying for food, paying for water, paying for something called AC, and all these other things he didn’t initially know about, confuse him. It sounds overwhelming, and like it costs a lot. So he tries to help. He’s very good at pet-sitting, specifically for dogs. Other times he’ll forage as much as he can from the park and gardens, so you won’t have to spend on groceries. He makes a good amount of cash on selling rare mushrooms and other finds to collectors. Razor can’t help but be proud when he presents you with his earnings and finds. 

You don’t even need to ask Razor if he missed you. You know he does, and he makes it very clear that he did. It’s as if he senses your arrival when you’re down the hallway. He rushes to the door, ready to throw it open and greet you. He’s immediately clinging to you, the feeling of abandonment no longer there... for now. 

Razor is very in tune with his surroundings, it’s why he felt very close to you when you were simply the player to him. When you were an entity, some mystic being in Tevyat, without your own permeant vessel. 

At first it frightened him, being controlled and all. But after, he realized maybe it wasn’t so bad... You guide him in foraging good and exploring land, it’s actually peaceful at times when there’s no battling involved. And even when he must battle, he’s not afraid. He feels you guiding his movements, helping him emerge victorious and survive another day. 

When he appears in your apartment for the first time, it’s a lot like when you first controlled him. He was afraid, scared of the unknown. But after a few moments... he settled down. He felt at peace, he couldn’t explain why. He was still confused. Where was he? What was going on? Why was this happening? This scent in the air somehow felt... familiar. It instilled him with a sense of calm that he felt before. It took some time, and he made a bit of a mess around the apartment, but he figured it out. Razor was shocked, still in disbelief that he was standing in the player’s home! Yes, he was still confused, but he decided not the question it. He would continue to be good, he’ll try his very best! Because the last thing he wants is it to be abandoned by you.

“See! See? Found this all on my own. This, all yours. Money, food, all yours, even me! And these flowers I found, are pretty like you...! And this shiny necklace! Hm...? Where did I get necklace? Uh, found it! Yes. These are yours. A gift. Do you need more...? No...? This is okay? This means I did good, right...?”

As a whole…

So, you’ve gotten used to life with your new roommate. Still, you can’t help but wonder how much process they’ve made to find a way home. But there’s no real need to worry about that. They’ve discovered you, the player. They’ve settled in nicely, and become an essential part of your life. Surely they can stay, can they not? Perhaps the universe brought them here for a reason, it was fate that led this happy accident to occur. You aren’t really considering turning them away, are you? 

[h-c-u]

Showing the ropes.

Summary: You're away at a conference at a different timezone, and Maverick is a bit tied up at work.

Pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

W/C: 2.2k

Rating: +18, phone sex, bondage, butt plugs, dom/sub, 

TWs: Bodily Fluids

A/N: No plot. Not even if you squint your eyes and turn your head to the left. And yeah, I'm on the sub!Maverick train again xD Also, I'm definitely not admitting to what I was listening to while I was writing it, but let's just say, I discovered a whole new side of Spotify.

Masterlist | List of tags

You couldn't help but smile when you saw a familiar name and a picture showing up on your phone. You were already done with today's courses and planning to take a nice, relaxing bath after being on your feet for almost 10 hours, so you definitely didn't mind talking to your husband for a minute or two. Especially when you realized that he was calling from work because it would have been too early for him to be off duty. And that only meant one thing... 

- Please... - his pleading whisper was the first thing you've heard. 

- No hello, no "how was your day?"...? - you didn't try to hide the disappointment in your voice, and he groaned on the other side of the line. - Such a desperate slut... Putting his own needs above basic social etiquette... - you sighed loudly. 

- I need to take everything off and out... I have to fly with the class... - well, at least he wasn't stupid enough to ask you to cum, because you were very clear about him not being allowed to do that on his own while you were away. And yet he called you... 

- Hmmm... You know that in situations of life and death, you can do what's best, but you called me... I advise you to think about your next words carefully. Does the harness impact your moves in any way, putting you or anyone else in any danger? Be honest, I won't be mad, I just want the truth, because I don't want anything to happen to my sweet boy... - he was silent for almost half a minute. 

- No... - he whispered finally. 

- Does it distract you so much that you wouldn't be able to focus on what you're doing and by so, putting yourself or others in danger? - you continued the interrogation. 

- No, ma'am... - he replied and you could almost taste the shame coming from the other end of the call. 

- How about the plug, does it make it uncomfortable to sit in the jet...? - you suspected that it was it because you instructed him to choose one of the biggest ones you had. 

- No, ma'am... - he repeated, but you still were able to tell that something was off. 

- Does it distract you so much that you're having trouble focusing...? 

- Yes, ma'am... - his voice barely a whisper, yet it rang pleasurably inside your head. 

- Tell me exactly how it distracts you... - oh, it was going to be so much fun... You leaned back in your chair and put your leg on the edge of the desk. 

- It puts constant pressure on my g-spot... And I can't sit or suddenly move without leaking... I had to put on a cage as well, ma'am... - you couldn't help but hum, but you haven't decided yet if it was something you approved of. 

- I didn't tell you to do that. - your tone was as neutral as possible because you were planning to react to his reaction. 

- I'm sorry, ma'am, but I was so hard it was too visible through my pants. And I changed them to darker ones, so the leaking wouldn't be as visible... - even after all those years, he could still surprise you. He was willingly putting himself in more pain, just so he could follow the instructions you left him to the best of his ability. 

- I'll let it slide this time... But let's come back to that plug - where are you? - you asked, and slowly slipped one of your fingers in between your folds, gently teasing your clit in anticipation of the obscene sounds you were about to hear.

- In my office. - he replied even before you finished asking the question. 

- Doors? - after all, he was still a high-ranking member of the military. Who was occasionally your perfect little whore. 

- Closed. - he was indeed prepared. 

- Hmmm... How long do you have? - his response would determine your next course of action. 

- About 15-20 minutes, ma'am. - that last word put a smile on your face. You never liked the word 'mistress', it was too dirty for your liking, but a well-placed ma'am from his mouth... You could get drunk on it. 

- Harness stays, but we're going to do something about that plug, love... So you will still be able to think in the air... How does that sound? 

- Thank you, ma'am. - you could feel the obvious relief in his voice. You knew that he knew that if he truly had to take everything off and out, you wouldn't even mention it.

But he called. 

He wanted you to listen to his whining while he was putting on a show, like a stripper begging for attention...

- Don't take it out entirely just yet... I want you to fuck yourself on it and make all those beautiful little noises so that everyone can hear what a slut you are. And if you help me cum before you'll have to go, I might even let you finish too... - you didn't have to be there to know exactly what his face looked like. - Chop, chop, we don't have all day... - you smiled and patiently waited as he put the phone on his desk. You could hear the zipper of his pants opening and you knew exactly when he took off his underwear because you could hear a light jingle of the small paddle lock that was keeping the chastity cage locked. - Slowly... - you didn't have to say it, because he knew what was expected of him. 

At first, there was a slight groan, that told you he started to pull out the plug and got to the widest part. After all those hours without moving it, you knew that his muscles weren't as stretched as in the morning and that it would be more painful for him. You also knew from the experience, that there was still lube inside him, so as soon as he'd start moving it a bit more, everything will become more pleasurable. 

He moaned loudly and you could just say that the plug went back in and rubbed this sweet bundle of nerves inside him, that made him sing so beautifully. He slowly picked up the pace, and so did you. His moans became more needy and desperate with every second and you just loved to hear them... And the soft cries in between them when he was actively stopping himself from cumming. You could almost see the long line of precum slowly heading towards the carpeted floors from his swollen and locked in a metal cage penis, and if you were there you would have definitely licked it, just to hear him get even more desperate. 

- Faster... - you didn't have to say anything more... You were leaning back in your chair, two fingers inside you, while your thumb intensely massaged your clit. His moans became louder and started fogging up your brain with an obscene image... It wasn't hard to see how plump and red his lips were, because he had a habit of biting them when he was getting close, and he was close for quite some time now if you were to believe his words earlier. Poor thing must have been on edge since he left the house. His cheeks were definitely flushed and red, and his eyes looked as if they were made of glass, because of the tears that appeared in them out of frustration. One of his hands closed tightly around the edge of his desk so hard, that his knuckles would get white, and the other behind him, holding a flared base of a plug he was using to fuck himself... He would definitely be leaning forwards, his caged cock maybe even bumping the desk from time to time, if he bucked his hips too harshly... Or maybe he was even completely bent over the desk, wishing that it was you who was fucking him... Hmmm... That was a nice image... But since you couldn't lay your hands on him now, a harsh, thin jute harness that hugged his upper torso under his shirt had to be enough for him to feel your presence for now. And you could almost see the light red marks it left on his skin, rubbing against it for a whole day... Not tight enough to actually impact his movements, but enough for him to feel you with him through the whole day. 

You could hear his desperate, soft cries and longing moans, mixed with your name and empty promises of what he'd do if you just let him cum, telling you how sensitive he is just for you... He knew exactly what to say, what notes to play to help you get off. After a particularly sharp inhale and a whimper in a much higher tone than usual, you bit your lower lip harshly, because the image of his desperation in your head was enough to push you over the edge. It wasn't the strongest orgasm ever, but it definitely relaxed your muscles. Plus you didn't exactly plan on cumming today... 

You looked at the timer on your call; there was still a couple of minutes left until he'd have to hang up, and since he was such a good boy today...

- Pete... - your tone of voice was surprisingly neutral and devoided of emotions, even though your cheeks were flushed. - Cum for me, honey... Let me hear it... - and he did, almost instantly. Oh, how you wish you were there to see it, to lick his cock over the metal cage and taste him on your tongue. And the sounds he made... Beautiful, delicious, if only you could drink them straight from his lips... After a moment you could hear his breath calming down, and after even a longer moment of silence, you could hear his last loud moan and a quiet thump of something falling to the ground

- Thank you... - he mumbled, still out of breath, and you smiled. 

- You know what to do, I'm waiting... - there was just one more thing and you didn't have to wait long for your phone to vibrate, indicating that you received a new message, which you opened almost immediately. - Good boy... - and you could see exactly how fucked out he looked, and it was beautiful. He was practically laying on his desk, cheeks red, eyes full of tears that were dripping on some papers... he didn't take his shirt off, but it rode up, so you could see just a little bit of a thin brown rope peeking from under it on his back, and when you zoomed in, you could see how the area around it got all red and irritated. And then another picture came, from a different angle... you could see his gaping hole, stretched around nothing, and a thick line of cum dripping on his underwear on the floor, while his dick was straining painfully against steel restraints.

- Just for you, only for you... - he whispered in a breathy, still trying to collect his thoughts. 

- Hmmm... Are you good? - and you didn't mean that in a sexual way. You truly wish you could be there with him, and fortunately, your job didn't require longer trips often. 

- I will be in a minute... - he replied and you could hear a huge smile on his face. 

- Good. You can leave the plug out, but you're not allowed to clean yourself. I want you to remember what a needy whore you are through the whole day, and sit in the mess you've made. - since he had chosen the dark pants today, you knew that it wouldn't be visible, and besides - he was about to be alone in his jet for a few hours, so there was a very low chance of him actually being caught. 

- Yes, ma'am. - he didn't even care, still lost in his relief. 

- You have to get going, baby, they will be waiting for you... - you knew that he knew that, and yet he still allowed himself to enjoy that relaxed state. You also knew that if he needed, he'd come up with a perfect excuse, but you didn't want him to have to do that. 

- I don't want to hang up yet... I want to listen to your voice for a bit longer... - you couldn't help but laugh. 

- Awww... Such a needy baby... - you finally put your phone down after you finished studying every detail of the photos he sent you. - You look so good splayed out on the desk like that, not even caring that someone might knock on your doors any second, or just barge in and see what a slut you are, fucking yourself and cumming on a plug just because your wife told you so... And they wouldn't be able to think about anything else when they see you... Would you be wearing one during class...? Or at the navy balls...? That might actually be an idea. For you to have a nice, pink, vibrating egg inside while you're in this white uniform of yours. And you wouldn't even be able to control it... - he groaned, and you knew what that meant. - Go get ready, honey... And send me some nice pictures after you'll get home... I want to see that harness and the marks it left when I wake up.

- Yes, ma'am. - he replied almost on instinct. You didn't always have this dynamic, but it was something that was extremely easy to slip into, for both of you.

- I love you, Pete... - you said just before you hung up. 

- I love you more... - he replied and the call ended. 

[aaron-hotch]

NIGHTMARE OR REALITY ? | A.H

CHARACTERS : Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi.

RATING : ANGST. TW : blood, hallucinations, graphic description of wounds, vomiting.

A/N : English isn't my first language, so it is possible that there is some grammatical errors along the way. divider is from @enchanthings, icon by @ssahotchnerxx . Post-Mr Scratch/Peter Lewis. (10x21). No use of Y/N.

summary : Aaron told himself it wasn't that bad, he would forget about it. After all, Peter Lewis couldn't haunt him forever, could he?

The blood on his hands didn't seem to go away, yet he continued to scrub until he noticed pieces of skin, his own skin falling into the sink of his bathroom. Aaron dropped the bloody soap and almost ripped off his tie, opening his bloodstained shirt. He had let the doctors look at the wounds, wounds that healed but he knew that the physical injuries were only part of the damage inflicted by Peter Lewis -Mr. Scratch-, he saw Reid collapse again, he saw Morgan's face, he closed his eyes trying to push the images back. Bile rose in his throat and he rushed to the bathroom to vomit, Aaron coughed violently and let go of the toilet bowl, his head hit the wall and he groaned closing his eyes. Like a child, Aaron folded his legs against his chest, he slid his arms around his knees trying to hold back the tears that burned his eyes.

He had told Dave that everything was fine, he had offered a weak smile to the team, hoping that they could just forget. That wouldn't be the case, he knew that very well but hope had never killed anyone, right? Aaron looked at the bathroom wall but he was lost in his thoughts, in his memories. Nasty whiny brat, his father's voice burst into his mind, he slid his hands over his ears, praying that his father's voice would be silent. He didn't want to relive the traumatic moments of his childhood, he didn't want to be here, he just wanted to disappear.

Aaron!

He jumped, by reflex, and hit the mirror which cracked under the impact. It took him several seconds to notice the wounds on his hand, new wounds, fresher, just as painful. Aaron staggered back and barely caught himself on the wall, he could feel his breathing becoming short, he let out a groan as his legs turned to cotton. He collapsed to the floor, he felt the cold and unpleasant tiles of the motel bathroom, he felt the blood flowing from the wounds on his hand. He was unable to move at that moment, unable to make a sound, he couldn't call for help and he was too proud for that anyway. Aaron just blinked, he had no strength left, maybe he was just too tired and needed to sleep. He would wake up with a clear head, right?

"Aaron, are you okay?" Dave's voice called behind the room's door.

He swallowed, his mouth was dry and he could only produce a high-pitched moan. He heard voices behind his bedroom door, he closed his eyes and remained still, he had no strength left, not even to try to get up. The bedroom door opened, he blinked trying to make the tears disappear, he didn't want Dave to see him like this, weak, so weak. Dave leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder before helping him up, Aaron staggered with difficulty to his bed, he managed to sit up but his body continued to shake. Weak, his father's voice repeated, so weak. He slid his hands over his ears in an almost childish gesture, he noticed that Dave was frowning, he put a reassuring hand on Aaron's shoulder.

"Aaron." Dave said in a calm and gentle voice, "the worst thing to do is to withdraw into yourself, you need to talk to someone. Please."

"I'm fine" Aaron replied in a hoarse voice, "you can go."

He stood up with difficulty avoiding Dave's gaze who shook his head, Aaron simply ignored him by sitting on a chair, he ran his hand through his hair, he could feel Dave's gaze on him, but he didn't have to worry, right? After all, Aaron Hotchner was always fine.

It was a lie, of course but after all, no one would see the slightest difference.

[peachy-princess777]

Hi!! Could you do some angst that ends in fluff with Bill Skarsgård, please?🫣👉🏻👈🏻 And thank you💖

I hope this is good enough, darling,I truly don't believe I'm good at writing angst but believe me,I tried 😭

You stood in the kitchen, your eyes glazed over as you stared at the clock. Its hands ticked away the seconds with a mechanical indifference that matched your mood. The walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in on you, the air thick with the scent of leftover dinner and unspoken accusations. You had noticed Bill's peculiar behavior for weeks now, his late nights at work and his sudden need for "space." Your stomach churned as you replayed your last conversation in your head, his evasive answers and the way he avoided your gaze. You knew something was wrong, but you didn't know what, perhaps he was actually working later and not just making an excuse to go see another-.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Bill's footsteps echoed down the hallway, and you could feel his presence before you saw him. He looked tired, his eyes weary, but when he caught sight of you, a forced smile spread across his face. "Hey, babe," he said, trying to sound cheerful. You didn't return the smile. Instead, you folded your arms across your chest, a silent challenge. "We need to talk," you said, your voice firm and unwavering.

Bill sighed heavily, dropping his keys on the counter. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "Okay," he agreed, following you into the living room. He sat down on the couch, his posture tense, as if bracing for impact. You took a seat opposite him, the coffee table acting as a barricade between you both. "What's been going on with you?" you asked, trying to keep the accusation out of your voice. "You've been so distant lately, and I can't help but think that there's something you're not telling me."

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Look, I'm sorry," he began, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I've just had a lot on my plate with work, and I didn't want to burden you with it." The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, your fears were unfounded. But the way he avoided your gaze made your heart sink. "What kind of work?" you pressed, your voice tight. "Something big," he said vaguely, "something that could change everything."

Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. "Are you seeing someone else?" you blurted out, the question cutting through the tension like a knife. Bill's eyes snapped to yours, and for a split second, you saw genuine shock in them. "What? No!" he said, a little too quickly. "Why would you even think that?"

But you had your reasons, and you listed them out, one by one. The late nights, the secretive phone calls, the way he'd been so distant and cold. You watched as his expression shifted from shock to guilt, and finally, to anger. "You think I'd do that to you?" he said, his voice rising. "After everything we've been through?"

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and palpable. You felt your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "I don't know what to think," you admitted, your voice shaking. "But you're not giving me much to work with here."

Bill's eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions playing out in their depths. He took a deep breath, and for a moment, you thought he might confess. But instead, he leaned back into the couch, his arms folded across his chest. "I'm not cheating on you," he said, his voice low and steady. "But I have been keeping something from you."

The room grew quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside the window. You felt your heart rate spike, the blood rushing in your ears. "What is it?" you asked, bracing yourself for the worst.

Bill took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I've been planning something," he said, his voice measured. "A surprise. I wanted it to be perfect."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What kind of surprise?" you asked, the accusation in your voice fading slightly.

Bill stood up, his movements quick and decisive. He walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. "A road trip," he said, handing it to you. "To the beach. It's all planned out."

You took the notebook with trembling hands, flipping through the pages filled with handwritten notes and maps. "But why the secrecy?" you asked, trying to keep the anger from seeping into your voice.

Bill sat down next to you, his hand gently covering yours. "Because I wanted it to be perfect," he repeated, his eyes earnest. "I know I've been distant, but it's only because I wanted this to be a surprise."

You looked down at the notebook, the words and maps blurring before your eyes. A road trip to the beach had been something you'd talked about for ages, a chance to get away from the city and reconnect. The thought of him planning this, just for you, brought a lump to your throat. "Why now?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bill took a deep breath, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Because I know we've had our rough patches," he said, his voice sincere. "But I want you to know that I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt the tension in the room shift. Was this really happening?

You studied the notebook, the details meticulously planned out. Dates, destinations, even the playlists for the drive. It was all there, a tangible symbol of his love and effort. You looked up at him, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was hope and nerves. "When do we leave?" you asked, your voice now slightly hopeful.

Bill's face lit up, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. "As soon as you're ready," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "I've got everything packed in the car. Just grab your bag, and we'll hit the road."

The surprise in his eyes was unmistakable as you set the notebook down and stood up, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Okay," you whispered, feeling a mix of relief and excitement. "Let's go."

Within minutes, you were both in the car, the city lights fading in the rearview mirror as you headed west towards the open road. Bill's hand found yours, his grip firm and reassuring. The tension between you melted away with each passing mile, replaced by a gentle anticipation of the adventure ahead.

The drive was long, but the time flew by as you shared laughs, stories, and old memories. The playlists he'd painstakingly curated served as the soundtrack to your journey, each song seemingly chosen to remind you of moments from your four years together. You felt a warmth spread through you, a gentle reminder of why you had fallen for him in the first place.

As the sun began to rise, painting the sky with a palette of pinks and oranges, Bill pulled the car off the highway and onto a narrow, winding road. The anticipation grew with every turn, the horizon hinting at something beautiful waiting for you. Finally, the road opened up to reveal a stretch of sandy beach, the waves of the ocean gently caressing the shore. It was more picturesque than any postcard.

You stepped out of the car, the cool morning breeze kissing your cheeks as you took in the breathtaking view. Bill walked around to your side and fell behind you, his eyes reflecting the excitement he felt. "This is it," he said, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement. "The place where I want to start our forever."

You turned around to face him, your eyes wide with wonder and a hint of skepticism. But before you could respond, you saw him drop to one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, the world around you was nothing but a blur. The waves seemed to pause, the seagulls froze in mid-flight, and the world held its breath.

Bill looked up at you, his eyes filled with a love so intense it took your breath away. "Y/N," he began, his voice cracking with emotion. "You are the light of my life, the one who makes every moment brighter. I know I haven't been the best at showing it lately, but I promise you, I want to make it up to you. Will you marry me?"

You stared at the ring in the velvet box, the diamond glinting in the early morning light. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the last few weeks of his strange behavior. Could it all have been for this? You felt your eyes fill with tears as you took in the serene beauty of the beach, the gentle whispers of the waves, and the man before you, kneeling with hope in his eyes.

"Bill," you managed to say, your voice choking on emotion. "Is this...is this real?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "More real than anything I've ever felt," he assured you, his voice shaking slightly. "Please, tell me you'll be my wife."

You felt a warmth spread through your body, the kind that starts in your chest and fills every corner of your being. The doubt and fear from the weeks before melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and belonging. You took a deep breath, letting the salty sea air fill your lungs as you made the biggest decision of your life.

"Yes," you whispered, and the word seemed to float on the breeze, carried away by the waves. Bill's face broke into a grin, his eyes shimmering with happiness. He stood up, took the ring from the box, and slid it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for you. You stared at it, the diamond sparkling under the new sun, feeling the weight of the promise it held.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms around your waist, your hands clutching his shoulders. You could feel his heart beating in time with yours, the warmth of his body seeping into you. "Thank you," he murmured into your hair. "Thank you for saying yes." You pulled back, your eyes searching his, making sure this was real. You found no deceit, only pure, unbridled joy.

As you both stood there, the sun rising over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach, Bill produced a small picnic basket from the car. He'd packed your favorite breakfast, along with a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket. The sight of the strawberries and croissants brought a smile to your face. It was clear he had thought of everything.

The proposal had been so unexpected, yet it felt so right. The beach had always been your place of solace, a place where you had shared so many memories together. Now, it was the backdrop to the next chapter of your lives. You watched as Bill carefully laid out the blanket, his movements methodical and precise, as if he had practiced this moment a hundred times.

He handed you a flute of champagne, and you clinked them together, the sound echoing across the deserted beach. The bubbles danced in the glass, mimicking the sensation in your chest. You took a sip, the cold liquid bubbling against your tongue, the sweet taste of victory and love. You sat down on the soft blanket, the sand cold against your bare legs as you picked up a strawberry, feeling the gentle weight of the ring on your finger.

The salty sea air kissed your skin as you took a bite, the sweetness of the fruit mixing with the saltiness of the ocean. Bill sat beside you, his eyes never leaving your face as he filled his own glass. He took a sip, and you could see the tension in his shoulders ease away, like the tide retreating from the shore. "To us," he said, raising his glass. "To forever."

You clinked glasses with him, the sound ringing out over the waves. You both sat in silence for a while, watching the sun climb higher into the sky, the colors deepening from pastel to a fiery gold. It was a moment of pure happiness, untainted by the shadows of doubt that had been lingering.

"It ends now," Bill said finally, his voice a gentle rumble beside you. "Whatever doubts you had, whatever fears, they're gone." He took your hand, the ring feeling surprisingly natural against your skin. "I promise to always be honest with you, to always make you feel loved, and to never, ever take you for granted."

You nodded, the tightness in your chest slowly easing as you sipped the champagne. The warmth of the sun grew stronger, and you felt its embrace, mirroring the warmth of Bill's words. You leaned into him, letting his love wash over you like the waves on the shore. "I believe you," you murmured, your voice still thick with emotion.

The rest of the morning was a blur of laughter, sweet kisses, and the sharing of plans for the future. You talked about the future aka the wedding, the house, the kids, and the endless adventures you would have together. Each conversation was filled with excitement and hope, the kind that made you feel like you could conquer the world.

---

Hehe👹 I might stop writing angst because of how shit at it I am💀🥲🤗🥵🤮🥸👽🔫

[okdeedee]

you're so busy changing the world

cassian andor x gn! reader - 7th instalment of latch series.

masterlist

an: ayoo we're back. need everyone to know that the full lyric that the title is derived from is "you're so busy changing the world, just one smile can change all of mine." because. cassian andor smiling is incredibly important

warnings/content: angst again babey. teen? rating? because there's swearing. Ruescott Melshi being a little intense, as per usual. that's a cornerstone of his character. fluff fluff fluff fluff FLUFF. i couldnt resist sorry. une kiss. perhaps.

wc: 3.8k

You’ve made a valiant effort at keeping up a cheerful front, but it’s been a month and a half with no word from Cassian.

You’re only human – you adore him, but there’s a little pool of resentment growing day by day in your stomach.

You’re beginning to wish he never kissed you.

The mess hall is near-empty, it’s after the designated lunch slot, but you like the quiet. You sit at a table by yourself and pick at the lukewarm meal before you. Something with greying vegetables, some grains, and a little too much salt.

You’re lost in thought, staring at your meal tray, when the table wobbles with the impact of someone sitting down opposite you.

It won’t be Cassian, you know it won’t, but you can’t kill the hope that it is.

You brace yourself, look up, and barely hide your shock when you see the solemn face of Ruescott Melshi. He nods at you.

“Sergeant Melshi-”

“I’m not your CO anymore,” he says calmly.

“Right. Just Melshi, then?”

He smiles just a little. “Just Melshi.”

You’re not sure why he’s here. He’s just observing you and it’s making you want to look back down at your lunch, but you don’t really want to look away because you feel like you’ll lose whatever standoff this is. So, you hold his eye contact until he opens his mouth to speak.

“How’s mech crew?”

His succinctness still makes you smile.

“It’s good. I enjoy it. Plenty of variety, good teammates.”

“Good,” Melshi nods approvingly.

You force down a couple mouthfuls of food while he sits there in silence.

“You spoken to Cassian lately?”

Your heart jolts. What does he know? “Not for a month or so.”

“Hm.”

You fidget with your spoon, Melshi looks deep in thought, staring blankly at the door to the corridor.

Suddenly his discerning eyes focus back on you, and he folds his arms in front of him on the table.

“I know Cassian cares about you. He’s been acting strange recently, and I wanted to see if you had any idea what that’s about.”

You want to walk away. Or hide. Or start a completely new conversation.

But you can’t, so you take a deep breath. “We – I – uh, we… we had a conversation a while ago. And I think it freaked him out. He hasn’t spoken to me since then.”

He frowns. “What about?”

You know he’s just trying to be thorough; make sure no irreparable damage has been done, but this is the most awkward facet of your relationship with Cassian that Melshi could possibly be investigating.

You smile and try to brush him off. “It’s nothing. I think he’s just busy at the moment. Stressed.”

Melshi isn’t convinced. “But if it’s nothing, then why–“

“Really, it’s okay. It was just a personal thing. We’re sorting it out.”

Melshi sighs, his expression growing more determined. Panic starts to collect in your throat. “Cassian trusts you. I trust you. You know that. But there are things I know about Cass that you don’t, and I want to make sure you didn’t hurt each other –“

“I told him I loved him, okay, and he kissed me! Then he told me he loved me back!”

Your hands are in tight fists. Melshi is stone-still and silent.

“And then – he – he had regrets, I think. About us becoming… more. So, I said I’d give him time to think, and I haven’t heard from him since. That was a month and a half ago when we had that mission on Numidian Prime.”

You can tell by Melshi’s expression that whatever he was expecting you to say, it wasn’t that.

He pushes his lips between his teeth, and his eyebrows furrow deeply. “Right.”

You sigh and place your head in your hands. “Yep.”

He hums like he’s thinking it through. You want to turn into dust and fly away but that is not within the realm of your abilities, so you sit there staring down at your meal tray, appetite getting smaller by the second.

Finally, you rub your face with your hands and look back up at Melshi.

There’s something gentle in his eyes, like pity.

The resentment in you flashes hot like a sun flare, and for a second, you’re filled with rage. At Cassian, for stringing you along. At Melshi, for forcing your secret out of you.

At yourself, for being vulnerable enough to care at all.

.

When Cassian gets himself into trouble, the first thing he tries is running.

Usually, it works.

Debts, warrants, angry exes, the responsibilities of civilian life - the weight of them disappears if you disappear as well.

This time, running isn’t going to work.

He knows that.

He knows it like he knows how to fly a ship, like he knows how to take an accurate shot with a blaster one-handed, from a glance at the target.

A mix of years of experience, and the instinct he’s always had for self-preservation.

If Cassian keeps avoiding answering you, he’s going to lose you – if he hasn’t already.

You said you’d wait for as long as he needed, that you’d be there when he decided, so he still has hope.

You’re the best, purest thing that’s ever happened to him, but even you can’t be endlessly patient. You deserve a commitment, and he feels like he’s incapable of making one. He’s not sure why. It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Or that he wants anyone else instead.

He’s in love with you. He knows that, too.

Cassian is terrified he’ll ruin things; so, he wonders if it’s better to never start on this path than take a few blissful steps on it and have to watch it dissolve under his feet.  

Then he reminds himself that running won’t fix this, and he goes through the whole thought process over, and over, and over again.

At the heart of things, humans are creatures of habit.

So when he’s offered a solo mission where he’ll have to go dark that’s likely to take a few weeks, he takes it.

.

You go from barely seeing Cassian to not seeing him at all, and it doesn’t take long to make it through the jogan vine that he’s gone on a no-contact mission.

You don’t blame him for the mission, exactly, you just wish he had the tact to speak to you before he left.

You feel like you shouldn’t, but you miss Cassian a little more each day. You miss seeing glimpses of him, hearing his voice, being able to reach out and touch him.

Before long, it’s two months and two weeks since Numidian Prime.

At this point, you’d settle for just knowing Cassian’s alive.

.

During the third week of his mission, while Cassian is desperately trying to find his way out of an out-of-use sewer system, he realises there is something fundamentally different about the way he’s thinking right now, compared to a year ago.

His whole life has been about survival – the same could be said about most beings in the galaxy under Empire rule. In many ways, life has not been kind to him, and it often doesn’t help that he has a natural talent for getting himself into trouble.

Underneath the instinctual need to stay alive from moment to moment, Cassian has always fought for something he loved, despite the loss.

With Maarva and Clem on Kenari, he was fighting to get back to his sister.

On Ferrix, fighting for his friends, or to go home to his family at the end of the day.

Aldhani, to get credits to pay back the people he owed and take Maarva somewhere safe.

Narkina 5, for freedom.

But Maarva and Clem are gone, Aldhani feels like it took place in a different lifetime, and he’s been out of Narkina 5 for coming on three and a half years.

He hasn’t seen Bix, Brasso, Jezzi, Wilmon or Bee in over three years. He knows he’s not going to see them again.

Cassian joined the Rebellion because he knew there was no way to escape the Empire. The only way out is through. He figured may as well make the rest of his life mean something.

He’s been fighting less for the love of things, and more for his rage against injustice and his dangerously powerful hope that things can be better. The two concepts together are an effective motivator.

He’s not suicidal, he wants to live, but he’s been reckless and often cold to people because he has very little left that he will fight for out of love.

Until now.

As he’s stalking through the dark with a flickering torch, his mind isn’t following the path it usually does.

If he was in this position a couple years ago, he’d be thinking, just get above ground, check your blaster isn’t jammed, stay low, find your transport, go from there. Stay alive to fight again another day.

Pragmatic, unemotional.

He will always have the pragmatic plans because that’s who he is, but his current reason to stay alive is…unexpected. The realisation hits him and knocks his breath out of his lungs.

Cassian’s fighting to stay alive for love again. For the good that already fills his days, and the good that is good yet to come.

He hears your laugh in his head, sees your smile in his mind’s eye. He remembers touching you, kissing you, and he’s pushed forward by the need to see you, to hold you again.

To tell you he loves you again, and not let you down this time.

.

It’s too hot or too cold or too something in your room, and no matter how much you toss and turn, you can’t get to sleep.

You room with Greda, as of just after Life Day. Her previous roommate moved to be with her spouse, which gave you an opportunity to get out of the soldier’s barracks.

There is a very faint, digital trill going off somewhere near you. At first, you grumble, because you think it’s Greda’s datapad making noise.

She always forgets to mute it; she sleeps deeply, so it doesn’t bother her.

But the ringing is closer to you. You reach your hand out and fumble for your nightstand, and your fingers land on your buzzing commlink.

Who would be trying to contact you at this hour?

You grab it, prop yourself up on an elbow in your bed and click to receive the call.

“Hm?” you grunt, very eloquently.

You hear someone’s soft breathing on the other end, but no response.

If this is a wrong number, you’re going to be a little pissed off.

“Hello?”

There’s a long period of silence, and you’re about to hang up, when you hear someone whisper, “Hey.”

You yawn. “Who is this?”

“Are you alone?”

Then it hits you – the rasp, the musicality, the softness of this voice.

“Oh my gods, Cassian?’

“Are you alone?”

The reality of the situation suddenly hits you, and you scramble out of bed as quietly as you can. “I will be. One second,” as you shove your boots on and grab a jacket, “stars, Cass, why are you calling? Isn’t your mission no-comms? Where are you? Are you alright?”

You hear him chuckle whisper-soft, and it makes you smile entirely against your will. You’re supposed to be angry, or at least irritated with him right now – but to hear his voice, his laugh, to know he’s alive; it’s like breathing for the first time in weeks.

“I’m fine,” he says as you slip out of the room into the corridor.

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank the stars,” you sit on the floor, leaning against the wall, “Okay, I’m alone now.”

You’re expecting him to launch into a message you need to relay, or something mechanical you can help him with, but he’s silent.

“Cassian?”

He hums in assent.

“Are you really fine? You’re not injured, or anything?”

“I’m good. I promise.”

You fiddle with the zip on your jacket, yawning.

“What time is it on Yavin?”

You rub your eyes and check your chrono. “Oh, like 0300 hours-ish?”

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t realise.”

You lean your head back against the wall and hug an arm around the front of your torso. “No, it’s alright. I couldn’t sleep anyway. It’s good to hear your voice, Cass.”

.

Cassian’s chest feels tight and vulnerable from the soft, raspy tone of your voice.

He can’t help but imagine being there with you, hearing you in his ear, feeling the warmth of your body next to him.

“It’s good to hear your voice too,” he says, which is the understatement of his life, because it is the entire reason why he decided to break protocol and call your personal comms.

Just to hear your voice.

“Where are you?”

“I can’t say-”

“You’re already breaking the one rule of a no-comms mission. Just tell me.”

He softens at your persistence, at your warmth. “I started on Oba Diah. Now I’m on Kessel, in an abandoned hotel, waiting for a transport back to base.”

“So you’re about to come back?” A thrill runs down his spine. He can hear in your voice that you’re smiling.  

“Yeah. Should be back home in couple days.”

Home.

Neither of you speak for a little bit. He just listens to your gentle, even breaths, and tries to keep his emotions in check.

Then, in the silence, he hears you take a breath.

“I got to do some illegal mods yesterday,” you say a little shyly.

He can’t stop the tiny smile that appears on his face. “Oh yeah?”

You launch into your story, and he listens, heart bursting with the domesticity of it. He remembers how torn and empty you were in your early days with the Rebellion, and hearing your joy and passion now almost overwhelms him with pride for you.

“…swapped the engines of the fighter and the dropship, which technically isn’t legal because that class of dropship can’t have that powerful of an engine – but we need it to be that fast for a mission next week. Something about a window in the flight scanners that the dropship can only make at a certain speed.” You pause, and then mumble, “felt pretty cool, doing that.”

He doesn’t know what to say. A rush of affection floods him. You felt cool doing illegal mods on a ship for the Rebellion. You’re still sharing parts of your life with him even after he effectively gave you the silent treatment for over a month.

Suddenly it’s imperative that he doesn’t wait until he gets back to Yavin to talk to you. Before he can think it through, before he can doubt it, he blurts it out.

“I meant it when I said love you.”

His pulse is pounding so loudly in his ears that he barely hears you breathe in sharply.

“What did you say?”

He feels like he’s taken a dive off a cliff, and he can’t tell if it’s in a good way or a bad way. “I said, I meant it when I said I love you.”

He hears you take another harsh breath in.

Cassian can’t lose his momentum. “I still mean it. I love you. So much.”

You’re silent for a while, and Cassian tries not to panic.

“Cassian?”

His heart jolts. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to… feel obliged to say it. What happened on Numidian Prime was – it was a lot, and it was new, and I don’t blame you if you regret it.”

It feels like Cassian’s stomach has come untethered and dropped right to his feet.“I-”

“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks. I didn’t even see you. It was like you disappeared off the face of the planet,” you say, your voice soft but certain. “I know said you could have as much time as you need to think, but it was weeks and weeks and then you went on that mission and didn’t even say goodbye, and I just assumed-”

Cassian’s heart aches. “Wait-”

“-you didn’t want me in that way – and I’m okay with it, I really am. I just don’t want to lose your friendship, is all, because you’re-”

“Please-”

“-still the best thing that ever happened to me-“

“Stop, my love.”

.

You stop.

Your hands are shaking.

He called you ‘my love.’

You can’t get a solid, deep breath in – just shallow, shaky gasps.

“Breathe, baby.”

Fucking hell.

The man you’re in love with is calling you things like ‘baby’ and ‘my love’ and he’s halfway across the galaxy, and suddenly the comfort of his gentle, gravelly voice is not enough.

There’s a lump in your throat and your eyes are burning with unshed tears. You sniff, just once, but Cassian’s observant, so he notices.

“Are you crying?” he asks gently.

You think you might melt into the floor. “Not yet. Trying not to.”

The wall of the corridor is cold behind you. You recall the times you’ve sat with Cassian like this, your shoulders touching. The way he smelled – clean and inviting and human. When you held his hand. When he’s held you. When his lips met yours.

“Cass…”

“Yeah?”

His voice.

“I miss you,” you say, and your voice cracks. “I wish you were here.”

He sighs, and there’s something comforting in it, like he might feel the ache you feel.

“I will be. Soon.”

“Yeah.”

.

You sit there in comfortable silence.

Cassian looks out into the street from one of the hotel windows. The streets are busy, sentients of all kinds hurriedly making their way through the industry and grime.

“Cass, fair warning;” you start.

“Hm?”

“If we’re doing this – if you’re – you want to – be together, I’m not letting you go. I can’t.” You stutter for a second, “Sorry – wait – like obviously, if… you know… things didn’t work out, I wouldn’t try to… imprison you or anything. But… if things work out, you’re it for me.”

Hundreds and thousands of years and millions of different species of intelligent life in this galaxy, and not one has created a machine that can teleport Cassian back to Yavin, next to you, in this very moment. He’s never felt such a strong yearning in his life. He thinks he might cry for happiness, which has never happened to him before.

In the midst of what sometimes feels like a hopeless fight, in the face of countless devastating losses, in this empty, dilapidated hotel on Kessel, Cassian Andor feels lucky.

“You’re it for me, too,” he says in a rush, and it’s like his chest is expanding and imploding at the same time.

And then you let out a breathless laugh, and it’s the best sound Cassian has ever heard.

.

You tell Greda about your comm with Cassian as soon as she wakes up. You can’t not.

She gives you a wry smile, as usual, but she’s happy for you. Thrilled, even – you can tell by her eyes, even as she jokes that you could find someone that smiles more.

On another day, you’d buy into the game, tease her back, but today, you’re bursting with these bright, endlessly expansive feelings. You want him, grumpy, gruff, short-tempered, deeply compassionate and loving him. And you have him.

You’re vibrating with joy and excitement for the rest of that day, and through the night. Cassian doesn’t comm again, but the pilot that was shuttling him back to Yavin 4 confirmed their pick-up.

Now, you just wait.

It’s dawn, the day after Cassian’s call. You’re doing a pretty good job of distracting yourself – you took the overnight shift just for something to do. You’re helping Riekk move a bunch of shield generator components when Greda calls, “Wompy!”

You roll your eyes, and Riekk’s waterspray-gun sounding laugh echoes in the hangar.

“Please call me anything but that.”

She’s suddenly close enough to tap your shoulder, and she does, twice.

“Your man just landed,” she whispers in your ear.

Your stomach tumbles. “Where? Here?”

She snickers. “Where else? Of course, here.”

In an uncharacteristic show of terrible manners, you practically drop the part you’re holding and run as fast as you can up the stairs. You weave through ships and astromechs and pilots until you’re in the open runway, and you scan the space, maybe a little frantically.

The Yavin system’s sun is rising now, and the sky is painted with achingly delicate shades of pink and orange. What you can see of the horizon that isn’t covered by thick forest is gentle lilac.

You’re a little embarrassed at how your breath catches when you see him step out of the U-wing.

It’s still somewhat dark outside, and everything is washed in muted orange. His skin is sort of gold in the growing light, and his hair is messy. His beard has grown out again. He’s talking to the pilot; someone you don’t know. He’s got that stern, focussed look on his face and it makes you feel warm all over.

He bids farewell to the pilot, and suddenly you feel shy, like maybe you should give him a minute to get his bearings or wait for him to visit you – but you stay where you are.

It’s like a holovideo or a scene from a Coruscant opera when Cassian’s eyes meet yours.

You can see the smile in his eyes even if the set of his mouth is still serious, and it makes you so giddy that you laugh, unable to hold in a smile of your own.

He’s right there. And he’s alive.

That thought alone pushes you forward several steps. Cassian opens his arms, you do too, and then like gravity, you’re in the tightest embrace you’ve ever been in.

You place one of your hands on the back of his head as he buries his face in your neck. You can’t help but stroke his hair a little.

After a blessed, loving eternity, Cassian draws back a little and presses your foreheads together. His hands cup your face with a tenderness that makes your throat close up.

Then, he kisses you. Simple, chaste, but so fervent your knees feel weak.

You both pull away, but you open your eyes first and see his face – a faint smile with his eyes closed, his brows furrowed just a touch.

He opens his eyes. You stroke his face with the hand that isn’t wrapped around his waist.

Cassian smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him smile and you are so incandescently happy about it, you might just float away.

“Welcome home,” you say, beaming.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You don’t know what to say. You just stand there smiling at each other like idiots, and if Greda was here, she’d be laughing at you.

You take in Cassian’s windswept hair, his dimple, the glint of his teeth in his smile, the warmth of his hands and the feel of his beard on your palm.

He’s alive. And he’s yours.

[bittybug-sunflower-blog]

Chapter summary: Beka makes an impression

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 1914

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 5

As Beka continued to recover, the tension between her and the brothers remained high. However, slowly, Hunter's firm defense of her began to have an impact. The brothers, while still wary, started to see her less as a threat and more as someone caught in a situation beyond her control. Hunter often found time to sit with Beka, explaining the intricacies of their world and why things had to be the way they were. Beka listened, her understanding growing, but her desire for freedom never waned.

Beka had been trying for days to find a moment of peace in the mansion, and today was no exception. Wrecker's constant vigilance was starting to wear thin, and Beka had finally managed to slip away from his watchful eyes. The mansion's labyrinthine halls provided enough cover for her to evade him, at least for a while.

As she wandered through the vast corridors, Beka found herself in a less familiar part of the mansion, where the mechanical hum of machinery grew louder. Her curiosity piqued, and she followed the sound until she reached a room cluttered with tools and parts. Tech was hunched over a complex array of gears and circuits, his brow furrowed in concentration as he wrestled with a stubborn machine.

Beka leaned against the doorframe, her arms casually folded behind her. She watched Tech for a moment, noting the intense look of concentration on his face, before finally deciding to make her presence known. "You're wasting time trying to fix that," she said, her voice cutting through the silence.

Tech looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing with irritation. "I don't need any help," he snapped. "I've got it under control."

Beka raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Well, if you're so sure, then just consider this a suggestion." Without waiting for a response, she stepped closer to the machine and pointed at a component. "The alignment of the primary conduit is off. It's causing a malfunction."

Tech's eyes widened slightly as he followed her gaze. "What makes you think that?"

Beka shrugged nonchalantly. "This is no different than a police scanner."

Tech's jaw tightened, but he shifted the conduit as she suggested. The machine rumbled to life with a satisfying hum, the problem seemingly resolved. Tech's expression was a mixture of begrudging respect and annoyance. "How did you know that would work?"

Beka gave him a wry smile. "Experience. It's not different from other technical issues I've dealt with."

Tech's eyes flickered with grudging acknowledgment. "Alright, you were right. But don't think this means I'm letting you off easy. I don't need any more distractions."

Beka's smile remained as she backed away. "Noted. Just thought you might appreciate a little help."

Before Tech could respond, the door to the room swung open with a heavy thud. Wrecker entered, his face contorted with frustration. "There you are!" Wrecker's voice panting and unyielding, causing both Tech and Beka to turn. "What are you doing in here?"

Beka sighed, her earlier satisfaction with helping Tech dissipating. "What do you think?"

Wrecker didn't wait for an answer. "You're not supposed to be wandering around like this. I've been looking for you."

Beka shot him an exasperated look. "I'm not a child, Wrecker. I can handle myself."

Wrecker's glare intensified. "You've been causing enough trouble already."

Ignoring Wrecker's scolding, Beka turned and walked toward the door, determined to escape the confrontation. Wrecker followed closely behind, his irritation palpable.

Later that day, as they reached the garden, Phee and Tech came into view. Phee's sharp eyes immediately assessed the situation. Seeing Wrecker's aggressive stance, she stepped forward, giving Tech a shove. "Go on." Phee's voice was firm looking at her husband. She turned to Beka with a more conciliatory tone. "I apologize for Tech's behavior. He can be a bit blunt."

Tech, still looking uncomfortable, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, sorry. Thanks for the help with the machine."

Beka gave Tech a curt nod. "Just trying to make myself useful."

Phee smiled faintly and placed a calming hand on Tech's shoulder. "Let's not have any more of this. Wrecker, why don't you ease up a bit?"

Wrecker grumbled but didn't argue. Beka glanced at Phee with a hint of gratitude before turning her attention back to the garden. The conversation had left her feeling unsettled, but the brief moment of understanding with Phee and Tech was a small comfort.

"Come on," Wrecker said gruffly, stepping closer. "Let's get you back inside."

Feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her, Beka followed Wrecker back toward the mansion. She glanced back at Phee and Tech with an appreciative smile. As Beka walked away, she felt a small surge of triumph.

Tech watched her leave, a complex mix of emotions playing across his face. He was still suspicious, but he couldn't deny the usefulness of her suggestion.

Back inside, Beka sat down at the dining table, her chin resting on her propped-up hand. She heard grunts from the living room, there she saw Echo struggling with his prosthetic arm and legs, his frustration evident as he fumbled with the intricate mechanisms. The usually precise and controlled movements of his hand were now erratic, his face tight with concentration and irritation.

Beka watched from a distance, her concern growing. "Do you need any help?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Echo shot her a sharp look. "No, I've got it," he snapped, clearly annoyed.

Beka hesitated but remained nearby, sensing his struggle.

After a few more minutes of struggling and muttering under his breath, Echo let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, fine. I could use some help," he admitted, his tone softer but still edged with frustration. Beka approached with Wrecker not too far behind and carefully assisted him with the prosthetics. As she worked, Echo's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he started to open up. "It's just... sometimes it feels like I'm fighting against the world," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "My prosthetics are a constant reminder of who I lost."

Beka nodded sympathetically. "I understand. I lost my parents, my sister, and my brother in an explosion when our home was bombed during the war. It's difficult to move past the reminders."

Echo's gaze softened as he looked at her. "I'm... I'm sorry to hear that. I was adopted by the Marauder family after my parents died. They were good friend with them, but during the explosion, my brother, Fives, and them... didn't make it. I barely survived."

Beka's eyes met Echo's, filled with shared pain. "It sounds like we both have our share of scars."

Echo nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. "We're both survivors, in a way."

Beka finished adjusting his prosthetics and gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes, you're here now, and that's something."

Echo returned her smile, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks for the help. And, for listening."

Beka gave a small nod. "Anytime. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who understands."

As Beka and Echo finished their conversation, Wrecker stood up from his chair, his expression a mix of annoyance and skepticism. He had been observing the exchange from a distance, and his impatience was clear.

"Beka," Wrecker said gruffly, "do you always have to be such a goody-too-shoes? Trying to make friends with everyone?"

Beka looked up, surprised by his tone. "I'm just trying to help where I can. Is that such a bad thing?"

Wrecker crossed his arms, his frustration evident. "It's not about being bad or good. It's about not being a nuisance. You're making it harder for us to keep things in order around here."

Echo, still adjusting his prosthetics, shot Wrecker a sharp look. "Wrecker, not everyone's approach to life is the same. Beka's just trying to find her way and make the best of a tough situation."

Wrecker's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing further, his stance still rigid. Beka's patience was wearing thin, but she took a deep breath and addressed him calmly. "I understand that you're wary of me, Wrecker. But treating me with hostility isn't going to make things any easier."

Wrecker shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to having his irritation challenged. "Yeah, well, I guess we all have our ways of dealing with things," he muttered, his tone begrudgingly softer.

"I guess we both do." Beka retorted back.

"Watch her while I get a snack," Wrecker ordered as he grunted, clearly still annoyed but slightly mollified. He turned and walked away, leaving Beka and Echo in a moment of uneasy silence.

Echo glanced at Beka, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, that went better than expected."

Beka chuckled softly. "I suppose. I'm just trying to make the best of things right now."

The next morning was the same, Beka was seated in the garden, her thoughts lost in the serene surroundings. Wrecker, as usual, stood a few paces away, his watchful eyes never straying far from her. Omega, playing with her dogs, Gonky and Batcher from a distance, eyed the scene with a hint of determination.

She tossed the ball, which rolled to a stop at Beka's feet. Beka picked it up curious where it came from. Omega hurried over, her dogs trailing behind her. Wrecker's face darkened, and he called out, "Omega, get back here!"

Omega ignored him, stopping just short of Beka. She leaned in, whispering, "I wanted to see you again, but it's hard when you're being watched." She subtly pointed towards Crosshair, who was peering through the window with a cold gaze.

Beka nodded in understanding and whispered back, "I know what you mean," while glancing at Wrecker, who was now glaring at them.

Wrecker's voice boomed across the garden. "Omega, stay away from her!"

Omega looked up, her expression a mix of defiance and sadness. "I just wanted to talk to her. It's hard to get to know someone when everyone's always watching."

Beka gave Omega a reassuring smile. "It's okay, I don't want you getting in trouble because of me."

"They can deal with it," Omega smirked back.

Wrecker stepped forward, his voice stern. "That's enough, Omega. Back to your game."

With a reluctant glance at Beka, Omega gently took the ball from Beka's hand and headed back to her dogs, casting one last look over her shoulder. Beka watched her go, feeling a pang of sympathy for the young girl caught between the family's rigid rules and her curiosity. Omega laughed, tossing the ball for Gonky and Batcher, her carefree joy contrasting sharply with the tension Beka felt.

"Omega seems like a good kid," Beka remarked casually, not expecting a response.

Wrecker's frown deepened. "Stay away from my sister."

Beka raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I'm that dangerous to be around a child?"

Wrecker's only response was a gruff, disapproving frown. Before Beka could say more, Crosshair appeared, his presence exuding an even colder aura.

"Omega, come inside," Crosshair ordered sharply. Omega hesitated but eventually obeyed, her shoulders slumped slightly.

Crosshair then turned his attention to Beka, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Stay away from Omega. She doesn't need a former cop near her."

Beka met his gaze steadily with a faint frown on her lips. "I didn't ask to be here," she said firmly. "I'm not the one who dragged me into this."

Crosshair didn't respond but simply watched as Omega disappeared into the mansion. The atmosphere remained heavy, the tension between Beka and the family substantial.

[kleincantwrite]

January daily smut - Day 1

Day 1 - Overstimulation - Kaedehara Kazuha x Sub! Male! reader

Content warnings: Mentions of Kazuha being shorter than reader, Mentions of reader crying, overstimulation, edging and dub-con if you squint, Aftercare.

Character(s) - Kaedehara Kazuha

Rating: NSFW

Authors note: Autism impact part (?)

NSFW under the cut. Minors please do not interact, You will be blocked.

______________________________________________________________

Kazuha had been gone. He had been gone for a while. Whilst the letters between you continued regularly, you missed him, so much. Until a knock on your door shook you out of your misery, a muffled voice spilling through the crack in the door. Confused, you stand up from your desk, where the pile of Kazuha's letters sat, and you walked over to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. "Miss me, my dove?" Kazuha steps through the doorframe, sweeping you up into his arms, holding you close and breathing you in, as if trying to melt into you. He kicks the door shut as he walks over to the middle of the room, putting you down and giving you a soft kiss, gently holding you by the hips. "I'm so happy you're back" You manage to stutter out before he captures your lips in yet another kiss, you're feeling tears well up in your eyes, getting emotional at finally having your beloved partner back in your arms after so long.

He simply pulled away gently and smiled, his eyes squinting as he smiles, small wrinkles forming around his eyes from the action. His hands rub down your hips, pulling your hips into his, gently rubbing his hands down to your ass, holding you. "I take it that you missed me too, then" You huff out, not really surprised by his sudden sexual motions. He laughs breathily, before connecting his lips to your jawline, just under your chin, before travelling towards your ear, nibbling gently at your earlobe, and sucking at the sensitive part between your ear and your neck, pulling the skin with his teeth. You gently push him away, causing him to look at you, worried that he'd perhaps overstepped?

You step backwards towards the bed, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards you, onto the bed. He smiles again, an understanding look crossing his face as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, lightly tugging as if asking for permission. You lift your hips up, giving him room to pull your pants down, leaving your underwear on. You reach for his clothing, in an attempt to disrobe him, however he grabs your hand gently before shaking his head.

"Right now is about you, my dove. Surely you must be pent up from being away from me for so long?" You nod, honestly feeling very flustered from his words, opting to pull his hands into yours, lacing your fingers together and looking up at him. Being slightly taller than him, it's so different having him tower over you like this, having him hold you for a change, although you adore every ounce of physical affection he gives you. While lost in thought, you fail to realise that he'd already finished unbuttoning your blouse. While kazuha sticks to his kimono, you opt for mondstadt-style clothing, enjoying how flowy and free it feels. He tosses your pants to the side, however stopping to fold your shirt neatly as to not crease it. Left in just your underwear, the cold air flows over you, hardening your nipples and giving you goosebumps. Kazuha brushes his thumbs over your chest, gently groping at the fat of your chest. He leans down to take your left nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue over it and sucking gently, while his hand trails down to pull your underwear down, pulling your cock out.

You hadn't even realised how hard you were until he started brushing his fingers over your tip, gathering pre-cum on his fingers and palm before using it to lube up your dick, feeling it twitch in his hand as he slowly rubs up and down, twisting his hand as he gets to the tip. Your back arches slightly out of instinct, from how many times you and Kazuha had done this before. This time was different, however, because you knew he wasn't just going to finish you off with his hand and then go about the rest of the day the exact same as usual, right?

You gasp as he disconnects his lips from your chest, the cold air surging over it, a comfortable chill settling over your body as your back arches further into him, wanting him to continue touching you. He looks up at you and smiles, before moving his lips down, kissing just above your pelvis, down to the base of your cock, then licking and sucking just under your balls. You let out a high pitched groan, uring him to hurry up and touch you more, but instead of obliging, he pulls his hands and lips away from you entirely, walking over to the other side of the room, taking his clothes off and getting pyjamas out, before beginning to put them on. Confused and upset at his actions, you sit up, looking at him. "Kazuha?" He looks up at you in hearing his name. "Yes, dove?" He replies innocently, as if nothing had happened at all. "Why did you stop??" You say, left feeling cold. "Impatience gets you nowhere, my dear". Fuck you and your smartass comments, Kazuha. You think to yourself, feeling very let down and honestly quite ticked off. That is, before he chuckles and walks over to you, wrapping his hand around your now only semi-hard dick and jolting his hand up and down as fast as he possibly could. You lay back on the bed, wrapping your thighs around his hips, back arching and mouth falling open. A warm feeling floods through your whole body as you feel your cock twitch over and over at the excessive stimulation. You hold onto his wrist, trying to slow him down just a bit, but he continues, using his other hand to hold you still as you squirm and whine, begging him to slow down, but he just keeps going.

The warm feeling intensifies, before you let out a loud, whorish moan. "cum- cumming!" You gasp out, being thrown into your orgasm as your body shakes, back arching up, thighs clenching around Kazuha as you feel your hot cum cover your lower stomach and chest, as well as Kazuha's hand. He slows down, but still does not stop, continuing to rub his thumb over the oh-so-sensitive head of your dick, drops of cum still dribbling down onto his fingers as the constant stimulation starts to feel almost painful. You try to squirm away from him, whining out his name loudly as you beg him to stop. "Too much, please! please, stop, it's so much-" Your breath gets caught in your throat as you hiccup slightly, tears pricking your eyes before freely rolling down your face. Looking up at kazuha, he looks at you with pity, before speeding his hand up again. He lets go of your hands, putting two fingers in your mouth as you drool and whine, your begging starting to die down as the pleasure builds up again. After a few moments, he pulls his hand away from your mouth, rubbing his pointer finger against your hole, pushing it in just a bit before pushing two fingers inside you, immediately curling his fingers inside you, knowing exactly what spot to hit. You kick your legs slightly, trying to get used to the feeling as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your second orgasm comes hurtling towards you, hitting you like a brick wall as your cum hits your stomach yet again, your second load looking much more watery than the first. Kazuha touches you through your orgasm, slowing down before stopping, pulling his fingers out and kissing the tears off your face, smiling at you and wrapping you up in his arms, holding you tightly. "I'm so proud of you, my sweet, sweet dove" He speaks into the top of your head, planting kisses all over your face, chest, and stomach, licking your cum up off of you, then off of his own hands.

He picks you up from the bed, and you relax into him, feeling satisfied and very, very tired. You let your body go limp as he showers you with praise, walking through the doorway and into the bathroom, sitting you down before walking over and beginning to draw the bath. _____________________________________________________________

Feel free to request, I need some motivation to write lol. (Anonymous asks are on!!)

[kariachi]

I awoke of a mood. You know how I have an AU where Ben doesn’t transform into Way Big during Malware’s attack on Galvan Prime and Galvan B? I wrote Ben’s pov of the consequences.

It’s not pretty.

~~

Ben is prone to messing up dialing up alien shapes. He’s known to shift his hand as he locks choices in, changing what he’s gone for. Especially when he’s acting on the fly, especially when he has a time limit. But it’s not too much to worry about. The Omnitrix won’t let its wielder die, is programmed to be aware enough of its surroundings to alter and activate a selection itself to preserve the life of its wearer.

The Omnitrix isn’t programmed to worry about other people.

That is the part that jumps unbidden to Ben’s mind about five seconds after Big Chill’s wings flare open and halt his fall. He needs the time to catch his breath, for his heart rate to fall enough to think, and as soon as he does he all but gives himself whiplash searching the sky for Kevin. Kevin, who’s still falling. Who has at least a thousand foot lead on his way to the ground. Ben doesn’t even need a thought then, folding his wings as soon as he sees him and dropping.

The air roars past, filling his ears. His heartrate jumps back up. He’s not gaining. Kevin is falling faster. The ground is coming up-

Ben doesn’t know if he hears the impact, or his mind filled in the blank.

He only barely opens his wings as he approaches the ground, just enough to not splat himself. He’s calling Kevin’s name when he does, brain jolting in a million different directions. Is he alive is he dead how bad is it it must be bad- There’s blood and he’s begging, this can’t happen-

Never has a single nasally, strained, but emphatic “fuck” sounded so sweat to someone’s ears.

Ben wants to hug him, to cry into his shoulder because he was terrified, it still terrified. But there’s so much blood, and he knows Kevin’s shoulder isn’t supposed to be at that angle. Barely he manages to restrain himself, murmuring reassurances to Kevin as he forces his heart rate to calm. Pulls himself back together. He’s a hero, and he has a job to do. Save the day, stop Malware, yes, but most importantly in this moment get help. He transforms back into himself, makes the hard effort to take his time and care as he dials up XLR8. Gently strokes a splayed lock of bloody black hair, swearing on his life that help will be there soon, and is gone.

No bet the first set of Galvan security forces he comes across will be talking for millennia about the encounter. About being told directly where a critically injured person was, ordered to abandon their posts and see him safely to medical care. About the top hero in the galaxy refusing to go forth and save their planet until he’d seen them head out.

It takes all the spare effort Ben can manage to focus on dealing with Malware from there. To keep his worry about his dearest friend, practically family, from doing anything more than hover in the back of his mind. Did they get to him in time? Had he bled out? How long would it take for him to recover? Would he recover? The whole thing was senseless- Far from the sort of thing you want running through your head when you’re fighting for two worlds and reliving old traumas.

But he wins. The day is saved. Malware is defeated. Exhausted, Ben transforms back. And the first thing he does is head for the nearest person who looks like they know what they’re doing and ask after where the injured have been taken.

Kevin is still being worked on when he gets there. Osmosians are difficult, mutants even more so, and they’re having to bring in a specialist from off-world. Until then, they’re doing the best they can. Ben manages to glimpse down the hall as he’s lead to the nearest waiting room, sees Khyber’s hound curled up in front of a door, and spares a moment to wonder if he’s there too. He can’t bring himself to think he’d deserve it, and the thought slips quickly from his mind as he’s lead away. The chairs are far too small for him, so he moves some aside and settles on the floor. Throws a prayer to the heavens- he’s never been religious but if there was ever a time. Considers if he should find and do Jewish and Savaran ones as well, starts searching on his tablet, before deciding not to risk messing it up.

The wait is long, as the others arrive before he gets any news. It’s clear they asked after him, were told he was there, from their relief at seeing him alive and well. From the innocent way they ask if he knows where Kevin is. Ben can’t bring himself to answer, to say it out loud. As if that may break whatever nebulous spell rests over the room. Like if he says something, anything, it’ll draw the wrong attention, someone will come out and say they’ve lost him. Even moreso when Gwen keeps asking, as it sinks in that Kevin is injured, that he’s who Ben is waiting for.

Her questions get more worried, more tense, the longer he sits silent. Before it would have broken him, she was his cousin, he loved her dearly, until that day she’d been his dearest friend. Now the sound of her voice grates in his chest. All he can think is how she did this. They’d joked, they’d laughed, but, she was the one who decided freefall was the answer. She decided Kevin deserved this. Deserved to be in a hospital room, broken and bloody, waiting for somebody who’ll be able to help him to arrive, hoping he’s alright till then.

There’s nothing, he realizes, that he wants to say to her that doesn’t involve cursing and his fists.

Ben isn’t keeping track of time, can’t bring himself to, and so he doesn’t know how long it is before Azmuth finds somebody to explain the situation. Before he pats his leg and goes off to aid in the recovery efforts. Grandpa Max leads Gwen to sit a few feet away, letting her cry into his shoulder. Rook takes the spot beside Ben. Bless him, because he’s the one that realizes somebody needs to let people know what’s going all. Who calls Kevin’s mom. Who calls Argit.

They both manage to get there before the specialist, Grandpa Max trying to joke about Kevin’s mom ‘breaking the laws of physics now’. It lands like a dropped wedding cake, and he avoids their eyes from that point on. The two demand an update from the staff, the only one the lot of them have gotten (he’s stable, they can’t be sure of anything yet, he should have died but he hasn’t-). As soon as she has all the information available, Kevin’s mom sits beside the entrance to the hallway. It’s obvious she’s trying to pretend she’s not crying, unwilling to show weakness in front of the rest of them, and Ben is caught between the desire to go an apologize, to comfort her, and being frozen with guilt. How can he face her, someone who’s already been through so much, when he failed to protect her only living child? When he’s perfectly fine and Kevin’s like that? He can only take comfort in the fact Argit is stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder, staring down the hall like it’ll make any news come quicker.

When the specialist finally arrives- an Osmosian themselves- the first thing they do is pull aside the doctor overseeing Kevin’s care, Kevin’s mom, and Ben himself. They want a rundown of what’s happened and Kevin’s mom is owed the knowledge. Ben doesn’t want to say it, he knows it’s irrational to be scared to but that doesn’t change how he feels. But the specialist- Healer Oeler- promises to do their best, is patient in explaining that it may help with his care, but Ben wants to the best for his friend. Even if the words keep lodging in his throat.

“My cousin shoved us into freefall. I- I couldn’t catch him.”

Kevin’s mom tenses like a bowstring when he says it- he can’t blame her, he’s felt the same way for what feels like half his life but can’t have been more than a few hours- even as Oeler nods. They ask how high they fell from, Ben tells them Rook would know better than him. He’s excused, asked to send Rook over as the doctors try to calm Kevin’s mom, assure her they were and would do everything possible to see him to a full and speedy recovery. Rook goes to the little group, gives his report, pats Kevin’s mom on the shoulder before he returns.

It’s not until the doctors have headed off down the hall that she moves from her spot. Everyone but Rooks tenses when she turns back to them, an expression befitting Kevin at his worst on her face. Grandpa Max rises, tries to intercept her as she storms in he and Gwen’s direction, and gets socked in the gut for his trouble. Gwen is half-up by this point, but that doesn’t stop Kevin’s mom from hauling her to her feet by her hair, tossing her away from the wall before rounding on her.

There’s a lot of screaming then. Screaming, snarling, crying from Gwen, and it’s clear that if it weren’t for constantly having to shake off their grandfather the woman would be proving why all the adults call Kevin ‘Eva’s boy’ rather than Devin’s. Rook tries to stand to intervene at one point, but Ben lays a hand on his arm to keep him in place beside him. He doesn’t blame her. He wants to do the same thing, he just doesn’t have the temper and disconnect from family to do it. Instead it’s Argit who finally calms things down, waiting until she’s gotten a solid blow in on Gwen before coming to talk her down. Ben can’t hear what he says, nothing nice from how Gwen and Grandpa Max glare at him, but it works, and gets her back to her spot by the hall.

If nothing else, they’re all treated well by staff. They’re brought food- weird food, but nobody is in a state to argue. Myaxx comes by to hand out blankets- apparently from her own stash. A nurse checks Grandpa Max, Gwen, and Kevin’s mom’s injuries from the fight. The other people waiting for news on injured loved ones are quick with well wishes and distractions, several making sure to come up to them before they leave and reiterate that they’ll be wishing for the best.

None of their group leave. Even when Azmuth comes out and offers them board, none of them can bear to go. Hours pass. Grandpa Max falls asleep, curled up on the tiling, but the rest of them can’t manage. Even with Rook assuring Ben that he can rest, that he’ll wake him up the second there’s news, and the same conversation happening by the hall, it just won’t happen. Can’t happen. As such Grandpa Max is woken by the clatter of everyone but Argit rushing to their feet when he announces Healer Oeler coming. The lot of them must look a wreck standing there, wide-eyed and mussed, but the doctor has no room to judge when they look just as tired. They scan the room before focusing their attention on Kevin’s mom.

“It will be a long recovery, and we can’t be sure he’ll recover without aftereffects, but he will recover.”

The tension in the room leaves in a flood. Gwen starts crying again, not that Ben can tell easily through his own tears. Kevin’s mom says a prayer in what he assumes is Hebrew, and Argit repeats it as best he can with her. Grandpa Max pulls Gwen back into his arms, squeezing her tight, while Rook gives Ben’s shoulder a companionable squeeze. The sentiment repeats on loop in Ben’s mind. Kevin is going to recover, he’s going to be alright.

He's had a lot of grateful moments, but nothing yet that would beat that one. Like a bomb’s just been disarmed in his heart.

He can’t say what he would have done if they’d lost him.

Healer Oeler informs them all that the decision has been made not to wake Kevin up yet. His injuries are severe (there doesn’t seem to be a limit on what percentage of your bones you can break at one time, or how many organs can be damaged in one incident) and he needs to rest before he can have any visitors. Nobody argues. Nobody leaves either. Instead, they curl up on the floor in pairs- Ben still has no desire to interact with his cousin, and won’t for a long time- trusting in the staff to wake them if anything happens.

Ben doesn’t get woken up when Kevin does. Apparently his mom takes priority, which he supposes makes sense, and she took Argit along, which makes even more sense. It’s only once they’ve made sure he’s okay, and he’s had the chance to rest some more, that anybody comes and gets Ben. He’s tempted to wake Rook, it would make sense for everyone to come in twos, but can’t bring himself to do it. Something in his chest demands he do this alone. A penance, of sorts, for what he couldn’t do, for having to leave him all by himself.

He does a double take when he steps inside, Khyber’s hound lain beside the bed- and it’s obvious they had to dig something out of storage to fit him- like it belongs there. It immediately bolts to attention when he enters, growling.

“Down, girl. Behave.” To Ben’s surprise the hound calms at Kevin’s words, though it continues to watch him warily. Still he manages to pull his gaze away as he approaches and see Kevin for the first time in too long. His heart plummets into his gut at the sight of him. He looks like absolute hell, like- Well, like he’d fallen from the sky. Most everything Ben can see is one big bruise, the rest covered in bandages and casts. When Kevin flashes him a grin, it’s missing teeth. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Ben tries to say something, but only manages a watery sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, tears welling in his eyes again. “I’m sorry.” Kevin frowns at him.

“Don’t-”

“I couldn’t catch you, I tried so hard but I just wasn’t fast enough, I’m so sorry-”

“Benji.” The nickname catches him in his tracks, and he wipes his eyes as he meets Kevin’s. “I know the math. You weren’t gonna catch me. It’s okay. You tried, that’s enough.” Kevin hefts a little laugh, cringing as it jostles his injuries. “Even Mom and Argit don’t blame you, and with Mom’s temper that’s an accomplishment.” Ben manages a little laugh of his own.

“You know she beat up Grandpa and Gwen,” he asks, heart twisting a bit at the mention of his cousin and the broken look that darts across Kevin’s face at her name. He forces himself to give a little smile again.

“I’d heard. Shiners for the ages, apparently.”

“Yeah…” Ben licks his lips, and carefully sits on the edge of the bed, mindful of the hound and the risk of jostling his friend. “Kev… If there’s anything you need, anything I can do, just say the word, okay? I’m here for you, man.”

“I know.” Closing his eyes against the pain of a deep breath, Kevin sighs. “There’s some shit I loaned Gwendolyn- a few books, one of my jackets- think you could grab them for me? I’d really rather not…” The sentence trails of, but Ben knows what he’s talking about. He’s been thinking about it himself, even before the guy’s mom tried to take a chunk of Gwen.

“That’s probably the best move,” he admits, heart twisting again at the tension that drops off Kevin’s face. He can’t possibly have thought he’d take his cousin’s side on this of all things… Forcing a smile, Ben pulls out his tablet and opens the notetaking app his own mom had convinced him to install. “Just let me know what exactly I’m looking for, it’ll be at your mom’s place by the time they let you out of here.” Giving Ben a heartwarming grin, Kevin reaches down to give the barest scritch to the hound.

“You’ll know the jacket, but she’s got my copy of The Passage, if you see anything by Dean Koontz it’s mine, and now I’m thinking of it-”

Ben takes meticulous notes as Kevin goes down a list of the things he’s loaned to Gwen over the years that he wants back, immediately. A list that ends up leading to talk of music, movies, anything and everything. A solid distraction from the horrible situation that lasts until Rook appears at the doorway, knocking on the wall outside before he comes in. Kevin’s in an easier mood now, responding with a smile to his questions and well wishes and Ben makes his way out with a wave and quiet note that the hound doesn’t seem to give two shits about Rook being there.

When he makes it back to the waiting room, he finds Argit and Kevin’s mom blocking Gwen’s path, refusing to allow her to go visit him. He can’t bring himself to feel bad for her- not now and not in future- and while there’s a twinge of pity that she doesn’t seem to have realized just how badly she fucked up, that there’s no coming back from here, it doesn’t stop him from stepping forward and pulling her attention to himself.

“Hey, we’ve gotta head home once Rook’s done in there. I need you to help me find this stuff Kevin wants back.”

After all, no matter what Kevin says, he failed him horribly, and he intends to do everything in his power to make up for it. Family be damned.

[keicordelle]

I’ve been wanting to play with Thanuri for a while, so I’m finally getting started with a new multi-chapter fic! Following the blossoming of their romance on the First and the development from friends to feelings to partners. I’ll be updating the tags (and the rating, I’m lying to you when I say explicit here -- for now) as I go, but for now, here’s the first chapter! Or, you can read it here on Ao3!

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Chapter 1: On the Threshold of Fate

The feeling of the wood beneath Thancred’s knuckles was solid, the impact shuddering all the way up his arm as he knocked. Please let him be home, please let him be home... Or, perhaps more accurately: please tell me I didn't subject myself to the wiles of those pixies for nothing. He wasn't sure if the Twelve could hear prayers from the first, but evidently someone could, because he only had to wait a few moments (albeit impossibly long moments filled with bated breath and surreptitious glances for the colorful flutter of wings) before the towering oak door creaked open, revealing the figure of an old friend in its wake.

At least, he was pretty sure that was Urianger standing before him. Thancred’s jaw dropped as he took him in, hardly able to believe his own eyes. Muscles rippled up Urianger’s bare arms, a gold band digging into the supple flesh of a bicep that was nearly as wide around as Thancred’s thigh. Bejeweled bangles and golden bracers hid most of his toned forearms, a spectacle in and of themselves, even discounting the body they adorned. Gone was the frumpy robe and tinted goggles that had shrouded his features for as long as Thancred had known him; instead, graceful black cloth hung almost haphazardly from his broad shoulders, cinched at the waist but otherwise falling loosely about his frame, leaving his collarbones and a good portion of his upper chest exposed. The wide golden collar that graced his slender neck could maybe have been considered a gorget if you were being generous (very generous), though in truth Thancred’s mind was much more interested in the way it drew the eye and glittered so beautifully on him than any sort of defensive capabilities it might offer. More jewels and golden chains draped elegantly over the skirt, the near hip-high slit in the thin fabric almost making Thancred swallow his own tongue until he realized Urianger wore a sort of white petticoat beneath it and was not leaving quite that much of his glorious body on display. Thancred swallowed thickly, more than idly curious what the rest of his body looked like beneath that flowing robe, and he squashed that thought before it could take hold. Had Urianger always been this hot? Because seven hells, he was gorgeous.

Thancred forced his eyes up before looking became leering, though it was probably safe to say he'd already passed the point of staring longer than was reasonable. Soft grey hair framed Urianger’s face in its usual long, feathered locks, unchanged since the last time Thancred had seen him, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief to find at least this much of his friend to be as he'd expected. His beard was still neatly trimmed, arching up to frame his soft-looking lips, which were perhaps a touch thin but certainly nothing to complain about. Thancred wetted his own lips, dragging his eyes higher to find Urianger’s piercing golden gaze upon him, measuring him in turn - if a bit less lecherously than Thancred was Urianger. There was a pleasant warmth in their depths that felt like a homecoming, and Thancred’s heart fluttered in his chest.

"Urianger?" His voice came out in a rather undignified squeak, and he cleared his throat lest he make more of a fool of himself than he already was.

"Thancred, 'tis good to see thee. Pray forgive me for not seeking thee out upon mine arrival in the First; the Exarch apprised me of thine wanderings, and I fear my presence would have been more hindrance than help." Which was probably true, especially if he'd showed up looking like that, but the folded weapon at his back revealed that he had diversified more than just his outfit in the years since Thancred had last seen him.

"Don't worry about it. It sounds like you've got yourself well situated here, with a flock of pixie guards and a library's worth of books to study... But it's good to see you too." Damn good.

Apparently Thancred’s staring was not as subtle as he'd hoped, because Urianger shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot before asking, "What thinkest thou of my new raiment?" He brushed his hands self-consciously down his skirt, and Thancred’s eyes followed the motion before he caught himself and dragged them back up to his face.

"You... you look- good," he spluttered, swallowing back the three dozen more accurate compliments that rose to his tongue, at least two dozen of which were guaranteed to make Urianger blush a scandalized red.

Instead, he offered Thancred a warm smile before his eyes slid past him to land on Minfilia, half-hidden where she huddled behind Thancred’s back. "And I suspect thou art Minfilia, the Oracle of Light. 'Tis a pleasure to make thine acquaintance."

Minfilia squeaked out a greeting that Thancred suspected had less to do with his own reasons for fluster than it did the enigmatic and intimidating figure that Urianger made, towering over them both (and while that was nothing new, the interest it sparked certainly was).

"I sense there is much we must needs discuss," Urianger said with his typical gravity, his attention returning to Thancred. Those golden eyes held his, and he couldn't have looked away if his life depended on it. "Come in, I prithee. I shall put on a pot of tea; pray make yourselves comfortable."

Thancred choked as Urianger turned, revealing the open back on his robe that left broad planes of muscle on display, more of those golden chains dangling from the back of his collar to brush against his bare skin before arching back up into the pin at his shoulder that held his robe in place. Twelve help me. He’s going to be the death of me. Curling his fingers under his palm to deny the urge to reach out and wrap those chains around his hand, Thancred took a steadying breath, reminding himself that this was Urianger, his old friend (even if he inexplicably had the body of a sultry saint), and no, he probably was not aware of just how hot that was.

He's your friend, Thancred repeated more firmly to himself as he trailed behind him, noting absently the dusty surfaces and precarious stacks of books. Not once had Urianger ever shown any sort of interest in him - or in anyone, for that matter. Best to clear his head of any sort of indecent thoughts before they took hold. Besides, Thancred’s heartbreaking days were behind him. He was older and wiser now - and it took remarkably little wisdom to realise that making an unwanted advance on your good friend was incredibly stupid, especially when you'd come to beg said friend for refuge. So he stuffed those rising feelings into the little box in the back of his mind that bore all his woes, and he followed Urianger into his home, settling himself comfortably into his living room and his life as easy as that.

If only it were as easy as that. Somehow Thancred doubted it would go so smoothly. Because if he were being honest with himself, he suspected the fluttering beneath his breast had a lot less to do with a finely muscled physique, and a lot more to do with the warmth in those gilded eyes. And that was going to be a lot more difficult to bury within himself and forget.

Seven hells. Well at least it was going to be an interesting stay.

[Chapter 2]

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

💔 be still, my beating heart ❤️

jorowena ficlet - 1074 words - rating: T - cw for blood and stabbing - read on ao3

Rowena’s chest hitches, then, her mouth opening as if to speak, and Jo doesn’t think twice she just takes her father’s knife, which was so heavy in her hand and now is lighter than ever before, and throws it, hard, straight into the witch’s chest.

Or the Jo stabs Rowena homeoritcally in the heart fic.

Jo waits, knife in her hand in the center of the hallway. It’s all she can do now; there’s no use running from a witch this powerful. She’s heard the stories of witches before. Every hunter has.

Most hunters have faced one before, though, too. Well, there’s a first time for everything.

The familiar cold clink of high heels on stone echoes along the corridor, slowly gaining ground. Nearer and nearer the door, nearer to Jo. 

It’s beginning to feel a lot like the end. It always does, Jo reckons, when she stands and fights rather than runs. It’s strange, not to give in to the instinct at moments like this, when she’s been running her whole life. 

The clinks of footsteps come to a stop.

She hadn’t bothered bolting the door, there’d been no time, so it creaks open slowly and easily. The witch is revealed bit by bit, coming into startling view from the grainy dark of the doorway.

Then she just stands, facing Jo, calm as anything.

It feels a bit like a shootout, like the moment in a Western when the two gunfighters stand amid the blowing sand and stare at each other until the time comes. Until someone strikes first.

So Jo stands amid the cold breeze of the stone hallway and stares at the witch. 

Rowena. 

She isn’t hard to stare at. She’s a compelling woman - no taller than Jo, somehow handsome and pretty all at once. Hair, a little too red to be ginger, unfurls in ringlets down her back. 

And Jo is no stranger to a little black dress, but she’s never seen someone wear one with a cape before. 

Rowena stares back. There’s the barest hint of a sly smile unfurling at the corners of her mouth, but it might be the fleeting light. 

Jo looks again, and the witch’s face has lost all trace of humor.

Rowena’s chest hitches, then, her mouth opening as if to speak, and Jo doesn’t think twice she just takes her father’s knife, which was so heavy in her hand and now is lighter than ever before, and throws it, hard, straight into the witch’s chest. 

It hits bullseye, right in her heart.

Jo never misses, after all. Like the archery set out in the garden when she was a kid. Shooting and aiming for the heart. 

Daddy’s little cupid.

Rowena blows a sharp pant of breath after the dull thud of the impact, but she doesn’t even take a step back. Just stands there, face unreadable. Maybe a little smug. Blood starting to drip down her little black dress.

The only sign that shows that she’s really felt anything is the way she folds her hands up to her heart, around the knife, like it aches. Or maybe like she wants it to sit deeper.

But she shouldn’t be wanting anything at all. She should be dead.

Jo never misses.

“You’re still alive,” Jo whispers, the words drawn out of her like the goosebumps all along her arms.

The witch hums, deep and rich. Now, there’s a hungry smile playing around her mouth. “I have been for a very long time,” she murmurs; her lips fall around the words in an accent Jo wants to taste. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for someone.”

The words are solid and the air is still after that. Hanging, mid-moment.

Rowena steps forward, her heels clicking boldly against the stone. The knife still in her heart never wavers. 

She comes continually closer, and with every step, Jo feels the instinct she has felt her whole life, the instinct to run, fall away. Or maybe this is instinctual now, instead. To stand so close to Rowena that Rowena could reach out and touch her. 

And then Rowena does. 

The blood on her hands glistens in the low light as she brings them away from her wound and reaches down, down to where Jo’s hands are tense by her side.

For some reason, and she doesn’t quite know why, Jo lets her take them. Lets the witch take her hands, the blood slick between them both, working its way into the love and life and fate lines of both their palms. 

The knife is still stood, pierced deep into her breast.

Now the witch’s blood is on both of their hands, and the handle of Jo’s father's knife, as Rowena cradles Jo’s hands with her own around the sheath and guides her to tug. Her fingers are taut and strong around Jo’s, deft amid the blood. The edges of her manicured nails scratch lightly against Jo’s skin. 

Jo’s hands feel inadequate. Deep in her gut she wants the witch to hold her harder.

The knife comes out slowly, with a wrench and wet noise almost overpowered by Rowena’s shuddering gasp of pain. 

So she is alive, but not unfeeling.

Rowena’s torn gasp settles itself on Jo’s neck, the movement of air flush against her skin, the witch’s quivering lips a movement away. She’s still got her hands wrapped around Jo’s, both of them holding the knife. Jo can feel the warmth on the blade still, from where it was in her chest. 

Her mouth must be warm too. Her breath is.

“Waiting for someone?” Jo asks, a little ruined. Blood is dripping from their hands to the floor.

The witch loosens her grip on the knife and so Jo does too, it clattering needlessly away to the ground. It’s loud, but she barely hears it. 

The witch has pressed her hands up to her breast, taking Jo’s with her, covering the stab wound. Blood is pulsating sluggishly out still between both their fingers. It’s a dark red. Darker than the lipstick on the witch’s lips.

Jo’s never really used lipstick before, never tasted it on someone else, either. Does it taste different on a witch? On a woman?

Her knees are getting weaker with the every beat of Rowena’s heart Jo can feel through her bloodied palms. Trembling, almost, now, but the witch seems to return it, and as if with gravity, she sways closer too. 

Words spill from the witch’s lips again, out from around her tongue in that foreign accent Jo wants to push her fingers inside of. 

“Someone like you,” Rowena says. There’s barely any sound to her words. 

Just air.

Just the warmth of her heart, her blood, in Jo’s hands.

And then, the heat of her lips crashing into hers.