#sorry this is so long bUT THE FICS ARE PERFECT!!!!

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Dancing in the Courthouse

♥ masterlist | request rules | part of my 1k event

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: In 2021 you and oscar decided to elope due to your unpredictable schedules. now that you have more stability in your life, you were able to throw a dream wedding with the man you loved most in the world.

♥ smau + written - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: first fic apart of the 1k event!

-Paris, 2021-

The streets of Paris were bustling as you took a seat in your Uber. You could hear a Taylor Swift song playing faintly on the car's radio as you pulled out your phone.

You

hey osc I'm on my way back

Oscar checked the notification and panicked a little internally. He slipped the device back into his dress pants and shook his hands.

"Relax, tout ira bien," Estie assured Oscar. (translation: everything will be fine)

He sighed and turned towards the two French men, "Are you sure?"

All Pierre did was laugh.

"Call me when it's over," Pierre said with a smirk and guided Esteban out the door, into an elevator.

You were in France on a girls night out with your best friend Kika, whom you met through Formula 1. Little did the two of you know that Pierre and Esteban snuck over to your hotel room in order to help Oscar set up a surprise.

You tapped your keycard on your hotel door and called out your boyfriend's name. You set your purse down on a small marble table and kicked off your heels, making your way through the main room.

A small trail of pink rose petals guided you to the terrace causing your heartbeat to pick up.

Was this really happening?

You opened the glass doors to find more rose petals surrounding the floor and a very handsome Oscar. You strode over to him in complete shock until he grabbed your hands in his.

"Y/n you have been my best friend for as long as I can remember," he said as his thumb drew circles on one of your fingers. "You have stood by me since the beginning of my career and I could never imagine a life without you. I know we don't get to spend as much time together as we'd like to, but that is why I wanted to do this today."

He slowly got down on one knee in front of you and pulled out a black velvet box to reveal a silver ring.

"Will you marry me?"

You squatted down to his height and mumbled, "Is that even a question?"

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him gently, "Yes of course I will."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-July 4, 2024-

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lilymhe, and 300,572 more

ynln london girl

📸 creds: @/oscarpiastri

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user1 lmao the oscar picture creds

oscarpiastri I risked my life for that first pic

ynln @/oscarpiastri you were on another balcony?

user3 if anyone risked their life for that picture it's Alex

user2 speaking of alex she looks SO pretty there

carlossainz55 red nails for ferrari

ynln anything for you carlitos 😽

iamrebeccad so so true and real

user4 pretties

user9 lets all manifest an oscar win for this weekend

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri, hattiepiastri, and 1,481,583 more

ynpiastri oops I guess the cat is out of the bag huh! the rumors are in fact true, oscar and I are married. we have been trying to keep it a secret since our elope in 2021, but it seems as though I slipped up with a photo on my insta. at least it was the perfect timing for the reception we're throwing this summer 🥰

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nicolepiastri see you at the sequel wedding!!

ynpiastri <3

user1 ...sorry?

user8 PARDON

user12 THEY'RE ACTUALLY MARRIED

user2 POOKIE YOU CANT JUST POST A SHIRTLESS OSCAR LIKE THAT

user7 her username change I am so endeared

mclaren how many of you knew...

logansargeant I did

alexandrasaintmleux I did

charles_leclerc I did

landonorris I DIDNT?!?!

landonorris @/oscarpiastri how come charles knew before me

charles_leclerc @/landonorris he's my son???

iamrebeccad I'm so happy for you!

ynpiastri tysm becks 🥹🫶

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 123,740 more

wagupdates the girlies pulling up to the belgian paddock

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user1 the color scheme 🛐

user2 PLS did they plan this for y/n’s wedding?

wagupdates @/user2 we think so!!

oscarpiastri I guess I need to step up my fashion game

charles_leclerc @/oscarpiastri I can help 😁

ynpiastri @/charles_leclerc no you cannot

user7 I love them

user4 they're GORGEOUS

francolapinto 😘

user8 ITS MR STEAL YOUR GIRL

user3 HAHAHA

user9 FRANCO Y/N IS MARRIED

charles_leclerc @/francocolapinto Te sugiero que elijas sabiamente tus próximas palabras (I suggest you choose your next words wisely)

francolapinto sorry sorry! its a joke its a joke 😅

user10 the threatening spanish 😭

carlossainz55 @/user10 I taught him that

fernandoalo_oficial @/carlossainz55 and I taught YOU that

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by pierregasly, ynpiastri, carmenmundt, and 563,885 more

francisca.cgomes rich bitch energy

tagged; @/ynpiastri @/alexandrasaintmleux

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user1 are you shopping for dresses

francisca.cgomes mayybbe

ynpiastri GORGEOUS

francisca.cgomes NO YOU 😚

aussiegrit @/nicolepiastri do i get to walk oscar down the aisle

nicolepiastri no 😐

charles_leclerc that’s right because i am

user2 the family seating is gonna go crazy lol

user5 so what’s the dog situation?

landonorris bark

ynpiastri @/landonorris NO 😭

user5 I MEANT LEO AND ROSCOE 💀

ynpiastri @/user5 leo we know is definitely going to be there! 🥰

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Wedding Day-

liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 1,749,053 more

ynpiastri 💍

tagged; @/francisca.cgomes

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danielricciardo 🥹

pierregasly vous êtes tous les deux magnifiques (you both look gorgeous)

user6 the fact that kika is her maid of honor

user7 IM NOT CRYING

user4 the venue is STUNNING

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

There was a salty ocean breeze on a cliff-side of Monaco, the place you and Oscar picked for the wedding.

There were dozens of familiar faces along with beautiful greenery and pastel flowers decorating the space.

You were sat at your table with your husband Oscar as the toast’s began to start.

“Hi,” someone said into the mic with a smile. “I’m Kika.”

There were a few soft laughs from the crowd. She pulled a piece of paper out of her gold-colored dress.

“When I found out you eloped without me that day in Paris my first thought was ‘fuck you’.” she said causing some more chuckles to come from the guests.

“It was only because I wouldn’t get the chance to give you the speech I had planned—but here we are today and I’m so glad I finally get to say it. Over these past couple years you have been my best friend, in and outside the paddock. I have so much love for you and I couldn’t be happier for your relationship with Oscar.”

You got up from your seat and hugged her, eliciting a few ‘aws’ from the room.

Lando stood up next with the mic, “Oscar was the guy on the grid no one could shut the up about,” Lando spoke into the mic and everyone laughed. “I didn’t get it at first, but then I met him, and I got it. And I felt the same when I met Y/n. You two are lucky to have each other. Congrats, mate.”

He raised his glass of champagne causing everyone to clink their glasses and cheer.

liked by lewishamilton, aussiegrit, nicolepiastri, and 1,937,954 more

ynpiastri wifey

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user1 this is so cunty

wagupdates we heard that y/n’s heel broke and oscar had to carry her to the car (hence the last picture) 😭

user7 she is SO pretty

patriciooward great to see you again osc!

user6 I. LOVE. THEM.

user2 omg they’re so hot

user3 y/n’s outfits today >>>

lilymhe the reception was beautiful

ynpiastri <3

[womanenjoyeranduselesslesbian]

Her ever lasting grip

wc: 1209 ☘︎︎

Content: Manipulation and emotional abuse, Toxic relationships, violence, noncon touching, kidnapping, power imbalance.

If this fic was messy af I’m so sorry, it’s my first time writing 🂱

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Rio… I—I left you for a reason, that was at least what you would tell her if you ever crossed paths again.

Years ago, long before Agatha Harkness had her hands on the Darkhold, you were entangled with Rio. In the beginning it seemed perfect. The connection between the two of you was intense, almost intoxicating. But soon things began to change. She started telling you who you could talk to, who you couldn’t, what you could wear, what you couldn’t. It was subtle at first, disguised as concern or affection, but the control she exerted tightened day by day. She loved it, the way she could manipulate you, bend you to her will, drawing you into her toxic web.

You had no idea why you didn’t leave her earlier. Maybe it was because she was a stronger witch, her power looming over you like a shadow. You knew, deep down that no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t truly escape. Not without consequences.

Then, the rumors began to spread about Agatha Harkness, a powerful witch who had killed her own mother and now wielded the powerful Darkhold. In all the chaos you saw hope,If Agatha was all that powerful maybe she could help you with Rio.

One night, after Rio had finally drifted off to sleep you made your move. Heart pounding you crept out of the old house.You had heard Agatha wasn’t far, only a couple of towns away hiding deep in the forest. You followed the whispers of her dark magic and found her standing over another witch taking her power with ease. Agatha’s presence was chilling, but you were past the point of no return.

Falling to your knees, you begged her to take you with her, to free you from Rio’s grasp. Something in your plea seemed to strike a chord with her, and perhaps out of pity or curiosity Agatha agreed. She let you stay, but there were conditions. In return for her protection, you would help her in whatever ways she needed.

And then the Hex came. A distortion of reality created by Wanda Maximoff, drawing you, Agatha, and the others into the made up world. You played your role as the nosy neighbor’s wife and agatha as the nosy neighbor. But when Agatha broke free and lost the battle Wanda hexed you both once more, trapping Agatha in Westview’s fabricated reality and you along with her.

Months later, you and Agatha found yourselves on a case that felt all too familiar. Like something sinister was lurking beneath the surface. That’s when your boss introduced a new detective to join the case. The moment you laid eyes on her the fear creeped up on you. It was Rio. Though she seemed calm the sight of her sent a wave of dread coursing through you. She smiled like it was nothing but you felt the weight of her presence like a collar tightening around your neck making it hard to breathe. That night, while you and Agatha sat watching TV the doorbell rang.

It was Rio.

She stood at the threshold, a casual smile on her lips, holding a box of pizza. Agatha squinted, like she recognized her but couldn’t place her finger from where. You, on the other hand, knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of. The discomfort gnawed at you as the three of you settled in.

Then came a noise from upstairs, something crashing to the floor. Agatha leaped up, rushing to investigate but you stayed frozen in place. Moments later, Rio’s fingers brushed against your leg, slowly creeping higher until they rested on your thigh.

“What are you doing?” you stammered, your voice trembling.

“Just touching what’s mine,” she whispered, her breath warm against your ear. You felt her body press against your back, like a reminder of the hold she still had on you. Her voice was soft, but the possessiveness in her words was suffocating.

Thankfully Agatha came back pretty quickly. It was just some kid that broke in, and the interrogation that followed didn’t take long. Agatha and Rio stayed behind at the station but you seized the opportunity to escape. Rushing home you collapsed onto your bed, exhaustion pulling you into a deep slumber. But even in sleep, Rio’s presence lingered, haunting your dreams. You saw flashes of what might have happened if you had been alone with her just a little longer, the weight of her magic pulling you deeper into the nightmare.

Hours later, screams tore you from your sleep. Jolting awake cold with sweat you raced downstairs, fear gripping your chest. What you saw stopped you cold. Rio had Agatha pinned against the wall with a wave of her hand, her magic rippling through the room like a storm, destroying anything that gets in its way.

But that wasn’t what shocked you the most.

As you stood there, watching the scene unfold, memories you had long buried came rushing back. Memories of the torment, the manipulation, the way Rio had twisted every part of you until you were no longer yourself, your childhood, the day you met Agatha and so much more. Rio glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with malice.

“Be a doll and help me, won’t you?” she cooed, smirking.

You hesitated for a heartbeat before bolting towards the back door, but it was already too late. A sharp pain exploded in your head, and everything went black. You could hear her laughing, her voice echoing in the darkness as your body went limp. To her, you were nothing but a foolish girl, someone who still needed her to think, to act, to live.

With Agatha still pinned helplessly to the ground, Rio bent down and scooped up your unconscious body, holding you effortlessly in her arms.

“The Salem Seven will probably be here by dawn,” Rio chuckled, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Then, with a final cackle, she disappeared into the woods behind the house, carrying you away, powerless once more.

[patrywoso]

17. Ingrid Engen

+18 smut

Warnings: Spanking. Choking. Mommy Kink. Lexan paddle.

A/N: Thanks to @ljs-woso-vibez for proofreading this fic and being awesome.

You knelt on the floor with your eyes downcast and your hands on your knees as Ingrid undressed. God, you really wanted to watch, but you had been told to stay in position and your earlier spanking in the morning had taught you enough for the day.

“You can look up, darling.” Ingrid directed. You smiled softly because you love looking at Ingrid. From your position on the floor you have a perfect view,, all her soft curves and long, thick legs.

“Stand.” Ingrid tells you.

You scrambled to stand, catching yourself as you stumbled., Ingrid gently pushed you back, laying you on the bed and pinning your arms above your head.

“You were so good for me today, baby,” Ingrid cooed, pressing kisses to your neck. “But I don’t think this bottom is red enough for me yet.”

You let out a whine as you muttered the word “green.”

“Good girl,” Ingrid whispered, pulling you up and flipping you onto your elbows and knees. “Stay in position, dear.” You stayed still as Ingrid went to get what you were assuming was the Lexan paddle.

Your ass was still stinging from the events of this morning, but it was about to get much worse. A shiver went down your spine and you could feel yourself becoming wetter by the second.

Ingrid came into view and you saw she was holding the Lexan paddle, her favourite because she loved the marks it left.

“Good girl.” Ingrid cooed as she rubbed the cool material over your upturned bottom before bringing it down in a firm swat. You jerked forward but immediately repositioned yourself, arching your back as much as possible. “You’re so wet for me, darling.”

“Mhmmm,” you hummed, and Ingrid brought the paddle down again, this time on your other cheek. You moaned softly at the sting it left behind and wiggled your bottom in Ingrid’s direction in a wordless ask for more.You wanted to reach your hand down and touch yourself, but you knew from experience that would lead to an actual punishment and not the funishment you were receiving.

“Not yet, darling. I’m not done with this bottom of yours.” Ingrid said, and you let out a moan wrapped with pleasure. Ingrid rewarded you with two quick spanks to your right cheek, followed by two on the left. “You’re doing so good for me, beautiful,” Ingrid whispered.

“Then fuck me!” you whined, turning your head to look back at Ingrid.

Ingrid clicked her tongue at you. “Patience.” She reminded you, landing a harder swat to the middle of your backside, catching your pussy in its wake. You clenched around nothing as Ingrid continued spanking you, whining and pining for more.

As Ingrid continued to redden your backside, you found it harder to stay in position., Yyou did your best to keep your back arched, bottom in the air, but it was more difficult as she continued. Finally, you fell forward at a harsher swat to the middle of your ass and Ingrid clicked her tongue at you.

“Naughty girl.” Ingrid chided, grabbing your hips and pulling you back up. “You just couldn’t stay in position for me, could you, my little kitten?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just so hard, Mommy!” you cried, barely noticing the word that slipped out, you heard her chuckle dirtily as she picked up the paddle again.

“I think Mommy needs to spank her little kitten until she is sore and sorry. Is that what you need?” She asked.

“Yes, Mommy,” you whined.

“Yes, what?” Ingrid said, expecting more.

“I need you to spank me, Mommy.” You blushed harder than you’d ever blushed before.

“Good girl. We’re almost done.” Ingrid cooed, bringing down the paddle again and again until tears pricked your eyelids. You let them fall onto the bed and Ingrid set down the paddle. “You did so well, darling.”

“Please, fuck me,” you whined, turning back to her and pleading with wet eyelashes.

“Yes, naughty girl.” Ingrid chuckled. “So impatient for me.”

“Yes,” you panted. “Please” you begged, and you felt her warm breath on your entrance. Ingrid slowly lapped at your pussy, and you shuddered.

“You taste so good.” she murmured, continuing her work. “You look perfect like this, with your ass red and at my mercy.”

You moaned out another string of “fuck me” and Ingrid finally continued, tonguing slowly at your clit. She stuck her tongue in your entrance, and you nearly screamed, it felt so good. She flipped you over on your back and used one hand to lift the hood of your clityour clit hood, and her tongue found its way to your sweetest spot.

“God, mommy,” you moaned, bucking your hips up for more. You felt firm fingers press into your hips, holding you down to the bed and you squirmed in her hold. “It feels so good.”

Ingrid moved her tongue away and stuck a finger in your hole, curving much too slowly for your liking. Ingrid hovered over you and pressed her free hand to your neck, slightly choking you, enough that you could still breathe and feel the pressure. She added another finger, slowly working them in and out.

“Fuck,” you whined, as Ingrid pressed a thumb to your clit and began to rub. “I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” Ingrid smirked, quickening her pace, you shook under her as you felt the warmth fill your body from head to toe.

You wriggled under her hold as you came, and she let go of you, kissing your forehead gently she said, “I’ll be right back with a towel to clean you up, and a glass of water, my love.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and closed your eyes, still coming down from your orgasm. As soon as she’d gone, Ingrid came back with a towel and slowly cleaned you off. You sat up and grabbed the glass of water, obediently chugging all of it. You knew what Ingrid expected, especially after a scene like we’d just had and you weren't in the mood to be spanked again, that Lexan paddle had really worked you up.

Ingrid laid down beside you and beckoned for you to come cuddle, and you obeyed immediately. You rested your head on her chest, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact and the warmth that came with it as Ingrid ran one hand through your hair and caressed the other over your burning bottom.

“Ingrid?” you asked, peeking up at her.

“Yes, sweet girl?” She responded.

“I love you.”

“And I love you beautiful.” Ingrid kissed the top of your head, and you slowly dozed off in her arms.

[tengensangel]

Fade into you.

Boxer!sevika x topside!reader

a/n - I really hope you all enjoy this fic! English is also not my first language so I’m very sorry for any mistakes! Anyway I love sevika so much I want her so bad.

Wc: 1258

It was just another day for you, you had just finished up classes and were on your way home from college. Being a nursing student was definitely not easy. You got home and greeted your mother and fed your cats, ladybug, and Leo. You head up to your room and set your stuff up so you can start studying and doing assignments when you get a message from your friend Sam.

Sam <3: be ready at 8pm tonight, we're going out with the others. Wear something cute ;).

You wanted to decline the offer, but you knew how stubborn Sam was, so you just sighed and agreed. You study for the next couple of hours before you decide to get ready to go. You really had no clue as to where you guys were going, you just hoped it wasn't anywhere dangerous. Walking to your vanity, you start applying your makeup, deciding to go for a natural look. After all that, you decide to put on some flare jeans and a black tank top, deciding to just leave your hair as it is. After getting ready, you get a text from Sam letting you know that she and the others are here. You weren't really close with Sam's other friends, but it was fine. You sneak out of your bedroom and walk over to the meet-up spot. You spot Sam and run over to her.

“Hey Sam! Where are we going exactly?” You were curious. Sam was never the kind of person to tell you where you were going until the last second. Her answer surprised you.

“We miss goody two shoes are going to zaun aka the under city to watch an underground fight!” Sam said very enthusiastically. You gave Sam a look that said ‘what the fuck?’ but she just ignored it before dragging you and the others down with her. Was this really a good idea? Probably not, but you don't want to look like a loser in front of everyone or Sam, so you didn't say anything. After a little bit, you guys arrive in the undercity. Everything was different here. The people, the buildings, the atmosphere, everything. Staying close to Sam while she's taking you to your destination.

“Sam, is this safe at all?” “Oh absolutely not. We're here though!”

Looking at your surroundings, you notice how there is a boxing ring dead in the center. Did she just take you to see an illegal boxing ring? You notice that there's a bar and dance floor off to the left. God, could this night get crazier? Taking hold of your arm, she takes you guys closer to the boxing ring. People started piling in and crowding around you all, you saw people placing bets and getting drinks. Maybe you should have declined Sam's offer.

You can't hold that though for long before the announcer starts hyping the crowd up. You see one big man enter the ring, but you don't even focus on him because you see a woman enter the ring and shake off her dark magenta-coloured robe. She must've been 6’3 at least, her short brown hair tied up in a bun. Her muscular body looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves, her scars made her look intimidating, but in a perfect way. The announcer introduces the man to the crowd, but you don't care, being too focused on the big muscular woman standing in the ring, finally he calls her name.

“AND TO MY LEFT IS THE ONE AND ONLY SEVIKA FROM THE UNDERCITY!!!”. After that, the crowd went absolutely insane. She must be very popular here then. He then tells them it's time to fight. Before the man can get any hits on Sevika, he gets knocked out. 45 seconds, 45 fucking seconds.

The crowd goes absolutely crazy, crazier than before. The announcer announces her as the winner and after that some people leave, some stay and go to the bar. You let Sam know that you are going to the bathroom and that you'll be back soon. You were so unfamiliar with this place, so you kinda assumed where the bathroom was. You find a red door and a similar one beside it, so you assume these are the bathrooms. You push the door open, now seeing Sevika was not on your list for tonight. There she was in her shorts and tank top, her hair now down a cigarette in her mouth. She's looking you up and down, yep, and that is how you get beat up and die!

“I'm so sorry I thought this was the bathroom! I'll leave right away!” she had to understand, right? It was just a mistake, yeah, an honest mistake.

“Relax dove, you look like you're about to pass out or something.” What? Did you just freak out for no reason at all? She's just chilling with this? Feeling relieved, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Sevika just continued to look at you, she couldn't lie seeing you in that crowd made her feel a sort of protectiveness for you. It was weird because everyone knew that Sevika never had relationships, she was a person who fucks and leaves. Sevika knew you and your buddies were not from around here, she'd never seen you before. Your friends have come here before on multiple occasions. It almost made her mad to see you here. You shouldn't be here.

“Name’s Sevika. You probably know that though, Dove. What's your name?” Oh, she wanted to know who you were.

“My name is Y/n. Yeah, I saw you knock that guy out in 45 seconds! That's actually insane.” she lets out a little chuckle and getting up, she walks over to her. She noticed the confused look in her eyes. She really shouldn't feel this way towards you. Why does she feel like she wants to know absolutely everything about you? How your days are spent or how you like your coffee. God. She needs to snap out of it. Love means weakness, Something Sevika can't have. She's only ever known violence in her life and she's never really questioned it. You felt her lean down a bit. She tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I should go now, Sevika, my friends are probably waiting for me.” you fidget with your fingers, feeling a little nervous under her eyes. She backs up after a bit, giving you space. You really wanted to see her again, not wanting this to be the last time you two met.

“Come see me next week, Dove, I'm up again.” you nod and leave her room. God, what did you just get yourself into? Is this finally your way of rebelling against everyone in your life? Why did you feel this way towards Sevika? She's from the undercity, and she's a fighter, and you were the complete opposite. It'll pass. I mean it has, so you can't fall for someone who's from the undercity, can you?

You spot Sam and the others and practically beg for her to take you home. You felt tired and a bit overstimulated. you got to your house, and climbed the tree that's by your window and sneaked into your room. If your parents ever found out you were out this late they'd probably ground you for life. You hop into your bedroom and change your clothes before hopping into bed. The last thing on your mind before you drift off is sevika.

[inmyheaddd]

meet me in the afterglow - averyjameson

a/n: this may be my fav averyjameson fic i’ve written 😕 wc: 1.7k warnings: swearing, our fav parents fighting 💔, angst but v fluffy ending i promise!! masterlist

avery sat in her room alone, reading a book to keep herself busy, but she wasn’t actually taking in a single word. 

she usually enjoyed the coldness of her room, but now it was just a bleak reminder that the one person who always radiated warmth and sent jolts through her with his touch wasn’t there with her.

and the worst part, was that it was her fault.

“what do you want me to do, heiress? act like i have it all figured out?” jameson’s voice grew louder, “well i don’t, i can’t just—”

“—just what?” she shot back, “jameson, i never asked you to act or pretend. i don’t need perfect, i don’t even want it. i need real.” her volume began to match his, even though she hated fighting with all her being. 

the moments from last night played on repeat in her mind like a broken record player she couldn’t stop. she chewed on her bottom lip, and before she knew it, her eyes began to sting. 

she wondered what jameson was doing now —drinking? driving at speeds far too high? blacked out? with his brothers? feeling nothing? feeling everything? whatever, she didn’t care. she didn’t care. 

“i need you to stop acting like nothing matters every time things get hard!”

“oh, so staying silent how you do is any better? fuck, avery, i hate to break it to you, but this is the “real” me. as real as it fucking gets.” he said through a force chuckle, letting go of the nickname and using her name instead. “if thats too much for you, or— or, or not enough for you, maybe you should just walk away.“ 

without realizing, another tear fell onto the page on her book, and it was like the boiling point for her. 

slamming the book shut and chucking it across her room, her hands came to cover her face as she sobbed, and she brought her knees up to her chest. 

she was muffling her sobs like she’d gotten so used to doing when she was growing up, so no one would hear her, but there was no one there to hear her now anyway. 

he took a step back, running a hand through his hair frustratedly as avery blinked back angry tears. “jameson, don’t even say that to me.” her voice quivered, but she wouldn’t let a tear drop. “don’t you dare look for the easy way out. you’re a hawthorne, aren’t you? the easiest answer is never the right one — you’re the one that told me that.” 

she trudged her way out of her room to the kitchen, after angrily wiping at her tears and staring at her reflection for far too long. 

she revised over all the things she would say to jameson when she saw him again, how sorry she was, how she never meant any of it, how she was so out of her mind.

jameson laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “avery, none of this is easy." his eyes met hers, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it. “you want someone i can’t be. you want a version of me that doesn’t exist. i can’t change myself no matter how hard i try, and believe me — i have.”

her throat began to tighten as she struggled to keep her composure. “jameson, no. i want you—whatever flaws you think you have and all.” she exclaimed, the next part coming out much quieter than she intended. “but you…” she trailed off, “you don’t even trust me with all of that. why can’t you understand that i love you for who you are? i want to work for us. i know we aren’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t something worth trying for.” 

“heiress,” he paused, “trying isn’t working anymore. down the line we’ll both be miserable and you’ll say nothing until we have one of these bursting screaming matches like this again. you don’t deserve it. it’s not worth it.”

it’s not worth it. they weren’t worth it. she wasn’t worth it.

avery swirled the glass of water she filled up as she leaned against the counter, dim low lighting filling the empty kitchen. the freezing water made her feel as cold on the inside as she was outside. 

she finished her glass and made her way out of the kitchen, making a turn to get to the stairs, only to stop in her tracks and stagger back. 

her eyes met familiar green ones with slight bags under them, and an unruly bed of hair that usually looked a little tidier. 

avery was at a loss for words, jameson hawthorne, standing infront of her, giving up because things got too hard?

she scoffed, but she sounded more dejected than she did angry. “fine then. don’t try anymore.” she swallowed, taking in the way jameson’s brows softened and a flash of something passed through his eyes, though she couldn’t quite place it. regret? anger? satisfaction? 

she let her eyes do the talking for a moment before speaking. “you are the most selfish person i’ve ever met.” she added with purpose, every word like a dagger to him. she didn’t wait for anything he had to say, turning on her heels with one last look and walking out of the room. 

jameson called out for her, but she kept walking. her heart beat faster than it ever had before and it was like every inch of her body wanted to turn around and collapse in his arms. 

—to apologize for everything she did and didn’t do, to look into his eyes and see that glitter of love in them, for him to kiss the tears off of her and simply be there.

unfortunately for avery kylie grambs, she didn’t always get what she wanted, and she kept walking forwards. 

avery felt like she had the wind knocked out of her as jameson stood infront of her, breathing heavily as he looked equally as surprised to have found her.

every rehearsed line and practiced speech she had left her mind in that moment. the only thing that rang through it was his name. “jameson,” she said, almost whispering. 

“heiress, wait.” he said, reaching an arm out to stop her leaving— he couldn’t let her go. she wasn’t going to anyway, she felt frozen in place. she also didn’t want to leave.

“i, i don’t know what to say, jameson, i’m so sorry.” she said with a light shake of her head, “i was so out of line last night, and i shouldn’t have—“

he cut her off, “no, avery, let me just say this, please.” he said with pleading eyes. “i think i should be institutionalized with the way i felt like i’ve lost my mind without you. i know i lost my mind last night, that’s for sure.” 

he chuckled nervously, and avery knew jameson hawthorne never got nervous. “avery, you are worth every single thing on this goddamn planet— in the whole universe. i don’t think i could begin to conceptualize a life without you in it. what i said last night? i lied.“ 

he took a deep, shuddering breath in. “i said i couldn’t change for you, but i know that’s not true, because i have— before my own eyes. every waking day i spend with you makes me want to become better, for you, heiress.” 

avery felt her eyes begin to prick with tears once again, but she didn’t feel a single drop of hurt in her body now. “i’ve never felt so deeply devoted and in love with anything in my life before, and that scares me. it scares me in a way nothing has before because i know it’s so real. but im not letting my fears get in the way, not anymore.” 

jameson’s chest heaved as he looked down at avery, “heiress. you don’t have to say anything.” he said upon seeing her glossy eyes.

there was nothing she could say anyway to express the complete enamored feeling she felt when she looked at him, to express how much she loved him. 

she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, as his arms wrapped around her middle like if he held any looser she would disappear, his head dropping down to her neck.

“i’m so sorry,” avery sobbed into his shoulder, “i love you so much. i’m so in love with you. i couldn’t ever imagine losing what we have.” 

“you won’t ever have to, heiress. i’m staying forever.” he mumbled, as one of his hands came to run through her hair. when she didn’t respond, and he heard her muffled hiccups, he spoke once again. “heiress,” he he lifted his head, his voice low and almost musical. “don’t get all sappy on me now, i much prefer that smile of yours.” 

she sniffled as she let out a little laugh, pulling back from the hug and wiping away at her tears. “shut up.” 

jameson’s smile only grew at the sound of her laugh, and her now slightly red eyes met his. her smile faded for a second before she spoke again, remembering the events that had just happened the day before. 

“jameson, i— you have no idea how sorry i am.” her brows slightly furrowed as she shook her head, echoing her words for earlier.  

he chuckled, reaching his hands out to grab hers, “yeah? i think if you repeat it one more time, i’ll have a pretty good idea.” 

“stop it,” she laughed, “im being serious.” 

“so am i. you don’t have to apologize.” 

“i do, though. and i’m sorry,” 

“if you say you’re sorry once more, i may have to consider bringing you to rehab for people pleasers.” 

“jameson,” avery breathed out through a chuckle, “i just wanted you to know.”

“heiress, i know.” he nodded with a small grin as he brought her closer, and she let go of his hands and brought them to his chest. 

his eyes flickered over her whole face, frequenting back to her lips and eyes, and there was that glitter of love in his that she loved so much.  

“can i kiss you now?” he mumbled.

“you don’t even have to ask.” her voice was barely audible in the small space between them.

he hummed in disagreement as he leaned in, his lips barely touching hers. the mere act made avery feel like she was buzzing alive as her breath caught in her throat. it would never get old.

“i like hearing you want me, like how i want you.” he whispered against her lips, before finally pressing a kiss to them, and they quickly found their rhythm against eachother. 

his hands moved to cradle her face, like he needed her as close to him as humanly possible, his brows knotting deeply as he kissed her.

jameson pulled back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath. 

his thumb brushed gently across her cheek as he looked at her, his heart leaping at the sight of the her smile.

"see," he murmured, his voice soft, "much better than the sappy stuff."

avery let out a small laugh, feeling light on her toes. she looked into his eyes, feeling the love pouring out of them. “everything is better with you.”  

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @sweetlikeanangel

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee — if you’d like to be added or removed lmk!

[itwasrealtome]

THIN ICE

Olivia Benson x fem! reader

⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

ANGST | Olivia Benson x fem! detective reader | Masterlist

Summary : Detective Y/N Y/L/N, part of Olivia Benson’s Special Victims Unit, faces a life-threatening situation during a suspect’s arrest, chasing this one into an ultimate falls to his death. Injured but alive, Y/N finds herself in an hospital room, receiving stern words from Olivia about her reckless actions.

Content Warning : Mention of stimulants to stay awake | Mention of a breakup | Mention of police work | Mention of jumping off a building | Some police man being a jerk | Usual SVU talk : Abuse, murder, violence, weapon and kidnapping | Y/N getting into a fight | People falling from a building | Injuries | Death | Hospital | OLIVIA BEING MAD | HEARTBREAK

A/N : Hello my loves. I'm finally sharing this first Olivia X reader with you. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think. There are a few people I can't identify in the taglist, I'm sorry.

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•••

This afternoon, the streets seemed even more crowded than usual. The vehicles flooded the roads, coming from every corner and blocking the main way out.

Behind a queue of about ten of them, a police car came to a sudden halt. The alarm was on, and the blue and red flashing lights blinded anyone who looked in that direction.

But no one moved.

Not even the sound of a horn persuaded the citizens of New York to get out of the path.

Amanda’s grip on the wheel only tightened. She had never been able to understand the reason behind people’s insensitivity to this kind of thing. It was such an easy thing to understand. Besides, someone’s life often depended on it. Yet, there she was, turning furiously midway, her partner gasping in surprise, her shirt now stained with hot coffee.

— Dude, can’t you just warn before doing that kind of thing?

The blonde gave a brief glance to her passenger. She expected to find her glued to the door, her fingers clenched around the top handle, but she didn’t.

Y/N was desperately trying to absorb the contents of her cup on her worktop. The wipers provided with her order, finally finding their use.

While most people would have been annoyed about staining a piece of clothing, the young detective was not. She seemed much more upset about losing a few drops of her beverage. The former could still be replaced, but the latter was definitely needed.

— Sorry about your shirt.

— Yeah, well you owe me a coffee.

The driver’s smile only widened when she heard her partner muttering complaints. She knew her well enough to say that it had nothing to do with that slight accident. It was cute. Of course, it was. But Amanda could see through it. She knew it had nothing to do with the coffee. Sure, the days were long and their job involved finding stimulants to stay awake, but Y/N was never acting like that. Something was different. And who better to notice than someone who practically lived with her?

— Sure you’re okay?

— Rollins, it’s just a shirt. I think I can get over it.

Amanda gave her a knowing glance. She expected this kind of answer from the young officer. Everyone knew what kind of person she was.

Committed, she was always the first to arrive at the precinct and the last to leave. She was practically married to the job by now. And though Kat had trouble following orders, Y/N did not. She was the perfect partner. Amanda couldn’t remember a time when Y/N had lost control. But these days, everything seemed to fall apart.

It began with a couple of small comments, here and there, a bit too harsh coming from Y/N’s mouth. Next up, her silence during the team talk was a concerning factor for Amanda. If anyone always had something to add to the investigation, it was her. This ranged from a simple detail no one had noticed, to scientific or sociological facts. It was often complicated to keep the detective quiet, so her lack of involvement was bound to catch the eye. That and the fact the blonde had seen her leave the bunks two mornings in a row at the exact same time.

Sure, it was just the addition of minor details. But the older woman’s gut was not wrong, not about this. Something was wrong with her partner. And it had nothing to do with a simple lack of caffeine.

— Oh, don’t give me that kind of look.

— But you’re not telling me the truth, Y/N/N!

Y/N huffed quietly. At times in her life, she hated being around people whose job was to investigate. She cursed them all equally. She just couldn’t help herself the last few days. Her anger was aimed at a specific and unique person, but that person being in law enforcement themselves, it was almost overwhelming to go to work every day. Time seemed to run too slowly there. The only moments she enjoyed were those outside the building. The cold New York weather allowed her to clear her mind and take a deep breath. And she always had something to do, after all the city never slept.

—Like you don’t keep anything to yourself, huh?

Amanda faintly spluttered. Everyone knew she had had difficult times, but she wasn't the only one. And now that she was honest with herself, she knew she had made mistakes. One thing’s for sure, she did not want her partner to replicate these.

— I made some mistakes, most of them I don’t want you to repeat.

— I seriously doubt you did this one.

That was all she could get out of the young detective. Amanda knew it as she watched her turn toward the window. The mere reflection of her face gave her a glimpse of what she was really feeling inside, a sweet mixture of anger and bitterness. Whatever the problem was, it wasn't something they could fix with a drink. And this worried the blonde even more.

— Just promise me you won't do anything stupid.

These words captured the passenger's interest again. She arched an eyebrow at her partner, a smile forming at the corner of her lips. Knowing their duo’s dynamics, she had dozens of retorts on the tip of her tongue, all of them a little more mischievous than the last. Instead, she just shook her head gently. Amanda didn't have to know how upset she was about the whole thing. She didn’t deserve to worry so much. And Y/N certainly had no right to be such a burden to her partner.

— Like what? Jumping off a building? y/n chuckled at the blonde’s glare. Relax. I won’t do anything of that kind, I promise.

At that very moment, the young detective genuinely meant it. She had not gotten up with such an idea in mind. If jumping off a building was regarded as a very stupid gesture, she considered her routine more so.

It was in the way the precinct’s bunks were beginning to feel like home. And how she spent every second of her days with the badge on her waist. She had no idea when she had last stepped into her apartment for more than a shower. Her desk was overflowing with paperwork and books in which she always found a way to bury herself. It was much more than a way to distract herself. At all costs, she avoided raising her head, out of fear of meeting the gaze that froze her every time. The path she was on was, for that matter, significantly more dangerous than whatever stupid thing Amanda was thinking about.

But she could not say that to her.

To anyone, actually.

— Weren't we just called to make sure that this jerk wasn't prowling around the residence?

In any other context, Y/N would have felt like a fool. Her back nearly arched as she tried to make out what was going on in a street they weren't even close to yet. She may have lacked sleep and insight into her personal life, but her cop intuition never failed her.

— You'd be sure of that if you'd listened to a single word the captain said.

— Something’s wrong.

Amanda brought them to the next intersection before momentarily stopping the car. The sight over her partner’s shoulder sent a chill down her spine. Despite years of experience, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline every time. The crowd of cops down the street certainly wasn’t helping. They were everywhere. Mostly hidden behind their vehicles. But their vests did not go unnoticed and neither did their weapons pointed at a specific target.

— Crap, I hate when you’re right about this stuff.

— Hum…what was that you were saying about our captain again? y/n faced her friend with a teasing smile on her face. She couldn’t help herself. Always listen to what sh–

The sudden acceleration of the vehicle silenced Y/N. She felt grateful once again that her belt was keeping her safe. No day went by without her being in some kind of danger, but she never thought she’d have to worry about dying while Amanda was behind the wheel.

— Would you please stop doing that? cried the younger detective, her hands still clutching the top handle. And since when do you drive so badly? Damn it.

— Guess now you’ll stop driving like a maniac if I let you get behind the wheel.

The door swung shut before she could react. She stepped out of the car herself and walked over to Amanda. A vest was tossed in her face before she could even think about opening her mouth. But anyone who thought she would have given up so easily was wrong.

— I do not drive like a maniac.

Her friend gave her a knowing look as she closed the trunk. Now was definitely not the time to have this kind of conversation, but Amanda was glad her partner hadn’t lost everything that made her the person she was.

She was relentless, both in her work and in her personal life. To be defeated by a suspect in an interrogation room was a rare occurrence. Within the profession, many officers wondered about her career choice. They could imagine her leaving the field to terrify judges in a courtroom. Perhaps because they were themselves scared to death to face her. Seeking victory in a debate with a woman like Y/N was a waste of time. She knew when she was wrong, and would always acknowledge it. Nevertheless, she also knew when she was right. And in those moments, Amanda was the first to grab a bag of popcorn.

— That you do.

The detective’s hands found the velcro on the vest from memory as she was too busy glowering at her friend. The protection weighed on her shoulders. It was almost enough to give her a reason to fall apart. That, and the weight of life that was beginning to take its toll on her.

Slightly defeated, she stomped over to Amanda to catch up with her. She knew the other detective was right. Her anger was evident in the way she drove. Since then, she was assigned the role of co-pilot. It was okay. But she loathed being deprived of her usual distraction. It was starting to loop in her mind. She needed a way out.

— Detective Rollins and Y/L/N, Special Victims Unit.

Amanda shoved her badge in the man’s direction, half-expecting him to tell her to piss off. He dominated the scene with his large stature and a rank evident to all. The rookies were following his orders and keeping their mouths shut. Something that obviously wouldn't work with Olivia Benson-trained agents. He didn't seem to mind, guiding the two detectives as close as possible to the scene. But then, the mere idea of having to send men into the building made him raise his chin in an authoritative, disapproving manner.

— Our only witness is trapped in this building, Rollins began the fight, finger pointing accusingly. I don't care how, I want that man in custody.

If one of them had looked up for even half a second, instead of fighting over who had the biggest –which was obviously Y/N in this situation– they might have been able to stop the young detective in her tracks. Amanda had had enough of listening to the man's whining as he waved his rank in her face. And her colleague, the one she was supposed to look after, was tired of simply waiting.

As discreet as a mouse in the middle of the city, Y/N circled the building and quickly found a fire escape. It wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when the impulse to walk into the building first came to her, but she couldn't really say she'd given it much thought. With a bit of imagination, and a little help from a trash container, she managed to pull herself up to the top. Now, maybe that was the beginning of a crazy idea. She could already imagine her partner and captain scolding her - if, and only if, she managed to get out of there alive and intact.

At the top of the stairs leading to the third floor, the detective stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of their suspect's agitated voice.

Thomas Patterson, 45, suspected of having violently abused his wife before killing her, and of abusing his stepdaughter - Johanne Morales. The man's profile was clear: a respectful-looking husband and father-in-law, loved by all, carefree, but once the door was closed he turned into a control freak with urges he simply couldn't escape. He clearly hadn't planned to kill his wife. The autopsy had revealed signs of haste and mistakes that a man like Patterson would never have made if he had prepared properly. But he had made mistakes. His blows had been too violent, Johanne had interrupted him, and he'd had to finish the job quickly - too quickly, in order to hide his crime.

Y/N had studied his profile carefully. That's what she did best, that and avoiding her captain. She knew he was restless, nervous, ready to do anything to cover up his actions. The final piece of the puzzle was to eliminate the only witness, the one who would go all the way to court to see him take the fall. She had an advantage over him. She was there, so close to the goal, and he was unaware of her presence. At least, that was until Amanda's voice came through the radio.

— Y/L/N, you've got two seconds to get your butt over here.

The young detective could have banged her own head against the wall. Boy, had she been stupid on that one. She clenched her jaw, the urge to bite her fist growing cumbersome as she prayed Thomas hadn't heard. But he definitely did.

A front door opened slowly, the creaking hinges betraying the building’s condition. The man was probably armed, the sound of the guard echoing in the empty corridor. Each of his steps shook the wooden floor and sent a current of adrenalin through Y/N's veins. He was getting closer. She could smell him and his perfume. Him and her fear.

As soon as he was close enough to round the corner of the stairwell, the young detective took this as her cue. She charged at the man, her hands reaching for the 9mm held firmly in his rough, bleeding hands. In a split second, the magazine slid out and collapsed on the floor. She sent it tumbling down a few steps with her boot, before landing a knee into the suspect’s parts. This only confused him for the briefest moment. He was on her again before she could even flinch. Her body hit the wall with a heavy thud, the vest shielding her body from the heavy impact. However, the man’s hands found her neck and tightened their grip, pulling her head violently forward and then pushing it back, slamming it against the concrete wall.

He repeated the motion twice more, the detective’s pleas of pain provoking a feeling he himself could not begin to describe. Y/N wasn’t done with him yet. He clearly wanted to lash out at a woman and had a nasty habit of underestimating them all. Only, today wasn’t his lucky day. He was forced into the apartment where he had deliberately tied up the young Johanne. It was his turn to bang into something. The dresser barely tilted behind him, but the vase crashed hard against the top of his skull. He felt the water run down his face, the smell of freshly bought flowers wafting through the air.

Back in a corner, Johanne tried desperately to struggle out of her bonds, her words puffed out by the duct tape over her mouth. She could only witness the struggle between her back-up and her assailant. Watching as Y/N unloaded all her pent-up anger on the man who had dared to cause so much harm. In one smooth motion, Thomas grabbed the detective’s gun, a triumphant glint in his eyes. Hope was soon lost, his chances of getting out of there alive and free close to zero. His opponent was relentless and had no intention of letting him slip away. His only option, he realized, a flash of light reflecting off the window, was to drag the detective with him in his fall.

Outside, Amanda was still arguing with the man in charge of operations. He hadn’t given up and neither had she. Only when, as the argument continued to escalate, gunshots were heard, followed by the shattering of a window pane, did they come to an agreement. The plan didn’t even have time to take shape before two bodies flew out of the building.

First, the blonde saw the man she recognized as their suspect crash hard to the ground, the collision knocking him down instantly. Then came a tremendous thump and the shrill sound of a car alarm. Straight ahead of her, on one of the patrol cars, had landed Y/N. The height of the fall meant that the roof of the vehicle had been crushed and some of the windows smashed. That wasn't what Amanda was most worried about. Her partner, the one who'd promised her she wouldn't do anything stupid – like jumping off the third floor of a building, was sprawled motionless on the broken glass, blood on the back of her skull.

— Oh my God, Y/N, in one stride, she was as close as she could get to her friend. Call an ambulance. Now!

For once, the man made himself useful, radio in hand, as he asked for help. He now stood with one, maybe two, even three victims to deal with if the detective didn't make it. He could already imagine the damage it would do to his career. Besides, he knew Captain Benson very well and had no desire to mess with her.

Needless was his worry. The more Amanda studied her friend, the more she realized how lucky she’s been. Y/N was simply stunned, staring at the New York sky with an uncharacteristic intensity. She began to laugh, full-throated, heartily. It was probably the adrenaline pumping again. Tears joined the party, leaving funny marks on her bloody cheeks. Suddenly, she remembered.

— Johanne. She's alive. Up there. Y/N looked up at Amanda expectantly. She needs help.

***

Captain Olivia Benson had seen enough in her career not to let anxiety get the better of her. She had been beaten, kidnapped, almost died and dragged through the mud in front of an entire courtroom. She had reached a point where facing certain types of suspects no longer made her lose her footing.

But someone was bound to make her lose it.

Briskly, almost to the point of knocking herself off her feet, she made her way through the corridors of a hospital she knew all too well. The distinctive clatter of her heels against the floor blended perfectly with the incessant beeping and distant hubbub of such a place. She wasn't there to see a victim, as she often was. Her hasty and agitated demeanor only aroused the suspicions of the medical staff who had crossed paths with her so many times. It wasn't just a professional matter.

It hadn't been for a long time.

When Olivia reached room 212, she didn't spare a moment's hesitation. One of her youngest detectives and latest recruit was sitting wisely on the edge of the bed, her legs wriggling in the air like a child's. A nurse was visibly busy behind her, dropping more and more glass flakes into her tray as she went. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded tightly against her chest, eyes focused on the sight that made her stomach hurt in spite of herself.

She watched as Y/N's chest, covered in dried blood, continued to pulsate with every breath, as hematomas were already starting to spread across her face and torso, and as her plain face twisted in pain as soon as the nurse reached for another piece of glass. Just a few days ago, her first instinct would have been to rush to her protégé’s side and calm the agony she knew to be growing in her heart. But she'd vowed to keep her distance and stay in her current position: Captain Benson, unit chief.

All too quickly for the young detective's liking, the nurse finished her treatment and left the two law enforcement agents behind. Olivia had had the decency to wait until the door was closed before lashing out at her, which didn't stop Y/N from rolling her eyes. She'd already imagined this conversation - or rather, monologue - and knew she wouldn't come out of it unscathed. She'd probably lose her badge. No matter, she'd already lost her heart.

— Have you completely lost your mind? You could’ve been killed.

This was the cue for a lengthy sermon that she couldn't escape. The words left Olivia's mouth at a speed that seemed unbearable. She paced back and forth, her arms stretching out in waves of frustration and indignation, her cheeks rosy with emotion. She'd done some stupid things herself when she was just a rookie, but throwing herself off the third floor of a building had never been on the list.

— Are you done? y/n arched an eyebrow as Olivia finally paused. I saved a life today. While Amanda and that jerk were fighting over who had the biggest, which apparently I did.

— No, you refused to follow orders. Not only did you put yourself in danger, you put everyone's lives in danger. Heaven help us again that you were wearing your vest, otherwise it could have been a lot worse.

— I don't know why you care so much, you're just my boss!

Although these words were intended to hurt Olivia, it was Y/N who took the brunt of the blow. It was one thing to know that their relationship had been reduced to this, but it was quite another to admit it in person. The brunette was no longer entitled to worry so much, to ask her to watch out and send her a text as soon as she got home. Whatever had been was no more.

— Right, Olivia broke into an almost scoffing snort. Let me tell you, as your captain, that you won't be leaving the precinct for a long time.

— You’re benching me? Liv, you can’t do this!

— What you did was completely irresponsible. You don't want to follow orders, fine. But you're not leaving this desk without my permission.

The young detective had been holding her breath for a long time– far too long. She'd spent days avoiding conflict, lamenting in her corner, mourning the end of a story she'd thought would last forever. It wasn't just about what had just happened, it was something else, something more personal. She felt as if Olivia had no idea how to express her concern, as if her only option was to play the role of the big bad boss. But she was tired of hiding, of running away, of avoiding confrontation.

— Breaking my heart wasn't enough for you, uh? She rose from the bed, hastily putting on her jacket. If you want me to leave the squad, just say so.

For the first time, she faced her head-on. Head held high, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, ready to stand on tiptoe if that would help reach the brunette's height. She faced those brown pearls with all the courage she had left, her own eyes misty with tears she'd never let flow. This was it, so close yet so far, two souls who knew each other becoming strangers once again.

Olivia reached out with a last ounce of regret, brushing away a tear that had escaped down the young detective's cheek with the tip of her thumb. Her heart urged her to do more, to embrace this bruised woman, to bring her all the comfort she needed. She wanted to take Y/N home, wrap her in one of her shirts, tell her how much she loved her. In another life, where they were just two soul mates, where Olivia didn't have to worry about repercussions, whatever they might be. This was where she could find comfort.

— Go home. Take a few days. Get some rest. We'll talk about it when you get back.

The New Yorker had rarely seen a face shattered in a matter of seconds. Her words had urged Y/N to free herself from her hold, her head heavy and spinning from all the hassle and concussion she'd picked up from the blows. Her shoulder nudged her superior's as she walked by, a gesture of no little importance. She did not look back once to meet her former lover's gaze again.

Maybe she should have.

Maybe she would have seen the same love, the same tears, that Olivia saw in her eyes.

Maybe the ice wasn't so thin after all.

•••

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[starryhyuck]

gentle touch. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: camboy!yuta x afab!pornstar!reader

words: 3.1k+

summary: you need someone to give you an orgasm. anyone will do, even a random camboy.

genre: smut

warnings: reader is a big name pornstar, yuta is a solo camboy, fingering, nipple play, squirting, anal play, creampie

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

“S-Star?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of the name since you usually hear it falling as a moan from a stranger’s mouth. A man stands above you, jaw dropped open at the sight of you.

You’ve been through this before, so you flash a rehearsed smile at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m meeting someone for lunch. Would you like a quick photo-“

“I-I’m the camboy,” he interrupts you, blinking warily. “Were you the one I’ve been speaking with online?”

“Oh,” you say shyly. “Yes, that would be me. It’s nice to meet you, um-“

“Yuta,” he finishes. You gesture to the seat across from you in this private coffee shop and he stumbles to take it. He grins nervously. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say your stage name out loud like that. I was just shocked, that’s all. I mean, you’re one of the biggest pornstars in the industry.”

You laugh. You hope he’s not planning on making fun of you now that he knows this is clearly below your pay grade. You decide to be frank with him since the cat’s out of the bag.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my work lately. I’m stuck in a rut in terms of my orgasms, and I haven’t properly been satisfied by someone else’s touch in months. It’s why I responded to your ad. I’m hoping you can shake me out of this dry spell.”

He mulls over your words, seemingly pulling himself out of the starstruck expression he had on moments earlier. He studies you carefully before humming softly.

“I’d be happy to help you. I can’t say I’m all that confident in getting the Star to fall apart in my bed, but I’m very willing to try.”

You giggle. “I appreciate that. So tell me about being a camboy, how is it different? I’m really not familiar with that scene.”

He shrugs mindlessly. “For starters, we don’t require any of that fancy equipment they use on sets. Just a phone camera operates completely fine. And I think most of the couple videos I’ve seen draw down to the intimacy of it — if you don’t mind me saying, I believe that’s what you’ve been missing from your career. You don’t feel anything towards the people you’re fucking. You show up, the director tells you what to do, then you go home.”

You frown. “And being a camboy is the opposite of that?”

“You could say that. The audience who watch amateur couple videos don’t want to hear fake moans and perfect lighting. They want to see a real couple fucking like animals because they have a true carnal desire for the other. I don’t want anything to be a lie in my video. If something’s not working for you, I want you to tell me.”

You raise an eyebrow. Judging by the stern look on Yuta’s face, you gather that he’s deadly serious about this. You’ve never had a co-star be so concerned about your pleasure. The contract they receive doesn’t have an underlying clause that states you need to feel good in order for them to get paid, so it normally isn’t their first priority. As long as the camera gets a good cum shot and a smile on your face, everything else is golden.

“I can do that. So should we head back to your place?”

“Y-You want to film it tonight?”

“It’s been months, Yuta. I can’t wait any longer or I’ll explode.”

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[cosmicdahlias]

Can Bill Come Out To Play?

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: smut, possession, masochism, consensual torture, knife play, blood play, blood as lube, oral, spanking, choking, bruising, fainting, slapping, dubcon impreg, putting cigarettes out on you

okay y’all this one is supremely fucked up, i know i’ve written my share of dark fics but this one takes the cake if the warnings are any indication. it was a request by @thegrovesheart but i probably went way more overboard than what the anon was asking for. i’m sorry y’all are about to see how bad my kinks are, hopefully you’ll still enjoy the ride 🤞

It was late at night, you and Ford had just finished a long day of working on the portal. You were cuddled up in bed, him pressed up against you as the big spoon. He was lazily tracing his fingers over the curves of your body. You had been about to fall asleep, but the sensation of his hands on you was too arousing. You rolled over, facing him and slipped your hand to his cock.

You stroked him and he let out a soft moan, his eyes closed in pleasure. You kissed him deeply, when you pulled back he opened his eyes, they were different, wild and yellow with reptilian slits for pupils.

“Ford?”

He laughed, even his voice was off, higher, more sinister. He smiled wide, almost like the corners of his mouth were about to split open.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. The name’s Bill Cipher, I’m your good old boyfriend here’s muse. I figured if I’m gonna be in his mind I might as well get acquainted the little minx that occupies his thoughts when they’re not about me. That’s right, kid, the man’s absolutely obsessed with you, well, not more than me, but you’re a close second.”

“So what do you want with me?”

“Well, dollface, I’ve been taking a peek into your dreams and I gotta say, you are quite the freak. I’m honestly impressed, most humans don’t enjoy pain nearly as much as you do. Have you told Fordsy? I doubt it, honestly he’d be too much of a pussy to do any of the shit you think about. And that’s where I come in, you love fucking Ford, but he’ll never truly satisfy you in the way you want. I have no hangups about causing pain, hell I love it! If you agree, I’ll give you everything you want and more. What do you say?”

After your time researching things like demonic possession the idea of being fucked by a demon always excited you. And the fact that he’d hurt you in ways that Ford never would? Fuck the hell yes. You should have been terrified, but when you looked into those yellow eyes you only felt desire.

“Deal.”

“Ahahaha, perfect. Let’s get started.”

Ford’s hands traveled down your body, his grip rougher than normal. He put a hand to your throat and sank his teeth into your throat. You yelped as he drew blood, it seeped down your neck and Ford dragged his tongue over the crimson liquid.

“Fuck, I forgot how good that tastes.”

He got up, searching for something.

“I know sixer keeps one around here somewh- aha!” He said, pulling out a large hunting knife.

He walked back over to the bed, getting on top of you. He dragged the flat end of the blade against your skin, every so often testing the waters by poking you with the tip light enough to not slice into your flesh, not yet. Goosebumps formed from the sensation, no one had ever done anything to you like this, you were on cloud nine.

“I think you’ll like this.” He smiled.

He let the knife travel to your inner thigh and begin to cut the soft skin. You winced and moaned. Bill let out a cold laugh.

“God you’re fucked up, kid.”

He took his time carving the words “Bill’s slut” into your thigh, pearls of blood forming at the surface. Satisfied with his work he gathered your blood on his fingertips.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

You did so and his fingers entered, the metallic taste hitting your tongue. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his lips aggressively to yours, tongue shoving its way into your mouth, searching for the taste of blood.

He pulled away. His wide smile hadn’t left his face since he took hold of Ford. He reversed his hold of the knife, gripping the sharp blade in his hand. He teased the entrance of your pussy with the hilt. You were dripping at the idea, inching yourself closer.

He shoved the handle aggressively inside you, fucking you with it. He didn’t let up on his grip, the knife sinking into Ford’s palm, blood trickled down the knife.

“Whoops, might as well make the best of it.”

He pulled the handle out of you and covered Ford’s blood in it before resuming fucking you with the hilt.

“Bet you never used blood as lube before have you? And judging by how wet you are I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

You whimpered, bucking your hips. Blood continued to drip from Ford’s hand, staining the sheets. He pulled the knife out and dragged you headfirst to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back back. He stroked his cock and thumbed your tongue.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth and I’m not gonna stop even when you choke and gag on Fordsy’s cock, sound good?”

You nodded.

“Good, just try not to puke on his dick, I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

He lined the tip up with your open lips before violently forcing his way into your mouth, holding a hand to your throat the entire time.

He thrusted relentlessly and you began to gag, saliva pooling on the floor. He pinched your nipples hard, you let out a muffled moan.

“That’s right, moan on his cock.”

He carried on fucking your mouth. Savoring your desperate attempts to breathe. He debated on covering your nose just to make things harder, he loved to see you struggle.

He pulled out, you coughed and gasped for air. He picked you up and flipped you over on your stomach, shoving your face down into the pillow and raising your ass. Ford bent over and picked up his belt. He came up behind you and brought it down hard on your ass. You moaned as a welt began to form. He continued lashing you until your legs began to shake.

“Man you really can take a beating.”

He flipped you over again, this time on your back and slipped the belt around your neck then climbed on top of you, hand tugging on the leather.

“I’ve always wanted to know what pussy feels like, Fordsy makes it sound even better than pain with the way he describes it”

He didn’t waste any time preparing you, brutally shoving his full length inside you, pumping rapidly. He moaned loudly.

“Ah ahahaha, fuck, now I see why sixer fantasizes about this all the time. It feels fucking incredible.”

He pulled hard on the belt, choking you. You tightened around his cock. Capillaries in your neck started to break, you were going to be left with one hell of a bruise. He was ruthless, fucking you with cruel intensity.

He pulled the belt even tighter, you began to asphyxiate. Finding this insanely hot, but still valuing your life you tried to tell Ford to loosen his grip, but your windpipe was being crushed. All you could manage out was a guttural choking noise as you clawed at the belt.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t quite make it out.” He said, ignoring your obvious attempts to breathe. He pulled as tight as he could, you couldn’t even gasp. “Oh well, must not be important.” He shrugged, continuing to fuck you.

Despite what felt like a threat to your life you found yourself incredibly turned on. Your vision started to go black. The last thing you heard was a maniacal laugh.

-

When you came to Ford was still fucking you.

“Whoa hey you’re back, thought we lost you for a second there.” He said with his twisted smile.

His hands found your hips, he gripped them, nails digging into your flesh hard enough to break the skin.

“Say my name, slut.” He demaned.

“Nnngh, Ford.” You moaned.

He backhanded you. “I SAID SAY MY NAME, YOU STUPID CUNT!” He shouted.

“B-Bill.” You whimpered.

“That’s better. Remember who’s really in control here, sixer will never fuck you like this.”

He pounded you into the mattress. He felt himself close to cumming.

“So you’re gonna find this hilarious, I’ve been having sixer switch out your birth control with sugar pills. That’s right, they do jack shit. I’ve always been fascinated by human pregnancy and I mean hey, you’re young and fertile. And it’s too late to stop me now. Ahahahaha!”

Before you could even think to push him off you he pinned you down by the wrists, cumming deep inside you. He bucked rapidly, ropes of hot cum shooting inside you. He grunted, refusing to stop even when his cock began hurt. God he loved causing Ford pain. He didn’t know how humans got anything done or why they didn’t just fuck 24/7.

Ford took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Well this was fun, but it’s probably time for me to give old Fordsy his body back, don’t yo- oh wait, one last parting gift.”

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a lighter and pack of cigarettes. He took one out and lit it up, taking a long drag and puffing the smoke in your face. He grinned wildly, turning your head to expose your neck and putting it out on your skin. You screwed your eyes shut and moaned loudly. He bent down and licked the burn.

“Oooh wee, you sure are fun. I’m definitely coming back for more, but I think I’m satisfied for now. Okay byeeeeeeeee.”

Ford’s head snapped back. He shook his head, blinking rapidly, his eyes returning to normal.

“Ugh, wh- what happened? Did I black ou- “ He looked down at you and gasped in horror, backing away from you to the foot of the bed.

You were a shaking mess, you honestly looked like you’d been through a bear attack.

“Y/N! WHAT HAPPENED? WHO DID THIS TO YOU?” He started to hyperventilate.

You sat up and took his face in your hands. “Hey hey, it’s alright, I wanted this.”

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY? SHOULD I TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? SHOULD I FILE A POLICE REPORT? DID I DO THIS? WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ANYTHI-“ he froze. “D- did you say you wanted this?”

You kissed him.

“Look, I have been having some… fantasies and Bill and I both agreed that you wouldn’t be able to do them to me on your own.”

“You met Bill?”

“He was possessing you, but yeah I met him.”

He stared at you, looking terrified before attempting to fix his face to a more neutral expression, almost like he was afraid he would be punished for showing fear.

“That’s- that’s wonderful. I always hoped he’d let you meet him someda-“ now that the adrenaline had settled he got a good look at you. “Oh baby your neck.” He looked down. “Y- your thigh.”

Blood was trickling from both wounds. He looked at you with great concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Like I said, I wanted this.”

Without saying a word he got off the bed and left the room, he returned with a first aid kit. He sat next to you.

“Come here.” He whispered softly.

You leaned into him as he saturated a cotton ball in disinfectant.

“Now this is going to sting quite a bit.”

He applied the soaked cotton ball to your neck wound, you drew in a sharp breath at the sensation.

“I know, I’m sorry baby.”

“No it’s okay, I like the pain.”

He gave small chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”

He took a second cotton ball, wetting it with disinfectant, pressing it to the branding that Bill had left you. You winced.

Ford kissed your cheek. “Almost done, stardust. You’re doing so good.”

He pulled gauze and medical tape out of the first aid kit. He started with the bite, lining up the gauze to cover it and securing it in place with the tape. He then turned his attention to the words carved into your thigh, doing the same.

He got up and inspected you carefully from every angle until he noticed the cigarette burn.

“Ah, hold on.”

He left the room again, coming back this time with a soapy wet rag. He sat down next to you again and gently cleaned the wound.

“You can’t use disinfectant on a burn, slows the healing.”

He then dressed the burn the same way he had for your other injuries.

He had always secretly liked treating and bandaging your wounds, he found it to be quite intimate, not even in a sexual way, just that it allowed him to be close to you.

He cupped your cheek in his hand and went to kiss you when he realized he’d gotten blood on your face. He looked down at his hand and shook his head.

“Guess Bill got me too.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.” You smiled.

You took his hand, treating and dressing it just as he had done for you. As you finished wrapping is hand in tape you kissed his knuckles.

He laid back in bed and patted the space in front of him. You crawled up next to him, returning to spooning position. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck and sighed deeply. You were seconds from falling asleep when your eyes snapped open, remembering what Bill had done to your birth control.

“Oh yeah, so uh… Bill might’ve made you knock me up.”

“WHAT???”

-

In the morning Ford would make you stay in bed, insisting you needed rest. For the next few weeks he watched you like a hawk, secretly recording any possible pregnancy symptoms. He pretended to be nonchalant about you being knocked up, only entertaining the idea if you did, but deep down the thought of you pregnant excited him.

He had always imagined continuing his legacy, teaching his child everything he knew. One day he was going to be gone and someone was going to have to continue his work, and he wanted to keep it in the family. He spent his nights after working on the portal holding you, rubbing your stomach after you fell asleep, hoping, praying even that Bill had given him a miracle.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 758: The senpai's few words

Pag 2

1: Aoyagi-san!!

Pag 3

1: Wha- what happened, Danchiku, you stopped so suddenly

2: Why is he here, in Kyushu!?

What is it, what is it

4: He's probably the person I'd want to see the most right now!!

5: What is it, is there someone in the audience area?

Someone you know? You look so surprised

I wouldn't be so surprised even if someone was there

Pag 4

2: He-hello!! You... you came to... cheer us on!?

3: It's been a while, Danchiku

4: Yes.... yes!!

Thank you so much for coming so far to see us!!

5: You got bigger

Pag 5

2: Thank you so much

3: Uhm, actually

There's something I'd like to talk to you about, is that....

4: Aoyagi-saaaan!!

-okay!?

Pag 6

1: What, for real!?

What, are you really here- amaaazing!!

Oi, Issa, I was....

2: Wait... did you just made Aoyagi-san lose consciousness with your tackle!?

3: Aoyagi-saaan!! Hahahaha!!

You're attacking him when he's already down...!!

4: I'm... o... okay...

No, he keeps pausing while talking!!

Hahaha

5: I'll lead you to our tent!! Carry him, Danchiku!!

'Carry him'....

Pag 7

2: Thank you

2: I wished you had told me you'd come though, Aoyagi!!

You forgot to add “san”, Kabuagi

3: There was something... I wanted to talk to you about but

4: I guess it can't be helped....

(You're ending up yielding again, Danchiku)

5: Ah right

6: Aoyagi-san is

Pag 8

1: A member of last year's team!!

He's the column who supported Sohoku from below last year!!

2: Someone who gained experience through hard work and difficulties and debuted in his third year, ran as a sprinter, pulled the team, and brought back the members so many times

3: Without talking, without refusing, he just did it silently!!

5: Even when he was in a pinch, when he was injured, he moved forward with all his might without ever standing out!!

If he hadn't been there, there's no way Sohoku could have won!!

Pag 9

1: He-he sounds amazing, teh

Right!! I'm really flashy, so his way of running is probably the exact opposite of mine

2: Hearing it again, he really is an amazing person.....

and I also know well what happened with his leg on the third day

4: If I was in the same position and got injured.... would I be able to run the same way?

5: “He'll run away right away”

“He's a chicken”

Pag 10

1: In this Inter High that is about to start

Pag 11

1: Since Aoyagi-san came to see us, I'll smash the starting dash!

There's no need to smash, run calmly

2: Should I get subbed out?

I'm still in time

4: “No one will blame you”

“I can be done in fifteen minutes”

5: I'm at my peak now!!

Save it for the race

6: You're an idiot as usual

I'll forgive everything you say, Aoyagi-san!!

7: What can I do, what......

Nothing....!!

Pag 12

1: The stage event is starting soon

Last year's champions, Sohoku High School, representative of Chiba, please come to the stage

Kakaka, it's our turn!!

2: Teh.... I'm nervous, the

There's gonna be tons of spectators!!

3: Do-do we take a video? I'll do it, Sugimoto-san

I'll leave it to you then. I'll finish up here

4: Su-

Sugimoto-san!!

6: Ao.... yagi-san.....

Pag 13

1: Could you do me one favor?

2: Ah- yes!

Do you want something to eat!! Right away!!

3: The food truck is there... is curry alright?

4: …. no

5: A band-aid!? A nail-clipper!?

Leave it to me, after all I worked a lot behind-the-scene last year

6: Oi, Danchiku, what are you doing. Let's go

8: Ye.... yes

Pag 14

1: Take care of that idiot

Pag 15

3: The Inter High is harsh and long

But he's reckless and can't read the air

5: You, on the other hand

6: You always keep an eye on your surroundings and pay attention to what people say and do

And that means

Pag 16

1: That you can make an accurate judgment of risk in any situation

3: The ability to read small details when you're in a pinch is essential in road racing

4: Earlier in the midst of more than a hundred people in the audience area, you

Pag 17

1: found me at one glance

4: I think you know this too, but he can only look ahead

Please support him, take a step back and, as always

5: be watchful

Pag 18

2: Yessir!! Thank you so much!!

4: “Take a step back”.....!! Taking a step back.... yielding, are my...

5: If this small heart is my ability

Pag 19

2: then I'll be the one running, Issa!!

Together with you!!

At full throttle!!

Pag 20

1: Run, Danchiku

Just like I did last year

2: with Junta

3: I'm sure your feelings will give you strength

These are the members of Sohoku, the Chiba prefecture representative who won the championship last year

Pag 21

1: So far they have won two times in a row

3: What's wrong.... your balloon... shall I get it for you?

Pag 22

2: Thank you, Onii-chan

3: That's surprising, Midosuji-san

You're so kind

4: Puku.... I am kind, though?

To

5: anyone who doesn't wear a number bib, that is!!

[wraithsoutlaws]

TITLE: Perfect Drug CHAPTER ONE: Jawbreaker WORD COUNT: 4,309 PAIRING: Dagger/Dum Dum CW: Light violence, gore mention The story of how two fucked up guys become one fucked up couple.

The sky changed colors in the city. The endless scroll of neon gave it an artificial glow, and from the first moment he crossed the desert line, Dagger had resented it. Nothing looked real. Nothing was–not the food, the music. Certainly not the people. He found himself looking up as he drove further into it’s clutches, searching for a sliver of sky that felt familiar, but the only thing he found was a thinly veiled layer of bullshit.  Northside was different, though no less oppressive. The smokestacks kept the air murky, and no matter how many times he blinked or re-calibrated his optics, he couldn’t quite clear his vision of the red haze that defined it. But unlike Night City, it took pride in it’s own ugly. And he liked that. 

The All Foods factory sat like an icon at the center of it all, more mythical to the locals than even the crumbs of Arasaka littering the district. Dagger stood outside with a cigarette, gazing into it’s shuttered maw. 

A week had passed since he found his way to the building for the first time, toting a severed head in one hand, and a duffel of recovered Militech cargo in the other. He had taken both from a smoldering warzone in Sierra Sonorra where two behemoths fought their last battle; a cadre of Maelstrom gangoons and a unit of corpo dogs. He could have taken the wreckage back for the Wraiths. The gear would have fetched a pretty enny, and the head of a Milietech sergeant would make a lovely hood ornamented for his Quadra–but Dagger never cared for money, and he had plenty of heads already. 

He brought the cargo home to Northside instead, head in hand like a peace offering, still bleeding fresh after decapitation. He wanted a deal, not a payday. Something worth more than a shiny new car, or a pair of genuine leather boots, and after one long blurry fucking night, he got one.  

The Wraiths would protect Maelstrom’s interests in the Badlands and the ‘borgs would give them leverage in the city, pushing to wipe Sixth Street from Santo Domingo. Dagger would move between them, lending his skills to one while extending his power in the other.

In the end, he'd puppet them both.

His mama always said to dream big.

He pressed at a dwindling bruise over his ribcage as he double checked for his smokes in his jacket pocket. Each breath came with a dull ache that hadn’t quite quelled from that night, even a week later. He’d paid his price for admission. He could still feel the wreckage in his bones as he stood at the entrance of the garage, cigarette half smoked already, waiting for an answer at the door. The security camera at the edge of the roof peered down at him, it’s blinking red light a mimic of the trademark optics that were watching him from inside. And they were watching him. Making him wait, though they were the very ones who had set the meet. When he glared up at the lens, he could feel them on the other side.

Another minute passed. He threw his cigarette down, banging a fist to the rusted metal with impatience. After a moment of waiting he considered going around to the intercom, but it felt too much like defeat. He knocked again instead, kicking with a steel tipped boot for good measure and flicking another glare up to the camera. 

The noise must have worked. The door swung open with a growl, sudden enough it nearly took an inch off his nose. Before he could blink, the front end of a revolver shoved itself against the scar on his cheek, forcing his back to the wall with its presence. Seven eyes peered over the muzzle, a shiny chrome scowl beneath them. Dagger’s fist moved on instinct, nestled now against the underside of Dum Dum’s chin where the skin still felt human. The steel claws in the chassis of his hand inched in the sheaths between his knuckles, hungry for a drop of blood. They stood still, entwined in each other’s violence, neither one ready to budge.

“Keep that gun in my face any longer and I’ll get real acquainted with your fleshy bits.” He wasn’t sure which lens he should look at, or which ones were looking at him. His icy gaze settled on the ones that looked most like eyes, though he couldn’t read them. The tip of his claws met skin, just slightly. Enough bite to prove he wasn’t lying.

Dum Dum didn’t sweat it.

“You think your trigger is quicker than mine?”

“Might be fun to find out.”

The sound that came from his throat could have been a laugh. A moment later, Dum Dum drew the gun back and slid it into the waistband of his pants. Slowly, Dagger followed suit, letting his hand fall away with a tinge of disappointment. A click of his tongue.

“Scared?”

“My bullet would rip through your meatpan before your chrome even touched me,” Dum Dum said. He sounded sure, the weight of his optics nearly prying Dagger apart, scanning his hardware in bemusement. He wouldn’t find much, except maybe that his assessment was correct. Which begged the question: why not pull the trigger?

Dagger grinned.

“You gonna invite me inside?” 

Dum Dum didn’t answer, turning a corner toward the street without looking back at him. “Nothing in there for you.”

“Is that right?” Dagger pulled his cigarettes from his jacket and lit one as he followed. A busted up Chevillon was parked on the corner, garish Maelstrom colors splattered across the rusted paint like a badge of honor. Ugly, like everything else around it. He smiled. “Taking me out to pasture then?”

Smoke slithered from his lips as they walked. 

“You wanna play with the big dogs you’re gonna have to work like a bitch.” Dum Dum stopped at the car, and spared him an indecipherable look. “That means you do what I say, when I say it, how I say it. If I tell you to lick the shit off my boots you better fucking get on your knees and do it, yeah? Piss me off and it’s bye bye with a bullet. We’ll sell your meat to the Scavs without a second thought.”

Dagger raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes as he took another drag from his smoke. “My god, I think I can see Royce’s hand up your ass using your mouth like a little puppet. Don’t you wanna be a real boy?”

Dum Dum looked tough, but Dagger had seen enough already to know that he folded for the big man as easy as paper. He half expected the gun again, but to his surprise, he only saw a smile on the other man’s face–teeth that looked too human to belong to him. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop.

“You are one stupid motherfucker.”

He almost sounded impressed.

Dagger stared him down with the same grin, head tilting. Anyone else, he might skin them alive for the assertion but Dum Dum could be useful. No doubt more than any of the other rusted lugnuts lurking in the gang who’d still be more than happy to kill him. If he wanted this to work out, he’d need someone watching his back, and he’d already proved he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Dum Dum slid into the driver’s seat and gestured for Dagger to go around. He wasn’t thrilled about playing passenger, his own car parked down the block, but he decided not to push it. He didn’t know his way around the city yet, let alone wherever the fuck they were headed. Or why.

He climbed into the Chevillon, choosing to play nice, a decision quickly waning as he waited for an explanation that never came. He blew smoke toward Dum Dum, a juvenile attempt to get his attention as the engine turned over.

“Got a problem, princess?” Dum Dum asked without looking. At least his head didn’t move.

Dagger leaned back in his seat. “Just wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.”

“You’re the one who knocked.”

“Funny.”

The car pulled onto the street. 

“Got a pick-up.” The flat drone of his voice gave away his own annoyance in the silence. “And I wasn’t bullshitting before. Do as you’re told and we won’t have a problem.”

Dagger rolled down his window to vent the smoke from his cigarette. “Pick-up? And here I was hoping for a little fun. Ain’t you lot known for your violence? No offense but thats a waste of my talent and I’m keen to believe it’s a waste of yours too.”

“Royce wants to know you can follow orders. You might be hot shit to those desert dogs but you’re a long way from the top out here.”

Something in the gravel of his tone indicated a warning, but Dagger flicked it off with the ash from his cig. He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, watching the city blur past the tinted glass. Northside was less colorful than the rest of Night City, all smoke and concrete. In a way, it reminded him of home–the badlands, an endless sprawl of sun bleached dirt, harsh and rigid. Vibrant in its decay. They bore their similarities alright. He could smell fire in the air. A laugh lodged itself in his throat as he finally looked over.

“So that’d make you what, then? The babysitter?”

A grunt. There might have been humor in it. Or a threat.

“You should count yourself lucky. Anyone else prolly woulda shot you by now.”

Dagger didn’t doubt it for a second. Dum Dum was different from the rest, and somehow just the same. He followed orders, and crumbled like soggy paper for the top dog. Out of fear or loyalty, he couldn’t tell yet, but he lacked the self-respect to see that Royce would throw him out as soon as he wasn’t useful. He wondered what might happen if those strings pulled taut. If something sharp happened by to whittle them down. 

Dum Dum’s voice caught him by surprise.

“I’m actually impressed you’re still walking. Didn’t think you’d show up after that beating last week.”

“That right?” Dagger said, casually flipping down the visor ahead of him and examining his face in the two inch mirror. The bruise beneath his eye had faded from plum to a brown rot and for a moment he could feel the impact of the metal punch that knocked him on his ass again. It wasn’t the only one. His body was littered, like the canvas of an old painter–splashes of color hemorrhaging against his skin. He knew there was a cracked rib, probably a concussion, too. A few busted teeth, and more. Welcoming gifts from Maelstrom. It was his own suggestion, a last ditch effort to get close to the gang without having chrome shoved up his ass. An initiation plucked from his smuggling days. Each member got a single hit. If he was still alive by the end of it, he’d get in.

And Dagger always got in, smiling and spitting blood. He’d do it again just to prove that he could. 

“Hell, I thought that left hook from Lars might kill you.” Dum Dum laughed.

Dagger flipped the visor closed. “You kiddin’? My Daddy hit me harder for stealing a cigarette when I was eight years old.”

“You were prolly just a pussy back then.”

A grin cut across his lips as naturally as the sun cresting over the cityscape. “Well, he had a harder swing than you, at least.”

“Makes sense.” The car turned a tight corner and Dum Dum’s head tilted toward him for the first time. “Considerin’ I pulled my punch.”

Dagger met those empty red lenses with a raised brow. “The fuck you did.”

The crack of his own teeth rang out in his ears again, as if that chrome fist was crashing into his face all over. He could still remember his seven eyes watching him as he stumbled back, spitting blood and enamel in his face. He tongued the empty space on his bottom gum where the molar used to sit. Dum Dum had extracted it more seamlessly than the world’s best dentist ever could.

Pulled his punch. 

Dagger scoffed.

Dum Dum didn’t show any sign of humor. His silence said it all.

“And why the fuck would you do that?”

A pause. And then finally a smile.

“‘Cause the harder we hit you, the louder you laughed. Didn't wanna give you the satisfaction.”

Dagger’s face fell, as expressionless as the red lenses in front of him, which seemed now to burn holes through his chest in the silence. He should cut them from his skull, but the feeling passed at the sight of a smile on Dum Dum’s lips.

“Fuckin’ lunatic,” he said, somewhere between affection and dismay.

Dagger took it for a compliment. He grinned, and a bruise sang triumph beneath his skin. 

The car pulled off the street beside a painted wall that looked nearly identical to every other street corner in Northside. Dagger could find his way through every small vein of dusty road across the Badlands with his eyes closed but ask him to distinguish between one block or the next within the industrial sprawl of the district and he’d be lost. He pressed his forehead against the window and looked up. Not even the sky could help him. The shadow of the city all but smothered it. 

Dum Dum cut the engine. 

Wrecked cars littered the crowded alleyway where they sat now, nothing but skeletal remains, picked clean by the vultures. But there was one ahead of them, a black van that stuck out among the rest. The pick-up, if he had to wager.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked, his cigarette almost nothing but ash. He finally flicked it out the window. 

Dum Dum didn’t answer. He studied the van ahead of him in the quiet, and after a moment Dagger pushed his optics to scan it too. Standard. No heat signature inside, though there was something stored in the back, a chemical signature he couldn’t get a specific read on. Drugs, more than likely. Of course it was. He had heard the ‘strommers had their own brand of shit. The kind with enough kick to push past the thirty pounds of chrome in their head. 

“Something the matter with it?” On instinct, Dagger looked in the rearview, scanned the surrounding area. A flash of light flickered somewhere behind them and disappeared. He waited for it to happen again, but he saw nothing. 

“Gadge ain’t here,” Dum Dum said, tone flat. Once more unreadable.

“Taking a leak?”

A grunt. He leaned back in the seat, hand dropping down to the revolver wedged between his seat and the middle console. He flicked his head forward, toward the van. “Well, go on, bitch boy. Check it out.”

Dagger’s eyes narrowed, but he pushed back the urge to tell him to fuck off. He lit another cigarette on the way out. The street was quiet, though somewhere a few blocks down a siren echoed off the smokestacks. He paused when he reached the back of the van, head turning over his shoulder. There was nothing here. Nobody in sight beside those seven glowing eyes behind the glass, and still the hair rose on the back of his neck. 

No Gadge. No blood. No struggle. So why did he have a bad feeling? He focused his attention back to the van as Dum Dum waved a hand at him impatiently. Another quick scan told him the same information before he finally reached for the handle and pulled the bed open. A creak of metal cracked through his ears.

It almost deafened the gunshot.

Dagger ducked, dropping low without thought. His cigarette fell to the ground half burned, mocking him as another bullet riccochetted against the back of the van. His first thought was Dum Dum. Royce had changed his mind on the deal, ordered his execution. A quiet hit didn’t sound like his style, and Dagger was almost disappointed he wouldn’t get to see the ugly bastard one more time just to call him a fucking pussy to his face, but a moment later he could hear the ‘borg’s static voice yelling at him from the car to get the fuck up.

He stayed low, unable to pinpoint the direction of the gunshot, and made his way back to the passenger’s side of the Chevillon.

The engine sputtered to life at the same time as the van in front of him. He crawled inside just in time to witness the driverless van crash through a charred Mackinaw to the next street over.

“Fuck!” Dum Dum yelled, flooring the pedal before Dagger could get his foot pulled in all the way. “Shit’s hacked. Gonk’s don’t know who they’re messing with.” 

He rammed through the same debris as the van but caught a harsh edge of metal, and the Chevillon stalled for a moment before struggling through. The ringing in Dagger’s ears hadn’t stopped, and he only realized his hand was bleeding when he reached for his third smoke. 

“Hack means their close.”

Dagger rolled the window down and stuck his head out, catching the stale air of Northside in a suffocating wind. He could see the van ahead of them like a black smear, but it wasn’t the van he was interested in. Quickhack on a vehicle was useful, but it had drawbacks. One being proximity. Had to be close or you lost connection, even with boosted gear. 

A small Hatchback swung suddenly out from a sidestreet, narrowly missing their car as it sped past. Dum Dum swerved and lost a foot of paint on a fire hydrant in attempt to keep steady. Dagger scanned it as it followed track with the van, spitting chooh2 to catch up. Two signatures inside. A runner.

He ripped the gun from Dum Dum’s seat and pulled himself halfway out the window to take aim. He shot quickly and near blind, bullet lost in the wind as the chase veered left. 

“Fuckin’ shoot steady,” Dum Dum yelled over at him.

“Drive fuckin’ steady,” Dagger snapped, and this time he held his breath as he aimed for the speeding car. A shot came back at him in response and he ducked back into the window before firing again. The windshield spiderwebbed but the car stayed true, zipping through a line of traffic as they headed into a busier part of the district. A horn blared beside him. The hatchback disappeared between two trucks, and Dum Dum struggled on the wheel, crashing into the edge of a turning car and nearly throwing the gun from Dagger's slick, bloody grasp when he shot again.

He couldn’t track where the bullet hit, but he could tell that it missed.

With a growl, Dagger reached over for the wheel.

“Switch me places.” It was a command more than a question, but Dum Dum didn’t protest. He ripped the gun from Dagger’s hand as Dagger pushed his leg over to the gas pedal and shimmied across the seat in an awkward dance, climbing over him without slowing the vehicle until they both settled into their new positions.

Dum Dum took aim as naturally as Dagger did the wheel. He was no stranger to this, or to the electricity running through his chest as he gripped the wheel knuckle tight, grin spreading over his lips.

The tight streets were no match for an open road, but it got his blood pumping all the same. 

He could barely make out the back of the car up ahead, but he could see the rear light explode as Dum Dum fired beside him, leaving red glass sparkling on the pavement like blood. Another shot bellowed, and the hatchback veered wildly, nearly toppling sideways as it made a sharp turn. 

Dagger followed, cutting the same corner with the ease of sharpened steel. He couldn’t see the van further up, but he locked his optics onto the car. Blood splattered the window, and he knew that Dum Dum had hit one of them inside. The engine groaned as he pushed it further. The Chevillon didn’t have the same gumption as his Quadra. He could feel the waiver in her gait, but they were close now. Dum Dum felt it too. He braced his arm on the roof. One good shot is all they’d need.

Dagger seamlessly crossed over the center line, taking the opposite lane to blow past several cars that separated them from their goal. Traffic sped by, so close it rocked the car, but he didn’t flinch.

One. Good. Shot.

Dum Dum fired. 

Blood sprayed the windshield. 

The hatchback veered suddenly into a passing car, which came to a skidding stop, halting the traffic behind it and keeping Dagger from passing back over into the right lane. His mind raced, and on instinct he took a quick left to avoid collision, and then another.

Dum Dum screamed in his ear, but the words were deafened from wind, the ringing, the sirens. Neon lights burned together, flashing against his corneas. 

“Wrong fuckin’ way!” He heard finally.

The streets grew narrower, and then he understood. 

He could smell the ocean. 

 Northside’s warehouses were a shadow in the rearview as they headed toward the bay into Kabuki. Tyger territory. They had crossed the district line. 

Dum Dum reached for the wheel in a last ditch effort to change course. The momentum of the turn threw them upward, tires leaving the ground. The car spun uncontrollably, flipped, crashing through the barricade on the side of the road in a explosion of crunching metal. 

He could see the ocean.

A smear of open blue that could match the sky his heart yearned for. It was beautiful.

Almost.

And it hit like a fucking rock. 

His vision blacked for a moment before the water caved in around them. Slowly, then all at once. He barely had time to take in a lungful of air. Kicking at the door wildly, he swam away from the wreckage as the sea pulled them under. His gaze shot upward, searching once more for the sky to lead him. He followed the light up and up, chest starting to ache, until finally he found it.

Dagger gasped as he breached, shaking water from his eyes. He didn’t recognize the city around him, but he spotted a dock nearby. He swam toward it, then stopped. Looked back. The only remains of the Chevillon were petering bubbles at his back, and smooth water beside that. There wasn’t any sign of Dum Dum. By the look of him, he’d sink as quick as the car.

He glanced between the dock and the bubbles and back again. 

All that fucking chrome…

Walking back to All Foods without the drugs and their sergeant at arms might earn himself a spot in that industrial microwave that Maelstrom liked to boast. Dum Dum was the only one who didn’t want to kill him, after all.

“Fuck.”

He spit water then took another breath and dived.

The car left a trail like ink in the murky water. Dagger clawed toward it, dragging himself further down into the dark depths. Day turned to night. The city was different here, peaceful, and if not for the pounding in his ears, quiet. 

The distant red glare of those eyes shined like a beacon further down. He followed them like the north star, pushing himself to go faster. Dum Dum kicked despite himself, maybe instinct, maybe panic, but his weight worked against him, pulling him down quicker. Dagger pushed harder, reached further. Dum Dum finally noticed him, lenses fixed and unwavering, a calm coming over him as he finally got close enough to grab. Dagger heaved upward, working against the ocean’s cold grasp and the anchor like weight dragging him down. His chest began to burn, and the sky still looked so dark above them. 

He considered letting go, eyes squeezed tight, angry ‘ganic lungs ready to burst. 

And then he could breathe again.

He reached blindly for the dock ladder, trying hard not to heave. Dum Dum climbed up beside him, still as a corpse.

“Fucking gonk shit,” he muttered.

Dagger almost didn’t catch it over the sound of his panting. He laid flat on his back, taking in the welcome blue above him. He could finally see a break in the cityscape, clouds sneaking in at the edge of his vision. 

“Quite a fuckin’ thank you,” Dagger said without taking his eyes from above.

“Oxygen reserves. Could sit down there all day.”

He sat up slowly, running a hand through wet, matted hair. “All the good it’d do you. Be a pile of rust by the time they found you. If they found you.”

Dum Dum laughed. Short, quick static. Somehow it sounded genuine.

“And I’m sure you did that outta the kindness of your heart.”

“What fuckin’ heart?” He said flat, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. He pulled the pack out, sopping wet. He didn’t bother trying to light one before he tossed them into the bay with a sigh. “Owe me some fucking smokes.”

Dum Dum opened his mouth to speak, but the words never made it. He lifted his head, and though he couldn’t see exactly, Dagger knew he was looking past him. A gun cocked at the back of his head. Cold barrel against his skull. He clenched his jaw, and turned to see a woman he didn’t recognize staring down at him behind glass eyes.

His automatic translator picked up her words better than his ears.

“Welcome to Kabuki, bitch.”

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks

hi!! i'm back lol - well, the craziness at work is done and I'm slowly getting back to writing bc I haven't written in like a week and it's killing me lol (this is gonna sound dramatic but I literally don't feel like myself if I don't write for too long haha) I don't have anything new to share rn, but I figured since it's already december and since some of y'all are sharing Christmas fics, and knowing I likely won't write one this year, I'm gonna shamelessly plug my holiday fake dating fic with 4 Christmases and 6 Christmas chapters actually 😂 (Christmas was a very important time for Buck and Eddie's relationship in this lol) - there's obvi more holidays in this but anyway, here's a snippet of their first Christmas together also, it's been a year since I posted the first chapter and I'm feeling nostalgic lol, this fic is my baby and I love it so much (tho there's so many things I'd change now lol)

[read on Ao3]

___

Turns out, Buck is very much serious about the whole thing, and Christopher finds it hilarious and is eager to play along. Eddie doesn’t have valid arguments not to do it, and it’s not like he doesn’t want to. After another snide comment when talking to his parents, he made his decision. And he already felt this exciting feeling of satisfaction when he told them he’d be bringing someone for Christmas this year – miraculously, Buck and Eddie don’t work on Christmas, and they took an additional day off, so their schedules allow for a three-day trip to Texas. 

So now, it’s Christmas Eve and they’re on their way from the airport to Eddie’s childhood home, and he’s nervous, doubts just starting to seep in. What on earth possessed him to do this? He can’t lie to his family. He can’t pretend to be in love with Buck. What if he really does fall in love with him? What if everything goes to shit? He’s watched enough movies to know it’s a bad idea, but he couldn’t and still can’t bring himself to stop it.

“So.” Eddie says, his voice shaking slightly, as they sit in a cab. “We’re doing this.”

“Yep.” he can hear Buck grin next to him. “Unless you still wanna back out?” he adds quickly. They could still say Buck’s just a friend. No big deal. But Eddie does have this petty desire to stir something up, and this seems perfect. 

“No. It’ll be fine.” he smiles at Buck, and then feels hot when Buck grabs his hand and interlaces their fingers, winking at him. Christopher laughs.

“You’d make a great couple.” he comments. He’s been unusually happy about all of this. He also asked Eddie a few days ago if Eddie loves Buck, which prompted a conversation, but he thinks Chris knows what’s going on now. Eddie doesn’t really know what to think about that.

“Thanks, buddy.” Buck responds excitedly, squeezing Eddie’s hand, and he can’t contain a smile. If not anything else, at least all three of them are going to have a lot of fun.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @diazblunt @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @gayhoediaz @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @exhuastedpigeon @weewootruck @loserdiaz @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @lover-of-mine @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @jamespearce9-1-1

[iamred-iamyellow]

Ok so after folklore and Romeo & Juliet I’m gonna write a carcar ballet au @liamlawsonlesbian

I don’t even have a teaser I just needed to announce this lmao 😭

[tunastime]

For the writing prompt thingy- #15 Rendoc? /nf

15. dearest / ache (x) (777 words)

Doc is making coffee. Ren is standing behind him. He isn’t sure why. That is, until Ren lets his head fall forward, colliding with the cold metal curve of Doc’s right shoulder. His coffee cup sloshes, but doesn’t spill. 

“Mrrmmgg,” Ren says.

“Riveting.” Doc stirs sugar, no cream, into the coffee. It’s just enough to round it out. It’s cheap coffee, company issue. He can’t complain.

“Ugh,” Ren supplies, as if it clarifies anything. Doc sighs, turning as much as Ren’s slouch will allow him. Ren’s head shifts from his shoulder blade to his shoulder. He’s frowning, deeply, eyes screwed shut as they stand together.

“Alright. What’s up?”

Ren raises his arm weakly. Doc watches the mechanisms whirr in the gaps of the metal as Ren flexes his fingers. Ren pulls in a breath through his teeth when he bends and sets the arm back limp by his side.

“My arm hurts, man. It aches,” he whines. He sounds particularly pathetic, which is half the reason why Doc fixes him with such a look of sympathy. It’s hard sometimes to understand what goes on inside Ren’s head, but his expression makes it clear enough that Doc feels it in his chest.

“Oh?” Doc sets his cup down. “Part of it, or...?”

“I dunno,” Ren sighs. When Doc glances down to look at him, he can see tired lines under his eyes. He doesn’t remember if Ren slept last night. “Enough of it for me to not want to move, that’s what.”

“Well, let me see,” he holds out his hand, waiting for Ren to unhook it or pass it to him. Instead he lifts his whole arm and sets his elbow in his palm and doesn’t move from his spot at his shoulder. Doc turns his wrist, smoothing his thumbs over the metal surface. “Is it working okay?”

Ren finally lifts his head to look at him and his shoulders sag. 

“It feels stiff,” he complains, mostly in a huff.

“Ah. Like it wont move right?” Doc frowns. Ren nods.

“Mhm.”

“Let’s see,” he lets go of Ren’s arm, lowering it to his side. He turns away for only a moment in their cramped little space. There are tools somewhere beneath papers and cups and half finished ready-to-eat meals. When he glances around again, Ren is still standing where he left him, holding his arm in his hand. His ears twitch, pinned back against his head. Doc waves at him. “Sit, sit.”

Ren startles, turning in a circle before he finds a chair to sit down in.

“I’m sitting, I’m sitting,” he says, laughing to himself.

Doc keeps searching for the shulker he knows has his good pliers. He ducks below the desk with the coffee pot on top and spots the purple shell, reaching for it. He finally manages to catch the lip.

“How about we take it off?” he asks Ren as he turns. Ren grumbles.

“Because then I have to get used to it again.”

Doc laughs, and though Ren doesn’t look pleased, the tension in his face softens a bit.

“You’ll be alright, it won’t be more than a few hours. How about that?”

“Fine, fine,” Ren complains tiredly. “But I’m watching you work.”

He turns so that Doc can unclasp the metal arm from his shoulder. He folds up his shirt sleeve for him, glancing away as Doc works to release it. It’s a familiar pattern, one they’ve done quite often. When the metal is too heavy to carry, Ren will leave the arm in his care, let him fix it, let him rework it. Renbob helps, sometimes, and Doc bets that it's a sight for sore eyes, to see them fussing over something of Ren’s. Ren stretches up with his good arm, sighing as he does. The arm comes loose with a click. Doc sets it down on the work table and flips on the pale light hanging over it. 

As he starts to work, Ren shuffles forward in his chair, eventually resting his chin against Doc’s shoulder. He feels him hum in greeting, and inclines his head in acknowledgement.

Doc lets him sit beside him, a comforting and familiar weight on his shoulder. Ren watches him work for a long time, unlatching the main mechanisms, readjusting the wheels and wires, laying redstone and grease. There’s a half stuck release mechanism that he manages to unhook, and the joints move quiet and precise. He sets down his pliers after a long moment, a long stretch of silence between them. He flexes his fingers. When he turns his head, he rests his chin on Ren’s head.

“Ren, you okay, dude?” he asks. Ren doesn’t reply. “Ren?” 

Ren’s shoulders rise and fall slowly. His ears twitch, just for a second. He lies heavy on Doc’s shoulder, not moving, not stirring. Doc leans into him, smiling.

“Oh, Ren...” Doc sighs. “if you needed a nap that badly, you should have said something. Silly.”

[i-aint-nothin-but-a-nasty-dog]

Happy Cursed Event!

thank you @naughtystiel for hosting this and happy 28th birthday!!; I didn't write this with the intention for posting but it fits right in so I thought I'd share this wretched little thing @youmakemewishicoulddisappear and I wrote at 4 in the morning :) is this cursed enough for you?

1089 words, can be read below the cut or here on ao3

rating: Explicit

tags: Crack, a/b/o, non-traditional a/b/o, dom/sub undertones, dom!cas/sub!Dean, blow jobs, bad dirty talk, riding, shameless smut, crack filth, office au, office sex, overuse of ~ symbol, satire, not serious, daddy kink

absolute cringefest travel at your own risk but it's a fun cringefest I assure you

have fun! 🥰

The Boss’ Omega

Dean was the only omega at the office. Castiel was the most powerful alpha there was. He was the boss.

“I need to see you in my office.” Castiel said in a gruff voice.

Dean followed his sexy boss to his office, trembling at the scent of Castiel's pheromones. He had no choice, really, but to follow the orders. Castiel’s alpha nature was too overwhelming to ignore. So, with his tail between his legs, he walked through the door, looking at the ground.

His tail was the most sensitive part of him, and all the alphas in the building loved to tease him for it, coming up behind him to pull it, touch it. No matter how many times he snarled, “Don’t fucking touch my tail,” they ignored the whimpering omega.

Once in his office, Dean took a seat across from his boss’ desk, impatiently waiting for the other man to speak. He was shaking in his seat, his eyes, which change color depending on his mood, were a dull gray-blue, showing just how anxious he was for this talk. Though, the dark colors hid the pink around his irises. He was attracted to this alpha.

“Dean,” The alpha began, “Do you know why I called you in here?”

“N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-no…” He stuttered out.

“Gah, you’re so pathetic. Just a whiny little omega who can’t even speak properly. You can’t speak or do your job well, can you?”

“N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-no sir, I can’t. I can never do anything right. I’m not like the other guys. I’m not big or strong. You probably think I’m ugly, too.” He sighed and looked away. 

“You’re right. I called you in here because your performance has been lacking.”

“W-w-what d-d-do you m-mean?”

“I mean,” He started darkly, “I need you to change your performance. Do you think I need to punish you? I think I should…”

“A-a-a-a-a-alpha please…how are you going to punish me?”

“You can start by coming over here and kneeling before me.”

Dean trembled but obeyed the alpha’s orders, wobbling on his feet and stumbling over to where the alpha was sitting with his legs spread in his chair, thick cock already tenting his slacks. Dean licked his lips and knelt in front of him between his feet, looking up at his alpha with glossy, doe eyes.

“Take me out.” He ordered.

Dean gulped hard and went to work. He reached forward and unbuttoned the man’s pants, slowly tugging the zipper down to reveal his long, hard, thick. veiny cock. It sprung out and tapped Dean in the nose, earning a surprised gasp from the trembling omega. He let out a soft whine at the sheer size and girth of his cock. The alpha let out a rumbling groan at his cock finally being free and exposed to the cold air of the office. 

Dean gripped that cock tight and raised it from the perdition of not being touched. 

“Suck it.” The alpha snarled, gripping onto his omega’s hair, pulling harshly. 

Dean whimpered at the order before cautiously taking Castiel’s cock into his mouth, his eyes watering from the stretch of wrapping his lips around the entire girth of it. Castiel got impatient and shoved the omega’s head down, savoring how he gagged around the cock 

“A-a-a-alpha please i can’t take it that hard~ You need to be gentle…”

“You will either choke on my cock or you don’t get it at all and we can be done here. Your choice~.”

“Ngh alpha~”

“Do it or else, little omega.”

Dean moaned aloud and went back to sucking that huge cock. He lapped at the head, making his way down the shaft to where the alpha’s knot was steadily growing. The omega lapped happily at the swollen knot, appreciating the loud groan he earned from his alpha when he did.

“Oh, such a good little slutty omega for me, aren’t you. You’ve wanted to be in this position for a while, haven’t you? I could smell your slick a mile away, always so strong when i’m near. I know you have, little omega, always such a filthy whore for me, huh? Can smell it even now, wanna see how tight that little ass is for me.”

“Oh~ Alpha please~”

“Get up here.”

Dean knew what he wanted and quickly stood to shake his pants and boxers off, sitting himself in the alpha’s lap and slammed himself down to the alpha’s knot, both moaning in unison.

“Oh~ alpha, your cock feels so good.”

“So wet for me, little omega, so tight on my cock. You feel so good on my knot.”

Dean started slamming himself down frantically, riding his cock like his performance depended on it, which it did. 

“So good for me, gonna knot you, fill you with my alpha sperm.”

“Please, alpha, want your alpha sperm, only yours. Never wanted anyone else’s, oh–alpha im–”

“Good omega, cover me in your omega sperm~”

They climaxed in unison, Dean whining with a high voice and Castiel groaning lowly. Dean fell limp on his alpha, satisfied and taking in the smell of his alpha’s pheromones, the scent intoxicating.

“How’s that for work ethic improvement?” Dean asked coyly.

“Not bad.” Castiel grumbles, clearing his throat, embarrassed of how good that felt.

“Good enough.” Dean grunted in reply, slumping further against his alpha.

Then suddenly Gabriel busted in the room with a stack of papers in his hand, ready to throw them on his boss’ desk, planning to stay and chat for a moment. But, no. Instead, he was met with the sight of his boss and coworker, both covered obscenely in each other’s sperm.

“Oh cool I’ll leave you two to it, but lock the door next time.” He left as quickly as he had come in.

“That was your first lesson: no more doing stupid shit like forgetting to lock the door. Next time you do, I’m firing you for real. Dick or no dick.”

“N-next time?”

“Keep talking like that and there won’t be a next time”

“S-sorry.”

“Get out.”

“W-w-w-wha?”

“I said get out. What did I just say about talking like that to me?”

“No! Please! I’ll do anything! Daddy–”

“...What did you call me?”

“D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-daddy?” He gulped nervously.

“Nevermind. Stay.”

“Yes, daddy alpha.”

“Good boy.” He placed a kiss on his omega’s head, Sighing happily. They relaxed in one another’s arms, enjoying the other’s company. Work could wait, they’re paid a salary anyway. 

Boss makes a dollar, worker makes a dime, that’s why they fucked on company time.

[ravencromwell]

Ros Vortalis trans headcanons

There are some remarkable trans Holland fics and headcanons, but can we talk about Ros Vortalis, whom all of his friends simply call Vor? Who, even when he’s _dying Holland calls Vor, to be expected, but also Vortalis which’s so much longer than Ros.

A bit of googling informs me Ros is “protector” in German, which’s chef’s kiss one hundred/ten no notes V.E. But it’s also, more frequently, a diminutive of Rosalind. Disclaimer before I start these that I respect and love! the headcanons of Makt as fairly gender nonrestrictive, with power being more of a defining factor of treatment. My Makt, however, is more complicated, with gender and gender transitions being imperfect but still a site where joy can be created, much like the rest of White London existence. Putting the rest of these beneath a cut with that in mind because as a trans person, I know some days I can’t handle transness as careful complication to be navigated and don’t want to inflict it on anyone unprepared. (Though, I promise! there’re fluffy as fuck nsfw Vor/Holland and Vor/friends headcanons in here to cut the angst.)

Ros retains a shortened form of his given namefor business purposes within the Shal—we know Shal means “market” in Red London, and I tend to think it means the same in White, such that when Holland calls him a “thug from the Shal” he’s referring to Vor being in the merchant/smuggling business. When he transitions, he’s relatively young and honestly to flagrantly demand a name change would be seen by too many as blood in the water. His greatest focus, always, is Makt rather than his personal happiness and he’d rather be burdened with the “nickname” Ros and be capable of rising in the Shal in service of becoming king.

There’re two ways of transitioning: the easiest and least painful is utilizing a spell similar to Astrid’s with Lila and stealing a face and voice. But that spell fades with death and though Vor understands that his body is likely destined for desecration once he’s gone as Makt’s people drain its blood and magic, there’s still this stubborn demand that they destroy a body without the face that made him shudder every time his child self caught a glimpse (he is so grateful for a lack of mirrors in Makt for much of his young adulthood.)

So he chooses the harder, excruciating method: finds a bone magician to permanently reshape his body. Session after session, over months traveling abroad on a ship with only the open sea and crew to hear him scream himself hoarse.

The first time they share a bed, Holland strokes along the broadened shoulders, runs fingers along the scars on his chest—eyes fixed on Vor’s all the while— and murmurs: “If they did not believe you would hold the throne, they were fools.”

“I’m flattered.” He’s bright-eyed, with that deep, rolling-sea laugh.

“After this, very little would stop you.” Fools have marveled at the extent of spells across his body, and inwardly he howls in hysterical laughter because there is very little to dull pain in Makt, and the shipboard pain was so vast it made everything else feel like pinpricks by comparison. He’s never bedded someone who would know that as intimately as the man who had done his damndest to use that same magic in stopping Vor’s fist before it connected with his face, and the admiration uncoils something deep in his chest. “Sometimes I’m certain I can’t keep it. One moment it will be there and then not.” He manages a farse of a smile “Foolish, after all these decades, but such is the weakness of your future king, Holland.”

“Lucky you would have an Antari to put it back, then.”

By the time he returned to London, voice rumbling deep from an expanded chest, people understood quickly to use “Ros” with the proper pronouns or see just how effective the runes on his hands were. But well…Ros is an easier shirt than Rosalind to slip into, but it will never sit comfortably. As he develops allies, he finds that Vor and Vortalis fit easier. And it becomes a good gauge for trust. Those who understand implicitly how painful his given name is and respect that, are people worth keeping. It becomes easier, as fewer and fewer people survive who remember Rosalind.

There are far too many moments to count when former friends or lovers try to use “Ros” as a weapon, with a little smirk that says: “You never said we _couldn’t call you that.” And he’s deeply glad he made a relatively small name fuss and provided only a small chink in his armor. (Those sorts of people tend, inevitably, to cause the use of his knives. As though letting them close and showing kindness is an invitation for open season. But such are the risks in Makt, and he is a man who craves touch and closeness. What good to craft the ideal body only to never have it appreciated. The way Holland simply…withdrew from people after Talya is something almost unfathomable. Whether they’re the closest of friends or both king and night and! king and beloved—which’s pretty much always in my head—there’s a deep, profound ache that he could never touch Holland enough to make up for too many years alone.

It’s the dimmest flicker every time he sees the “knight” and “Antari” masks slip, when Holland leans against his shoulder or puts his head in Vor’s lap, eyes half-closing at fingers in his hair. But, simply because the task is nigh on impossible, doesn’t mean he won’t do his best. Vor touches Holland Vosijk a hundred thousand times in those two years of rule—and so, so many more if they both survive—and is so very, very grateful he could take the touches the best of his lovers and allies offered over the last thirty years. (On a slashy front, can we also just talk about how, as a couple, there’s an incomparable way arousal and awe intertwine for Vor _every time Holland reaches out and shows affection: a kiss against his temple as Vor lets their foreheads rest together; a hand moving slow and easy down his back. To be trusted enough for the most guarded man he’s ever met—it took Vor _months to convince him to kill Gorst and he’s never had to work so hard or wanted so desperately for someone to say yes in his life—to touch him is such a valuable thing that he has immense responsibility not to break.)

Also in couple’s verse: If Vor has a small regret, it’s that the bone magicians are far more skilled with outward, above-the-waist presentation—because the best of them have not only done this for trans people, but for criminals etc. seeking a disguise. Thankfully, they had no trouble cutting him open to ensure he would never be with child—he doesn’t have the vocabulary for dysphoria, but the idea of his stomach rounded and heavy is one of the few things that can make him viciously soul-deep terrified. But the below the waist equipment well, it’s not a magic Makt has the luxury of learning.

By the time he meets Holland, it’s the very faintest of regrets: he has a collection of strap-ons for when he and a lover want to indulge in that particular fantasy—and is comfortable enough in his skin it’s an indulgence and not a requirement. It’s beautiful to watch lovers slide to their knees and take them in their hands or mouths or slide inside and watch them arch with pleasure. But oh, oh he wishes he could _feel it. It’s not a complaint worth voicing, and honestly after he becomes king, there’s very little time to indulge.

But one day, Holland comes back, smelling of flowers holding a box, tells the guards to wait at the end of the hall because he has crucial business from “the other London” for the king’s ears alone, which has Vor intrigued and concerned because he hasn’t come close to asking Holand to send a message. But before the concern can swell to anything beyond a flicker, he sees a flush so faint anyone would miss it who wasn’t watching. (Even before the Danes, Holland held his feelings and desires in an iron grip; Vor learned early in sharing a bed that Holland loathed the idea of being heard by those not his lovers when losing control: not merely a discomfort that could add spice to an evening, but viscerally, the way it would take everything Vor had to turn his back on an armed opponent.) This is pleasure, not business and he flicks his fingers in a silent command before they can even turn to look.

"Go get yourselves some dinner,“ he says for good measure, "If there is a foe Holland cannot protect me from, there’s little more bodies can do.”

When he opens the box…there are the usual straps but the cock. The cock feels like _skin. “The Arnesians-” and oh, there’s still so much contempt in those words “With their infinite supply of magic have learned to transmute. From earth to bone, and then something softer. There is an illusion for the Arnesians who want to forget the straps.” There were layers upon layers beneath that statement: neither of them wished, at least then, to go begging for scraps, but to _take a little of the bounty Arnes had hoarded,

“_Yes!”

Neither of them know how the illusion works: it is as mysterious as the fireworks Holland has seen that fool his eyes into certainty dragons fly across the unbearably vivid Arnesian sky. It does not matter; in those moments when Holland’s mouth is hot on skin, Vor is utterly, entirely certain Holland is swallowing down the cock he has always had.

It’s almost too much, leaves him speechless for the first time in decades, has Holland scrambling up and onto the bed even as his eyes are still glassy from watching the king come undone to wrap himself around Vor’s back until the world comes into focus again. “Is it only good once or-” he asks, finally and Holland’s smirk is wicked.

When he’s upending the Ost table and coughing up blood—, so much, too much kajt I hope Holland can take the throne because whoever these bastards are they can’t rule, the thing he clings to: more than “Stay with me"—though he _tries—, more than the raw panic in Holland _swearing—is the name. _Vortalis, he says when the table overturns—though it would be such a forgivable mistake to use Ros. Vor, he says while chanting stay and one of his blood spells. He will die as who he made himself, not as he was born.

The three threads of coherence for Holland are the blood spell. That Vor _has to stay. And that if he cannot be enough to stop this, he _will not let Vor die hearing him use the wrong name.

In verses where Vor lives, they both know the "thank you” when he wakes is not for the healing, though to be alive is a joy.

[sapchats]

(werewolf!Dream dnf hurt/comfort enjoy sorry this took so long )

“Shhhh, you’re ok.” George whispered as he gently ran his hand through Dream’s hair, being careful not to snag any tangles. Dream panted and whimpered as another sharp shot of pain went from the base of his spine up to his skull. He curled up in George’s lap and went hypertensive until a minute passed. The pain subsided and he nearly collapsed onto George, almost throwing them down onto the bed. “I hate full moons…” Dream croaked, exhausted. “I know you do. Just a few more hours till sunrise.” Dream and George learned very early on how different and difficult full moons are for werewolves, specifically turned-werewovles. The legends always depicted a man who would howl at the moon and grow wolf-like characteristics, the full fangs and newly grown fur. They would hunt through the night and have no issues till morning where they would return to their human state. When Dream first turned, they didn’t know what to expect on their first full moon. They thought Dream would just have to get new clothes in the morning. How wrong they were. Since Dream wasn’t a werewolf by birth, his body was not used to the changes that would happen even years after the fact. It felt like his bones were growing and breaking under his skin, his mouth would bleed every time his fangs would come in, and his senses would go through the roof. He could hear everything, even the tiniest chicken from biomes away. Touch was the most sensitive, it felt like pins and needles all over his body and there was nothing they could do about it. George was so scared on their first full moon, not knowing what to do as Dream screamed in pain and nearly ripped himself to shreds. But after years of finding out what works out best, he knew how to help his boyfriend in small ways. “We can run you a bath,” George said, still running his hand through the strands, “It can help with your flare ups.” Dream quickly shook his head, hands gripped at the sheets of their bed, “Don’t wanna move…” “You sure? I can make it extra hot with that lavender oil you like.” “Just-” Dream reached for George’s hand and grabbed it, his larger than normal hand completely engulfing George’s, “Just stay…Please?” George felt his heart clench at how misty Dream’s eyes were and how tightly he gripped his hand. He hated seeing his lover in so much pain, it almost hurt him just as bad. But whatever Dream wants, he gets it, no questions asked. He brings their joined hands up to his lips and softly kissed the rough knuckles of the werewolf in his lap, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you until we’re old and wrinkly.” Dream laughed as best as he could as George continued to lay kisses all over his hand.

THSI IS SOO AWEESOMEEEE MY DNFIESSSSS 😭😭💗💗💗