#the tags I left make it sound more important and firm than it is

[bookwyrminspiration]

wait wait wait I want to hear your thoughts on the fandom's interpretation of Alden

Sure! Keep in mind this is not a serious thing, it's not a hill I'm going to die on; this is all casual observation and thoughts, not anything important.

I feel Alden's character has gotten negatively distorted in general based on the extremes he's taken to. Is he a perfect person? No. But there are some characterizations--particularly the extreme bigotry/homophobia--that just aren't accurate to his character. And there are people who write that and know that Alden isn't to that extreme in canon! I'm not trying to say people who write and work with Alden like that are unaware and wrong and I'm trying to correct that.

Those characterizations aren't bad! They serve a purpose and I have no problem with people projecting experiences and using him for whatever they want--catharsis, fun, etc. There are some excellent homophobic Alden fics out there, but the fact that he would not fucking say that (to reference the og post) is something that can, and does coexist.

He wants the world to be a better place, he loves his family, he loves his kids. I genuinely think he would and does prioritize their happiness over any legacy and image. I think any concern over that is concern over how they're going to be treated and if they're ready/able to face the backlash, not him wanting them to be different--but my interpretation may be off.

But I do think that his character being used for negative extremes more so than any other can bleed over and makes it harder to stay true to him, if that makes sense. Perhaps my perception is distorted, but I feel like the vast majority of the time when Alden's mentioned, it's accompanied by something negative. Is some of it warranted? Definitely! His Keefe talk was...uncomfortable, to say the least, and that's not the only thing he's done. So there s definitely room for critique But some of it seems like it's negativity just because, unsupported. And I don't think he deserves that; he's literally just some guy. Not perfect, not awful, and serving a very specific role for the story that he completed. This is not to say people have to justify their actions or need to change, I'm just acknowledging that when I see it I'm more critical because opinions can be skewed.

Again, a lot of this is anecdotal and not serious at all (I know people know there's extremes and it's not canon, I don't think I'm like...more enlightened about him?). It's just my observation that the extremes he is taken to may be negatively skewing his canon perception overall past what's proportional to his character.

[neon-junkie]

The Tower

Summary: Gasping for air, unsteady hands, blurred vision - Why did this have to occur during the midst of battle?

At least Tech knows how to help.

Word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Tech x GN!Reader. Can be read as platonic or romantic.

Tags: Panic attacks, Anxiety attacks, Angst, Comfort, Happy ending.

Notes: I've had maaaaany requests for some angsty comfort with Tech. About time I wrote it! Based on my favourite tarot card - The Tower.

When the tower begins to crumble, it's bound to fall.

Built on an uneasy foundation, it was only so long until your walls began to chip away, and with it, the rest of the structure started to collapse.

And whilst you are somewhat used to that sensation, you're not used to this out-of-place timing.

"We'll regroup at the Marauder," Hunter's voice comes through your comm, strapped to your wrist. Tech is the first to reply, mumbling a swift, "affirmative," before returning his full focus to his blasters. He is, as always, quick and precise with them, saving ammunition until he's certain that his shot will be a hit - a trait that he's picked up from one of his brothers.

One by one, the droids fall, and whilst this is child's play, you seem to be struggling.

There's a pain in your chest, a weight, gripping at your lungs and crushing them from the inside out. Your hands, often steady with your weapon, are jittering more and more as every moment passes. And your throat fails to relax, causing your breaths to become shorter, faster, until your head begins to spin from lack of oxygen.

Knowing that you need a moment - a brief moment to set your bearings straight - you duck behind a crate and press your back up against it, barely looking up to watch Tech finish off what's left of your opponents.

This brief moment blurs on for an eternity, and the more that time passes, the worse you become. Your knees come up to press against your chest, palms gripping onto your weapon, as if it's somehow going to steady you during this emotional ride. The sound of your name being called out to you fades from your ears, and a ringing takes its place.

That is, until a firm hand finds your shoulder, and you flinch.

"Oh," Tech sighs, his fingers flexing shut as he watches your eyes meet his. Reddened cheeks, wide pupils, tears threatening to spill from your waterline - something isn't right, but it doesn't take a genius like Tech to realise that.

Rather than placing his hand on you again, Tech speaks your name in a soft tone. "Are you alright?" he brings the important question to light, and from your silent response, he takes it that the answer is no.

Once more, Tech mutters your name, and he's extremely cautious as he gently wraps his hand around your bicep, attempting to offer you some form of stability. "Are you hurt?" Tech questions, and to his surprise, you manage to shake your head.

"Alright," Tech nods, calm and patient. He pauses, his eyes wandering over your form, analysing the state that you're in. By now, you're sobbing, but there's still a washed glisten of fear in your vision, as if you're staring down at your worst nightmare - an imaginary ghost that he cannot see.

Tech crouches down, positioning himself on one knee by your side. His thumb subconsciously begins to rub back and forth against your arm. "I think I understand what's happening," Tech comments. "Although, I do not know how to help. If I can be of any assistance, then please, inform me how."

Sniffles fill the air after you suck in a few deep breaths. "I don't know," your words merge into one, but Tech manages to make them out.

"We need to remove you from this environment," Tech decides, forming the first steps of his recovery mission. "May I take your hand?" he offers.

Tech's heart softens out as you slide your hand into his, allowing him to pull you up with ease. You're a jittering mess, that much is obvious as Tech wraps your arm around his, and begins guiding you out of this hellhole. Thank the Maker that your opponents are down, else that would only worsen things.

"Our safest place is the Marauder. Are you comfortable with me comming Hunter, and asking him to pick us up?"

You instantly nod, knowing that the Marauder brings you a feeling of warmth and security. "But I don't want the others to see me like this," you blurt out, and Tech simply nods his head with understanding.

"Of course," he confirms. "I will lead us onto the shuffle, and keep the others distracted whilst you retreat to your private quarters. I'll inform the others that you need assistance, but sway them from interfering. From there, I'll join you, and we will set our next steps to recovery."

Tech follows up his plan with a simple, "how does that sound?" and lets out a pleasant hum when you agree to it. From there, his plan begins springing into motion, and before you know it, the Marauder is coming into your line of sight with the cockpit door lowered.

As always, Wrecker is waiting at the doorway with his hand extended, always eager to help you on board, but Tech politely pushes past and begins muttering something under his breath. Through Wrecker's fully armoured form, you can tell that he's taken aback, but backs off unquestionably, allowing you to scurry past and disappear down the hallway.

The second that you reach your dorm, the downpour of your tears breaks out into a thunder, and you barely manage to shrug off your coat and shoes before curling up into your bunk.

It takes Tech exactly twenty-three seconds before he's entering your dorm without a knock, seeing as you consented to it beforehand. "Oh dear," he coos as he enters, and his hand hovers over the lock before questioning, "shall I lock it?"

"No, thank you," you shake your head at the same time, and with it, Tech eases off.

A tall glass of water is placed on your bedside table, almost overflowing with how close the water is reaching the rim. Tech takes a seat beside you, and a hand comes to rest on your forearm. To his surprise, you shrug it off, only to wrap your hands around his waist in a desperate attempt for comfort. Tech accepts you, cradling you against his chest, hushing you in a soft tone.

"Let it all out," Tech coos, comforting you as the tears continue to fall. His hands stroke and grasp at your back, attempting to provide as much comfort as he can. Tech is somewhat familiar with this subject, although it's been a long time since he's ever had to support it, and an even longer time since he has received such support.

Tech's last occurrence was back when he was a Cadet. One of his fellow brothers broke down into a state of panic, and Tech, being the sweetheart that he has always been, could only hug them as the moment passed. 

Since the war broke out, it's rare to find a moment for your emotions to overspill, seeing as everyone is always up on their feet - Troopers and Jedi alike. You’re no stranger to the sight of seeing men hunched over at the end of battle, their form exhausted, stress lines present on their skin, and a look of desperation in their eyes. Perhaps they have also noticed that in you. 

The hard form of Tech's chest armour lies pressed against your cheek, and only when your panicked state starts to relax, do you realise how uncomfortable the plastoid surface is. With an uncomfortable expression, you move your head away, gazing up at Tech with tear filled eyes.

"It appears my armour has left its mark," Tech comments, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Remind me to never cry into your armour again," you swat back. Your hand trails over the indent left on your cheek, and for whatever reason, that pulls you from your dark thoughts.

Warm eyes meet yours, still laced with concern, his brows raised accordingly. “I will bear it in mind, if the… incident ever occurs again.” 

“I hope it doesn’t,” you state with a sigh. The sides of your fists come up to rub your eyes, attempting to fresh the life up in them. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you apologise, your hands now finding comfort in your lap, fingertips fidgeting with each other.

“Do not apologise,” Tech responds with sternness. “Please, I will never accept your apology for something like that.” 

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Message received,” you say with a smile. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

“And if it does, you know I will always be here to assist you. I am… no stranger to what just happened,” Tech explains, his eyes drifting from yours as his shoulders soften. Now, you’re no longer the saddest person in the room. 

“Care to share?” you question. 

“Ah, well-” Tech waves his hands as his back straightens. “It is not my information to share, but I can inform you that I have seen this happen before. Multiple times, really. Being a Cadet was never easy…” 

Your hand comes to rest on his forearm, a gesture that is not left unnoticed. “I’m sorry,” is all you can sigh. 

“Did I not just inform you to never apologise for such things?” Tech responds in a firm tone, yet there’s a playful smile on his lips. You mimic his expression, soon letting out a laugh. Tech’s hand rests atop of yours, giving you a firm squeeze before suggesting, “shall we go and see the others? Wrecker especially looked awfully concerned about you.” 

“Yes,” you agree with a nod. “I wouldn’t want to keep any of them worrying. I’m alright now.” 

“That, you are,” Tech confirms. He rises to his feet, and offers you a hand. You accept it, steadying yourself on uneven legs, your muscles still relaxing after a storm of negativity. 

Before exiting your dorm, Tech lets out a soft, “do not forget your water,” as he holds the door open for you. A glass of water in hand, and you head out to regroup with your squad, your friend close behind, always ready to have your back - if you ever need it.

[fillinforlater]

Public stripping by Momo would be a cool idea for a story if you're able to. Please and thank you!

Teased Promotion

Hirai Momo (ft. you and the crowd)

Length: 1202 words

Tags: stripping, public, public indecency, teasing, flaunting cleavage and breasts, how-to-get-promoted, dominant!Momo

TW: UNEDITED QUICKIE

(A/N: This request was in my ask box since January 25th... sorry for the long wait, but if you're still around to read it, I hope you enjoy this short, teasing piece xD)

“Guess who asked for a promotion yesterday?”

Your boss has the weirdest entries. He always says a random phrase without greeting you or talking about the topic at hand. However, he is still your boss and most often, a very chill guy. You mostly go along with his antics, especially at such an important company banquet. 

“I have no clue to be honest, but it sure wasn’t me.”

“Ha, funny,” he laughs sarcastically, before answering the question himself, “It’s Miss Hirai, Momo, the one on stage right now.”

Of course you know who Momo is. Fierce in her gaze, fully focused on her case, unstoppable, ever since she stepped foot into the giant law firm. When someone meets Momo for the first time, they are allured, stunned even by her beautiful appearance and incredible body. Underneath her glasses are incomprehensible orbs and underneath her tailored suit are enormous breasts. 

As a co-worker, you of course meet Momo more than once, so you were shocked to find that the second impression she makes is far different. Behind her mouth-watering facade is a killer, someone who is ready to leap over you, take your position, your job, your life if need be. It’s impossible to get into her pants, she is completely immune to flirting or someone showing off. You assumed she was a lesbian at first, but even the hottest women in your firm get bluntly rejected. It’s all business for her.

Momo loves showing off her money, of course, otherwise she wouldn’t wear gold necklaces and watches all the time, but she seems to love a show of dominance even more. For her to want a promotion is not a surprise at all, so you wonder why your boss felt the need to mention it.

“I know her. I bet everyone does. She probably deserves it.”

“Yeah, but she did not want to negotiate with me. She said that she will make her offer tonight at the banquet when everyone from outside has left. I sent all the staff and sneaky journalists outside ten minutes ago, but she hasn’t done anything yet.”

“Maybe she is getting cold feet,” you joke and reach for a second champagne glass. You give it to your boss and you both wordlessly look up to the stage. Momo just stands there, behind a lectern. The crowd of noisy, tipsy and flirty coworkers quiets down when they hear her through the speakers. Even when she clears her throat it sounds dominant, degrading, demanding.

“Today,” she begins and even the densest person is now completely silent and focused on her, “I walked into the office of our dear boss and I did not want to leave until a deal had been done. However, he challenged me to something—and my God am I ready to accept it.”

You have never heard or seen Momo this passionate before. She was feeling herself, nothing in the entire building could be more interesting than her right now and she knew it. Even your boss mutes his phone and makes it disappear into the pocket of his navy-colored suit. Momo was about to shine, to burst, but no one had a clue how.

“Boss,” she continues, her gaze piercing through the tense air and right next to you, “I have a way to boost the morale of everyone here and make myself indispensable to the firm.”

Momo steps away from the mic. The spotlight follows her onto the empty part of the stage where she is not hiding her legs behind the lectern. The clacking of her heels onto the metal surface is the only sound your ears can pick up. Your eyes, no, everyone’s eyes widen, when Momo grabs the top of her tie and rips it off of her neck.

What the fuck?

Momo straightens herself with a smirk and you instinctively straighten your back in your seat. She effortlessly lets her fingers run down her upper body and twists the first button of her suit, then the second and stops—only for the briefest, tense moment. She pulls open the suit with such ferocity, the buttons fly off. Momo let’s the hang on her shoulders and throws her head backwards to expose her slender, perfectly sculpted neck.

Holy shit.

People shuffle all around you. They jump from their seats, shake their heads or open their suits as well to make sure this is not a dream. It’s unnecessary though, because Momo’s wild eyes sparkle and tell them: this is real. I am real. 

She spins around and sways, her hips moving to a song that is not there but that everyone can hear. Her opened suit travels further down, sadly exposing not her skin but a white, thin-striped shirt. Her back is still hidden, only the outline of the backside of her bra visible. Momo knows how to tease, how to make the crowd jump, and she is playing it out perfectly. 

The suit falls and the first cheers roar. They wake up for her, those horny coworkers. A male dominated industry for sure, but the women are left speechless as well. No one is safe from Momo. She turns back around, adjusts her glasses with one hand, fiddles at the hem of her dress pants with the other and gradually, painfully slowly bends over. 

She is showing her cleavage you imagine, but that god damn shirt is still blocking the view of her voluptuous breasts. Momo winks and sticks her tongue out, not to you, but to you, to anyone who is greedy enough to claim this wink as their own. 

Momo makes your head spin when she interrupts the slow, teasing movements to lean her upper body backwards to present her crotch while simultaneously opening the first button of her shirt. You jump as well, barely anyone is still on their seat. Some dare to move closer, some stay behind. You expect her to go faster, but no. Momo is taking it slow and feeling it.

Oh God, this woman!

Both hands are on her tummy; you imagine she is flexing her hidden abs underneath. Then they massage themselves upward to her bosom; you imagine her hard nipples being crazed even through her bra. At last, she finds her neck, touches it for a second and—this time, you don’t have to imagine things—she moves both hands under the next button and pops it free. And the next. And the next. And the next, the one above her black lace bra. 

The crowd goes nuts at the first glimpse of what Momo has kept a secret for everyone. Those that asked her out or tried to seduce her probably thought of a private session, their own victory to see the gorgeous, sexy Momo. They were wrong, bluntly. Momo wants all eyes on her.

More, fuck, more!

Somehow, your eyes fall down on your boss for a second. He is the last one still sitting, his suit open, cheeks red hot. He is fanning air to him, while failing to look unimpressed or demanding. He has fallen for Momo’s striptease and jumps the moment she opens her shirt to fully flaunt her tits. 

“She’s got you as well.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[vampiric-hunger]

𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖆 𝖎𝖓 𝖗𝖚𝖇𝖊𝖔, 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2 - 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

⫸ pairing: Cazador Szarr/f!high elf reader

⫸ tags: no y/n used etc, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, dueling, canon-typical violence, smut, dubcon, vaginal fingering, PiV, creampie, getting caught during sex.

⫸ story summary: Accompanying your father, the General of Baldur's Gate, has always been a duty that bores you near to death, but for first time you feel completely unnerved as you come to Szarr mansion. The family's patriarch is a strange man and so is his wife and son. Son, who seems unperturbed by anything, until he's left alone with you that is. Then and only then, Cazador shows emotion and what kind of a threat he is. You realize soon - behind those dark eyes there's something dangerous lurking and your future soon becomes inescapably intertwined with his.

work contains illustrations, credit at the end

⫸ word count: 7,403

⫸ author note: happily presenting chapter two! have to say, the fight i wrote in this chapter was probably one of the best things i have ever written, really proud of that one :) enjoy♡~

⫸ chapter list: [link]

“None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

1044DR

23 years later

Quill in your hand, a parchment in front of you on the desk. You’re reading the lines slowly, trying to decipher them because this report came from a soldier who’s been sent out to scout for possible enemy ambushes and it’s important. But instead of it being a code it’s just his handwriting that is simply awful. You lean in and frown, trying to read one word that looks nothing more than a scribble and grit your teeth because you’re losing patience. You and Cazador have been going at this the entire morning with no end in sight. General Cradith set you both to this task because, like a father of two unruly children, he thought you two spend too much time parrying with soldiers and not enough time familiarizing with less exciting aspects of your positions. In this moment you start to doubt if you really need or want your rank as a Captain.

While you internally lament your less than exciting predicament, your attention is drawn to a scribble of a quill. Sat at another desk just like yours, Cazador seems to be tackling his task without issues. You watch him finish whatever he is writing, sign it, quickly read it again, then roll it up and put it to the side. With early afternoon sun filling the room through open windows and sounds of bird songs, you once again wish you were outside instead of being stuck here. Beautiful weather to test the mettle of some soldiers, alas, unless your father deems you done with your work, you’re pretty much nailed to the chair.

Cazador, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He reads through the following report, his dark eyes scanning the paper with ease, the quill held gently in his fingers. You remember when he first arrived to the standing army encampment. It’s a small town in its own right with utility buildings, a fortress and some civilians, set between Sow’s Foot and Whitkeep. So when Cazador first showed up, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle his hands looked and you quickly assumed he might not be as good at actual fighting compared to the impression he gave you that time in his family’s home. Yet when he held a sword, his grip firm and unwavering, you quickly saw that he’s more skilled than you realized. Your first practice fight with him ended up with you on your back, pinned underneath his boot, the tip of his blade at your throat and your father laughing.

“Don’t underestimate your enemies, I told you that before, Captain.” He chastised you, making you feel embarrassed that you lost against this Szarr brat, only because his hands and long, shiny hair misled you, making you think he’s just another pampered noble.

Cazador is good at magic too, you soon learned, making your father take him on a year-long assessment journey and by the end of it, he quickly offered this elf the same position you have much to your chagrin. Not only he put you on your back in front of General and your own soldiers, he also quickly gained the same rank as you. In a matter of mere couple years, to be precise. And yet only you seemed to have been annoyed by it. Soldiers that were assigned to Cazador appeared to be happy with his leadership because he is strict, but clear and proved himself already. A year and a half later, General Cradith sent out Cazador to a battlefield as his first test when a group of orcs threatened to pillage Rivington, a small settlement outside Wyrm’s Crossing. You haven’t seen him command and fight with your own two eyes, but your father sounded most impressed by Cazador once the dust settled.

So the years went by and while you both were clearly fit for your positions, General still was unhappy that you and Cazador seem to spend more time practicing fighting with your soldiers than doing paperwork that needs to be done. And you haven’t forgotten the humiliation you felt during that fight when Cazador won, but father didn’t let you get back at him. Two nobles fighting, according to him, will only sow discord among the soldiers. However, when your father was away you found ways to do it without anyone seeing and reporting back to him. And the truth is – Cazador seems to get better with each battle he comes back from, so you never know what to expect from him when on a rare occasion you two parry.

“Hey, pay attention.” Cazador’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you blink couple times to see that he’s looking at you with a bemused expression. “You’re ruining it.”

“What?”

With the end of a quill he points at something in your direction and you look down, then immediately frown. While you were too absorbed with your unhappiness of being stuck in the office, the ink from your quill dripped on the parchment you were trying to read just earlier.

Annoyed you put the quill into the inkwell and lift the paper to your eyes, inspecting how bad the damage is, realizing it’s just couple drops and seems none of them are obscuring the scribbles that are meant to be words.

“You should be better than this. I thought you were raised to be a General.” Cazador taunts with a chuckle and you glare at him over the paper, putting it down so that he can see your angry expression.

“Captain Szarr the Perfect speaks up.” You mock and he raises his eyebrows at you with a smirk.

“I consider myself more avid than perfect.”

“Fine, Cazador the Avid, why don’t you do all my work then if you’re so avid.” You mock again and notice that despite his arrogant smile his jaw clenches.

“Captain Sylven the Impatient.” He snaps back, somehow making it sting more because he didn’t even use your first name, as if he’s talking to a stranger despite the fact that him and you have been taught and trained by your father for years. “Or should I say Captain Sylven the Inferior.” You watch his smirk become a grin, somehow looking so sharp as if it’s meant to cut you.

You lose your patience in a matter of a second.

You jump from your chair and clench your fingers into fists as you look at Cazador with fury. Your heart is beating fast and you try not to forget to breathe while he leans back in his chair, arrogance in his face promising more mockery to come.

After a moment you lift your chin and coldly glare at him while you relax your fists. A small smirk even appears on your lips now. A moment passes, two, a silent standoff between you and him.

“I wasn’t the one living in a barn before General scooped me up like a frail dame.” You finally speak and watch Cazador’s face immediately become furious, but he doesn’t move. Usually you manage to provoke him into same angry responses you experience, but not this time it seems. He just stares at you with silent outrage that you can nearly feel scorching your skin, burn into your eyes.

But before anything else is said, the door to the office opens and you hear someone in armor entering. Recognition of your father’s voice comes before comprehension of his words.

“Get your armors on, the Duke is here and he wants a demonstration of our best in a fight. You will fight each other.” General walks deeper into the room as he speaks and you look at him, your anger forgotten.

“Me and Cazador?” You ask, surprised, and he nods, then looks at the Szarr, with you doing the same. Elf looks unbothered by these news, just stands from the chair and nods curtly to your father.

“Understood. I will report to the courtyard after putting my armor on. Swords?” He asks and General Cradith thinks for a moment, stroking his chin with his fingers, then nods.

“Greatswords. Duke is not a military man, but even he will be impressed.” He turns to you now. “Go, don’t keep him waiting.”

You nod as well and turn on your heel, leaving the room but a grin appears on your face as you walk out of the office. After insults like that you are going to love proving to Cazador once and for all that you’re a better fighter than he is, you are sure of it. And it’s simply because while you’re proficient in greatswords – he isn’t, preferring longswords because he delights in fighting on a horseback.

Not this time.

You know the victory is yours, you can almost taste it while you quickly find yourself in your room. You have a squire girl and after you inform her what needs to be done, she helps you put on your armor. It’s heavy plate but the weight of it feels familiar and comforting. After your helmet is placed on your head, the one that is adorned with black feathers, you pick up your sword and head for the courtyard. The sound of armor as you walk, the heaviness of your weapon as you carry it leaned against your shoulder, you feel confident, in charge. When you pass soldiers they salute you, when you pass servants they bow their heads. And you remember with joy – you are their future General.

A smile on your lips and assertive steps – that’s how you exit the fortress, squinting at the sun that shines to your eyes through the visor but only for a moment. Cazador is already waiting for you, his own armor polished, his helmet bearing red feathers, his sword stuck in the ground with his hand on the hilt.

While you walk towards him, you notice your father not too far off, Duke at his side, not to mention several dozens of soldiers who were quick enough to show up for the spectacle. You can’t contain your grin as you walk and finally stop in front of Cazador, keeping some distance as is per etiquette.

Silence.

You can almost hear flies buzzing, as if nobody is even breathing. Your eyes meet Cazador’s, dark inkwells that consume near all your attention. And then you hear a command, spoken in General’s voice.

“Ready!”

You move into position, moving your legs apart for balance, gripping the hilt of your weapon with both gauntlet-clad hands and narrow your eyes as you watch Cazador move in very similar fashion, his tall form that always towers over you, now getting into attack position with a grace of a cat. His armored hand gripping the greatsword and for a moment you notice his long hair, untied, being gently moved across the armor plate on his back, looking almost like a cloak.

Another moment pass, your muscles are tense while you ready yourself to move first, waiting for only one word, the permission. You can win this, you know it, you feel it in every fiber of your being.

“Begin!”

You move at the same time as Cazador, dirt spraying from your sabatons as you charge each other. The rush of a fight takes over.

With gritted teeth but still with a smile you lift your sword over your head for a smite, using its weight to aid you in bringing a shattering blow that Cazador barely avoids, turning on his heel to the side at the last moment. When your blade strikes the ground he moves in response, his own weapon swung not from above, but from the side and you see it coming, but know you can’t avoid it, so you duck. While there you use one hand to support yourself on the dirt and deliver a heavy kick to Cazador’s right greave, seeing it bend under your boot when he staggers backwards before he can swing his sword at you.

Quickly you jump to your feet, gripping the sword with both hands again and barely manage to block the incoming blow, metal colliding with a shrill noise as Cazador now tries to use his height and weight of his sword to push you back. Your eyes meet again and you can already feel the sweat on your brow. You dig your heels into the ground and grip your sword tight, but Cazador still manages to push you backwards, you feel your sabatons tilling rows in the dirt as you are slowly but surely pushed backwards. Your jaw is clenched so tight you can taste iron.

“I’ll win, Szarr.” You tell Cazador and see his eyes through his visor, it looks like he’s smiling.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He responds and it sends a shiver down your spine. In this moment – you are absolutely fulfilled, in your element, and with a worthy opponent to boot.

“But I am.” You respond.

And then you let go of the handle with one hand, letting Cazador push your blade against your shoulder plate, leaving indentation in the steel and looks like it throws him off guard because he doesn’t see what your intentions are before it’s too late. With a steel fist you deliver a blow to the underside of his jaw, unprotected by metal, and Cazador makes a sound at the moment of impact, then he staggers backwards, the tip of his blade sliding off your shoulder and falling to the ground. Next moment you watch blood drip from under his helmet onto the front of his breastplate and your eyes meet his in which you see surprise.

You don’t waste a moment, you attack again and swiftly. You use all the might you have in your arm and swing your greatsword at him, making him jump backwards from you, yet the tip of your blade scratches loudly across his breastplate. You pirouette, and when your sword comes around, you quickly strike your foot to the ground, stopping your spin as you bring the blade towards his neck, a blow that would decapitate him, but you know he’s better than getting himself killed and you’re correct, as Cazador pierces the ground with his sword for balance and lifts his armored arm right before the impact. The sound of metal against metal reverberates across the courtyard but you’re not done, this is your moment, this is your win.

You let go of your sword now, watching it fall as if in slow motion, but with now free hands you know you can finish this fast. A punch to Cazador’s forearm makes him release the grip on his own sword and yelp in either pain or surprise, then you move your other hand upwards, again to the unprotected part of his body that is the neck and you grip it, making Cazador let out a choking noise, before you deliver another punch to his side, were armor is thinnest, making him bend forwards.

That’s all you needed.

Using your own weight, enhanced by your armor, you bring Cazador down, making him drop on his back with a heavy thud, with you on top of him, straddling his armored form. With your hand still on his neck, you use free one to grab the bottom edge of his helmet and you tear it off with a near manic glee. His hair is disheveled and now splayed on the dirt, the bottom half of his face covered in blood and his eyes beginning to radiate with growing fury. He lets out another choked noise at the attempt to speak and finally grips at your gauntlet, trying to pry your arm away, his armored fingers slipping on metal.

“Let… go…” Cazador manages a strained growl, but you ignore him.

Victorious you use your free hand to grip the edge of your own helmet, pulling it off your head and letting it clatter to the ground in a cloud of dust while you grin at Cazador, now pinned under you. Finally, your fingers relent and he breathes in deeply, his eyes wide even if they are full of anger. But he looks beautiful, with his bloody chin and flushed, sweaty face.

You lean over him, still the same arrogant smile on your face. He doesn’t fight you anymore, he knows it is over as cheers and clapping suddenly erupts like an explosion.

“Red suits you, Cazador.” You tell him, seeing his cheeks flush even harder now, his chest heaving while his fingers remain gripping your gauntlet tightly. He says nothing, making your victory all the sweeter for it.

“Come now! Both of you! Duke wants to talk!” You hear General’s voice boom over the noise of soldiers still cheering and you chuckle slightly, then lean even closer to Cazador’s face.

“What are you doing?” He suddenly asks, his voice slightly coarse from the choking he received and while keeping your eyes on him you allow yourself a taste of his blood on his chin, letting the tip of your tongue drag against the point of his jawline, making Cazador’s eyes widen in utter shock. “What-“

“The taste of victory.” You tell him and straighten your back, grin on your face, while he stares at you in disbelief.

Without another word you get off him and when you stand on your feet you offer him a hand. Cazador still looks at you with utterly baffled expression but finally he frowns, then suddenly smirks and takes your hand, getting to his feet as well.

“Well fought.” He comments and you nod arrogantly at him.

“You too.”

You shake hands, as it is mandatory to finish friendly fights like this, then you both pick up your weapons and helmets. You tuck yours under your arm while Cazador carries his in his hand, heavy swords hoisted up and leaning against your shoulders in same fashion.

When you both stand in front of the Duke and General, you try to listen alertly but you can barely hear their words as you relish the victory, scarcely able to resist another glance at Cazador’s bloodied, flushed face like it’s a proof that you’re capable just as he is. Not that you ever doubted it, but his quick rise to rank of a Captain still slightly irks you. Not anymore.

Today - you are victorious. Today – you proved not only to yourself, but to your father and Duke too, that you’re a fighter, a warrior, a true soldier, worthy of General’s title when the time comes.

These thoughts spin in your head, making pride swell in your chest like never before and when you are finally dismissed you glance at Cazador, seeing his dark gaze studying your face with intensity. You allow yourself a smallest smirk, then turn and leave the courtyard.

Passing the soldiers who cheer on you, you smile as you walk back to the building, climbing the stairs and crossing the main war room until you suddenly hear a sound behind you, the unmistakable clinks of an armor. You stop and turn your body to look at who it is because the room is empty, wondering if it’s your father but no, you see that it’s Cazador, his waist-length hair draping around him and his eyes narrowed as he walks towards you with firm steps. You notice that somewhere along the way he lost his sword and helmet. You grin as you watch him quickly approach you.

“Don’t be sour, Cazador, you know that-“ You don’t get to finish as his hands move unexpectedly fast, grabbing the back of your neck and clasping leather clad palm of another right over your mouth.

Your eyes widen in shock at the moment of fear from his attack, not having a chance to even resist as the tall elf quickly drags you to the side, your helmet and sword falling to the floor. He pulls you to the door that leads to a smaller room where your father sleeps. Just as quickly you hear the door close and find yourself being slammed into the wall chest first. You watch the icon of The Red Knight drop to the floor as your face made it slip off the nail it was hanging on. A hand from your mouth is removed and you inhale deeply.

“Cazador, what in the hells are you doing?” You want your voice to be loud and strong but instead it comes out in a strained whisper, you didn’t have a chance to gather your bearings yet, caught completely off guard.

“Claiming my compensation.” A reply comes from the behind you, then you immediately hear something metallic drop, probably a gauntlet because soon your neck is released and you feel Cazador’s hot, sweaty fingers grip the same spot again, then another sound, another gauntlet.

“Compensation for what?! I won fair and square, you bastard!” You say louder this time and try to push off the wall but his grip tightens and your narrow your eyes from pain with a huff.

“You humiliated me.” More sounds of metal being handled and you are clueless to what Cazador is doing while you bid your time, thinking of how you can escape him.

Suddenly you feel his breastplate push heavily against the back of your armor, squeezing you inside of it as leather straps on your sides lose their tautness with pressure. And then there’s a breath against your ear.

“You did quite a number on me in the courtyard. I ought to claim a small compensation for that, surely. Not every day those who make me bleed keep their lives.” A low chuckle and hot air against your skin makes you blush. You try to move your eyes, to catch a glimpse of his face, but you can’t, the angle is impossible because of how he has you pinned against the wall.

“Just accept you lost, Szarr!” You hear a rustle, more metal noises and the hand on the back of your neck disappears. Cazador is sure you’re still trapped as he keeps squeezing you against the wall with his chest.

Then – a strip of fabric over your mouth. Caution forgotten you try to protest, only allowing the piece of cloth to slip between your teeth, muffling your words. And then it tightens around your head, preventing you from closing your mouth as it becomes clear to you now that Cazador is holding both ends with one hand to keep you silenced, like reigns on a wild horse. It’s probably his handkerchief, you think to yourself, a useless fact to know in this situation.

"I can accept defeat, what I can’t accept is you making a fool out of me in front of General and the Duke.” Cazador whispers against your ear and you feel his hand under the chainmail covering your rear, caressing it through your pants that you wear below your armor. Your cheeks flush harder but you don’t want him to have this victory and you angrily slam an armored fist against the wall, making him chuckle. “You are good with your sword, I can commend at least that. But I still want to teach you a lesson that no one spills my blood and walks away unscathed.” You pause, your breath catching in your throat as dread pools in your stomach. “And I always get what I want.”

You make a sound, close to an angry scream only muffled by your gag and sweat begins to bead your forehead again. You don’t know how far Cazador wants to take this, maybe he will stop here, after showing you that he can still overpower you, but you’re not as hopeful. And then you whine when his fingers grip your ass with firm possessiveness. Dread you felt just earlier dissipates and is replaced by something you wish it wasn’t – desire. Men are generally either scared of you because of who you are and because of who your father is, or they hate you. Cazador… Cazador is neither. From the moment you met him, this man treated you different than all the rest.

And now you wonder how many times he thought about fucking you, looking for an excuse to do so. In this moment you have to admit to yourself – you wondered it too, how it would be if you two ended up in the same bed, the thought making your insides burn not with dread you felt just a moment earlier, but with need. Yet your pride won’t let you admit it and once more you try to push away from the wall, only making him push his armored body against yours harder, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“It will hurt more if you struggle.” He taunts and you make another sound, one that’s supposed to be angry, but it comes out more like a pathetic whine instead of a growl as your teeth clamp on your gag, it makes Cazador chuckle again, then the gag over your mouth tightens as he pulls at it, making your head arch backwards. “Look at me.” Cazador demands and you finally can see his face, so close to yours and with his chin still covered in dried blood, but his eyes are near shining with dark excitement. “Good, very good, I knew a soldier would follow orders.” He grins, making rage boil in your chest and you frown, trying to show him just how angry you are, but he only lifts his eyebrows at that. “I guess you choose pain then.”

The hand that’s on your ass slips up your lower back, finding the hem of your pants underneath your armor, inspects it, then moves to the front, finding the knot there meant to hold the garment in place. With one pull he undoes the string, then his hand moves to the back again and Cazador begins peeling your pants down. You protest as loudly as you can but all of it is muffled and his hand grips the ends of the handkerchief tightly before he presses the side of your face against the wall.

You growl around your gag in frustration, trying to move but being unable to, you can barely breathe as is and you bite down on the cloth with rage and then suddenly - embarrassment as Cazador’s fingers work your pants down your hips, as much as your cuisses allow, and then you feel his index finger slip between your legs, rubbing your folds as if testing how wet you are. The embarrassment you feel comes from shame because you realize - you are wet already.

Cazador chuckles and you can see his arrogant smirk in your mind’s eye as he keeps feeling wetness on his fingers, smearing them. Then he leans in closer and with his teeth playfully nips at the gag pressing deep into your cheek.

“I knew you wanted me deep inside you.” Cazador whispers in your ear, there’s a hint of malice in his voice and you are not sure if he meant the double meaning of his words or not, but they are still making you blush from shame and anger.

But then you whine, your eyelids droop as Cazador’s finger nudges at your clit, making your body shiver. Gods, you don’t remember the last time you were touched like this and you want this, you know you do, but no, you can’t let him have his way with you, not like this. So you slam your fist against the wall again in protest, except this time it’s weaker, less powerful and that makes Cazador laugh silently against your ear.

Suddenly you feel the gag around your head loosen but before you can even think of spitting it out, Cazador’s hand clamps over your mouth, securing the already drenched from your saliva fabric in place, muffling your voice even further.

“Quiet now, soldier, I don’t want anyone to hear you scream.” He murmurs in your ear before Cazador begins to rub your clit slowly, as if he knows exactly how to make your knees weak.

His palm muffles the words you’re trying to speak, the ones meant to tell him to back off, to stop, that he will pay for this, that you will kill him, but soon you give up, letting out only small pants against his hand as your body easily responds to his ministrations. Your palms grasp at the wall for purchase but you know you can’t move, how hard you are pressed against the wall makes your breaths more shallow, making your head begin to feel fuzzy, and combined with increasing pleasure you begin to feel like you’re in a dream. A nightmarish one or a pleasant one – that’s up to Cazador, you realize with distant dread.

Seeing you give up your struggles, Cazador arrogantly chuckles, his palm is slick with your saliva but he doesn’t let go.

“I knew you would like that.” He whispers in your ear, feeling how tips of them now blush together with your face, then his hand leaves you, giving your gently trembling body a moment of reprieve as you once more hear armor being handled.

The next moment you gasp as you feel scorching heat of his cock against the cleft of your ass, grinding against it and you whine again, not knowing if your whine is of despair or desire. You don’t know what you want anymore, Cazador is muddying the lines between desire and pride, making your head swim. Then his hand navigates between you and him, two fingers finding your increasingly wetter slit and he slips them inside, testing you.

His test pays off because your hips involuntarily buck against his fingers, making them push even deeper inside of you and you whine in despair of your own body betraying you. You’re now sopping wet and your cunt swallows his fingers with hungry ease, making you a shiver run down your spine. You feel Cazador press his lips against the side of your face and you feel his smirk as you hear his own breath slightly hitch when he feels wetness of your walls clench around his digits. You start feeling the elf to begin pumping his fingers slowly and steady inside of you, his hard cock still pressed against your ass. And then, a whisper.

“You want more, don’t you, soldier?” Cazador whispers, arrogance oozing out of every word and you bite on your gag again, not wanting to admit it. You shake your head in last attempt of defiance and it makes him laugh. “I don’t think I believe you.”

Elf’s fingers now leave you, making you exhale with small relief, but then his palm leaves your mouth and once more, before you can think of it, he secures the gag around your head again with one hand, pulling at it so that he can look at your face. He sees your heavy-lidded eyes and you, in turn, see his taunting grin. You gave up fighting already, you both know that, he won.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Cazador promises and with other hand he pulls at your hips, making you arch your back uncomfortably because your cuirass is unyielding but he still positions you just as he wishes and you get to watch his face when his eyes dart down, then a moment later you feel the tip of his cock nudging at your cunt.

You swallow and you’re not sure yourself if it’s from despair or anticipation. Cazador’s eyes snap back to you and he smiles, but his smile has no softness in it, just a mocking edge. And then he watches as he begins pushing his length into you, he watches your face as the near forgotten pleasure claims your mind, showing itself clearly through your expression, through how your eyelids droop even more and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Hm.” Cazador sounds pleased while he takes your body with his cock, pushes it into you inch by inch until he’s fully buried within you. He leans to your face again and your world fills with his smirk and the malicious glee in his eyes. “Submission suits you, little soldier.” A taunt, callback to one of your own in the courtyard, and you moan with shame and anguish, but it’s only for a moment, only until Cazador begins to thrust. You forget your humiliation when lust takes over your mind.

You try to remain silent at first, but his thrusts quickly pick up the pace and all you can hear is his armor slamming against yours with a ringing loudness while you feel him deeply in your core each time he drives his length to the root. By your ear you hear Cazador’s restrained grunts without noticing how you are moaning in response, your voice still muffled. He keeps your head turned to him so that he can watch your expressions and you see the sadistic joy in his eyes be replaced with pure passion, elf’s expression losing the sharp edge and his parted lips betraying the pleasure he’s feeling in this moment.

“Just like this, do not dare moving.” He commands and you don’t even think of disobeying him, your palms and chest still firmly pressed against the fall while the Szarr heir pounds into you as if nothing else matters in the world. “This is… what you get… for making me… shed… blood…” Cazador’s words are punctuated by his groans that he releases with each snap of his hips and you whine at that.

You feel hot, almost melting from heat, as you feel trapped in your armor but you don’t even think of trying to move away anymore. Finally your eyes close and you submerge in the feeling of satisfaction. Then with sudden realization you spit out now limp cloth from your mouth, at which point Cazador released it you have no clue, but now you notice that he’s not squeezing you against the wall with his chest anymore, instead you feel his hand under the front of your cuirass, gripping your right breast and fondling it with authority, as if every inch of your body belongs to him.

You wet your dry lips with your tongue and press the side of your face against the cool wall as you moan, not having a single thought to speak, all of this is too much in the most wonderful way and you hear a low chuckle rumble inside Cazador’s chest.

“Didn’t expect you to enjoy this that much.” He says with bated breath and coarse voice, but despite his words he can’t hide how much he is enjoying this himself. You let your chest slip down the wall just a little bit, making Cazador grip at your breast as if he’s anticipating you to try and escape, but when he realizes what you’re doing, adjusting your body for him, he lets out a breathy groan. “Yes, just like that.” It sounds like he’s speaking through clenches teeth and his fingers pinch at your nipple through the fabric of your undershirt, making you yelp a little louder.

Then suddenly you realize he’s close and you wish for him to go on for longer, to fuck you a little harder, you are not far behind him in this chase for bliss and it’s as if Cazador reads your mind. His hand disappears from under your breastplate and now he grips your hips with both hands as he begins pummeling against you with enough force to make your head spin.

“Gods, yes!” You cry out with sweat dripping down your face and your eyes closed as you begin to feel first waves of pleasure pool between your legs as his cock strokes you in the most delicious way. You don’t think you ever had this much pleasure with a man.

“That’s it, little soldier, you are mine.” You hear Cazador’s strained chuckle but you don’t care.

With a gasp and a moan you come, your body contracting and stiffening in waves as your orgasm surges through you. Somewhere distantly you hear Cazador near growl when your cunt clenches over his cock, making him climax too and milking him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck!” You hear him exclaim in a moment of bliss, something you very rarely hear him say, and you mewl while he uses his length to pound into you until your pleasure begins to fall.

Finally Cazador stops and you hear him panting heavily behind you, then chuckle despite his state. You can barely comprehend what just happened, needing a moment or two to gather yourself back together so you both stay as you are, letting seconds pass.

“If it were a battlefield you both would be dead.” A voice comes from behind you and it feels like a slice of a razor through your mind.

Immediately you become alert and straighten your back, pushing Cazador off you, then turn to see who intruder is. A moment, then two, and finally you recognize the face: long grey hair with white streaks, sharp features and eyes that left a lasting impression even from the small miniature you saw couple decades ago. This man, who you only saw a tiny painting of, now stands by the open door, his arms crossed on his chest and his red eyes focused on Cazador who moved the moment you pushed him off.

Both you and him quickly pull up your pants, the task not done as fast as either of you wish with armor and chainmail in the way but done nonetheless while the grey-haired man seems to be patiently waiting. Cazador doesn’t wait, while still trying to tie the string of his own pants underneath his cuirass, he glares at the intruder with so much hate you don’t think you ever seen in him before.

“What are you doing here, Vellioth.” Cazador demands to know and the man grins, his smile sharp and predatory.

“What do you think Donnela would say if she saw you like this? Tsk tsk tsk.” Vellioth chastises Cazador and you finally finish with your pants, pulling your gauntlets off as you stare the man down.

“Who let you in?” You ask in a commanding tone, now stepping forward. Not only barely anyone is allowed into the main war room, this man also invited himself into your father’s quarters. You realize that the noises and the voices probably made him look, but you can’t justify a civilian like him trespassing in the first place, no matter the reason.

“General Sylven. I asked him where to find Cazador.” Vellioth replies and you glance at Cazador, seeing how his expression is twisted with anger despite the sweat and post-coital blush still present on his face, making you realize that you must look exactly the same.

“You had no right to-“

“I didn’t interrupt, did I? I let you both finish this little display of honorable nobility.” Vellioth interrupts, making you even angrier with his rudeness.

“Get out, now!” You point at the open door and the man just raises his eyebrows at you, obviously not intimidated by you whatsoever.

“I need to speak to Cazador first.” Elf says calmly and Cazador finally moves, bending down to pick up his discarded gauntlets.

“Then speak.” He demands but Vellioth just laughs.

“No, I need to speak to you in private.”

You glance at Cazador, seeing his clenched jaw and his eyes focused on Vellioth, then he finally smirks.

“Very well then, wait for me in the courtyard, I need to finish here.” He gestures to the door in a relaxed and dismissive manner, but Vellioth grins wider.

“I thought you were already finished.” Vellioth replies with snark dripping of the last word and you raise an eyebrow at his insolence.

“Go, unless you want to be removed by force.” You respond calmly, finally with your anger and embarrassment under control, and Vellioth looks at you for a moment, his scarlet gaze taking in all of you.

Finally he nods and unfolds his arms, pushing his hands into the pants’ pockets before he looks back at Cazador.

“Don’t keep me waiting, boy.” He says and with that he departs, his footsteps quickly vanishing as he leaves the war room.

But you do wonder why he called Cazador that and you remember him mentioning that this Vellioth is somehow important to his aunt, or his mother, or whoever she is to Cazador. You get a feeling that this man is Lady Szarr’s lover because what other reason he would have to address Cazador this way, the way his own father did when you saw them in their family home, if not because some sort of upper hand. Vellioth doesn’t look much older than either of you, you have to admit, maybe six decades older, maybe even less and yet he acts like he can command Cazador around. This puzzles you.

You snap out of your musings when Cazador turns to you and you pay attention to his furrowed brows and cold expression, but after a moment of looking at your face his features relax and he smirks, stepping closer, grasping your chin with his fingers and making you upturn your face to him.

“Well, we may have been interrupted, but I am not done with you, Lady Sylven.” He speaks to you in a low, seductive voice and it catches you off guard, making you raise your eyebrows at him.

“I thought that was payment for bloodying your face.” You reach up and rub your thumb against his chin, flakes of blood coming off easily now and Cazador chuckles.

“My blood is expensive, more than you would think.” He responds and leans closer, you think he’s about to kiss you, but instead he leans to your ear into whisper. “And I think I need another compensation from you for that.” A pause as your breath catches in your throat. “And you did enjoy it, did you not?” Cazador’s face returns in front of you and you swallow dryly, new blush beginning to color your cheeks. Was he always this flirty? You can’t recall, but you can’t recall many things right now, not as you look deep into his dark eyes.

“Yes.” You hear yourself respond and Cazador smiles, victorious.

“I thought you did.” He pauses as if thinking and his gaze darts to your lips, then back to your eyes, and seems he makes up his mind because he kisses you, pressing his lips heavily against yours.

You feel yourself melting and you gasp ever so slightly against his mouth, allowing him to slide the tip of his tongue past your lips and run it alongside your upper front teeth before he pulls back.

“I’ll find you later. I have to deal with Vellioth first.” Cazador promises and you swallow heavily, your heart beating at the back of your throat then you nod, completely captivated by him in this moment and that makes him smile. “Good, very good.” Elf’s thumb rubs against your bottom lip for a brief moment like he’s considering another kiss, but this time he decides against it and steps back, releasing your chin and turning his back to you.

Without another word Cazador leaves the room, carrying his gauntlets in one hand and you watch him go, wondering what in the hells just happened and what does this mean for you from this point on.

But you can’t deny the pull you feel. When Cazador leaves the war room, you exit your father’s quarters closing the door behind you, and pick up your sword and helmet still littering the floor, while you feel Szarr’s seed seep out of you, soaking your pants, making you bite your lower lip. Lost in your thoughts you head for your own room, passing through the door that is one way out of three to lead you to officers’ personal rooms and you can’t help but wonder – for how long you have been blind that this was coming? A moment of unleashed lust transformed the dynamic between you two nearly completely, making you feel like you have been a fool to the obvious this entire time.

Still, you know this complicates things, very much so, despite how excited you feel to see Cazador later. You two will need to keep this secret, of that you are sure.

But you are both good at keeping secrets.

For better or for worse.

⫸ end note: thank you @sadist69 for wonderful illustration♡~

[words-after-midnight]

WIP Excerpt Tag

Thank you @fortunatetragedy for the tag!

Tagging @sam-glade, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @tryingtowritestuff24, @bluberimufim, @cwritesfiction, @agirlandherquill + open tag

Gonna share a longer excerpt from a new dream sequence I wrote for Act I of LIFE IN BLACK AND WHITE yesterday. Important context: there's a reference in this to a previous dream (at the beginning of the sequence) where Gabriel is trying to put out a fire at Silverwood (Jeff's house). I'm not super happy with the prose in this, but it's drafty, lol.

And once more, like I’ve never left –

That long, white hallway. With the closed door at the end, and the big, red, glowing EXIT sign, beckoning me forward like a promise, like a threat. No sound. Sometimes, the drone of distant, oddly familiar elevator music accompanies me down the corridor as I walk. It’s always the same tune – or is it? I guess I wouldn’t know. I always recall it with fondness in the moment, but without fail, the memory fades with the ethereal fog of sleep.

This time, though, the tune is absent – only the sharp reverberance of my measured steps accompanies me along the path of ice-white concrete. The air is heavy with a sense of someone watching me, though the presence feels more tense than menacing. The air is thick with something inexplicably different from the norm.

As I walk, the brightness of the overhead lights making me squint against my will, I scan the walls for any visible sign of something amiss – but other than the missing music, nothing seems off. All I see is what I normally see: a deserted hall with no windows, stark, white walls, unnaturally glossy floors devoid of imperfection. The smell and hum of a distant ventilation system don’t strike me as unusual. Looking down, I find my shoes match the floors, and realize I’m wearing hospital clothes, and that they’re uncannily clean. Crisp, like clothes that have never been worn.

Steadily, I walk toward the approaching door until, about twenty feet or so away, I stop – having understood, with a bit of a start, what is different. What the powerful lighting was, with more distance, able to conceal from me.

The door is open.

The door has never been open before – not, in any case, that I can recall. In fact, as I start walking again, with caution, as I inch closer, it seems as though there is no black door at the end of the hall. Instead, there stands before me an open space, framed by its threshold, leading into what appears to be a void. Unlike the door, it is not glossy – where I would normally see the light reflecting on paint from this standpoint, I see only bare hinges leading to pitch black, absolute contrast. Like whatever is beyond the doorframe is set to absorb, to destroy, any light that should dare cross its threshold.

Something within me – my conscience? God? – tells me to freeze where I stand, not to move any closer. Though I’m struck by a terrible sense of foreboding, my curiosity came to win, and, in the end, it does. I step forward. Never have I come this close to the door. Never has it been so tantalizing, open and waiting for me. Not even God could stop me now.

And so I continue, and I walk until – seemingly out of the clear blue, or the endless black – he steps into the doorframe… and he looks directly at me, halting me in my tracks.            

“Jeff.” His name catching in my throat like it means to choke me, to cut off all the oxygen in the room.

He doesn’t respond – steps forward onto the pristine floor, wearing black sweatpants and what I think is a red and white shirt until he gets close enough for the smell of iron to hit me. Still, his magnetic eyes hold firm to my gaze. He walks right up to me, staring, close enough that I can see his face in all its perfect detail. Overcome with emotion, I drop to my knees before him in awe, in near-reverence, grasping at every part of him I can reach – clutching at his hip, bunching up his soaked shirt in my shaking hands, blood weeping into my palms.

He doesn’t touch me. Though I’ve averted my gaze – in guilt, in joy, in shame, in grief, in fear, in blind devotion, in all the knowledge that’s cursed me to hell – I risk a glance upward to find that he looks down on me with an intensity that makes me flinch, makes me wince as though scalded. Still, he doesn’t smile, and before I can say a word in my own nebulous defense, he spits, venomous, “You burned my fucking house down.”

Fear grips me from the ground up. “No.” I release him, shocked. “I was trying to help, I –”

He grabs my wrists, throwing my hands from him with force, with a spatter of blood onto the floor – and he shakes his head, looking down on me in disgust, in revolt as he retreats. I try to stand, to scream his name, but my knees have melted to the floor, and my voice comes out in little more than a hoarse whisper.  

And too abruptly, reality strikes, as though descended from a storm cloud. My body shoots up of its own volition, and only then does consciousness return. It returns to me sitting up in bed in a cold sweat,

A soft voice, from beside me: “Hey, you okay?”

I exhale – slow, purposeful, reining in my own threads before I respond. My voice cracks, even still. “Yeah.” And I turn to him with a reassuring smile, which, when I see his outline in the darkness, freezes from my face with the drop of my stomach.

“Bad dream?” asks Evan – who, luckily, seems to have noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Trying to calm the overwhelming burst of adrenaline flowing through me, I tell myself I most certainly have the night to thank for that. 

I tell Evan it was a bad dream, though, to be honest, I’m not sure that’s true – I’m not sure that the dream was ‘bad,’ exactly. I think ‘unsettling’ is a better descriptor – as it is for the feeling that caught fire within me when I turned to look at my roommate and could have sworn, for a split-second, that I was looking, once more, into the eyes of my undoing.

[willkatfanfromasia]

Idk what this is y'all? First time fanfic writer's overenthusiasm?

A Matter of Chance -3

Her mind unconsciously chanted

"You?"

"is it truly you?"

"You!?!!!! "

She berated herself for hallucinating thus. She hated herself for hoping to see him – after the humiliation dealt to her by his family. She was furious that he never sought her out.

She deplored him for loving her back, giving her attention that caused her present downfall.

He noticed the standing figure , eyes widening in recognition. Firm steps brought him closer to her frozen form.

Her heart rate spiked. " Oh no, he's moving closer- he's real isn't he?"

Beads of sweat poured from her face and back ……. He was here! After so long ! He stood right in front

Her mouth wordlessly gasped and closed “I.. uh.. you” but mercifully these sounds remained inaudible.

His eyes drank her in like a starved man…. What was that flickering across his eyes? Sadness? Guilt? Love? Or lust? They disappeared just as quickly and she was left wondering

“Nandini?” said his tentative voice. Nandini panicked but her pride refused to relent. She didn’t know where to look but gulped, “Your Highness “.

A smile slowly broke out on his battle worn visage, “Good God, all these years of searching and I’ve finally….”

“A futile search that might as well never have happened “, came the reply- it’s cold tone shocking the speaker herself.

“Don’t step any closer, your highness. You have no business here”

His nervous eyes flickered behind her before returning.

“I am visiting the temple” challenged aditha, desperate to remain in her presence .

“The early morning prayers ended hours ago and there are several hours for the evening Pooja to begin” she coolly retorted, forcing herself to focus on the waterpots.

“Well, I merely enjoy the tranquility that temples offer” he refused to give up

“Like the constant temple visits you made in Pazhayarai as a teenager?” she challenged. “Tell me sire were your prayers fulfilled?”

He inhaled deeply and his eyes clouded

“I didn’t realize the importance of a certain wish, till it was left unfulfilled” he mournfully looked at her.

She was rendered silent. Her face hardened and she began

“This unfulfilled wish of yours has caused me enough trouble m’lord. I’m afraid I have nothing more, should you make another wish” was all she could muster.

He could see her side. Every time he was reminded of how much greater her loss was, he felt selfish pursuing her..

Aditha left after her polite admonishments. His head swirled. He wanted nothing more than to embrace her- he’d finally found her!

He wished to reassure her that this time – they will not be parted. That they may be safe in each other’s company and look forward to a future.

He knew he had to placate her. But for now, a good soldier knows when to retreat.

Since our grown up Nandini (Aishwarya) still lives in a forest, she's wearing what sara (little nandini in the films) wears!

@thelekhikawrites @nspwriteups @thatacademic @vidhurvrika @vibishalakshman @hollogramhallucination @whippersnappersbookworm @nashibirne @kovaipaavai @dr-scribbler @chiyaanvikram @love-ps1ff @nirmohi-premika @ramcharanobsessed @babayagahunt

and pls tag anyone interested in PS fanfics!

[deadpresidents]

I was going through your Lady Bird tags because I watched a documentary on CNN about Lady Bird and one of the things that stood out to me was how badly LBJ mistreated Lady Bird! How come she never left him? Did he really cheat in front of her, to her face, and she pretended she didn’t see anything? And from what I gathered, Lady Bird was loyal and devoted to Lyndon despite how he treated her , why though? I tried seeing if she cheated and couldn’t find anything, but she must have really loved him.

It's clear that LBJ and Lady Bird had a complex relationship, but I'm convinced that they really did love one another. On the surface, it might seem that she was blind to who LBJ was at times, or that he was too dominant of a force for her to handle with his famous "Johnson Treatment", but she was the strong one in the relationship and, time and time again, she was the backbone that LBJ needed during his frequent bouts with depression and when his self-confidence disappeared. Along with a marriage, they had a powerful political partnership and Lady Bird was just as shrewd and gifted of a political operator as her husband ever was. Biographers and historians have revealed tons of research over the years about how important Lady Bird was to LBJ's career and he genuinely couldn't have accomplished what he did without her.

As I wrote in an essay about their relationship a few years ago (one of my favorite pieces I've ever written), Lady Bird was well aware of how capricious Lyndon B. Johnson could be and that he was by no means a perfect husband:

It was Lady Bird who could calm him in troubled times. While Lyndon Johnson is remembered as a political maestro, particularly in legislative politics, Lady Bird had great political intuition and knew how to handle Lyndon himself. LBJ could be cruel and coarse -- not just to his colleagues and staff, but to Lady Bird. In a 1994 interview with The Washington Post, Lady Bird admitted as much. "Ours was a compelling love," said said. "Lyndon bullied me, coaxed me, at times even ridiculed me, but he made me more than I would have been. I offered him some peace and quiet, maybe a little judgment." That humility was not false humility; it was Lady Bird's characteristically earnest belief. Yet, she arguably offered him more than he offered her. When he was sick, she helped care for him. When he was depressed, she helped make his life as easy as possible. She motivated him in a way that nothing else could -- not even his intense drive to prove himself or ceaseless ambition for the power to help change things. If Lyndon Johnson was a hurricane -- a force to be reckoned with, Lady Bird Johnson was the quiet breeze and warm sunshine which helped settle everything in the storm's wake. I'm not sure Lyndon Johnson made Lady Bird more than she could have been, but I'm positive that Lady Bird helped LBJ become who he was.

There is an absolutely remarkable taped phone call available from the LBJ Library which gives us a fascinating look behind the curtain at Lady Bird's influence on LBJ's political career. After he gave a televised press conference on March 7, 1964, Lady Bird calls the President and asks him if he wants to hear her critique on his performance then or wait until later and LBJ says, "Yes, ma'am. I'm willing now."

So, the First Lady launches into a detailed review of how LBJ looked, sounded, and seemed during his press conference -- a quick, brilliant, perceptive analysis that touched on everything that President's communications director or press secretary might have scrutinized. She's fair and honest, supportive but direct and constructive, comparing the press conference she just watched with a recent one that she had only heard, and LBJ listens carefully and respectfully, obviously accepting her opinions as helpful and much-needed:

"I thought that you looked strong, firm, and like a reliable guy. Your looks were splendid. The close-ups were much better than the distance ones...Well, I would say this: there were more close-ups than there were distance ones. During the statement you were a little breathless, and there was too much looking down, and I think it was a little too fast. Not enough change of pace, dropping voice at the end of sentence. There was a considerable pickup in drama and interest when the questioning began. Your voice was noticeably better, and your facial expressions noticeably better. The mechanics of the room were not too good, 'cause although I heard you well throughout every bit of it, I did not hear your questioners clearly."

What I find most interesting about the call is that it's a different side of both LBJ and Lady Bird than the public perception of the two, and it's arguably the earliest -- and possibly best overall or most direct --- example of a First Lady's political influence and/or impact on a President's job performance. There is a little bit of back-and-forth between them during the call, but it's mainly Lady Bird in action as a virtual White House communications director and LBJ hearing her review, with Lady Bird declaring, "In general, I'd say it was a good B-plus. How do you fell about it?", before ending the call after confirming their plans for dinner later that night. It's really a pretty incredible peek into Presidential history and the life of a fascinating Presidential marriage -- and the best part is that you can listen to the whole thing yourself via the LBJ Library.

[morphyvt]

Etie's Workout

Ao3 | Wattpad (Fire Emblem Engage) Etie x Reader [Self-Insert/OC]

Words :2522

Tags: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem Engage, Etie, Kisses, Neck kisses, OC, Self-Insert, Romance, Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Ao3, Ao3 Fanfiction

After Sombron's defeat, Elyos rejoiced in its newfound peace. Lythos, Firene, Brodia, Solm, and even the returning land of Gradlon all united under a non-aggression pact. With the end of the war, the age of hope and rebuilding the world back to normal had begun. The entire continent became busy with efforts of fixing the fragments left by the conflict. Many of the Divine Dragon's companions soon had to part ways. The monarchs returned to rule their sovereign lands, ensuring that relations with each nation would heal and remain firm. Of course their retainers and knights would return their sides. Others would return to their families, some would travel the world, and the rest went back to enjoying a normal life. The once populated Somniel returned to being a tranquil place for the Divine Dragon. The ruckus of Timerra, Merrin, & Panette's singing  was replaced with silence. As was Pandreo's constant howling as returned he to his church. Even the silent gaze of Louis was sorely missed at the Somniel. The Divine Dragon and their stewards' duties mostly had them situated at the newly rebuilt palace of Lythos, so there was little need to return to the Somniel, yet it was still open & welcome to those who had stayed there during the Divine Dragon's journey to expelling the evil Sombron.

It was at this day that I found myself returning to the place where I once enjoyed tea with the likes of Celine & her vassal Chloe. The place where Seadall & Kagetsu read my fortunes. I was overcome with a feeling of yearning for days gone by, then immediately feeling guilty that I would selfishly wish to return to a time where there was war, constant battles, and when the Somniel was full of people.

And yet it seems desire actually became reality. From the plaza I could hear a faint noise coming from somewhere distant. It couldn't have been one of the animals at the stables as they were all either adopted or joined the Divine Dragon at Lythos. Even the creature that follows the Divine Dragon around doesn't show themself unless the Divine Dragon is around. To sate my curiosity, I decide to investigate the sound. As I got closer, I noticed that I was heading in the direction of  the training yard, and that I could hear it more clearly. It was familiar and no animal. It was a person grunting, none other than Etie, a knight of Prince Alfred of Firene. But more important than that, she's a comrade, someone I could trust with my life. 

I do admit, seeing her doing sit-ups like she used to do when we were constantly traveling made my heart beat out of rhythm.  She was facing away from me, so she didn't see me yet, also it would have been awkward as she was also wearing her usual clothes and not the workout garments. I wondered why she was wearing that iconic frilly yellow-ish midriff blouse, though I must admit that I didn't mind seeing her in action. Her sweaty abs glistening against the sunlight-- Oh, I really must have gotten carried away with staring because I lost track of what I was supposed to do. Etie did eventually see me, throwing her reps. Getting up quickly, she lets out a winded "It's you!" 

It felt really good to see her, and next thing I knew she rushed at me and gave a tight hug. For someone almost a foot shorter than me, I could feel her practically lifting me off the ground before she lets go. I did like the embrace though, she hugged me like how I would want to hug someone I care about, if that makes any sense. Maybe it was the sunrays causing me to hover my hand and arm slightly above my eyes, but I could have sworn at that moment when she let go, Etie was blushing.  "It's good to see you! Wait-- What are you doing here?"  She asks, to which I swiftly respond with "I could ask you the same thing!"  

I could see it in here eyes that she felt the same thing I felt. Etie was one of my closest friends during our journey with the Divine One. After the emblems disappeared, it felt just as lonely knowing the fact that Etie had to return to Firene to serve her Prince. I'm sure Alfred & Boucheron would have been great company for her but I wanted to be there for her too. I wasn't native to Firene, neither am I a knight there. Perhaps that's why I decided to return to the Somniel. I was fueled with purpose to fight alongside the Divine Dragon. Now that peace had returned, I felt like I had served my goal. I didn't just come back to reminisce on old times, but to return to a place where I was driven to achieve something. Maybe I'd be inspired to pursue a new goal again!  That would probably be too long to say to someone I hadn't been in contact with for a while, so I just followed up with  "I don't know, I just missed this old place." 

"Huh, I didn't take you for the sentimental type. Me, I missed working out here! Firene's been really noisy lately with all the parties & celebrating us beating Sombron. So I wanted to go somewhere quiet to train." Etie explains to me, albeit panting as she speaks. "Woops! looks like I certainly interrupted that. Sorry to ruin your quiet training day."  I was pretty sure I wasn't really bothering Etie, but honestly I just wanted to tease her. "What no! I don't mind you here." she retorts. "The Divine One used to stare at us training. Remember?" bending her arms and anchoring her hands on her hips in a defensive stance. Etie didn't sound as fatigued as she was earlier. Knowing how intense her workouts usually are, it was quite impressive.

Thinking back, I definitely remember that time. Me, Boucheron, Etie, Prince Alfred, and even little Jean were doing squats at the very training yard we were standing on right now. The Divine One would always stop by to either watch or join in exercises, mostly they'd just stare at us. "That Divine Dragon, always running around and watching out for us. I don't know if they did that cause they cared or if he just thought we'd be too chaotic." I said to Etie. "Wha-- Us!? Chaotic? Why I'd never?" Her voice wavered in denial.

"I'm pretty sure you almost started a fight with Goldmary over a potato." A memory that vividly clouded my mind as soon as she said she'd never. "THAT WAS MINE! THAT POTATO THIEF JUST TOOK IT WITHOUT ASKING AND ATE IT! SHE---" she blew her bangs to the side of her face, clearly showing her furrowed brows. Yet despite the face she was making, I found her adorable. I always had thought she was cute despite her... Intenseness. 

I was still curious why she was working out with her regular clothing, though I did notice the ribbon on her head was crooked. The sight of it lured me to reach out and adjust it properly. I didn't realize I was oblivious to the fact that Etie stopped dead on her tracks mid-sentence. She was willing herself not to look at my face as I had gotten really close to her face. Her cheeks burned red, as did mine when I finally wised up to what I had inadvertently done.  We had closed the distance to each other as if fate or an unseen force was pushing us towards each other. Etie, with her head sunken and eyesight glued to the floor couldn't even mutter a single word. Where was the loud and brash athlete from earlier? Her forehead makes contact with my chest, not completely buried but a light touch as if she was beckoning me to come and embrace her. Funny, if only she knew what I knew. No, what I always had known especially during those moments where corrupted would try assault her and I'd come in and shield her from the blows, or when she'd snipe out enemies who'd almost snuff me out from behind - that I had always had a warm yet soft spot for her. There is no one on earth I would trust in my life. And at that moment, there was no one who I wanted to be alone in that serene Somniel with except her. I didn't even mind that she & her outfit was completely drenched in sweat from her workout, which reminded me... "Why were you working out in your battle clothing by the way?" "So I can be used to fighting with this on-- no, actually... I come here every now and then, hoping to see you again. I-- I missed you." Her face was now fully buried on my torso. Despite how muffled she sounded, I could clearly hear what Etie said. It reminded me of the last time we saw each other, when the Divine Dragon ascended the throne. We arrived that day to celebrate, but left going our separate ways. I recalled how I was tasked with bringing Anna back to her family at Elusia, which believe me was one crazy experience that maybe I'll someday tell, and Etie was tasked with bringing Jean back to his family at Firene. Me and Etie, going to opposite sides of the map. I remember wanting to look back but choosing not to glance over my shoulders. I regret not doing it because maybe she was waiting for me to look at her. However the map of Elyos is a ring, a circle, and ultimately me and Etie found ourselves where we both started - at the Somniel, back at the yard where we'd overwork ourselves until our bodies gave in, hopelessly trying to bulk up. When she said she uttered that she missed me, it felt like our last meeting. Except this time I was ready to face her. "I missed you too" I rested my right  hand on her bright auburn hair, though it probably messed up her ribbon again.

"This seems like a good time for a jog! I'll just..." in that moment, when she said that and turned her back, ready to run - I instinctively grabbed her arm with a tight grip, but not enough to to inflict pain on someone I cared about. In those few seconds, I was overthinking. What if this was too much for Etie and she drifts away from me? Would she pull further and further from me no matter what I said? It felt like my mind was thinking a billion scenarios in that short instant, and I didn't know what would be the right thing to say.

 I tugged her arm lightly and tried to say something, anything. Before I could even form a word, Etie wrenched my gambeson with her other hand like she wanted to rip it off of me. I could not even react as my mind blanked when her lips pressed against mine. Whatever strength I had to yank her to my direction softened. She had brought herself closer to kiss me, and I was paralyzed. Deep down inside, contentment was spreading within and all I could do to express it was to kiss her back the way that she would hopefully love to be kissed. Her hand, still clenching my gambeson, pushes me against the stone wall of the training yard. You know, I imagined I would be the one pinning her against the wall, but I didn't mind this one bit. Feeling Etie's full weight pressed against me while being kissed and backed into a corner, I moaned with our mouths still stuck together. She definitely noticed that because she started kissing more aggressively. Two can play at that game. I grabbed Etie and turned sideways, pinning her against the wall this time. This time I was the one who was stealing a shameless moan from the other.  We were both turned on being chest to chest to one another. My hands & fingers dance along from her shoulders then to her waist. I could feel her hard abs even from the sides. She was the real deal, a body chiseled like a warrior goddess. Then I felt Etie bite my lower lip, catching me off guard. I tilt my head away to see that smug grin on her face. All I could think of was a way to get back at her for that.

When my tongue & mouth touched her neck, she exhales, breath misting away. I stay buried there until I went back to pressing my lips to her. Her shakey arms hook around my neck as she misses kissing me too. We pull away for a moment to meet each other eye to eye, the way we looked at each other changed. There was more of an unexpected warmth. We were magnetized to the sight of one another.  

"Come home to Firene with me." Etie's eyes still glued to mine, I could have sworn they were sparkling at me. When she requested that, my mind quickly returned to reality. Etie was a royal knight of Firene, and the daughter of a marquis. I am nobody,  I'm not even from Firene. I don't think Alfred or Princess Celine would bat an eye. Queen Eve and all those other nobles might though. I don't want to make life harder for Etie. Perhaps our romance would just be this one special moment at the Somniel, but before I could even voice a concern--

"Don't you dare think of having second thoughts now. We kissed. I... I want you with me. I don't care what anyone else thinks, if anyone has a problem with you at home, then they'll have to deal with me!" She reminded me of just what I admired so much about her. It wasn't just the attraction or the bond we've built, but Etie is someone who truly inspires me to be strong inside & out. And with that, my mind was set. I found what I came to the Somniel for. Wherever Etie goes, I go.  

"You are the one I feel closest too. Of course I'll go with you!" My arm, wrapped around her waist and back. I fell closer to her to give her another kiss. Her lips did not move, here eyes remained open. "Did I say something wrong?"  "No, not at all" Now she falls closer to me to give me another embrace.  I wanted that hug to never end. With a single finger, I tilt her head up from the chin. Looking at her eye to eye, I could tell she reciprocated what I felt when I gazed upon her. It was like those moments when war raged on, the chaos of battlefields, and when I was at my most lost - I'd look for her. Knowing Etie was still alive during a battle always calmed my nerves. Now that we saw each other for how we truly feel, I felt content.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

[mgparker]

another chance [pt.3]

[peter parker x reader]

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

summary: after you and peter go your separate ways in order to find your friends, you find yourself walking into an unexpected battle 

warnings: MAJOR NO WAY HOME SPOILERS, domesticated fluff, an important star wars debate, ANGST, injuries, mentions of death, reader and peter get separated for a good minute (sorry, it’s for the sake of the plot)

series masterlist

no way home spoilers below the cut, don’t look at TAGS you have been warned

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

The next morning was a mess… to say the least. Between you almost burning the kitchen down during breakfast and Peter screaming for help in the shower, you were almost 100% positive that the cops would show up at your door any second now.

“What do you mean it’s cold?!” You screamed from the kitchen, trying to flip an egg Gordon Ramsay style. On the other burner, the bacon was… well, it didn’t even look like bacon. More like charred strips of… something.

“I mean, it’s cold!”

“Turn the knob to the left!”

“I did!” All the yelling made Peter’s voice crack dramatically.

You rushed to turn off the burner, a small flame having formed in the bacon pan. “All the way to the left!”

“It is not WORKING!” Peter groaned your name in frustration, followed by a loud thump against the bathroom wall.

Did he just… is he throwing a tantrum?

“Oh my G—okay hold on!” You fanned the smoke detector aggressively, praying to whoever would listen above that it wouldn’t go off.

The bathroom door opened, Peter’s head sticking out through the crack. His hair was still tossed around from his sleep, eyes squinting at the fogginess in the apartment. “Why would you do that?” Peter scrunched his nose at the smoking pans on the stove.

You felt the frustration rise in your bones, glaring daggers at him. “Do you think I did this on purpose?”

“You know you shouldn’t touch the stove,” Peter scolded, making your blood boil even more. “It never ends well for any of us.”

“Then I guess there’s absolutely no hope for me in any world, is there?!” You snapped, annoyed that your faults followed you in every universe. Would you ever be able to cook?

Peter couldn’t help but laugh at your irritation, recognizing the expression on your face from the many times his version of you would nearly burn the house down. The corners of his eyes crinkled adorably, smile stretching across his face in glee. It made your temper sizzle down, melting away with every second that Peter laughed. He sounded happy.

Far happier than he was last night when he tore his heart out and held it in the palm of his hand for you. You stopped fanning the ceiling, chuckling along with the brunette.

Eventually, Peter’s fit of giggles ceased. Smiling, he stared at you with an intense look in his eyes. It took a few moments of silence for you to snap out of his spell and jump into action. “Let me,” you pushed a window open in your living room. “Fix that shower for you.”

Stepping aside, Peter let you into the bathroom. You sped your way to the shower, pushing the curtain out of the way and giving the knob a firm whack!

“Oh, okay,” Peter mumbled from behind you, a bit confused with your method.

Then, you turned the knob all the way to the left as you had previously instructed. Peter stuck his hand under the stream of water, feeling a steady warm flow. “Yeah,” you saw Peter’s confused expression. “It’s these New York apartments. You can’t have everything you want.”

You walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind you. “Especially with all these damn bills!” You finished through the door.

After tossing your sad excuse for breakfast and getting ready in the privacy of your room, you met a freshened up Peter in the living room. Your feet stopped in their tracks when you saw the news playing.

The footage of the octopus villain (he called himself Doctor Octavius when you had met him at the Sanctum) was all over the screen. It was a relatively high quality video of the bridge incident, better than you’d seen circulating the media last night.

Rubbing his face in distress, Peter looked up at you as you marched over to the television. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

Shutting the TV off, you shrugged casually. “Sometime between finding my world’s Peter Parker and figuring your whole situation out.”

“These people…” Peter stressed. “They could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Look, there was nothing you could do. By the time you showed up in this New York City, Doc Ock was gone and dealt with.”

You flinched immediately as the words left your mouth carelessly. His ability to save others was probably a very sensitive topic on his part, if what he revealed about your death last night was any indication.

“One Peter Parker shouldn’t have the carry the weight of two worlds on his shoulders,” you added carefully. “Besides, our Peter had it covered.”

At this, Peter gave you a grateful look and finally stood up. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. It was as if he didn’t want to allow himself the comfort of cutting himself some slack.

On the streets of Queens, you and Peter walked side by side. Little cliché butterflies flew in Peter’s stomach whenever your arms grazed his. “So, can’t you just call your Peter and ask him where he is?”

“No,” you rubbed your hands together to generate some warmth. “He had to get rid of his phone a few days ago. Some dick leaked his number to the press.”

“Ouch,” Peter couldn’t imagine how many messages had flooded your Spider-Man’s phone. “What about MJ?”

You were pleasantly surprised that he remembered your friend’s name, though he did seem to know some sort of MJ back on his world too. “I’m assuming she did the same, seeing as she hasn’t answered my texts since last night. Same with our friend Ned.”

Not to sound up your own ass or anything but you swore you were the only one with a brain, having changed your number as soon as Peter’s scandal blew up in the media.

You led Peter to your favorite breakfast place—it was down the road, a short walk from your apartment.

“So, Parker,” you mumbled through a bite of your egg sandwich—a habit that you had yet to break. You swallowed. “Tell me, how’s your world handling the aftermath of the Blip? Our government has really been shitty with this whole situation.”

You were curious to see if this Peter’s universe had maybe done things better.

“Uh, the Blip?” Peter was confused.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t mean to bring politics into all of this but—”

“No, what’s the Blip?” Peter asked, sipping on his iced coffee (which you had scrunched up your nose at).

“You didn’t experience half of the world’s population just vanishing out of—eh, well I guess that makes sense. You’re from a completely different universe so…”

Across the table, Peter was shocked at your casual demeanor. He watched as you took a sip of your tea, highly concerned over what just came out of your mouth. “What happened?”

You realized he probably came from a world that held very different beings from yours, seeing as he hadn’t mentioned any heroes other than himself. “Some big purple alien snapped half of the population away. Myself included—”

Yourself?! Peter grew concerned with every word that left your mouth.

“—but it’s okay because Tony Stark saved the day!”

A laugh left your lips, “that rhymed.”

The silence at the table was tense. Well, at least on Peter’s part. You were unfazed and enjoying the last of your sandwich.

“For the sake of my mental health, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t tell me any of that.” Peter announced after a minute.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Your waitress approached the table just then, grabbing your empty plates and asking if you needed anything else. Stealing a glance over at you, Peter politely declined and asked for the check. You had been at this place plenty of times with MJ or Ned, so you knew the rough estimate of your bill. Taking out a small wad of cash, you slapped the money onto the table before Peter could get a word in.

“Ha! Twenty exactly,” You smiled triumphantly when the check arrived (though the two of you stayed in the booth chatting for a little while after you paid the tab).

“—and that is exactly why the prequel trilogy will always remain a masterpiece,” Peter had just sat through a ten-minute lecture on why each of the Star Wars prequels were (in your humble opinion) the best creations in cinema.

Satisfied, you leaned back and waited for Peter to agree.

“Yeah, I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to disagree with everything you just said.”

“Bullshit!”

“The original trilogy will forever be known as the best Star Wars movies in existence.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You know, I might just have to leave this diner and never look back. You’ve shattered my spirit, sweetheart.”

“I’m a firm believer in respecting everyone’s opinions,” you took a deep breath, leaning forward to intimidate Peter. “Even if they’re completely and utterly wrong.”

Peter, who had been leaning in as well, scoffed and pushed your shoulder lightly. “That’s it! I’m done.” He slipped out of the booth and walked out of the diner in a ridiculous fashion.

“Pete!” You laughed, slapping a generous tip on the table, and calling out a firm ‘thank you’ to the waitress. “Stop it!”

When you caught up to him outside, Peter was laughing. Leaning against the wall with his head titled back and giggles spilling from his lips, you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of him.

Being this beautiful should be an absolute crime.

Shoving his shoulder, you left the man behind. You could hear his laugh following behind you, blending in with the sounds of NYC. Cars honked in the distance and people talked from the various outdoor restaurant areas.

After spending some time to know Peter (and vice-versa), the two of you made it to a subway station.

“Well, this is where we say goodbye,” Peter’s face dropped into one of panic. “For now!” You added.

“What are you talking about?”

“We have to find my Peter Parker and figure out what the hell we’re going to do. It’ll be much easier to find him if we split up.”

To Peter, this sounded like a very bad idea. Going your separate ways meant he wouldn’t be able to protect you. It was just something that was out of question.

Peter made his reluctance known, starting a small argument between the two of you… to which he finally conceded.

“How will I find you?” he absolutely hated the idea of leaving you alone, but your stubborn nature wouldn’t allow it any other way. Splitting up would be the fastest way to find your friends.

“Here’s my number,” you fished a pen from your bookbag and scribbled it onto the back of his hand. “Find a payphone or something? I don’t know.”

“Those are practically ancient!” You were already walking away, Peter’s voice sounding more distant with every step you took. “In any universe!”

Without turning around, you laughed and gave him a shrug. “See you, Parker!”

The next time you did end up seeing this Peter was hours later.

In which time you passed by Happy Hogan’s condominium, miraculously finding your Peter Parker along with the gang of multiversal villains.

“Uh… dude?!” Your entrance caused everyone to face you quite suddenly. “What’s going on?”

Dumbfounded, your Peter Parker looked like a fish out of water. The last thing he wanted was for you to find out about his plan without prior debriefing. He knew you weren’t going to like this... at all.

“What is going on, Peter?” Your patience was wearing thin.

Peter turned towards his Aunt May, whispering something. She gave him an understanding nod and he came over to join you.

“Look,” Peter grabbed your shoulders gently, leading you to a far corner. He didn’t need his abilities to sense that you were going to flip out any second now. “Doctor Strange and I had a... disagreement.”

“A disagreement?”

“Yeah, of a sort,” said Peter nervously. “I ended up trapping him over the Grand Canyon I think?”

It took a few seconds, but you did exactly as Peter expected. “What?!”

“SHHH! No, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure out how to get him out of there… someday—but for now, we need to help these guys out.”

“These guys?!” Your best friend shook your shoulders roughly, so you lowered your voice. “These guys are villains. Villains that happened to come after you in other universes.”

Over his shoulder, you gave them all a suspicious eye. They stood in their spots awkwardly, probably listening to every word you were saying. After some more back-and-forth, the two of you reached an agreement.

“You know I trust you, Pete. More than anyone, but we need to be careful with these guys.”

“I know,” Peter reassured, letting go of your shoulders and heading back over to the refugees. You followed hesitantly. “Let’s get started!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent helping Peter construct a chip for Octavius (which was surprisingly successful) and a neutralizer for Dillon. The process of extracting his power had already begun, Peter taking a moment to change back into his suit. 

Alone with Dillon and Osborn, you tried to think of something to say. “So… here’s to the new beginnings, eh?”

Dillon didn’t look amused, on the fence about losing his electric abilities. Norman Osborn gave you an unsettling smile, “Of course, another chance for a different story.”

What was that supposed to mean…? Maybe he’s just cryptic… and weird. “Uh, yeah.”

“May?” Peter burst through the room suddenly. His behavior seemed trance-like, and you could only compare it to one other thing.

It was the tingle. 

“Peter?” You approached him slowly, foolishly turning your back on Dillon and Osborn. If you had kept your eyes on him for a second longer, you would’ve caught the change in Norman Osborn’s demeanor.

The next few moments happened too quickly, a web shooting across the room without warning and trapping Osborn’s hand to the wall.

A diabolical smile stretched across his face. “That’s some neat trick, that sense of yours.”

“Norman?” The newly healed Octavius questioned.

“Norman’s on a sabbatical!”

Everyone stood frozen, shocked at his transformation. You inched closer to May, ready to book it as soon as Peter gave you the signal. “My friends,” the Green Goblin smiled once more. “You have got it all wrong. These are not curses… they’re gifts.”

Your heart plummeted as Dillon seized the Arc Reactor and blasted Octavius through the window and out the building. The shattering of glass kicked your instincts into overdrive, pulling May out the door aggressively and pushing her towards the stairs.

Overwhelmed, she tried to go for the elevators instead.

“No!” You gave her another push towards the stairs. “There’s an incredible amount of electricity pulsing through this building. Go!”

Thankfully, May was too panicked to argue. Your sense of self-preservation begged you to follow her to safety but your loyalty to Peter was stronger. Pushing your fears aside, you ran back down the hall.

A scream escaped your lips when the Goblin suddenly threw Spider-Man out of the apartment. Peter was slammed into the wall, struggling to get back up.

What do I do? What do I do?! You panicked, watching as the Goblin broke through the chunk of cement Peter threw at his head. “Strong enough to have it all, too weak to take it!”

Peter lunged at him once more, catching sight of your frame down the hall, but was quickly spun around and kicked in the stomach. The impact must’ve been great because the boy soared past you.

The Green Goblin was speedy, grabbing onto your arms and spinning you around so that your positions were switched. His back was facing Peter and you could see the boy struggling to recover.

“Let me go, you freaky bitch!” You fought against his hold, kicking with every ounce of energy you had. By some miracle, your knee collided with a spot that even the mighty Goblin couldn’t ignore.

His body doubled over in pain, one hand coming down to cover his lower parts and the other digging his nails harder into your skin. “All whom Peter Parker loves meet doom,” He sneered, bringing you close before shoving you through a broken window.

It seemed as if the world went silent for a moment, the ground disappearing beneath you.

Please don’t let the other Peter Parker find out about this. You pleaded in your head. He can’t lose you again.

But what felt like an eternity ended up being a millisecond because your Peter was suddenly at the edge of the building, grabbing your hand before you could begin your deathly descent. “Holy shit!” You gasped, falling to your knees when he placed you back on the ground. “Holy shit Peter, I owe you like a year’s worth of Joe’s!”

“Don’t mention it,” Peter hollered, already in another fight with Osborn. “I won’t say no to the pizza though!”

You pulled yourself up, shaking the glass shards off. May, you remembered with a jolt— you need to make sure she gets out alive. The burn in your legs caused you to grind your teeth together and run faster towards the staircase. You avoided Peter and the Goblin, taking two stairs at a time.

“May?!” You screamed, feeling the building shake intensely. So many stairs!

When you made your way to the ground floor, you realized you may have been a minute too late. The level was in ruins, smoke clouding the area as a fire spread from one end to the other. Chunks of cement turned the floor into a maze, and you tried your best to reach May.

Through the smoke, you could see the woman approaching something slowly. What was she doing?

The horrifying sight that met you on the other side of her gaze made you break out into a sprint. The Green Goblin stood above an injured Peter, squeezing his throat mercilessly. Bile rose as you listened to Peter’s desperate attempts to breathe. “This weakness, Peter,” the Green Goblin snarled. “It’s choking you.”

With a protective fire burning through her veins, May Parker swung her arm up into the air and plunged Norman’s cure into the Goblin’s neck. Freezing in shock, he fell backwards and let go of Peter.

Finally, you made it over to your best friend, falling to your knees beside him. Your shaky hands were aimless, hovering over all the boy’s injuries as if you didn’t even know where to start.

“May,” You began. “We need to get out of—”

Peter suddenly screamed with an energy that he didn’t know he still had. “RUN!”

BANG!

The Green Goblin’s glider sent May’s body flying to the other side of the room. Panicking, your lungs desperately searched for air.

The cure—it didn’t work.

You were next, landing on the ground painfully as Peter tried to save you both. Ignoring your wounded hands, you made a mad dash toward May. She’s not moving, you dreadfully realized.

You almost made it but then the next moments felt like a fever dream. A huge explosion sent you all flying back and into the rubble. At least that’s all you could recall as the impact left you severely disorientated.

An aching fatigue settled and you struggled to even move a finger. God, you were painfully reminded of how incredibly fragile your body was.

When you’re so immersed in the world of super-enhanced heroes and magical beings, it’s easy to forget that you could only handle as much as the average human.

The smoke was thicker than ever, sneaking into your lungs at an alarming rate. It was eerily silent.

“May?!” The broken sob of a boy who had lost everything was the first thing that penetrated the ringing in your ears. “May! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“MAY!”

.

.

.

may :,(((( </3

part four is up now!

i’m so sorry that this part barely contained tasm!peter x reader interaction but the separation was necessary. don’t worry it’ll definitely be worth it in the next part (a lot of angst, worried!peter and confessions coming soon)

i tried to write most of this from memory (i’ve only seen the film once so my apologies for any mistakes or inconsistencies)

taglist:

@joonsflowershop @idli-dosa @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @aspicynugget @swaggysposts @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @saturnsgo @vanillacoffeeaddict @sloanna @munchyungwon @taina-eny @aleksanderwh0r3 @plutoneu @xoxoloverb @coolnessisoverrated @anakins-angel @qwertyblo @carmoocentral @infp-t-rhi @weirddominatrixpop @elizaphantandroses @book-fic-reader @kaaylvst @lizzieann143 @iceaesthiexs @lcvebuckybcrnes @elinedjarin @nerdgirl1004 @reveluvvs @steviebunny @tsukilover11 @absurdos @peanutbuttermoony @silverwindptv @poeandtheporgs @no-mercy-bby @vampgguk @jessyballet @stumbleonmywords @vibrant-berry @emistrash @di4na @ston3coldcrazy @shesbiochem4 @frankensteins-wh0re @wiggly-chromosomes

[f1united]

Ensemble - Chapter Three: The First Time

Charles Leclerc X Reader

Summary: Your Arthur Leclercs best friend. So why, after a random night in London, are you falling for his brother?

Chapter One: The Start     Chapter Two: The Girl and The Gift

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and sex.

Word Count: 4.1k

Note: This chapter changes location a few times, marked with an ‘***’ so please look out! Thank you so much for all the kind messages about this fic, life has been so hectic at the moment so thank you all so much for being patient! If I have left you off the tag list please let me know, I tried to remember everyone! 

*****

Chapter Three: The First Time

Sharing such an intimate moment with Charles was always something that you associated with a lot of risk. After experiencing what can only be described as ‘a few kisses’ with someone within your friendship group from home a few years back, you had made a firm decision that sneaking around and lying to those around you wasn’t a good idea. Sure, it was fun but ultimately it wasn’t worth the stress or drama, especially when you knew it was going nowhere. However, the current situation presenting itself to you was different. It was Charles. The kiss was something that you’d anticipated for so long, yet it still managed to defy your expectations.

As it would be to anyone, you found the intimate part of a relationship very important. If there were no instant feelings when your lips connected you almost considered it pointless to continue, because if they weren’t there immediately at one of the most exciting parts then when would they be? There was no denying you had a connection with Charles, it was obvious growing up, it was obvious during the kiss and it was even more obvious as you found yourself once more tangled in his sheets. This time rather than leaving a gap, you were both doing everything you could to make sure there was no room between you. You’d only popped to his room to say goodbye, you were both leaving Mykonos in the morning.

Knocking on his door and entering after a quiet ‘come in', you were greeted with him trying to ram everything into a suitcase. He looked surprisingly calm considering the number of things getting in the way of the zipper, surrounded by discarded items he’d pulled out to try and make room. Despite there only being one moment you’d shared alone this holiday something had changed between the two of you. Knowing that there were feelings there, you both seemed more relaxed in one another's presence. So when a soft smile made its way onto his face at the sight of you, you couldn’t help but embrace him in a hug.

As you wrapped your arms around him Charles could feel this was different to your normal hugs. He didn’t think there were many different types of hugs, but this one was new for the both of you. You were holding him tighter, like you didn't want him to leave. Rather than refraining from inhaling his scent as you usually did so (or did at least discreetly) you breathed in deeply and let yourself savour the moment. It was your hands toying with his hair that was driving him crazy, it hadn’t been cut in a while and your fingers started to tangle themselves within the small curls that were starting to form.

“I came to say bye.” Despite saying it with a smile, you didn’t sound overjoyed. You’d had an incredible holiday and didn’t really want it to end. “I don’t really want to go”.

“Neither do I.” He chuckled slightly at your comment. Who would ever want to leave paradise? Especially when he knew you’d be back in the rainy UK while they all continued to travel the world. For him, driving was an escape. He loved nothing more the flying around the race track. However there were times, like anyone with a job, when work got stressful. Team expectations were always high and understandingly so. The battle for third in the constructors was well under way and pressure was increasing each race.

You looked up at him, chin resting against his chest. The moment felt natural, there was no awkward silence, no awkward feelings. You pressed your lips against his and he began to realise that for him, you felt like an escape. You'd known him forever so had a good idea of what he'd been through, if he hadn't mentioned anything before he was sure Arthur would've. You were familiar, yet so new and exciting. He didn't feel anxious about questioning your intention, he knew how mature you were and that whatever was going on between the two of you would be dealt with responsibly. He trusted you, however he couldn't tell you this yet. He didn't want to scare you off before anything had even begun. So he decided he wanted to show you.

He deepened the kiss and you happily obliged, there was no way no earth you were going to stop him. You ran your hands down his back before sliding them under his shirt sending shivers down his spine. He couldn't quite believe what was happening.

You tugged at his shirt, signalling for  him to break the kiss to allow you to pull it over his head.  Quickly taking the hint he pulled away for a split second, giving you just enough time to throw it on the floor with what seemed to be the rest of his wardrobe. The following kiss was full of hunger. It didn't take long for him to begin pushing you towards the bed. It was neatly made which you found surprising. He didn’t strike you as the type of person who made time for that but you liked it, it was always something you seemed to forget to do, especially during early mornings when you were running late. 

He began to remove your shirt, pausing to look up at you when he realised you had nothing on under it. That's what you liked about Charles, he was respectful and a gentlemen, yet as soon and you gave him a small smile and nod to continue, his eyes changed from soft to determined. It was a look you had seen often when he has his helmet on and visor flipped up, images of him plastered on Instagram over race weekends, but you'd never seen it like this. No helmet, no one around to pretend for. 

You weren't an overly shy person, confidence was something you managed to radiate wherever you went, no matter how you were feeling inside. It wasn't a façade as such, just something you'd always used as a coping mechanism. You didn't want people to mistake your vulnerability as a weakness, so you never showed it.

***

He could recall the last time he'd seen so vulnerable, it wasn't something that happened often. It was after your bad break up when he'd walked into what he expected to be an empty room in Abu Dhabi at the end of the 2019 season. He'd left the F1 party madness in search of a few minutes alone with himself, a chance to catch his breath after a hectic f1 season, his first win and under the saddest circumstances. He'd predicted the small room at the end of the dark corridor would have some type of catering stuff in and he was right, but it also had you, in floods of tears, sitting on the table surrounded by expensive champagne and overpriced wine.

You'd wiped your tears as soon as you saw him, your instant reaction to pretend that everything was fine and continue as normal, but Charles wasn't stupid. Arthur had been keeping him in the loop although he didn't know too much himself. In spite of your ex boyfriend knowing and getting along with all your friends, you kept most of your relationship private. The break up was messy and quite abrupt and to be quite honest, you were ashamed that you went back to him a few months later, believing his lies that he was ready now and things would be different, only for him to do exactly the same thing again. You kept the details on the down low largely because you were embarrassed and didn't want those outside your friendship group to even have the chance of finding out. Charles gave you a small smile as he entered the room but it wasn't enough to cover the look of concern on his face. You knew he was very close to his brother and that it was likely he'd been told that you'd been broken up with.

"He told me that he doesn't love me anymore." You barely got the words out before a sob escaped your lips.  Charles almost ran across the room when he saw the tears you'd so desperately tried to hold back run down your already soaked cheeks. The sleeves of your dress were drenched, your attempt to use them once more to dry your eyes was pointless. He noticed and quickly pulled the handkerchief out of his suit pocket, drying them himself. You gave him a weak smile, a laugh leaving your lips as he tried to keep up with their rate of flow.

"You know he's stupid right. You deserve better than that." 

"So everyone's been telling me." You laughed at yourself more than anything. You knew you deserved better, but that didn't make you love him any less. 

"Have you spoken to him?" Charles didn't want to seem nosey but he did want to help.

"No, not for a few days. He keeps messaging me, telling me he's changed his mind and made a mistake but I can't go back, not again." He didn't probe any further as a comfortable silence dell over the two of you. He watched you deep in thought, unbeknown to him the past few years was playing in your mind over and over, like it had been recorded and someone was forcing you to watch it on fast forward.

"I'm not crying because I want him back." You were staring at a painting on the wall. It was of a scene near a beach and had 8 little people sat on the sand. It was random, you weren't sure why it was hanging in the wall of a storage room, but it was distracting you somewhat and for that you were thankful someone had chosen to hang it there. 

Charles was still looking at you. He'd never seen someone look so broken, so upset, yet still try and seem so strong.

"I wouldn't judge you either way"

"You say that but you would. Anyone in their right mind you agree that it wouldn't be the best idea" He admired your attempt to lighten the mood, your sense of humour overpowering your sadness.

"I'm upset because I'm scared." He wasn't expecting that. "I'm scared because I've lost the one person I thought I'd be with forever and I know that's laughable because I'm not even 20 and I have so much of my life to live and people to meet, but what if I never fall in love again?"

Your question was rhetorical. You didn't expect an answer to such a deep idea which is why when Charles let out an 'ummmmm' as though he was searching for an explanation you cut him off. Your eyes left the painting and you looked back at him.

"I've not told anyone that," you shook your head as you spoke as though it would erase the thought. "Anyway that's enough about that I'll get over it." You didn't know if you would, but you at least wanted to believe you could. "What brings you into this luxurious room?"

Your voice dripped with sarcasm as you both looked around the walls. The wallpaper was hanging off in most places. You'd put money on it being held up by the shelves alone. The table you were now both sat on was covered in empty cardboard boxes and the lack of a window made the room smell a bit damp, which you weren't sure was possible but after taking a glimpse at the alcohol covered carpet you weren't going to question it.

"I just needed a second to, you know," He gestured into the air with his hands before looking at you. "Breathe." You did know.

"You've had one hell of a season." He nodded his head in agreement. Anthoine's accident had been hard for everyone to deal with, especially the Leclerc brothers. "I can't believe I've just sat here and moaned to you about a boy." You felt guilty, you'd experienced Arthur dealing with grief first hand and if Charles was anything like him (which he was) he'd be struggling too.

"It's fine," Charles insisted. "It took my mind off it all for a second."

"How've you been?" You were aware it was a bit of a stupid, generic question but wanted him to know you cared.

"Errrr better more recently, Pierre's still not great though."

"I can't even begin to imagine what it's like," You swallowed thickly. Every time the boys got into their cars you blocked all bad thoughts out of your head, they were good drivers and after all, they were just at 'work', but every time a yellow or red flag was waved your heart would skip a beat and you could barely bring yourself to look at the screen. 

"Yeah well fortunately it doesn't happen often anymore." He was right. "It's just unfortunate when it rarely does." He looked up at you and noticed that your tears had dried, his handkerchief still wrapped tightly in your hand. "Shall we head back in?" You nodded you head at his question and hopped off the table.

"Is it okay if I keep this for the night? I'll give it back to you once I've washed it, I don't think you'd appreciate it in its current state. I'm pretty sure its covered in my snot too." He laughed at your confession. 

"You can keep it." He smiled. You did keep it, it was at home, neatly folded on one of your drawers. You were determined to give it back to him at some point.

***

As Charles looked at you he realised that this was a different type of vulnerability. He wanted to be the only one to see you this way. It became incomprehensible to him that someone could see you like this and not appreciate it with every fibre of their being. You were never one to find your breasts particularly great, especially laying down. Your instant reaction was to use your arms to cover them slightly. 

He gently kissed down your neck, lightly grabbing your hands in his own to move your arms out his view. Charles was a superstar, he was famous and also incredibly beautiful, you'd expected to feel self conscious in front of him but his words were all it took for that to go away.

"You're beautiful mon ange" his voice was lower than usual, his accent thicker. You trusted Charles completely and allowed him to place your wrists above your head. He held them down with one hand whilst his other hand rested on your waist. His kisses trailed further down your neck until he reached your breasts. He placed a gentle kiss to one of your nipples, a moaning leaving your lips the Charles' second his tongue flicked over it. Your head rolled back as you did so, eyes only opening when he removed the connection. You frowned at him, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"I didn't think I'd find your sweet spot so quickly mon cherie!" You rolled your eyes at his comment, a smile creeping its way onto your face.

"Yeah well that's just one of them, and probably the easiest to find."

"I'll have to keep searching then." He'd barely finished his sentence before his lips rejoined yours. It wasn't long before you were both completely naked on top of his sheets, Charles still on top, teasing your entrance with his hard on.

"Please Charles."

"Pardon?" He heard you perfectly fine but was enjoying teasing you. You lifted your head up to look at him more directly.

"Please Charles, I really need you." That's all he wanted to hear. That's all he needed to hear. Within seconds he was inside you, wasting no more time. He'd been dying to do this ever since London and couldn't help but think about all the time they'd wasted.

"Oh my god, you feel so good." His words were followed by a string of moans which were like music to your ears as he continued to thrust into you. As his name fell from your lips you watched his eyes lit up. His pace quickened shortly after making you see stars.

"Ah, yes baby like that." He wasn't sure where the nickname had come from but it encouraged him none the less. It wasn't long before you both finished, him falling beside you. You laid in silence for a while, the thin layer of sweat that had formed had disappeared a bit making the cuddle you were having a bit more comfortable.

"This is nice." You admitted. This wasn't something the two of you had done before, let alone naked.

"So was that." You giggled slightly when you realised what he was referring to. "Yeah, that was nice too.”

"Can you stay the night with me?" The forwardness of his question was a surprise to you considering the villa was full of your friends who were unaware that the two of you had something going on.

"Definitely." It was unlikely that anyone was going to catch you now, it was past 2 in the morning and your flight was early anyway. "I do feel bad though, not telling Arthur."

"I can understand that, maybe we should speak to him soon. I want to take you out properly first though."

"Oooooo a date, how exciting!" 

"I have a couple of plans in mind." That made you smile. No one had ever put any real effort into a date for you before. It was always you coming up with the ideas.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Your curiosity was at an all time high. Where did Charles Leclerc want to take you?

"You'll have to wait and see." He placed a kiss on your forehead as you both shifted to get under the covers. 

"I'll look forward to it!" That night, you fell asleep in Charles' arms and took in every second of it. You were sure you were awake way past him, his light snoring added to the list of things you found extremely cute about him.

***

The plane ride from London to Belgium was short, yet long enough for you to over think all the possible outcomes from this weekend. You wanted to know Charles’ intentions but didn’t want to ask. It was too early onto give anything a label and that wasn’t what you wanted, at least not right at this moment, but you didn’t want to lead each other on and take it too far in the spur of the moment and it amount into nothing but awkward family holidays and uncomfortable encounters with each other’s future partners. Of course, you were thinking way too far into the future and you knew that, you knew you should be enjoying life moment by moment, but you also knew you were playing a risky game.

The thoughts heavily clouding you brain vanished the second you spotted Charles. Arthur had invited you to Spa long before Charles had. Perhaps that was why you felt so guilty for paying more attention to the formula one driver sat in front of you then the formula three driver sat beside you sharing a story with the rest of the table. Luckily, it was a tale of an adventure the two of you experienced a few summers back so you could easily zone in and out.

The communication between you and Charles had been minimal since Mykonos. It had been a little over a week and all you'd shared were a few text conversations, a few Instagram messages and a parcel. You'd arrived home from Mykonos to yet another gift from Charles however rather than resting on your wrist as his previous one did so nicely, this one was hugging your figure beneath the casual dress you'd thrown on for dinner.

Charles' name was nowhere to be found on the parcel. It was obvious the lingerie set was from him, it was ferrari red and accompanied with a note reading 'See you in Spa x'. You still compared the handwriting to his previous note, butterflies flooding your stomach when they matched.

After his teasing, you'd decided it was your turn and how better to start it by wearing it beneath your dress to dinner surrounded by a bunch of his friends and family. You'd sat directly opposite him when you arrived at the hotels dining hall, despite not having a great qualifying session he seemed to be in a good mood.

The waiter began handing out what must've been the eighth round of drinks, everyone choosing soft over alcoholic not wanting to drink in front of the drivers who would have to put off alcohol until after tomorrow's race. As everyone focused on getting their correct drink, you let your foot collide with Charles' knee beneath the table, the looks the two of you exchanged going unnoticed.

Of course your touch immediately gained his attention, you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head as you remained focused on the waiter as he called out your drink. You raised your hand in the air, letting the shoulder of your dress fall slightly, revealing the thin piece of fabric. As soon as you had your drink in hand you leaned back into your chair and covered your shoulder, looking up at Charles.

He knew you were teasing him, you wore your smug smile with pride. He'd half expected you to just bring the set with you and maybe wear it to the race if you felt like it, maybe even the date he'd planned for Sunday night but he should've known better after you'd begged him to touch you just a week prior. You couldn't help but notice how quiet he'd become, the chats he'd had throughout dinner had faded and it was clear he only had one thing on his mind.

"I'm just going to the toilet." You announced to the table although it was mainly for Charles' benefit, his hand had been gripping your thigh for most of the night. You'd barely made it out of sight from the others before Charles had caught you up and pulled you into what you only could assume was a laundry room, the smell of fresh linen overwhelming your senses.

"You seem to be having fun teasing me mon ange" Charles had you against a wall, your head in between his palms that were pressed firmly against the wall either side of you.

"I thought it would be more difficult Charles." The smirk on your face only grew as his eyes fell to your lips. It wasn't long before they were met with his, your hand instinctively reaching for the back of his head to bring him as close as you could. You could've kissed him all day, saddened when he pulled away so quickly.

"What do you expect when you're wearing this set in front of everyo-," He cut his sentence short as he ran his hand up your skirt. Your smirk returned as his eyes widened. "Oh my god."

"What?" you asked innocently. Charles tilted his head, a look on his face that said 'really?' to which you giggled slightly. He reached into his pocket and handed you one of his two room keys.

"We've just ordered dessert Charles." He rolled his eyes at your comment. "I'm afraid you should've thought about that before deciding to not wear panties to dinner."

"I've been okay so far," You picked the room key from his hand and slid it up your sleeve. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got ice cream on its way." He regretfully let you walk past him with ease, both of you knowing that you had him at your mercy. When he re-joined the table you noticed how his hand didn't relocate itself on your thigh so instead you ran your foot up and down the inside of his leg, earning a glare each time you did so. He could see you revelling in his desperateness, each time he'd send a glare your way it would be met with you circling your ice cream with your tongue teasingly slowly. Before you'd even got to the cone Charles pushed himself up from the table, scrapping his chair back as he did so.

"Upstairs. Now." With only a few people left at the table the discarded ice cream went unnoticed.

TAGLIST

@ vioaglkvs @downtcearth @pg10ln4 @tall-tanned-tattoo @leclerclove @spiidergirlsworld @recklessgiraffelife @angeliquekalampoka @gingerxarmy @baueoud @jamieeboulos @teenwaywardasgardian​  @imthebadguyyy @abysshaven​ @phatyak

[kim-poce]

Kingdom's Sword 6 - Reason

Can you guys tell me if the tags worked?

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Masterlist

CW: war mention, death mention.

=-=-=-=-=

Sword had his eyes closed as the knights dragged him into the palace. It hurts. It had been days in the same uncomfortable position, his legs couldn't stand the weight of his body, and even breathing hurt. He didn't complain of course.

Before they entered the throne room, there were words that he wasn't allowed to hear or process, then there was more pain when he was put on his knees again and with that, the world was made real again, the sounds were becoming clear, and the pain didn't seem to matter anymore. She is here.

"So this is the Kingdom's Sword," an unknown voice said, and even while trying to think about it Sword knew it was from the monarch, "He looks so much weaker than the stories make him sound."

"He is a defeated soldier, your majesty, so he looks like one," Commander said, and Swords held every word closer, taking every bit that he is allowed to, it doesn't matter what she says as long as she is the one speaking.

"Look up, soldier," the queen ordered with a firm voice, it was clear that she is used to being obeyed, Swords knows that in her world there is nothing more important than her own wishes. "Let me see your eyes."

But I'm not in her world. He thought to himself while ignoring the order, I am in my own world where you have little to no value.

It was different from Commander Harriet; when she killed the late queen he stopped fighting, he didn't need to follow orders anymore so he was ready to let things end, still, he obeyed Harriet's order to drop his sword, to kneel. He didn't need to obey, not at first, in that moment he could do whatever he wanted, so he obeyed.

"I thought you had said he obeys every order," the queen said, tapping her finger on the armrest of her throne.

"He doesn't obey every order, your majesty, he obeys my every order," Commander said firmly before the place fall silent as if the knights and soldiers had stopped breathing.

"Then order him to look at me," the queen said slowly, "since you obey my orders."

Sword didn't need his eyes open to see the ongoing fight of wits in the throne room.

"Look up," Commander ordered, allowing him to finally see.

Sword looked at the queen with glassy eyes, but did not pay attention to her, instead, from the corner of his eye, he watched Harriet who was kneeling on one knee while looking at her majesty.

"Kingdom's Sword, for a long time your abilities were a reason for the people to fear, but I'm sure that I can make use of such a soldier," the queen said, thinking, "Commander Harriet, order him to obey me."

I don't want to, he would obey, of course, he would have no choice, but there is not a part of him that doesn't despise this idea. But it's okay. He belonged to a queen once, he at least knows what to expect.

"I won't order him to do so, your majesty," Commander said firmly, her voice letting clear that there was no way to make her change her mind, and Sword felt his heart racing in hope and fear. What if the queen kills her for it? What would be left to me?

"Harriet," the queen called with a frown, "Don't forget your place, or that I am the one that put you where you are now."

"Your majesty, you put me in this position for a reason, and it's for this reason that I must deny this request."

"A reason? I gave you your title so you could watch for the nobles, how can this apply here?" The queen asked angrily.

"Not nobles, your majesty, you gave me my title so I could protect the people from the greed of the ones in power," Commander said calmly as if she wasn't implying that the queen was too greedy to own Sword and that she is a danger to be contained.

The queen glared at Harriet for a few seconds before sighing, massaging her temples, "I see that not even a war can change you," she said with an annoyed voice, "You must learn to watch your tongue while you have one," despite the words, the sentence felt more like a advice than a threat, "The journey here was long, let's leave this matter to another moment. For today, let's celebrate the end of the war with a feast."

=-=-=-=-=

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch, @cupcakes-and-pain, @whumpcreations, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @extemporary-username, @whump-me-all-night-long, @clickerflight, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @rose-pinkie, @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @morning-star-whump, @whumpsday, @inpainandsuffering, @extrabitterbrain

[yinses]

he reminds your ex who you belong to

gojo satoru ft. f! reader + exhibition ( technically phone sex ¿) + some hair pulling + unprotected sex  wc: 2.3k

a/n: trying to get better with my tagging. i realize the community has it’s own sensitivities and i often fall short on that thought. i still owe some prompts and a few other asks but this has been siting in my drafts for a few weeks and i finally finished it up. 

it never fails to come as an interruption in your life, the shrill call of your phone blaring at inopportune times. each one conveniently impeding on time with gojo.  

your boyfriend of four months would give you that tight smile, blue eyes swimming with annoyance, but never concern. because not once did you pick up the call, always reaching out blindly to silence it without even acknowledging the accompanying messages. 

the number changes, but you learned not to accept any call from one you didn’t recognize. important communications were typically followed by voicemail and that was how you dealt with that. but the duration was becoming more tedious than either of you imagined, reaching above the white noise decibel it had been reduced to. 

“maybe i should just change my number, “ you suggest forlornly. it would ensure that he had no way to contact you freely, but it would also force you to reestablish connections with all your friends and family. it seemed like an extreme measure but when push came to shove. 

only a few moments pass before the phone picks up again, hammering down the final nail in your resolve. 

“i think you should answer.”

gojo’s unexpected intervention comes from the edge of the bed where he flips the said phone carefully from one palm to the next. his fingers brush past the two blinking options just short of selecting. 

you shift from foot to foot, not sure how to accept that response. gojo was as irritated as you were but you didn’t expect him to cave first. 

frowning, you shake your head. “i’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” his gaze sweeps over your face, somewhat amused by your discomfort. there is a swirl of mischief alight in those bright blue eyes.  “apparently he needs a little more than a simple no.”

he holds out the device, voice taunting but firm.

“if you don’t answer you’ll miss the call.”

as if there wouldn't be a dozen more to follow. 

your mouth feels dry, hand heavy with the weight of decision. it wasn’t as though you couldn't deal with the situation, so much as if you were prepared to. ignoring had been the more appealing option over confrontation but perhaps it had been your hesitation that had been the problem all along. ultimately your thumb taps to accept the call. 

“hello?”

‘baby, i’ve been trying to reach you for ages.’

the bed creaks but you’re too focused breathing evenly to notice. you weren’t familiar with the etiquette of many break ups, which was why this one was the hardest. it had been a long love that had followed you into the early years of adulthood before spark began to fizzle out. 

“i just answered to tell you to stop calling. i’ve already blocked your number once.”

the attempt to revive the romance before it all fell apart had been one-sided. he’d been quicker to discover other fish in the sea before you had. it seemed as though in your patience, you’d found something better while he spent his time chasing minnows without satisfaction. 

‘yes, but you didn’t give me the chance to explain. we don’t have to be over.’

you should have seen it coming. 

your shoulders tense at the press of his lips at your neck. gojo had a propensity for creating opportunities out of every little divot in life. he lived the role of a jester but held the mind of a genius. gojo had been kind in biting his lip to bare down on the jealousy simmering down beneath.

he gives you a brief grace period as his slender fingers tap the mute button then his lips return to your ear. “if you want this, get onto the bed and place the phone above your head with the speaker on.”

an immediate protest flies to your lips but doesn’t quite make it to fruition. what he’s suggestion goes beyond sexual barriers you’d set up thus far. gojo had a knack for pushing them and helping you discover new fantasies and hidden pleasures. 

at the first hint of a pout against your throat, you cave. 

so weak for him.

your ex seems none the wiser to the hitch in your voice as you press one knee to the bed, then the other before carefully rolling onto your back. swallowing the waning confidence before it leaks from your body, you seal the deal by placing the phone just above your head after activating the speaker. 

“good girl.” the words come whispered for your benefit as gojo crawls onto the bed. as if his intentions weren’t already clear enough, the prominent hardness in his pants as he slots between your legs is. you can’t help but grow dizzy at the thought of your premeditated actions, all while your thighs tighten around his form. 

his hands warm the shivers from your sides as he slides up your shirt and kisses down your navel. gojo delivers a sharp nip just before muttering a brisk,” unmute.” in reminder. 

the command comes just in time for your expected response though you’re no more prepared to deliver when gojo unbuttons your pants and works them over your hips. 

‘maybe if we could just meet somewhere?’

the sincerity coupled with your actions makes it all feel more one-sided with you playing the role of the villain. he’d been an ass, yes, but surely he didn’t deserve this. 

right?

“it doesn’t matter, were-mmph.” no part of you expected gojo to play this fairly. you choke on the response when his tongue licks a firm swipe against the fabric of your panties. 

‘what does not matter? speak to me. lets talk this out.”

funny how he chose now of all times to acknowledge the issues you had and attempted to resolve in the past. 

gojo words feel condescending as he mimics what’s heard against your cunt. there was no doubt in your mind that he’d completely written off your ex from the beginning. the same confidence from your first date dripped from his touch as he worked down the fabric from your hips. 

not once did he promise to watch his volume as he sloppily wets his fingers. he’s is ruthless as he plunged in two in on the first thrust, palm curling up to rub friction against your clit. any other time you would have revealed in his ability to make you come apart so easily, now you were more embarrassed by how much easier you felt. 

‘is this a bad time? you seem distracted.’

every time was a bad time. that was the point. 

gojo’s tongue wet the inside of your thigh, “don’t let him hang up. you want this to be his last call, remember.”

at this rate he was going to make this your last waking moment. 

somewhere between a squeak and a whimper, you managed to form words against the friction of gojo’s touch sliding in and out. “no, let’s just-i- yeah, no, we should talk it out now. i’m tired of going back and forth.”

the line pauses briefly. and you almost hope for a second he reaches clarity and saves you from the embarrassment. ‘alright then. are you really not willing to give it another shot?’

your groan of arousal is disguised by disappointment but the opposite warms gojo’s breath against your damp skin. “i didn’t realize you were dating such an idiot. how can he be so dense.” his lips smack, shiny with your stimulation.” you must just really have a thing for pretty faces, willing to look past so much.”

you were willing to look past his deviousness right now, ready to let him desecrate you over the phone like this.

“you’re pretty, toru.” you try to jab but are countered with the addition of a third finger as he starts a relently pace. the sounds are so dirty, reckless suckling sounds that had to carry. gojo made sure of it as he twisted his wrist in retaliation over every shift of your hips. 

“i am much prettier than they guy. much better at a lot,” he enunciates sharp smack to your thigh. 

then he curls just right and you turn for face into the phone and keen.

‘seriously what is going on you sound- strained.’

gojo’s chuckle vibrates within you. “poor guys don't even know what you sound like on the verge of an orgasm.”

your voice is impossibly hoarse and not very convincing as you choke out,” i’m fine. n-no look … i only answered because i wanted us to-fuck-no sorry.” gojo wasn’t making this easy. “- wanted us to reach some closure and move on.”

gojo pulls out just short of your building orgasm and you gasp breathy at the loss. 

‘we were together for two years. surely that amounts to more than just moving on.’

it did. way back when the unexpected break up had torn your hearts to shreds. the misunderstanding and lost connections had eaten you out from the inside. left you failing in the unknowns of what you did wrong and why he wanted to slow down your progress.

now it all seems insignificant in comparison the sight of your current boyfriend slowly fisting his cock. 

‘you wanted to use the break to decide if you were ready for a future together and i think we both realized that we weren't-”

gojo had chosen the right moment to intervene in your life and the moment at the head of his cock pushes through the first ring. he follows through in one motion, filling you to hilt as his hand reaches up to fist the short of your hair. 

‘baby, no one knows you like i do.’

the sharp sting of his fist clenching as he hips rock back is the last warning you get before he slams back in. there was more to the familiar precision as he ruts into you. gojo was the better man, but even he felt short to the green-eyed-monster. 

he was relentless with his pace, fucking into you harder with each new whimper you give up. your consciousness is a fleeting cloud, wafting high out of your reach as your mouth opens up to sharp cries. 

‘are you working out right now? your words sound broken.’

gojo’s hand presses into the curve of your back as he leaves over you. “fuck, you should just tell him. get this over with. let him know that you belong to someone else now. someone who is currently fucking you better than he ever could.”

your protests mirror your resolve and you can already feel your lips forming those exact words before you catch yourself. “i-i cant.” that was too much, right?

gojo didn’t seem to think so. he suddenly pulled out just enough to turn you over, hand still holding your hair hostage as he pushed your face into the mattress effectively ruining your ability to speak properly. 

“tell him, or i will. and i’ll add in every dirty little thing we’ve done leading up to this moment. you don’t belong to him anymore and he should know it. properly.”

‘hey, should i just come over?’ comes that voice again, a constant glutton for punishment.

“no!” you cry out. “i-we can’t- i’m.”

gojo decides to help you out. no longer willing to be a spectator as if he could be called such. “fuck, baby. make those pretty noises for me.”

‘is that someone else? are you with someone right now.’

gojo snatches up the opportunity, hand curling around the phone to place it against the tacky sweat accumulating against the skin between your shoulder blades. you can feel it teetering with each jerk of your body. 

“yeah, she is. apparently she needs help getting her point across. if she wants to contact you  she will do so on her terms. “ he huffs peevishly,“ until then fuck off or you can listen to me fuck her doesn’t matter to me.”

his commanding tone shouldn’t sound so hot. you can’t help but moan as he hits that spot just right. 

a high pitched ‘what the fuck’ grates unpleasantly against the mood you’re so desperate to build to its peak. 

“i take it back, hearing you screech is going to make me go soft. don’t call again.”

‘wait don’t-’ his protest comes a moment too late for gojo’s waning patient as he abruptly cuts off the call and flings the phone somewhere above your head. 

“I imagined that going much smoother in my head,” grunts as he picks up the pace.

your mouth falls open but nothing comes out. you’re unable to blink past the flood of light as you melt into the roll of his hips. there is nothing left for you to do but squeeze around him as you absorb each thrust. 

“i don’t know what i was expecting thinking you could form coherent sentences when i fuck you stupid like this.” his voice is markedly softer now, still agitated but gentler in his touch as he loosens his grip. your head turns without instruction, eagerly catching his mouth in a sloppy kiss. 

the tell tale tremble shudders from one end to the next as you dig your knees into the mattress and gyrate your hips. the angle rewards you with an opportunity to ride his cock straight into nirvana. gojo comes to shatter the already broken cry of release by manipulating speed and precision while you chant his name all the way over the edge. 

his breath comes in short rasps as he follows you over, body drawn up taut as his orgasm washes over.  

gojo’s weight is unforgiving, but thankfully brief when he collapses on top of you before rolling onto his side. he gathers you into his arms and rolls you in against his chest. his fingers chase yours and he brings them to his lips to kiss each one. 

“maybe you should have just gone with your idea and changed numbers.”

somehow you find the air to laugh as your head falls back against his sweaty shoulder. he shares your humor, smile sharp with a new prospect.

“or perhaps we can try again? maybe repeated exposure will do the trick.”

[cursestothemoon]

Imagine sucking on a lollipop all day to tease Fred but you act like you don’t know what you’re doing and he eventually gets too worked up and ends up fucking you real hard. Maybe you also put on your old school uniform and tease him. Basically some light ddlg with daddy Freddie

JEALOUS POSSESSIVE SEX WITH FRED!!!!

It could be a headcannon or blurb- whatever you want- but can it be with a fem!reader please 💕

I combined these two requests :)

a/n: i jUST REALIZED I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO MAKE IT DDLG WITH DADDY FRED OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY. I’ll write a separate ddlg, daddy kink piece for you, i am so sorry ☹️

Cherry Lollipops and Pleated Skirts

F.W. X FEM!READER

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: NSFW, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), fingering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, humiliation, degradation, slight praise, dom!Fred, sub!reader, UNEDITED

No one expected the show to be so busy on a random Friday, but it was busting at the seams. Since the doors were opened at eight o'clock this morning, people had been piling into the shop and stealing your boyfriend's attention along with his twins.

At first, you understood the shop was important and you'd rather business be booming than have their dreams fall apart... but six hours of Fred not even having the time to spare you glance has catalyzed a faint change of heart.

You need him.

The flat above the shop- where you live with Fred and George- was incredibly boring without the boys. You had half a mind to throw caution to the wind, Fred's rules be damned, and use your own hand to get yourself to cum.

Fred had been beyond cruel with his early morning teasing, both of you assuming it would be a light work day and he'd find time to sneak off so you two could go at. At this point you were sure Fred was so busy he forgot about the predicament he left you in, you couldn't blame him- you wanted to- but you couldn't so you decided it would be best to subtly remind him.

You pulled out your old Hogwarts skirt and white button up shirt, with the skirt barely fitting as an appropriate garment to wear out in public. Your hips, thighs, and ass had all filled out as you blossomed into mid adulthood much to your-and Fred’s- pleasant surprise. The dark grey pleated skirt went just below the curve of your ass and brushed the tops of your thighs. The shirt still fit roughly the same, you tucked it into the skirt and left the top few buttons open revealing the soft skin of your chest along with a dark purple love bite peaking out from just under the limp collar.

You made your way down to the shop, a skip in your step as you thought out a plan. The hard candy and lollipop section was just a few feet away from the stairs leading to the upstairs flat, the stairs you were descending, and they were exactly what you were looking for. Picking up a cherry lollipop- you had convinced the twins to bring in a few muggle sweets to the shop- you unwrapped it as you walked over to the till and delicately placed it in your mouth.

"Should I even ask?" George laughed as he took the seven sickles you held out to him.

You shrugged, "You really wanna know?"

He shuddered making you smirk, "You're right. Last I saw him he was by the pepper imps."

The butterflies of anticipation multiplied as you gave George a beaming smile before turning to walk toward the pepper imps.

"And I'd like to keep my shop up and running, so please no funny business in the store."

You shot him a wink over your shoulder before sauntering over to where Fred was. The pepper imps were towards the front of the store but still tucked away in a corner, and as you neared them you could see a crouched Fred looking through the shelves and writing down on his clip board. You took a minute to look him up and down, his hands holding the pen and board making the items look ridiculously toy like, and his bent knees crouching position immediately drew your eyes to the curve of his butt. Averting your eyes from his backside, your gaze followed the lines of his forearms. He had his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows and the writing caused his arm to flex every so often making you almost drop the cherry flavored sucker from your mouth.

Gently shaking your head and moving the lollipop from one side of your mouth to the other, you brought yourself back to reality and took slow steps to stand next to Fred. You pretended to browse through the shelves as he remained focused on his task.

Fred could sense someone standing next to him, and it took him a mere few seconds to realize it was you. He could be blind folded in a room full of people and he would be able to pick you out in a second from your perfume alone. It was his favorite smell, the way it mixed and mingled with your natural scent was intoxicating. His eyes fluttered shut as he took in your scent, before he turned his head assuming to meet your eyes- only it was your bare thigh that his nose was just about touching when he turned his head.

You watched as his eyes slowly travelled up the expanse of your leg, stopping for a moment when he reached the hem of your skirt, before continuing up until he met your eyes. They were big, bright, and teasingly innocent as your beautiful lips were wrapped around the top half of a big, round, cherry red lolly.

"Seems I've missed an imp." He smirked, extending his legs and raising to his full height.

"Maybe you should get back down there and count again." You suggested sweetly, pulling the lollipop out of your mouth with a pop.

Fred's eyes followed the sucker as you put it back into your mouth and started sucking on it, a faint hitch of his breath could be heard as you pushed it further back into your mouth. He looked around to see if anyone else was seeing the act you were putting on, luckily the corner seemed to be the only deserted spot in the packed shop.

"I'm busy, love, don't be a bad girl." His voice was low and soft as he spoke.

"But Freddie," You whined, drawing out his name before lifting yourself onto your tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "I need you."

Fred plucked the lollipop from between your thumb and forefinger before sticking it into his mouth with a smile.

"Good girls wait, you wanna be a good girl don't you?"

You nodded eagerly.

His eyes racked down your body one more time, his lips slightly parted and tongue prodding at the lollipop hanging out of his mouth as he smirked.

"Good, now go changed before someone sees what's mine."

It was clear this wasn't just a suggestion. He placed the lollipop back into your mouth and gently pushed your chin up to close your lips around the sucker before bending down to place a kiss on your forehead and nudge you in the direction you came from.

With a huff you walked back to the till with slumped shoulders and a sour impression making George giggle at your expression.

"Has he rejected your womanly charm and seduction?" The younger twin joked, earning himself a shove to the shoulder as you joined him behind the till.

You kept George company as he helped customers check out, your lollipop helping keep you occupied as time dragged on. Your elbows rested on the counter, your body bent over the surface while you watched the people in the shop.

Unbeknownst to you, Fred couldn't seem to get his eyes off of your form. The way you were resting against the counter had the hem of your skirt kissing the underside of your ass and he was sure if he could stand behind you he'd see your underwear peaking out from under the garment. The thought of throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you up to the flat was a tempting one, but he had enough willpower- or so he hoped- to resist the urge.

His willpower seems to be running thin, though, when he caught sight of some short bloke eyeing you up. The man wasn’t someone Fred was familiar with, and the way he was practically eye fucking you while you joked with George at the counter didn’t have Fred begging to get to know him. 

The guy continued to openly ogle at you, making Fred start to lose his temper as he restocked the edible death marks. He couldn’t tell if you had noticed or not, but you continued to swirl your tongue around that damned lollipop that not only made his pants far too tight but was probably affecting the man whore in aisle three the same way. 

With one final flick of your tongue against the sucker, Fred noticed the man start to make his way over to you, a sleazy smirk stretched across his lips. He tossed the rest of the edible dark marks onto the table with no regards to organization and took long strides to get to your side. 

You were mid conversation with George about the new girl he was seeing when you felt Fred wrap a firm, calloused hand around your wrist and tug you into his chest. 

“Everything al-” Fred cut you off with a large hand spread over your jaw, forcing your head to angle up, and pulling you into a heated kiss after plucking the lollipop from your lips. 

He held you to his chest as your body practically went limp in his arms, anything to just keep your lips locked with his. Fred kept his hand on your neck, moving it just slightly back to keep your head tilted back so he could deepen the kiss while his hand around your waist pulled your hips as close to his as possible- also trying not to get the sticky sweet sucker stuck on your skirt. 

The kiss left you breathless, your chest heaving as his lips moved to the underside of your jaw with heavy kisses. You almost forgot where you were with the way Fred was firmly holding your jaw and moving it himself so he could better access to the skin. Unfortunately, it was George who brought you back to reality making a soft blush paint your cheeks. Fred hung his head, nose prodding at your neck as he smirked before pulling away and standing straight. He popped your sucker into his mouth, a clinking against his teeth sounded as his tongue moved the sugary sweet hard-candy around in his mouth. His eyes were creased into a mocking squint as he stared down the now incredibly uncomfortable looking man. 

Fred didn’t wait for him to walk away, instead focusing his attention back on you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, nudging you in the direction of the stairs that led upstairs to the flat. 

“Oi! Where are you going?” George shouted just as you let out a loud giggle, Fred had smacked the underside of your butt as you climbed up the steps ahead of him. 

Fred turned to look at his brother, eye dropping into a wink, “I’m taking my lunch break.”

You giggled all the way through the flat and into your shared bedroom, Fred walking next to you with long strides and an arm wrapped around your shoulders, his hand holding the column of your neck. 

Fred closed the door to your bedroom before turning to you, he gave you an appraising look as he toyed with the lollipop still in his mouth. 

“You think this is cute?” 

His tone made your eyes shift and bottom lip jut, you were in trouble. 

“Walking into the shop dressed like a fucking whore...You just want attention, huh?”

“I wasn’t even paying attention to him! I was just waiting for you like you told me.”

Fred stopped for a moment, “...I never mentioned that bloke looking at you.”

Your eyes went wide realizing you gave away more than you should of.

“On your fucking knees.”

In record time your knees hit the hardwood floor, slowly crawling over to Fred. Your eyes were trained on the lollipop moving around his mouth and you think you understood just how agonizing it must’ve been for Fred all day to watch you sucking on it.

Upon reaching his legs, you worked quickly to unbutton his trousers and pull them down along with his boxers. You wrapped a hand around his semi hard cock, the weight of him in your hands made arousal start to pool in your panties. Your tongue replaced your hand, licking a broad stripe up from the base of his cock to the tip before placing a kiss on the spongy head while making eye contact with Fred through your lashes. The act made him shudder, his hand moving to grab the side of your head and fingers carding through your hair. Taking him into your mouth, you could feel each ridge and vein with your tongue making you moan around his shaft. 

“Bunny’s mouth was made for my cock, yeah?” Fred asked with a grunt as you slowly started to bob your head. 

You nodded as best you could but focused back on hollowing your cheeks and taking him to the back of your throat. His head hit the back of your throat making you let out a small gag before adjusting to breathing through your nose. Once adjusted you started to bob your head faster, your hands gripping his thighs hard enough to leave marks. 

Fred groaned around the lollipop still in his mouth- though now significantly smaller- his hips starting to thrust in sync with your mouth moving up and down his shaft. His breathe hitched when your hand started to massage his balls, tugging and rolling to get him to his release. 

The louder he got the closer you knew he was, so you started to suck harder and move faster. His fist closed around a makeshift ponytail in his palm, using it to tug you off of his cock. Your mouth made a pop sound as you were pulled off his prick, and you let out a whine at the loss of his taste. 

“Gonna cum in your- no...in my pussy.” Fred smirked, bringing you to stand on your feet and pulling your head back so you were forced to look up at him. 

He brought up his other hand to grasp the thin, white, stick of the sucker hanging from his lips and pulled the lollipop from his mouth. He used the red sugary bead that was left on the stick to gesture up and down your body as he spoke.

“Clothes off...save for the skirt.” He demanded, pointing at the pleated grey skirt with the lollipop. 

You were quick to do as you were told, shirt dropping to the floor along with your bra and panties all while Fred watched with dark eyes and an aura of possessiveness. 

Silently, Fred pointed the white stick toward the bed- the lollipop finally had reached its end- never taking his eyes off of your now nearly naked form. You practically skipped over to the bed, climbing up onto it slowly as to make sure Fred got a good glimpse of your bare cunt under your skirt. It was clear that you had succeeded when he let out low, barely audible, groan. 

Before you could real get a grip on what was happening, Fred had his fingers running up your slick folds, your skirt flipped up, drawing out a gasp from you. Moans fluttered past your parted lips as Fred started to rub small, tight circles on your aching clit. With the little white stick abandoned on the nightstand, his other hand was free to run up the inside of your thigh before his fingers moved to tease your entrance causing you to clench desperately around nothing. 

Fred gave you little time to adjust as he slipped his fingers into your entrance, thrusting in his middle and ring fingers roughly while his other hand still worked to stimulate your clit. Transitioning from tight circles to a flat hand rubbing back and forth harshly with more pressure had your back arching and eyes screwing shut. Fred continued to move his digits in a wave with each thrust, the pads of his fingers massaging the spongey area inside your pussy that had your toes curling. 

“F-Fuck, Freddie-” You gasped, hand gripping onto his wrist not knowing whether or not to pull his hand closer to your clit or push it away. 

Fred leaned over your body, his mouth attaching to any skin he could reach to roughly bite and suck before he pulled away to huskily whisper into your ear, “Louder. Say it louder.” 

You were more than willing to abide, not having the will power to try and keep yourself quiet either way. Fred’s fingers continued to thrust into your cunt as your orgasm hit you, a vulgar squelching coming from the vigorous action that had your hips twitching and lifting off of the bed. His large hand came down onto your abdomen, pushing you back onto the bed as you rode through your climax. 

“That’s it. Made a mess all over your pretty little skirt.” Fred tutted, removing his hands from your body to start taking the rest of his clothes off. 

“M’ sorry.” You muttered quietly.

Fred shook his head before going you a teasing smile, “It’s alright, kitten, you’re forgiven this time.”

Your chest heaved as you watched Fred undress which was always a breathtaking sight. His cock was already painfully hard, the tip red and leaking precum making your over sensitive cunt ache. 

“On your knees, hands holding the headboard.” Fred instructed, smacking your thigh gently to get you to move quicker. 

With shaky knees you crawled over to the headboard and gripped the wooden edge, making sure to wiggle your butt in Fred’s direction as you did so. The bed dipped with Fred’s weight as he climbed up and positioned himself behind you, his right hand trailing up and down the line of your spine before grabbing a handful of your ass with a grip sure to leave a few faint bruises. 

Fred lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into your tight walls. The way your pussy gripped him had his eyes rolling back and jaw going slack, it was a feeling he’d never get tired of no matter how many times he felt it. Adding the breathy moans and whimpers that left your mouth into the mix and he could barely keep himself from fucking into you roughly. 

You bit your lip at the slight discomfort that came with the stretch of Fred bottoming out, the fronts of his thighs flush against the backsides of your own as you both took a moment to adjust. You let out a choked gasp as Fred pulled almost completely out of your pulsing cunt, his prick slick with your juices. He had his hands on your hips, using this as an opportunity to pull you back to meet his thrusts. His pace quickly sped up, soon the sound of smacking skin, loud groans, and cried out moans filled the room as Fred fucked you hard. 

“Tell them who makes you feel good. Want the whole fucking shop to hear you.” Fred growled from behind you. 

And who were you to disobey him?

“Harder, F-Freddie. Fuck-”

Both of you were sure George could hear not only the animalistic growls and pornographic moans but also the bed frame ramming into the wall and the sound of skin smacking almost painfully.

Fred reach around to start massaging your clit, making you almost drop your hands from the headboard as your hips twitched toward him. 

“Whose cunt is this, huh? Whose fucking cunt?” 

Your vision was blurring and words slipping your mind as he continued to pound into you and stimulate your clit. 

“Say it.” 

“Yours-” You sobbed, second orgasm approaching. “All yours, Freddie.”

Fred smacked your clit making you jolt, “That’s fucking right.”

Your body started to shake as you started to release around Fred, the intense pulsing of your cunt had Fred spilling his load into with a stutter of his hips. He held you close, cock completely sheathed inside of your weeping pussy as you both came. 

Coming down from your highs, Fred pulled out of you and promptly left to grab a washcloth to clean you up. You collapsed onto the bed, skin balmy and limbs shaky as you waited for Fred to come back. When he did, reworked quickly to clean you up and dispose of the wash cloth before climbing back into the bed where you had found yourself. He got comfortable on his side before pulling you into his chest and having your limbs entangle with his own. You weren't sure where you ended and Fred started, just how you two liked it. 

Fred pressed a soft kiss to your forehead while his hand delicately run up and down your back and curve of your waist. 

“You should get back to the shop.” You muttered quietly, not really wanting to let him go. 

Fred hummed before moving his hand to cradle the back of your head and nuzzle you further into his neck and chest.

“I think Georgie will be just fine.”

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinblack003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

[dilftaroooo]

hi! can you please write a nsfw oneshot for dio brando x fem! reader ? to be a little specific; can you add a boss/assistant dynamic & corruption kink? tysm ( ◠‿◠ )❣️

mmm corruption kink. thats absolutely my fav, anon 🤤. i'll be more than happy to write it for you. enjoy!

(business office au)

you gotta earn it. (boss!dio x secretary!reader)

word count: //1.7k+//

synopsis: you want that raise? then show mr.brando what it is you're willing to give up to him. it's only fair.

tw/tags: dubcon, nipple play, corruption kink, size difference (not heavily mentioned though), business attire, afab reader, cute virgin reader.

"No."

Those words left you speechless; stiff in your spot as you looked into piercing, yellow, eyes. He said it in such a nonchalant manner, you don't think he even took a double take on your question. You spent so much effort to muster up the courage to ask your boss the question that you dread to be answered - but not in this way. He must have made a mistake.

"'No'...?" You echoed.

Dio leaned back in his seat, eye contact never faltering as he crossed his legs, burgundy colored dress pants ruffled at the movement. He tilted his head in a mocking manner as one well groomed eyebrow raised upwards.

"Oh dear. Perhaps my beloved secretary has gone deaf? I shall repeat myself once more: 'No' meaning, 'No, I will not offer you a raise.'"

Your fist clenched as you try to fight back the tears of humiliation and neglect. Why? Why did he refuse you? You worked so hard for him and you knew he knew that. So why won't he give you this raise? Leave it to Dio to crumble up your acts of valor and throw them into a fiery pit.

Trying to regain your composure, you speak up,

"But, sir, Why? I've done so much for you these past couple years; schedule your meetings, review your records and documents, compose orientations for newcomers. I even make sure to make your coffee each morning - a long black with two shots of expresso."

Your eyes were becoming wet. You were on brink of breaking down and crying right in front of your boss. You don't even think he was the slightest bit convinced by your retort. All he did was observe you with a wicked smirk plastered on his face. There was no change in his features but, reluctantly, you resume.

"Please, Mr.Brando. Please give me this raise. I-I'll try to do better for you! Just tell me what it is I need to do. Please, I'll do anything, Mr.Brando."

Dio stiffened. It was that keyword that gained his attention: 'anything'.

"'Anything', you say?" You nod and a flash of his white teeth glimmered from the building's colorless light on the ceiling. His chuckle was deep. "Think before spouting careless words such as that, my little mouse." The small squeak emerges from his office chair as he gets up, approaching your meek figure and you cower at his nearness. His fingers gently grasped your hair and you notice how well kept they were - manicured with a clear polish and decorated with gold rings. You didn't miss the Rolex watch wrapped around his wrist.

"Such pretty hair," He lightly plays with your mane before tightening his grip and hoisting your head up, forcing you to look directly at him. "You don't mind if I tug on it do you, love?" He adores the wince you let out, eyes scrunched close with pain.

"Ouch! Mr.Brando, Please stop-"

"Oh but you said you would do anything for me, remember? So I'm allowed to use you however I please. You want a raise, don't you?" Your face burns when his lips feather against the skin of your cheek. You heave out a low sigh at his deed. Dio deliberately consumes your reaction - savoring it like the smoothest red wine.

"Have you ever been fucked before, dear?" The amorous question made you whine. This was just too dirty. You shake your head for an answer.

"N-No, sir."

"Really? You've never been touched before? No one has ever pounded that filthy, little, pussy of yours? Tsk, tsk, tsk - What a shame. Looks like I have to change that." He lets go of your scalp but your head never moves, eyes still on his frame as you process his words.

"Wait, Mr.Brando, please. I've never- oh!" You were put to an abrupt stop when he picked you up from under your arms and legs before setting you down on his desk. It messy with scattered documents he found frivolous and purposeless, there were much more important matters at hand.

Tearing off your white dress shirt and bra in a blink of an eye, he gave your mounds a carnivorous stare, gulping at your nipples swell at his glance. He wasted no time kneading them. You let out a moan from his heated touch. It was foreign to you.

"What a lewd sound you made just now, Y/n. You like this, right? I barely even started." His fingers teased your stiff buds, pinching and pulling at them.

"Ngh- No, Mr.Brando..."

His touches were blunt and straightforward, they were rough as he assailed your fragile body. He was fervent to take it to the next step. He lifts your legs up to take off your pencil skirt.

He lets out a delighted sigh beyond seeing your choice of underwear. "Lacy panties? Was my little mouse expecting this? Getting all dressed up for your boss. You're such a nasty fucking girl."

"That's not true! I was in a rush to-"

"Excuses, excuses. That's all I hear from you. Shut up and take your panties off. I want to see how wet your cunt is." You obeyed under his stern tone - slowly stripping off your red-laced panties. You still had your legs closed, ashamed to show him your untouched flower but Dio pried them open by your knees. Your heady scent instantly fills his nose and he takes this time to observe your pussy, you were soaked - vagina pulsating, waiting for anything to be plunged inside, trimmed hairs placed on your pubic area, clit swollen with excitement. It was remarkable.

"Look at you, throbbing so greedily." He puts two thickset fingers in your sopping pussy without warning." An invevitable moan escaped your lips when he applied pressure to your g-spot.

"M-Mr.Brando - mmmm - that spot, you're hitting that-"

"Quiet, little mouse. As much as I love to hear you scream did you forget the setting we're in right now? I hate the idea of someone seeing this pretty pussy other than me." You pitch your voice down an octave - not too fond of the idea of being caught by your coworkers (especially by Jonathan).

His digits rapidly thrash inside you, bodily fluids flew everywhere. "You're making such a mess all over me. So sloppy. I have no doubt that this is what my little mouse wanted. Your grip is so firm around me." Your small hand cover your painted lips. You didn't want anyone to hear you but Dio was making it all too hard, he was hitting all of the right spots within you.

Pulling his fingers out, he unzips his flyer and sought out for his cock. His length was huge, you were unsure if you should even continue. His member intimidated you. Dio knew you were on edge, he softly coos at your expression.

"Aw, don't worry, sweetheart. You'll only feel a slight pinch." Aiming his shaft to your entrance, you recoil once he plummets inside of you, tip kissing your womb. What you felt was more than a pinch. it was easily comparable to being stabbed in your nether regions. Tears flowed from your eyes.

"Pull out! Please, it huuurts!" Your cries were ignored as Dio continued slamming into you like no tomorrow. He covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling your wails.

"Ah- You feel that? My cock jabbing at your womb?" His thrust slow down so you can feel every inch of him - veins feeling more prominent than before. "That's how deep I go inside of you. This tiny body of yours can't handle a cock like mine. Ha! And would you look at that, I can even see your stomach bulging from my dick. How filthy."

He traced his fingers along the bulge forming near your abdomen. He rams in you relentlessly. You gripped the sleeves of his business suit, wrinkling them while doing so. Dio was fired up by the calls of his name leaving your lips, making him go at a, almost inhuman, pace.

Vulgar slaps of skin filled the room and you were both close to coming. Dio's hot breaths reached your ear and his thrusts losses its initial tempo.

"You're a few inches away from getting that raise, sweetheart. Just let me fill you with my seed." He bites the crevice of your neck - his teeth were sharp.

"Mr.Brando-! I'm gonna come...Agh- Mr.Brando... D-Dio!" Said man met his high after his name was yelped - relieved to let himself go, his cum spurts deep in your walls. You came shortly after by the feeling of him filling you up. Both of you sigh.

He hoists himself up off of you to put his dick back in his pants and fix his attire. You grimace at the slimy fluids now sticking between your legs. Dio scoffed. "Consider yourself lucky, little mouse. You finally got that raise you so desparately wanted. What's wrong with a little cum in you, hm?"

A bit irritated, you get dressed as well, getting ready to leave his office. But before you can exit, he turns you around to face him, eyebrow lifted in question.

"Leaving now? Have you forgotten what to say?" You assume he wanted some form of gratitude from you for giving you a raise.

"Thank you, Di-

"Hmmm? Did I fuck you so dense you forgot who I am to you?" You blush at his smile.

"T-Thank you, Mr.Brando."

"Good girl. Run along now." He slaps your ass before you leave.

"Dio, why do you smell like sweat? The only thing you do is sign papers and present at meetings." Jonathan frowned at Dio's pungent scent. The man chortled at Jonathan's exasperation. If only he knew what happened behind closed doors.

"Don't worry about it, JoJo. A little boy like you wouldn't understand."

"We're the same age, Dio."

"Oh yeah. You're right. You have such the resemblance of a child that I must've forgotten." Dio teases. The both head to the parking lot of their company to call to it a night. Jonathan clenched his teeth.

"I do not! Just what in the hell were you doing in your office? Working out?"

Dio roared out a large laugh at the word akin to what you and him did earlier today.

"Yeah.. you can call it that."

this fic belongs to @dilftaroooo

[agent--swan]

Close to Home

In which the reader interrogates a suspect and is reminded of some shit.

One of these days I’ll write a decent Criminal Minds fic.

Well, I’ve got some personal bullshit going on, so here! Have a self-indulgent angst fic! As if I haven’t written enough of these already. (See: @swan--writes.) You can also find this fic on AO3.

Warnings: childhood trauma, emotional/psychological abuse, all offscreen, Hotch is an angsty boy who cares about his team, show-typical violence, Swan-typical language

Words: ~1,420

Other Stuff: reader is gender neutral but was raised as a daughter, you could read this as Hotch x Reader but it could easily be read as platonic

The first time Hotch noticed was on a case.

He wishes that the first time he noticed wasn’t on a case.

He wishes that it had happened on a relaxed day, when there was nothing going on but consults and reports and accounts and logging. He wishes that the rest of the team had been so busy with paperwork that they wouldn’t notice him pulling you into his office to sit down and talk about it. In retrospect, even he could admit that there were benefits to not being at Quantico, and therefore not having a private office to pull you into. There was more time to think about what he wanted to say – to be gentle.

You were on a case somewhere in the Midwest, but neither of you would remember exactly where even two months after it was over. The unsub was attacking teenaged girls. The unsub’s type was specific: ages between fourteen and seventeen, brown hair, brown eyes, most of the girls had freckles, and all of them were chubby. That seemed important to the unsub. It made you see red. You only had one survivor – your only material witness – but she was holding back, feigning memory loss. Morgan was certain that the cognitive troubles she was having weren’t genuine, but he had no way of proving it. That was his pet project while you were on the case.

Reid was on the geographic profile as always. JJ had her hands full with the media circus, teenaged girls always got extra attention. Rossi was leaning pretty hard on the principal of the school that all three of your victims had attended, along with your one attempted victim. Prentiss was covering the guidance counselors. The school had three. She had her hands full. You did not envy her.

That left you to speak with the mother of the attempted victim. Hotch had asked you to handle her before the jet even landed, and you had readily agreed. It was the first time he had handed you your own angle since you’d joined the team just a few months earlier, and you felt more than capable. You were good with mothers, Hotch knew that.

Hotch had never tried to limit your role in investigations, not even in the beginning. He knew that you were capable when you joined the team, and he saw that you were a fast learner. He wasn’t cautious with you, didn’t watch you too closely, didn’t take you under his wing. Hotch let you do your thing and facilitated where necessary. It wasn’t often necessary, you fit right in.

So, Hotch asked you to talk to the mother, and you thought nothing of it. Until you started asking her questions.

It was subtle at first. She was defensive of her daughter, and defensive of her parenting. You understood that, it wasn’t uncommon. What was uncommon was the way she seemed to interpret your questions. “Why did you insist she only apply to in-state schools?” became, in her mind, “Why are you holding her back?” “Why do you limit her social life?” became, “Why are you isolating her?” The less accusatory you tried to sound, the more her hackles raised. It wasn’t entirely unjustified, every time you walked out of the interrogation room you learned something new about the way she had held her daughter back or isolated her.

You started leaving the mother in the interrogation room by herself for longer and longer stretches of time, though never an unprofessional length of time. You were careful about that. It was just that you were finding it harder and harder to catch your breath. The tinnitus in your left ear seemed to be growing steadily worse, and you couldn’t force your hands to stop shaking. That wasn’t when Hotch noticed it, though. He asked if you were alright once but dropped it when you told him you were.

Finally, Rossi cut the principal loose and Prentiss came back to the station. You were in interrogation when the others realized who the unsub was.

Surprise, surprise, it was the mother of the survivor.

Morgan had been right. Your survivor did remember who attacked her and was terrified to admit that it had been her mother. In the survivor’s mind, her mother was a huge, tyrannical figure who could talk her way out of anything. Even a murder investigation.

The rest of the team gathered around the one-way mirror and watched as you and the mother of the survivor – as you and the unsub – zeroed in on each other. Reid wondered aloud if they should intervene, but Hotch insisted on waiting. Hotch watched you closely. Later, he would wonder if he had been watching you more out of interest than a genuine belief that you could get a confession out of this unsub. He would feel badly about that.

You were standing. The unsub was seated. You were leaned over her and shouting. She was watching you with venom in her eyes, and though you held firm, Hotch notice the way you were pressing your hands into the table. The way you slid photographs toward her instead of picking them up and dropping them in front of her; a more aggressive move that any of the rest of the team would have used.

“You couldn’t stand it, could you?” you asked while the unsub openly glared at you, her jaw set, her expression stern. “You couldn’t stand the idea that your daughter would never be you. She was never going to stay at home and be mommy’s perfect little helper, she was never going to forget about the pain you caused her. You gave her everything?” You shook your head. “Well, she took it, and she learned how to be a decent goddamn human, and instead of letting her grow and maybe, I don’t know, being proud of her? You insisted–” you slammed the table right beside a photograph of some of your survivor’s worse injuries “–on making her pay for your bullshit.”

You were shouting right in the unsub’s face when she lunged with an enraged cry. The team moved as one to back you up.

The unsub managed to scratch your face before you could react. You managed to get her hands behind her back and pressed forward against the wall by the time Morgan and Prentiss reached you.

“Get her out of here!” Hotch commanded.

“After everything ungrateful little leech put me through, she got exactly when she deserved,” the unsub spat.

Hotch didn’t spare the unsub more than half a glance, he just went straight to you. You had never heard his voice so soft as when he asked if you were alright. He moved to wipe away some of the blood trickling warmly down your face, but you pulled away before he could and insisted you were fine. Of course you did.

The case ended there, four victims deep but one still alive. It was a relative victory and the team treated it as one. They chatted comfortably on the ride back, but not you. You curled up on the couch at the back of the jet, facing away from everyone. You didn’t have a book, you didn’t have your headphones in. You just lay there with your eyes closed, fighting tears that you tried very hard to blame on your migraine. Your head killed; your heart hurt. As horrific as parents hurting their children always was, there was something about this case – something about a mother and a daughter – that was more painful, more personal, and hit even closer to home for you.

You couldn’t help thinking about how the unsub had killed three people but hadn’t killed her own daughter. You wondered what that meant. You wondered if it meant anything.

You stayed still at first when you felt someone sit down at your feet. They didn’t move for a long time, and when you finally gave in and opened your eyes, you saw Hotch. He looked at you with more concern injected into his normal frown, and there was something in his face that was gentler than usual. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to comfort you. He just watched you, watched the tears gather at the corners of your eyes, watched as one made its way down your cheek like blood dripping from a wound. You knew you looked miserable, but you watched him right back, and you knew he understood. He did.

.

.

Please reblog if you’re comfy with it

If there’s any interest I’ll make a tags list