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msbigredmachine · 10 months

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Here With Me - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023.

PAIRING: Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x OC

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 6k

A/N: Dido's "Here With Me" did so much for the writing of this that I had to name the fic after the song.

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I’m startled awake by the door clicking shut, my eyes remaining closed as he walks into the bedroom of his penthouse suite. I’m laying on my side facing away from him, but he is clear as day in my mind's eye as he tosses the gold title belt on the sofa across the room. His beloved ula fula, the subject of heated combat tonight, follows. The mattress dips as he sits on his side of the bed, letting out a painful exhale.

My eyes flicker to the digital clock on the nightstand. I returned to the suite right after the main event. It’s currently 1.30 am. I have no idea where he’s been for the last two hours, but I let it slide. He’s come back to me and that’s all that matters.

The pointed silence and the hairs that suddenly stand on the back of my neck tell me he’s staring at me. It’s confirmed when I feel his hand rest on my leg over the white sheets blanketing me. His usually assured, confident touch is sad and distracted. Even in the humming quiet, I can feel the turmoil brewing inside him and understandably so.

The last few weeks have been a lot for him to take in. Getting pinned in London; tensions exploding in MSG; putting his entire legacy on the line against Jey in Orlando, and tonight, at Summerslam, victory at Tribal Combat. But it’s come at a price, as his family has all but disintegrated now. He is exhausted, physically and emotionally. I could see it in his eyes backstage after the match in spite of his best attempts to conceal his true feelings. For him, tonight’s win feels like a loss.

The second his hand slips away, I miss him. He stands up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. I twist around the bed to face the partially closed door, and hear the shower start. I wait for a while before getting up and making my way to him. His head snaps in my direction when I open the door.

“Babe?” he calls out.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t panic,” I try to joke, my smile faltering a little when he merely turns back around and faces the wall. I notice the still visible red marks on his broad back, imprints from the kendo stick and leather strap beatings he endured tonight.

"I'm sorry, I musta woke you," he says, as I pull off the baggy t-shirt that belongs to him over my head. I swap my silk bonnet for a shower cap and open the door to the enclosure. Stepping inside, I immediately jump away in alarm when the water beating down on him splashes onto my skin. It’s boiling hot.

“Jesus, Ro! You tryin’ to cook yourself?” I exclaim, quickly grabbing the tap, my wrist frantically twisting the knob to adjust the temperature to a less dangerous degree. He hasn’t flinched once. I steer him away from the water, then slip around to his front and wrap him up in a hug that he clearly, desperately, needs. His body stiffens, hesitant at first, before he sags against me and locks his arms around my waist. His face is tucked in the crook of my neck, nestled comfortably like it belongs there. I can feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“It’s okay. Just keep holding me until you’re ready,” I whisper, combing my fingers soothingly through damp strands of his hair as his grip on my waist remains tight. Being the macho hypermasculine entity that he is, I know he doesn’t like it when I see him like this. But relationships are about sticking together through the good times and the bad. I’ll always be there to see him through both.

“I coulda sworn you won your match tonight. What’s wrong?” I lure him in with a coaxing peck to his shoulder, hoping to quicken his response time.

After several seconds of hesitation, he gives in. “I warned them both,” he starts to vent. “I knew it would come to this. You saw for yourself tonight what happens when you become selfish and greedy. All I ever wanted to do was keep my family together, elevate them and their careers. Those two ingrates turned against me and made me out to be some kind of monster. Conspired with the Elders behind my back and questioned my place as the Head of the Table. Now they’re at each other’s throats and our entire family looks weak! I warned 'em, I told 'em-”

"Hey, hey, hey,” I gently shush him, lifting his face so our eyes meet. My heart sinks from how despondent he looks. “Breathe, baby, breathe. Deep breath.” I wait for him to do so, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine, inhaling and exhaling. But his mind is clearly still on his cousins.

“This is all on them,” he continues. “They refused to see the big picture and now it’s gone to shit.” He licks his lips and his eyes are glazed. “The family wants me to intervene, but fuck that. Not after they tried to destroy everything I’ve worked my ass off for the last three years. As far as I’m concerned, they’re dead to me.”

"Don’t say that. Families fight all the time. It’s going to be fine,” I vow, even though I'm in no position to promise such a thing. “Come here." I gently prompt him to turn around, and watch for a few seconds as the less scalding shower stream pelts his shoulders with water. The tribal tattoo adorning the right side of his back is majestic and intimidating up close, and I never pass up the chance to idolize the intricate design. “I want you to relax for me, okay?”

He reaches out and braces his hands on the wall in front of him while I run mine up his back to slowly knead his shoulders, working the tense flesh. His muscles are tight and I do my best to ease them up with my amateur masseuse skills, gleefully aware that I love touching him anyway.

I move down to the middle of his back, and he starts to relax under my touch. As I’m about to retrace my route, I lean in and press soft kisses to his back right before massaging that same spot. Roman exhales again, suggesting he is calmer now, but only just. He’s a tough man to crack, so it feels good each time I become more conversant with his…complexities, if you will. Our relationship is relatively new…We only just met in February this year. I was not a wrestling fan growing up, but I’ve since plunged headfirst into the circus-like controlled chaos that only a pro wrestler is capable of living in. In my defense, it’s easy to dive in when it’s with a man as sweet, charming and criminally sexy as Roman Reigns. Of course, it’s not all rainbows and roses; his prolonged absences, our bitter exes and his psychotic fan girls spring to mind. But I won't change a thing as it’s only made us stronger together. Every day I wonder where he has been all my life, and I want to be with him forever. Yes. I’m in that tight of a chokehold. It’s a whole lot sexier when he’s actually doing the choking.

“You know, other people woulda buckled under the pressure and responsibility long ago. But here you are, standing tall despite the setbacks. That says a lot about you, big boy,” I say to him, my hands still at work. “You’re still the Champ, the longest reign in the last thirty plus years. The twins may have turned their backs on you, but best believe I won’t. I never will.”

Roman scoffs cynically and shakes his head. “Right. Everyone leaves me in the end. Seth. Mox. My ex-wife. Sami. Even Heyman abandoned me once. Now my own cousins.”

“Well, I ain’t none of them,” I answer smoothly, as he turns around to face me.

“I'm not a bad person, Y/N,” he insists, his eyes pleading, as though he’s desperate for me to believe him. I do. I take his hands in mine and stare into his chocolate-colored eyes.

“I know you’re not. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you don’t take shit from nobody. You’re passionate and you stand your ground and fight for what’s yours. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. In fact, it’s sexy to me.”

His eyes twinkle mischievously at my choice of words. “Sexy, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m learning a lot about this sweet, sexy man I’m sleeping with and falling in love with.”

The sudden silence that follows is amplified by the rush of the shower water. The look in Roman’s eyes is so intense that my knees grow weak. It’s not the most picture-perfect setting to utter the L word for the very first time, but witnessing first-hand the ferocity with which he defends his pride and his legacy has sparked a wave of awe and devotion and yes, love…through me that I can no longer keep to myself.

"I'm sorry I came back so late. I needed to clear my head,” he says softly, his hand lifting to caress my cheek. The anger in his voice has disappeared, while his eyes and demeanor are much softer…My little declaration has penetrated his armor. He looks down sheepishly at his feet and wets his lips before speaking again. “I kinda feel like I’ve been neglecting you, too…” he adds.

He’s such a sweetheart. To be fair, he’s made up for it by flying me to London, New York and now Detroit to be with him. The beautiful part is, I know I’m not the only one in love…His actions and gestures lately have spoken volumes. But if he’s not ready to say it back, he doesn’t have to. I just need him to know that he has my heart and I’ll always be by his side no matter what.

Pressing my body more firmly against his, my arms wind around his middle as I leave delicate licks and kisses all over his tattooed pec, right over the spot where his heart beats. I hope every day that it’s me his heart beats for.

“I know how frustrated you are about what’s going on. It sucks to feel like you’re losing control,” I tell him, staring up at him through my long lashes. “I can do something for you, Daddy. I could give some control back to you. I can make you feel better,” I offer, my voice as soft and seductive and as enticing as what I’m proposing. My mouth applies more pressure to his wet skin, and his breath hitches when I suckle the shell of his earlobe. “However you want me tonight, you can take me. Just say the word and I’m all yours.” My hands slide down to scrape his firm backside, and his dick twitches between our naked bodies, the exact reaction I yearn for.

For a long moment, he says nothing, only stares at me with his smoldering gaze. The energy simmers between us, and it boils over when he grabs my face and presses his lips to mine. Instantly my skin prickles and my heart pounds as we plunge headlong into each other. Our heads tilt from side to side, our tongues dance together as the water cascades around us, and I lose myself to the heat of our embrace.

Feeling dastardly, I break the kiss to slip his finger into my mouth. My lips drag along his long index finger, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. I suck on it like I am sucking something else, bigger, and the memory has him groaning deeply, his erection straining impatiently against my belly.

“Get on your knees and do that with my dick,” he orders.

Now we’re talking.

Leaning in for one more kiss, I trail my tongue along his throat and down his torso until I’m kneeling on the tiled floor. I wrap my right hand around the base of his engorged dick and tug gently on it. He lets out a quiet whimper, and it is a massive turn-on to know I can elicit such a response from this specimen of a man. Watching him succumb to me is always sexy as hell.

His cock jumps in my grip when I roll my tongue around the tip. He inhales sharply, moving his hands behind my head, and squirms as I lavishly lick along the underside, teasing him. I luxuriate in his throaty groan as I then slowly make him disappear inside my mouth. I stroke and suck simultaneously, relaxing my throat to take him in deeper with every bob of my head.

"Fuck yeah," he pants, his fingers sinking into my scalp. “Suck my dick, beautiful. Don’t fuckin’ stop...”

Right now, I’m all about obeying Daddy. Staring up at him with hazy eyes, my tongue twirls around the base of his dick again before I switch to more intense suctions, my cheeks hollowing as my mouth glides hungrily up and down his entire length. His moans and gasps echo around the enclosure, causing my pussy to moisten and throb with lust. Gripping the back of my head, he holds me all the way down on him, my lips touching his pelvis. He withdraws and then pushes back in, rolling his hips to go even deeper down my throat. "Shit, your mouth feels so good, babe," he moans, a ravenous look in his eyes. My fingers slip underneath to play with his balls while I suck and tongue him down, and I’m rewarded with another desperate groan. I’m so aroused knowing I’m bringing him so much pleasure.

Suddenly his pace quickens, his hips pumping, fucking my mouth more aggressively. Saliva spills down to my chin as his long, thick cock slides more easily in and out of my mouth. Roman lets out another moan before holding my head down again, exploding down my throat with a harsh grunt. He collapses against the shower wall, catching his breath as I pop him out of my mouth and pat his cock against my tongue. Once upon a time, I used to be uncomfortable letting my exes finish in my mouth. I talked about it with Roman, and he was fine with it. But there was something in me that wanted to please him to the fullest, and not long after our first time together, I changed my mind. It’s an experience I learned to fully commit to, and I haven’t looked back since.

"That was fuckin’ amazing. Come here," Roman lauds, tugging me up on my feet and sweeping his lips along mine. "I'm so glad you were awake." The timbre of his voice, deep and laden with desire, sprouts goosebumps all over my skin.

"I don’t sleep as good without you," I reply, running my fingers again through his hair. He leans down and scoops my right breast into his mouth. I moan as the sensation zips straight to my loins. His hands glide down my back to squeeze and caress my ass. He keeps me tight against him, pressing himself firmly on my stomach. Feeling him so turned on sends more chills through my body.

"You know we ain’t done, right?" he says, “We just gettin’ started, baby girl.”

"I hope so..." I reach behind him to turn off the shower. Handing him one of the bathrobes, I wrap myself in another one and open the shower door, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.

We stand at the side of the bed and he undresses me, dragging the robe off my body. I can’t help but blush as he ogles me like he’s seeing me naked for the very first time. He cups my breasts, rolling them in his hands as he kisses me passionately. I tug his robe down his shoulders as I kiss him, my tongue bossily claiming every inch of his mouth as my own. His hands travel all over my naked body, heating me up with his stimulating caresses. He tells me all the time how much he loves my curves, but this is more than that. He’s prepping me for an onslaught. He is about to manhandle me like the sex god that he is, and my breathing quickens and my loins pool with anticipation.

Roman detaches his lips from mine out of nowhere, a devious smile on his gorgeous face. He shoves me onto the bed, flat on my back right on the edge with my legs spread. I can’t hold back my moan as he strokes his dick while stepping between my thighs. The sight of his muscular right arm flexing as his fingers strum his long, hard cock, makes my clit throb.

Ever observant, Roman notices me staring and smiles smugly. “You like this baby? Want me to jack off for you?” he asks, tugging and smacking his dick a little harder, a bead of pre-cum oozing out the tip, and my thighs clamp together to relieve the maddening pressure between them.

“Dude, no! I want it in me,” I practically admonish him, almost offended that he thinks I want anything else. I’m about to bust right now just looking at him.

His smile widens, and he takes my knees and yanks them in opposite directions. He’s enjoying this, torturing me, making me beg for him. “My little slut is so needy. Don’t worry, baby, Daddy will give you what you want.”

As his face nears mine, I instinctively reach up to touch him, but he grabs my wrists and pushes them back down to the mattress above my head.

"Uh-uh. I got plans, baby girl," he informs me with a brief kiss. He searches around for what ends up being his bathrobe and draws the long white belt off, twisting it around his hands and tugging it ominously. We lock darkened eyes, and his tongue swishes hungrily across his lips.

“Gimme your hands.”

I obey. He takes my right hand first, and then my left, crossing my wrists together and winding the belt firmly around them, before pushing my hands back above my head. I’m flat on my back and all tied up with my ass halfway on the bed, legs spread, naked, cunt exposed and at his mercy. I love it. I love that he trusts me and is comfortable enough with me to explore his kinky side. I trust him, too. I’m proud to be the fucktoy of my Tribal Chief.

“Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, his eyes raking down my prone frame like he’s famished. My breath catches as I watch him tie his wet hair in his trademark man bun. Then, he bends down between my legs, breathes hard on my clit and then sticks his tongue out to lap at my folds. Right away my body jerks, blooming with sensual heat. He starts licking me with longer strokes, working his tongue all over the surface of my pussy lips, then he breaches, jabbing his tongue in and out of me with expert precision. The quiet of our room amplifies the erotic audio between us; my staccato breaths, his lazy slurping, my wet pussy splashing against his deadly tongue. Then, to murder me, he closes his mouth around my clit and starts sucking it lightly. That’s a big ass mouth, and it takes everything in me to not scream from how good he’s working me. He keeps glancing up at me; I know he’s getting off to my moans and my attempts to grind against his face. He takes me hostage, his muscled arms winding around my thighs to hold me down while he feasts. His soft groans against my flesh, the warmth of his breath, the scratch of his beard on my inner thighs…The combined stimulation is toe-curling, with wave after wave of pleasure bombarding me like a thunderstorm.

“Don’t come yet,” he instructs unexpectedly, and I’m about to cry. His mouth feels so damn good. He continues sucking and licking, wreaking havoc on my sensitive core. I grip the sheets tighter as my back arches off the bed. “Fuck, Roman, please!” I cry out, damn near begging for release.

Of course, my pleas are ignored. He twists his tongue inside me, gifting me with more strokes over my pussy and my engorged bundle. The decadent rhythm of his mouth and tongue on me is edging me dangerously closer to a mind blowing nut. Just when I’m certain I’m about to disobey him in the worst way, he pulls away, his full lips glossy and shining in the lonely lamplight by the bedside. I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He licks all the way up to my chest and clasps my left breast in his hand, worrying the sensitive nipple between his fingers while sucking my other breast in his mouth.

"Imma fuck the shit outta you," he whispers to me in a rough and raspy voice, his dark eyes gleaming.

His promise is a direct hit to my groin. "Do it, Daddy. Do that shit," I gasp, squirming under his touch.

He brushes our mouths together, and I sigh softly as my own juices melt from his tongue onto mine. Roman stands upright at the bed’s edge, bends his knees and rubs the tip of his shaft along my slick, softened folds. He lunges forward in one fluid motion, his lips parting in a moan as he slowly slides inside me. I bite down on my bottom lip, my eyes glazing over with pleasure when he draws back out, leaving just the tip, before plunging in again with a sharp snap of his hips. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.

"I'm inside of you, baby. This what you want? Want me to take this pussy?" he asks with another deep thrust, his big dick nestled in my warm wetness, and it’s driving me wild.

"Yes, take your pussy Daddy, fuck me," I plead, my voice catching on the desire and lust washing over me.

With that information, he hoists my legs onto his shoulders and picks up the pace, pushing in deeper and filling me to the brim like he always does. I’ve told him more than once that he belongs inside me, and the pure pleasure in his eyes every time we fuck says he agrees wholeheartedly.

"Shiiit, baby, right there, that feels so good…" I whine, feeling him nudge right up against my hilt. He pulls back for a second, and I watch as he holds my legs open and a thick glob of saliva spills from his mouth and onto my pussy. Before I can fully process this, he slams back into me, more easily now, snatching my breath from my lungs. His fingers grasp my hips as he pounds me, slow and balls-deep, to the point that I’m seeing stars. My restrained hands claw at the sheets above me, searching for some kind of leverage as he dicks me down. He has total control of my body and he’s using that power to make me take every inch of him, literally and otherwise. My eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as my chest begins to clog and my head begins spinning from his long, lethal strokes.

His hulking upper body closes the space between us and descends on top of mine, bringing us chest to chest. "Breathe, sweetheart," he tells me, and on command, I draw in a raspy breath, alleviating the discomfort in my chest. His evil little smirk tells me he is enjoying every second of my agony. His arms stretch upwards, brushing over the cotton material of the belt securing my wrists and twining his fingers around mine. His muscles flex and ripple as he keeps pumping into me. He nuzzles the spot where my neck and shoulder meet and bites down on it, making me call out his name.

"Goddamn, this pussy good as fuck. Every damn time," he grunts. His hands tighten around mine as his pounding thrusts switch to salacious rolls of his hips, grinding deliciously against me while he swallows my moans, his tongue slipping inside my mouth for another hot, sloppy kiss. My legs wrap around his waist, my ankles locked behind his back to keep him to me.

"Tell me again, baby. Tell me you love me,” he rasps in the middle of our intense kissing.

“I love you, Daddy, mmm,” I moan back, my heart pounding as hard as he is pounding me. It’s a stunning mix of the emotional high of love and the carnal rush of lust that I’ve never felt before with anyone else.

“Yeah, you love me?” He searches my eyes, as engulfed in the throes of passion as I am.

“I do, Roman, I love you so fuckin’ much...unnhh my god…”

He has moved off of me, seizing my legs from around his waist and shoving my knees into the mattress. There’s no time to miss the warmth of his body as he’s back to his rough, brutal strokes, drilling me over and over, stuffing my pussy with his cock. It’s like the animal in him has been unleashed, months of family strife spilling over and transferred to me via his increasing aggressiveness. As my orgasm builds in my stomach, I flex against my restraints again, my fingers craving to dig into his skin, to sink into him the way he’s sinking into me. With one more suffocating thrust, I break at last, and my eyes roll into the back of my head, my moans ringing around the entire suite as I tremble beneath him. His arrogant chuckle tickles my ears, clearly reveling in the blissful state he’s put me in.

Before I can blink, he grabs my waist and flips me roughly onto my belly, bending me over the side of the bed. Hovering over me, he unties the belt binding my hands, and I assume I’m free. But then, he tugs both my arms behind my back and re-ties my wrists together. I’m still recovering from the shock of my orgasm and this new position when his dick slots back in my cunt, and my mind is wiped blank, a strangled moan escaping my lips. Roman gives a few short, stabbing thrusts inside me before finding a rhythm he enjoys.

"God, you feel fuckin’ amazing, baby, so tight and wet for me. Damn,” he hisses behind me. Using his right hand, he slaps my left ass cheek and jiggles it. I gasp from the pain and the pleasure, making my pussy squeeze around his dick with a force that has us both groaning. My fingers scrape against his pelvis as he keeps his momentum, sliding in and out of me, in and out. Oh, fuck, it feels sooo good! He’s so long and girthy that I feel like I’m being split open, but I melt into submission and take it like the fucktoy that I am.

His husky groans are my soundtrack as he fucks me into the bed at a savage pace, having his way with me. Clutching my ass in large handfuls, he spreads my cheeks open and plunges his dick deeper inside me, forcing me up on the tips of my toes. Using his thumb to scoop up my juices, he circles it around the puckered hole of my second opening, a keening cry tumbles out of me and into the sheets as he pushes it deep into the tight entrance.

“Too bad we forgot the lube, I’da fucked this pretty ass all night long,” he says with another slap on my backside, and I can only whimper in response. Pinned face-down to the sheets, I can feel all of it. His thumb fucking my asshole, his magic cock stretching my other hole wide open, his powerful tree trunk like legs barricading mine against the side of the bed. My body is so riled up that my pussy reacts by leaking all over his cock, the gush of my nectar sending a pleasurable sensation through us both.

“Mm-hmm, make a mess on my dick, baby, keep comin’ all over it,” he taunts me. He lifts both my legs off the floor and onto the bed, arching my back and spreading my knees wide. From there, he wraps his hand around my hip, his fingers pressing into my flesh, and he rocks me back and forth on that big ass dick, making me move with him. We moan together at how good we’re making each other feel. Every sound resonates through my heated body; the inevitable squelches of my dripping cunt, our skins smacking lewdly together, our sex filling the air with a familiar primal scent that belongs to no one but us.

My brain is on sensory overload as he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against my clit as he hammers into my pussy with newfound aggression. The pressure is building inside me at a dizzying, alarming rate, so much so that I use my bound hands to push again at his lower abs. This time I succeed in pushing him off, but only for a second.

“What’chu doin’? Don’t run, c’mere,” he growls, sliding his dick back in me right before it slips out, and I cry out as he impales me hard on his shaft. He spanks my ass hard for my bad behavior. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Take this fuckin’ dick.”

Seizing my wayward hand in one of his, he buries himself in me, deep-diving in my g-spot, making my walls contract around his dick again. My voice is all but gone, I’m that spent. But Roman wants more. He’s an expert at coaxing more out of me even when I have nothing left.

"Tell me who you belong to, huh. Who’s my slut?" he demands, giving my ass an underhand slap.

"I'm your slut," I slur.

"What’chu say?"

"I'm your slut, Daddy," I enunciate with great effort, inebriated in a cocktail of love and ecstasy.

Another stinging smack on my butt.

"Louder."

"I'm your slut!" I bellow, my voice cut off when Roman pins me down by the back of my neck, my cheek pressed into the mattress. This forces a deeper arch in my back, opening me up to be plowed mercilessly by his dick. The pressure of his fingers on both sides of my throat has me struggling for breath. I’m high from overwhelming pleasure right now, and that menacing coil that’s been winding in my belly finally snaps again.

“Ohmygod…ohmygod…fuck, fuck, fuck!” My body explodes again, and I’m shaking like I’ve been possessed by a supernatural entity. I know Roman can feel it too, as he’s moaning and gasping, a handful of my vibrating ass cheek in his grasp because the grip of my pussy is about to break his dick in half. I’m reduced to a weak, moaning mess as somehow he continues fucking me senseless. Then, with a loud, hoarse grunt, he yanks his dick out of me. One squeeze is all he needs, expletives tumbling around my name as he comes all over my ass, warm, thick droplets spilling onto my backside. I can hear the wet, slippery skin on skin contact as he strokes out his nut, and the sound arouses me despite my thoroughly fucked disposition.

“Fuck!” he moans out, leaning tiredly into me, his drained cock mashed against my ass. “Damn, baby. Damn.”

The rest of my lifeless body melts onto the bed, my arms limp on my lower back, my mouth hanging open. I’m barely cognizant of him loosening the belt from my wrists. When he’s done, he seizes my ass cheeks with both hands, slapping them together one last time before walking away from the destruction on the bed. I haven’t moved an inch. My ass is still in the air and my eyes are starting to drift shut. It won’t be the first time he’s fucked me right to sleep. However, before I succumb to the darkness, his deep voice rouses me.

“Don’t go to sleep yet, baby. Come here.”

I force my eyes open and lift my head to search for him. He’s stretched out on the other side of the bed, watching me with unabashed amusement.

“We ain’t done?” I mewl, exhausted.

“Nope. But we’re taking a little break for now. Come sit on top of Daddy.”

That’s a dangerous position to be in, especially as his dick is still hard and covered in layers of my cum. But how can I ever resist my man? With all the strength I have left, I crawl up the bed towards my lover. His brawny arms wrap around my body and ease me on top of him. He grabs his bathrobe and wipes his mess off my backside, before rubbing my back and my thigh with those big callused hands of his. He feathers a kiss on my forehead, my nose and then my mouth, in the sweetest, most tender of kisses. "You're so good to me, baby. I appreciate you so much," he whispers against my lips.

"Anything for you, baby," I remind him, dabbing away the sweat from his forehead with the bathrobe. "Do you feel better?"

"I do." His soft, beautiful eyes gaze into mine, observing me. “I know that you worry about me a lot, and I’m sorry,” he says.

"Don’t ever be sorry. I always worry about the people I love. I just want you to be okay," I answer.

"I know, and that means a lot to me. You have no idea how much you mean to me, baby girl. I think about you all the time...I feel at home every time I’m out there performing for the fans, but coming home to you is always my top priority," he tells me. His eyes shine with emotion. "I love being with you. I love calling you mine and me, yours. I’m so happy you love me, because I love you too baby, so much."

Oh my god. He’s said it. I’m not imagining it this time. Tears spring to my eyes but I quickly blink them away. "I love you, Roman," I breathe, and press my lips to his, grateful to have this amazing man in my life. Our mouths move sensually together as I glide my palms down the side of his face, smoothing out the bristles of his beard. He lets out a throaty moan at my touch, at my kiss. I could stay like this forever, but my baby needs his rest.

“You should get some sleep. You had a long night tonight,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you’ve forgot when I said we’re just getting started. It’s your turn to fuck me.”

“Damn, you were being for real huh.”

“Course I was. You’re my little fucktoy, aren’t you?” Two of his fingers rub across my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth, as he hypnotizes me with his smoldering, effortlessly sexy stare. “I can use you however I want, however long I want, as many times as I want. Right?”

I may be fatigued from the barrage of orgasms he’s blessed me with tonight, but I’ve since realized that no matter how tired I feel, I’m still greedy for that big ol’ dick. He’s turned me out and turned me into a raging nympho in the process. I nod thirstily, gasping around his fingers as I feel his dick stiffen against the swollen mound of my cunt, ready for me again.

“Good girl.” His fingers slide from my mouth to join the rest of their counterparts down south. Together, the ten of them gather the supple cheeks of my ass, molding, caressing, a devilish twinkle in Roman’s eyes at the hunger shining in mine. “Recess is over sweetheart,” he announces. “Ride this dick. And this time, I’m nuttin’ all up in that sweet pussy of yours.”

Fuck, I'm such a slut. It’s almost embarrassing, the way my already battered pussy instantly flutters at his low, husky tone, at the thought of getting filled up with his seed. I reach down to grip his cock, sliding the tip along my wet slit to lube it with more of my juices. The shiver of his big body as I stroke him sends a thrill through me. His big hands envelop my hips once more as I lower myself down on his waiting erection, sending a jolt of electricity through our bodies as we begin the eternal, spellbinding dance of lovers all over again.

THE END

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The good girl in me wants so badly to apologize for writing so much smut, but dammit I’m not sorry! Roman is sexy af lol

Please leave feedback. I love feedback!

Banner made by me. All Roman gifs by @romanreigns. Credit to owners of the other pics and gifs.

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

Another independent Palestinian terrorist attack happened today, it was another stabbing, much like yesterday's, and I feel nauseous that we're at the point where, when I'm looking for an online source in English, I'm struggling to find the latest one out of all the terrorist attacks reported recently. I heard an eyewitness say the terrorist entered a cafe, stood in line, then started stabbing those standing in front of him. The terrorist is a 22 years old Israeli Arab, originally a Gazan. From what I understand, his dad is a Gazan who married an Israeli Arab woman, both men got Israeli citizenship, and the terrorist has lived in Israel for the last 4 years, during which he married an Israeli woman, like his dad. On his mother's side of the family, he has two relatives who are Israeli heroes: one is a soldier, who died not that long ago fighting in Gaza, another is a cop, who saved several people from the Hamas massacre at the Nova music festival. I've heard now 2 Israeli Arab citizens from the community where he lived denouncing him. The terrorist was neutralized. At least 2 people are reported injured, one man in his 60's is lightly wounded, another is in his 50's. One man (in a white shirt with stripes in the vid below) at the cafe saw the terrorist and jumped him with bare hands. Stripes Man kept trying to detain the terrorist until he saw one of the wounded managed to pull out a gun, Stripes Man moved out of the way, the injured one shot more than once and stopped the terrorist, but outside he collapsed, and was hospitalized in a mortal state.

The global rise in antisemitic incidents under the guise of anti-Zionism continues, this time we get insane news from Australia. I'm just gonna quote the report directly: "Two pro-Palestinian activists in Australia were charged on Tuesday with kidnapping and assaulting a victim for the perceived crime of being employed by a Jew."

Meanwhile, the Holocaust memorial at the transit camp of Drancy, through which the Jews of France were deported to their extermination in the east, was vandalized. I'll say it again, the timing is not a coincidence, as we see more and more antisemitic incidents, it's clear each one will get less attention, and less resources allocated to correcting the wrong, since it's all being spread so thin.

I wrote yesterday about a pilot program, which is one of many attempts by Israel to allow humanitarian aid into Gaza without about 60% of it being hijacked by Hamas. I'm sad to say that the pilot has failed, and the aid has been looted. Interestingly, it's not clear by whom. Which is many a good moment to add this: in addition to Hamas taking over the aid, so do existing Gazan mob families (presumably, the criminals are taking over the aid in order to sell it back to regular Gazans at exploitative prices).

A South African minister has announced that her country will be arresting all citizens of South Africa returning from fighting for Israel in Gaza. I do not recall any such announcement regarding South Africans returning from fighting for either side in any other area in the world, such as Ukraine or Syria. I think there's a chance we're watching South Africa ethnically cleansing itself of Jews.

These are Israeli-American mother Judith Raanan and her teenage daughter Natalie.

About a month after the start of the war, they were the first 2 Israeli hostages to be released by Hamas. Here is a short vid where Judith talks about their experiences, including how the nurses at the Gazan hospital Hamas took them to after they were kidnapped CHEERED at the sight of (in her words) "Israeli Jewish prey":

youtube

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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joe-mazzello-archive · 2 years

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weekend plans

eddie munson x fem!reader x steve harrington

summary: you and your roommate eddie invite steve to spend the weekend with the two of you…and things take a turn you couldn’t have predicted.

w/c: 7.2k

rating: 18+ mdni or i will personally fight you

warnings: language, drinking games, smuuuuut, threesome, dom/sub dynamics (sub reader), oral (both m and f receiving), fingering, spanking, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP Y’ALL), anal, double penetration, pretty much the whole shebang, i’m sorry I AM A WHORE

a/n: yes i have like ten requests in my inbox and several dying breed bonus scenes to write BUT i feel like it’s about damn time i showed this fandom my sluttiness. also to some of you, this fic may be a little familiar. that’s because i’ve decided to adapt it to my current hyperfixation. heads up that this doesn’t have much steddie in it, it’s mostly the boys focusing on the reader. enjoy sluts <3

also ps thank you @munsonquinns and @thefreak-thebanished for betaing for me <3

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“We’ve failed. We don’t have nearly enough beer,” you declare sarcastically, hand gripping the refrigerator door, your face reflecting the glowing light from inside. You eye the roughly thirty cans of various types of beer evenly lined up along the fridge shelf like perfect little soldiers, primed and ready for a very alcoholic war. You hear Eddie’s chuckle from the living room. “Like holy shit, Munson. Is Steve bringing an entire college fraternity with him or something?”

“I wanted to make sure we’d be stocked for the whole weekend,” Eddie calls out to you. “I didn’t want to have to make a second liquor store run.” You shake your head lovingly as you grab two cans of PBR and close the fridge.

“Well, at this point we might not need to make a run for another month,” you counter, plopping down on the couch next to your roommate and handing him one of the beers. Eddie grabs the beer with a grateful grin and pops it open. “What time is he supposed to get here?”

Eddie glances at his watch. “He said he would be here around one, so probably any moment now,” he replies with a shrug.

You’re ecstatic to see Steve. It’s been way too long since the last time you saw him. Even though you ended up moving to the city with Eddie, your relationship with Steve was arguably the strongest of your Hawkins crew. Steve and you clicked almost instantly when Eddie introduced you a few years back; Steve matches your wit, always keeping you on your toes. You’ve always enjoyed pushing his buttons because you know he’ll push yours right back.

The only downside to Steve coming to visit? He’ll be crashing on the couch.

“If only he could swing for a hotel room,” you quip under your breath, both hoping and not hoping Eddie heard you. Eddie reaching across the couch and giving your thigh a squeeze gives you your answer.

“You’ll survive, sweetheart,” Eddie assures, his voice lowering to that familiar timbre but his focus never wavering from the screen before you.

You force yourself to hold back a whimper at his touch, but his words send a warmth straight to your core.

Your relationship with Eddie has very recently evolved from roommate slash friend to something with a few more...benefits. You know that Steve crashing on the couch means that your escapades are put on hold for the weekend. And you can’t help but be frustrated given how new and exciting the arrangement with Eddie is.

You’re brought out of your wandering thoughts by the sound of two knocks against the door. You leap from your seat, rushing towards the door and earning a chuckle from Eddie. You throw it open to reveal your smiling friend before practically tackling him with a hug. Steve wraps his arms around you in response and lifts, spinning you in a circle in his embrace.

“I’ve missed you, goober,” Steve mumbles against your hair before returning you to the ground.

“Missed you too, bud.” You grab Steve’s forgotten suitcase and pull it inside the apartment, Steve following closely behind.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Eddie comments before pulling Steve into a tight hug, the pair gently rocking back and forth in each other’s arms. You shake your head lovingly.

“I can’t believe I have to be the third wheel all weekend,” you tease, crossing your arms and giving a fake pout. Steve lets out a chuckle as he releases Eddie.

“Come on, we both know you’re my favorite,” Steve quips, pinching your cheek.

Hours later, the coffee table is littered with empty beer cans, greasy paper plates, and a pizza box with one lone piece left. The three of you have long abandoned the couch, opting to spread out on the floor around the table. You can’t help but grin as you watch your two favorite boys share a laugh while they reminisce about something that happened back in high school.

You throw back the rest of your third beer of the night, the familiar sense of tipsiness spreading through your body. Your gaze lands on Steve, who’s finishing his beer himself, and your eyes drift down to watch the bob of his throat as he swallows the liquid. Steve has a beautiful neck, you think to yourself. Steve has a beautiful everything, really. He’s always been easy on the eyes, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about crossing that line with him as well.

Eddie clears his throat, pulling you back to reality. You blink, quickly realizing that you’ve been staring at Steve for probably too long. A quick glance at Eddie confirms your suspicions; he meets your eyes with a knowing smirk. Heat fills your cheeks, though you aren’t sure if you’re embarrassed at the fact that you were staring and were caught, or if it’s because Eddie is the one who caught you.

Steve is none the wiser, however, completely distracted by grabbing the last slice of pizza.

“So what’s the plan for the weekend?” Steve asks between bites of pizza. You throw your head back with a laugh.

“It’s cute that you think this one planned anything ahead of time,” you tease, nodding your head towards Eddie.

“Excuse me!” he counters. “I got the beer! Why should I have to plan out the weekend too?”

“Because you’re the creative one!”

“Okay, okay, you two,” Steve cuts in, his voice booming over you and Eddie’s squabbling and heading straight to your core. Fuck, have you ever heard him talk like that? All you know is you want to hear it again. “No need to fight over little ol’ me. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

You take a deep breath, willing your body to cool down.

“I’ve got an idea for right now,” Eddie speaks up, shifting to sit on his knees. “Let’s play dare or drink.” Eddie’s eyes meet yours and that knowing look is back. He’s up to something, and you aren’t sure if you’re excited or nervous. Maybe a bit of both.

“Dare or drink?” Steve clarifies, seemingly intrigued. You roll your eyes and stand, headed for the kitchen.

“It’s Eddie’s version of truth or dare,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way into the kitchen. You grab three more beers, knowing full well that the group would need them for the game. You also know you need another drink if you’re going to survive the night. The boys are making you have...thoughts...and you figure alcohol will keep you distracted from them.

“Takes the boring “truth” part out of it,” Eddie explains with a shrug. “We go around in a circle and dare each other to do stuff. You can opt out by drinking.”

“You know, if you’re a pussy,” you add, earning a chuckle from Steve. You rejoin the boys, placing the beers on the table. “I’ll go first!” you announce, returning to your seat.

“I think the guest should go first,” Eddie argues, cocking an eyebrow. You narrow your eyes at him. You can tell he’s plotting something and you definitely don’t like it.

“Fine,” you agree before sticking your tongue out at Eddie. You turn to Steve. “Hit me.”

Steve purses his lips as he deliberates. His eyebrows shoot up, seemingly coming up with an idea. He looks right at you, uttering your name as if he doesn’t already have your undivided attention.

“I dare you to shotgun your beer,” he finally says. You cock your head, trying to contain your laugh.

“So I can either shotgun my beer, or opt to just take one drink?” you clarify sarcastically, pointing out the logic fail in Steve’s dare selection. The man simply shrugs, unaffected by your teasing.

“Yeah, you can opt to just take one drink,” Steve explains, nodding. “You know, if you’re a pussy.”

You let out a scoff, your own words thrown back at you. You narrow your eyes at Steve this time, who simply mirrors your gaze, challenging you. You run your tongue over your teeth before nodding and grabbing your beer.

“Alright, I see how it is, Harrington,” you growl. You stick your hand out in front of you motioning towards the two men. “Someone give me their keys.”

Eddie chuckles, jumping up to grab his keys off the dining table and tossing them to you. You catch them easily, turn the can over, and pierce the bottom. You bring the hole to your lips as you pop the tab, and relax your throat, letting the beer gush down your esophagus with ease. Three gulps and the beer is finished, and you crush the can and toss it at Steve, a victorious smirk on your face. Steve’s mouth hangs open in shock, and you can’t help but feel pride at making the man practically speechless. Steve breaks his stare to glance over at Eddie.

“Is it wrong of me to say that was weirdly hot?” Steve asks Eddie, who lets out a laugh in response. You feel heat rush to your cheeks at the statement, though you convince yourself it’s purely a side effect of the beer you just chugged. You are most definitely tipsy now, reaching that delightful level before officially being drunk.

“Is it wrong if I agree with you?” Eddie replies, a cheeky grin on his face. He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Your turn, Miss Frat Boy.”

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the coffee table and your chin on your interlaced fingers as you think up a dare for your infuriating, yet attractive roommate.

“Alright, Edward,” you sneer. “I dare you to do a shot of hot sauce.” You arch an eyebrow back at him, but Eddie seems unfazed.

“Hmm, not what I expected,” Eddie states, his confidence never wavering. “But, fuck it.”

Eddie jumps to his feet once again, headed towards the kitchen. You giggle at his wording.

“Butt fuck it,” you mumble, earning a laugh and a head shake from Steve.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that,” Eddie challenges as he returns with the bottle of Tabasco and a shot glass, revealing he’d heard you. Your eyes go wide as that familiar heat returns to your cheeks and ears. You feel like you’ve done a shot of hot sauce yourself. You hear Steve chuckle awkwardly next to you while your eyes fall to your lap. Your imagination suddenly goes wild with dirty thoughts and images, and you take a deep breath while you will them away. You can’t think about that right now. Not with these two right here. So close to you.

The sound of glass on glass breaks you from your stupor, and you glance up to see Eddie tapping the Tabasco against the shot glass to get the fiery liquid out, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to roll that same bottom lip between your own teeth right now.

No, you have to stop. You focus on the hot sauce dripping into the small glass, trying like hell to distract yourself. But you are just so fucking horny now. Between Steve’s comment, Eddie’s comment, Steve looking like a snack as always, and the fact that you already know what Eddie looks like under that cotton t-shirt and those tight jeans, you are reeling. You should have known better. Alcohol always makes you horny.

You just have to get through the rest of the night, and then you’ll stick to water and coffee the rest of the weekend. It’s been awhile since you were DD anyway.

“Bottoms up,” Eddie declares before throwing back the shot of the red liquid. He winces as the sauce coats his tongue and throat, immediately grabbing his beer to chase it. He groans as he swallows. “Word of advice, beer is not a good hot sauce chaser.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” Steve comments with a slight chuckle. “Okay, Munson. Do your worst.”

Eddie leans back, resting against the couch as he crosses his arms and eyes Steve. He then turns his attention to you, arching an eyebrow. He’s doing it again. Scheming. His eyes continue to drift back and forth between you and Steve, and you grow increasingly nervous as the seconds tick by. He has something up his sleeve, you just know it.

“Alrighty, Harrington,” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence. “I dare you...to give this one a hickey.” Your eyes go wide and your jaw goes slack as Eddie points right at you. Oh ho ho ho. What an asshole.

You bite your lip as you peek at Steve, who’s giving you an unreadable look. You’re extremely conflicted. Part of you wants nothing more than to feel Steve’s lips on your skin, sucking and biting, marking you. But you don’t want Steve to be uncomfortable, crossing that line and making things potentially awkward. Then at the same time, you don’t want to deal with the rejection of Steve opting for the drink.

You watch him curiously, waiting for him to do something, say something. You usually can read Steve like a book, but he has never looked at you like this before.

“Okay,” he says. Okay. Okay?

You watch with bated breath as Steve scoots closer to you, until he’s inches away.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, his breath ghosting across your neck, his eyes piercing. You can barely think, let alone speak, so you simply nod your head.

And then you feel the unmistakable graze of Steve’s lips against your sensitive skin. To your surprise, he doesn’t go right in right away, instead opting to leave gentle pecks across your flesh as he works his way downward. You feel a shiver down your spine as Steve’s hand snakes up the other side of your throat to gently tilt your head, giving him more room. Your eyes flutter closed as his grip tightens around your jaw. After continuing his path down your neck, he centers on a patch of skin where your neck meets your shoulders, and then he opens his mouth, tonguing the delicate spot. You relax into the feeling, leaning even more into Steve’s touch. His lips wrap around the chosen position and suck, and before you can stop yourself, a soft moan escapes your lips.

That familiar heat returns to your cheeks and chest, and your eyes fly open, bracing yourself for Steve to pull away. But your whimper seems to spur the man on, as he continues to suck and lick and nip at your flesh. You almost let your eyes close again, but movement in your peripheral vision catches your eye. Your gaze drifts to the left, and your eyes meet Eddie’s once again. Only this time, his smug grin is gone and is replaced with a look you are quite familiar with. His eyes are hooded, jaw slightly agape, his breath coming out in pants. But then your eyes fall to his lap, where he is very obviously palming his crotch.

Oh. Oh.

Another whimper escapes your lips, feeling overwhelmed. Steve feels like heaven against your neck, running his tongue over the dark mark he caused. Your eyes are glued to Eddie’s hand against his jeans, wanting nothing more than to crawl across the room and help him. You can feel yourself getting wet, the fabric of your cotton shorts growing damp.

Steve’s grip on your face loosens as he slowly pulls away, placing one last peck against your bruising skin.

“I think that’s some of my best work,” Steve announces, breaking the silence while he admires the mark on your neck. You sway a bit as his hand leaves your jaw, in a complete daze as you watch him scoot back over to his original spot. “I believe it’s my turn?”

You hate how nonchalant he sounds. As if he didn’t just make you moan embarrassingly. You look back over at Eddie, who’s shifting to bring his knee up in front of him in an attempt to hide his hard-on from Steve. He clears his throat once again.

“Yep, it’s all you,” Eddie replies, his voice a bit strained. You look back at Steve and are met with a soft, casual smile. How is he this calm?

“Perfect,” Steve acknowledges. His eyes have a mischievous glint to them that makes your already quick-beating heart stutter. “I dare you to give him a lap dance,” Steve proclaims, never missing a beat. He nods his head towards Eddie. Clearly, he had been prepared with his dare.

What the fuck.

You can’t bear to look at Eddie, you know exactly what you’ll see. That all too familiar self-satisfied smirk. Here you are, conflicted again. If you say yes, you’ll have to give Eddie, the guy you’ve been fucking lately who already has a boner, a lap dance in front of Steve, the guy who just sucked on your neck for while. If you say no, you’ll be the first one to chicken out of a dare, and you’ll have to deal with whatever Eddie’s reaction to that would be. Would he make a big deal out of it? Would that open up a can of worms? You aren’t sure how candid Eddie wants to be about your arrangement.

Lesser of two evils. Plus you do kind of want to torture an already aroused Eddie.

“Put on some music or something,” you bark towards Steve before standing up and marching over to Eddie’s spot on the carpet. You stick your hand out, gesturing for Eddie to grab it. He concedes, letting you pull him to his feet. Steve fiddles with the tape player behind you while you grab Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him to sit on the couch. The opening guitar riff of Sweet Emotion plays from the speakers, and you can’t help but smile at Steve’s song choice.

They want a lap dance? You’ll show them a lap dance.

You turn your back to Eddie as you begin to sway your hips to the music. You run your hands up your thighs, your sides, before sliding a hand down your chest. You bend your knees and push your ass back against Eddie’s lap, circling your hips to the beat of the song. His hands grip the edge of the couch cushion as you move, as if he’s afraid to touch you. You roll your body, making sure to grind against his crotch; you can feel he’s still hard beneath you.

You turn around and ease yourself onto Eddie’s lap, resting a knee on either side of his thighs. You continue to roll your hips, resting your hands on Eddie’s shoulders. His eyes follow your movements, that smirk never leaving his face. You run your hands down his chest before reaching for Eddie’s hands, bringing them to rest on your thighs as you ride him. You grind harder against him, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing deliciously against your clit. You almost wish he was wearing thinner pants so he could feel how wet you are through your shorts.

You want to throw Eddie off a bit. You know he’s enjoying this, sure. But you want to surprise him, do something to wipe that smug look off his face.

So you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it up and above your head, tossing it behind you. You watch as Eddie’s jaw drops and his pupils dilate.

Bingo.

You lean forward, rolling your body so that with each movement your chest is inches away from Eddie’s face, the lace of your bra practically touching his nose. You feel his fingers twitch against your thighs; he wants to touch more of you. It’s almost as if he isn’t sure if you will let him in front of Steve.

Fuck, Steve. You almost forgot he’s here.

You glance over your shoulder as you continue to circle your hips to the music. Steve is watching you like a hawk, his eyes trained on your body as it moves. His eyes flicker up to meet yours and you arch an eyebrow. Steve immediately flushes, biting his lip at the notion of being caught staring.

You have both of these boys hooked. You throw caution to the wind, allowing yourself to relax into your dance. No longer are you going to push your dirty thoughts to the side. You decide to accept that this night is headed in this direction, and you are okay with it.

You shoot Steve a wink as you take a hold of Eddie’s hands again, sliding them up your hips and ribs before landing on your covered chest. You cock your head as you watch Eddie run his thumbs over the tops of your breasts before giving them each a gentle squeeze.

You hear the music gently fade out behind you and you begin to slow your hips. You give Eddie a wink this time before climbing off his lap and reaching for your discarded shirt. You pull the garment back on and plop back down on the floor before offering a big smile.

“I think that means it’s my turn, right?” you say cheerfully, glancing between the two men. You watch as Eddie leans back into the couch, crossing his arms once again. That annoying smirk is back as he stares at you. You are about to reveal your dare for Eddie when he suddenly speaks up.

“Actually, I think we need to pause the game for a bit,” Eddie announces before standing up, very obviously adjusting his jeans. “Steve, can you help me with something in the kitchen?”

You and Steve exchange a confused look before Steve gets to his feet.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two men leave you sitting alone in the living room, horny and perplexed. You wonder what Eddie could possibly need help with. You take the opportunity to breathe and reflect on the past few minutes. You never imagined the night would become so...sexually charged. But you suppose that it shouldn’t surprise you, considering your new relationship with Eddie and your ongoing flirtatious friendship with Steve.

You shift on the floor, the dampness of your underwear and shorts starting to become uncomfortable. You wonder if you could quickly change shorts while they were busy. Would the boys notice the change? If they did, would they say anything about it?

Before you can make a move to get up, the men reenter the living room, both with unreadable expressions. Steve pauses behind the couch while Eddie makes his way over to you, squatting down to be at your level. You feel your heart rate pick up, knowing full well they are up to something.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie lilts, the pet name shooting right to your core. “Steve and I were wondering if you wanted to be a good girl for us tonight.” Your heart skips a beat at his words. Does he mean what you think he means? “Both of us.”

Okay. This is happening. You feel your pussy throb at the proposal. You nod vigorously, immediately adopting your normal role.

“Ah ah, use your words, baby,” Eddie chides, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You swallow before speaking up.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “I’ll be a good girl. For you both.” Eddie smiles as he delicately caresses your jaw.

“Good,” he says before standing to his full height. “Why don’t you be a good girl and go get ready for us?”

You practically leap to your feet out of reflex, Eddie’s words causing an almost Pavlovian response. You shoot a quick glance to Steve, who’s eyeing you the same way he was earlier.

You make your way to Eddie’s bedroom, shutting the door behind you once inside. You take a deep breath as you get yourself together. Here you were thinking that sex with Eddie was off the table since Steve was in town. But now you are going to have both of them, at the same time. You feel your pussy throb again as your mind swims with delicious images. You can’t help but wonder what they were going to do to you.

You begin to strip, knowing Eddie always prefers you be ready and presented to him. You pull off your shirt and bra before peeling off your ruined shorts and underwear. You push your clothes pile into the corner and out of the way, and then you sit down on the edge of the bed, your legs slightly spread and your hands resting on either side of you. Your naked body is now on display for them, and you can only sit there and wait. You wonder how long the boys will make you sit here and wait for them, the thought of them leaving you here for a while making you even wetter.

The creak of the door handle pulls you from your thoughts as the door slowly opens. Steve enters first, sauntering into the room as he drinks you in. His eyes roam up and down your body before settling on your glistening core. You bite your lip as he practically eye-fucks you, your heart pounding out of your chest. He’s way too far away for your liking; you need him to touch you. Now.

But you know your role. You have to be patient.

Eddie then enters, his eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you.

“Good girl,” he marvels as he takes his place next to Steve. He turns to the taller man. “You can go first.”

Steve nods before moving towards you slowly, stopping right in front of you.

“Kneel,” he mutters, his voice low and commanding. You immediately comply, dropping to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with wide eyes as you wait for further instructions. “Go ahead and get my dick out.”

Your hands immediately jump into action, reaching to unbutton his pants and fumble with his zipper. You reach into his waistband, wrapping your fingers around his half-hard cock before pulling it out of his boxers.

“You gonna let me fuck your throat, hmmm?” Steve asks, the tone of his voice contrasting with the dirtiness of his words. Just the thought of Steve cumming down your throat causes you to shift, rubbing your thighs together for some friction. You begin to pump your hand, getting him fully hard as you reply.

“Yes, please,” you whimper before giving his tip an experimental lick.

“Why don’t you tell Steve your safe word, baby?” Eddie implores from across the room. He’s leaning casually against his dresser, his arms crossed as he watches you.

“Tomato,” you answer obediently.

“And if you can’t talk?”

“Two pats,” you reply meekly, demonstrating the action against Steve’s still clothed thigh.

“Good girl.”

With Eddie satisfied, you get to work, licking a thick stripe up the underside of Steve’s cock. His hands immediately fall to your head, resting gently on either side. You swirl your tongue around his entire member before tonguing his slit and lapping at the bit of precum that has already trickled out. You circle your lips around his tip, sucking gently before sinking your head down onto him completely. Steve lets out a shaky breath above you as you slowly pull back, leaving his tip on your tongue. You sink back onto him again before getting into a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down on his cock. You hollow your cheeks as you feel Steve’s grip on your head tighten.

You begin to work on relaxing your throat, wanting to take Steve in deeper. You tilt your head back slightly before reaching up to grab each of Steve’s wrists, signaling that he has control now. He starts with slow thrusts into your mouth, his cock now hitting the back of your throat with each move of his hips. Small grunts leave Steve’s lips as he feels you slightly gag around him. Tears prick your eyes as he continues to fuck your throat just like he said he would, your hands dropping to your sides and clenching into fists.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Eddie begin to move closer. At some point he freed his own cock and is slowly stroking it as he stalks towards you.

“You gonna be a good girl and take everything Steve gives you? Huh? You gonna swallow every drop, sweetheart?”

You whine as you attempt to nod your head, Steve’s grip not allowing for too much movement. You try to discreetly shift your thighs again, your neglected core practically dripping onto the carpet below you.

“Ah ah ah, you know better,” Eddie chides, clearly noticing your movement.

You moan around Steve’s cock in response, feeling it twitch in your mouth. He gives a few more thrusts before stilling above you with a deep grunt, his seed coating your throat and tongue. You bob your head a few more times as he works through his orgasm, not wanting to miss a single drop of his cum, just like you promised.

His hold on your hair loosens as he pulls you off of his softening cock. You make a show of swallowing dramatically, before presenting your open mouth for both men to see.

“Good girl,” Eddie says before pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the side. Steve stumbles off to the side of the room as he tries to catch his breath. But your eyes are now on Eddie, who’s hard as a rock and moving towards you like you are his prey. “Why don’t you go ahead and get on the bed? You’ve been so good so far, let me take care of you.” You jump to your feet, clambering onto the bed behind you. “Lay down for me, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, laying back on your elbows and instinctually opening your legs.

“Look at how wet you are for us,” Eddie comments, reaching out to run his thumb up your inner thigh, but stopping short of where you need him. His eyes sparkle as he watches your pussy contract around nothing, your wetness dribbling down your pussy lips. “Now you know the rules, sweetheart. No coming until I say so. Understand?”

You nod, begging Eddie with your eyes to just touch you already.

“I need to hear it, baby,” Eddie reminds you before giving your clit an unexpected pinch. You yelp at the action, nodding once again.

“I understand, I understand,” you plead. Eddie smiles before running his thumb across your core, barely touching the sensitive area.

“Good.”

He sinks one finger inside of you easily, earning a deep moan from you. He begins to trace slow circles against your wall, as if he’s searching for something. The pad of his finger presses against that particular spot and you keen, your hips shooting off the bed. He begins to slide his finger in and out of you at an achingly slow pace, watching you writhe under him. You can already feel your orgasm building and he’s barely done anything. You know you’re in for trouble.

Eddie slides another finger inside of you, stretching you deliciously and lighting a fire in your soul. How one man can bring you to ruin with just his fingers, you’ll never understand. His pace quickens as he works his fingers in and out of you, your entire body burning with desire. You’re starting to get worried that you won’t be able to hold back, that you’ll come undone on his fingers and have to face the consequences. He’ll probably won't let you come for a week. Or even longer. Or fuck, he might even stop everything all together and leave you here, an absolute mess, before things even get good.

“You getting close, sweetheart?” Eddie questions, an evil tone to his voice. “Don’t you dare come.” And just as you’re about to swear you won’t, Eddie’s thumb began to rub tight circles on your clit. You cry out as he toys with your sensitive nub, his fingers never slowing their speed. You grip the comforter below you, attempting to ground yourself. You know you’re entering dangerous territory as you grind your hips against Eddie’s hand.

“Please, please let me come,” you beg, your voice whiny. “I’m so close.” Eddie’s fingers press hard against your g-spot as his thumb kneads your clit. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer and closer and you can’t hold it back anymore.

And then Eddie pulls his hand away completely, leaving you empty.

“No, I think you need to wait a little longer,” Eddie decides, an annoying playfulness to his voice. He meets your pleading eyes as he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking off your juices and moaning at the taste of you. Your chest heaves as you attempt to get a hold of your breath. Your entire body is screaming, begging for release. It takes all of your willpower to keep your hands glued to the bed, knowing that if you even attempt to try to finish yourself off, this will all be over in a second.

You glance over at Steve, who since you last laid eyes on him has apparently shed his jeans, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt. He’s tucked himself back into his underwear, as evidenced by the bulge that has already re-formed under the cotton. His eyes are dark, watching you pant on the bed, but he doesn’t make a move.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Eddie says, pulling your attention back to him. “Since you’ve been so good, following directions so well, why don’t you tell us how you want to finish?”

Your eyes fly back and forth between the two men as you ponder Eddie’s words. Who are you kidding? You already know the answer.

“I want you both,” you breathe out, your voice hoarse from the events of the night. “At the same time.”

The men exchange looks and Eddie’s face lights up.

“I had a feeling that would be the case,” he declares before turning to Steve. “You can have her pussy. I’ve been thinking about fucking her ass ever since her dumb joke earlier.”

You swallow as you let Eddie’s words sink in. Steve lets out a little chuckle in response before pulling his shirt over his head. He sheds his underwear next, leaving him standing there in his naked glory. You cann’t help but ogle him, fuck he’s beautiful.

“Well while you get her prepped, I want to taste her,” Steve announces, sounding much more confident than he was earlier. Your heart almost pops out of your chest at his words. You watch as Steve stalks towards you before climbing onto the bed and laying down with his legs dangling off the edge. He crooks his index finger at you, signaling you to come closer before he pats his chest.

Fuck. He wants you to sit on his face.

You crawl towards him, straddling his sternum. He smiles as he runs his hands up your thighs, his eyes sparkling as he looks up at you. You can’t help but mirror him. Behind you, you hear Eddie open his bedside table, and you let out a sigh of relief that he’s prepared for this.

Steve grips your thighs, moving you into position above him as you feel the bed dip behind you. You glance over your shoulder to see Eddie settling next to you, now completely naked as well, a bottle of lube in his hands. Before you can react, you feel the unmistakable prodding of Steve’s tongue against your folds. You lean forward and plant your hands against the bed, dropping your hips lower so Steve has better access. His tongue begins to explore your folds, lapping up every drop of your wetness. You’re sensitive from Eddie’s earlier ministrations, and Steve’s tongue is doing wonders for you. You whine and whimper as his tongue swirls around your clit, playing with the little bud.

You lose yourself in the feeling of Steve’s mouth against you as he eats you out like a starved man. You’re so distracted you almost miss the swipe of Eddie’s lubed up finger against your asshole. You flinch instinctively, but Eddie shushes you.

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s just me,” he cooes. You nod, trying to focus on Steve’s tongue once again. As Eddie’s finger works to coat the outside of your puckered hole with the warm liquid, you moan as Steve’s lips wrap around your clit. He sucks hard, earning another whine from you as Eddie gently begins to ease his finger in.

You focus on relaxing into the feeling, knowing that the pleasure is worth the initial discomfort. Eddie continues to work his finger into you as Steve begins to thrust his tongue into your core. You’re starting to get close, but you aren’t sure if you’re allowed to come yet.

“Make sure to stop before she comes,” Eddie reminds Steve, as if he can read your mind. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” Eddie’s favorite thing about edging you is always the way you come around his cock later.

You whine above Steve as he pulls away slightly, opting to place open-mouth kisses along your inner thighs. Eddie begins to add a second finger, the lube allowing him to stretch you pretty easily.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Almost ready for me,” Eddie praises, working his fingers in and out of you with relative ease. The pain has almost subsided completely, and Steve returns his tongue to your folds. You’re almost overwhelmed by the sensation. If this is how good it feels now, you almost can’t wait for what it’ll feel like to have both of them inside you.

Eddie eases his fingers out of you completely before grabbing your hip with his clean hand.

“Go ahead and get into position, sweetheart,” Eddie instructs. You scoot down Steve’s body slightly, moving to straddle his hips. You eye Steve’s glistening chin and you can’t help but lean down and capture his lips in a kiss, loving the taste of yourself on his tongue. As you lick into his mouth, you reach between the two of you, gripping his cock and giving it a quick squeeze. Steve moans into your mouth as you position him at your opening. You rub his tip against your folds, coating him in your slick before sinking down on him in one movement.

You both let out twin groans as you marvel in the feeling of Steve being completely sheathed inside you. You roll your hips once experimentally, keening as his tip rubs against your walls. The bed dips as Eddie kneels behind you, fisting his cock as he lubes it up. He grabs the bottle once more, pouring a few more drops onto your hole before capping it and tossing it aside. His thumb works to coat your entrance once more before he presses the tip of his cock against you. Your head drops to Steve’s shoulder as you let out a deep breath. You wait patiently as Eddie starts to work his cock into you, causing you to clench around Steve.

Eddie is big, definitely bigger than two fingers, so he takes his time, softly rolling his hips as he stretches you out. The feeling is unpleasant at first, but you work to relax yourself, knowing it will be worth it. After a few more moments and a few more thrusts, Eddie’s hips are flush with your ass cheeks. You feel so fucking full.

“God, you feel so good, baby. So good,” Eddie groans out as his hands come to rest on either side of your hips. “You okay?”

“I’m…I’m so good,” you assure, your chest heaving. “But I need you both to start moving.”

And move they do. The two men work with you to establish a rhythm, you work yourself up and down on Steve’s cock while Eddie pumps himself into your ass. You’re practically bursting, your senses completely overwhelmed by the feeling of both of them inside you. The room is filled with groans and grunts, each one of you chasing your pleasure. One particular thrust has Steve hitting a spot inside you that makes you cry out, your hands gripping his biceps and no doubt leaving half moons in his skin. Steve’s hands find your breasts, pulling and kneading at the mounds before rolling your nipples between his long fingers. You feel Eddie’s hand come down against your ass cheek with a resounding smack, before he rubs and soothes the skin.

“You look so good like this baby,” Eddie exclaims, giving your ass another smack.

“Fuck, she squeezes me so hard every time you do that,” Steve groans out. Eddie smacks your other ass cheek this time, and Steve grunts below you.

You can feel yourself getting close once again, each thrust of hips bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you as his thrusts become sloppier.

“Fuuuuck,” Eddie calls out as he comes, his seed spilling deep inside you. You can feel each spurt of cum as he rides out his high, his hips ramming against your ass. You whimper as he pulls out, giving your hips a squeeze as he climbs away. Steve’s hands immediately replace Eddie’s as he begins to thrust up harder into you. Tears roll down your face as you feel yourself on the brink of coming.

“Please, I’m so close,” you cry out. Eddie’s hand shoots out of nowhere, two fingers centering in on your clit and giving it a harsh rub.

“Go ahead, baby,” Eddie murmurs into your ear. “Come all over Steve.”

A switch flips inside you and you come hard and loud, your entire body flailing as the waves of pleasure hit you one after another. You feel a gush of liquid below you as your pussy contracts around Steve’s cock. The man lets out a loud, deep groan and he tips over the edge, shooting his cum right up into you. Your hips spasm as you ride out your high, before eventually your arms give out. You collapse against Steve’s chest as you feel him begin to soften inside of you.

The room is filled with heavy panting, all three of you trying in vain to catch your breath. Your sensitive pussy aches, and you ease yourself off of Steve before crumpling onto the bed next to him. Your eyes flutter closed and you focus on slowing down your heart rate.

You almost drift off to sleep before you feel a warm wet cloth between your thighs. You open your eyes to find Eddie wiping away at your mess, and you offer him a sleepy smile as a thank you. Satisfied with his work, Eddie tosses the rag to the floor before climbing back up onto the bed. You feel two hands gently pull you up towards the pillows and before you know it, you’re cuddled between Steve and Eddie, each turning to face you. Steve’s arm snakes around your waist and pulls you against his chest as Eddie reaches up to gently caress your face.

“You did such a good job, sweetheart,” Eddie praises, his thumb softly tracing your jawline. “You were so good for us.” You hum as you relax against the soft bed, completely content with your current situation.

“Well, I guess we know what we’re doing this weekend,” you announce sleepily, earning a chuckle from both men. Your eyes fall closed once again, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, feeling absolutely blissed out between your two favorite boys.

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson #steve harrington

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afoundling · 1 year

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Lil Smooch

(Drabble under the cut)

“Sir, I think you dropped this.”

Cody held out the metal tube. The light buzzing that had persisted since he’d picked it up only seeming to get stronger when General Kenobi turned to him, a surprised smile breaking across the tired lines of his face. It had been the longest campaign so far by a significant margin, and the General had hardly seemed to sleep at all in the last three weeks. Cody was pretty sure even Jedi needed to sleep, and finding the weapon laying abandoned in the grass had only proved his theory.

“Oh! So I did. My apologies, I should have been paying more attention. Thank you for returning it to me Commander, I knew I could count on you.” He leaned forward, accepting the lightsaber, and Cody went utterly still, white noise filling his skull at the soft, ticklish touch to his cheek where the General pressed a chaste kiss.

He stared straight forward, rooted by his boots to the floor of the war room. His heart beat uncooperatively, heat rising up his face in an unstoppable tide as the General walked away, seeming unaware of the galaxy-shattering paradigm shift Cody was rapidly undergoing.

He swallowed, looking up to the ceiling with disbelief. “No.” He said, in horror, but it was much too late for that. He’d been abushed. Despite not experiencing it himself before this very moment, he’d had it described to him often enough by star-struck brothers to know exactly what had just clicked neatly into place behind his ribs.

“Oh, kark.”

---

Cody ensured, from that point onward, that he always personally delivered the lightsaber to the General. He was, afterall, a VERY dutiful second in command.

#codywan #they deserve a lil kiss #as a treat #cody just realised some things #codywan fanart #codywan drabble #my art #my writing #commander cody #obi wan kenobi

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open-hearth-rpg · 4 months

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Coming Back: Fallen Campaigns & Rebirths

From Age of Ravens

CAN CAMPAIGNS AGE WELL?

This first part of the year sees me coming back to two longer online series I’ve run before. The first is the third and what I plan to be the final arc of our Godbound campaign. This is after a long break, with the second arc happening in mid-2022. At this point they have hit the higher levels there and I want to close out some of those stories. It’s been a great couple dozen sessions and I love these characters, but I want to get that some resolution.

The other is Fearful Symmetries, a Trail of Cthulhu campaign set in 1930s England, with the characters as magicians fighting a secret war. We finished the first story in March of last year. We took advantage of the real world time gap to give the characters a gap as well. Session one was a “getting the band back together” episode. In it we got to see how each investigator had dealt with the fallout from their arcane showdown. It provided a solid baseline the characters have been able to play off of.

Last year I also returned to a Hearts of Wulin mystery series with two new cases. We managed to reconnect with the big picture threats and story, even though it’d been over a year since we’d played last. We plan on coming back to that for another mystery later this year. Likewise we’re planning on coming back to our Girl by Moonlight game– three months wasn’t enough so we’re going to add another two months to wrap the story.

Here’s the thing: I have never, ever been able to do this with a face to face game. Every single hiatus or break for a campaign has resulted in that campaign dying out. And it wasn’t just me, I saw this happen to other GMs in the area. My late friend Barry was notorious for this– starting amazing high concept campaigns with energy, but then “taking a short break” which meant we’d never play again.

Another one, Rob, had something of the opposite problem. He would run long, multi-year campaigns. Then at some point he would take a break for burnout or to recharge his batteries. Inevitably he never returned to these campaigns, leaving them so close to the finish line the players could see it. He would tease folks with the possibility of going back and finishing their stories, but never would.

And I’m not innocent of this. But it has been a while since I “paused” a game as a way of ducking out. Now if it isn’t working I say that and call it or tell everyone and then steer into some kind of finale. That, like Barry and Rob above, comes from me as a GM not feeling it.

MORTAL BELOVED

But then we have those games that I wanted to return to. The ones which never got finished because circumstances worked against them. Or the inertia of things pulled us away. Or the people changed in the intervening period. These I really mourn.

I ran a dynamite short Star Wars series which was intended to be the first movie,in a “new trilogy” (before the new trilogy actually came out). This Episode VII absolutely clicked and I planned to do Episode VIII after a short break for another game. But by the time it was possible, that gaming group had reorganized. Other GMs’ new games took up the nights and players available. We never went back.

We had a great Exalted Dragon-Blooded game that we had to hold off from because two of the players went through a divorce. We tried coming back to it, but the one member of the couple who returned clearly wasn’t feeling it. So we ended up dropping it. A similar thing happening with a wuxia game, using Storyteller, I ran with a great trio of players. When one of them unexpectedly decided to stop playing because he and his wife had issues, we had to close that down. Because he never actually told us, we never got to do a finale session.

And, of course, COVID has killed a couple of my games. We had a long-running Sunday group, going on twenty years, but we ended that. Another campaign had been running for almost four years. I asked about transitioning to online, but one of the players (ironically the one who had kibosh’ed the wuxia game) refused to play online. So we went on hold, but I knew we would never come back. The other two f2f campaigns which we transitioned to online survived. One, 13th Age, eventually shifted back to in-person after a year and a half. The other remains online.

But online games, somehow, have managed to survive these breaks. We’ve gone back and picked them up without missing a beat. I had a long-running Mutants & Masterminds campaign online where we broke up each arc with a different game. And it worked– each time we came back folks knew the world and were excited to play again, even if it’d been many months.

BREAKING POINTS

So why?

I have theories. First, having an accessible, shared body of material really helps. Character keepers remain– people don’t can’t file away their characters sheets and lose them. They don’t feel like artifacts of something lost. You can review your own character and remind yourself who everyone else played. Keepers offer a strong, complete snapshot of where the game ended. That’s especially true if someone kept a running log of notes. An NPC tab with pictures goes a long way to reorienting people to the setting and situation.

Second, it is easy. You set a schedule and share links. It’s all there, ready and waiting for you. If someone can’t return you can hide their character in the keeper. Maybe they will come back eventually. It's easy to slot in new players to these kinds of ongoing campaigns.

Third, you can return exactly to the space you left. You return to an online call– a timeless zone. Things may have changed, but generally you can fall back to a sense of familiarity. That goes a long way to establishing continuity.

Fourth, it overcomes a certain inertia which applies to all online games. I’m a generally shy person; when I have to go somewhere physically, I don’t dig it. My brain looks for excuses not to go out into public. Online play clears away some of that.

Fifth, online play– at least in our community— is built on a certain social contract. Players sign up for games– something which asks for a modest commitment to play on their part. That’s combined with a waiting list which means that if folks can’t show up, other people can be slotted in. That combines to create a pressure to actually show up or at least to work to make sure other people have access to those slots. Ironically I think that makes people more likely to show up. The act of just having a system makes it more likely folks will consider their attendance and participation.

LAST EPISODES

Are there lessons we can take from those for non-online games going on breaks or hiatus? Maybe? I suspect having a shared folder– maybe of scanned documents and materials– would make it easy to come back. Likewise keeping a copy of everyone’s character sheet. NPC image collections can help as well– maybe with Pinterest sub-boards. Starting again online and then moving back to f2f might be a good way to gauge if everyone’s still on board. It might also be good, even if the game was more casual before, to set up a calendar and some kind of sign ups. That helps support and remind community members.

I have a handful of games I really want to go back to. In the past I would have considered those dead and buried, but know I’m not go sure.

#ttrpg #rpg

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niqhtlord01 · 1 year

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Humans are weird: A ship without a name ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

(A continuation from "Humans are weird: Purple to the rescue")

It had been three weeks since Captain Muk’tal and his ship had safely returned to the Coalition fleet. His ships daring escape from the heart of Arganian armada had been the talk of the fleet, though he and much of his crew had been admitted to the nearest hospital ship to enjoy the praise. Muk’tal himself had been placed into a medical coma to help accelerate the healing process and it was only yesterday he had been awoken and deemed ready to rejoin his ship.

The shuttle he was now on had been waiting for him as he left the medical quarters and entered the flight hangar. He had woven his way through chaotic traffic of landings and taking off of dozens of medical transports to reach the shuttle and was thankful for the sound cancelation when the door closed behind him. As the craft left the bay Muk’tal got his first good look at what remained of the fleet and understood why the medical ship had been so eager to get him out to make room for other patients.

Of the combined force to go to battle against the Arganian’s barley two thirds had survived to return to the rally point. It had been a harrowing maelstrom of warfare not seen since the War of Seven Spheres, and the complacency since then showed amongst the bulks of ships arrayed before him.

On his right he could see several mobile repair yards slowly drifting towards the Kataack battleships arrayed at the center of the fleet. They had taken the worst of the mauling and Muk’tal watched as giant carving lasers began bisecting one of the more damaged ships to use for parts to repair the others.

Next to those were scores of heavy and light cruisers, behind them a line of destroyers at least thirty ships long, and then at the end a few frigates too small to make out clearly from this distance. These were all the ships that had survived from his people’s contribution to the coalition fleet. Looking out the left window he could see the rest of the coalition handling their maintenance.

So vastly different was each species designs that aside from the most basic materials the sharing of materials would be all but useless. Some ships, like the Waybilen, were comprised of a metal only found on their world that they would melt down and mold into ships.

“We’re coming up on your ship now.” The pilot said over the loud speaker, and Muk’tal broke his gaze with the rest of the coalition fleet to see his ship come into view along the right side.

The purple paint coating had been removed. As thankful as he was for it having saved their lives he still dreaded the tacky color for a military vessel.

It was still worse for wear, but he would be damned to say he wasn’t happy to see it in one piece. Several of the armor plates had been removed, but more still had the superficial signs of damage along them with various scorch marks and energy grooves cut into them. He imagined that even if he had been the hero of the day there were not enough supplies to fully refit his ship.

Just as the shuttle made a pass across the bridge Muk’tal noticed something strange that had not been there before.

Beneath the command bridge a line of text had been crudely painted. It was too far away for him to clearly make out. At first he thought it was some repair crew marking a future job that needed to be done; but when he looked around the rest of the ship there were no other lines of text scrawled across his vessel.

He did not have long to think about it as the shuttle made another turn and Muk’tal heard the loud clicking sound of an airlock attaching and pressurizing.

The door slowly swung open and waiting on the other side were several of his bridge crew and senior staff waiting at attention.

“Welcome back, Captain.”

Muk’tal returned the salute to his new Head Engineer Teli. She had recently been promoted to the position as a reward for her actions during the previous engagement, and though he still missed his dear friend Morgas he was no doubt sure he would have approved his replacement.

“It’s good to be back.” He replied with a crisp salute. “What’s our status?”

“We’ve repaired all primary systems including engines, weapons, communications and life support.” She answered. “Hull repairs are sitting at 87% completed; we’re jump capable but I would not recommend more than twenty before we reexamine the hull for stress tears.”

“Make it every five jumps just to be on the safe side until we are fully repaired.”

Teli nodded and stepped aside so that the captain may speak with the rest of the senior staff. Many were like Teli, having just been promoted to the position, but a few faces were still the same and Muk’tal was glad to see that the last battle had not claimed all his friends.

“I’ll be heading to the bridge to run status checks on the systems there.” he told Teli over his shoulder as he already began making his way there before stopping and turning around.

“While I was flying over I saw someone had scribble something in paint on the side of my ship.” He told Teli. “Was that the repair crew’s work?”

Teli shook her head. He saw her cast a sidelong glance at the rest of the senior crew and some of them nodded silently before she continued.

“While you were recovering we all, that is to say the senior staff, had time to reflect on our good fortune for returning.” She began hesitantly. “The odds of us escaping the Arganian’s were nearly impossible, and yet we still made it.”

“A testament to our skill and determination,” Muk’tal said, “but that still does not explain the text on my ship.”

“We heard stories of how other species would honor their ship and in return it would help guide them home safely.” She continued. “One of the ways to honor the ship was to give it a name to be recognized by.”

Muk’tal said nothing as he glanced around the rest of the senior crew. While none of them met his eye contact none of them looked particularly embarrassed by this superstition. He ran a clawed hand over his face and let out a low sigh.

“It is not in our culture to name our ships,” he began, “so I will wager it was one of our allies who mentioned this to you.” He fixed Teli with an authoritative stare. “And I have a hunch on who gave you all these silly notions of superstition.”

He walked past the group and touched the com badge on the cuff of his uniform.

“Mr. Biggs report to the bridge; double time.” --------------------------------------

“Please explain why you have defaced my ship?”

Engineer Marvin Biggs stood attention on the bridge while the rest of the bridge crew pretended not to be listening in.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

Muk’tal stood up from his command throne and walked over to one of the windows overlooking his ship.

“About seven meters down from here,” he said as he pointed down, “you scrawled something on to the side of my ship without my permission or consent of the senior staff.”

“That’s not true sir.” Mr. Biggs countered. “I was the one who shared certain human customs, true; but it was officially put to a vote by both the crew and senior staff and they approved of it.”

Muk’tal turned in an instant and strode over to the human. He stood over him by easily two feet and fixed him with the coldest stare he had.

“This,’ he began softly, “is my ship, Mr. Biggs.”

“I am the commanding officer and as far as you are concerned my word is law onboard this vessel.”

Mr. Biggs opened his mouth as if to say something by Muk’tal silenced him with a gesture. “The only thing saving you from being locked in the brig until the exchange program is over is how you conducted yourself during our escape from the Arganian’s.”

“You will remove it, at once.”

With that he walked away from Marvin and returned to his command throne to go over several data feeds scrolling by. Mr. Biggs stood silent for a moment before making his way off the bridge. He stopped at the threshold and asked “Do you even know what it says?”

“No.” was all Muk’tal replied.

With that Mr. Briggs stepped off the bridge and the emergency sirens activated.

“Status report!?” Muk’tal demanded as he turned to the nearest bridge officer.

“Fleet wide communication coming in from Admiral Dun.” They replied.

“On speakers, now!”

The officer nodded, setting down their headset and flicking open the communication switch broadcasting the message.

“All ships all ships, this is the admiral; jump points have been detected on the edge of the system, prepare for combat.”

“All hands, man your battle stations this is not a drill!” Muk’tal shouted into the ships onboard speakers.

The previous matter with Mr. Biggs now swept away as the prospect of imminent combat pushed itself to the forefront of Muk’tal’s mind.

“Give me tactical now!”

A hologram projected itself to the center of the bridge showcasing the current position of the coalition fleet. The blue icons were scattered about desperately moving to form up, but it would take time. Muk’tal cursed whoever thought separating the fleet would somehow make repairs go faster as a host of red icons began appearing at the edge of the scanners.

Their fleet in its current state was broken into two parts that could easily be surrounded and cut to pieces. Even as he watched several of the coalition vessels begin moving together he saw it would be too late. The red icons had already made it a third of the way towards them in the time since the alert went out.

“Give me analysis on those ships now.” Muk’tal ordered. The scans now showing what appeared to be a red wave of hostiles half way towards them; their speed continuing to increase and shrink the distance.

“Count is seventy five enemy ships, frigate and raider class only.” The scanning officer called out. “No contacts for heavier warships.”

“Even now the bastards insult us.” Muk’tal stated; yet inwardly he couldn’t deny the tactic was sound. The lighter class ships now set against them would have been able to make the jump in a fraction of the time compared to their larger class vessels. These were no doubt meant to tie us down while the rest of the Arganian fleet was close behind.

“New orders from the admiral.” The communication officer called out. “We are to break orbit and retreat out of system immediately.”

“Come about and bring all batteries to the ready.” Muk’tal ordered.

“But sir-“ the communication officer began, but Muk’tal stopped him.

“If we turn now we will be shot in the back!” To emphasize the point he highlighted the enemy icons now mere minutes away from reaching firing range. “Make for the edge of the system but keep our guns trained on the enemy!”

“Aye, aye!” came the response as the ship slowly turned. The bridge windows blurring for a moment as the vessel’s engines pushed it around. Muk’tal could see the deck gun turrets emerging from their coves and training on the approaching enemies.

“Arganian’s have entered firing range, permission to fire?” the Weapons Master asked. Muk’tal’s hands dug deep into the arms of his chair as he gave the order and the deck guns discharged concentrated plasma lances.

Two frigates took the brunt of the lances head on, crumpling like empty metal cans as their hulls imploded. Several more made hasty course corrections to avoid them and clashed headlong into each other adding another three kills, but it was mere droplets in an ocean. Before the batteries could fire a second volley they were upon them.

Shields flashed bright green as a barrage of ballistic and laser weaponry hammered it with each enemy ship speeding by. The Arganian ships were not even slowing down to adjust their aim but continued speeding passed as they fired randomly.

Muk’tal looked out the window to see a mobile repair yard take the full brunt of a barrage and explode violently; showering the battleship it had been working on with debris. Several other coalition ships had turned to make a fight of it while many more ignited their engines and sped off as quickly as they could for the edge of the system. These fleeing ships drew the attention of the Arganian’s who broke off from making a second run on the fighting ships to instead chase down the retreating ships.

“Full power to the engines!” Muk’tal ordered. “Get us out of here!”

He felt a shift in the gravity as the vessel surged forward. Unlike his previous attempt to reach a jump point that took three days, at full power the ship could reach the system’s edge in twenty minutes. A fact that loomed over everyone as a bright red timer appeared on the hologram showing the countdown timer to reaching the jump point.

“Enemy ships bearing down on us.” The scanning officer called out. “Five frigates closing fast.”

“All deck guns retarget approaching frigates!”

The deck guns slowly began turning towards the frigates approaching from the opposite direction but it wouldn’t be fast enough.

“Enemy ships firing.” They called out before alarm bells sounded. “They’ve fired shield crackers!”

“Anti-missile batteries full spread now!” Muk’tal shouted. “Shoot them down!”

His fear was all too real as shield crackers could punch a hole through even a battleships layered shielding and crack them in two. To have five coming at him at once was like facing death itself.

Without hesitation gun ports opened and razor cannons fired. The space between the missiles and the ship soon was filled with millions of sharpened metal fragments more than capable of shredding anything. One after another the shield crackers exploded and it looked as if they were going to-

“Brace for impact!”

One missile had survived the razor cannons fired and struck the shields head on. The green light of them overwhelmed the bridge before the shields broke and the missile shot forward to complete its task. Muk’tal closed his eyes and waited for the end.

But the end never came.

Muk’tal opened his eyes to see that he was still very much alive and that his ship was still intact.

“What happened?” Muk’tal asked. His bridge crew was looking just as confused and relieved as their captain was at their sudden good fortune.

“I’m not sure,” The scanning officer called, “but the frigates are coming around for another pass.”

The red timer above the bridge finally reached zero signifying that they had reached safe jump distance. “Engage the jump drive!” Muk’tal ordered. “Get us out of here!”

------------------------------- Several dozen systems away Muk’tal’s ship emerged from their jump. The system appeared to be devoid of any ship activity or signs of life, the glow from a pale white star washing over everything only adding to its eerie silence.

“All stations give me damage reports.” Muk’tal commanded. He only now realized that he had been clutching his command throne so tightly that his fingers had dug deep into the upholstery. He removed his fingers delicately as the command stations sounded off. Aside from some minor damage his ship had survived yet another impossible battle.

“Sir,” one of the command staff called out as they stood by the window, “I think you should see this.”

They were pointing to something outside the ship but Muk’tal couldn’t see it from his position. He stood from his command throne and went over to the staffer who was pointing just below the bridge. When he arrived he could almost feel his soul leave his body.

There, embedded into the hull of his ship, was the fifth shield cracker missile.

The tip of the missile had punctured the hull yet beyond all sense of reason had failed to detonate. Muk’tal could feel his body shaking like it had never done before. It was one thing to face down death, but it was entirely another to be standing alongside it wondering if each second would be your last.

“Bring the ship to a full stop.” Muk’tal said quietly. The staffer nodded and went back to his terminal to relay the order to engineering. “Mr. Dogra, come here.” Muk’tal called out to his Weapons Master. They promptly stood up and joined him at the window and likewise shared a moment of overwhelming fear.

“I want you to use whatever resources you need, and get that thing off my ship.”

Dogra nodded without saying a word and turned around heading towards the bridge’s exit while Muk’tal looked down at the missile.

“Mr. Biggs,” Muk’tal spoke into his communicator, “are you there?”

There was a pause before the humans reply came back. “Here sir, what can I do for you?”

“The text you wrote on my ship, what did you write?”

Another moment of silence before Mr. Biggs answered. “I wrote “Vitalis o Wisp”, which translates to-“

“Wisp of life.” Muk’tal finished.

“I changed my mind,” Muk’tal continued, “I think I shall keep that name after all; although I will need you to do something for me when next we reach port.”

“Which is?” Mr. Biggs asked understandably confused.

“Add a fresh coat of paint.”

With that Muk’tal closed the link and looked down at the missile once more; the tip of it having gone straight through Mr. Biggs paint job from earlier.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #ai generated art #stable diffusion #story continuation

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peterrefur · 1 year

Text

German cigarettes ⸙ Russell Adler x Reader | Part ½

Summary: Reader is the best nonverbal communication and body language agent. She is the best in interrogation. So when Russell Adler needed a top agent to interview a person who works with Perseus, he immediately had her in mind. But will he be able to look at her only as an agent and friend, or will he finally stop hiding behind masks and reveal his feelings for the woman. The answer is simple… Yes. Notes: Hey Mate!!! I'm Peter and I say right away that English is not my first language. I'm curious to hear your opinion about this work in the comments! Enjoy!

[Part 2 smut]

───────────────────

Y/N “Midas” L/N

█████, Vietnam

December 20, 1967

𝕎hile playing with a lighter in your hand and traced the line that cut across the map in front of you. Your eyes traced the green and brown lines of the map, weighed down by the numerous black dots that were scattered around it. You were sure that the war wouldn't be over quickly. It was especially evident when you looked at the list of a lot of people who had to return to the States, that because of deaths or injuries. Nothing is simple in the current situation.

As you flick the lid of the Zippo lighter open and shut, you are plunged back into your own thoughts.

You would never think that in December you would be walking around in short sleeves and that you would be sweating so much. Hot, sticky air closed around your neck like a vise. You are trying to concentrate but it is hard to think with this warmth suffocating you. The material of your shirt sticks to your back, but you don't dare to brush it away. The temperatures that prevail in Asia make you sweaty just thinking about it. Even a night breeze brings no relief from the stifling heat.

You leaned against a chest of supplies behind you, a spare rifle lying on the floor at your side, while the wind blew the tarp at the entrance. Pulling a lighter from your pocket, you opened the lid and lit it with a smile. The cigarette between your lips flared to life. The lighter clicked, and you slipped it back into your pocket.

You took a long drag from the cigarette and exhaled through your nose, watching the smoke curl into the air. You looked ahead as a person entered the tent.

"I'm busy." the brunet, who joined the unit a week ago, smiled, his teeth gleaming like pearls in the sunlight that broke through the canvas flaps. He covered the entrance behind him, making the only light in the tent once again the lamp on the desk.

Did someone start arguing again? It is not a danger; I would have heard sirens. Is something wrong with the supplies? The helicopter?

"What's the matter Clay?" you said shaking the ash off your cigarette.

"We have a little problem," the boy said. Immediately, your bored gaze was directed at him. "There's been a fight, and Sergeant Stone seems to have broken his arm." You opened your mouth slightly, stopping your hand in mid-motion to your mouth.

Licking your lips as you looked at the ceiling of the tent, still holding the cigarette in your hand you pulled off glasses and walked past the table.

You pointed with your hand to the exit. "Lead the way."

𝕀mmediately assaulted by the heavy, dry air, you looked around. The bright, blinding sun beat down on you directly from above and seemed to soften the hard dirt, blowing it away like dark sand. The light was so bright that you had to squint and look around.

Mary, Barbara, Shirley, Nancy and you, surrounded by men. Only Nancy, about your age, is now in the field.

The women, they are nurses and support, gave supplies very often as MREs were handed out. The only woman who is high profile is you, but even so, most of the men only saw you as a woman. You felt a little exposed to the hostile stares of the men, who looked at you as if they could take advantage at any time of your lack of attention.

It is one of the main reasons why you did not separate from your gun even for a moment.

Don't trust; always suspect.

𝔽ollowing Clay, you look at the other members of the military. Those who are packing up their belongings because they are going home for two weeks, those who are staying, and the new recruits winding through the crowd of people like a slow-moving river. You watched them take care of each other. They laugh, they compete, they catch each other's mistakes. They lift each other up and give each other hope.

Even now, when you are all in between fights, they share nerves and exchange advice and support. Looking at it through your mind, as always, the thought of returning to the Army crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss the thought, knowing that your current job is much better for you.

"You're a hick!" you heard a shout. "I can't believe that because of you- Agh!" An American accent and a shout of pain permeated the noise around you. You inhaled from your cigarette and crushed it out under black combat boots.

"Broken." you heard; Mary looked at you with a sad smile. Her eyebrows hung over her eyes like the edge of a thunder cloud as she looked at Stone again.

You ran your eyes over the men gathered before you. They were all no more than thirty years old, strong, good-looking by most standards. Some had tattoos, but not all. You recognized a few of the faces that mostly make trouble. "Disperse," you ordered, to which the men reluctantly went their separate ways. Crouching down next to Stone, you rested your hands on your knees "Tell me which one of them did it and why," you said.

"I'm not dwelling on it, Boss." he said, looking you straight in the eye. You turned your head to Mary, a smile flashed slightly on her face, but she did not look at you. You stopped your gaze on the man. "It's not important," he repeated, "just a difference of opinion." His eyes are excited, but not in a good way. His whole body tensed most likely from the pain in his hand. However, he moved his feet slightly, like a small child waiting for a cookie.

"Thomas?"

He shook his head. "No. It's not important, just send me home." he set his head to the nurse, who wrapped a sling around his neck to hold his broken arm.

"So that's the point." you straightened up with a quiet sigh. "Next time just say you want to be with your family for Christmas. It's a waste of a good bone." You turned on your heel walking back toward tents, Clay marching beside you in silence.

𝕊tanding in front of his tent, you look at the boy, crossing your arms over your chest. In his hand he held something small and round. It looked like a casino chip. He held it like a newborn baby examining the thing.

"Look, it was important to him, he said he wanted to see his daughter. I'm sorry Midas." Clay explained. He stood with his hands behind his back, rocking back on its heels. You counted to ten as you looked at him.

Looking at him for a moment, you sighed, motioning with your hand for him to leave.

𝕀s it really easier to break your arm than to just talk and ask to be sent home? You thought while skipped over the soccer ball, not really wanting to break your arm just to get sent home. You swing between the soldiers, who don't seem to notice your passing, and head toward your tent.

Now you're in for some extra work. Notifying headquarters of another person who is returning home for health reasons.

Paperwork can kill.

But what else is there to do now?

Stepping in front of your tent, you immediately smelled a stronger smell of cigarettes, so going inside you immediately began to speak.

"I don't accept smoking here."

You watch the man take a drag on his cigarette while looking at you. He smiled slightly while correcting his glasses.

Shrugging his shoulders "But you, Y/N can smoke?" he asked walking up to you. Looking at each other you looked at his eyes through the sunglasses.

"Adler, I have work." you say walking past him, looking for the glasses you put away earlier.

𝕐ou smiled as you saw the darts prepared and sorted by color on the countertop. "I don't have time. Stone is going home, I have to inform the headquarters." hearing a sigh, you raised your gaze, Russell moving his head waiting for you to change your mind.

"How about we play one round of darts, and then I'll help you with your work?" he pout his lips as he approached the table taking one dart.

Along with when you lined up in front of the board you looked at Adler. "Okay, but I'll be the one to win." you said throwing the first dart. You frowned as you missed the bulls. As you picked up the second dart, you saw Russell smile with excitement.

"That was a close one," he said cheerfully.

As you threw the second dart, you made sure to hit the bull's eye. "I have to try harder in that case" he said smiling widely. You rolled your eyes.

"Get ready."

You put your finger on the third dart and throw it into bull. Smiling with the result, you walk up to him and pat his shoulder. Walking up to the board you collect the darts and return to the desk.

"Do you know how to throw?" you ask, looking at Adler with a sly smile.

"Yes." he replies getting ready to throw.

A smile crosses your face as you lean on the table looking at the man's entire figure, "You have to hit the center boy." Russell moved his shoulders and the T-shirt he is wearing came out of his pants making you see for a moment his stomach hair that goes under his jeans. You turned your gaze toward the dart board.

Russell quickly threw two darts, at a very fast pace that only when you looked at the board did you notice that once he hit the center and with the other dart, he scratched the wall of the tent. When he missed, he just turned his head toward you and apologized with his right hand.

You both hung your eyes on the target as Adler prepared for the third throw.

"First game in a week. I still have a chance to win." you looked at him, waiting for his move.

Jumping out of your seat and rushing toward the board you both looked at his third dart which hit zero in twenty. You both bumped shoulders while looking at the darts.

"That means I have twenty points?" he asked pulling out the darts.

Gasping, you turned around and walked over to the table "Saying you won is a lot. Let's say it's a draw."

You smiled as you sat down on the chair, indicating to Russel the chair behind you to sit next to you.

───────────────────

Russell “Doc” Adler

East Berlin

January 21, 1981

𝕎atching them lie, strapped to the bed, by their wrists and ankles. I watch them breathe, limp and helpless. I feel disgust for them, Red who is a terrorist and has contact with Perseus. I tighten the straps more tightly around their wrists, red marks sticking out from under them. Their short-sleeved shirt was soaked with sweat and blood, as was theirs face and hair.

Both of their arms were bandaged and pierced by the needles of two venflons, intravenous saline line monitors that pumped fluids and antibiotics into their veins. They were unconscious, but still looked tired and half-dead.

They looked immobile, old and dirty, as if they had taken responsibility for what had happened at the airport. I held my breath as I ran my gloved hand over the door frame and closed it behind me.

The rest of the team was waiting in the adjacent room, under a faint cone of light that cast an eerie shadow over their faces. I sighed loudly as I turned around to face team.

ℙark looked at Hudson "I was thinking the same thing." Park said, taking a sip of her coffee "First we should try an interrogation. Only when that fails, we should start the project." she continue. I looked at Hudson who is sitting on a chair looking out the window at the terrorist who is on the other side of the room.

"I would agree to this if we had time. We don't have it." replied Jason.

Park rolled her head searching for words. "We can start the interrogation from tomorrow. Until then, I'll organize someone from MI6."

"We have a threat to Europe's safety; I don't have time for 'let's wait.' The plan is what it was. Four days we'll try to get information out of them, if it fails..." Hudson lit a cigarette without noticing that his other cigarette was still on the ashtray. "We're putting the 'Bell' plan in place." he said reluctantly.

"I fully understand that, however, I already have three people in my mind who I will be fit to interrogate, I think they will not ask any additional questions." said Park putting down her cup and looking at Red in the next room.

"'You think'? We have to be sure." he took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke. I watched the grey puffs circle above us and disappear, wishing that I could disappear with them. I watched between them and their exchange of words, in my head I thought about the best and worst case scenario that could happen.

𝕎e don't know, or couldn't guess, what was going on in their mind; we just have assumptions about it. This is a game of "cat and mouse" between us and them, and when our patience fails, we are outsmarted. They are the right hand of Perseus, they lost someone who has a lot of information. I open the light blue folder we found with them. We need to get as much infromation as possible that they hide in their own head.

This is a human game of "human chess", where we were not sure who was the king and who was the pigeon. We are pawns on a board where the only thing we know that is in play is some secret pawns.

We must act.

Adjusting my glasses, I stretched my arms as I watched the two agents continue to discuss. We have a choice where to start. We can put our foot in the right direction or take the wrong path that leads to failure and a failed operation.

I took a slow breath and lightened up my tone as I turned to Hudson.

"No."

I said after being in silence for a long time, I have no idea where in the conversation they are "I know someone who will not ask questions. We'll tell what information we need; we'll get the answers without too much torture. We need the best." I started waiting for their reactions "We still have all day today. If I call now, I think she will be here tomorrow afternoon."

Hudson looked at me with a mumble under his breath while he pressed the cigarette to his lips. He looked at me with a frown, and the cigarette lit up his face. I could see that he was thinking about something, but I didn't know for what. I took a deep breath.

Without waiting for an answer, I left the room, closing the door firmly behind me, and headed for the phone I had left in the main room.

ℍearing footsteps behind me, I turned my head and continued walking ahead.

"Saying SHE. You mean Midas?" asked Hudson looking at me through the open door.

I smiled slightly turning my head, taking the phone in my hand. my mind kept working. What would I say? How would I begin? What if she changed her number? Only because we work in the same base, I see her. Dialing the number, I started thinking about what words should I use.

I hear the first signal and begin to have doubts about my request to her at all. I call one of the best agents I know, I don't know where she is. It might as well be two o'clock in the morning where she is.

I hear a second signal. Maybe I should call the department and not her specifically. I don't want to be pushy.

”ℍello?" her voice made me feel the same feeling I felt when I talked to her a few years ago. My heart-rate increased and I felt myself lean in as if I was getting sucked into a black hole yet surrounded by light. I felt like I couldn't breath, like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. I felt like I was being pulled and pushed simultaneously and that my entire body was being filled with chemicals that stimulated every single one of my senses.

The world around me shimmers with a sense of unreality, as if all dangers cease to exist, and the only people are me and Y/N. Her voice was like a single violin in a symphony. It pierced through the darkness, guided me through the night, and was my only guide on this journey into the unknown.

"Adler here, are you free? I need to interrogate someone, and I know they won't be willing to talk." explained everything succinctly, without going into details. I heard her blowing out air, she sighed, but yet I heard a murmur from her side.

Y/N started to hum something however stopped after a while "Where should I be?" she asked, and her voice seemed as if she had just woken up.

I smiled hearing that she agreed. "Berlin, be at the airport, I'll pick you up." I said looking at the documents about our location on the table in front of me. "I need you for yesterday." she sighed loudly, guessing that she is stretching from sleep.

"I'll see you tomorrow." she began I hear her start to move "I hope you have good coffee there." a smile can be heard in her voice.

───────────────────

Y/N “Midas” L/N

East Berlin

January 22, 1981

𝕐our eyes closed on their own, along with the way you stood, holding the strap of your bag, leaning against the airport wall. You could feel the stale air of the busy terminal, but you couldn't tell if it was from your tiring journey, or the false sense of cleanliness created by the masking spray. The lights seem to have dimmed, which made the surroundings seem more drab and lifeless. Closing your eyes for a moment, you wondered if you had understood correctly what Russell had said. Perhaps there is more than one airport in Berlin and Russel didn't mean the main one.

The truth is that you have been to Germany several times, but only once in Berlin. Now you can say that twice, and again because of him. You opened your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to clear your mind and think clearly about the fact that you will be working and not resting.

As for Russell, you know that if he needs someone who is an special agent for nonverbal communication and body language - it promises to be hard work. Especially since you will probably meet new people.

Still trying to figure out how it all works when you hear someone calling your name. Looking around, you see a man wearing sunglasses and a brown jacket, approaching you slowly waving slightly. With each step he takes, you find yourself looking more and more at your friend.

You stopped seeing his face. Oh, my goodness. you thought, seeing the scar that is all over his left cheek.

Yes, seeing him in the hallway at the headquarters was an exchange: Hi and Hey. But you never noticed how much Adler had changed.

His clothes as neat and impeccable as ever. You're sure that even in the clothes he wears at home he looks good. His pants as if ironed before he came here, the black shirt over which lies the brown jacket, you recognize that you saw on him at the agency a few years ago.

As you remembered him, each of your steps made you recognize Russell in him more and more. He is still your friend who walks into your office unannounced to play darts with you and cracks a bad joke every time.

He is still your friend who cries and laughs as he tells a story about his family.

But his face.

His face.

His entire left cheek decorated by a scar that looks like someone trying to put the shattered cup back together. The wound ran almost from his left ear under his eye, and goes down to his mouth, but in several places, it split into other paths. There are three scars on his chin, and one goes through his mouth.

The light stubble matched him perfectly now, with his soft, fluffy and styled dirty blonde hair. Russell continues to be attractive.

His scar ideally shows that he is dedicated to his work, even after the horrible hard time he had gone through. He was able to get back on track and continue his working. It's something that you admire about him.

"<Hallo.>" he says softly, his glasses covering his eyes that you barely remember.

You smile, feeling relieved that you're in the right place.

"<Oh, Adler my boy! Long time no see, boy!>" you began in German putting your bag down on the ground hugging the man gently.

"<𝕀t's also good to see you, Y/N.>" he replied in the same language, also hugging you. His hugs always seemed genuine and unforced. "<We are not going to stand around and waste time like this. We'd better go now.>" he said, bending down to pick up your bag.

You smiled, walking beside him as he headed toward the exit. "<Tell me boy, how long is the ride?" you asked as you walked out into the afternoon air of Berlin.

Taking a fresh breath, you felt alive again.

"<Hour.>" he answered shortly, his German perfect, as if his last name obliged him to be good at that language.

"<Oh, short.>" you sighed, following the man. "<I have so many questions about you and your wife, but I should also know what you expect from me.>" you began to frown, feeling how little time you had in your hands.

"<We can always talk in the car, after work, in the evenings or at night.>" he said poking you lightly. He opened the door for you to get inside the car "<My ex-wife. We're not together anymore.>"

"<I'm sorry.>" you said sitting down in the passenger seat. Looking in the mirrors as he put your bag in the back seat and walked around the car to sit in the driver's seat.

"<There is no reason.>" he started closing the door "We divorced staying friends." he said in English. He turned on the engine, and you looked at him curiously.

You laughed slightly under your breath. "So, we are both no longer in a serious relationship." you said, grabbed your finger where you used to have an engagement ring. "Me and Ray... Ray passed away a few years ago. You know... sometimes you can't win with addiction." you said laughing sadly however you smile genuinely after a moment.

"My condolences." said Russel sadly starting the ride. "I don't know what it's like to lose the love of your life forever. but..." he fell silent for a moment turning his head towards the sidewalk for a brief. "Watching HER being happy with someone else is hard sometimes too."

You looked at his face, seeing the contours of his eyes you smile patting his hand on the shift knob. "Stop. That was five years ago, I don't know how long ago your case is. But I do know that SHE probably, like Ray, wants you to find someone you're just happy with." you squeezed his hand hard, Russell shifted gears at which you took your hand away. "Although... I find that hard to believe." you looked at each other when he stopped at a traffic light.

𝕃ooking into each other's eyes, you tried to see the blue of his eyes in those of sunglasses. You laughed slightly realizing how cheesy your speech sounded.

"It sounded like something out of a soap opera." he commented while correcting his glasses. Russell fumbled in his jacket pocket until he found a soft, crumpled pack of cigarettes. He offered you the first one from the new pack. Pulling it out, you acted as if it were an honor to be accorded respect.

Taking the cigarette to your lips, you pulled out the Zippo and clicked it a few times. A flame decorated with a few sparks flashed setting off the cigarette. As you pressed your lips tighter together holding the ciggies, Adler also pulled one out. You slid the flame toward him, who leaned in slightly and lit his own. The flame warmed his face, the bright sunshine that shone in front of you adding to his charm now.

You hid the lighter and inhaled, beginning to cough while feeling one of the worse tastes in your mouth. Wiping tears from your eyes, you heard Russell laugh.

"If you're reacting like this to cigarettes, you should stop smoking, this shit will kill you." he stammers.

Coughing for a little longer, you felt the tears gather in your eyes again. You knew immediately that you were smoking German cigarettes. "Mabey that's a point," you stammered again, "and don't tell me to stop, if you still smoke, boy." you added after a moment.

"Please don't call me that when we're in the safehouse." he made lines out of his mouth, he always does that when he was thinking or when he didn't like something.

"Why? What's wrong with it, boy?" you asked, taking another puff, looking out the window with a silly smile.

"Nothing. It just sounds so..." he said, looking at the road in front of you.

"Don't you like me teasing you?" you asked with a smile.

"That's not the point." he said, but the grin on his face made you wonder if he meant it "Just don't call me 'boy' okay?" he added.

𝕊miling, you held the cigarette between your fingers. You watched Berlin outside the window. Then you looked at him, seeing him struggle with words, but you couldn't tell what he was feeling.

You are one of the better agents at understanding the human body, but Russell, has always been an enigma. He is too good at hiding his emotions and the typical behaviors that show what someone is thinking.

Yes, sometimes he stops trying to hide his emotions, so you can see what he really feels under all the lies, and masks he is wearing. But you have learned long time ago to look into his eyes behind his glasses - a sign of truthfulness in his case. They reveal if he is lying or not, his eyes always tell the truth.

Russell is a very complex person; he's always been that way. Going back to when you were in Vietnam, you learned how to understand him.

You can see that he is struggling with himself, that there is probably a bunch of questions and doubts in his head all at once. "I'm thinking. I said that you won't ask unnecessary questions about the person you're going to interrogate. And in order for that to happen too, ask me all the questions so that you have the information. Y/N. I say right away that we need to get information regarding Perseus." his voice was serious; if you didn't know him, you might think he was angry.

That's just his character; being cold and even transparent to avoid showing his true self. This is Adler, a man whoy has been obsessed with the Russian terrorist - Perseus.

"Perseus." you said under your breath, chewing lightly on your cigarette. "Name, background, job, if they have been tortured already, their characteristics, when they last ate." you leaned back in your seat closing your eyes.

You heard a groan from Adler's side. "We do not know the name, they are from Russia and worked for Perseus, exactly they were his good companion. We just bandaged their wounds. We haven't talked to them yet; I don't know when they ate but they are on a drip." he continued talking calmly as if nothing happened.

"How did they get hurt?" you asked, opening your eyes and looking at him.

He squinted his lips and licked his lower lip "They were shot."

"Shot? By whom?" you asked, leaning forward in your seat.

"It doesn't matter, because Arash is dead." he said, his voice low.

"Hmm... And what kind of infromation do you need?"

"I want to know everything, his goals, his methods, his connections, his weaknesses, his strengths, anything about him that could help us catch him." he stopped at the corner and blew smoke stopping his mouth open for a moment. "Y/N. All of Europe is in danger."

"I know." you said, sighing deeply. You looked at him and saw that he was staring out the windshield. He wasn't looking at the street, but rather the buildings around you.

𝔻riving through the city on the side roads, you look at the people and their activities, at how they have a moment of peace. Both of you remain in silence, yet quiet rock music echoes through the speakers. It is a beautiful day today and the sun is shining brightly in the sky.

You remember the last time you were with Russell in Berlin in 71', on a mission where you had to get intel on one of the double agents. With that thought, you began to remind yourself of your work together. How the two of you started working together after your return from Nam due to your shared work for the CIA. You went on many travels, missions together. Some good, some bad, but each one memorable in its own way.

The first time you saw Russell defeat three men with a knife and a metal pipe he found in the rubble of a building was.... stunning. You felt as if you had opened a bottle of champagne and watched the shimmering bubbles float past you on their way to heaven. You were so excited and couldn't believe that you were just with him.

His movements, skills something truly professorial. He is your companion and best friend, the person you would give your life for....

𝕃ately you've been spending more time at the base, or on visits to other states for interrogations, where you work all night and see the sun rise at least once a week. You don't spend as much time together anymore, both of you have gone in two different career paths, but you think you're both happy where you ended up. Now you have a job with meaning, helping people in the worst of times.

Nights at the base are often lonely. Months and months of nightly, thankless work. Investigations that lead to dead ends and frustrated informants. People you used to work with and see every day are now a memory, others are still around but too busy to catch up.

You feel that each of your lives is a work of art: perhaps together they form a masterpiece that has been blurred by the present.

The details may be lost, but the overall picture remains clear. You know you'll never forget that first meeting, even though it happened over fourteen years ago.

"𝕎hat are you thinking about?" you asked, looking at the burnt cigarette on the floor in your feet.

“About you.” his voice was low and serious, and you turned to face him, feeling a chill run up your spine. Not knowing what to say, you sighed and looked away, feeling the swirl of emotions inside your chest. The air between you felt heavy and oppressive, as if the words he wanted to say were gathering force and wanted to break free.

A silence hung between you, and it seemed to stretch on forever as you tried to piece together the puzzle of his thoughts. "Are you still living in that apartment next to the airport?" he asked, to which you laughed lightly.

A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you murmured, "I forgot about that apartment." You remembered the cramped space with its tiny kitchen and the musty smell that seemed to linger. "No," you continued, "I moved to a small house on the outskirts of town. You know, the kind you can only find in the villages, with a fence and a small garden that is always in full bloom. A little place for me and cat.” You thought of your cat lounging out in the garden, basking under the warm sunshine.

The cozy home brought back fond memories of your time spent there, of laughter and joy and those unforgettable moments that you shared with your beloved pet.

The low rumble of his voice shook and trembled as he uttered a thoughtful, "Hmm..."

His face softened, as if he were imagining something beautiful. "You're lucky, I'd love to have a furry companion too, but with the amount of time I'm away from home, it just wouldn't be fair to the animal. They deserve better." He spoke solemnly, his voice dropping as if in reverence for the animal he was unable to own. The sadness in his tone was heavy, as if it weighed him down.

"Maybe when you retire?" you said with a hint of humor, to which Russell gave a light chuckle.

"I don't know what that means." he replied.

The car was suddenly filled with a heavy silence, only broken by the sound of Russell's laughter.

You smiled, watching him laugh.

"Maybe when we both retire, we'll live together and have 17 cats.," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "Each one will have an extraordinary name. Names like Aimruy, Brice, Hicks or First Professor Precious." his face was now serious, as if he was in deep contemplation. "You know, serious names for a cats." he said solemnly.

A bubbly laugh was caught in your throat, and you let it out, the sound reverberating through the air. You looked at your friend and shook your head, smiling. "I have no idea where you get these names." you said, trying to contain your amusement.

Your friend’s eyes lit up and they couldn't help but share in your laughter. The air seemed to fill with joy and glee as the two of you exchanged smiles.

He beamed proudly as he announced, "I'm great at suggesting cat names!" you nodded in agreement, feeling a surge of warmth.

※

𝕊itting in the car you looked at the dirty garage door with the sign Ladezone, mud mixed with wet green grass. The area was littered with a medley of objects: euro pallets, steel barrels, and a small ladder that stretched to the roof, with an old lamp that jutted out from the wall beside it. The sun shone brightly over the scene, illuminating it in its golden rays and giving it the appearance of a scene straight out of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

It felt like a place of wonder and enchantment, that held within its walls secrets and mysteries, puzzles and missions. The air was thick with magic, as if anything was possible in this mysterious corner of the world. The smell of dust and quiet engine sound filled the air, giving it an almost surreal atmosphere.

It's hard to tell if it's because you're aware or it's so obvious; but it's seeing that something important is hidden here.

"𝕎e've got a job to do, boy!" your words boomed throughout the car as you spoke, the intensity in your voice unyielding. Your leather-gloved hand made contact with his thigh as a stern pat, and you then looked at him with a determined gaze. You knew that there was a job to be done and it was time to complete it. Exiting the car, you smiled at him, letting him know that everything was going to be alright. He simply nodded with understanding and followed after you.

Your boots thudded heavily against the path as you walked away, leaving a dust cloud in your wake. The sun glinted off the car's chrome bumper as you marched determinedly towards your destination.

He slammed the car door shut behind him and barked out a friendly command: "Stop with the - boy!" His voice was a low growl, edged with a warmth that suggested a friendship that has lasted for years.

"Yeah boy, you better open the door." you looked at him holding your bag and handing it to you carefully.

The man slowly crept closer to the garage door, his footsteps echoing in the still air. He reached out, two quick taps resonating off the metal. You looked at each other, both of your expressions filled with a mixture of anticipation. Russell grasped his arm tightly, a minimal grimace drawing across his features. The tension was palpable, and the seconds seemed to drag on in anticipation of what was to come.

𝕋he garage door began to rise with a slight hum to begin to close with your entrance. You quickly scanned the room.

The garage door began to rise with a slight hum, only to start closing with your entrance. You quickly scanned the room. A chain with hooks hung loosely from the ceiling, and gray lamps. Several items were scattered on the floor, and a large wooden table sat in one corner, along with several chairs. On the wall in front of you hung weapons. In the very center of the room was a desk.

This is a large room with high walls, most likely a former auto repair shop. Looking around the room you notice a difference between the things that were here and those that were brought to the safehouse.

No movement was visible, but you could sense that someone was inside.

𝕐ou heard the reverberation of your name in the air, "Midas!" and paused. Turning your head, you saw a bald man wearing glasses, a white shirt and a black vest. his hands on his hips.

"Ice Cube!" you quickened your step, raising your voice in response, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as you prepared your hand to meet his own. "It's good to see old faces." you said, turning your head toward Adler while still holding Jason's hand. Russell stood at the table and ran his hand over the documents.

"Are you ready to work?" said Hudson letting go of your hand. "We don't have much time." he added.

"Give me an empty folder, with white paper, a pen and cigarettes, and I can start the interrogation."

※

𝕊itting in front of a person dressed in a white T-shirt, you watch as Helen from MI6 connects an drip to a venflon in the person's bare forearm. The clear liquid flows through a transparent tube, catching the white light of the lamps on its way to fill the person's body.

A white room, a table, two chairs. Red sat tied to the chair, with their legs tied to the chair and their hands in handcuffs, facing the door. The room was minimal enough not to be a distraction. White and dull, which made your eyes hurt, as if you had stared into the sun for too long. A one-way mirror, next to the table. You try to imagine their thoughts, their fear and desperate hope that someone will come to their aid. Still, it's up to you to play that role.

The most important thing is:

Trust.

You flipped through a folder, the kind a reporter would use to take notes, blank pages waiting to be filled. The sound of your fingers flipping the pages echoed in the empty room. You reached for the pen to see if it worked, writing the date in the corner of the page - January 22, 81', 19:34; you looked at your watch. Blue ink, who likes blue ink?

You crossed your legs as the black-haired woman left the room. You touched your thigh where you have a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You sighed and then shifted in your chair, feeling the outline of your gun resting behind your pants.

Sighing, you began to write on the paper while waiting.

You watched their face in anticipation, taking in the minute movements of their closed eyes. Their eyebrows creased, relaxed and creased again, and you followed the movement in your mind. You watched them, for the moment quietly waiting for them to wake up.

𝕐ou looked at the back of the last page of the notebook. "Secret" notes that Russell left for you to have more knowledge about Red.

Looking at Adler's writing, you smiled in your mind at how feminine and aesthetically beautiful his handwriting is. You looked through the notes:

We don't know who they are, what their name is, or what unit they are from, but from the records they had with them, that they are a commander in the Soviet Union. They are close soldiers of Perseus. Arash shot them twice, and we found them half dead after the job was done. They had dossiers related to Perseus with them.

The threat is serious, because there is a threat of nuclear bombs, we know that they were in a meeting with Perseus, find out as much as possible about this meeting.

𝕊ighed again turning the pages of the notebook to begin with. Watching again the behavior of the rousing terrorist, you began to wonder how your work today would go. Drawing irregular shapes in your notebook, you slowly moved your head to the rhythm of the music you play in your mind.

"<Fucking Arash...>" you heard a whisper in Russian and a hiss of pain. You turned your head while remaining in the same position, looking at them. You see them strike awake by moving their heads. You wait until they are completely awake before you start talking.

They squinted aggressively and after a while looked at you with their dark eyes. They furrowed their eyebrows and looked around the room to try to free themselves from the handcuffs after a moment.

"<Сука.>"

You heard after a while, raising your eyebrows you wait for the person to calm down, avoiding eye contact. Questions now have no purpose.

Looking at them surreptitiously, watching them carefully, trying to read their facial expressions and body.

"I don't speak Russian." you began to lie "Speak to me in English, German or French." you continued, writing down the distinctive features of the person's appearance.

"<I won't talk to blyat>" he said in Russian spitting on the table, you looked at the saliva mixed with blood. "<If you think I'm going to say something.... sam ty poshel v zhopu.>" (fuck you, asshole) they said at which you took a deep breath trying to ignore the curses directed in your direction.

You brushed your loose strands of hair behind your ears "I have time, I don't know about you. I'm here for my work, and you? Don't you have some work to do?" You lifted your gaze for a moment to turn it back to the notebook "I'm from the FBI my name is Jessica Cold, I'm here because you supposedly have a lot knowledge about" you flipped through the blank pages looking for information that did not exist. "Perseus?" you began lying to start the interrogation.

Waiting for an answer you finished writing down the appearance of person. You reached for the bottle of water on the table and unscrewed it, taking a small sip, you moved the bottle towards the terrorist.

They violently slammed the bottle making the water spill over the countertop and start dripping on the floor.

You sighed seeing where this job is going.

"Sooo... What's your name?" you asked, straightening your legs under the table. Red looked around the room again, looking at the mirror as if they were studying their own reflection, or trying to look at the other side of the room.

Their eyebrows relaxed slightly. Looking a moment at their shoulders, you see a slight movement which indicates that they are moving a leg under the table.

"You probably have a Russian name.... Maybe a Ukrainian or Slavic name." you began again trying to continue the conversation. "Miran, Kass, Ivan, Mylo, Lana, Zora," you started listing the names you know "Slavs are more likely to name children when they are not born yet, so maybe a more unisex name." you closed the notebook And closed your eyes thinking of all the names you know that come from the East, you opened your eyes looking at them "Alexi, Juri, Elya, Florian? Is that how you say that name?" you noticed that his shoulders stopped moving along when you said the name Elya to start moving again when you said the next name.

“<I'm trained for it. You can torture me. I won't say shit.>” they said in their own language.

𝕐ou smiled slightly "I know you can speak English dear, what can I tell you." you said. "Since I say something and you answer me, it's clear that you are communicating with me." your smile genuine, yet cold and characterless. The expression on your face was perfectly still, not revealing even a hint of your emotions but somehow making your cold little heart seem all the colder.

"Persej-" you wanted to start however you were quickly corrected

"Perseus" you smiled moving to the chair revealing more of the door behind you.

You started, "Right, Perseus?" water only now gave you a hard time, making the rhythmic dripping slightly annoying. "Are you related to him? Your friend, mate, family?" you asked but got no answer, only a cold stare which you ignored.

"Elya, listen to me." you saw a slight movement from the person that let you know that you had read correctly what Red's name is. Squinting, you looked into his eyes that showed slight surprise before leaning over the table. You both leaned forward and braced your arms on the wet tabletop, leaving the notebook on your thighs.

Tension rose from zero to a hundred in a second. Lights illuminate you, create long shadows on your faces.

𝕐ou leaned back to take your hands. The water slightly floated, creating new stains on the table.

"Do you like a German cigarette?" you asked, pulling out a packet and your favorite lighter. Taking out the first cigarette from the pack you started, you picked up the box toward the terrorist.

Once they held out their hand you took the box back. "A cigarette for information." you said at which Elya's eyes darkened.

"<U menya plokhiye novosti dlya vas.> (I have bad news for you) both of you are smiling at each other as they pull out a cigarette with two hands.

You looked at their hands. On their wrists, where the skin is thin and delicate, they are covered with bruises and scrapes. The wounds came from belts that must have been tied tightly, so tight that the skin tore and bled.

You fired up your cigarette and held the hot ember to Red's cigarette. The fire grew and spread to the tobacco. You inhaled the smoke.

"<So, Elya. Who are you to Perseus?>" you asked in Russian while blowing out smoke.

───────────────────

Russell “Doc” Adler

East Berlin

January 24, 1981

𝕎atching her finally sleep after two days of non-stop work makes me finally feel at peace myself. I feel like I'm the one who made her work. After all, I'm the one who got her involved in this. However, watching her work hard and summarize all the infromation she has gained, and how she verifies it twice. This is something that makes everyone should look at her as an agent, and not just as a beautiful woman...

Which she is.

She is a beautiful woman, a beautiful hard-working woman who deserves all the good in this world.

Walking up to her, I pulled off my jacket and placed it on her shoulders. I could move her to my bed to sleep in a normal position, but I think she continues to have a gentle sleep.

Her skin resembles a freshly picked rose petal, and the shade of her lips reminds me of fresh strawberries. Her hair the perfect length for me. I sit down next to her on the chair and stare at her through my glasses. Her face is so delicate, I would never say she has been in a war or that she is a person who knows how to kill.

I don't know if it's because we haven't seen each other in so long or if it's because... I wrinkle my eyebrows slightly feeling a strange sensation in my stomach. It builds in my stomach, the feeling brought back a fuzzy memory of the feeling I experienced when I first looked at my ex-wife. An oppression I haven't felt in a very long time.

In my head I see images of Y/N face, her pleading eyes and real smile, her laughter. All of her. The way she looks now doesn't resemble the image I have in my mind. She seems so fragile, almost like a doll. A doll that will turn to dust in a light breeze.

I have never seen Y/N sleep, but I have this strange feeling that I must watch over her tonight. That I must protect her.

𝕊omehow, watching over her seems to me like a task that needs to be done, or a promise I made to myself. When she sleeps, she looks so small and helpless, which reminds me of the first time I saw her. She is always so strong and independent that I wonder if she needs me or not.

I don't know, but I need her, and no matter what I think myself, my need to protect her is as strong as being friends with her.

I feel so stupid.

𝔸s if she could feel my gaze on her, she opens her eyes and looks at me. I catch my breath as I imagine what she would look like in my arms if I carried her like a bride. Her sharp eyes betray that she knows I'm staring at her, and she smiles at me.

My master of body language.

I shouldn't think lite that.

"Do you see something stunning, that you smile like that?" she asks straightening up, at the last moment she catch my jacket to keep it from falling off her shoulders.

"I'm not going to lie." I said pulling off my glasses "You."

She opened her eyes wider; I don't know if it was because of what I said or for some other reason.

"What did you say?" she asked looking at me with curiosity.

𝕀 didn't answer, just looked at her, trying to smile, but my mouth didn't obey, and I think I made more of a grin than a smile.

I am lost. Not because of what I said, but by the way she looked at me.

I must have given a silly face, because she laughed. God, I love hearing her laugh. It was like the sun that illuminated my life.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Like some kind of pervert." she asked tilting her head slightly to the side.

I didn't answer. I just looked at her. She just looks like she wanted to say something but didn't.

"No! I mean, yes. I didn't mean to stare. I'm sorry." I feel so strange, I'm not very talkative but I've never had so much trouble speaking. I get tangled up in my own thoughts, my words seemingly not mine.

She looks at me without smiling, as if she was trying to read my mind.

"You're a weird guy, you know that?" she asks, and I don't know what to say so I just look on her with the same expression.

"Yes, I know." I say finally "A lot of people tell me that."

She laughs again, and I can't help but join her.

𝕀 have the feeling that the air around us is lighter and brighter, as if there is nothing between us anymore. I guess that's why I didn't want to leave her alone in the room. It was as if I had forced myself to confront her and my feelings.

I look at her face, even studying her as she studies me. She is definitely better at it. She pulls my jacket from her shoulders and lays it over me.

"Russ-

She began, but I interrupted her, and opened my eyes wider upon hearing the diminutive form of my name.

"I feel something for you, and I can't hide it. I feel like protecting you from something bad. I feel like I want to wrap you in my arms and never let anything happen to you. Jesus how stupid." I hide my face in my hands. I feel like a teenager who confesses feelings to his crush. "Someone needs to punch me in the face before I embarrass myself any further."

Y/N is silent, and I realize I have embarrassed her. I can see it in her eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable" I said, standing up and moving towards the exit of the room.

In my soul, I begged her to call my name and for me to return. But she remained silent, and I left the room with heavy steps.

𝕀 walk down the hallway, my head spinning with thoughts.

What happened?

I don't know.

I reach my room, wondering what will happen to my life. I think about all that has passed, the conversations we had, and sometimes I think how different it could have been if I had told her earlier what I was feeling.

I knew what I felt for her. I knew it for a long time. But I ignored it.

I grab at my shirt, trying to breathe more gently. Why am I such a moron? Why couldn't I behave more humanely?

I close my eyes, trying to calm down. I don't know why I feel so confused.

Even if I want to tell her what I feel. Even if I want to have a glimpse of a normal life.... I can't. I must remain professional. I have a job to do. Europe needs me...

But...

But I need her.

𝕆pen my eyes and look at the door of my room. I can still smell her perfume, the scent that reminds me of her. I try to control my breathing, but I can't. My heart beats faster and I feel like a prisoner in my own body.

I take a deep breath and then another. I am not sure if I am doing this right, but I feel calmer.

I can hear someone knocking on the door and I open it to find Y/N standing there.

"Russell..." her voice quiet, gentle. I correct with my hand my shirt, which I had previously dignified. "Russ." I can't tell why but my name being spoken by her makes me melt.

There is a lightness in my heart when she calls me. I am helpless when it comes to Y/N. A power she didn't know she had until the feeling inside me came up, and from which I know I will never be free.

"I just," I whispered, my fingers digging into the thick wood of the door. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings earlier." I feel a lump in my throat that almost prevents me from talking "I didn't mean it, what I said earlier."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with sadness.

"You didn't hurt my feelings." she smiled sadly "Did you really not mean it?" she asked biting her lower lip.

I can't tell her. I can't tell her everything I feel. I can't let her in. Nothing good can come of that.

I shook my head, staring at her, not sure of what to say next.

I was caught as a drowning man and she was trying to save me.

What do you say when you are caught as a drowning man? When your life is in pieces, and someone is trying to help you? How would you thank such a person? Someone that made you live?

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voiced breaking the silence between us.

"I was just," I said quietly. I turn to face her, and she looks down at the ground. "I was thinking about you."

"Ah...um" she looked up at the ceiling "Again?"

𝕀 stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her neck. Her heartbeat was steady and was able to calm my own, it's not a nervous kind of beat, more like a constant calm. I felt her body relax against mine. I slid my hand down her back, feeling the softness of her skin. I thought about my heart bleeding for her, when I thought about talking about love with her.

All I wanted is for her to feel something for me, even if just a little.

She stayed silent, her head against my chest and quietly listening to my heartbeat.

"I hate being alone." She lifted her head from my chest and looked at me. I can feel her breath against my chest.

"I would feel better if I had someone to talk to. I would feel better if I knew someone was listening." I added after a moment of silence. Still being close to my chest, she lifted her head up and looked at me.

𝕊he is so sweet when she is lost and confused about things. She stepped back, her body pressed against the wooden door. I looked at her, my eyebrows raised in question. I didn't notice that I was walking toward her, or maybe I was too busy staring into her eyes.

She is lovely. She is beautiful. I felt my heart flutter with every step I took toward her. I could tell she was self-conscious, but there was something else.

Her eyes were filled with sadness, a sadness I can't explain.

She closed her eyes and sighed. I stood close to her and waited with gentle eyes until she spoke.

"I care about you, but..." she began "Give me a moment, I need to form words."

I laughed slightly under my breath "So cold shoulder" I joked, but she didn't laugh. She remained further immersed in her thoughts.

She opened her eyes, from which the sadness disappeared.

“I'm sorry but I think I'm not ready for a relationship.... But I would be glad if I can find out with you. Because I like you, I really like you. I can even say that I love you, Russ.” if I had a cigarette in my mouth right now it would fall out of my mouth, I look at her with surprise.

She was the kind of woman who needed to be handled gently, though that seemed to be an odd thing to say about someone as strong as her. My mind creates a million things, but none of them come out of my mouth.

Instead, I lean in and give her a gentle kiss.

I smile stupidly, I was the opposite of the guy that I should be.

I kissed her again. This time a little longer and our lips were pressed together for a slight eternity before she finally pulled away. She smiled and put her hands on my cheeks.

𝕋hen, feeling tender and a little shy, I open my eyes and we both breathed on each other's faces. Her fingers move lightly over my scars, at which I give in to the feeling.

"I love you." she said.

So, THIS is what it tastes like! I thought to myself, with a flutter in my gut and a knot in my throat. What a stupid idea! It couldn't be anything but love; but what a surprise!

After all, it was just a kiss, a simple kiss....

I fall in love with her, even more.

During the time I spend with her I always have this feeling. A feeling of happiness, like sparkles.

With the kiss, the feelings started to flow, those feelings were always there, but I blocked them.

I can't believe this is happening to me. What kind of idiot must I be, what reason did I have for blocking my feelings?

This was not the usual feeling I had when kissing a woman.

I have kissed enough girls to know what to expect, but this time was different. I felt like I was exchanging my first kiss with someone I will always love.

Since we met, she liked to tease me, which made me even more drawn to her.

I'm not the kind of person who deserves a girl like her.

Still, it wasn't enough to stop me. I couldn't make myself stop. Her lips were the ones I wanted to kiss forever. I wanted to feel her soft lips on mine, and I wanted to taste her sweetness.

It's hard to describe how much I loved her.

I feel like I'm going crazy, I feel like I'm losing my mind.

There was something happening in my chest that made me want to cry.

When did I start loving her? It shouldn't be this difficult.

Loved is a word that was never appropriate to describe how I felt when I first meet her.

I wanted to show her how much I loved her, and how much she made me feel.

She was charming and pretty, but above all, she was my friend.

I like her, I really like her. I want to be with her. I love her....

ℂatching her at the waist I force her to follow me. I close the door and lean her against the wall next to me. I look into her eyes after a while I kiss her again, more passionately, more dominantly, but trying not to violate her boundaries.

She didn't resist me, she kissed me. My butterflies returned. I smile.

I feel like I'm going crazy, I can't stop. I want to kiss her forever. My body is trembling, my heart is beating like a drum.

I can't hold back anymore.

After a while she was able to break the kiss, she looked away from me as she felt my breath on her neck.

"You're so beautiful. You know that?" I whisper in her ear." You're so flowery, you're so amazing and you're so gentle. You can be so soft and you're beautiful." While kissing her slowly I feel the warmth of her body. Her face is bright red, faintly reflecting the color of her eyes.

She opens her mouth, wants to answer, but stop herself. Hearing her voice again after a long time made me feel good. "Russell, keep going."

"I don't want to do something you don't want to do." I say.

She looks down, smiles and blushes even more.

She looks up like she wants something, she looks into my eyes, then looks down again.

A shiver runs down my spine.

I slowly put my hand on her chest, and caress it, playing with her breast through her shirt.

She starts to kiss me again, more passionately and more intensely.

I kiss her neck to get her to stop, but she moves over, and I can't perform, I want her so much that I'm at the point of no return.

I want to die from the love I have for her.

I whisper in her ear. "I want you so much." She pulls me closer, won't stop kissing me and caressing my body.

We smile at one another, rubbing our foreheads against each other.

She takes my hand and puts it between her legs.

I feel her body tremble slightly. I feel her warmth through her pants, my heart beats faster than ever. I can't control myself anymore.

"ℍey, hey, hey boy, calm your horses." she says as I start to put my hand in her pants.

I kiss her, on the lips.

"Adler boy! Slow down a little." she says grabbing my wrist.

I kiss her passionately and intensely. My heart and breath are pounding, my whole body is shaking, I feel like I'm going to come from just kissing her.

"Don't you want it?" I ask taking my hand away while looking deeply into her eyes, hoping my face won't force her to make a decision she doesn't want.

She bit her lips sexily kissing my scarred cheek.

𝕀 feel her lips trembling, I feel her love for me, I feel her desire for me. Her passion inflames my soul, my passion inflames her soul as well. She moves closer, so I kiss her. I kiss her deeply feeling her tongue in my mouth, her breath and her chest against mine.

I kiss her lightly on the lips, then on the neck, then in the ear, she smells so good.

"Lock the door and come to me, Russell boy." she whispers in my ear.

I smile and nod. I quickly turned the lock on the door and turned on my heel, facing Y/N.

[Part 2 smut]

#call of duty x reader #cod #russell adler x reader #russell adler #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty

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buckets-and-trees · 2 years

Text

Bucky and the Books

Title: Bucky and the Books

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 943 Summary: Of all the book shops in all of Brooklyn, that guy from the bench happens to walk into this one. Warnings: Slow burn, potential paper cuts, questionable taste in books Additional Notes: Follow up to Bucky and the Bench.

Your fingers skim quickly over the spines of the books on your cart as you double check that you have all the volumes authored by G through J last names. With a satisfied nod, you turn around, round the corner, then round the next corner to head down the appropriate aisle. Shelving was not your job, but you relished escaping from the business side of the bookshop into the methodical that was returning books to their proper place.

You’re returning A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Herplin to the shelf, only two more volumes in your hand, when a customer joins you in the aisle, and you turn to ask, “Can I help you find any–“

You stop.

“Well, hello again.”

It’s the man from the bench a few weeks ago.

“Ah, hello.”

At least he looks a little sheepish.

“Hello.”

Damn, you already said that.

The corners of his lips tilt up, thinking the same thing.

You click your tongue nervously and ask. “So are you looking for anything in particular?”

He nods. “Lord of the Flies by–“

“–by Golding,” you finish, grimacing.

His face splits into a mischievous grin. “You hate it.”

You shrug. “I don’t hate it.”

“Yes, you do.”

You sigh. “I do.”

“Alright, what do you suggest instead?”

Those cerulean blue eyes are locked on you. You bite your lip for a moment, considering him. “What are you looking for?”

“Anything, I suppose. I still want Lord of the Flies because I’m reading my way through a list, but if you think you can do better…”

“A completionist, fine,” you respond, turning back to the shelves and pulling a copy off the shelf and hand it to him. “When I saw you before, you were reading To Kill a Mockingbird, right?”

He nods. “You noticed.”

“I own a bookshop; I can’t help noticing the books people have with them.”

“You own this bookshop?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

“I do,” you respond, unable to help the serene but proud grin on your face.

“It’s well-stocked.”

“An essential element.”

He chuckles. “Of course.”

“So, To Kill a Mockingbird,” you pick up the thread where you left off. “You liked it?”

“Absolutely.”

“But you mentioned you’re reading off a list?”

He nods. “Best 80 books of the last 80 years.”

When you’d encountered him in the park, you hadn’t really seen much of who the stranger with the audacity to be particular about a park bench was, only enough to recognize him now that you’d encountered him again. But now with him standing only a few feet away, you know full well who he is, and a glance down at his left arm – he flexes the black metal hand – confirms it.

“You’re catching up on lost time.”

“I – yes.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t the right thing to say.”

“No, it’s fine actually. Almost no one talks to me about being over 100 years old, and I do have a lot of reading to make up for. So, go on, give me your recommendations.”

“What have you liked so far from that list?”

He shakes his head. “No, that would be cheating.”

You catch the sparkle of a challenge in his eyes, and you incline your chin just slightly, accepting it. “Alright then, Barnes, follow me.”

You guide him through the shelves, pulling a few books into your arms without showing him. He looks skeptical when you enter the children's section. You pull the first Harry Potter book from the shelf in the R’s, and this one you do hold up to him. “Have you read Harry Potter?”

“No.”

“Get through the first part of the first chapter, and then keep reading.”

“Okay,” he agrees, taking the volume from you.

At that point, you lead him to the front. One of your employees is helping another customer at the main register, but no one else is in line, so you slip behind the counter and open the second register. In addition to Lord of the Flies and The Sorcerer’s Stone, you ring him up for The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, Stardust by Neil Gaiman, and Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.

“And these are your favorites?” he asks.

“Some of them, but not all, of course. It’s a good starter pack, so I can see what your tastes are.”

He furrows his brow and leans forward over the counter. “You haven’t given me even one of your top five favorite books, have you?”

You shrug, running his card. “Nope. Now To Kill a Mockingbird is one of my very favorites, so you’ve already read that; Gaiman and Dumas are two of my favorite authors; and the Harry Potter series is seven books, so you’ve just got the kick off.”

“I’ll be back for more.”

“I’ll be ready for you, Barnes.”

He takes the bag of his new books from the counter. “You can call me Bucky.”

After the opening and closing of the door accompanied by the telltale ring of its bell, you hear someone clear their throat next to you.

You look to your left and see Greg, your assistant manager for the bookshop, watching you, his arms crossed.

“What?”

“I see that smile on your face.”

“No, there’s no smile, not like that. It’s just satisfying when we get a customer who comes in and you can tell they’re really into reading the way we are.”

“Of course, of course,” he says and turns back to his register just as someone else approaches the counter.

You roll your eyes and head off to return to the book cart and the books you’d abandoned to help a reader in need.

next part

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x yn #book loving bucky #love in a bookshop #books and boys #the brooklyn boys #Spotify #aspen wrote something #female reader

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balshumetsbaragouin · 5 months

Text

Daily Excerpt: Passion

Everything is right on time for Passion this week, and you'll get chapter 11 tomorrow! Wow! We're almost halfway through everyone! In honor of that, have a sneak peek from just on the other side of the halfway point. This is from Chapter Thirteen: A Repose and Provocative Discovery!

_____________________________________________________________

He vowed to kill GhostTeenReignsSupreme as soon as he tracked down their real identity. The weirdo had more than 5,000 posts on their forums. They spent their time berating Huntress fans, arguing with Phantom fans, and otherwise shitting up the place. When the asshole wasn’t banned, they were actively antagonizing everyone around them in a spiral of occasionally amusing, but always disruptive, bullshit. The forum’s resident troll posted on every sub-forum and topic, like they had no life or didn’t need to sleep. While most users took their presence in stride, Danny was tired of looking at admin tickets about their raging slur and curse word filled rants or fielding the DMs from the few concerned users who got genuinely upset with the bully’s antics. Whoever this was, he’d find them in person, give them a good scare about being polite to other people, and maybe blow up their computer for good measure.

Tucker, who’d found the posts mostly hilarious, disagreed. He kept reinstating the douchebag to haunt their website and menace the people of Amity. At this point, the ghost powered teen thought the geek reinstated them to be his nightly entertainment.

He clicked through to the Phantom sub-forums, a vain attempt they’d made to cut down on the Forum Wars between his fans and Huntress, looking at the first thread at the top. It was about some prototype plush. Of course, the last poster was GhostTeen, who else would it be? He clicked through to read the opening post, scrolling down as the poster outlined their plans for an official line of phantom merch. They hoped to get Phantom’s attention…somehow, and convince him to let them produce the goods. All proceeds, absent production costs, were to go to a fund to help Amity rebuild after ghost attacks. Oh, no…that sounds terrible! I mean, not the charity part, that’s fine, but I do not want my face on sleazy, cheap tourist trap trinkets. He scrolled further, watching posters fight it out in the thread about ethics, materials, return on investment, shipping, and whatever else struck their fancy.

On the last page, containing the newest message, was another post from the OP. It was only then, taking in the little insignia they used on the forums to designate the OP of a thread, that he realized the entire plan belonged to GhostTeenReignsSupreme. Just…fuck him I guess. Of course, that was the only person weird enough to go through with this outlandish scheme. The last post had a picture of the plush prototype. It was…actually really cute. He hated that he liked it. He felt his lips thin and his eyes narrow the longer he looked at the cuddly looking plush toy.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #DP Fanfic #Passion and Plasmatic Plague #PaPP #Daily Excerpt #Balshumet's Baragouin #balshumet's fanfiction

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eighthdoctor · 1 month

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Would Jaina and Sylvanas have autism clashes?

Opened this 3 times to answer before tonight finding the brainspace* to do so

Unfortunately simple answer is I don't think so, because most autism clashes (I assume, it's not a phrase I've used or seen used before, but my assumption is it's "I need to stim" vs "I need everything to Stop Happening"??) rely on either social pressure or just...physical pressure to keep the two people in the same space.

If Jaina needs to stim and Sylvanas is going to pull her hair out if there is ONE MORE unnecessary noise--one of them leaves. Not even a question. If Jaina needs to infodump and Sylvanas is already overstimulated, again, someone leaves--we're currently still at the point where Sylvanas would rather be rude than put up with discomfort like that, and by the time we're not, they'll have like. Talked. I say, wistfully.

What they do have, a lot of, are trauma clashes, where either one of them doesn't realize that she's been triggered, or where one's response to the trauma is antithetical to the other, or where one of them was involved in the trauma...

From ch3:

“What would we talk about?” she says before Proudmoore can offer any more suggestions. “What topics do you think Shaw would find acceptable to discuss with the Warchief? Supply issues, perhaps? Problems with integrating Kul Tiras into the Alliance?” Proudmoore snaps, “I don't answer to Mathias Shaw,” which is probably even true. Sylvanas doesn't answer to Nathanos either. But she knows she'll have an extensive debrief with Nathanos upon her return, primary topic: Information given to and received from Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore. It would be insane for the Alliance to not do the same with Proudmoore. “Very good then, you won't mind me asking what the Alliance intends to do next.” Proudmoore is almost impossibly stiff, yet she doesn't jerk away. “There is a difference between military intelligence and just talking, Sylvanas!” “Warchief,” Sylvanas growls. It's proof—not that she needed it, not that she hasn't known—that the Alliance internally doesn't recognize her position as legitimate, that they still see her as Arthas's attack dog, rabid and fit only to be put down. Proudmoore slams her mouth shut with a click. “Warchief. There are topics other than the war, believe it or not.” “Are there?” The tone is scathing—deservedly so—but the question genuine; everything in Sylvanas's life comes back to war sooner or later. “What could we talk about that has no military application? Should I tell you my favorite haunts in Orgrimmar, so that you might inform SI:7 and I may look forward to a knife in one of them? Or would you like to share your comfort food and pray, I presume, that I don't use that knowledge to slip something into it?” Proudmoore grumbles wordlessly; but before she can move to either argue further or concede the point, Sylvanas presses ruthlessly on with bared teeth. “Or, perhaps, we could compare boyfriends. I understand that is a common topic at sleepovers,” she says, aware that the dig is incomprehensibly far over the line; that whatever Proudmoore deserves for being outrageously naive, this is beyond the pale. The words push out regardless, driven by a hot, pulsing need to make someone else feel just as rotten and angry as she does. “You go first. Tell me, were there any signs, when you took Arthas Menethil—” “Shut up.”

Here Sylvanas was already uncomfortable (physical proximity + Jaina's willingness to be vulnerable (physically and emotionally) to her) and does her normal "deflect by being snarky asshole" thing. This doesn't work well because they do need to remain in close contact and so neither can just move away.

Meanwhile Jaina got bored (fair) and understimulated so starts poking for things.

Jaina accidentally trips over one of Sylvanas's triggers (there is nothing but more violence), and Sylvanas...deliberately presses on one of Jaina's. This is a common pattern early on, where Sylvanas's response to her own trauma is to try and make Jaina feel worse. It doesn't always go well.

#asks for ts #Anonymous #*not really. more like 'staying up until stomach chills tf out'#the power to manipulate belief #blorbos from my games

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the-berf · 10 months

Text

The Beef wasn't exactly in the best location in the city. Sure, there was decent footfall but there was also a turf war and they were on the clash line. In a way it was inevitable that someone would take one look and decide it was the kind of place that could be robbed.

"Hand over your money and nobody gets hurt."

Richie almost laughed until he looked up and saw a gun pointed at him. Palms up to placate, he raised his eyebrows.

"Well fuck me, you're serious. You sure you want to do this?" The safety clicked off and Richie cleared his throat. "Sure. I hope you like disappointment. Let me just-" a hand slowly lowered to the till. "-get you all...uh...fifty three dollars and, heh, sixty-nine cents."

The robber stared at him, incredulous. "That seriously all you got?"

"Post-covid, most people pay card, you know?"

"Don't shit me. Where's your safe?"

Of course Carmy had to stick his stupid nose into things in that very moment. He took in the scene with almost amusement until the gun was levelled at him. Then his face shuttered off, blank and tight.

"Yo. Why you threatening my cousin?" The robber's hand wavered as Carmy approached and stood firmly in front of the counter, shielding Richie with his own body. "Are you seriously trying to rob us?"

"Get me to your safe. Now!"

Leaning in, arms crossed over his chest and cocky, Carmy was almost gleeful to reply, "No."

Richie half expected the gun to go off. Instead, the robber spun it and pistol whipped Carmy who staggered under the blow, trying to catch himself on the counter. Rather than rally, he sank down into a boneless heap as he lost consciousness.

"Shit." Richie peerer over the counter. "Cuz?" No response. "Carmen? Cousin? You good?" In the silence he looked up at the robber. "The fuck you do that for? Did you kill him?!"

The robber turned and ran, leaving Richie to vault over the counter as he rushed to Carmy's side. Thank fuck he was breathing.

"Can I get some hands here!" He yelled, trusting someone, anyone, to come help. Sure enough, Tina appeared a moment later and was sent running for ice. She returned with that and Syd in tow.

"Who's the first aider here?"

To Syd's question Tina pointed at Carmy. Of course it had to be him.

"Some jagoff pistol whipped him. Don't think that's covered in any course." Richie pressed the ice to where Carmy had been struck and he could have cried in relief that it seemed to help bring him round. That relief didn't last long though because the groan turned into a squirm then it was a matter of trying to help flip Carmy so he didn't choke on his own puke. Once he seemed done, eyes blinking against the lights, Richie leaned over him to get a good look.

"Cousin?"

"Fuck." Maybe Carmy was better than expected, if he responded in such a Carmy-like way. Except his eyes were looking around, squinting but his breath hitched. "Wha-? Why? Mikey's gonna kill me."

Heart squeezing, Richie was saved from having to try and reply by Syd butting in.

"Hey Carmy. How you doing?"

Blinking hard, Carmy obviously had trouble focusing. But that was probably the least of their worries when the next question out of his mouth was, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Oookay." Syd leaned back. "Is that weird? Because that's weird to me."

Only expletives crossed Richie's mind. They needed Carmy comfortable and out of the public eye in order to figure out what was going on. Nodding to himself, he came up with a plan on the fly.

"Syd, close up. Carmen, I'm going to take you to the office. Tina, call Nat then help Syd."

"No!" The protest was near panicked from Carmy and he groaned, hand going to his head which was probably pounding. "He can't see me. He'll kill me. Said I was banned."

There were only so many times Richie's heart could be ripped from his chest. He couldn't handle telling Carmy the truth about Mikey. Couldn't bear the idea of seeing him learn the truth again. So he lied. Lied to protect them both.

"It's his day off. He'll never know. Don't you worry."

Scooping Carmy up, he groaned. For all appearances, his cousin sure was compact. Thankfully the route to the office had been cleared and Richie deposited him on the couch. At the telling groan, he put the trashcan next to Carmy for good measure.

"Thanks. How's Tiff?"

Just when Richie thought things couldn't get worse, they did. He needed to stop being such an optimist about how much lower the bar could get. Bending the truth by omission, he cleared his throat.

"Good. She's good. You?"

The hollow laugh from Carmy was answer enough but he deigned to add words. "Banned from the family restaurant no matter what I achieve. Mikey won't pick up the phone anymore. Sugar keeps telling me to call Mom. I live for the moment service finishes so I can go for a smoke. So yeah, great."

Talking was good, right? Richie had a vague recollection of not letting people sleep if they hit their head. Or was it when they took certain drugs? He'd be fucked if he could remember.

Thankfully the office door clicked open and Nat stepped in. Richie wished he hadn't been watching Carmy. Emotions flashed over his face as Nat's appearance triggered memories. Disbelief, horror, grief, misery all followed in quick succession. At least he had the presence of mind to grab the trashcan to hurl into. Not that there was much to come up other than a bit more pepto.

"Oh Carm." Nat perched gingerly on the couch and rubbed his back.

All of a sudden, Richie felt like he was intruding. This was a moment between siblings and he was nothing more than an interloper.

Looking up, Carmy's eyes were large and watery. Whether from throwing up or the onslaught of emotions at remembering Mikey's death was neither here nor there. However, it gave Richie the perfect view of mismatched pupils and he cursed under his breath. They needed to get Carmy to hospital.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich #natalie berzatto #carmy & richie #carmy & nat #carmy whump #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #cw concussion #cw robbery

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four-loose-screws · 7 months

Text

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 13 Section 8

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

Chapter 13: Light (Section 8)

(All text is under cut for spoilers)

After returning home safely to Lycia, Eliwood inherited the title of Marquess Pherae. His life shifted immediately from war to politics. His work often left him exhausted, but Ninian was always by his side to support him.

They have a son named Roy, who will one day fight in a war that will once again shake the continent of Elibe.

Hector became Marquess Ostia after Uther's sudden death. Though his grief over the loss of his brother and the pressure he was under as marquess of Lycia's main house weighed heavily on him, with his beloved Florina cheering him on, he grew to become an even greater marquess than his brother.

Lyn tended to her grandfather's bedside until his death, then abdicated rule of Caelin to Ostia, and left on a journey to Sacae. There, she reunited with and married Rath, son of the Kutolah Tribe's chieftain. They are raising their daughter in comfort with the blessings of nature.

Marcus and Merlinus became fast friends, and continued to serve Eliwood. Marcus became the combat instructor for Pherae’s noble family, while Merlinus managed their finances. Both became widely-known as loyal retainers of House Pherae.

Isadora returned to her post as Eleanora’s guard. Lowen completed the ceremony to become a full-fledged knight. Rebecca also became a formal retainer of Pherae, and later, at the request of the marquess and his wife, became their son's wet nurse.

Oswin became Hector's strategist, and Matthew continued to serve Ostia alongside him as a spy. Serra was busy for a time broadening her personal endeavors, but lately, she once again seems to have more free time than she knows what to do with.

After Caelin's territory was placed under Ostia’s rule, Kent served as its steward. His partner Sain resigned and traveled the continent as a free knight. Wherever each of them went, the two remained close friends. Wil returned to his post as a knight, and continued to demonstrate the full extent of his archery skills.

Noblewoman Priscilla and mercenary Guy fell in love, but he attempted to give up pursuing her due to the gap in their social standing. However, her tears made him resolve to elope instead. Her smile when she took his hand was the most brilliant of all her smiles across her entire life.

When Raven confessed everything to Hector, the marquess offered to have his territory reinstated. However, Raven rejected the proposal, and returned with Lucius to his carefree life as a mercenary. Lucius felt overwhelming happiness at the expression on his lord’s face when Raven became free of the weight upon his heart.

Nino and Jaffar were wed after the war. They were blessed with twin boys and lived happily, but when they were found by bounty hunters pursuing the remaining members of the Black Fang, their whereabouts became unknown.

After Athos' passing, Pent stepped down as mage general, and continued the research the archsage left unfinished. Doing so caused an uproar, but he did so completely carefree, in the names of his wife and future children.

Erk was next in line to become mage general after Pent retired, but he declined. He gave his life to magic research alongside his teacher.

Dorcas used his pay to buy the medicine his wife needed, and returned home to her. Bartre set out on a journey wandering the continent to become a true warrior. According to rumor, he fell in love with and married his own arch-enemy.

After the battle, Legault traveled around each country in search of the lost remaining members of the Black Fang, and pointed them towards new paths in life. Everything he did, was all in the name of the friends he had lost…

ー

And so, the fight against Nergal ended without it ever having to cross the center stage of the continent of Elibe.

At Bramimond’s order, Hector and Eliwood sealed away both Durandal and Armads. Bramimond also once again sealed away all of the other remaining Legendary Weapons across the continent.

They wished that none would ever have to use their power again, too great for human hands…

But they did not remember at the time of Athos' foretelling during the final battle of a bad omen…

#fire emblem #fe #fe7 #fire emblem 7 #the blazing blade #the blazing sword #lyn #lyndis #eliwood #hector #japan #japanese #translation #novelization #gba #game boy advance #light novel #fe7 novelization translation

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bunnakit · 10 months

Text

Hold Me (Like a Knife) Preview

my changun fic finally broke 3k words and i finished what i kinda consider the first act so here's what i've got so far, enjoy (or don't idk your life or preferences)

Chan swallows his nerves and his guilt as he approaches the compound. The guards nod, some even give him a small wave, as he passes through the halls. He keeps up the pretense of propriety; there are expectations for a main family guard and he means to uphold them. He’s still fairly new, only finished his training a year ago, and he tries his best to keep from stepping out of line. There’s just one vice he can’t resist.

He stops in front of the vibrant green door, shaking his head with a small smile at the gaudy color. His knuckle has barely tapped the wood twice before he hears an answering call.

“Come in.”

He shares a look with the guard posted outside who offers the smallest shake of his head in response to Chan’s lifted brow. A bad day then. That's fine, Chan is good at calming Gun’s ire and keeping him distracted.

He slips into the room quickly, shutting and locking the door behind him with a soft ‘click!’ that draws Gun’s gaze just the way he had hoped. He has that little wrinkle between his brow and his face is set into the scowl he makes when he’s ruminating over something that will inevitably piss him off. Chan takes a few large strides and sits in the armchair across from Gun’s. He doesn’t reach out to touch him, knows it wouldn’t be appreciated, so he sits with one leg crossed over the other and hands folded in his lap patiently.

“I thought you couldn’t get away.” Gun gestures with his chin towards the pager sitting at the corner of the coffee table.

“Khun Korn allowed me the rest of the evening off after a successful mission last night,” He explains, watching Gun’s jaw tick before his tongue rolls around in front of his teeth. If he’d had any doubts on what had soured Gun’s mood they were all now laid to rest.

“How generous of him.” Gun practically spits the words with all the venom in his body and Chan closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this again, doesn’t want their little time alone soured by a war of attrition between brothers and blood rights. He knows things aren’t easy for Gun, he’s had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of success he could eke out from under his brother, and Chan’s guilt grows each time his loyalty teeters perfectly in the center.

He remembers their conversation a year and a month ago, sat under the dim lights of a noodle shop at three in the morning.

Chan’s knuckles were bruised, a cut bisected his lips, and there was a distinct imprint of a boot outlined against his dark shirt. He pressed the frosty glass of beer to his cheek which was already swollen and mottled a rainbow of different colors. He glanced up as Gun returned from the pay phone outside, hating the concern he saw in his eyes.

“Don’t start.” He mumbled, lowering his glass to take a long drink before licking away the foam on his upper lip. Gun made a soft ‘tch’ sound as he sat back down, drinking his own beer and digging into the steaming bowl of noodles that had arrived in his absence.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, Chan. I think it’s time to consider my offer.” Gun gave him a pointed look before diving into his food.

Chan lifted his glass to his cheek again, watching the broth of his soup cool and separate. He watched the little globules of fat dance around on the surface before heaving a large sigh that irritated his bruised ribs.

“Fine.” He knew he sounded defeated but there really wasn’t any other way around it. If he continued fighting his brother’s debtors like this he’d end up dead in an alleyway somewhere. Who would miss him, anyway? He had no one left that would even know he was gone – no one except for Gun.

“Good. I’ll pick you up in a few days and we can get you settled in at the compound.” Gun had that pleased little upturn to the corner of his lip and suddenly Chan couldn’t remember why he’d been fighting this all so hard.

But Khun Korn had ruined that as well. Chan had been cornered the very next day and made an offer to join the latest batch of recruits for the main family. He hadn’t been in a position to decline if the gun held by the head of the guards was any indication. Gun had been apoplectic, storming the halls of the tower with teeth bared and accusations loaded. Chan hadn’t been there for it, but he’d heard the rumors and seen the way the other guards looked at him.

All his free time had then been monopolized by Khun Korn and the rigorous training planned for the new recruits. He’d excelled at firearms training but struggled with escaping his bonds underwater. His only skills were what he had learned in back alley brawls and schoolyard tousles, far removed from the ex-military and gang-born men that had been around him.

He blinks back into the present, watching as Gun anxiously rubs at his outgrown stubble and tosses a stack of papers onto the table. Chan decides to rise from his chair, feeling Gun’s eyes on him the entire way to the drink cart where he pours them each a few fingers of whiskey – the good stuff.

“He was pretty upset you managed to solidify that drug deal with the Italians.” It wasn’t leaking information if it was obvious, merely an olive branch. It is worth it when he hands Gun a drink and watches his lips curl into a smile.

“Come here.” He stops when Gun gently tugs at his wrist and guides him to sit beside him on the sofa. Little moments like this have a way of bringing a flutter to his chest and relaxing all his bones. He misses his best friend in the tower, misses these scarce days when they can shed their roles and settle back into what they were before they became entangled in the dichotomy of the major and minor families.

They clink their glasses and each takes a sip before settling against the cushions at the back of the couch. Gun’s hand falls to rest on his thigh and Chan hides a smile behind the rim of his glass at the sensation. It’s grounding; draws him back to the now, and pushes away his guilt and his worries.

He turns his head just in time to feel Gun’s lips press against his, his stubble scraping against the corners and the hand on his thigh tightening its grip until it almost feels like he’s extracting the tendon from his flesh. Kissing Gun is something like pouring gasoline on a house fire; explosive, volatile, untamed. He wishes he wouldn’t get swept away in it each time he feels the flames lick up the walls of his ribcage. He doesn’t think a tidal wave could cool the burning longing in his chest.

It’s sweet agony when Gun shoves him backward onto the sofa, glass tumbling from his hand and rolling across the floor. He can't remember if it had been empty but he knows he doesn’t care as Gun’s hands spread the flames across his hips, his waist, and his chest; fisting the lapel of his coat and almost tearing it from his shoulders. His arms are caught behind his back, chest forward and shoulders straining as his mind flickers back to hours of training to escape his bonds. He feels Gun’s tongue lick a molten stripe from his collar to his jaw and he can’t help the way his mouth falls open in a ragged groan.

He knows the guard outside the door can hear them, knows he can probably pick up the sound of his belt hitting the floor, but that’s just something else he can’t bring himself to care about at this moment. His eyes roll back and he arches into every touch on his bare skin, a moth to a flame that he knows will inevitably leave him a pile of ash.

“Good, you came prepared.” Gun’s voice is low, a deep timber that has Chan moving his shoulders, desperate to reach out and embrace him, but Gun seems disinclined to remove him from his makeshift bonds. He swallows the whimper rising in his throat at the feeling of long fingers crooking inside him, prodding and stroking and teasing until he’s panting open-mouthed and dappled in sweat.

It wasn’t always like this. They used to take their time to pull each other apart piece by piece. They used to lay in bed together after, teeth clicking as they tried to kiss through their smiles. They’d spent hours upon hours basking in the afterglow and tracing gentle patterns across flushed, sweat-soaked skin. He used to linger in bed, watching Gun dress in the fragile hours of the morning, before stealing a kiss and whispering goodbye.

Now, he pulls his belt off the floor and threads it through the loops of his trousers. Gun is pouring himself a drink, half a room away at the drink cart, and he knows he’s been all but dismissed. He smoothes out the wrinkles in his jacket and touches the raw skin of his neck. “You left marks.” He tries to keep his voice from sounding accusatory but he can’t tell if they’re bites, bruises, or beard burn. He presses his fingers into the sting just a little harder before dropping his hands back to his sides.

“You’ll figure something out,” Gun replies and returns to his seat on the couch. He picks up the papers again without a second look at Chan and he swallows down the disappointment. There’s no second glass offered, no invitation to stay, and Chan knows it’s time to leave. He’s fulfilled his purpose today and soaked up any attention he was allotted.

“I always do,” he mumbles under his breath, turning towards the door and stepping through without a goodbye. His mind digs up a memory of Gun pressing him to the very same door, refusing to let him leave before he’d pressed a kiss to his brow, his cheek, his nose, his jaw, and his lips. He clenches his hands in his pockets as he nods a farewell to the guards at the gate and climbs into his car.

He makes it two blocks before pulling over, tucking himself away down a residential street and pressing his forehead to the steering wheel. His hands are clenched in a white-knuckled grip and his stomach roils with self-loathing and guilt. He is a traitor in every sense of the word; to Gun, to Khun Korn, and lastly (always lastly) to himself.

His skin feels like it’s crawling and he tells himself it’s just the sensation of putting himself back together. Each time he grabs the pieces of his humanity from the ashes they fit together less and less; edges worn away and ill-fitting. He should be tempered to the flame by now but as with all things he files it away as a personal failing to ruminate on in the quiet hours of the night.

After a few more moments he pulls away from the curb, continuing his way to the tower and pulling into the parking lot beneath. He returns the keys to the peg board next to the elevator and steps inside, jamming the button for the dorm rooms a little too hard. He is grateful it's late, too late for many other recruits to be outside their rooms. He doesn't have to deal with the sideways looks and backhanded comments questioning his loyalty.

Chan counts the doors just like he used to the first few weeks here until he reaches the fourth door on the right. The key in the tumbler sounds overly loud to him, but he knows he’s just on edge. He strips out of his suit on the way to the bathroom and doesn’t pay attention to how hot he turns the dial. It will never be hot enough, anyway, not for what he wants to accomplish.

The constant spray turns his skin a mottled red but even still he stays leaning against the tiled wall. Chan keeps his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and arms braced despite the slight tremble throughout his frame. His skin feels dirty, tainted, and he can almost imagine a viscous ichor dripping from every pore. No amount of soap or scrubbing wipes it clean, no matter how hard he tries or how many layers of skin he digs away. The sensation lingers even as the water runs cold and trembling turns into shivering.

The tap squeaks as he turns it off and dries himself off with stilted, automatic movements. Chan doesn’t bother drying his hair as he walks to his bed and all but falls in, curling himself around his duvet and spare pillows. It didn’t used to feel like this and he doesn’t exactly know where it all began to go wrong, but he knows it’s peeling him apart piece by broken piece. He misses his best friend. He misses the lover that used to touch him gently and beg him to stay. He misses when his heart felt like a functioning organ, bursting with affection, and not a withering plant deprived of sunlight.

He falls asleep with damp eyelashes and memories of open-mouthed, laughing kisses by the river. He dreams someone is bandaging his hands and kissing his knuckles, asking him to be more careful next time.

The next time they meet is better; Gun’s eyes are bright and crinkle at the corners in the way Chan loves. They retreat into one of the sitting rooms, away from the pressures of Gun’s office, and settle in close. There are no immediate, demanding kisses or groping hands. They sit beside each other, sip their drinks and talk about their days (as much as they can.) Chan feels that familiar bubble of warmth in his chest and feels like he draws in a full breath for the first time in months. Maybe things aren’t irreparable, maybe they just needed time to settle into their new roles with one another.

They kiss, slow and languid in a way that says they still love each other and it slowly heals the cracks at the walls of Chan’s heart. Gun touches him so gently, so reverently, that he feels like he’s picking up the cracked porcelain pieces and slotting them together as if they’d never been broken in the first place. He shudders at the sensation of calloused palms sliding up and under his shirt, spanning across his ribs and shoulders and coaxing him into his lap. He swallows the words he wants to say and stifles the ‘I missed you’ he knows would only dampen the mood.

They take their time undressing each other like they have all the time in the world, and they each pepper kisses over every expanse of skin they uncover. Chan feels like molten metal when Gun finally ushers him to the bedroom and pours him against the sheets. He can’t remember the last time they’d taken enough time to make it here and he inhales deeply the scent of frankincense and jasmine.

He knows he’ll have stubble burn between his thighs but he can’t bring himself to care as his back arches tight like a bowstring. There’s that telltale pull in his stomach - a little trepidation and a little anticipation - and before long he’s exhaling all his passion and arousal in a low, drawn and breathy moan. Gun’s touch borders on too much, his skin humming with oversensitivity, but Gun knows exactly how long he can bear it before he draws his way back up and captures his lips in another slow kiss.

It takes a few moments before he feels the synapses in his brain connect again and he’s running his hands down Gun’s chest, his lips are traveling across his jaw, and his teeth are gently scraping against the shell of his ear. He takes a moment to spit into the palm of one hand; it’s inelegant and crass but it will do. He’s never been a selfish lover a day in his adult life and he’s not about to start now, not with how weightless and right he feels again. He strokes and twists his wrist the way he knows Gun likes, his thumb swiping and pressing in just the right spot. It doesn’t take long, a few gentle bites against his ear, a few more strokes with added pressure each time, and he feels the familiar bite of nails against his upper arms and warmth wash across his fingers and palm.

Chan wipes his hand on the sheets, knowing Gun will have someone change them later, and lays back against the pillows in liquid contentment. He can’t help the small smile that stretches the corner of his lips as he’s pulled over, head cradled against a strong shoulder and a stubbled chin resting against his hair. The words threaten to bubble up again, ‘I missed you,’ but he swallows and forces them down with the bob of his throat.

“We can’t linger long, I have a meeting soon.” Gun breaks the carefully crafted silence, but his hand is still stroking gently up and down Chan’s arm so he can’t bring himself to mind. Besides, he likes the way his voice rumbles beneath his ear.

“They’re expecting me back for some additional training later, anyway,” Chan replies and turns his head to press a feather-light kiss just above a dusky nipple. The sun is peeking through the shutters and casting scattered rays of light on their tangled bodies. He feels warm in a way he hasn’t in so long and he’s perfectly content to spend the few moments they have left silent and absorbing the attention he’s craved for months.

Chan sighs when their time comes to an end, as it always does, and he reluctantly extracts himself from Gun’s embrace to begin pulling on his shirt and redoing each button with a methodical patience he wouldn’t have previously had before joining the Family. Gun is an obstacle the entire way, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulders until Chan has to shrug him off, hands spreading across his thighs until he has to tug up his trousers. Getting dressed becomes something of a battle between them and by the end of it, Chan is laughing and pressing a quick kiss to Gun’s waiting lips.

He waits until Gun is dressed in his preferred florals and saturated colors that never cease to make him question everything about his lover’s fashion taste, but he supposes he isn’t much better in his grayscale wardrobe or the faded band shirts he'd once favored. Gun walks him to the door with a final kiss and a promise to reach out to him later. Chan lingers for a moment, stealing one more kiss, then two, before he seems to have withdrawn his limit and Gun is pushing him out the door.

Chan catches himself just before he runs into a figure taking long strides down the hall, but he can’t help the way his brow creases and his head tilts at the sight of them. He’s never seen her before, a petite woman with a figure that must be sculpted with the best of self-restraint and work. She peers up at him with large brown eyes and he feels it like a punch to his gut, the way her look is almost knowing, and he can’t help but wonder if she’s judging him.

Unconsciously, he smooths his palms down his suit and offers her a nod before taking a step away.

“There you are, dear.” He turns at Gun’s word, feeling his chest and his stomach bloom with affection and love. That warmth quickly turns to frigid tendrils of disbelief as he watches Gun place a hand on her waist and draw her close to press a kiss to her cheek. Once again, he feels it like a punch to his center and he nearly doubles over with it, only rigorous training and determination keeping him upright.

Gun spares him a parting glance and a raised brow over her shoulder and Chan can only duck his head and hurry his way down the hall, a hot wash of mortification turning the back of his neck and his ears an unmistakable shade of scarlet. He hopes he’s imagining the looks of pity some of the guards are giving him, but he’s sure at least a few of them are real. He wonders if they tell stories about him, the foolish street thug turned bodyguard reaching far beyond his station. He should have known better.

tagging my beloved cheering squad @porschesbabydaddy @haahka @bottomvegas

#changun #kp fic #kpts fic #kpts fanfic #kinnporsche fic #kinnporsche fanfic #kp fanfic #prism writes #teehee #sorry!!

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