#(there's a more tortured reading of this but i'm not digging too far into that they have enough drama coming their way i'm sure)

[lisbonsteresa]

oh come on now

[plasticferal]

chocolate part two | chris sturniolo.

authors note: part one here. 3k short and sweet. as requested. so sorry it's nothing crazy! not really proof read, i'm half asleep.

warnings: 18+ fem!reader, daddy!kink, unprotected sex (whoops), creampie, light choking, sexual scenes, explicit language, reader discretion is strongly advised.

“my turn.” 

before you even have a chance to please him, your face is stopped by chris’s large hand grabbing your jaw, a signature move from him tonight. he forces you to look up at him again and you audibly groan, getting annoyed by being interrupted and losing momentum. 

“think you can handle it?” he tests. you give him lustful, yet threatening eyes. you’re sure your pupils are as dilated as his, the black part of his bright blue eyes daring you with a long, intense stare.

“i think the question here is can you handle it?” your response is daring. 

“i know i can, sweetheart.” chris adjusts his hips with a rolling motion, getting more comfortable in the lounge. 

in any other situation, his words would make you grimace. laugh even, or want to hit him. when he’s locking his eyes with you, so intensely.

the way his thumbs are pressing into your dimples, it makes you want to put on a show for him. he’s already looking at you like he wants to devour you again and it makes you see him in a different light.

chris snaps you out of your thoughts when he guides your face back down, and you give a greedy smile when you finally get to show him that you can give as well as you take.

you hook your fingers over the waistband of his sweats, grabbing his boxers as well, that are damp and stained from the mess you’ve already made, as well as a small patch of his precum leaking through. 

you’re eager to see his cock. 

you’re shocked he’s been so tame thus far, with the amount of blood he has rushing to his throbbing member, and the drawn out torture he’s had to endure while not being touched. it makes you feel like he’s prioritized your pleasure, and he has. 

the moment you pull his clothes down in one foul swoop, chris sucks air through his teeth, finally letting his dick spring free. he naturally takes the base in his grip, giving himself a slow, much needed stroke. 

you suck your cheeks a few times to accumulate enough saliva in your mouth before tightening your lips to spit onto his tip. you let the strand of salvia drop slowly, controlling the fall. 

he’s watching through hooded eyes, and you just know they’re burning him with the way he’s refusing to blink, as to not miss a single move you make. you look up through your eyelashes as the wetness finally falls onto his head, and he lets out a shuddering breath. 

he’s perfect. there’s no curve in his dick, he’s just thick and wide. he’s long too, and freshly shaven. which shouldn’t shock you, but does. the smell of his sweat is sickeningly mouth-watering.

you readily sink your mouth onto him, your lips caressing his delicate skin as you feel his base glide down your throat, his own fingers still wrapped around himself to keep his cock steady for you. 

he releases his hands when your mouth engulfs him fully, and even you’re taken aback. you gag slightly, making your eyes water, and chris groans with rapture. you lift your head to suck upwards before messily pushing your head back down onto him, repeating the movement with small moans and digging into his thighs with your nails. 

"make daddy cum with just your mouth" his voice is low, and quiet. direct enough, but slightly under his breath. 

you’re trying to do exactly as he says. a switch in watching to prove yourself to him, but you’re sure again it’s just the chocolate, even if you are just using that as an excuse, along with the aftermath of your still throbbing clit. 

he’s high on adrenaline. that kind of ego boost that hits differently now. he's just so full of himself. he is toward you on a regular basis, but now it’s to your benefit. you are listening to his demands though. 

he knows he's hot. you hate him for it. you moan again, gagging as he bucks his hips upwards. you raise your hand to stroke him, even if just to stimulate him more, to support your mouth movements. he swats your hand away. 

"no. no hands. only that pretty mouth of yours." 

you hate yourself even more for obeying. 

his hips rhythmically grind upward in the most minuscule rolling motion, and it’s your sign that he’s enjoying it. his mouth hangs open slightly, showing a glimpse of his perfect top row of teeth. chris lifts both his hands and tucks them behind his head, interlocking his fingers and resting the back of his head on his open palms. 

you kiss his tip, sticking your tongue out to tease him. you’re laying kitten-like licks on his weeping head before taking him again. he fucks your throat now that you know the rules, and you’re a mess. you’re sure you’re leaving nail marks in his skin, and he’s leaving a bruise in the back of your throat. his hips are thrusting into your mouth harder and harder. 

“ngh, ugh, fuck, fuuuuuck” he moans his words, a husk in his tone as he throws his head back and shuts his eyes.

you’re sloppily trying to keep his cock in your mouth as you rise and fall onto him, and it slaps your face occasionally as you have no grip. you’re certain he’s enjoying the struggle. you suck his tip harshly, and it makes him wince. humming a light laugh, you keep sucking and choking on his cock.

you feel chris grab your head and pull you up impatiently, making you pant heavily and wipe your mouth. 

“now i’m gonna fuck you, yeah?” chris says, but it’s not a question, it’s a statement. you want to utter the words “finally” but bite your tongue.  

you’re eye to eye, and chris lazily presses a kiss to your lips in a daze. you give an intemperate smile against his mouth, and he mirrors the look on your face, like this is the peak of your thrill for the night. what you both want, what that cursed chocolate has made you need. 

chris manhandles you by grabbing your ribcage on either side, lifting you onto him then flipping you over so you’re face down. it’s a hot, sweaty, desperate mess of intertwined limbs. 

he has you bent over the couch cushion like a rag doll. thighs jerked around his waist, your tits pressing against the plush chenille while his dick slides between your walls. your nails scratch into the upholstery. 

”all ready for me” chris hisses in your ear, fat tip pressing against your sopping pussy, and it’s making you weaker by the second.

it hasn’t even crossed your mind that you’re not using protection, at this point you’re so sore and deprived that you don’t care. not in the slightest. you just know you need him to fuck you until you both snap back to reality.

“chri- fuck, daddy. please, i need it.” you whine, feeling him slap his cock up through your folds. 

chris’s chest presses to your back as he grabs at your hip, squeezing hard, aligning himself properly. you exhale as chris’s face presses to yours from over your shoulder, his beard stubble tickling your neck and ears. he bites at your earlobe, making you squirm. his hand slaps your ass hard as he asks the question you wish he’d just act on.

“you are ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks, a rasp in his tone.

“yes. yes i’m ready,” you plea.

“just don’t be an idiot and make sure you pull out.” your tone is snarky as you say it in a breathless way.

“yeah, ‘cause that’ll be the biggest mistake tonight” he’s sarcastic, but his implementation makes you seethe. 

he’s slowly stretching your hole out to be obnoxious and distract you from his bitter words before you can respond, and you both gasp as his girth rubs through you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your entire core and body.

“so fuckin’ tight.” chris’s words are so filthy, making you uncontrollably clench around his cock. your cunt sucks him in even deeper and yet pushes him out at the same time. he grunts in response. 

“fucking do that again and ‘m cumming inside you.” his hand pulls your forehead so you’re looking at him, the mere size of his cock making water pool in your lash line. 

his slow, taunting thrusts leave your mind blank. your eyes shut as you feel every pure, fiery sense run through you. 

being with chris skin to skin like this as he fucks you from behind is undeniably euphoric. it’s like hearing your favorite song for the first time, blasting it through your car speakers while driving over the limit down a highway with the windows down, taking every twist and turn with no fear but ultimately knowing if you don’t slow down, you’ll crash. chris is the dangerous road and you’re the sucker taking a ride on it.

“c-chris, auh fuck,- can’t” the fact you’re even able to spit out any words at all surprises you both, yet only makes the bastard smirk. 

how you haven’t woken anyone else up is also a threat waiting around the corner. or they are awake, are hearing what's happening, and refuse to check.

so, you dig your teeth into your bottom lip to resist the urge to speak, despite a moan slipping from your lips as his hips begin to slap into your ass. many moans erupt as he pushes down on your back, thrusting your hips up even higher he hits your sweet spot perfectly. 

“such a fucking shame you hate me, huh? i could make you feel this good every night” he grazes his teeth over the curve of your shoulder, making you throw your head back. 

you know he’s enjoying the taunts far too much, but his heavy balls slapping against your clit truly blur out any scoffs you almost reside to. instead, replaced by dirty gasps and whimpers as you force your breath to stop, stifling moans that almost slip from your drool kissed lips.

your struggling reaction is an answer enough for chris. 

the words disappear in your mind anyway before they even set in, the feeling of his tip thrusting right into your g-spot triggers your electric laced climax. cunt walls quivering around his dick, balls deep in your squelching pussy. the sounds are so satisfying, an homage to the tests you’ve put each other through. 

“p-pull out” you try to manage with a dizzy and corrupted head barely doing anything to genuinely protest. it just feels so good, and your stomach cramps with a twang of pain and pleasure. 

in an instant, he pries your legs from his waist and pushes your hips down onto the couch, prone boning you from the back as you feel him grab your neck in a wrap around motion, squeezing your jaw and speaking against the arch of your ear.

“don’t tell me what to do.” his words almost register right before he slams to the hilt once more, his tip twitching against your cervix, a deep groan leaving his throat as his cum leaked down your clenching cunt. 

“f-fuck you, chris.” you pant. feeling him collapse gently on top of you, peeling your sweat brimmed hair from your neck he lays kisses on your back, down your spine, and little dip of your hip where his finger prints burn into your skin. 

“you are hot when you're mad, y/n.” you gasp as he kneels behind you, swiping two fingers through your gaping entrance to clean you up.

chris grabs a blanket that you’re certain he’ll discard later to wipe everything clean, it being the closest thing in a desperate time calls for desperate measures situation. you roll over from your position, but simply turning over in one spot feels more laborious than it should.

“so you purposely piss me off?” you wipe your forehead, staring at the ceiling and he chuckles, scooting up next to you.

“i just like how you react to me.”

if it wasn’t yourself experiencing it, you’d never believe it. you stare at the white plaster above you and become overly aware that the effects of the stimulant are dwindling. from the moment he rolled off your body and you let his cum seep out of your throbbing, heavy feeling pussy. 

in the blink of an eye you’re overwhelmed by a mix of feeling guilty and fulfilled.

“it’s worn off, hasn’t it?” you see chris turn to look at you from your peripheral vision. 

there’s a part of you that is almost certain it wore off about ten minutes ago, and that it was the darkest part of your hidden desires begging for him instead. not the stupid stimulate you both accidentally consumed. you can never admit that. you can never admit to how you feel in this moment ever.

“i think so.” your chest is still rising and falling manically, and you’re trying not to embarrass yourself with the short restricted breaths you’re taking to not appear disheveled. 

“y/n, look at me.” he says. you turn to look back at him. his big blue dopey eyes are slightly red now, and evidently tired.

“are you okay? i didn’t over-do it, did i?” he draws his eyebrows together with concern, and you sit up slightly to see him better, looking down at him and swing a leg over his torso to bring him closer.

“you didn’t. honestly,” you reassure with the start of your sentence. 

“i’m just wondering how long it’ll take for us to go back to hating each other” you brush a hair from chris’s face, and his hand rests over your knee, pulling you onto him more with a sleepy smile.

“oh i never stopped, sweetheart” his croaky voice jokes, and you slap his chest. 

his smile fades slowly, and you raise an eyebrow, worried about his next words.

“what’s wrong, chris?” you ask. he pauses for a moment, pulling his bottom lip under this teeth momentarily.

“i’m actually scared that i won’t be able to go back to that.” he’s speaking from the heart. 

“back to?” you lure more from him. it’ll drive you insane if he doesn’t explicitly express himself, and you don’t like it, how serious he is as you lay half naked, smelling of sex.

“the hatred. the bickering and the snarky comments. before i saw you naked. kissed your lips. tasted you on my tongue” he trails off, getting lost in his own thoughts.

“i mean if you want to be one hundred percent sure, we could dig some of that chocolate out from the trash. go for round two?” you shrug lightheartedly, too scared to be serious with him. 

he exhales a laugh through his nostrils, against his own will.

“i’m usually the one making jokes like that” he observes, giving you a slightly proud look. acknowledging that you’re beating him at his own game.

“and i’m usually the one with some self-control” your tone is slightly aligned more with his switch of mood.

“yeah well you didn’t really have a choice, love” chris is calm, stretching his neck by rolling it side to side, and you have the temptation to just attack his neck in kisses. even with no aphrodisiac. 

you’re focused on the little veins pressing up into his smooth, pale skin. the light curls in the back of his hair closer to his neck that’s still laced with sweat.

“i did have a choice.” you sound annoyed initially, moreso at his statement that you don’t deem to be true at all. you watch as chris’s face drop, like he’s just fucked up. 

frankly, he did. he fucked up from he second he said he’s hungry.

you can almost hear him swallow.

“i chose you.” you say.

“as convenient as you were in the moment, i still made a choice, chrissy.” the name just slips out at this point, your emotions getting the best of you in a vulnerable state.

“can we also choose to drop the name chrissy?” he twists his face in a silly way, one that doesn’t match the severity of what you just shared with him.

“you asked for it!” you whisper yell, grabbing his upper arm and squeezing it with annoyance.

“not true. i got what i asked for, and more” he’s smug at the thought.

“you are so annoying.” you drop onto his chest, and he wraps an arm around you securely. He’s silent again.

“i know.” he says in a monotone under his breath.

maybe he’s not ready to hear it, he wants to ignore it, probably. you’re okay with that. or at least have to be. you have to be okay with the fact he’ll possibly resent you in the morning. never speak to you again, not even to mess with you.

your train of thought is slowly rocking your mind to rest, eyes and body feeling so heavy. you begin to flutter them open and shut until you eventually give in and keep them closed. you feel chris’s body shift beneath you but you can’t move from exhaustion. 

he swoops his arms behind your knees, lifting you with him as he stands. he cradles you bridal style, and your head is peaceful against his shoulder. your arms tuck into your chest and you feel so small in his embrace. you imagine the walk he’s talking in your mind as he carries you through the house. 

it’s weird, and kind of funny to know how shameless he is about doing it with no pants on. but it’s chris. he’s shameless about most things.

you finally feel your body rest on what you can only guess is his bed. it smells like his body wash. probably something stupid like a three in one. your thoughts about him sour your brain and contrast his next, kind, action.

chris covers you with a blanket. to him, you appear asleep. physically you are. mentally you're wide awake. awake and aware enough to hear his next words.

“i chose you, too. i always will, even if you hate me again in the morning.” he presses a kiss to your temple, and drops onto the mattress beside you. your faint smile is hidden in the pillow. 

maybe he’s not as bitter as you paint him out to be. he’s got a sweet side, it just took an accident to realize it.

tag list: @luverboychris @floofparker @fake-sturniolos @teampurpleforlife @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @sturns333 @tillies33ssss @albgv @sturniolowhore

[hunnylagoon]

Take Me to War

PT2 Metaphor

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

Where do I pour my love if you take away my pen and paper?

Premise: You are starting to like your annoyingly loud neighbour more than you want to admit.

PT1 Here!

Warnings: Raunchy humour

The gym was busy on this particular day, I absentmindedly judged others for being at the gym at noon on a Saturday like they should have been doing something more interesting with their time until I realized I was at the gym at noon on a Saturday with no other plans for the rest of the day "And she's hot?" Abby asks me while she effortlessly benches something around 170 and I do nothing more than lean on the wall behind her.  

"She's hot," I answer, scrolling through her feed on Instagram like the weird little stalker I was. I hadn't gone full FBI, just looked her up and possibly watched some of her videos "It's kind of cool that I have an internet celebrity living next to me."

"Define cool," Abby props the bar back onto the saddles of the machine and sits up, taking a chug from her water bottle.

"She is cool," I defend "It's not that weird Minecraft roleplay that your grimy cousins watch, it's just like video games and vlogs, that kind of stuff."

Abby looks back at me, sweat drips from her blonde hairline and rests above her brow "How is that even a career?"

I shrug in response "Sponsorships and donations and shit." 

"Why do people throw so much money at streamers?"

"Parasocial relationships, I wrote an article about it last year which you said you read."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "You were writing a lot of articles, hard to keep up with."

"Define a lot," I mock Abby's words. I glance at a guy in between the rows of gleaming machines, their metallic frames reflecting the obnoxious glow overhead. He had been using the leg press upside down, his neck hunched over into an almost horrifying posture, his shoulders pressing against the top plate. It might've been the most normal thing I've seen in New York.

"So are you going to ask her out?"

I wrinkle my nose, thinking about it "I met her last week, I just don't think I know her that well." Within the past week that I've met her, I've been crawling out to the fire escape every morning just so her drowsy eyes could peer into my vacant skull and in recent months I had given up on dating, like a spider, I devoured my own heart.

"That's kind of the point of dating," She lays back down on the bench press "Getting to know each other."

"I think I'm too busy to date," I tuck my phone into my pocket, crossing my arms while I watch Abby. I wasn't entirely sure that I was too busy to date but I tended to consume myself entirely and make everything far more complicated than it needed to be. I still perform autopsies on conversations I've had years ago, clinging to every word like I need them to survive.

"Why don't you wanna be happy?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows "You're always getting in your own way, is it a tortured poet type of thing?"

My breath hitches in my throat. How I hate when she's right. The last serious relationship I had was in college and even then I had sabotaged myself, I didn't know where it came from other than a nagging feeling that I wasn't deserving of the love that had been offered up to me on a shining silver platter. "I do I'm-

"Just not ready?" Abby cuts me off, finishing my sentence so perfectly as if it had been words on a script for some boring play about a woman who hates her life and won't do anything about it.

"Yeah," I say, my voice is quiet, she's got me in a box here.

"If you're not ready to date, you might as well be friends with her," She puts the bar back onto the saddles but this time, stands up after completing her reps. "You need to get out and it seems like you get along well."

"I guess," I say and Abby raises an eyebrow "No, you're right, I need to dig myself out of the grave I've dug for myself." What added to my overly apathetic mood was the season, I was so sick of February. It felt like winter had forced mold to grow on my bones to way me down onto the dirty city pavement where careless New Yorkers would gladly stomp over my body.

"How's it going with the family?" Abby is writing something down in her notes which I assume is her number of sets and reps.

"Nothing new," I answer.

She peers at me over her phone, digging for a more solid answer "Are you still sending your parents money?"

"Yes-

"Why?" Her arms dropped to her side, her phone still in one hand "You shouldn't have to play caretaker for two people who don't care about you," As true as it was, it didn't hurt any less to hear it out of my best friend's mouth. 

"It's easier said than done, those are my parents," I'm almost overtaken by a delicate drowsiness from the thoughts of leaving behind the one connection I had to my small-town life. My parents were so careless that I would run around barefoot on the road with the neighbour's kids for hours, narrowly dodging cars that flew past us like it had been a game; everything was a game back then, when I came home to my father's drunkenness, I could hide away in the treehouse and read Harry Potter until the screaming came to a stop.

I was bonded to them like I was to the stray cats who raised me. There was no getting rid of them, we ricocheted between hatred and love like the game of catch I never got to play.  

"I'm sorry," She says though I know it is ingenuine "I shouldn't get in between your family."

Abby didn't know them the same way I did. All she knew was the bloodiness of the relationship that I had cried into her arms, she didn't know how kind the wolves were after they tore me apart. The way my father would cheer for me the loudest at my soccer games and how my mother baked for me after a fight, wasn't the apology that I yearned for but the one that was shoved down my throat.

I dug through my brain to search for a way to change the topic "I saw Owen at the market yesterday and he said he wanted you to call him."

"You're fucking kidding."

My deadline had passed with no issue and I was finally blessing myself with a day where I wasn't chained to my desk. I could finally let my poor bloodshot eyes rest and for once I didn't have to drown them in eyedrops.

I was freshly out of the shower when I heard a knock at my door, Margot yelling at me to answer it. I slipped into a matching pyjama set that Abby gave me on my birthday, hurrying as fast as I could to the door. Margot's consistent screaming did nothing to aid this. 

Ellie was the last person I expected to see on the other side of the door but there she was. I couldn't help the smile that cracked onto my face "Am I the one being loud now?"

She grins at me "No-it's just that my chat has been begging for you to come back all week and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do a stream with me?"

I looked down at what I was wearing and suddenly felt like the scrouge, all I was missing was a nightcap and a taper candle. "Can I change first?"

"Go ahead but I think this is one of your best looks."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow "You have poor judgement since you've never seen me in anything other than pyjamas."

"We should probably fix that then."

"I guess we should." I smile. I decided against changing, it wasn't like I was going out, just heading to my friend's apartment that was three feet away.

"Say as much or as little as you want," She opens the door to let me in "I owe you big time," Ellie says this like I don't want excuses to spend time for her. Like I haven't been freezing my ass off every day just to talk to her when she watches the city wake up as she prepares to rest her head. 

Ellie's apartment is more lively than the last time I visited, she's adapted some plants that are already beginning to wilt "Have these been getting any sunlight?" 

She furrows her eyebrows "No? They're fake."

"Ellie," I stifle a laugh "I'm like ninety percent sure that fake plants don't wilt."

"Nuh-uh," She walks toward one just rubs its wilting leaf between her thumb and index, it begins to crumble in her hand and she sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "I guess they are real," Ellie pokes a finger into the bone dry soil and wipes the dirt onto her pants "How much do you know about plants?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess more than you."

 She nods "Sounds about right," Ellie walks over to her sink to fill a Game of Thrones mug with water before circling back to water her plants "Drink up little buddies."

"looks like you need some sunlight too," I watch her attempt to revive the dying plants and 

"Yeah," She keeps hyper-focused on the plants but she cracks a small grin, I could've sworn her smile burnt down the library of Alexandria "I think I'm turning into a vampire."

"The sparkly kind?"

Ellie shakes her head as she stands back up to put the mug on the kitchen island "Like the guy from Sesame Street."

I wrinkle my nose "Yeah, you're looking kind of purple."

"Damn, I was worried you would notice," She smiles again as she opens the door to her office, the purple LED lights are still running but the overhead light is turned on and washes away the colour.

The second I step into the room, Ellie rushes ahead of me and almost jumps to grab the folding chair. She sits herself down and pats her fancy gaming chair for me to sit in it. "Guys, she came!" 

I stare at her, eyes wide, jaw slack. "Ellie."

"What?"

"Do you hear yourself?"

She takes a minute to think about it before nodding her head, I could see the exact moment it clicked "No, I hear it," She addresses the camera "Not like that guys but I don't know what she did with her day, not our business though."

Ellie looks at me like she's waiting for approval of her chosen words. After a moment's reflection, I answer dryly "Thanks." 

"Sorry for taking so long, I had to water some plants," She watches the chat bar scroll by, squinting before she leans back in her chair, hand running through her hair "No, that's not code for sex."

"Could be," I shrug.

"They wanna know what your name is."

"Top secret."

"Okay," She reads some more comments from the chat "Can you tell them what you do for work?"

"I'm a ghostwriter," I say, giving a little thumbs up. I saw myself in the monitor and wanted to throw my hands at myself for being so awkward.

"Spooky," Ellie smiles "She writes about people instead of interacting with them, that's why she's socially inept." She reaches for her soundboard and presses a button, sounding a prerecorded effect of a crowd cheering and laughing.

"She's never had a girl in her apartment, that's why she can't flirt." I counter as she throws her hands up, I can tell she's about to retort with something before I cut her off "So what were you doing before you kidnapped me?"

"Guys, I didn't kidnap her, she willingly walked in here without the use of excessive force and I have had many a girl in this apartment," Ellie tells the chat before clicking something on her screen "So, they send in videos and we have to not laugh, which isn't hard because they aren't very funny." 

"You're not funny either but they watch you," I tease, Ellie fights a smile trying to uphold our image of back and-forth pocking and prodding at one another.

"Laugh three times and you're out."

"Of the apartment?"

"No, you just laugh three times and you lose."

"What do I get if I don't lose?"

"Fuck, I dunno," She furrows her eyebrows, searching the room for something. Her eyes land on a small silver tin, she snatches it up into the palm of her pale hand and sits back down "You get my dill dough."

"I'm sorry!?" My head snaps to look at her "Are you sure you aren't a cam girl?"

"No," She pauses "No, I mean no it's not what you think, yes," Ellie backtracks again "I mean I am sure I'm not a cam girl, not that that I'm not sure I'm not a cam girl, because I'm not," She looks like she's sure of what she said like it made perfect sense "Not a cam girl."

"You're not-not a cam girl?" I ask, pointing out the double negative "So you are a cam girl?"

"No," Ellie runs a hand down her face "Can you guys please tell her that I'm not a cam girl?"

Dcknb4llz:She's a cam girl

Nataliadepressed:I just subbed to her only fans!

Mclovin_fury26:She just wants to show you her dill dough 😕

Yayayalorde:I wish she was a cam girl 

The3nd_isn3ar:Ellie pls stop joking about it and become a cam girl already 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Ewmarryme:hahaha Ellie ur so funny now get serious and make an onlyfans

"Anyways," Ellie ignores the chat as they clearly aren't helping her case "This is my dill dough," She shows me the small tin she picked up, there's a picture of a pickle on the front. Over the translucent lid, it surely enough says 'Dill Dough! pickle scented'. It was just green silly putty with an oddly incredulous name.

"I weirdly want that," I answer.

"If you win, it's yours." She tucks it away into the pocket of her sweatpants "Mods, let's get this moving."

We sit through about fifteen minutes of videos; mainly people getting hurt, occasionally one of some type of animal. Nothing funny enough to make either of us laugh except for one of a man falling through a glass table which gets a little chuckle out of Ellie who denies it. 

Another video began playing, it was Ellie in this exact spot, screaming during a game of Fortnite. It looks like it's from the first time she showed me her odd job choice. In the distance, you can hear a knock on the door and this is when I'm sure it's from the day I had been thinking of. Ellie pulls her headphones off and looks at her camera "Shit, I think that's my hot neighbour again."

I slap a hand over my mouth and turn to see Ellie who's looking disappointed at her chat, shaking her head at the camera. "Whoever sent that is fake as fuck."

"So you think I'm hot?"

"Pfft, no, dude, you're ugly as fuck," Ellie makes an overexaggerated confused face like she has no idea what I'm talking about "I was talking about my other neighbour."

Kaylnncourting:Ellie y r u fumbling so bad???????

Overdam00n:You guys were right for saying she doesn't get 🐱🐱🐱🐱

Sestwouth:bruh she's ruining it for herself

Connerstollit:WHY DID SHE SAY THAT 

Cruel_summer:What is wrong with Ellie? Genuinely

F0gg4t:If El doesn't want her, I do

Aliinnnnnaaaaa:First girl she's ever met and she's ruining it

Randelwthehandle:Ugly as fuck??????? who says that 😭😭

Dcknb4llz:wow nice cover up Ellie

Marie_739:Bro Im gonna start calling the girls I like ugly as fuck

"Mr. Quigley?" I ask to which Ellie nods immediately "You think the eighty-seven-year-old veteran who is missing a foot and has swallowed four of his teeth is hot?"

"Yeah," She says, immediately regretting the hole she was digging herself into "I have a thing for older men."

"I don't think you have a thing for men at all, actually."

Her eyes go wide, Ellie opens her mouth to say something and she leans forward in her chair so fast that she falls out and smacks her head on the desk, folding over and onto the ground. I have the biggest smile on my face as I reach for her soundboard and press the cheering crowd effect.  I'm laughing too hard to offer her help, clutching my stomach and keeling over so my head is out of frame. Ellie gets up, and puts herself back in the folding chair pointing at the camera "Do not clip that."

Almost seconds after she says that a video gets sent in of her smacking her head on the desk in slow motion while I burst out laughing and now I'm cackling even harder. You can even hear her yelp in slow motion and she sounds like the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park "You guys are way funnier than Ellie," I say, addressing whoever was watching the stream. 

Another video pops on the screen right after the last one ends, it's Ellie again. She screams at something on her computer and you can hear me bang on the wall on the other side. Ellie goes quiet immediately going back to her game and muttering "She's so hot guys."

"I think my mods hate me," Ellie shakes her head.

"Thank you mods!" I smile at the camera.

A little clip of Ellie back at her desk pops up, she's wearing a Garfield shirt. This time she isn't playing anything, she just sits in front of the camera with that familiar lopsided smile "Guys, how do I trick my neighbour into going out with me?"

There's another video, it's a longer one with the caption 'Ellie Williams calling her neighbour hot compilation' Ellie's eyes go wide and she clicks off the video immediately, the camera goes to us full screen. "That's enough of that."

I pull my phone out and type in the caption of the unfinished video into YouTube, it comes up right away and I click on it. Ellie clicks around on her computer, unaware of my viewing until she hears her voice, echoing in low quality from my phone. She reaches for my phone but I pull it closer to myself. 

I'm dead set on finishing the video until something on the other side of the door, catches my eye. It rushes past the small crack in the slightly ajar door and instinctively, I drop my phone with a slight jolt "What the fuck is that?"

Ellie takes this opportunity to snatch my phone and place it face down on the desk, out of my reach. "That's just Kitty." She pushes herself out of the folding chair and steps out of the room. She walks back in carrying what looks to be a mound of cotton balls, looking a little closer, I realize it's a rabbit. He looks more fluff than flesh.

"What the fuck," My mouth falls open in awe "Can I hold it?" She places him in my lap "He just walks around your apartment?"

She nods "He's litter trained so he just kinda hangs out." 

I pet him, he's soft as a million feathers, and he looks like a mascot for a paper towel company "You are the only person I know that would name their bunny Kitty."

Ellie tries to wipe off the mass amounts of rabbit fur on her, it seems the more she tries to get it off, the more firmly it refuses to budge. "This is a good time to show you guys this new shirt that Dina ordered for me," Ellie stands up walking off camera. She has a couple of Amazon boxes stacked on her couch, she reaches into one of them and pulls out a T-shirt. Ellie turns towards the wall so her back is facing me, she pulls her hoodie off over her head.

All I can see is the back of her sports bra but I force my eyes to go wide "Guys, Ellie Williams has a tramp stamp that says cum dumpster," I lie and the chat goes wild and I grab my phone off her desk as she turns around in her Five Nights at Freddie's tee with a 'Seriously?' face. I take a picture of her with the flash on "I'll sell this rare image of Ellie for six hundred dollars on eBay."

Ellie walks back over to the desk with a stack of Amazon boxes "Every donation goes toward my tattoo removal," She jokes, digging around in the boxes. "I'm a little over your videos, you bunch of snitches so I think it's about time I finally open these up." 

I look in the boxes too, leaning over slightly, being very careful of Kitty where he sits in my lap. I see something and pull it out to hand to Ellie "You should try this one."

"World's hottest gummy bear," She reads the package "Why is there only one? What if I want another?" Ellie yanks the gummy bear, squishing it between her fingers. It looks like Red-40 personified. 

Melanie_felony:She's setting her up lmao

Dcknb4llz:Nobody say anything pls I rlly wanna see this

Elliewsidechick:YALL SHES TOO WHITE FOR THIS STOP

She eats the gummy bear in one bite. As she begins to chew it, she seems absolutely unfazed and partially confused about why it was labelled 'World's Hottest Gummy Bear' A moment later she begins to cough, balling her hand up into a fist and pounding on her chest. Ellie's little cough quickly turns into a deep wheeze.

Ellie lets out a scream, her face going red as she slams her hand onto her desk with watering eyes. I could see visible sweat on her face as she dry heaved, it only took thirty seconds until she sprinted out of the room.

"Oh my god," I watch her run out of the room while I give Kitty a little pet between his ears, he's so still I almost think he's taxidermy. "Guys, I think we killed her." You can hear her vaguely screaming and gagging from the kitchen "So what did everyone do today?"

Thelastgreatamericandynasty:wrote a fanfic about you and Ellie

Dcknb4llz:I got jumped at waffle house 

"Yikes, sorry to hear that." I suck a breath through my teeth "Tell me what I should know about Ellie." Her name feels so right on my tongue.

Jesse_chang:She's a virgin

D4aughter_:OMG HI JESSE

A_birthday_card:The only s3x she's ever had was in Minecraft

Whathasshegot:She has a crush on you 

Touching_theyouth:She's lactose intolerant 

Dcknb4llz:She sold me ketamine in an ally 

Gusty_queefqueen:She homophonic 

Torxhmydreams2:Pretty sure that’s two words that have the same pronunciation but different meaning

Gusty_queefqueen:Bruh it means she doesn’t like gay people

Heytheredelilah7:She has a boyfriend

When Ellie comes back she's filled her Game of Thrones mug with milk and has a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese. She reads the chat "Can you guys be cool for once?"

"They're cooler than you."

"Very funny," Ellie eats a handful of mozzarella before she digs back in the boxes "What's next?" There's one box huge envelope that looks like it has a slip of cardboard in it. Ellie tears the corner open with her teeth and rips the rest of the top off with her hands. She pulls the content out of it, throwing the envelope over the computer for it to land on the ground. Just as suspected there was cardboard in it, not just a slip but it unfolded into a cardboard cut out of Ellie, she looked to be a younger teenager in it, giving an awkward little peace sign and showing her green braces off with a huge smile.

"Aww, you actually look cute in that."

She disregards me "Chat, interrogate Dina about this and report back."

"Dina?" I ask "Is that your girlfriend?"

"Nah," Ellie props up the cardboard cut-out and places it behind us, right in the middle to watch over us "She's my enemy as of right now."

"What did she do?"

"Send this shit," She eats some more mozzarella, holding the bag out to offer me some, to which I decline. Ellie shrugs it off and eats another handful, washing it down with a long chug of milk and putting it on the desk. She grabs a t-shirt, he eyes go wide and she pushes it against her chest so I can't see. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," I watch a smile spread across her face as she turns the shirt around to show me a graphic of her on it. In the picture, her face is close up to the camera covered in a white powder (presumably flour). "Oh, wow!" I feign shock.

"I know!" She holds it out toward me "It's yours, you deserve it."

"Wow," I draw the word out, taking the shirt from Ellie "This is really great, I was always hoping I would get a shirt of you covered in flour." Sarcasm drips from tone but I accept the gift regardless.

"I know!" Ellie grins brightly "You should put it on now."

"That's fine, I think I'll save it for our date," I tease.

She perks up just the slightest "Ooo, when's that?"

"The second this stream ends."

"On that note," Ellie looks at the camera "Thank you guys for hopping on tonight and thank you to my neighbour who came here without putting up a fuss," Ellie clicks around on the screen a little bit before addressing them again "Alright, go bug Dina now."

With that the stream comes to a close, the blinking light on the camera turns off, and Ellie and I are left alone with ourselves and Kitty.

“So,” Ellie thumps her foot up and down repeatedly like those anxious kids in high school. “Do you maybe wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

“I don’t drink coffee but I’ll pretend to so I have an excuse to hangout with you.”

A smile splits onto Ellie’s face “Phew, I hate coffee I just thought it was an adult way to ask you out.”

A/N: This is super short but I’ll make up for it in the next part, thanks for reading! We got some angst on the way 👀

Perm tag-list: @veeveeisgay @whenlostinthedarkness @gold-dustwomxn @ellslvr

Series tag-list: @diddiqueen @camillecrellin @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @lmaoo-spiderman @camicocom1a @elliessweetheart @melanie-watermelon @lanafresitas

[lostinforestbound]

It's here after many weeks, the 10k one-shot to celebrate 200 followers, but I suppose it's also to celebrate 300 followers as well! I meant for 300 to be a different celebration but that's okay! I'm sure I'll make something else for the next milestone!

Requested Tags: @dutifullylazybread @heytheresunflower @barbwillbrb

Rolan/GN!Tav

I Shouldn't Love You Like You Are Mine

Rolan has too much to do with so little time. Becoming the new Master of Ramazith's tower is proving more complicated than the wizard have ever thought. On top of it all, he has a deep infatuation with Tav, the hero who saved him and his family many times. He knows he has no chance with them, so he has settled on hopelessly pining and dreaming. One day, Tav rushes into the shop in a panic, and he could have never in his wildest fantasies expect what they request of him.

Word Count: 10k (Don't like Tumblr? Read on AO3 instead!)

Relevant Tags: Rolan's POV, Makeout Diversion, Smut, Lorroakan Bashing

Beta Reader: @el-tur-el (Thank you so much for your help T!!!)

NSFW under cut, Minors DNI

The air is stale, the scent of electricity still strong in the space that surrounds him, the taste of blood on his tongue from when his sharp teeth gashed the inside of his mouth. He's sore, bruised, burned, somewhat electrocuted by the way some of his muscles spasm still, but he's alive. Tav is long gone with their companions, and all that is left is him and a dead man.

When staring down at the body of his spine-broken master, Rolan is not sure of how he's supposed to feel. At first, he felt a genuine joy that he had not felt in many years. The adrenaline was still high at the time, and he proudly remarked that he would turn the tower inside out to find its secrets and share them with the world. He always has been ambitious, that is what got him this far, after all. Tav seems happy for him, and he ignores how it made his heart pound even more.

As he stands alone in the room, he questions whether he's supposed to feel something now that the joy has faded within the span of minutes. Some kind of liberation? Or perhaps his emotions are fighting each other in his psyche, making him feel everything and nothing all at once. The man who tortured him, who beat him like he was a misbehaving dog he didn't even want, who refused to teach him anything about wielding the weave, lays dead by his feet. He can't help but think that he looks pathetic now, face twisted in permanent fear even after death.

He spits on his face as a final 'fuck you'. He hopes he rots in the deepest pits of the hells that he was once dragged to.

Running his stiff hands down his face, he tries to think of what to do first. He has to get rid of this body, it can't stay here lying around. It will decay and stink more than Lorroakan already has. Grabbing a fistful of the dead man's hair, he drags his body towards the balcony. He could throw his body over the railing, it would be insult to injury, but no. He will do something much worse.

He digs into the stray backpack at the edge of the railing and takes out a disintegration scroll, one that he knew Lorroakan hid out here as a backup plan in case a fight doesn't go his way. Without thinking too much on it, he casts the spell on the body, and Lorroakan disappears into ash.

His former teacher was now erased, made into nothing, and no one will remember or miss him. A fate worse than death, in Rolan's opinion.

Almost numbly, he heads back inside the main room and tries to find cleaning supplies. There's so much blood on the floor, and it did not help he made a trail while dragging the body. He wishes Tav was still here so he could demand they clean their mess up, where he wouldn't notice his tail flicking back and forth in irritation. Would they bother listening to him? Maybe not, but at least they would be there, just a little longer. Just enough time for him to pine once more.

Lia is right, he's a very selfish creature.

A couple of mage hands bring a bucket of water and an unused mop over. He is taken aback, as he thought they would have disappeared in Lorroakan's absence. Although, these could have been Ramazith's, wherever that wizard is now. It doesn't matter, either way. They're his now.

He dunks the mop into the water and starts swiping across the floor, noticing how as he cleans, the white cloth of the strands turn red. There's so much godsdamned blood, it will take him forever to clear the mess. There's a lot of blood on him, too. Specks and splatters of blood paint his hands crimson, long dried onto his red skin. His mentor's blood. Lorroakan's blood.

He helped murder a man, today. He killed someone. His blood is on his hands as much as it may be on the Nightsong's. Or Tav's.

An unsuspected shudder runs through his body, and he feels sick. He chalks it up to his adrenaline rush going down too quickly, ignoring the feeling as he swipes the mop across the floor.

The hairs on his neck stand on end as he feels the crackle of the weave, warning him someone is coming through the portal. Part of him hopes it would be Tav; he wants to talk to them again. Maybe they can help him with the cleanup, laughing about how they left him here without realizing it. He would stumble over his words like a fool, trying to be impressive in his pathetic state.

It's not Tav that arrives though, he recognizes Lia's quick footsteps anywhere. She's always been the fastest between him and Cal; they both could never beat her in a race, but he swears he lets her win.

"Rolan!" She shouts, quickly coming up to him along with Cal, whose heavier footsteps are right behind hers. "Finally! You kept talking up this tower and now we get to see it-"

"Wait, is that blood?" Cal immediately interrupts, face falling.

He must look horrendous, Rolan realizes. He got so busy cleaning the floor that he didn't even bother washing up first. Based on when he looked at himself that morning, the bruises should still be very prominent. Shit.

Lia bristles when she cups his face, looking at his injuries. "What is this?"

The silence that falls between them is telling. He knows she figured it out a long time ago, but she wants to hear him say it. "I'm fine, Lia. He was a horrible mentor, but it's not my blood on the ground."

"Tav told us they helped you kick his ass." Cal comments, trying to lighten their moods, "Looks like you did just that if this blood isn't yours."

"You should've killed him earlier, idiot!" She spits.

"I know, I know." He mutters, trying to speak even as Lia turns his face around to see the damage. "It's good to see you two."

"We missed you, brother," Cal says, gently moving Lia away and hugging him. "Please don't do that again. It was hard, without you."

Rolan lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding, hugging Cal tightly. Lia joins in quickly after. When was the last time they held each other like this? He doesn't remember.

It feels nice.

While it doesn't last long, it is more than satisfactory for him. They help him with the clean up, Lia helping with the blood while Cal sweeps the floor with a broom. They take on more workload than Rolan wants, but he can't argue with them when they practically plead for him to rest. To be honest, he's unbelievably sore, and maybe sitting down for a bit wouldn't hurt.

It only takes his body a few minutes until it's antsy again, so he joins them quickly after.

And then he never stops moving.

He cleans, reorganizes, and keeps walking despite his beaten body screaming at him to stop. He can't stop, because if he does, he knows he will not want to get back up. He'll crash, and he can't afford that.

At the end of it all, he enters Lorroakan's room without thinking and is frozen in place. He's been in here before, but never for good reasons, only beatings. Is this not his room now that the original master is gone? But it reeks of his old mentors stench. He scrunches his nose as he looks at all the personalized decorations. They're hideous, all of the colors too bright to stare at, and most not matching with each other in terms of palette. There's not even a real theme and it makes him irate.

He remembers being beaten on this very floor for messing up a verbal component.

Enraged, he marches up to the bed and tears off the sheets, making a point to dig his claws into them so they would rip. The pillows are next, tossing them across the room and onto the floor. He'll need to replace every damn thing if he wants to use this bed. To use this room.

Unwanted memories start to flood into his mind as he tears the place apart, most of them being on the ground, where Lorroakan said he belonged. Beaten, burned, electrocuted, sometimes poisoned. A place where he was at his most pathetic. He often has nightmares about those late nights, but some of the worst ones were Tav walking in and seeing him like that, utterly broken on floor. They would never see him the same, and he doesn't know whether he prefers them to be disgusted by him or to feel pity.

He's close to a breakdown, having trouble getting air into his lungs before Cal and Lia comes in. "Rolan?"

With a slow sigh, he turns to look at them. "Why are you two up?"

Lia's eyes trail around the destroyed room, seeming to note the claw marks on the bed sheets discarded on the carpet. "Couldn't sleep." She says simply, giving a knowing look.

"Can we sleep with you?" Cal asks, rubbing the back of his neck, "Like when we were kids? Just for one night."

His jaw moves to start a pointless argument, but then snaps shut. They're both not children anymore, they can sleep by themselves. He can sleep by himself. However, he cannot deny that he craves the affection it would bring. He hasn't been this long without them, no matter how much he complained about them being clingy before.

"All right." He says quietly after taking a deep breath, "Not in here, though. Come."

He quietly leads them to the comparatively bland room Lorroakan gave him in Sorcerous Sundries. It isn't terrible, but he realizes that the bed is way too small for the three of them. Thankfully, he had a remedy. He adjusts an enlarge spell and makes the bed wider, and they all settle down on top of it easily.

Lia makes him stay in the middle while she settles on his right side, Cal climbing over carefully to lay on his left. Honestly, he misses having them so close.

"Rolan?" Cal speaks up as Lia pulls up the blanket.

"Hm?"

"Can you make a light show for a little bit?"

Rolan can't help but smile, slowly closing his eyes before opening them up again and raising his hands. "Any requests?"

"Make it look like flowers blooming." Lia says instantly, draping an arm around his middle.

He huffs before murmuring a few words, a burst of colors appearing in the air. Like asked, they take form of flowers blooming, petals falling near them gently. It's gorgeous.

It fades after a minute though, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as he falls asleep. If Cal and Lia were bothered by it not lasting, they don’t say a word.

For the first time in years, his night is not plagued by nightmares.

---

As soon as he wakes, Rolan does not stop moving.

He's the new master of Ramazith's tower, there is so much to do with so little time. The Absolute's army is on its way and he needs to gather everything he can to protect his siblings, and to protect Tav.

Tav doesn't need protecting, he knows that all too well, but he needs to do something. Anything at all. He needs to prepare the arcane cannon, but there is so much research to be done. On top of it all, he wants to be able to focus on his studies, but then run a shop at the same time.

He barely eats the toasted bread he haphazardly made for himself, too distracted by the logs Lorroakan left behind. There's so many customers he needs to take care of, including deliveries. Maybe he could repurpose the animated armor to make the deliveries, but that could be shaky as they're unstable. Well, Lorroakan's magic was always weakly done...he could rework the sigils. He'll have to rework everything in this place, actually.

Gods, everything is such a fucking mess. He knows he needs help, but respectfully, he wants everything a certain way and his siblings won't be able to give him what he wants. Tav would be able to understand-

He stops reading, surprising himself with his thought. Tav? Why would he think Tav would know how he likes things? It's ridiculous. But he can imagine it, them carrying books around with whatever means and placing them in alphabetical order, then by subject. They would tease him about being so stingy with what books go where on the bookshelf.

And they would laugh. Not quite at him, but laugh nonetheless. It's such a perfect sound in his ears, and the thought of it makes the tip of his tail flick about. Damn it all!

He's been thinking about them a lot, unfortunately. Ever since the Shadow Cursed Lands, where they succeeded in saving his siblings where he could not, an infatuation began to settle in his heart. He had half the mind to possibly confess, but immediately pushed it out of his mind. There was no possible way they would feel the same. He's too bitter, too arrogant, and he saw the way they looked at Gale, someone who is much more accomplished than he is. It is a fondness that he never received once in his life, and certainly not by them. He was jealous of it, but jealousy is an ugly little trait to have, so he gave up on dwelling.

The feelings never went away, no matter how much he wants them too.

He wants to say more to them, especially after they saved his sorry tail again during the fight up in the tower. They left before he could, he was too dazed staring at the mess the Nightsong made of his former master. He regrets being too out of it to say anything proper.

What would he have told them anyways? He doubts anything worthwhile. Probably a weak apology and an even weaker attempt to express his feelings. In the end, they would reject him, no doubt. He messed up too many times, back in the Shadow Cursed Lands, even if they accepted his apology for lashing out.

So he continues on and tries to forget, organizing the scrolls at the front counter of Sorcerous Sundries. His nose scrunches in irritation at the disorganization of it all. Was Lorroakan always like this? They aren't even categorized in the right sections, its horrendous. Diabolical. A sin on this shop.

Frustration straining his brow, he lays them flat on the counter to decipher where they should go, ignoring the ache that sits subtly in his bones. He hasn't had the chance to heal himself, so the bruises are still very prominent. It doesn't matter, he can take care of it later.

He knows deep in his heart that later will never come.

In the middle of his thought, one of the front doors burst open. Someone runs in and...well, he doesn't recognize them, but he does see the illusion aura that surrounds their figure. He's about to yell at them about their audacity, but their disguise instantly fades when they close.

It's Tav, in all of their wonderful glory.

"Tav?" He asks dumbly as they rush the to the counter.

They urgently hop over the counter and grab his wrist, and he actively has to suppress a wince by the force. "I need help. Hurry!"

Without a chance of responding, they drag him along towards one of the rooms along the side of the shop. They practically throw him in there.

The door slam briefly echoes in the room, and he barely has time to react before the back of his thighs meet the desk inside. He hisses, the bruises still fresh, “What in the hells are you doing?”

“I need a diversion. I was disguised but the Flaming Fist followed me.” They state, starting to open up the front of their tunic to make a mess. “Let me kiss you.”

He hates how the tip of his tail stands at attention, and thank the gods they don’t notice it. “What.”

“We’re kissing. Now. Just-“ They groan, loosening their shirt more to make themselves look like a mess. “-I need to make it look like I was busy. Rolan, please?”

He should say no. Everything is screaming at him to say no. But he is a weak man, and he’s dreamed that he could have them in his arms. Or be in their arms, it didn’t matter to him.

As soon as he gives a nod, they grab the front of his collar and pull him in, kiss searing. It takes everything in his being not to moan at the contact, especially when they loosen his hair properly to make it fall past his ears. They don’t touch them, much to his relief.

Pretending to put on the same act as them, he presses into them enthusiastically, letting their tongue in when it pries at his teeth. He fell out of control so quickly that he doesn’t know how to pick himself back up. He had half the mind to let them have their way with him. Blood rushes down south when their hand slides up his clothed stomach, sweat beading on the back of his neck as the muscles tense and quiver. Their touch was firm, demanding, and the voice in his head screams at him to not deny them for a moment. How long has he been waiting for something like this to happen?

Before he could panic about his dick twitching in interest at their ministrations, the door flies open. It startles Tav enough to where they bite his lip on accident, making him jolt.

A group of Flaming Fist freeze at the door, taking in the scene before them.

Rolan reacts quickly with his typical sneer, sitting up straighter and trying to ignore Tav being between his legs. “Do you mind?”

“Well, sir-“ One starts but the other, a commander most likely, cuts them off.

“There’s a suspected thief that we believe ran into here.”

“So you decided to almost break down one of my doors?” He questions, making a show of magic to fix his hair up. Tav moves away with their arms crossed in front of their chest, looking annoyed.

“We apologize, sir, but this thief is-“

"Excuse me?" Tav states, putting on an offended face. "How dare you! I am not a thief! I've been in this shop for a while now, unless you are accusing me of stealing from here?"

Rolan comes in before the Commander starts to retort. “My partner, no, my associate could not have been a ‘thief’ as they have been here with me for the past fifteen minutes. And this chase happened how long ago now?”

One of the other Flaming Fists glances up at the clock in the room. “…Five minutes.“

The man to their right smacks them upside the head.

“And what did they look like?” Rolan continues.

“A pale half-orc, short hair with a blue blouse, but-“

He raises a hand to silence them, as if they were misbehaving children. “Then I believe we are done here, as my associate is wearing nothing of the sort and does not look like what you described. Now, unless you are here to buy something or set a donation for the rebuilding fund of the shop, you will kindly leave the premises of Sorcerous Sundries this instant. I expect a formal apology by the end of this week.”

In all honesty, it's funny how lost these Flaming Fist look. They seem unsure of what to do. As Tav scoffs and looks away, it seems as though they're trying not to laugh. He has to fight the smile that's teasing the corners of his mouth, staring at all the blustering Fists as they figure out what to do. Reluctantly, frustrated and angry, they exit out of the office and leave the shop with their tail in between their legs.

He brushes himself off when the heat dies down, finally able to compose himself. “What the hells were you doing? Are you mad?!”

They finally let out the laugh they were holding, straightening themselves out. “I blew up a Fireworks shop. An Absolute Cultist was running it! Who knew? To answer your second question, maybe a little bit. It's been a tough day.”

"And you thought you could just run in here while I was working? Making the Flaming Fist dirty my floors after I just had Cal clean it?!"

"I'm sorry Rolan, I panicked. I wasn't thinking." They say, seeming genuinely apologetic.

He could barely focus, mind still catching up with the events. Is he truly this easy? All they had to do was demand a kiss and he would follow them, like a lovesick puppy? He's ashamed of himself, and he didn't even notice them speaking again.

"Rolan?"

"What?"

"How are you?" They ask sincerely.

He straightens himself up and gets back into his usual facade. "I am well enough. This shop and the tower is a horrid mess, so I've already been spending time reorganizing the texts. Lorroakan barely knew his alphabet. They were not even organized by subject!"

They laugh at that, and gods, the sound makes his heart pound, but afterwards they frown at him, eyes scanning to his face. "You're still bruised."

"I haven't had the time to take care of them. There is too much to do."

They dig into their pack and hold out what he recognizes as a superior healing potion. "Here. If you're going to work, at least heal up. Did I hurt you earlier?"

He slowly takes it, perplexed, "It is nothing I can't handle."

"I'm sorry." They murmur.

"I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you." He states, uncorking the bottle and drinking down the potion.

Instantly, the deep set ache and soreness of his form fades to something less painful. Its like a warm hug, and he feels energized.

They give him a soft set smile as he places the bottle down on the desk. "You look a lot better."

Gods, if he could, he would crush the fluttering feeling the compliment gave him. "Excuse you, I always look better. Now, besides that whole mess that you created, was there anything else you needed from me?”

"I want to make purchases...and barter?" They squeak out.

He sighs heavily, opening the door back up for them, "Of course you do. All right, what do you have for trade then?"

They head out to the counter with a skip to their step. "I promise it's worth it!"

---

Tav ended up having plenty of things to trade, including heavy set armor, rings, and magic items they don't need anymore. Thankfully not all fortune is lost, as they give some coin for high level spell scrolls. A Globe of Invulnerability...how interesting. He knows they are out and about adventuring, but what would they need that kind of spell for? How do they even have the gold to afford it??

They were out the door before he can ask them, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. "Thank you Rolan!"

A little defeated, he continues on with the rest of his day. Organizing, organizing, and even more organizing. This place is such a shit show, it will take him ages before everything is how he wants it to be. Cal always teased him about having his socks color coded in his drawers.

He plops onto a fresh bed at the end of the day. This was Lorroakan's bed, but Cal and Lia helped him out with cleaning the room. New mattress, new sheets, new blankets, and even new pillows. They tore down the hideous tapestries and paintings he had, and he plans to change the wall into a new color. He still needs to personalize the room to how he likes, but now it was his. No trace of Lorroakan is found here. He idly wonders how Tav decorated their room, or if they have a home to go back to. They're still a mystery to him.

As he lays there, staring at the patterned ceiling, he finds it strange he has a room to himself. It's nice, and he's never had more privacy than now. Sometimes Lorroakan entered in his room at odd hours to start a lesson at his leisure. If he wasn't a light sleeper before, he is now due to the man's random visits. Now here he is, laying his bed, with his nights uninterrupted for the most part.

He has privacy.

...He’s pent up, isn’t he?

Through all the beatings and stress, he never took time to himself and get off. He was worried about getting caught by his mentor. On top of it all, he was too exhausted and hurt to even do much for himself, some nights barely having energy to bathe. But now…

With a sigh, he summons a mage hand to grab a book for him. When was the last time he read a smut book? Half a year, maybe more? Even then, he wouldn’t indulge too much as he never had a lot of privacy. With this large bedroom, the walls being silenced, and the time he now has, he will indulge for a little bit. For one night.

As he reads, there’s not much to go off. This one is poorly written, but he can at least give himself an idea. His mind sketches out a neutral form, no identifying…parts, yet. He’s indecisive, but he’s sure he’ll come up with someone satisfactory for the night.

Usually, his fantasies contain anonymous people with no face, or they wear a mask. It’s less embarrassing than thinking of someone directly. Sometimes they take him from behind, pinning the back of his neck to a table while they rail into him. Others he has someone under him, thrusting into them and littering bites on their neck.

For now, he imagines a person of no specific gender yet, holding him close in a crushing grip and devouring his mouth. It leaves him no room to breathe as he’s pinned to the wall, their thigh between his legs pressing up against his growing erection. Heat gathers south embarrassingly quickly, the tent of his pants tightening. What is Tav like in bed?

As soon as that question pops into his head, the blank person he tried to fantasize about turns into Tav. It shocks him how vivid it is, and he immediately sits up, book falling flat on the mattress as he drops it. No no no, absolutely not. They’re a friend.

A friend who pulled him in by the collar to kissed him with reckless abandon. A friend that was ready to pin him down on his desk. A friend who stroked a finger along his jaw to help him relax into their mouth.

Hells.

His fingers trail down his stomach and into his trousers, taking himself in hand. What’s the harm of indulging in this? They kissed, after all. All of their wonderful features are fresh in his mind. As he teases the underside of his shaft, he imagined it was their hand instead of his own. Precum was already beading at the tip, and he uses it to slick up his cock. He still feels their hands on him, pressing and demanding. He wonders what they would’ve done if they had more time. Are they gentle or rough when they stroke? He’s not sure whether he prefers one or the other yet.

None of this would happen, they have many suitors at their disposal. But damn it all, he could dream that they chose him, in the end.

Gods.

He covers his mouth tightly with his free hand, almost painfully as he thrusts up into his other one. This room is covered in silencing sigils, it’s not like anyone would hear him from the outside, but even he doesn’t want to hear his shameful sounds.

He feverishly switches to a different fantasy, this one containing Tav once more, though this time he isn’t complaining.

They’re both deep in the woods, away from the Tiefling party. They saved them all from the goblins, they deserved some compensation, did they not? Tav is pressed against his back, one hand putting two fingers in his mouth, rolling the muscle of his tongue between them while the other jacks him off. He’s utterly helpless, Tav taking control of his pleasure for him in the best ways as he helplessly grips the bark of a tree. They would tell him how good he was, how much they wanted him, how lovely his moans were. That he was handsome, strong, and worthy.

That they loved him-

Strings of white decorate his stomach, his climax coming with a stuttered gasp. It came more quickly than he thought it would, and his body spasms with how intense it is. The cry that climbs up his throat stops short by his hand.

He massages himself through it, feeling dazed and utterly pathetic. How dare he think about Tav in this way, as if they were an object for his pleasure? They’re not his, and he’s not theirs, no matter how much he wants to be. What would they say if they saw him like this, desperate and lustful even after his orgasm?

Gods, he wants them so badly, and he knows he can never have them.

Catching his breath, he feels disgusting. Filthy. He shouldn't think of them at all, he hasn't earned that right to them. It's pitiful.

To remedy his sin, he gets out of his bed and heads to the washroom. It's grand in comparison to his lowly basin in the shop, and he's unsure where to start now that he has access to it. Firstly, he takes out a Create Water spell scroll and casts it, filling the entire tub with water. He then modifies the Produce Flame spell to heat up the water. That will do for now, he'll figure out how to make the process a lot quicker later.

He takes off his soiled nightwear, stepping into the water with a slight hiss. All right, maybe he made it a little too hot, but it's nothing he can't handle. Lorroakan has burned him worse. As soon as he gets to the hip line, he pours lavender oil into the steaming water and sinks in completely. He's heard of the scent being beneficial for sleep, mostly from Tav. He wonders if they are an herbalist- no, no, he isn't supposed to be thinking about them.

Emptying his mind is proving harder than he thought. No thanks to his previous transgression, Tav's face plagued him. Questions pop up without him wanting them to: how does Tav look when flustered? Are they experienced with intimacy? Do they like pain? Are they sweet? What is their perfect date? How do they show their love-

He dunks himself fully into the water before the thought could finish, and he feels the sting of the hot water against his face as he sits under the surface. Finally, his mind is silent, so he holds his breath as long as he could. It's oddly soothing, just being alone under the water. A perfect escape to everything around him. He may just have to do this more often.

Unfortunately, he has not done any training to hold his breath, so he has to come up for air within thirty seconds. Perhaps he should practice, but that's for another time.

Now that his hair was thoroughly wet, he begins washing and conditioning his hair, giving himself a scalp massage while he was at it. He didn't trust the mage hands to do it for him. They were floating in the corner, waiting for a command. Can mage hands pout? It feels as though that's exactly what they're doing. Why are they so eager to help anyways? He should dismiss them when he has the time.

After dunking under the water again to wash out all the products, he exits the bath carefully, using Prestidigitation to instantly dry himself. Ah, what would he do if he didn't have that spell on hand? It is incredibly convenient. Can Tav use magic for mundane tasks?

He pauses as he slides on a robe. Gods damn it, it's happening again! That didn't last too fucking long, now did it?

With a groan, he marches back into the bedroom and towards the balcony, pushing the doors open. The night hair hits him immediately, sending a brief chill through him before calming. With a heavy sigh, he goes to the railing and leans against it, watching the silent city of Baldur's Gate. The lanterns have long burned out, and the stars are blooming above him, but he can't relax. He's desperate for Tav, and it's pitiful.

Pressing his forehead on the cold stone, he realizes what a miserable, selfish, wretched creature he is. After all of those things, he's somehow still hopeful. Why else would they kiss him like that? Is he reading too much into this?

Though, perhaps, instead of dwelling on unwanted thoughts, he should just let them go. Lia always did say he thinks too much. Cal mentioned it could be quite damaging on one's psyche.

So he lets the thoughts flow. All of the domestic ones and all of the lustful ones, too. He flickers through memories of he and Tav's interactions, thinking of what could have been and where he went wrong. The shouting, the aggression, the drinking. Gods, the drinking. He hasn't touched wine in a while because of it.

Then he lets it all go.

He raises his head, taking a deep, long breath of the fresh night air. He's in Baldur's Gate. They all made it. The Absolute's army is about to knock on their door, but just for tonight, at least in this moment, he's calm. He's okay.

Maybe he'll be okay later, too.

After an hour, he makes it to his bed and lulls himself to sleep, pulling up the thickest parts of the blanket to hold. It manages to lull him to sleep. A success, in Rolan's tired mind.

There's so much to do with so little time.

---

A tenday has passed and Tav has not returned.

It's for the best that they don't come, as they continuously plague Rolan's mind. He can't stop thinking about them, no matter how much he distracts himself. Most of them are lustful and depraved, some of which make him feel utterly ashamed. He has no right to think of them in this way.

Though, it's the other thoughts that confuse him the most.

They're domestically blissful. He imagines waking up in bed with them, nuzzling into their hair as they convince him to stay a few more moments. He imagines dates, lacing his fingers through theirs while telling them how stunning they are. He imagines it's their body that he pulls close late at night, and not a spare pillow he squeezes to his chest.

He hates these thoughts more than most, as it makes him silently grieve what could've been if he weren't such an arrogant prick. What if he was nicer to them when they first met? Would they have approached him a third time at the party and invite him to their tent? Embarrassingly, he's been losing more sleep than usual over the what if's, and it's making him sloppy with his work. Papers were scattered, he keeps losing his books, and ink stains have been appearing on his robes more and more lately. Unacceptable.

Is he truly this pathetic, losing sleep over domestic thoughts with someone unreachable? Is he that lonely? Does he crave company that badly? It is a wizard's curse, surely.

He thought he got over this, but it seems he needs more than one night to 'let go' of them. Damn it all, why can't this be easier?

He shakes his head, regaining his focus of the task at hand. Rearranging the scrolls once more, he stands onto his feet again and brushes the dust off of his robe. He proudly places his hands on his hips. Finally, after so many days, he has the counter exactly how he wants it. Everything is organized, not a speck of dust in sight, all of it is beautifully-

One of the doors slam open again by a gust of wind, and rage fills him to the core. Why, oh why are the gods so against him? Now there's dirt of the floor, he just made Krank sweep it all out!

The anger disappears instantaneously when he sees Tav rush through the door, sweat beading on their brow and their face flushes from exertion. Extremely similar to how they appeared last time-

Oh no.

As they rush past the counter to the same room they both in before, he starts following them without thinking. What in the hells was he doing?! This can only lead to something terrible for him, even if Tav would be none the wiser. Why does he torture himself like this? He finally has everything he could ever want, yet he greedy for more. For the one thing he can never hope to have.

But they need him, and he could never deny them.

He quickly enters the room after them, shutting the door on his way in. Thankfully this room is more presentable this time around, but he doubts Tav will notice it. They have never been one to look at the finer details. At least from what he has seen, it's not as if he spent much time around them. That thought makes jealousy swell in his chest.

"I need help again." Tav states, rustling up their clothes.

"I can see that," He sasses, but Tav is already pushing off the mantle that sits on his shoulders before pulling him into a kiss, hand fisting the front of his robes.

What has he done to deserve this punishment? Are the Gods testing him by dangling his one desire in front of him? They should know he's too weak to resist their touch.

He gasps into their mouth when they pin him to the wall, free hand grasping the back of his thigh. They easily put their leg in between his, which puts him in a daze. Is this truly an act if they would go this far, or are they testing his boundaries? The worst part about this is he never wants them to stop. He wants them to keep going and reduce him to a pitiful, breathless mess.

They're already succeeding in that, it seems.

When he feels them try to pry his teeth open, he lets them, tangling his tongue with theirs. The noise is so lewd in his ear, a blush immediately rising to his face at the intimacy of it all. He thought about this situation constantly, both through the actual memory and then to his fantasies. Though, fantasy is nothing compared to their real hand tracing the skin of his exposed neck, mapping out the dips and curves of his adam's apple. Images flash through his mind of them choking him, not to hurt, but to claim. He honesty hopes they would do so, but alas, their hand trails up to cup his jaw instead.

This action only made him more flustered, and while he doesn't understand why, he accepts it all the same and leans into their hand. No one has ever touched his face like this in many, many years. Usually it was hit or slapped, no thanks to his teacher. Even when their touch is as gentle as a dove, he can't help but flinch when their thumb strokes along his cheekbone. They pull away from the kiss, catching their breath with a question on the tip of their tongue.

As if the world is playing a joke, those same Flaming Fists burst the door open. They look surprised once again.

"Again?!" He shouts at them, bristling and baring his teeth.

"Do you fucking mind?" Tav yells after, giving them a hard-earned glare.

The Flaming Fists do not bother arguing again, turning heel and leaving the shop without another word. They look foolish, doing their walk of shame. At least they were quick about it, Rolan did not feel like giving them another lecture.

"How do you do, Rolan?" They tease, a hand still fisting his sleeve.

It is a miracle how he keeps his composure. "Well enough, I suppose. Now, as I said earlier, again?"

"There's a perfectly good explanation."

"Then?"

"They were assholes so I stole their money."

"I'm inclined to agree. They are quite intrusive in their searches. Though, must have you lead them here again? I just had Krank clean the floors of the shop from bottom to top!" He complains, running a hand down his face as he stabilizes his footing, "Now I'll have to command him to do it all over again. At least the bottom part."

"I know, I'm sorry to do this to you again. I can make it up to you!" The say quickly before taking a pause. "Wait, you reanimated Krank?"

"Despite being Lorroakan's, he still had his uses." He drawls, suddenly feeling trapped in their space. "Clearly weaponry is not the armors calling, so I have him clean the floors in the morning and at night. There hasn't been any complaints."

"It's animated armor, Rolan. It can't complain."

"I meant complaints from the customers, you absolute dunce!" He snaps and immediately regrets it, but Tav bursts out in a fit of laughter at his insult.

Never has he understood what was so funny about them being insulted. Does he look like a fool doing so? Are they laughing at him? He should be angry over it but he most likely deserves it.

"Well, I feel terrible for dragging you in here twice," They giggle, wiping a stray tear from their eye. "So I want to make it up to you."

"And how do you suppose you'll do that?" He challenges.

"Well, we already got the first part of it started, if you're interested." They tease, voice low.

Oh gods.

"We could take it further. I can feel your little friend down there, and I'm more than happy to help." They murmur in his ear.

A cold sweat hits him in that instant. This is his worst nightmare. He wants it, gods does he want it so badly, but if he accepts it there will be no turning back for him.

They attempt to cup his cheek but he turns his face away, gently pushing them.

“Rolan?”

“I can’t do this.” He says, unable to look them in the eye, but he feels the way they tense.

Before they can start apologizing, he continues, “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the Shadow-Cursed Lands, I think. I adore many things about you. But you keep holding me like this, kissing me, and it's starting to make me believe that there will be more than this, one day. When The Absolute is gone, and Baldur's Gate is safe, you would do me the honor of considering me as a...companion."

"Oh, Rolan..."

"I refuse to be a side piece, someone who will be at your beckon call whenever you're bored. You’re tugging at my heart as if it’s your plaything, and while I know you have not done this on purpose, I can't handle it anymore."

He exhales sharply, tilting his face up when he feels tears sting his eyes. "Please, do not torture me like this and just go. Leave."

When he’s met with silence, he swallows and blinks away the wetness of his eyes. He knew that he never had a chance, and that their affections were never real. How could his savior ever look at him like he looked at them? But that diversion of theirs was so wonderful, and for at least a temporary moment, he felt wanted. Desired.

Loved.

He knew he couldn’t continue. It is selfish of him and he would’ve been setting himself up for heartbreak.

Tav leans in close, eyes tender as they tilt his chin back down. “Rolan…I’ve been a fool. I thought I was being obvious.”

He finally can look at them in the eye. “What?”

They can't help but chuckle, but it is a good natured one, “I’m in love with you too, idiot. Why do you think I would keep seeing you in this way?” They ask, tucking some hair behind his ear. “I'm so sorry, I should have been more forward with you. I never meant to hurt your heart like this, you mean too much to me."

He must be dreaming, he has to be, but he can feel the of their body pressing against him. They want him too, and it makes his heart want to burst out of his ribcage. He isn't aware of the blush that rises in his face at their confession, making his already red skin grow crimson.

They carefully cup his face again, pressing their forehead against his, being mindful of his horns. "I'm sorry Rolan, truly. Could you ever forgive me?"

His adam's apple bobs with his swallow, but his face remains a stern look. "...Your apology seems genuine, and I forgive you."

"Well good, I was worried that I just fucked up my chance." They huff with a smile, gently pinning him against the wall once more. "Now, would you like me to try this again and kiss you?”

“Please.” He whispers instantly, tail coiling around their leg.

It was unclear who pulled in first, but what mattered is their hands were all over each other as they kiss fiercely. He felt one of their hands move back and grip the base of his tail. A pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, pleasure shooting up his spine. Tav happily nips his bottom lip in response before pulling away. “I want to see your bedroom, Rolan. Now.”

"As you wish." He responds breathlessly.

Using Dimension Door, he teleports the both of them to the top of the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries, pulling them through the portal and into the tower. This is a totally inappropriate use of one of his higher level spells, but his mind is in a sexually charged place. He'll chastise himself for it later.

His grip on their hand is tight, sweat gathering there as he teleports them again to the bedroom. It isn't customized to his liking quite yet, but it at least has the colors he wants. Deeper blues mixed with other calming colors to help him sleep. He doubts Tav is admiring the features with the way they pull him onto the mattress.

When they both settle in the bed, Tav quickly gets undressed, unclipping the armor and ripping off their under clothes in one fell swoop. Whatever he though their body looked like in his dreams, the real thing is so much better. Any little scar or texture change, he either wants to trace with his fingers or with his tongue. As they lay back and spread their legs, he reaches for them.

They gently smack his hand away when he tries to touch their chest, smirking. “No. You will sit back all pretty and watch.”

His mouth goes dry, surprised at the sudden command, but would he truly be a student of the Weave if he did not know how to listen to directions? He does as told, sitting back on his feet.

"Do you have oil in here?" They question.

"Right side, top drawer."

They crawl over and grab it, settling back into position as they drizzle the product onto their fingers. They make a show of it, too, playing with the substance between their fingers before their hand trails down in between their legs, locking eyes with Rolan.

He swallows as he watches them open themselves up, all for him. It sends his mind reeling with lust, and he’s still not allowed to touch. Torture, is what it is. They have him exactly where they want him, and he is not complaining one bit. Not in his wildest imagination could he have though of this scenario. It's incredible. They're incredible.

As they go on languidly slow, he starts feeling hot all over. His clothes feel too suffocating around his body, his trousers unbelievably tight. It takes everything in him not to palm his growing erection, biting a lip to stifle a small moan that threatens to escape his throat.

“I want to watch you take all those layers off, Rolan. It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked.” They demand, hooking their fingers inside of themselves and groaning.

He responds by finally taking off that mantle that sets heavy on his shoulders. They watch him unblinking as he instantly gets his robes off, seeing the tent in his smalls that expresses his want. It looks painful. He throws the robes, shoes, and smalls off somewhere in the room, his cock now in the cold air, leaking.

They smirk at the sight, now curling three fingers in with a long winded moan. “Gods, I can’t wait to have you in me. I bet you feel so good, look at that…”

Have they always been this good with their words? They always have in his pathetic fantasies, but the real thing makes him twitch in need. He wants to touch them, feel their skin against his in a blaze of pleasure.

Alas, he has to wait.

Finally, they take their fingers out of themselves and sit back up. “I’m ready for you.”

“I want to touch you, Tav.” He admits, fingers twitching on the top of his thighs.

They crawl over to him and sit in his lap, breathing hard as they wrap their arms around his shoulders. “You may.”

He takes some small amount of comfort in that they’re as hot and bothered as he is, watching their flushed face before they crash their lips into his own.

He whines into their mouth, his cock trapped in between their stomachs. The friction is positively divine and he already thinks he may be close with the way their fingers trace the ridges on his back. They're mapping them out, pressing against the wing impressions on his shoulder blades and then trailing them down his spine. As soon as they reach the base of his tail, they tug on it once more.

A gasp shudders out of him when they grind against him. “Tav, if you keep doing that, I won’t last much longer.”

They hum in approval, sucking a hickey into the base of his throat. “What if I promise to make you come again?”

“Tav, please—”

“Okay okay.” They relent, moving back a little to give him some breathing room.

They stay in his lap as they pull him in for another kiss, and he joyfully obliges. Their tongues dance as he gropes their chest, mostly wanting to feel the unique textures of their skin. They’re perfect, to him. He wishes they were some sort of god, because at least then he would have an explanation for his need towards them. This unrelenting desire that he has pleaded for every night when he dreamt of them.

He has so many dreams, one that wake him in a sweat and painfully hard in his trousers. He made a theory that indulging would help the process of forgetting his desires, but it seems as though his hypothesis was wrong. Dead wrong. His dreams of them only became more vivid, some tricking him into thinking it was real. He mourned when he woke up those mornings, wondering why the Gods were torturing him with their image, their body, their face, their laugh.

Hells, he hopes he's not dreaming right now, they feel too real. He can feel them biting and tugging his lower lip, so he concludes that they were, in fact, here with him. Making him feel so much better than his wildest fantasies. Their nails bite into the back of his neck as they briefly deepen the kiss, before pulling themselves away, a string of saliva connecting them. For at least a moment, he catches his breath.

With a solid push to his chest, he falls back onto the bed with a soft thump. He pushes himself back up onto his elbows quickly, breathing harsh. At first, he’s worried he screwed something up. Did his nails hurt their skin? He should have blunt them this morning. But then they straddle his waist and take hold of his drooling hard-on, ready to sink onto him. “Hold still.”

As they lower themselves, stars burst behind his eyes as he takes them fully, their walls squeezing around him so deliciously. He bites back a moan that tries to work its way up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he manages to hold himself together when they seat themselves onto him.

“Gods, you feel so fucking good Rolan.” They moan, clenching briefly around him until they finally relax. They do a test grind, and he knows he's hitting all the right places within them with the way their eyes flutter.

“So do you.” He says breathlessly, a light sheen of sweat already decorating his skin, pupils blown wide as his tail flicks about. The appendage instinctively reaches for something to hold onto. Anything at all. In the end, he settles with wrapping his tail around their waist, keeping himself grounded. They smile down at him when they feel it squeeze them.

He tries to reach for for their sides shakily, but they are more put together in this moment, and much faster. They take his hands, lacing their fingers through his, and pin them each besides his head. He’s only met with a grin before they start riding him with reckless abandon, gripping his hands unbelievably tight.

A groan that trails off into a whimper escapes his throat, hips subconsciously thrusting up into their tight heat. It felt positively divine feeling their walls clench around him, purposely teasing. They’re grinning, even when they toss their head back and moan. He squeezes their hands for dear life, already losing himself as their skin meets his. “Ah— Tav—“

“That’s it baby, I want to hear you.” They pant, leaning down and kissing him soundly. He lets their tongue pry his lips with ease, begging for a taste.

“I won’t last if— gods—“ he cries against their mouth, toes curling in the sheets.

“I don’t care, let me feel you. I want it.”

He curses when they clench around him again, clearly wanting to milk him dry, but he manages to stave his orgasm off. At least for a little bit. This felt so fucking good, he never wants it to end. But with the way they roll their hips, he’s not going to last. He wishes he could have last longer, giving them their pleasure the way they deserve after all of their hardship. They saved him, saved his siblings, saved the tieflings. Twice. Then they saved him for a third time. They did not have to, they could've walked away and let him lay with his poor choices. They didn't, and he's never seen them more angry than when they saw his bruised face.

His stomach suddenly tightens, giving him that impending warning he knows all too well in recent days. “C—Close, I’m close—“ he rasps.

“Me too. Fuck, you feel so good love.” They murmur thoughtlessly.

That nickname teeters him over the edge, and Rolan came with a cry in his throat. Tav was not far behind, fluttering around him as they came as well.

They breathe hard, resting on top of him and letting go of his hands. They instead use them to hold his heated face and kiss him gently. With his hands free, he wraps his arms around their back to pull them closer. He’s spent, exhausted, but he’s never felt more content as he kisses them.

Before they both could feel uncomfortable, he murmurs the words of prestidigitation and cleans them up as they rise off of his softening cock. They plop next to him on the bed, smiling tiredly.

“You were amazing.”

He laughs at that, wiping sweat off of his face. “I should be saying that to you.”

“Then we’re both amazing, hm?” They tease, scooting closer to his side. "Where did you learn how to fuck like that?"

"Must you be so vulgar?" He exasperates with a groan, making them laugh, "But if you must know, I have done extensive research on the subject."

"Ooooh research! What, did you study anatomy books?"

He groans, covering his face with his hands.

"Wait a minute, you have a smut collection?! This I have to see."

"Absolutely not!" He shouts, his face, neck, and ears now a deep crimson.

They burst out laughing, and as much as he wants to chastise them for it, he ends up laughing with them. He's never felt so light before now, as if he's finally feeling relief for all the trouble he's been through.

Gods, he's truly in love with them, isn't he?

"I can go for a round two, if you're up for it." They say after calming down their laughter.

He snickers at that, pecking heir forehead. "As much as that sounds wonderful, you've exhausted me for the day."

"Then how about some cuddling? Karlach always said I give great hugs."

He hums, pecking their cheek next as they wrap their arms around him. "I think I would like that, very much."

Letting out a deep rooted sigh, he feel all the tension in his body finally leave him. He should be disgusted by all the sweat gathered around them in the aftermath of their activities, but in this moment, he wouldn't have it any other way. There's time to complain about it later. Perhaps he can show them the bath he now uses. Would they be impressed by it? It certainly is better than whatever they have going on in the Elfsong Tavern. He wants to do everything to impress them, make himself worth their while even with the chaos that is their lives. But for now, he's calm.

For the first time, Rolan felt truly free.

"Does Krank know how to clean bed sheets?"

Snorting, he looks at them again. "I haven't made him try. He's decent at mopping and sweeping...somewhat. Why?"

"Just curious. It's cute how you just have a little servant now, cleaning the place."

"Krank is not a servant, he is an employee of my establishment."

"You don't pay him!"

"That is not the point! He works, does he not?"

They laugh, pressing their forehead against his. "Fine, fine, but why not make him clean your room, including the sheets?"

"He will mess them up! I know how to properly smooth it out and make this room look highly presentable."

"Oh, I'm sure you do...anyways, do you have a bath in here? I stink and feel sweaty." He barks out a laugh, reluctantly getting out of their arms and shuffling off the bed. "I do, it's in the next room over."

When he offers his hand to them, they happily take it as he leads them to the side room. The large bath presents itself, though it is empty right now. He should figure out a way for it to be ready automatically in any time of the day, but he'll work out the kinks later. He wants to show them that his fingers have talent in ways they wouldn't comprehend. All of it in the form of a heavenly scalp massage.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

---------

Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet. 

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you. 

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor. 

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world. 

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence. 

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.” 

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it. 

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face. 

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.” 

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile. 

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.         

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly. 

“I would sew.” 

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces. 

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care. 

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.” 

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you. 

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored. 

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking. 

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”  

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him. 

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest. 

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you. 

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.” 

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair. 

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave. 

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today. 

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.” 

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future. 

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.” 

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.” 

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again. 

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.” 

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this. 

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question. 

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk. 

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs. 

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off. 

“How about three?” Three is manageable. 

“Counting Grogu?” 

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that. 

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.” 

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible. 

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday. 

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father. 

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.” 

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’” 

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious. 

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that. 

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?” 

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would. 

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss. 

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father. 

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.” 

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks. 

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist. 

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh. 

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle. 

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that. 

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks. 

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?” 

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile. 

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours. 

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter. 

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.” 

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?” 

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze. 

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen? 

You never talked about that night after that. 

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises. 

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room. 

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again. 

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried. 

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…” 

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that. 

Maybe you should have. 

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation. 

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless. 

“I’d like to go to bed.” 

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door. 

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could. 

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that. 

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret. 

“Goodnight, Lysa.” 

“Goodnight, princess.” 

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet. 

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you. 

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully. 

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo. 

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute. 

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that. 

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after. 

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid. 

Not that you’re above being morbid. 

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family. 

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded. 

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious. 

It makes you want to poison his wine. 

But you don’t have poison. 

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now. 

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian. 

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.” 

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him. 

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.” 

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now. 

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it. 

You don’t ask for any follow up. 

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself. 

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to. 

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers. 

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright. 

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open. 

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall. 

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?” 

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.” 

“Do you want to see him or not?” 

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently. 

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness. 

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her. 

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore. 

The wailing. 

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands. 

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days. 

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh. 

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you. 

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell. 

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing. 

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face. 

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.  

Both eyes. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” 

Oh gods. 

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room. 

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell. 

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him. 

Maker. 

What have they done to your Din? 

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this. 

Armorless. 

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner. 

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.  

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue. 

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him. 

He assumes you're here to harm him. 

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly. 

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears. 

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face. 

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay? 

Technically no. 

But far better than he’s doing. 

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?” 

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.” 

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed. 

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.” 

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look. 

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently. 

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look. 

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him. 

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait. 

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup? 

No. 

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation. 

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time. 

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all. 

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.” 

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his. 

“What else can I do for you?” 

“Nothing. Being here is enough.” 

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair. 

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process. 

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here? 

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.” 

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain. 

“Anything. I’ll do anything.” 

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried. 

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body. 

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him. 

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him. 

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears. 

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death? 

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic. 

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest. 

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well. 

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.” 

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter. 

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time. 

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more. 

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours. 

“I’ll always be yours.” 

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons. 

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning. 

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din. 

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet. 

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it. 

After all, you're just a doll. 

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his. 

And time blends. 

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting. 

So you wake. 

And you sleep. 

And you walk. 

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant. 

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night. 

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month. 

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.” 

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa. 

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry. 

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now. 

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room. 

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room. 

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors. 

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage. 

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?” 

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.” 

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate. 

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite. 

They look miserable. 

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head. 

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head. 

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.  

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup. 

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself. 

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents. 

The silver, shimmering contents. 

Din’s helmet. 

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor. 

Empty. 

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you. 

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands. 

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully. 

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.              

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box. 

Bloody and pink, a tongue. 

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand. 

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish. 

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please. 

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?” 

You clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” 

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed. 

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box. 

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box. 

You have never been hateful. 

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed. 

And the music starts. 

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it. 

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in  one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter. 

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.  

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob. 

Maybe you are a hateful person now. 

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point. 

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day. 

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep. 

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him. 

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you. 

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat. 

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound 

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.” 

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips. 

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.” 

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes. 

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand. 

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face. 

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom. 

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face. 

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it. 

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so. 

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you. 

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point? 

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash. 

You barely look at them. 

You hate them. 

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them. 

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind. 

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine. 

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here. 

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair. 

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave. 

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it. 

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough. 

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down. 

Someone left you a small vase of flowers. 

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies. 

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle. 

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first. 

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out. 

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse. 

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned. 

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you. 

He’s a mess. 

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps. 

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to. 

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away. 

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue. 

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. 

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear. 

Fuck it. 

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror. 

This is it. 

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street. 

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it. 

But no. 

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him. 

That moment never comes. 

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom. 

Just like that, he’s gone. 

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone. 

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life. 

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point. 

You scream. 

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw. 

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream. 

You shriek.

You howl. 

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up. 

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw. 

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame. 

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market. 

Your failsafe. 

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it. 

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of. 

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape. 

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging. 

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you. 

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other. 

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine. 

And lastly you will find your vibroblade. 

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you. 

Be smart. 

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness. 

So seek those things out. 

Be safe. Be happy.   

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours. 

an ner kar'taylir darasuum, 

Din

All my love. 

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you. 

And your grip on the knife tightens. 

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now. 

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was. 

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things. 

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone. 

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be. 

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door. 

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful. 

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about. 

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you. 

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address. 

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you. 

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up. 

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room. 

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died. 

Maybe it’s been three months. 

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone. 

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards. 

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching. 

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you. 

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now. 

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin. 

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke. 

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion. 

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight. 

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor. 

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist. 

You look him up and down, one last time. 

Your loving husband. 

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly. 

I’m sorry. 

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do. 

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks. 

Be smart. 

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest. 

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now. 

How dare he look surprised by any of this. 

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse. 

So you remove the knife. 

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion. 

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria. 

But it never comes. 

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. 

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob. 

This was never going to bring him back. 

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace. 

They won’t execute you. 

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t. 

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child. 

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels. 

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter? 

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo. 

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks. 

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at. 

New Leo. 

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you. 

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him. 

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you. 

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer. 

And it clicks. 

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong. 

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

//

I don't have a tag list anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

[strlingsav]

Ghost finds reader’s bitch button 🥵🥰 absolutely rails them dumb

Ah yes- another excellent prompt.

Punishment

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Your Lieutenant reprimands you with unorthodox methods.

Warnings: Semi-rough sex. Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your heel tapped rhythmically against the floor, attempting to keep yourself calm amidst the chaos that was about to ensue. Your arms were crossed over your chest, staring at the blank wall of Lieutenant Riley's office, waiting with torturous anticipation for him to arrive.

You'd been reprimanded before; it wasn't the threat of punishment that had your hands trembling, or your throat dry, it was Ghost. His refusal to see the truth to the circumstances- you were right, he was wrong. He'd never admit it, never kneel to anyone beneath him, but you were just as hard-headed. You were prepared to fight tooth and nail for what was right.

He'd left after ordering you to his office, likely meeting with Price to discuss reasonable punishment for your offence. Your jaw clenched at the thought of the two men discussing the issue at hand, without your input. No doubt, Ghost would misconstrue the truth, and hide his own mistakes behind the guise of giving you the benefit of the doubt.

The door opened; at any other time, you would've turned to meet his gaze, offer an inviting smile, but not now.

"Sergeant," Ghost's voice boomed around the corners of the office, hitting your ears like a goddamned wall. "Fucked up, this time."

He moved around you, heavy boots thudding on the ground as he took a seat in the chair across from you.

"All due respect, Lieutenant, I'm not sure you're seeing the big picture."

His eyes were dull, narrowed as you expressed defiance. You could practically outline the scowl beneath the mask when the words left your mouth.

"That so?" He hummed, nodding. "Maybe you ain't seein' the big picture," He said. He slammed his fist against the desk, which ordinarily would've spiked your blood pressure, but you'd been on edge for far too long already. "Outright insubordination," He paused, "And actin' like a fuckin' git."

You inhaled deeply, your nostrils flaring as you tried to contain your temper. Your usual tells of frustration were worse than they'd ever been; your eye twitching, lips pursed, fingers digging into your skin, your temperature rising by the second.

"That's what you think," You said, leaning forward. "Your ass would've been on the block if I hadn't stepped in."

"That's what I know- don't care about anything else."

"You aren't-"

"Shut the fuck up, Sergeant," He growled. "'M gettin' tired of babysittin' you. You need to get your shite in order."

You set your jaw again, your eyes honing in on his with a venomous glare. He must've noticed your glare, the tell-tale signs of a short fuse about to blow.

"That piss you off?" He asked, leaning both elbows on the desk.

"To be candid, Lieutenant, you are pissing me off."

"Good. I have half a mind to do your fuckin' head in."

You could hardly stand it now- the pure rage enveloping every nerve. You were burning hot, his words covering your entire body with sizzling anger. You grimaced, standing to your feet. You towered over his seated form, and his eyes followed you with frustrating nonchalance as you rose above him.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Should've left you, you ungrateful prick," You spat. "Am I dismissed, or are you not done getting off yet?"

He was quiet, almost calm- it worried you more than you'd let on. When he lost his temper, the shouting and swearing was tolerable, understandable. It was the silence that sent a wave of nausea over you, made your heart fall to your gut.

"You finished?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

You fixed your posture, standing up straight as he eyed you down.

You nodded, curt and sharp.

"Sit down."

Your tongue ran over your teeth, a mechanism you developed to hide whatever expression was threatening to ruin your cover; in this case, a flustered frown.

"Y'saved my arse, but you went against a direct order. Can't have that, not in this line o' work."

You nodded again, staying silent as your arms guarded your chest.

His tone had turned soft, almost understanding, empathetic. The contrast threw you off- you wanted to run, escape the small room before you fell victim to the unfamiliar, muted cadence in his voice.

"I understand," You spoke up, levelling your eyes with his. You wanted to be resolute, not give into the vulnerability between you.

"Not sure you do. Not yet, at least."

You tried not to appear intrigued, interested in his train of thought. Your brow quirked up, seemingly on its own.

"Don't think a standard punishment is fittin' for you."

You were concerned now, and it was branching out to every limb; heavy and suffocating, strangling your previous agreement to remain stoic.

"What's that mean?" You asked, trying to conceal the tremble in your voice.

"Means- I think you're actin' out, feelin' frustrated, pent-up." His expression remained unchanged, watching you closely. "Think you want my attention, Sergeant. All my attention."

You felt your jaw fall slack, unsure whether he was truly suggesting what you were interpreting. Your stomach lurched at the thought of your Lieutenant showing you attention. You'd seen the defined muscles of his arms, no doubt you'd thought about how big he was, how his hands felt on your waist when he corrected your form; but you'd never imagined it would come to fruition.

"What are you suggesting, Sir?" You asked, desperately hoping your tone sounded offended rather than interested.

"Think you'd benefit from some discipline. Not a thought in that fuckin' head. Doin' just as I ask, just as y'should."

You breathed deeply, nearly choking on the saliva pooling in your mouth. The heat had drained from your outer body, targeting the susceptible organ between your thighs instead. You couldn't help but clench your thighs together, desperately aching to sate your suffering.

"I don't know what you're asking of me." A lie- one told brazenly, in front of your superior, who could see right through the innocent facade.

"You do." He leaned closer. "Don't be daft."

Your brows furrowed, "I'm not."

"You choose. Can have you on guard duty for the next month instead."

"What would you have me do?" You asked, your eyes falling to the desk in front of you.

Your chest was rising and falling quickly, given away by your forearms that lifted and fell with every breath. You were sure your eyes were watery with arousal, desire seeping through the cracks in your composure. You were quickly falling apart under his gaze, with the temptation of his offer.

"Get on your knees."

Your head shot up to his gaze, your lips parting in shock.

"I'm- I-," You stuttered, caught between the desire to comply, to obey, and the stubbornness rooted inside you.

"On your knees," He said again. "Right here." He nodded to the floor in front of him.

You thought you were too dignified to kneel before him; it was supposed to be the opposite- but a small part of you wanted it; letting go, relinquishing control for just a fraction of time.

Regardless of the anger festering in your gut, the offer was damn near irresistible. It sent shivers up your spine, a flush of heat to your groin- and the grudge you'd been building became a distant memory. You were at a crossroads, not entirely sold on the idea for many reasons, but in the moment, you wanted to please him, do whatever he asked of you in hopes he might return the favour.

You swallowed the lump of integrity trying to claw it's way up your throat, standing to your feet once more. You'd already made it around the desk, standing before him as he glanced up at you expectantly.

Your fingers trembled with hesitation, knees buckling under the weighted pressure of his order. Finally, you caved. In spite of all your adamant attempts to show your strength, your resilience, you knelt before your Lieutenant.

He leaned back further in his chair, eyeing you down.

"Think you like pissin' me off," He announced. "Hopin' I'd catch on and treat you the way y'really want."

"Sir, I-"

"Good start," He interrupted. "Keep it up and I might just reward you, Sergeant."

Your nostrils flared, desperately trying to inhale enough oxygen to fight the lightheadedness.

"Tell me what you want," You uttered.

Your confidence had been shattered; you'd been reduced to a submissive vessel to be ordered around. It made you sick- but really, you were shaking with excitement.

"I want you," He leaned in closer. "To put that smart mouth t'good use."

You were dumbfounded, unsure whether it was a test, another scenario he was running, an experiment. But as he leaned back again, shifting his thighs to accommodate you, you knew that wasn't the case.

You gulped, your hands apprehensively reaching for his belt, your eyes locked on his the entire time. You studied him for any sudden movements, treating him like a stray dog that could bite at any second. It wouldn't be unlike him, to bait you into feeling comfortable, then latch onto the most vulnerable parts of you with a glimmer of sadistic pleasure in his eyes.

He liked you on your knees, vulnerable and pliable. He didn't often see the side of you that listened, that let him have control. You fought him on every damn detail, found something to argue over. Here, he had control. You'd agreed to let him have it, of course, but it was a glimpse into the part of you he knew only he could ever have.

You undid his belt, zipper and button opening after that. You should've known better than to expect anything less than the large imprint against his briefs, a wet spot forming above the head of his cock.

He'd been thinking about you for years. At first, it was nothing more than an appreciation for your attractive appearance. Simply put, he could see past your beauty and behave in a normal manner around you. It became more difficult when he grew to know you, your stubborn attitude, brazen defiance in the face of bullshit.

He appreciated a soldier with good sense, especially one that wasn't too much of a boot-licker to speak up. He didn't appreciate the obvious insubordination, but you'd been good at falling in line before that. He could see your confidence, your ability to hold your own.

After the tipping point, he couldn't fight the fantasies in his head. He'd wonder what exactly you looked like under the Kevlar vest and layers of mud and grime. He'd wonder if you thought about him, too. Specifically, when you touched yourself, if you'd ever imagined him when you climaxed.

It drove him mad, not knowing what was going on inside your head. His suggestion came after a few instances of insubordination that created tension between the two of you. He may not have known what you were thinking, but he could see your tense disposition. The way you stared at him, your thighs clenching together when he'd call you out.

You liked being reprimanded by him. His station excited you, he excited you- and he knew it well. He would never abuse his position; he'd offered you an out, and you decided against it. With his suspicions confirmed, there was nothing stopping him from simultaneously putting you in your place and enjoying the fruition of his fantasies.

Your eyes glanced up at him quickly, a look that was laced with hesitation. He enjoyed making you squirm, work for his approval. So, he stayed silent, waiting for you to finally obey him.

You did, to his utmost satisfaction, and peeled his briefs down off his carved hips to expose his cock. He hummed quietly with gratification, watching your eyes widen at his size. He knew he was well endowed, and could hardly contain himself at the thought of you struggling to breath with his cock down your throat.

You licked your lips, an inadvertent response to the sight before you. Your eyes lifted to his, and he reached his hand out, letting it rest on your cheek with an uncharacteristically delicate touch. He guided you forward, until you were perched above his lap, your hands on his knees, waiting with your stomach churning and heart pounding.

Then, he moved his hand to grip your hair, tugging you closer to his cock, until your lips pressed against the slick head. You opened your mouth, letting his cock slide inside.

He groaned. Letting his head fall back as you took his cock deeper, hitting the back of your throat. Your body lurched with a gag, leaving him breathless when your throat closed around him.

"That's it," He grunted. "Choke on it, just like that."

Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment, saliva dripping from the corner of your lip. His eyes were glued to you, watching your eyes shut as you forced yourself to take him as deep as possible.

"Look at me," He ordered. "Let me see those pretty eyes."

Your eyes fluttered open, watery from lack of oxygen and the stimulation of your gag reflex. You kept your eyes on his as you suctioned your lips over his cock, your tongue flattening in your mouth as he slid in and out with the movements of your head.

He leaned forward, his hands wrapping around your jaw and the crown of your head as he forced you up and down on his cock. He grunted hoarsely, harsh breaths leaving his lips as he listened to the sounds of your mouth. He tapped your cheek gently with his hand, making you flinch softly.

"'At's a girl," He muttered. "You keep goin' 'til I say so."

You hummed against him, a whimper of pure arousal. You'd already felt your panties become wet, an accumulation of desire that was seeping from you the more he made orders.

"Y'look fuckin' good on your knees, sweetheart, with my cock in your mouth." He fought to speak between deep breaths.

You nodded, nearly unnoticeable, but continued moving your lips up and down his cock, your tongue massaging the places you could reach. You could feel every vein, every ridge on his cock with your tongue. The saliva in your mouth made it difficult to keep quiet, vulgar noises echoing around the small room.

You were a mess, saliva dripping down your chin, tears rolling over your cheeks. You sniffled softly, gasping for air through your nose.

He lifted your head with your hair, yanking you up. You gasped, sucking in a deep breath.

"Take off your shirt."

You pursed your lips, your brows furrowing as you sheepishly tugged your shirt over your head. His eyes followed, watching you toss it aside, moving his gaze to your breasts still hidden behind your bra.

"Bend over my desk."

You gulped- waiting for a moment, until he stood to his feet. Then, you rushed to do as he asked, letting your pelvis hit the desk.

He stood up behind you, pressing his cock into your ass. His fingers reached beneath you, undoing your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. He kicked your foot, making you stumble and spread your legs.

His hand landed on your ass, calloused palms massaging roughly.

"Been on my nerves, Sergeant," He uttered from behind you.

His hand left a harsh slap against your ass, eliciting a yelp from your swollen lips.

"Please, Lieutenant," You whispered.

You were trembling with desire, your legs hardly strong enough to continue to hold you up. You collapsed against the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool metal.

"What's that?" He asked, leaning over you.

"Please- just-"

In the midst of your sentence, his fingers trailed down your ass, before sliding inside you. It cut you off with a guttural moan, your back arching into him.

You could hear the sounds of your desperation, your pussy squelching around his fingers as he hooked them inside you.

"I was right," He said, pride lacing his tone. "You like bein' punished, don't you, sweetheart?"

You whimpered, your ass moving side to side against his groin. His other hand came down on your ass, another slap that made you flinch.

"Yes," You nodded, pushing yourself into his touch.

"This cunt's drippin'," He chided. "Couldn't deny it if you tried."

You held back a sob- overstimulated, desperate, wanting.

"Put your hands on your back."

You did as he asked, completely overcome with desire to fight against his orders anymore. Embarrassment didn't cross your mind, you were beyond aroused, reduced to pleading for him with your whimpers and whines.

"Y'listen well with my fingers in you." He asked. "Finally straighten you out, ain't that right?

You felt the head of his cock replace his fingers, teasing you as he slowly pushed inside.

"Yes please," You whispered. "Yes- yes."

He hummed with satisfaction, before burying himself completely inside you. His hand grabbed a hold of your wrists, pinning you to the desk as his cock grazed your cervix.

You were rendered speechless, your mouth open with a gasp.

He groaned, "This cunt is tight, sweetheart. Might need to stretch you out."

You shut your eyes as he rolled his hips, his pelvis meeting your ass with a force that drove you against the desk.

Your moans were high-pitched, clenching your stomach as you were rammed against the desk. Your arms ached as he held them behind your back, holding you down.

His skin slapped against yours, and he watched your ass bounce on his pelvis. His eyes were glued to the dip of your waist, watching you writhe beneath him as he thrusted into you.

His free hand slid between your thighs, and he hunched over you to massage your clit with his fingers. Your body went rigid, tense with pleasure and overstimulation. It was too much and not enough at the same time, fighting your own body to let you climax.

Despite the uncomfortable table, you could relax in his hold. You trusted him to take care of you. He was rough, seemed uncaring- but you knew better. You'd seen the way he looked at you, the way his eyes lingered. It was undeniable, the chemistry, the sexual tension you could practically taste. He'd always had your back.

His hips rolled against you, hitting your ass with a force that shoved you against the desk. Over and over, he dove deep inside you, lost in his own pleasure until you let out a grunt.

"Ghost-" You choked out.

Saliva dripped onto the table in front of you, your cheek sliding back and forth through the tears that had accumulated.

"Sweetheart," He cooed, another attempt at luring you into a false sense of security. "You close?"

You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence beneath him. His cock dragging through your walls, his fingers still rubbing slow circles over your clit.

Your pussy fluttered, your eyes shutting and jaw clenching as your orgasm began.

Then, Ghost stopped.

You whined in protest, letting out a huff of anger and exhaustion.

He leaned over you, his lips by your ear.

"You ask to cum," He ordered. "Or you too fuckin' dumb already?"

You shook your head; compliance was the only sure way to get what you wanted- even under the haze of complete submission and arousal, you could understand the game he was playing.

He moved his hips again, his fingers returning between your thighs. You were a bit more sensitive now, having been deprived of your climax, your body twisted against him, itching for relief.

You could only pant against the desk, his chest pressed to your back, still holding your hands so far up your back your shoulders ached. You could hear his heavy breathing in your ear, the mutters of praise leaving his lips.

Every sniffle, every whimper, he chewed up and devoured- he was beyond satisfied, watching you crumble underneath him. After this, he knew he'd have you on a leash, obeying every order, every command, if only for a little while. He'd have no qualms about repeating your punishment.

"Ghost," You blurted out. "Can I cum?" You squeezed your eyes shut.

He waited a few moments before answering, leaving you teetering in the balance, forcing you to concentrate.

"Go on," He said.

You let out a long exhale, pleasure drowning out every other thought aside from his cock moving in and out of you, his heavy hand on your pussy. Your entire body was rigid, frozen beneath him while your orgasm overtook you.

"That's it," He drawled.

His thrusts were slower now that your pussy was clamped down around him, though once you'd recovered, he sped up his pace again.

Your squeals and pleas fell on deaf ears, and he rutted into you until he released himself over your ass.

You exhaled as he back away, running a rag of some sort over you to clean you up.

"Expect you'll be fuckin' tip-top next week," He said, zipping up his pants before sitting back down.

"Yes Sir," You nodded coyly.

"Not t'say I won't be seein' you before then."

His eyes stared you down, watched you closely as you tugged your shirt back over your head.

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out," You said.

He nodded; an understanding.

You slid your pants back up your thighs, giving one last look over your shoulder before slipping out through his office door.

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Kakashi x book store reader

2250 words

♦️mentions smut but nothing actually happens

“Hey Kakashi, how was your last mission?” You rest your head in your palm as you lean against the counter. The bookshop was empty except for the white haired avid reader who would always stop in between missions to get some new reading material.

“Uneventful. It was mostly traveling so I was able to finish the last book you recommended.” He bashfully scratched his cheek as he avoided eye contact. “Did any more icha icha books come out yet?.”

“Not yet, but rumor has it he's supposed to be releasing another one soon. When I get one in you'll be the first to know.” You push off the counter and grab a small paper bag from the shelf behind you. Sliding the bag over to Kakashi, he looks interested but doesn't say anything. “In the meantime I think you'll like this book.”

He opened the bag and inspected the small book carefully. There was no description on the back and the cover simply had the title ‘wayward travelers’ printed on the front. Looking inside there wasn't even an ‘about the author’ blurb. “Hmmm? Well this certainly looks mysterious.”

“It's by a new author who hasn't even decided on a pen name yet, but the story itself is pretty good. Try it out and if you don't like it I'll do a full refund.” You say nonchalantly.

“No need for the trouble. You've given good recommendations before and I'm sure this one will be fine too.” You smile as he puts some coins on the counter and heads towards the door. “I'm heading out for my next mission but I'll let you know about the book when I get back.”

You wave as he leaves but once he's out of sight you clutch your chest as soon as the door bell rings shut. Heart thundering like a war drum you struggle to calm your nerves. You gave him the book and you kept a solid poker face while you did it. Everything will be fine, it'll be fine…it has to be. Now all that's left to do is calm your racing anxieties and wait for him to come back.

The next week was worse than torture. Thoughts constantly drifting back to Kakashi and the fear of how he would react to the book. It's far from the first time you have given him smut, actually that's mostly what he reads, but what would he think if he found out you wrote it?! You tried to shake the thought from your head but it kept creeping back into your skull. No, you're sure he didn't see your nervousness when you gave it to him, there's no way he can find out.

Not being able to take the book back was the biggest issue. Would he be able to tell that you were the one who wrote it? What if the writing was bad? What if the kinks you put in he doesn't like! Insecurities clawed at the back of your mind like a beast digging at a cage.

Suddenly, you're dragged out of your thoughts from the bell chiming above the door.

Putting on your best customer service smile you turn and greet whoever came in. “Welcome to the book stop, let me know if you have any questions.” an older woman thanked you and made her way to the back of the store. Before the thoughts of your book could return the bell rang again. You had to swallow the lump in your throat when you saw the handsome silver haired shinobi approaching the counter. “W-welcome back. How was the mission?” You mentally kick yourself for the stutter, but grateful for the recovery.

“It was easy. Honestly it could have been handled by a chunin, I don't know why they sent a full jounin team.” He slips the book from his pocket and dangles it in front of you. “Gave me a good opportunity to read the book though.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Ah, well… what did you think of it?” You tried so hard to maintain a casual air but you struggled to look him in the eye.

“It was pretty good, some scenes could have been worded better, but for a new author I'd say it's good. I definitely enjoyed it.” Something flashed in his eye. The same look a cat might give to a mouse. It made your heart race just a little faster. Your mouth went a little dry and thankfully Kakashi took your silence as a sign to continue. “You know a lot of authors tend to put a bit of themselves into their characters.” He opened the book and started thumbing through the pages. “Makes me curious about the love interest in this book…”

“Oh really?” You had to fight to keep your voice steady. “What about them?”

Even without looking at him you can feel his dark eye sizing you up. “Not much about their personality, but the way they talk is familiar.” he let out a low hum. “It made me think about who the author took inspiration from.”

Kakashi goes into a full analysis about the character's personalities and how that relates to the author's own personality and experience. The more he talked the more sweaty your palms became. You feared if he leaned over the counter than he'd be able to hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest, pounding at your ribs and making it hard to breathe. Despite everything you still did a good job of keeping a cool demeanor. At least you thought you did.

You were only granted a moment of relief from kakashi's author analysis when the old woman who came in before approached the counter to buy a recipe book. He politely stood off to the side watching you work as you put the woman's book in a bag and sent her on her way with a smile and a wave.

When you turn your attention back to Kakashi you can see his cheeks are raised and you can only imagine the Cheshire smile that he has stretched across his lips. How many hours have you fantasized about what they actually look like?

“Y’know as a Shinobi I don't just read books, in fact I'm quite skilled at reading people too. It's always so easy to tell when someone's keeping a secret from me~” His cool relaxed voice turned into something more melodic and teasing. He returns to leaning against the counter, ever so slightly closing the distance between you two.

“And what exactly do you think I'm keeping from you?” You say with an even and cautious tone.

“The author.”

A chill ran up your spine the moment you heard his words. “And why would you think that I'm the author?” the words fell out of your mouth a little more exasperated than you wanted.

“I never said you were.” Your face went pale as you realized you gave yourself away, and in the stupidest way possible.

“Well I'm not.” You try to sound dignified but the slight wave in your voice makes it obvious to him and yourself that you're lying, and doing a poor job at it.

Kakashi lets out a slight chuckle. “It really was a good book. Honestly if I didn't spend so much time talking to you I don't think I would have picked up on the nuances. You write like how you talk, almost like you are telling the story yourself.” He leans over the counter and tilts his head. A look that any under any other circumstances would have been cute but now only makes you feel more vulnerable.

It was getting harder to maintain eye contact with how flustered you'd become. “Okay you figured out it was me. You can go let me die of embarrassment in peace now.” You tried to save what little dignity you felt you had left and buried your face in your hands.

You begrudgingly moved your hands when you heard his siren call of a laugh. “Next time you want to write smut about a ‘hot rogue shinobi’ how about you name him Sukea.”

“Oh, so now you want to write my characters?” you can't help but laugh a little as you return some of his playfulness. Exasperation pushed your embarrassment to the back of your mind temporarily.

“Not at all” He lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I just think if I'm going to be the inspiration then I should give you something to work with. Don't you think~” again that look flashes in his eye. Something predatory and mischievous at the same time. A single look that's enough to send goosebumps across your skin.

“What did you have in mind?” Again under his gaze your confidence wavered. He didn't seem to mind though as he started walking around the counter, slowly creeping up on you.

“hmmm~ How about a weary shinobi returns from his long, hard mission… finally back in the comfort of his village he finds the one person he's had his eye on for years but still hasn't said anything to them. Nothing romantic at least.” Slowly he keeps moving forward until he's practically on top of you. One more step and you step back, your back pressed against the wall. “Eventually, our hero works up the courage to ask his favorite shop keep to go to a public hot spring with him. Somewhere he can relax after his mission.” Your bodies are now pressed against each other. You can feel his body heat radiating off of him. You're actually close enough to see the smallest tint of pink dusting his cheeks right above his mask. “But of course we need a plot twist. The bath house is full so there's nothing else to do but get a private bath just for the two of them.” His hands made their way to your waist and slid back to barely ghost over your ass before going to rest just above your thighs. A light squeeze before his hands explore just a little more.

You are so caught up in the moment that you never realized how much faster your heartbeat was, how ragged your breathing had become, or how you simply stared at his eye, totally mesmerized by his words.

Your heart leaps into your throat as the doorbell chimed again. Quickly you turn to see who came in and two young boys noisily made their way to the comic section without giving you a second glance. Your head whips back to look at Kakashi only to see that he's gone.

In the blink of an eye Kakashi was back on the customer side of the counter and the book you wrote laid on the floor where he was just standing. Finally, without the presence of Kakashi's body heat against you, you became painfully aware of just how hot your face was. You were met with a masked shinobi giving you what you assume is a closed eye smile, and he looked just as cool and composed as he always did. Fuck, your heart was ready to bust out of your chest.

“How does that sound for inspiration?” His smooth voice brought you right back to the butterflies in your stomach. What you wouldn't give to go back in time and lock the door before anybody could come in and disturb you. “Maybe you'd like some real experience for reference?” His voice was a little less teasing then his expression showed. Perhaps this was actually a genuine question from him.

It took only a moment for you to find your voice again. “I close the shop at 7.”

Kakashi sat up a little straighter. “Great! I'll meet you outside at 7:30 then.”

“Sounds like a date?” the statement came out more like a question and you intended, but you were just glad that your voice didn't crack. Hope was not something you were used to, especially not in the romance department.

“It sure does~” Your chest suddenly felt lighter, a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders. He pushed himself off the counter and headed towards the door. “See ya later.”

Just as he reached for the doorknob he stopped in his tracks. “Oh, I don't like writing in books, but I left a few notes for the ‘author’. Take a look when you get a chance.” and with that he was gone. The door chimed behind him and you were left alone with your thoughts again.

Finally your body catches up with your brain. You bend down to pick up the book he left behind. Your book. The simple object that started this whole wonderful mess. Once opened your eyes widened on just how many little notes were wedged between the pages. Quotes transcribed with little faces next to them. His opinions on different scenes that you wrote, things he thought were cute or funny. Once again he managed to make your face go bright red when you got halfway through the notes and he described in glorious detail exactly how the sex scenes made him feel. Some of the notes you could tell the penmanship was shaky. A small detail that gave you a bit of a deeper glimpse into how he was feeling. A small detail that made your heart race a little faster.

Perhaps your favorite note that he left was the one that simply said ‘I would love to try this with you, if you'd let me.’.

[koinotame]

bone and marrow; cut and served

word count: 2.4K content warnings: i think this one works better without too specific warnings, but general content warning for heavy yandere content and everything that comes with that, including kidnapping, torture, explicit physical abuse, drugging and so on. ← NOT kidding please heed the warnings

summary: you pay a visit to the captive in your basement.

a/n: wanted to try something a different style since i think my dialogue could use some improvement. so this is 100% dialogue and is meant to read like a dialogue script!

Ah, y-you're back… You're… finally back…

…Paid? You got… paid? Did you… are you selling me off to someone else? O-oh, you mean my ransom finally got paid… by my family…

Right, you did mention that…

…

…You're not going to hit me for disobeying you, or forgetting? N-no? Because you're… not that cruel?

Wait, does that mean that. That when you ripped off my nails o-on camera, it wasn't so you could… so you could rewatch the recording and enjoy my pathetic crying and wailing? O-oh… I see…

I… I guess that does make more sense. I mean, who would… who would want to record something like that for their own sick pleasure, right?

Hii— I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you! Of course it's—of course it's fine if you want to record something like that for yourself! Someone like me has no right to com—

Ah, a joke…

Of course I'm relieved. I'm just…

…

I'm not used to you not digging your nails into my cheeks every time I dare look away from you…

And, um, well. This doesn't. It doesn't feel real, you know? It's been five months since you, uh, p-placed me in… well, kidnapped me. B-being free again sound so… surreal…

This isn't… some sick joke, right? It's really not? You promise?

I-I'm glad. …Thank you.

…Huh? There's something seriously wrong with me if I thank you after everything you've done to me? W-well! You know!

…I don't sound very thankful? That's, um…

…

…Do you want me to get knees and kiss your shoes? You'd need to unbind me for that th—No! Of course I'm kidding! I'm—

O-oh, you're really… you're really doing it, you're really unbinding me. I, wow…

You must really trust me…

W-well, yeah, of course the handcuffs were really uncomfortable. You only ever let me out of them when you were, were t-tortu… I can't say it.

The… huh? No, rubbing them this harshly won't just make the scarring worse, l-like you're, um, saying. W-wait, please don't thro—ow!

Oh, this is… disinfectant…

Um, well, for all I know you could've put some cleaning product in here like the last time you… Even if you're insisting it safe because the ran… Right, the ransom got paid. I'm free now…

N-no! I'll use it, I'll use it! You're way too close!

Even if you put something else in here again, or it's really disinfectant and you're going to beat me again for using it because this really is just your idea of entertainment… I'll use it. You did give it to me, after all.

…Only on my wrists? Okay, only on my wrists…

…

So, uh, when's the exchange date? Or time? You're not usually this chatty. Normally you just dump food on the floor in front of me, or whip out the camera and then, well…

…Today? In… in a couple of hours? Oh… you're really early then?

You want me to… you want me to get cleaned up first? Y-you mean, in your bathroom? I'll get to… use your products? R-really?

Yeah, I'm… really happy to be clean again… I seem happier now than when you told me I'm to be free?

Well, it's just. It's just sinking in that this is for real now…

And the drive should be pretty far away from… I mean, what would I know. I was out cold for that. I just assumed… It would be kind of stupid to kidnap and hold someone close to where they live, right? You'd want to be a distance away and not get caught… right?

OW!

Ow, that really hurt! You didn't need to twist my arm like th—ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I wasn't calling you stupid, I was complimenting y—ah!

You're pulling… holy shit, you're pulling my hair really hard. I won't run, so you don't have to—hng! I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to backtalk.

…I knew it.

You said, earlier, earlier you said you weren't that cruel, but you really do enjoy my tea—I mean, you really do enjoy hurting me.

Ah! Don't shove me that hard, you—

Because we've… arrived? At the—wait, wait, wait but you said that was still a couple hours away? You—oh, your… your bathroom…

Y-yeah, of course I knew that. I was just…

…

The bath looks really warm… Is it really okay for me to—I should just get in already and stop wasting your time? Y-yeah, um… sorry…

—H!

You made this scalding hot on purpose, didn't you?

N-no, I'm not complaining. I'll take it, I'll take it… This is better than no bath, s-so…

…I should put my hands out? Okay…

Is this your—your bath soap?

…

…I'm! It just feels really nice to smell something so mundane again…

No, wait, wait, I'll use it! I'll stop wasting your time, please don't take it away!

…I should… I should be thankful because I finally get to clean myself?

R-right… Um, t… thank you very much…

—H-huh? I should kiss your feet to r-really prove it l-like I offered to earlier?

That's… that's so… I'll—Okay, I'll do it..

Oh it was a, it was just a joke… I'm not eager! This is just—Of course you'll hurt me less if I do as you say, even if it's—

Even if it's something like this…

…

It's… it's already time to get out?

Um, right…

…

Actually, um, could I… could I stay a couple more minutes? I just… This is my first bath in so long, I don't want it to end…

OW! You really don't have to pull on my hair every time I—ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't—

Wh… what are you… doing with those scissors?

If I… if I misbehave again you're going to… No, no, nonono I'm sorry! Please, please, don't—I'll behave, just don't—Please! I'm really sorry, I don't, I won't—

Aah…

Okay, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you…

…

A-ah? Change into this? You even… you not only let me use your bathroom, you even got me new clothes…

Y-yes! Thank you! I'm sorry! I'll—

Eek!—I'll be quiet now. I'm sorry.

…

S-stick out my hands again? Okay…

…Handcuffs again? No, no of course I don't mind! It's okay! Please don't get mad…

Y-you're not? Okay…

…I talk a lot? Um, I think… Maybe, I'm just kind of lonely…

You, uh, you have been my only social contact for five months now…

Or, um, roughly five months now. I'm assuming. It's kind of hard to tell how much time has passed when you've been stuck in a basement for so long.

I just…

…

I'm not—I'm not just stalling for time!

It's just… Are you, are you sure this isn't some messed up joke? You're not dangling this hope in front of me just to take it away?

This would… this would be a good time to reveal that.

…No? My family really paid the entire amount?

…They've never really… cared about me, so it's kind of surprising… Honestly, when you first mentioned it, I thought you were joking. I mean, it's true they have the money…

I'm their son, so it's only natural? Well, yeah, I guess, but…

It's… That's cruel of you to say. You had to have known what our relationship was like before you…

…Anyway, this joke isn't funny anymore. Please take me back to the basement now.

…

…It really isn't. You've done it, you've completely dashed my hopes. I hope you're happy now. I… I'm never getting out of here, I know that, okay?

It's… really cruel of you to toy with me like that.

So just… just take me back.

That's what the handcuffs are for, too, right?

…

…No?

No, you're really just going to throw me away like this?

Actually, I… when you approached me that night and told me to get into your car or else, I didn't know what to do. It made me so, so happy when I realised you must've planned this months in advance.

To think you were spending that much time thinking about me…

I was so, so certain you were finally getting revenge on me…

…Yeah. I thought… I'd been stalking you for two years, and even before that—so I thought… I thought that you'd taken me home to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson.

The last couple of months have been the happiest in my life. It's like… I was in heaven.

I mean, getting tortured in real life is a totally different ballpark than fantasising about it, that's true, but! But! Even if it was just painful, I wouldn't mind, because it's you! I could never hate or dislike anything you do to me!

You're backing away, but I promise you don't have anything to fear! Even if you go through on your promise, I don't mind! I won't struggle.

I belong to you, so anything you do is justified! You have that right!

But seeing your expression, you really didn't know about any of that…

I thought—I thought!

I thought maybe for once I was something special to someone, even if you did just hate me! I thought that with hard work and a lot of time, maybe I could be someone special to you in more ways than just the toy you keep in your basement!

I thought that…

…I guess it makes sense that you just remembered me as that rich loser you shared a class with once. But I…

…

…Why don't you just keep me in your basement again?

You wouldn't even need to keep me in handcuffs; I'd never run away! Or—or, of course, you could keep me bound the entire time, if that would make you feel more at ease!

You can… you can keep doing whatever you want to me! At any time! I won't struggle anymore! I'll cry and look cute and pitiful and pretty and whatever else you want me to!

You don't need to feed me regularly, or at all, or—Please don't back away…

I actually… I actually really like it when you pull on my hair!

I… I really love looking at my reflection in the mirror you left up in the basement, because I get to see the permanent marks you left on my face, like when you broke my nose three weeks into being home with you!

My favourite is probably when you coo at me and call me cute and condescendingly wipe away my tears—it always seemed to please you when I cried even harder… Even if—even if that was just an act, you seemed to be having fun!

And—and you really liked forcing me to look directly into the camera and.. and making me degrade myself, and repeat all those embarrassing lines, and—

What about that time you suggested getting me a shock collar? Or, or what about all those times you threatened to carve your name into my skin so I'd be ruined for everyone who came after you? You were joking but, but you seemed really into the idea! We could do that!

Am I talking too much again? You can tape up my mouth if you want, or break my arm for scaring you, or for being so arrogant, or—

Don't you—don't you want that to continue?

Nothing has to change!

Just throw me into that chair and lock the door and don't give me anything to eat for a week in punishment and raise my price and things can go back to the way they were! Or however way you want them to be!

Ack—Y-you're really pulling again, I can feel your nails really digging into my scalp—No, that's not a complaint!

I'll be good! I'll do anything! Anything—just please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don't throw me away!

Pl—

…Really?

You'll do it? You will?

Thank you!

Thank you thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthank—

Mgh! I'm sorry, I'll be quiet now.

…Do you… do you want me to kiss your feet? Hehe, of course I'd be happy t—

Nngh! You're pulling my hair really hard…

You should… you should lead me around your house more like this. I have to bend at such an awkward angle when you pull like this…

Ah! Right, sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be good.

…

…Um.

We… just passed the basement?

…

…Why are you… unlocking the front door?

…Hey?

…

…Um, um that's the—that's your car. Why are you—

Aah! Wait, no, even if you shove me into your—You're just—You lied to me!

No—wait—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get mad and accuse you of anything! Please, don't throw me away! I'll be good! I can—I can be useful!

I'm obviously already yours, but I could really b—

Stop, wait, don't close the car door! I'll—UGH!

Ow, you really… you really hit my stomach hard…

…That's what I get for not cooperating? I'm sorry…

…

Nngh…

…

W-wait, don't start driving, I—ow—Wait! Don't you want this too?

I know it wasn't just my imagination! You—hng—you enjoyed this too, didn't you? You insist you're not like that, but you actually really like having someone at your mercy, d-don't you?

I can be that for you! You don't—you don't have to do this! I'd be really happy like this, so won't it work out for both of us if you—

You can, you can, keep extorting my parents for larger and larger sums of money! I know they've set aside a fund for my inheritance—even if it's smaller than my brothers', it's still enough for you to live a comfortable life! And then I can stay with you forever, so…

Aren't I talking too much again? Aren't you… going to punish me for this? I know you want to.

So won't you—Ahh, you really kicked me hard—Won't you please recon…

…Why are you stopping? Y-yeah, this place is pretty remote, but we're in the middle of the road… W-wouldn't it be better to turn arou—

Wait, no, nononononononono please don't bring out the chloroform, wait, please, don't throw me away like this, I can be good, wait wait no wait, please—

Please don't leave me like this!

[punkascas]

okay, so i don't want to, like, Start Something or whatever so we're doing a barely-tagged, separate post. i also realise this is mostly pointless because others have already said what i'm going to say, and did it better, with far more grace, and sound less like an asshole than i do.

but jesus louise helen christ, the weird fucked up ideas people have around abuse and personal responsibility and the effect of trauma. like as an abuse and csa survivor, it genuinely alarms me to read posts that use arguments i remember my dad making. like, i'm assuming most of this rhetoric comes from gen z — maybe that's inaccurate; maybe that's unfair. but right now i'm very much Having A Moment Here that the kids aren't alright.

no 22-year-old should be repeating the same awful, manipulative, logically and morally bankrupt justifications for violence and torture my dad says. like literally what's in the first two episodes of ofmd s2 is torture.

i love ed; he's an amazing character. taika is hella wowza top marks acting him. but like.

like.

torture, my dude. physical and psychological. trauma. harassment. that we see the lasting effects of through s2.

just. i. what??

so here we go, okay. have too many, zealously highlighted screenshots so i can dig into details.

cut to save your dashes. content warning for discussions of abuse and trauma (if that wasn't obvious), as well as spoilers for ofmd s2.

re: ed knew what he was doing was wrong and felt guilty about it at the time:

we have no on-screen, textual examples of this. not in the dialogue; not in the acting; not in the blocking; not in the cinematography or music. nothing.

knowing the crew are overworked and kind of traumatised by all the violence, ed bribes them with cake. because, as we know, cake like tea fixes everything. only ed wasn't even with them to share in the eating of the cake. he made izzy responsible for that. he doesn't give the crew a break; he doesn't choose less ethically-fraught prizes to hunt. there is not one scene of ed talking directly to the crew — until he points a gun at each of them.

we see ed crying (and drinking, and rhino horn-ing [way to help further extinction, man]) but it's always paired with shots or flashbacks that reference stede. ed is still all up in his feelings about stede, and ed confirms this when he tells frenchie the myth about albatrosses never needing to return to land. ed cannot go back, does not want to go back, because he was rejected. (like, stede is literally landed gentry, come on!) all he wants to do instead is stay at sea committing to this unhinged version of unstable, sadistic piracy.

but okay, okay. say we ignore all of that. let's say ed does feel sorry and guilty and ashamed of his actions. he knows what he's doing is wrong and unfair and cruel. that it's harming others. that it's particularly harming the dude that ed has, for better or worse, basically spent his life with (izzy; i mean izzy). ed… still continues to do the things! how far off are we at this point from the definition of malicious? you know action x hurts person b and then you do it anyway. is that honestly a better, happier, more ethically defensible reading of the character?

re: the crew didn't mutiny because they love ed despite his violent, sadistic actions.

mutinies were a thing, yes. but both historically and in the world rules established by the show, mutiny is disincentivised through threats, distraction via extra work, and corporeal punishment. we see both ed and izzy use all three of these to try to prevent the crew from disobeying orders. they didn't wait until the storm and izzy shooting ed to mutiny because they understood or sympathised with ed; they took the chance to kill him then because that was the first real opportunity they'd had. the reward finally out-weighed the risk given that ed was going to kill them all that night anyway.

again, we have no scenes, no dialogue, no visual or audio cues to tell us that the crew understands or loves ed — excluding izzy, obviously. fang could also be on that list, if you take into account his personality and his behaviour both in s1 and later in s2 in the fishing boat scene. but in the first two episodes, we only see the crew show trauma responses around ed. they talk about him but almost never to him. and when they do have a direct conversation with ed, it is either confrontation or head down, submissive, "of course, blackbeard; anything you say" placating. i'm so baffled where the show points to any sign of love from the crew towards ed before his "death".

re: ed can't be held responsible because he was suicidal.

uhm. no. hard no. a harder no than stede's brazilian cherry wood mast. fucked up people do fucked up things but part of being an adult is owning your fucked-upped-ness and not fucking up others while you work on unfucking yourself. children, children are not fully responsible for the impact of their actions on others when they're deep in their feelings, especially if they're feeling their feelings as a trauma response. this is because literally their brain cannot do that kind of control. it doesn't have that software pack installed yet. ed does have all the adult updates installed, even if he isn't running them at that moment. he has no right to take out his feelings on other people: to maim them, to psychologically torture them, to abuse them, to work them to exhaustion. to kill them. he does not get a free pass to do suicide by abused employees. (like suicide by cop but more indirect and passive and harmful.) talk about passive aggressive.

secondly, ed is not just passively suicidal and happy to find new risks that might end his life. he is very purposefully taking izzy with him (see: literally removing the bits of izzy that would help let him walk away from ed; the fact that ed becomes actively suicidal only once he thinks izzy is dead; the whole keeping izzy's corpse in front of his and stede's beach shack i mean inn — the codependence, she runs deep). ed is also putting the crew through the same risks, the same isolation, the same danger. both stede and izzy agreed that ed had gone full scorched earth policy. you don't get forgiven for the murder part of a murder-suicide pact just because of the suicide part. not to mention that no one (once again, you could potentially argue izzy as an exception) was good on a murder-suicide pact with blackbeard.

and then to say the crew felt guilty? i assume i'm misreading that. the crew. felt guilty. for ed's actions. that is, if not victim blaming and if not darvo, a very close inbred cousin of them. like hapsburg jaw inbred close.

re: ed healing and his view of himself as a monster.

to heal means, in part, to accept responsibility for the harm you've caused, whether it was intentional or not. it means making amends. it means building or rebuilding relationships where possible. it means putting the other person or persons' feelings and boundaries and need for safety above your desire for absolution or forgiveness. it means working through your own guilt and shame and anger (or whatever drove you to act the way you did) in a separate space, not with the people you hurt, but someone who can be a step removed, more impersonal and objective to help you reflect and face hard truths as needed. i say this as both someone involved in activism and community reparations and as an abuse survivor who has done nearly 30 years of therapy learning this in order to not hurt people. it's not ed's fault he's fucked up just like it isn't my fault i am. but it is on me, like it is on anyone, to make sure i limited as much as possible the harm i can cause to others because i learned some awful but very effective tricks at a young age to survive.

ed does not really do any of the above. he doesn't say "sorry". he speaks in generalised language. he complains about the cat bell (which he seems to wear only for one day, given the implied timeline with lucius and pete's engagement). i have a model ship on a stand that says "this is a safe space ship" as a joke because i work for the government and have written press releases that sound just like ed's "apology". where you take no responsibility and encourage "the culture" to move on.

so, really, my question becomes: ed sees himself as a monster. in s1, we had enough balance between ed's current actions and his referenced past actions to see this belief as likely untrue. in s2 though — i mean, is it? is that an unfair or inaccurate belief? i can understand how carrying that belief can get in the way of ed's growth and eventual healing but like. from an outside perspective of ed-the-fictional-character. he's not a "good" person. he's capable of and has done and continued to do horrible, cruel things. ethically, can you argue with that statement about him?

re: ed trying to destroy relationships because of his self-worth issues and instead the consequences of his actions proving that he's loved.

this is the point that made me go: right, no, i need to respond. i need to say my piece about this. izzy and the crew suffering ed's violent tyranny and then sticking around on the revenge anyway afterwards is not a sign of love. it is not showing love to bear pain for someone. it not showing love to let someone mistreat you, threaten you, hurt you, maim you. their actions are selfish and done to give them feelings of power and control over you. lying back and thinking of england to get through it is not love. it is absolutely a survival technique. but it is not love when you do it at the expense of yourself or others.

i also disagree that ed was trying to push people away or break his relationships with others. we know from s1 that ed is fairly blasé about whether crew members die. again, we don't see any friendly or intimate exchanges between ed and any of the crew to imply any kind of relationship there beyond "tools who accomplish ed's goals". the one exception, as always, is izzy. and as previously stated, ed seems bound and determined, in a very conscious way, to bring izzy into death with him. ed does everything in his power to make izzy want to kill ed, or at least agree that it's best if ed dies, and to want to kill himself so ed doesn't have to die alone. that isn't ed breaking that relationship; it's making it permanent in a really fucked up shakespearian way. the only relationship we see ed waffle between wanting to keep and wanting to push away is stede. after his corporate "apology" and the fishing trip with fang, all of ed's dialogue is with stede and a little bit with zheng until izzy's death scene. the crew loving ed just isn't a thing, at least not one we're shown. not from either side. ed's relationships are with stede and kind of, sort of with izzy (because he does manage to, if not fully break, do some major damage to that).

love did not save ed. ed wanting to live, because stede came back, because he didn't want to jump off hornigold's cliff in the first place, saved ed. izzy saved everyone else.

so yeah: that's it; that's the post. the rhetoric that abuse is love or that abuse can be "cured" with love or that trauma isn't lasting and serious and has impacts on people's daily lives is just. wild. wild.

and terrifying.

my dad was born in the 40s. why is anyone born in the 80s or later still defending this mindset? it honestly, truly freaks me out.

guess it's good i have a fucking therapy appointment on monday.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

MY PERSONAL HC's about when you and Hanma fuck (bc ppl seem to like to disagree with things that have no real hold, in this reality anyway - if you don't agree with it or like it, then probably stop reading it 😉)

A/N ::: Currently expanding my men dicktionary. And we're on H now.

C/W ::: Lots of hitting, slapping, rough sex all around? Ideas anyway. MDNI under the cut, please.

罪 罰

You don't know what it is, but you want to slap him around. His cock, his balls, his ass and his face. You kinda just want to hurt the guy. This also sits well with him because he's got a fighter's heart and just loves the idea of sharing that part of him with you as well. He really likes it when you dig your nails into his back or his chest. Depending on who is riding who that round.

He lowkey likes it when you slap him. He likes the look you get in your eyes right before you smack him across the face. He's learned to detect it a few seconds before it happens. But he just can't seem to dodge out of the way fast enough. Darn.

He talked you into getting 罪 (SIN) and 罰 (PUNISHMENT) tattooed on your ass cheeks, too (each one the opposite side as his hands - he feels closer to you when he can see them on your booty) . He likes to fuck you from behind and watch them jiggle around while you're bouncin' back on him.

You learn shibari so you can tie him up and hang him from the rafters in your garage (don't worry, it's a finished garage. heater. fridge. microwave. the works.) and torture his naked ass for however long you both can keep up with it. You don't want to venture into that part yet. You're self-conscious about your body and don't like the idea of not being able to cover yourself at a moment's notice. (Despite Hanma's constant reassurance that you're beautiful to him and 'that's all that fuckin' matters'.)

He learns to tolerate you playing with just the head of his cock. But sometimes it goes too far and he cums without your explicit permission.

Uh-oh.

That sort of things calls for a major ass whoopin'. He's so red and welt-y by the time you're done with the paddle against his pale skin.

But he still won't let an apology slip passed his kiss swollen lips. That leads you to believe that all the crying out and calling you a crazy bitch is just for show. But you like the intensity of it.

You lick his asshole one night without telling him first. He clenched his cheeks together so fast he almost caught your nose.

2 weeks later, though? Hanma was asking if you'd "do that thing with your tongue on his hole again."

Of course you say yes.

You sketch out and have something built that would essentially box him in. But it would be made out of open wire so you could stick your fingers/mouth/tongue/toys through it and get to him.He is more excited about it than you thought he'd be, which makes you really giddy about having full control.

The longer you two are together, the more physical things get. Not violent, per se, but you both definitely get off on poppin' the other a few times.

Your friends have commented on mysterious bruises that you both show up with at the next gathering or dinner you all meet up for.

Hanma just looks over at you, puts his huge hand on your thigh, gives you a couple of squeezes, and kisses your cheek.

"I ran into her fist, but I'm fine. Really."

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @kazutora-kurokawa @viburnt @darkstarlight82

[ao3cassandraic]

Angels, demons, language, and culture: part 3

(Part 1 and Part 2 for those interested.)

"I play an ineffable game of my own devising. For everyone else, it’s like playing poker in a pitch dark room with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won’t tell you the rules and who smiles all the time." --God, Good Omens

This is just. Creepy and awful and so, so wrong for a quasi-omnipotent being. Ugh. Good Omens!God is an abject horror.

But if you're one of the poker players at that table, what do you do? You try to figure out the rules and mark the cards, naturally. Especially if leaving the table only happens via swan dives into burning sulphur, or getting kicked out of the only home you've known into a hostile desert with lions in it. While pregnant, yet.

So, I did a Bat Mitzvah back in the day, as it happens, and my Torah portion was from Deuteronomy. Which is, as I am hardly the first to notice, chockablock full of rules. Good Omens definitely leveraged (rather than inventing) the idea of trying to figure out Her rules and codify them in writing! Note, however, that the Bible per Word of Gaiman is a human thing. Codifying divine rules? Therefore also a human thing, minus I suppose the Ten Commandments -- though I can certainly envision a Good Omens in which Moses was, um, not exactly telling the truth about the source of the tablets; we only really have his word for it.

Angels and demons, who have a low opinion of literacy and just generally don't seem to be very good at it, never did this. We see that Aziraphale, Before the Beginning, has intuitively figured a few rules out: don't question Her, don't comment on (much less critique) Her decisions or designs, don't ever ever piss Her off. The Starmaker hasn't gotten this far, tragically, and our Crowley remains confused throughout the show as to what rule he can possibly have broken that earned him the identity-changing torture She inflicted on him.

Fundamentally, Crowley doesn't want to -- perhaps can't -- believe that She is capricious and cruel. He thinks there are rules, "don't test to destruction" being a major one. We know he's wrong, however. She straight-up told us so, in the quote at the top of this post! Aziraphale, too, knows, though he buries this knowledge as deep under the words "ineffable" and "Great Plan" (there is no Great Plan, She told us so, it's all a game to Her) as he possibly can -- I think as a coping mechanism -- and does his best to avoid drawing Her attention again after the Sword Incident.

But we see angelic and demonic confusion about the rules of Her game again and again. It's at the root of Aziraphale's successful Great Plan/Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase. It's why Aziraphale has to (with Muriel's help) dig through the contract for Job, and why Gabriel and Michael can't even be arsed to, even revising Job's reward on the fly. They're guessing! They're guessing about the rules based on what they've seen of Her caprices! She likes sevens!

It's how Crowley rules-lawyers the demons into letting the Whickber Street tradespeople go. If there are actual rules of Heaven-Hell engagement -- and there may not be! Crowley's pulled plausible-sounding lies out of his arse before! -- I'll bet you anything you like practically nobody in Heaven or Hell has actually read them. (My top picks for rules-of-engagement authors, if those rules actually do exist, would be Satan and the Metatron.)

And it's why Uriel has to ask the Metatron, as unsure and afraid as Uriel has ever looked in the entire series, whether the remaining archangels have done something wrong. The Metatron's response refuses to clarify what's at issue -- he, like Her, won't tell anybody the rules. If I'm feeling extremely cynical, I think She and he refuse to explain the rules because they're more powerful if there's no rulebook that rank-and-file angels can use to contest them with.

It makes me so sad. The legions of Heaven would assuredly have followed Her rules, if they only knew what those rules were! Fanart of the just-fallen Starmaker routinely breaks my susceptible heart, not least because the commonest expressions on his face are agony, sorrow -- and confusion. It's just all so damn unfair.

Same with Job, and Peter Davison sells it beautifully. Poor Job assumes he must have broken Her rules somehow, and blames himself for not even knowing how. That's totally on Her, though! If Her rules aren't clear enough for righteous Job to be able to trust his own righteousness under a horrible test, that's Her fault, not his!

The closest that Heaven and Hell -- and humanity, for that matter -- have to Her rules is prophecy. I probably don't need to spill many pixels on how vague and confusing prophecy is, how often it's counterfeited, and how pointless it is to try to live your life by (or trying to avoid) true prophecies; prophecies will invariably gotcha you. Good Omens is hardly the first work of literature to point this out. (Try the story of Oedipus. That's a good one. Yeesh. Or, if we want to be all Biblical about it, Moses again.) Agnes Nutter may well be the only genuinely well-meaning prophet in the entire history of prophets! Even so, her book is incredibly bewildering! Generations of her descendants try to figure it out, and mostly they fail -- look at the annotations we see on Anathema's index cards.

So when @thundercrackfic asks me what Aziraphale gets out of books, my first (though not only) answer is "rules for living." Not just rules for living as safely as possible around Her, though -- rules for living among humans, too. I headcanon (and posited in "Endgame") that Aziraphale has been collecting human etiquette manuals as long as humans have been writing etiquette manuals. Codified rules, like the ones in Deuteronomy, likely help him feel more secure.

I think this is also why Muriel characterizes books as portable people. Muriel is trying their sweet adorable best to figure out the Earth rules on the fly, since nobody Upstairs told them (or indeed knows, the Metatron aside) what those rules are. They do have Aziraphale to help them along -- Aziraphale is so much better than Upstairs! he doesn't condescend or insult, he just gently instructs -- but Aziraphale can't teach full-time, he has other things on his plate. So Muriel the scrivener, one of the few angels who would have a clue about literacy due to the nature of their job, gravitates to books and discovers that they too can be gentle and compassionate teachers.

The final question outstanding is how well Aziraphale understands and assimilates human books, especially fiction, especially especially non-literal figures of speech. It's an excellent and complicated question, and I don't think I have The Answer to it, but I'll see what I can do.

[idkbroimjusthere]

The Path I Chose | Part One

I've never posted on anything but I decided to finally write down the story I've had in my head for a while now. I have no idea when or if I will post the next chapter but I probably will if this gets some attention.

Summary: I'm a freelance CIA agent. That's not really a thing but that's what I call it. I'm working for a woman named Kate laswell on some off the books investigating. We've been searching for Information on a child trafficking ring that has connections to ultra nationalist groups through europe. I don't get to know the details, but I know enough to do my job. I know what I'm doing is dangerous, but I'm staying away from the worst of it, Right?

Edit

Content Warning: This is going to be pretty dark, cannon typical violence and all that, some implied SA, and forced proximity I guess? so no minors and read at your own risk. Also there will probably be sex cause I'm a perv

How the fuck did I get here? It was never supposed to go this far. If I knew I'd be here at the end, dying, alone, I don't think I would have ever signed that contract.

I'm standing, chained to a wall, peeing my pants because I can't hold it any more. Sharp pain shoots through my lower back and I can feel my kidneys throbbing. The combination of whatever fucking drugs they're feeding me and the fact that I've been trying to controll my bladder for what feels like, fuck, I don't even know anymore, it's really making me want to give up. I wonder if it would be that easy, if I could just decide I'm done, that I'm too tired for this shit, and die. No. I'm probably going to have to wait until these peices of shit decide they're done with me, and pray that it's soon. My head hurts. It's not bleeding like my limbs, but it is pounding, endlessly, like my heart has somehow been moved by all the shoving and kicking, and it now rests heavily in my skull. A door opens somewhere to my right and I try to lift my head to see but a wave of nausea rolls through me and I drop my eyes back to the blood slowly dripping from my body into a puddle on the floor

Maybe that will kill me, blood loss would explain the brain fog. But so would the drugs. I experimented with things in my early adult years and I'm pretty sure it's some combination of psychedelics. Everything feels far away and the cement floor is swirling under me in Van Gogh-esque patterns. It's not pretty though, it feels cold and harsh under me.

The men that I've learned to recognize since the beginning of my imprisonment have come back to try to get me to tell them answers that I don't have to questions I don't quite understand. They have every reason to believe I might know the answers, I work for the fuckin united states government after all, and for a woman I'm pretty sure has more power in these matters than she tells me she does, they probably saw that and assumed I had information about some weapons dealer's death. I don't, but I don't think that matters anymore. I was an easy target to them. I came right to them. They won't let me live, I'm sure of it. If they were going to let me go the men torturing me wouldn't have shown me there faces. One man has tattoos that I took note of In The begining, but I don't think knowing that there is an ugly looking spider inked on the bigger man's hand is going to do me any good anymore. I hate spiders. And pain. All I feel is pain. No hope of getting away anymore.

I hear someone talking but it's muffled by the ringing in my ears. My knees buckle as something solid hits my in the ribs shooting pain through my chest and spine. My guess is it's the bat that the smaller man seems to love swinging. I'm hanging by my wrists from the wall, unable to sit down because of the metal digging into me and leaving what I know will be dark bruises by tomorrow, if I'm still alive by then. They then take a step back and I hear something familiar. Something I can't quite place as I slip in and out of consciousness. The men tasked with getting answers from me shout at each other, or me, I can't tell.

They're gunshots, I think. The sound rings through the air and hits my ears with a sharp ping. My brain tries to focus as my head spins and I see the men looking out into the hallway. Before the door can even open all the way, both men are shot. Clean kills by the sound of it, just two shots. The sound echoes in my ears as my eyes close and open slowly.

Someone steps into the room, they seem to be studying me. I would be self conscious if I had any ounce of pride left, but right now, I don't care.

This person is large, taller than me but I am half on the floor right now. This guy looks huge from here. I try to stand and it takes me a moment. He watches without moving an inch, I realize his assault rifle is aimed at me.

"Who are you"

The question barely registers as I try to breathe more evenly

"I'm with, I'm a-an American, I work for the CIA" I stutter out stumbling through the words like I've never said them before.

"Please, I can't, I'm not supposed to be here, I don't know what they want from me" that's only sort of a lie, right?

He doesn't shoot me, yet. I guess somewhere in my mind I do want to live because I'm begging for help. The man says something to a radio strapped to his chest and starts rummaging around in the pockets of the two men who have been torturing and drugging me for what I can only assume is weeks now. He cuts off the bat guy's badge and pulls the key card for my room out from his pocket. He pulls both bodies into the room, like they weigh nothing, and closes the door.

He turns towards me and I shudder, adrenaline and panic shoot through me. His face is covered and I can't see very well so I have no idea what he's thinking. I'm going to assume it's bad though, this man feels dangerous, like he's one wrong word away from bashing my head in.

I try to stand up straighter and look him in the eyes but my body aches and I feel weak. I can't feel my hands anymore everything feels fuzzy.

He walks up to me and grabs my wrist. I feel the restraint fall off my wristand my arm drops to my side. As I try to bite back the pain of the blood I have left rushing back to my fingertips my other wrist falls.

The combination of all my ailments rolls through my body like a wave and I stumble. The man in front of me grabs my shoulders and sets me on the floor a foot or two to the left of the spot I had been standing in for way too long.

My head falls forward and my vision gets dark around the edges

"Hey, it's ok, I'm not going to hurt you."

I shake my head as he grabs onto my arms again. Fear of what this man could do to me if he wanted to rattles my bones

"N-no, don't touch me, please" I say, tears now falling down my face.

"You're ok, I'm going to help you, we're going to go somewhere safer" he says in low, calm voice.

I hear muffled words from an earpiece he's wearing. He holds his radio and replies "copy, I've got the key card" he leans me back against the wall and stands, heading towards the door. He swipes the card and it opens, letting in another man. He looks at me and I blink dumbly at him.

He says something to the masked guy and takes a step towards me. I cower away and try to scoot back into the corner

"It's alright dear, I'm not going to hurt you, you can trust me" he says in a light, kind tone.

I'm not sure I have a choice here, if I say no, tell them to get away from me, I'm stuck here. I don't think I can stand, let alone walk and my best chance of getting out of here is going along with this. My judgement may be clouded but something about his voice seems to make me relax. That could also be the blood loss.

"Please, I just want to go home." I'm still crying, looking up at these men from the floor in my broken, battered state.

"You'll be alright with us, we will get you out of here"

That sounds great, I'm in. I try to give a response but my mouth is so dry and it comes out as a sort of croak.

"Here, I have water" he kneels down to open a canteen on his side but it doesn't slosh when he shakes it.

"Fuck, Ghost, bring your's" he says, but the man is already stepping towards me and crouching down, bringing the open bottle to my mouth. He carefully holds the water, tipping it up slowly, and I drink as much as I can. He pulls it back and screws on the cap. I whine a little. I haven't had much food or water since I've been here and I don't feel satisfied by the quick drink at all

"Thats enough for now, we need to move."

"Yeah, captains waiting for us with the truck on the east side, building's clear to the exit"

I look between them as they speak and they both look at me.

"Ready love, we've got you, don't worry." Says the man who's name I don't know. The one called ghost picks me up again and sets me sort of over his shoulder. Pain once again floods through my body and I feel myself start to slip out of counciousness.

"You're alright yeah? We'll be out soon, just hold on" the man to our right says. It's the last thing I hear before sinking into the void of darkness that clouds my eyes.

[mastermindmp3]

I once saw someone call The Alchemy a bit like fanfiction. The references to football read as obvious allusions to Swift's current partner, but it's a little too vague on everything else, reading like a published fic with the serial numbers filed off. And while I agree on both fronts, I also... really like this song. The softness on those opening lines, the kind of sexy beat, the affected accent on blokes, the play on winning tournaments and selling out tours- okay, fine, it's captured my imagination. I'm allowed to indulge in the Lore™ (the sign on your heart says it's still reserved for me, a reference to her current partner's attempt at flirting via friendship bracelet, and the two only connecting later.)

Very Mister Americana and the Heartbreak Queen of Swift, lol. If someone else has made that joke, I'm sorry.

That said, there's still quite a lot to dig into, even without the Lore™, and I love me a good analysis.

The Alchemy, coming right after The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, feels like a direct answer to it. When listened in album order, The Alchemy is like the happy ending to your favorite angst with a happy ending story — hey, speaking of fanfiction! Even the narrator refers to it. The hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had.

Sure, we can see this as a literal allusion to a hospital, and yeah, hospital cots suck for your back. But, considering the rest of the album, consider the way that the narrator refers to her not-tortured poet-conman lover as "the miracle move on drug," well... Yeah, the hospital was a drag!

The Alchemy is about the first rush of love. Once you've moved past the tepid stages of a crush, of furtive texting and coffee dates, and are feeling more secure in the relationship. But that's not what it's all about

Secure is a very operative word, I think, as the narrator (previously in fraught relationships, either with her ghost in London or being conned) sounds far less anxious here. She's not preempting statements, she is declaring: Cut the ammeters from the team, I'm the one to beat.

The song is, like the rest of the album, as much about the narrator's sense of self as it is about her partners. Here, the narrator isn't being toyed with, isn't being dragged around, and instead, asks: What if I told you "I'm back."? It's a lot like a challenge. I'm coming back so strong.

In an album with many references to mental health struggles, The Alchemy can feel very reassuring. Our relationships do affect how well we can manage our symptoms, and here, the narrator has found someone who doesn't ask her to wallow, nor do they enable her worst traits. Let the blokes warm the benches, it seems the narrator and her alchemist are doing just fine.

this happens once every few lifetimes, these chemicals hit me like white wine.

I love that the opening line also closes the song. Swift's discography has many, many references to love as a magical force, in the myriad ways it can unsettle one's life and feel all too right at the same time. Here, it's referred to as chemicals. Alchemy originally refers to the idea of turning anything into gold, but the word has vastly expanded its meaning. In the modern conscience, alchemy is used to refer to any kind of potion making, more akin to herbalists. Instead of magic, it's practical work. Hey, there's that idea again. Putting in the work to make love last.

I think this song is about finding a love that not only feels brand new and exciting but also feels comfortable, in a way that encourages both parties to grow. We've been on a winning streak.

[wannab-urs]

Vete a la Mierda | Veracruz x Reader

I wrote a dark little drabble because I'm obsessed with @toxicanonymity and my friends encouraged me.

I know it's not my usual content so don't feel bad for not reading it, dear followers.

Also sorry if my Spanish sucks. It's half my own knowledge and half frantic googling.

Summary: You are a member of Espada Ardiente and Veracruz is trying to torture the location of your base out of you.

Word count: 550

Warnings: MDNI | 18+ | bloodplay, knifeplay, choking, bondage, reader gets hit, some biting, dub con bc she's his prisoner but like... she's fully into it, threatening language, fingering.

Please heed the warnings, dolls!

You’re tied to a chair, completely naked, in a tent miles into the Colombian jungle where no one will ever hear you scream. 

Comandante Veracruz sits nestled between your bare thighs, the tip of a large hunting knife digging into your flesh. Little rivulets of blood run down your legs where he’s been carving you up. 

“Dónde está la puta base? He wants to know the location of Espada Ardiente’s base and he’s not going to get it. 

“ándate a la mierda!” you spit in his face.

Veracruz chuckles, wipes his cheek and drags his hand to his mouth, sucking your saliva off his fingers. Flipping the knife in his hand so that he’s holding the blade flat between his thumb and forefinger, he nestles the handle against your pussy. 

“Dónde está la puta base?” He wiggles the knife up and down, until it slips inside you. You can’t stop the little whimper that escapes your lips.

He pauses and pulls the knife handle out of you. “Te gusta eso, la chica sucia?”

You don’t answer, but he can see the shine of your slick on his knife. “Si?”

He wraps his hand around the blade and starts fucking you on the handle in earnest. You writhe against your restraints, trying to bear down on his knife even harder. His palm is flayed open, blood running down the blade and soaking your pussy even more. He doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he likes the pain.

“Más, por favor, más,” you beg through gritted teeth.

He chuckles again, “Dime, o puedo simplemente voltear este cuchillo, si no me das lo que quiero.” 

“Irse al diablo,” you gasp out. Your eyes roll back in your head as your cunt flutters around the knife handle, but before the coil of pleasure in your belly snaps, he pulls the knife from you, tossing it on the ground. 

He wraps his unmarred hand around your throat and squeezes until you see stars. He shoves two bloodied fingers into your slick heat and curls his fingers into your g spot over and over. 

“Esto es lo que quieres? Quieres correr?” 

“Si! Si! Por favor!” you beg, too far gone to pretend you’re not about to come all over his thick fingers.

He slips in a third finger and drops his mouth to suck at your clit. His teeth latch on to the sensitive bud and suddenly you cry out. You squirt all over his hand, your release mingling with the blood coating his hand and your thighs. 

With a glint of pure evil in his eye, Veracruz shoves his blood and slick soaked fingers into your mouth and brings his other hand up to your throat. You keep your eyes locked on his as you lick and suck at his fingers, tasting yourself and the sharp iron of your commingled blood. 

“Me vas a responder ahora.”

You bite down hard on his fingers and he cries out. He slams your head into the back of the chair with his hand around your throat, rips his fingers from your mouth and slaps you.

He picks up the knife again, holding the sharp edge against your thigh, “Te preguntaré una vez más, cariño. ¿Dónde está la base?”

You smirk at him, a glint in your eye. 

“Vete a la mierda.”

---

Translations:

Dónde está la puta base? - Where is the fucking base

ándate a la mierda! - Fuck you (kinda)

Te gusta eso, la chica sucia - you like this, dirty girl?

 Si? - you do?

Más, por favor, más, - More, please, more

Dime, puedo simplemente voltear este cuchillo, si no me das lo que quiero. - Tell me. I'll turn this knife around if you don't give me what I want

Irse al diablo, - go to hell

Esto es lo que quieres? Quieres correr? - This what you want? You want to come?

Si! Si! Por favor! - yes, yes please!

Me vas a responder ahora. - You’re going to answer me now.

Te preguntaré una vez más, cariño. ¿Dónde está la base? I’ll ask you one more time darling. Where is the base?

Vete a la mierda. - Fuck you.

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 4.1K

Gavin Reed arrived at the Police Station forty-five minutes late. It would be diplomatic to say that the detective took a 'relaxed' approach to timekeeping. In reality, he couldn't give less of a shit.

Removing his sunglasses, he seated them in his front pocket. An action he regretted almost immediately. The bright fluorescence of the station's lights assaulted his eyes, and the dull throbbing pain in his temple increased tenfold. As he groggily sauntered past the desks, a familiar voice chirped up to greet him:

"Weren't you radioed like an hour ago? How nice of you to grace us with your presence".

"Bite me, Chen"

Tina Chen, the officer in question, smirked at him playfully. A far cry from the despondent glares his colleagues usually greeted him with.

While it was entirely his own doing, Gavin would be remiss to admit that his lack of popularity wasn't isolating. Tina was one of the few people who could deal with his abrasive attitude, and for that he was endlessly grateful. Not that he'd ever admit it to her.

"I'm not the one you have to worry about", Tina warned. "It's the Captain who'll be doing the biting if you don't hurry up".

Gavin dared to glance at the Captain's office, and Tina's warning was quickly affirmed. Fowler stood to attention at the door, one of his hands balled into a fist as he repeatedly tapped the glass. He held up his free hand to flash his watch – a blatant dig at Gavin's tardiness.

"Shit..." Gavin leant himself against Tina's desk, desperately trying to steady himself. Dealing with Fowler was bad enough, but doing so with a hangover was akin to torture. "If I don't make it out of here, sprinkle my ashes on the floors of Bronco Bar".

Tina scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't be in the shit if you'd gotten to work on time."

"I wasn't exactly in a rush. This case they've assigned me is bullshit" 

"I'm sure it isn't".

"It is," Gavin asserted, scowling bitterly. "'Android hate crime'. I mean, how the hell is that my department? I don't get why this hasn't been assigned to Anderson and his fucking tin-can".

Tina flinched, her eyes darting nervously to the android Officer sitting a few desks away. "Gav, enough with the 'tin-can'. You can't say shit like that anymore".

"And why's that, exactly?" Gavin demanded, throwing up his hands. "Because President Warren has decided that we all need to kiss and make up? Spare me".

"Don't be such an asshole".

"Why break the habit of a lifetime?".

The banging on Fowler's door increased, to which Gavin groaned. He began dragging his feet towards the office at a torturously slow pace. When he finally arrived, he could practically smell the contempt radiating off his superior. He didn't even bother asking Gavin to sit, immediately launching into his tirade:

"Just once, is it too much to ask that my men arrive when they are goddamn asked to?".

Gavin shrugged his shoulders, helping himself to an available chair. "I got held up in traffic on the way here".

"Don't spin me that bullshit. Did you even bother reading the assignment brief we sent you?".

"Damaged android. Apartment 14D Hartwell Tower" Gavin mumbled, unenthused "I skimmed it,".

"Murdered, Reed. Not damaged", Fowler clipped, seething with annoyance. "In what looks to be a targeted attack. Forensics have already been dispatched to the location. I want you there fifteen minutes ago".

"Why do I have to deal with this bullshit?" Gavin complained, "Get Connor or one of his pals to do it. My department is homicide".

Fowler's entire face seized up. It looked as though a vein might burst through his tightly knotted brow. "This is a homicide. Now do as your told. That's an order".

"Don't start giving me that – This isn't a homicide because no one's been killed. It was a fucking machine".

"That kind of talk might have flown last year, but it sure as hell doesn't fly anymore" Fowler pointed his finger to Gavin in an authoritative manner. "Between you and Anderson, I could write a bestseller: 'Dumbass Detectives and Their Dumbass Disciplinaries'".

Gavin sank back a little but refused to give up. He gave his Captain a cold look, hardening his jaw defensively. "You don't buy into this crap any more than the rest of us. A machine being destroyed isn't the same as a person losing their life. They are completely different".

"It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is that the law would disagree with you, and as an officer of the law, you'd do well to keep your mouth shut".

The finality in Fowler's tone informed Gavin that the discussion was over. He was right, of course. In just a few months, the legal status of androids had shifted astronomically. What had been acceptable less than a year ago would currently be grounds for swift reprimanding - or even dismissal.

No matter how much Gavin tried, there was no getting out of this. At least for now, he would need to demonstrate some level of cooperation.

Fowler seemed contented by the victory over his mouthy subordinate. Some of the tension released from his shoulders, and he leaned back in his chair.

"If you're done with your tantrum -", he said condescendingly "We have assigned an android officer to assist you on this case. Consider it the next step in your tolerance boot camp".

Fowler looked over Gavin's shoulder and made a motioning gesture. Gavin could hear the door slide open, followed by the tap of footprints on tile floors, drawing towards him.

"This is RK900. I'm sure you've already met".

Gavin turned around reluctantly and was immediately accosted by a set of disturbingly bright, intense eyes. RK900 was identical to Connor in almost every way, except it was far more physically imposing. With long legs and broad shoulders, and generally sharper features.

"Yeah, we've met", Gavin replied, making zero attempt to disguise the resentment brimming in his voice.

RK900 cocked its head, LED flicking from blue to yellow. It wasted no time studying Gavin, eyes raking up and down with unwavering scrutiny. Its previously neutral expression morphed into one of cold judgement.

"The fuck are you looking that?" Gavin demanded, to which RK900 wordlessly blinked its eyes, never once letting up. Eventually, it did address him, but only after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

"Apologies, Detective. I was determining how you might have arrived at the precinct this afternoon. Your blood alcohol content is 0.5 times over the legal limit".

Gavin felt his cheeks heat up. He was overcome with a sudden, all-consuming desire to punch the android square in the face. "I took a cab, you plastic asshole".

"My sensors indicate that you are lying", RK900 responded, its tone staunchly neutral. "It is not safe for you to operate a vehicle in your current condition. I am surprised you were not involved in an accident".

Gavin narrowed his eyes, stepping towards RK900 aggressively. "If you don't shut your mouth, you're going to be the one in a fucking accident".

"Enough, Reed", Fowler demanded, to which Gavin ceased his advance. He looked to the floor, feeling utterly despondent at his current situation.

Working with an android was bad enough, but RK900 was the worst of the worst. Gavin wondered how he could possibly get through this without losing his sanity. Not to mention his badge.

"You've been assigned your case and you have your address. Now, get out of my office before I fire you both".

Gavin let out a frustrated grunt as he stormed out of Fowler's office, slamming the door behind him. RK900 nodded to the Captain respectfully before following suit and leaving the room. 

Despite the former's best efforts, RK900 soon matched Gavin's stride. As it walked alongside the Detective, it carried itself with near-flawless composure. "I suggest we take an automated dispatch vehicle, or you allow me to drive. I would rather we make it to the crime scene in one piece".

Gavin struggled to hold his tongue, "Do whatever you want. Like I give a shit. Just don't expect me to stroke your dick because Fowler wants me to play nice".

"I had no expectation that your cooperation with me would involve sexual favours, Detective".

Gavin stalled in his movements as if anchored to the floor. His eyes blew to a comedic size, and he shot the android a look of disbelief. "It's a figure of speech, dipshit".

"Regardless, it seems wildly inappropriate for a workplace environment", RK900 chided, "We have an investigation to attend to".

When they eventually arrived at the crime scene, the entrance to the apartment building was swarming with reporters. One appeared to be feverishly badgering a Junior Officer, mic held a bare inch from his reddening face:

"Is it true that the victim is an android?" The reporter demanded, leaning as far as she could over the police-enforced barrier "– And that this attack is just one in a disturbing trend of recent crimes against android citizens?".

"I, uh, I -" The officer stumbled over his words, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "I don't think I'm supposed to talk about that...".

"Alright, leave him alone" Gavin quickly made his way over to the nameless officer, swinging an arm around his shoulder. He grabbed the top of the reporter's microphone, speaking into it clearly:

"The DPD won't be taking questions. Now I suggest you all beat it. This is a crime scene".

"The people have a right to know, Detective" The second reporter, an android, quickly objected. "Despite the recent declines in android-phobic attitudes, many still believe that we should be treated as second-class citizens: Do the police intend to take these crimes seriously? And to treat them with the same levity that they would for similarly brutal crimes against humans?".

"I said beat it" Gavin repeated, aggressively pushing the microphone away, "Fucking vultures".

The first journalist looked determined to persist before freezing as she caught sight of something over Gavin's shoulder. All colour promptly drained from her face, and she stumbled back on her stiletto heels. Her android counterpart looked equally perturbed, LED flitting to red before returning to normal. They exchanged a look before hurriedly retreating to a nearby news van.

Gavin looked around, confused, and the reason for the journalist's sudden retreat soon became evident. RK900 stood behind him, looming menacingly, with an expression that promised misery for anyone who dared challenge it. Its eyes were locked firmly on the fleeing reporters. Unyielding and unblinking, trailing their movements with disturbing precision. It wasn't until they were securely tucked in the back of the van that RK900 finally looked away.

"I suggest we make our way to the crime scene now," It said matter-of-factly. "We are wasting valuable time".

The nameless rookie, who Gavin still held firmly by his shoulder, began to tense under his grasp. He regarded RK900 with nervous anticipation, sweating profusely. Gavin could have sworn that he damn near fainted when the android finally addressed him.

The sensors in RK900's eyes flickered, LED whirring yellow, "Officer Lewis Andre, you appear to be unwell. Your complexion is sickly and pallid, and your heart rate is elevated."

The officer, who Gavin now knew was called Lewis, yelped pitifully in response. Judging by his skittish demeanour and overall softness of his features, Gavin concluded that he couldn't be much older than twenty. He was undoubtedly fresh from basic training and likely on his first assignment. 

What an assignment to stumble into,  Gavin thought to himself. The poor bastard.

Despite Lewis' blatant discomfort, RK900 refused to relent, continuing to scrutinise him "Your stress levels are indicative of emotional instability. I suggest that you fulfil your duties in escorting us to the crime scene and then excuse yourself so you may consult a psychiatric professional".

"Y-Yes, sir", Lewis stammered, meekly pointing a finger towards the rotating doorway of the apartment building. "The victim's apartment is on the second floor...He was an HR400, a former Traci. Went by the name of Jason".

"We already know this. Show us the crime scene."

The young officer nodded before hurriedly leading the way. Gavin trailed back, allowing the poor boy some space. RK900, unsurprisingly, did not show the same consideration. It kept a half-stride behind him at all times, monitoring him to ensure he didn't run away. 

Lewis was full-on trembling by the time they entered the elevator. As if terrified that RK900 would snap him like a twig for even the smallest act of insubordination. For all Gavin knew his fears were warranted. 

While Connor had his moments, he had always possessed a capacity for basic diplomacy. Namely, an understanding and appreciation for emotion. The fundamental difference with his successor was a ruthless cut-throat approach. As if its 'tolerance for human bullshit' meter had been permanently set to zero.

The elevator door dinged open, and Lewis bolted out with visible relief. "Through this way, Sirs".

He led them to Apartment 14D, the police caution tape making it immediately apparent that they had found the correct location. The apartment door was slightly ajar, to which Gavin peered inside. The room was bustling with the movements of the attending forensic team. As he watched, he was blind-sighted by the sudden flash of a large camera.

RK900 nodded in satisfaction, reaching for the door handle. "Excellent. You may leave now, Officer Andre".

Lewis didn't need to be told twice. He scurried away at record speed, never once turning back. As the remaining two entered the apartment, Gavin regarded his android companion with disapproval. 

"You know, humans generally don't like it when you treat them like shit".

RK900 began to study its surroundings, hardly acknowledging that Gavin had spoken. It ran its hand across a drag-like mark by the entranceway, human skin giving way to mannequin white as it deftly analysed the indents.

Gavin made his own observations, noting the scattered magazines and streaks of blue blood littering the entranceway. There was also an upturned table thrown haphazardly to the side, evidence of a struggle.

"I believe I treated that officer fairly", RK900 asserted plainly. "If he cannot handle the pressures of high-stakes police work, he should reconsider his profession".

Gavin wanted to pin RK900 by its neck and strangle it mercilessly. If it never again made a condescending remark, he would have done his due diligence.

"I'm sorry that people don't pop out of the factory perfect and ready to go", Gavin spat back at the android, expression marred with disgust. "They need a chance to grow and improve. I wouldn't expect you to understand, but a little compassion wouldn't hurt".

RK900 gave Gavin a weak side glance before directing its attention back to the investigation. "That is an interesting assertion, Detective. Especially coming from yourself".

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?".

"It is odd that you, of all people, would assert the need to show kindness to others. Given your history of aggressive and inflammatory behaviour".

Gavin clenched his jaw, the remaining threads of his composure quickly slipping away, "I'm plenty nice, you prick. I just tell things like they are".

"Quiet, please".

Before Gavin could say anything else, RK900 had hunched down to examine a streak of blue blood on the floor. It scooped a sample onto its fingers before placing them into its mouth.

"Ah, Jesus" Gavin looked away, heaving uncontrollably. "Do you have to fucking do that?".

"It is necessary for the investigation."

RK900 licked its lips, removing any remaining traces of the material. It stood back up, smoothing any resulting creases from its well-pressed suit.

"We can see it's blue blood. You don't have to put it in your mouth".

"The data from my internal analysis can provide valuable insight into the case. Namely, it allows me to scan for traces with the same forensic profile".

Gavin threw up his hands. "Well, best of luck with that, because I can't see any more blue blood around. Can you?".

"As it happens, I can. Thirium evaporates after a few hours of air exposure. However, it can still be detected with the correct equipment - such as myself".

"Wow. I'm so impressed."

RK900 studied Gavin, taking note of his exaggerated tone and flagrant eye-rolling. Its lips pulled downwards into something resembling a deep scowl. 

"Your sarcasm does not elude me, Detective. I am also displeased with our current partnership, but rather than waste time with snide remarks, I suggest you listen to me so we may progress our investigation".

Gavin reeled back, surprised by the emotional charge in the android's response. "What did you say?". 

As soon as the android's anger had appeared, it quickly dissipated. Its eyes glazed over, and the lids flickered like frenzied camera shutters, signalling an analysis being completed. The dissonance between RK900's otherwise human-like appearance and its undoubtedly mechanical behaviour triggered something unpleasant in Gavin. 

"There is a trail. Leading from the entranceway and towards the back end of the apartment. The evaporation rate suggests that the attack was finished here".

When RK900 spoke in its zombified state, it was akin to the 'uncanny valley' effect that had plagued Gavin's early childhood. Like that one creepy Christmas movie where the characters looked real, but never seemed to move or behave as they should.

He wondered how CyberLife had succeeded in fucking up RK900's facial articulation so spectacularly. Unless the intention had been to make anyone who interacted with it insanely uncomfortable.

Gavin fought hard to maintain his bravado, folding his arms defiantly. "If the attacked finished here, smart guy, where is the body?".

RK900 looked to the ground and pointed its finger at a series of scrape marks. "The marks here are consistent with dragging a heavy object. It would suggest that the body was moved".

"Oh please, like anyone would be able to move one of those things! They weigh a ton -". 

"Detective Reed. RK900" A voice addressed them, putting an end to the discussion. Gavin soon recognised the voice as belonging to Colton Sanders – an experienced CSI officer who had assisted the DPD in numerous prior cases.

"Sanders, how the hell are ya?" Gavin greeted, reaching out a hand and clapping it on the older man's shoulder.

"I'm surviving". 

"Man, am I glad to see some good old-fashioned flesh and blood. So tell me, what are we looking at here?".

Sanders responded with a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose "Not a lot, I'm afraid. Or too much, depending on how you look at it. The 'droids have combed the place thoroughly, but there are so many potential DNA profiles that it will take us a couple of days to cross-check".

Gavin titled his head curiously "Why so many profiles?".

"I believe this will field your question" RK900 bent down, picking something up from the pile of scattered magazines. It looked like a tablet. Fortunately enough, the screen had already been unlocked. "The victim had recently viewed their electronic diary. It contains a list of names with corresponding dates and times. Document name is 'Clients'".

It took Gavin's mind a minute to catch up, and then he remembered. What Officer Lewis had said outside about the victim's model number.

He barked out a cruel laugh before shaking his head in disbelief. "The android retired from the Eden Club just to wind up becoming an escort? That's fucking priceless".

"Yeah, so with the volume of 'clients'", Sanders used his fingers to make an awkward air-quote gesture. "You can only imagine how much we've got to work with".

"The blacklight is working overtime today" Gavin snorted as his own juvenile statement, before continuing, "Would explain the lack of forced entry".

Gavin placed a hand on the front door which was noticeably intact. Save the police-issue hacking device affixed to the lock. "Seems like our culprit posed as a customer".

"There was another possible point of entry - ", Sanders explained. "But it was more than likely it was a point of exit".

"Where would that be?".

"The window in the bedroom was left wide open. It couldn't have been opened from the outside, but there's guttering that the perp could have used to shimmy down".

"Anything on the drainpipe?".

Sanders shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say, I'm afraid. It's been raining cats and dogs all day, so any DNA evidence that might have been there is long gone".

"It only started to rain heavily at 2:34pm this afternoon", RK900 corrected. "With this in mind, and by comparing the dating of the Thirium traces that I have analysed, it would be safe to assume that the crime occurred approximately 2 hours ago".

"Well yeah, that does line up with the witness reports..." Sanders agreed, "Neighbours started calling the police around lunchtime, citing a domestic disturbance".

RK900 returned its attention to the tablet, swiping the screen a few times before gesturing for Gavin and Sanders to come and have a look.

"With our current time-frame in mind, our culprit is most likely a scheduled client by the name of 'THOD GRAWS".

"I doubt he was stupid enough to use his real name", Gavin clipped back. 

"It is highly improbable, but it will be interesting to see if any of the DNA profiles collected match our criminal databases. There is a possibility that we may find someone known for using the same, or a similar, alias".

"Instead of dicking around with dead leads, how about we check out the body?" Gavin rolled his eyes and turned himself back towards Sanders. "Mind showing us the way?".

"Sure thing...", Sanders agreed, "I'm warning you though, it isn't pretty".

Gavin tutted in dismissal, "The victim was an android. How bad can it be? No blood, no guts, no smell. Come on, Colt, I'm a big boy. I can take it".

Sanders nodded, looking a little deflated. He led the two further into the apartment, towards the bedroom. He hesitated slightly as he turned the doorknob before pushing forward.

Entering the room, the first thing that became apparent was a message scrawled on the adjacent wall, written in black marker pen:

SUCKS COCK IN ANDROID HELL.

"Charming", Gavin mumbled, examining the letters. "We've got a real wordsmith on our hands".

"Detective," RK900 said firmly, demanding Gavin's attention. He followed its gaze to the east side window, and that is when he saw it.

The android was naked. It was strung up on the curtain rail, hands out to either side, forming a T shape. There was a large laceration across its stomach, and it had been mutilated from the waist down. Its eyes had been removed, leaving nothing but two hollow sockets. 

Underneath the window was a bed, which had been stripped of its covers, leaving nothing but a blue-soaked mattress and a series of Polaroid pictures.

Gavin felt his heart sink as he tried to comprehend what he was looking at.

"Jesus fucking Christ", He muttered, unsure of what else to say.

Sanders hummed in agreement before bowing his head in respect "Yeah, whoever did this was one twisted fucker. You might want to take a look at those photos".

Gavin did as directed, and the uncomfortable sinking in his chest only increased. The pictures told a grim story, showing detailed snapshots of the mutilation process. Had it not been for the blood and greyed-out LED, the man in the picture could have been mistaken for an average person. Their postmortem expression seemed to be trapped in a look of perpetual fear. The brow was tensed, and mouth opened, cheeks stained with freshly-shed tears.

Gavin dropped the photos as if they burned to the touch. He had to take a long, calming breath before re-addressing Sanders, "Any luck finding its eyes and...you know...".

Sanders shook his head sadly. "Looks like the guy must have taken 'em. Like a sick prize or something".

Gavin turned to RK900, curious to see what it made of all this. He found the android standing at the wall parallel to the bed, staring intently.

"There is another message", It informed Gavin, not once turning away. "Written in Thirium".

"What does it say?" he asked. 

RK900 paused for a moment, the processing yellow of its LED flitting to red before returning to normal. It slowly read out the message:

I KNOW YOU CAN READ THIS. I WILL NOT REST UNTIL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU FILTHY MACHINES IS RIPPED APART. YOU ARE NOTHING BUT SCRAP.

Gavin fell uncharacteristically silent. The weight of RK900's words hung uncomfortably in the air. Sanders appeared equally disturbed, lips pursed together tightly.

"This is not the first time our culprit has acted violently towards androids", RK900 warned, " - and it certainly will not be the last. If we do not apprehend them soon, I anticipate there will be many more victims".