#...something about wearing a face that's the closest to his with her eyes and her nose and realizing she doesn't recognize him

[erimeows]

Caretaker

Roy feels unsure as he holds his fist up to the wooden door of Riza’s apartment, his gloved hand hovering over the center. In his other hand, a bag from Panda House- her favorite takeout spot- dangles from his fingers. The pleasant aroma of egg drop soup and grilled chicken wafts faintly from the bag, but it’s no comfort against the growing unease curling in his stomach.

Roy knows that, for a long time, their relationship has been far from strictly professional. Riza is his closest confidant and his best friend. So, when he was told earlier that morning that she had called in sick- a rarity in the many years they’ve spent working together- he knew he couldn’t just ignore it. 

Throughout the lonely work day, he convinced himself it would only be right to drop by her apartment after his shift at eastern headquarters ended to check in on her and make sure she’s still able to eat well. Now that he’s here, food in hand, dressed in a t-shirt and joggers, he’s unsure of whether or not this is what he should be doing with his evening.

He hesitates, glancing over his shoulder at the quiet hallway to make sure that no one is watching him. It’s getting late, and the thought of someone seeing him here tugs at the corner of his mind. Fraternization laws loom over him and his feelings for his subordinate like an ever-present shadow, but the worry fades as quickly as it arrives. He’s not here for anything improper. He’s here because she matters to him; because there’s no one left to look after her. 

Still, he hesitates, because while he knows he could handle anyone else’s reaction to this, he’s not so sure about his ability to handle Riza’s. Riza is fiercely guarded, even with him. He’s seen her face battlefields without so much as a flinch, always calm, always composed. Vulnerability isn’t something she shows easily- not even to him- not in a very long time. Will she be mad at him for dropping by like this unannounced when he knows she’s going to be at her worst? She had to have been doing awful this morning to call in. 

After standing in front of her door for an embarrassingly long few minutes, Roy figures that, even if she is upset at him for showing up while she’s sick, the comfort of knowing she’s okay will be worth whatever she can throw at him. So, Roy knocks on the door. Black Hayate immediately starts yapping- behind the door, Roy hears the sound of his tiny footsteps followed by the sound of his paws scratching at the door, but Riza still doesn’t answer. 

The seconds stretch painfully long. He glances at his watch, watching the second hand tick once, twice, thrice. A full two minutes pass, and he begins to think she’s either asleep or too unwell to answer. Just as he steps back to leave, the door creaks open.

“Lieutenant,” He greets, his voice coming out a little softer than he intended for it to.

“Sir,” Riza addresses him formally even though they’re alone, a habit that Roy suspects will never die- and, quite frankly, she looks like shit. 

Her once neat, golden blond hair is frizzy and oily, loosely tied into a messy ponytail to keep it away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed a hot pink while the rest of her face is sickly pale, and her forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She’s wearing an oversized button up and a pair of baggy pajama pants. Whether she’s embarrassed or surprised, Roy isn’t sure, but she hides most of her body behind the door upon realizing that it’s him, peeking her head out to analyze his expression with her tired eyes. 

“Are you alright?” He asks as Black Hayate slips out the door to sit at his feet and sniff his legs. 

“Did something happen?” She questions, her voice hoarse and dry as she changes the subject from her unfortunate condition. “Why are you here?”

“It’s unlike you to call in sick, lieutenant, that’s all,” Roy answers before she can worry too much. Though it would be just their luck for an emergency to happen on the one day she calls in, today was actually pretty normal, if not boring. He notes the slight tension in her brow, the way her lips press together as if suppressing an apology for being unwell. “I thought I should come check on you.”

“Right,” Riza clears her throat, wincing at the strain of the action. It’s evident that the action is painful. “Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, sir, I’m just fine. I’ll be back in tomorrow or the next day, so you don’t need to worry about finding coverage for me again-”

“You are not coming back to work tomorrow,” Roy interjects, able to see just how sick she is. “You have to rest at home to get better. Coming into the office like this will only make you sick for longer.”

“But sir, I’m alright,” Riza tries to argue, but while Roy would normally entertain it, he doesn’t this time.

“Clearly not,” He argues back, shaking his head and placing a hand on the outside doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

“What? This place is a mess-” 

“I don’t care,” Roy walks past the door and into Riza’s small apartment, taking his boots off at the entryway and leaving them beside the row of shoes lined up beside Riza’s welcome mat. Black Hayate follows him closely. He shuts the door, locking it behind him, and tries his best to ignore the way Riza is rushing around to pick up the apartment; a stack of papers on the coffee table in the living room, a discarded pair of panties and a large t-shirt off of the floor. He can’t, however, ignore the sound of running water in the kitchen. He enters the room to see that the sink is full of soapy water and about to overflow. That must’ve been why she took so long to answer the door. “Were you… Doing dishes?”

“Yes,” Riza calls out, and then follows him into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you’re cleaning when you’re this sick,” Roy chastises and reaches forward to turn off the faucet before it can overflow onto the counter and floor. “Have you even eaten anything?”

“No,” Riza shakes her head and takes the bag of food from Roy’s hands, setting it on the kitchen table. “I tried this morning, but I wasn’t able to keep anything down.”

“How about water?” Roy questions, to which Riza grimaces. 

“Not much luck there either. In fact, trying to drink water only made it worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“...I suppose so,” Riza shrugs, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms over her chest. “I did go to the doctor to get checked out after I called in this morning. He gave me some medicine to take; anti-nausea and some pain meds. He said it’s just a stomach bug that’s been going around and that I should be fine within a couple days.”

“You should’ve called me personally to let me know…”

“It’s not as if I’m dying.”

And instead of saying ‘I still worry about you’ like he wants to, Roy says-

“Sit down and try to eat some of the food I brought. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“Sir, you really don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly capable of-”

“You. Are. Sick. Sit down- that’s an order, lieutenant.”

Riza smiles and rolls her eyes at him, but sits down at the kitchen table and unpacks the food. 

“Hopefully this anti-nausea my doctor prescribed has kicked in. I’m starving,” Riza hums and opens the bowl of egg drop soup, picking at it with a plastic spoon. Roy takes off his gloves, pocketing them before grabbing a sponge and beginning to wash the dirty dishes. “How was work today?”

“Boring. The office felt so… Empty without you there,” Roy admits, thinking back to the workday. When Falman told him that Riza would be absent, his heart had dropped and shattered into tiny little pieces within his chest in a way that he didn’t know it could. The day was painfully boring without Riza to talk to. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“My day’s been rather boring as well, so unless you want to hear about the gruesome details of me being hunched over my toilet bowl…”

“Right,” Roy laughs. “What should we talk about instead, then?”

“We don’t have to talk,” Riza responds. “I enjoy your company as is.”

“Right…” 

So, they stay in Riza’s kitchen, silent besides the sounds of the scrub being brushed against Riza’s dishes and gentle slurp of Riza drinking her soup. When Roy finishes washing the dishes, he dries them off and puts them away in Riza’s kitchen cabinets before sitting down at the table with her to eat his food.

Something about this is so… Domestic, from his shoes being left behind at her door, to him being able to wash her dishes, to them sitting alone at her kitchen table like this on a regular evening, eating together with Black Hayate napping between them on the floor.

They eat in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional cough from Riza or the rustle of a napkin. The air feels warm and easy despite Riza’s condition. As Roy watches her pick at her soup, he feels a pang of something he can’t quite name. A longing, maybe. Or perhaps gratitude- for moments like this, fleeting but meaningful. 

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Riza murmurs after a while. “You checked on me like you wanted. I’m sure you have better things to do with your evening, so whenever you want to go...”

Roy leans back in his chair, watching as Riza’s expression shifts with something he’s not used to seeing; uncertainty. This, he decides, is where he belongs tonight.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Roy replies, meeting her gaze. “You look like you could use a caretaker for the night, anyway.”

Riza raises an eyebrow at that.

“What, like you’re going to stay the night here?”

“Why not? No one saw me come in,” Roy shrugs. “I’ll clean the rest of the house, pick up more medicine if you need it, hold your hair for you while you puke… You know, the romantic stuff.”

“Well, if you insist… I guess I wouldn’t mind your company.”

“It’s settled, then.”

~

After cleaning up the kitchen and finishing their quiet meal, the evening wears on, and the fatigue etched into Riza’s face grows more pronounced. Roy glances at his watch. It’s late, and the unspoken question of what happens next hangs heavy in the air.

Riza stands from where they’re sitting on the living room couch and reaches into the small paper bag on the coffee table to pull out two pill bottles. She opens them both, fishing out a tablet from each and taking them with a sip of water. There’s a slight nervous energy in the air that Roy can’t quite shake. 

“You should go get some rest,” He says, breaking the silence. “I’ll be here.”

Riza crosses her arms, leaning against the back of the chair. 

“You don’t really plan on sleeping on the couch, do you?” She asks.

“Unless you’d rather me on the floor,” He teases.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to fit on that couch, and you know it.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” Roy shrugs, waving off her concern. “I can handle one night on the couch.”

“I didn’t let you stay with the intention of you leaving with a back injury,” Her tone softens, but there’s a firmness in it that allows no argument. She looks toward her bedroom door and then back at him, hesitating before speaking. “You can sleep in the bed.”

He blinks. 

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed while you’re sick. That’s just evil.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you do,” She replies, holding his gaze. Her cheeks flush slightly- whether from fever or embarrassment, he’s not sure. “It’s big enough for two. And it’s not like this is the first time we’ve been close.”

Roy stares at her, caught somewhere between disbelief and something warmer. He opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it. She’s right, and probably not in the mood to argue with him while she’s ill. Still, the idea of sharing her bed feels… Intimate in a way he isn’t sure he’s prepared for. They slept together in a tent a handful of times in Ishval, but that was… Different. There, they were wartorn and desperate for comfort and Roy’s only other option was rooming with Solf J. Kimblee. Here, they’re in Riza’s apartment and Roy could turn around and go home to his own bed if he really wanted to. 

“Alright,” He agrees, scratching the back of his neck. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Riza answers simply, already heading toward the bedroom.

Roy follows her, glancing around her room as he steps inside. It’s a bit of a mess, which he expects after having seen the rest of her apartment today. There’s a few personal touches- books stacked on the nightstand and a small framed photo of her and Black Hayate on the wall make it feel distinctively hers. She grabs an extra pillow from her closet, fluffs it, and tosses it onto the bed.

“You take the left,” She says, climbing into the right side and pulling the blanket over herself. Black Hayate pads into the room, hops onto the bed, and curls up against the small of Riza’s back. “Goodnight, sir.”

Roy chuckles softly as he settles in beside her, keeping a careful distance. 

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

The room falls quiet. The only sounds are the faint hum of traffic outside and Riza’s steady breathing. Despite his initial unease about this, Roy feels a strange sense of calm. The day’s worries slip away, replaced by the quiet comfort of being close to her.

~

Hours later, the calm shatters.

Roy wakes to the sound of retching; something loud and painful and so not Riza that it fills his chest with a pang of concern. He bolts upright, disoriented for a moment, before realizing the bed beside him is empty. The muffled sound of vomiting comes from the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

“Riza,” He calls before he can think better of it, slipping out of bed and moving quickly toward the noise. They’re past the point of formal titles 24/7, though he doubts she heard him regardless. “You okay?”

Roy reaches the bathroom and knocks on the door once, then twice. When Riza doesn’t answer, he goes ahead and opens it. He finds her hunched over the toilet, her hands gripping the edge of the bowl as she dry-heaves miserably. The sight tugs at his chest.

“Roy,” Riza groans. The toilet bowl is full of remnants of their dinner mixed with stomach acid and water. Beside it is a flurry of used tissues, covered in spit and vomit. “Go back to bed.”

Roy shakes his head, kneeling down beside her as she retches again. With one hand, he rubs her back, and with the other, he holds her hair away from her face. 

“Hey,” He says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She shakes her head, but she’s too weak to really protest. The effort she’s putting into just staying upright is heartbreaking.

When the worst of it passes, Riza slumps back against the bathroom wall, her eyes glassy and tired. 

“I’m sorry,” She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” Roy says firmly, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom cabinet and running it under cool water. He kneels in front of her, pressing the damp cloth to her forehead. “You can’t control this.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into the sensation. 

“This is humiliating.”

“It’s not. You’d do the same for me,” He counters. “You’re sick, Riza. Let me help. You’re not going to get better all by yourself.”

Hesitantly, Riza agrees.

“...Okay.”

Roy stands, filling a glass of water and crouching beside her again. 

“Try to drink a little.”

She grimaces but takes a small sip, grim determination written across her face. When it stays down, she sighs in relief.

“Thank you,” Riza’s lips quirk upward faintly, but exhaustion quickly overtakes her. Roy helps her to her feet, steadying her as they shuffle back to the bedroom. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Roy shakes his head as he tucks her back into bed, climbing in beside her.

“I know… But I wanted to.”

“Well… Thank you.”

“Any time,” He smiles. “Now, let’s go back to sleep. Unlike you, I still have to go to work in the morning.”

Surprisingly enough, Riza turns to face Roy, scooting closer to him. Roy moves a couple inches forward, and then a couple more. Before either of them have the time to think about the consequences, Roy wraps his arms around Riza to pull her even closer, allowing her to snuggle up against his chest. 

“Goodnight,” She says. 

“Goodnight, Riza.”

[jomiddlemarch]

the last man in the world

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a sole proprietorship coffee shop in possession of an ideal location and a reliable source of ethically harvested beans must be in want of adequate staff.

Elizabeth would have taken one measly part-time barista who could create a competent Rosetta in a latte.

Or someone who was not related to her, because when her sisters came to “help out,” she ended up short cash in the till (Lydia and shockingly Mary), running low on clotted cream (Kit), or with the entire kitchen scrubbed clean but with all the shelves rearranged in a way that was completely unintuitive unless you were also deeply influenced by feng shui (Jane, who needed to stop worrying so much about cultural appropriation but also needed to stop moving the espresso cups to the north side of the room.)

It was getting dire and that was not only Elizabeth’s opinion. Charlotte, her closest friend from uni and also her accountant, had started to have an expression halfway between concerned and skeptical when Elizabeth talked about the coffee-shop and had absolutely vetoed the vintage La Marzocco espresso maker.

“You’d need what they call an angel investor in the States to pull that off, Lizzie, and nothing about Bluestockings would attract an angel,” Charlotte said.

“You still think I should have accepted the offer from Collins,” Elizabeth replied.

“I’m not idealistic,” Charlotte shrugged. “Not a romantic like you. He made a solid offer and he had the cash—”

“He looked like a toad in a Fair Isle jumper and he kept calling me Bettina,” Elizabeth said.

“This is London, the costs are only getting higher, between the bloody Tories and the foreign nationals buying up entire streets— You may regret saying no."

“I’d rather that than the alternative,” Elizabeth said. “The look on his face was priceless.”

“Oh, there was a price,” Charlotte said. “You just don’t know how much it’ll cost you.”

“How much?” the tall, dark-haired man in what was very clearly Savile Row asked, after Elizabeth, most definitely not looking her best since not one sister had shown up to help, not even Jane, had pushed across a sloppily poured London fog latte and then had forgotten to ring him up.

“Four quid,” she said, rounding up. He was wearing monogrammed platinum cufflinks and had the attitude of someone with a vast estate he referred to as “the country house.” Plus, he’d ignored her the whole time she’d scrambled around to make the drink, even when she nearly knocked three tins (Jane, why, why?!) from the shelf where the Earl Grey was kept and she’d yelped most unbecomingly.

“I meant how much do you need for the back-taxes and the rent. It needs a renovation, but we’d need to get an architect in for that, Annika de Bourgh at Rosings is the best,” he said. “My friend Charlie was here last week, raved about it, said the very pretty barista with the bluest eyes told him you were her sister, the coffee-shop about to go under, even though she’d reorganized the cutlery five times to invite financial well-being, and he’s likely to do something very ill-considered unless I stop him, so how much do you need? The place is tolerable, I suppose—”

“Tolerable?” Elizabeth repeated. Sputtered, not unlike the milk frother which needed a repair.

“I’ve seen worse. I’ve seen better. It has some potential, the location is unimpeachable, the foot traffic alone should make the rent, as long as people want to walk in,” he said. “How much?”

“You’ve some nerve,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes. As well as the acumen and portfolio to back it up,” he answered coolly.

“I’d never take money from someone whose name I don’t know, who hasn’t worked with me a single day,” Elizabeth said.

“Darcy. Will Darcy. I hope you’ve a spare apron,” he said.

“I don’t,” she said.

“Then I’ll wear one of your tee-shirts,” he said, taking off his suit jacket and folding it over one forearm. 

“It won’t fit,” she said.

“I’ll be careful then, not to spill,” he replied.

The tee-shirt fit, if by fit one meant that it made it clear how exquisitely well-built Will Darcy was, broad and well-muscled through the shoulders and chest, narrow waisted, the pale blue cotton concealing hardly anything, the swoopy swirly scrawl of Bluestockings seemingly designed specifically to make one consider whether he possessed a six or eight pack. And he didn’t spill a drop.

“Convinced?” he asked, after three hours, the best mid-afternoon rush she’d ever had neatly managed, the counters pristine. He’d rolled his sleeves up after the first hour and Elizabeth had resolutely determined not to give a name to the feeling the sight evoked in her. 

(The name would probably include an obscenity, something she could confide to neither Jane nor Charlotte.)

“Give me a week,” she said.

“To decide?”

“Work here for a week. One afternoon doesn’t count. You might be lucky,” she said.

“I don’t believe in luck,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said. 

Charlotte had been right. Elizabeth had had no idea what it would cost her.

Written but posted late (on a day when I feel like a lot of us can use a cheerful distraction!) for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month, Day 15, prompt: London.

[deva-arts]

Lots of Noxes because it's about time his lore started dropping

something something feeling like you're inherently abominable, unloveable and cursed to be despised so you embrace your unpalatability and save your cares for yourself because at least monsters get to sleep with a full stomach

Something something getting used to emptiness and deciding it's your new normal except you've developed hedonistic and antisocial tendencies because sex, drugs, power and control has become the only way you can feel warmth in your life that's almost like love but far less lasting and you're always left with that taste in your mouth no matter how much you consume

Nox is a big ball of fuckupedness.

[bi-writes]

Simon short circuiting when his mail order bride does something kind for him :)) uses her new credit card to buy him his favorite tea and cat treats for bonding with his new baby <3

mail-order bride

simon lets out a deep breath as he slips his boots off. he pulls his tact vest over his head, dropping it beside his shoes before rolling out his neck. he's exhausted. he's been awake for 36 hours at least, and not even a few hours ago, he had been camped out on a rooftop with nothing but his sniper rifle for company.

you pad into the living room, dressed in cute cherry-printed pajamas. little shorts with a matching short-sleeve top, and you smile shyly when you see him standing by the door. your eyes wander a little; you've never seen him with his gear on, and he's surprised you're not more startled by the skull mask he's wearing.

his head darts to the side when he sees the cat hopping along the shelves on the wall. the cat launches itself off the closest shelf, landing on the back of his shoulders and nuzzling along the back of his head before dropping onto the floor to weave between his legs.

"welcome home," you say softly, coming closer, and simon just nods. you reach up when you get closer, slipping your hands under his hoodie to find the hem of his mask. you pull it up gently over his head, smiling a little wider when you reveal his face underneath. he has eye-black smudged around his eyes, but otherwise, your husband looks his normal self, aside from the dark circles under his eyes.

you understand immediately that simon isn't in a good mood. he's irritated, tired, sour-faced and agitated. you smooth your hands down his chest before kneeling on the carpet. simon blinks, confused, but then he watches as you start to unbuckle the holsters around his thighs. you get him undressed enough that he's just wearing his jeans and his hoodie, and he takes your hand gently to help you stand back up. you hook your pinkie around his, guiding him to take a seat on the couch before you disappear into the kitchen.

simon leans his head back against the couch, shutting his eyes gently. to come home to a warm place, one filled with another person, it's frighteningly comforting. he has always come home to the dark. to the heater off and all the rooms empty. to silence and his own terrifying thoughts.

"simon?"

he opens his eyes and sits up a little, blinking the sleep away as you come closer. he hums when he sees you holding a mug, walking slow as you try and keep it steady. you hand him the mug, watching as he takes a slow sip of it.

he shuts his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. it's perfect. he's never told you how he prefers his tea, but it's got just a splash of milk and nothing more. the thoughtfulness warms him more than the drink does, and he curls his toes a little as he tries not to think about it too hard.

"oh!" you smile. "i-i...i filled your car up, and i-i got you something when i went to get a water."

you scurry towards your purse by the door, rummaging through it before you pull out a little crinkled paper bag. you sit next to him on the couch and hand it to him after he sets his tea down on the coffee table.

he reaches into the bag and wraps his hand around a little plastic trinket, pulling it out. he blinks, hooking a gloved finger through the little keychain he's holding. he holds it up, face neutral, but after a few moments, a low chuckle leaves him.

it's a little skeleton, and the bones of it wiggle and dance when he shakes it.

"i...i thought of you when i saw it," you laugh a little, and he watches as the cat hops up onto your lap, moving over your legs to sniff at the little skeleton simon is holding up. after a few moments, the cat reaches up with a paw and smacks the skeleton, watching it shake and wiggle before smacking it again.

"yeah?" simon murmurs, meeting your eyes. "you miss me?"

"y-yes...yeah. w-we missed you."

[norrisjpg]

only angel - ʟɴ⁴

the one where lando's best friend finally admits she's not the most experienced in the bedroom - and that's all it takes to flip their innocent dynamic.

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten

contains; fluff, soft dom!lando, nsfw, smut; clitoral stimulation, implied masturbation, implied squirting, praise kink, mentions of fingering; inexperienced!femoc, talks of loss of virginity, swearing.

...

...

angelic rays of sunlight beamed in through the open windows of a monaco apartment, illuminating the body splayed out on the tangled white sheets of a large bed. it was summer, the air smelt of salt and ice cream, the clouds were nowhere to be seen, and the gentle breeze floated through the crisp air like a melody.

the softest of groans escaped her lips as she rolled away from the very thing that had woken her, and in her slightly hungover state, she had failed to notice how close she was to the edge of her moderately high bed.

thud!

"fuck," lily groaned, laying on the floor in a puddle of last night's carelessly discarded clothes.

footsteps echoed around the apartment, sounding like they were getting closer but she couldn't tell if it was just her throbbing head making things up. lily took a moment to glance downward, feeling a little cold at the loss of her duvet. she was wearing a bra - ew, why had she slept in a bra? - and her underwear was still on, albeit a little lower than what would be considered modest.

she gently pulled them up and managed to drag herself to her feet, and of course, this is when her door swung open. there he was - the reason for her hungover state - in all his glory, looking too good for this time in the morning.

"i heard a bang, are you okay?" lando asked, tilting his head at the girl, who looked a little dishevelled and very tired.

"fell out of bed." she murmured. "i hate you."

"how is it my fault that you fell out of bed?" he retorted, scrunching his face up in the same way he always did.

"because you got me drunk, and now i'm hungover, you twat." she huffed, picking up the clothes on the floor and tossing them into her laundry basket, not bothered by her lack of clothing in front of him.

"oh, get over yourself." lando rolled his eyes with a playful grin.

her response was a grumpy middle finger and she shooed him out of her bedroom, mumbling something about a beauty sleep and how men are so annoying - so lando just left her to it.

in all honesty, his mind had been running at a million miles an hour all morning - reeling from something lily had so casually mentioned last night.

"hey, i'm not a slut!" she slurred, in the cutest way possible.

a joking comment had been made by one of her closest friends, alexandra, about how her dress was a little slutty, and in all honesty it was. alex knew she could say these things to lily because well, they had been best friends before lily even knew who lando was... so a long time.

"if anything, i'm the opposite of a slut." lily giggled softly, leaning back into lando, his arm was draped over her shoulders. "harry and i never had sex anyway and-"

before she could elaborate, their friends returned with the next round of drinks, and the topic of conversation switched rapidly.

surely not.

harry and lily had dated for five years, from when she was sixteen, until she was twenty-one. their relationship was great, until new years' eve of twenty-nineteen came around. lily was well aware that harry was growing impatient with her. harry wanted sex, lily didn't feel she was ready yet. it's not that she felt pressured, but that she wanted to please him, so here she was. to cut a long and slightly traumatic story short, lily had gotten scared as harry was unzipping his jeans - and literally ran away.

somehow, the couple didn't break up for another two years - but the real reason behind that was that once harry realised he wasn't going to be - in his words - 'hitting it' any time soon, he found release in the grasp of some girl he went to college with in maranello. he cheated on lily for two years, and she didn't suspect a thing until he came to visit her after the covid lockdown.

they'd gone out for lunch, and harry had let it slip that he'd had to buy plan b pills recently - and well, that was the end of that.

now, it was news to lando that she and harry hadn't ever gotten intimate with each other - and well, he knew she hadn't brought anyone back to their apartment in time they'd been living together, but surely she'd been getting laid elsewhere.

it would make sense in some ways though. he always noticed how she'd flush a pretty pink colour when ever his hand lingered on her waist, how she'd look undoubtedly flustered whenever his gaze was trained on her, and how she'd become increasingly uncomfortable when a sex scene played in a movie they were watching.

surely not though, right?

lando's dangerous train of thought was interrupted by the soft thudding of footsteps travelling to his ears. his head snapped up to the girl rubbing her eyes, stood groggily behind the couch he was sat on.

"i thought you were having your beauty sleep?" lando teased, raising his eyebrows at the brunette girl, now dressed in the quadrant rugby shirt he had exclusively gifted her in january.

"couldn't sleep, my head hurts too bad." she mumbled, rolling her eyes at his teasing comment. "why do i let you get me drunk?"

"because you love me, duh." he responded, somewhat sassily, making a quiet laugh tumble from her lips.

"whatever, norris." she breathed out, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing some aspirin out of the cupboard below the sink.

she downed two pills along with a cold glass of water, wincing as she felt the cold liquid travel down to her stomach. lando's gaze was lingering, like it usually did - the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed, the way she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw as the pills were taken down in her pretty mouth - she was just so... enticing.

"come here." lando beckoned softly, gesturing for her to come lay with him. "you can nap here if you want."

"please." she groaned softly, plopping down on the couch next to me and immediately resting her head on his lap.

he noticed the goosebumps rippling across her skin, wondering whether he was causing them, or it was because she was cold. he went with the latter, and pulled the wool blanket on the armrest over her body.

"thankyou." lily murmured, reaching up for his hand to hold, innocently craving some physical touch.

he gently entwined their fingers, caressing her hand with his large thumb. within about three or four minutes, lily had drifted off into a sweet slumber, snuggling into lando's warmth.

...

it had been driving lando quite literally insane all day.

he didn't have the courage to straight up ask her if she was a virgin or not, so here he was, dancing around the question like a fucking tap dancer.

"so you and harry?" lando said quietly, almost praying that she wouldn't hear him.

her head snapped up from her phone, eyebrows knitted together in a confused frown. "yes?"

"well, i mean you never really told about why he's made you not want to date anyone." lando shrugged, his tone seeming a little apprehensive, not wanting to strike a nerve. "like i know he cheated on you, but was that the only thing?"

"um..." she pursed her lips, a little gobsmacked that he was even bringing up the subject of harry, a typically sore topic for her - but she answered nonetheless. "he always pushed me for sex, and... i wasn't ready back then."

"he didn't... did he?" the pause in lando's words made it clear what he meant.

"oh god, no, nothing like that, don't worry." lily shook her head quickly. "but we were like so close to doing it once, and i got scared - then he kind of just... never tried again."

"oh." oh? ask her the question, dumbass. "so... you didn't lose your virginity to him then?"

"no," the brunette shook her head softly.

"when did you lose it then?" lando said quickly, the words falling from his mouth before he even registered the question.

lily went what only can be described as crimson. it's not that she was embarrassed - well, actually she was. lily thought it was a bad thing - she was a literal model, and at the grand age of twenty-three, she still hadn't lost her v-card.

she hesitated, before murmuring, "i- uh... i haven't."

"oh." do you really not have anything better to say, dipshit?

"yeah." she pursed her lips once more, averting her gaze to an inanimate object somewhere in the room.

"do you want to?" lando himself now had no idea where this was going, he was kind of just rolling with whatever fell out of his mouth now.

"of course i do." she huffed. "it's just... i don't want to lose it to some random guy i meet on raya or some shit. and i feel like it's going to put people off, like they're going to think something is wrong with me."

a soft frown made its way onto lando's face, and he shook his head.

"nothing is wrong with you, lily." the brit reassured her. "don't ever think that there's something wrong with you because you weren't ready for sex when someone pushed you for it."

she fell quiet, taking in his words gratefully, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"anyway, i'd rather have some experience before i launch myself into dating again." she admitted, glancing up at lando to gage his reaction - she wasn't really sure what she was suggesting, but she wanted to see what lando thought of it. "but i just... don't know where to get said experience."

lando contemplated, trying to decide whether he should just offer himself up on a platter or not. in all honesty, the thought of her dating anyone else made him feel physically nauseous, let alone the new knowledge that she'd be letting someone else be her first - that made him want to die in a puddle of his own tears.

"well..." he began, his words trailing off. "i could always um... help you out."

she slowly lifted her head up, looking at him with a dazed expression, not sure if she'd heard him right. "what?"

"i wouldn't mind uh.. helping you gain some experience." lando repeated, a little more confident from seeing the dazed look in her eyes. "teach you what us guys like, teach you what you like."

lily blinked at her best friend, furrowing her eyebrows. "really?"

"if you'd be up for it, yeah." he nodded, leaning back against the couch a little more. "and we'd go slow, promise. we can take it at whatever pace you'd like, sweetheart."

the way he called her 'sweetheart' made her inner thighs tingle and heat pool in her lower tummy. she simply nodded, too in shock from this agreement they'd just made - was she really going to fuck her best friend in the somewhat near future?

"words, come on." he said slowly, gesturing for her to come to him on the other side of the couch.

"yeah, yeah." she breathed out, getting up and walking to him. "i want that."

"sit." he patted his lap, and she just stared, doe-eyed.

he chuckled softly, leaning up and grabbing her hips, pulling her down on his lap so she was straddling him, her face now at a level height with him.

"is this okay?" he murmured softly, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, mapping out all the places he wanted to kiss her.

"yeah," she breathed out. "i'll tell you if it's not."

"atta' girl." he praised softly, and could have whined at his words.

okay, so lando hadn't even touched her and he'd already discovered she had a praise kink - a good start.

instead of whining, her breath hitched and her cheeks flushed once again, earning a soft smirk from lando as he traced his index finger over her jawline.

"can i kiss you, pretty girl?" lando asked softly, now cupping her jaw with one hand, and drawing circles on her tummy with the other.

it's like her whole world stopped, that sentence was like music to her ears.

"yeah." she breathed out, eyes flicking over the drop-dead gorgeous features on his tanned face.

usually, lando was a sucker for rough sex, fast and hard. but, while he knew he had to be gentle with her - something else about her just made him want to treat her like glass. he wanted her to fall apart in his arms, but in the most loving and delicate way possible.

so, he leant in, his head a little tilted, briefly brushing their noses together before softly connecting their lips. her breath hitched and he could feel her body melting into his, the delicious weight of her feather-light body deepening into his lap. and that wasn't the only thing changing in his lap.

his cock was hard, painfully hard already. he was pathetic, he had literally only just kissed the girl and he was about ready to cum in his boxers.

the kisses were soft and delicate, tongue involved but it wasn't like he was about to devour her whole. he gently pried her legs apart a little further with his free hand, the one previously tracing circles onto her abdomen.

the most angelic of moans left her lips, and she seemed a little shocked, the movement of her lips faltering briefly. he opened his eyes, tilting her head back with the hand on her jaw, beginning his toe-curling attack on her neck. he nipped at the sensitive skin gently, soothing the area with his lips shortly after - repeating those actions had her a wet mess in his lap within minutes.

she was whining, whimpering, pleading with him to just do something, anything, everything.

lily's pretty pink lips were parted as soft, airy moans tumbled from her lips, her head still tilted back as he peppered kisses across all the right spots. his fingers were toying at the edge of her underwear in between her legs, relishing in the dampness coating his fingertips - she was soaked, the warm liquid coating the crease of her inner thighs.

he pulled his head away from her neck briefly, gazing at her for permission, earning a needy yes from the angel on top of him.

"wanna hear you, okay?" he told her gently, knowing that as this was her first time, she'd be more likely to hold back her pretty noises.

she nodded, biting her lower lip as her breathing turned a little more rapid and a little more shallow.

"good girl." he praised once more, and the heat rolled up her body once more.

lando slid his fingers underneath her panties, bunching them and pushing them to the side. her hips jolted a little as his knuckles brushed over her dripping folds, and he could have groaned at how sensitive the girl was.

"relax." he murmured softly, flicking his stare back up at her face.

he slid his index finger in between her folds, coating his thick fingers with her sweet juices. his jaw fell a little agape as he gaged just how wet she was.

"fucking hell," he murmured, but it fell on deaf ears, lily too focused on relaxing - her lower lip pulled between her teeth and her eyes fluttered closed.

he slid his ring finger beside his index, parting her folds and dragging his middle finger up and down her sensitive cunt.

the urge to just slip his fingers inside of her and make her cum until she couldn't speak was almost irresistible, almost.

he let her get used to the feeling, before switching his singular middle finger for the pad of his thumb, which he pressed directly against her clit.

"fuuuuck-" she moaned out, eyebrows arching as she tossed her head back. "so good- shit-"

lando just admired her as he slowly traced circles and figures of eights on her sensitive bundle of nerves - the most needy moans now falling from her lips frequently, the volume increasing in tandem with the speed of his thumb.

he increased the pressure and she doubled over into his body, pressing her head into his shoulder and biting down on his skin gently - earning a soft noise from him.

"lando- god-" she whined, moaning out his name like a fucking prayer.

he rubbed her back soothingly with his free hand, while increasing the speed of his thumb once more. her entire body was buzzing, bubbling with anticipation of the rapidly incoming orgasm. her lower abdomen was coiled tight, ready to snap at any moment now.

one particularly rough flick of her clit sent her spiralling, her thighs beginning to shake softly around him as she came, hard. sweet liquid gushed all over his hand as she moaned and whimpered his name loudly, coating his fingers as he slowed his movements to coax her through her intense orgasm. it was pure fucking bliss.

lily panted slowly into his neck, her head reeling from the best thing she'd ever felt in her entire life.

"you okay, baby?" lando asked quietly, pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

"fucking hell." she breathed out. "yeah, i'm good, so good."

he chuckled softly, looking at the seemingly-spent girl in his arms. he didn't want to push her any further today, she looked like she was going to fall asleep right there and then.

"come on, let's get you to bed." lando cooed softly, lifting her up from the couch and walking lily to her bedroom.

fuck, he was going to need a cold shower after that.

...

hello! this is my first official series, and i'm super excited about it! i don't have a name for it so feel free to suggest, and any comments in general are appreciated :)

[dollyichi]

WE LISTEN AND WE DON’T JUDGE : BNHA EDITION . . . m—dni. f ! reader / n!pple play / anal m4sturbation / s^x toy mention / these ones are mostly nasty i think… / not proofread

FEATURING ⋮ bakugou, denki, midoriya, todoroki, tamaki, nejire, and kirishima

bakugou katsuki ⋮ sent you a hex code of a color and said to tell your nail tech to use that shade or the closest one. but he didn’t tell you to search it up so you get a surprise. when you got home you showed it to him with the pretty jewels on it too. and he only chuckles telling you “now we match.” and you didn’t understand until you actually looked at you nails and realized it was actually the color of his tip.

kaminari denki ⋮ woke up half asleep early in the morning and kissed you on the cheek. he knew he was naked since you guys had a ‘fun night.’ opened the closet with closed eyes and tried to get underwear to put on (struggled) before he went down to get a drink. when you woke up you put on his shirt and went down to the kitchen. seeing him spilling juice on the counter he probably fell asleep trying to pour it and missed the glass (it was half empty). not until you looked down to see him wearing your undies that’s almost too tight. didn’t realize it after you hugged him from behind, getting him to wake up and look down on your hands, and the pretty bear pattern on his ass.

midoriya izuku ⋮ got curious about anal but didn’t wanna ask you flat out if you wanted to try. but then he started overthinking it and thought it’d probably hurt. got too curious and searched it up and tried doing it on himself with his fingers and you get home catching him with two fingers in his own ass. “i-i was thinking of you!” “yeah no shit.”

todoroki shouto ⋮ you were doing temperature play, just wanted to try something new. you had an ice cube in between your lips and you’re dragging it along his body. he shuddered when you placed it on his nipples. circling around and letting it stay on the tip of his bud. your hands were also ice cold since you had a bowl of ice just for this. had him whimpering the whole time when you jerked him off. now he can’t cum anymore without you playing with his nipples—and that’s okay!

tamaki amajiki ⋮ you got him a polaroid camera so he could take pictures of whatever he liked. ended up taking photos of you and placed his favorite ones in his wallet. now currently in a restaurant about to pay for the bill when he went out to dinner with nejire and mirio. whipping out his wallet from his pocket to pay for his share and a photo of you falls out. “oh it’s y/n!” nejire says excitedly. tamaki was about to take it when he realizes which photo it was but he was too slow. nejire’s face instantly grimaces and gives it back to him—shoving it to his chest. “what was it?” mirio asks but she shakes her head not wanting to reveal it. tamaki apologizes profusely, face red and embarrassed . let’s just say the photo wasn’t very wholesome.

hado nejire ⋮ you were roommates and she saw your vibrator on the floor. it looked identical to a back massager she saw online that looked like it felt good and decided to give it a try until you had to explain what it was. both of you were really embarrassed after but she offered to eat you out after though! ended up becoming her girlfriend since then.

kirishima eijiro ⋮ you invited todoroki to eat dinner in your shared home with eijiro since he just moved into your neighborhood. you came home and called for your boyfriend while todoroki was just behind waiting for him. he comes out in just an apron and you’re all frozen in shock. he wanted to plan a ‘sweet surprise’ but you didn’t give him a heads for the plans you made. dinner was moved the next night because eijiro was too embarrassed and todoroki felt like he didn’t want to ‘intrude’ any longer.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i don’t know what to say about this it’s rlly just for fun and thought about on the spot >< also pls send me thirsts i am losing ideas!!!!!

[hairmetal666]

After the Russians, Steve learns three important things about himself:

Robin is the best friend he's ever had; the uncontested other half of his heart. His soulmate, the platonic love of his life, his missing puzzle piece.

He's not in love with Nancy anymore. It's really saying something that hearing those words come out of his mouth is the shock of his life. Once the drugs wear off, though, he realizes they were absolutely true. A surprising win for the Russian truth serum

Her bathroom confession...he sits with it for days. Not--not because she's a lesbian, of course not, but because. Well, Robin knows herself in a way he's never allowed himself to. And he thinks that maybe maybe he likes boys in the same way. That he always has, but never let himself acknowledge it, the way his eyes wanted to catch in the locker room, the drunken, fumbling touches between him and Tommy.

The last one...he's not sure, is the thing. How can he be sure? Like, in his mind, his imagination, he's very into it, but what if it's different in real life? And how can he even find out? He tells, Robin, of course he does, and they go to Indy, right, to a bookstore and she throws a few zines at him and he sneaks some porn (he's definitely into the porn), but that's not--it's not practical experience. And he's not ready to go to one of the bars, for sure, so he doesn't--like what's he supposed to do?

It's around this time in his bisexual spiral that the kids start hanging out with Eddie Munson, that he starts thinking about Eddie Munson. He always noticed the long, dark curls and the bright, brown eyes; the slender cut of his waist; the wry slant of his mouth as he shouted insults at the jocks; the glinting silver of the rings on his fingers--fingers that were long and callused, fingers that could grip around Steve's--

Nope, he's not going there. Even though, a little voice in his head says, he cares for Steve's kids and maybe he's not good at school but he's smart and he's also so pretty, with his pale skin and his big eyes--

No. He doesn't have a crush on Eddie Munson. Absolutely not.

And when he picks up the kids from their little dnd club and sees Munson standing against his van, he doesn't feel an electric zing in his chest, the first stirring of butterflies in his stomach; that would be crazy. They hardly know each other. It goes like this every time, and he's almost able to believe he doesn't care.

Until Eddie trips over the threshold of Family Video, stumbling on an untied bootlace and gangling his way through the front doors. The clatter catches both Robin and Steve's attention.

"Welcome to Family Video," Robin says. Steve stares.

"Uhh." Eddie's eyes flit between them, his face getting redder by the second.

Fuck, he's so cute and Steve's saying--without thinking about it, he's saying--"let me help you find a movie, man."

"Yea--sure, yeah." Eddie's hands are stuffed in the tight pocket of his jeans.

Steve takes a few steps down the closest aisle. "So, what--uh, what are you looking for?"

"Horror? Nothing in particular."

They make their way to the horror section, and it's like some insane, deeply horny demon takes over. He starts grabbing movies off the shelf, no rhyme or reason, doesn't even know what most of them are.

Eddie's staring at him with wide eyes and a raised eyebrow, and Steve just keeps grabbing tapes, is sort of doing a running commentary on titles and tag lines, and he can't stop, why can't he stop? it's like smoke is coming out of his ears. Robin is watching him from the counter with her mouth hanging open, gummy worm dangling down her chin.

"You know," Eddie grabs something from the shelf, "I think I'll just do Friday the 13th again. Can't go wrong."

And he leaves Steve standing there with half the horror section collected in his arms. He stays there while Eddie pays, face burning. It's been--well, a really long time since he's struck out so hard, and he wasn't even really trying.

As Eddie's walking out the door, his sad pile of movies shifts, then tumbles to the floor.

"You have a crush on Eddie Munson." Robin accuses.

"No!" He ducks down to collect the tapes, hoping to hide the crimson of his face.

"You do." She points an accusatory finger in his direction. "I haven't seen you this pathetic since Scoops."

"It's nothing."

"You know," she crouches down with him, "you could just, like. Try to hang out with him."

"After that? Are you kidding? I'm surprised you don't already have a new You Rule/You Suck board going."

"Oh, I do, it's up front." She jumps to her feet. "But still. You should try. And you have an easy in with the kids."

He glares at her in response, starts re-shelving all the dumb movies, and then they get busy, so the topic is dropped. He thinks about it thought. He thinks about it and he--

Instead of waiting in the car for the kids to get done at Hellfire the next time, he goes in.

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: when (y/n) buys kaz a bracelet she does so as a joke, she knows he’ll never actually wear it. imagine her surprise when she sees it dangling around his wrist.

based on the prompt: person A gets person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off.

warnings: mentions of blood and torture (not explicit, briefly mentioned)

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: guess who's back after a year of being mia!! i've been working on a lot of fics, but inspiration just hasn't been there, so i'm going slow, i don't like to force myself to write if i don't feel like it. anywaysss, i hope you enjoy this one! it was such a fun ride to write :)

Jesper opens the door with a loud bang, strutting into the Slat with his head held high and a slight jump in his step. He’s whistling good-naturedly, his left hand twirling a pistol and his right hand holding a rumpled piece of paper.

(Y/N)’s right hand— which had immediately reached for the pocket knife in her boot at the tumultuous noise— retreats back to her side. She relaxes, letting her shoulders sag and briefly looking down to make the final correction on a contract Kaz had her look over, left hand holding the pen and swiftly moving over the paper.

Jesper makes his way towards her, still whistling. She follows him from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk taking over her features. He’s in a good mood, the kind of mood he’s only ever in when the Gods are in his favor and he manages to miraculously not gamble away all his money. It’s not something that happens often.

“Did you win some?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way the Sharpshooter preens under the attention. Jesper, very much in character and to (Y/N)’s delight, twirls around and does a ridiculous dance before taking a small bow.

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

She huffs out a laugh, leaning back as she watches him place the pistol in its respective holster before plopping down on the chair by her right side and tossing her a small bag.

(Y/N) catches it smoothly, reflexes as sharp as always.

She doesn’t need to open the sack to know there’s kruge in there; the sound of coins jiggling against each other is a dead giveaway.

Jesper winks, a teasing smile on his lips. He tips his chair back, feet on top of the table, “Because you’re my favorite.”

It’s really because he owes her more kruge than he’ll ever be able to repay, but (Y/N) plays along. She’s never cared much about money, anyways.

“You sure do know how to charm a lady,” she smirks.

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

(Y/N) smiles, softer around the edges this time, something reserved only for her closest friends. She’s about to being correcting another contact— she has twelve to go through, all because she’d been bored and had decided annoying Kaz would be a great way to spend her time, he obviously hadn’t agreed —when Jesper slides over the piece of paper he’d been holding in his right hand. In the time he’d made his way towards her he’d somehow managed to crumple it completely.

She takes it, half curious, half willing to do anything to procrastinate revising and correcting those stupid documents.

“Brought this for you, too. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to enjoy this much more than the money.”

Her eyebrows furrow with curiosity as she slowly opens up the paper.

Ink contrasts the yellowish hue of the paper. Her own face greets her, drawn by hand, but fairly accurate.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

She can’t help the snicker that falls from her lips

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

“Can’t believe it’s only a thousand this time,” she huffs, a small pout on her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”

Jesper snorts at that.

(Because she hasn’t lost her touch, not even a little, and they both know it. Just yesterday she’d managed to get vital information out of a Black Tip member with a single touch and a minimal amount of bloodshed. Three days before that she’d disposed of a rival gang member who’d been speaking too freely and she’d made sure his body would never be found. Two weeks prior to that Kaz had sent her to steal a miniature stature and she’d done it without a hitch, forging an identical copy in less than five days. No, she still very much has it.)

“I might have to go overboard next time,” she muses quietly to herself, “do something that will raise the bounty to at least two thousand five hundred.”

She traces the outline of her name, biting down a smile when Jesper snorts.

“You’re insane,” the Sharpshooter deadpans, the fondness in his tone almost tangible.

(Y/N) smiles wickedly at him, “So they say.”

Marbles is what they’ve nicknamed her around the Barrel. They say she’s lost them all. And it must be true, she must be out of her mind, because having a bounty on your head in Ketterdam is nothing less than a death sentence. It means having the most ruthless assassins coming after you, all looking for a way to make fast money. It’s living with the constant fear of someone sneaking up on you and slicing your throat, of having your food poisoned, of being choked to death in your sleep, of having your closest friends betray you as a means to survive. But to (Y/N), who has been part of the city’s underworld since before being able to formulate words, who has had any sort of ability to feel fear beaten out of her, this is nothing but one of the most amazing sources of entertainment. It keeps her on her toes, brings an adrenaline rush that does not compare to anything else. She must be crazy because any sane person would be paralyzed in fear, running for their lives, and yet all she can feel is the comforting thrill of being in mortal danger. (And, yes, it is comforting. She was raised to be a weapon, trained to withstand any form of torture; having Death peering over her shoulder is something she’s comfortable with, something she’s used to, something that soothes her). Besides, even if she wasn’t deadly confident in her own abilities (which she very much is), and even if she was able to feel terror overtaking her limbs (which she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel again), the title she holds would be enough to keep her relatively safe; she is Kaz’s right hand, and no one dares touch something that belongs to Dirtyhands.

(Y/N) stares at the poster for a little while longer— they got her nose wrong, made it too pointy —before smirking to herself. She knows how this will all go down, has seen it played out a few dozen times before (this is a regular occurrence, after all, a bounty is placed on her head every couple of months, whenever she loses her temper and murders someone who was deemed untouchable, or steals something much too valuable for her blood-stained hands). So, yes, she knows how this will go; the bounty will stay up for a couple of weeks, long enough for a few to dare try to kill her, and then it’ll be removed by whoever placed it once they realize it’s futile, once they see how everyone who even dares breathe too close to her winds up dead. She hopes the assassination attempts are entertaining, she hopes whoever dares come after her head gives her a good fight, if only to keep things interesting. It’s been a while since she’s had some unrestrained fun.

(Kaz keeps her on a tight rein, knows better than to let her run around freely. To say things can get out of hand when she’s left to her own devices would be an understatement.)

“Again?”

The voice comes from behind her, and (Y/N) doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she heard his steps since before he even walked into the room. (It’s easy to know when it’s Kaz, he subconsciously places more weight on his left leg to keep the right one from aching, it makes his footsteps distinctive.) Still, she angles her head to meet his eyes. He’s leaning over her chair, cold eyes watching the bounty poster with disdain.

He’s never said it but (Y/N) knows that he doesn’t appreciate her life being imperiled. She is, in a way, an extension of him, and therefore any threats to her he sees as direct threats to him. Dirtyhands doesn’t take it well to being threatened.

“It’s okay, boss,” Jesper calls out. He’s still tipping his chair back, now playing with his guns. (Y/N) is kind of tempted to lean forward and kick one of the chair’s wooden legs, just to watch him struggle, possibly even fall. But Jesper’s known her long enough to realize when she’s on the verge of becoming a nuisance because his eyes narrow playfully and he lets the chair’s weight drop forward, “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) can see the way Kaz’s face morphs. It’s almost indistinguishable, but she notices it. She thinks she would be able to spot the most minimal change in Kaz, she’s known him long enough for that. (Y/N) watches in amusement as he opens his mouth, no doubt to argue that he isn’t worrying at all, because Gods forbid he ever outwardly cared about anyone, but Jesper beats him to the punch and keeps going, “Heard some of Pekka’s Lions talking ‘bout how they’re not even going to try to come after her this time.”

“How boring,” she mutters to herself in disappointment, reaching for her glass of whisky. She’d meant for the comment to go unheard but Jesper’s snicker tells her that she wasn’t successful.

She takes a chug as Jesper points an accusatory finger at her and smirks, “That’s all on you, Marbles.”

At her bewildered look, he elaborates, “Two of them said something about not wanting to meet the same fate as the Razorgull guy from a couple of months ago—” (Y/N) smirks at that. The guy had deserved it. He hadn’t just tried to kill her, but also grope her. Murder she could understand, respect even, but touching someone else without their consent? No, she drew the line there. She’d had him swallow his own testicles; it’d seemed fitting enough. “—and the other one said that even if you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t come close, not with you being Kaz’s right hand,” Jesper pauses for a second, a smug smile appearing on his lips, “and his best friend.”

Their reaction is instantaneous; Kaz goes rigid at the words and a smirk takes over (Y/N)’s features.

Oh, if the night didn’t just suddenly get better.

She glances up at her best friend, only to find him already glaring daggers at Jesper, who shrugs helplessly and innocently says, “Just telling it like I heard it, boss.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes reveals that he’s very much aware of just how much ammunition he’s provided (Y/N) with.

(Y/N)’s smirk becomes wider and gains a teasing edge when Kaz looks down to meet her eyes. His eyes harden, explicitly telling her to not utter a single word. Sadly for him, she has never been one to follow the rules, and Kaz must notice she’s not about to obey because his face morphs slightly, just enough to show the most minimum amount of discomfort. He cringes just the tiniest bit, bracing himself.

He knows her too well.

“You hear that?” she asks him, tone light and filled with amusement, “We’re best friends!”

“We are not,” Kaz tenses his jaw as he replies. He backs away from her, as if creating physical space between them will somehow stop the words from leaving her mouth and making their way towards him. As if distance could make her less of an bother.

(Y/N) fake gasps, clutching the skin over her heart in the most dramatic manner, “You wound me deeply, Kazzy.”

Jesper snorts, coughing to try to drown the laughter. She might be the only one who doesn’t get a knife to the jugular when calling him that.

Kaz’s eyes snap toward the Sharpshooter and the look must be deadly because Jesper quiets down immediately and tries his best to evade the boss’s glare. Kaz’s gaze then shifts towards (Y/N) and she perks up at the way his eyes harden even further in annoyance. He’s told her a million times to drop that ‘ridiculously stupid’ nickname and she’s decided she never will, not when it drives him to this point of exasperation.

(She’s a thrill chaser, you see. That’s what happens when you’ve seen just about everything and lived twice as much; few things get your heart pumping. And getting on Kaz’s nerves? That’s always exciting. (Y/N) never knows what to expect of him. The Bastard of the Barrel is unpredictable in a way that’s just delightful.)

“If you call me that one more time—”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t possibly try to hurt me. Best friends don’t do that to each other,” she mocks.

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one.

It’s obvious that Kaz knows he’s not winning this discussion because he walks forward, snatches the revised contracts and makes his way back to where he came from.

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

(Y/N) turns around to watch him leave, unable to stop herself from throwing a sarcastic, “Sure thing, bestie.” She does her best to sweeten the last word in a way that she knows will infuriate Kaz.

He freezes.

Bingo.

Even from afar, (Y/N) can see the way he tightens the grip on his cane. She’s thoroughly disappointed when he doesn’t throw a dagger her way. That would’ve been exciting. He takes another route, one she should’ve seen coming.

“I’ve got seven more files that need to be corrected. Collect them when you’re done with those.”

The corner of her lips tugs upwards slightly. There’s something thrilling about playing this game with Kaz, of seeing how much one of them can push before the other yields. He’s skilled and she enjoys the competition.

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

He slams the door on his way out, the only visible sign that she managed to get on his nerves. That’s mildly entertaining. Causing even the slightest slip of Kaz’s control over his temper is a success in her books.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jesper informs her.

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

And that’s how it begins, as a joke. (Y/N) refers to Kaz as her best friend on every given chance. His reactions never disappoint.

There’s a lot of death threats;

(“Don’t mind him, bestie here is always grumpy.”

Clenched jaw, an exasperated sigh. “I will murder you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kazzy.”

There’s a knife thrown her way. (Y/N) catches it with ease, whistling good-naturedly. She smirks when she catches the look of annoyance in Kaz’s face.)

and a lot of not so kind words thrown her way.

(“I get special best friend privileges, right?”

“You get tolerated,” Kaz mutters, “barely.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now tell me you love me.”

There’s that Brekker glare, one that would send anyone to an early grave. (Y/N) just smiles sweetly.

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

She cackles as she closes the door behind her, the curses Kaz is sending her way loud enough for her to hear.)

All in all, (Y/N) is as happy as can be. Having the time of her life, really. It’s not often that she finds something that makes Kaz fume. He plays the game too, of course. He has her going over financial documents and legal contracts on her free time, knowing just how much she hates the bureaucracy, and he gives her the household chores she despises the most. Still, (Y/N) doesn’t complain. She does everything with a smug smile on her face. The annoyance that flashes through Kaz’s face makes it all worth it.

The bracelet isn’t something she plans for, it really isn’t, but the Saints place the opportunity right in front of her and who is she but a mere mortal that must obey the signs evidently laid by otherworldly deities (or whatever bullshit those religious fanatics preach).

(Y/N) inspects the wristlets in her hand. They’re black and rough, made of broken-down nets that fishermen dispose of near the pier when the material has worn down beyond repair and is no longer useful. The little girl who had sold it to her couldn’t have been older than seven, and yet the design was more than decent. (Y/N) had offered three kruge for it, much more than it was worth. The child had looked delighted, had thanked her profusely as she’d placed the coins inside her worn-down shoes.

Oh, (Y/N) cannot wait to see Kaz’s face.

“What’s that?” Jesper asks as she meets up with him, eying the bracelets with a gleam of interest. He twirls his guns absentmindedly, missing the way some of the fishermen glance at him with distrust.

“Oh, you know, just some matching bracelets for me and my best friend.”

Jesper snickers, shaking his head and proceeding to let out a low whistle.

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

She gives him a wicked smile accompanied by a wink. She’s about to retort when she catches sight of a shadow on the corner of her eye. She recognizes it immediately as her target. Shopping, as fun as it had been, wasn’t the reason she and Jesper were waiting by the pier. They’ve got orders. She has people to torture and interrogate and dispose of— preferably in a quiet manner —and Jesper is Kaz’s way of making sure she’s got her back covered. (Not that she needs backup, but whatever, she has tried arguing with Kaz about it and it’s the one thing he won’t relent on, the one matter she’s accepted she won't ever win. Kaz doesn't play when it comes to her safety.).

“If you’re kind enough to hold these for me,” she places the bracelets on Jesper’s unoccupied hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They make it back to the Slat before sunrise. (Y/N) had been quick and efficient, as she always was, and Jesper had been a quiet and solid shadow, as he always was.

“I assume it all went according to plan,” the Bastard asks when he hears their steps coming into his office. It’s late, or rather extremely early in the morning, and yet (Y/N) isn’t surprised by Kaz’s presence. He rarely sleeps.

“It went without a hitch, boss,” Jesper responds, resting against the doorframe.

(Y/N) hesitates for a split second, her memory providing a brief flashback to the interrogation she’d done, to three little words the man had let slip out: they’re coming for you.

A warning or maybe a promise.

Thrilling, either way. It wasn’t often that she was verbally threatened.

At the time, she’d dismissed the words, too filled with bloodlust to pay them any mind, but now, with a clear mind and a steady heartbeat, she suddenly remembers her face plastered on paper all over Ketterdam and wonders if the words might be related to the bounty on her head.

Oh, she hopes so. That would prove to be fun.

They’re coming for you. Good. Let them try.

She nods her head in agreement with Jesper’s words. Kaz nods in approval and then jerks his chin Jesper’s way, a clear sign of dismissal. The Sharpshooter never walks into Kaz’s office after missions like this. He’s an escort, a babysitter of sorts, merely Kaz’s way of making sure she heads his way instead of making a beeline for her bed.

(Y/N) sticks her tongue out at him and Jesper blows her a kiss in response.

Lucky bastard. It’s always her that has to stay up to report. And she hates to admit it, but she’s tired, she can feel the exhaustion begin to creep on her bones and settle in. She has been up for more than thirty-seven hours at this point, and she can feel it catching up to her. Still, she knows that Kaz prefers to hear details when the information is fresh on her mind, when she can provide as much detail as possible, so she pushes through for him. She just has to wait a little while longer before crawling into her bed and passing out for the next twelve hours.

“Marbles comes bearing gifts by the way,” is the last thing the Sharpshooters says before exiting.

A smirk takes over her features, sleep, exhaustion and the new information briefly forgotten.

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

Kaz seems to sense, probably by the wicked amusement on her face, that whatever it is it’s not something he’s going to enjoy. His face twists into a scowl.

“Out with it, then.”

She pulls out the dark bracelet from her pocket as she walks towards Kaz, dangling it in front of his face when she’s close enough.

Jesper had handed them back on the way home, tossing them over as soon as she’d wiped the blood off her hands. He hadn’t said a word, but (Y/N) knew that the action had meant to snap her out of the weird haze that clouded her mind after every mission, where adrenaline still coursed through her body and all she could think about was bloodshed, fingers itching to kill and maim and fight.

(It was a thing, the haze. When taking lives there was nothing but calmness and bloodthirst, the restlessness that always lingered beneath her skin subsiding as soon as a weapon was placed in her hand and orders were given. And as soon as the mission was done, as soon as the target was neutralized and she’d efficiently fulfilled her orders, fogginess followed. Her mind became clouded, as if somewhat trapped in a loop of violence, every nerve on edge and ready for any threat to emerge.

She was brought up as a killing machine, a child soldier, the best out of all the assassins produced by the Silent Blades, her father’s pride. She was ruthless, wretched, or at least those had been the words used to describe her when she’d been a child. She supposed the dissociative state she slipped into was normal when considering her upbringing, some sort of psychological shield that kept her from going insane.

She never spoke about it, but the Crows somehow knew. They often eased her out of it, knowing full well that when trapped in that state she had not an ounce of thought and only muscle memory to rely on, which made her infinitely more lethal.)

Jesper’s actions had worked like a charm. With something else to do with her hands, the fogginess had ruptured. She’d absentmindedly tied one of the bracelets on her own wrist, fingers playing with the edges of the other.

It’s that bracelet, the one on her arm, that Kaz glances at now. It’s brief, but for a split second the scowl etched on his face softens and something that she can’t quite catch passes through his eyes. It’s gone before (Y/N) can even begin to process it.

“Best friends have to have matching bracelets, don’t they?” And if she wonders about it later, she’ll blame it on the exhaustion, but the words come out softer than she intends them to. A jest, but not any less truthful.

Kaz’s face morphs and she gets a fleeting glimpse at that flicker in his eyes again. His scowl melts into something a tad bit gentler, the look contrasted by the aggressiveness with which he snatches the bracelet from her hand, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He means that and his tone has enough bite to make her cackle.

Amusing.

Placing her hands on her back pockets and shrugging, she responds, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaz snorts, “Go take a bath.” He dismisses her, turning around and making his way to his desk, “Reports can wait until you don’t look half dead.”

That’s unexpected.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows, “You’re being nice.” It isn’t often that Kaz forgoes a report after a mission. He might’ve been more touched by the gift than he’s letting on.

“It’s for my own sake,” he retorts, not turning around, “you just stink and it’s making me nauseous.”

She does have a lingering smell of blood and sea water.

“Everything in this damned place stinks,” she responds. I know you’re lying, she’s saying, I know you’re being kind.

“Get out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” (Y/N) mocks, walking out of his office.

She sleeps a full day after that, everyone knowing better than to bother her unless they want to lose to their head, and when she reports to Kaz the next morning the three words she’d heard from the man slip her mind. (Y/N) doesn’t remember them until a few weeks later when she’s tied to the ceiling by her wrists, face bleeding.

Now, she must admit, she’s impressed. No one had ever tried kidnapping before. There’d been more attempts on her life than she could even count; stabs resulting in blood being shed, never one drop of hers, poison that she had either swallowed down like a champ or identified before a single lick of it touched her tongue, because being raised an assassin meant she’d been trained in the art of toxins and she’d built up tolerance to pretty much every substance in existence, and that one time they’d tried to shot at her, which only resulted in (Y/N) stealing Jesper’s gun and placing a bullet right between the perpetrator’s eyebrows. All in good fun. Kidnapping was new, but only because those who had attempted on her life had never tried joining forces, all of them wishing to keep the financial reward for themselves.

Torturing, that was new, too.

She could endure, of course she could, she’d been trained for this. That did not mean she’d missed it.

The poster had stated she was wanted dead or alive and it was clear that the man in front of her wanted to take his time. It was personal, she could tell by the brunt of his hits and the delicate precision of his cuts. Had she been anyone else, she would’ve been begging for it to stop, but (Y/N) was a Silent Blade, even if she’d left the organization and that life behind, and she would never break.

The only reason she was in this situation was because the assailants had gotten the upper hand. They’d used one of (Y/N)’s street urchins— a little girl with piggy tails and two missing teeth, one of the ones who gathered information for (Y/N) and traded it for food and shelter —as leverage. And time had apparently made her soft because she’d hesitated. The brief second of doubt had been everything they’d needed.

Them subduing her didn’t mean she’d gone down without a fight. There’d been five of them in the beginning. Only three remained. She’d plucked one guy’s eye out, going deep enough to sever the optic nerve and cause brain damage, and she’d ripped the other’s ear with her teeth before slitting his throat. She’d managed to stab one of the three men remaining with a dagger before being injected with some unknown serum. It hadn’t knocked her out, not the way it was supposed to if the incredulous look on her kidnapper’s face was any indication, but it had drugged her enough to allow them to overpower her.

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

“I intent on handing your corpse to them and claiming the reward.” He’s been quiet for so long that (Y/N) had almost forgotten his presence. She doesn’t raise her head, only looks up. It’s hard to do so when her right eye is swollen shut. “But they never specified the conditions it had to be in.”

The man has his back towards her, fingers running through a box of tools. He’s used almost all of them on her by this point. Amateur. A skilled torturer knows to go slow, to drag it out, to choose a weapon and stick to it until the person is weeping and screaming.

“It was my brother that you killed.”

That sparks her interest, a smirk taking over her bloodied lips. She looks at him, dead in the eye.

“Which one?” she taunts.

The sound of her voice, still strong despite the blood loss, startles him. He freezes for a split second, hand over a wooden baseball bat.

“What?”

She snickers, blood dripping into the floor. “I’ve killed a lot of men, darling.” The way he seethes, fury filling his features, amuses her. “So which one was your brother?”

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

“Oh, him,” she nods her head in appreciation. “Can’t say I regret it.”

Now he’s fuming, hand shaking so badly he almost loses the grip on the bat. If (Y/N) looks close enough she can see the resemblance. Same brown hair, same nose, same crazy look in their eyes.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“You can certainly try,” she concedes mockingly. Because, honestly, there’s nothing he can do to her that she hasn’t already withstood.

There’s a raging roar and then a burst of pain. A hit to her abdomen, which no doubt bruised a rib, and then two to her back. But it’s okay, she thinks to herself as she wheezes and coughs, trying to regain air in her lungs, she knows how to play this game and how to win it. Keep him talking, keep him angry, let him think he has the upper hand, keep him from noticing how she’s preparing to break free.

“I wonder…” he murmurs, bat dragging behind him. “You’re not particularly remarkable.” She scoffs as he begins circling her, a tactic supposed to drive the prisoner into panic at the lack of vision of their assailant. Her heart doesn’t stutter. She’s trained to identify people and objects by sound not sight. She knows precisely where he is, even if she can’t see him. “So, what makes you interesting enough for the Bastard to keep so close?”

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

His face does not change but his step falters. “You cannot believe me stupid enough to fall for that.”

“You were stupid enough to tie my wrists with handcuffs,” is all she replies before dislocating her own thumbs and releasing herself from the shackles.

She hits the floor hard, body swaying for a second. Her hands are numb, nerve endings frayed. It hits her, now that she has to keep herself outfight, just how much blood she’s lost. The edges of her vision blur.

There’s a cut on her thigh, it bleeds heavily. Her back is all flayed skin. Breathing is hard.

It doesn’t matter. She only needs four fingers and half a mind to hold and use a dagger. She shakes the dizziness off.

He comes at her, but she’s expecting that. Sidestepping him is easy, kicking him in the back as he passes by even more so.

“You’re not much without your friends and a syringe full of drugs, are you?” she stumbles a little as she taunts him. Time is not on her side, she knows this. He’s cut deep in her arms and legs, no major artery touched, but with precision to give her a slow and prolonged death. She’s been steadily bleeding for hours.

(Y/N) has to end this. Soon.

He comes for her again, and she dodges, punching him right in the gut. He feigns left and she moves away, noticing too late the fist that impacts with the right side of her face. Despite the pain, she manages to stomp his toes and slam her knee against his balls.

That does it.

A high whimper leaves his mouth and as he struggles for air, she backs up. Keeping her eyes on him, her right arm reaches back to the toolbox. She knows what she’s grasped as soon as her fingers graze it.

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

“Nice,” she mumbles in delirium as she hears him choke to death. It’d been a majestic throw.

The adrenaline is gone in a second. (Y/N) stumbles backwards, barely aware of all the tools scattering around in the floor. She lets herself rest against the wall, slowly sitting down on the floor.

She’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter that she’s managed to get rid of that poor excuse of a man. She’s too injured. She knows.

(Y/N) isn’t scared. She’s tangled with Death for a long time, and as cold begins to creep in and the edges of her vision blacken, it feels like welcoming an old friend. It feels like getting what she has always had coming for her.

The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, her body’s desperate effort at keeping her heart pumping. Her ears are ringing, hard enough that when shouts begin all that she can hear are muffled sounds.

Then someone’s touching her face. She greets the warmth.

“Fuck,” she hears as she tumbles forward, her forehead landing on a collarbone. Jesper grasps the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. At least, she thinks it’s him. Her brain feels mushy, but her nose has never failed her, and it smells like gunpowder and mint.

She’s laid down on the ground gently, probably to inspect her injuries before moving her.

“You’re going to be okay,” the Sharpshooter reassures her, but his voice is trembling. He’s scared. She must look worse than she feels, and she feels like she’s been attacked by a group of Heartrenders.

She wants to speak, to tell him it’s okay, but opening her mouth feels like an impossible task.

“Save your energy.” That’s Kaz. His voice is steady, but she can feel the underlying tension, the worry in his words. “You are not dying tonight.” And he says it with so much conviction, like he would hold her soul with his own hands to keep it anchored to her body, like he would keep her heart beating with pure willpower.

Her eyes look for him, but she catches sight of something else entirely.

“You’re wearing it.”

She must make no sense, words slurred, but Kaz understands. His whispered words are the last thing she hears before slipping out of consciousness.

“How couldn’t I?”

Then there’s nothing. She loses track of time. She comes back to her body from time to time, able to hear words but incapable of pinpointing the speaker. She’s floating, but there’s pain and aching.

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

When she comes to the first thing that she feels is blinding pain. Everything hurts. Her muscles complain as she sits up. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears at bay. The worst is already over, she will not cry.

“Don’t move,” (Y/N) freezes at the command, her head snapping towards the voice. “Nina stitched you back together, I doubt she would be very happy to see all her hard work ruined.”

She gently eases herself back on the bed, fingertips running over her bandaged stomach. She can feel the edges of the stitches poking through it. It must’ve been bad, then, if she required stitches to keep the wound together. Usually, she’s a fast healer, a result of all the training she’d gone through.

“How long?” Her voice is raspy after not being used. Her throat hurts, which might be related to the way she was choked to the verge of unconsciousness several times while held hostage.

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

(Y/N) can feel Kaz’s eyes on her, assessing. She meets his stare, and it’s when she’s looking at him that a vague memory comes back.

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

The twin bracelet to her own, the one she keeps tightly wrapped around her wrist, as if part of her own skin, greets her.

“You are wearing it.”

Kaz frowns in confusion, until he follows her line of sight. He looks away, hand clenching and unclenching over the head of his cane.

“Even after almost dying you’re still insufferable,” he responds.

But when he looks back at her, (Y/N) can see everything in his eyes.

How could I not, he’d said, and he’d meant it. If friendship was something that could bloom in a wretched place like Ketterdam, Kaz was her best friend and she was his, even if they’d never discussed it, even if they would never admit it. You’re the steady order to my unrelenting chaos, she thought to herself, someone I would follow to the end of the world.

He nods, as if reading her mind and agreeing with her.

“Rest.” That’s an order, one she has no intention of disobeying.

“Sure thing,” she responds as Kaz makes his way towards the door, “bestie.”

(Y/N) can feel the amusement in his words, “Absolutely insufferable.”

She smirks, toying with the ends of the bracelet’s strings.

(Y/N) never takes it off. Neither does Kaz.

[xneens]

dildo shopping

aaron catches you dildo shopping.

Telling Emily about your less-than-adequate one-night stand had been a mistake. After being short with everyone for the whole day, she finally confronted you about the change in attitude and you confessed the guy you brought home the night before had gotten off without returning the favor.

She had asked when was your last orgasm and you had to think about it before telling her it had been a while. With that reply, she dragged you to the closest mall. That's how you ended up in front of a Spencer's.

You raised an eyebrow at Emily, sighing loudly as you reluctantly followed her inside. "Seriously, Em? I think I could've just bought a vibrator online or something."

"That could take days to come and you clearly need this now." Emily leads you to the back section, giving you a look. "Don't argue with me, you yelled at Rossi after he got your coffee order wrong today."

"I literally have no memory of that," you replied, trying to think if that situation had happened. "I didn't even drink coffee today."

Emily holds up an "I love Milfs" t-shirt briefly. "Because you threw it in the garbage after cussing him out in Italian. Rossi teaching you Italian really came back to bite his ass today."

"Whatever," you said, a twinge of guilt crawling into your heart. You shrugged it off knowing he'd understand and you made a mental note to get him his favorite bottle of wine to make up for it.

As you entered the back, you looked through all the dildos and vibrators lined up against the wall. Emily held up a purple dildo, reading through the description while you looked at the unimpressive dildo and vibrator wall decor, none really vibing with you.

"This one says it vibrates and is supposed to feel realistic," she mumbles, eyes narrowing as she reads through the instructions. "Six inches though, I think you can take more than that right?"

You giggled, unable to hold in a laugh. "I don't really want to think about Barney's small dick vibrating in my cunt when I want to cum, Em. Or Thanos for that matter."

She makes a face, putting the purple vibrating dildo back. "What a strange image. Thanks for ruining Barney for me."

Chuckling, you check out the lingerie a nearby mannequin is wearing. It's black and lacy, and while it holds up the titties, it's see-through and the panties are crotchless. Taking off its panties, you hold it up to your body. "Hey, this is cute isn't it?"

"Very cute, you should get it," Emily responds, looking through the hundred dildo options.

"Yes, you should."

You freeze, your ears instantly knowing who that voice belonged to. Emily looks behind you without turning her head, holding back a laugh at your clear mortification. A second passes and you turn around to see Aaron fucking Hotchner, your stoic boss and friend standing in front of you, looking at the lingerie you had pressed up against you.

You can't help but laugh awkwardly. "Hotch? What're you doing here?"

He's amused and you can tell because he's eyes are twinkling and the corner of his lips are twitching as if fighting the urge to smile. "I was picking something up for Jessica at Bath and Body Works when I saw you guys and wanted to say ... hi.”

"Wonderful." you deadpanned, placing the crotchless panties back on top of the mannequin's head.

Before either of you could say anything else, Emily joins in, a smile so smug and big it would've been hard to miss from space. "I'm going to look at that section of toys. Maybe you'll like a blue one instead so you can imagine it's Jake Sully instead."

She's too far away when you think about slapping her, already moving towards the side section of even more vibrators and dildos, a few naughty shirts display that separated you and Hotch from her. After glaring a hole into the back of her head, you turned back to Hotch, wanting nothing more than to melt on the floor and die.

"I-" you start, unable to finish; just like the night before.

He begins to look through the wall of sex toys, brows furrowing at the choices. Your cheeks redden when he picks up the infamous rose vibrator momentarily before placing it back down. It looked so tiny in his big hands and you wanted nothing more than to have his big hands in you. "What kind of toys do you like?"

It takes you a second to comprehend his question, still stuck on him seeing you shopping for things a boss should never know about his employees. "Um, whatever, really. I haven't really had one since college."

Hotch nods as if you were talking about a case and not about orgasming on a fucking sex toy. "I see."

You watch in silence as he studies the choices again, fully concentrated. He picks up a packaged dildo, regular colored, and holds it up to inspect it. You watch him eye the silicone dick before placing it back and picking up an identical one, only this one is thicker and wider.

"So ... you ever try one of these before with someone?" you asked, unable to deal with the silence but now wishing you hadn't spoken after that horrible sentence.

Thankfully, he chuckles, eyes not straying from the description on the packaging. "No, I haven't. I never really did have the time or someone who was willing to try something like this out."

"Ahh," you reply like a fucking idiot.

After another few moments of inspecting the dildo, he hands it to you with a smile. You take it instinctively, confused and gobsmacked at the gesture. His eyes are twinkling with amusement and something else you can't place. "That one should be the closest."

It’s about eight inches long, quite thick and has veins decorating the length. The head of it is big and you nearly salivate at the thought of getting off to it tonight.

"The closest to what?"

Hotch just grins in return and starts to turn away and walk out. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun.”

[lewisvinga]

chemtrails over the country club | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter finally find peace with each other after the toughness of their childhood.

warnings; mentions of abusive parents, drinking, yelling

note; i play this song 10x a day tbh

word count; 953

taglist; @namgification

‘born to die’ series masterlist

f1 masterlist !

It was no secret that Max Verstappen didn’t have a normal childhood.

On top of spending his childhood karting, his father was tough. He often never let young Max have fun or play football on Sundays, young Max had to spend all his time racing no matter the conditions.

He was a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t win a race, people made sure to steer clear of him. He had a short temper.

13 year old Max felt his heart stop for a second as he realized he finished 4th. Not even on the podium. He could already see the angry face of his father and his loud voice as he made its way out of the kart.

His fathers voice sounded like a snake hissing. It intimidated young Max. His father kept a tight grip on his shoulder that he was sure would bruise. He glances up at his father for him to say something, anything.

But all 13 year old Max received was a few words that broke his heart. “You’re not my son. You’re not a Verstappen with that 4th.”

It was no secret that Max earned the nickname ‘Mad Max’ as a result from his childhood. With the way his face turns red and the curses slips from his mouth, nobody wanted to be around when he’s angry.

So it was a shocker when people found out who he was dating. A walking ball of sunshine dressed in pink bows and white lace, y/n was the only one to tame ‘Mad Max’. With her, Max didn’t seem to have to worry about disappointing her. She was always proud of him and she made sure he knew.

However, Y/n wasn’t always the ball of sunshine. Just like Max, she grew up with a toxic parent but it was her mother.

Being the oldest of 3, it meant it was up to her to take care of her siblings meanwhile her mother disappeared on Fridays just to come back black out drunk on Sunday nights. Having her childhood stripped from her made her into the bubbly person she was. Yet, her mother was still strict with her during her studies. Anything else but an A+ meant failure.

Y/n felt herself shake from fear as she walked down the sidewalk after stepping off the bus. In her backpack was a history exam with the letter B written in red. Her younger brother and sister ran in front of her with wide smiles while retelling their day in school.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she saw her mother standing at the front door. She knew that she had to give her the exam. Her siblings ran inside to their rooms to play with their toys while she stayed by the front door. With shaking hands, she pulls out the exam for her mother.

She could already smell the alcohol from her mother's mouth as she let out a deep sigh. “You’re not my daughter. My daughter wouldn’t cause me such disappointment.”

Their bond of having a tough childhood was what brought them together. They often spent nights sharing stories and relating to each other's experiences. With Max, she was able to let loose and enjoy herself.

There were moments when their past still affected them, much like during a snow day.

Y/n and Max were wearing big coats, tough boots, warm gloves, and everything else needed for a snow day. They sat on the steps of the front porch of the local country club they were a part of, watching the kids of other members laugh and play, something neither got to do.

“Max, let’s go take a walk around.” She suggested since it was the closest to being able to play in the snow in her mind.

The Dutch happily agreed and started ranting her about something as they made their way down the driveway. Y/n kept focusing on him and the crunch of the snow beneath her black boots. A small smile crept up her lips as she noticed her boyfriend was still distracted. She pauses for a second and he continues to walk and rant.

“And then, I said-“ Max pauses, noticing the lack of Y/n presence. “Liefje?” He questions and turns around to face her. Suddenly, his cheek was met with something cold.

Y/n lets out a gasp. “That was supposed to hit your back!” She exclaims with wide eyes and a frown. “I’m sorry! I meant to hit your back then you-“ She was so distracted with rambling, that she didn’t notice him pack some snow into a ball.

Mid-ramble, she felt the ball hit her scarf-covered neck. Her previous frown quickly turned into a smile. Immediately both of them started to create snowballs and throw them at each other.

She suddenly sees him charging towards her. She lets out a squeal as she runs away. She ran around the snowy fields, not caring if the other adults were staring at them due to their childish behavior.

Suddenly, Max jumps in front of her and causes both of them to fall to the ground. She pushes him off of herself and he rolls to the side. They were both lying on their backs, taking deep breaths between laughter.

“Max, look,” Y/n says, pointing at a white line in the sky that was led by a small dot. It was a chemtrail, signifying that there was a plane. “Surprised people are traveling now.”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause it’s now snowing anymore.” He explains, keeping his eye on the white line.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they lay in the pillowy white snow. They were once nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter. But now, Max and Y/n found the comfort they wanted in their lives as they lay in the snow, watching the chemtrails over the country club.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 8)

Masterpost

The next day was less chaotic but not by much. They had to go through everything they’d taken from the Fenton’s lab, and reluctantly accepted Danny and Jazz’s help with the task because they were familiar with the tech. That was surprisingly needed since all of their gadgets were extremely obtuse and looked like household appliances. It was honestly surprising how good Danny was with all of this stuff, he knew what everything was, how to take it apart and how to put it back together to show the heroes how it worked. 

“They don’t all work for humans. Some have to be fueled with ectoplasm so they need to be constantly refueled. Dad used to wear a backpack full of the stuff ghost busters style but that’s really not practical so this one isn’t very useful to you. I can use it though,” Danny said as he screwed the last part back on the.. Whatever it was. 

“Okay, but why does it look like a blender?” Tim asked, baffled and impressed.

“Oh that’s because that’s what it was built out of,” Danny said with a crooked smile. “We repurposed a lot of household items into tech. Give me a couple toasters and a microwave and I’ll have three specter deflectors ready for you before dinner time.” He said as he pressed his hand against one of the gins and it started glowing intently green.

“Here don’t drop it,” He said tossing it to Batman, who did manage to catch it. “I fueled it with three shots, just in case Vlad shows up or another ghosts threatens you. And actually even with your charms I would feel a lot better if you all had specter deflectors since you’re all involved with me now,” He sighed and rubbed his face. 

“Well… we can get you toasters and a microwave but we can also get you more advanced parts if those will work better,” Bruce told Danny, gingerly holding the odd gun away from himself. It wasn’t a traditional gun so it wasn’t upsetting but he still didn’t like it. 

Danny looked very tempted but he shook his head. “No I’d better do it with what I know, I can get it done faster that way and they work. I’d love to play with some of those more advanced parts though. I’m sure I can come with some fun stuff.” 

Uh oh, Bruce didn’t like that look on Tim’s face, the last thing he needed was more encouragement! But Danny was the child of mad scientists, he would get along perfectly with Tim, Bruce was going to have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they didn’t accidentally make a death ray. 

“You can join me in my lab later,” Tim offered hopefully and Danny glanced up at him with a borderline feral grin. 

“That sounds great, I’m sure you have much better lab safety than my parents. Love engineering, would hate to die a second time.” He said it like a joke, just the way Jason tended to. Jazz laughed, but only to encourage her brother’s coping method, no one else did. 

“Alright, we’ll go to the nearest home appliance store and get you some toasters and microwaves,” Bruce said. 

“Hell ya, I should have been adopted by a rich family years ago,” Danny cackled. Oh dear, he’d been so traumatized yesterday Bruce hadn’t realized he was Feral. Why did this keep happening.

He informed Alfred of Danny’s request and by the time they finished going over the more confusing inventions and left for lunch the appliances were waiting for Danny in the lab that he and Tim would apparently now be sharing. Danny immediately dove on the machinery starting to take them apart with practiced hands. He seemed calm and in his element but Tim stayed to supervise, both just in case something went wrong, and because it was His lab and they hadn’t talked about rules of cohabitation yet.

Bruce left them to it. Alfred had informed him that Jason had arrived and headed straight to the kitchen without saying hello to anyone else. It wasn’t a surprise, he was closest to Alfred, he’s want to help with making dinner, and get the basic scoop from his most trusted family member before having to face anyone else. Bruce knew better than to intrude on that, but God did he want to. 

Regardless of what his children thought Bruce cared deeply for all of them, and he hated that sometimes they doubted it. He wished he was better at telling and showing them, but he’d managed to convince himself it was too late for him to change so he didn’t have to face the years of mistakes and trauma he had endured and inflicted. No matter what what image he tried to project, he was still only human.

He went to his office, but he couldn’t settle to anything, he did a little bit of this, and little bit of that, and just ended up pacing the carpeted floor. He left them alone as long as he could before he gave in and went down to the kitchen.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just needed a cup of coffee,” He said as casually as he could. The looks Alfred and Jason gave him said neither of them actually believed his excuse, which was fair. “It’s good to see you Jaylad, thanks for coming.”

“Well I’m not going to miss out on a new brother am I? You gonna have this one running around in spandex too B?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, it made Bruce wince but it Was progress because he was acknowledging their familial ties. 

“I’m almost two years too late to stop him,” Bruce said regretfully. “It’s been… a lot has happened. I’m sure Alfred caught you up on most of it, but I’d like to talk to you before you meet either of the siblings.”

“Trying to make sure I won’t be a bad influence?” Jason asked and Bruce couldn’t tell if he was joking or accusing. 

“No, nothing like that,” Bruce said, holding up his hands. “I just want to talk.”

Jason hummed skeptically, scrutinizing Bruce before turning back towards Alfred. “What do you think Alfie, can you spare me?”

“I always appreciate your help master Jason, but I can manage on my own,” Alfred assured, sounding amused. 

“Alright, to your office then?” Jason asked, turning back towards Bruce. 

“Or the sitting room, whichever would be more comfortable.”

“Office,” Jason said firmly, this was the distance that he was keeping between them. They worked together now, and Jason cared for his siblings, but he kept them all at arms length. For everyone’s safety really, if they set him off he didn’t want to hurt them, and he didn’t want to be set off either. It always felt like shit. Jason followed Bruce to the office and sprawled in the soft chair across the desk from Bruce’s. He remembered being a kid, sitting properly and nervously in this chair across from Bruce hoping desperately for his approval. How times change.

“I just wanted to talk to you about the new kids” Bruce started and Jason waved him away.

“I’m really not going to corrupt them or anything, I Probably won’t be around enough to make a difference anyway.” Jason said dismissively.

Bruce took a deep breath, controlling his expression and folding his hands on the table. “That’s not it Jaylad, Alfred must have told you that the boy died and came back?” 

Jason tensed and green swirled in his vision, it was the same thing that Bruce had seen in Danny when Zatana asked about Phantom. “Ya he did.” Defensive and insecure.

“It seems like he, and his sister who was sort of a caretaker to him, know a lot more than we do about the effect that that has on a person. To help us take care of Danny she gave us a presentation about it, it… makes a lot of sense. You should probably talk to her and Danny about it really but I just wanted to apologize. 

“I’ve been trying to fix this, fix… you for a long time and I know I’ve been going about it wrong and I’ve been hurting you.”

“You got a new treatment plan in mind, old man?” Jason asked, his arms crossed and Bruce wished that mistrust wasn’t earned. 

“No,” Bruce sighed looking down. “Really Jason I don’t, I know I was wrong. This is something I just didn’t know I didn’t know about,” He hated his own ignorance, he hated to admit it! He was Batman! The way he kept up with other superheroes was always being prepared for everything and knowing more than everyone around him, but he hadn’t even known there was something there to know!

“This isn’t about that, and it’s not about you staying away from the new kids. Exactly the opposite actually, since they know more about this, and Danny might be one of the few people who really understands what it’s like to die and come back like that, I was hoping you’d spend more time here, around them. I think it might help you both.”

“Huh,” Jason sounded, blinking rapidly because that was the most sincere apology he’d gotten from Bruce and he didn’t quite know how to react to it. “Maybe… maybe.” He hadn’t met the new siblings yet after all, maybe they’d hate each other. 

“Can I meet them now?” He asked looking back up at Bruce curiously. 

“Of course, the girl's name is Jasmine Fenton, called Jazz, the boy goes by Danny. Jazz is turning 18 soon, Danny is 16.” 

Right Tim had mentioned that, so Danny was about 3 years younger than him then. That shouldn’t matter too much, and maybe Tim will be right about the sister and can tease Jason about it. He’d been single for a while and wouldn’t mind changing that.

“Of course, I think you should meet Jazz first, she’s protective of Danny and she hasn’t been very involved in all of this. I think she’d feel better being allowed to… vet you first for lack of a better word. Are you okay with that?” Bruce asked Jason politely. 

“Sure, I don’t really care what order I meet them in and… Look Bruce I know I’m mad at you, and I was really hard on Timmy when everything was still raw. But I’m never going to knowingly hurt a kid, or make life harder for them. If I can help them I will,” Jason said sincerely. 

“Jason, the girl is less than a year younger than you. You’re a kid too,” Bruce said sadly. Jason froze for a moment, Yes he was 19, his mind wasn’t fully developed yet or whatever the hell, but he hadn’t felt like a kid since his death. Even before that, the responsibility for his mother, and then the work as a hero. Bruce wanted soldiers, Jason had never gotten a chance to be a kid really.

“Whatever,” Jason scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and standing up, closing himself off from that sincerity. “Do you know where she is?”

“She’s in the library,” Bruce said, his lips twitching up in a smile. “She loves books almost as much as you did, though she seems to be more drawn to non-fiction.” 

Jason hummed and nodded, heading towards the door since he knew his own damn way to the library, Bruce didn’t have to lead! He did follow through, he was clearly protective of these kids so of course he would want to be there when Jason met them.

When he entered the library he saw a young woman sitting at one of the tables with some sort of text book. Her back was straight and her legs tucked under the chair with her ankles crossed. It looked like she was self consciously trying to look put together. She looked up at them, blue green eyes looking him over critically, he could practically see her picking him apart in her mind and he tried not to fidget.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Jason Todd,” He said, walking over and offering her his hand to shake. She was very pretty, but he was surprised by his own complete lack of attraction, she just didn’t register that way, she seemed more… maternal almost.

“Ah, the dead son,” She chuckled, getting up from the table and reaching out to shake his hand, her grip was strong and her hands were soft and cool. “It’s nice to meet you, they mentioned you. Nothing bad,” She added when she saw her face. “And I don’t mean to be rude, I know some people are sensitive about their deaths being mentioned. Danny jokes about it all the time so… I just wanted to let you know that I know, and I accept you.” Jazz said with a warm smile. 

Her easy acceptance caught him off guard and before he could help it he was baring his teeth at her in a snarl, defensive and probing, did she mean it? She grinned sharper bearing sharp fangs at him in a matching sign of… friendly aggression, something inside him settled. He chuckled and took a step back. “Well thanks, nice to meet someone who doesn’t look like they bit a lemon every time I make a death joke.”

“It’s your death, as long as it’s healthy you can own that however comes naturally to you,” Jazz promised, sitting back down at the desk. “I’d love to talk more and get to know you, but we can do that later. You really should meet Danny.”

“You don’t want to come with us,” Bruce broke in, sounding worried. Jason had almost forgotten he was there, he hadn’t realized how… all encompassing the short interaction had been.

“I’ll probably follow,” Jazz said with a shrug, her gaze turning stern as she looked at Bruce. “Remember what I said about never breaking up a fight,” She told him firmly. 

Well if that didn’t make Jason nervous he didn’t know what did. Why would he fight with Danny? Would Danny fight with him? Why? “You really think it’s a good idea for us to meet? Why would we fight?” Jason asked her sharply.

“Of course,” she agreed, her eyes softening as she looked back at him, though her expression remained a little mischievous. “It’ll be good for both of you.”

Next

[regressionschool]

From Boyfriend to baby

Louis stirred in his sleep, completely unaware of what was happening around him. The soft glow of morning light seeped into the room, casting a warm glow over the bed. He was still deep in slumber, curled up on his side with his back facing the room. His girlfriend, Jenna, was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, watching him quietly.

A soft smirk played at the corner of Jenna's lips as her eyes trailed down his body, eventually landing on the unmistakable bulge of his diaper under the covers. The thick, padded outline peeked out just above the waistband of his gray pajama pants. She bit her lip, amused. Louis, her strong, independent boyfriend, had been wearing diapers to bed for a few weeks now—part of the "unpotty training" they had both decided to explore. He had been embarrassed at first, and even more so as the weeks went on, especially since he had started using them.

And this morning? The familiar sag of the diaper told her everything she needed to know.

With a quiet giggle, Jenna gently lifted the edge of the blanket, exposing more of his padded bottom. The diaper was swollen, the once pristine white now a subtle yellowish tint, sagging slightly from the weight of the wetness it had absorbed during the night.

Jenna pulled out her phone, her smirk widening into a full grin. Louis would be mortified if he knew what she was about to do, but she couldn’t resist. She angled the camera carefully, making sure to capture the full view of his diapered bum, nestled cozily against the bed.

*Snap.*

The sound was quiet, but Jenna froze for a moment, checking if it had disturbed him. Louis shifted slightly, mumbling something in his sleep, but remained blissfully unaware. Jenna let out a small, relieved laugh. He really had no idea.

Satisfied with the photo, Jenna swiped through her phone until she found the group chat she shared with her closest girlfriends. They had all been curious about Louis’ unpotty training, asking for updates with more interest than Jenna had expected. Jenna had kept them in the loop—playfully, of course—about Louis’ growing dependence on his nighttime diapers. But today? Today was too perfect not to share.

Jenna quickly typed out a message:

*“Look who’s soaked this morning! My big boy is definitely not waking up dry anytime soon 😉”*

She attached the photo and hit send.

Within seconds, her phone buzzed with responses.

First, a message from her friend Rachel: 

*“OMG, Jenna! He looks so cute and helpless! 😂 How does he even manage without you??”*

Next, from Claire: 

*“Aww, is he still sleeping like that? What a baby! You better be careful or he’ll be in those full-time like my Tony 😜”*

The teasing messages kept coming, each one more playful than the last. Jenna couldn’t help but grin as she read them, her heart fluttering with excitement. She glanced back at Louis, who was still sound asleep, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

Jenna reached out and gently pressed her hand against the back of his soggy diaper, giving it a light squeeze. The padding squished under her fingers, confirming just how soaked he was. She smiled to herself, shaking her head. He had been so resistant at first—at least until a few nights ago, when his "accidents" had started happening. Now, it seemed like he was waking up wet nearly every morning.

"Poor baby," she whispered teasingly, knowing full well that he wouldn’t hear her.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Megan: 

*“I can’t believe he actually lets you diaper him at night. You have him so wrapped around your finger. How long before he’s in those 24/7? 😏”*

Jenna chuckled, typing back: 

*“Sooner than he thinks. He’s already halfway there!”*

As she sent the message, she couldn’t help but wonder if Megan was right. Louis had been getting more used to the diapers—reluctantly, of course—but she could tell that part of him had started to accept it, maybe even like the idea of being taken care of in such an intimate, vulnerable way. It was an unspoken thing between them, but Jenna could sense the shift.

Deciding she had teased him enough for now, Jenna gently pulled the blanket back over his body, letting it fall naturally into place. She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, her lips brushing against the warm skin of his face.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she whispered in his ear.

Louis stirred again, this time waking up with a soft grunt. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light as he shifted in bed. He stretched, the thick diaper between his legs squishing loudly as he did. It took him a second, but as he moved, he felt the familiar bulk of the soggy padding and winced. He didn’t even have to check—he knew what had happened.

“Jenna…” he muttered, his voice still groggy with sleep. He hadn’t fully processed the situation yet, but he could feel the warmth of his wet diaper against his skin, and that was enough to make his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Jenna smiled down at him, brushing his hair out of his face with gentle fingers. “Good morning, baby. Sleep well?”

Louis groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “I… yeah, but…” He trailed off, knowing exactly what she was going to say next.

“But you’re all soggy again, aren’t you?” she teased, running her hand over the blanket-covered bulge of his diaper.

Louis winced, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah…”

Jenna laughed softly, giving his padded bum a playful pat through the blanket. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s got you. Let’s get you changed into a fresh nappy for the day, okay?”

Louis sighed, nodding quietly. He knew he didn’t have much choice in the matter.  But as Jenna got up to grab the supplies from the changing table, he couldn’t shake the feeling of just how much control she had over him. And deep down, part of him didn’t mind it at all.

Helping Hands

Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Jenna drove them to Claire and Tony’s house. He could feel the dampness of his soggy diaper pressing against his skin, making the soft padding heavier than usual. The bulk between his legs forced his thighs apart, and every bump in the road reminded him of just how soaked he was. He tried his best to sit still, but the squish of the diaper with each movement only heightened his embarrassment.

Jenna glanced over at him with a soft smile, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring pat. “You okay over there, baby?”

Louis blushed, nodding stiffly. “Y-yeah… just, um… it’s a little…” He trailed off, not wanting to admit out loud that his diaper was uncomfortably wet. He had been hoping Jenna would change him before they left, but she had told him it could wait until they arrived at Claire’s. Now, as they neared their destination, he regretted not pushing harder for that change.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Jenna cooed, clearly picking up on his discomfort. “We’ll get you all sorted out when we get to Claire’s. And Tony’s really excited to see you today.”

Louis winced at the mention of Tony. While he and Tony had always gotten along, Tony had taken to his own regression with a lot more enthusiasm than Louis had. In fact, Tony loved his new toddler-like lifestyle. Every time they hung out, Tony would gush about how much he loved his diapers and how free he felt not having to worry about “big boy” things anymore. It wasn’t that Louis didn’t like certain parts of it too, but Tony’s over-the-top enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming.

They pulled into Claire and Tony’s driveway, and Louis felt his heart race as Jenna parked the car. She came around to his side, opening the door and helping him out. As he stood up, the familiar crinkle of his diaper echoed in the quiet air, a constant reminder of his new reality. Jenna took his hand, leading him to the front door.

Before they could even knock, the door flew open, revealing Tony standing there with a huge grin on his face. His shortalls, with the unmistakable bulge of his diaper underneath, made him look just as babyish as ever.

“Louis!” Tony exclaimed, bounding forward and pulling Louis into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here, man! I heard you’re back in daytime diapers too!” Tony’s excitement was palpable, and Louis couldn’t help but feel both amused and slightly embarrassed by his friend’s enthusiasm.

Louis forced a small smile. “Yeah, I guess so…” he muttered, trying not to draw too much attention to the fact that he was already soggy.

Tony didn’t seem to notice his awkwardness. “This is awesome! You’re gonna love it. Claire’s been keeping me in diapers all day, and let me tell you, it’s the best. No more worrying about anything!” He gave Louis a playful nudge. “And I bet you’re super comfy, huh?”

Louis nodded hesitantly, shifting from foot to foot as his diaper squished beneath him. “Uh, yeah. Pretty comfy,” he replied, though the dampness had long since crossed into the territory of uncomfortable.

Jenna and Claire appeared in the doorway, both smiling as they watched the interaction unfold. “Look at the two of you,” Claire teased, her eyes sparkling. “Our two little boys, reunited at last.”

Jenna chuckled, giving Louis a light pat on his padded bottom. “Louis here could use a fresh diaper, though. He’s a bit soggy from the ride over.”

Tony’s eyes lit up at the mention of Louis needing a change. “Oh! Can I help? Please, Jenna? I’ve got some of my favorite diapers upstairs. They’re super soft, and I bet Louis will love them! I can show him how much better daytime diapers are!” He was practically bouncing with excitement at the thought.

Louis opened his mouth to protest, but Jenna beat him to it. “That sounds like a great idea, Tony,” she said with a grin, her hand resting on Louis’s shoulder to keep him from backing away. “Why don’t you take Louis upstairs and get him all set up in one of your favorite diapers? I’m sure he’ll appreciate the change.”

Louis’s eyes widened. “Jenna, I don’t—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Tony had grabbed his hand and was leading him toward the stairs. “Come on, buddy! This is gonna be great. You’re gonna love these diapers. Trust me!”

Louis shot Jenna a pleading look over his shoulder, but she just waved playfully and mouthed, “Have fun!”

As they reached Tony’s room, Louis noticed the shelves stacked with neatly folded diapers in various colors and patterns. Tony had clearly embraced his new lifestyle with gusto. Louis felt his stomach flip as Tony pulled out a particularly thick diaper decorated with playful babyish prints.

“This one’s my favorite,” Tony said proudly, holding it up. “Super comfy, and it holds a lot. Plus, the powder I use is great for unpotty training.” He winked at Louis, clearly excited to share his knowledge. “It makes it so much easier to just… let go, you know?”

Louis blinked, unsure of how to respond. Tony wasted no time. He grabbed a changing mat from the corner and spread it out on the floor. “Okay, buddy, let’s get you out of that soggy diaper and into something way better.”

Louis hesitated for a moment but eventually laid down on the mat, feeling the squish of his wet diaper beneath him. His cheeks burned as Tony expertly untaped the soggy diaper, tossing it into the nearby bin. He could hardly believe this was happening—being changed like this, as if they were two toddlers at a playdate.

Tony grabbed a bottle of baby powder and, with a grin, began sprinkling a generous amount onto Louis’s bare skin. The cool powder felt refreshing, and the scent filled the room, reminding Louis just how far he had fallen into this new lifestyle.

“Gotta use plenty of this stuff,” Tony said, winking again. “Makes it easier for you to, uh, use your diapers during the day. Trust me, after a few days, you won’t even think about it anymore.”

Louis shifted uncomfortably as Tony continued the change, sliding the thick, crinkly diaper beneath him before fastening the tapes snugly. The new diaper was much thicker than the one he’d been wearing, and the bulk forced his legs apart even more. It felt strange—almost like he was being wrapped in a constant reminder of his new place.

“There we go!” Tony said with a grin, patting the front of Louis’s freshly powdered diaper. “All set. Doesn’t that feel better?”

Louis sat up, the diaper crinkling loudly with the movement. It was undeniably soft, and the thickness made him feel even more helpless than before. “Uh… yeah, thanks, Tony,” he said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

Tony beamed. “No problem, man! I’m just glad you’re getting into the groove. Trust me, you’ll love it once you get used to it.”

As they headed back downstairs, Louis could feel the bulk of his new diaper with every step, the thick padding pressing against his thighs. Jenna and Claire were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and chatting like two moms discussing their little ones.

“There’s our boys,” Claire said with a teasing smile. “All clean and fresh.”

Jenna grinned, standing up to give Louis a kiss on the cheek. “How’s the new diaper, sweetheart? Tony’s got good taste, doesn’t he?”

Louis nodded, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “It’s… fine,” he mumbled, unsure of how else to describe the overwhelming mixture of embarrassment and comfort he was feeling.

Tony clapped him on the back. “Told you it’d be great! Now we can both enjoy the day without worrying about the potty. Isn’t that right?”

Louis could only nod, his cheeks burning as the two women shared a knowing glance. As the day stretched on, Louis realized just how much his life had changed—and that, whether he liked it or not, he wasn’t just Jenna’s boyfriend anymore. He was her baby boy, and he had a feeling there was no going back.

[mayasikeu]

Heeseung with a thick reader pls pls pls where she wears mini skirt for the first time and he can't seem to keep it in his pants, oh also, they've not had sex yet so heeseung tries his best not to act like a pervert but he just needs to be inside her so bad. Please and thank youu I love the way u write heeseung🤍

thank u so much anon, i really had to write about this before i went to sleep i couldn’t stop thinking about it

You and Heeseung had been dating for a year now but have never had sex. The closest thing you’ve gotten to sex with him was a handjob and him fingering you but that was it.

Whenever you would wear tight clothes it was almost impossible for Heeseung to hold himself back. But he did, every time, for you.

But he had enough with the teasing when you decided to come out of your comfort zone and wear a miniskirt for the first time, finally embracing your curves and thickness.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your new miniskirt. The fabric clung to you perfectly, highlighting your voluptuous body. You knew Heeseung wouldn’t be able to resist you in this outfit. “Heeseung! Come, I want to show you something.” you yelled out.

Heeseung walked into the room, his eyes widened as they were immediately drawn to your lower body. He stood there in disbelief. The sight of you in that tight, revealing skirt drove a surge of hunger through his body that he had never felt before, making it impossible to think about anything else.

“Y-you look beautiful.” Heeseung stammered over his words, his mouth still slightly agape not being able to process the captivating sight that laid in front of him.

“Really?” you hummed, your tone full of contentment. Heeseung nodded, “You need to wear these more often. They suit your body perfectly.” he said, still admiring how good you looked.

Although his reaction seemed wholesome, he couldn't stop his mind from imagining you bent over in that exact skirt.

He moved towards you, his gaze still locked on your reflection in the mirror. “You know what you’re doing to me in that skirt, don’t you?”

The sight of your thick, plush thighs on full display in front of him made his mind dizzy with his dirty desires.

You bit your lip, a rosy red flush creeping up your cheeks as you turned to face him. “Maybe” you teased, though your irregular heartbeat was saying otherwise.

Heeseung didn’t want to waste another second. His hands were on you in an instant, sliding up your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin. He pulled you close, his breath hot against your lips as he kissed you deeply.

“Please just let me fuck you, I can’t keep holding myself back anymore.” he groaned, his nose pressed against your neck firmly. His hands began to wander beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing the lace of your panties. He could feel your body trembling with the same need that had consumed him as he started to pump his fingers inside of your hole.

You gasped as his fingers stroked your cunt with a deliberate and teasing pressure. Your fingers clung onto his shirt. “Heeseung, fuck” you whispered

“Just trust me okay?”

With one swift motion, he lifted you onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. The skirt rode up higher, exposing you completely to him, the view making his pulse race with anticipation.

He tugged at his belt, undoing it as his breath quickened when he had finally freed himself from his jeans. He pushed your panties aside, feeling how wet you were for him.

“God, Y/n, you’re perfect,” he moaned, positioning himself at your entrance. You arched your back, pushing your hips toward him.

When Heeseung finally pushed himself in, it was slow, both of you wanting to savour the moment you had wanted for so long. “Fuck” he groaned as he threw his head back. He began to move, his thrusts deep but steady, each one bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of your hole, both of your moans filling the room. You had never felt anything like this before, you felt so consumed by desire and so utterly lost in the intimate moment.

Heeseung increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher, and more needy. He could feel your cunt tightening around his cock desperately. He leaned down, capturing your delicate lips in a sweet kiss as he drove into you with everything he had left.

Your body trembled as you reached your peak, your orgasm crashing over you in overwhelming waves. The sensation pushed Heeseung over the edge, and with a final, deep thrust, he spilled his thick load into you. “Y/n, fuck”

Heeseung kissed your forehead, gently brushing the messy hair away from your face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with love and satisfaction.

“I’m glad you liked the skirt,”

Heeseung laughed, kissing you again, savouring the feeling of your lips against his. “You have no idea.”

sorry if there’s any mistakes i tried to reread it as much as possible but i am so tired so i might have missed a few things

[torpublishinggroup]

This advertisement is for Swordcrossed by Freya Marske.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Mattinesh Jay is the chronically responsible eldest son and dutiful heir striving to keep his family’s business running. Luca Piere is a menace of a con artist desperately trying to escape his past by taking up the blade. When the pair meet, swords clash, and sparks fly. Soon, they’re entangled in a conspiracy that may bring Matti’s house to ruin if they don’t work together.

Want to see if it’s to your liking? We’ve included an excerpt from chapter one below.

Chapter 1 Matti laid his fingers on the polished edge of the bar’s wooden surface and forced himself to stop counting sheep. And yards of twill. And looms in need of repair, and outstanding debts.

Instead, he counted today’s collection of ink smudges, bruise-black on the brown skin of his hands: six. He counted the number of blue dyes that would have been used in the fabric of the bartender’s layered skirt: four, possibly five if the palest shade was true dimflower and not just the result of fading.

The tense throb of pain like a fist clenched in his hair eased, grudgingly, to a quiet ache. Bearable. Normal.

It was busy in the drinking house, the post-dinner hour that usually found Matti heading back to his study to finish the paperwork that a member of his family had tugged him away from in order to eat. Matti counted the number of flavoured jenever bottles on the shelf behind the bar—fifteen—in the time it took Audry to finish serving her current customer and sweep her sky-coloured skirts to stand in front of Matti. “And here’s a face we haven’t seen in a while! Something tells me you’re here for a celebration, Mr. Jay.”

Matti hoped the smile he’d pulled onto his face wasn’t the wrong size, or the wrong shade of abashed. “News travels fast.”

“Mattinesh Jay and Sofia Cooper. A match surprising exactly no one.”

Matti kept the smile going. There was a silence in which Audry politely didn’t say, Pity she’s in love with someone else, and so Matti didn’t have to say, Yes, isn’t it?Audry said, “Wait here a moment. I’ve got something in the back that I think will do nicely.”

Matti cast a glance over the room as Audry disappeared. His cousin Roland made an extravagant sighing motion and pretended to check his watch when Matti’s eyes landed on their table. A burst of laughter came from a dark-skinned woman nearby; she was wearing a dress that rode high at the knee to reveal a fall of lace like frothing water, a northern style of garment that Matti’s own northerner mother seldom wore these days.

At the closest table the Mason Guildmaster, Lysbette Martens, was deep in conversation with a senior member of the Guild of Engineers. Martens met Matti’s gaze with her own and nodded brief acknowledgement. He was sure she was weighing his presence as consciously as he was weighing hers. This was a place to be seen, after all.

“Here you are. Red wine for young lovers.”

Matti turned around again. Audry named the price for the bottle as she uncorked it and set it on the bar. Matti paid her, ignoring the lurch like a fishhook in his stomach at the amount on the credit notes he was so casually handing over. Mattinesh Jay, firstborn of his distinguished House, had no reason not to indulge in one of the finest bottles of wine that money could buy.

No reason that anyone here would know about, anyway.

Matti took the bottle in one hand and hooked three glasses with the other. Making his way over to the table, his mind circled back to dwell on the wrong sort of numbers. The money in Matti’s purse was painstakingly calculated: enough for the first round of engagement drinks, and enough for him to hire a top-of-the-range duellist who would step forward in the awkwardly likely event of someone challenging for Sofia’s hand at the wedding itself.

Matti’s skin prickled cold at the very thought of what might happen if Adrean Vane challenged against Matti’s marriage to Sofia and won. His family’s last hope would be gone. Matti would have failed them in this, the most useful thing he could do for them.

He was so caught up in this uneasy imagining as he wove through the room that he collided, hard, with another person’s shoulder. Matti was both tall and broad, not easily unbalanced; the unfortunate other member of the collision made a grab for Matti’s coat, couldn’t get a good grip, and tripped to the ground with a caught-back “Fu—”

Matti tried to step backwards. They were crammed into a small space between tables and there were people moving around them. His first panicked instinct had been to keep the wine bottle upright and the glasses safe, so he didn’t have a hand free to steady himself on a chair.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, except that he ended up wobbling and stepping forward instead, and he felt his boot come down on something that was not the floorboards. A small, pathetic, grinding mechanical sound crawled up Matti’s nerves, heel to head, and reached his ears even amidst the noise of the busy room.

“Sorry!” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Was that—Oh, Huna’s teeth.”

The man on the floor jerked his head up, staring at Matti, and Matti stared back.

For a moment all that Matti could see was the wide, straight line of the man’s mouth, set beneath an equally straight nose, and the frame that set off the whole: the dark, luminous copper-red hair that seemed to be trying to grow in about ten different directions.

The man’s tongue darted out in a nervous mannerism, wetting his lower lip. Something in Matti’s own mouth tried to happen in a yearning echo.

“Would you please lift,” the man said precisely, “your godsdamned foot?” Heat flooded Matti’s face. He snatched his foot backwards with enough force that his heel collided with a chair leg.

The redheaded man stood, his fingers closed convulsively tight around a small velvet bag. His brown coat was shabby and made of a coarsely woven fabric, though his shirt was good and his trousers had probably been equally so before they’d been overwashed into a patchy shine.

“Fuck fuck shitting—fuck,” the man said in tones of despair, with a lilt to his accent that placed him at least one city-state farther east: Cienne, or possibly Sanoy. He shook the contents of the bag into his palm and ventured into new realms of inappropriate language as he did so.

Enough people had witnessed their collision, or had their heads turned by the stream of expletives, that there were a fair few necks craning to see what was in the man’s hand. Matti, at whom the shaking fingers of this hand were pointed most directly, couldn’t help seeing for himself the ragged, glinting pile of cogs and jewels and glass. Only the intact cover—monogrammed in a swirling, engraved H—spoke of this pile’s previous existence as a pocket watch. A very expensive pocket watch, by the look of it.

The man’s breath hissed out through his teeth. “Guildmaster Havelot is going to use my arm bones as a fucking lathe. He only had it made to order, and he only trusted me to pick it up, didn’t he? Two hundred gold. Fucking fuck.”

“I’m so sorry,” Matti said again. He recognised the name: Havelot was the Woodworker Guildmaster in Cienne. “Truly. I can—” He stopped. The abrupt lack of his words created a silence that seemed to suck noise into itself, as conversations died to murmurs and the onlookers sensed something interesting.

The man looked straight at Matti with a stubborn lift of his chin. His brows, the same absurd colour as the rest of his hair, had sprung up into the beginnings of hope; as Matti’s silence grew longer, they lowered again. And then lowered farther. He swept a look down and then slowly up Matti’s own outfit, and now pride warred with scorn in the way those maddening lips pressed together.

Matti felt sick. His own coat was made of the finest wool, a midnight blue cut perfectly to his figure, and the rest of his clothes were of the same quality. He was holding a bottle of extremely good wine. Anybody looking at him would make immediate assumptions about the amount of ready money that Matti might have, and the ease with which he would be able to reimburse a poor clerk, if he’d just ruined a pricey piece of artificer’s skill that the man’s employer had trusted him to travel all the way to Glassport to collect.

Of course they would make these assumptions. That was the point.

Matti swallowed and felt the burning heaviness of his purse redouble. He’d be left with enough to a hire a duellist, yes, but not one of the highest skill. It wouldn’t buy himself and his family the absolute security they needed.

His friends were looking at him. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the drinking house was looking, and in another moment the murmurs of curiosity would turn to murmurs of disapprobation. I thought Matti Jay had more honour than that, they would say. What’s two hundred gold to someone like him?

Besides, the plain fact of the matter was that Matti had broken the watch. And he couldn’t pretend that he and this man with his proud mouth and poor coat, patched at one elbow, were on an equal footing. Even if he were left without a bronze, Matti would still have influence, connections, the weight of his family’s name. That was still worth something. For now.

So that was that.

“I—I really am sorry.” Matti set the wine and glasses down on the corner of the nearest table and pulled his purse from inside his coat. He kept his gaze on the man’s face, on a pair of eyes that were either grey or brown—impossible to tell from this angle—and urgently willed them not to look away. To a degree that seemed irrational, he wanted to banish the judgemental expression from the man’s face. “Of course I’ll cover the cost. Two hundred gold. Who did the work?”

The man glanced down at the metal scraps in his hand, as though the answer might be hidden in the pile. “Speck,” he said at last. “Frans Speck, in Amber Lane.”

“He’s a fair man. Tell him what happened and he’ll rush through the repair job,” Matti said. He held out the century notes.

The man tipped the wreckage of the watch back into the bag and closed his hand around the money, slow and wary. His fingertips had rough patches that scraped against Matti’s own, sending a tingle up Matti’s arm.

“I appreciate it,” the man said. He looked less cold now, though still nowhere near warm. “You’ve saved my life. Really.”

Matti forced himself to smile. Forced himself to say, “It’s nothing,” as though it really were nothing.

The man nodded awkwardly at Matti and tucked both money and bag into a pocket. Then he turned and was gone, headed for the door.

Matti somehow made his way to his table and sat down. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else, and he wanted to shout at his own blood to be quiet and let him think. He needed to be alone in his study. He needed to contemplate his options, and make lists, and pore over the accounts for the thousandth time, in case they transmuted themselves into a picture of prosperity instead of the ugly, desperate reality that nobody outside of Matti’s immediate family knew about.

“Two hundred gold,” he said, before he could stop himself. “Two hundred.”

“We saw. Hard luck,” his cousin Roland said, making a face.

Perhaps it was stretching the term to call Roland and Wynn his friends, but they were the closest thing Matti had to members of that category, and the only people he’d been able to think of to form his wedding party. At least the three of them never found it too hard to pick up their acquaintanceship again, even if it had been months since their last conversation.

Wynn turned the bottle of wine to inspect the yellow butterfly on the label. “How appropriate that we’re drinking wine from your betrothed’s own winery.”

“Audry’s idea of a joke, I think,” Matti said. The word betrothed had landed in his ears like a piece of music played in an unfamiliar key; his mind was still turning it over, trying to decide how it felt about the melody. His hand was shaking as he poured the first glass, sending the stream of dark wine shivering and slipping. He’d steadied it by the time he poured the second.

“Huna smile,” he said, opening the toasts by lifting his own glass. “Thanks for agreeing to stand up with me, you two.”

“Drown your sorrows in this one, and by the time we hit the next bottle you’ll remember that you’re here to celebrate. And that once you’re married to Sofia Cooper,” Roland went on, lowering his voice sympathetically, “Jay House will be rolling in enough money to replace a hundred watches.”

Except that Matti had to get himself successfully married in the first place. And he’d just lost his best guarantee of doing so.

He let the old, gorgeous wine flood down his throat until a good third of his glass had vanished. He felt lightheaded; it had to be panic, because the wine couldn’t be working that fast. Panic and a sense of becoming unmoored. And the image of the man’s face, pale and sharply beautiful, gazing up from where he was kneeling at Matti’s feet.

“A fair effort,” Wynn said, when Matti put the glass down. “But I’ll show you children of Huna how it’s done.” He raised his own glass. “Agar fill your plates and cups.”

Matti smiled and drank again, accepting the toast. Maybe the wine was working after all. He could still feel his panic, the wound-up watch of his worry, but he shoved it away into a recess of his mind: its own small, dark velvet bag. It would be safe enough there. It would last until tomorrow. Matti’s ability to worry was shatterproof.

For now, he was going to drink.

[tetragonia]

Midnight Surprise

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

That time you were surrounded by creepy guys after a night shift and a hero just came out to save the day.

warning: some catcalls, threats (not to you), nothing really

note: just Rafe being Rafe before turning into a plushie. guys ik his character is bad and not 'misunderstood' but Drew Starkey is really hot and maybe I can fix Rafe

words: 1k

It was late, later than you should’ve been out alone, but you were too stubborn to ask for a ride or accept help. The streets of The Cut had a way of feeling different after dark, even to someone as tough as you. You wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself, your eyes scanning the familiar but suddenly ominous corners of your neighborhood.

You were on your way home after a long shift at the bar, your feet sore and your mind clouded with frustration. The drama between you and the Pogues had been wearing on you, leaving you feeling like you didn’t fit anywhere. Even as you replayed your argument with John B in your head, something nagged at you from the edges of your awareness—footsteps, just behind you, growing closer.

Your shoulders tensed as you heard the low mutterings of a few guys not far behind you. You didn’t turn around, didn’t react, but your instincts screamed at you that they were following you. You picked up your pace, your heartbeat quickening, trying to stay calm. But it was clear you weren’t alone.

“Hey, girlie, where you think you’re going?” one of the guys called out, his voice dripping with sleaze. They were Pogues, but not the kind you hung out with—these were the lowlifes who lurked in the shadows, looking for easy prey.

“Just keep walking,” you muttered to yourself, your grip tightening around your bag. You were used to handling yourself, always had been. But there were four of them, and they were closing in fast.

One of them cut you off, stepping in front of you with a cocky grin. “You’re not too good for us, are you? How about you show a little gratitude?”

You glared at him, your temper flaring despite the situation. “Get out of my way.”

“Oh, feisty. We like that,” another one chuckled, moving closer from behind.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the fear creeping in, even though you refused to show it. You were preparing yourself to fight—you weren’t about to go down without a struggle—but before you could even react, a familiar voice broke through the tense moment.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” that voice was cold, dark, and unmistakable.

Your head whipped around just as Rafe Cameron stormed over from the shadows, his tall frame towering over the group of guys. His face was twisted in anger, his eyes blazing as he zeroed in on the lowlife who had stepped closest to you.

The guy who had been smirking only seconds before suddenly looked less confident. “Hey, man, we were just—”

“Just what?” Rafe cut him off, stepping even closer, his aggression palpable. “You think you can mess with her? Huh? You want to see how that ends?”

You stood frozen, your pulse racing, but not because of fear anymore. You hadn’t expected to see Rafe—especially not like this. His fury was directed entirely at them, and the look in his eyes was enough to make even you uncomfortable.

The guys hesitated, but Rafe didn’t give them a chance to backtrack. He shoved one of them, hard, sending him stumbling backward.

“You touch her again, I swear to God, you won’t leave here standing,” Rafe growled, his fists clenched, his entire body radiating aggression.

The group of guys quickly realized they were outmatched. One of them muttered something under his breath before turning to leave, the others following quickly behind, throwing nervous glances at Rafe over their shoulders. Within moments, they disappeared into the shadows, leaving you and Rafe standing alone in the now-quiet street.

Rafe was still breathing heavily, his fists flexing at his sides, the adrenaline clearly coursing through him. He turned to look at you, his expression softening slightly when he met your eyes.

“You okay?”

His voice was gruff, but there was something else there—concern, maybe even protectiveness.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Rafe took a step closer, the tension still evident in his posture. “They shouldn’t have touched you.”

You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice.

“I could’ve handled it,” you said, though it sounded less convincing than you intended.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching slightly into the smallest hint of a smirk, “Oh, I know you could’ve. But I wasn’t about to let them try.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. This was Rafe Cameron, the guy you’d spent most of your time avoiding or arguing with. He was supposed to be the bad guy in your world—ruthless, cruel, manipulative. But tonight, in this moment, he wasn’t any of those things.

He had saved you, protected you, and that reality was unsettling.

“Thanks,” you muttered, not meeting his eyes, still processing what had just happened.

Rafe shrugged, trying to play it off, but there was something softer in his gaze now. “Don’t mention it.”

For a moment, there was just silence between them, the tension from earlier slowly fading. The moonlight reflected off the water nearby, casting a silver glow over everything. You found yourself studying Rafe’s face, noticing the weariness etched into his features—the kind of tired that wasn’t just from lack of sleep.

“You okay?” you asked quietly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe looked at you, surprised, as if no one had asked him that in a long time. His expression softened for a split second, but he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance. “I’m always fine.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in it. You didn’t press him, and he didn’t offer more.

You two stood there for a few moments longer, the night stretching out in front of you both, before Rafe broke the silence.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.” He didn’t wait for you to agree, just started walking, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

You hesitated for a second, if anything, walking home with Rafe was probably more dangerous than being plastered by those four random guys. But this time, you felt something had shifted; you felt safe and secure beside him. This was strange.

You blinked twice, trying to process your thoughts but your feet moved faster than your brain—they followed Rafe who was a few steps in front of you. You didn’t speak much after that, but there was an odd sense of calm in the air. For the first time, you found yourself wondering if there was more to Rafe than what everyone saw—more than the messed-up, angry guy everyone had written off.

You weren’t sure what to make of it yet, but one thing was certain—Rafe had surprised you tonight. And that was something you couldn’t easily forget.

[novemberheart]

{overview} your pack comes back…. it's not a happy ending for everyone though

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly141, cursing, fighting, intimidation, Simon and Kyle both pop off in this chapter, mentions of torture and violence, threatening, protective boy

Chapter 17 <- Chapter 18 -> Chapter 19

Today was the first day you had nothing planned. Just you and your thoughts. You slept in till noon until you decided to get up and make some pancakes. The boys had fully stocked all of your favorite things before they left. You had no business being in the cafeteria without them- Johnny's words, not yours.

It was kinda nice actually. You’re not sure if you've ever had a full day to yourself your whole life. You dragged your desk chair outside on the patio to eat your pancakes. You even made friends with a pigeon. When you went back inside you decided to look up yoga tutorials on TV. Couldn't hurt to be flexible, could it?

It was a new feeling of freedom. You didn't have to worry about any housemate or watch yourself to make sure you weren't a disturbance. You could play music and sing as loud as you wanted. You could learn a new dance. Try a new recipe. Or you could just sleep all day and no one would be able to judge you.

You decided on a bubble bath.

It was that time of night again. Choosing between who's room you wanted to crash in. Your eyes darted back and forth between Kyle and Johnny’s room. Yet there was a tingling sensation at the base of your neck at the thought of John’s room. He never gave you explicit permission and you had never slept in there before.

But he doesn't seem like the type to get mad at you for that. Maybe in two days, your scent will wear off and he won't even notice you slept in it. You were on high alert like a bandit about to be caught. Your knees nearly crumbled as you opened the door to his room. His scent permeated into every surface, your eyes lulling closed. You shook yourself awake, making your way over to his bed. There was a jitteriness about you, the flesh under your skin buzzing. Something wasn't right. It wasn't cozy enough. You huffed back to your room grabbing pillows and an extra blanket, getting to work.

You kept John's pillows against the headboard and added one of yours to the side of the bed against the wall and one on the other side so you would be cocooned in the middle. His blanket and top sheet were pulled tightly against the bed and you tried your hardest to climb in without disrupting them. You folded your blanket and laid it down on the edge of the bed, so your cold feet would have a few extra layers. You held your jellyfish close to you and nuzzled your way under the covers.

Heaven. That was the closest way to describe it. You were quite proud of the nest you had made, well John did help- unknowingly. You gasped softly, your eyes snapping open.

A nest. You had made a nest.

You had only ever done it in your heat and when you did it then you had no materials to work with. You have heard that some omegas nest even when they aren't in heat. Happy ones at least. You grinned curling up on your stomach, your face melted against his pillow.

“You smell that?” John asked, stepping inside. They carefully putting their bags by the door, trying to not alarm you. Johnny groaned from behind him.

“Happy girl,” he commented. The tightness and anxiety his body was storing slowly ebbed away at the smell. He knew that scent. It was extra strong when you were sleeping since you weren't able to hold anything back. He could picture you in his head, curled up against his chest, a sleepy smile on your face with very little awareness of your surroundings. Your soft skin twitching under his rough hands, warm from absorbing his body heat. Your warm peachy scent developing an undertone of cinnamon and spice from his. It sent a shiver up his spine, the hair on his arms standing up.

“Go take a shower. You'll get time with her in the morning.” John yawned. He made his way to your bedroom with the intent to check up on you, only to realize his door was open. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness quickly and he could make out a rather apparent lump on his bed. Although you wouldn't take up that much room. He snuck over a smile etched on his face. Warmth spread through his body at the sight before him. You were comfortable enough to not only sleep in his bed, but make a nest out of it. The overwhelming urge to crawl in there with you made his shoulders twitch.

He quickly made his way out of the bedroom, making his way to Johnny’s bathroom. He didn't want the sound of water to startle you and he couldn't climb into bed with you stinking like he did.

“She nested,” John spoke peeling off his clothes.

“She did? In her bed?”

“No, mine,” John clarified quickly.

“Great, now it's going to smell like horny, pompous alpha in here.” Johnny groaned, scrubbing at his scalp, making room for the broad alpha under the running water.

He picked the clothes out of his closet quietly. It was about time he used his training for good.

“Sweetheart,” he greeted. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of those claws if you got scared. He’s seen the damage they could cause. Your eyes opened harshly, making him wince.

“You’re back?” you couldn't quite believe it. They weren't supposed to be back for another two days. You pushed yourself out of bed, your fingers holding onto his shoulders for dear life. “Why are you back? Is everything okay?”

He hummed in assurance.

“We were able to finish up early,” he explained. “Came back as soon as possible.”

The truth was everything was different. They were different. The team had always been “the best of the best”, but with the addition of you, they had turned practically untouchable. It was easier to move, easier to think, and most importantly they had a reason to get home. It might've just been luck, but they knew instinctively there was a change- a natural one. Their bodies transforming into vessels to protect and provide for you. It has been that way forever, consequently why the government has always taken advantage of this evolution. That didn't matter now.

“Is Johnny back?” you mumbled against his shoulder.

“Yes. He's tired though, already crashed,” it was a lie, one he was hoping you wouldn't investigate. It wasn't that he wanted to keep Johnny from you, he wanted to keep you from Johnny. He knew the Scot would get you curled up in his arms before John could blink. It was his turn to have you. “Let's get you back to sleep, pretty girl,” John sighed, setting you back down in the bed, and tucking the sheets tight around you once again. He crawled in next to you, his arms wrapping around you trapping you against his chest. You nuzzled your way closer, a now familiar warmth spreading throughout your body. You were safe.

“So happy you're back,” you mumbled, already growing tired again.

“Me too,” he whispered, keeping his lips pressed against your temple.

“Is it okay that I nested here?”

“Course. I'd be happy to leave it if you wanted. I know you like to cuddle with the betas, but I wouldn't mind being worked into that routine,” he chuckled as you smiled against his chest.

You squealed as you were picked up and spun around. Johnny held his grasp on you as he flopped down on the couch, you perched atop of him. You leaned down peppering his face with kisses.

“Thank you for not being gone too long,” you smiled against his cheek.

“Had to get back home to our girl,” he purred, flipping you on the couch so you were under him. His blue eyes were sparking, making you feel a bit nervous. He was inspecting you. “Can I?” he asked softly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Please,” you whispered. He wasted no time connecting the distance. You were a bit unsure what to do. All your kisses with John had been little pecks.

“Relax, hen. Follow my lead,” he murmured, making your lips tickle. You did and once you found your rhythm you didn't want to pull away. Your hands clasped behind his neck, pulling him as close as possible. He chuckled against you, his smile interrupting the kiss. “Knew you’d get addicted,” he smirked.

“You’re right, come back,” you murmured, pulling him back down. He gasped but quickly regained his footing, hoping to keep you occupied long enough for the burning of his cheeks to disappear. He wasn’t used to someone so responsive. Eight times out of ten he had to instigate physical contact, but you were so accepting and matched his effort. You whined as he growled against you, pulling away before it all became too much. He chuckled against you as you panted, kissing across your cheek stopping just below your ear.

“Thought about you a lot you know. It was hard, especially at night. You were alright here by yourself, aye?” he questioned, his eyes softened to a point that it made your breath hitch.

“I was alright, Tavy,” you assured, resting your forehead against each other.

“Peaches, I need to tell you something”-

The door sprung open. The words “I love you” getting caught in his tongue.

“There you boys are,” John was the first to greet them. You shimmied out from under Johnny and he let you, watching as you nearly tackled Kyle to the ground.

The force of it knocked Kyle back into Simon.

You growled as all you got were scent blockers instead of fresh linen.

“I know, lovie, I know,” Kyle soothed. “Fuck,” he groaned, your scent hitting him like a tidal wave.

“Steady yourself,” John chuckled. You wormed yourself away from Kyle and wrapped your arms around Simon. He ran his hands up and down your back and you gave him one last squeeze before pulling away- not wanting to push it. “You’re both good?” John hummed, his hands resting on Kyle's shoulders. Kyle dived in for a hug and John quickly reciprocated, the feeling of finally being home settling in. You figured it was time to allow them some privacy and so you bounded into your room to change out of your sleep clothes.

“Can I talk to you two?” you questioned, closing the patio door behind you. They were having a smoke. Simon hummed in acknowledgment putting the cigarette out so you wouldn't be forced to breathe it it in such a small space.

“Something wrong?” John asked, putting his cigar out as well.

“Not really, but something happened while you two were away and I think you should know about it,” you explained hesitantly. They shared a look, before Simon nodded his head towards the inside. You took the hint as he opened the door for you. It wasn't that you didn't want the betas to know, you just felt that the alphas would want to be the first to know. “I went out with Priya one day”-

“Who’s that?” Simon interjected. John looked over, smacking him with his leg.

“Let ‘er talk,” he directed.

“I met her at that breakfast in the park thing. We have hung out a few times,” it was partially a lie. “Anyways, we were trying to figure out what to do and she said that the hospital had a rec center so we went there.” You paused trying to get a gauge on them. Their faces were like stone. You began losing the confidence you had.

“Go on,” John encouraged, his voice soft.

“Well she left to go to the bathroom quickly, and it was right across the hall. Then this doctor came over and he thought I was a freelance healer so he grabbed me and”-

“Grabbed you?” Simon interjected again.

“Where?” John pressed. You tucked your arm into your sweatshirt, pulling the hem up to show them the bruise on your upper arm. It had faded a decent amount since the incident, but there were still greenish-yellow fingerprints.

“Name,” John commanded.

“I'm not done,” you asserted. They were stiff in their seats now, John was trying his hardest to be level-headed. How many times did they have to prove not to fuck with you? This had been one of the reasons they were so unsure about an omega to begin with. “He grabbed me and put me into a room, with two”-

Simon stood up, heading towards his room to collect one of his balaclavas. He and John couldn't just stay home after this information.

“Simon, keep it together,” John snapped, his eyes still trained on you. He knew nothing too bad could've happened to you. You were fine last night- fuckin’ glowing actually.

“One was an alpha I had never seen before, the other was a beta. The beta that had attacked me by the water fountain.” John’s breath hitched and you could feel Simon stiffen from behind you. “He apologized and begged me not to hurt him,” you nearly chuckled. “I know that you two handled it- obviously, but he was talking about Lieutenant Hale,” you peaked over your shoulder at Simon. He had his back turned to you, his head facing the wall. “He wanted something with me- the beta didn't know what. I'm sure you both know much more than I do, I just wanted to let you know,” you finished.

“Thank you”-

“Thank you?” Simon snapped. “You’re on house arrest,” Simon growled pointing at you.

“What?!” you exclaimed, standing up yourself. “I'm not a child, Simon. You can't do that.”

“Like fuckin’ hell I can't. Until you can learn to not be abducted, attacked, or threatened by bloody strangers you're not leaving this fuckin’ flat,” he snarled.

“John, do something, please,” you begged, turning to John.

“I agree with him.” John sighed. “Not for long but until we figure out strategies to keep you safe,” he reasoned.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you sputtered. “It's not my fault these things are happening,” you shot back.

“No one is saying that”-

“Simon just did! He said and I quote “Until you can learn to not be..” he blames me!” you recalled.

“It's not forever,” John continued, trying to diffuse the situation. “Your incidents happen when you are left completely alone. We just need to make sure you're not”-

“You can't do that. You two have enough control over me as it is!” you spat. “I know it's the destiny of an omega to be under the pack's thumb all the time, but this is ridiculous and I think probably illegal.”

“Now I know it may feel like that at times but we do it to protect you,” John said.

“Not that it's working,” Simon grumbled.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you growled. You couldn't believe the turn of events. Just yesterday you had your hand down your pants thinking about them and today you didn't even want to be in the same room. You wished the betas were here. You wished you never said anything. Simon's deep chuckle made you falter. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, as he raised a hand to his mouth to stop the sudden onslaught. “Are you laughing?” you muttered.

Truth be told he has never enjoyed you more than right now. You, of all people, cursing at him with complete rage. Even now, your face scrunched in confusion and lingering anger, your whole being flushed with a beautiful heated glow.

“Alright, pup. You proved yourself. You're still on house arrest but just till we go on leave. Then hopefully people will have moved on to some new drama by the time we get back.” He sighed, heading towards the front door, John following close behind. Leave was scheduled for three days from now.

��Wait, are we still fighting or not?” you questioned slowly.

“I can keep going,” Simon smirked.

“No,” you replied a bit dumbfounded.

“Did I win? I feel like I won,” you mumbled, the adrenaline slowly wearing off.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, pup. Come on, let's go get dinner.”

“What is happening?” you murmured, beginning your trek to the door.

A knock on his office door caused him to raise his head. He flinched at the sound, harsh against the silent hallway.

“Come in,” he sighed, spinning his chair around to face the door. The door opened slowly and the reveal had him shooting up from his chair.

“Dr. Malcolm?” Kyle clarified. Johnny followed behind him, shutting and locking the door. “Easy, mate,” Kyle soothed his hands extending forward. “Just here to ask a few questions,” Kyle offered a smile, sitting down in one of the other office chairs. “At least I am. That one over there is still a bit worked up,” Kyle chuckled, nodding his head towards the Scot leaning against the door. The glint in his eyes was heart-stopping and Kyle’s relaxed nature only added to the uneasiness in the air. “Now we heard her side of it and we saw what happened on the cameras but I think it’s only fair if we heard your side of it before making any rash decisions,” Kyle explained. “Right, Soap?”

“There’s a lot riding on your answers. That’s for sure, doc,” Johnny spoke.

“He’s right. I imagine it being hard to do your job missin’ a few fingers, yeah?” Kyle hummed. The doctor was leaning against his desk now, knees too weak to do anything else.

“I'm not afraid of you, punks,” Dr. Malcolm managed. Kyle winced.

“Strike one,” Kyle tsked, as Johnny took a few steps forward. Dr. Malcolm quickly held his hands up, shaking his head profusely.

“Wait, wait,” he pleaded. “Alright. I made a mistake. We get freelance omegas from holding housing all the time to help with healing. I just assumed she was one of them. Honest mistake,” Dr, Malcolm sputtered, his hand still surrendering.

“That’s interesting,” Kyle sighed, coming to a stand, his broad shoulders blocking most of the light from Dr. Malcolm's frame. “Because to me, an honest mistake would you be askin’ her if she was a freelance omega. Her saying ‘no’. You takin’ that ‘no’ as an answer and going about your day. Not you dragging her down the hallway as she fights against you. Your fingers leaving bruises on our girl's arm,” Kyle finished. “You get that, right?”

The reasons behind why they wanted to take his fingers becoming more and more clear to Dr. Malcolm.

“You’re right. Completely and utterly right. I'm ashamed of myself, honestly,” Dr. Malcolm appeased. “I can transfer,” he offered. Kyle’s eyes widened a smile spreading across his face.

“That's a brilliant idea,” he praised, making the doctor's shoulders begin to relax. “But that's unfortunately not going to work for us,” Kyle became tight lip, a disgustingly fake sorrowful look on his face. “You see if we just let you go, then that's sends a message, that anyone can just come in and make our omega feel unsafe”-

“I didn't know she was yours!” Dr. Malcom nearly sobbed.

“Well, we’ll just call that strike number two then,” Kyle cleared his throat. “Now you know. And when you walk out of this office, everyone in the building will know too,” Kyle smiled.

“Gonna be missing a few pieces, though,” Johnny grunted, heading towards the doctor. The doctor's shout was quickly cut off by Johnny’s hand.

“Not to worry, mate. Sure you can find someone to attach them back,” Kyle smirked.

Hello everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It has honestly been my favorite to write…..what does that say about me….Anyways Love all of you! Thank you for your support and interacting with this post! 🧡

P.S. See you in three days for chapter 19!