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sfehvn · 11 months

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new religion part 4

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,049 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

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Sunlight filters through the cracks of a haphazardly covered window, illuminating your soft features under the warm glow. Astarion watches the rise and fall of your restful breathing, decidedly one of his favorite pastimes. More seasons have come and gone since he first set eyes on you and he’s baffled that you’re still the only thing on the forefront of his mind. He doesn’t foresee that ever-changing at this point. He recalls his emotional battles; the grappling of newfound feelings. Astarion hadn’t felt a beautiful thing in centuries until you. Until he longed to touch you, to shield you from the very things he’d forced upon other less fortunate souls. You’d slowly but surely become home to him.

You had been sheltered in his manor for days following your father’s death. Beautiful reminders of your presence blessed the cold halls of his lair. He spared no expense upon stocking a wardrobe specifically for you. Beautiful dresses of the finest linens, silk, and velvet in colors reminiscent of summer overflowed the closets and dressers. He would hire a seamstress once you were well enough to allow you the creation of your wares, but for now, this would have to do. He had practically sold out every shop in town that carried luxury clothing just to ensure you’d be able to make a selection that genuinely suited you.

As much as he urged you to make use of his many servants, you refused. Even in your broken capacity, you insisted on doing most things yourself. At which point Astarion would contend he does whatever task at hand on your behalf. He couldn’t comprehend how you could be so careful of every being’s spirit, even when he holds you as you weep. You would cling to him like a lifeline; as if he were going to disappear. Your grief had driven you deeper into his embrace. While this was precisely what he was plotting he couldn't bear to see you so broken. A light snuffed out by the cruel ways of nature. He would spend every waking moment in this bedroom consoling you if it meant he had even the tiniest chance of reigniting that light.

Astarion’s eyes shift to the opening door of the bed chamber. A servant stood with a tray of various breakfast foods, standing in the doorway as she waited for him to summon her in further. This had been the routine every morning; she would wake you with a hot meal, a bath, and fresh clothing. This time, though, would be different. He gestured to the desk on the far side of the room and waved her away once the tray had been set down. She leaves without a question, closing the door on her way out.

It was time he had determined. With your younger sisters in the care of your brother and his wife and your father’s funeral being completed the day before, this was as good a time as any. He had hidden his true nature from your attention for far too long. You had proven to him that you were serious about staying so he no longer had any viable excuses in his mind to continue the lie. He recognized he should have told you sooner and there was a pang of shame that he hadn’t yet. Astarion wouldn’t dare admit it but he had enjoyed the normalcy you had brought into his life. There was a small part of him that was clinging to it.

He collected the tray of food from the desk and slowly approached your sleeping form. He hated waking you but you had been having a hard time keeping any food down, so he had been very strict on you with mealtimes. If your body allowed you even a piece of toast, that was a victory to him. Once he’s beside you, he sits on the edge of the bed closest to you. A gentle hand reaches out to shake your arm gently, and in return your eyes flutter open. You attempt to shut them again, not ready to be woken but he persists. “You need to eat something, my darling.” His words are a gentle beckoning and you allow your eyes to open once more.

“Okay.” You mumble in that sleepy voice Astarion had grown to love along with every other part of you. You push yourself up until your back is against the headboard, looking over the tray that had been placed in your lap. You didn’t bother arguing about the sheer amount of food before you anymore. It was futile. While most of it would go uneaten, he didn’t care as long as there was something that you would eat.

He watches you silently, preparing himself to come clean once you’ve gotten a whole egg and some potatoes down. Your cheeks used to grow red under his gaze, but now it was just par for the course with him and his stare. “We need to talk, Tav.”

Your veins run cold and he immediately picks up the quickening of your pulse. You look from the food to his face apprehensively. “Have I done something wrong?” Your mind raced; had he grown tired of you already? Perhaps he couldn’t take you being so utterly depressing anymore.

“Gods no, my treasure.” Astarion assures, taking your hand into his own. “You’re perfect. Always my perfect angel; this is about, well,” There’s a pause in his words. “Me.”

You nod after a moment, once you’re entirely convinced your heart isn’t going to be shattered by whatever he has to say. “Alright. What is it, love?” Those honied words, he adores when you call him that.

“I haven’t been entirely truthful with you. For that, I am sorry. I want to be though. I want you to know me. Truly know me.” You remain silent and he tried to read your face, but you have not faltered. You look at him with those same loving eyes and it gives him the courage to continue. “I’m not that great of a person. In fact, some would argue me being a person at all. It is ridiculous if you ask me, but to each their own, I suppose.” He’s babbling, beating around the bush. He can’t get himself to say it, it’s as if the words are banished from his tongue.

“Well, that’s just silly, Astarion.” You cut off his nervous bumbling, shaking your head as you move the tray aside. “You’re the most incredible person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, let alone loving.”

“No, Tav, listen.” He says sternly, his nervous dissolve fading as he finally feels the willpower take hold. If he was going to say it, it had to be now before he lost the resolve. “I’m a vampire.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your face goes blank. There’s a beat of silence and he can visibly see the wheels turning in your mind as you mull over the information he’d given you. “You’ve… You’ve hurt people?” Your fingers pick at the threads of the comforter. You can’t believe you’d missed it, a testament to just how small-minded you indeed were. The sharp canines, the perfect puncture marks on his neck. All of the signs were there and you stupidly couldn’t recognize any of them; but also, how did he walk in the sun? How did he share meals with you?

He nods, “Yes.”

You nod slowly, refusing to look away from the blanket covering your legs. “Have you thought about hurting me?”

He hesitates and a lie almost leaves his lips but he stops himself. He had told you he would be truthful. “Yes.”

Your heart is sputtering in your chest but you’re not afraid. This was the man you loved, the one who had shown you kindness and showered you in a love you weren’t sure you’d ever get to experience. “Why haven’t you?” He’d had plenty of opportunity and time to do something, yet you were still here. Alive and better with him than you would be without him.

Astarion doesn’t hesitate and is relieved when he reaches for your hand without you refusing him. “Because I love you, Tav. That has always been the truth. From the moment I first saw you, I loved you. I haven’t loved a thing since my mortal life, and even that I can’t recall. It would be a cruel existence without you, one that I certainly never want to see. I fought it, you know. I thought if I kept away from you long enough these feelings,” A pause, “My devotion to you would leave my being. I had considered hurting you, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that my still heart would only yearn more. I was destined to see you that day. We were fated for each other. I feel it in my bones when I look at you. I feel it in my chest when we’re apart. Every terrible thing I’ve done has led me to you. I know you feel it, too.”

You look at your dainty hand in his much larger one, his words making you take in a sharp breath of air. He was right, you did feel it. The electricity when he touched you; the comfort only he could provide you with. You wanted to be afraid, that would make sense, but you weren’t. Astarion could also see it, but the tension remained thick as he waited for you to speak. You’re unsure of how to respond, your eyes darted the planes of his face as if you’d find the answer within him. He had given you love and adoration you didn’t believe was ever in the cards for you. He held you and wiped your tears every time you cried; which happened substantially lately. As much as you wanted to be angry or frightened; you were not. You could never be afraid of him.

“Okay.”

“That's- that’s it then? Okay?” Whether it was apprehension or confusion in his voice, you weren’t sure. “Well, I have to say I was expecting more questions. Definitely didn’t anticipate an ‘okay’.”

“You are the same you—the same man who turned the grounds of his property into an ethereal garden solely for me. The same man who allowed me grace when I didn’t consider how my decisions would affect you. The one who’s taken care of me after-” You stopped yourself, the grief of losing your father like a hot coal in your chest. “Are you not?” You question despite already knowing the answer. He nods and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You free your hand from his and take his face into your hands, resting each palm on either cheek. “Then there is nothing you can tell me that will make me love you any less.” Your mind wandered briefly to what his past would indeed entail; heinous acts, no doubt. Yet, you didn’t cower. You held his gaze, faces mere inches apart.

He closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips to your own. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck as you melt under his touch. He turned you into putty; moldable to whatever he wanted you to be. His and his alone. He pushes you into the mattress and swiftly knocks the food tray from the bed. “I’ll love you until the end of time. I swear it.” He speaks into your lips. The words are muffled but they were not lost on you.

Of course, he would have a much too great ask of you soon enough. You were destined to spend eternity with him, after all. He would delay that for another day, however. He would spend his day worshipping every inch of his holy altar: your body. You hadn’t shunned or pushed him away; that was enough victory for one day in his mind. You weren’t afraid of him. You welcomed him into your arms once more, into your body. He would continue to show you, sun up or down, that he was true to his word. His hungry hands explore you, reverent mouth paying particular attention to your neck. How easily he could sink his fangs into you; instead, he leaves tender kisses in his mouth’s wake.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion x reader #reader #tav #ascended!astarion x tav

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 8 months

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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 1

AO3

Summary: As Frankie reaches the end of her second week at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield, she begins to find her footing among the men of the 100th Bomb Group

Warnings: Excessive alcohol consumption, language

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee

The setting sun cast a golden blanket over Thorpe Abbotts airfield, basking everything in an idyllic, orange glow that was almost beautiful enough to distract from the heady stench of motor oil that lay thick on the air, permeating hair and clothes so thoroughly that anyone who spent even five minutes in the place would carry it with them for the rest of the day.

Frankie Bevan clamped a flashlight tight between her teeth, the narrow beam of light illuminating the underside of the B-17's gun turret as she surveyed it for any cracks or gaps in the glass that could compromise its integrity. The rest of the ground crew had called it a day almost two hours ago, but the Yanks always did prefer to work in the daylight. She was nearing the end of her third year in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, and after so many nights spent running the airstrips in the darkness for the RAF, Frankie was well accustomed to toiling away into the night.

Thorpe Abbotts was new, and yet much the same. It was only her second week here, compensating for the Americans' manpower shortages. The job was always the same, no matter where she went or what planes she worked on - checks, fixes, refuelling, over and over again - but thus was the nature of a mechanic's job. What she was not yet quite used to was the Americans themselves. Loud and brash and self-assured, Frankie was sometimes glad they worked different hours.

Taking note of a few cracks in the glass panelling, she reached up to swipe the torch from her mouth, offering a satisfied nod as she completed her checks for the night. All that was left was to pin her list of concerns up on the board inside the mechanics' Nissen hut, and then it was off to the pub for her.

Once she changed out of her oil-stained coveralls, that was.

"They're working you like a dog down there on the strip," Georgina, one of Frankie's bunkmates, pointed out, flipping nonchalantly through a magazine as she lounged on her bed.

"Someone's gotta do it," She shrugged, kicking off her coveralls as she rummaged in the shared wardrobe for the correct service uniform. "Some of the mechanics they've brought over are practically kids, not sure I'd trust 'em to fix my plane if I was going up there."

"You'd better show 'em what for, then," George smiled, glancing over as Frankie finished buttoning up her blouse, reaching for the navy blue jacket.

"You coming for drinks?"

"Uh, nah - I'll go tomorrow. Sandra thinks we'll be starting early tomorrow so I wanna get a decent night's sleep."

"Ooh, luxury," Frankie teased, shimmying her shoulders as she made her way to the door of the hut. "Alright, see you later."

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The pub was crammed from door to door as she forced her way inside, the sound of chattering overpowering the music blaring from a radio in the corner. The American invasion of Thorpe Abbotts had well and truly been successful, scarcely a flash of RAF blue visible amongst the sea of khaki as Frankie burrowed her way through the crowds towards the bar.

"Pint of Guinness, please," She called over the din, the bartender offering a friendly nod of affirmation as she felt the crowd behind her push her body further into the edge of the bar.

"There y'are, love," The man nodded, placing the pint glass in front of her as she smiled her thanks, foam lining her top lip as she took her first sip. Frankie barely had time to wipe it away, turning to take a step back from the bar, before another body collided with hers. She gasped as the beer she had so looked forward to sloshed over the rim of the glass, pooling on the floor and staining the front of her uniform, as the other man's drink did the same.

"Woah, careful there!" The man cried, flicking a few stray droplets of spilt beer from his hand onto the floor. A deep frown creased her features as she peered up at him. The soldier was so tall that the tip of her head didn't quite pass his shoulder, and yet the irritation in her expression was so palpable that he took a full step back.

"Oh, that was my fault, was it?" Frankie tutted.

"Well, sweetheart, maybe if you'd been looking where you were going-"

"Maybe if you bloody Yanks gave us some room to breathe in here we wouldn't have a problem!"

There was an easy smile on the man's face that struck her as distinctly annoying. Discarding his now almost empty glass on the bar, the man put up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Look. We're not gonna agree on this, so what d'ya say we settle this with a little friendly competition?"

She raised a brow. "What sort of competition?"

"Uh... how 'bout a drinking contest?"

Frankie let out a guffaw so forceful that the man's confident smile disappeared, and a few nearby airmen turned to watch the scene unfold. "Y'know what? Yeah. You're on."

With a nod, he turned away, marching towards the closest table. "Alright boys, gimme some space, I got a contest to win against half-pint over here."

She approached the table, sitting down opposite the soldier, smirking at his arrogance. The airmen he had kicked out of their seats were lingering to watch the spectacle unfold, and it was clear their bets were on her opponent.

"Now," He sighed, taking a seat. "In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I oughta introduce myself. John Egan," He said, reaching a hand across the table.

"Frances Bevan. Frankie," She nodded, shaking his hand.

Egan nodded. "So, normal rules apply. No spilling, no vomiting, gotta drain the glass. Still wanna do this?"

Frankie nodded firmly. "I'd never pass up such a wonderful opportunity to humble you Yanks," She grinned.

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Egan was turning red, his smug smile long since vanished, the motion of his arm slowing as he reached for the next shot glass, glancing across at her with a slightly nauseated expression. The crowd surrounding them had long since grown since they had begun, although how long ago that was she couldn't quite remember. The huge pile of empty shot glasses in the centre of the table did nothing to jog her memory.

"Oh, come on, Egan, you've gotta do better than that," Frankie teased, reaching forward and downing her next shot. In fairness, she too was beginning to feel light-headed, but it never showed on her face, her demeanour as cool and collected as it had been when she first sat down.

"I thought... I thought this would be easy," John complained, grimacing as he brought the next glass to his lips. "You're so small, where are you storing all this liquor?"

"I'm British - pretty sure it's in our bloodstream," She teased. Egan's eyes narrowed as he weakly upturned the contents of his glass into his mouth, screwing up his face as the liquid ran down his throat.

"I really like her," John admitted, letting out a long sigh as he drew a hand over his eyes. A few of the airmen laughed, clapping him over the shoulders.

"I think we're done here," Frankie chuckled.

"You forfeit?" He asked hopefully.

"No, I'm saying you're about to. That or you're gonna throw up - either way, I win."

"Nuh-uh," Egan shook his head. "Not gonna happen," He fought to suppress a burp, and the room seemed to brace itself for the inevitable vomit that would follow, letting out a collective sigh of relief when he swallowed his nausea back down. "...Yeah. Ok."

She clapped, throwing up her hands in victory as a couple of the men standing behind her cheered. "Well, it's been a real pleasure doing business with you Major," Frankie chuckled, fighting through the splitting headache that was growing in her temples as she rose from her seat, offering him a hand to help him stand.

John batted her away, but stumbled as he got up, one of his friends pressing a firm hand on his back to keep him upright. She smiled. "I'll help you get him back since it's my fault. Gotta get back to the huts anyway."

The airman accepted, each of them slinging one of Egan's arms around their shoulders as he tilted haphazardly over to one side, struggling to prop himself up against her due to her height. Trailing towards the door, a few of the men let out celebratory whoops at her as she passed, praising her victory.

"Thanks for the night, gents - I'm here all war," Frankie called over her shoulders, a cheer erupting from the crowd as they dragged Egan sideways out of the door.

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It was growing difficult to see as they marched John back to the huts, the street lights growing more and more sparse the closer they got to the airfield. "You gotta teach me how to do that," He slurred, tilting his head down towards her, the smell of liquor thick on his breath.

"You gotta get more practice in - you Americans with your 'no alcohol until you're 21' rule never stood a chance, we've just been in the game longer."

"Ah," He nodded, pausing for a moment. "Hey, why'd you call yourself Frankie?"

"Because Frances is a terrible name," She scoffed.

"Can I call you Fran?"

"Only if you want to die."

"Fair enough."

As they reached the end of the row of men's huts, she shrugged his arm off of her shoulders, relinquishing custody of John to the other airman, who thanked her for her help.

"See ya 'round, Shortcake!" Egan called as they trailed away, grinning proudly to himself at the nickname. Frankie scoffed, rolling her eyes and massaging her temples as her headache steadily worsened.

"You look like shit," George whispered as she wandered back into their hut. She had rolled her hair up into pin curls, protected beneath a headscarf, and was reading a copy of Wuthering Heights in the dim light of her bedside lamp.

"Got into a drinking contest with one of the Americans," She shrugged, tossing her beer-stained blouse and jacket into a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed, a reminder to wash them tomorrow.

"Did you win?"

"Of course."

"Shh!" One of the other women hissed from the opposite end of the room, shrouded in the darkness. Frankie pulled a face at her scolding, dragging a brush through the knots in her dark brown hair as George stifled a laugh, discarding her book and turning off the light once her friend had changed and gotten into bed.

It was silent for a while as she lay beneath the blankets, staring up at what would have been the ceiling if not for the complete absence of light. Her alcohol-induced headache thrummed behind her eyes, a constant, dull pain keeping her from sleep.

"George?" She whispered.

"What?"

"Do you have an aspirin?"

The sound of quiet rummaging was audible in the stillness of the hut, and she struggled to suppress a laugh as she felt the tube smack her in the face, a result of Georgina tossing it blindly in the darkness.

"Thank you," She giggled, trying not to gag as she took the pills dry, lying back and waiting for the pain to subside as she thought back on the night's events.

I'm not that short.

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The blinding morning sun was unwelcome the next day as Frankie made her way to the airfield from her hut, bike resting against her hip as she made a momentary stop to fix her hair for the day ahead, hair tie held between her teeth as she scooped it into a ponytail. Most of the women she shared the Nissen hut with had left over an hour ago, hurrying to the flight tower in anticipation of the arrival of yet more American pilots, but her job didn't begin until after the planes landed, so fortunately for her, she had been afforded a little more sleep, her headache now more or less dissipated.

A loud honking startled her, the hair tie slipping from her teeth and falling to the floor. As she bent to pick it up, a jeep rolled to a stop in front of her, the horn parping once more.

"Fuck's sake, what?" Frankie muttered, glancing up to see the cheery grin of Major John Egan smiling down at her.

"Mornin'."

"Are you even fit to drive after last night?"

"Fifty-fifty. Hop in, throw your bike in the back."

She frowned as she noticed the pile of bikes already forming in the back of the car, but stacked her on top all the same, sliding into the passenger seat beside him. "Starting a collection?"

"Won them in a bet, night before last. Got one for me and my buddy Buck, he's arriving today."

"Is that Major Cleven?" She asked.

"Sure is," John nodded as the engine roared to life, taking them sailing along the road towards the airstrip, the wind ruining her hair before she even had a chance to finish it.

"So..." He began, swerving slightly to dodge a few maintenance workers on bikes. "Where ya from, Frankie?"

"Stratford."

"I... do not know where that is."

"I didn't expect you to," She chuckled. "Grew up with my dad working his garage, that's what got me into it. Always preferred planes to cars, though."

"You and me both," John nodded, slowing as they neared the landing strip. Up ahead, the flight crew were beginning to disembark, and Frankie's eyes narrowed as she noticed one of the airmen carrying a large dog.

"If they let that dog shit in the plane, I'm not cleaning it up," She stated. "You've heard me say it, that's on the record now."

"Yes ma'am," Egan affirmed, pulling to a stop, a grin spreading across his face as he got close enough to recognise his friends.

As he clambered out of the car, stepping forward to greet his comrades, she climbed out of her seat, wandering around the back of the jeep to disentangle her bike from the pile, tugging it free as the sounds of wind and aeroplane engines overpowered the men's voices.

"Oh, and, uh - This is Frankie Bevan," John called, guiding Cleven towards her, speaking louder so that she could hear. She raised her hand in a somewhat awkward wave, almost dropping her bike on her foot as she hauled it off the back of the jeep. "Best damn mechanic we've got, she's holdin' us together, that's for sure."

"Ma'am," Cleven greeted her with a tilt of his cap.

"He's never seen me work," Frankie shook her head, stepping forward to shake Cleven's hand. "We only met yesterday, he's just being nice in the hopes I won't tell you about how I drank him under the table last night."

John scoffed. "That is not what-" She raised a brow and he stuttered. "Yeah, that - that did happen."

Cleven laughed, squeezing Egan's shoulder. "Well, I'm sure glad he's had someone to keep him humble before I got here. Thank you for your work, ma'am, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon."

She nodded, grinning at Egan's embarrassment. "How was your flight?"

"Smooth sailin', not sure there'll be anything to fix up this time."

A soldier she had heard John greet as Demarco spoke up from where he was stood, scratching his dog's stomach. "The dog dropped a deuce in the cockpit."

Clicking her fingers, she pointed to Egan. "She's not doing that!" He called, craning his head over his shoulder as Demarco put his hands up in surrender.

"Well, that works wonders," Frankie chuckled, lifting her leg to straddle the seat of her bike. "Now, if all you gents have planned is standing around, I've got work to do."

"Bye Shortcake," John grinned as she pedalled the bicycle into motion, ringing the bell and offering up a middle finger as she left. He chuckled, feeling Cleven clap him over the shoulder again.

"She's interesting... nice," His friend began. "Bucky, I know you're sick of Marge tryna set you up, but she is definitely-"

"She's definitely my friend, Buck. Besides, I could never date a woman with a higher alcohol tolerance than me. That's just embarrassing."

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The wind whipped her hair this way and that as Frankie hammered at the pedals, gaining speed faster and faster with each second until the rolling fields beyond the airstrip were little more than a green blur. She'd always loved to cycle, preferably as fast as she possibly could. Her father used to say she should try racing, but his ambition curtailed rather when she got in trouble for almost taking out a couple of tourists outside Shakespeare's birthplace on her way home from school. Besides, she'd never quite had the discipline for sports.

Her breaks squeaked noisily as she rolled to a stop outside the mechanics' Nissen hut, stationed just beyond the main runway. They had been given a single hut for all of their operations, much to the chagrin of many. The back end was an orderly pile of spare parts - buckets of rivets, piles of sheet metal - but someone had supplied them with a table and chairs, and the recent addition of a gas stove and kettle had proved a huge hit.

Ken Lemmons was sat at the table as she wandered in, glancing at the corkboard by the door where she and the others posted notice of anything in need of urgent repair.

"A couple of the guys replaced the glass in the gun turrets earlier - thanks for the shout," Lemmons spoke up.

"Ah, good," Frankie nodded, taking a seat opposite him. As much as she bemoaned her younger, American co-workers, she had grown fond of Ken. He was sipping a cup of coffee, and by the look on his face, he was not enjoying it. She tossed the paper bag containing her lunch onto the table, retrieving a cucumber sandwich - meagre subsistence, and a sight that made the boy frown.

"I think I'd actually murder someone for some Hershey's right about now," He remarked, grimacing as he took another sip of coffee.

"Hey, we make do with what we've got," She shrugged, attempting to devour the sandwich before the cucumber could soak through the thin slices of bread. "I know one of the girls in the Land Army - I darn her jumpers in exchange for a bit of her extra cheese ration."

Lemmons chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "I miss good chocolate. I can't get used to... Cad-berry's?"

"Oh, that's sacrilege," She laughed, tossing a slice of cucumber at him, which stuck to the breast pocket of his coveralls. "If you'd come a couple years ago when they were still making Dairy Milk you'd've thought you'd died and gone to heaven."

"I'll believe it when I see it," He grinned, plucking the slice off of his clothes. There was a pause before he spoke again. "One of the fellas says they're actually taking off later."

Frankie nodded, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as she spoke around her food. "Oh yeah? This gonna be your first proper go at it?"

"Yeah..." Lemmons admitted, looking momentarily nervous. "You?"

She snorted back a laugh. "Nah. I've been in the WAAF nearly four years - moved around a bit, but whether it's Attlebridge or Docking or Thorpe Abbotts, it's all the same gig. You stick with me when the planes start coming back down and you'll be fine."

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a smile. "You're gonna babysit me?"

Frankie grinned, standing up to reach across the table and ruffle his curls. "With a cute little face like yours, who could help it?" She teased, laughing as he batted her away.

"Get off, I'm serious," Lemmons chuckled, but the smile never faded from his expression.

Ken's buddy hadn't been wrong, per se, but his fabled mission had come not hours, but days later, with a hammering knock on the door to her hut, the women stirring from their sleep in a wave of disgruntled moans.

"What time is it?" Frankie whined as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, resisting the urge to burrow her head beneath the pillow and block out the relentless knocking outside.

"Four thirty," George groaned, frowning vindictively at her watch as she put it on, as if time itself had caused her personal grievance.

"They're flying today, get ready!" A young male voice bellowed from the other side of the door, clearly too shy to bare his face to a room of half-dressed, irritated women.

"Fuck me, I'm coming," She muttered, brushing her hair with one hand as she buttoned up the front of her coveralls with the other.

"Spot me! How's my lipstick?" George called, and Frankie leant across the bed that separated them to wipe a stray smudge of red away with her thumb.

"All good."

"Right," Her bunkmate huffed. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"See you later," Frankie affirmed.

"I'll join you for drinks this time if all goes well!" George called over her shoulder as she scurried towards the door.

"I'll hold you to that!" She replied, smiling as she laced up her boots.

The planes left and returned in mere hours, but the in-between had felt never-ending as the ground crew waited in tense anticipation to see how many would return and in what state. Frankie had sent Egan away to the flight tower after his nervous hovering had started to get on her nerves, and she had since spent the last half-hour sitting in the grass beside the runway making daisy chains with a few of the local children as a way to pass the time.

"Frankie! They're comin' in!" She heard Lemmons yell from across the airstrip. Hurriedly sending the children back to their parents as the sound of plane engines grew steadily louder overhead, she scrambled to her feet, grass stains streaking the knees of her coveralls as she jogged over, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as the planes began to descend towards them.

"...10, 11, 12..." Frankie muttered, coming to the slow realisation that many of the men they'd sent away that morning had not returned. But that loss did not negate the importance of the work they had to do now. "Ok, let's go," She patted Lemmons on the shoulder, and they reached for the bikes they had discarded on the ground nearby, pedalling hard towards the landing strip.

From the second they arrived, she was surveying the damage, scanning the planes for the areas that would need the most attention. It was impossible to pick just one.

"There's a reason we go at night," She muttered, so softly no one else could hear over the din of shouts and dying engines. The mechanics weren't emergency staff, but she'd seen a fair few planes come in either on fire, half-collapsed or both over the years, enough to learn it was best to get in as soon as possible.

"Shit," Lemmons huffed beside her, staring up at a huge, jagged hole in the metal of one of the plane's wings.

"Send a couple of the boys back to the hut - tell them to bring a car back with all the sheet metal they can put in it. Oh - and get me a welder!" She called to him, and the young man began barking orders at the other mechanics, the crew erupting to life around the plane as they began to fix the mess that had returned.

"Frankie!" Egan's voice rang from down below as she climbed up onto the top of the plane, marking out the areas of the body that needed replacing. She looked down at him as he yelled again. "You need anything?"

"Nope, we're good here!" Frankie replied, holding up a thumbs-up in case the wind drowned out her voice. Looking down at the work to do below her, it was as if she could map out every fix in her mind, envision every action in order, play it out in her head until the beast was as good as new. She smiled to herself. "This is what I do."

#masters of the air #masters of the air fic #masters of the air oc #mota oc #hbo war #john egan #gale cleven #ken lemmons #rosie rosenthal x oc #oc: frankie #mota #fic | i'm your man #oc: george

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rosedere · 3 months

Text

The Liyue Lotus and the Merchant from Snezhnaya

(Pantalone x Fem! Reader)

MDNI +18

Cw: kidnapping, Stalking, non con elements, Graphic violence (later chapters), Yandere content *will update as the series goes on

Cross posted on AO3

Part1, Part 2, Part 3, Chapter 4. Lotus in Transcience (you are here), Part 5, Part 6, Part 7~

If you like the feeling of a hard rain falling

I have a sea full, I can give you an ocean

We shouldn't have to work so hard to break this wave in our way

Shouldn't wanna walk away so you won't see the fear I face

Left stripped of your fine clothes and tucked in was how you found yourself when you awoke.

Alone.

You didn't even hear him leave.

Only being awoken to the mystical light that flooded the cavernous opening around the top of the tower.

Left in the luxurious room from last night you sat up in the expensive sheets with pantalones lingering scent wafting with each hit of the sheets.

Knees tucked underneath yourself as you observed the room you were in.

You assumed the room was violet and dark ebony coded only instead the morning rays revealed the black and red detailing on the wood walls and wood floors of a rich wood most liyue homes did not have.

The canopy a dark gem blue shade glittering in the sunlight around you like gems in a cave.

At this point as you sat slack jawed in his bed you weren't completely sure what you were supposed to do. He left you alone in his bed with no way to get back to the harbor.

You scolded yourself as you realized what you truly did.

Remembering glimpses of letting Pantalone own you were all you remembered.

So vulnerable to him, you cringe at yourself for even pretending to trust him.

your clothes weren't anywhere, especially not on the bedside where you were undressed.

You were just left to wrap the thick sheets around yourself feeling warm in the cold dewy air beginning to seep into the open balcony across from the bed.

“Good morning my lady,” Galinas cheerful self sang out from the sliding door as she hummed a tune you'd never heard before as she went towards the wardrobe on the south wall.

Instinctively you wrapped the sheets tighter around your chest covering your front as well as you could at the fast approaching bodyguard who was humming unlocking the dark ornate wardrobe.

“My lord deeply apologizes for leaving without saying a word but~” she held her pointer finger up

She hooked her hands on the inside of the carved hand piece outside of the wardrobe before opening the large door to you.

You wouldn't believe your eyes seeing the array of different spectrums of colors and types of fabric stuffed into the medium sized wardrobe with ease.

It had to be more than enough things to clothe a whole village at least.

“My lord has graciously supplied you with clothes to wear during your stay here until his return” she bowed, moving to the side of the wardrobe.

“Wait, stay?” You narrowed your eyes

“Yes! A whole month of relaxation away from the busy harbor” she giggled as she went towards the stone lined bathroom.

You froze.

“The whole month?” You asked a gasp.

Galina turned around to lean against the wood frame to face you.

“Yes my lady, consider this a special privilege” she crossed her hand over her chest.

“I know it seems like there isn't much to do at first glance and all but there's actually a lot you can do around here”

You only smiled as you clenched the cool sheets harder, your knuckles growing white from your grip.

“Now let me get your bath started so your day can begin” Galina exclaimed before going inside the open bathroom in front of where you were sitting.

“You know—Galina— I think I can dress myself and shower for the day”

The rustic golden faucet was already turned on to your dismay as the sound of water filling echoed into the room.

“Please Galina” you begged, glancing towards the bathroom entrance.

“Nope! My lord said that me and fedor are to treat you as he would if he was here” Galina’s voice echoed.

You groaned but after a few moments of waiting you decided to wrap the sheet around yourself before you finally joined Galina in the restroom.

“Please”

Galina turned her face being obscured by her fatui mage mask leaving it a mystery what she was truly emoting beyond you.

“No ”

“Such a stubborn lotus lián ”

“Our lord wasn’t lying when he said you were modest”

Galina shook her head as she felt the warm steam spiraling from the stone carved tub of dark stone.

“But-”

“No buts”

Crossing your arms you stayed sulking across the bamboo lined bathroom watching the water be filled with different oils and some unique cubes that smelled of warm custard and vanilla began to color the everclear water with a ivory shade.

“The water should be perfect if you want to get in” Galina lifted her hand from the water moving towards the tall ornate rack beside the stone tub.

“Or will I have to push you in”

“No-no i'll get in just…”

Galina raised a brow from over her mask.

“Please turn around” you awkwardly asked.

“Of course my lady”

She turned towards the wall staying firmly in place while you untied your sheet covering your body leaving the sheet on the cool marble ground, sitting on the edge of the ledge you let your toe test the water before completely submerging into the milky, fragrant mixture.

“Is the bath to your liking my lady”

You looked back towards the wall to see galina with the utmost patience at the spring wood on the wall.

“Its very different than what im used to”

You completely sink your chest under the water letting yourself be soaked in the small white petals swirling in the water.

“You know you can turn around Galina” you reassured

“Ah of course my lady”

You could see the dark violet flash of her cloak as she faced you standing in an attentive way.

“Lián”

You only looked over the steamy bath towards Galina.

“would you feel comfortable for me to wash you?”

Your face heated at the suggestion only making an awkward sound from the back of your throat akin to gagging.

“Is this a snezhnaya thing or something?” You gawked.

Galina only laughed allowing you to hear her laugh for the first time since she had become your bodyguard of sorts.

“i'll assume you've never been bathed before my lady lián”

you only sunk into the water even more.

“Trust me once our lord returns you'll have more than enough baths you won't ever go back to those cold streams you bath in”

Your mind blanked out at the mention.

Cold streams…

Silently you looked over at galina who was grabbing a small wash cloth and different tools you saw once in a high end salon where Yelan and Keqing had gone to.

“How did you know about that”

You lifted your knees to your chest.

No one knows about my childhood

Galina only brought the items to the natural stacked ledge besides where you were soaking, humming a small tune as she grabbed a stone like item.

“I've heard from different subordinates that Liyue uses cold streams of water to shower; I just naturally assumed my lady”

She grabbed your arms closest to her, extending it before the rough surface of the stone rubbed over your arms.

“I hope I didn't step on your toes”she quickly added apologetically.

you shook your head watching as she scrubbed your arms and back with the stone and washcloth.

“No not at all”

Galina only continued to scrub you in the tub idly scrubbing away at your skin.

“You should relax lián; you know it isn't good to be this tense” she pressed into your legs.

“I'm just… thinking”

“About what my lady?”

“If it's about the banker he should be barely leaving the harbor right now”

“What do you mean? Wasn't he supposed to be gone early in the morning” you turned your head inquisitively to Galina still carrying on rubbing the rough stone on your feet.

“He was but… he had something to take care of first in the harbor before he left” she murmured lowly.

You hummed in acknowledgement; galina grabbed your feet from the tub leading them to the cool natural ledge before she began to give your feet a pedicure of sorts.

“Oh wow your feet seem awfully rough my lady” galina poked and prodded at your feet.

“A bit unfitting for the harbingers fiancee”

You began to furiously blush before you puffed your cheek.

“I'm surprised a apothecary woman would have feet as if they've ran around in rocks all day”

“I travel around the harbor a lot”

You purse your lips together.

“Well thank goodness we have a whole month to spend together. I can make you look like a princess by the time our lord comes back” galina happily continued scrubbing your feet.

“Yeah”

Thank goodness

“Are you sure I need all of this to go to the harbor”

You pulled at the loose peach and orange train pooling around the entrance of the veranda.

“No no Lián, leave the dress alone!” Galina exclaimed from behind you running up the stacked staircase where your dress was currently laying.

“But this seems so… dramatic for a trip to the market” you frowned.

You looked down at the flowing dress you wore. this one being more summery and bigger on you with colors that reminded you of a sunsettia, the fabric wrapping around your neck covering your chest and eventually being tied in a ribbon on the back of the skirt of the dress.

“Remember what I said Lián~”

Galina retired the ribbons on the back of your dress.

“Princess training began this morning!”

She said with her hands on her hips.

“Whatever i'll just got find Fedor this instant to free me from this torture ” you walked up towards the steep steps leading inside.

“oh you think he isn't in the know lián?” Galina giggled

“He was the first one I explained my plan to”

You stopped in the doorway crossing your arms.

“Lián, are you ready?” Fedor's voice came from within the hazy sitting room ahead of you.

Moving out of the way for your bodyguard as he materialized from fire energy next to you this hood covering him as usual.

“Of course, but I'd like to ask if I can go back home first to collect something ”

Fedor and Galina stayed silent at your request.

“Im afraid—”

“We can't let you go back to your previous home”

You raised a brow.

“It's not that we want to but our lord explicitly told us to keep you here”

“In your new abode”

You sighed, “well if he said so I guess i'll wait”

They only both continued in front of you as they guided you out from the cave into the cavern opening.

The clouds were low making it hard for you to determine the exact location you were at, a path presumably leading down the mountain was the only notable thing you could take note of.

A small carriage was waiting in front of the large rocks lining the entrance of the tall cave. A few agents standing guard next the carriage looking to be regular fatui soldiers as they each nodded as you strided past, your two guards following diligently behind you.

When you reached the carriage you were about to step inside when the door opened only for you to be stopped by fedors large gloved hand on your bare shoulder.

“My lady wait—”

Ruffling in his coat pocket he pulled a dark blindfold out.

“I'm sorry we must do this as a security measure my lady”

He wrapped the blindfold around your face, securing it behind your ears.

Unfortunately it was thick enough to not see much under or over the opaque cloth.

Presumably Galina grabbed your hand leading you into the carriage along with Fedor carrying the length of your dress into the carriage.

Sitting on the velvet seats you felt the carriage go forward carrying on the descent down the mountain.

Trying to notice the different twists and steep turns you listened for anything to give a hint on where the mountain was.

“Once we get to the base of the mountains we should be able to free you from the blindfold” fedor spoke from your left side.

“And then we should be at the market in about 20 minutes,” Galina spoke from your right side.

You nodded fiddling with the loose fabric around your lap as the carriage continued a while longer around a turn.

“So….”

You cleared your throat.

“Does all of pantalones conquest get this treatment”

“My lady! You are not just a one night stand” Galina nudged your arm.

“yes my lady, you are his beloved”

“I'm going to assume he just told you to say that in case I asked” you shrugged, “besides i'm sure he's got many choices in snezhnaya”

“please my lady don't be so modest”

“I'll try ”

Finally the carriage took a swift turn before you felt fedor grab your blindfold.

“The harbor awaits”

You felt the blindfold come off seeing the familiar harbor you'd seen for many decades.

Your home

The market near the bustling harbor was the first stop, many different wares were brought since it was the first of the month allowing you to walk the pier system below and look for exotic wares you couldn't afford usually.

The only perk to pantalone.

The stares of the people around you was a massive weight on your shoulders.

A few vendors assumed you immediately to be royalty or from the few families of wealth in the harbor.

Others looked and leered at your guards surrounding you as you went to food stalls to get different foods.

But you didn't see the pair of eyes you needed to see.

Only, luck was somehow on your side.

Galina suddenly stiffened up as she got behind you, her lantern brimming with electricity crackling around you causing you to jump away.

Unaware of what was happening you tried to move forward to see what she was preparing to fight you felt Fedor grab you moving you away towards the alley next to the tall tree above the market.

Peeking over the tall fatui agent you were able to see the millelith

Finally they noticed

You didn't know Galina could fight until now; the clash between the spears and her electricity struck the soldiers before it’d disperse violently in dark purple and electric blue hues lighting the colorful market as she twirled and generated more electro energy.

The immense number of millelith swarming the area grew as Galina tried her best to take them down one by one,

Seeing her grow sloppy in her movements you watched Fedor stealthy disappear into the shadows casted underneath the sparse trees.

Reappearing amongst the millelith was all you saw as him and galina began to fiercely fight on against the barrage of assaults occurring around you.

A blue thin line was casted around your waist, the familiar thread like luminous blue strings glowed around you before you were picked up from where you were standing against the vacant alley.

Elemental energy vibrating around your arms as you suddenly found yourself on the rooftop of the shipyard.landing with a rough thud you were brought to your knees as your flash of orange and blush dress fell around you like a vibrant flower petal on rooftop shingles.

“Huh I guess I was worried for nothing”

A familiar mischevious voice approached behind you.

“All dressed up and well fed” her manicured hands picked up the orange train on the back of your long dress.

You rose to your feet only glaring back at your lavish boss a sight you wouldnt admit was welcomed.

“Yeah, yeah— why the sudden rescue? You said you'd never interfere in any operations unless…”

Your eyes widen with realization as you turned to yelan.

A grim expression on her face as she looked you deep in your eyes with sincerity.

“So the worst has come upon us then?”

“Worst I fear” yelan exhaled

Worst news than we can imagine

Pacing back and forth combing your manicured nails through your hair nervously, you couldn't stop yourself from shaking as you looked over to the sprawling deep navy ocean in front of Yelan and yourself.

“What the hell do we do? Pantalone left to snezhnaya this morning”

“He could be resuming his hunt for the rest of us right now and we wouldnt even know”

The wind picking up;feeling the breeze flow through your dress.

“Your thinking is too grim (name)” Yelan crossed her arms before sitting on the raised shingles of the roof.

“Lau, Dan, and Lo are missing; not dead as far as I know”

“yes but five of our subordinates are dead. They could be bodies floating in Qingxu pool right now” you scratched your neck.

“If it's the fatui i'm next and eventually…”

“You”

Yelan only laughed a hardy loud laugh as she clenched her stomach.

“How dare they think they can take me down let alone take you too” she wiped a tear from her eye.

“No,the worst news is going to be what i'm about to tell you”

You only frowned before nodding for her to continue.

“Your going to be solo for the rest of this mission indefinitely”

“your dead in the water (name)”

disbelief was all you felt as you clenched the sides of your head.

“So what, im just stuck with that harbinger until when?” You fiddled with your hair.

”I’m sorry (name) I can't pull you out until we catch The Regerator”

“The risk is greater than you can imagine; if he finds out your working for us he could hold you hostage or worst”

Shaking your head in disgusts you didnt bother answering only letting your head fall, staring at the few trees below.

”I know you have your vision, if the worst comes up I know you could protect yourself”

”don't even bother”

You stood up on the roof letting your dress billow behind you as you approached the ledge of the roof.

”I’ll take the Regerator down by myself, no vision required”

looking around you saw the ally you were previously corralled in before you took one step back.

”see you”

Jumping from the roof into the alley with your dress made a parachute like effect, gracefully landing on your sandal clad feet onto the stony road.

It seemed the millelith was gone but your guards were frantically searching around the small market square, their obvious hoods looking around the few stalls that were still present from the fight that probably ensued while you were gone. The thought to slip off once more came to your mind only to be abruptly stopped.

Despite the lingering spite of yelan pretty much abandoning you

Her warning was what stopped you.

you were indifferent about taking down the Regerator at this point; but the overwhelming question of where your three coworkers were.

and hoping the worst wouldn't happen to you as well.

“Lián!”

Galinas iron grip around your arm was all you felt as she dragged you out from the shadows into the bright sunny day.

”Thank Archons we found you”

Fedor quickly rejoined you from behind as he inspected your bare arms and face.

“It should be safe now lady Lián, apparently we were confused for a few other fatuus that were wanted” Fedor began to guide you along with galina towards the main road to the harbor.

”But there shouldn’t be any more interruptions,” Galina chirped from beside you.

nodding was all you could say, or all you were free to say.

#yandere pantalone #pantalone x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere pantalone x reader #reader insert #yandere x you #yandere content

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xiaq · 1 year

Text

Steddie outsider POV fic Pt. 4

AO3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Eddie watches Steve leave the hospital room and Will watches Eddie watch Steve leave.

The longing is familiar. Will thinks—he hopes—that he hides his inadvisable crush a little better. Then again, Will is not currently high as a kite on painkillers recovering from a near-fatal injury. Eddie probably can’t help the way he looks at Steve right now.

“Are you in love with him?” Will asks. It’s maybe unfair to ask, all things considered. They barely know each other. But if Eddie is like him; if Eddie knows, he’d give anything to find someone to talk to. To see himself in. Especially someone like Eddie.

Eddie closes his eyes.

He doesn’t answer for several seconds. When he does, it's resigned. “Maybe.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Will says, because he’d want to hear it.

Eddie opens his eyes to roll them. “I know, kid. You ain’t too subtle either.” He makes a moue of distaste. “And you have shit taste in men. You could absolutely do better. At least I chose a suitably gorgeous out-of-my-league object of worship. If you’re going to pine after someone unattainable, have the self-respect to pick a really,” he sighs, the roll of words slowing to a crawl, “really impressive specimen.”

“Hey. I do not have—I think you’re hot.”

“You’re just confirming my point,” he says, gesturing to his admittedly pretty battered face. “Shit taste in men.”

Will feels like he should probably tell Eddie not to talk about himself like that, but he’s never been good at stuff like this.

“Steve has been here every day,” Will points out.

“Because we bonded through trauma and he thinks he owes me for valiantly saving Henderson’s life at the near expense of my own. We all know Dustin is his favorite.”

“I’m just saying. My situation is hopeless. I know that. Yours might not be.”

“Please stop talking, Byers.”

“Sorry. Can I ask about something else?”

“Sure kid.” Eddie sounds exhausted.

“When did you know? That you were—uh.”

“When didn’t I know,” he mutters. “I don’t think I ever had the luxury of not knowing.”

“But you’re so…”

Will gestures at him: the bandana holding back his curls, the rings and the nail polish and the oversized Metallica shirt Steve had cut down the back and added a safety pin fastening to at the top so the nurses still had easy access for bandage changes.

“You’re so cool. Different. Loud. And the guys said you aren’t afraid of anything. That you’ll get in jocks’ faces and make speeches standing on cafeteria tables. How do you do that without being afraid?”

“Being afraid of what?” Eddie asks, “Afraid if I’m noticeable people might notice? That I’m gay?”

He says it so easily. Will has never even said the word out loud. “Yeah.”

Eddie shifts, wincing, as he reaches to scratch his chin. “I was never good at being subtle, is the thing. So I didn't have much of a choice. But in middle school I started getting into fights. Because people suspected. By high school I figured if people were going to stare I’d give them a reason before they could make their own. It was—”

He drops his hand, flexing his fingers, considering the rings on them.

“It was sort of like designing a character. Except the character was myself. The summer before freshman year, my uncle took me to Indy and we hit all the thrift stores. Found me a whole new wardrobe, and he taught me to sew to customize some vests. I figured it’d be easier to BS my way through acting brave if I looked the part.”

“And that worked?”

“It worked,” Eddie agrees quietly, attention still on his hands. “Maybe a little too well.”

“Huh.”

Will touches the slightly jagged line of his hair. He tugs the collar of his shirt and studies the scuffed toes of his sneakers. “If I wanted to do something like that, would you help me?”

“Of course,” Eddie says. “Yeah, of course. Just say when.”

***

Three months later, Will drives to Eddie’s trailer in his shiny new bribe-from-the-government car and knocks on the door.

There’s a crash, a muffled thump, and then Eddie hissing, “Ow, fuck—no don’t, I’m fine, just stay––I know, but hold on. I think it’s one of the kids.”

“Uh…Eddie?” Will calls. “Are you ok?”

“Fine! Totally fine. One second.”

And then Eddie is wrenching open the door just wide enough that he can poke his head out. His mouth is red. His face is flushed. He’s wearing jeans that are neither buttoned or zipped and it is readily apparent that there’s no underwear underneath them. Will drags his attention back up to Eddie’s face, probably slower than he should, but Eddie is hot, even with––maybe especially with––all his scars. Sue him.

“Hi,” Eddie says, more a panted exhalation than an actual word. “What’s up?”

“Hi.”

Will may have woefully nonexistent sexual experience, but he knows what a hickey looks like. And Eddie has…a lot of them. He has like, an entire necklace of hickies.

Eddie frowns at him, follows the direction of his attention, and then brings up a hand to cover his throat. “Oh, you motherfucker,” he mutters.

“Sorry?”

“No no, not you.”

“I can…come back later,” Will says. “If you’re doing something else.”

He thinks he hears muffled laughter from inside.

Eddie sighs. “It’s fine.” he glances behind him, running a harried hand through his even-wilder-than-normal hair. “My boyfriend is here, but he can wait.”

“Oh. Oh.” Will is sort of dumbfounded that Eddie found someone in Hawkins. Maybe he’s not from Hawkins. Maybe he’s visiting from somewhere else? “That’s great. That’s really great, Eddie. But what about––”

“SO,” Eddie says loudly, before Will can say Steve’s name, “why is it that you’ve graced my humble abode with your presence, Will the Wise?”

“Um,” Will says. “You know that thing we talked about, in the hospital?”

“We talked about numerous and sundry things in the the hospital.”

“About not being afraid anymore. About giving people something to look at.”

Eddie’s expression softens. “I do.”

“I think I’m ready to not be afraid anymore. But I need help.”

“I see. How wild are we getting here, kid?”

“Hair and clothes. And maybe…I was thinking maybe get my ear pierced.”

Eddie whistles. “I’m honored you’ve selected me to accompany you on this journey. Is there anyone else you want to join the party?”

“I was thinking maybe Steve. Except he wasn’t home when I went by earlier. I thought I saw his car parked a few houses down from here, though. He might be at Max’s.”

Eddie presses his palms together like he’s praying, and touches pursed lips to his index fingers. “Give me a minute,” he says. And abruptly disappears behind a slammed door.

There’s frantic whispering, a choked off laugh, and then the door is being pulled open again by—

Steve.

“Holy shit,” Will says.

Steve is also shirtless; his pants are at least buttoned. His chest looks like it’s been clawed by an Eddie-sized cat, though.

Will tries to tell his dick that the situation is mortifying, not sexy. His dick does not agree.

“So,” Steve clears his throat. “Impromptu trip to Indy?”

“We’ve both got work tomorrow,” Eddie says, “but Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Will agrees.

He can’t stop staring at Steve’s arm, curled proprietarily around Eddie’s waist; at Eddie’s hand resting on Steve’s wrist, like he’s not even conscious of its placement. Will wants that. He wants it so bad it winds him.

“Hey. Don’t make that face,” Eddie says, like he knows exactly what Will is thinking. He probably does. “You’re sixteen. You’ve got time. Hardly anyone ends up with their highschool crush. I’m an outlier.”

“And no offense dude, but Mike?” Steve says, “You could totally do better.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Hold on,” Steve backtracks, turning to look at Eddie. “I was your teenage crush?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “What? No.”

“That’s literally what you just said.”

“We really need to get you back to that concussion doctor,” Eddie says, “because clearly you’re hearing things, and auditory hallucinations are very concerning.”

“Hey,” Will interrupts.

Those both turn back to look at him.

“I’m driving,” he says, trying to sound firm. “I’ll pick you both up here at 9am on Saturday.”

“You’re assuming I’ll already be here?” Steve asks.

“Won’t you?” Will argues.

“I like this assertiveness, Byers,” Eddie says approvingly. “A+ start. But maybe you pick us up at ten.”

“Nine,” he repeats. “See you then.”

He nods decisively and turns to walk back through the yard.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters behind him. “These kids are going to kill me.”

“Shut up, you love them,” Eddie says, and then, louder, “Hey Byers, keep this to yourself, will you? At least for now.”

Will holds out his hand, thumb up.

When he gets back in the car, Will puts in a Dio tape and cranks up the volume. He grins all the way home.

***

Will arrives at the final Hellfire club meeting of the summer wearing a cropped Black Sabbath shirt, ripped jeans that rival Eddie’s, and shitkicker boots that were well worth the eye-watering amount of money he paid for them. His hair is fresh-shaved on the sides and slicked back on top. The guys are mostly used to his new look by now but Max and El both give him appreciative once-overs that are gratifying.

“Bitchin,” El says approvingly.

Will’s attention doesn’t linger on Mike. Doesn’t look for his specific reaction. It hurts less to look at him, now; gets easier every day to see him and El and not feel like their affection is engineered to hurt him. It helps that he’s gone back to Indy twice since he went with Steve and Eddie. He’s still too baby-faced to get into the bars, but he can wander through the record stores and thrift shops in the neighborhood. Sit in a cafe where no one knows him or his name. Flirt, carefully, while bumming a cigarette from a cute guy with a bandana in his pocket. The world is so much bigger than Hawkins. And he’s going to see it one day.

However, he’s still stuck there for two more years, and he plans to make the best of his time. Exhibit A: Today is both the end of Eddie’s final campaign, and the day in which Eddie selects his successor as dungeon master.

Will thinks, maybe, it might be him. He wants it to be him.

Except when he gets to the basement, there’s no sign of Eddie. And Eddie is never late.

“Has anyone talked to him today?” Dustin asks. He’s pacing.

No one has.

“Have you tried calling him?” Will asks.

“Yeah.”

“Have you tried calling Steve?”

“Why would I call Steve?”

“Maybe just try? They’ve been hanging out a lot recently.”

Max meets his eyes and Will gets the distinct feeling she knows.

Dustin stomps up the stairs, then back down again a minute later.

“No one picked up at Steve’s house either.”

“Robin?” El suggests.

Dustin groans and heads back upstairs.

“No,” he yells down. “Any other suggestions?”

“Family Video,” Lucas shouts.

“Or the garage!” Mike says.

Dustin has a muffled conversation first with someone who is clearly neither Steve nor Robin at Family Video, and then a longer conversation with someone else at the garage. It’s full of stops and starts and anxious-sounding questions.

“Guys,” Dustin says, coming back down the stairs. “I think Eddie and Steve might be in trouble.”

“I’ll drive,” Will says.

They’re piled in the car and tearing off toward the garage in a matter of minutes.

“Tell me again what he said,” Max demands.

“Jason Carver and some of the guys came in to drop off a car and they were harassing Eddie last week. Since then, they’d been waiting in the parking lot across the street sometimes when Eddie got off work. So Steve has been picking him up.”

“Okay but what about today?”

“He didn’t know!” Dustin’s voice cracks in Will’s ear where he’s leaned forward over the center console from the back seat. “He said that Eddie came in to work a few hours in the morning and Steve picked him up. That Jason and his friends may have followed them but he wasn’t certain.”

“What time?”

“Over an hour ago.”

“Shit.”

“Where would they go? If they’re not at their houses?”

“The quarry,” Will says. “Or skull rock.”

“Why would they go there?” Dustin shrieks.

Will meets Max’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

He abruptly changes course.

Quarry first.

His stomach goes sour when they round the corner. Because there are two vehicles at the quarry. One is Steve’s BMW. There’s a rucked quilt on the hood and one glass coke bottle tangled in it, tipped on its side, staining the floral fabric. A second bottle is on the ground, shattered by the front tire. Steve’s keys are laying in the gravel next to the broken glass.

The second vehicle, parked at a haphazard angle beside it, is Jason Carver’s truck. All four doors are open. The engine is still running. The radio is still on. But there are no people to be seen.

“Oh no,” Dustin says. “Oh no, no, no. This is not good.”

“Shit,” Lucas says, “shit, ok. So they probably ran for the woods, right? Do we have any weapons?”

“Lucas,” El says.

“Ok, obviously you. But we’re going to have to split up to search for them and the rest of us can’t exactly defend ourselves with our minds.”

Will pops the trunk.

And gets out the bat.

He’d felt kind of ridiculous when he’d made it, carefully hammering nails into the wood until it looked like Steve’s. He hadn’t even practiced with it or anything before he’d put it in the trunk with the first aid kit and the jumper cables and the tire iron: all things he’d hoped he’d never have occasion to use. He’s grateful for it now as he swings it experimentally.

“Dude,” Lucas says.

“Nice,” Max says. She takes the tire iron.

“Let’s go,” Will says.

***

It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that Will is the one who finds them.

It feels right, all things considered. Less Deus Ex Machina and more destiny.

Eddie is on the ground and Steve is standing over him, arms out, like he can protect him from Jason––Jason who is pointing a gun at Steve's chest, while his three goons are circled around them, watching.

A gun. God, it’s almost insulting. The very idea that a gun might be the thing to end one of their lives.

Steve’s voice is low and frantic.

And Will is angry.

He knows he should be scared. Maybe he is. But he’s faced far worse that Jason fucking Carver. And when he looks at Jason he sees Lucas’ battered face and Max’s casts. He sees every bully with straight teeth and a letterman jacket that ever shoved him in a hallway.

The hand not holding the bat curls into a fist.

“Hey,” he shouts, and stalks forward.

“Stop right there,” Carver says, swinging around wildly to take aim at him.

“Or what?”

“Do you not see the gun in my hands?”

“Yeah, you see the bat in mine?”

He keeps walking.

“You think I’m joking?” Carver’s arm is shaking.

“You think shooting me will work?” Will shouts back, heart loud in his ears, but voice shockingly cavalier, “I came back from the dead once, maybe I’ll do it again.”

He keeps walking.

“What the fuck,” one of the guys says, “is that Beyers?”

“Jason,” another one says, “Jason, come on, this isn’t what we talked about. Harrington and now the Beyers kid? You can’t––”

“Shut up,” Carver yells.

Will keeps walking.

He brings his free hand to his mouth and whistles. Loud. Piercing. Something the party had practiced until they all could do it three summers before.

He immediately gets three whistles back.

“Over here!” he shouts. He stops walking just within range of Carver.

He plants his feet. He taps the bat against the side of one boot.

“You’re about to be outnumbered,” he says.

“Fuck man,” one of the guys says. “I’m out.” And with the sudden departure of one, the rest follow. Including, after a moment, Jason himself. He starts with a few steps backward, then his arm drops to his side and he scrambles into a run.

Steve watches them until they’re out of sight, and then he’s collapsing like a puppet whose strings have been cut, reaching for Eddie as Eddie reaches for him, colliding in a tangle of desperate hands.

“Are you okay?” they demand of each other, and then, after a moment of frantic reassurances, they turn to face Will.

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve says, eyes on the bat. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Gee, can’t imagine where he learned it from,” Eddie mutters, spitting blood as they struggle to their feet. Steve doesn’t look to be in much better shape than Eddie but at least his face is mostly unscathed.

“Oh, don’t even try to pin this on me.” Steve wraps one arm around Eddie’s waist to keep him upright and throws out the other to gesture half-heartedly at Will. “Look at him.”

“Well sure, but I don’t go around with a fucking nail-bat in my trunk and I sure as hell don’t provoke people when I’m up against stupid odds unlike some dipshits who have no appreciation for their own mortality.”

“The safety was on,” Will points out. He whistles again. Three whistles back again, this time accompanied by shouting.

“What?” Eddie says.

“Jason,” Will says. “The gun he was holding. The safety was on. I definitely could have hit him before he could have shot me.”

Eddie lets out a hysterical little laugh.

He trips on something and nearly takes Steve down with him.

“Whoa, hey.” Steve hoists him back up as Max and Lucas come stumbling through the undergrowth.

“Oh shit,” Lucas says, “guys, are you ok?”

“Peachy keen,” Eddie warbles.

Steve uses his shirt to wipe blood off Eddie’s upper lip. Will thinks his nose might be broken.

“Hey, look at me,” Steve says. “How’s your head?”

“Fucked,” Eddie groans. “Probably still better than yours, though, sweetheart. Should change your name to King of Brain Damage.” He blinks blearily at Steve, smiling through pink-stained teeth. “ Or maybe King of pretty eyes.”

“Stop trying to flirt when you’re concussed.”

Dustin crashes into the clearing next, throwing himself at Steve and Eddie and nearly dumping them back onto the ground with his exuberance.

And then El and Mike are there and Will is handing his bat to Lucas and pulling Eddie’s other arm over his shoulder, nodding to Steve as they move forward.

“Hospital?” He asks.

“No,” Eddie whines between them.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “And we gotta call Hopper to come get pictures and take our statements.”

“Hopper is gonna kill us,” Mike sighs.

“Nah,” Steve says. “But Joyce might kill Jason for pointing a gun at Will.”

“...do we have to tell them that part?” Will asks.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Steve says.

Will sighs.

It’s going to be a long night.

Ten minutes later, they stumble out of the trees and make their way down the quarry rim to the cars. Carver’s truck is gone.

“Will,” Steve says, “you mind driving us?”

Will glances across Eddie’s ducked head to meet Steve’s eyes. “Sure.”

“You’re going to let someone else drive the BMW?” Dustin says incredulously. “You never let anyone else drive the BMW.”

“Special circumstances,” Steve says. “Hey, Sinclair. You got your permit, right?”

Lucas looks like this might be the best day of his life.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Passed with flying colors.”

“Be still my heart,” Eddie croons, “for King Steve cannot bear to be separated from his humble bard.”

“Bard, sure,” Steve mutters, “humble, not so much.”

“You wound me, sire. And on my deathbed too?”

“You’re not dying,” Steve argues, aggrieved. “Hold on.” He opens the back car door and Will helps Steve slide Eddie inside.

“I can sit with him,” Dustin says. “If you still want to drive, I mean.”

“No,” Steve says. “It’s fine.”

“We cannot be parted!” Eddie shouts from inside, “For Lo! Young we are and yet have stood like planted hearts in the great Sun of Love so long (as two fair trees in woodland or in open dale stand utterly entwined and breathe the airs and suck the very light together) that we have become as one, deep rooted in the soil of Life and tangled in the sweet growth!”

“Is that…” Dustin bends, hands on his knees, to frown at Eddie. “Why are you quoting Tolkien’s wedding vows?”

“Boys are so stupid,” Max says. “No offense, Will.”

“None taken,” Will murmurs.

“No offense Will?”” Lucas repeats.

Steve exhales loudly, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose, but he’s smiling. He crawls into the back seat, pulling Eddie’s head into his lap. He runs his fingers, gentle, through the mess of Eddie’s hair. He smooths his thumb against the quickly swelling curve of his cheekbone.

“Wait,” Lucas says. “Wait, wait, wait. Are they––”

“Uh,” Mike says.

“So stupid,” Max repeats, stooping to pick up Steve’s key’s from the ground. She tosses them to Lucas. “Come on, let’s go. We can deal with your complete inability to see what’s right in front of your faces at the hospital.”

Will agrees. Dustin slides into the passenger seat of Will’s car, still spluttering, as Will is buckling his seatbelt. He starts the engine.

He glances in the rearview mirror just in time to see Steve duck to press his lips to the mangled bridge of Eddie’s nose; to see Eddie’s grin in response.

“Wedding vows, huh,” Steve murmurs.

“I’m concussed,” Eddie says primly, “I’m out of my mind.”

“On that we’re agreed,” Steve says, but he’s looking down at him with such fondness it makes Will feel like a voyeur.

He suppresses a smile of his own and puts the car in drive, turning up the radio over Dustin’s demands for details.

If he wasn’t before, Will is definitely going to be Eddie’s choice for dungeon master, now. Did Dustin save Eddie’s life by threatening Jason Carver with a nail bat while Jason Carver was pointing a gun at his face? No. No he did not.

Will did.

Pt. 5 (Tommy Hagan)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #stranger things #myfic #promtps #will byers

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sumuraj · 8 months

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homelivingthings · 1 year

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#luxury wardrobe #luxury wardrobe design #luxury wardrobe with drawers and mirror #3 door luxury wardrobe #2 luxury Door Wardrobe #luxury Cupboard #4 door luxury wardrobe

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Good manners cost nothing.

Certaining when you barely had a few wons to your name, that was all you could afford. And your pride.

So just because your neighbour essentially said ‘leave me alone, have a nice life’, he still did you a favour.

That you owe him for.

Love thy neighbour and all that.

Gun Park’s home is not homely by any stretch of the imagination.

All black and white and grey, nearly industrial in taste with wooden accents. Straight lines and sharp edges softened by nature’s hues.

Very few furnishings adorn his apartment, minimal and just shy of clinical. Anything that has a place is the best of the best, luxurious and with an exorbitant price tag to match.

Handcrafted bed from Sweden, which apart from Gun’s, has not experienced the same body twice.

Imported italian coffee machine, used only with beans from Kenya. Drink of choice: 2 shots of espresso, taken as is.

Never-used cooking appliances, still brand new and silver and top of the range.

L-shaped sectional sofa from one of the hottest designers in South Korea, selected and praised by HNH’s own Interior Designer with words that held no interest to Gun.

An obscenely huge bathtub in the corner of a spacious bathroom and facing a breathtaking view. A shower with a rainfall head amongst other sprays and nozzles. Both having washed away a lifetime (and then some)of dirt and grime and blood.

Enough space for a personal home gym in one room (even if the building does include a gym and pool for communal use), and a walk-in wardrobe the size of most other pads in Gangnam.

He’s not much for sentiment, just a couple of more meaningful trinkets here or there. Reminders of Japan and souvenirs from his victims.

Most surprising of all, in a lone forgotten corner, outlined against the impressive, sprawling cityscape and where the best sun spot should be, sits a plant.

Given to him by Goo Kim as a joke for housewarming, “Let’s see how well you can keep something alive”.

Gun’s first urge was to throw it back in his face. Though. The idea of keeping something living intrigued him. A little challenge.

Healthy and vibrant and green with long spiky leaves when it was thrusted into Gun’s hands.

It didn’t hold his attention for long.

Kept alive in the early days by the cleaner, before Gun realised he hated the idea of someone touching his things and being in his space.

Now a sad, neglected eyesore. Shrivelled and brown and hanging on for dear life. Lucky to get a few squirts of water once a month; momentary rejuvenation until it is left to wither again.

And lastly.

Hidden in the cabinet below the huge TV, regularly rotated out for the latest model, lives a few gaming consoles.

...Because Gun is still a young bachelor after all. He isn’t completely immune from the psychological thrills of video games.

Minimal as it is, and busy as Gun is - it’s still his home.

A sanctuary full of things he has collated and deemed worthy enough to be in his life that he makes sure to regularly return to.

Today, he’s ready for a weekend of nothing. No doubt his leg will bounce and get twitchy after a few hours, but the last few weeks of being on the go with the Four Crews has taken a toll.

Not to mention the hijinks with his neighbour yesterday. Someone that looks like they don’t belong in this district, nevermind in the building.

Yet you knocked on his door.

On Shiro Oni’s door.

Exuding a quiet confidence even as your body betrayed your nerves. Even as two spots of pink appeared on your cheeks once you took in the full view of Gun Park.

Most fascinating of all is that you saw his eyes, treated it as an everyday occurrence, and did not hesitate or flinch.

Huh.

You ring the doorbell again.

At first, you thought this was an excellent idea.

But now, as you wait (seriously, what is Gun doing in there), you’re feeling more and more foolish.

Tupperwares of homemade kimchi stew, and kimchi sits in the crook of your elbow.

Because when someone has enough money to drown in, and obviously someone living in this building should have, then there’s nothing like a homemade touch.

Here he comes.

The footsteps don’t sound irritable today. Thank the heavens. Maybe antsy, a little too quick footed to be relaxed.

The door is flung open, and your neighbour greets you.

Ok, his footsteps didn’t sound irritable but his face certainly is.

And how does this guy have this effect on you?

Your throat dries up as you notice his hair flopping over one eye, no longer messy after a full day of what must be work, instead likely just leftover from his bedhead.

(Bed. Head. your horrid nasty brain repeats as you think about his BED.)

The linen shirt and pants. Chest bared, pretty collar bones on show and teasing the outline of hard pecs.

Relaxed mode, weekend mode.

Sleeves again rolled up and highlighting the tattoos and faint veins protruding on his forearms.

Seriously, did this guy choose the tattoo placement just to highlight his muscular forearms? Fuck him, it absolutely works.

Gun crosses them, leaning against his open door and observing you. His face, previously not bothering to hide his annoyance at being interrupted by you once again, only shows amusement. Amused to see how hard you are ogling him. It’s not new, though many don’t make it this blatantly obvious.

“Morning,” You hear your voice cracking and clear your throat. “Here.”

You hold out your tupperware boxes.

No hands receive them. They just hang there, in the air between you both.

Gun doesn’t move, continuing to look at you with a hint of a smile and an arched brow.

“It’s thanks. For yesterday.” You give the boxes a little shake. Why the hell can’t this guy just take it.

“No.” is all he gives, retreating back and closing the door.

Your foot darts out, jamming itself into the gap just before it shuts.

“Just take it,” you try to shoulder your way in a little, "it’s for you.”

“I’ve broken people’s necks for less. Move your foot.”

“Just take it,” you repeat again, “then I don’t owe you anything. We’re even.”

Gun considers this.

He didn’t think you owed him anything for yesterday, but you obviously did. It was a quick job in exchange for a peaceful evening, not out of the goodness of his heart.

If this right now is what it takes to get you out of his hair-

“I promise I’ll leave you alone,” comes your voice.

And out of his life forever. Fine.

Gun relents, stepping back as you stagger forward and into his domain.

You hold out the boxes, avoiding his gaze, face bright red at how much of an idiot you feel and what a fuss this has turned out to be.

He finally takes them, once again fingers grazing yours. “Thanks.”

Your eyes meet his as that singular word catches you off balance. You didn’t think it existed in his vocabulary.

“Now get out.”

Ah, that’s more like it.

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism fanfic #lookism fics #gun park #park jonggun #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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thewidowsledger · 1 year

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Secrets Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 4: Am I Dreaming? | 2.3k

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairing: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: Mentions of scars, details of weapons

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

"Hey, you're not going aren't you?" Bucky asked, knocking on Natasha's open office door.

She signaled him to come in, "I will, actually."

"For real?" Bucky asked not believing Natasha's word.

"Hm." Natasha smirked at his amusement, she stood and took her bag and keys.

"Finally…" Bucky said with a firm yet gentle tone, "That's nice, Nat."

"Yeah, so drive me home. I'm going to crash some shit tonight." Natasha chuckled, throwing her car key to him.

Bucky was quick to catch it, he let out a loud laugh and pointed the key towards Natasha, "You don't mean that."

Natasha doesn't need big preparations for the event but she realized the need to retire to her sanctuary, her own private space where she could gather her thoughts and mentally prepare on what possible things she would encounter later. Well, she just hopes that she would not smell any disgust.

Bucky led Natasha towards the sleek, black luxury car waiting outside. "After you, boss." Bucky playfully opened the door for Natasha.

Natasha rolled her eyes on him and chuckled, "Quit it Barnes."

As they settled into the comfortable leather seats, the engine purred to life, its gentle hum soothing to Natasha's senses. Bucky watched her through the rearview mirror of the car, deep in her thoughts.

As they arrived at Natasha's residence, a luxurious mansion secluded behind the city, she thanked Bucky for his unwavering support and words of wisdom.

"You could be a therapist you know." Natasha clutched her bag and some papers as she made her way out to the car.

"You think?" Bucky chuckled at the idea coming out of her.

"Yeah, thanks for the lift and the words of wisdom." Natasha playfully rolled her eyes when she said 'words of wisdom.'

"For the lift? Hey, this is your car Nat, I'll return this to the compound right after while you on the other hand will have fun tonight, 'kay?" Bucky tried to command Natasha intimidatingly but she was already walking towards her front porch.

"We'll see that." Natasha muttered to herself.

⧗

The dimly lit corridors echoed with the sounds of her footsteps as she ascended towards her bedroom.

She buried herself in her queen-sized bed, her face thrown deep to the pillows. Her tiredness slowly seduced her. She grunted when she realized she needed to prepare. What she was thinking right now is, she needs everything to be over as quickly as possible so she could let sleep seduce her after.

"Everything will be over tonight…" Natasha muttered to herself as she slowly sat in her bed.

She made her way to her personal wardrobe area. Her gaze swept over the array of tailored suits that hung neatly in her walk-in closet, each garment meticulously selected to convey authority and sophistication. After a few moments of contemplation, Natasha's fingers deftly picked out a sleek, charcoal gray suit.

With the suit chosen, Natasha moved on to the finer details. She carefully selected a crisp white polo shirt, meticulously folded and she opened her drawer full of personalized cufflinks in it. She took the one with a carved Widow sign on it.

Satisfied with her choices, Natasha proceeded to the bathroom. Natasha stood before a big vanity mirror, assessing her reflection with a discerning eye. She took her robe out, her eyes traveled down her shoulders, her gaze lingered on the patterns etched into her skin for a few minutes. She gently caressed her skin; the tattoos carefully chosen to shield and hide her scars. Natasha dropped her head and put both of her hands to the countertop of the bathroom.

"I don't want this 'Pa, nasha rodoslovnaya - proklyatiye!" (our bloodline is a curse!)

Natasha shook her head and blinked her tears back, she doesn't have any time for this.

She immediately dressed herself, each garment fitting her form with tailored precision. She unbuttoned a few buttons of her polo and straightened her collar.

"Something's missing." She muttered to herself as she looked at herself in the mirror again.

She made her way to one specific room, lined with shelves of varying heights, stood Natasha's personal arsenal. The air was heavy with the scent of metal and oil. Each shelf held an array of weapons, meticulously organized and maintained.

Natasha approached the cabinet, her fingers gliding across the polished surfaces as she made her selection. Her trained eyes scanned the rows of firearms, blades, and other tools of her trade… some of them were actually stolen.

She carefully chose the weapons that would accompany her tonight, her hand grazed the smooth grip of a personalized compact pistol. She loaded it with some personalized bullet that has a clean-carved Widow symbol in it. She quickly turned and aimed the mirror behind her as if she was going to shoot someone, she eyed herself in the mirror while holding the pistol.

Natasha smirked and pecked a kiss through the barrel of the gun.

"You're coming with Daddy, baby."

⧗

The engine purred to life as Natasha slid into the driver's seat, her hands gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel. The sleek black car responded to her touch, obediently gliding through the busy city streets.

The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors as Natasha deftly maneuvered through the traffic. As she navigated the bustling streets, Natasha's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, briefly catching a glimpse of her own reflection. The dimly lit car interior accentuated the intensity in her eyes.

"Our blood will keep you alive, Natalia."

Natasha was once again lost in her thoughts, she gripped the steering wheel tightly as if she's going to break it. She took a few breaths trying to keep herself calm and composed. The rhythmic hum of the engine provided a steady backdrop to her thoughts. Natasha's mind raced as she drove her way.

As the car glided to a stop in front of the club's entrance, Natasha took a moment to compose herself. Adjusting her attire and ensuring her weapon remained discreetly concealed, she stepped out of the vehicle, radiating a commanding presence.

The bouncers at the entrance instinctively recognized her, parting the way with respect and wariness. Natasha strode through the threshold, the ambient sounds of music and conversation enveloping her. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable energy that charged the atmosphere.

Her heels clicked against the polished floors as she made her way through the place, with each step, Natasha exuded a sense of authority, her presence demanding attention and respect.

"There she is…" Rumlow called, which Natasha quickly heard.

"Wow, no girls sucking your dick. That's new." Natasha mockingly retorted.

"Well, that's for later," Rumlow whispered to her, "And one of my girls really likes you, I'll let you have her. Consider her a gift for being here." He playfully winked.

Natasha raised her brows at him, considering his offer. "We'll see, if I like her then I will have her."

"That's the heiress I know!" Rumlow exclaimed in victory. His laughter unified with the loud music of the club. Natasha just rolled her eyes on him. "Well, this way. If you wanna sit with us." Rumlow gestured his seat along with Zemo and Sharon.

Natasha scanned the room, and felt some familiar presence she didn't like, presence that disgusts her, and if being honest she didn't like most of the people here.

"The twins aren't here, I know." Sharon spoke as she watched Natasha sat across from her.

"What twins?" Natasha asked, glancing at Sharon with curiosity.

"The Evil Twins, the Maximoff's." Rumlow huffed, with a disgust in his tone.

"From what I've heard the twins went back to Sokovia for some business matters and they will fly back here this week." Zemo informed, glancing at the three of them.

"Oh, the brats. I'm not looking for them, I haven't even met those assholes yet and I have no interest considering the things I've heard about them." Natasha explained, maybe Sharon keenly observed how Natasha scanned the whole club and thought she was looking for the twins.

"Brats yeah, Valky said they would rent this place for a week or so just for the girls that work here." Sharon looked over at Natasha.

Natasha met her gaze and glanced around the club, "I could buy this place." She muttered to herself but enough for everyone to hear.

"Sheesh!" Sharon exclaimed cheekily. "That's the damn heiress!" Rumlow commented, raising his drink towards Natasha. And Zemo held his hands up in a mocking defeat. Natasha just rolled her eyes on them.

"The younger twin was the biggest patron of the Red Room," Rumlow suddenly opened up, he eyed them carefully, "The last thing I heard about them was when the older one bought a girl from the Red Room's bidding as a gift, and after a few days the girl is nowhere to be found. Poor girl, and that…" Rumlow groaned, he was lost in his thoughts, "Was the last time I wanted to hear anything about those fucking twins." There was a hint of sadness in his eyes and bitterness as he spat the words.

"Fuckers," he once again muttered. Rumlow may be a mob who sleeps around a lot but he cares for his girls.

"The Red Room…" Natasha leaned back to her seat and crossed her legs, not comfortable about the topic, "It's still around?"

"Not anymore." Sharon pointed to Natasha before taking her shot.

Natasha let out a sigh and nodded.

Natasha is only associated with a few organizations and mobs, only those she could trust. Starting with Rumlow also known as the Crossbones, Natasha's link in trading different kinds of firearms. Zemo, masked as The One, responsible for producing any kind of explosives. And Sharon, the Power Broker that gives her access to government secrets, prototypes and weapons whenever she needs to.

Natasha's business empire revolved around the clandestine world of armors, firearms, and espionage. Her operation was meticulous and highly organized, enabling her to stay one step ahead of her competitors and maintain a stranglehold on the market.

Natasha possessed an extensive network of contacts and informants, keeping her well-informed about potential opportunities to obtain valuable firearms. She had meticulously planned and executed operations to acquire these weapons, whether it involved intercepting shipments, infiltrating secure facilities, or exploiting weaknesses in the supply chain.

Her expertise in the field allowed her to procure a wide range of firearms, from conventional handguns to specialized military-grade weaponry. Natasha had an eye for quality and rarity, always seeking out unique and sought-after pieces that commanded high value in the black market.

But Natasha's dominance didn't end with physical weaponry. She had an intricate web of spies and informants strategically placed within rival organizations and law enforcement agencies, she is a spy herself.

But some of the business other organizations of mob bosses involve exploitation of humans in various forms. It was a side of the business that she despised, one that went against her principles and sense of justice.

Natasha's background as a mob boss didn't make her blind to the suffering caused by those who thrived on exploitation. She had seen firsthand the consequences of such actions and the pain it inflicted on innocent lives. It fueled her to run her own operations differently, to focus on power and influence without resorting to the same inhumane practices.

"You're lost in your thoughts, Widow. Tell me what are you here for? Business or…pleasure?" Zemo asked as he studied Natasha's behavior.

"What if I came here for both?" Natasha was good at gathering herself quickly, she gave him a playful smirk.

Sharon snorted at her, "You're here for a pussy are you?" She slid a drink towards Natasha.

Natasha let out a loud but sultry laugh, "I am way past that Carter…but who knows?" Natasha grabbed the drink and took it in one gulp.

"In fact I am giving her one of my girls, and she considered it." Rumlow winked at Sharon, "Tell me, do you want some too?"

"Want some what? Girls or drinks?" Sharon chuckled at his question.

"Both!" Rumlow exclaimed, their laughter filling the air, "Oh, I think the fun's about to start!

The lights went out and a loud sensual music began to play in the background.

"Speaking of girls…" Zemo butted in as soon as he saw a girl walking behind Rumlow.

The girl grabbed Rumlow's back shoulder and massaged it, "Hey…"

"Oh, my sweet Pea," Rumlow soothed her hands that is slowly reaching his torso. "My sweet Pea here really likes you, Natasha."

"Is she…" Natasha glanced at the girl Rumlow is pertaining to, but a figure emerging slowly yet seductively at the stage caught Natasha's attention.

"Yeah, she was the girl I offered you last time. But you were cocky and shit," Rumlow huffed, "So, my sweet Pea this is Natasha, and Natasha this is Penelope, my gift for you." Rumlow once again winked at her.

"Romanoff is the only one with a gift here?! Wow!" Sharon mockingly clapped with a playful jealousy showing. She looked at Zemo but Zemo only held his hands in the air and chuckled.

"Hey I asked you if you want some!" Rumlow exclaimed, he held a drink for Carter. "Here, drink first. There are a lot of girls that will come in, don't worry. But Natasha, right here, reserved her first. So this is a first come for serve policy."

Penelope looked at Natasha lustfully as she made her way to her, her hips swaying with the beat of the sound.

But Natasha was lost in thoughts; she never took her eyes away from the stage. Despite the darkness, she could clearly see a familiar figure moving. The moves were fluid, the body was a work of art as she started dancing in time with the pounding beat of the music. The body seemed to be in perfect harmony with the rhythm as it swayed and twirled, seamlessly transitioning between moments of gentle elegance and bursts of fiery and seductive intensity.

And she only knows one person who owns those moves. She wasn't dreaming...

It was you.

Secrets Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader

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anatee · 1 year

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INSUFFERABLE | General Hux x Reader | pt. 6

INSUFFERABLE | General Hux x Reader Smut. 18+. MINORS DNI. This is a direct continuation. I’m back, girlies and I wrote this somewhere in between the preparations for my real book to be published very soon. There will be more parts, of course, I'm still deciding if I want to destroy the Starkiller or not break his heart this time.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word count: 6.48K

Content warning: fem!reader x Hux; Force Awakens plot but everything happens much slower; soft Hux with feelings appears but he is also a bastard; a few curse words; smut: fingering, oral (f receiving), face sitting, this part is sponsored by Hux being the giver basically

"Come with me. I have something you'd like in my bedroom."

Bloody Hux. He knew exactly what to say to keep her going and all riled up, even after absolutely ravishing her just minutes earlier.

"A surprise? Another one? You sure know how to keep me on my toes."

Hux smiled smugly, then beckoned her to follow him to his bedroom. There, she immediately noticed a new piece of black and red furniture standing opposite the bed.

"A holotable?" she asked in surprise. It was one of the largest types she knew the First Order used, new and polished.

"Precisely." Hux entered, and the door closed behind him. "I had it installed today. Now we can... Watch things, should you wish."

A warm smile spread on Y/N's face at the mere thought. "It would be lovely to watch something with you and just relax..."

"Then we'll do just that."

She held his gaze for a moment, allowing warmth to fill her up completely. She walked up to him and cupped his face, then left a soft, affectionate kiss on his lips.

"You've been really spoiling me lately... But I can't say that I complain."

He let out a sigh, then offered her a soft smile, again experiencing some feelings he had never felt before. "Maybe I like doing it."

"I'll go take a shower before this then... Unless you want to join me?"

As much as he enjoyed the offer, he already had a plan.

"Go, I'll order dinner for us in the meantime."

"Always efficient planning." She nodded in admiration, then smirked. "I can see why they made you a general."

He shook his head, but allowed himself a smile. "You like walking on thin ice, don't you?"

She grinned at him. "Because we're on an ice planet, General."

Before he could reply, she grabbed something from the wardrobe and disappeared behind the bathroom's door. He couldn't stop smiling; she was a little bastard at times, and he had punished people for much less before. Yet, when she teased him like this, it was so enjoyable, it made his heart light, it made the stress from his body evaporate... He couldn't get enough of it.

Twenty minutes later Y/N came back to the bedroom in an outfit that made Hux raise an eyebrow.

"Is that my shirt?" he asked, adjusting his position on the bed, where he was sitting with the remote in hand.

She just smiled, adjusting the large, black shirt that covered her butt just barely, acting as a very comfortable nightgown.

"Maybe."

"You have your own wardrobe here and you're still stealing my clothes?" he asked as if he did not enjoy the view. Her legs were exposed completely, and it would be a lie to say she didn't look attractive in the unusual attire.

"But this is large, comfy, it smells like you and... Oh, tell me you don't like how I look," she argued, then settled herself on the bed, right next to him, her warm legs enjoying the cool feeling of his luxurious sheets.

"If you need new clothes, I can order them for you," he said to tease her, but at the same time, his offer was serious.

"Very funny."

"I was serious, though." He looked at her. "Is there anything you need?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Clothes, cosmetics, anything else of that sort? I told you I can order these for you."

"You... Would do that?"

"Y/N. You had probably noticed by now how much I'd do for you."

Her mouth fell agape. Of course, he had given her gifts before, but hearing such words was a completely different experience. She swallowed hard, trying to calm her heart.

"I don't want you to think I'm with you for all these perks."

"I never thought that," he replied immediately. "And I am offering. Who else am I going to give gifts to? Ren, maybe?"

Y/N couldn't help but let out a short chuckle. "Oh, I think he'd appreciate a gift just from you."

"Don't even make me imagine that." Hux visibly shuddered at the thought. "Y/N... Love," he began, making her feel even more excited, "I do not know much about all of this, but I know I want to care for you. And you know I have the resources to do so. And don't worry, I told you I have a trusted vendor."

Her heart melted as she gazed into his eyes, taking in the words that made her fall for him even more.

"You're wonderful, you know that?"

He chuckled quietly. "Say that to your dear friend Kylo."

Having said that, he passed her his datapad, smiling softly all the time. Hux took great pride in knowing that he made her this happy; it made him almost as satisfied as using the Starkiller weapon, and he was fascinated to discover these new feelings he had never had for anyone before.

"Choose something for yourself," he said, having opened the app through which she could make orders. While she started browsing, he turned on his new holo table, searching for something for them to watch.

"Oh, I know!" she said after a moment of scrolling through everything. "I'll order sheet masks."

Hux raised an eyebrow, taking a glance at the datapad's screen. "Sheet... What?"

"It's a skincare product. We'll use them together. They'll help you relax, promise. How about one with a porg on?"

He gave her a look of disbelief. "The General of the First Order with a porg mask on?"

She grinned mischievously, his response only making her want it more. "I can't wait to see that."

He shook his head, yet did nothing to stop her when she started choosing the masks. As long as he could have them delivered as something classified, there was nothing to be worried about.

Classified porg sheet masks.

"Oh, there came some message for you," she said, seeing a notification pop up on the screen. Hux didn't even glance at it, his eyes focused on the holo. He trusted her completely, hence allowed her to read the message, not very concerned about whether it was something classified or not.

"What is it?"

"It's Mitaka," she replied, having opened the message. "It's a severe snowstorm again... Should I send them an order?"

Hux rolled his eyes. "They can handle that themselves, idiots."

"So I will just tell him to fuck off..." She smiled, ready to type the message. "Officially, of course," she added quickly, having received a stern look from Armitage.

"Feisty, aren't you?"

"Learning from you."

"I do not swear on duty."

"And am I on duty now, General?"

He let out a sigh, but a smile was dancing at the corners of his mouth as he looked at her with genuine affection. "What would I do without you and these snarky comments of yours?"

She shrugged. "Bore yourself to death."

After that, she moved even closer to him, then placed a long, passionate kiss on his lips, one that left them both feeling a bit intoxicated. It was an unspoken confirmation that all this banter was there because of how much they cared for one another.

"It felt like you needed that," she whispered, barely parting from his lips, and he nodded.

"I did," he replied before repaying her with a kiss full of even more emotions than before.

She turned back to the datapad, sent the message to Mitaka and then finished choosing the products she wanted.

"That would be all." She passed him the datapad again. "If it's too many, I can remove them..."

"Too many?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at the screen. "You chose less than ten products."

"Because I don't want to take it all for granted..."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Seems like I need to add some myself."

He clicked a few buttons swiftly, then left the datapad on the night stand. "Ordered. Everything should be here tomorrow."

"Thank you, Armitage," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder to watch whatever he had chosen.

For a while, they watched the holo in silence, until Armitage's hand began to wander. At first, he just rested it on her thigh, then began massaging it, glancing at her just barely as if to ask for permission. She only smiled in response, doing nothing to stop him, so he allowed himself to keep going.

She had a feeling just touching her thigh may not be enough for him. He had been teasing her all day, and it seemed like he was nowhere near the end.

Hux's hand soon wandered underneath the shirt she was wearing, and he very quickly noticed it was... Just the shirt.

He shot her a stern look. "No underwear again."

She smiled at him, trying to look innocent, but he could see it all in her eyes. "It's healthy to sleep that way..."

"Surely," he replied before quickly placing his hand in between her legs, making her let out a small gasp.

And there he was, using his hands just like she wanted him to. His fingers were putting pressure in all the right places, circling her clit and folds carefully, pulling out the quietest whimpers from her. With every precise move of his finger, she became more and more excited, and he could feel the wetness growing rapidly.

"Quick today, hm?" He chuckled, finding his fingers already glistening with her arousal.

"You had me sensitive all day..."

"Oh, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Means I get to do this..."

He easily slipped his finger inside her, earning a moan that satisfied him greatly. It somehow turned him on, him pumping his finger in and out of her while they were both pretending to still watch whatever he put on. But did he even care for the show? The sighs, the moans and the slightly wet sounds of his finger moving against her soaked folds was all he needed to keep himself entertained.

"The food is taking long today, isn't it?" he asked, knowing very well she wouldn't be able to give

him a coherent answered as her moans grew louder, her chest raising and falling faster and faster as she quivered with arousal.

"Right there," she breathed out, throwing her head back against the headboard. "Please, keep rubbing right there..."

"There?" he asked with a mischievous smile on his face as he glanced over at her. Two of his fingers were going in and out of her at a rapid pace as his other hand kept on rubbing against her clit, just in the right places, as if he had a scanner to check which spots would bring her most pleasure. When he noticed even more wetness, he ignored her pleading him not to stop and took his hands away. She let out a shaky breath.

"No, no, Armitage, I beg you, let me..."

"I will, Y/N," he smirked, seeing the desparation in her eyes. "But I want to clean you up this time."

Before she could ask what he meant exactly, he adjusted his position on the bed to lay flat and indicated the spot above his face.

"Get over here."

Her mouth dropped as she realised what he wanted to do, but she had absolutely nothing against it.

"Gladly..." She slowly crawled towards him. "But you might just drive me crazy from everything that happened today."

"Maybe that's what I want," he replied without an ounce of hesitation, making her smirk as she put her knees on both sides of his head, then held onto the headboard to keep her pussy right above his mouth.

She could feel his hot breath against her sensitive skin as he chuckled, seemingly content with her position.

"Now that is quite the view."

Even just these words were enough to give her goosebumps. She could feel each of his breaths against her, and it made it harder to keep herself steady in that position. Before she could recover, his breaths were replaced by his tongue, making her whimper.

He was licking her all over, tasting, savouring both her and the moment, making sure not to miss a spot. The helpless moves of her hips, a clear indication of begging for more between the moans and the whispers, made him want to give her even greater pleasure. He knew how sensitive she was after everything that happened earlier in the day, and oh well, he wanted to exhaust her with pleasure.

He slid his tongue inside her, grabbing her hips at the same time and allowing her to ride it. She had never tried something like that before, but stars, this was one of the most pleasurable experiences her body was blessed to have. She kept on rocking her hips against his mouth, her nails digging into the headboard as she felt the inevitable building up, faster than ever before.

A loud, electronical buzz seared through the air, muting their heavy breathing just for a moment.

"It must be the food..." she uttered between the gasps as Hux's licks send a shiver after shiver through her body.

"I don't fucking care," he rasped against her, his hot breath making the sensations almost unbearably pleasurable.

"Hux!" she cried out without thinking, overwhelmed by the feeling of his tongue coming into contact with her overstimulated clit again.

And then it all stopped. She felt him back down as his grip on her hips tightened to the white of his knuckles.

"What did you just call me?"

His tone was almost sinister, sending a shiver down her spine. There was no Armitage that she knew anymore, it was General Hux of the First Order, speaking as if her life depended on his mercy. And at first, she got scared, her mind still clouded by pleasure... But then she remembered she had nothing to be afraid of, and smirked.

"Hux," she repeated proudly, holding onto the headboard and feeling his breathing against her wetness. "Is it high treason?"

"Yes."

"What is the punishment?"

He didn't reply—instead, he gripped her as tightly as he could and forgot about licking. He was devouring her at this point, sucking and grazing her folds and clit with his teeth, pulling a moan after moan of both pleasure and pain out of her throat. Her hair was sticking to her forehead, sweat dripping down as it took more and more of her power to keep herself above him and not just smash his face with her thighs. At this point, it only took a few more licks, a few more rubs of his fingers and she let go, crying out his name again. It shook her body to the core, emptying her mind of any thoughts; there was nothing but that incredible pleasure running through her veins.

She could not see it, but she could almost sense the smirk Hux had on his face after all of this. She fell onto the mattress next to him, helpless, exhausted and wet all over, her thighs burning along with her overstimulated pussy, her mind not allowing her any coherent thought.

Hux wiped his mouth, then watched her chest raise and fall quickly with satisfaction. Then, as if nothing happened, he left the room to finally receive their food.

When he came back, he stopped in the door to adore the sight he had created. Y/N was still on the bed trying to catch her breath, both her hair and the sheets a complete mess. Her skin was glistening with sweat, just like her folds which were still soaked.

"Look at you." He smirked triumphantly. "A little mess, aren't you?"

She raised her head slightly and looked at him in disbelief. "It's your fault."

"I'm not particularly sorry for what I did." He looked clearly amused as he set the tray with food on his night stand. "You enjoyed every second."

She just rolled her eyes, knowing he was right. Although exhausted, she sat up slowly and watched him walk to the bathroom. He came out of it quickly with a black towel. He then began wiping her skin, gently and tenderly, as if he didn't almost bruise her hips mere minutes earlier.

"Thank you," she said quietly when he finished, giving him a peck on the cheek. He smiled softly and walked back to the bathroom to get rid of the towel and wash his own face.

Soon they were eating on the bed, again, finally actually watching what Hux had put on. Both of them were happy, intoxicated with each other, exchanging pointed looks every few seconds. That day was a hell of a rollercoaster, full of pleasure, but also some pure feelings... Of something strong swirling between them.

They were just about to finish their food when Armitage's datapad buzzed. He looked at it, and Y/N watched a smirk form on his face.

"Oh, look at them. Seems like they managed to tackle the snowstorm without me." He rolled his eyes and put the datapad away as she giggled.

She loved that man.

For the next week, Y/N was not allowed the luxury of seeing or talking to Hux at all. He was busier than ever, with Starkiller preparing for a next attack and Kylo walking around, huffing and puffing because the scavenger girl he apparently needed so much was nowhere to be found, just like the droid.

Never before had she missed him this much. She could do with anything, just a look, a smile, she didn't even dare wish for a touch. He yearned for her just as much if not more, but was overwhelmed with duties, briefings, reports, and everything else. She got to speak to Kylo more than to her lover, and Ren was not in a particularly good mood, as his search was still failing.

It was a standard, cold evening on Starkiller when Y/N threw herself onto her bed still in her uniform, exhausted after her shift. Changing clothes seemed like too much of a task then, so she just stayed there and picked up her datapad. Oh, laying in Armitage's bed, especially in his arms, would be the perfect cure for this day...

She didn't normally approach him, usually he initiated their meetings because of safety reasons. However... She could send him a message, right? Even if he were busy, he could respond whenever he had the time...

Y/N didn't think about it much. She opened the private channel and sent him one simple message that conveyed everything she was feeling.

I miss you.

She sighed as she saw the message got marked as delivered. What now? He could not respond for hours, if at all. She was already trying to gather some will to go to the bathroom, when suddenly, her datapad buzzed.

He replied.

Then why don't you come and show me how much you miss me?

Her heart began racing immediately as she sat up on the bed. Energy began flowing through her at once, the tiredness long gone. She typed a reply as quickly as possible.

Where are you?

His reply came just as quickly.

In the briefing room.

She bit her lip. They have never met there before.

Alone?

Again, an immediate reply to her hopeful message.

Alone.

That was all Y/N needed to spring up and start fixing her uniform quickly.

I'll be there.

Since she wasn't on duty anymore, she untied her hair, put on some perfume and generally freshened herself up before leaving her quarters. She kept her uniform on so as not to be too suspicious, very aware of the security cameras that were in the briefing room.

Hux was standing by the long, shiny table of the room with three datapads before him. It seemed like he was watching all of them at the same time, focused, but the moment he heard the door open, he looked up immediately. A smirk formed on his barely lit face as he watched her approach him with a smile of her own.

"What is this non-statutory hairstyle, Lieutenant?" he asked, earning just a chuckle for her. He enjoyed it and she knew that.

"Long day?" she asked, keeping her hands to herself, even though she would love to just throw herself onto him as soon as possible.

He sighed, the dark circles under his eyes clear even in the dimly lit room.

"Too long." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Too long of a week."

"And you're still busy tonight?"

He sighed again, pointing to the datapads. "As you can see. I wasn't avoiding you, just so you know. All the things you ordered came to my quarters as well. It is just I barely had time to..."

"You know you don't have to explain that to me," she cut him off, smiling at him sweetly which he did not expect. "I don't blame you. I know how much you work... Can I help you in any way?"

His heart began beating faster. Even though it's been a while since their relationship started, it was still difficult for him to understand

He lifted just a corner of his mouth, leaning in slowly. "A kiss would be a good start."

"But the cameras?" she leaned back before he could touch her, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, Y/N." He gave her a smouldering look, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her towards himself. "Are you forgetting who I am? Maybe I need to give you a little reminder."

"What?"

Hux smiled triumphantly, seemingly satisfied with her reaction, then pressed a button underneath the table that locked the door.

"The cameras are long off. I do know how to prepare for you, love."

Shivers went down her spine as he said that. Oh, how she missed that feeling of his hands on her, and when he caressed her lower back with his gloved hands, it quickly gave her that pleasurable sensation she had been missing.

He placed a kiss on her lips, a sweet one, one that made them both crave for more the moment they parted. Who knew one kiss could work such wonders?

"I missed you," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. "You and your insufferableness. If it weren't for Ren's tantrums, I would have more time."

Y/N chuckled, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Aw, my poor little thing... You're like a parent with a rebellious teenager, hm?"

"What did you just call me?" he replied huskily, and she could see something switch in his eyes. "Oh, you're really asking for a reminder, Lieutenant."

Something about the way he said it made her knees weaker. She felt him slowly push onto her until her back hit the table, and then he kissed her passionately. His large hand began roaming

over her chest almost as if he wanted to rip her uniform apart.

"Is my uniform non-statutory, General?" she asked while she watched him look her up and down hungrily. She was happy to know his desire for her never died down, and he could read all of his intentions just from these moves.

He looked into her eyes, allowing all the yearning he had during the week to turn into lust.

"I will check. Thoroughly," he replied in such a tone that her skin got covered in goosebumps. "And punish you accordingly."

He unbuckled the belt on her waist, put it aside, then unbuttoned her shirt as quickly as possible and proceeded to put the material parts aside as if opening a curtain in a theatre. He revealed a black bra, one that lifted itself a little, uncovering a bit of her underboob, and it drove him crazy.

He lowered his head to place a kiss on the delicate skin between her breasts.

"For an insufferable lieutenant... You're exceptionally beautiful," he whispered, causing warmth to spread through her entire body. He knew just the right words to say.

"Thank you..."

"Thank you, General," he corrected her. "You need a good reminder of who I am."

He sent her one last short look before taking a step back to grab her hips and pull her pants down. Then, he kneeled down on the floor as his hand landed between her legs, pulling a loud sigh out of her. He began rubbing her through the thin material of her panties, kissing her inner thigh in the meantime.

She almost wasn't able to think at that moment; she missed that so much she almost forgot how strong were the emotions he could make her experience with the slightest touch. With every move and kiss, she felt like the yearning, the exhaustion, the stress of her duties disappear.

"Now, we can't be making any mess here... So you'd better hold still."

She swallowed, then let out a gasp as his movements became more rapid along with her breathing. Her body was reacting more and more intensely to his actions, and the fact that they were in the briefing room only added to the thrill. She knew the door was locked and no one would dare interrupt the General, yet had the unexplainable fear that someone may barge in and see her spread out on the table at any moment.

Hux noticed the wetness on his glove, and a smirk found its way to his face.

"Let's see... How long you can last without making a mess?" he whispered, then used one of his fingers to pull the material of her panties aside.

She saw his face for a split second before his mouth met with her hot skin. Her moan echoed against the walls so loudly that for a moment she worried someone might have heard her. However, the table and chairs of the briefing room were the only witnesses of Hux's mouth and tongue made her unable to think about anything else.

She saw him throw one of his gloves to the floor, then grabbed the rim of the table as he slid one finger inside her. He didn't give her much time before adding a second one, his mouth not leaving her clit for a second.

Her breathing got shallow. Her hand found his hair and tugged on it, pulling his face even closer as she buckled her hips to help herself. Seeing how much she enjoyed it, Hux added a third finger, sending her over the edge immediately. At that moment, she was not sure whether she was about to experience an orgasm or a heart attack.

But it was the former that washed over her, so intense she needed a moment to catch her breath again. Hux picked up his glove, then stood up quickly, rubbing his lip as he watched the picture before him with satisfaction.

"Now," he put his hand under her chin and made her look at him, "who made you feel this good?"

"You," she panted in response, but he was not happy with it.

"My rank."

"General."

He raised his eyebrows, as if prompting her to continue.

"General Armitage Hux of the First Order."

"Good girl." He smiled, then glanced at the table. "And look at you, you didn't even stain the tabletop."

"And here I thought," she said between pants, jumping off the table to put her pants back on, "you were tired."

"I'm never too tired for this," he replied quickly, putting his glove back on swiftly.

"I'm guessing you're expecting me to pay you back?" She began buttoning up her shirt again, as he looked back at his datapads like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

"I will gladly be paid back, but not now. Not today, even. I still have much to do," he explained, indicating the datapads. That was not the answer she expected, and she felt a knot form in her stomach. When he was back in the light of the screens, his dark circles became evident again.

"Did you even eat anything today?" she asked worriedly, although a small smile sneaked onto her face for a second. "Except for me, that is."

"Today? No."

She gave him a stern stare, putting her hands on her hips like a disappointed mother. "Armitage."

He looked up to see her stance and let out a sigh. "Y/N, I don't have time for this."

"You had a good amount of time to eat me out just now, you have time for food, too."

"That's different."

"Stars, you're unbelievable." She put her hand on her forehead. "I'm starting to understand Kylo, you know?"

Hux gave her a glare, but didn't say anything. He knew she was partially right, and her care for him was still something that surprised him greatly.

Never before had anyone cared for his well-being.

"Listen," she said sternly, "you can be the damn emperor, Armitage, I don't care. I will stuff that food into you if I have to."

He sighed. Arguing with her was pointless, because he knew she would not give up, but he didn't want to let her win, either—even if his stomach had been rumbling for a few hours now.

"Listen, I am going to your quarters and ordering food. You'd better get your ass there in an hour."

He found it hard to hide the smile that her words caused and tried his best to remain cold. "Bold words to your superior."

She crossed her arms, unbothered. "Oh, and what are you going to do? Discharge me?"

"For disrespecting my rank, breaking into my quarters... Yes, I could do that."

"Breaking?" she laughed loudly. "I know the password, General." She put his hand on his forehead, fixing his ever-so-perfect hair affectionately.

Even Hux couldn't help a chuckle this time. He brought her closer and held her just for a moment, taking deep breaths. Having her this close, with her nuzzling his neck, was better of a cure to his stress and troubles than any food or sleep might have provided. That warmth, her witty comebacks and just the fact she really cared... He had never felt like this, and stars, he didn't want that feeling to disappear.

"Thank you," he whispered eventually, placing an affectionate kiss on her head. "I've told you that a lot, but remember, you really are my cure."

She just kept her head on his shoulder, moving to him as close as possible with a sincere smile on her face. She knew she would never grow tired of hearing this.

He kissed her forehead. "I'll try to join you soon... But do be careful when you enter my quarters. Your packages are in your wardrobe."

"Understood, sir," she said quickly and gave him a little salute.

He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched a little as he tried to hide yet another smile. "Hand salutes are not performed if a soldier is not wearing a headdress."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I believe eating a soldier out on a table doesn't fit the rules, either, yet here we are, General."

He did smile this time.

"Go before I change my mind," he said quietly, clicking a button to unlock the door.

She decided to give him one last quick—and risky—kiss, then walked towards the door as if treading on clouds.

"Love you," she said with a soft smile, turning to him one last time before the door slid open and she quickly disappeared behind a turn of the corridor.

Hux stared at the spot where she disappeared for a long moment, unable to ignore that warm, pleasant feeling in his heart she had caused with just these two words.

"So do I," he whispered, for the first time admitting it out loud even to himself.

As much as Hux wanted to find himself back in his quarters, his duties were still haunting him. He went there much later than he expected, still not having finished everything he wanted.

Y/N must have been waiting for him for too long. He did feel bad about it, but at the same time hoped she understood some things just couldn't be changed, no matter how much he cared for her.

The door to his bedroom slid open, and his heart broke just a little at the view.

The room was dark, just barely lit by the blueish glow coming from the holotable. Something was playing on it, but the remote was all forgotten next to the bed. The packages he ordered for Y/N had been taken out of the wardrobe, but remained unopened. On his bedside table, there was a tray with food—and Tarine tea.

Finally, Y/N herself was fast asleep in his bed. The sheets next to her were moved aside, as if waiting for him to slide in. She prepared all of this. She waited.

And he didn't come.

Hux let out a sigh. It was new to him, the fear of disappointing someone. Most of his life, he was his own most strict judge. But now he had Y/N—someone he didn't want to disappoint, someone whose opinion really mattered to him, and he was still learning how to tackle all of this.

He grabbed the remote and turned the holotable off, then went straight to the bathroom. He didn't plan on waking her up; he was exhausted, and she deserved sleep, too.

Hux was too tired to even try eating. He took a sip of the already cold tea, then slowly settled himself in the bed so as not to wake her. Once he covered himself with the sheets, he let out a long sigh, as if trying to breathe out all of his stress and exhaustion. He placed a small, innocent kiss on Y/N's head to tell her the 'good night' she didn't get, and before he knew it, fell asleep with one of his arms around her.

Hux was not expecting to be woken up by a kiss on his forehead, but that was exactly what made him open his eyes. For a moment, he wasn't sure whether Y/N's smiling face before him was real or still a dream.

"Good morning, very scary general..." she whispered, running her hand through his hair affectionately and giggling. At that moment, he was harmless, with his sleepy eyes, messy hair and a soft smile he didn't even try to hide this time. Still half asleep, for a moment he forgot the load of work awaiting him that day...

"A good morning indeed," he replied huskily, then brought her closer in a tight embrace and placed a kiss on her head. "Judging by your smile, you're not mad at me."

She backed away from the hug a little to see his face, then watched him in confusion. "Why would I be?"

"Because you prepared everything last night and I came la..."

"Armitage, it's not my first day here," she cut him off and cupped his face to make him look at her. "I know how busy you are. It's all fine, I promise. I'm glad you got any sleep at all, but I was

worried you may oversleep."

He sighed as he turned his head towards his bedside table. He was grateful she woke him up; even if his body was desperately calling for more rest, it was just the time for him to get up. Then he turned back towards her and his expression softened, still feeling an ounce of guilt because of the last evening.

"Do you want to be off duty today?"

"Only if you are."

He shook his head. "I can't. I have so much to take care of I don't even know where to start."

"Then I don't want to. At least time will pass quickly while I'll be working. But speaking of working, you," "are overworking yourself, Armitage."

"I'm the General, it's my duty and..."

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes, "you can sell the military bullshit to Kylo or Snoke, not me. You know what I mean. I worry about you. I wish you took more breaks, or at least remembered to eat... You being exhausted won't make you any more efficient and you know that."

Hux watched her all this time with sincere shock on his face. The fact that she was so understanding and so caring, doing something no one in his life had ever been able to show him, was making him feel like he didn't deserve even an ounce of her kindness.

"I still find it hard to believe you care for me this much," he said quietly, and she just sighed in response before hugging him tightly once more. That embrace expressed more than words could ever tell him. They stayed like this for a moment, bathing in pure bliss, before Hux moved to look at her face again.

"Why didn't you open your packages?"

"I wanted to open them with you."

"I am sorry," he replied with yet another sigh. "See, that's why I didn't invite you this week. I wouldn't have found the time to..."

"Hey, I told you it's fine. Just sleeping with you is enough for me," she cut him off again.

These words made him smirk immediately.

"Sleeping with me, hm?"

She groaned in response.

"Sleeping. As in closing one's eyes and snoring, you rascal." She smacked his arm lightly, making him chuckle.

"And here I thought you liked more than that."

Hux earned himself another smack on the arm for that response. He chuckled again, and soon, Y/N was not even pretending to be mad anymore.

She snuggled into his chest, knowing the last calm moments of that morning were about to pass by.

"I'll come tonight too, okay?"

He looked at her apologetically. "I don't know when I'll finish."

"It's okay. We'll open the packages together and..."

A loud buzz from Hux's datapad pierced the air, making both of them sigh in frustration.

"There we go," he said with evident irritation, but still reached for his datapad quickly and answered the call. "What is it?"

"General, an informator of ours had just spotted the droid we had been looking for on Takodana."

"Send our squads there immediately and inform Ren. We can't allow a failure this time. And keep on updating me."

"Understood, sir."

He finished the call, and Y/N let out a giggle she had been stifling.

"Inform Ren? It's almost like you're developing a soft spot for him." She poked him in the chest playfully, getting a glare in response.

Finally, Hux got up from the bed and stretched his arms, as if physically preparing himself for the task ahead.

"Well, then. Do any insufferable lieutenants happen to want to assist me during this very important operation?"

Y/N grinned.

#hux #general hux #first order #general hux x reader #armitage hux x reader #armitage #armitage hux #armitage hux smut #general hux smut #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars sequels #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #star wars smut #kylo ren

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bodybeyondstories · 4 days

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dicks keep growing around me - 8 (Miguel)

After Myron's growth spurt, Miguel takes him to his tailor for a wardrobe update. Late for work, and still pent up from their recent activities, Miguel finds a surprise piece of Myron's clothing in his bag, and just like Ty, he faces explosive consequences.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 (Previous)

male TF // growth // dick growth // pec growth // bubble butt // nsfw

4908 words

(I was inspired to play around with some pec growth by this ask a little while back. It was fun!)

---

“Do these make my butt look big?”

I struggled for words. “I think we left ‘big’ behind a long time ago,” I said, watching Myron check himself out in the dressing room stall, clad in a pair of chinos with a cartoonishly oversized waist that still managed to strain against his cartoonishly oversized butt cheeks. His curvy form being reproduced three times in the tri-fold mirror lent itself to a funhouse effect, as if he could step out and instantly return to the sensible, pert bubble he once had. Not that I would ever want that to happen. Having his already ridiculous monster booty inflate in real time while I was inside him was one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me personally. It took everything in my power to extricate myself from between those cheeks this morning and my dick jumped against its triple security confines at the thought of once again getting to bury my face in that posterior. I knew I was an ass man but even this was beyond my wildest dreams. I was addicted.

Myron wore his stretchiest–and really only–option out of the house, a pair of plaid leggings that didn’t so much hug his curves as fight for dear life against the beach ball buns spilling out of the waistband more and more with each step. He tied a light hoodie around his waist to at least hide the top of his pink bikini briefs, though it didn’t do much to mitigate his ass from being on display. He even had a minor struggle fitting into my car, adjusting and readjusting the passenger seat to accommodate his long legs, tree trunk thighs, and voluptuous bottom. Another potential problem to solve.

“I’m seeing a lot of elastic waistbands in your future,” said Val, studying Myron’s physique with a scientific eye. Val had been my go to tailor for years, long before these changes had made it nigh impossible to shop for pants at a normal department store. She ran what she called a ‘gender expansive menswear experience,’ always looked the definition of dapper, and specialized in catering to a plethora of unique body types. She was also very down to give us some special attention on this slow morning after I explained Myron’s situation. “Oh I love a challenge!” she had exclaimed over the phone.

And Myron was a challenge she jumped to as soon as we walked in. As he suffered through a stack of ill-fitting slacks, jeans, trunks, and at least one asymmetrical short skirt that worked surprisingly well, she vocalized an ongoing calculus of fabric amounts, hip to waist ratios, and design patterns that might emphasize or de-emphasize his wild proportions. She was in the zone, whipping around her tape measure with a professional flair and handling Myron’s body with a gentle, open intimacy that he seemed like he grew to appreciate.

As we left the store, with not exactly success, but at least some options–and a set of new tailoring projects for Val to dig into–I noticed more confidence in his walk. I couldn’t tell if it was the awkwardness of his sudden growth spurt or the weight of open stares from onlookers, but he had seemed deeply self conscious on our way in that was thankfully fading on our way out. Between his wildly upsized lower body and my freakish bulge, we were both letting go of the luxury of blending in. We held hands and rolled with it.

We got back to his place with just enough time to make some coffee and get me into some professional clothes before running off to the office. I had barely shut the door before Myron spun around and planted his hands on the wall on either side of my head, looking hungrily down at me. It was weird seeing him from this new angle, his gentle, inquisitive gaze falling over me like a protective cloak. I was already liking this new dynamic. “Thanks again,” he said, and leaned down for an indulgent kiss.

“It’s the least I could do with all the trouble I’ve caused,” I said, then returned the favor and pressed my lips against his. My hands rested on his hips like they were always meant to be there. I caressed the expanse of one ass cheek, still marveling at its sheer size, while he cupped one of my pecs and gave it a hearty squeeze. I moaned, louder than I meant to. They were so sensitive lately, and felt uncomfortable in my shirt. “But,” reluctantly breaking the kiss, “We’re both late for work. You want coffee?”

He waddled off in mock dejection as I slipped into his room to get dressed. I had a few versatile options stashed away in his wardrobe. Did my clothes really occupy an entire drawer? When did that happen? I was already running late, so I arranged something basic and reasonably business casual, though all my shirts felt a little tighter than I usually liked. I guess I wasn’t the only one making some gains in the gym.

By the time I returned to the kitchen to get beans grinding and the kettle on, Myron had whipped off everything except for his bikini briefs and proceeded to station himself at his standing desk and boot up his laptop. I envied whatever work from home contract gig he had most recently stumbled into and his resultant freedom from spending the rest of the day with multiple layers of constrictive fabric. But really my eyes rested longingly on the briefs stretched tight against his prodigious ass, my dick jumping in my sweats as he hinged his hips back and rested on his elbows.

“Just coffee?” he asked. “You’re not hungry?” We locked eyes and he gave his ass just enough of a shake to set off a tremor of jiggling cheek.

“...Well I’m already late.”

—

I moseyed into my office already dreaming of the next time I would have the privilege of eating the juiciest peach on the planet. I settled onto my exercise ball and opened my email, seeing if anything was on fire in my absence.

A lazy knock on the door was followed by the shaggy auburn mane of Wes peeking in.

“Missed you earlier,” he said, with that easy smile.

“Right, you were washing today! Yeah, I had kind of an emergency with my…” What were Myron and I? I don't think we'd had a chance to discuss it yet. “... with my, um–”

“Oh dude, don't worry about that,” he laughed. “That's not why I'm here. I actually just need your old key to the maintenance rooms in the basement. I'm updating the locks. I don't know if you saw my email.”

There it was on my screen, fourth from the top. I was one of the lucky few to be trusted with maintenance access, a responsibility I held sacred and never actually used.

“Of course, yeah yeah yeah,” I said, digging through my bag and pulling out not a key but a pair of very familiar crumpled underwear. I shoved them into a drawer before Wes could notice. How did those get in there? I continued digging until I finally produced the item in question.

“Thanks man.” He grabbed the key and gave me a fist bump. His knuckle tatts spelled out R-E-A-L. I wondered what the other hand said. “I'll, uh, see you out there,” he said, glancing towards the windows, then winked and slipped out the door.

These days, my dick turns into a faucet at the slightest hint of arousal, which truth be told is effectively all the time, so I usually pack a backup or two of my specially-fitted underwear to slip into so I don’t end up awkwardly cleaning precum off my desk chair. But I guess with all the weirdness that morning, I had accidentally grabbed Myron’s used briefs from yesterday’s incident at the gym. Which was weird because I didn’t remember rooting around in his hamper for this specific piece of clothing.

Just like I didn’t remember pulling them back out of my desk drawer and holding them just close enough to my face to catch a whiff of Myron’s compelling musk. Ty really did have a point, I couldn’t help but admit. My face had just been buried in Myron’s ass, but there was something magnetic about these residual pheromones. My dick jumped in anticipation.

Too early for this, I thought. I dropped his drawls in the bottom drawer, the one full of miscellaneous files with the janky handle, and closed it with finality, resolving to get through the rest of the day without distraction. I only had my one outfit to last me through the rest of the workday, and I wasn’t in the mood to sneak out with my pants soaked in my homemade lube (again). The realization that I missed my usual ‘appointment’ with Wes came with the realization that after all the festivities last night and this morning, I still hadn't cum. As much as I enjoyed servicing Myron and the Giant Peach, I was pent up, and so used to my exhibitionist dynamic with Wes that I felt I couldn't clear the pipes unless he was out there washing the windows. I had missed that opportunity. My balls began to churn with overproduction, frustrated at being teased multiple times in the past twelve hours with no relief. My dick felt heavy. Heavier than usual.

My whole body felt pressurized. My crotch had grown hot and constricted, but my shirt had followed suit. It felt so tight across my chest, my extra sensitive nipples delighting in the increased friction. I got up to stretch and clear my hand, pacing around my office and taking in the view of the surrounding high rises reflecting a clear sky belied by herds of thunderclouds rolling across the landscape miles away. I looked down to check my phone and instead saw that I had Myron’s underwear twirling between my fingers, just inches from my nose. When had I pulled these out of the drawer? But I turned around to see it apparently untouched. I unconsciously brought them closer to my face. They had a scent that was magnetic and threatened to occupy all my sensory attention. I breathed deep, indulging in the smell of him, warmth resonating across my body as I fantasized about the next time I could bury my face between those cheeks.

I know. I should've seen this coming.

I was jolted back to reality by a short, staccato knock on the door. Not fully closed by my last visitor, it drifted open to allow Josh, our comms specialist, to lean in with one quick motion into a scene, not of me working at my desk, but meandering around my office with my nose in his former co-worker’s panties. In the half second I had available, I snatched them from my face, and, with no other immediate options, shoved them into my pants.

“The intern workshop is starting now, almost out of donuts,” he said with a wink. Intern workshop was an out of date misnomer from when Josh first started with us and was mistakenly referred to as the intern far too often. Largely because of a youthful, eager demeanor and the crime of being chronically online. Occasionally, we start our all-team meetings early with a social media, marketing, and PR update from him. He tells us what's trending that month and I bring my basket full memes that I need explained. I had forgotten that this was one of those days and relented at his insistence that I tag along with him to the conference room, following him into the hall with Myron’s briefs hidden in my pants, a light tingle beginning to spread across my groin.

Hindsight. 20/20.

“Dude,” he continued in the hallway. “You've got to tell me your routine, your chest is looking great. Wish I could fit a workout in before work.”

“Oh, I didn't make it to–” I self-consciously grabbed my right pec, “--the gym this morning…” It felt noticeably juicier. Like I had a good pump. A great pump.

I dutifully followed Josh's perky bottom to the conference room, eyes fixed on the swish of his hips in his fitted pants. Everyone in the office had an oddly nice ass, for reasons unknown to anyone but obvious for me, but Josh's tight, perfectly round posterior was always a sight to behold, and always showcased in expertly tailored pants that fit like a glove on his short, svelte frame. I've always wondered if he also frequented Val's doorstep.

Everyone was already settled in the conference room (they were out of donuts), and I grabbed the last seat around the table, toward the back, right near the door. Josh did his thing about the latest social media strategy and I tried to maintain some semblance of professional decorum, keeping my gaze on the slides on screen and not just the bubble butt flitting back and forth at the front of the room. But I was still pent up, my balls churning with stronger intensity and my dick feeling heavier and heavier in my pants, not like it was getting hard but just gaining a deeper, stronger presence. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, leaning forward and hinging my hips back to provide more space along my leg. My midsection began to cramp as the tingle in my crotch turned into a generalized heat. My chest felt packed against my shirt, my nipples sending little shocks of pleasure with the slightest movements against the fabric. I felt overstimulated, hit by a full body malaise with an undercurrent of sticky sweet pleasure.

Then it clicked. I had seen the clip of Ty's latest growth spurt and got to witness Myron’s incident up close and personal. My heart pounded with the realization that Myron’s powerful pheromones were likely incubating in the warmth between my thighs. I began to have anxious visions of what that meant, of what could happen in the chaos of having an episode in the middle of the office. I imagined myself bursting out of my clothes, my chair collapsing under me, the table being flipped by the force of a superhuman monster cock.

The cramps got stronger as I became increasingly hot and uncomfortable in my own skin, fighting against every item of clothing constricting my body. I tried to wait it out, think peaceful thoughts, hold myself energetically together. I thought I could psychically wrestle my dick into stasis until the meeting ended and I could triage the situation. But what is Bruce Banner to the Hulk?

My dick lurched. Didn't get harder, just took up a bit more space. I bit down angrily on my pen to keep from letting out a moan as I felt, vividly, the head sliding against the fabric of the pouch. My pants felt like they were shrinking around my crotch. My body was so uncomfortably hot, eliciting shivers down my spine and along my limbs. And why was my shirt so tight?

But Josh was rolling with his presentation (and that ass was keeping me enthralled). I reasoned that I could at least relieve some pressure for the time being. I reached up and undid the first button at my collar as casually as possible, only to find the second locked in place by the pull of the fabric. When did this shirt become so small?? I awkwardly finagled it while trying to put on my best active listener face, but right when I was finally about to succeed, it was simply gone. The relief from a slight decrease in pressure along my chest mixed with terror as I saw the button sail across the room and land in someone's coffee.

I froze. Josh froze. Miraculously, no one else noticed. He continued with his presentation and I resolved to form an escape as quickly as possible. My mind was filled with visions of what had happened to Ty and Myron, and as hot as it is to see someone grow in real time, this situation truly was not safe for work. Something serious was brewing, and by the pressure building in my balls, it was going to be messy. I had to find a bathroom or risk a scandal.

I carefully closed my laptop, mentally rehearsing my graceful exit in which I stand up, surreptitiously cover my bulge with my computer, and moonwalk out of there to take care of business. As I rose to my feet, I came to the chilling realization that I had underestimated the sheer size of the appendage distending my pants, hurrying to cover as much as possible with my modestly sized laptop, but not before Josh’s eyes locked on.

“So I really think this target audience could make for a good pipeline to…um…a pipeline…a pipe…” he stammered, on the verge of speaking in tongues as his eyes widened in disbelief, coming dangerously close to bringing the attention of the rest of the conference room to my predicament.

“You’re doing great!” I exclaimed, cutting him off and turning smoothly toward the exit. “Can’t wait to discuss implementing all of this, soon as I get back.”

I sped through the door and down the hallway, stopping abruptly at the makeshift signs printed and taped to the bathroom doors. “Out of order,” I whispered, anxiety spiking as the crotch of my pants bulged outward a little more.

Downstairs! I thought. The single stalls on the ground floor materialized in my mind. I whipped around to find the elevators and slipped through the doors with my laptop still awkwardly situated in front of my overpacked crotch. To my dismay, a gaggle of interns scrambled on one floor below. I squeezed as far as I could into the back corner, and pressed my laptop against the furious bulge that was steadily becoming impossible to hide. It had to be at least five degrees warmer in there from the heat radiating off my overexcited dick. It lurched again. My hair stood on edge, pecs strained against my shirt as I fought back a moan of arousal and dismay.

By the time they got off on the ground floor, I was too terrified to move, convinced that the slightest increase in friction could send me over the edge.

“You heading back up?” asked Larry, the bright eyed receptionist who appeared from around the doorframe.

“No, I, uh, need to go check something downstairs,” I lied. “We’ve been having some electrical hiccups in the office.”

“Oh that’s the worst,” he said, holding his hand against the elevator door frame as he continued to recount the building’s litany of outages and anomalies. He was effectively holding me hostage.

“Oooof,” I whispered as my dick surged forward yet again. I was heading towards a nuclear meltdown.

“Right, right, duty calls,” he said, finally relinquishing his hold and letting the doors close in front of him.

I nearly collapsed out of blessed solitude. I let one hand drift down to investigate the area, eliciting a groan of shock and pleasure. My dick felt big. I mean yes, it’s painfully obvious to myself and the general public that I’m packing something serious down there. But it felt bigger than it should. Bigger than it felt less than an hour ago. Like it was echoing the essence of bigness on some metaphysical plane, gathering energy around it across multiple dimensions to emerge like Godzilla from the ocean and lay waste to the–

What the fuck am I talking about? My blood circulation must be cut off. I needed to get out of those pants. The slow drop of the elevator seemed to go on and on, what felt like far beyond the actual height of the building. The walls were closing in, the metal box shrinking around me as it fell through space, the seams of my shirt straining against my chest as what felt like every bit of fabric shrunk with it.

The elevator doors opened on the brutalist liminal space of the basement. I was pretty sure there was a bathroom down here, likely one significantly, dearly private. The only person I knew of who had any reason to be down here was–

“Wes!” I exclaimed at the cloud of auburn hair that popped up seemingly out of nowhere, toolbox in hand.

“Funny running into you here,” he beamed, giving the scruff on his chin a scratch. “Welcome to my office!” He splayed his arms wide, gesturing warmly to the concrete and fluorescent lights.

“Happy to be here,” I managed, attempting a gracious smile as the beads of sweat on my forehead hinted at the crisis at hand.

“Where you headed?” He asked, sidling next to me and hovering one finger over the number pad.

“Look, Wes, I actually need to run to the bathroom, the ones upstairs were all–”

“Out of order, yeah. Whole building is. It’s the issue with the plumbing, did you read the rest of my email? Folks have been heading to the coffee shop next door, I think.”

“Aughh,” I whispered, bracing a hand against the wall. My dick lurched again. Angry and boiling hot, it was all I could think about. That and the feeling of my shirt having somehow shrunk several sizes too small. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t breathe. I barely string words together. My nipples perked up in response to a cool sensation. I looked down to see two wet spots spreading slowly. Fuck, my chest was swollen, what was going on? I looked like I had the greatest pump of my life. What usually could pass for decently toned pecs were starting to resemble disproportionately juicy slabs of muscle. I could’ve sworn they were inflating slightly with each breath, each involuntarily twitch of muscle. But I didn’t have time to speculate further as my abs contracted hard and I doubled over in pain.

I wasn’t going to make it to the coffee shop. I wasn’t going to make it to the useless basement bathroom. I wasn’t going to make it off this elevator.

“Yeah, sorry dude. If it’s an emergency, maybe I can–oh…”

“It’s…it’s too late,” I eked out as my dick lurched even farther down my leg, the sound of stitches popping filling the space of Wes’s stunned silence and my heavy breathing. My shirt grew tighter and tighter with every heartbeat. I felt air against my midsection as it slowly revealed my treasure trail, heard the slow tearing of seams along my shoulders, the periodic ping of buttons flying off and hitting the metal walls. I gripped the door frame with inhuman force. “It’s happening.”

“Wh-what’s happening?” Wes had grown visibly concerned. “What can I do?”

“I can’t…hold it…” my face a contortion of pleasure and pain.

“Can’t hold what?? Should I call someone, or do something, or…” He stepped closer, his eyes entranced by the dark circles against my shirt. My pecs had swollen so large they were blocking the view of the baseball bat tearing apart the stitches of my pants. He held out his hands in support. “Maybe if I just–”

“Wait, don’t–” My head lolled back as the pressure along my leg finally became too much to bear and was suddenly replaced with lovely, catastrophic release. The seams gave way and my ungodly beast was freed from its cage, swinging up in a diagonal and catching Wes’s cheek with a mean left hook. He spun around like a ragdoll, landing unceremoniously against the wall.

My prodigious cock, furious and rock hard, bobbed in front of me at a distance that was hard to make sense of. I stared down in terror at a pipe that extended at least a few feet into the air, still managing a slight upward tilt despite its weight. It was too girthy to wrap both hands around. I felt my heart pounding through the massive vein that ran along the shaft. I briefly forgot about Wes lying unconscious on the floor as I gazed in shock at the tree trunk growing from my groin. With one final, monumental shudder, with the last dregs of my mental capacity, I wondered, Did I beat Ty? And came like a firehose.

The force of the first two blasts were enough to knock me off balance, my knees buckling as I fell on my ass. My hands gripped either side of my shaft as if I had any ability to mitigate the cum cannon bucking wildly from my crotch. I painted the ceiling as every muscle fiber of my body worked in unison to fire off each volley of jizz. I was dimly aware that my muscle tits jiggled with more and more heft as my body shook with every shot. I could feel the mass of them expanding across my torso, my sensitive nipples rubbing against what was left of my shirt before that too fell to tatters against my growing muscle tits. But I was gone in a deluge of orgasmic bliss, my brain burned hollow as some untapped reservoir of sexual energy sprung forth. As I lost any sort of mental coherence, I felt like my corporeal form might simply disintegrate into the pool of cum forming around me. I was moaning in sweet release and unrelenting ejaculation.

Countless ropes of cum painted the walls until my never ending orgasm finally let me go, and I collapsed next to Wes. After a minute, he came to, and turned to me with a dreamy smile on his face.

“Can we do that again?” He asked.

The elevator doors opened. And there was Josh.

—

“Hey Miguel, I was looking for…you…” he drifted off, taking in the scene. Me, sweaty and kneeling in my tattered pants, holding Wes’s shoulders to prop him up against the wall with what looked like a black eye on the way. I mused internally about how I should’ve reviewed the office first aid training materials for the exact protocol for a penis exploding so suddenly in size that it accidentally causes a potential concussion. I made a mental note to schedule a training for the entire office soon.

“Shit, uh, just wait outside for a sec?” I asked, putting on my best everything-is-totally-fine smile. It didn’t work.

“Woah, what happened?” asked Josh incredulously. “Were you attacked? What is this on the floor? What is…that…” He seemed to be mentally connecting the dots as he gazed horror struck at the semi-hard, adrenaline fueled dick resting on the floor between my legs.

I could hear footsteps and voices approaching. We’re back on the ground floor! Without any other recourse, I pulled him into the elevator and started smashing the button for the basement. The doors closed just in time.

“I'm so fired, I'm so unbelievably fired, no one has ever been more fired,” I said, my fingertips pressing into my temples as if I could telepathically will all of this away as a weird, horny dream. I began to rock back and forth until I was halted by a firm clasp against my bicep. I looked up to see Wes's meaty forearm, his sparkling green and gold eyes.

“Deep breath,” he said firmly. “In…” His eyes fluttered closed then looked into mine, imploring me to follow. I took a tentative breath in through my nose. “And hold.” He held. “And out.” I sighed through my mouth until my lungs felt deflated. “OK, again, you too,” he glances at Josh, who looked less terrified and more uncomfortable about the faux pas of stumbling into this intimate moment. “In.” Josh took large gulps through his mouth, chest heaving up. “And hold…and out. We'll work on your technique.”

He turned back to me. “I’ve seen weirder things, man. We'll get it sorted. And you,” looking pointedly at Josh, “can't tell anyone about this. Scout's honor.”

“H-hell yeah,” he said, flourishing an awkward salute. “Anything for the Window Wanker.”

“Did you just come up with that?” Wes chuckled. “That’s good.” Josh looked on in mild confusion.

“The last thing I need right now is a nickname, but we can workshop it,” I offered, trying to make light of the situation.

“No, it's just that…” his brows furrowed. “That's you, right? Window Wanker. Online.”

My spidey senses tingled. My hair stood on edge.

“What do you mean ‘online?'” Wes inquired, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Like, it's one of my favorite accounts,” said Josh. “I usually don't go for fake hidden camera scenario type stuff, but I've been hooked.” He perked up in enthusiasm. “The fact that from across the street, you can see how huge that monster is…” His utterance of monster was barely a whisper as his eyes turned to the up close monster laying between my legs. “Respectfully,” he added with a shy smile.

“Across the street…” I repeated, just as Wes said “...fake hidden camera…”

“I mean,” Josh continued, “I could tell you were packing for a while, I have no idea how no one else is talking about it. But I didn't know you were Double W.”

“Okay,” I blurted, wincing at the hitch in my voice and letting the elevator settle into a heavy silence, interrupted by the steady smack of globs of cum falling from the ceiling. “Okay. I need to know all about this now.”

Window Wanker. Ty's gonna love this.

#proceeds to write an even longer chapter...ok #male tf #dick growth #pec growth #DKGAM

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secretlythepits · 23 days

Text

A New Day

Thanks for all the advice and support. As Annie would sing: “Yesterday was plain awful.”

“You can say that again.”

“Yesterday was plain awful.”

“But that’s, not now. That’s then!”

I had two talks. The one with my husband was bad. The one with my son was good. To be honest, that’s the one that really matters. That’s the relationship I have to get right.

I’m in a tricky spot.

We were (I was) considering divorce before his diagnosis. Because of financial and logistical reasons, I knew I wouldn’t leave until the kids finished high school. I don’t want to destabilize them economically and socially. Also, I need time to build my career and health, so it made sense to stay with one foot out the door.

A couple of months ago my husband and I really got into the state of our marriage. Communication has been a huge issue. We started really hashing out things that had been left unsaid. Things improved a bit. I felt heard, but maybe still not quite seen. He said he wanted to get back to a closeness and that was my first choice too. We figured if we both had that as a goal, we could move there.

Yesterday, after we spoke about our fight, I realized that I can’t remember the last time I felt loved by him. How sad is that? I decided to divorce him in my heart, because he is never going to give me what I want and need. He is never going to give me what I deserve. He doesn’t see me and he refuses to open his eyes. I know I am a good person. I know that I have a lot of wonderful things inside of me that I freely share with others, but he just doesn’t even look at me. I stopped showing him who I was, my ideas, my important thoughts, the deepest parts of me, because he is not a safe person for my heart.

But I am still logistically stuck. Me leaving while he is sick would devastate my kids. Our finances haven’t changed. My health hasn’t changed. I don’t want to do lasting damage to my relationship with my children by bailing while their father is dying.

And I don’t hate him. We do have a friendship and a connection to our shared memories and kids that will always be unparalleled. Also, I am a compassionate person and wouldn’t feel right letting him suffer all by himself. I care about him and it hurts to watch his health deteriorate. We can be partners, like in business. We do that pretty well for the most part.

My goal has changed.

I don’t want to work on closeness. I want distance. Miles. Oceans. Continents.

I feel sad about this, but also really, really good about what feels like the ultimate in self-care. I don’t need to torture myself by working on a relationship that has been broken for years. I don’t want a refurbished love, I want a brand spanking new one that sparkles and dazzles. Not now. Not near. In the far off future.

I have more pressing and interesting goals.

1. I am going to build a digital products empire.

2. I am going to host luxury personal development retreats in fabulous international locations.

3. I am going to travel the world.

4. I am going to lose all my extra weight and become very strong.

5. I am going to buy the most colorful, pattern-filled wardrobe ever and wear way too many accessories every day.

That is where I’m going. That is worth getting close to. I can feel my mind, heart, and spirit lining up and clicking into rhythm because I think this has been the destination for a long time. I just wasn’t ready to leave until now.

Thank you, dear readers, for making me not feel alone.

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uyuartik · 3 months

Text

othello ch.5| anakin skywalker x reader

tags: othello au mini series, no major character death (just want to make that clear), borderline dark fic, anakin's shifty nature, finally some revelations about things, betrayals, probably the most unedited chapter in the series...

summary: Things finally unravel.

also crossposted on ao3!

word count: 2271

prologue | ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | finale

chapter 5

His heart settled on one thing in the morning, when he saw your room, every drawer and wardrobe open, contents on the floor forming a cloud made out of fabrics, and you, curled up on the bed, totally inconsolable despite Emilia’s best efforts. The redness of your eyes indicated two things clearly, how you lacked sleep and how you spent the night crying instead. Emilia seemed to share your woes too, her face was sunken and wet and weary- yet nowhere compared to yours. He all saw this through the ajar door, the hallway empty of the anxious maids, deflected by the echoing your sobs. Your face was pressed to the pillows, yet Emilia was sitting, so she was the only one who noticed his presence, and that split-second eye contact was enough to convey her aversion. But like yesterday, there was something off- the disapproval that came from how he was unfit to be with you, that he would treat you poorer than you deserved eventually (even though she had every reason to believe that was the case), or the partiality he faced was not the source of her emotions. It was personal, as if she was more tentative now, fearing the damage could be lodged to her too. It was fear, hidden under these bluffs, scattering anger as a cover.

What bluffs did she have for you, then?

As much as his mind was still divided, the urge to believe in you weighed heavier, as always. And whatever the case, he couldn’t stand seeing you upset. His heart rotted whenever he witnessed even the slightest downturn of the corner of your lips, let alone tear yourself up like this. But the roots of evil Iago had planted dug deeper into his spirit, and he couldn’t interact with you without resolving this matter once and for all. Also, the thought of separating you from your only “friend”, was downright cruel. He was not perfect, but he would never be that wicked.

Thus, he kept on walking, throwing himself out of the house with only a purpose on his mind.

===

The method did not come easily to him as the purpose did- and he found himself scouring every neighborhood, every pub, every commander’s room to find a clue, to find someone who could spill the answers, yet he was not that lucky, and now he had no idea how he spent the entire day, achieving nothing but strains in his muscles.

When his feet led him back to his home, late in the night, all that changed.

He was ready to hear the whispers of the staff, quietly but surely talking about the day they left on the way to their respite, but that was not the source of the hushed argument that reached his ears. His eyes were quick to locate the source- Emilia and Iago tucked away in a corner, having a heated discourse that clearly was too urgent be had that they couldn’t wait to be in their own house. Normally, he would not eavesdrop on this- he had a beautiful life that didn’t involve this kind of transgression.

But, having Iago slither into his very soul, and the inclinations he had about her this morning, Anakin listened.

And he heard enough.

“-you need to give it back. Whatever feud you have with Othello- I don’t mind it. But she doesn’t deserve this.“

“He deserves it for letting me rot while he makes a captain out of that scoundrel Cassio, so she toodeserves it. I won’t let him have even the luxury of her, he will know total desperation, just the way he made me desperate! First, I took his right-hand man away, disgraced him with his own foolish shenanigans and with his own lust for that local whore, I shall end him, and in the process, she will be tarnished too, another black spot in his life.”

“Do you even listen? The way you’re handling this- we’re going to lose it all! If they learn I gave that handkerchief to you, it will all come down. This has gone too far, I never agreed to things ending up like this.”

“Come down?” He snickered. ”I am about to win it all! If you have so much concerns now, you may better pray that she doesn’t have enough life left in her to find out the truth, fiance.”

God, he could strangle both of them on the spot without as much as twitching.

Knowing only that it was his plot, without all the details that heralded him into this position- he would still be content and his conscious would be at peace forever, even washed in their blood. He knew that reason said that he should lock them up first, make them confess, for everyone and for you to learn but a part of him knew, hoped that you’d believe him if he just said what he’s heard- you’d still believe him- and even if you didn’t, it’d because he deserved it, and he would gladly surrender to the fact.

But, he didn’t do any of those. With his nails digging into his palms enough to draw blood, he saw the couple resuming the fight, and he made his way to you, to warn you about Emilia. Every word she had uttered to you was poison, and you needed the antidote, fast. He first had to be sure that you knew that.

When he met your sleeping body, he felt the air returning to his lungs again.

Safe.

Curled atop your wedding sheets.

Of course, he couldn’t help but remember that night. Nothing but the pitch black sea across the horizon, the faint sounds of the crew and their little illicit party they were having down the deck (well, it was only useful that there was noise to drown out yours, and who was Anakin to deny them happiness while he found the lifelong source of it), your relatively small dowry chest tucked into the corner of his cabin… Your white nightgown and the linen sheets were probably sitting in it for ages, all planned out years ago, yet the unplanned part was just as magical, like how deft you were to open his buttons (he had to comment on your talent- knowing it was not talent but eagerness, the joke perhaps not suited for the occasion but you two made it work) and how ticklish you were when he touched your waist for the first time. You had ended up in pretty much the exact position, only with the addition of his body hugging you from behind, the sweat gleaming on your skin, breathless and smiling with all your teeth.

How much and how little had changed since then?

“Ani?”

Shit, before bringing himself to hinder you from the only peace you’ve known lately, you had woken up. Your voice was creaking, and your eyes were barely open, stinging due to all those tears, and you moved slowly, raising only half of your body from the bed.

He strode against the room in three large steps, kneeling beside you. Still, you were so disoriented that your body refused to straighten, to dangle your legs from the edge of the bed. The only reaction you had was your low sound of surprise that caught against the rawness of your throat and mattered little in terms of pitch.

“Ani- My lord… I can’t find it anywhere.”

“I will make this go away, and beg for your forgiveness til the end of times.” He looked at your puffy eyes, even if yours escaped his gaze. His hands landed beside your thighs, not touching, for he saved that for later, for the time you needed it more than his explanation. He had frightened you enough. “Just stay here, and don’t let anybody in.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I will explain it later, angel.”

Your heart fluttered at the adoration he used. It almost created a whiplash effect, another earthquake to shatter your world, but alsoa wave of relief washed over your mind, clearing doubts from it. You were still in the dark, proven by this exact position, his restriction of himself to touch you, the promise of his plea, but it was enough for you to feel lighter, unburdened after days of emotional heavy lifting.

Unfortunately, time was of the essence when there were traitors on the loose, so he stood up, murder in his eyes. You still reached for him. “Please, don’t leave.”

“I’ll be back once I make this right.”

“No, wait.”

You were finally on your feet by the time all hell broke loose.

His eyes flitted to the door, spotting the bitch you called a friend, watching dread fill her eyes. She dropped the tray she was carrying, and the disturbing noise echoed through the hallway. You opened your mouth-

“Don’t speak to her!” Anakin shouted, and walked towards her, his body towering over hers in a blink. He grabbed her arm, and while it was nothing good, the fury in his face suggested he was holding himself back from doing worse. “You thief! Living under our roof, eating our food, stealing from her and pretending to care for her like it wasn’t your doing!” He dragged her downstairs, to the garden where he had seen them minutes ago, unphased by screams that came from both of you. Even a servant shrieked a little when she saw the scene, quickly covering her mouth with her hand and stepping back in order to stay away from the route he was storming through.

The only reason he stopped, halfway through the gates, in the middle of the garden – the wet grass reminded you that your feet were bare a little too late- was that he spotted the actual mastermind, the man who turned his weeks into a living hell for his own treacherous reasons. He strode towards him with a newfound ferocity, yanking his hand back from her with disgust. She fell, as a victim of momentum.

“You!”

It was taken. Just as he said. And it was Emilia who took it.

And it was only half of the news. The remaining part was everyone’s guess, albeit it was more of a belief at first, a fact, undetailed and consequence-free. You came to terms with that after your shift.

You don’t know why you acted the way you are, planting yourself between Iago and Anakin, but that’s where you found yourself. Perhaps it was the sight of Anakin reaching for his sword, while Iago was a little too late to act on his own weapon. Because you knew when your husband appealed to violence, it ended swiftly and permanently. That was not the fate he deserved.

As the bringer of this plot, as the maker of your agony, he deserved every tormenting second of his confession, and trial, the humiliation for his atrocious wishes, the shame of carrying this fate til death paid him a visit.

And his punishment started now. With his own words, spilled in utter defeat.

Anakin, as his hand rested on the handle of his blade, and you, your airy touch on his wrist, ready to retreat at any moment, posed enough threat for him to speak.

“Drop your sword.” Anakin commanded, and he unbuckled the belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clitter. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I might’ve not ended you, but I will rejoice with the knowledge that I gave you hell for a couple of weeks.”

So. It was true.

“What about the hell you’re giving yourself and everyone around you for the rest of your life?”

Emilia’s sob echoed.

“I. Have. No. Regrets.”

He truly was the devil, standing in front of you, smirking.

You didn’t know how it happened, but your fingers acted on the dagger Anakin kept at his waist, and you hurtled it towards Iago with a scream-

It didn’t meet his body, for your arm was captured in the air by Anakin.

What were you doing?

This was the first and only time you’ve understood the urge to kill, to be the justice itself, acting out your own laws and punishments, and it didn’t feel wrong at all. You could’ve defended that this was the right way, putting shame on all your moral and societal values. He deserved the pain, the wound and the beating, and you deserved to implement them, hurt him for the hurt he’s caused, perhaps a remedy to your blinding need for vengeance.So, you just squeezed your palm around it tighter while surrendering to Anakin, keeping your muscles tight enough to parallel his, letting him wrap his other hand around your waist, tucking your shoulder under his chin. His warm breath synchronized with yours, anchoring you to the world. The weight of your fury was being shared, and you felt it become more bearable yet burn brighter at the same time.

“And I will laugh forever with the fact that I. broke. her.” Iago spat, eyes boring into yours shamelessly.

“No, the only fact is how far you are to have true love.” Anakin glared. Stepping sideways, the two of you allowed his eyes to spot the now empty spot where Emilia once fell. You saw the fury being reignited in his face, but the mixture of basic emotions that brew inside invisible, the disappointment and jaelousy… What she has done was nothing unhonorable, whether it be running away from her evil fiance, or surrendering herself to the nearest authority.

She had to live with herself after all, and that was her punishment.

#anakin skwalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker angst #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin x reader

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