#Before you get on me I GET IT they're supposed to be uncomfortable it shows how Hollywood objectfies people especially women

[alinathinkstoomuch]

COMFORT IN YOU

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (ex!reader, i suppose) summary: even though the two of you are no longer together, hotch can't help the fact that he still has the need to comfort you. warnings | an: lil hurt & comfort, two exes making soup together but they're still blatantly in love with one another, also pretty sure this is not the correct way to make soup i was really just saying shi to make them busy, yearning i suppose?? word count: 2k

✧ masterlist

You were having what you could only describe as a series of bad days. There were no particular causes or events for them, just the uncomfortable feeling of a heaviness in your chest. There wasn’t anything glaringly wrong, but there wasn’t much that felt right, either.

For the past week, you’d been snoozing your alarm until the last possible second. Mornings turned into rushed scrambles - brushing your teeth and hair the only boxes you’d managed to check before bolting out the door. You hadn’t bothered with makeup or a decent outfit in days, simply because nothing seemed worth the effort.

You knew the feeling would pass eventually, it wasn’t a constant thing. Every now and then, you just felt…off. Like you were watching yourself from the outside, going through the motions but not really present.

You were sure there was a word for it. Something detached and clinical - Spencer had once mentioned it on a flight home from a case. The memory hovered at the edges of your mind, but you couldn’t find the energy to chase it down just to label what you already knew.

You just didn’t feel like yourself.

“You’re not seriously staying here past five on a Friday night, are you?” Penelope asked, using your desk as a dumping ground to sort through her large purse.

You glanced up with a tried smile. “No, Pen. Just finishing up. I’ll be out of here soon.”

“Okay, sugar,” she said in what was supposed to be her warning voice – though, like everything Penelope said, it came wrapped in warmth and sweetness. “Promise me you’ll go home, take a nice hot bath, light some candles –” she fluttered her fingers animatedly, “–and show yourself some love.”

You arched a brow. “Is this your subtle way of telling me I look like shit?”

She gasped, swatting you lightly with her pink glasses case. “I would never use such language. But also…yes. A little bit.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, giving her a full performance of your pretend annoyance.

Penelope just grinned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Text me when you get home. And take care of that beautiful face, okay?” She reached out, giving your chin a playful squeeze before blowing you an air-kiss. “Self-care, my love. Don’t make me come over there and enforce it.”

“Yes, boss,” you said, standing from your seat. “Have a good night, Penny.”

Once she was gone, you stacked the last forms for your report into a folder, quietly relieved that Hotch wasn't in his office to hand it in to. It had taken you far longer to complete than usual - in fact, you were pretty sure yours was the only report he was waiting on to close out the case.

He wouldn't have given you a hard time about it – he never had – but still, you didn't want him thinking you couldn't handle your workload. Not when you both agreed the job was too important to let anything, especially your relationship, interfere with it.

You made your way into his office, the lights still on despite the fact that he'd stepped out for a meeting hours ago. It should've felt strange being in his space. Working with him. Seeing him every day, even after the two of you had mutually agreed to call it quits. But it didn't feel strange at all.

If anything, your relationship with him had stayed almost exactly the same. The only real difference was that you couldn't crawl into his arms at the end of a long day - and that was okay, or at least you had spent a lot of time trying to convince yourself that it was. You were both adults. Mature. Maybe a little too career-hungry.

You'd given it your best shot for almost a year, and it just didn't work. That was it. There wasn't anything more either of you could've done – or, if you were honest, wanted to do. Maybe if you'd both been accountants, or if one of you had decided to transfer out of the BAU, it might've worked. But neither of you wanted that.

You both loved the job exactly as it was.

So you let go.

And maybe that was love too, in its own way.

You left the report neatly on his desk, then made your way back to your own. After packing up your things, you headed out, the building quiet behind you.

On the way home, you stopped by the grocery store near your place, telling yourself you'd pick up something for a proper dinner. But somewhere between the fluorescent lights and the half-empty shelves, you settled on a frozen meal instead. Very high-nutrient of you, truly.

By the time you got home, you didn't even bother unpacking your haul. You just dropped the bags on the countertop and left them there, your keys landing beside them with a dull clink. You headed straight for the bathroom, aiming for a quick shower and could practically hear Penelope rolling her eyes at your refusal to take a proper bath.

It couldn’t have been later than eight when a knock echoed through your home. Your slippers dragged softly across the wooden floor as you made your way to the door, unsure of who you were about to find on the other side. Perhaps it was Penelope, coming over to check whether the bath salts she had given you for your birthday had finally been put to use.

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Penelope standing there.

It was Hotch. Still in his work clothes, with a brown bag tucked under his arm.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” you greeted, opening the door wider to let him in.

He stepped inside without a word, moving through the space like he’d never left it. Like it still belonged to him, at least in some small way. And maybe it did. For a while, this had been his second home.

You watched him cross to the kitchen, settling the bag down beside your still-unpacked groceries.

“No Thai?”

“Not tonight,” he replied, slipping off his jacket. “I thought I’d make soup.” His sleeves were rolled up before you could even respond and he was at your sink, using your soap to wash his hands to make you dinner.  

You really couldn’t make this up.

You took a seat on the bench, folding your legs beneath you as you watched him unpack the contents of the bag. “Did you read my report?”

He didn’t look up as he pulled out a bundle of parsley, a container of chicken stock and various vegetables. “I did.”

“Am I going to have to redo it?”

He glanced at you then, the faintest trace of amusement crossing his face. “No,” he said. “It was good. A little rushed, maybe – but not wrong.”

You gave dry laugh. “You can tell me to redo it, I promise I won’t get mad.”

“I know you won’t, but I also know when you’re not at your best. And I’m not going to punish you for having an off week.”

You nodded slowly, watching as he moved to grab a cutting board.

After a moment, you spoke again – softer this time. “You won’t be able to do this forever, you know.”

His eyes met yours again, but he stayed silent.

“I’m serious,” you went on, offering a small smile. “What happens when you start dating again? You’re just going to keep showing up at your ex-girlfriend’s house with soup ingredients?”

“I don’t think dating is in the cards right now.”

You tilted your head, teasing gently. “Why not? Did I leave you that emotionally wrecked?”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…not where my focus is.”

You clicked your tongue, reaching for an orange from the fruit bowl. “Well, that’s a shame. Because dating is in my cards,” you revealed, digging your thumb into the skin and starting to peel.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Thinking of going for a broker this time,” you mused, not looking at him as you pulled off a strip of peel. “You know, mix it up. Maybe someone who doesn’t alphabetize their spices.”

“And you’d be happy with a broker?”

You shrugged, glancing up at him as you popped a piece of mandarin into your mouth. “Who knows.” You chewed slowly, then added with a smirk, “I can easily picture you with a nurse. Or maybe a doctor. Wouldn’t that be fun? We could do double dates, your nurse-doctor, my broker. Very grown-up of us.”

“I don’t think I’m built for double dating.”

“No,” you agreed. “You’d probably scare my broker away.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

You paused, taking the time to eat your second piece of mandarin. “Depends.”

“On?”

“How much I like the broker."

He didn’t respond right away, turning back toward the stove. “Where’s your big pot?”

“Exactly where you left it,” you replied, watching as he moved toward the lower cabinet, like he still remembered this kitchen better than his own.

And the truth was, this – whatever this was – probably wasn’t the healthiest of situations, and it wasn’t making moving on any easier for either of you.

But it was what you knew. What you remembered.

And if this was the version of him you were allowed to keep, you’d take it. You weren’t ready to go back to a life without him, not yet. Not when he still offered pieces of himself and not when you still kept saying yes.

“Do you need any help?” you asked, rising to your feet, your knees clicking in protest.  

“Always need your help,” he responded – just a little too casually. You knew he hadn’t meant for it to land as heavily as it did.

You gathered the orange peel and turned to toss it in the bin, just as Hotch stepped back from the stove. And suddenly, he was right there – in front of you. His eyes found yours and held them, like he was reading something you hadn’t yet decided to say. He’d always been good at that, seeing things before you did. Predicting thoughts you hadn’t even fully formed.

“Have you been sleeping?”

You nodded, brushing past him to rinse your hands. “Like a baby.”

He turned just slightly, enough to catch your expression. “That’s a no, then.”

“It’s hard to get comfortable on a bed that’s broken,” you said, equal parts explanation and blame. And while you wished it was a great sex story you were referring to…it wasn’t. You’d asked him to hang a frame above your bed. The next thing you heard from the living room was a loud thud – one of the bed legs snapping clean off.

“Hey, I fixed what I broke,” he offered.

Ha.

“Not very well,” you muttered, drying your hands. “Where do you want me?”

Hotch paused mid-motion as he added vegetables to the pot, eyes flicking up to meet yours.  

“In terms of helping,” you added, arching a brow like it was his mind that had wandered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Right.” He nodded toward the cutting board. “You can shred the chicken.”

You did as you were told, moving to stand next to him. Your elbow brushed his now and then, neither of you bothering to move away.

“You still do this thing,” you said after a moment, not looking up. “Organising everything before you start. Like you’re in a restaurant kitchen.”

“It saves time,” he reasoned, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s kind of endearing.”

“You used to call it controlling.”

You shrugged again. “I don’t recall.”

“Just like you don’t recall watering the basil?” His eyes moved to a pot on the windowsill, it’s leaves wilted, dropping sadly.

“You’re welcome to take it home with you.”

He raised a brow. “And let it die under my care instead?”

“Seems fair. Full-circle moment.”

Your elbow brushed his again and the two of you fell silent.

“...You okay?”

You didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” he pressed, gentler now.  

You nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. I mean… not great, but – functioning.”

“Is there anything that I can do?”

You glanced up, offering a tired but genuine smile. “Just make sure the soup’s good.”

“It will be,” he assured you. “I know how you like it.”

And he did – because he still remembered all of it. Everything you liked, everything you didn’t. What you tolerated with a tight-lipped smile and what you outright hated. He hadn’t forgotten a thing.

And as you stood there, watching him move through your kitchen like he still belonged in your home, in your heart, you couldn’t help but wonder how many more times the two of you would let yourselves end up in moments like this.

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue

(please lmk if you want to be removed from the general tag list & just be kept on the fake finance tag list)

[sunny-fox]

Misheard

Fandom: Genshin Impact (SAGAU)

Reader's pronouns: they/them

Warning(s): implied toxic friendship, cult behaviour

------------------------------

As much as he hated to say it, Wanderer had to admit that he simply enjoyed it when he became your vessel. He loved the feeling of your warm gaze upon him, the sound of your voice as you hummed or sang, the way you'd give him and his team members your undivided attention when you played the game.

Today was no different. He hurled Anemo energy at his opponents, smiling smugly to himself when he defeated the final one.

"Don't be so smug about it," Faruzan snapped at him. "It's not like you'd be able to defeat them so quickly if we hadn't been providing support."

"And did I ask for your help?" he asked. "Their Grace was the one who chose this team. They should've just put me on the team, and me only. Then I wouldn't need to save the three of you all the time. And," he added with a grin, "I would be able to show them just how powerful I am, even without any help."

Bennett, sweating nervously, turned to look at the Geo Archon. The man just sighed and looked away from the Anemo vision holders, motioning for Bennett to step away from them. Perhaps he's worried that they'd start fighting again? Bennett wondered, but obeyed nevertheless.

Zhongli and Bennett said nothing as they picked up materials. They could hear your voice - you were humming as usual, sometimes singing softly. You started to sing a short but soothing song repeatedly - something about going on a journey - and despite not knowing its title, they enjoyed it all the same, successfully tuning out the bickering of their team members (or maybe the reason they no longer heard them was because they had stopped to listen to your voice).

But then they heard the creak of a door being opened, and you stopped singing.

------------------------------

You turned to your right just in time to see someone open the door and step into your room. Ah, it's them. You let out a barely audible sigh. You should've expected it - there were no knocks, it could only be them.

"What's the matter?" you asked as your friend walked towards you.

"I want to go for a walk and get some ice cream," they said. "Can you come with me?"

Your gaze flickered towards the screen of your device for a brief moment. "Sorry, I don't plan on going outdoors right now. I'm a little tired."

"How about later?" they pressed. "Or tomorrow?"

"I..." you hesitated. You really didn't want to go with them.

Right at that moment, a voice interrupted your conversation. "Huh. How irritating."

------------------------------

"Wanderer! You're not supposed to say that! There's no rain at all, let alone thunder!" Faruzan scolded.

"I'm just telling the truth," Wanderer said, shrugging. "They are irritating."

Zhongli tilted his head backwards to look at the sky. "Though we lack a screen to see Their Grace's face, I can tell from their voice that they're uncomfortable."

"Why won't that person leave Their Grace alone, then..." mumbled Bennett.

"Who knows? All I know is that they're so ignorant, they can't even tell when someone simply doesn't want to spend time with them, be it right now or in the future." Wanderer muttered, looking at the sky as well.

------------------------------

"Uhhh... What was that?" Your friend looked puzzled upon hearing the new voice in the room.

"Oh, that's just the voiceline of the character in the game," you said, gesturing at your screen. "The characters have idle animations and voicelines."

"Okay...so...can you go with me later?"

Why can't they understand that you didn't want to spend time with them? You mustered the courage to refuse and opened your mouth. But before you could say a word, there was that voice again.

"Ignorant idiot."

"Take a hint."

"Leave this room right now."

"Please leave Their Grace alone!"

You stared at the screen in shock. You were pretty sure that you've already heard all of Wanderer's voicelines by now, and that certainly wasn't one of them.

"What's wrong?" Your friend asked.

"Oh... Nothing! It seems like there's a problem with my device, I have to fix it right now, sorry!" you said quickly.

Your friend sighed. "Okay... But we'll go together in the future, right? You have to go with me during the holidays! "

You nodded with a strained smile, and your friend left.

You opened the Character screen and scrolled through Wanderer's voicelines. There was not a single voiceline where he'd mention "Ignorant idiot."

As expected.

There wasn't.

Maybe you had misheard him.

Or maybe you hadn't...

[windvexer]

So you're worried about getting into spirit work because you might say the wrong thing and offend the spirits

[[YMMV; this is a UPG post, etc. Other spirit workers are welcome to include their own experiences, suggestions, or cautions :)]]

My take is straightforward. Each step is expanded below.

Do the research you can to understand the kind of spirits you're interacting with. If myth, lore, or folktale gives you rules/guidelines for interaction with that kind of spirit, follow them.

Whether or not you can do that (unknown kind of spirit; limited lore), always behave with your highest level of respect and manners.

If a spirit tells you its preferences or boundaries that contradict with their lore or your manners, prioritize the spirit's preferences.

If you make a mistake that causes offense, apologize and ask for another chance.

If a spirit is going to be an unforgiving vengeful jackass just because you make a mistake, maybe that guy just sucks and you shouldn't work with him.

Do the research

THE RESEARCH IS NOT TO FIGURE OUT IF THE SPIRIT IS 'GOOD' OR 'EVIL'.

The research is to understand if there are any expected acts of courtesy and hospitality when dealing with this category of spirit.

Spirits are not the stupidest guy you've ever met. They are likely to understand if you have taken the time to research appropriate means of hospitality.

It's like googling horse behavior before you go hang out on a farm for the summer. You read a story about how horses can kick. So they're evil?? Evil dangerous??? But also, they can be good friends and people even say they can be helpers... Then which is it? Are horses right-handed path or left-handed path?

The point is to gain a roadmap, if one is available, to understand appropriate behaviors during interaction. Like, don't stand behind the horse!

If you know the classification of spirit you're working with, trying to understand their cultural expectations is a sign of respect and can help you. Every once and a while there might be a really important rule that's outlined in lore, and if that exists, you'd be better off knowing it ahead of time.

Like, idk. Don't agree to a fiddle contest on a crossroads, you know? This is lore you should already have in your back pocket before you go to meet the Devil in Appalachia.

Always behave with highest respect and manners

This doesn't mean groveling, boot-licking, or worship.

Respect spirits as individuals. Do not ignore what they show you about themselves because you only think of them as cookie-cutter lore-clones.

Use manners.

As much as you can, try to think of your spirit encounters as being actual present-moment encounters with real beings.

If you see that your behavior seems to make a spirit withdraw or be uncomfortable, try pausing that behavior. If you see a spirit responds well to certain behavior, try using that more.

If you see that a spirit is getting frustrated with a behavior, do not keep doing it over and over again just because you heard that kind of spirit is supposed to like it.

Importantly, if you do end up accidentally upsetting a spirit you want to be able to say, "I'm sorry that I offended you, my action was meant to be one of respect."

You never want to be stuck saying, "wow, sorry that offended you. I guess I don't know what I was thinking, I just assumed you'd be more chill..."

Spirits are not the stupidest guy you've ever met. They understand if you are making an effort, or not. And making an effort can go a really long way.

In addition, I personally recommend that during spirit contact assume you saw and heard correctly, but don't immediately integrate what you perceived as being proven fact.

If a spirit tells you it's a dragon and you don't believe it, don't keep asking it what it is over and over. Like imagine that from their perspective. "What are you?" "A dragon." "...Can you tell me what you are?" "I'm a dragon." [takes three deep breaths, intense meditative focus] "Spirit, please reveal to me your nature; what might be called type, or species." "D R A G O N" "Can you describe your appearance to me? That would help me understan-- oh, I no longer sense a presence. I guess this was all in my head. I was right to have my doubts."

If you hear silly or nonsense names, are told unbelievable spirit types, or anything, assume you heard correctly. This does not mean you should assume the spirit is being honest or forthcoming, or that your psychism is flawless. Rather, roll with the punches - accept what you experience in the moment, and later on spend effort in discernment, testing ideas before you accept them as truth, fact, or beliefs.

Just don't demand the other person repeat themselves and then tell them to their faces you don't believe them.

If you did hear incorrectly, spirits can take their own steps towards correcting your understanding later on.

Assume spirits are individuals

Imagine making friends with a goth (!!), but you've never interacted with that kind of person before. So you go to WikiHow and read their helpful article, How To Be Friends With A Goth. It says that goths really enjoy listening to The Cure and having a collection of safety pins.

Because you want this relationship to work out, you invite your new goth friend over and put on The Cure.

"Do you mind if we listen to some Manson?" Anastazia asks you. "I'm not really into the older stuff."

You can't believe your hearing has failed you. You zoned out to the point where you actually thought a goth said they did not want to listen to The Cure. How embarrassing. However, you know what Anastazia really wants. Anastazia wants to listen to The Cure.

WikiHow said so.

Apologize and work it out

People worry about 'offending the spirits' as if that's the worst possible thing you could ever do. It is not.

I offend spirits sometimes. This is how it usually goes:

Me: [offensive action] Spirit: "Woah, that sucks. Don't do that, I didn't like it." Me: "Oh dang I'm sorry, I didn't realize it would go down like that. I'll remember how you feel and try to do better." Spirit: "Okay, thanks for not being a jerk about it. I gotta go now, let's talk later."

What's the worst case scenario, that the relationship will be irreparable? IRREPARABLE, because you accidentally said one wrong thing?

If your spirits are making you walk on eggshells, making you terrified to speak up or communicate because saying the wrong thing will make them lash out, give you the silent treatment, or put you in danger...

What would you tell your friend to do, if they were in that kind of relationship? I think you might offer them help to get out and find a new relationship where they are valued and respected.

Putting on my serious hat: If you do believe that spirits are inherently vengeful, heartless, or prone to abusive behaviors like harming you because you made a mistake, I encourage you to consider if spirit work is really a healthy choice for you at this time.

Maybe that guy really isn't just for you, you know?

A lot of people are really worried about saying something wrong. Like spirit work is that Squid Game of glass floors, and if you step on the wrong tile it'll shatter and spirits will drag you straight to hell.

Look - I know what the wrong things to say are. Here's a list to help you avoid stumbling into these pitfalls (not comprehensive):

"Fuck you, I'm God."

"You are now my slave. I bind you, worm. That's what you are to me. A worm."

"Hi, I choose you to be the one who gives me power and teaches me magic. I brought you a pretty rock to live in :) Get inside of it :)"

"Nice to meet you, I'm the new head bitch in charge of this forest. Go tell everyone else who the new boss is."

However if you choose to say the following sorts of things I think you're really playing it safe:

Nice to meet you, I'm really excited to be reaching out and I hope we can be friends.

I'm hoping to find a helper or a familiar who wants to be a part of my practice. Do you think that could be you?

I'm surprised that you take the appearance I associate with a European being, but we're in Idaho. Would it be correct to call you a Kelpie?

Thanks for joining me when I called out, but as it turns out your energy is way too intense for me. Is it possible for you to hold back your radiance? Otherwise I think we need to part ways.

I really can't Hear you at all, so would it be okay if I just gave you a nickname?

Nonetheless, if a guy does get really offended and demands that you self-flagellate to soothe his temper, then maybe he kind of just sucks and you shouldn't spend any more time with him.

You can be the nicest and most respectful person of all time, and some spirits will just never be happy.

If you think certain spirits are likely to be easily offended, don't reach out to them.

If you think all spirits are likely to be easily offended, that is another problem altogether.

If you don't know where to start, the following kinds of guys are often quite patient and easy to get along with:

Domesticated trees

Culinary or medicinal plant species (poisonous plants excluded)

Streams, lakes (rivers... maybe not so much, IME)

Clouds, rainbows, light rain

Breezes, joyful gusting winds

Fish

Air, atmosphere

Salt

Learn sorcerous skills to back you up during spirit work, behave with common sense and respect, and take your time getting to know new spirits. And I think you'll be okay.

[boosandbirds]

gotham hauntings (name undecided)

The ghosts in Gotham are different from the ones in Amity.

They're drifters, flitting around the streets and wandering aimlessly. Full ghosts seem rare, but there are dozens, if not hundreds of shades, and if he's being honest, Danny isn't really surprised. The city is known for two things, crime and vigilantes, and either one of those can lead to nasty consequences. 

Messy death, unsolved cases, people's lives ended without a second thought. 

It's a wonder Gotham hasn't been entirely overrun by Shades, Danny thinks, but never says. He doesn't think about what he would do if a stronger ghost, one with an obsession formed here.

After all, Danny Nightingale is just a regular guy, with no connection to the dead.

That never stops them from creeping up on him.

It doesn’t quite start with footsteps, but that’s the best way to describe it. The knowledge that someone – or, something – is following him, not at a leisurely pace, but not urgently, either. There’s an unnatural sort of silence, too, like the kind before lightning strikes the earth, and Danny has to suppress a tremor at the thought.

The echoing sounds that begin to follow him aren’t natural, either. 

Whistling wind, when there’s not even a slight breeze. Claws tapping against the ground, without a rat in sight. A lighter, clicking on and off and on and off, over and over again. Nails dragging against metal walls, when Danny knows he is the only living soul in this alley. 

Though, he supposes that the term living makes all the difference.

His breath turns cold as the ghost finally approaches him, a shiver running down his spine. He stops walking. Takes a deep breath as the chill sinks into his bones. The feeling doesn't bother him as much as it used to, but the first moments are still uncomfortable.

“My Lady,” Danny says, his voice soft. “I was wondering when I'd meet you. It's an honor.”

The laughter that fills the air is a crisp, crackling sort of sound, almost like wood burning in a fireplace. “You remind me of my Knights,” she rasps, and her voice is rough, like she's smoked every day in her existence. 

The thought is only cemented when her form starts to take shape.

Her body looks as though it's made of smog and scrap metal, swirling smoke giving way to sharp edges and rust. Her cloak – or does it resemble a dress more? Danny isn't sure – reaches all the way to the floor, leaving a train of fabric behind her that slowly fades into the asphalt. She’s tall, too, in a way that humans never are. Danny has to crane his neck to look up at her, and even then, her face is hidden.

Sheer black fabric is draped almost her entire head, leaving only her mouth visible, and the rest of her features up to his imagination. When she smiles at him, Danny catches a glimpse of bloodied fangs. 

He can’t see her eyes at all. 

“Do you fancy yourself one of them?” Gotham asks, a clawed hand reaching forward to delicately lift his chin. “Do you mean to become a bird, little ghost? Or shall you remain a Phantom?”

Danny does not look away. “Don’t worry about me, my Lady,” he says, allowing his confidence to show through. He respects her, he does, but Danny has fought too many Ancients to hide behind flattery. “I don’t want to be a hero, not anymore. I just want to help people pass on, if I can.”

She hums, and though her expression doesn’t change, Danny gets the impression that he said something right. “Not a Knight,” she says, voice cracking around the words, “but more than a mere spector.”

And this isn’t the first time a ghost has come to a grand conclusion about him, but Ancients, Danny hopes that it’s the last. It’s a little better when it’s someone he knows, like Frostbite and the Far Frozen, and even then, it’s stifling. At least they know him beyond the quips and snarky comments and all of the things he’s done. All of the things that he’s had to do. 

 They still see him as human, despite all the grandiose and titles they’ve given him. 

But to Lady Gotham? 

Danny’s just a kid, barely into college. He wishes that was all Gotham saw him as.

“You can call me whatever you’d like to,” Danny says, despite his thoughts. “I don’t mean to intrude on your Haunt, or replace anyone who’s already here.”

“You are different from my Knights,” Gotham says, laughing lowly. “You help the ones they cannot see, and for that, you have my respect.” 

Her ghastly form softens around the edges, and for a moment, Danny thinks he sees a pair of red eyes. For once, nothing about the color seems dangerous. There are no warning alarms going off in his head, no deep seated instinct to flee or to freeze, or even to fight. With her free hand, Gotham cards her fingers through her hair, her claws barely scratching his scalp.

Those instincts are still silent, and that is a rare thing. 

“I can’t argue with ya there,” Danny says, and for now, that’s the end of it.

[bulgingforbucky]

Helping Hand

NSFW Warning: Eating out, Fingering, Missionary Art Donaldson x afab!reader Summary: Art wants to show you appreciation, as well as what a man is supposed to treat you. I want the human version of big bird right neow like look at him hitting those balls when he needs to hit his balls on my ass <3

"Please just, let me show you how a man is supposed to treat you." His tongue comes in contact with your swollen clit as a gasp comes from you. Art moves with a mix of caution and nervousness gripping your thighs. He groans against your pussy as he starts to concentrate on doing a great job for you.

"You taste so good." He mumbles against your pussy as he squeezes your soft thighs. His tongue laps at your pussy desperately sucking on your clit for a second before he goes back to licking. You can hear the wetness as his mouth makes repeated contact with your achy pussy. The feeling of his slightly rough hands on your thighs feels good, they're big, and squeeze the soft flesh of your thigh as he pleasures you.

He put pressure on your slit flicking it up and down slurping softly on your wetness trying to taste more of you. Teasing he pushes his tongue more onto your slit wanting his tongue inside, your cunt pulses in response to his actions. You squirm trying to move away from the overwhelming feeling but also want to chase it, you don't know what you want. Art watches your movements closely feeling out what he should and shouldn't do, he once again slightly pushes past your slit with his warm tongue watching your reaction.

With the way you're moaning and gripping the sheets, he's taking this as a positive reaction as he slowly starts to push his tongue inside very slowly not wanting to surprise you. A small whimper comes from you as you clench on his tongue as he starts to move his tongue before pulling it out and replacing it again in a continuous cycle.

Soft groans escape your mouth as you try to grind on his face trying to satisfy your sensitivity that's coursing through your body. With the pace of the man's tongue increasing, your body jerks as your sounds of pleasure start to increase. Your thighs lock on his head as you shake, Art rarely reacts to this action as he continues his movements.

"Art I can't, it's too much." You whine as you writhe on the soft bed below you making Art chuckle against you and sending vibrations to your needy cunt. His tongue moves slightly faster as your head spins slightly. "Art please I can't." the gasps coming from you quicken looking down at him.

Your legs twitch occasionally before you squeeze his head with your thighs letting out a whine trying to push his head back. Art pulls back looking at you seeing you panting and flushed out. "Ok I'll give you a break." he whispers before his thumb makes contact with your clit as it almost immediately throbs against his finger.

Art rubs his finger in slow circles on your bud making it glisten as you moan softly. Your hips roll in need as he keeps the same pace on your sensitive bud. You beg softly for more making him look up at you, "You sure?" Art asks with caution.

God for a man to want you so bad but still nervous he'll go too far and make you uncomfortable is so hot.

You nod in desperation before his index rubs against your wet slit making your pussy clench around nothing. "Art please?" The slight beg eggs art on before he starts to push his finger inside your weeping hole. The noise you let out is small but he can hear the distress in your voice. "I know what you need." Art moves his finger as you gasp nibbling on your bottom lip moving your hips trying to get more from him.

"Your pussy is aching huh? Need relief that bad?" Art teases as you clench on his digit wanting more. "Art don't tease me." You say in a breathless tone. "I need more, right now." You look down at him seeing the desire all over his face. "Want me to fuck you? Right now?" He asks to which you immediately say yes.

Art takes off his sweatpants and then his boxers as you see his hard leaking cock. "You want this?" he asks getting on top of you. "I need it." You correct him before he leans down and kisses you before he starts to move his cock on your clit. "Art I thought I said no teasing." You moan as the small wetness starts to mix.

Art grabs his cock before he positions it toward your entrance looking at you for confirmation. You nod before Art starts to push inside as you control your breathing trying to relax. Once he is fully seated he lets you adjust before he starts prepping kissing over your face. Testing the water he slowly starts to rock against you.

Feeling him you moan as your body clamps down on him. "Oh fuck..." he exclaims getting into the rhythm. The feeling of his cock makes your core flutter around him squeezing a groan out of Art. The wetness that's heard between you two makes his cock throb inside.

"I'm guessing you like what I'm doing, right?" He asks making sure that he is satisfying you properly. "You feel good, you're so thick." Art chuckles, "Yeah? It's filling you up nice?" You nod as you try to move your hips against him. The man leans down kissing your jaw pinning you down and keeping you in place as you shudder against him leaning into his kisses.

Art's hips move back and forth as he concentrates on making you feel good with his cock. "Oh my God baby." He moans kissing you. "God you feel so good." Art moans as he rocks his hips gripping yours as he throws his head back.

"Art give it to me please, God I need your cock so bad." You beg in need as you look up at him, the grunts coming from him are such a turn-on as the wet sounds progressively get louder. His cock leaks precum inside you as he winces slightly.

"Fuck your pussy so good baby, squeezing my cock so tight." He pulls your hips to meet his as your breasts bounce from the rocking. You squirm from the feeling as you scratch his arm needing to hold something then wrapping your legs around his waist you pull him as close as you can get him.

"Jesus baby my balls are so heavy right now, they're so full of cum." Art says heavily as he grinds into you, that sentence alone makes your pussy squeeze him as you let out a whimper moaning his name. You grind on his cock trying to get more of what you're craving from him. "Right there baby like that yes." The blonde moans as he pumps his achy cock into you.

His cock starts to hit your sensitive spot as you cry out dipping your fingers into his skin. Art reacts in slight pain as he lets out a shaky breath, "Right there? That's your spot?" He asks with a slightly cocky attitude. "Yes, Art please don't stop it feels so good please." You unhook your legs from his waist spreading them wide begging him. "I got you, I'll make you cum you know I will." He reassures you as he feels you tighten around him.

"That's it baby let me hit that spot." His cock keeps hitting the same spot that makes you beg for more. Your hands shake slightly before you grab his shoulders squeezing them with all your might to keep you grounded. "I'm gonna cum." You moan as Art keeps the same pace feeling his cock twitch. "That's what I want, need you to soak my cock, make a mess." Art kisses your forehead holding you close as you repeatedly beg him to make you cum.

He keeps bumping that same spot before your hearing goes out as your cunt clamps down him on him as you release. You close your eyes as you can feel Art fuck you through your orgasm and you whine hanging onto him for dear life. Art presses both of your foreheads together as he pants. "That's it there you go baby milk my cock."

Your sensitivity levels go up after your orgasm subsides as his thrust starts to go slower trying to bring himself to the edge. You wince slightly as Art kisses you, "I know you're sensitive I'm almost there bare with me ok." He grabs your hand squeezing it as you return the gesture. The man keeps at the action as he moans before he starts to feel himself getting on the edge,

"I'm gonna going to cum, going to cum for you." Art lets a slight whine slip as his cock pulses. "Come on Art cum for me, cum inside." You encourage as Art speeds up his thrust moaning before feeling you clench one last time before he starts to cum inside you. You grind your hips helping him go through his orgasm as he shakes against you trying to push his cock deeper into you as he possibly can.

Art sighs in satisfaction before he kisses you softly and pulls out of your sore cunt. You lean into him, feeling his arms wrap around you as you sigh from the intense orgasm both of you shared.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: So this is kind of a Part 1 of a whole chapter because i wanted to give you guys something. So the next chapter will have a bit more going on, hope you enjoy this for now! Excited for any comments or theories you guys have about what's going to happen 💕

-🐺-

The major opened the door slowly and then gently closed it shut behind him, sparing a quick glance at you before he walked over to Price’s desk with only a few long strides. He was a tall man with gleaming shoes and a pristine uniform to match, his red hair combed back neatly on top of his head. You took in everything, your breathing almost slowed to a stop while you waited for the news. Only when he sat down at the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of Price did he speak. 

“Before I start, I want to say that I know you’re a busy man and that your team are integral to many ongoing operations that are running. However,” the major paused, his accent thickly weaving his words. “After the incident outside your hallway with Second Lieutenant Smith, I’m afraid to say that I must ask you to carve out some time for me.”

Price laughed at that. Not a warm chuckle or a dark little rumble, like you were used to hearing over comms or during training. This was one of disbelief, the little glinting breaths coming through like warning shots. 

“I’d hardly call that an incident, Major. A silly boy decided to test my hybrid and got exactly what he deserved. There ain’t much more to it,” Price grunted.

He straightened his back and leaned over his table, appearing every bit as menacing as you imagined he could be. The way his eyes appeared to darken below his tilted heavy brow were enough to send even you gulping - and you were the one he was defending. The Major didn’t seem to react however, he wasn’t cowed by the show, he merely sniffed and set his own arms on the desk. 

“Ordinarily I’d agree with ye, Price, you know I would. That wasn’t just any boy though, his da’s some parliamentary arsehole and he wants atonement.”

That gave Price pause.

You sucked in a breath and dug your fingers into the couch cushions, feeling the fabric strain and almost give way under your claws. The shaking started seconds later. You were going to be punished after all. 

Who would do the whipping, you wondered, I don’t want it to be any of the boys, definitely not Ghost. A small whine escaped your throat at  the thought of that before you could cram it down. Ghost was supposed to be safe. The idea that he’d be the one looming over you and raining down pain on your back left your throat feeling crushingly tight. 

“You’re not laying a finger on my wolf, do you hear me?” Price said, his voice so low he might as well have growled at the Major. 

His. The way he said it was so possessive compared to the way you normally heard that, the way that Ghost usually said it. Ghost’s good Pup. His sweet thing. Price said that you were his with all the ferocity of a wild animal. Like something was threatening to drag you off into the unknown. 

“Look I’m not gonna bullshit you here. I tried insisting on something like committed service hours, guard duty or sniffing - that sort of thing. He wasn’t going for it. The problem isn’t so much with what the hybrid did - it’s your Lieutenant he wants to prove a point to most of all. He wants Ghost to know he can’t get away with insulting his family.” 

“So what? He wants Ghost punished?” Price snorted, tilting his chin up in challenge. “You gonna string him up to the post and all are ya?”

The major sighed deeply and rubbed his brow. 

“No ones getting strung up, don’t jump to conclusions. He said that he wants the hybrid locked down for a week, they’re to be placed with the Smith boy’s squad and kenneled, only to be removed should a mission arise where the hybrid’s presence is essential…now, before you go thinking that you can conjure up some kind of week long escapade, he explicitly stated the sentence is to pause while away and resume on return.”

I’d rather be whipped bloody, you thought. The exact thing you were afraid of was coming to fruition. You were to be stripped of what you’d come to love and return to your old way of life, worse still was the thought that you didn’t even know what the kennels were like in your new base, didn’t know if they could extend your stay which would often happen at Branhaven. There was every chance you could be stuck with that horrible bastard indefinitely. Ghost had made a point of letting you know that he never intended on punishing you like that, that you wouldn’t while away your hours in a dingy cell block, or be made to face a post ever again. 

The memory of him settling his hand on your shoulder and squeezing ever so gently as he explained his approach to discipline was so strong, you almost felt his spirit lingering there beside you. He’d said he wouldn’t ever put you out in the cold or whip you unless his hand was forced, and even then he insisted he’d fight whoever threatened you. 

Would he fight a major? A politician?

“This is bullshit,” Price scoffed, smacking his hand off his desk and making you jump. “Hobbling my team because his little brat got slapped around is pathetic! What next? Would he like to bend Ghost over while he’s at it? Really, Major, this is a farce.”

“It is, aye. Exactly what happens when you tangle with those sorts, you know that as well as anyone though.”

Price’s face was the dictionary definition of scorn. You shrank back into the sofa, subconsciously trying to become a part of it and escape from all the tension. The major didn’t even wince through it. He faced Price with all the stoicism of a tree on a calm day, but Price continued to rant and plead your case until you thought his red face might start to turn purple. All the while you listened with quick little bursts of scared breath. 

The conversation didn’t go anywhere except against a dead end, ramming over and over into the same conclusion. The major grew tired of Price’s fit and walked out, saying that he’d expect you checked into the kennel’s by the end of the night. He let the threat of what would happen, should he fail to comply, linger somewhere above you - like an anvil - in the air. 

Price growled out a profanity as the door slammed closed. Only when the air had settled and the Major’s presence fully left did he turn to you and soften. His eyes, that had held so much venom, melted from slits and into doleful pools, his taught mouth slackened.

“Pup…” He sighed, looking you over.

He didn’t finish the sentiment. There was a wordless understanding between you both that he didn’t have the vocabulary for the sympathies he wanted to convey. With that quiet look of apology given he sighed out and pressed his head into his palms. 

“Fuckin’ shower of cunts the lot of em.”

Price hadn’t immediately given up of course. He picked up his phone and got to talking to numerous sources, but apparently none of them were of any use. You flinched back from where you were perched every time he hung up his phone with a bang. It almost made you feel sorry for the thing. No matter what arguments were made, no one was willing to hear Price out. That much was clear after he’d clattered down into his old chair like a shot bird. 

You had expected as much.

In the end it was you that convinced Price just to take you to the kennels. Making a point of stressing that it would be far better to go before Ghost could come back. Something within you shook at the idea of being put back into the same horrible place by the same man that had rescued you from there to begin with. At having Ghost have to take the responsibility on his shoulders, once more letting down a hybrid in his care. 

After being checked in and issued a bedroll, it was time to say your good nights. You stared at Price through the doorway of the kennel, biting your frayed lip. No matter what he said, you knew well enough that it was your own stupid stubborn fault that you were back there again - for not just acquiescing to the brat’s commands in the first place. Stunts like that were the exact reason that you had the disciplinary record that you did. Always going against anyone that wanted to shove you down, all in the name of some kind of renegade fantasy that you had any control over your life. Fiercely defending the shreds of your honour as if you hadn’t spent most of your life as a beaten dog. 

Stupid. 

At the very least though, conditions were far better than your old haunt at Branhaven. That was something, you tried to tell yourself. The shiny black sleeping bag they’d given you was plenty thick and there was a groaning old heater that rattled overhead, so that the nipping cold temperatures felt more like being left in a draughty room. Even the construction wasn’t as bad as the other ones, rubber crumb flooring like that of a playground, meant that you wouldn’t get as stiff and a hard fibreglass front over the concrete walls meant that you wouldn’t be exposed to the elements. It was almost possible to think of it like a stay at the worlds worst hotel, rather than a mandated stay in the kennels. 

It wasn’t home, but at least you knew that you’d get to return there as long as you listened and kept your stupid trap shut for once. Home with Ghost. Now that you’d calmed down after the initial shock of being issued the punishment, an internal clock had materialised in your head. The countdown to when you could go home. All you had to do was take your medicine and you could be with Ghost again, everything could go back to how it was. That thought alone was enough to keep the needling panic at the back of your mind firmly restrained there. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” Price said, his voice stony and rough. “I don’t wanna leave you here, Pup…I really don’t.”

“Don’t wanna leave me, or don’t wanna have to face Ghost and tell him I’m here?” You said, making an attempt to lift his heavy expression. 

He grunted something that could be interpreted as a bitter chuckle. 

“Neither.”

You smiled a little, but didn’t have it in you to laugh. At seeing your expression, he crossed the threshold between you both and closed his palm over your head. His roughened fingers skimmed over your ears and softly rubbed some of the worry out from deep within your tissue. A proper moment of reprieve settled over your body, loosening tight muscles, before you were forced to part again by the approaching footsteps of the guard.

“Sorry, Sir. I have to lock all the kennels up for the night for lights out,” he explained sheepishly, eyes not fully able to reach Price’s gaze.

Price nodded at him and went to comply, though only after giving you one last ruffle over the ears. He stepped back after and allowed the fibre glass door to snick to a close. Your heart thumped extra loudly while it shut. Price gave you one last mournful look and then told you to get some rest, assuring you that he’d be watching over you even from afar. 

“Good night, Price,” you whispered back, watching his retreating back with sorrow filled eyes.

The guard grunted and double checked the door, ensuring it was locked and rattling the mechanism a few times before he was satisfied. The soft click of metal on metal forced your ears to twitch upward into alert. 

“Get into your bedroll. Light’s out,” the guard said, his voice hardened now that your Captain was gone. “If you cause trouble or give me any crap you’ll be removed for discipline and then returned here. Do you understand?”

“Understood, Sir,” you nodded, unfurling the sleeping bag with a shiver.

The guard allowed you to sort your bedding and once inside the puffy roll of fabric he flicked the light switch and left you bathed in the darkness. He continued down the line from there, the only evidence of his presence, the fading lights down the line and the clicking of switches and doors. 

You whined softly while rubbing your face against the cold fabric below, blanching at the cold rubber flooring. Your heart lurched at the thought of your bed back home. The thought of your cushy blue pillows, Simon’s soft fur, the dialogue unread from the ‘Super-Wolf’ graphic novels by your bed, the smell of rotisserie chicken that was supposed to linger in the air, no where to be found in that sterile place. This was all wrong.

No matter what position you got in, no matter how hard you tried to shut your mind off and return to old coping mechanisms, the idea that you could be safely in your bed weighed on your chest like an elephant. Before you were used to being shoved into a kennel and forgotten about, but now you knew that there was a better life. A life that had been ripped from you.

You wanted to scream, wanted to claw your way out of the sleeping bag and slam yourself against the clear glass like a mad person, wanted to raise hell until you were returned to your rightful place. Though you never followed through. You had to be good now. It was the only thing that would get you home. 

Instead, you let your head loll to the back wall, facing the speckled brick and let loose the tears that you hadn’t wanted Price to have to witness again. Couldn’t have him thinking that you were completely pathetic afterall. The hot paths they left burned against your cold cheeks, though they still couldn’t compete with the heat that filled your aching chest. 

I’ll be with them again. Ghost won’t let me go. 

-🐺-

“Mum…I had a nightmare. The monsters want to take me away.”

Your little tail was pinned fast under your legs, your ears folded so close to your head you could feel the fibres of your hair even through your fur. Blinking back the tears from your eyes, you swallowed and looked up at her imploringly, hoping for a big cuddle just like the ones you’d seen her give to your older sister.

If she knew the meaning in your look, she didn’t show it. She groaned and got up from the couch, mumbling something under her breath before grabbing your wrist and shepherding you back to bed. The long dark corridors of your house seemed all the more haunting at night, the sounds of all the appliances ringing through the walls like wails. You shivered all the way back to your tiny room. Your mum’s iron grip may as well have been a shackle tugging you to prison. 

“Right, get back to sleep. You won’t have another nightmare after you’ve just had one.”

She turned the light on while you sorted yourself, impatiently hovering by the switch until you were lying back in bed and clinging the stuffed dog that your sister hadn’t wanted - had so graciously thrown at you one day - to your chest. His name was faint to you now, a shadow in your anxiety addled mind, what did you call him again? 

“Sleep tight,” she sighed, turning the light out and spiriting out the door. 

You blinked out through the darkness and sighed, curling into a little ball and trying your best to retreat from the leering shadows in the corner of the room. In that darkness your mind created faces, grinning horrible faces that wanted to gobble you up and turn you into mince. Just like the monsters from that horrible movie your dad had watched the night before, completely unaware that you had been hiding under the dining table, trying to avoid your mothers wrath for the milk that you’d spilled before bed.

“Monsters can’t get you here, sweetie,” you whispered to yourself, remembering the calming words you’d overheard in your sister’s room a few nights prior. “Nothing will get you when you’re safely tucked up…snug as a bug in a rug. You have your teddy to protect you, he’ll watch over you all night! Then in the morning everything will be fine again and the sun will be shining.”

The words didn’t seem to hold the same weight when you said them to yourself. They just rang hollow in the static. Perhaps they didn’t work the same since you were different, a half-breed ‘thing’ that no one asked for. Were you worth protecting? Would the sun shine for you in the morning?

-🐺-

“Hey, Pup. Oi. It’s ok, you’re alright. Easy…Easy”

You gulped in a hungry breath of air and opened your eyes, chest absolutely heaving as you fought off the last of the evil spirits that cackled and snapped at your extremities. In all your confusion between sleeping and waking, you couldn’t be sure if the arms that were wrapped around you were real, and if they were, you couldn’t be sure that they were friendly. 

When you whipped round and saw Gaz staring down at you with wide concerned eyes, you still questioned to yourself if you were in another layer of a dream. This couldn’t be right, you thought drowsily. 

“Gaz?” you mumbled, tilting your head when he smiled at you. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from the bogeyman apparently,” he smirked, ruffling your ears until you swatted his hands away. “That looked like a fuckin’ mental dream, mate.”

“No, Really - what are you doing here?”

You looked around, noting the wide open kennel door and the hazy blue sky beyond, a soft gradient of navy and electric blue sheeted over the fences and trees beyond. It couldn’t be any later than three, maybe four at a stretch. Your sleeping bag was tangled round your ankles and the heater had turned off, but other than that nothing had changed in the kennel. 

All was quiet on base, no cars whizzed by, barely any noise sounded through the crisp morning air. Sleep soon scratched at your eyes, forcing you to rub them and then embarrassingly let loose a high pitched whining yawn that had your face heating like a furnace in embarrassment.

“Aw, you are just a cute Pup, aren’t you?”

“Gaz!” you growled, trying to fix him with a stare serious enough that he would answer. 

It was no use though. He wasn’t Soap, so a little mean look did nothing to wipe the stupid smile of his smug face. Though he did relent when you growled, and when he noticed your darting looks round the opened gate, probably seeing that you were searching for the guard. At that point you’d suspected Gaz had to have stuffed him in a locker or something. 

“Relax, you can stop clutching your pearls. Price has a mission for us.”

“What?” you frowned, thoroughly doubtful, “Really? Right after I got kenneled, huh?”

“Genuinely,” He snorted, shaking his head. “I didn’t believe him at first either, but he wasn’t in the mood to piss about and explain himself. Cap said to come get you and load up ASAP, he’ll explain when we’re in the air.”

“We’re flying out?”

“Uh huh. Sooner the better too, can’t believe they made you spend a night in this place. What a fuckin’ joke.”

“Doesn’t feel like a joke to my back,” you ground out, wincing mid stretch when you felt a bone crack and heard the resulting sound. 

“Jesus. You keep making noises like that and they might retire you,” Gaz snorted.

“Ha ha,” you said dryly.

He gave you room to move away from him, allowing you to stand up before looking you over. It was almost comical seeing the way he searched you for any signs of harm, his calculating eyes narrowed as if he were looking for weapons. He paused a moment, only unfreezing when you raised your brows at him and quirked your lips. 

“You solid?” he asked.

“I think so. You?”

“It’s three in the morning and I’m freezing my arse out here instead of being passed out in bed - course I’m not,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and bumped into his side, happily strolling out of the kennel and out into freedom. One night down you, you thought, only six more to go until I get to go back to my bed. At the very least you were happy you wouldn’t have to go to that prick, Smith’s, unit for the day. More than having to be separated from Ghost, you feared what he would do to you while in his care. You strongly suspected he’d have more than a slap lined up for you at that point. 

Gaz lead you to the changing rooms before taking you to the chinook, handing you your gear and waiting on the squeaky wooden benches outside the shower block while you got ready. Then after taking the world’s quickest and coldest shower, trying miserably not to get your hair or fur wet, you stepped out to greet him with gritted teeth and soggy ears. If one thing was abundantly clear then, it was the fact that Ghost had utterly spoiled you. There was no way you could face a cold shower again without thinking about the bathroom at his.

“When I get to go back to Ghost I’m gonna live in that shower,” you huffed, teeth chattering while wrapping yourself up in the big cosy fleece that Ghost had given you a few days before. “I’m gonna stay in there until I turn into a prune and then I’ll make sure that Ghost cans me and traps all the warm condensation in.”

Gaz laughed while watching you lace `up your boots last. Your fingers were shaking still from the bone chilling cold that had seeped through your entire body. It was a wonder that you thankfully managed to finish changing without any help. As much as you had considered pathetically asking him to tie them for you, you werent sure if you could go on soldiering knowing that Gaz had to help you like you were some kind of baby. 

“Pup in a can sounds like a pretty good product. New kind of IED discovered, we can just start lobbing you at the enemy instead of wasting grenades.”

“Lobbing me?” You said in faux shock, flattening your drippy ears. “I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

“What? It’s a pretty solid strategy, would work wonders if we were facing an army of Mactavishes.”

“Gaz!” You squawked, flinging your dirty shirt at him. “Mean!”

He batted it away easily and laughed with you. 

“Oh c’mon. Soap would laugh if he was here.”

“Pfft, Soap here? coming to the kennels? Fat chance.”

“Aw, I’m sure he’d do it for you. His little furball,” Gaz teased, ruffling your ears. “Our fuzzy wuzzy puppy.”

You huffed and shooed his hands away, growling when he went to mess with you again. Gaz didn’t flinch at that, but he did roll his eyes and move back to lean against the wall. He was graciously allowing you to put away the rest of your gear in peace so that you could move out. He grew quiet while you shoved your things into the soft green rucksack, and just as you’d clicked the clasp on your bag closed, he regarded you with a more considering look. 

“What?”

“What?” Gaz returned, folding his arms. 

You frowned. 

“You’re looking at me funny.”

“Maybe it’s cause you’re funny,” he shrugged. 

“Shame that you’re not,” you replied dryly. 

“Well shit. Mess with the wolf and you get the fangs, huh?”

“You know it, Garrick.”

-🐺-

The chinook was more comfortable than the kennel. That you figured out after your belly was filled with a fat bacon roll and you had Gaz’s shoulder to lean on. Your eyelids dripped like syrup, lashes fluttering as you listened to Price drone on about the mission over the shaky comms. 

“Pup, are you listening? Knew I shouldn’t have bloody given you breakfast first,” Price admonished. 

You slowly blinked back at him.

“I am,” you huffed out, straightening your back against the chair. “We got evidence of WMD’s in Lata, so we’re gonna go there and secure em with a team from Los Vaqueros forces.”

“Top marks,” Gaz chuckled, ruffling your ears. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“These ears ain’t for nothin’,” you said with a sly grin. 

“Those ears better stay alert,” Price grumbled. “I need you alive and well so Ghost doesn’t disembowel me on return.”

Your ears perked up at that, your body quickly straightening up all the way. In all your tiredness and confusion at being taken away, you’d hardly thought about how Ghost would’ve felt about you being seperated from him for the first time. 

“You spoke to him last night then?”

“Tried to,” Price snorted. “After I told him where you were he just about bowled me over trying to get to you. Managed to convince him to let you be, but he was a pain in my arse all night. He wants to speak to you later, so if you would please be careful today me and my neck would thank you.”

“Is he coming here?” You asked hopefully, tail raising in your excitement.

“Probably not. If all goes well we should be outta here in a few days to a week. He said to call once we finish up tonight though.”

Oh. As much as you tried to stop yourself from visibly deflating, there was little you could do to prevent yourself falling back against the chair with a huff. It had already been to long without him and it had only been a day. The thought of the growing distance only gnawed at you as you thought about it more. 

“Relax, Pup. You’ll be back home to Ghost before you know it,” Price hummed. “Just gotta get through this in one piece first.”

“Yeah…but that’ll only be after I finish up my time at the kennels,” you grumbled, fully sagging into Gaz in defeat. 

“We’ll see.”

You tilted your head at the Captain wondering what the hell he meant by that, and even though he saw your curious look he didn’t answer it. All he did was wink. Even when you begged him to elaborate he shook his head and tilted down his boonie hat, making it perfectly clear that the time for talking was done.

“You could use more sleep yourself,” Gaz said afterward, watching you in your confusion. “Don’t worry too much about the future right now, you barely got any sleep last night by the sounds of that dream you were having, so you’re not gonna be able to think straight. Rest your head on me and I’ll try and keep the nightmares at bay, ok? Gotta wake up fresh for the mission.”

You pursed your lips, heart beating like a frail bird in your chest. So many questions danced around you, but every thought was dimmed by the tiring heaviness that had refused to shake itself from your body from the moment you’d woken up.

Gaz was right, you did need more sleep. And curling up on him sounded like a dream. However when you looked up into his soft hazel eyes, a sudden wave of heat pulsed through you and gave you pause. He practically glowed in the emerging morning light. 

“You sure you want me cuddling up to you?” you asked, laughing breathily to cover up your nervousness.

“Only as long as you don’t tell Ghost,” he winked. “Wouldn’t want him to get jealous.”

You shoved him playfully at that, but soon settled down once Price barked out for you both to be quiet. Bodies going ridgid before slackening into each other. Your head drooped gently down onto Gaz’s shoulder and he let his cheek rest on top of your head. The warm rays of the morning blanketed you both in its gentle hold and in minutes you were sinking into a now peaceful sleep.

[cc--2224]

I'll Show You Heaven

Pairing: Crosshair x F!Reader

Summary: Crosshair was always someone of interest to you, much to the other clones’ dismay. When he hears a Reg disrespecting you, he doesn’t hesitate to step in. You were told that there was no point trying to fix him, but you knew you could handle dangerous; although it turned out that to you, he wasn’t dangerous at all.

Warnings: This is very much 18+ Minors do not interact! Alcohol and smoking mentions; drunk clones being assholes including one putting the reader in a dangerous/uncomfortable situation but nothing happens! Smut - masturbation, Crosshair having dirty thoughts, oral (m and f receiving), biting/marking, unprotected p in v - wrap it before you tap it!!, praise kink, one instance of Cross being too rough but he corrects it, porn with feelings, language, tons of compliments/pet names, jealous maybe slightly protective Crosshair

Notes: Very slightly based on the song I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Word Count: ~6.4k

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

It was just another day. The haze of smoke lingering in the bar, the loud laughter and chatter amongst the patrons, and him. 

You had gotten to know most of the regulars at 79s, including Clone Force 99, but you never made it a point to become their friend. The clones, usually drunk, would flirt with you endlessly, but never the 99s. They kept to themselves, and you had learned over the months that they weren't very popular with the others.

You hadn't considered there were social hierarchies among the clones, but you supposed they were no different than any other group of people.

You traced the smoke back to the tall, silver-haired man. He sat at one of the tall tables, not quite facing the bar, but enough that you could see his sharp features silhouetted by the pulsing lights. 

He never looked pleased to be there, he seemed to have a permanent scowl, and you couldn't even recall a time where he said more than three words at a time, and none of them kind. 

And while these might be negative traits to most, but to you, these traits mixed with his deep brown eyes that you had caught on you once or twice, and the smirk that came along with it, the expression of an all-too-confident man, only helped to draw you in to him. 

You had a feeling that he was one to put up a front, wall himself in so that he didn't appear vulnerable. it made sense for a soldier, but there was a part of you that wanted to see what he was like when the walls came down.

"Hey! Cyar'ika!" You heard from behind you, you turned to face the clone holding his glass up to you. "You gonna give me a top up or stare at the reject squad all night?"

You rolled your eyes and turned to him too quickly to see the sharp glare of the man you were just staring at point at the rowdy clone. After refilling his glass, you set it down in front of him and gave him a warning, "Everyone is welcome in my bar, and everyone gets attended to while they're here. Understood, trooper?" 

Before he could answer, you walked toward the centre of the bar, making a point to keep an eye on all your patrons so they wouldn't also get the wrong idea about who was getting more attention. Your eyes naturally wandered back to where the 99s were sitting, briefly meeting with the same brown eyes you had been silently admiring just moments ago, the tattooed crosshairs outlining one of them perfectly. 

He turned his head back toward the rest of his squad but you could almost see him glance at you through the corner of his eyes at least once before you were called away again. 

"Y'know what?" The loud clone called out again, "I think you should just come home with me. I could make you forget all about them." He jerked his head toward the 99s. 

"And I think you've had too much to drink." You chided, ignoring his request for another top up.

"C'mon," He groaned. "If you're gonna cut me off, you should at least make it up to me. Wanna come home with a real man? I bet those 99s could never measure up to us if you get my meaning. Whattaya say, copikla?

Several clones laughed at his words, your Mando'a wasn't perfect, but based on their laughs, you assumed it wasn't nice. 

Before you could get security to kick him out, you heard a chair scrape against the floor and then the crack of knuckles on flesh. You didn't even see the tall clone cross the bar before he was laying into the loud one.

You ran out from behind the bar and tried to pull him back, as much as you didn't want to, you also didn't want him to be permanently banned either. 

Once he noticed you pulling his arm back, he stopped. 

"What's going on?" One of the security guards had come over, hearing the commotion.

"Nothing," you said before gesturing to the floor, "He had too much to drink. Best if he goes home."

The security looked at you carefully, making sure you were okay before helping the clone to his feet and walking him out of the bar.

You sighed and returned back to where you were standing before, watching the other clones glare but cautiously move out of the way of the 99.

He started walking back to his table before pausing and turning to look at you, his features almost seeming softer now. 

"You didn't have to cover for me." He said, a toothpick lodged between his lips.

You shrugged, "He was getting on my nerves, deserved the punch if you ask me. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay." You smiled up at him. 

You could handle yourself, you've been working at 79s for a while, you knew how unruly people could get when alcohol was involved, and as much as you could handle people yelling at you, you didn't like when your regulars hurled insults at groups who were just minding their own business. Especially when, to your understanding, they got enough of that back on their homeworld.

He hummed in response.

"Can I get you guys anything?" You asked after a brief silence had fallen.

"No, we're heading out. See you around." Almost on cue, the rest of his crew stood up and began to leave.

— — —

“You shouldn't have done that.” Hunter warned him quietly when they had returned to the Marauder.

Crosshair shoved past him to get into the ship.

“Regs will always take each other's side, if you get reported for starting a fight…”

“Again,” Tech chimed in.

“I'll deal with it if it happens. Regs are probably too drunk to remember anyway.” 

“Why'd you attack him, anyway?” Wrecker asked. 

His eyebrows furrowed, “Didn't you hear him? He was treating her like his little pet.”

The others looked at each other, seemingly sharing the same thought between them.

Hunter's voice didn't betray his thoughts, “Even still, you should go back and apologize. Probably scared the poor girl.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes at Hunter's order. 

“No promises.”

He went to his bunk and discarded his armour, laying on his bunk in his blacks. He couldn't seem to get your face out of his head. The way your eyes met, how you took his side even though his squad was right, he did start the fight. Your smile when you made sure that he was okay.

This wasn't the first time he had seen you, but it was the first time the two of you had ever spoken; he didn't do small talk, Hunter and Wrecker did.

But he wanted to talk to you again, he wanted to see you again, see you smiling up at him. 

The more you crept into his thoughts, the more he couldn't get you to leave. 

Eventually with the solitude of his bunk, his thoughts got the better of him. He imagined how you would look, naked and squirming under him. How you'd taste, how you'd feel around him. 

He couldn't shoo these thoughts away, he found himself palming his cock over his blacks at the thought of you taking it into your mouth. 

He had been with others before, but it was rare for him to feel like this. Usually when he’s with someone it’s just to get his own release, but thinking of you was different. He wanted to make you come, to hear you cry for him, to feel you come on his cock, on his fingers, whatever you’d allow. 

He wanted you, all of you. And he couldn’t stand the thought of some Reg pretending to flatter you just to get you into his bunk. You deserved better than that, you deserved someone who would treat you right, make you feel good, someone who could be good for you. Someone like him.

He reached his hand into his blacks, pulling himself out and stroking it. He let his mind continue to wander, imagining everything all over again as a loop. He thought of your voice, telling him how good he was, telling him how he was made for you, how no one else could satisfy you like him. He thought of marking your neck, your tits, your thighs. 

As he began to reach his climax, he stroked himself faster, he thought about filling you up with his release, he didn’t know where, whether it was your throat or your cunt, he just knew he wanted to come inside you. 

This thought sent him over the edge as he spilled out over his hand with a groan.

He knew it wasn't right to think this way, he didn't even know you, but he also knew there was no way for you to know what was going through his mind.

But would it be so bad if you did? 

— — —

Something about his expression when he finally came back to the bar was different than it had been a few days ago. Not bad by any means, just not how he normally looked. 

Part of it was likely due to the fact that he was in civilian clothes instead of his armour, nut most of all, his ever-present scowl seemed softer, and he didn't wear a smirk when he noticed you looking at him, instead he almost seemed nervous. 

He walked toward the bar and sat on one of the stools, scanning to make sure none of the gathering clones were the one from a few rotations ago. 

"Can I get you something?" You asked him with a smile.

He blinked like he still somehow wasn't expecting you to talk to him after what happened, but then shook his head. "No, nothing."

He sighed, looking down at the counter in front of him. "I wanted to..."

You looked at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"My actions the other day, that wasn't okay."

Your face softened into a small smile. "Don't worry about it, nothing to apologize for."

"Did the Reg apologize to you?"

"Oh, no I haven't seen him, but like I said, nothing to apologize for. I'm used to it." You told him nonchalantly. His gaze snapped up to meet yours and his eyes narrowed.

"Used to it? Being drunk doesn't give them an excuse to be assholes to you." His voice raised slightly.

"Really, it's fine. I'm just sorry you had to hear him talk about your squad like that for so long."

He laughed quietly and used your words back at you, "We're used to it."

Neither of you said anything for a bit. You worked on pouring another glass for one of the other patrons at the bar and then turned back to face him.

"I see you guys around here often, but until the other day, you and I have never spoken, I'd like to change that.” your kind smile at him caused his heart to pound in his chest, but when he didn't answer, you continued. “You have a name, trooper?" 

"Crosshair." 

You smirked then told him yours. 

"Where's the rest of your squad today?"

"They stayed back, wanted me to make sure you were okay. But since you are, I should be going."

He was out of the stool and heading toward the door before you could convince him to stay. He needed to clear his head, it wasn't like him to feel so reserved and shy, but he felt your presence hammering on the walls he had built for himself and he didn't know if he was ready for them to come down.

You watched him as he left and smiled to yourself. Was he really concerned about your opinion of him so much that he came all the way here just to apologize? Or maybe he just wanted to make sure the other trooper kept his distance. Either way, seeing him was always a treat, and now you had a name to go with his face.

"I'd be careful of him." One of the clones said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"Clone Force 99 isn't known for following rules. They have the highest success rate out of any squad, but the way they complete their missions goes against most protocols we have. That one, Crosshair, he's their sniper, a dangerous one at that, and definitely not a friendly sort of person, someone you don't want to get on the bad side of. Not someone you can just fix with that pretty smile of yours." 

You listened to him as he warned you, but even still, Crosshair and his squad intrigued you. You wanted to get to know them better.

Crosshair had caught your eye from the moment you had first seen him, and now the gap between you was finally starting to close.

You wanted to be his friend, but you were also curious about being more than that. You wanted to see what he was like when the two of you were alone. Was he sweet? Was he demanding? Was he some mix of both? 

You wanted to know what his lips would feel like, what he would taste like, how he'd feel. Thoughts that sparked a flame in your core. You didn't know if you'd ever get an answer to any of them, but the world worked in mysterious ways.

— — —

Once everyone had cleared out and you got some cleaning done, it was finally time to go home. 

It was late, too late to be wandering around the understreets of Coruscant alone, but you knew the most direct way back to your apartment, and had a blaster set to stun, just in case.

You turned down the alleyway, and you saw a figure push itself off the wall and walk toward you. 

"Awful late, isn't it?" You could hear the faint accent of a clone, and the audible slurring of one that had too much to drink.

"Come on, copikla, let me walk you home."

He stumbled toward you. When he came into the light, you could see the black eye that Crosshair had given him, still purple and blue despite the days that had passed.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Don't be like that, I wanted to apologize and do something nice for you. C'mon." He got closer to you and you felt your hand shake as you reached for your blaster.

"There's no need for that," He told you when you had the blaster fixed on him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then go back to your barracks, trooper."

He smirked, "Y'see the other day, your friend from the reject squad, he gave me this-" He said as he pointed to his eye. "All because I gave you a compliment, so really, you o-" 

Before he could finish his sentence you saw a blue bolt whiz past you, hitting the clone and stunning him.

You turned to see where it came from and at the other side of the alleyway, Crosshair stood with a pistol drawn.

He walked toward you, "He hasn't had a very good week." He pointed out, looking at the clone on the ground before bending down to look at his armour, looking for his identifier.

"What are you doing?" 

"Getting his ID. He'll probably be sent back to Kamino for a while for breaking protocol."

He brought his comm up to his face. "Tech, I’m sending you coordinates and a trooper ID, arrange a pickup."

"Copy." You heard the distorted voice through the comm link before Crosshair began typing in numbers.

"You seem confused." He said, looking at you now.

"I thought your squad didn't care about rules and protocol."

He smirked, "Regs have been talking about us, huh? That's true, we do our own thing and don't take orders very well but.. we wouldn't put a civ in danger in a dark alleyway, he should have known better."

"Well, thank you for helping me, but.. how did you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't. After I left the bar earlier, I went back to our ship, but there aren't many places there to think quietly so I went for a walk."

"I see. I guess it's a good thing you were here. I have a blaster for my own safety, but I froze." You looked at the gun in your hand and sighed.

"Don't worry about it, the Coruscant guard will be here before long to deal with him.”

He turned on his heels and began walking away and you watched him before looking down.

“Crosshair?” You called out before he could get too far.

He turned to look at you again but didn't say anything.

“I'm not too far but.. could you walk with me? I just…” You trailed off looking at the stunned clone at your feet.

He walked back over to you, “Of course.”

He was silent for the remainder of the walk, but he walked with you to your door.

"Would you like to come in?" You asked as you punched in the key code.

"You sure?" 

You nodded and the door hissed open, you walked in, followed by Crosshair.

He looked around your place, it was small but it was inviting.

He knew he should have just gone back to the Marauder, but part of him wanted to make sure you felt safe, and another, much more hidden part of him thought that if you had invited him in, maybe his thoughts of you hadn't been as one-sided as he thought.

"Make yourself at home." You told him.

He sat on the small sofa in the living room, his arm draped over the back, and you stared at him, remembering what the clone had said at the bar. If Crosshair really was someone to look out for, you didn't see it. You would even go as far as to say that he was being kind to you. 

"Like what you see?" He asked when he caught you staring at him, his tone slightly huskier now that he was indoors. 

You rolled your eyes, and walked over toward the couch, sitting at the opposite end from him, but turned to look at him.

"What does copikla mean? I know cyar'ika and mesh'la because I get those a lot from the regulars, but that guy was the only one to call me that."

He looked at you and frowned slightly. "It means cute, but in a way you'd say to a child or a tooka kit, not a woman. That Reg wasn't paying you a compliment when he called you that."  

"I see. And that's why you jumped him?"

"I had enough of him long before that point, but yes."

You didn't notice that as you spoke, the more distance had been closed between you and Crosshair until your knees brushed lightly.

"What if it were a compliment?" You asked.

"I guess it depends on how you reacted, if you weren't comfortable." His eyes bore into yours now. "But you seem to like the compliments from the Regs." 

You shrugged, "As I said earlier, I'm used to it." 

His hand moved toward you, gently caressing your face. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips brush against your skin and you leaned into his touch.

"Would you react the same if I complimented you?" He asked, his voice a little more than a whisper.

"You could try." You answered. “See what happens.”

His hand traveled down to rest on the side of your neck, with his thumb stroking your jawline. 

He shifted slightly closer to you, eyes half-lidded. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it with how quiet it was in the room.

Crosshair leaned over to you and looked into your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation, and when he didn't find any, he pulled you into a kiss. It wasn't demanding, but it wasn't gentle either. You could tell that this is what he had been thinking about when he said he had to clear his mind. 

Neither of you had been sure if the other wanted this, but when your lips connected, you both figured it out.

His tongue pushed into your mouth and he swallowed the moan you gave when you tasted him.

His other hand had made its way over to you, resting on your waist. Your hands rested on his chest at first, but slowly wrapped around the back of his neck, drawing him closer.

He sat back to look at you, leaned against the arm of the couch, lips starting to swell, pupils dilated, and he smirked.

"You're beautiful." He told you. You knew he was trying to get a reaction from you, but his voice was sincere. 

You could feel yourself getting warmer, and your stomach beginning to coil with the dull ache you felt between your legs. 

You slid off the couch and gently took his hand, pulling him up with you.

He seemed confused for a moment, so you clarified.

"Figured you'd want somewhere a bit more comfortable."

His smirk returned, "Presumptuous of you."

"If I'm wrong, we can continue to sit here."

"Oh no, you’re not wrong. Lead the way, mesh'la." 

You had heard the Mando'a compliments so many times they didn't even feel like real words to you, but Crosshair saying it brought new life. 

When you didn't move, he leaned in to kiss you, but you ducked out of the way and began walking to your room.

He watched you walk away, slightly offended when you dodged his kiss, but that disappeared when he looked at your hips swaying, beckoning him to follow you. 

When you walked into your bedroom, you turned on the lamp beside your bed before sitting with your back to the pillows, watching the door for him.

He entered slowly and you finally took a good look at him. He seemed much taller in your apartment than he did at the bar. You eyed him from head to toe, feeling your core clench slightly when you noticed the raised outline of his crotch straining against his jeans.

"Come here," you said, your voice low.

He walked around to the end of your bed, crawling over you with one leg on either side of your ankles.

"Closer." You breathed. 

He moved upward, hovering parallel to your hips, eyes fixed on your core.

"Good boy,." You praised him. You didn't expect him to groan at that, but as if something ignited in him, he dipped down, kissing your stomach, then your hips, and moving down to kiss your thighs before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, looking up at you to ask permission.

"Yes, please, Crosshair." 

He worked your jeans and panties off in one fell swoop, throwing them to a corner somewhere once they were off. You gasped when you felt his lips on your upper thigh, slowly trailing higher.

You arched your back slightly, desperate to feel him, but he smirked against your leg, biting into the soft flesh, before kissing the mark he had left. 

He moaned when he felt your fingernails scratch against his scalp, trying to guide his head when you needed him.

He left another mark on your other thigh before licking a stripe from that mark all the way to your centre.

Your back arched again, pulling his face closer to you.

"You like that, mesh'la?" His voice vibrating against you.

"Y-yes!" You threw your head back in pleasure when you felt his tongue circle your entrance before swiping up between your folds, tasting all you had to give him.

"G-good boy, keep... keep going." 

His hands found their way to your hips, holding them in place, you were certain that he was going to leave bruises on each one but you didn't care.

His lips clasped around your clit and he sucked so hard you saw stars, and then he went back to using his tongue, circling the bud slowly, trying to pull every moan from you that he could.

"Say it again." He said against your centre.

"Say what again?" You teased, knowing exactly what he wanted.

"Call me a-" He licked you up and down again, not finishing his question.

"Oh, you want me to call you a good boy?" You asked sweetly.

He rutted his hips against the bed as his tongue dove into you.

You cried out his name. The intensity of him drinking you up had begun to build and with it, you could feel yourself beginning to come undone. You were so close, you could feel your walls clench around his tongue, and he pulled it out.

You looked down at him in time to see his hand slide down from your hip, and he planted two fingers inside you, curling them against your walls.

"Go-good, you're so good, Crosshair, know just what I want." 

He groaned, grinding against the bed again before adding another finger, drawing a cry from your lips.

His thumb took over for his tongue against your clit as his long fingers worked on opening you up. He placed gentle, yet desperate kisses wherever he could, nipping at your soft flesh.

"Cro-Crosshair I- I'm so close."

He sucked another mark onto your thigh and groaned when he felt your hand tighten around his hair.

Your hips bucked as you felt yourself get closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, come all over my fingers." His voice coaxed you further, "Let me feel you."

His tongue went back to your center, working circles around you again as your walls continued to clench around him.

It didn't take much else to pull the orgasm out of you, you cried out his name as you came undone, legs twitching and hips bucking as he continued to work you through it.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and kissed your center once again before leaving a trail of kisses up toward your neck, slowly lifting your shirt as he went before it, too, was thrown into the corner of your room. He nipped and kissed the sensitive skin, leaving you another mark before kissing your jawline and lips once more.

He was perched above you, leaning on one of his elbows while he straddled your hips, his jeans doing little to hide the feeling of his stiffness pressing into you.

“How was that, beautiful?” He asked you, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Perfect,” you replied. “I think you deserve some attention now too, for being so good to me.” He bucked his hips involuntarily into you.

He brought his hand up to cup your face. His fingers still wet from your slick. He rested them against your lips before pushing them past. You moaned against his digits as he pressed them against your tongue, making you taste yourself. You circled each of his fingers with your tongue before sucking on them gently. He pressed his head into where your shoulder and neck meet as he reluctantly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, thinking of nothing else but how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“Do you want me to fuck you, cyar'ika?” 

“Gods, yes, but first I want to taste you.”

His cock twitched against his jeans.

“I didn't know you could read minds.” He said, his voice low.

“I can't, I just know how I want to reward my good boy.” 

Before he could say anything else, he got up from you and sat back on his heels, undoing the button on his jeans, and unzipping them just enough to relieve some of the strain. 

You sat up and crawled toward him, resting your hands on his thighs, looking up at him for any sign of discomfort before you pulled on the waistband.

“You know, it's not very fair that you're so covered and I'm not.” You told him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“No? Well, we can fix that.” He quickly pulled his shirt off before throwing it aside, revealing his toned chest. Your hands brushed against his abdomen and he sighed. You began idly tracing the outlines of his muscles and scars, and he took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face up to his, kissing you gently at first then with more passion. You felt him bite your bottom lip and you moaned into his mouth. Your hands glided across his skin before finding the waistband of his jeans again.

Without breaking the kiss, he helped you to disrobe him, and when you pulled down on his briefs, he sucked in a breath, feeling his cock spring free.

You looked down at it and instinctively parted your lips slightly, feeling your pussy clench around nothing in anticipation.

“You just going to stare at it all night?” He asked you.

You shook your head, “Can't wait to taste you, to feel you fuck my mouth.” 

You saw his cock twitch at your words and you looked up at him with a smirk. “Is that what you want?”

Instead of answering, he laced his fingers through your hair, guiding you down toward him. You were bent over, using your elbows for support with your ass in the air. 

“I could get used to this view,” Crosshair said. You didn't have to look up to know he was staring at your ass, but you pulled his gaze back to the back of your head when you kissed the side of his length. His breath hitched at each gentle kiss you gave him, and you heard him try to subdue a moan when you licked a stripe along the vein at the bottom all the way to the head, cleaning up any pre-cum that had already begun to spill out. 

“F-Fuck,” He sputtered.

You peered up at him through your lashes and his grip tightened around your hair, trying his hardest to not buck his hips and force himself into your mouth.

Your tongue swirled around his head before you took it into your mouth.

He whispered your name as he guided you further down onto him, and you took him inch by inch. 

You couldn't fit him all, you felt yourself gag slightly when he got to the back of your throat, which earned another moan from him, and you wrapped one hand around whatever had been left out. 

“Gods, you're taking me so well, wanna feel you gag on me again.” 

You moaned around him as he began using your mouth. He bucked his hips into you as he brought your head further down onto him. Your throat closed around him once again and you felt tears prick in the corner of your eyes. 

You ran your tongue across the bottom of him again, bobbing your head up and down on him, swallowing around him, sucking on him, all while he was bucking his hips into you.

His thrusts started to quicken, becoming slightly more erratic, and you gave a warning tap on his leg, you couldn't take him that quickly. He understood and slowed down.

“S-Sorry, beautiful, didn't mean to hurt you, I'm just getting close..” 

You removed your hand from the base of his length and gently caressed his balls as you continued bobbing on his cock.

“Gonna make me- I'm gonna come down your throat if you- if you keep that up.” He said between pants. 

You hummed around him and kept going. You felt him begin to tighten up and you could hear quiet curses fall from his lips. 

He moaned your name as your cheeks hollowed out around him. He stilled inside your mouth, and you felt hot spurts of him hit the back of your throat. You swallowed everything he gave you before pulling off of him, a trail of saliva keeping you connected to him for a moment longer before you sat up on your knees.

He was breathing heavily and when he looked at you, you could still see his eyes full of lust. 

“Cyar'ika,” He breathed out. “You are so incredible.” 

You leaned forward to kiss him before you felt yourself fall back onto the pillows with him caging you in with his arms.

His kisses were hungry, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, tasting himself and you on your tongue. 

“Want to fuck you. Want to be so good for you.” He said almost into your mouth. “Want to hear you scream my name as I come inside you.” 

His words elicited another moan from you, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue between your lips again.

His cock began pressing into your leg as you felt him getting hard again.

“Crosshair,” you said quietly. He stopped and looked at you, afraid he might have crossed a line. “Lie down.” 

He got up from on top of you and rolled onto his back as you moved to straddle his torso.

You kiss him gingerly on the lips, and then his neck. You felt his hands come up and rest on your hips.

“You gonna be good for me?” 

He nodded quickly. You kissed the tip of his nose before positioning yourself above his cock. He bucked his hips once trying to close the distance.

“Patience.” You told him before sinking down on him.

Heaven. 

That was the only word that could describe how he felt inside of you. His eyes screwed shut, your tight walls felt like they were suffocating his cock as they fluttered around him and he needed to feel more of it. You threw your head back and he tightened his grip on your hips. You sunk yourself down slowly until he had fully disappeared into you. 

Once you had adjusted to how he felt, you moved your hips against him as you leaned over him, seeking out his lips. He kissed you back with fervour as his hands slid around to your back and he bucked his hips to meet your movements.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back up with you. His face was buried in your chest when you straighted your back, and you could feel his lips press against your breasts, and then his teeth. 

You moaned at the feeling, rolling your hips into him faster. His hands glided along your skin back to your hips. He held them tightly as he lifted you off of him slightly before shoving you back down. 

“Fuck, Crosshair!” You cried, feeling him even deeper inside you. 

He groaned as your walls constricted around him again, this time when he lifted you off of him, he had nearly pulled out completely before slamming himself back in. 

You panted out quiet curses as you tightened your arms around him.

“This okay?” He asked you as he did it again.

“Yes, gods, you feel so good. Want you to fuck me harder, feels so good.” 

You didn't need to ask him twice. His hands slid up to your back as he eased you down on the bed before putting his hands on either side of your head.. He used his knee to push your leg up, opening you up more for him. 

His slammed himself all the way in again, each thrust seeming to reach further and further. Your hands fell above your head and he used the opportunity to grab both of your wrists with his hand, pinning them above you as he drove himself into you again at a brutal pace, relishing in the way your tits bounced with each of his thrusts. 

“Gods Crosshair, being such a good boy for me,” you panted.

His lips landed on your neck, kissing you then biting you, leaving another mark on the soft skin.

“You're marking me up so well.” You said as he gave you another love bite just above the last one.

“Gotta make sure everyone knows that you're mine, make sure that trooper knows who you belong to.”

You arched your back with a moan, just as he thrusted into you. With his relentless pace, you knew you wouldn't last much longer, his words were only sending you further over the edge.

“Getting so close, Crosshair,” you said between thrusts. 

He answered by bringing his free hand down to rub circles around your clit.

“Come on my cock, wanna feel you come, wanna hear you scream for me.”

The coil tightened again, he felt your walls squeezing him and his breath hitched.

“I'm gonna come with you, angel,” He told you. “Tell me where you want me.”

“Inside, I want to feel you fill me up.” 

His grip on your wrists tightened as his pace with his other hand quickened, pulling moans from you with each thrust.

“Pl-please, I'm so cl- so close,” you whined, getting more desperate for your release.

He knew that he couldn't keep going for much longer as his thrusts became more erratic, but he was determined to wait for you.

Your moans grew louder and you clamped around his cock more with each thrust. The build up was getting to be too much, until eventually the knot in your stomach came undone, you screamed his name as your orgasm finally crashed over you. 

“That's it, just like that,” He said, his hand moved from your wrists to intertwine his fingers with yours as he thrusted as far into you as he could, spilling into you, painting your walls with his his release. 

You both stayed as you were, panting, looking into each other's eyes and then his lips came crashing down onto yours as he pulled himself out of you.

“You're incredible,” you told him, completely blissed out.

“So are you.” He buried his face in your neck, not moving from on top of you.

“Shower?” You asked, and he sighed and nodded into you.

“Please.” 

He got up off you and took your hand, waiting for you to lead him.

“I take it you liked the compliments.” He said, more of a statement than a question.

“Hm?”

“Unless that’s how you always act when a clone compliments you.”

You shook your head, “No, that was reserved only for you.” 

He had a smug smile as you began to walk to the fresher with him in tow.

“Can't wait to see what the others say when you walk into the bar, with my marks all over you.” He said, grabbing your hips from behind, pulling you back toward him.

“Well, not all over me, but there's still time, if you're good.”

You escaped from his grip and he all but dragged you into the refresher.

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Keeping it quiet

Paring: Innocent!reader × dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You looked lonely Natasha could fix that

Warnings: SMUT, (legal) age gap, amab!nat, oral, fingering, p in v, pet names, implied aftercare, secret relationship, breeding kink, unprotected sex, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.2k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: sorry for the long wait but here I am

Masterlist

Today was supposed to be a normal BBQ like your family had had so often in this warm summer months but ever since your father invited his collegue over to join something changed. Ever since you met Natasha Romanoff about 3 months back you couldn't stop thinking about her. She might have been old enough to be your mother and a friend of your father but you couldn't denie the fact that you were attracted to her like flies to the light. She was a true charmer excatly knowing what to say and to do. You never felt uncomfortable around her even though she blatanly flited with you. Her touch somehow always lingering on your skin when the two of you were alone. It was only a matter of time until you ended in Natashas bed legs widely spread as she savoured your taste. So the time flew sneaking around your parents watch as you kept your illicent affair hidden falling head over heals for the older woman. Today was one of those days where Nat came over to your parents place and just couldn't keep her hands of you.

Like always Natashas steps were light on the cold tiles of the french villa your family owned. Sometimes you thought she was an actual spy. You didn't hear her standing in the kitchen in skimpy clothing preparing something for dinner as you mindlessly hummed along whatever Taylor Swift song was currently on the radio. "What are you doing bunny" She sneaked up behind you pressing her front into your back her crotch againt the swell of your ass. "Just doin' a salad you know" She humped checking out the area to see if your parents were around before doing anything further. Her hands came up to your hips pulling your behind harder against her crotch. "Natty please" you whined as she smirked pressing her nose against your neck smelling the expensive perfume she had gotten you. "We can't not here" your breathing was heavy uneven "What if my parents see?"

"They're in the garden trust me bunny" She whispered her strong hands trialling up your sides to your chest. Even though your body was betraying you leaning into her touch seemingly begging for more you couldn't give in just yet. You wanted to show her how you infact could be stronger than your most animalistic thoughts. "Natasha not now" she groaned into her hear making you feel the wettnes betwen your owm legs. "Fuck bunny I can't wait to feel your tight little pussy pulsing around me begging me to let you cum. And then after you had your sweet sweet release I'm gonna breed you're dripping with my cum" she whispered into your ear before pushing herself from the counter leaving into the garden. Of course she wouldn't actually get you pregnant you where on the pill and you weren't sure if she was even fertile. It was more of her kink she had explained to you.

The rest of the night you two kept your play up. Acting asif you couldn't care less what the other was doing in front of your parents. Still you couldn't help but admire her beautiful features as she had some boring converstaion with your father about politics or what ever. What really interested you would be the time spend between the sheets with her as she would show you all her passions and desires. After what seemed like hours you finally snuck your way into the guest room. She was spread wide on the comfortable mattress only wearing a wifebeater and her chequered boxers. "There's my bunny eh" she turned her head towards you as you made your way over to the bed swinging your hips . You sat down deside you before turning to kiss you roughly slipping her tongue into your mouth as you shifted to strangle her waist feeling her growing erection as you rolled your hips against her crotch.

"Fuck Bunny" she breathed out as she gripped onto your hips stilling you in place. "let me get you ready first" she whispered flipping you to lay under her as she kissed your neck down reamoving your cami top in the process. She took on nipple in her mouth slightly sucking on it before her big hand started playing with your other nipple rubbing over it. You let out quiet whippers as she switched sides. After what she deemed to be enough attention to your chest she kissed her way down to your panties nibbling on the skin of your hips. She made sure to leave hickeys in her way. You tried your best go keep it quiet but when Nat did her thing it was hard. Natasha kissed your clit through the soaked through panties pulling them down only to revel your sticky heat.

She made a bold lick from the end of your pussy right up your puffy clit swirling her trained tongue around the erected nub. Her scarlet lips attached to your clit sucking on it making you cry out as you tried to close your legs around her head but she kept them spread. She slowly inserted two of her long fingers into your clenching hole as you quietly cried out for mor and more. Natasha moved her fingers roughly and fast not giving you time to adjust. "Fuck your so tight" she groaned pumping her fingers even faster. “Natty ‘m close so close“ You felt your release close enough to grab but then Nat pulled her dripping fingers from your heat leaving you high and dry. “W-What?” You mumbled out opening your eyes again only to see Natasha smirking down at you “I want some fun too honey“ she smirked flipping you to your knees pushing your hips up as you arched your back showing off both your tight holes to her.

You heard her removing her boxers she already was rock hard for you her reddened tip leaking with pre cum as she expertly spits on her shaft spreading the slick over it. She moved closer pushing her tip to you clit enjoying the sight of you bucking your hips desperately trying to find your pleasure. “Ngh Tasha please” you begged making her listen slowly pushing in making you gasp at the feeling of being stretched out like that. She gave you time to quickly adjust before picking up pace fucking you hard and rough as she had a death grip on your hips. You couldn’t care less about the bruises as you pushed your face into the pillow muffling your sounds. With Natasha whimpers and the sound of skin slapping your moans filled the hot summer night air hoping your parents couldn’t hear you.

You kept clenching down on Nat she grabbed onto your shoulders. “Fuck ‘m gonna breed that little pussy ngh… I’m gonna make you so full of my cum“ you whined out before the coil in your stomach snapped and you came hard Natasha following soon releasing her white seed deep inside your whomp. She proceeded to help you through your orgasm even cleaning you up before cuddling you to sleep her arms tightly around your smaller body.

:)

[scoobywrites690]

I finally posted something longer than a paragraph!! You guys proud of me? 🤭

I'm currently reading a book where this nanny finds herself helping her neighbours after they had a baby dumped on their doorstep, and she eventually falls in love with all three of them so I thought i'd adapt this idea to Price, Ghost and Konig

(I haven't proofread I'm sorry)

The screeching wails of a baby flows through the open window of your bedroom. You opened before bed as the temperature had gone up and you didn’t want to sweat out during the night, however you were now regretting that decision.

What the fuck

You stumble out of bed to close the window. But the wailing still seems to pierce your eardrums. The poor baby scream at the top of its lungs, and not showing any signs of stopping.

Who on earth has a baby?

People in the neighbourhood have children but that’s what they are. Children. Not a screaming baby.

The rapid sound of knocking at your front door has you jumping out of your skin. Who could possibly need something from you this early in the morning. The knocking stops and you hope that it means they've gone away but no sooner does it stop it starts back up again.

This time though it seems that whoever it is, is determined to take your door straight off the hinges.

Yanking the door open you're met with your neighbour. Or should you say one of them at least. He looks tired, his moustache and mutton chops looking untamed making him look scruffy and dishevelled. His clothes look like they've been worn for multiple days in a row, they're creased and stained.

“Thank god you’re awake!” He says when he meets your gaze.

“Well I am now” You say not attempting to hide the annoyance in your voice.

"Sorry" He says meekly, a sheepish grin on his face as he nervously rubs at the back of his neck, the biceps in his arm flexing as he does.

"Can I help you?" You ask. You aren't trying to be rude but it's the first morning where you haven't had to rush out to tend to other peoples kids, so to now be woken up by one screaming the place down has thoroughly spoiled your mood.

Another earth shattering scream cuts through the supposed quiet neighbourhood. Your neighbours head whips round to the direction of his house in reaction to the scream, his face paling at the sound.

"Look I'm really sorry to disturb you but, you're a nanny aren't you?" He asks, desperation in his voice. After a closer look at his face you can see the deep creases of worry lines imprinted into his forehead, and the now very clear bags under his eyes.

"I am, why?" Dread fills your body, don't get me wrong you love your job but this is your one day where you don't have to tend to someone's child.

"Thank god" He mumbles under his breath, and you swear you see the relief physically wash over him. “Can you just come with me please?” He asks in an almost begging tone. Whatever's happening right now he's clearly desperate for your help. Letting a sigh of frustration leave your body you slip on your trainer and grab the jumper of the back of a nearby chair to slip over your top half, as you've only just realised your stood there in your thin tank.

"Lead the way" You say stepping out onto the porch shutting the door behind you.

Leading you round to his house you both climb the steps of the old wooden porch and he opens the front door letting you enter his house. If you thought the screams were loud from your house, they're at a whole different level when you cross the threshold from the outside into the house.

"What the hell is going on here" You say, your voice raised slightly so that it can just be heard over the screams. His two other housemates sit in big armchairs with their heads in their hands. You don't get an answer to your question but you do get pointed in the direction of a baby carrier on the floor.

There sits a little girl strapped into this very uncomfortable looking carrier shes dressed in a pink polka dot onesie, her cheeks are bright red from all her screaming tears staining her delicate skin. Finding yourself gravitating towards her you instantly unbuckle the straps and cradle her in your arms.

"Hi there, little lady" You coo at her gently swaying your body back and forth "What's got you so upset?" You ask as if she can give you the answer. Her screams have quickly died down to little sniffles. Her whole face is the same colour as a tomato with how much she was screaming.

Wiping her tears away you watch as her eyelids grow heavy, all that wailing tired her out poor thing.

“Thank god for that” One of the guys says from the armchair. “I wasn’t sure how much more of that I could have handled” The same guy says as he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Can someone now answer my question” You ask, because from where you’re standing. You’ve got three guys who seem like the last people to have a baby, who have now got a baby that looks no older than a year.

“She was on our doorstep when we woke up” The guy with the mutton chops says. “Look we’re sorry to drag you here, but we've got no idea what to do" He says coming out of the kitchen with a freshly poured cup of coffee. Your mouth waters at the sight of it.

"She was on your doorstep?" You ask looking down at the little girl in your arms as she sleeps peacefully in your arms, suckling away on her thumb.

"I know it's hard to believe but we're telling the truth" One of the other guys says. "Look there was a note attached and everything" he says grabbing a piece of paper and handing it to you.

He's big and burly with arms the size of your head, his hair is blonde and buzzed short and his nose is quite clearly crooked from what could only be assumed as being broken too many times.

Taking a quick read of the note you find yourself having to believe him. The note stating something about being unable to care for her anymore, and hoping she'll have a better chance with you guys than with her mother. you hand the note back to Blondie but not before taking note of the names at the top of the paper

John, Simon and Konig. So that's their names.

"We just need some help, please" Mutton chops says. "Can you just help until we get our bearings" He states. "We'll pay" He adds.

Looking down at the sleeping angel in your arms, you let out a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, I'll help"

[luckyarchivist]

Hiiii ^^ hope you are doing well!

Even if you haven't yet gotten his red choice, i wanted to ask your opinion on Vere's changes! I've seen quite a few contrasting takes(like some who think he's pretty much the same, some find him to be nicer than before)

Hope I'm not overloading you! Take all the time you need and have a nice day/night <3

Hello, anon! You are not at all overloading me, I am a tiny blog with an empty ask box and a whole lot of time on my hands, as long as it's after business hours.

I want you to know that, even though you said you wanted to know my opinion and that Vere's red choice didn't matter, I felt like I had to find it before I could answer this. Luckily, I know Vere pretty well (Scorpio resonance) so I was able to get it this morning before I went to work :D

But as far as Vere's changes, my opinion, in a title:

Vere 2.0: Sweet AND Sharp, Just How I Like It

I would argue that both takes are right: Vere is clearly being nicer to MC, but he's also mostly the same. Part of this is because a lot of his dialogue hasn't been changed, just removed or added to. And the additions have been "sweet" additions, to contrast his already "sharp" personality without dulling it entirely. Well, except for the part where Vere says he wished he coulda fought that guy before Ais took him out:

That wasn't there before.

But Vere touches you gently in this version of the demo. He expresses frustration that you won't listen to him despite your supposed kinship (his lines about "people like us"), and that you keep attracting and then falling headfirst into danger. These sentiments seem awfully close to worry.

Now, these lines and emotions were there before. But before, Vere also made the MC so angry that they nearly stormed off out of the conversation. The entire interaction, especially the section in the bar, is marked by an uncomfortable and unpleasant tension, for both the player and MC. The MC comes off as only accompanying Vere because they want him to elaborate on his many cryptic words, not because they're actually interested in getting closer to him. And Vere is being...very unpleasant. The game even says he's in a "foul mood."

However, in 2.0, Vere uses his intro scene to mess with MC, and this scene to show some real concern for them the only way he knows how — cryptically, and heavily masked with biting words. Even so, it's clear he actually likes MC, as opposed to just toying with them for the entertainment. Take something subtle, like when you ask Vere what he thinks of you after he says he despises most people:

1.0: I haven't made up my mind about you, yet. 2.0: You've piqued my curiosity.

Though both of these are vague and waffly, one of these clearly reads as more positive — that you already have Vere's attention and interest, as opposed to him not even knowing if he wants to waste the rest of the night on you. Perhaps even Vere is questioning why he cares that you don't waltz into your death, tramping stupidly around the city, but he feels that way, and it's easier to tell now.

At the same time, a lot (if not all) of his dialogue regarding the other LIs is the same, which means it's all just as scathing as before. This helps retain Vere's 1.0 personality as a foul-mouthed and sharp-tongued misanthrope (which, of course, excludes Ais).

Having played both Vere and Leander's route now, and having heard about Kuras's, I'm of the impression that one of the big 2.0 demo goals was to add or showcase more layers for all the LIs, even if the changes or additions required to accomplish that goal weren't as dramatic as Leander's. Sometimes it's just a matter of making things a little more clear for your readers. And I think that the RSS writers were able to do that with 2.0 Vere, and in the process, make dating him a more attractive possibility for a lot of players :) It is a dating sim after all, and most people probably want the LIs to like them. Let me not speak for those who love 100% dismissive and cruel asshole Vere, though XD

As for his red choice? Well, that doesn't have anything to do with how nice he's gotten. Let me just say, I'm quite glad that my own personal concerns were addressed in this version with that particular choice.

I love it when the lore comes together!

[painted-bees]

Sometimes you just need to be held and gently rocked like a child by someone who means something to you.

I mentioned before how Raf doesn't really get anxious before a show, and genuinely enjoys performing on stage--but that the most difficult part of a performance for him are the hours right after a show has finished, starting from the moment he walks off the stage.

Almost every single time, no matter how fun or well executed a performance was, there's a kind of quiet terror that follows him off the stage like a dark shadow and infects him once he's left the safety of the stage lights.

He becomes uncharacteristically furtive, and while he will answer when spoken to, his responses are simple, short, with a kind of sharpness in tone that suggests a level of defensiveness. Like a child awaiting a harsh scolding. Because that's kinda...what he is, in that moment. He is waiting to be kept awake into the early hours of the morning by a lecture about what he did, what he didn't do, what he should have done differently, what needs to be improved upon before the next time. Or he's waiting to be told that he's gonna be on his own for a few days, because the people who are supposed to love and take care of him are "too disappointed to fairly manage him" right now. Or he's waiting to be dragged into a busy room populated by strangers he's supposed to impress while he's casually, conversationally picked apart in front of them by the person who brought him there in the first place; the person who wanted to show him off.

It's a frustrating reaction to have...He's not a child, he's a grown ass man--and he owes venue staff, and his bandmates, and everyone else backstage a modicum of respect and kindness, and to thank them for their work, and to revel in the completion of a good show. But he's not really...he can't do that. He comes off as quietly despondent at best, or kind of a stuck up asshole at worst. When he did shows with Lacey, she called it his "post-performance tantrums" and exercised very little patience for his 'immature sulkiness' following concerts. And the low mood would persist for a solid week then after.

Once he started doing shows and stuff with Margie, she'd initially wonder if his poor mood was because she had done something wrong, or didn't meet expectations, if it was a bad show.... It wouldn't be until the following day before Raf could find himself in a state of mind where he's able to explain what he's feeling, much less why. And...for whatever reason, he's reticent to offer the most simple explanation to her--because saying "it's a ptsd thing, just give me space and patience and don't take it personally because it's nothing to do with you" comes with the risk of being asked other questions about himself and his upbringing that he's not comfortable getting into and--it's a whole thing, in his mind. So the first few shows together are consistently...a bewilderingly negative experience for Margie, in that it's a very tense, quiet, insecure and shame-ridden 24-48 hours after the show--followed by delayed revelry days after the performance with Raf finally able to reflect positively upon the experience and assuring Margie that it actually was a great performance, and that he had a lot of fun--and they're able to recall their favorite moments together, etc.

Unlike Lace, though, Margie never digs into him about his behavior. She just mirrors his silence, and then--very uncomfortably--gives him space because she doesn't really know what else she can do, and--assuming she's the problem--she doesn't want to risk messing things up even more, since she doesn't know what she did wrong in the first place. And, you know, there's only so many times Raf can reassure her, too late, that she was great, actually. And so he finally does relent to telling her that this is just...how he is after a show, that it's no one's fault, he's not mad at her or anyone--it's just ptsd. That's all he tells her, and, as per always with Margie--she doesn't try to pry out more information from him about it.

Margie goes down her own little rabbit hole of research instead, and comes to Raf with the idea for a new post-performance routine (communicated with staff and such before hand to ensure accommodation) wherein they don't try to gladhand, or pack up, or do literally anything for the first half hour after they walk off stage. Instead, they find a quiet, dimly lit corner somewhere away from everything and just sit, and rest, no expectations, no obligations, nothing. Raf agrees to put this idea into practice, and it quickly evolves into, well idk... Being held and gently rocked like a child by someone who means something to him.

[sturnioz]

can I say smth crazy. and maybe my opinion will change but.. i’m not really that mad at chris. what was he supposed to do, say nice things about bun?!!? he’d probably cut off a finger and eat it before he says nice shit about her in front of a crowd and cameras. if anything, nick, matt and nate are 100% the assholes in this situation for not only setting this up but letting it happen. they all know how chris is, including bun, and yes she’s allowed to feel embarrassed and hurt, but he would rather embarrass her by exposing their sex life when everyone already knows they fuck instead of embarrass himself and come across as soft to his entire frat by saying something even slightly meaningful. everyone knows and accepts how he is so how mad can anyone really be ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i love your opinion on this. chris isn't known to be soft and cute, so theres no reason for him to be like that at a fake frat wedding !! he isn't going to switch up for something like this.. he isn't going to make himself severely uncomfortable in front of a crowd of people.

and like its written in the prompt and like you said too, everyone knows they're fucking. literally everyone. it wasn't some big secret that had to be kept hidden so in truth, he didn't think that he'd be hurting or embarrassing bun until she physically said it herself.

the lines "you've been weird with me all night, kid." and "everyone knows the fuckin' shit we do, yeah? everyone knows we're hooking up so i dunno why you're makin' it such a big deal." are big factors in the prompt to show that chris genuinely didn't know what the problem was too cos he knows the entire situation (them fucking) is completely out there.

(however, i do agree that chris should've thought a little bit harder considering bun isn't like the other girls hes used to hooking up with. she's shy and doesn't like being the centre of attention. but at the same time, i completely understand why he didnt).

also, nate literally confessed that he set this all up with the frat brothers (matt wasn't involved in this process, but he knew abt it after obviously). he filled one of the hats with just chris' name cos he "thought it would be funny for him to get picked." all while knowing how it'll go down.

[chalkrevelations]

So listen, I'm just going to be upfront about it and say that I was overall disappointed by 1.10 of The Pitt, and I'm going to talk about that some, and it isn't all going to be about Langdon's storyline, because I was making faces at my screen before that even happened ... but a lot of it is going to be about that storyline.

A caveat up front, of course: Langdon should not have been stealing fucking drugs and potentially coming to work high and endangering his patients, although we'll never know for sure if he did or didn't use at work, since he was booted out without a urine tox screen, thanks a lot, Robby. Also, Jesus Christ, Dr. Hypocrite, I don't actually have any personal experience in this type of situation, but I'm pretty sure 98.35% of your behavior toward Langdon did not comply with Just Culture in cases of medication diversion. All you needed was a match, and you'd'a been Angela Bassett in Waiting to Exhale.

Anyway. I've been pretty impressed with the show so far, barring a couple of spots where they fell down (including the mandatory reporter thing, wt-actual-f), including the way they've utilized the teaching framework to make their infodumps sound natural, but they did not manage that well a couple of times in this ep. Given that both instances are areas where I have some specialized knowledge and background, maybe that affected how the scenes came across to me, but there are two places in particular that just hit me wrong:

The back-and-forth between Mel and Samira about treatment on the stroke patient - not the initial assessment, which I almost had to laugh about simply because it was so familiar, but the treatment plan and how to proceed with the patient. It came across as extremely "as-you-know-Bob" infodump-y, and I don't know how much of that was the acting, how much the directing, how much the writing.

The blatant PSA on workplace violence against nurses. Which, fantastic! More people should know why my overwhelming response is a contemptuous "Uh-huh, yeah, you want to compare stats on actual injuries?" when I hear police officers whine about feeling unsafe as an excuse for whatever excessive use of force they've indulged in on any given day. The show hit the mark really well with Dana's response to the assault, which was uncomfortably familiar. The nurses listing their incidents of injury to the med students also came off OK. But the dialogue of the nurses when they're talking about it to Robby? Again, very infodump-y. This ep did a lot better when it was showing-not-telling.

Which leads me into the way Langdon's reactions to seeing Santos talking to Robby felt overdone in a way that was almost comedic, and which certainly led me to believe, oh, wow, they actually are setting this up as a red herring. Or maybe this is just bad writing or direction, or something - the way those previous scenes were. At any rate, ha-ha, we've watched these reactions that are kind of over-the-top, and I guess that was supposed to make us think he was diverting meds, only it's going to turn out that he wasn't ... and then no, all that happened.

So, I dislike the way they've chosen to play this storyline, and it makes me less trusting of what they're going to do with it going forward. I don't want to be mad at this show, but they have set things up in a way that it's going to be very easy for this show to make me mad at it.

Lemme be clear: I'm not surprised by this storyline. Med diversion is a big problem in healthcare - JCAHO estimates, what? up to 10% of healthcare staff? - so it was inevitable that we were going to get an addiction story in a show that prides itself on its verisimilitude, even if it's already well-trodden ground. And unless they waited until season 2 (which, imo, they should have at least) and then set season 2 during a shift three years in the future, of course it was going to be Langdon. I've seen multiple people talk about how clever this decision was, because of how it makes the audience question their own implicit biases about the clean-cut white guy (as if there wasn't a massively popular show that ran for eight seasons featuring a titular character who was a drug-addicted white guy doctor), but let's be real - Langdon was always their safest choice. You do this storyline with someone in 75 percent of the rest of their cast, and you risk pulling in other issues and stereotypes that accrete onto your message. Of the remaining (white) cast: McKay is already involved in the carceral system; Whitaker is too new to be believably able to figure out how to divert any meds at this point; if you use Dana, you're re-treading Nurse Jackie; if you use Robby you're re-treading House, not to mention Dr. Carter (although, god knows, Robby would be plausible, given his erratic behavior, short temper, and literal flashbacks). Am I forgetting someone? Who am I forgetting? (ETA: omg, it's Mel. I forgot Mel.) Anyway, when you line up your safe choices, Langdon is the one who makes the most sense out of all of them. And I'm not opposed to the storyline. Med diversion is an actual, real-life problem, and it opens up a lot of character possibilities that I hope they actually explore - including the completely inappropriate way Robby handled it.

(Speaking of which, was that Princess wheeling No-Egg-Salad guy past the confrontation, and who Robby screamed at as collateral damage? It was Princess, wasn't it? Because if I was writing the show, I'd sure make something out of the fact that apparently the same staff member who saw that confrontation was also the one making the "WTF are you lying about?" face at Santos when Santos lied to Langdon's face about the decision-making process for MDMA Seizure Girl's treatment.)

Anyway, I don't even mind that Frank "Safe Choice" Langdon was the one who TPTB decided to pin this on. What I do mind is that it's Santos - who's been in this ED and interacted with Langdon for all of nine hours, 8.75 hours of which have been acrimonious, who got to figure it all out and finger him for it. My concern about sterotypes and implicit biases, at this point, is that on both Watsonian and Doylist levels, Langdon - and his very, very correct assessment and concerns about Santos' behavior - will be written off, both within the narrative and metatextually, because now he's a thieving drug addict. Because nothing he told Robby about Santos was wrong - she's a bully who's been repeatedly unpleasant to the med students below her on the ladder; she does not follow safety protocols designed to protect her, her patients or her co-workers; and her cowboy attitude has literally almost killed at least one patient so far, not even a full shift in. We as the audience also know that she'll lie to her senior resident's face and threaten patients, which Langdon doesn't even know (yet). So I'm going to be mad if this show tries to tell me that I haven't seen things that I have actually seen with my own eyes, and it tries to retcon her behavior or flush it down the memory hole. My trust is tenuous at this point. It would be much stronger if almost anyone other than Santos had been the one to bring this forward.

tbh, if I was going to insist on doing a take on the drug diversion storyline in the first shift/season - which I still think was a bad idea this soon - I'd have made it Mel who figured it out. And who then had to work through what she was going to do about this mentor who she had such a great, supportive relationship with, but who was apparently stealing drugs and endangering patients. How would she figure it out? How would she work through it? Who would she go to about it? And what would her conversation with Langdon look like - because you know she would have had to talk to him about it, at some point.

[milunalupin]

hi hi hi! so many congrats on a 100 followers, what a deserved accomplishment, love!!

you can obviously ignore this if you're uncomfortable writing this/or this doesn't hit your creative spot. because this is so cliched uggh.

okay so i was thinking maybe a little grumpy!reader x sunshine!sirius, friends to lovers trope? (it makes so weak in the knees 🫠.) feel free to take the plot literally anywhere your heart desires, because you'll serve either ways!!

love you, make sure to drink water and eat good. hope you have a great day/night ahead.

--🍁autumn

hi hi my love ! thank you for you patience <3 and adding more sirius to my blog

— sunshine

sunshine!sirius x grumpy!reader ★ 1.2k words

"Sirius Black if you don't stop tapping your finger against the table, I will not hesitate to hex you."

You sent a glare towards the raven haired boy from across the table. History of Magic was your worst subject and you had a big exam coming up. "Why aren't you with the other boys anyways?"

It's not like you two weren't friends, but Sirius wasn't usually the one to seek you out. It was usually Peter since he was the one who introduced you to his friends, then Remus who at times also enjoyed his peace and quiet. You spent quite a bit of time with the girls too, especially since you all roomed together. James and Sirius had always been friendly with you, but it wasn't like you would stay up in the common room sharing secrets, although Sirius had recently been around you more than than normal.

"Well aren't you just a ray of light." Sirius sent you a lopsided grin, setting his elbows on the table and resting his head on his hands. "They're out somewhere with Prongs looking for Evans, and I wanted to see my favorite girl."

Your quill froze over the parchment. Sirius was such a flirt, you couldn't take anything he said to you to heart, because he didn't mean it, right? You lowered your head and tried to focus on your notes, pretending like you didn't hear him.

"Anyways," he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "You know about his problem with Evans, and you're a girl, could you give me some advice to relay back to him?"

"Thanks for noticing. What kind of advice?"

"Well, what sort of things do girls like to receive?"

"I don't know Sirius, I don't regularly receive gifts from boys." You rolled your eyes and scoffed, glancing up at him to see his eyes on you, waiting for an answer. "but I supposed I would quite like it if someone brought me my favorite drink, or book. You know, it shows that they've paid attention to the little things."

"So how would you- girls-" he let out a shaky laugh, his cheeks tinged pink. "How would girls like to be asked on a date?"

How would you know? You didn't want to speak negatively of yourself but there had to be some reason as to why boys never came up to you. You would never guess that it was because Sirius had already warned the whole male population at Hogwarts to back off his very pretty friend.

Groaning quietly, you rubbed your hands over your tired face. "Sirius, I don't know, can you please let me review my notes in peace?"

"That doesn't count, you're not being fair." Peter whined, pulling on his hair as he looked down at the chessboard. You shrugged and stuck your tongue out at the boy, getting up and taking a seat on the carpet by the fire next to Lily.

It was the night before your exam and as much as you wanted to hole up in your room and cram, your friends had convinced you to spend time with them. Lily was painting Marlene's fingernails while Remus took your place playing against Peter in chess.

"Who wants hot chocolate!" James called out, Sirius and him walking towards you all with trays of steaming mugs. The two passed out the sweet beverages,

"Thanks Sirius." you thanked him softly, his gaze softening as you wrapped your hands around the warm drink and blew gently on the top. Your eyes brightened as you took a sip and tasted a hint of peppermint.

The rest of the evening was spent playing games, dancing to Remus' new records and sharing Peter's surplus of sweets from Honeydukes. You felt your shoulders relax as you looked around at your friends having a good time, catching Sirius already looking you. His eyes darted away as soon as you saw him, the corners crinkling as he laughed as some joke James had made. You felt a nudge in your side, turning to see Lily cocking her head towards the dorms asking if you were ready to go. Nodding, the three of you girls stood up and waved goodnight to the Marauders and shuffled up to your room.

You flopped into bed with a blissful sigh. "Thanks for tonight guys, I needed this."

Marlene waved her hand in dismissal. "You've studied hard, you needed a bit of a break."

"The peppermint hot chocolate was just the thing I needed, it's my favorite."

"Peppermint hot chocolate?" Lily's nose scrunched with disgust, but then her eyes widened with realization, her and Marlene sharing a knowing grin. "Right, the peppermint hot chocolate."

You turned your head to squint at them. "Why do you two have that look on your faces?"

"We don't know what you're talking about, goodnight!"

You're going to pass the exam, you're to going to p—

"Watch it, you half-breed, or I'll turn you into the little mutt you are." Lucius Malfoy spat at you as you ran into him, pulling out his wand.

"Oh sod off, why don't you put your daddy's money where your mouth is?" you scoffed, reaching for your own wand. He sneered at your comeback, taking a step closer to you.

"Hey sunshine, I was looking everywhere for you! Let me walk you to class." Sirius appeared next to you, taking your school bag and slinging it over his shoulder, shooting a grin to Lucius, canines on full display. "Thanks for watching her for me Malfoy but next time, don't."

Sirius steered you away from the fuming Slytherin, arm around your shoulder. He ducked his head down to speak to you quietly. "You alright?"

"Fine, boys are just jerks." you grumbled, your mind now focusing on your exam as you two turned into the hall where your classroom was located.

"Not all of us though, right?"

The corner of his mouth lifted, your smiled mirroring his own. "Yeah, Pete's alright."

"You're killing me doll." He threw his head back dramatically, his smile slipping as yours did, now standing in front of the History of Magic classroom. "Hey, how about we made a deal?"

"Huh?" you pulled yourself out of a daze, looking up at him. "What's the deal?"

Sirius coughed to the side and straightened his posture. "You get an Outstanding on your exam, and I'll take you out."

A flush crept up your face, not believing your ears. As annoying as he was, of course you had thought about Sirius romantically before, who hadn't? You really hoped your studying paid off, your smile and voice coming out shy. "What if I don't get an Outstanding?"

Sirius lit up like the Great Hall during the holidays, smiling ear to ear. "Then I'm still taking you out to cheer you up. I also have just been dying to take you on a date, sunshine."

An hour later you left the classroom with a giant smile on your face and a big 'O' on your parchment. Sirius immediately took your hand in his and dragged you to Hogsmeade for your first date, the twinkling sound of your laughter letting him know it wouldn't be your last.

[drdemonprince]

I think think about your piece How to Go Places Alone And Not Feel Like A Freak Looser (or something to that affect) quite often.

While it is uncomfortable, tiring, nerve wracking, to feel like or be the odd one out, I am at least used to the feeling. It takes nerve but (especially as a kid/teen) have always gone to things alone and, once I get over myself, enjoy not caring what anyone thinks about my presence.

As an (ever transsexualizing >:) adult, I am getting back into doing & dressing however I want in public (embarrassing yourself is inevitable, might as well enjoy life!). This is a funner, freer, outlook, but I hoped being more myself would help me find my people.

I’m used to the awful feeling of being an alien freak looser (real or imagined) so I can hype myself up to be in my own world when I’m out. But I wonder if doing this, and choosing events based on interest instead of demographics or friendship, reinforces my felling of disconnect with people. It’s easier to accept, and dress like, I’ll always stick out (be alone) than it is to imagine mimicking those around me.

I went to an explicitly cruisey new years night and instead of studying the crowd intensely trying to fit in, wore my shiny platforms, smiled at people, and danced just for the fun of it. Feeling good about myself and enjoying my experience requires an ‘eh fuck ‘em’ attitude. I can enjoy being in public seeing all my fellow earthlings but it does not feel social. And I realize, my time there felt anything but sexy. I wasn’t about to walz into the darkroom (let’s walk before we run), but I hate that I couldn’t feel comfortable in this place I’ve always wanted to be.

I return to the same questions everywhere I go: I can exist, but how am I supposed to learn the codes of a space when I can’t study (ruminate) from afar?

How could I ever be social when (even joyous and embodied) I can’t get out of my own head?

How do you know when it’s time to listen to your gut and when to play into a social game?

I understand what you mean about the duality between doing your own thing in your own little alien bubble and actively placing effort into connecting with the people around you (which often feels like it requires masking).

But, from my perspective, both of those are strategies for dealing with social overwhelm -- one is more dissociative, and the other's more compensatory. Both of them reflect a discomfort with the people in the space. And they're both perfectly reasonable ways to deal with such feelings! But the way to move forward, at least in my experience, is to continue attending events until you attain enough familiarity with them that you actually start feeling more comfortable.

You said you didn't feel sexy at this cruisy party, and certainly weren't ready to venture into the dark room. That's fine! You can work your way up in whatever order of activities is least intimidating to most intimidating to you.

The first few times that I go to a club, I need anywhere from a few minutes to an hour to get warmed up enough to really dance on the floor and take up a ton of space and make weird gestures. I spend a lot of time lurking in the corner or reading a book at the bar at first. After I've been there a number of times, I know the deal of the space better, recognize a few people, maybe have developed a rapport with the door guy or a regular, and it gets easier to branch out and feel more at ease in my skin. People intuit this and approach me more often when I'm feeling more comfortable, and my reactions have fewer exit ramps built into them (one of my protective instincts is to throw out a lot of conversation-enders that make people feel rejected, lmaoo good one me).

The same general principles I've described here can apply to any new social challenge, including a bar with a backroom where people are fucking. Show up again. Do your thing. Maybe find a spot to post up and observe, since you mentioned an interest in doing that. Bring a book or some knitting if you want, and wear whatever outfit helps you feel comfortable and good with yourself. The first few times you do all this, people may get strong "I'm Doing My Own Thing Leave Me Alone" vibes from you, as they often do from Autistics, and that's fine. You're still learning and acclimating from being there. After a couple of tries, head into that back room. It's not as exciting as you think it's gonna be. You might get to watch some fucking or you might just see a bunch of guys pacing around who are just as awkward as you feel that you are. But then you'll know what it's like. And then you just keep showing up, and observing and participating in small ways (watching is participation in a sex club!), and you'll get steadily more involved in the space and connected to the people each time that you do.

I've been going to pet patrol nights for a long time and I've only just now gotten to the point where I can chat up random people and get into hookups relatively easily, instead of just standing around mutely hoping someone will approach me. Bringing friends has helped a ton to relax me and make me seem more approachable to others, too, so you could try that!

for anyone wondering here's the full piece

[cobragardens]

CORRECTED & UPDATED Clothes + Equivocation = Romance: The Husbands in 1793 (Part 2)

From Part 1:

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what the husbands communicate to each other without using words or actions to do it, and how their clothing choices help them do that.

Hello. I'm here and I know you're in a spot of trouble. I like you.

It's you! I'm so happy you're here!

Sheen's voice and face when Aziraphale says Crowley's name in this moment makes me think that Aziraphale is in love with Crowley--the demon Crowley, not the angel who became Crowley--long before he consciously realizes it in 1941. The way Sheen has Aziraphale say Crowley's name is so soft.

The way you're he way you're lounging there and what you're wearing are uncomfortably sexy and also incredibly inappropriate for the Bastille at this moment in history. I suppose this is very on-brand for you.

Crowley: I listen when you talk about your interests and goals and keep track of your general whereabouts and pursuits.

Either they've spoken with each other recently or Crowley has been keeping tabs on Aziraphale. Aziraphale isn't upset that Crowley knows what he's been up to, which suggests the former, which in turn suggests they're in semi-regular (every few years or decades) contact at this point.

Also we've now got a general idea for when Aziraphale opens his bookshop.

Okay, brief tangent while I point out two things here.

One, my favorite thing about Aziraphale is that he is a sensualist. This is libertine behavior, y'all. He 'popped across the Channel' during the Reign of Terror because he wanted a specific carnal experience of a specific really lovely food.

And two, even when Aziraphale does weird, frivolous, silly, ill-advised things like this, things that clearly baffle Crowley...Crowley never makes fun of him. He never laughs at him. He always has this look of disbelief on his face, like Am I hearing this?--

--but Crowley never, not once, shuts Aziraphale down.

Until Aziraphale asks him to go back to Heaven.

Anyway. Back to our scene.

Aziraphale: I am unwilling to abandon my sartorial sensibilities even when it threatens my corporation, and I am insane, so I think this is reasonable. At least I'm not wearing a Slutty Monarchist outfit.

You're happy to see me, aren't you. You're relieved to see a demon. Go on, say it.

Tennant's delivery of this line cracks me up. It is so gloating and flirtatious and smarmy and indulgent of Aziraphale.

I am very happy to see you and lucky you're here, and I am willing to say so sincerely even though you are gloating about it.

And then there's the exchange where Crowley very carefully doesn't answer Aziraphale's question about why Crowley's in the area but also reassures him that he didn't cause the French Revolution and Aziraphale can still like him.

We can't speak openly about this. It's dangerous for me.

Message received: I won't mention what you did again. But I want to show my gratitude and spend time with you; is it safe for us to get lunch together?

Yes, but one of us is going to have to change so we can walk the streets of Paris without getting arrested again, and I'm the one doing the rescuing here so it's not going to be me. Your 'standards' will have to take the hit.

Fine, you've got me over a barrel. But hey, if I have to wear the silly hat anyway I might as well go all the way and wear your colors. Except not monarchist. And not slutty.

Oh, I don't know, I thought you looked pretty slutty too. (Meaning 2) I'm having this guy killed for touching you, btw. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. I see you are having the guy who assaulted you killed in a copy of the clothes he would have killed you for wearing. I wholeheartedly approve of this (Meaning 3), your sexiness in those clothes notwithstanding. The utter insouciance of Crowley's little sniff and the inquiry about what they'll have for lunch drive home hard that Crowley could not be more unbothered by Aziraphale having the man who tried to harm him beheaded.

What really tickles me about this line is not only that Crowley's joke has three distinct meanings, but that Meaning 1 (the meaning that exists without reference to Crowley's clothes) is the opposite of Meaning 3--Anybody wearing clothes like that deserves what they get (Meaning 1) versus It rocks how you just killed someone who tried to kill you for wearing those clothes (Meaning 3)--and yet because of the clothes he's wearing, both meanings come through with perfect clarity, dependent only on whether the listener(s) can see his clothing and know its significance. Aziraphale can, and does, so he receives Crowley's real meaning. Hell/Heaven can't, and don't, so they just hear Meaning 1.

And then we get Aziraphale's pleased little smile and look of tranquil interest as he watches Jean-Claude dragged off to his death. Its such an interesting facial expression for an angel watching a demon have someone killed having someone killed, isn't it?

Crowley has just told him they're probably being listened to by Hell. That means Aziraphale, Crowley, and the audience all know this is the most Aziraphale can safely react. Aziraphale can't show any overt approval of anything an agent of Hell does, because by definition anything a demon does is demonic and angels must be against That Sort of Thing. In light of the fact that Aziraphale is the one who causes Jean-Claude's death, I now argue that this responsibility not to react too positively to something the other side has done falls on Crowley, and that the reason he makes this joke is primarily to tell Aziraphale I see what you've just done, and I like it without identifying aloud what exactly has just happened for their presumed eavesdroppers because an angel arranging a human's murder is the sort of thing in which head offices might take undue interest.

The awareness that their conversation is not private means the audience and Aziraphale know they need to be watching and listening for multiple meanings from Crowley, and it also means the audience and Crowley know we need to be watching Aziraphale's face closely right now. And that little smile shows us that Aziraphale has received Meanings 2 and 3 of "he was asking for trouble."

Or, at minimum, Meaning 3; even if Aziraphale picks up on Meaning 2--You looked really sexy in your vintage clothes, you crazy weirdo--that's not a message he can afford to react to at all. But he does react to the other coded communication Crowley is sending when he says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" while dressed for trouble himself: I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. People who think your clothes give them the right to hurt you can go to Hell, and I am delighted you just sent one of them there.

You just had someone beheaded for assaulting me, I acknowledge and am pleased by your delight at my cleverness. and I could not be happier. Would you like to come enjoy one of my very favorite sensual pleasures with me?

***

EDIT: To be honest I like this reading better than my original, incorrect understanding of the story despite the fact that it is slightly less romantic, both because I love the idea of Crowley as a thirsty witness to Aziraphale quietly being a vengeful badass, because it gives us a glimpse of something important about Aziraphale's character that we don't get to see elsewhere: Aziraphale doesn't have a problem with killing per se.

We learn from the business with the Antichrist that, like Crowley, Az. can't bring himself to kill children. We learn from his perturbation at the Flood and the Crucifixion that he doesn't hold with killing innocents. He gave away his flaming sword. But this scene establishes that Aziraphale will actively cause someone's death if he feels they deserve it. That seems like an important character note for him that may become relevant in Season 3 (feathers crossed that it happens).

And I think there's something else in there too, something about how Aziraphale kills Jean-Claude, not with outright violence but with a trick. One party thinks he's in control of the situation; with a wave of his hand, suddenly a turnip has turned into an inkwell an executioner has turned into the condemned--or at least it seems that way long enough to get the job done. It's a bait-and-switch, like stage magic, and it slots right in to the motif in Good Omens of sleight-of-hand, of characters wearing other characters' appearances (for more on this, see fan theories re: Maggie is possessed), of supplying false meanings to an audience to disguise the true actions going on behind the scenes.