#I never know if I should use my did this tag for these

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach. 

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No. 

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free. 

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension. 

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall. 

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it. 

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side. 

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood. 

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?" 

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold. 

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?" 

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear. 

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring. 

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp. 

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm. 

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

B

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak into the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"But if they don't manage to kill her... her punishment for me will be worse." "Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[hexhomos]

Maybe I’m that one oomf that’s too woke, but I have a feeling that people being weird about jayvik is a sign of Bad Things on the rise =/ I’m old as balls and I’ve been in fandom spaces since late 2000s, and I’ve never seen people act so hostile towards a fanon mlm ship. I mean precisely in women and queer dominated fandom spaces, dudebros never change, whatever. And of course there were always ship wars. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen people act so oppressed over being into het ships, crash out over their ships not being endgame and demand from fandom content creators to accommodate them. What is happening.

I think this started happening around 2023~ to be more precise bc that's when i started getting weird ass entitled comments on OTHER gay ships. IMHO the real issue here is that we are going through fandom clash with a newgen that did not experience early internet and they take the gayness in fandom spaces completely for granted. As in, they think these little niche holes we've built are the de facto 'effortless norm' and minimize the work that's been done to create these safe spaces. This is the kind of rhetoric i keep seeing pop up:

Many of them have also grown up almost exclusively interacting with art created by old fandom graduates where queerness is presented casually. They're not watching shit from the 90's or 00's. They're not adults, so they don't have a personal contrast experience seeing that 'rep' dwindling consistently over the years. They don't remember a time before this and don't know how bad it was.

OFC there are always old ass conservative weirdos riding on this wave to be even more annoying (certain infamous viktor stan accs... lol!) but #backtotradition rightwing bullshit has been on the rise worldwide, and so are the viral tiktok tradwife alphamale detransition white supremacy grifters. Its a larger cultural problem feeding into the micro stuff we see daily and it's terrible. It's also why I tune this shit out and I stand my ground. I'll draw what I WANT to draw and I'm not going to be twisting myself into pretzel shapes to appeal to anyone and everyone; go get YOUR shit elsewhere!

I *do* think people have been getting way more entitled towards fanworks, and that comes with a heightened level of apathy. You can notice this on the decreased number and quality of feedback across twitter, as an example (seeing as that place has been consumed by the conservative grifter wave) but it's also been reported by every fic writer who's consistently used AO3 for years. Tags on tumblr aren't as widely used. The focus on 'community' has been replaced by 'DOES THIS MAXIMIZE ENGAGEMENT?'. I know from personal experience that there is this one specific asshole who, for almost a year now, has been trawling the trans viktor tag and leaving insanely long transphobic critique comments on works of newer writers to discourage them from writing. (They are always on the cusp of open violent transphobia, but shittily cloaked as 'debates' on ~natural biology~ and fantasy logic so they don't get banned. If you've seen the ao3 pfp of a smirking white haired woman before you know who im talking about.)

Things have been Bad and on the Rise for a while now. Look at the current shit on the news. Look at the presidencies around the world. And it's going to get worse before it gets better, because it always does; that's what forces people to wake up. Be annoying. Be watchful. Don't waste your time platforming or debating weirdos that should be left to die on obscurity - this is how trump got a memeable platform, and look at where we are now. Protect your peace.

[fandomnerd9602]

Overstepping

Stepsister!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You didn’t mean to overstep but you had to.

Ever since your mom and her dad met, you knew you loved Wanda Maximoff.

Her brother Pietro went to stay with Wanda’s mom on the other end of the continent so Pietro, in the rare occasion you met him, told you to always protect her. Even now with you and her in college, you protected her with the same love and care that any step sibling would do

And so that brought you to just five minutes ago. You found yourself outside your shared apartment to find Wanda in the car of her current boyfriend. Said boyfriend was trying to feel her up and she wasn’t having any of it.

“I said no!” You could hear her say as you ran up to the driver’s door.

“Why not, Wanda?!” The jerk replied, “stop being such a nun and-“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence as you threw open his door and pulled him out, socking him across the face.

“She said no!” You shouted in his face before throwing the jerk to the pavement.

The guy tried to take a swing at you but you blocked and socked him square in the jaw again.

“(Y/N)! That’s enough!” Wanda shouted at you as she got out and marched to the apartment.

You followed her into the apartment and locked the door to ensure that the jerk couldn’t make a comeback.

“I can defend myself” Wanda tells you as she paces the living room.

“I know you can,” you answer back, “doesn’t mean you should have to do it alone”

“Why do you care?”

“Wanda, with Piet living on the other side of the country, someone’s gotta be the protective sibling here!”

“You never liked my boyfriend…well I guess ex-boyfriend now” Wanda retorts.

“The guy was a jerk”

“Yeah…” Wanda sits down on the sofa.

“Why did you go for him? You can do so much better” you take a seat next to her. Without even thinking she laid her head against your shoulder.

“Can I? Truly?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, “I could treat you better than he ever could”

You bit your tongue. You didn’t mean for that to come out.

Wanda simply looked at you, her eyes now full of the adoration and love that you had gotten so used to seeing. “Yes. I know you will”

“W-Will?” You asked, trying to somehow comprehend the fact that a) you had these feelings buried so deep for so long and b) your stepsister was reciprocating them.

“(y/n)?”

“Y-yeah?”

She took your face in her hands, “you were the one that almost got away. I’m not letting you go”

And with that, Wanda kissed you tenderly. You held onto her, kissing her back.

You pulled back to look her in those beautiful emerald eyes of her to whisper a promise back, “i will never let you go”

This was gonna be quite the conundrum to explain to your mom and her dad.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @multi-fandom-enjoyer @moonlit-imagines @moonlit-ficrecs @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23

[ziminy]

Coming back to you

How to get back with your ex

Tags: smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, f!reader, normal au (because we suffered enough), my bbg Caleb the manipulative king he is (break me in half and all I'll say is thank you), implied stalking (if you squint), creampie, oral (f! receiving), fingering, marking, dirty talk, praising, size difference, little bit of crying, not proofread

Author's note: almost lvl 60 affinity with him, it was hard work and a lot of dedication. Trust me when I say I won't be able to recover financially from this any time soon.

Masterlist

Life was good when you were together, and somehow it even better after breaking up. It's not like your split up was messy, because you two parted ways on mutual accord, deciding that this isn't going to work since both of you were so busy lately. Why dragging the other down when you have your futures set?

In fact, the break up wasn't even supposed to be a break up, you were supposed to take a little break from each other that turned into a break up some time later. You said that you'd still be friends, that it's alright to talk and greet each other if you somehow managed to meet again.

But it was all lies. Both of you knew that. Because you never texted each other after that, and somehow you tried to avoid all the places he might be at. You don't really know why you're doing that, if just.. you feel a little uncomfortable looking back at what you two used to have.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at you, how he leaned down to talk to you, or that dumb smile that made your heart skip a beat.

He was caring, attentive, maybe a bit obsessive, perhaps a bit insane too. And maybe that what scared you, kept you away from dating again. Finding another one like him. God, what if you had the misfortune to wake up with another one like him at your door? You'd rather jump out the window than have the luck of getting another Caleb.

But he was good, in his own ways.

Well.. you can't really name any of his good traits at the moment, but he was a great guy. If you put aside his manipulative side, that he doesn't even try to hide to begin with.

You promised yourself to not fall for another guy like him, that empty words mean nothing to you. Threats had no effect, and you don't feel guilty anymore over things that you shouldn't be to begin with.

So, why was he here? You were supposed to meet with the old friend group, to reconnect and talk about the old days and how college used to be. I mean, he was part of the group, but why exactly was he here? And why did nobody told you he was coming?

"It's so good to see you guys!" one of your friends said, instantly jumping from person to person to hug.

"I feel like we're young again." someone else said, making you shake your head and let out a soft laugh. You can't show that you're affected, you're all grown now, you matured. He had no effect on you anymore. Even if it only been a year, you're still a different person that you were a few months ago.

"We aren't old to begin with." you said with a smile on your face. "How haves everyone been?" you sounded so calm, like you forgot how much stress was put on you back then. Everybody looks in much better shape after graduation, perhaps that place was rough for everyone.

"Let's just skip greetings and drink." of course there was that one person. "Caleb, you pay." everybody's eyes were on the tall man.

"You brought your wallet, no? Why should I pay." your eyes made contact for a moment, and you felt your face getting hotter. This night better go quick, because you don't know for how much longer you can handle this.

Everything was how it was back then, the way you sit in groups at the bar. How you found yourself next to the same girls you used to, deciding that you don't want to be loud and take it easy, just like before.

"So, how have life been for you? Haven't heard anything from you after we graduate." one of the girls looked at you, reminding you of how you chose to go no contact with everybody after your breakup.

"You and Caleb broke up? I thought you'd last a life time." is there nothing better to talk about?

"I'm a career woman now." you decided to change the subject, rather chosing to talk about work that your failed relationship.

"Oh?" why everybody looked so surprised was a mystery. But somehow you understood their reactions, you're also surprised you went this path.

"Got any boyfriends?" they still want to get info on your personal life, huh? Well, guess you won't be able to dodge that question any time soon.

"Nothing at the moment. Just focusing on work."

"I guess it's hard to date again. Normal guys must be so bland, not comparing to that piece of meat over there." you looked displeased with your friends choice of words. Yes, your ex might look good, but looks isn't what matters right now. Your well being was your top priority, and you enjoyed the freedom you had way too much.

"I'd be like that too if I had your ex. Imagine recovering from that." you don't even have to imagine.

"Is it even humanly possible to find somebody who's better than him?" their questions doesn't affect you, because you already know that you're the best you'd find. You understand and give yourself more than enough space that it's needed. So the right questions was if he will be able to find someone as good as you, because he won't.

"He's looking in this direction." the girls started giggling, and somehow, this was nostalgic.

Didn't this happened already? Before you started dating, right before you two confessed your feelings. Because somehow, you managed to do that at the same time. It was funny, if you're thinking about it. How you two were so in sync, you had no idea.

"Go talk to him." the girl next to you tried to push you, to make you get up and walk to the dark haired man.

"Don't want to." you kept avoiding any eye contact ever since you got in that bar. If you don't acknowledge him then he doesn't even exist to you.

"But he's looking at you." you grabbed the drink in front of you and gulped everything down your throat, trying to ignore him.

"Are you shy?" the girls started giggling again.

It was annoying. Why can't they understand that it's over? He understands this, so why can't they do it as well?

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"But he seems to want to?" it doesn't matter even if they point it out. It's been a long time already, you both moved on.

"Isn't there anything you want to tell him? Like things you didn't got the chance to while you were together?"

"This is the time to clear any bad blood between the two of you." but that wasn't necessary.

Frustrated, you looked in his direction. Eyebrows furrowed and biting on your lip so you wouldn't let out any curses you wanted to say at the moment. That classical expression, looking like he's good, even if there was no smile on his face, but he kept nodding to what his friends were saying. His eyes were betraying him however, those sleepy eyes, looking at you like you were more interesting, like he had to or else you'd evaporate from there or who knows what worse. It wasn't often when you'd see him like that, so you can't even answer your own questions on why he seemed like that.

No, if you payed attention to his surroundings, his friends might be annoying him. Saying something that he doesn't like, or.. they were talking about you. Just the way your friends were talking about him.

Was he feeling like that because he didn't want to talk to you either? No, you doubt that. It's probably because you refuse to give him any attention.

You turned to face the girls around you, who still seemed to push you to him. Maybe you should in fact go for it?

But, was there really anything that needed to be said? You don't have any regrets, you can't think of anything you want to say. And he's the same, even if he looked like he was holding back from time to time. You doubt he ever did something he's regretting. After all, you matched each other's freaks. You managed to stay together for that long just because you completed the other, understood yourselfs on a level no one else around you could.

Was this why you were pushed to him? Because everyone knew how well you fit each other?

You looked at your friends one more time, sighing as you finally gave up. You're still afraid to approach him, because he was still intimidating in a way you can't explain.

Or you can, because whenever you look at him you feel a chill down your spine. Your head was filled with stuff you said to him in the past, memories coming back to embarrass you, to make you forget what you want to do so you'd fuck up in front of him.

You stopped in front of him, staring at him as he looked at you. He still had that expression on his face, like you're still his softest spot, his weakness that makes him weak in the knees when he's around you. You opened your mouth, trying to say something but then forgetting everything once you looked into his purple eyes.

You can't be like this forever, you had to step up your game. You really had to move on, and maybe that's what you have to talk with him. Because he seems to be stuck in the past too. "You have time?" you noticed the way he almost raised his hand, to grab onto you and drag you closer like he always did. But he held back, because he knew this wasn't the time.

"Yeah." he tried to keep it nonchalantly, but you could see past his poorly executed facade. Should you feel happy with how you still affect him? You feel like you could laugh.

"Wanna talk outside?" you don't even know why you said outside of all places. You wanted to stay inside, where everybody else was. You wanted to have a reason to keep it cool, to not lose yourself in your emotions, because you know you'll fuck up if you're alone with him.

He got up, standing much taller than you as he followed you quietly. Seriously, this was like a deja vu. You still remember how you used to follow him just the way he's doing now. Not questioning a thing, and trusting him a bit too much. But you also had no idea where you're going. All you know is that you want to go outside, take some fresh air, say a few words and then go back to your friends.

For a moment, he got in front of you, opening the door and letting you walk out first. He used to do this all the time, didn't he? You almost forgot about it.

You walked a little further from the bar, resting your back against a building's wall as you looked at the sunset. No one said a thing, and the distance between the two of you was colder than the night's breeze.

"So.." a few words and then go back, that's all. You can go to your friends after this and rest. "How have you been." avoid eye contact, because you don't know when you'll fuck up, look forward, don't let yourself be distracted.

"Busy." his voice still makes something in your head ring, like a little bell that seems to not calm down until he said so. "You?"

"Busy." you couldn't even think of what to say, just biting your lip in frustration.

It was quiet again, like both of you forgot how to communicate.

For a moment, you looked to your left, at where the bar was, and then at him, catching him staring at you with a expression you can't quite explain. Sadness? No, it was a mixture of sad and frustration. And you understood him. He had you this close, next to him, and yet he couldn't do anything.

"You're bigger than I remember." you don't even know why you said that. It's just.. he looks different and you can't exactly say what it was.

"I stopped growing a long time ago." he kept looking at you, at the way you were scanning him for anything that it might have changed. "Maybe you're the one who shrinked." he extended his hand, he doesn't really know why, but it seemed alright in that moment. Like he knew you wouldn't run anymore. "My hands are still the same."

You looked at his palm, at his long fingers and at the way he looks so familiar, yet new. Like you forgot how his body looked for a moment, like you were back in the past before you two started dating. Because you did this back then too, you were in this situation before.

How he was trying to tame you, let you touch him just the way you want, explore and discover more. All just to show you how inoffensive he is, that he's not a threat.

And you bite the bait every single time. Taking his hand in yours, slowly touching it just to see if it was indeed like what you remember.

You should put more effort if you don't want him back in your life. Just look at you, you look like you've missed him so so much. You shouldn't be this sweet or else you might not be able to break up again this time.

He tried his luck, interlocking his fingers with yours, and showing you more of that size difference you haven't seen in a while.

You don't reject him, his actions only made you be more curious. What else was he hiding? You looked up at him, only to see that expression again. You really didn't understand how his eyes can be just this dark, like there was absolutely no life in them, only a purple abyss that seems to drag you in towards him.

"It's getting dark." he said in a low voice, forgetting that he was supposed not to scare you for a moment. "Let me drive you home." he's the same as ever. Getting ahead of himself just because he was able to feel your perfume for once, the same scent that you had since back then. It suited you, and he missed it.

"Alright." he always knew how to calm you, let down your guard so he can get more under your skin. Or perhaps you were doing that voluntarily, because he doubts you'd be like this just for anybody.

The ride back to your place was quiet, only the radio on, playing some mainstream songs over and over again.

The silence was loud, but not uncomfortable. It was better this way because you had nothing to say. And he will not talk until you talk.

But once you got to your house, you somehow didn't wanted to get out the car just yet. It's just.. can't he stay? You don't know why you want him there, and you don't want answers to that.

"You're.." you played with your fingers. "You're not busy, right?" you avoided his eyes, or to look in his direction at all. This was all his doing, wearing that one fragrance that made your head spin, and the shirt that he knew was your favorite. "Want to come inside?" you're doing this on your own accord. Because he wouldn't push you over your limits like this, especially when you just met again after a long time.

You came to him, you talked to him, and you dragged him into your home on your own. He didn't do anything, this was all your doing.

You were brave enough to make the first move, so he might as well reward you for it, no?

You didn't looked surprised when you started kissing the moment the front door closed behind you, you also looked unfazed when he started taking off your clothes, now going towards your bedroom, looking for a bed so he could place you on it.

How could you forget this feeling? Or the way he used to take care of you. Always stopping you from lifting a single finger, not letting you do anything until you start begging him, or worse, do things without even warning him first.

"Tell me if it hurts." he placed a kiss on your cheek before going down, biting softly on your skin and leaving kisses all over the places he touched. He was going to mark all of your body, so people would see a part of him on you even if you're not together.

He stopped when he got to your pussy, leaving a kiss on your inner thigh, before placing his lips over your heat. He was going to scream, he missed this so much that he just couldn't help but let out a lustful moan deep from the bottom of his heart.

How could you left him? Take this away from him, leave him all alone to suffer. If he didn't craved so much for you he would have punished you for it.

"You're so tight." he said as he got two of his fingers inside.

"It's been a while since I did it." he looked up at you from between your legs, placing a kiss on your clit.

"Have you done it with someone else?" he was asking as if he didn't knew everything you did while he was gone. And yet, hes jealous.

"No." you shook your head. "What about you?" are you questioning his loyalty?

"Did you touched yourself?" if this was his way of changing the subject, then it wasn't working. Because it only made you want to ask the same thing, embarras him just the way he did to you.

"Did you?" he should feel embarrassed, ashamed or anything between those two, but no, it was just you who feeling that way.

"Every time I missed you." seriously, can he calm down for a moment. You can't take it. "You didn't do a good job." he said, licking on your clit as his fingers curled up. "But I guess you can't do much with those fingers of yours." you couldn't face him when he was saying such dirty words. "Did you had a hard time stuffing yourself? Don't worry, I'll do it for you from now on." you placed a hand over his face, to cover his eyes so he would stop looking at you.

"Don't look at me." you whimper. "It's embarrassing." you were always so easy to tease.

"Alright." he moved your hand away. "I'm sorry." he was in fact not, but if that's what you want to hear then he'll lie again and again, as long as you're happy.

Your pleasure was more important to him. So he focused on that, paying attention to the places that made you melt, on your soft voice and your touch. You're still so hesitant, like you don't really trust him, like you're still testing the waters.

What more do you want from him? What can he possible give that he haven't gave you already? You have his heart, you have his mind and soul, his well being is all yours, his body and everything he owns. So give him attention, touch him more and tell him that he's doing good because he's about to burst.

For a moment he looked up at you, just to see how you're doing, to check on you and make sure you're alright.

How did he lived for so long without looking at you was a mystery. Why he accepted you leaving him and trying to move on. Who else is going to make you feel like this? You need him, you needed his cock and his touch.

But he's not going to fuck up, since it's been a while since you last did it, he shouldn't push you. So, he placed a last kiss on your clit before taking his fingers out of you, leaving you panting and waiting for more. He didn't even let you cum, how mean of him.

Still, how dumb of him, to come here with nothing on him, not even a single condom. I mean, it wasn't really his fault because he never knew he'll end up like this.

"Take it off, your clothes." you were all naked while he was still fully dressed. He also looked like he wasn't planning on getting undressed any time soon and it was annoying you.

"I don't have any condoms." that was the problem?

"It don't matter." you took him by surprise. "Come here." you knew how rail him up. And you better not regret your decision later.

You looked at him taking off his shirt, his defined muscles jumping right into your face. You were right when you said he looked bigger, he must be working out a lot more lately. He took his pants off after, your eyes on his hard cock as he came back next to you.

"Relax." he said when he got between your legs. "Look at me." it would only be harder for you if you keep overthinking. Yeah, he was big, so what. He's going to give you all the time in the world until you adjust yourself to take him. It's gonna be hard at first, but it's going to be so much easier once he models your insides into the shape of his cock. And that's a promise, believe him.

He slowly pushed the head of his dick inside your wet core, making you move a little from how it was feeling, trying to find a better position. He lowered himself, now his chest pressed against yours, placing kisses all over your face as he kept pushing more of him inside your warm pussy. It's alright, take your time. He's not going anywhere, he'll wait until you're ready for him to move.

"You're doing good." he whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I'm all the way inside, see? It doesn't hurt." it hurts a little, maybe more than just a little. But wasn't it normal when he was stretching you like that? But just as much as it hurts, it also felt good, in a way that left your mouth watering. He was going to be the end of you, really.

"Move." you ordered him, wanting to feel more. Just being stuffed to the brim wasn't enough, you needed much more than that.

He followed your orders, moving his hips slowly, paying attention to your next move.

You were so cute when you're sticking to him like that, holding onto his shoulders and trembling every time he touched that spot deep inside that he wasn't trying to touch to begin with, to not overwhelm yourself.

He's going to give you everything you want, there's no need to rush. If this was how much you can handle then that's how much he's going to give you. So why were you grabbing him like that, and asking for more? "Deeper." but you couldn't take it? You're going to say that he bullied you later, and he doesn't want to take the blame for something you made him do.

"You're sure?" you nodded, looking at him through your eyelashes with a pout on your face. Alright then, if that's what you want. How could he refuse you?

So he got deeper, hitting that spongy spot with long slow strokes that seems to work wanders on you.

He kissed you, again and again, to mark everything that missed his touch. To make sure you feel him, more than just inside.

"Is it good?" he asked as if he doesn't know your body like the back of his hand.

"Mm." you nodded, leaning in to feel more of his warmth.

"Then say my name. Let me know how good I make you feel." how could you forget he was like this. He always had to mark his territory as if you're not already his. But unfortunately for him, you're not in the mood to fulfill his desires. Screaming his name seemed nice, but at the moment all you wanted was to feel him, have him to yourself and let nobody know about your business.

Maybe his greedy side rubbed on you, or maybe it's the other way around. Or not, because at the end of the day you both knew that your unsolved issues can't be fixed that easy, and it can't be passed into the other when both of you are insane.

That's why you're trying to consume each other in other ways.

Kisses that seemed way too loving for someone who just got reunited after a long time. Touches that linger on the other's body even after moving away. Whispers and words that really makes it seems like you two were just a day apart, talking about moving with him, how you don't need anyone else but him. And at the moment you're too drunk on him to even realize that you're nodding, agreeing to every little degrading thing he's saying.

You want him, don't you? You missed him, you were such a mess without him. Right? Why did you permited him to leave when he's made for you. "I love you." that's the most normal thing he said tonight. "I love you, you heard me?" you heard him, but if you're giving him an answer that satisfies him, you'll never make him pay for the pain he caused you.

"You do?" you didn't sounded loving at all, even if your arms were wrapped around his neck, looking at him in the eyes with something only he saw before, your lust and obsession.

"I love you." he'll say it until you finally give up. Placing a kiss right next to your eye, he caged you in his arms, a hand under your ass and lifting up so he could go even deeper than before. Move in even more, since you said you wanted deeper. He'll show you places you didn't even know existed if you're asking for it.

He can't say that he's a brat tamer, because he's not. He likes everything about you, your sweet side, your mean and angry side. He likes it when you punish him, it shows him that you care. And if you believe that he's not doing enough to deserve your love just yet, then he'll do more.

He liked trying after all. And he'd be damed if he said that he doesn't want to show you just how far he can go. Because trust him, you can't handle it.

He's going to eat you, or even better, sacrifice him as you see fit. He wants to be inside you forever, be part of you. Because he feels like he's finally at home only when he's with you, in your arms. And when he's balls deep inside you? He's in heaven.

"Does it hurts?" he licked your tears away, wanting to taste them and claim them as his.

You nodded, feeling his cock twitching before moving in a way that got you throwing your head back. This fucker. He thinks that he can just do this to you and not pay a price? And perhaps sometimes he forgets how you can be so cruel, mean, and play with his feelings in a way only you could.

All he needs is a look from you, fluttering those eyelashes in a pretty way, and a sad expression that he can't resist.

You win, if you wanted him to fumble, then you win. He's all yours, do whatever you want with him because he doesn't have the ability to think anymore. "Cum with me?" what gives you the right to ask such a dumb question when you knew that's the only thing he wants. If you're not, the he's not doing it either. He knows he's asking for too much, but let the man dream.

"I'll fill you up nice and pretty, alright?" he made it sounded like a question, but you both knew he was just letting you know.

"Mm." you nodded, your lips smashing together the next moment. Eating each other out as you were both so so close. Touches becoming more and more desperate, his grip on so tight you won't be surprised if it leaves a bruise. But it's alright, because you feel like that's not quite enough.

More, you both needed more. And some heated sex after fucks knows how long won't be enough to satisfy the empty holes in you. You needed so much more.

Will you even be able to get out the bed tomorrow? Both of you. Because from the way you drag each other back, refusing to give up just yet was more than enough proof to show you won't step back any time soon.

But who knows, maybe you'll finally be happy by the time you both dry your energy out.

[pinksugarberries]

🪷 could I rq a nam-gyu x reader where he’s your toxic, annoying ex trying to win u back :33

Obsessed? nah.

nam-gyu being a shitty ex towards fem!reader

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﹒　૮꒰◞ ◟ ꒱ა　⸝　new upload!　❜

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　⸝⸝　　◦　　tags: toxicity, female reader intended, jerking off, manipulation, slight mentions of cheating, nam-gyu being annoying, stalking?, mentions of sex, drug use (i’ve never used a drug in my life so i just tried to describe it the best i can)

　⸝⸝　　◦　　a/n: HI NOONIE!!! i hope i did this like how you requested, i apologize for being slightly late, i was feeling a bit like a BUM!!!! if this wasn’t what you wanted, you should msg me and critique me lol

not proofread… pt.2?

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you hated him, as you should’ve. he was extreme controlling, possessive, and overlay friend to any other girl!

going through his phone during the night and finding nudes from other girls was NOT what u expected.

as anyone would, you broke up with him and he.. well… freaked the fuck out.

after you leave you shared apartment, , changing the lease so it’s only in his name, he didn’t realize how fucked he was.

a couple hours after you leave, or even days he would continue to text you.

“wtf did i do to you?” “baby talk to me” “hello? are you gonna keep fucking ignoring me?” “all i’ve ever done was love you, but you never cared.” “was i not enough for you?” “who r u fucking now?”

after he realized you were gone, he didn’t decide to remise on what he did that was bad. why would he do that? instead, he started doing harder drugs and going to more clubs than he did while you to were dating.

while he was leaving one of the clubs he visits 6 out of the 7 days of the weeks, he sees you walking out.

he walked towards you with a cheeky smirk as he tapped your shoulder.

“hello—“ you said, cutting yourself off as you saw nam-gyu, he looked ever more of a mess. you shoved his hand off your shoulder and looking at him with an annoyed face. “nam-gyu what do you want?”

he looked at your with his completely stoned eyes as the hung low. he still had that shitty ass smirk on his face you wanted to slap off.

“well, what happened babygirl..?” he said, his speech slurred from all the drugs and alcohol he’s consumed in the last few days. “you know you can talk to me.”

you simply said “you know what you did.” and walked away.

he was too drugged and drunk to chase after you, so he just got in a rental car, which he used to follow you around without you knowing.

as he continued to follow you, he found your new apartment complex, writing it down in his notes app and driving back to the apartment he used to share with you.

as he went home, he crashed on the couch and had an idea.

he opened his phone, going on instagram, making a new account and immediately searching your username up.

he took his pants off, now them lying somewhere in the trashed apartment, opening your photos.

i’m sure you know how this went.

he started to jack himself off, imaging it was your hand. even though he “hates your guts”, he would like to have sex with you again.

when he finished, he finished directly on his phone, holding it tightly in his other hand as he looked up at the celling.

he put his phone down as he reached for a pill bottle, his duck still out.

he reached for the ecstasy , popping a few pills as he looked at all of the nut on his phone.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the hottest man north of havana

pairing: cabana boy! javi x rich older woman! reader

cws/tags: oral f! receiving, p in v, (semi) public sex, young (adult) javi!!, cheating (reader has a husband but he is prob cheating too and sucks)

summary: lonely rich woman at country club while her husband is away has a thing for the cabana boy

a/n: title reference to copacabana by barry manilow (that's either really obvious or really not obvious idk). obv you should listen to that while reading (long version) and margaritaville bc mentioned as well, but i listened to a lot of steely dan while writing this?? so, do with that what you will

*the cosmo article referenced is real and i have it saved to my computer and might post it bc it's so funny

wc: 3.6k

thank you @almostempty for your help on this one <3

Your husband’s away on ‘business’. AKA he’s in bed with a girl half his age a couple thousand miles away from where you sit on a lounge chair by the country club pool. It fazes you less than it should, but women like you don’t marry men like him for love. Or, at least, you don’t stay married for love. Half the women, wearing designer swimsuits and oversized sunglasses to hide aging under eye bags, are with their husbands for money too. The only difference is that you’re willing to be honest about these things. 

Honestly, the new cabana boy is handsome. They usually are, but this one has a certain charm that has you hiding behind an issue of Vogue to sneak a peek at his toned body when he’s not looking in your direction. 

In your persistent delusion, he pays special attention to you. He delivers fresh towels to the women on the other side of the pool, but he never lingers around them like he does with you. That pretty grin is genuine, you tell yourself, he’s not only working for tips. 

He nearly startles you when he comes by to offer you a refill of your margarita, a dizzyingly beautiful concoction since the bartender never skimps on the tequila, at least not when you’re the one ordering. He surely has a thing for you, or the way your tits look in a bikini, especially when they’re pressed up against the counter as you call his name.

“I really shouldn’t,” you say with a smile that begs him to convince you to have another. “It’s too early for more alcohol.”

“What’s that saying… ‘it’s 5 o’clock somewhere’?”

“Sure, in Margaritaville. I think we’re still a couple hours behind, though.”

“I’ll be back in a couple hours, then,” he says, taking your glass from the table beside you. “In the meantime, can I get you anything else?”

You can think of many things you’d love him to get you, but you settle for a seltzer with lime. 

You take a short nap and when you wake up, you know exactly what time it is because Jimmy Buffet is playing through the speakers to let you know, in addition to cabana boy who is humming along to the tune.

Your knight in a tightly fitting t-shirt approaches swiftly with your drink already in hand.

“How’d you know?” you ask, coyly, before taking a tiny sip. 

“What can I say? I know how to please a woman,” he says with a wink. 

You smile through the scoff you give him. “Alright, cabana boy, don’t let it get to your head.”

You learn his name the next day when you overhear one of the women you used to play tennis with bitching to him about this or that. 

“Javier,” you say as he walks past. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, turning on his heels with a look of relief on his face. 

“I heard you getting an earful back there. What’d you do to earn that?” 

Knowing her, whatever he did shouldn’t have landed him on anyone’s shitlist, but she’s got just about every name in the phonebook written down. 

“She requested an extra towel and a bottle of water to be brought to her in the women’s locker room, but I wasn’t very prompt.”

“Risking your tips, aren’t you?” you tut, teasingly. 

“Doesn’t usually tip me anyway,” he says under his breath, looking off to the side, pretending the confession isn’t meant for your ears.

“Oof. Even you can’t win her over,” you say with a pout.

“Suppose I was wrong about the whole ‘knowing how to please a woman’ thing,” he says with a faux-dramatic sigh. 

“I suppose so,” you say. Sitting upright so he can hear your voice when you say much lower, “but, you’ve really tugged on my heartstrings here, so I give you my deepest sympathies.” You grab a couple twenties from your wallet and hand them to him. 

“Pity tips,” he muses, a smirk tugging at his lips as he plays along with your little game, “I’ll bring you another sob story with your next drink.” 

The wink he gives you is his way of saying ‘thank you’. 

While you’re acutely aware of the power dynamic between the two of you, it does feel like he’s become a confidant in a way. You’d be far happier with his company than anyone else’s. 

While you’re in the midst of reading the latest issue of Cosmopolitan, Javier comes by to check up on you - something he seems to do more frequently now. Maybe it’s the tips, maybe it’s the tits. 

“Is it any good?” he asks, nodding to your magazine. 

“About as good as trashy magazines get. Why? Were you looking for some fashion advice, sex tips, embarrassing breakup confessions?” You offer up the gifts promised on the outer cover, nonchalant with equal attention paid to each, hopefully masking the fact that one of those topics is far more interesting than the others when you’re up close and personal with the effortlessly handsome Javier. 

Your eyes meet briefly at the mention of sex tips. 

“Hmm. How ‘bout those sex tips?”

“Alright, then,” you say, patting the spot beside you, beckoning him to sit. “Here are the best places to have hot summer sex…”

You can feel his body heat, his hand placed behind your body to hold himself steady as he leans in to read over your shoulder, pretending to be enthralled with this stupid article. 

“Number one,” you begin, “in the water.”

“A classic,” he notes, looking towards the pool only a few feet from you. 

“It says here that the ‘dirty mermaid’ position is ideal.” You point to the illustration of a couple getting it on. 

“Seems simple enough.”

“Wait ‘til you hear this,” you say, pausing for suspense, “their next suggestion is sex on a trampoline.”

“I can see the appeal,” he says. 

“Okay, well, then you better try out ‘the circus freak’ position the next time you have a rendezvous on a trampoline.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case the circumstance arises.”

And just when you think you’ve got him to yourself, he’s whisked away from you by another dissatisfied country club member - maybe she’s jealous, you think,  until she gives you a sneer and then, you’re positively certain she is. Before he departs fully, he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Let me know if you find anything you think I might like in there.”

The magazine tells you to fuck in a tent, on a sailboat, or in the woods, but all you want is Javier, right here, right now - be it the dirty mermaid, the circus freak, or just a man and a woman unable to ignore their overwhelming attraction to each other. 

Alas, you go home alone. The only one to touch you that night is your vibrator, and no matter how creative your imagination can be, you can tell the difference between silicone and the real deal. 

You return to your spot by the pool the very next day. Usually, you can apply your suntan lotion by yourself, albeit with some difficulty, but today, you struggle to get the part of your back that would normally be covered by your swimsuit - but of course, you know to avoid tan lines you need to keep your top off and your tits pressed to the towel. 

“Need any help?” Javier asks at a most opportune time.  

“Maybe a little, but let me just lay down first. I don’t want to flash you or anyone else.”

“It wouldn’t bother me at all, but I’m a gentleman, so I’d look away if you asked me.”

“I didn’t take you for a gentleman.”

“I could be one. If that’s what you’re into.”

You struggle to get your top off enough to put lotion on without exposing yourself, and Javier whispers to you, “Just take it off. No one’s around.”

You look at him, suspicious - and excited - about his motives. 

“I’ll be a gentleman,” he reiterates. 

“You better be,” you say with a face that dares him not to be  one, before turning and taking your top off. 

Javier takes the bottle of suntan lotion and squeezes a dollop onto his hand before rubbing it from your shoulders down your upper back, remaining cautious not to touch you anywhere too scandalous. Still, his touch lingers and he begins to massage your tense muscles. 

“Wow,” he says, “You’ve got a serious knot right here. What’s got you so tense?”

“A masseuse and a shrink?” you tease, expertly avoiding the question. “Javier, you’re really working overtime.”

“I’m just trying to build a good rapport with one of our most loyal members. It’s part of my job description.”

You suppose it is, but he’s surpassed ���good rapport’ and made it to the number one spot on the list of men you have sexual fantasies about. You want to give him more than cash tips or sex tips. You also want to take far more than the tip from him. 

So, you keep him beside you for longer by letting him see deeper into your life as he shifts his touch. 

“Well, if you really want to hear all of my life’s hardships - Ooh, yes, right there - I’ll spill.”

You swear you can hear him inhale a sharp breath when you tell him where you want his hands. 

“Right here?” he asks, tentatively pressing his thumbs in more forcefully. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you say. “You’re doing great, Javier.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, but you’ve heard those words enough times to know that his voice is different this time. That he’s affected by your praise. 

“It’s so stupid,” you begin with a light laugh, “I’m just pissed off at my husband.”

“Oh?” he says with a hint of disappointment in his tone. 

“Yeah, he’s off on ‘business’,” you say, air quotes included, “but we all know what that means.”

“Do we?” he asks, and he may have said something else, but you cut him off. 

“Ooh, down a little bit, babe.” The pet name slips from your lips accidentally, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

He moves his fingers to the perfect spot and you nearly moan. 

“I can’t believe your husband would give up spending a day with you, especially… one like this…”

“One like what?” you ask, curiosity piqued. 

“Ma’am, I’ll be honest, you look great in this swimsuit.” When he hears your laugh, he adds, “I swear. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Well, Javier, I’m halfway out of this swimsuit right now.”

“As a gentleman, I wouldn’t dare take a peek, but I imagine you look even better like this.”

But you know he’d love to - as would you. You imagine there’s a tent forming in his uniform swim trunks. 

“I know I was planning to lie on my stomach, but would you mind getting my chest as well,” you suggest. 

“It would be my pleasure,” he says. 

You turn to him, revealing your naked upper body, simultaneously praying that the pool area is empty and that it’s crowded with women who’d certainly be jealous of what’s going on between you and the cabana boy. 

You’d think he’d never seen a pair of tits before if you saw his face - absolutely awestruck, unable to tear his eyes away from them. 

At your request, he gently massages them. 

“Goddamn, your husband is lucky,” he says under his breath. 

“Is he?” you say. “You’re the one touching me right now.”

His hands trail down your sides, testing the waters. 

“It’s a hot day… you don’t wanna get burned… so maybe you’d like me to get your thighs too? Just to be safe?”

You never thought you’d have a man begging just to touch your thighs, but you can’t complain. 

“You’re so thoughtful,” you say, “if you don’t mind, that’d be wonderful.”

You can tell he’s itching to get your swimsuit bottoms off. 

You whisper to him, “You can take them off if you want.”

“But my hands are covered in sunscreen. I wouldn’t want to give you an infection or anything.”

“You have a mouth, don’t you?”

His brown eyes melt as he eagerly dives between your thighs without another word.

His tongue works wonders as it glides over your folds, paying special attention to your clit, flicking his tongue teasingly, then sucking lightly. You realize how large his hands are when he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you into him. You’re fixated on his fingers, how badly you wish he could give you them.  

“Javier,” you say, “I want you to fuck me.”

(If you weren’t so needy, you’d beg to get on your knees, to scrape them on the concrete, and to suck him off. He serves you too often, you owe him more than just tips).

When your vulgar language reaches his ears, he looks up at you, wiping the shock off his face with a hand through his hair. He looks excited from his eyes to his shorts as you give him the once-over. YOu quickly slip your bikini back on before he takes your hand and leads you to a slightly more secluded part of the pool. Anyone who swims nearby could see you, but women further away with their noses in their trashy romance novels (when they’re not stuck in everyone else’s business), won’t be able to tell who is getting it on behind the waterfall. 

No, it doesn’t look even close to as gorgeous as the tropical destinations you’ve visited, but it does conceal your identity. And, Javier looks better than any man you’ve ever seen. The country club made an active decision to hire hot young men who could easily be printed on an advertisement in one of those stores in the mall that you no longer frequent - you’ve outgrown the overbearing scent of cologne and the juvenile style. Last summer, there was a blond pool boy, the summer before, he had blue eyes. But, Javier is something else - he’s a walking wet dream. And he’s yours. 

The water is cold, particularly so when you’re in a shady area, but Javier’s sun-warmed chest pressed against yours keeps you from shivering. And, with every subtle touch, heat pools at your core. 

When you’re submerged in the water, he slides your bikini bottoms to the side and lowers his swimsuit just enough to free his cock. You can’t resist the urge to touch him, so you stroke him slowly and you can tell he’s holding back pretty moans that you’d die to hear.  

Before he can lose himself to the feeling, he picks you up and you hook your legs around his hips. He keeps you close to him, not letting your back scrape the edge of the pool behind you. His grip is firm but his touch is soft. 

You coax his cock to your entrance, and he lets you, but not without warning.

“If we do this, I’m gonna need you to be real fucking quiet.”

“Same to you.” Your voice falters as he slides the head along your folds. 

Quite frankly, you couldn’t care less if everyone in the general vicinity heard the moans you hold back - in fact, you’re proud to be the one in Javier’s arms - but you try your best to collect yourself, to pretend the first inch, the initial stretch, doesn’t faze you. Even the anticipation of being filled by him makes you clench around him, your body trying to pull him closer, ignoring your intentions to keep up this coy persona with a quip readily stowed just behind your lips when he says something flirtatious and witty. You want to be the one to make him blush.

It is the opposite of sex with your husband. Not only because Javier is younger and far more attractive, but because you have to make an active effort not to cum too quickly when his fingers reach between your bodies and find your clit. You’ve spent years faking orgasms with your eyes closed, imagining a man like this is the one panting above you. Better make it last. 

Javier’s hands have a steady grip on your hips, forcing them to meet his with every thrust while your arms take place on his shoulders. You lean in and kiss his neck, eliciting the slightest moan, and you have to hold yourself back from sucking at his skin. You want to hear him, you want to mark him. You want to make him yours. 

You hear the clop clop sound of sandals approaching accompanied by a pair of feminine voices. It snaps you from the momentary daze and what is meant to be a warning comes out like a whimper. 

“Javi,” you say, and the sound of his name coming from your lips only spurs him on. 

You have to stifle your cries by burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your words are muffled but you manage to convey enough to get a response - not the one you were expecting, though.

“I don’t care,” he says. “I want them to know I’m fucking you.”

You know that Javier can have just about any woman he wants, you feel lucky to be chosen, but you know, despite his words, he wants you in secret. He’s just good at dirty talk, and you’ll gladly take the fantasy he builds for you. 

“I’m serious,” he says. “I want them to know how good I’m making you feel.”

Good would be an understatement. Pleasure ripples through you, threatening to push you over the edge, into an intense orgasm. He angles his hips so that every time his cock fills you, it strokes your g-spot along the way. And his fingertips work tirelessly on your clit. 

But he slows his pace, he pulls you back from the ledge.

“I wanna hear you when you cum,” he says, and he’s unable to hide his ragged breathing behind his sternness. 

He’s not demanding, he’s begging. 

And it works all too well with you. 

You meet his eyes - an agreement - and he returns to his previous routine, the one that makes your thighs tremble and your head loll back. 

“Javier…” His name flies past your lips and you wonder if you would’ve said it anyway, without his direction. It comes out in a desperate cry — one that covers up any noise that comes from Javier. You only catch the latter end of his orgasm, taken entirely by your own, but his face will be forever etched into your mind, in that corner that you keep secret and sacred. 

All of a sudden, in your post-orgasm haze, Javier pushes you gently into the waterfall, so you end up soaked (in a new way). You understand why when he pulls you out of the pool bridal style. 

As everyone in the area gawks at you, likely having heard you scream Javier’s name, he acts like the hero he is. 

“Someone had a few too many drinks,” he announces. “Luckily, no CPR is needed, but I’ll be taking her to the med station for a checkup. Everyone may resume their regularly scheduled lounging.”

There are whispers amongst the crowd - there always are - but you’re impressed by his acting. 

When he sits you down on a chair meant for the aftermath of swimming-related accidents (most of which result in nothing more than a bandaid), he says to you, “It’s important to stay sober if you don’t want to end up in sticky situations.”

“Sticky situations like the one on the front of your shorts?”

“Goddammit,” he says with a sigh. “They’re gonna fire me.”

“I hope it was worth it,” you say. 

“I’d say so,” he says, but you can still see a tinge of worry in his eyes. 

“Besides,” you say, “I think I might be able to get another job.”

“Really? That’s awesome,” he perks up. “But, I’ll miss seeing you every day.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Your husband arrives home the next day and you immediately complain about how the maintenance men did a terrible job keeping the backyard pool clean. Truthfully, they really weren’t the best and you’d been thinking about finding a new pool boy anyway. 

When your husband goes to look up ‘pool maintenance in my area’, you say, as nonchalantly as you can, “I heard that one of the cabana boys at the country club is quitting, and he’s actually really good at his job. He works super hard, never slacking off.”

“Alright. I trust your judgment. Maybe you can get his contact info from the club and we can ask for his rates.”

You already have his number saved in your phone so you call him and get his email address and pretend you’re calling the country club. You draft the perfect email for him to send your husband, to show him that he’s the perfect man to work for you. 

“Wow,” he says, when he receives the email. “He says here that he even offers extra services like bartending and poolside service… whatever that means. His rates look reasonable too. You did a great job, honey.”

“Thank you,” you say, accepting a kiss on the cheek from him. “I can stay home and monitor him, assuming you have to work on Monday…”

“Actually, I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving again in the morning.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“San Francisco. Another conference. But, don’t fret, I’ll be back in a week. I would love it if you stayed home when he’s here - just in case - but I trust your decisions either way.”

Needless to say, Javier is great at his job when your husband is home, and even better when he’s away. 

[annab-nana]

note: this is a blurb i wanted to write using a prompt from the winter wonderland sleepover because i wanted to add rooster to my masterlist.

prompt: “Don’t you ever do that again!”

warnings: not proofread, basically a rewrite of one of the scenes in top gun maverick but reader is taking maverick's place

❀ masterlist ❀

you first thought it was bad when rooster ran out of flares and you had to swoop in to cover him with your own. you then realized it got worse when you felt the impact of the missile slamming into your engine. it only continued to go downhill from there.

now, you were running through the snowy forest trying to get to rooster. you thought you'd lost him for a second earlier and your efforts had been for nothing when his fighter took a hit. however, relief soon found you when you saw his parachute. when you laid eyes on him, he was pulling off his parachute and beginning to bury it.

one second, you were filled with concern for him.

"are you okay?" you shouted as you ran closer to him.

"yeah, i'll manage."

the next second, you were angry.

your body showed no signs of slowing and you ran right into him with purpose, pushing him down.

he took off his helmet and looked at you incredulously. "what the hell?"

"what are you doing here?" you asked, your anger clear in your tone.

rooster had never felt more confused. "what am i doing here?"

"yes, what are you doing here? i didn't take that missile for you to be down here with me. you should be back on the carrier by now!" your eyes held a blazing fire that rooster had never seen before.

his brows dropped to a furrow as he tilted his head down a bit more to be at your eye level. "i saved your life."

"i saved your life," you challenged loudly, taking a step closer to him. "what the hell were you thinking?"

rooster inched closer as well, very much invading your personal space, but neither of you cared. "mav told us not to think!"

"i know!" you cried out, "why do you think i did that?!"

"i don't know, but don't you ever do that again!"

there was an intense moment between the two of you as you stared one another down. your breaths mingled together due to your proximity and your chests rose and fell quickly with them. both your eyes and his bounced between the others, each of you waiting for the other to do or say something.

it was ultimately you who broke the staring match.

it was like your body was acting before your brain could tell it what to do. you stepped the last little bit closer and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a sigh you hadn't realized you were holding in.

rooster wasted no time in circling his arms around your waist.

"you scared the shit out of me," you whispered, squeezing him a little tighter.

rooster's light chuckle made you feel a little bit better. "you scared the shit out of me first," he uttered before pulling back ever so slightly to look you in the eyes. "are you okay?"

"yeah," you tell him, trying to inspire confidence, though your voice doesn't match your intentions. you're scared and you know he is too, but you can't be scared right now. you both need to get back to the carrier. "so, any ideas on how to get out of here?"

"i was kind of hoping you had something," rooster commented, a small grin on his lips, "there's a reason your callsign is murdock. you're our daredevil. one of your crazy plans would be great right now."

a light laugh fell from your lips as you both pulled away fully from each other. your eyes search the trees around you while you wait for inspiration to strike. then, it hits you.

"if a crazy plan is what you want," you preface, reaching for rooster's arm to pull him in the direction you were going, "then a crazy plan is what you will get."

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[jjtheresidentbaby]

regressuary day 1: bathing/washing

» for @regressuary & link to bingo card here

» cg!vi & rg!caitlyn & cg!ekko | on my ao3 | wrd count: 2.1k+

» summary: vi finds cait beaten in an alleyway without an explanation as to why and has to care for her, thankfully ekko shows up to help

» tags: arcane agere, set sometime in season 1, hurt/comfort, injuries & blood, other enforcers hurting cait, mentioned undercity & piltover conflict, slight baby talk, nicknames

Vi scoops Caitlyn into her arms carefully, swallowing hard when she hears Cait whine in pain before clinging herself to Vi as tight as she can.

Vi isn’t sure what happened that left Caitlyn in the state she’s in: her enforcer uniform torn, scrapes at her knees, blood on her knuckles, a bruise blooming over her left eye and a split lip on her right. It’s obvious she’s been fighting, Vi just wish she knew who and why.

“Let’s get you home.” She starts the trek from the hidden alleyway towards the Kiramman property but is quickly stopped when Cait lifts her head with a shake.

“Can’t go home.” Caitlyn more mumbles than anything which worries Vi, did she hit her head? Should Vi be taking her to a doctor rather than home for some at-home-patchwork?

“Did you bump your head honey?” Truly Vi doesn’t know why she takes the soft and gentle tone with Cait when nine times out of ten they’re pretty brash with one another, but it seems to help Caitlyn relax a little.

“No jus’ my face got hurt.” Under the streetlights Vi is able to see how nasty the bruise she has really is. It’ll take weeks for that thing to fade and Vi thinks she’ll start to feel her own face ache if she keeps staring.

“Okay, I’ll talk you to my place.” Not that she really wants to take Cait in her enforcer uniform down to the Undercity but she doesn’t see any other option.

-

It’s rough to get to the lanes with Cait cradled in Vi’s arms but she manages somehow and only gets a couple winces from Cait. They haven’t been talking back and forth and that’s worrying Vi so she’s been trying to fill the silence on her own.

“One day I’ll talk you into eating the food down here, it’s better than it looks.” There’s so many people out tonight and every few steps Vi almost knocks into someone. It’s making her buzz with anxious energy.

“Oh and I’ll show you where me and Ekko used to train as kids, you’ll like it there. Would you wanna do that cupcake?” The nickname sounds far too dainty coming from Vi’s mouth right now, Cait nuzzles her face in further to Vi’s neck with a small nod, only making Vi more nervous. Caitlyn has never been this quiet around Vi, even when they were about to talk to the Councilors she was muttering about what to say and what not to.

“Vi?” The redhead stops in her tracks at the voice calling her name from in front of her- as if they just summoned him, it’s Ekko. At least it’s not someone looking to settle a decade old score.

“Hey Ekko.” Protectively Vi tugs Cait closer despite knowing fully well that Ekko is everything but a threat.

“I heard you were walking through the lanes carrying an enforcer around.” Ekko smirks a little as he crosses his arms and Vi falters to reply.

“Who told you that? I haven’t been down here that long.” Anyone could’ve told Ekko and the Undercity moves so quickly it’s really a useless line of questioning.

“When someone has a beaten enforcer held in their arms like a baby, it gets around pretty fast. So, you and Caitlyn get into a fight or something?” A scowl appears on Vi’s face, nearly disgusted by the thought of her doing this to Cait. Ekko just shakes his head at the expression.

“I found her like this, I don’t know what happened.” They start to walk again, Ekko leading Vi towards the path that will bring them to the firelights base, which she’s thankful for. It’ll be safer for Cait to be there than the rickety old apartment Vi’s been staying in.

“You just found her? How did you know she was hurt?”

“I didn’t. I… I was going to see if she’d let me crash for the night but she wasn’t home when I snuck in so I thought she was on patrol for the night and that’s when I found her. Nobody else was around and she hasn’t said anything about what happened.” Part of Vi thinks the other enforcers did this, Cait said she was having problems with a couple of them the last time Vi stayed over. If it’s true, she doubts Cait will want to give them up. That job means so much to her.

“You guys can stay with us tonight. I have a place you can clean her up and patch those wounds.” There’s definitely more Ekko wants to say but he’s holding back, probably because they’re still in public, Vi can’t blame him. She feels unnerved walking around like this even if nobody’s said anything to them or done more than shoot Vi a strange look.

“Thanks Ekko.”

-

The firelights base is just as lively and inviting as the first time Vi came in here: people buzzing around with smiles on their faces, fresh air wafting into Vi’s senses in a much nicer way than the lingering smog in the lanes, and most of all, this bass feels safe. Vi doesn’t see a single weapon around or even an angry face seeing Caitlyn’s enforcer uniform when they pass groups of people.

“I’ll go grab some water, you can untangle her from you.” There’s half a chuckle that Vi rolls her eyes at. Cait still hasn’t moved so much as an inch away from Vi, maybe Ekko’s right about untangling her being its own task.

“Hey cupcake we’re safe in here, you can take a bath and I’ll patch you up.” Gently Vi wraps a hand around the back of Cait’s head, still using the other to hold Cait up.

“Mhm.” Is the muffled reply she gets and Caitlyn’s hands gripping Vi’s jacket harder.

“Is that so? Well Ekko is being very nice by letting us use his bath, don’t you think we should oh I don’t know… actually use it?” Her voice falls to the one she’d pull out when Powder was being fussy about something when they were younger: all soft and playful teasing, nothing harsh that could make the kid feel worse. Which is funny to think about, considering Cait is not a kid and is far from it but- Vi thinks she needs to be babied a little right now.

“Hur’s.” It’s slurred and young sounding, Vi sucks in a breath. She hates seeing Cait like this when she’s usually so strong and put together.

“Oh honey. The bath will help it not hurt, okay? I’ll clean you up nice and good.” It’s not necessarily a lie but Vi isn’t sure if patching Cait’s wounds will cause less pain than what she’s already in. It has to be done though.

“That’s it little one.” Slowly, almost like she’s afraid Vi is going to disappear into thin air if she’s too far away, Caitlyn lets go of her and Vi’s able to sit her up on a chair next to the unfilled bath.

Cait looks even smaller than before. Her arms are tucked into her chest instantly, big doe eyes staring up at Vi in waiting with a wet blink, shoulders hunched together, and Vi swears there’s even a pout in her bottom lip. It makes Vi want to pull her right back up to her chest and apologize for ever putting her down until she’s blue in the face.

“Hey you got her down.” Thankfully Ekko comes back into the room with buckets of water before Vi can act on gut instinct alone and have to start the process of getting Cait to let go of her all over again.

“That should warm up quickly.” Ekko kneels on the floor for a minute, flipping a switch so some type of heating system beneath the tub starts up. Vi makes a mental note to ask how he came up with that later on.

“Stay.” Before Ekko can walk past the girls and leave them alone, Cait reaches a hand out to stop his wrist.

The room pauses for a beat until Caitlyn’s face falls and she instantly reels her hand back as if it’s been burned. Her cheeks flush in embarrassment but Ekko only smiles softly, kneeling beside the chair and taking Cait’s trembling hand into his own.

“That’s alright princess, I can stay.” He assures and gives a kiss to the top of Cait’s hand. Vi feels something like happiness swell in her chest seeing the only family she’s really got interacting in good faith. With how Cait and Powder interacted before… she’s more than grateful Ekko is being kind to Caitlyn even under the circumstances.

-

“Do you think you can talk blue?” Ekko is busy distracting Cait where she sits in the tub while Vi tends to the wound on the back of her shoulders. Vi can’t tell what the slice is from or how Caitlyn hasn’t been crying in pain from it. It’s long and thick, maybe a sword? But it’s not deep enough to hit anything major but still has crimson blood dribbling down it slowly.

“I can talk, m’big.” A short laugh comes from Ekko and he reaches to brush some hair off Cait’s face. Him and Vi had a quick conversation as Cait undressed about Caitlyn possibly being in a younger headspace than normal, Vi is only starting to believe Ekko’s theory more and more.

“That’s good. Do you know who did this to you?” A small whimper comes from Cait’s chest, Vi isn’t sure if it’s because she’s pressing antiseptic to her wound or because of Ekko’s question.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I’m almost done.” She murmurs just incase it is the pain causing Cait to shrink in on herself.

“And we won’t tell anyone you don’t want us to if you tell us who hurt you.” Ekko glances behind Cait’s shoulder to share a stern look with Vi- no they won’t tell anyone about who hurt Caitlyn, they won’t need to, they’ll be able to handle whoever it is on their own.

“Was the other enforcers.” ‘Enforcers’ comes out in a mumbled lisp with a sniffle that only makes the rage that quickly starts to simmer in Vi burn hotter.

“They don’t like me ‘cause I’m not like them.” From the angle Vi is leaning over the tub at, she can see how Ekko rubs his thumb at Cait’s cheek while simultaneously clenching his jaw so hard Vi can almost hear them grinding together.

“What do you mean you’re not like them?” Cait shrugs and looks away from Ekko, hands moving the water around her anxiously. She hesitates for a moment before going to speak again.

“I like you guys. I care bout you.” They don’t like her because she’s friends with people from the Undercity, because she actually gives a damn about what happens down here.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, and you don’t deserve to get hurt for it. I’m sorry that they did that.” Vi leans herself to press her cheek to the top of Caitlyn’s shoulder where the cut doesn’t reach, Cait easily drops her head atop Vi’s, getting Vi’s hair and face wet in the process but it doesn’t matter.

“Do you know their names?” The gears turning in Ekko’s head are practically as audible as his teeth grinding, Vi can’t wait to hear what he’s planning to do to those bastards.

“Mhm. Uh Johnny, Charlotte and um.. Triv? I don’t know them very well. I fought back but..” She trails off and lifts her hands out of the water, her busted knuckles still red with the dried blood that hasn’t fully washed away.

“You did amazing baby, you did everything you could outnumbered like that.” Vi shifts to press a quick kiss to Cait’s damp skin. She really is proud of Cait for fighting back against the other enforcers, she knows it couldn’t have been easy.

“I stay the night?” One of Caitlyn’s hands reaches to rub clumsily at her eyes before she yawns all small and childish.

“Of course you can. I’ll go get some clothes for you and Vi can dry you off.” Ekko stands and grabs a towel to hand Vi before disappearing out of the room.

Vi almost expects Ekko to go off right then and there and track those enforcers down to get them back for hurting Cait but he comes back quickly with some clothes and blankets. It’s not til Cait is asleep and Professor Heimerdinger is sat by her bed that Ekko and Vi go up to Piltover to defend Caitlyn. They return out of breath and a little bruised up but before Cait wakes up. The three of them spend the rest of the night snuggled up together and safe.

[ghouljams]

how do you rp with real people

literally the exact same way you would role play with a bot if that's what your starting point is.

But if you've never rp-ed in your life I'll break it down into the fundamentals for you under the cut.

Stage 1: Advertising

You have to start somewhere. Usually that's going to be finding a partner. This is going to read a little bit like a job posting but that's also sort of what it is. Here's an example, your ad should, vaguely, look like this:

Wanted: RP Partner I play: John "Soap" Mactavish You play: Simon "Ghost" Riley tags: apocalypse au, "came back wrong" Soap, gore, smut, angst What I'm looking for: responses once a week with a minimum of two paragraphs. Must be 18+. Potential kinks: stalking, objectphilia, blood, knifeplay, gunplay, whatever Starter: words words words

Give it a few tags and let people know you're open to discuss then you just gotta wait for someone to respond. This is an example of a character rp, VERY DIFFERENT from an OC rp. People will expect you to know the character well and be able to stay in character, that means there's a higher risk of people leaving the rp if they think you're not faithfully representing the character. I have left character rps because I thought my partner was butchering the character.

OC role playing is much more forgiving, but it's also unpredictable. You won't have any idea how your partner's character will respond to your actions, so this is where stage 2 comes in!

Stage 2: Getting to know you.

The first part of any good rp is going to be getting to know your rp partner. bare bones this means: getting a kink list with hard limits and "maybe" kinks(if it's an nsfw rp), getting character information, discussing schedules(when do you have time to rp), and what you want out of the rp(plot, au, reply length, activity, smut/fluff/angst/whump).

Kinks don't have to include every kink in the world, just the ones you know you're interested in and the ones you know you're not. This stage of the game is all about discussion. Sometimes you(or your partner) will be replying to a prompt and sometiems you'll be responding an open call for partners, either way you'll be talking about what sort of story you're looking for and workshopping the plot together.

I suggest making some sort of easy to supply bio of your character, plus any images you might have of them. And keep your kinks list somewhere that you can easily find it if prompted. You don't want to scramble trying to find kinks you think will fit an rp, just supply the list you have and discuss from there. Role playing requires a lot of vulnerability so be prepared for that.

Also important to discuss is what pov you're writing in, most rp will be either in third(most common) or first person. So get used to writing "name did this." This makes it easy to remember who is talking as you're building the story with your partner.

Stage 3: the plot, and the starter

Plotting an rp should be loose and fun. It can be as simple as "I want my character to accidentally curse yours and then they have to work together to break the curse" or as complex as a full book outline. I would try to avoid a full outline, because you'll have trouble sticking to it and you'll be too worried about satisfying specific beats.

let's say you've got your story vaguely plotted and your partner asks if you would write the starter. The starter is just the first response that prompts the rest of the rp. Your starter should include, roughly, these things at the length that you and your partner have agreed upon for replies:

A brief introduction to the world, this is a chance to flex your descriptive muscles and have fun:

The charred remains of a city smolder in the distance as the sun sets over a man-made desert. The sand is red beneath the man's worn boots. It's been a little over six months since the plague swept over the continent, turning friends and strangers into monsters. Three months since those monsters rotted to the point their muscles couldn't propel them forwards anymore. Three weeks since they sprouted and started releasing spores. The man adjusts his gas mask as he walks, hitching his pack higher on his shoulder.

A brief introduction to your character, if they're a known character in an au you should focus on how the world has changed them(within reason), if they're your oc give a brief description of notable physical features and a short background:

Known character:

The man can't even call this a desertion. Sgt. John "Soap" Mactavish, former SAS operator, left the service as quickly as it abandoned him. Too many people in too close an area, once the fevers started it swept through the barracks like wildfire. The higher ups left their dogs to die, and the smart ones ran. Soap wishes he could say he was one of the smart ones, but he was just lucky. Out on leave when the shooting started, his priority had been to his mother in Scotland, not to king and country. He felt like a coward leaving his brothers in arms, but what else could he do once lockdown went into effect?

OC:

The man can't even call this a desertion, more like a mercy killing. "Hush" had survived the fever, survived the horrific drug trials that had been pushed on the military first, and survived the open grave they'd shoved him in when he was deemed too far gone to save. But in the military too far gone only meant one thing: no longer following orders. When the virus had chewed up his brain he'd lost everything, except what his brothers in arms had called him: Hush. It's enough to keep the man moving forwards. He needs a shave, and a haircut. Six months have grown his hair shaggy, and his new diet has taken the softness from his cheeks. It's easier hunting when he doesn't have to cook his food.

And finally what the hook that starts your rp is. With an OC you can use this as another way to introduce character traits or another physical trait, with a known character this should be how they fit into the world. For this we're going to say that you and your partner want to do a "trying to get home" plot, and your character is going to meet their character by finding them passed out in the desert:

Known Character:

As Soap crests the next dune he stops to survey his surroundings. The desert is rough, and it'll only get worse at night. He squints at the blobby shadow that fades like a mirage in and out of his vision. He sucks in a breath. A shadow without an object to cast it can only mean one thing, it's not a shadow. He slides down the dune and races towards the blog, stopping short as it comes into focus. The huge body of a man left for dead out on the dunes. He picks up his pace and drops to his knees to grip the man's shoulder and shake. "You alive?" He asks, almost giddy at the thought of another human out here.

OC:

As Hush crests the next dune he stops and surveys his surroundings. 100 yards from him he spots a dark blob, a shadow that's been cast with no discernable source. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, since the fever they aren't as sharp as they used to be. A shadow without an object to cast it can only mean one thing, it's not a shadow. He slides down the dune and races towards the blog, stopping short as it comes into focus. The huge body of a man left for dead out on the dunes. He picks up his pace and drops to his knees to grip the man's shoulder and shake. "Hey," He moves his hand to check the man's throat for a pulse, "you alive?"

believe it or not that is actually shorter than my usual starters/replies lol, but that's the basics of a starter.

Stage 4: keeping up the rp!

No comes the fun part. Your partner will respond to your starter(hopefully) and then you'll be able to get going. But how do you respond? They just sent you this great response and you're not sure where to go from here, well there are two parts to a good response.

responding to their character's actions or words.

prompting them to respond.

This is why I like a 2 paragraph minimum for rps. You should always respond to their character, but you also need to give them something to respond to. Say their character is alive but they need water or food or medical care. Your character should:

respond to that need. "Thank god you're alive, hold on."

give them something to respond to as well. "Here, do you think you can hold a canteen? or- no let me hold it."

By giving your partner something to respond to you don't run into bumps of "what are you hoping for in my response." It's a lot like dating when you're starting out, you want to ask questions and prompt them to keep the conversation going so that you can both participate.

Dos and Don'ts

Do: write your partner's character doing something they did in a previous response

Don't: tell your partner what their character is doing.

This happens a lot if you're writing sex scenes between two characters. You can say "my character is fucking your character" but don't talk about how much their character is loving it and pushing back on your character if your partner didn't mention that in their response. This is a personal pet peeve of mine, but I've dropped rps because my partner was saying "oh yeah your character loves that" and I went "don't tell me what they like."

Do: describe how your character sees your partner's

Don't: include details that are not in the character's description.

You can talk about how your character likes their character's eye color or hair or skin, but make sure you're getting their character descriptions correct. "my character thinks your character's eyes are like swimming pools, sparkling in the sun, it's going to make blue their favorite color" <- fine. "your character's (unmentioned in the description) tits are so big" <- not fine.

Do: respond in a timely manner, and apologize if you're going to take some time off from the rp

Don't: disappear for 9 months and then send 15k words without an apology or explanation only to disappear again right after, and only communicate with me through tiktoks.

.... self explanatory

Basically be respectful of your partner's character and give them the space to say "actually can we go a different direction with the story. It's their rp too and you want the both of you to have fun!

Happy rp-ing!

[my-debauchery]

Nothing.

idol!yuta × afab!reader

idol!yuta × afab!reader

g`fluff, smut

cw`dom!yuta, sub!reader, crossdressing, kissing, spitting, facefucking, cumeating(f&m), oral(f. & m.), mommy kink, slapping, unconsciousness (all is consensual), squirting, explicit content, unprotected sex, fingering

wc`3.2k

A/N:this was somewhat inspired by "Nothing On Me" by Kai. as always, constructive criticism is more than welcome. if you see mistakes in cw tagging, please, let me know.

you were seating at the dressing table, trying to properly curl your hair for the evening ahead. getting hotter by the minute from the effort and the heat of the iron.

as you finished the last strand of hair and pinned it up to cool, you lift your eyes up and see yuta in the reflection staring at you 'can you please open the window? i want to cool down before doing my makeup' you smiled and turned to face him.

yuta silently moves towards your bed and places his bag on it. he fulfills your request and you relish in the icy air filling the room.

you thank him and turn back to the mirror. you hear yuta approaching you while you're rummaging in your makeup drawer. he places his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him once again.

he gives you a unreadable look and kneels next to you. you start turning towards him, but he stops you. so you keep looking at each other though the mirror.

'would you mind doing my makeup too?' he asks you somewhat hesitantly 'sure' you say as you continue to look through your makeup collection again 'but i hope you understand that i never did male makeup, so it might look a bit strange. also i probably won't be able to do your skin, our shades don't match' you tease him.

'you didn't understand me' you hear 'huh?' you meet his eyes full of worries 'what do you mean then?' you inquire. he gets up and brings over his bag over to you.

he opens it up and takes stuff out places them onto the table 'i ordered this and hoped you would do my makeup how you do yours. female style, you know? i even got a foundation in my shade' he shows you a bottle of it and places it back on the table 'i also got a matching dress to yours for me to wear for our date'

'you want me to do your makeup like for a woman and to wear a dress for our date?' you ask carefully. your boyfriend just nods weakly.

yuta watches you get up and quickly go to the bathroom and the dread starts to sink in. he was terrified of what he presumes is happening right now. that you going to be horrified and want to leave him. that so far things were far too good to be true. that you were too accepting, easygoing and he crossed the line.

it was one thing to have kinks and introduce som/sub dynamics into the relationship, far easier to learn and adjust to. but completely other when your boyfriend wants to dress like a woman, who would want that?

yuta was trying to come up with something, anything to calm you down and convince you to not leave him. but after hearing some noise from the bathroom, he saw you waltz back into the bedroom with giddiness and a fluffy kuromi hairband in your hands.

'do you have a specific look in mind or do you want me to freestyle it? or as we going to have matching dresses, do you want to have matching makeup looks? to go all out?' you question while looking through the products he bought.

he grabs your hand 'you don't mind?' he asks and looks inquisitively at you. you look confused and he clarifies 'about me wearing feminine makeup and woman's clothes? that i want us to go out like that together, publicly?'

you giggle and answer 'no. i don't care in what form you come, yuta. your core doesn't change, even if you're a shapeless blob. i know that i love you and you love me, what else could possibly matter? as for the publicity aspect, i only worry that someone might recognize you, but i can try to make you unrecognizable. power of makeup and all that jazz, you know? also we go out at midnight on a walk, so we should be fine' you finish and hold his face gently.

he nods 'thank you. with you i truly feel like i'm alive for the first time' you lean in and give him a chaste kiss on the lips with a wide toothy grin 'now, do you want a full fantasy of a makeup shop experience?'

yuta laughs 'no. i've had plenty of that. i want a fantasy of my girlfriend doing my makeup. preferably while sitting on my lap' he sits down and pulls in to straddle him.

you snort and ask if he has any reference pictures for his look. he shows you different gothic style makeup looks and tells you to do what you think would look best. he relaxes and circles you waist with his arms. so you get to work.

once you're done you hold up a mirror so yuta can see himself 'do you like it? i must say, i think i've outdone myself. you look like a goth baddie'you get up to put away his stuff and a thought hits you 'oh my god! i'll do my makeup like an insta baddie and we can be 2 baddies, just no porsche' you laugh and look up a reference for yourself.

suddenly yuta hugs you from the back and whispers into the nape of your neck 'i love it, thank you' you smile 'go get changed and i'll do my makeup in the meantime, okay?' he nods and walks off.

you do your makeup and let down your curls. you brush them out and spray on your favorite perfume after changing into your own dress. you go to the leaving room in search of yuta, but once you see him, you are speechless.

he is wearing a satin midnight blue slip dress with strings that can shorten it on both sides, a fluffy black cardigan and a glossy black butterfly shaped hair clip on one side 'how do i look? it's not too much, right?' he asks and you shake your head like a dummy.

'you don't look like a baddie. you look like a mommy' you say almost in a trance. yuta looks at your glazed eyes and scoffs 'misbehave and i'll punish you like one' you feel a hot rush and blur out without thinking 'yes, mommy' yuta gives you a warning look and you try to calm yourself down.

you both get your shoes and coats on and head out of the apartment. while standing in the elevator yuta holds your hand and intertwines your fingers. he squeezes it slightly 'remember to behave. you are my good girl, right?' you nod enthusiastically and he kisses your cheek.

you spend next hour just walking around enjoying pretty snowfall and each other's company. but you can't really look at anything except your lovely boyfriend, fantasizing about him taking you in the dark alleyway while calling him mommy or letting him use your mouth.

but you know good things will come to those who wait and you could wait for eternity if it meant waiting for him. you are his good girl after all.

you're nearing your apartment complex and you feel a craving for something sweet, so you pull yuta towards a convince store 'do you want me to give you a face mask?' yuta thought for a moment and shakes his head. he gives you his card 'go get yourself a treat. i'll wait here' you take it and go inside.

you book it straight for your favorite and move to the front to pay 'what a lovely pair you two are' cashier, an old woman mentions, you look up at her in alarm 'what?'

she smiles 'your sister and you. sure your sister's style is a bit unconventional, but i mean she is still beautiful' you smile and relief washes over you, and when a naughty thought pops in 'it's my mommy' you smile even wider 'mommy?' cashier glances outside at yuta again, who now is watching you.

'doesn't she look grate? she still buys me sweet treats, even though i'm all grow up now' you say and swipe yuta's card 'does she? i guess you have a great mommy, don't you?' smile again 'i do. she is the best. have a good night' you step outside and meet yuta's suspicious gaze.

'what did you talk about? you looked worried for a moment? is everything alright?' he tries to look into your eyes, but you avoid his eyes and just munch on your sweet treat 'nothing' you say nonchalantly.

at least you think you said that nonchalantly, but to yuta you look pleased and there is a mischievous twinkle in your eyes once you turn to him. he knows you lying, but he'll let you have your treat for now.

once you approach the buildings entrance, yuta asks you again 'still i'm interested, what were you talking about with the cashier? hmm' he looks up ahead and you know from his tone, that if you don't fess up you'll be in trouble.

hesitantly you tell him during your elevator ride up 'good girl' he tells you while caressing your check. foolishly you relax and happily skip to the front door of the apartment.

however, the mood shifts drastically once the door closes and it pings locked.

yuta pushes you against the mirror hanging next to the front door. your forehead is touching it's cold surface while yuta cages you from behind. one of his arms is circling you, preventing your movement, while the other is covering and lightly squeezing the lower half of your face 'did you think that you were being funny?'

he stares you down in the mirror and you shake your head 'did you think at all before opening your mouth?' he spoke in to your left ear. you shook in his grasp. you start overheating from your coat and yuta's close proximity, but an undeniable feeling of arousel starts to creep.

he turns you around gripping you face again and your shoulder 'maybe you should use your mouth for something better then risky smalltalk' he releases you and starts taking his coat off 'strip.

you move at the speed of lightning throwing clothes all around, while yuta gracefully takes off everything except the dress. you stand there naked shaking like a leaf, not from nerves but from the sheer desire for your boyfriend to have you.

'kneel.' you gently lower yourself right there and look up at him. yuta is towering over you in all his glory. you can see his dick bulging up underneath the dress and the visual makes you squeeze your thighs together.

'open up' he gently holds your chin and you stick your tongue out. he lets his spit slowly drip down into your mouth, all the while holding your gaze.

he lets go of your face and you remain in the same position. yuta lifts his dress up, revealing his fully hard dick and ties strings on one side.

you start by spreading his spit all over with your tongue and gently massaging his balls. you suck on his tip and keep massaging him. after couple sucks you start taking half of him in. going up and down his shaft, flattening your tongue on down motion and licking at top without releasing the tip from your mouth, while still massaging his balls with your hands.

yuta is grunting lowly above you. his left hand is on your head massaging your scalp 'you are doing so well. i know this is all you could think about during our walk. probably something even dirtier, like me fucking you in the back alleyway. and if i wanted to you'd let me, right? you are truly my good girl. good, but dirty and downright depraved little girl, aren't you?' you hum happily and take his dick all the way down.

your nose is pressing against his belly and you squeeze his balls harder and start humming to create a vibration' oh, shit! hold on baby' and you let go of him. you place your hands on his thighs and relax your throat even farther.

yuta grabs your head with both hands and starts fucking your mouth without holdbacks. you breath through your nose and let yourself be completely consumed by him. he goes at a brutal pace and tears foarm in your eyes. you can feel your pussy pulsating and you squeeze your thighs even harder. tears stream down and you can't see anything. you just feel.

he starts growling on top of you and somehow go even faster 'is this what you wanted, huh? for mommy to punish you? am i not giving you enough attention, so you misbehave for me to notice you? are you such a desperate little slut, hmm?'

yuta fully stops and keeps you pressed all the down and starts cuming down your throat. you feel lightheaded. fully enveloped by his smell and taste. you close your eyes and let go of his legs 'look at me. don't you remember? mommy wants you to always look in her eyes' you look at him and start shaking like a dog in heat. his eyes are full of raw desire to fully consume you.

and yuta sees the same in yours.

once he's done cumming he lets go of your head and gently ease you of himself. you lay down on your back breathing heavily. yuta squats in front of you and nudges your legs appart. he swipes his hand against your pussy and lifts it up for you to see. as he spreads his fingers appart, you can see your arousel stringing between them.

you start to turn to get on all fours but yuta stops you 'go to your place'

"your place" is a pool of soft blankets and pillows. placed next to the floor length mirrors in the leaving room he set up in his apartment for you. all because you enjoy to just look out the window at night while listening to the music. or lay around there waiting for him to come back home. all the blankets and pillows are in your favorite colors and designs, just for you.

you stretch your arms towards him to help you get up, but he shakes his head and gates up by himself 'crawl.' you don't need to be told twice and get moving. slowly crawling to the windows, acutely aware of his heavy gaze on you.

once you make it, you turn around and look at him, but he is right behind you. the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and of your labored breaths prevented you hearing his movements.

he manhandles you into a mating press and you grab the back of your things. you expect him to fuck you now, but to your horror he slowly lowers his face towards your vagaina. you knew that you are in for a wild ride now and that being naughty is not for you.

yuta speards your pussy lips apart and spits on it. you feel it pool and drip down to your anus. he blows on it and you shudder from the temperature change.

he starts to gently massage spreading mixture of your arousel and his spit all around. from your pubic mound down to your ass without touching your clit. you start to shake from the anticipation, knowing he won't be calm and gentle for long.

you hear the sound of the slap first and the sting comes after. he slapped your clit and you whined. he slapped it again and again. you just keep on whining and sniffling. after several slaps you see that you pussy is all red and puffy. yuta dives right in.

you can't focus on any one thing in particular. you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. your skin is slippery from the sweat and it's hard to hold your legs pressed to your chest. and most overwhelming is yuta's devouring of your sipping heat.

he looks almost mad. his freshly dyed hair a mess. face all red and glistening with your release. and a stare of a rabied dog that is feeding for the first time in forever. he is looking straight at your and amid all the pleasure you feel almost shy.

but then he plunges three fingers in your fluttering hole and you forget all about it. while his tongue is lapping at your clit at an inhumane speed, his fingers play with your g-spot agonizingly slow. as you started to seize up yuta started to jab his fingers at it and suck on your clit with fool force.

the familiar pressure starts to build and then white, hot flush takes over you as you squirt into yuta's mouth.

your grip on your legs slips. yuta grabs your legs and pushes. you completely lose it and just shake from cumming and overstimulation, because yuta didn't let up and continued lapping up your juices and sucking on your pussy.

you come around and feel yuta's head still stuck between your thighs. both of you on your sides with you facing the window, looking over the night cityscape.

another orgasm hits you and you moan long and loud. you can feel just how soar you are. yuta turns you onto your back and kneels between your outstretched legs.

you can see your juices dripping down his chin, neck and onto his chest. his makeup completely ruined with mascara runs like in classic rom-com and lipstick gone. he is fully naked and hard. you manage to whisper out 'dress?'

'it got all sticky so I took it off. how do you feel?' he questioned as he lifted you up to a sitting position 'soar and empty' you can see that he cumed all over the blanket 'won't mommy feel me up?' you croacked out and batted your lashes.

yuta chuckles and nodes 'of course ,my good kitten deserves it. after all you did so well' he wipes hair away from your face and kisses your forehead.

he lays down and pulls you on top of him. first you kneel to straddle him, but he pulls you flush against him while keeping your legs in a kneeling position.

yuta carefully enters you, keeping in mind your soar body. once you're down to a hilt you both sigh in relief. he plants his feet on the floor and gently starts rocking into you.

he is slow and deliberate with his strokes. pleasure comes in waves, like you're laying on the shore with warm waves washing over your body again and again.

you both circle each with your arms 'you're my lovely puppy, aren't you? you always do so well for me. even if you're naughty you take your punishment like a champ. my little cutie. you are ready for me to fill you up?' you nod into his chest and let go of your own release.

you feel his warm seed fill you and all consuming bliss takes over your entire being. it spreads from your stomach all over like a liquid sunshine.

while basking in your afterglow you ask yuta 'can you keep your dress on next time?' he thinks for a moment 'can't make any promises'

'why not?' he turns you by you chin to face him, his eyes are full of devotion 'i want nothing on me but you'

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Requesting Aid 2

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @felinisnoctis @bispecsual @whorety-k @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams

Tagged: @jaghatai-khock

Author's note: Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Anrir. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric & Ash'val. Thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for collaboration on writing this behemoth of an arc... and it's only still at the start and letting me borrow Khopesh. Lol.

Kerubiel had given so much, pushed himself in Every aspect of his training. Aspirant to Neophyte to Scout, watching his lessers die off one by one. Asserting (comforting) himself that He was Better. That He would survive (Praying himself near sleepless that he would survive). 

That their passing was a Mercy to them because they wouldn't survive what he could- Because he would be the Best. He exceeded expectations, and when he didn't he took his beatings, scraped himself up, and kept fighting! Showed just as much promise in Every Mission and Every Training. Pushing himself to the limit of his enhanced body, Every! Single! Day! (Because anything less would mean he'd not be worth keeping.) 

And Yet!

...

“Why wasn't I enough…?” Kerubiel asks, muffling his sobbing into Olly's shoulder. 

“...” Olly doesn't know how to respond. “I don't know.” He eventually says, but he knows he could say something better, and is aggravated with himself that he can't think of it. 

“You were always enough.” 

Both Primaris whip their heads back to see the old Dragon Approaching once again. Soon, Ash'val stands before them. 

“You…you heard?” Kerubiel asks, feeling an embarrassed blush come over him. 

The Salamander nods. “Salamanders may not Prefer Gothic but most of us can speak it.” He explains. “Also my Gothic may be pre-heresy but the language really hasn't changed that much in your time it seems.”

Olly responds with a slight embarrassed “Ah…alright then.”

“But back to the point. You two were Always enough.” Ash'val insists. 

The Scouts look away, clearly not believing him, so the old Dragon decides to try a different angle. 

“Have you heard the tale of when our Gene father Vulcan, long may he Live, rejoined our Legion?”

“...” “I know Vulcan was described to us as one of the Holy Primarchs of the Imperium.” Olly replies while Keru stays silent. “But wait…are you saying, you've actually Met a Primarch!? In person!?” The Ultramarine gasps. 

Ash'val nods. “In the obsidian flesh, here, sit with me and I will tell you.”

Both Primaris do as the old dragon says and he begins the tale. “We Salamanders had been devastated by a long conflict. Our numbers were depleted, our casualties counted in the thousands. What ships we could spare were sent with civilians and what supplies came back never seemed to be enough. We were at our end, but then…he came.” Ash'val's recollection takes on a legendary sort of awe. “He, and the forces he handpicked and armed, cut down our Xenos foe. The enemy we faced for months was burnt to ash in what felt like hours. And at the end, when the battlefield was finally quiet, we of the old Guard faced what we were certain was our replacement.”

“You feared that you would be…discarded?” Olly asks. Kerubiel remains silent, he…he had never heard such insecurities from a First Born. 

Ash'val nodded. “What more could be expected? We held our own, but clearly our betters outmatched us in every way. So…we bowed. To honor our father, and the brothers who would take our place at his side…but do you know what he did?”

The Primaris shook their heads. 

“He demanded we get up, that we stand proud because we had…given so much and saved so many…that We should not bow. Then He…he bowed to Us.”

Olly almost felt a gasp escape him. A Primarch! Bowing low to mere Space Marines!? If his own Gene Father was to bow to him he'd…he'd…

Well he doesn't know what he'd do but the very idea makes him feel like he's about to pass out. 

“And then he Took us in his arms and said we would ALL be his sons! LIKE THIS!” Ash'val says joyfully, and surprises the two Primaris by swooping them into a tight hug! 

“Woah!” “Hey now!”

Salamander strength is really no joke considering Ash'val successfully lifts Both of them in armor, even if only for a moment. He continues once he places them both down. 

“And ever since then, we Salamanders have Always accepted our new recruits with open arms. Terran, First Born, Transfers from other Legions, and the Primaris.” Ash'val explains. “Which is what I wish happened for you, and your brothers…”

Kerubiel bites his lip, “It…wasn't your fault.” He eventually says. 

“Perhaps,” Ash'val responds. “But clearly, more care will need to be taken with integrating Primaris that arrive here. They should feel welcomed, and that whatever abuse they faced in their pasts will not be tolerated by the Alliance, least of all in a territory under My protection. ”

Kerubiel and Olly both feel…stunned. But Ash'val simply claps them both on the shoulders. “The dragon rises on a New Day! Now, let's continue as we were! 50 laps! I'll give you a ten second head start. You both better keep up with this old drake or you'll both be in for barracks cleaning duty!”

“Yes sir!” “Sir yes sir!” Kerubiel pulls out his hydration ration and chugs it properly before getting a move on with Olly. 

Ash'val watches the boys fondly, but his expression does shift as he glances back down at his vox. 

‘Dark Angel Apothecary retained at Clinic. Possible involvement with attempted kidnapping of the Primaris known as Kerubiel. Administering truth drugs as soon as Anesthesia reaches appropriate level.’

Ash’val is glad that he’s able to watch over a pair of the Primaris Marines- especially one of the ones that had been almost-kidnapped. Would be thieves were going to be punished. If the younger cousins do not want to be taken, then they won’t be.

Ash'val grimaces, and seems he will need to remind the other Astarte leaders of this world what happens when you intrude upon a Dragon's nest. 

“10 seconds up! You'll be left in the dust if you don't pick up the pace, old man!” Kerubiel shouts, now much more like himself. 

Ash'val's grimace melts instantly into a challenging grin. “OH-HO-HO! I'll make you eat those words scout!” He replies, doing as promised and picking up a run after his charges. 

Kerubiel had a fierce, but a small smile on his face as he continued to run- making sure to pace himself. He and Olly were running, keeping ahead of Ash’val- for now at least. Primaris Marines are faster than most First Borns.

The more he learns about the boy’s story the more he understands why they are reluctant to reach out to their older brothers- and superior officers. The reluctance to put themselves into the hands of those who, in their time and era have proven themselves unworthy of their trust and obedience.

Still the more Ash’val learns of M42, one thought keeps going through his head is this ‘What the fuck? Why? What is wrong with M42?’

…

“And then the boys came back to reality, and we called the others to tell them.” Lullaby explains to Nanael and Atlas as they show the new arrivals the full image that Claude and Jophiel's vision had produced. 

“...” Neither of the new Primaris speak for a moment, but eventually Nanael produces one… 

“I see…” That doesn't have any curses or promises of violence he Desperately wants to include. Nanael's expression is serious, and even slightly disgusted. His wings are reminiscent of Jophiel's when he'd first seen Lullaby's … interesting looking warp presence. 

“But…What does it mean?!” Lullaby asks plaintively, “Why are they Doing this, Why do they Want to do this?! He's done nothing to them!” They feel another painful spike in their emotions and their psychery, and force it back down so it doesn't cause trouble. They still feel tears pricking at their eyes, and they wipe them away quickly. Not the time for weakness. 

“It will be Alright.” Atlas assures Lullaby. “We've already received double confirmation that Kerubiel is safe with Ash'val and Olly.”

“And Khopesh will be back before you know it. Though he may have to check in with Anrir first.” Claude supplies, giving Lullaby a gentle side hug.  

Lullaby nods. “I know. I just don't understand why…anything with this.” They say tiredly pinching the bridge of their nose. “And I Hate that.”

Nanael's expression takes on a different intense look. He and Cedric will have bastards to Hunt down soon enough. After all- harm given, is harm to be repaid. If those Dark Angels were planning on doing that to Kerubiel. Or whichever other Primaris they got a hold of, well, self defense, even a more active version of it so that those bastards don’t hurt him, or others is understandable. 

And if a portion of the Dark Angels was planning on brutally killing one of his brothers for curiosity. Well then, he’ll make them drown in their own blood. They were going to kill someone he Cherishes. Or may even go after another Primaris, should it prove too difficult to get Keru. 

Threats must be dealt with, and well, there was something in the codex about that, Ruthlessness is mercy upon one’s self. Yeah. Nanael knows he’s not fully of the Lamenter variant of the Son of Sanguinius, what else he is, he doesn’t know, Nor particularly care to find out.

“Jophie, Claude, if we point out the figures do you think you can recall more about their appearances?” Atlas posits. 

Jophiel and Claude look to each other and to Atlas, “Perhaps? I’d like to try to see if I can get more clarity if you do have pictures.”

“It can’t hurt to try.” Claude says. 

“I'll grab the paper and colored pencils!” Lullaby announces. “If we can do a Perp Sketch it could help Kerubiel and Khopesh avoid them. Especially if any of the Dark Angels had scars or other recognizable features.” They say, voicing their understanding of what Atlas was getting at. “And it will help others find them so they can be stopped…”

“They can be stopped…right?” Lullaby asks hesitantly. “Like they intended to kidnap Kerubiel, and even if This crime technically didn't happen I mean…there's got to be Something we can do right?” Lullaby asks. 

Atlas puts a comforting hand on the baselines shoulder. “We will make sure our friends do not come to harm. You have my word.”

Lullaby smiles. They know there's only so far a promise can go, but the words soothe them regardless. 

Squeak Squeak! A chirping bat call ringtone sounds on Lullabys phone and they scramble it out in a flurry. “Khopesh?! Can you hear me sweetness?”

“I am well, dear one! I am just letting you know I have Arrived back at Stone Flame but I must report to Anrir first.” Khopesh explains. 

Lullaby’s entire frame immediately uncoils most of its tension. “Thank Goodness. Also…”

“Yes my Love?” 

“I'm really happy to hear your voice.”

“Awww!”

“But! Once you're back in my arms you're also going to Tell Me Exactly how you got involved with this Dark Angel debacle.” Lullaby says without leaving room for argument. 

Nanael raises an eyebrow. “You mean he didn't brag to you about biting off a Dark Angel's arm when they tried to take Kerubiel?”

“HE DID WHAT?!” 

“NANAEL DON'T TELL THEM THAT! HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT!?”

“Cedric heard it through Zariel I believe.” Nanael smirked. “It was for a good reason, but still I Think you should have informed your partner appropriately, brother cousin.”

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

“You are getting it the next time we train, little brother cousin!” Khopesh responds through the phone to the still smirking Nanael. 

“You are coming straight back Here after you see Anrir.” Lullaby says strictly. “And you are going to help us construct the sketches of the Dark Angels so you and Kerubiel can avoid coming within 10 Miles of them until they're dealt with!”

“Yes Lullaby.” Khopesh sighs. “However, I Did have a good reason.”

“Yes, and I won't say it wasn't deserved.” Lullaby responds. “But next time just Punch the offending bastard's jaw off! DO NOT! Leave behind teeth marks, and crap tons of mouth DNA for them to find you with!”

“That!...That is fair.” Khopesh allows. “Even better, next time I will make it look like an accident. No witnesses.” He growls slyly. 

Lullaby let's out an amused huff. “Again, not saying they wouldn't deserve it…especially if they’re involved with these bastards.” Lullaby responds, shooting a dirty look at the vision image. 

Ziztz! The light above Lullaby's head flickers for a moment before they pull themselves back again. Atlas doesn't know about…that side of them, yet. 

And if anymore Marines learn about their abilities they're fairly certain Anrir will turn Grey. His hair, they mean, his skin is already pretty much that color. 

“I'm sorry our art day has been impacted in this way.” Jophiel apologizes to Lullaby and Claude as the group seats itself and prepares to make the perpetrator sketches. 

Claude smiles. “I would rather this happen, then we go forward not knowing.”

Lullaby nods, and continues to pass the colored pencils, and paper so Jophiel and Claude can draw the images of their potential enemies. Nanael and Atlas continue to examine the vision image to determine how many unique figures are present, and thus how many Dark Angels they'll need to identify. 

And thus how many graves will need to be dug.

…

“How is our Patient fairing?” Anrir asks his fellow Apothecaries. 

“Vitals are stable, we'll be ready to on-board the Sodium Thiopental in about two minutes.” Hura replies. 

“Dosage is ready when you are Apothecary Hura.” Cedric replies, having just drawn up the syringe. 

“Excellent.” Hura replies before shifting his attention to his vox. “Apothecary Zariel, how are our Other guests fairing?”

‘Sour and surly, but being complacent otherwise… for now.’ Zariel responds. ‘Best to hurry this along if possible though. No telling when they'll decide to burst in and steal back their apothecary.”

“Understood, Cedric,” Hura announces. “Get the Sodium Thiopental on board.” 

“Injecting now.” Cedric replies, double checking his syringe for air bubbles before pressing the mind altering drug into the Dark Angel's IV. 

“Mrph-mm…” The Dark Angel twitches and begins to stir, but when his eyes open they are unfocused and glassy. Perfect. 

Anrir leans over the table, “Can you hear me?” The Nightlord asks in flawless Gothic.

“Yes,” The Apothecary answers, with little to no emotion in his voice. 

Anrir nods. “Good, first of all, Who are you?”

“I am Apothecary Brother Sargent Noctis Aramais, of the Dark Angels,” He replied flatly.

“What is your current mission?” Hura asks.

“To capture alive and as intact as possible a Primaris Space Marine,” Noctis Aramias replies.

“Why have you been sent to capture a Primaris Space Marine alive?” Cedric asks, one of his hands clenching into a fist before unclenching his hands.

“The orders have come from our Chapter Master, Sammath Togroth.”

The tension in the room shifts, and Cedric finds himself stunned for a moment. A Chapter Master had ordered this? That…that would complicate things. 

If Anrir finds that information strange he does not show it. He simply continues the line of questioning. “Why does your Chapter Master want a Primaris?”

“The Chapter Master wants to see how strong and what the differences are between a Firstborn Space Marine and a Primaris Space Marine.”

“And how would this be determined?” Hura presses.

“First examine, open the body cavity and study the biological mechanics…”

“But that isn't all, is it?” Anrir prompts. “What about anesthesia?”

“No…no anesthesia. Only…hypno drugs, Chapter Master Togroth, wants…the Primaris awake. To measure stress response…Cut and take till there's...nothing left. Record findings till the Primaris expires…Collect and store usable organs as normal.” The Apothecary drones on.

Cedric feels his hearts pick up and a hot searing knife of rage cuts through him. He has to firmly hold himself back from latching his hands around the Fucking Bastards NECK and wringing it till his eyes pop out and it Snaps in his hands. 

What Cedric doesn't realize is that Anrir is not far behind him, after all if this is what they planned to do to a random Primaris, who's to say what they'd do to Khopesh who had actually offended them. But the old Nightlord is much better at keeping his emotions unseen. 

“What happened when you attempted to take the Primaris known as Kerubiel?” Anrir prompts. 

“Scout disobeyed, was antsy but…almost had him…just had to…apply the hypno drug but then-” A small amount of panicked lucidity comes back to the Dark Angel, but not enough to wake him fully. “Wretched monster with a grinning scarred mouth…lept from the trees, Teeth sinking into my Arm. Snapped it off. Get him off! GET HIM OFF KILL HIM BROTHERS! RIP HIS ARMS OFF AND WATCH HIM BLEED OU-”

Shink! Anrir jabs another dose of knock out juice right into the near thrashing Dark Angels neck, not gently at all. But the Apothecary does go limp a moment later. 

“I've heard Enough.” The elder Night lord surmises. “The amnesitics will ensure he does not recall Any of this. As for the Other issues at hand…”

“A band of rogues is one thing, but if his words are true, then we are dealing with a Far Worse conspiracy.” Hura adds. 

“No Primaris is safe…” Cedric mumbles, his tone belying the sheer overwhelmed Panic he feels. “Even if I can keep those who are already Here informed…Any new arrivals could be- They could be taken. I can't…”

“Cedric?” Hura asks, seeing the emotional outburst coming. 

“THRONE DAMMIT ALL!” Cedric snarls slamming and tossing the tray of used surgical items into a wall. (Thankfully avoiding the other medical equipment.)

“CEDRIC!?” 

“I SWORE! I-SWORE! That I wouldn't-!” Cedric feels an angry sob threaten to break through. “That I wouldn't, Let them be hurt again!” 

Both elders look on, they know a meltdown like this will need to run it's course. 

“And NOW I learn…that a fucking CHAPTER MASTER, wants to cut open one of my brother's like a fucking science experiment!?” Cedric continues to rant. “WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!?”

“Is this a bad time?” 

Cedric whips his head around to the door opposite to the one that lead back to the waiting area with the other Fucking Dark Angels, only to see a familiar dark eyed face staring back…

Carrying a bunch of grocery bags. 

“Khopesh, good to see you have returned.” Anrir greets his son, the relief just barely detectable in his tone. 

“But do Not step any closer, this Is meant to be a sterile zone.” Hura adds quickly. 

Khopesh snorts but does as he's told. “That's rich coming from you Death Guard. Anrir would you like me to drop these off at your quarters instead?” Khopesh lifts the bags filled with cleaning supplies, and Anrir nods. 

“In a moment. First of all…” And with surprising smoothness and speed the old Nightlord wrenches the still Very drugged Apothecary up into a sitting position so Khopesh can see his face. “Do you recognize this one?”

“Ah…yep,” Khopesh affirms, smiling in that unsettling way. “His bones made the most Satisfying crunch when I tore into them. But wait… if He's here, does that mean…?”

Cedric nods. “The other Dark Angels are through the opposite door.” He says stiffly. “You Cannot under any circumstances let them see you! Do you understand!?” 

“Cedric,” Hura calms the Black Templar from going into another spiral. “I suggest you leave the way you came, and avoid the more…public areas of the base until you receive word that our Guests have departed.”

Khopesh nods. “No worries! The only other place I need to go is the art rooms. Lullaby has asked me to come see the vision images, so that I may, ’go no closer than 10 miles to the Dark Angels until they are dealt with.’” Khopesh shakes his head a little, but he still smiles. “How am I meant to hunt them if I cannot get Close to them?”

Cedric chews his lip in response. Anrir and Hura don't respond either, and this makes Khopesh curious. 

“Hey, I'm not hunt stealing if that's what you're worried about. Kerubiel did say if these were the brainwashing type of first borns, that he'd Like me to take care of them and make it …why are you all looking so dour?” 

“Because a retinue of grabby Dark Angels are only the tip of the spear that is our problem, my son.” Anrir responds, approaching Khopesh. “The one wielding that spear is someone of higher importance, someone who will not be so easily snuffed out given his position.”

Khopesh leans in, listening intently.

“If the words of this…patient are accurate, it is the very Chapter Master of the Dark Angels, Sammath Togroth, that has given the order. An order which then spurred the events that caused You to become involved.” Anrir announces solemnly. “I'm afraid I will have to deny you your right to hunt in this case my son. We cannot move forward until we better understand how to approach our enemy.”

Khopesh's frame deflates, but surprisingly he doesn't whine or argue. “You truly believe that is all we can do? All I can do?”

Anrir smiles wryly. “I Know you are capable of much more. But I will not risk losing you to some bastard who thinks himself a man of science, when he is truly a mere sadist. And a wasteful one at that.”

Those in the room turn their attention back to the sleeping Dark Angel, each of their minds mulling over their options. That is until a ping comes over Hura's vox. 

The Death Guard reads, and an interesting smile begins to pull at the corners of his mouth. 

“What is it?” Cedric asks. 

“It is Ash'val, he is on his way to drop off the Primaris with their fellows, and wants to know what We have found.” Hura hums, and casts a look at Anrir.

Anrir's wicked smile cracks across his face, and Khopesh copies his mentor. “You've got an idea, haven't you father?”

A chuckle from the old Nightlord almost makes Cedric's stomach twist in knots and ice run up his spine. “Send the recordings we have obtained to Ash'val. Spare no detail. And make sure he sees the vision image. We want to share Everything we have found.”

Cedric feels the realization dawn. “...You're planning on siccing Ash'val on Sammath? Will that work?”

Anrir hums. “Those who think they are above justice will always try to prove their delusion my boy. What Ash'val can do that we cannot, is ensure our prey Knows there will be consequences if his paws wander too close to the Dragon's den.”

“In other words,” Khopesh supplies, “High level prey needs a high level hunter. Use a Chapter Master to Beat a Chapter Master.”

Anrir nods astutely. “Quite right. This evidence can also push him to open an investigation, which will also give Sammath pause. I'm sure he'd prefer his reputation remain untarnished, lest he bring the anger of the alliance to his doorstep.”

“So…he will be warned? Is that it?” Cedric asks incredulously. 

“For the time being.” Anrir replies dryly. “After all, we're not able to play with our prey Directly given the circumstances. We'll have to play politics first.” Anrir sighs. “Loathsome business, but if we play our cards right, we can indeed entrap our prey.”

Hura puts a comforting hand on Cedric's shoulder. “Protecting your brothers and ousting Sammath will have to be a long game, my apprentice. But take comfort that it is not one you will be playing alone.”

Cedric mulls over his next words, unsure what to say next. “I know…you are right. But I still don't like it.”

“That's bureaucracy for ya!” Khopesh chortles. “The most tedious of necessary evils, as my Lullaby says anyway! Speaking of which!” He says turning on his heel. “I've got bags to drop off and my Lullaby and other Little Brother-Cousins to see. I'll catch up with you all later~! And Cedric,”

The Black Templar perks up, and listens. 

“When you eventually get to rip those Bastards’ spines out, save a few for me, kay?” The Nightlord asks cheekily. 

Cedric, despite his worry, finds himself smiling at the Nightlord's humor. “You have my word, Brother Cousin.”

Khopesh giggle-cackles at that. “Perfect!! Kay Byyyyyyyy!” And with that the Nightlord departs the way he came. 

Cedric will link up with the other Primaris Marines, and see what they have managed to glean from the vision. As well as inform them that they have to wait on finding grave sites for the Dark Angels who had tried to steal Kerubiel, and those who had issued the order. 

The others won't be pleased about the evil necessity of bureaucracy… Well maybe Atlas Or Olly would appreciate it somewhat. But Nanael is going to be a tough one to talk down, same with Thressl. The Space wolf and the Dark Angel have rather bonded with each other hard. 

However, they will be rather pleased that Captain Ash’val will be sent to *remind* the Dark Angel Chapter Master about the Alliance between not just Chaos and Loyalist. But also between Loyalist chapters and why trying to pull some twisted shit to sate curiosity is a bad thing and that reprisals and consequences will occur should such a thing happen.

Captain Ash’val receives another message. He reads it and nods. He was just finishing The last lap with Oleandros and Kerubiel.

“Alright, come with me.” Ash'val says assertively, “training is over For now.”

The two Primaris were indeed challenged by the old Drake in their run, and they pant when they come to a stop. Where they have strength, Ash'val has experience and stamina built from years on the battlefields of the Imperium. 

“Alright- But where are we going?” Kerubiel asks. 

“To the Second Floor Art Rooms, I am going to make sure you are escorted to your fellow Primaris safely.” Ash'val clarifies, knowing it is best to be as honest with Kerubiel as possible. “We also Cannot go the direct way as certain…Guests are currently in the clinic.”

“Guests?” Kerubiel questions the emphasis put on the word. “Wait…you don't mean?”

Ash'val nods seriously. 

Kerubiel's face drains of color. “Oh…no. No no NO!” 

“Keru…” Olly puts a hand on Keru's shoulder. 

“I will Not allow them to harm you.” Ash'val swears. “If they tried I would Crush them underfoot. However, that conflict could cause collateral damage, so I would prefer to avoid that.”

Olly nods in understanding. “Right, of course.”

“Why are they even Here!?” Keru hisses, they shouldn't have any idea where he resides. 

Ash'val, despite himself, cracks a smile. “Well because their Apothecary was afflicted with a certain…malady, that he was unable to repair himself.” Then his expression shifts to one more serious than before. “Although, now that you've mentioned it, perhaps they hoped to do some reconnaissance by bringing the Apothecary Here for treatment.”

“UuuuuuAurrgh! Dammit!” Kerbiel snarls. 

“Keru…please,” Olly pleads. 

Kerubiel whips his gaze to meet Olly’s and…he softens. He forces himself to breathe. “I'm…I am alright. And I believe you, Captain.” He says, pulling himself back into order, and even stands at attention. “What is our next plan of action?”

Ash'val nods. “We will take the back way to the second floor, and meet with the other Primaris. Apparently two of your fellows received a vision, which had something to do with your run in with the Dark Angels currently stinking up our Clinic.” He explains. “You will be delivered to your fellow Primaris, and we will examine the image your brothers have drawn of the vision. Then we will plan our next move from there.” Ash'val concludes, picking up his pace again and leading the way. “Let's move out!”

“Sir yes Sir!” Both Primaris say in unison as they follow the Salamander.

…

The Art Room door opens with a creak and Lullaby whips their head up immediately. The other Primaris take notice, and stand as if to intercept a threat. 

“At ease Scouts, it is only me,” A familiar Salamander enters the room. “And I have brought your brothers.” Ash'val gestures as the two other Primaris follow his path. 

“Keru! Olly!” Lullaby books it over and immediately starts checking them for injuries, though most of their questions are aimed at Kerubiel given what they've seen. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Did any other Dark Angels see you?”

“Ack! I'm fine…why is it always hugs and touching with you?” Kerubiel grumbles but doesn't push Lullaby away. 

“Ash'val led us safely, we were not spotted.” Olly replies, smiling as he's fussed over.

“And what's this about a Vision?” The Dark Angel Primaris asks. 

Lullaby bites their lip and glances back to the table. “You better go see for yourself.” 

Nanael nods affirming that statement. “Indeed, this is something you Need to see.”

Olly and Kerubiel do as instructed. Leaving Lullaby and Ash'val for a moment. “Thank You, Captain” They say, sincerely. “For getting them here safely.”

Ash'val hums. “No thanks necessary, it is my duty. And my duty here is nowhere near its end.” He replies. “I also want to see this vision image.”

Lullaby nods. “Of course, but if I may ask…have you heard from or seen Khopesh? I know he's back on base…I'm probably just worrying too much.”

“I know that Khopesh is going to arrive back here soon. Anrir informed me that he's finished his delivery of requested items.” Ash'val says kindly to the concerned human, then turns attention to the Primaris and joins them.

And indeed the sight before him on the page makes his mouth twist in disgust, but he tamps it down. “How many hostiles are we potentially dealing with?” He asks. 

“We have counted at Least seven to possibly ten unique individuals in the vision, not including Kerubiel of course.” Atlas responds. 

“And we have done our best to draw individual sketches of each.” Jophiel adds.

“No vision is perfectly clear, so these are our recollections as best we could manage.” Claude says 

Ash'val nods. “I will need copies of these. And the originals will be archived for evidence.” He declares. “And None of you should approach any wandering or unfamiliar Dark Angels until this is resolved.”

“Why?”

Ash'val's attention turns to Kerubiel, who has been painfully silent ever since he laid eyes on the vision image. 

The Dark Angel Primaris's eyes are full of fire. “It was me they wanted, why do All of us need to take precaution?”

Honesty. He must be Honest for these Scouts’ safety. “Because we have reason to believe this goes deeper than a rogue group engaging in kidnapping and torture.” Ash'val responds, and then pulls up the audio logs from Anrir. 

The room goes silent as the ‘interview’ plays. Lullaby is the only one who doesn't understand because it's primarily in Gothic but again they parse certain words. 

Cut…Examine…Take…Expires…KILL, BLEED! RIP!

And they can see the horror and disgust and Rage the others feel as the message goes on. 

They'd even say they can almost Feel it. Nanael's expression actually makes it feel like cold blood it racing up their spine, it's just that chilling. 

“None of us are safe.” Claude murmurs. 

“Are you saying…they're going to try to do This,” Lullaby asks, gesturing to the image. “To someone else?”

Atlas nods grimly. “If they can capture a Primaris, be it any of us or a new arrival, I have no doubt this is what they have planned.”

*ZzztZtztz* The light flickers overhead again, as Lullaby's breathing and heart rate pick up. “They can't…” They say, trying desperately to hold in their spiraling emotions. 

“Lullaby…” Claude says worryingly, but the baseline doesn't hear him, not really. 

They're going to take them away. They're going to steal your loved ones in the night and rip them inside out…

They're going to hurt your family. 

The psychers in the room sense the shift. But before they can think of a way to diffuse the tension (And keep Lullaby from blowing their secret in front of Atlas.) Lullaby speaks again with an honestly frightening finality behind their words. 

“I Won't Let Them…”

“They Are a Nasty bunch aren't they?” The sound of a door opening and another familiar voice cuts through the tense air which seems to knock the baseline from their trance. 

“Khopesh? Khopesh!” They cry, running to their tall dark scarred love. They practically jump into his arms and kiss him, finally relieved. “You weren't seen or followed, right? They didn't hurt you?” The baseline asks, gently running their hands over his face. 

Khopesh responds by…purring. He Loves the feeling of his Lullaby's warm hands. “Rrrrrrrr, I am whole and well. But I Do find myself Drastically low on kisses.”

“...I just kissed you bat-winged Dork!” Lullaby retorts with an incredulous laugh. 

“Mmm no, Ghosk is the one with Bat Wings. Oh No! My Lullaby has forgotten me! I will have to just keep holding and Kissing you till you remember!” Khopesh cackles, as he starts peppering Lullaby's face.

“Ack! Be serious!” Lullaby can't help but giggle due to their ticklishness. 

Meanwhile the others in the room watch with varying degrees of Aw to Ew. 

“They truly are an odd pair aren't they?” Atlas hums. 

“They're a bit…overexcitable.” Nanael shrugs.

“Khopesh is over-excitable, period. It makes sense he'd find someone like that.” Jophiel responds. 

Olly nods. “They do have a tendency to amp each other up. Not a negative per se just…observing.”

Ash'val doesn't reply, simply smiles at the Scouts' reactions as they are rather funny. 

Lullaby does pull themselves together to firmly but kindly say. “But for real, there's something Awful that…didn't happen but Could still happen??” Lullaby sighs, clearly frustrated and anxious. 

Khopesh looks to the rest of the room, before bringing himself over to look at the vision image and- “Curze shit Damn that is VILE, Brilliant but VILE.” He growls. “And So fucking Wasteful to use it on anything less than the Worst of bastards. Definitely should have made those fucking Scout snatchers swallow their own fingers! Or used that severed hand to dig out their intestines or-”

“Khopesh,” Claude chimes in politely, but insistently. 

“Ahem! Ah right…” He hums awkwardly at getting too into retribution planning…again. 

No one in the room necessarily disagrees with his statements, but they do need to focus on Defense for the time being. 

“As I said. Unfamiliar or wandering Dark Angels are to be Avoided at all costs, and travel is Never to be undertaken without a Battle Buddy, even for short distances. That includes you little one.” Ash'val says to Lullaby, “They're looking for a Primaris and the Nightlord who slighted them. And there is no feasible way to separate your scent from his.” He explains. 

A more angry rumble starts in Khopesh's chest. He wraps a protective arm around his mate's shoulders. “If they even Try to lay a hand on you, I'll make them Wish for the mercy of the grave. Might take some inspiration from their own playbook…”

“...I know you would. But for now we should focus on not letting ourselves be ambushed.” Lullaby replies solemnly, and squeezes Khopesh's hand to calm him. 

“Indeed. I also need to discuss something with Anrir and Hura. Cedric should be coming around soon.” Ash'val states. 

“Do you know where Thressl is?” Olly asks. “He's been… Quiet. Recently.”

“Thressl is on Patrol.” Ash'val Replies. “He should be back in three days.”

“Thank You sir.” Olly replies with a polite nod.

Ash'val nods back and heads to the Apothecarium where the five problems are. You wouldn't know it by his stoic face or his measured stride but he is furious, absolutely seething but he's also not a fool. The words of a drugged Dark Angel and the vision are...not enough for a Conviction. They need something more.

But these items are enough to convince him to take extra care around those Dark Angels and the Chapter Master especially. Added security and sending out a warning to be wary, as well as starting an investigation on the down low.

For now he promises to commit himself to helping the Primaris feel more of a belonging. 

But first, he'll have to schedule a certain…visit. He manages to get to the room where Anrir, Cedric, Hura and Zariel are. 

“When the Dark Angel awakens, I will accompany you in seeing him and his squad off the premises.” Ash'val addresses the Apothecaries leaving no room for argument. 

“We were going to request your help in this matter,” Hura says with a smile, his tone is professional, but the edge of satisfaction sets Zariel’s teeth on edge.

“The Dark Angel should be waking up soon,” Zariel informs Ash'val.

There is some noise and arguments, the Interrogator Chaplain is snarling at one of the other Astartes who is manning the front desk. The Chaplain is trying to loom over the Iron Hand and use his rank and specialty to bully the battle brother.

“In the system it says that he's still waking up from anesthesia.” The Iron Hand says in cold apathetic tones. “Please go back to your seat or security will *remove* you from the premises Interrogator Chaplain.”

“And I am telling you, that it's taking to long!” The Interrogator Chaplain growls out.

“Surgery time can take longer, depending on if there are complications.” The Iron Hand retorts. “Please go back to your seat or leave.”

“I will not-.” The Interrogator Chaplain hisses out. Cutting himself off as he looks towards the area where his Apothecary had been whisked off to.

The argued over Apothecary is being helped by a large Salamander, with Captain markings. The Interrogator Chaplain frowns a little bit. 

“What are you doing with one of my pride?” The Chaplain asks.

“The Apothecaries who were tending to him requested that I help guide him back to his squad. Once he was mobile enough to move he insisted on being returned to you.” Captain Ash’val says levelly as he eyed one of the others involved in something unwise.

He keeps his thoughts, and Rage hidden deep within His hearts. The rest of the pride of Dark Angels approach and look over their Apothecary. Ash'val helps guide them out of the base.

“Just a random question, Salamander,” one of the battle brother Dark Angels ask, “have you seen any younger brothers of the 1st recently?”

“Perhaps, why do you ask?” Ash'val asks levelly.

“Because they need to be sent to our Base, especially if they seem… overly large, training And socialization with their brothers is important.” The Chaplain says smoothly, “and we have… concerns that a Night Lord might be trying to corrupt One.”

“That is concerning,” Ash'val says. “If … such a thing is happening. I will speak with the younger cousins.” The Dragon lies through his sharpened teeth, which he then turns into a smile. 

“In fact I think I would like to speak with Sammath, Chapter Master to Chapter Master.” Ash'val states. “So we may be certain all relevant issues are being…appropriately handled. I will of course send him a message myself, but I know his schedule is likely to be Very busy. If you could mention it in your next report to him. I would be exceptionally Grateful.”

The Chaplain seems to mull over Ash'val's words before replying. “Of course Chapter Master. We will deliver your message.”

Ash'val smiles, were he a real dragon the smoke twisting up from his maw would give him away. “Thank You. I so Appreciate, your cooperation.”

“Was there anything else that you needed?” The Chaplain asks.

“For the meeting with your Chapter Master Sammath, to be Within the month if possible.” Ash'val says pleasantly.

“We will send the message along.” The Interrogator Chaplain says with annod as they head off.

Ash'val watches them leave and wonders if they will actually go back to their base or wait for their wounds to heal and then try to steal Kerubiel or one of the others. 

[acellcalledparadise]

Here's the Overture talking sprites/artwork in case anyone wanted that

Characters and art belong to Arc System Works

[wishfulsketching]

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