#Pre-trip Inspection | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pretzelwrites · 8 days ago

Text

THE COLONEL'S INSPECTION .

summary: after being apart from caleb for months, you and tara visit skyhaven for the summer solstice festival. he has… concerns about how you spent your time apart.

warnings: nsfw (18+, minors dni), dubcon/noncon, caleb is very controlling and a little mean in this, pet names (pipsqueak, silly girl, and 1 singular ‘gege’), fingering, virginity testing, smut with plot, lowkey badafabanatomy101, extreme jealousy, inappropriate use of evol, pre-confession caleb & mc, manhandling, orgasm denial if you squint.

characters: caleb from love and deepspace (post-explosion with some edits), afab!mc reader, and tara. everyone is in their twenties.

wc: 2.9k

author’s note: soooo this is my first fic in like ten years… i hope you all like it! i took creative liberties for dramatic effect (i.e. mc’s grandma gifting caleb her antique dining table pre-explosion.) also, this was originally written in present tense before i switched it to past tense so if you notice any typos or grammatical errors…. that’s why rip. if i missed any warnings, please let me know!

* this will likely have a second and/or third part!

visiting caleb happened less and less often. between your work with the hunter’s association, and his work as a colonel for the fleet, there was not much room in either of your schedules to meet up. that’s why whenever you had a few days of freedom, the two of you made sure to make the best of it. this time, luck was on your side. not only did you manage to get three days off of work because a big case you were working on concluded a month earlier than expected, but it also coincided with the summer solstice festival in skyhaven— and caleb said he would be free for most of your visit. what were the odds?

being freed up from the case meant tara could tag along with you, and you immediately invited her after asking caleb. he agreed to allow this with only one condition: she could not sleepover. it was a surprisingly rude request from the typically friendly and accommodating caleb, plus it was extremely inconvenient for tara. afterall, it was the only summer festival in skyhaven. most hotels would be booked up by now, and what was leftover would probably be low quality or expensive.

and your efforts to persuade him?

“i’m not changing my mind, pipsqueak.” he said dismissively although his tone was still cheerful. his rich violet eyes remained fixated on the new model plane he was assembling while he spoke into the phone, “this home is open to family, and family only.” even if you two weren’t technically family, you understood exactly what that meant— and no amount of pleading or batting your lashes would sway him. so, you begrudgingly told tara she’d have to find a place to crash for the entire trip. your friend, always the optimist, took it in stride and even seemed to enjoy flipping through the listings of premium hotels in the city.

“ooh! Y/N, look at this one! it’s got one of those infinity pools on the roof!” she’d exclaim while shoving her phone towards you over your desk of files. a holographic 3D model of the swanky hotel popped up from her screen. it was sleek and clean, mirroring the aesthetic that decorated most of skyhaven. you smiled and nodded in an attempt to feign the same level of excitement as her, but you found it hard to.

for some reason, there was a growing sense of dread in the center of your chest.

two days passed by quickly, with most of the time being spent trotting through the festival with tara and caleb— then finishing the night off at the bar with tara. caleb would say he couldn’t stay long, that he had something to tend to early in the morning, but that meant you two could enjoy yourselves without him. things were going smoothly… perhaps your worries were truly irrational afterall?

the first night, you and tara had gone a little overboard and were too drunk to end up anywhere other than the hard couch in her hotel room. the second night, you were invited out to dinner by tara’s favorite artist from the festival, you couldn’t possibly say no to her desperate pleas to tag along. that meant you had to cancel dinner with caleb twice, but you swore you’d make it up to him later.

on the third day, you all decided to conclude your last festival visit with something sweet. the local shops were selling all sorts of solstice themed foods, and this particular parlor had brightly colored frozen yogurt with the cutest sun-shaped cookie bites topped off with iridescent sprinkles. you and tara couldn’t bare to pass it up, even though caleb seemed worn out by the constant activities.

as you stood in line to order, he leaned down to whisper at a level only you could hear, “don’t spoil your appetite, pipsqueak.”

that sounded like a threat.

you found a small table beside the window, and the three of you settled in. you sat beside tara, and caleb took the seat across from you. right away, the table was loud with lively conversation and laughter between bites of creamy sweetness. you all exchanged jokes and tidbits seamlessly, there was barely a second to breathe between the chatting. considering both tara and caleb were social butterflies, it was no surprise they got along well.

somehow, the flow of conversation brought you to discuss each other's silly childhood habits. tara laughed at the way you’d steal his t-shirts from the dirty laundry to mop up any spilled juice and coffee, and caleb brought up how he would send you at least ten check-in texts every time you’d go out with your friends when you were teens.

tara’s eyes lit up and she nudged her knee against yours under the table. “oh, just like that guy leonardo! there must be something about you that brings out protectiveness from guys.” she turned to face caleb, “it makes sense that you’d do that since you two are close, but i told Y/N before that it would be so weird if leonardo wasn’t cute!”

it was like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. even though you and leo were just friends, his feelings for you were hard to ignore, and you had gone on a few dates with him. you had told tara plenty of times that your ‘gege’ was protective, and wouldn’t be fond of the idea of you casually dating someone he’d never met. regardless of how old you both were, caleb was unable to shake this role. you blinked at tara, a silent plea for her to stop— be quiet, take it back, anything other than continue talking.

she immediately caught on to the pleading look in your eye and attempted to backpedal. “i- i mean, not that it’s- hah- he’s not anything serious, of course. h-he’s a good coworker, is my point.” she laughed nervously, and you joined her in it. the conversation at the table carries on to a new topic, thankfully, and for a moment you thought you were in the clear… until you looked over to caleb.

it was something only you, someone who had nearly a lifetime of experiencing caleb’s personality, would be able to detect. as he listened to tara’s ramblings about the exhibit of her favorite artist at the festival, the same one you two had drinks with prior, you immediately notice the way his smile fails to reach his eyes. in fact, his typically vibrant gaze seemed to have lost every fleck of color it had. he was merely going through the motions to keep up appearances.

the feeling of dread you had managed to shake off earlier returned tenfold, and the colorful dessert in your bowl suddenly became incredibly unappetizing. it melted into a puddle of sugary goop and soggy bits of shortbread as the sun disappeared under the horizon.

it was tara who first announced she would be turning in for the night. your heart fell further from your chest when you realized that meant being alone with caleb for the aforementioned dinner you promised him, and absolutely could not back out on. dinners with caleb were always a treat, but this time…

“it was good to see you, tara.” caleb’s smooth voice interrupted your train of thought. tara smiled widely and nodded, “it was nice to see you, too! you two have a goodnight!” she turned on her heels to walk in the opposite direction towards her hotel, while you and caleb headed back to his place.

the trip back was full of what could only be described as bizarre small talk; retreading old ground, repeating details you’d already told him over the phone months ago, and answering questions that felt pointless to you. you wanted to shrug it off, to reason that surely the man you’d known nearly your entire life didn’t deserve to be treated so suspiciously, but this wasn’t meaningless small talk. he was fishing for information, attempting to piece together just what you were up to during your time apart. when the realization dawned on you, you suddenly became concerned about how every detail would be interpreted, and your responses shortened to a handful of words at most.

you stepped inside of the familiarity of caleb’s home, letting out a satisfied sigh when the scent of him enveloped you like a warm blanket. “mmm, it’s always nice to come back to—” your words are cut off with a loud ‘click’, the sound of the door being locked behind you.

“i already have dinner from last night prepared in the fridge, it just needs to be heated up.” caleb muttered while pulling off his heavy bomber jacket to toss onto the couch. the fact that this was likely the dinner you two were supposed to have the night before felt like yet another bad omen. “i- uh, great! i-i’ll set the table.” it was a habit you had picked up on in your youth. a dining table full of plates, even if empty, made you feel like your family was bigger than the one you’d found. you swallow down your anxiety and quickly trot to the kitchen, walking past the old table that used to be your grandmother’s.

when you return, arms heavy with a stack of porcelain, caleb is standing by the table with his hands planted firmly on his hips. furrowed brows and underneath that, eyes downcast and unfocused. he appeared to be locked in deep thought.

“cal—?”

“put the plates down and come here.”

his tone was authoritative and flat— the same tone he used when you were caught in a lie all those years ago. that persistent dread fully consumes you as you carefully place the stack of fragile plates onto the table and walk to his side. you looked to him expectantly, fists tightly squeezed shut, waiting to get scolded for your flakiness during the trip. in a flash, he pulled you flush against his body by your wrists, wedging you between his large build and the table. “a-ah! c-caleb, what the-”

“do you have any idea how fuckin’ rude you’ve been? how much restraint i’ve had to use lately?” his bionic arm, with all of its unnatural strength, takes control of your throat and holds your back firmly against his body. your frantic wiggling only makes the feeling worse, the metal causing red patches of friction on your throat. you have no choice but to stay still.

detecting your reluctant submission, he chuckled in bitter amusement. “ah, so pips hasn’t completely lost her mind…” caleb whispered, his warm breath skating down the side of your face. “cooperate and this will be over quickly.” his human hand snaked under the hem of your dress, traveling up your skin and leaving a trail of heat in it’s wake. his fingertips gracing the frilly hem of your panties makes you squirm automatically, despite your efforts to stay still.

he seemed to hesitate for a millisecond before his fingers roll over your mound. “h-hey!” you gasped, your entire body freezes in shock. caleb stroked over your pussy, the only thing between his touch and your skin being the thin lacey fabric of your underwear. his breath deepens as he traces over your folds, dipping a single fingertip down the center to trace over your covered clit.

“you know, i didn’t pull strings on that case just to share our trip with someone else, right?” there wasn’t even enough time for you to be shocked by this revelation, caleb was moving quicker than your brain could comprehend. his hand trailed from your clothed heat up your body to cup your breast, rolling his palm over your nipple and then firmly squeezing the flesh. it was hard for him to control himself for longer than a few seconds, made abundantly clear by the way he alternated between roughness and tender touches on your hardening peaks.

“and after all i did, you have the nerve to skip out on dinner with me twice in a goddamn row…”

“caleb, y-you’re being-” your voice was trembling under the pressure of his robotic hand. it didn’t hurt, but it was rough and unrelenting.

“and who exactly is leonardo? why didn’t you tell me about him when i called? just what did you do to make him think he could check on you like that, huh? it’s my job to protect you- or are you trying to replace me?” caleb’s questions are delivered in rapid fire succession, leaving no room for you to respond or plead your case. his robotic arm released your throat, giving you a chance to glimpse the dark blue and red ripples out of the corner of your eye. a heavy weight crashes onto your back, forcing you to lurch forward against the dining room table, your face crushed into the cold antique wood by his gravity evol. you squeal in protest, but all that does is make him press you down harder.

he quickly hikes up your skirt once more until you can feel the cool air on your rear, which only solidifies how impossibly vulnerable you are in the moment. there’s another beat of hesitation, or admiration, from him before he pulls your panties to the side to fully reveal your pussy. caleb pressed his hand to your warmth, rubbing his knuckles over your folds slowly, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling. “c-caleb, please think about what you’re doing. t-this isn’t right!” you whisper in desperation, as if he’d listen.

“i know exactly what i’m doing. i’ve just never had to resort to this.” he murmurs disapprovingly. “i used to trust that you’d tell me everything, pipsqueak.”

“i have told you every- unff!” your eyes widen from the sudden intrusion.

“hush. i’ll be the judge of that.” caleb’s middle finger, long and thick, slowly pushes it’s way deeper into your heat until it’s fully sheathed inside. “we promised to never keep secrets from one another, remember?” you are rendered completely speechless as his digit explores your most tender area, a place no one but yourself had. sliding along your walls slowly, rotating, prodding. it’s not like he was trying to give you pleasure, but rather inspecting you. sensing your shock and confusion, caleb answers the unspoken question on your lips.

“i’m just making sure you aren’t doing anything you’ll regret... there’s no reason for you to fight this if you have nothing to hide.”

caleb slowly drew his finger out and then slid back in with a second digit. the extra girth made you flinch and teeter on your toes. he watched your legs tremble from the unfamiliar pressure, your pussy fluttering and tensing around his fingers reflected both your discomfort and inexperience. “tolerate it for just a little while longer,” he urged sternly. his fingers pumped as slowly as possible, stretching your walls carefully.

caleb’s touch inside of you felt so right— blissfully so, despite it all. it was like every inch of his finger was created for your cunt, every ridge hitting you just right and coaxing out more slick from your core. shameful pleasure began to build in your body within a few pumps, which didn’t help how pathetic you felt being subjected to caleb’s control so easily. just as you were beginning to enjoy this bizarre sensation, it ended. he let out an approving sigh and pulled his fingers out with a wet ‘pop.’

your body was still his.

despite not being able to see caleb’s face, his relief was palpable. his gravity evol lifted off of your body, but you still weren’t able to move. a different weight was placed on your back to hold you against the table. when two hands are planted on either side of you, you realize that he had practically collapsed on top of you.

“silly girl,” his head leaned against the back of your’s, nuzzling his nose into the depths of your hair. the cold silver of his apple necklace slid against your warm skin, sending a tingle down your spine. “you caused all this distress for no reason… do you enjoy getting a rise out of me?” caleb chided, but his voice didn’t boast that biting edge from before. his eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath of your scent, attempting to still his rapidly beating heart.

slowly, reluctantly, caleb stood up to free you from his crushing hold. your panties and dress are put back in place with a gentle touch, and although you wanted to slap his hand away, your head was spinning far too much to properly retaliate. he then turned you around to face him, revealing your flushed cheeks– one redder than the other due to the sheer force he had used when slamming you against the table, yet he didn’t acknowledge it or even look slightly regretful.

his bionic hand reached up to fix your hair, like he often did. the artificial fingers felt strangely cold on your scalp, and not at all reassuring when combined with the heated ache between your legs. just barely in your line of sight, you caught a glimpse of his throbbing member through his denim. a wet patch of precum had formed at the tip along his upper thigh, saturating the already dark fabric with his sin. the sight of it sends a rush of forbidden excitement through you, but you quickly avert your gaze to hide your budding desire. caleb returned your timid expression with a warm smile, this time it actually reached his eyes.

“now, we can eat.”

#lads caleb #love and deepspace #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x fem reader #fanfic #i'm nervous to post this but i've had caleb brainrot for a week now

346 notes · View notes

hypnobeauty · 3 months ago

Text

A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 5)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, fluff, slowburn, pre-squid game, slice of life. a/n: hello! bigger chapter for you guys! some more background on our girl and other people in her life. next chapter is the date. i'm currently on a trip with friends, so posting schedule might be crazy. enjoy xx as always, comments are appreciated ♥ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon - comment if you’d like to be tagged.

part 5. nerves and anticipation

hyun-ju’s eyes opened before her alarm buzzed—a habit she hadn’t been able to shake even after leaving the military. twelve years of structure and discipline didn’t disappear in a matter of months. the steady rhythm of her mornings was a comfort, even now.

she swung her legs off the bed, her muscles stiff but familiar with the motion. stretching her arms over her head, she felt the faint pull of her shoulders, then stood to stretch her legs. the sheets were swiftly pulled taut and tucked neatly, her bed transformed with military precision.

padding to the bathroom, hyun-ju caught her reflection in the mirror. she stared for a beat longer than usual, then peeled off her clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin before stepping into the shower, turning the knob toward the coldest setting. the icy water shocked her system into wakefulness, a ritual born of her time in the military. in those days, mornings had started early—often before the sun had risen. as a sergeant first class, she had been responsible for overseeing her unit’s readiness and welfare. she would lead them in grueling physical training sessions at dawn, barking commands through frosted air as their breaths formed clouds.

by midmorning, her time would be consumed by inspections, briefings, and tactical drills. she had thrived on the structure, finding solace in the rhythm of endless tasks. between training her soldiers and mentoring junior officers, she had carved out time to pursue a degree in business administration at the korea military academy. the balance was precarious, but hyun-ju had been proud of the way she managed it all, even if the exhaustion had been bone-deep.

but it wasn’t all discipline and grit. she’d been a mentor, too—a steady presence for her team. her soldiers had come to her with everything from strategic questions to personal fears. she’d thrived on the structure and camaraderie, even as it tested her limits. now, the rigor of those days was a memory, but her mornings remained sacred.

after drying off and wrapping herself in a towel, she began her skincare routine, methodically layering products while her mind wandered. teeth brushed, hair brushed, oiled and tied, she returned to her bedroom to pull on her favorite sports bra, loose joggers, and an oversized shirt. she was sitting to put on her socks when the alarm on her phone buzzed.

6:30 a.m., right on schedule.

in the kitchen, she boiled water for black coffee and set out her pills for the day—vitamins, hormone supplements, phytoestrogens, collagen. beside them were her gym staples: creatine and bcaa powder. after swallowing the pills with a gulp of water and sipping her coffee, hyun-ju laced up her sneakers, grabbed her phone and headphones, and headed out.

the faint hum of seoul awakening surrounded her—bakers pulling down shutters, early commuters shuffling to the bus stop. she greeted mr. soo, the building janitor, with a polite nod before breaking into a light jog. her pace quickened as her muscles warmed, the steady rhythm of her feet striking the pavement grounding her in the present. by the time she reached the gym, she was ready for the burn of leg day. the familiar ache in her quads and calves was like an old friend, a reminder of what her body could endure.

after her session, hyun-ju walked home, stopping by a fruit vendor to grab an apple. she peeled the sticker off absentmindedly as she walked, biting into the crisp sweetness and savoring the small indulgence. back in her apartment, she showered again, made a quick breakfast, and settled at her desk with her laptop.

job hunting had become a necessary part of her routine, though not one she enjoyed. she scrolled through listings, tailoring her résumé to each one. she wasn’t applying for anything lofty—assistant positions, entry-level management roles—but the rejection emails piled up all the same.

it wasn’t her qualifications. she knew that. her degree spoke for itself. her twelve years in the military had taught her leadership, logistics, and discipline. she could oversee teams, conduct training, handle logistics, and more. but none of that seemed to matter.

hyun-ju suspected why. the truth was, being trans made her an easy target for rejection. employers didn’t say it outright, but she saw it in their hesitation, the way their smiles faltered when they met her in person.

the thought stung, but she pushed it aside. she had other things to focus on today.

the rest of her morning passed in small, familiar rhythms: emails, light cleaning, and a quick lunch. by early afternoon, she was heading out again for her endocrinologist appointment. the check-in on her hormone levels was routine but reassuring—a reminder that her body was aligning more closely with her sense of self.

from there, she walked to her therapist’s office, the quiet space a sanctuary from the noise of her thoughts.

“i still feel stuck,” she admitted, her hands gripping her knees. “like i’m not moving fast enough. not doing enough.”

her therapist’s voice was calm and measured. “you’re doing what you can, hyun-ju. progress isn’t about speed—it’s about showing up for yourself, day by day.”

the words echoed in her mind as she left, the late afternoon sunlight painting long shadows on the pavement.

with time to spare before her evening support group, hyun-ju headed to her favorite café. the scent of roasted coffee beans and the low murmur of voices welcomed her as she settled into a corner seat with her laptop.

she had planned to work on budgeting for her next surgery, but your laugh caught her attention first, light and easy as you chatted with the barista. when your eyes met, her pulse quickened.

the conversation that followed was natural, though hyun-ju felt a mix of relief and guilt. you’d teased her gently about her unread messages, and she’d explained, hesitantly, how much she had overthought replying.

by the time you left, her heart felt lighter. the warmth of your presence stayed with her, your parting words—“see you tomorrow”—echoing in her mind.

hyun-ju lingered at the café long after you had left, her laptop open in front of her but forgotten. the noise of the café—the soft murmur of conversations, the occasional hiss of the espresso machine—faded into the background as her thoughts took over. she had tried to focus on her spreadsheet, crunching numbers for her next surgery, but her mind kept drifting back to you.

you had been kind, patient even after weeks of her silence. your teasing had been gentle, and your warmth felt genuine. it was disarming. hyun-ju wasn’t used to people like you—people who stayed, even when she gave them every reason to walk away.

she closed her laptop and stared out the window. the evening light stretched shadows across the pavement, and she wondered if she was finally ready to let someone into her carefully constructed world.

her thoughts drifted to the support group and the friends who had helped her get this far. she hadn’t been looking for a support group when she found it, but it had become a cornerstone of her routine, every thursday evening. the meetings were an anchor, a place where she could exhale and be herself without fear of judgment.

hyuk, one of the first friends she’d made there, was impossible to miss. his energy filled every room he entered, his sharp humor often breaking the tension during heavy discussions. hyuk was a dj—loud, lively, and unapologetically himself. he had once shown her a gallery on his phone of all the noise complaints he’d received from neighbors.

“what can i say?” he’d joked. “some people just can’t handle the bass.”

his girlfriend, mina, was his opposite in many ways—soft-spoken, with a melancholic air that balanced hyuk’s boldness. she attended the group occasionally, offering her perspective as the partner of a trans man. mina’s kindness was unassuming, but her insights often stayed with hyun-ju long after the meetings ended.

hyun-ju had other friends there, too. autumn, an american, and jaidee, a thai woman whose stories of her homeland painted vivid pictures in hyun-ju’s mind. through jaidee, hyun-ju had learned about the strides thailand had made in lgbtq+ acceptance. she dreamed of visiting one day, maybe even moving there to find the kind of freedom she longed for.

the group was a patchwork of stories and identities, each person carrying their own struggles and triumphs. for hyun-ju, it was a reminder that she wasn’t alone—that there were people who understood, even if the rest of the world didn’t.

a week ago, after a meeting, hyuk and mina had pulled her aside. the support group meeting had just wrapped up, and hyun-ju lingered by the snack table, fiddling with the edge of a biscuit. across the room, mina caught hyun-ju’s eye and waved. hyuk followed her gaze and grinned.

“you’re not sneaking out without talking to me, are you?” hyuk called as they approached.

“i wasn’t sneaking,” hyun-ju said, though her tone lacked conviction.

“you absolutely were,” hyuk teased, gesturing to a pair of empty chairs in the corner. “c’mon. spill it.”

mina offered her a cup of tea. “peppermint. figured you’d like it.”

“thanks,” hyun-ju said, cupping the warm drink and trying not to meet hyuk’s expectant gaze.

hyun-ju hesitated but followed them, sinking into one of the chairs as mina sat on hyuk’s lap, her legs crossed neatly.

“so, what’s got you looking like you’re carrying the weight of the world?” hyuk asked, leaning back with his typical grin.

mina gave hyun-ju a kind smile, her soft brown eyes full of curiosity. “if he’s being too pushy, just tell me. i’ll rein him in.”

“no, it’s fine,” hyun-ju said quickly, her fingers tightening around her tea. “i just… i think i messed something up.”

hyuk tilted his head, his grin fading slightly. “with who?”

hyun-ju hesitated, glancing between them. “there’s this girl. she helped me after my surgery—got me home and everything. she gave me her number, but… i haven’t replied to her messages. it’s been weeks.”

mina leaned forward slightly. “that’s really sweet of her. why haven’t you replied?”

“i don’t know what to say,” hyun-ju admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “and what if i say the wrong thing? or what if she doesn’t actually like me that way, and i’m just reading into things?”

hyuk blinked at her. “how many messages?”

hyun-ju pulled out her phone and reluctantly handed it over. hyuk’s eyes widened as he scrolled through the unread texts. “hyun-ju, this is brutal. she’s practically writing you a novel.”

mina peeked over his shoulder, wincing. “oof. yeah, this isn’t great.”

hyuk grinned, holding the phone up like it was evidence in a trial. “you’re leaving her hanging like this? no wonder you’re fidgety. the guilt must be eating you alive.”

“it is,” hyun-ju admitted, burying her face in her hands.

mina reached out, patting her arm. “it’s okay. you can fix this.”

hyuk let out a soft snort. “you’re overthinking this. she wouldn’t have given you her number or sent all those messages if she didn’t care. you think she’s texting you for fun?”

“hyuk,” mina said gently, placing a hand on his arm before turning to hyun-ju. “what he means is, she sounds like someone who genuinely wanted to connect with you. what’s stopping you from reaching out?”

hyun-ju shrugged, staring at her tea. “i don’t think i’m ready.”

mina tilted her head. “ready for what? a relationship? a conversation? something more?”

hyun-ju opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words. “i don’t know,” she said finally. “sometimes it feels like… like i’m not enough yet. like i need to be further along before anyone would really want me.”

hyuk let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “hyun-ju, listen to me. i have been there before, okay? you’re enough right now. not next year, not after your next surgery, not when you feel like you’ve checked all the boxes. right now.” he frowned and sighed before continuing.

“sorry, but that’s crap, and you know it. you’re enough right now. you don’t have to hit some magical milestone to deserve to be happy.”

“oh, absolutely,” mina said dryly, rolling her eyes. “but seriously, hyun-ju, the right person isn’t going to care about where you are in your journey. they’ll care about you.”

hyun-ju blinked, her eyes stinging. “but what if i ruin it? what if i say the wrong thing, and she decides i’m not worth it?”

hyuk gave her a pointed look. “and what if you say the right thing, and it turns into something amazing? you’re too busy focusing on the worst-case scenario to see the best one.”

mina reached over, her voice warm. “hyun-ju, it’s okay to be scared. but don’t let that fear make decisions for you. even if she doesn’t feel the same way, at least you’ll know. and if she does… well, isn’t that worth the risk?”

hyun-ju exhaled shakily, the knot in her chest loosening just slightly. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“take your time,” mina said, her smile kind. “but don’t wait so long that you lose the chance.”

hyuk grinned, leaning back in his chair. “and when you do text her, let me know. i want updates.”

hyun-ju laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “thanks, both of you.”

“anytime,” mina said, standing and brushing off her skirt. “now, we’ve got a party to drag you to this weekend, so get ready.” hyun-ju groaned, but the smile lingering on her lips was genuine.

so when hyun-ju walked into her support group later that evening and locked eyes with hyuk smiling, he gave her a grin and a knowing look.

“well?” he asked, crossing his arms.

hyun-ju smiled. “we’re going on a date tomorrow.”

“finally,” he said, clapping her on the back. “now don’t mess it up.”

“thanks for the vote of confidence,” hyun-ju said dryly, but her smile lingered.

the following night, the weight of the day began to shift. therapy had left hyun-ju with a lot to think about, and the memory of her conversation with you at the café lingered in her mind like a warm ember. the way you’d smiled at her, the light teasing in your tone, the easy way you’d leaned across the table as though the space between you didn’t exist—it had all felt surreal.

now, standing in front of her wardrobe, hyun-ju realized she was nervous.

she wasn’t the type to get flustered easily. growing up, she’d been the one to speak up first, the one who led the charge in games and group projects. even in the military, she’d been confident and self-assured, her voice steady as she commanded her unit. but this—getting ready for a date with you—felt entirely different.

her fingers trailed over the hangers, her eyes scanning the options. most of her wardrobe was practical—clothes meant for comfort or the gym. but tonight wasn’t about practicality. tonight was about showing you a side of herself she rarely let others see.

she settled on a sleek black turtleneck that hugged her figure without feeling too tight and a pair of loose black trousers that tapered neatly at the ankles. simple, understated, but polished.

after laying the outfit on her bed, she turned to the mirror. her hair had grown longer over the past month, the ends now brushing her shoulders. she brushed it carefully, smoothing out any tangles, and debated whether to leave it down or tie it back. after a moment’s hesitation, she decided to leave it loose, the straight strands framing her face.

her makeup routine was straightforward—just enough to enhance her features. a touch of foundation, a hint of blush, a swipe of eyeliner to accentuate her eyes. she paused when she reached for her lipstick, her mind flashing back to the way your gaze had lingered on her lips at the café. she chose a soft, rosy shade, something subtle but noticeable.

by the time she was dressed, her nerves had settled into a quiet hum of anticipation. she checked her reflection one last time, smoothing the fabric of her turtleneck and adjusting her hair.

her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she smiled when she saw your message:

“just finished getting ready. heading out soon. see you at 7!”

hyun-ju’s heart skipped a beat. she typed back quickly:

“can’t wait. i’m on my way now. i’ll share my location with you.”

she grabbed her coat—a long, dark wool one that had been a gift from her mother two winters ago—and wrapped her blue scarf around her neck. the scarf was soft and worn, the kind of item that carried memories with it.

as she stepped out of her apartment, her breath visible in the crisp evening air, she felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. the last time she’d let herself hope for something like this, it hadn’t ended well. but tonight, she wanted to believe.

your apartment was a flurry of activity as you got ready, ha-neul sprawled on your bed, her face stuck in her phone, offering unsolicited advice.

“can i crash over tonight?” ha-neul asked “viktor is going to mine to get his stuff, i don't want to see his fugly face.”

“yes.” you said from your place on the floor in front of the mirror, where you finished your makeup.

“are you really going to wear that?” she teased, pointing at the outfit you’d laid out.

“yes,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “it’s a date, not a fashion show.”

ha-neul sat up, smirking. “but it’s your first date with her. you have to make an impression.”

“i think she’ll survive if i don’t show up looking like i stepped out of a magazine,” you said, though your tone lacked conviction.

ha-neul raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. and yet, you’ve tried on three different pairs of boots in the last ten minutes.”

you threw a pillow at her, laughing despite yourself. “fine, maybe i’m a little nervous.”

“a little?” ha-neul said, dodging the pillow. “you’ve been talking about her nonstop since the yesterday.”

you paused, your cheeks warming. it was true—you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about hyun-ju. the way she’d apologized for not replying to your messages, the softness in her voice when she said your name, the way her dark eyes seemed to hold a thousand unspoken thoughts.

“she’s… different,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

ha-neul’s teasing expression softened. “i know. that’s why i’m rooting for you.”

you smiled, turning back to the mirror. your outfit was simple but flattering—a fitted coat over a sweater dress, paired with tights and heeled boots that added just enough height to make you feel confident. you added a pair of earrings, small and understated, and ran a hand through your hair.

when your phone buzzed with hyun-ju’s message, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“can’t wait. i’m on my way now. i’ll share my location with you.”

“she’s on her way,” you said, glancing at ha-neul.

ha-neul let out a dramatic cheer. “look at you, all giddy. go get her, tiger!”

“shut up,” you said, laughing as you grabbed your bag.

as you headed out the door, your phone buzzed again. this time, it was hyun-ju sharing her location. you opened the map, watching the small icon that marked her position move steadily toward the restaurant.

in the backseat of the uber, you snapped a quick selfie, angling the camera to catch your best side. the photo was playful, your lips curved into a soft smile, your eyes bright with anticipation.

“on my way,” you captioned it, hitting send before you could overthink it.

her reply came quickly:

“you look amazing. i’m waiting inside. it’s too cold to stay out.”

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. hyun-ju’s straightforwardness was one of the things you liked most about her.

when hyun-ju saw your selfie, her heart skipped a beat. you looked radiant, your smile soft and inviting, your confidence practically leaping off the screen. she stared at the photo for a moment longer than necessary before typing her reply.

inside the restaurant, she sat at a corner table, her hands resting lightly on the surface. the room was warm and inviting, the soft hum of conversation and the faint clinking of glasses creating a cozy atmosphere. she glanced toward the door every few minutes, her anticipation building with each passing second.

when you finally walked in, hyun-ju stood, her breath catching as your eyes met. you smiled, your face lighting up in a way that made her chest tighten.

and just like that, the nervousness melted away.

188 notes · View notes

daisiesinvienna · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! I live for your writing and i just saw that you write for daryl dixon too??

Could you write a oneshot where daryl and reader were separated after the prison, and when joe and his gang get revenge on rick she’s there instead of michonne?

Reckoning and Restitution

Title: Reckoning and Restitution

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: After you and Daryl were separated during the fall of the prison, Daryl finds himself in a gang he doesn’t want to be in while looking for you. But when Joe and his gang seek revenge on Rick for strangling one of their friends in a bathroom, you get caught in the crossfire.

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, gore, swearing, sexual assault.

Era: Post-Prison, Pre-Terminus

Author’s Note: I had something planned for Billy but I saw this request and couldn’t resist. This is a little dark, but if you watched the scene in the show you should be alright reading this. Also I saw this big ass spider run across my floor while I was writing this and now I can’t find it so i’m gonna go sleep on the couch

The sun had begun to disappear into the horizon, casting long shadows across the cement.

You allow yourself to admire how the sky briefly turns into a vast, endless, ever-changing canvas of color, then starts to fade. Sunsets like these always make you feel hopeful, reminding you that even though the world had ended, you still have a chance at a happy ending. The sun would always rise and set, always paint the sky those brilliant colors, despite the horrors occurring down on earth. At least for another few billion years.

The sun slowly sinks down into the horizon, taking with it the last few golden rays of light. Now, as the three of you trudge down the desolate and winding road, the sky slowly fades to black.

You glance over at Rick, who has his eyes fixated on something up ahead. You follow his gaze, making out the silhouette of an abandoned vehicle not too far down the road, under the branches of a particularly large tree.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Rick says as the three of you reach the car. He pries open the car door to inspect the interior for anything of use as you check the perimeter for walkers.

It had certainly been a long day. You and Rick had decided to take your chances and head towards Terminus, thinking you could at least see if anyone from your group had gotten the same idea. But it was far away, and a difficult trip with a kid in tow. Especially when the kid was going through the difficult pre-teen phase.

It was lucky that you had found Rick and Carl after the prison fell. Or they found you, more like. Rick had quite literally drug you from the carnage, because you were so intent on finding Daryl. It took some convincing before you finally followed Rick and Carl away from the prison. You knew that with Daryl’s inhuman tracking skills, he would have no issue finding you. But it had been at least a few weeks, and there was no sign of him. It was an understatement to say you were worried.

You plop down on the side of the road with a sigh, calculating in your head the days until you would reach Terminus. You had been keeping relaxed and calm by telling yourself firmly that Daryl would be waiting at the gates with that pissed-off look he always seemed to have no matter his mood.

Rick sits down beside you, having set up Carl in the backseat of the old car. He rummages around his pack before pulling out the last two granola bars, holding one out to you. You wave him off, knowing it would be wasted on you and should be saved for Carl.

He doesn’t falter, giving you his signature stern look.

“Take it,” He tells you, and you slowly accept the granola bar. “You’ve barely eaten today.”

You gratefully rip open the plastic packaging and take a bite, knowing he was right.

“Thanks,” You mumble through a mouthful of food. Rick nods, opening one for himself as he glances towards the car where Carl slept. You know all too well the look of concern etched on his face, though he tries to mask it.

“He’ll be alright,” You state, taking another bite of your granola bar. Rick sighs, averting his gaze from the broken-down car. “He’s a tough kid.”

“I just wish he didn’t have to be,” Rick mutters, staring off into the woods. You nod slowly in agreement, opening your mouth to speak when you hear a stick break under someone’s boot behind the two of you.

Your hand immediately flies to your hip, hungry for the knife you knew was tucked into your belt. But just as you had wrapped your fingers around the hilt, the cool barrel of a gun was pressed against your temple.

About ten rough-looking men emerge from the woods, all carrying guns and looking eager, like they were excited to see what Santa had brought them for Christmas. They slowly but strategically space themselves out, surrounding you and Rick so you had no escape route. You glance at Rick, to see that he has a gun to his head too, held by a man that had a sick grin on his face.

“Oh dearie me. You fucked up, assholes,” He announces, his voice sending chills down your spine. Your knife is yanked from your belt and flung onto the concrete, and you slowly raise both of your hands into the air, knowing there was no way out.

“You hear me? You fucked up,” The man holding a gun to Rick’s head says, laughing. He was the clear leader of the gang. “Today’s the day of reckoning, sir. Restitution! A balancing of the whole damn universe! Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year’s Eve. Now who’s gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh?”

You knew that even if you and Rick retaliate at the same time, it would be pointless. Every man in the surrounding area was pointing a gun at the two of you. This wasn’t going to be good.

“10 Mississippi!”

What would happen when he finished counting, you didn’t know. You lock eyes with Rick, and he gave you a look that makes it plain you weren’t to try anything. Not yet, at least.

“9 Mississippi!”

You glance at the car parked a few yards away. One of the men was looking in the window at Carl, waving and grinning maliciously. Carl had woken up, and he looked from the man outside his window to his Dad, who was on his knees with a gun to his head.

“8 Mississippi!”

“Joe!” You hear someone shout. From behind the car, a man cautiously walks out. It was dark, so you can’t quite make out their face, but you could never forget that southern drawl. Your heart skips a beat.

“Hol’ up,” Daryl murmurs, stepping into a patch of moonlight. You stare at him in disbelief. Your eyes meet, and he gives you a look that makes it clear he doesn’t want any of this. His eyes dart from you to the guy behind you, who was still pressing a gun to your temple. You feel a surge of hopefulness. Daryl wouldn’t let this happen.

“You’re stopping me on eight, Daryl,” Joe retorts, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him.

“Just hold up,” Daryl mutters again, clearly looking for a way to stop this without pissing Joe off.

“This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about!” Shouts a gruff looking man with a shotgun.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time. Say your piece, Daryl,” Joe says, gesturing at him with the air of giving him the spotlight.

“These people, you’re gonna let ‘em go. These are good people,” Daryl says softly to Joe, almost pleading. There was a hint of panic in his voice, though his facial expression was determinedly calm. You had never heard him speak this way before.

“Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I’ll of course have to speak for him and all because your friend here, strangled him in a bathroom!” Joe yells.

“You want blood. I get it. Take it from me, man,” Daryl says, throwing his crossbow aside and raising his hands in surrender.

“No!” You shout immediately, scrambling to your feet. “Daryl, No!”

The man behind you roughly yanks you back to the ground. You try to pull yourself from his grasp, but you stop struggling against him when you hear the click of the safety on his gun. The man covers your mouth with his hand.

“Hush up now, bitch. I don’t want to have to shoot you yet,” He says, pressing the barrel to your temple. You instantly feel sick to your stomach.

“You keep your hands off her!” Daryl says firmly, taking a furious step towards the two of you with murder in his eyes, before two guys grab onto his arms and yank him back.

“This man killed our friend!” Joe laughs, smiling broadly. “You say he’s good people. See, that right there… is a lie.”

“It’s a lie!” Joe repeats triumphantly. This seems to be some sort of code, because to your horror, a good number of the men surrounding you advance on Daryl.

Daryl swings at the one who reaches him first, knocking him to the ground with one powerful blow. Before he can even turn around, the other men are on him.

“No!” You shout desperately, watching Daryl try and fend off at least six guys. Daryl was strong, but he was significantly overpowered. “He didn’t do anything! Leave him alone!”

Daryl manages to land a few blows on his attackers, but they soon manage to get him on the ground.

“Teach ‘em fellas, teach ‘em all the way!” Joe laughs. He then gave the other men a nod, which you soon realize was the ‘go ahead.’

The man holding onto you shove you forward onto the ground, and you hit your head painfully on the concrete. Before you realize what was happening, you are roughly flipped onto your back and the man had crawled on top of you. You hear the sound of the car door opening, and Carl’s yelp as someone drug him out of the car and flung him on the ground.

“You leave him be!” Rick shouts angrily. You could hear the sounds of grunts and fists colliding with flesh somewhere behind you, and knew that Daryl was putting up a hell of a fight.

The man on top of you pins your hands above your head with one of his, and you thrash and shout as you struggle to escape his grip.

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s so much more fun when you fight it,” The man purrs, smirking down at you as he roughly tore your shirt off, buttons scattering onto the road.

“No! No, stop it! Get- off- me!” You shout, starting to panic as he roughly grabs at your chest.

“Don’tcha fuckin’ touch her!” Daryl yells furiously from behind you, but his shouts are silenced as the men continue to land blow after blow.

“Listen it was me, it was just me!” Rick shouts desperately as Carl’s yelps become louder from next to the car. Tears are streaming down your face as you struggle against the man above you. What did they want with Carl?

“See now that’s right! That’s not some damn lie. We can settle this, we’re reasonable men,” Joe says, sounding genuinely entertained by the sight before him, as if he was watching the ending of a suspenseful movie.

“First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death,” Joe says. It sounds like Daryl’s resisting was starting to slow, but the impact of fists didn’t falter. If anything, they sped up.

“Daryl!” You yell as a last resort, the man starting to fiddle with the button on your cargo pants. You desperately try to free yourself, knowing what was going to happen to you if you didn’t escape. “Daryl!”

The man grabs you roughly by your hair, lifts your head, and hits it hard against the concrete below you. You groan, impossible pain flooding your head. You were too dizzy to struggle, and as your vision faded in an out you fought with all your might to stay conscious. Going unconscious in this situation would be deadly.

“Then we’ll all have the girl,” Joe says as quiet sobs escape you. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone.

“Then the boy,” Joe laughs. You could faintly hear the sound of Carl’s cries for help, and someone laughing loudly.

“Then I’m gonna shoot you, and then we’ll be square!” Joe laughs manically, foolishly bending down behind Rick. But his laughter was silenced by the slight inconvenience of Rick breaking his nose with the back of his head. Rick lunged for his gun, and the two started scuffling. The man on top of you didn’t care too much.

“What’s the matter, girl? No more fight left in ya?” He laughs, starting to attempt to pull your cargo pants down, ignoring your quiet begging.

Everyone suddenly turns around in shock to look at Rick and Joe when a horrible scream pierces the air. Then, somebody spat.

You seize the opportunity, and in the moment of silence, you use your remaining strength to knee your distracted attacker in the balls as hard as you possibly could. He shouts in pain, bringing his hand down to hit you across the face, making you see stars. The gunshots ringing through the air drowns out whatever vulgar word he calls you. Rick had gotten his hands on a gun, and you hear multiple bodies drop behind you. Before you know what’s happening, Daryl lunges out of nowhere and tackles your attacker, knocking him off of you.

Daryl got on top of the man, landing blow after blow on his face. He had a look of pure rage his eyes that you’d never seen before. Rick was violently stabbing the man who grabbed Carl. You scramble to your feet, ignoring the dizziness, looking around frantically. Bodies littered the ground. All of the men were dead, except for Joe, who was still choking on his own blood on the pavement.

Daryl finally stops hitting the man, before pulling his knife from his hip and stabbing him through the heart. Rick had long but killed Carl’s attacker, and you hear the body drop. Then there was almost complete silence, only broken by Joe gurgling and spluttering blood onto the pavement and the ringing in your ears.

Daryl turns to look at you, scanning you for injuries. His face is horribly bruised and bloody. When he stands up, Daryl stumbles up to you and immediately pulls you into his arms. You sink into them gratefully, before the tears started.

He holds you close, apologizing over and over again for hundreds of different things as you cry into his chest.

You’ll never admit it, but you were losing hope that you’d ever see him again. He very well could’ve died at the prison and you never would have known. But now as you clung to him, you realize that that was a stupid thing to think. Nothing could kill Daryl Dixon, except Daryl Dixon.

“I never stopped lookin’ for ya,” Daryl murmurs, his voice cracking. You look up at him to see tears streaming down his face. You’d never seen him cry before. “‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

262 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years ago

Note

jade!!!! i’m sure you get this a lot but i would die for some hurt/comfort in the steve zombie au universe 🫠🫠🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

hi!! ty for requesting ♡ steve zombie!au (pre-college / mutual pining). fem!reader, 1k

cw violence

Steve swears the chills come before you've even drawn breath to scream. His name, at the very top of your lungs and sharpened into a knifepoint, "Steve! Steve!"

He drops the lockbox he'd been inspecting without thinking and stands from his squat, setting off at an all out sprint in the direction he thinks you came from. Your third scream cements your location, as does the sound of a scuffle, your pained shouting down the stairs and hiding behind the countertops.

People are animals, and you're far more vulnerable to a living person than a dead one. There's a tearing sound, fabric stretched until it snaps. Steve thinks the worst. A greasy guy pinning you to the floor, a gun to the soft curve of your neck.

Steve shouts your name. "Where are you?" he shouts, his throat burning raw.

"Get off of me!"

"Stupid bitch." It's a girl's voice, crystalline. "I'll gut you throat to cunt."

Holy fuck, Steve thinks. Holy fucking fuck. He trips over an overturned postcard stand and slams into the counter, over it, into the room behind it. You have your hand wrapped around your backpack strap, a month's worth of provisions being yanked on by a girl with a knife in her hands. You're both grunting in exertion, the girl's leg slamming up into yours. You take the beating, throwing your hand into her face with a clout.

"Get the fuck off of her!" Steve shouts, barrelling for the stranger.

The knife presses to your throat. No holds barred.

"Y/N, let it go!" Steve shouts, a quick command. He'd rather lose the bag than you. A million times over.

You drop your hold on the bag. The girl flinches back, the curve of her knife leaving a dribble of blood behind, startling red that seeps unsympathetic into the grey of your t-shirt.

She rattles out past fallen bottles, that ever present crunch of glass under her feet like compressed snow. Steve is torn. Two seconds of indecision. Should he follow her?

He didn't get a clear look at what she did to your neck. He chooses you, he should've chosen you the second he saw blood, but a month of food is a lot. You might die without it.

"Shit," he hisses, leaping forward to assess your cut. It's dark but not pitch, the line of your cut shining from the very last reflections of sunlight. "How badly does it hurt?" he asks, quickly dropping his bag down the length of his arm. He almost splits the zipper, digging for a clean scrap of cloth. He settles for his last t-shirt, shaking it out before bringing it to your neck.

"The food. The food, Steve, you have to go get it."

Steve shrugs. He honestly can't think about it right now. He'll explode. "How am I supposed to get it back? We don't have anything to fight with. You have your pen knife, I have a kids baseball bat and a hand crank torch." He frowns and pulls away the cotton. Your cut oozes. He dabs it dry. It oozes more, but there's no white line of dermis peeking through. "I could shove it down her fucking throat."

You wince.

"Sorry," he says, though if he's apologising for hurting you or saying something vile, he's unsure.

"I'm so fucking sorry," you say back, ignoring him. "I'm sorry, Steve, I'm so sorry." Your throat moves under his hand cupping the cloth there. "We're fucked and it's all my fault."

He can't speak. He doesn't refute your claim, though you're wrong, your words striking a chord deep in the most terrified parts of him. Sometimes, Steve feels that crushing panic of childhood, the feeling of hiding under your bed with a little heart pulsing double time between sore ribs. You're fucked.

You're a strong girl, but it doesn't take much of Steve's silence for you to start crying. You sniffle and tremble and try to do neither, gently shaking hands reaching for his elbow. "I'm sorry. I'll figure it out."

Steve moves his fingers along the curve of your neck, lying to himself about what the touch means.

A tear drips down your cheek. He doesn't kid himself into thinking they're purely for him. You're shit scared, you're always hurting, and a minute ago someone was holding a knife to your throat threatening to split you open. He doesn't know if someone's coming back to finish you both off. He needs to do two things at once.

"Let's find somewhere to sleep for the night."

"I'm sorry," you say. His throat aches in sympathy.

"She almost killed you. The last thing I want is for you to die over a couple of cans of tuna and arugula." He taps your jaw with his index finger. "Seriously."

"I'm fucking useless."

"Hey, hey." He cups your cheek. "Don't say that shit. Why would you think that? Would you think I was useless, if it happened to me?"

Your ashamed look breaks his heart. He's in fucking deep shit with you. Lately, it's been getting worse. You break a nail and he thinks about stitching it back on.

"You're not useless. I don't wanna hear you say that. Okay?" he says sternly.

"Sorry," you mumble.

"I'm not sorry. I'll take losing a bag of food over losing you any day." He doesn't give you time to understand what he's said. "Come on. Hold this to your neck. We need to go before she comes back."

Steve wishes he could say he lets you hold his hand on the walk back to your latest temporary lodgings, but it's more like he takes yours and won't give it back, using the little trembling of your fingers to assess how upset you are. Squeezing when it gets bad.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

523 notes · View notes

chronicowboy · 1 month ago

Text

every day i wake up and mourn the fact that the only 118 grocery store trip we've seen was when buck was unemployed because you just know clipboard buckley was matching drill sergeant nash's energy. bobby makes the comprehensive list and gives the pre-mission briefing, buck stands by the checkout and inspects everyone's items to make sure nothing untoward slips through.

#sami rambles #insane father and son treating the grocery store like it's a super secret mission for the fate of the fire station #911 show #evan buckley #bobby nash

29 notes · View notes

nanatsuyu · 4 months ago

Note

re: last ask, do you have any kandrew fic recs from this year?

absolutely! fics I sunk my teeth into this year in no particular order:

in the gutter where we found it by @dayurno

a mixtape fic written for me by the lovely dayurno. amazing and brilliant read on their relationship and body language around each other like that of a car crash. I think about parts of this fic on a daily basis

community service hours by @wyverningx

"Look: he can be gentle." made me insane for 3 days about andrews pov and how he felt about kevin pre-canon. tagged: 'somehow the most erotic parts of this fic are not the actual sex things happening' and like yeAH

fish hook, open eye by @jaywalkers

listen listen i want to print this fic out and eat it or like wallpaper my house with it. róisín's fics make me turn details over in my head like ive found a particularly precious stone covered in moss that i need to inspect every angle of like im playing myst remastered. go read this if you like high literature and emotions

statement piece by @annawrites

my wife crafts universes in under 1k that have me twisting around her legs like a cat begging for food. goldsmith andrew i have feelings for you

kevin day and the migraines by @z0mbie1uvr (i just made this connection in my head for accs omg hi)

this is technically a series and technically involves kandreil, but the kandrew dynamics in this are so so so so SO good you guys dont understand. as a migraine haver and kevin/sickfic lover, i eat these like a delicacy. just absolutely delicious

you did not deserve this by @fivescocoa

also technically kandreil but the kandrew is very lovingly held and cradled and shows that part of their relationship thats a kiss with a fist but then settles into something soft and warm and makes my teeth ache. also: "Is it a Kevin quiet day?" oof! (':

jealousy? by @chickenbyday

azure also by @chickenbyday

idk if these are in the same cinematic universe or not but theyre t4t kandrew and i have never tripped over my own two feet as fast as i did trying to find a place to sit down and consume these when i saw that tag. my favourite brand of kandrew smut where the little details show just how much theyre in love and married for 900 years and fuck nasty about it 100000/10 theyre so weird about each other and just: "It is entirely within my skill set to be angry at you and horny in equal measures." canon behaviour

#im sure there are more but i just MMMMM #these stuck like taffy #aftg fic recs #kandrew #nana asks #otp: did you have fun

37 notes · View notes

coffee-and-cake · 4 months ago

Text

Was finally able to try my hand at writing a short scene for transformers one

Since it’s only 500 words I’m gonna post it here.

This is a WIP to a one shot series I might try that follows the miners pre-Movie

The mining barracks were never quiet nor empty even when it was scheduled recharge time there were always some sounds going on in the background. There was only one time that it was dead silent and that was-

“INSPECTION DAY!!!” A blue and red cogless bot crashed into the barracks weaving through the crowd of miners.

In a matter of seconds, every mining bot stopped whatever they were doing and made a beeline for their lockers and charging stations.

“OH SLAG!” A white bot with a black face guard cried as he threw open his locker and pulled out various vials full of unknown liquids before charging into the washracks.

A white and pink femme bot chased after him, “Wheeljack NO! Remember last time!”

Her shouts were cut short after a small boom was heard from the washracks followed by a collective groan from everyone in the barracks. One cogless bot was watching the chaos unfold with mild amusement. His yellow optics surveyed everything with a smug smirk on his face.

Another mostly calm bot took notice, “Woah, try not to pop a fuel line D-16 no need to be so stressed about inspection day.” The white and blue bot teased,

D-16 rolled his optics, “Unlike most of you guys, Prowl, I don’t feel the need to hide contraband in my locker or my charging station.”

Prowl grinned, “Is that so? Too bad Orion doesn’t think so.”

D-16’s face dropped at the comment turning to look at the locker wall he saw to his horror Orion pulling out stolen data disks from D-16’s locker.

“ORION YOU GLITCH! You’ve been putting your slag in my locker!” D-16 charged at the red and blue bot.

“Well yeah! I ran out of room in mine! Now start putting them in your subspace.”

For the next groon, every miner in the barracks worked to hide or dispose of any item that was deemed contraband and clean up any mess that could possibly get them in trouble. It all came to a standstill when the PA system went off.

“Barracks section A - 3 please stand at charging stations and await inspection.” The monotone voice drawled.

Cogless bots tripped over their own pedes trying to do any last klik hiding or cleaning before scrambling to their recharge station. Orion whispered to a black and white bot with a blue vizor,

“Jazz, you remembered to hide those music data pads right?”

Jazz nodded, “They were the first things I shoved in my subspace. I just pray we don’t get Darkwing as our inspector again. That glitch always finds something-”

Prowl smacked jazz upside the helm, “Quiet!” he hissed.

The sound of the large barrack doors opening made everyone tense up. The sound of heavy pedes echoes through the now completely silent room. All optics were trained onto the door as the bot who was to be their inspector stepped through.

“Oh thank Primus it's Ratchet!” Wheeljack shouted in relief,

Every single miner visibly relaxed at the news while Ratchet rolled his optics, “Yeah yeah don’t relax too quickly you little brats i will still file anything that isn't up to code-”

Another small explosion sounded from the washracks, Ratchet vented and pinched his nasal ridge. “Someone clean up Wheeljack’s mess before I get in there.”

#coffee speaks #transformers one #transformers #writing attempt #d 16 #orion pax #jazz #tf prowl #arcee #wheeljack #ratchet #writing wip

30 notes · View notes

charlottesbookclub · 2 months ago

Text

time after time – chapter nine (armitage hux x reader)

time after time masterlist

Summary: Hux takes a bridge shift that overlaps with yours

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; set pre-TFA; mentions of gossip and rumors; tiny suggestive moment but nothing too wild; as always, let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 2026

Author’s Note: okay and this is the second of two chapters going up today! I've got two main comments to make on this one! first, we get some more protective!Hux my beloved!! second, I am truly quite convinced that Hux (at least the way I'm writing him in this story) is a man who ends each one of his digital messages with a period lmao 😆 I really hope you enjoy! 🥰

His first chance to see you in person after the trip to Ilum came a few cycles after Hux’s conversation with Mitaka. One of the other commanders was unable to make their shift on the bridge. Seeing as the Finalizer was his flagship, any additional command duties fell to him, so he had been forced to cancel some important Starkiller planning sessions to appear on the bridge. In an even worse mood than usual, he stalked through the halls, consumed with annoyance at this disruption to his schedule. That is, at least, until he realized which shift he would be working. He had your schedule memorized, of course, and it suddenly occurred to him that his time in command would overlap with your bridge shift. Instinctively, he adjusted the lapels of his greatcoat and straightened his already impeccable posture.

The bridge doors whirred open, and he walked in with quick, confident steps that rung dully on the pristine floor. This was so much different than when he had visited in disguise. He had power now, authority, and he would wield it as he saw fit. He scanned both sides of the bridge, hoping that his glances looked more like a critical inspection and less like the attempt to find you that they actually were. He saw you then, leaning over to speak with a junior officer about a read-out on one of the screens. He watched you look up as he passed, an expression of complete surprise turning into one of excitement before you quickly forced yourself back into an impassive mask. Hux’s heart fluttered under his uniform. His glee only increased when he found Captain Ernstead lingering on the other side of the bridge, berating some poor cadet. Perfect.

“Captain Ernstead.” Hux said the name like it was a foul word.

“Yes, sir.” Ernstead turned from the cadet and moved toward Hux at the front of the bridge. “Would you like a bridge report, General?”

“Actually, Captain, I have a different task for you.”

“General?”

“Retrieve some cafs for me and the other officers on the bridge.” With the order issued, Hux turned away from him slightly, intentionally focusing his attention on the web of stars outside the massive viewports. He could hear activity stutter behind him for a moment and then resume. Good – everyone had heard. He didn’t turn to look, but he was sure he could feel your gaze on him. Ernstead did not leave. Hux made a show of turning back around to face the captain.

“Is there a problem, Captain?”

“No, sir.” The elder officer was clearly trying to suppress his annoyance. “But I’m certain a cadet or junior officer could carry out this order.” It was so typical of these ex-Imperials to make a fuss of everything. They claimed to love their rules and their chain of command, yet when it put them in an unfortunate position, it was something that suddenly needed to be negotiated. Luckily, this was just what Hux had counted on.

“I thought it was standard practice on your bridge to send other officers on such errands,” Hux retorted, feigning innocence, “I’ve heard many reports of even fellow captains carrying out similar orders with no complaints. I presume you are fully capable of performing at the same level as your colleagues of identical rank.”

“Yes, sir – of course, sir,” Ernstead replied frostily, though Hux could tell he wanted to growl the words. Then he departed. Hux once more fixed his attention on the vast fields of space beyond the Star Destroyer. How he wished he could hear your laughter, or at least your sigh of relief. However, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that this little show of force wouldn’t come back with consequences for you. Ernstead seemed like the bitter, vengeful type after all. He would simply reassign you to bridge shifts with other officers for whom he had more respect. Maybe he would adjust some other schedules as well, claiming a personnel reconfiguration, so that your centrality to the scheme wouldn’t be so obvious. However careful he tried to be though, he wasn’t strong enough to resist the first interaction with you that he was suddenly able to have after what felt like so long.

“Captain,” he called, indicating to you. You were at his side instantly, and he swore he could see just the faintest ghost of a smile playing around your lips.

“Yes, General?” The sound of your voice alone was enough to weaken his knees slightly.

“In Captain Ernstead’s absence, I would like you to give me the bridge report.” He struggled to frame his words to you as a command, but any whiff of familiarity would be sniffed out instantly by others. Regardless, he realized his actions would probably increase the rumors about the two of you a hundredfold, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Yes, sir.” You launched into a full report of the bridge happenings since the last shift change. As you spoke, Hux moved amongst the nearest data displays, as was his usual custom. However, this also gave him an excuse to avoid your gaze for the moment, knowing that one look might be enough to generate an incriminating blush on his pale skin. It also provided him with an excuse to watch you as you remained at perfect attention, reciting the required information. His thoughts wandered to memories of you in your sleeping clothes, and he found himself trying to trace the contours of your body under your stiff uniform. However, he quickly discovered that such thoughts were affecting his ability to remain fully functional, and he made a concerted effort to refocus as he finished his perusal of the data screens and returned to your side just as you concluded your report.

“Anything else, General?” you asked. But any response Hux might have given was interrupted by the sullen tramping of Ernstead’s boots as he returned with the cafs. Hux suppressed a smirk. He took a cup from the tray and stepped back slightly to allow you to do the same. It was difficult to miss the glare that Ernstead shot at you, but to Hux’s surprise, you barely reacted aside from moving infinitesimally closer to Hux’s side. The nearly imperceptible motion brought a fiery surge of pride rushing through his chest. You trusted him, you looked to him for comfort, for protection even. He flamed with the desire to settle an arm around your waist, to show Ernstead – to show the entire bridge – who they would need to answer to should they so much as look at you askance. But he knew that would be far too rash. Instead, he was forced to settle for one brief glance at you before retrieving his datapad from his greatcoat to peruse any notifications he might have missed.

“Thank you, Captain,” he dismissed you, “that will be all.” He watched from the periphery of his vision as you returned to your post amongst the banks of data displays.

It was only a moment later when a notification from you flashed onto the screen:

Don’t drink the caf – Ernstead probably poisoned it

Hux swallowed a smile and allowed himself to flick his gaze to where you stood. He found you holding your datapad at your side, perfectly at attention. The only indication of the secret you shared with him was the glimmer of laughter in your eyes as you caught his brief glance. A little jolt shot down his spine. Is this what his classmates at the academy had felt like when they created elaborate systems of signs to indicate when one member of a couple might be found alone in a storage closet? He had rolled his eyes at such silly diversions, and even reported on his peers a few times. He was always far too consumed with his training to consider such a distraction, and he had struggled to possibly conceive of the appeal any single other person could have that would cause him to risk infractions, punishment, and humiliation. On the whole, he had found his peers tedious and shallow. Not that they seemed to hold him in particularly high regard at the time either. The snickers, taunts, insults, and bruises were enough to make that very clear to him. But things were different now. He permitted himself one more short glance at you. Things were very different indeed.

As much as he wished to further humble Ernstead, he didn’t want to court disaster. One punishment would have to suffice for now. He tried to spread his attention equally amongst the all the officers on the bridge for the remainder of his shift so as not to further stoke the flames of gossip. He felt a gravitational pull toward you though, and he was constantly aware of your presence. It livened his steps as he moved between the stations of junior officers and dulled even the sharpened glares of the small cadre of ex-Imperials on duty. Your shift ended before his, and with a professional salute, you departed, taking much of the life of the bridge with you. A ringing hollowness was left in your wake that Hux could only ease by reminding himself of the time he would have alone with you in a mere couple of weeks.

When he was finally back in his office, desperately attempting to catch up on what he had missed, a message pinged in on his datapad.

Thank you for what you did with Ernstead today

Hux’s body instantly filled with warmth when he saw that the message was from you. He held the datapad before him, fingers hovering over the keys. He typed and deleted at least five sentences before finally committing to what he wanted to say.

It was my genuine pleasure.

He drummed his thumbs on either side of the device. Should he say something else? Maybe praise how professional you were? No, that might come out wrong. Jokingly thank you for warning him about the caf? No, he could barely force such lightness into his voice in person, much less convey a joke over messages. The cursor on the text box blinked at him, goading him into saying something, taunting him with his inability to send you a simple message.

You won’t have to see him again – there’s going to be a restructuring of bridge schedules.

Very businesslike. Hardly charming. He shoved his datapad out of the way, rubbing at his temples. He couldn’t believe he had sunk this low, but maybe it was time to ask Lieutenant Mitaka and some of his other younger personal staff how to actually carry out a conversation with you over messages, since it was clearly beyond his capabilities. Another message came through.

Really?? That’s fantastic news – thank you for letting me know!! I was beginning to worry that he might try to retaliate in some way, so this is a huge relief ❤️

Had you… sent him a heart? He looked at the small, pixilated shape that followed your words. It was unmistakably a tiny, digitally rendered heart. He felt his real heart skip in his chest.

I would never let that happen – if he even looks at you again, let me know immediately and I’ll deal with it.

Levelling threats against Ernstead seemed to be his safest move; if he tried to express anything else, he wasn’t sure he could make it come out right. He remembered the tiny step you had taken toward him under Ernstead’s hateful gaze, and another flush of pride washed through him, causing him to straighten slightly in his chair.

As you command, General – you’ll be the first to know!

He could almost hear you saying the words, imagine the little salute you would give to accent your statement. A smile played around the edges of his mouth at the thought. He flipped to his calendar and scrolled to his date with you, counting the intervening cycles. It wasn’t that much longer. Maybe with some guidance from his personal staff that would allow him to exchange more messages with you in the meantime, he just might survive the wait.

#charlotte writes #time after time (hux x reader)#armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #hux x reader #general hux fanfic #general hux fanfiction #armitage hux x you #general hux x you

21 notes · View notes

xpolarisx · 4 months ago

Text

@ageofkarme location: karme's workshop notes: post grandma's convo, pre-him officially moving out

From one end of the workshop to the other, this witch's forge was littered with piles of half-worked thoughts and gadgets buried so deep they might never see the light of day. Most of it just looked like junk, garbage that Polaris gingerly cleared with the toe of his boot to keep himself from tripping. As far as hordes went it left a good deal to be desired; it was deceptive at first as a mountain of gleaning metals but the tarnish at the edges and the oil smears upon closer inspection spoke volumes of the apprentice's mental state.

The request was a bit delayed, booked well over a year ago, but the snobbish woman had paid a handsome fee to have a statue of an Apprentice of Vulcan constructed. While the sculptor had been finishing a piece of the One God in Maferath, he'd returned recently to begin work on the commissions on Lysaran soil.

A pre-visit was a requirement to assess his subjects before he began: the right material needed to be chosen and that was best accomplished upon close inspection. Polaris already had a strong read on the witch's... personality, given the state of this place, but nevertheless, he needed more information.

There was some clamor and a bit of ruckus, and when Polaris turned toward the source he saw the subject in question. "Karme-" it was the closest he came in greeting humans these days, superiority coming off him in waves. "Your cousin has commissioned a sculpture of you... Your-" he assumed that Karme was aware, "attire is nonstandard."

#karme.1 #karme.lysara #karme.queenset #karme.workshop

30 notes · View notes

lemon-russ · 9 months ago

Text

-trips- ah fuck no I spilled character development juice all over him oh god oh no--

throwing out there this is pre-warped but post guilliman Cato, so I'm not using vanilla flavor character development I'm making my own bastardized concoction

Part 7/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(Cato POV 3rd person though)

CW: Vague alluding to sex and mild injuries, not much going on this time

Summary: Cato has to go talk to Dad about almost killing the family pet mortal Guilliman's favorite diplomat

word count: 2,041

He froze as she pressed her lips to his. This… was not like the other kiss. That one was frustration and need and honesty a little trying to make her stop talking. This was…. confusing.

He tentatively kisses her back, putting a hand on her hip. She tastes like salt from her tears, but also… sweet? And her lips are very soft. He didn't notice all this when he was just focused on getting inside her earlier.

By the throne, it is getting very hard to ignore the feelings strangling his dual hearts. He is above these distractions, he doesn't need to be doing this- not to mention he was directly going against the codex. So why isn't he stopping?

She pulls away and he follows her mouth for a second, leaning in before she gently puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He frowns. His face felt hot and strange, and his hearts felt like they started beating out of sync from each other. She was smiling at him, cheeks streaked with tears, and dirt and dust from the day.

The thunderhawk lurches a bit as it landed, and he held her steady- he was going to scold her about not buckling in but he remembered he was the one who unbuckled her. Whoops. He composes himself, standing and affixing his helmet quickly to hide whatever was happening to his face as the doors to the ship slid open to the hangar.

Guilliman stood there, looking concerned, face etched in a deep frown. “Ah, Captain, Ambassador- thank goodness you’re well,” he said, relief in his voice. The Ambassador looked a bit flustered, and he realized she’d forgotten they were landing soon. He almost forgot she was a little empty headed for a moment.

She smiles awkwardly, tugging his cape around her neck and shoulders a bit tighter. Emperor, she looked a mess. He grimaces at the bite marks he could see her trying to hide. Whoops again. He's not even sure how she could explain those, and hopes she can get into high collared uniform shirt quickly.

Guilliman reaches out a hand to help her down the ramp, leading her gently away. Cato follows a step behind, mind whirring and heart pounding. He still had the matter of having to make up for this mess to his father. He had only recently been returned to them, a miracle and savior to the Imperium. Cato was lucky enough to be an ultramarine and a legendary fighter, so he was often around him, and he dreaded disappointing his Primarch. He frowns nervously, watching his lord carefully lead the diplomat by a chivalrous hand, making sure she doesn't misstep in those ridiculous heels.

His father was particularly fond of the ambassador, hand-picking her for the role. When not off on a mission, she was usually somewhere near him, acting as an assistant- not like a serf, but like a secretary of sorts? He's not actually sure what she does outside of talking to people, he realizes. But she's always doing something, and orbiting Guilliman while she does it.

That's the whole reason he was sent to guard her, after all. As much as it was to force Cato to do something besides pestering him, Guilliman also wanted the renowned Cato Sicarius to guard his pet mortal.

And he'd failed. He supposes technically she did get home alive, but she was a bit battered, and she was taken prisoner and put in danger on his watch. He feels his stomach sink as he watches how his Primarch is fretting over the small woman, inspecting her injuries and looking like he was one stumble away from just picking her up and carrying her to the apothecary himself.

Fuck, he sighs to himself. On top of it all, he lost his mind and slept with her in a cave, while she was in mortal danger, and marked her up doing it. He prays to the Emperor that she covers for him about the bites and hickeys. She would, right? She likes him. He thinks. He thinks he might like her, maybe? He doesn't hate her as much as he thought he did.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, thankfully muffled by his helmet. This was the worst. All of this is why astartes aren't supposed to form relationships. Another rule he'd broken because of this stupid woman. And what did it get her? Pampered by his father, while he watches and dreads and feels like he might vomit with nerves.

They reach the apothecary and Guilliman leads her in, talking with the workers and then talking softly to her. She looks so tired. How long since she slept? He scowls at himself, he forgot baseline humans need sleep constantly. The apothecaries take her inside and Guilliman turns to him. “Sicarius. Shall we talk in my office?”

Cato lets out an anxious breath. “Of course, my lord.”

__________________________________

He stands in a clean uniform before his father's large desk, at attention. Guilliman stands behind the desk, frowning at him a bit. Emperor, he knew it, he knew he'd be punished for this-

“I'm sorry, Cato.” His father says softly. Cato blinks at him a few times. “M-my lord?” He asks, expression tightening in confusion.

The Primarch knits his brows and looks pained. “I put you in a situation alone that could have been very dangerous. Three men and a thunderhawk lost, and you had to handle it all alone. I should have sent backup, or sent her normal guards- I wasn't thinking and I endangered you. I'm sorry, son.” He said, walking to him and putting a large hand on his shoulder.

Cato's mind races. His father was… apologizing to him. That's so wrong- it almost feels blasphemous. “My lord, please, this was my fault-” he started, but Guilliman shook his head. “I won't hear it, Captain. You did well today, I'm impressed she only came back with superficial injuries. I'm thankful you both came back at all, after hearing the reports.”

He steps in front of Cato and holds his shoulders, smiling apologetically. “You have shown why you are the best the ultramarines have to offer today. Having you here gives me hope for this Imperium yet.” He smiles down at him warmly.

Cato is… well, flabbergasted. He swallows hard, blinking away something in his eyes- dust or dirt from that damned planet, of course- “Thank you, my lord. I… I live to serve.” He says nervously. Guilliman smiles and pats his shoulder, letting him go and walking back to the window. “You'll be allowed to spearhead the attack in the rebels, of course, and after that, I've decided to let you pick your next excursion yourself. No more babysitting, don't worry.” He chuckled, smiling back at him.

Cato smiled back, hearts feeling lighter with the dread lifted. Then it falters. No more guard duty. Which is of course what he wanted. Especially now that the ambassador made it weird. Then why did it make his chest tight that he wasn't going to see her more? He smiled a bit anxiously at the primarch. “Ah- it wasn't so bad. I got to play hero, and fight a lot, and bring your little diplomat back to you…” he says, shuffling a bit.

Guilliman chuckles, “You are a good sport, Sicarius. I appreciate you taking all your duties seriously, but don't worry, her normal guards will be back on duty. And for special occasions, I'll return to having Commander Titus accompany her.” He says with amusement.

Cato forces a smile. “Ah, Demetrian. An… interesting choice.” He says in a tight voice. Uhg. Demetrian Titus, one of his commanders. Always playing loose with the codex, but oh, everyone loves Titus. He grimaces internally. What does he care, it's not his problem now who watches her. Commander Titus is certainly capable enough of keeping her alive if he has help at least. Not that he cared. Ok, well, he did care a little, he'd already accepted that part. He swallowed, holding in a sigh.

Guilliman watches him and raises a brow, but as he opens his mouth to speak, Cato is spared by someone knocking on the office door. Guilliman smiles, “Ah, ambassador, come in.”

Cato tenses a bit. Should he just be professional around her still? Pretend everything is normal? Probably.

She smiles at the primarch, walking in and giving a small nod of respect. “My lord.” She greets, then glances at Cato, and her expression flashes with confliction too. She gives him a small smile though. “Captain.” She says softer. He nods back, keeping his expression professional. She's cleaned up, her hair fixed back into a neat style, unsurprisingly opting for a normal uniform and not a dress or some nonsense, as the collars hid the neck. Her face has some bandages and she's bruised, but she seems fine otherwise.

He sighs a bit, trying to focus on his father instead. Guilliman grins and walks up to her, patting her tiny shoulder. “I'm so glad you are safe. I am so, so sorry I put you in danger like that. Don't worry, from now on you're never leaving without at least 2 guards, preferably 3.” He says seriously. She smiles nervously up at him, “Ah- it's fine, really my lord, Captain Sicarius handled things, I was totally safe the whole time. Don't apologize…”

The primarch smiles warmly at her. “You are such a forgiving spirit, little one. Why don't you take the next few days off, get some rest and heal up a bit.” He offered gently.

She smiles, “I appreciate the offer, my lord, but I have appointments I can't reschedule. I'll be just fine.”

The primarch sighs, smiling and shaking his head. “Always dedicated to your work. Very well, but I don't want to see you lifting a finger while you're here otherwise.” He chuckles, patting her shoulder again and letting her go. “That's all I had to say, Captain Sicarius. Go, get some sleep and relax a bit.” He says kindly, taking his seat at his desk again.

Cato nods, turning to the ambassador once more before heading out. She gives him a tight, awkward smile. He returns it, then sighs and heads out.

She's going to be watched by Titus. He doesn't know why that bothers him so much. He dislikes him, sure, he's a pushover who bends rules for his benefit. But there's something else upsetting him. He feels that far too common lately knot in his stomach, frowning at himself. No, it's fine. He's better than these baseline human complications. He's Cato Sicarius. He doesn't care about who some mortal woman spends time around.

He takes all the swirling thoughts in his brain- a mess of complications that always haunt him when he's around his father- and shoves them all back into a mental box in his mind labeled WEAKNESS. He takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back, and walks straighter down the corridors. He's Cato Sicarius, he does not get jealous about women. He does not get anxious about disappointing his father. He does not dwell on issues of the heart, and he definitely does not picture how important state diplomats would look sprawled in his bed. Box, box, all of you, in the box.

He takes another deep breath and puts on a cocky smirk. He runs his hands over the Talassarian Tempest Blade, marching to the hangar, ordering a serf to prepare his power armor and another to alert his men that they are going planetside to wipe out those rebels, right now, they have 5 minutes to be here or they'll be disciplined.

He lets out a deep sigh, smiling a wide, relaxed grin to himself, posture prim and aura confident. He is The Cato Sicarius, and he is simply the best at everything he does.

#hahahaha get anxiety NERD #cato sicaruis x f!reader #cato sicarius x reader #my work #wh40k fic #Xreader #X reader

49 notes · View notes