#Skull is incredibly fun to write

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

broken glasses

Part four of 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough on ao3

Part one | Part two | Part Three

Summary:

“It’s– about the General.” Cody gave him a look as he said the words, almost trying to tempt Skull into seeing what would happen if he tried to crack a joke. Skull spared him, with great effort to keep his mouth shut albeit, and nodded once. “And as his Commander, it’s my job to keep him alive and effective.” Cody continued.

Right, as his Commander. Nothing else at all.

“And?” Skull asked once Cody had been silent for a moment, “Is it urgent? If so, you need to tell me now.”

Cody shook his head, “No– I don’t think it is. It’s just– he’s been wearing glasses.”

(Or, another follow-up to Skull's infamous run-in with the 212th's newest secret couple. This time, Obi-Wan suspiciously starts wearing glasses.)

Word Count: 6,284

Skull had not seen Commander Cody in a week, not since he had been pulled from the bacta tank, face stony as he coughed out the last of the sludge and requested he be allowed to go to the fresher immediately. He hadn’t made eye-contact with Skull once. 

Oxy had taken charge, leading Cody away for his last check-up and letting him get dressed before discharging him to none other than the Obi-Wan Kenobi. Oxy had been remarkably proud of himself to report the information back to Skull.

“They think I don’t know, but boy do I know. They gaze at each other, Skully! Unbelievable!” Oxy had let out a loud, shouting cackle, cheeks stained red as he bent at the waist, unable to control his laughter. Skull followed suit, spinning idly in his lab chair, hands covering his face. 

Now, Cody was back in his medbay.

The Commander walked in with his arms crossed, his back straight, and his training blacks neatly arranged over his form. His eyes were narrowed and lips drawn into a harsh line.

He stood in the doorway of Skull’s lab, staring at the medic for a moment, before clearing his throat. Skull had looked back into his microscope for a moment, and was finishing his notes. “Commander.” He acknowledged with a nod and stood from his chair while straightening his lab coat. “Strange to see you here voluntarily. It almost makes me uncomfortable.” 

Cody snorted, “It’s barely voluntary, if that makes you feel any better.” He said, and shifted on his feet. 

“Still voluntary, Sir.” Skull said and picked up his notes, walking toward the doorway of the lab. He brushed past Cody, flicking the lights off on the way out, “So what can I do you for? Is there something wrong with your leg?” He hoped there wasn’t, he had taken care to keep Cody in the bacta tank for longer than the minimum needed to heal him, but what else would Cody be here for? Skull could hardly think of another reason.

“No– my leg is fine; it barely feels any different than before.” Cody walked behind him, and he paused to take a deep breath for a moment, “It’s about someone else.”

Skull stopped in place, Cody nearly running into him as he spun around. Skull’s eyebrows raised involuntarily. “Someone else?” He asked, intrigued.

He absolutely expected Cody’s answer.

“It’s– about the General.” Cody gave him a look as he said the words, almost trying to tempt Skull into seeing what would happen if he tried to crack a joke. Skull spared him, with great effort to keep his mouth shut albeit, and nodded once. “And as his Commander, it’s my job to keep him alive and effective.” Cody continued.

Right, as his Commander. Nothing else at all.

“And?” Skull asked once Cody had been silent for a moment, “Is it urgent? If so, you need to tell me now.”

Cody shook his head, “No– I don’t think it is. It’s just– he’s been wearing glasses.” Cody looked concerned for only a split second before he forced his face back into something like a neutral expression. 

“I noticed.” Skull said matter-of-factly. “He was wearing them in your tent when I came to take care of your leg. I was–” Skull was immediately cut off by Cody’s gruff voice.

“The General’s tent. Not ours, his.” The Commander offered him a serious look. 

“Whatever you insist on, Cody. I saw what I saw.” Cody pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead and groaned. Skull continued, ignoring Cody’s attempt to protest, “I was planning to address it with him the next time he ended up here, but it looks like you made it here first. When did you notice him wearing glasses first?”

Skull started walking again, making his way toward the filing room in the far back of the medbay. He wanted to scan through Kenobi’s file again, see if he had missed something on the first read-through, and the second and third. He swore there was nothing about visual impairment.

“A month ago, give-or-take.” Cody answered, following along behind him, “He only wears them at night, not when we’re out in the field.” Skull really tried to ignore the implication of Cody spending his nights with the General. 

“Has he been squinting?” Skull asked, “Holding his datapad at an odd distance while reading?”

Cody blinked at him, crossing his arms back over his chest, almost defensively.“I don’t know– I haven’t been paying too close of attention.”

“Oh please, Cody–” Skull rolled his eyes.

Cody didn’t let him continue, “He has always squinted a little, he has sensitive eyes– I can’t tell if it is worse or better now.”

Skull ran his tingertips over the edges of the files mouthing along to the names before he settled on Kenobi. He plucked the comparatively thick file from the shelf and led Cody back out of the room.

“Did he ever mention implants to you?” Skull asked, sitting down at his neatly organized desk and dropping the file down onto the desk with a resounding thud. He motioned to an extra chair at the desk behind him and Cody rolled it over and sat. 

“No– what exactly are we doing here?” The Commander asked, glancing over Skull’s shoulder and eyeing the manilla folder and coinciding datapad stored inside along a thick clip of loose pieces of flimsi. 

“I am looking at Kenobi’s file, which is confidential by the way, and you are answering questions.” He threw an arm out to press the Commander back and he grumbled in return. “Now, you said he never said anything about having implants? No surgeries?”

“No, he didn’t.” Cody said, “What are implants anyway?” Skull could have slapped himself in the face– of course Cody was confused, Clones were bred to have perfect vision, but natborns were certainly not. In fact, Skull had learned in his classes that more than half of natborns were predisposed to have poor vision. While some wore glasses, which made it outwardly apparent they couldn’t see, it was rather rare. No wonder Cody was concerned. 

“Many natborns are born visually impaired, a lot of them really. Implants are often used to mitigate further vision loss, and they allow a person to see just as clearly as anyone else.” Skull explained eyes scanning over the visual records he had been given. 

Nothing– not even a sentence in that section at all. Perhaps he should have known that was a red flag when he first scanned the file, but he had assumed the Jedi didn’t struggle with visual impairment, he figured the Force probably canceled that out. 

“And these implants– when are they… implanted?” Cody asked, hands wringing together absently. 

“Early in life– five or six years-of-age maybe.” Skull answered and skimmed through the contents of the datapad that had been placed in his possession by a record-keeper from the Jedi temple. 

Still nothing of note. Strange.

“Are they meant to be permanent?” Cody asked, a strange look behind his eyes, he almost started to seem worried again.

“I would think– are you sure he didn’t say anything about them?” Skull was suspicious; Cody had quite the reserve of questions. 

“No– but I’m starting to think maybe he had them… and now he doesn’t.” Cody didn’t seem happy about that thought, and even sat back in his chair with a sigh.

“Me too.” Skull said, noting the way Cody’s face had changed from annoyed, to disconcerted. His eyes were trained on the floor, and he swallowed once loudly. “Cody– listen, I’ll talk to whoever I need to at the Jedi temple to get this resolved– perhaps I’m missing a file here. Meanwhile, how about you see if asking the General nicely will get you an answer. Or, just drag him here for me to question him, your choice.” Skull shrugged and closed the file in front of him. Cody shook his head and pushed his chair back.

The Commander muttered something under his breath, then smiled forcefully, “Thank you for your time Skull. Let me know when you get more information.”

Skull had some research to do.

Cody had noticed Obi-Wan’s glasses a month before. 

They were sitting innocently on Obi-Wan’s side table by his bunk when Cody had let himself in one evening. The General had been in the shower, whistling resounding from behind the door of the fresher. Cody glanced at the door, then picked up the suspicious spectacles, eyes passing over the seemingly well-worn metal rims. 

They looked used, and more than a few years old, that was easy to determine. Certainly, they weren’t something Obi-Wan had just recently acquired– at least not new. 

Cody dropped the glasses back into their previous position when he heard the water shut off and the door to fresher slide open.

Obi-Wan, without hesitation, had popped the glasses onto the bridge of his nose once he was dressed. He hummed as he went about his typical nightly chores– pulling out a new tunic and wringing the dirt out of his robe in the sink– but never once did he mention anything about the glasses.

Cody figured it was nothing– at first that was. Cody had returned from a three-week wild bantha-chase on some outerim desert planet, of course something could have changed in those weeks. Obi-Wan treated the situation like it was nothing out of the ordinary, and definitely not something important enough to be mentioned.

But then– it became a problem.

Obi-Wan was a skilled warrior, his precise movements with his lightsaber never failing to hit the intended target, but his ability to see oncoming droids was… becoming limited. 

Obi-Wan began to sense things more, rather than see them, and Cody noticed. 

When he wasn’t out in the field, armed with just a lightsaber, his glasses mysteriously disappeared. Once, Cody had scoured through Obi-Wan’s personal belongings he had brought planetside, but came back short. 

Each time they returned to one of their respective tents or quarters, covered in mud, blood, or any other sludge they happened across in their latest battle, Obi-Wan always would pop a few stims, eyes struggling against any and all light. Just a headache, he would say sometimes. I’m only tired, Cody, he would say other times. Each time, the General would shower briefly, and crawl under the covers, eyes hidden underneath the blankets until the pills started to have an effect. 

Cody was beginning to believe that his headaches were not related to battle, but to not being able to see.

Cody couldn’t believe Skull didn’t know anything about the mysterious set of glasses– he seemed to think he knew about everything else. The Commander contemplated the idea of implants as he walked briskly through the halls of the Negotiator, every few minutes nodding at the odd trooper walking in the opposite direction.

It was probable that Obi-Wan had once had implants; for nearly a full standard year Cody hadn’t seen Obi-Wan wearing glasses, not once.

Cody needed to know what had happened, and he was going to get his answer. 

Cody knocked politely on Obi-Wan’s door giving himself a few extra seconds to think about how to go about questioning the General. 

A few seconds was not enough, and Obi-Wan opened the door near immediately, a gentle smile appearing on his lips, eyes brightening, when Cody fell into view. Of course, he was wearing his glasses, but that barely distracted Cody from the tight white shirt and black briefs he wore. 

“Cody, I was expecting you.” Obi-Wan said, smile widening as he stepped back to let Cody through.

I’m here on business, Cody reminded himself, tentatively smiling back and stepping inside while doing his best to not look at Obi-Wan at all. “I’m sure you were.” Cody responded evenly. When they were both on the Negotiator, they were almost always between each others’ quarters; it was hardly noticeable to the men while they were on the ship, none of the barracks occupied the same hall.

“If I’m honest, I was expecting you earlier– did you have a meeting I wasn’t invited to?” Obi-Wan joked as he pulled a light sweater over the shirt and reached for a pair of Cody’s blacks he had left behind, “I was almost considering coming to find you–”

“I went to see Skull.” Cody said, cutting off Obi-Wan. The General’s eyebrows rose, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Oh? I thought you never wanted to see him again?” Cody wanted to bury his face in his hands. Why was everyone so insistent on reminding him about what Skull knew?

“I didn’t want to see him– but something has been concerning me.” Cody stepped into Obi-Wan’s space, holding his shoulders gently. Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide, and strangely concerned. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Of course– though I’m not entirely sure what about.” Obi-Wan said as he turned to head toward the bed. Cody followed, sitting next to him on the edge of the bunk. Cody paused for a few beats, eyes on the floor as he tried to come up with the best way to phrase his question without sounding needlessly accusing. 

“So– I noticed you’ve been wearing… glasses.” Cody looked up, tried to search Obi-Wan’s eyes for an indication of what exactly to say next, but the man hardly looked alarmed or confused. “Skull didn’t have anything in your file about vision impairment…” Cody cut himself off by shutting his mouth abruptly. Maybe Obi-Wan didn’t strictly need to know just how far the conversation with their medic had gone.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and looked toward the floor.

“Ah– I suppose I’ve been putting off explaining the glasses for a while now– I thought you might not ask, in fact.” Obi-Wan almost chuckled, but he stopped himself. Cody could see the nervousness materialize on Obi-Wan’s face and he grabbed the Jedi’s hand, squeezing softly and rubbing the pad of his thumb over calloused knuckles. “I am near-sighted, and I accidentally removed that portion from my file years ago– for a mission.” Obi-Wan added the last part, pretending like Cody didn’t realize his hesitation.

“And you never thought to add that back in?” Cody asked, annoyance seeping into his tone regardless of his best effort. Obi-Wan sighed.

“I got a little bit busy, with war and all, you know.” At that, Cody scoffed. 

“Do you have implants?” Cody asked, eyes scanning over Obi-Wan’s eyes, almost like he would be able to see if they were there or not.

“I did.” Obi-Wan muttered and let out a deep breath. His grip on Cody’s hand tightened. 

Cody’s heartbeat quickened as his mind raced. That would mean– “They’re broken? What happened?” Cody’s questions were asked in a strained voice, and Obi-Wan stood abruptly and paced for a moment, hand pressed over his beard. 

“I– I… I think the connection was knocked loose.” Cody thought back to over a month prior when Obi-Wan had lost his lightsaber and was pinned against a wall by a swarm of thirty battle droids. He had gotten his head smashed into a rock in his effort to take them on in hand-to-hand combat. Cody knew basic first aid, and had personally spared him from a trip to see Skull when a shiny medic had run a few basic field tests and determined it was only a mild concussion. 

His implants must have been damaged then.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Cody breathed out, mouth ajar as he waited for Obi-Wan’s response. Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest briefly, shook his head, then pressed the heel of his hand over his forehead. 

“I– I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone– especially Skull, he has more than enough on his plate. I have these.” He touched the rim of his glasses, almost distracting Cody from the guilt leaking from his eyes.

“Obi-Wan, those don’t do anything when you don’t wear them into battle.” Cody resisted the urge to explain what Obi-Wan probably already knew: seeing was an important part of fighting, nearly essential.

“I have the Force for battle– I was going to get the implants fixed as soon as possible, when things slow down.” Obi-Wan returned to pacing, sweat forming on his brow. 

“The Force isn’t a substitute for vision, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Cody didn’t let him, “We’re going to go get this sorted out– now.”

“Omitted? Seriously, General? Vokara Che had to tell me herself that apparently someone had removed the files. She presumes you.” Skull shook his head and held up a datapad. “And look what good that did? I have them anyway.” He waved the datapad in the air, trying to get it through the General’s thick skull that this was, in fact, an important piece of medical information. 

“I didn’t purposely omit them, it was an accidental deletion that I forgot to–” Skull didn’t miss the way Cody held onto Obi-Wan’s elbow, lips drawn into a moving line and eyes narrowed. For once, Cody looked like he was on the same page as Skull, and that page was titled Obi-Wan Kenobi is a fucking di’kut. 

“General, I couldn’t give two shits about what happened to the files; you had a full standard year to tell me you had implants. Hells– you even had a full month to tell me they had failed.” Skull placed the datapad onto the small tray by the examination table and pressed his hands over his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Apologies, Skull. It was an oversight on my part.” Obi-Wan said, sitting up straighter and offering up a tight smile.

“Oversight is not a strong enough word.” Cody grumbled and let go of Obi-Wan’s elbow. 

More like an undersight, really, Skull thought.

Cody’s hand reached for Obi-Wan’s thigh, but he seemingly caught himself and placed both his arms behind his back. Skull, like he had become accustomed to at this point, chose to ignore it.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Skull started, eyeing the page of notes he had written for himself based on the recovered file Vokara Che had sent him, “First, you are going to be scheduled for an implant repair on Coruscant for sometime in the next two weeks, courtesy of Vokara Che.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Skull persisted, not letting him get in a single challenging word, “Until then, you are not going out in the field. General Skywalker will notify the Council, and you will rest– Force knows you need it.” 

“I’m sure I would still be of some use in the field, Skull, don’t be ridiculous.” Obi-Wan nearly whined as he said the words, but Cody shot him a look that would be enough to shut up a row of rowdy shinies. Obi-Wan caught the Commander’s eye, and didn’t continue. 

“It’s not worth the risk, Sir.” Cody gritted out through his teeth, placing an unusual emphasis on the title.

“Agreed,” Skull said, “Not to mention, if I were to send you out there, it would have to be with your glasses and I’m not willing to let you go without those for a few days. Vision is not a joke, General. Now, let me find out exactly what prescription you are.” The medic placed his set of notes back down on the tray by the bed and indicated he would be back in ten minutes with a scanner that would do the trick.

There was a thick silence in the room when Skull finished speaking, and Obi-Wan just nodded once to acknowledge the statement. 

Skull was gone for less time said he would be, but he was happy to leave the couple alone for even a couple of minutes to have whatever little domestic quibble they needed to have. Force knew Obi-Wan had glared at Cody like a disappointed child at least three times throughout the course of their conversation. 

He exited the medical supply closet to just miss Cody pulling away from Obi-Wan’s lips, hands resting on the General’s cheeks. 

Skull supposed he had told them ten minutes, and it had only been three, but still.

Skull scuffed his feet against the floor as loudly as he could manage, and watched as the very tops of Cody’s cheeks and ears burned a bright red; Obi-Wan’s followed suit, even more pronounced, when he turned around.

“Well gentlemen, no denying it now then; does kissing in the medbay make it official?” Skull didn’t bother to watch either of their faces, already knowing what each of their horrified faces looked like already. Instead, turned on the scanner and grabbed a piece of flimsi to write the General’s prescription down on.

“Skull, again–” Cody protested, voice nearly an octave higher than it usually was and mouth ajar. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone else, Cody– cool your jets.”

Skull still couldn’t believe Cody had the will to deny it. 

Perhaps he would have to write the Commander a mission report– something Cody understood well– detailing all of the evidence he had collected.  

Skull reminded himself to talk to Oxy about it later.

Obi-Wan broke his glasses two days after his visit to Skull; murphy's law.

Well, that was not exactly the truth if Cody was completely honest with himself– Obi-Wan had left them on the bed, shoved underneath the sheets of course, and the two of them had broken them together later that night in the heat of… things. 

Cody had personally decided that wasn’t the official story, and Obi-Wan was to blame for stepping on them instead. 

They had decided together it might be best to not inform Skull; Obi-Wan insisted he could tolerate another week without perfect vision. Perhaps it was more Cody’s idea, in an attempt to not have to come in contact with Skull, who was mercilessly insisting on discussing his relationship with the General at every turn. 

So instead, Obi-Wan dealt with it. 

Now, in the mornings, Obi-Wan was extra bleary, eyes squinting against the harsh lighting of Cody’s quarters when the light was flicked on. While he could still read his datapad if he held it close enough to his face, Cody could tell that it was a particular struggle to read through paperwork for more than a few hours at a time in such an uncomfortable position. 

While Cody was sure he would be sent off to some planet on a mission before Obi-Wan headed back to Coruscant for his implant repairs, he had yet to receive any orders, and was more than happy to massage Obi-Wan’s aching neck and read his reports out loud when he couldn’t bear to read any longer.

On the third day without his glasses, Obi-Wan didn’t get out of bed to do his paperwork.

Cody laid awake, perfectly still, staring at the blinking clock by his bedside that ready 0700. While both of them were usually up by 0600, Obi-Wan had barely stirred with his first alarm, and certainly didn’t seem to want to get up; only the top of his hair was visible from where he was buried within the layers of blankets.

An hour later, Cody had already come and gone from the mess, bringing along a ration bar and mug of tea. 

He’d imagined Obi-Wan would be awake by then, but he hadn’t even changed positions on the bed.

Concerned, Cody placed the items on the table, and approached the bed.

“Obi-Wan?” He called, voice only just rising above a whisper. 

The lump of blankets shifted, but Obi-Wan did not respond. Cody tried to call out to him again. Then again.

The final time, Obi-Wan mumbled something, words muffled by the mounds of fabric covering him. 

Cody attempted to ignore the way he could hear his own heartbeat. 

He reached for the blanket, pulling it down just enough to find that Obi-Wan’s face was buried in his hands. His fingers trembled where they sat against his forehead just underneath sweat-soaked strands of hair. 

Cody sucked in a breath, and knelt on the floor, hand already reaching to brush back the loose hair. 

“Obi-Wan, are you feeling alright?” He asked slowly, hoping Obi-Wan was awake enough to hear him.

Obi-Wan pulled his hands a couple inches away from his face and cracked open an eye. He squinted for a second before shutting his eyes again hard. He mumbled something again that Cody could only hope to try and decipher. 

“What was that?” Cody asked, and Obi-Wan cleared throat, not bothering to open his eyes again.

“D’n feel so good.” The General managed to say. Though his voice was low, he didn’t sound ill, just tired. Cody reached to feel his forehead, even pulling back the covers to see if he had gooseflesh covering his bare skin. 

Nothing– Cody couldn’t imagine he was ill with some unknown virus with the amount of time he had been spending on the Negotiator rather than planet-hopping. 

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan.” Cody started, now sitting on the edge of the bed, “You don’t feel feverish, can you tell me what doesn’t feel good?” Cody tried to make the question as easy to answer as possible. Obi-Wan sucked in a shaking breath.

“Not ill.” He said eventually, which felt like a lie, but Cody somehow knew it wasn’t. “Head.” 

Not ill, head. Cody repeated the words under his breath, trying but failing to make some sort of connection. Sure, Obi-Wan had endured his fair share of headaches in the last month, but none of them were bad enough to keep him from battle, much less plant him in bed unable to move. 

“A headache?” He asked, trying to prompt some sort of explanation. Obi-Wan’s hands had returned to his face, nails digging into the skin of his forehead as he sucked in another few harsh breaths. 

Cody waited, though his patience was running out.

“...drawer. Look– drawer.” Obi-Wan seemed like was going to finish the sentence, but with a sudden harsh movement, he pushed Cody aside and wrenched himself out of the bed. Stumbling over his feet for a moment, he nearly crashed through the door of the fresher before Cody had even registered what exactly was happening. 

Kriff, Cody swore under his breath when he heard the first helpless gags come from the fresher. Hesitating for only a split second, Cody ripped open the drawer by his bedside considering maybe Obi-Wan’s clue meant he would find something there. Unfortunately, Cody found nothing out of the ordinary.

Cody entered the fresher, immediately falling to his own knees behind Obi-Wan. Cody attempted to flick the light on, but Obi-Wan protested with a whine in between useless gags; he hadn’t eaten since the day before, and all that was left in his system had already come back up.

Rubbing Obi-Wan’s back with the tips of his fingers, Cody made up his mind; he needed to comm Skull, no matter how much he wanted to avoid it.

“Obi-Wan,” He said, breathing gently against the man’s shoulder, “I’m just going to get my comlink– I’m sorry, I don’t know– I can’t help and–” Obi-Wan gagged again, forehead slumping against the rim of the toilet. Cody swore, and jerked himself to his feet. 

His grabbed his comlink from the table by the bunk.

Skull picked up immediately, “Cody? Everything alright, Commander?” Cody glanced back through the open doorway of the fresher where Obi-Wan had taken to burying his face in his knees where they were drawn up against his chest. Things were not okay. 

“No– I think the General is sick. He’s– I think he has…he’s vomiting–” Cody’s thoughts came out disjointed; undignified he thought, Obi-Wan’s tone playing in his mind. 

“Woah, slow down, Cody. Can you list the symptoms?” Skull said, sounding much calmer about the situation than Cody felt watching Obi-Wan retch into the toilet. 

“Okay,” Cody answered as he took a deep breath and tried to sort through his swimming thoughts, “Vomiting, headache, sensitivity to light– I think. He said something about a drawer.” Cody paced throughout the room as he spoke, nerves working in overdrive. 

“Migraine.” Skull answered immediately, not hesitating for a second, almost as if he had known all along. “Does he have his pills?” 

Cody stopped in his tracks and blinked absently. 

A migraine? Pills?

Cody wracked his brain for any previous mention of pills, but came up short. In his time knowing Obi-Wan, he hadn’t once witnessed a migraine, nor any of the symptoms. Sure, Cody had heard of migraines– they were supposedly brutal according to one of his shinies who had gotten them before on Kamino– but he had never heard Obi-Wan speak of them, much less admit he was experiencing one. 

“What?” He said questioningly, hoping Skull would explain more.

“His pills.” Skull repeated, “He should keep them in his quarters or in his med kit…” 

Still, whatever these magical migraine pills were, Cody hadn’t heard of them and he definitely had no idea where they would be. 

Then it occurred to him. 

The drawer. That’s what Obi-Wan had been talking about; he must have kept them in the drawer in his own quarters on the Negotiator. 

“I’m getting the sense that the General didn’t tell you about the migraines?” Skull cut through Cody’s thoughts, stating what Cody thought was already obvious at this point. 

The Commander sighed, “No– he didn’t. I’m assuming the pills are in a drawer in his quarters.” Cody said, almost mindlessly. 

“So I should assume I am coming to your quarters again then, Cody? I’ll bring meds– I’m going to have to make up a kit to keep at your place. Give me five minutes.” Skull sounded mildly amused over the line but Cody could hardly care about Skull’s teasing. Instead, he threw down his comlink to head back into the fresher. 

Obi-Wan had not moved, still sat with his face buried in his bare knees. His skin was layered in goosebumps, skin pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. For lack of a better word, he looked dreadful. 

For a moment, Cody was angry, and almost bitter. Obi-Wan had always been honest where it counted– he was much like Cody in that way, calculated with his risks, strategic and logically inclined. Yet, unlike the long list of allergies Obi-Wan had revealed to Cody long before, he still held some cards close to his chest. 

Watching Obi-Wan tremble on the floor, so far gone from his status and reputation under Cody’s gaze already, he wished Obi-Wan had told him earlier. It could have been prevented.

Cody crouched down, a gentle hand pressing into the damp hair on the back of Obi-Wan’s head. “Obi-Wan?” He called, voice only just above a whisper. Obi-Wan acknowledged him with a gentle groan, “I’m sorry– Skull’s on the way with your meds. I had no idea.” He didn’t press, kept his voice level. 

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan’s voice was gruff, but he sounded sincere– apologetic. Cody believed him.

Cody sat down fully by Obi-Wan’s side, the tips of his fingers massaging ever-so gently across the skin of Obi-Wan’s neck and down his shoulder. For a moment, the only sound in the room were Obi-Wan’s trembling breaths, then there was the slide of the door and footsteps marching toward the fresher. 

Cody would have pulled away, tried to escape from Skull’s scrutiny, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He probably already knows, Cody thought, annoyance sparking as the medic rounded the corner and paused in the doorway to set his medical kit on the floor. He offered Cody a raised eyebrow, but didn’t say anything as he unwrapped a clean hypo.

At least Obi-Wan’s migraine was enough to shut Skull up; glass half-full Cody supposed. 

“Obi-Wan?” Skull said once he had drawn up what Cody assumed to be a rather large dose of meds. The man in question said nothing for a few moments, then pulled his head up just enough from his knees so he could glance in Skull’s direction. 

“Pills?” He asked, and Skull shook his head.

“You know they don’t do anything once it’s already started, General.” Skull said softly, “Pain meds or nothing, your choice.” Skull held up the hypo for Obi-Wan to see, but the General grimaced unhappily and shook his head in one tiny movement, refusing.

Skull pulled back and shot Cody a knowing glance.

Cody returned the look, and reached for Obi-Wan’s chin. As gently as he could manage, Cody pulled Obi-Wan’s face toward his, leaning his forehead against Obi-Wan’s tenderly. “You need the meds, darling.” He whispered, just low enough that Skull couldn’t hear. Obi-Wan’s bloodshot eyes blinked open again.

“Don’t need them.” Obi-Wan said wearily, but he was so utterly unconvincing, Cody could have laughed. His eyes were wide and watery, his beard unkempt; he looked quite pathetic.

“Yes, you do.” Cody answered, “Please? For me? I’m worried about you.” He pleaded, hoping Obi-Wan would listen to him and shut out his stubbornness for once.

“...fine.” Cody let out a breath he had not realized he was holding and looked up to catch Skull’s gaze. The medic nodded knowingly, and crouched by Obi-Wan’s side again.

“Okay Sir, you know the drill, just a slight pinch.” Skull reminded him, skilled hands making such quick work with the hypo that Cody would have missed it if he had blinked. “Give it two or three minutes and it should kick in.” Skull continued, then reached into his kit again to pull out another smaller kit that looked vaguely similar to the one that Obi-Wan carried with him from mission to mission.

Of course, it’s for me to keep here. Cody attempted to keep his cheeks from staining red again, but Skull had already caught wind of his embarrassment. 

Smiling, much to Cody’s chagrin, Skull pointed to the bedroom, “Let’s get him in bed.” He mouthed. Cody stood, plucking the kit from Skull’s hands to place it in the cupboard beside the shower, and gently smoothed back Obi-Wan’s unruly hair.

“We’re going to help you get in bed.” He said, his voice low and hand already wrapping underneath Obi-Wan’s bicep as Skull did the same on his other side. 

Obi-Wan’s head hung down as they made the short trip to the bed, but once he had crawled under the covers, Cody immediately noticed that he looked slightly less pained, his eyelids not scrunched together as tightly as they had been before. 

“Thank you.” He said, voice still gruff as he reached for the cup of water he had left on the bedside table the night before. He offered a watery smile to Skull who smiled gently. 

“Of course Sir, anytime. I have something for you.” Skull pulled out a small orange contained from his belt and shook it a couple of times, “These are twice the strength of your old ones– you can thank Oxy for that one.”

Obi-Wan looked beyond relieved, and accepted them with a shaking hand. He nodded once in gratitude and sunk further into the bed, face buried in the pillows. Cody arranged the covers over his body, hand lingering on Obi-Wan’s side for a fleeting second. 

“Commander, mind joining me outside?” Skull asked, turning toward Cody. The Commander wished he could say no, but nonetheless, he nodded.

He stepped into the hallway, Skull not far behind, and let the door slide shut behind him. For a moment they stood silently, and Skull stared at him expectantly with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Yes?” Cody asked, his own arms coming up to cross over his chest.

“He didn’t tell you about the migraines? Really?” Skull asked, almost like he couldn’t possibly believe that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the living picture of stubbornness, pride, and generalized difficulty, had kept something under wraps.

“No, he didn’t.” Cody said dryly.

“Well– I’ll spare you the details, but he has a long history with migraines, mostly related to Force-osik.” Skull stared at Cody with some unrecognizable look on his face, “I’m guessing this situation didn’t have anything to do with the Force, did it?” 

Ah. 

Cody knew what the little conversation was really about now; Skull knew he was hiding something. The broken glasses.

Skull’s gaze was too damn expectant and Cody wished he was a good liar. “No,” He said simply.

“The other possible causes of migraines are increased stress, lack of sleep, poor vision…” Skull was smart, smarter than Cody for sure, and far too observant for his own good. Kriff,

“His glasses broke earlier this week.” Cody said flatly, “But for some reason I think you already knew that?” 

Skull outright laughed, annoyingly, and slapped Cody on the shoulder, “The shattered glasses were sitting right by the bed, did you expect me not to notice?” 

Cody sighed, for the thousandth time since he met Skull, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. 

“I’m not going to ask how they broke when I had strict instructions for him to rest. You two are killing me, you know?” Skull snorted. He shook his head and adjusted his medkit in his arms. 

“Apologies, Skull, he figured he could make it a few days without.” Cody said.

“Classic Kenobi with his needless self-heroics. ” Skull mumbled, already heading down the hall, “I’ll get him an appointment on Coruscant for tomorrow. Until then, you two need to take it easy. I swear, if I have to see one of you shirtless or in pain in the next week I will strongly consider changing my field of specialty. Get back to your boyfriend.”

Cody nearly saw red, “He is not–” He almost started to protest.

“Oh, husband then?” Skull called down the hall.

Fuck it all.

[morgan-the-lonely-brick]

I'm so torn between two ideas of what I want my fantasy world to be and I want them both so badly but there can only be one and KAJKSFHDYACAAKSDNFJK

[cultven]

hii i love reading yor fics sososo much T_T<333

I'd like to request a fic where Logan dreams that he hurts the reader, almost killing them. The reader notices that he's having a nightmare and wakes him up, he's disoriented and in panic, but when he realized what just happened he is incredibly relieved to see that reader is ok and alive. Maybe he even breaks down and cries, which really shocks the reader cuz they arent used to seeing Logan like this 🥺 Then the reader comforts him and takes care of him until he's back asleep.

As It Should Be

Wolverine X Reader

Content: Comfort, crying, poor Logan cannot catch a break, but you're there to dig him out of his sadness hole, he loves you a lot, lots of fluff while comforting him

Word Count: 1.39k

Warnings: Some graphic violence during the nightmare segment

a/n: Thank you for the kind words! This one honestly got a little graphic in terms of gore, but nothing too bad, so hopefully that’s ok! This was fun to write, enjoy!

No. What had he done? 

Logan stood in a pile of debris and rubble, his white tank top and jeans now caked in blood that wasn’t his. Claws refusing to retract, Logan felt utterly hopeless against his own body. His actions weren’t his own as he trudged towards the only person left alive; you. You were scared, that much was clear by your facial expression and hasty movements to crawl backward away from the mutant. 

“Logan… this isn’t you, please.” You plead, eyes darting around the scene to find help, anyone that is still alive or conscious. All you could take in was the decimated mansion and the mauled corpses of your loved ones. What had taken over Logan? Why did he destroy the very things he risked his life for countless times? 

As Logan looked into your frightened eyes his heart clenched, knowing what was coming next. He just wishes he could stop it. Watching himself tear through his other family hurt like hell, but having to watch you die he didn’t think he could bear it. You were his entire world, the only thing that could ground him when he fell down the pits of self-destruction. He would forever kill himself before harming you. But this version of himself had other plans. 

He trudged over, claws glistening in the light of fire around them. “No, no no no…” You chant, still trying to escape the man but your legs are rendered useless due to your paralyzing fear. With one swift movement, Logan begins to tear through flesh and muscle, watching in horror as his hands mutilate his love against his will. You could do nothing but lay there, screaming in pain, your mutant ability keeping you alive for longer than you wanted to be. Logan wished he was the one being gutted. In a way, he was. Anyone else, anyone but you deserved his wrath. 

Tears clung tightly to his eyes as his hand retracted from your body, lining up for the final shot to the head. As the blade commences its soar towards your skull, Logan jolts up from a lying position and hastily takes in his surroundings. It was dark, he was under a blanket of sorts, and oh, he was in your bedroom. Had it only been a nightmare? No, it was far too cruel and realistic to have been. Even Logan’s mind wasn’t so callous to make him live through such a horror. So then, it must have been real? Logan begins to hyperventilate, raising his hands to eye level. His claws were away, and his rough skin was clean of blood. But, as he blinked, grotesque images flashed through his mind. Sick crimson blood, your blood, begins to stain his hands, drying in a disgusting reddish-brown. He immediately jumped out of bed, went into the ensuite bathroom, and scrubbed his hands raw. 

“No, no no no.” He chanted under his breath as he tried to scrape off the non-existent material. The cold water was not enough to ground him back to reality, Logan eventually gave up and put him back to the skin, sliding down towards the floor to cradle his head in his hands. Thanks to the sound of the water running in the bathroom and Logan’s hard footsteps, you eventually stir awake. At first, nothing seemed wrong, maybe he just had to use the bathroom. But after the sound of continuous water for five minutes you grew increasingly concerned. Deciding to confront the man you carefully walk up to the bathroom door and gently knock three times, not to startle him during whatever he’s doing. 

“Lo?” It was only one syllable, but your sweet voice saying his nickname out loud was enough to send Logan scrambling. The door eagerly burst open, and when it did the sight you were met with shocked your heart. There was Logan on the ground, clearly disheveled, eyes bloodshot and teary. “Oh baby, what happened?” You coo, going to take a step forward but immediately retreating seeing Logan flinch. 

“You’re- you’re real, right?” Logan tentatively asks, sounding scared. Of course, you were real, why wouldn’t you be?” 

“Yes, love.” You stay put in your place. You didn’t want to upset him further.

“No… I ripped you apart. You died by my hands.” You resist the urge to outwardly exclaim how ridiculous he sounded before realizing he more than likely had a nightmare. Logan was prone to bad dreams, but none ever shook him quite as much as this. The only good thing that came out of the consistent night terrors was that you now knew how to soothe him in times like these. 

“I’m right here my love. I’m not hurt. See? I’m perfectly okay.” Your voice stays calm and soothing, not wanting to startle him further. “Touch my hand. Feel my skin. I am right here.” Usually, the sensation of touch grounded him from this distressed state, but this time he seemed hesitant to even look in your direction. 

“I can’t. I might hurt you again.” Logan looked so small and it broke you. He was huddled into himself, still looking at you untrusting. The thought of himself harming you any further plagued his mind, twisting his stomach and making him want to vomit. You were his world, his everything. He curses his body for the immortality that was bestowed upon him because if anything happens to you he wants to follow right behind. 

Realizing you may seem intimidating due to the fact you’re standing tall over his curled-up body you lower yourself and sit criss-cross applesauce across from him. Putting your hand out in between your two bodies you silently sit there, waiting for Logan to take this at his own pace. After a few minutes, Logan seems calm enough to touch your hand. Fingertips only brush at first, then a loose handhold, then a firm grasp on each other. Before either of you knew it you were fully embracing, Logan nuzzling his head into your neck. He needed to take you in every sense, to prove this was real. His nose took in your intoxicating perfume, his hands gripped your curves, his ears heard your soft breaths release from your mouth, and when he pulled back his eyes took in the sight of you. You were as stunning as always even with your messy hair and tired eyes. You were real, you were here, and you were his. 

Seeing as your boyfriend has calmed down you decided to relocate to a more comfortable area. “Let’s get off this gross floor, okay love? Let’s go to bed.” You whisper, carefully tugging him along to your shared bed. Once you two got settled down you were instantly back in his strong arms, protecting you from the rest of the world. You thought all was said and done for the night until Logan spoke up. 

“You were so scared. I made you scared.” He hated seeing you that way. It hurt him. What hurt worse was that he was the cause of it. He now understands it wasn’t real, but your expression was so gut-wrenching he couldn’t shake it off. 

“Logan I know you would never hurt me on purpose.” You reassured him. “Except maybe when you squeeze me to death with your bear hugs.” Logan chuckled a little bit, your humor always lightens the mood. You lay in silence for a bit, almost dozing off until you hear a voice next to you. 

“Thank you for dealing with me.” You smile, leaning over and kissing the man gingerly on the cheek. 

“It’s what I signed up for my love. Besides, you could never be a bother to me.” He smiles back, a rare sight to anyone but yourself. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too.” With that resignation you two cuddle, arms and legs entangled with one another’s. Eventually, Logan is lulled back to sleep while listening to the steady beat of your heart. Instead of another nightmare, he is met with a blissful dream of the two of you living together on a mountain, away from all the violence and harm the world holds. Just as it should be. 

[saturnsorbits]

Thirst Trap: Caught Desperate

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Smut, Prone Bone, Spanking, Pictures - Consensual. Word Count: 4k.

Summary: Read the Intro -> Here.

A/N: Idek what the fuck this is. I've genuinely forgotten how to write - smut especially apparently.

-> Part of the 'Thirst Trap' Collab.

Make sure to check out the other incredibly talented authors through the link above and don’t forget to leave a nice comment and reblog if you liked their work!

The first thing he feels is panic.

His phone won't stop. It vibrates against his palm, stirring up a numbness that radiates through his callouses as the screen flickers. The near constant updates create a blur he can't follow, the dull flashes summoning a sharp edge to the headache that has already started to press at the sides of his skull.

Fuck. He sighs, digs a knuckle into the corner of his eye and brackets his hand across his forehead. His PR team might actually murder him for this one.

Prodding at his screen, he manages to slow the endless roll of his feed. The replies are positive, mostly. His fanbase isn't exactly small and, according to the last PR meeting he was forced to attend, they were also predominately women. Although, looking at his phone now, he'd say the divide was probably about 50:50.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he scrolls...

The first few replies he sees are simple enough: suggestive emoji's, notes of amusement, the odd heckle about the size of his cock. Then, there are the more fun ones: the ones calling him a slut, asking to give him more than just head or being up front with their solicitations.

Huffing out a breath, he unfurls, spreading out on the bed and stretching an arm up behind his head. His pants are still unbuckled and pulled to the broadest point of his hips, a casualty of his drunken state. Underneath, his cock presses against the denim – twitching with every mention of the things his fans plead to do to him.

He shouldn't.

He knows its wrong.

Knows that he shouldn't indulge himself.

He shouldn't be thinking about fucking his fist to the thought of an anonymous stranger drooling down his balls, his cock bulging from their cheek, holes stretched out around him as he rolls his hips searching for the thing inside of them that'll make them scream.

His hand cups his pec, broad palm circling gently until he can catch his nipple with each slow pass. It's surprising how quickly his cock catches on. He can feel it leaking, soaking through patches of his underwear as it begs to be released. Letting his hand slip down his body, he feels the tension shake in his abdomen. He's wound tight, muscles shivering even under his own touch as he sinks his hand into his jeans and finally, squeezes his cotton-clothed cock.

He should stop.

Fuck, he should just delete the tweet and get a glass of water.

… And maybe a cold shower.

Licking over his teeth, he's reluctant when he slips his hand back out of his jeans and slams it, somewhat sticky, against his sheets. His cock protests, throbbing with the new lack of friction after being granted so little. It makes it hard to focus, the rolling pit in his stomach, the pulsing of his body – even without his alcohol impairing his judgement, his desire pleads a strong case for him to simply submit.

Bakugo swallows and moves to swipe away from the possibly career-changing tweet on his screen, but the feed is faster than he is.

It isn't the message that catches his eye, not at first anyway. No. It's the username. Your username.

He clenches his jaw.

Immediately, you fill his senses. It had barely been a few hours since you'd had your arms wrapped around his neck, your bodies pressed together as you swayed on the dance floor. If he tried, he swears he'd still be able to feel the soft skin of your thigh grazing against his fingertips as his hand had found its way under the edge of your dress. Your perfume had been intoxicating. A subtle mix of vanilla bean, sandalwood and your sweat had drifted from your collarbones and infested his senses, luring him right to the edge of what he'd known would get him into a whole heap of shit.

That was before he'd made that fucking post, of course.

Now, he was starting to wonder if taking you home would have been the right move all along.

His promises be damned.

Chewing at his lip, he lifts his thumb, revealing the message attached to your name. 'Thought you said you weren't that desperate, huh.' His stomach lurches.

The memories come quick then, fighting through the fog of too many whiskey's and regret.

He'd meant it as a joke, he really had, something to give him some pace, to make you think twice, think of the consequences – but he's never been good at managing his tone and at almost midnight even his belligerence had felt semi-formal. You'd been too close, too pretty, with the promise of a night he wouldn't be able to forget laced between your teeth and he'd... Well, he'd done what he does best.

He'd pushed you away.

Your eyes shine in the dull lights outside of the club, the yellowing tinge spilling from the surrounding lamps doing nothing to diminish how stunning you look. The alcohol has blown out your eyes, swallowing your iris' almost whole – although, he'd like to think he had a hand in how truly taken you look right now. His hand is on your waist, equal amounts keeping you close and at bay as you bat your eyelashes prettily at him and pout.

'C'mon...' You press close, hand searching the expanse of his chest. His heart thunders underneath, picking up whenever you near his pecs, so you slip a had over his shoulder and use his height to ease yourself up onto your tip-toes. 'You've practically had your hand up my skirt all night, what's stopping you now?' You chuckle, clicking your tongue against your back teeth.

Bakugo's snarl twists his features before he can stop it. He can feel the barb, feel the world curl on the back of his tongue before he can do anything to stop it. It tumbles from his mouth, but even despite his attempt to spit it out softly – hoping it won't hurt too much, your nose wrinkles.

'You really think I'm that desperate?'

It's like you've been slapped.

Your hands tense on his shoulders, feet falling back flat to the floor. Part of you knows he's just trying to get a rise out of you, but you're beyond sick of the back and forth. It's been months of this, of you getting close enough to taste him only for him to retreat at the last moment, usually with a snarled comment he doesn't mean, or some silly excuse to protect that softly-beating heart everyone swears he doesn't have. Sighing, you step back – the tap of your heels like gunshots on the pavement as you raise your bag from the crook of your arm and back onto your shoulder. 'Obviously not.'

Your distance reads like rejection, burns a hole in his pride and makes him prickle. He shakes his head and slips his phone from his pocket intent on ordering his own taxi, despite the fact he can barely make out the squiggles he hopes are words. 'Fuckin' knew I shouldn't have let Red bring you-.'

After that the memories grow hazy.

He remembers how you'd somehow smoothed over the hiccup in the conversation, laughing it off in all probability, but even then, you'd never quite come as close to him as before. He remembers your laugh. Remembers how the melody of it had ricocheted around his brain in the taxi ride home. He remembers missing your warmth. He remembers the flash of guilt, his half-hard cock and drunken brain at war. He remembers his phone, the screen a pale blue, glowing. He remembers, he remembers his thumb hovering over your name.

He remembers chickening out...

Fuck.

Evidently, he hadn't chickened out hard enough.

Clicking onto your page, he checks your replies to make sure he hasn't hallucinated your response, but before he can even begin to obsess over it – his phone pings in his hand.

It's a message. A real one. Not something filtered in through his socials. With shaking hands, he opens it and pauses.

He has your number saved under your first name.

Just your first name.

Not 'Sidekick''. Not your full title. Or what department you work in. You don't even have a stupid moniker. For fucks sake, he's called Kirishima 'Shitty Hair' in every single phone he's had since high school, and Todoroki has remained solely Todoroki – even despite the fact, both him and his father share the title.

He doesn't dwell on the reasoning.

Instead, he opens the message and is immediately confronted with a screenshot of his tweet. He cringes. Your reply is underneath it, racking up too many likes for his taste, and underneath that is your text.

You: 'You really are fucking desperate, aren't you?'

He waits, palms sweating, watching as three little dot appear and disappear and then, reappear again.

You: 'Can't even reply to me?'

You: 'You could at least turn your read receipts off. I can see you reading the messages.'

You: 'For fucks sake, Bakugo?'

His pulse quickens, thrumming strong and rhythmic under his skin as if to remind him what it is to be near you. The joints in his fingers have frozen, despite the energy rushing through his body demanding movement. Through the haze of his vision he sees you typing again.

You: 'Can we stop doing this now?'

Yes. Bakugo thinks. God, yes. The room spins as he cranes his neck down at his phone, eyes unfocused... His heart and cock war on, but now, the alcohol makes it far too easy for the tide to sway. Flexing his thumbs, he taps back a message before he can think better of it, before the noise of his life and expectation and the world outside can eat away at him again.

Bakugo: 'Please.'

Your reply takes a second this time, forcing the air in his lungs to crystallize; but before he can drum up too many doubts, there's your name again lighting up his screen.

You: Is that the great Dynamight saying please?

Bakugo: Fuck off.

You: Fuck off, or fuck you?

Bakugo's cock twitches in his jeans. He's so hard it's almost painful now, causing an ache to spread up the deep lines of his hips and radiating through his pelvis. Reaching down, he palms at himself again feeling the heft of his desire in his palm. He types back, one handed, the other already occupied.

Bakugo: Don't play with me. You know he'll kill the both of us.

You: I never did get to give you your birthday present.

Furrowing his brow, Bakugo is taps out a series of question marks – unimpressed with the idea of birthday cake when he had come to expect something a whole lot different, but before the thought can fully depress him – another message comes through.

It's a screenshot. The one this entire conversation began with – his own message glowing from his screen. Except this time, underneath is a message that makes his breath catch in a whole new way.

You: 'This offer for everyone, or just everyone who isn't me?'

Bakugo: You.

Bakugo: It was just for you.

Bakugo stills, his breath jammed in the back of his throat as his brain catches up with his fingers.

Fuck.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He should of just had a wank to all of the filth being sent from his fans. Even that would get him in less trouble than this. Part of him wants to back out, wants to claim a hack or come up with some other equally unbelievable and shitty lie so he can turn tail and run, but there's no way back now. He knows that much. His cock is hard and heavy between his thighs, his drunken mind too far from sober for him to see reason.

He types back.

You don't bother changing. You'd dressed to impress after all. Instead, you snatch a condom from your brothers stash tuck it into your bra and order a taxi, checking the address Bakugo had sent you three times before finally confirming the ride.

The journey is short and sweet, filled with anticipation and the soft jazz that trickles through the radio of the car. You've been waiting for this, grown tired of the will they won't they that had lead to this moment, but now it's here, you find yourself: nervous.

The car mounts the curb, almost sending you sprawling, then a tenner and a lift ride later, you're at his door.

He opens it before you knock looking a little more together, but still drunk. You can feel it too, the alcohol still flooding your system and making everything just a little easier. Still, nothing is as easy as coming together. You mouth drops open, an unspoken question lingering on your tongue and then, Bakugo is on you.

'C'mere.' Using one hand, he hooks it around your waist and tugs at you to him. Your bodies collide, palms coming up to rest against his chest as you peer up at him. He doesn't know how he's resisted you for so long, how he's kept true and stopped this. After all, looking at you now cradled in his arms, it is obvious this was nothing, but inevitable.

Your lips come together easily. The kiss is harsh, full of pent up tension and a longing that has broken you both. He nips at your bottom lip before you flick your tongue against his teeth, tasting him properly as he lets you in.

'Holy shit.' Panting, you claw at him – your hands are everywhere: at his buttons, his chest, wrapped in the chain circling his neck. He pays you back in kind grabbing at your hips, taking handfuls of you with an eagerness that radiates through his entire body.

With an unceremonious grunt, he bends at the knees, slipping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up against his waist. He pulls back a slither, blinking at you, his shoulders straining at he takes your entire weight with ease and presses you into the wall of his hallway. A wicked grin takes his lips as you squeak, arms and legs wrapping around him to cling on. 'Hang on.'

He kisses you again then, pressed to the wall, but before you can catch you're breath he's off. You make a stop at a small counter where he presses his clothed cock to your cunt, letting you feel just what you're getting yourself into and again at the wall outside of his bedroom. There he almost leaves your neck raw, biting and sucking, but never enough to leave too much of a mark.

You stumble into his bedroom still cradled in Bakugo's arms. There's sure to be bruises on your elbows, a symptom of attempting to peel him from his shirt while he careened through the doorway, but as your back hitting the bed and Bakugo hovering over you, you find it hard to care. Reaching into your bra, you slip out the condom with two fingers and present it to him by waving it under his nose.

Taking it with his teeth, he grins as you let out a sigh that settles in his bones. Beneath him, you look insatiable. Your eyes have blown out, the black of your iris' banishing whatever colour had once been there. The dress he'd been so anxious to get under all night is rumpled, the slit cast aside exposing the thickness of your thighs and a slither of cunt covered by a pair of soft-looking red lace. The bodice is low, the heaving of your chest apparent – your tits held high, pressed together and begging for his hands. Slipping a hand up your thigh, he brushes his fingers across the flesh and earns himself the most pretty of moans.

'I knew you'd break.' Lifting your leg, you kick out at him softly – the ball of your heel connecting with his shoulder. You perch on your elbows, eyes swollen, the pulse of your cunt matching the beating of your heart. It's been rough until now, a clash of teeth and nails, but its hard not to notice the bare desire you see splayed out in his eyes. It's mixed with carmine, a colour that barely covers what, if nurtured, could become love. 'Knew I'd have you.'

He grabs your ankle and pulls on reflex, yanking you down the bed. 'Did you?' Under his skin he feels feral. Something that's only made worse when you lick your lips and nod.

His restraint snaps. Grabbing at your hips, he kneads the fat there before flipping you over. You bounce, a scream escaping your throat, but he quickly transforms the sound into a moan with a harsh slap against your ass.

'Thought you wanted head?' You laugh, feeling your skin prickle under him. There's a rustle behind you, the tell tale sound of him shucking down his jeans and then, his fingers are pulling your underwear away from your cunt and exposing you to the air.

'You always this much of a brat?'

You wriggle and lift up your hips. 'You always this hard for me? Oh wait...' You chuckle. 'You are.'

A growl rumbles in his throat, but it's not anger he's feeling. Taking his cock in his hand, he gives himself a cursory pass – the stickiness of his own pre cum making it easy. His head rocks back on his shoulders. With a bottle of whiskey still coursing through his vein's he's more than sensitive, the simple passes of his hand having him ready to blow – God only knows what the feel of your cunt will do to him.

'C'mon... Fuck me, forget the condom – just -.' Reaching behind you, you attempt to grab at him – to pull him close, get him to touch, to taste.

Chuckling to himself, he bats your hand away easily. 'Nah-ah-ah. Don't think you deserve me raw, sweetheart. Only good girls get that.' He squeezes the base of his cock, stopping a premature end as he tears through the tinfoil of the condom and slips it on.

You go to whine, to kick your feet and protest him not giving into you, but you're not even given the chance.

The first thing you feel is impossibly full. The next is overwhelming pleasure. Bakugo hadn't wasted time prepping you and to be honest, you hadn't needed it. You're soaking, cunt dribbling greedily onto his mattress – like you haven't been waiting forever for this moment. You arc your back, one hand fisting his bed sheets as the other curls around the wrist he plants beside your head. The pace he's set is brutal, each thrust pushing deeper inside of you, taking you as he pleases as you cling on and submit to it.

'Where's the cheek now, huh?' He pants. Honestly, he's surprised he's not cum already. Your cunt milks him, squeezing him so deliciously that he doesn't think he'll ever find anyone better.

Then again, he know what they say about forbidden fruit.

''m sorry.' You moan, back curling as he fucks you harder. It's pathetic how he's barely given you anything and yet, you're already creaming around him. Your body begs for release, teetering you on the precipice of ecstasy as he uses you relentlessly.

'No your not...' Bakugo chokes out, teeth bared as he clings to the last threads of his control. Your tight now, too tight to not be close and if the way you're moaning and almost drooling onto his bed is anything to go by – he's not wrong. Leaning over you, he licks a thick stripe up between your shoulder blades before resting his lips by your ear. When he speaks is a growl, a command that comes from deep within his chest. 'Touch yourself... C'mon, show me how pretty you cum.'

You don't need telling twice. Forcing your arm beneath you, you draw quick, awkward circles on your clit and have to remind yourself to breathe. Your orgasm hits you like a train. Every muscle in your body tenses, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the high continues to roll through your body. It feels like a millennia until you come back again, until your limbs begin to feel under your own control and you become aware of Bakugo still frantically prolonging your high.

'Shit, shit, shit...' Pulling out, he ignores your protests before quickly rolling off the condom. It takes a singular pass of his fist before he cums, a grunt thrown from his chest as he releases himself over your ass. His mess is sticky, a pearlescent sheen that drips between your cheeks and onto your raw cunt – your clit still twitching.

In a moment of madness, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the scene. In it, only the edge of your dress can be seen, coupled with the most distant droplets of his spend as it decorates the skin of your thighs.

'Post it.' Craning over your shoulder, you hiss at the new soreness in your limbs as you roll onto your back. You tilt your head, signature mischief returning to your cheeks. 'Got to let those fan girls know you've already being taken care of...' You flash a smile. 'And I'd really hate to see your DM's right now.'

Against his better judgement, he tosses you his phone. 'Knock yourself out.'

It's almost six in the morning when you finally settle for bed. You'd gone another three rounds. Once in shower, over the vanity in the hallway and then, again in his bed and each time had seen both of you aching and sore and more than pleased with yourselves. You'd posted the picture and Bakugo's phone hadn't been quiet since – not that you minded. It wasn't like anyone could really tell what it was. The lighting was awful, the image blurred and you'd cropped it so there was no chance of anyone figuring out who you were.

Still, the idea of it stirs up something hot and heavy in your stomach.

You'd laid your claim now.

'I will never know how you're such a demon when you're brother's a God damn golden boy.' Bakugo's breathing has just about leveled out, you hand rising and falling in a more subtle rhythm where it lays on the center of his chest.

You wrinkle your nose. 'Can we not talk about my brother while I can still feel your cum dripping down my ass, please.'

Bakugo chufs, but relents. His thumb rubs soft circles in the skin of your shoulder, a gentle beckoning to sleep as both of you watch the sun rise and fill his bedroom window with a brilliant orange. 'Stay?' He kisses your forehead. 'I'll make you breakfast.'

Nuzzling into him, you're about to agree – mind already reeling at the possibilities of Bakugo's cooking and another round at a more respectable hour – but, all thoughts cease when Bakugo's phone pings with a message.

'If this is my fucking publicist you can explain yourself.' Bakugo tuts, but there's still a warmth in his smile that betrays his annoyance.

You giggle. 'Happy to.'

Flipping over his phone in his hand, Bakugo's mouth drops open when the screen glows to light his face.

There's only one message on the screen.

And it isn't from his publicist.

Shitty Hair: 'Really dude, my fucking sister?'

[the-upside-down-umbrella]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Part 3

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

(Booth Five)

Summary: After finding out about the seven years Lila and Five spent together, reader walks in to a diner in between all time and space and finds exactly what she didn’t know she was looking for

Warnings: Some cursing, angst

A/N: They’re may be some major grammar errors because I’ve had a massive migraine for several days now but I wanted to get it out as soon as possible ❤️ I hope it’s up to expectations. I had so much fun writing it. This is the last part and then there will be a short epilogue!

Also, Five is still very much alive and dealing with the consequences of his choices. Everything else is left up to interpretation

————

“Come on, there’s someone you need to meet,” Y/N said, holding her hand out for Five to take, “Blink us to the subway.”

“Y/N, what are you-“

“My God, Five, for once in your life would you just do as your told,” she snapped, frustration bleeding from every word, “Blink us to the subway!”

He looked taken aback for a moment before he finally relented, taking her hand and blinking them to the terminal.

She immediately started in the direction she knew the Deli would be in. Five followed her, more than a little confused by her behavior.

He trailed behind her down the stairs but stepped back in surprise when the marquis lights of the deli came in to view.

His steps faltered and he knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, “Max?”

“Max,” she confirmed, “You are, in fact, seeing your name. Come on.”

He followed behind her cautiously but she did not hesitate to open the door of the deli, stepping in like she was a frequent patron of this place in the middle of all of time.

Five instinctively put a hand on the small of her back, ready to protect her if necessary but she inched away from him. She acted like his touch was the equivalent to an white-hot, iron poker. She was also incredibly too comfortable in this new environment.

And he realized why as soon as he was over the threshold. It was like looking in to a shattered mirror. He saw himself all around the room, in various positions as both patron and employees of Max’s deli.

A Five in the middle of the room stood up as soon as he noticed them, a look of sheer surprise on his face. Y/N strolled forward without hesitation and met him half-way. This Five, this him, held out his arms towards her and she fell in to them, welcoming his embrace. All the while his eyes glared over her head, straight in to Five’s skull. If looks could kill.

“What are you doing here?”

“We need your help.” She explained, “Things are going south topside and I figured when it comes to apocalypses, the more Fives, the merrier.”

“I’m sorry, does someone want to explain to me what the actual fuck is going on?” Five interrupted them.

Booth Five bared his teeth, “What’s going on, asshole, is that you left her down here on her own after you fucked-.”

“Hey, no!” Y/N put a hand on his chest to urge him to stop talking, “Come sit down, Five, and we’ll explain.”

She gestured to Booth’s usual table.

“You’re giving him far too much Grace, darling,” Booth growled in her ear as she slid in to the seat beside him, completely ignoring her Five’s pleading eyes as he realized that she was not going to take take the place next to him.

Y/N placed a gentle hand on Booth’s thigh under the table, giving it a soft squeeze in attempt to keep him calm. She didn’t need them going after each other before she even got the first word out.

Booth took that as his cue to move closer to her, closing the small space between them, purposely brushing his thigh against hers. She ignored him, but couldn’t help the goose-bumps that erupted across her skin at his close proximity. It was crazy what reactions he could bring out of her, even with her timeline’s version of him sitting across from them.

Five eyed them, his mouth set in to a hard line like he was trying, with great difficulty, not to say something.

“Explain,” he demanded, “What is going on, Y/N?”

“It’s a waypoint,” she told him, “they’re all you from different timelines.”

Five looked around the deli, taking in all of the different versions of himself. Most of them were lounging, enjoying lunch or a newspaper, while others seemed fresh out of whatever hell their timeline had to offer. A version of him was obviously very drunk, attempting to drown his sorrows in a bottle of something hard.

“How did you even know about this place?”

“I found it when you brought me down here after…everything.” She recalled, “Or more like it found me.”

Waiter Five stopped at the table, sitting two black coffees, two pastrami sandwiches and a cup of tea in front of them.

She smiled up at him, “Could you please tell the kitchen that they’re going to burn the brisket this afternoon and that they should be extra vigilant about it.”

Waiter Five seemed unperturbed by her prophecy, as if he had witnessed them a thousand times. Which she realized, he probably had. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Thanks for the heads up.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re not going to like that,” Booth said as Five reached for his cup, pulling a pastrami sandwich towards himself simultaneously.

“Can we stay on track, boys?” Y/N chastised, “We have a lot to figure out.”

Booth launched in to his explanation about how there was never supposed to be multiple timelines. And how their existence was the very problem they’d been trying to solve this entire time.

“When you look ahead, what do you see, Y/N?” Five questioned her.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the various clattering and background noises of the deli, but try as she might she was met with nothing but a solid, unyielding, darkness. She expected it to feel cold or maybe lonely, but it didn’t feel like anything at all. There was nothing there.

“I don’t feel anything,” she concluded, opening her eyes to find two identical, worried faces watching her closely. “I can’t see anything. Usually I can at least gather little glimpses of things I can piece together but it’s dark.”

“If that’s what you’re seeing, then that means my plan will work.”

————

Five bolted out of the deli so swiftly, she didn’t have time for a proper goodbye with Booth.

She was thinking about going back when Five grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks, “What the hell was all of that back there? Is there something going on between you and…me? Him?”

She pulled herself out of his grip, “And why would you care if there was, Five?”

“Because I love you,” his voice cracked, “You know I love you.”

“You didn’t love me enough to not fuck Lila,” her voice wobbled, but she wouldn’t cry. Not over this. Not anymore. “You didn’t love me enough to not fall in love with her too.”

“It was seven years, Y/N. We…we didn’t think we were going to find a way home. We were alone. We were tired. You have to understand that.”

“No, I really don’t,” the anger in her chest flared up once again, red hot and burning, “You spent forty years alone, looking for a way back to your family, and you did everything you could to do so. But you’re telling me that this time you gave up after just seven? I know you, Five, and I know that deep down you always knew that you’d find a way. But you got comfortable with her and you just stopped trying.”

“What’s worse is that I could understand if it were just the three of us mixed up in this mess, but it’s not! Lila is MARRIED! Lila is a MOTHER! Lila is married to your brother and the mother to your nieces and nephew. You drove their marriage apart. You knew you would be breaking up a family and that still didn’t stop you. You weren’t alone anymore, Five. I was there. I’ve been there. I’ve always been there when you needed me and that still wasn’t enough. You aren’t this sad little boy lost alone in the apocalypse anymore. You’re a full-grown, adult man and it’s time that you own up to your mistakes. And this is a big one.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’ll never be able to fix this?” He asked, “You’re never going to forgive me? You won’t even try?”

“How could I, Five?” She took a deep breath, steadying herself, “How could I when all I can see when I think about you, is her? You kissing her. You fucking her. You loving her. And that’ll always be there. It might dull over time but it will always be there playing in the back of my mind. So, no, we can’t fix this and I don’t want to. I won’t put myself through it just to come out the other side burned again. I respect myself too much.”

“And him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“He’s literally me. It’s very much my business.” Five was trying to sound casual, but she could tell that her words were eating at him. That it stung more than he would ever let on.

“But he’s not you, not really,” she said pointedly, “And he loves me, Five. In a way I’m not sure you ever did. Why else would we spend all of these years together and never actually move forward with our relationship? But none of that matters anyways. If we do this correctly, we’ll be gone and so will every other timeline. We’ll all cease to exist. And maybe that’s for the best.”

They stared at each other for a moment, a silent standoff.

“I do love you, you know,” Five’s voice was barely above a whisper, but his tone shattered her heart all over again, “But I never felt like I deserved you and I’m so sorry that it took me this long to realize that you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to me.”

“I’m sorry that it took you that long, too,” she said, “And I’m sorry that things have to end this way, but they are ending. In more ways than one. And we have to face it whether we’re ready for it or not.”

————

They did it. Not only had they restored things the way they should be, but they had managed to save themselves in the process.

They had lost their powers again, for good this time, but she didn’t care. If she was being truly honest with herself, she never wanted them back anyways. It was nice to look forward to the future without tiny glimpses of what was to come. Glimpses that usually set her on edge and kept her from truly living in the present.

She and Five had gone their separate ways. It was better that way. They both moved out of their shared apartment and she moved in with Allison, Claire and Klaus for a while until she found her footing again. Eventually that footing came in the form of a steady job downtown and a small studio apartment she could call her own.

As for Lila and Diego, they were continuing to try to make things work for their family. Lila had personally come to her and apologized once the dust settled. She told her that she and Diego were now attending couples counseling and were trying to move past things.

As much as she should hate Lila, she couldn’t. They would get along for Diego’s sake. Things were never going to be the way they were before, but they didn’t need to be.

Despite her newfound contentment, she thought about Booth Five often. It saddened her to know that it was likely that he no longer even existed somewhere out there.

She thought about how every Five in that deli had fought so hard to make things right but none of them had even come close to an iota, a fraction, of the happiness that they deserved.

———

It was a rainy Sunday morning and she was spending it curled up on her couch with trashy, mindless TV and a cup of tea.

She was just contemplating the idea of a nap when a soft, hesitant knock sounded at her door.

“Hold on!” She called, pausing the tv and wrapping the blanket around herself to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra and her pajamas had seen much better days. She hadn’t been expecting company.

She looked through the peep hole, her heart dropping a bit at who she found on the other side.

Five stood there, his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, as he waited for her to open the door. She hadn’t seen him since an impromptu family brunch over a month ago. He typically made himself scarce when she was around. Not that she blamed him.

She did a small round of the breathing exercises her therapist taught her before undoing the chain and padlock.

She had barely cracked the door open when she realized that something was just slightly off about her visitor. His eyes found hers and her breath caught in her chest. Those green eyes, as familiar to her as her own, did not belong to the Five she had expected to see.

“Booth?” She gasped, her head spinning.

He looked utterly perplexed by her nickname for him, but a grin spread across his face anyways, “You call me Booth?”

“How?” She squeaked, throwing the door open, “It is you, right?”

“It’s me,” he confirmed, “God, I’ve missed you.”

She threw herself at him, blanket forgotten, and he caught her with a surprised grunt, steadying her on her feet as she peppered his face with kisses. Wherever she could reach, she planted her lips there.

“How?” She breathlessly questioned him between kisses, “How are you here?”

“It’s a long story,” he told her, unwilling to let her go now that he finally had her in his arms, “One I promise I’ll tell you later, but right now, please don’t stop kissing me.”

She complied, stepping back just long enough to yank him in to her apartment by his collar, slamming the door behind them.

As soon as he heard the latch click, his hands were on her, starving for affection. Y/N returned those affections tenfold, scaling him without reservation.

Caution be damned.

“You’re here,” she repeated over and over, still unable to wrap her mind around it.

“I’m here,” he reassured her, running his fingertips along her spine, taking in the feel of her, “And I’m not going anywhere, if you’ll have me.”

She pressed her lips to his in answer, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

“As if I would let you get away again.”

He chuckled against her lips before deepening the kiss, moving his hands to her waist. He dug his fingertips in there, oh so deliciously, and she melted against him. Everything with him had always felt so right, natural, from the moment he first held her in the deli.

Fated. Meant to be. Call it what you will, but she knew that being with him was worth all of the inherent risks that came with it.

They were lying in her bed, wrapped up in each other, as Booth drew lazy circles up and down her arm.

“You don’t mind me calling you Booth, do you? It was just easier to differentiate between the two of you in my head that way.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, “Sweetheart, you can call me whatever you want as long as you call me yours.”

Her cheeks warmed and she buried her face in his neck, taking in the scent that was uniquely him. Uniquely Booth.

“I love you,” she hummed.

“I love you too,” he tilted her chin up so that they were nose to nose, “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

Tag List:

@hydrationqueensworld

@mangoshorthand

@isabelcor3

@heyyitsreign

@mrfeenysmustache

[ineylesian]

need your hcs on girl dad ghost PLEASEEE 🙏🙏

girldad! ghost has my whole heart <33

GIRLDAD! GHOST who spends countless hours of his off days lounging on the couch with his baby girl sleeping on his chest <33 especially when you’re perched against the end he’s facing, his favorite girl’s nails gently carding through his hair as a movie plays in the background.

GIRLDAD! GHOST who is so incredibly protective over his girls, but knows his boundaries. You two are the most important things in the world to Simon, and he can’t help but fret you two being safe and happy at all times. This comes with constant nagging over little things, especially the boys your daughter sees. When he found out about his daughter’s first heartbreak, Simon bought her a bouquet of roses, all of her favorite snacks, and a small teddy bear holding a heart to its chest. For a solid week, he grumbled about how he knew that guy wouldn’t treat her right and how he better hope he never runs into him.

GIRLDAD! GHOST who shows up to every one of his daughter’s events he can make. He cleans up nicely, devoid of the mask as not to scare or unsettle anyone. Nothing makes his daughter more proud than seeing her dad in the stands of her games holding a handcrafted sign just for her <3. If she plays an instrument, Ghost will happily sit with her as she practices and tell her how well she plays <3. Any hobby she does brings him joy to no end, especially if she takes it up from her mother.

GIRLDAD! GHOST who probes every guy that enters his house. His handshake is firm, hardened gaze practically melting into the poor boy’s skull as he nervously introduces himself. Simon interrogates the boy all throughout dinner, his own little assessment to see if he approves or not. If he doesn’t pass, much to you and your daughter’s dismay, his daughter’s “boyfriend” won’t be making it past dinner and will be very passive aggressively shown the door.

GIRLDAD! GHOST who takes you and your daughter out in the woods to shoot a few times a month. As a soldier, Simon is skilled with weapons of all kinds and wants you both to know how to use them in an emergency. He needs reassurance that the two of you will be able to defend yourselves if he’s not around; knowing you’re not helpless lets him sleep at night when he’s not home.

GIRLDAD! GHOST who writes in individual letters home to you and your daughter while deployed. He makes sure to ask how his little girl is doing while he’s away, hopefully not having too much fun without him, while telling her how much he misses her. He’ll tell her about all of the sights he’s seen wherever he’s been in the world, asking her if she’d be interested in going someplace far when he gets home, a little family vacation maybe. In your letter, Simon makes sure to tell you how much he loves you, and how he can’t wait until he’s home so he can see both of his precious girls <3.

i love him so much :(((

NAVIGATION

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART FOUR.FIVE

Heeyyy babes!! Your constant support and outpouring of love it SOO amazing, I truly never expected anyone to even read my writing and having so many of you tell me how much you like it is beyond anything I could have hoped for.

I hope you enjoy the latest .5 chapter, which, as has become custom, is simply the fun sm*t stuff that we all enjoy. Today’s entry had some sub!/dom! Roles, on both sides ;) so I’m eager to see how everyone likes it, what they like more, etc!! Also thanks to @aloheem for suggesting trying out a tickling idea to see how Ken reacts to it.

AND thank you for sending in your requests!! I love reading what you enjoy consuming fan-fic wise and I hope I can bring your ideas to justice <3

Alright, without further ado, warnings and then let’s goooo.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / sub!Ken/dom!reader / dom!Ken/sub!reader / mild non-con (never fully non because the sub! Is enjoying themselves and makes that clear) / light choking / spanking / bondage / overstimulation / new sensations / tickling / praise k!nk / oral fem! & male! receiving / ball touching / edging

Ken lay underneath you, helpless as you straddled his hips but bent down, eyes staring into his the entire time. He gasped and his entire body clenched as you bit down into the area where his hip bone and groin meet and sucked hard. The headboard rattled loudly as he attempted to jerk his hands toward to free them, but they remained tightly bound above his head much to his frustration. His eyes, never leaving yours, pleaded as loudly as they could, as you had forbidden him from speaking for the time being, begging, BEGGING you to let him do *something,* anything other than lay there and suffer this insanely incredible torture that he still wasn’t quite sure how to take.

“Mmmmm, yes baby.”

Ken’s voice cut through the experience just enough for you to open your eyes, blinking, your body hot and horny and your head trying to navigate the fact that you had just been dreaming.

“You’re finally awake.” Ken was spooning you, arms and legs tangled with yours, his forehead pressed into the back of your skull. He leaned forward so his lips were perfectly caressing your ear, sending a slight tickle down you when he spoke. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for ages.”

Your eyes adjusted and you saw the clock. 4 a.m.

“Why would I be awake at 4, Ken?” But you already knew why. It had become almost routine at this point for Ken to somehow wake you during the night for your sexual escapades that hadn’t even begun to slow in their frequency.

“You were moaning in your sleep,” he snuggled closer to you. “I was hoping you’d wake so we could do whatever you were dreaming about in real life.” His lips captured your ear lobe and bit down just enough for another little spark to shoot down to your core. You giggled and tried to pull away but he held you close and started attacking your neck, which made you giggle more.

“Keeennn! Please,” you laughed, struggling.

“Mmmmm not until you tell me about your dream so I know what I need to do to you,” he chuckled.

You paused, thinking. Ken had become incredibly confident sexually in a very short period of time, but you wondered if having him submit to you would be something he would enjoy. You knew YOU would love it but you also worried perhaps he might take it the wrong way, or feel scared or…

“I’m waiting,” Ken reminded, breathing in your scent as he nuzzled into your neck again.

Well. You *were* incredibly horny right now, and honestly pissed off that Ken had woken you before your dream had reached completion. You decided you would try, and take it slow, and let him lead everything based on his comfort level.

You managed to turn yourself to face him, and he smiled so beautifully at you.

“Ken…I think I want to try something new tonight.”

His eyes lit up. Fair enough, he did always love learning new things whenever you would teach him.

“I need you to let go of me so I can show you.”

One of the only ways lately you *could* get Ken to let you out of his embraces was to bribe him with anything even mildly related to sex, and this was no different. He relaxed so you could move as you pleased, and you sat up and turned on the bedside light.

You looked serious and were working through how to start, since you hadn’t ever tried to be dominant in bed other than what you had done with Ken, and you wanted to work out how to make this hot for him without scaring him.

You reached your hand out and he took it, and you pulled him to the front of the bed until the two of you were both standing. You had on your tiny silk nightie that he loved to pull off of you, and of course he stood completely nude, tall and muscular and…ugh, those eyes, all smiling down at you so lovingly and just waiting.. oh fuck, okay fuck, focus.

“Ken,” you said quietly, your hand reaching out to rest on his lower abs. He took your free hand in his and kissed it, patiently waiting for you to explain.

“What I want to try tonight isn’t something we have really done before.”

He leaned his forehead into yours and hummed. “Okay?” He encouraged you to continue.

“Uhm…uh, what is a word you could automatically say, no matter what state your mind was in, to make someone stop what they were doing?”

He looked confused. “I would just say ‘Stop.’”

You stared at him, so innocent in his new confusion, and you smiled. I mean, you would definitely stop anything ever if he told you to. You raised up on tip toes to kiss him.

“Then ‘Stop’ it is.” You stepped back, watching him closely to gauge all of his reactions as you reached down and pulled your nightie off, now standing naked in front of him.

His eyes shone and he immediately reached forward to grab you, but you caught his wrists. He cocked his head.

“I…don’t understand -“

“Tonight,” you said, walking towards him with his wrists still in your grip, “you can *only* do as I say, when I say so.”

He frowned. “If you tell me to just go back to sleep, I’m not going to do it.”

You laughed. “No, so, there’s this type of, well, sexual play, where one partner kind of controls the other. Like if I tell you to do something you have to do it. Oh! But, ONLY if you actually want to. Which is why saying ‘stop’ is how I would know not to make you do it.”

“But why would you ask me to do something I wouldn’t want to do?” He ignored you holding his wrists and instead used it to his advantage, wrapping his arms around your waist and thus imprisoning your arms behind your back. “I can’t think of anything you would ask me to do to pleasure you that would make me say no.”

“What if what I asked didn’t *seem* like it would pleasure me, but it actually would?”

He remained silent, working to make this make sense to him.

“Like the first time you spanked me, you asked first, because you were worried it might hurt me? Kind of like that.”

His face softened. “Ohhh, okay. So you ask me to try things to you to see if they feel good?”

“Kinda?” You felt like this wasn’t going to work, but then the image of him struggling under your touch from the dream came back, and it snapped your mind back into place. Your voice became firm. “Ken, let go of me. Now.”

Surprised, he loosened his grip, not completely but enough to where you were able to pull free. “Keep your hands at your sides.”

He still wasn’t playing along 100%, and you knew a lot of it was that it still wasn’t making sense to him. You decided you’d just have to show him.

“From this point forward, if you tell me to stop, I will. But anything else you say or do, I will keep going.” You grazed your nails from his groin up to his hip bone, and he shuddered, immediately grabbing your waist.

“No, Ken.” Your voice startled him. “Hands at your sides.”

He looked helpless. “No, I …I don’t understand.”

“I want to pleasure you slowly without you doing anything to me for just a little while.” You made your voice sound all dreamy as your fingers danced across his lower abs, and he watched you, his breath becoming a little more shallow. “Part of the pleasure I am seeking is getting to fully immerse myself in *your* pleasure, and yours only, at least for a little while. Do you understand?”

Ken seemed to be in overthink mode, trying to figure out how to get a grip on what was happening. “Stop.”

You did immediately, taking your hand back from him, watching him closely. He looked almost….angry? No, not quite that, but -

“Give me ten minutes,” you interrupted his thought process. “If you still don’t like it by then, I will stop and not try again.”

Ken struggled with accepting this, like it made so little sense that he couldn’t see how accepting your terms would actually make you happy. You reached out and slowly wrapped a hand around his cock, which had been hard and straining ever since he first got off the bed.

“Do you want to make me happy, Ken?” You kind of hated how manipulative the words sounded, despite them only being for play, but still wanted to make sure he would enjoy playing along once he figured it out.

Your question seemed to throw him off guard. His blue eyes melted into yours, his body relaxing a little, less defensive now. He gulped. “I do.”

Your grip tightening on his cock now and he groaned, reaching for your wrist again but stopping himself this time, glancing at you. You smiled, small but sexy, and that seemed to do something to him. He pulled his hand back to his side and your other hand came up to caress his cheek.

“Good boy,” you purred. You LOVED the way his posture always changed a little when you praised him, his chest puffing out a tiny bit and his face looking just a bit proud. “You remembered to keep your hands to yourself. Now let me touch you for awhile.”

He nodded, watching you like a tiger watches its prey, as you started rubbing his cock while your other hand traced lazily up his abs with your nails, his shudders indicating how sensitive he was already just by being denied control. He giggled a little when your nails grazed over a certain area, and you tried to hold back a smile at how cute his reaction was. Instead, you looked up at him and touched the area again.

“It tickles.”

“Mmmhmm, it does, sweet Ken. Can you handle it? Can you deal with it for a little longer?” Ken’s fists clenched and unclenched in time with the way you were pumping him as you kept your nails on his abs. He was desperate to touch you, to force you down and fuck you until you were exhausted. His skin broke out in goosebumps when you took his nipple in your mouth and he moaned loudly. You took your hand off of his cock and he groaned irritably before all of your nails were dancing up and down his abs and groin, and he shuddered and unintentionally leaned into you a little. He was gasping, ohhh fuck, he had probably never experienced anything even close to overstimulation other than the first time he was having sex with you. And he was so fucking stunning trying to take it to make you happy. You bit his nippled and he cried out, his hands now balled into tight fists.

You stepped back. “Fuucckkk, what a perfect boy you are. You’re doing so well for me.”

His cock twitched and he let out a small whimper. He definitely was struggling with this, but as it seemed he wasn’t actually in pain or telling you to stop, you decided to keep playing to see where it went.

“You can lay down now, Ken.”

He stared at you, his head hung a little, his neck and shoulders tight. Fists clenched, cock throbbing. Panting, eyes boring into yours. Oh my god, you stared at him to make sure this image forever stayed in your mind.

“Now, Ken.”

He slowly obeyed, pulling himself backwards onto the bed and sitting at the top against the pillows.

All you could think of was how beautiful he was going to look tied up for you.

You pulled a pair of pantyhose out of your drawer and climbed onto the bed to him. The new item in your hands made him curious, but he was still focused on only one thing.

“Can I touch you now?”

“Not yet. But you’re so patient.”

“When can I?” How the fuck did his voice sound so broken over…

“Ken,” your voice was calmer, now talking to him in your normal tone. “I want to tie you up and fuck you.”

His eyes widened a bit, realizing the pantyhose you had been twisting into a long, thin, but sturdy rope, was meant for…

He glanced up at you, and an eyebrow cocked. You wanted to slap him for making you feel out of control, again..not when you were supposed to be the one who -

“How long do you need me tied up for?”

“Until I’m finished with you.”

Ken smirked, and to your surprised offered his wrists willingly. “Then tie me up and fuck me, y/n.” He grinned, knowing he took you off guard, literally challenging you.

OH, now he was in for it.

You bound his wrists quickly, securing them to the headboard. He smiled at you the entire time, suddenly entertained by your whole new desire for play, but the smile left his face quickly as you took him into your mouth, lowering down onto him. His hips bucked at the sudden shock that went through him, and his moan of pleasure turned into one of frustration when you immediately pulled off of him. He looked down at you.

“You aren’t allowed to move while I suck on you, Ken.”

He looked incredulously at you. “How am I supposed to -“

He was cut off when you gently squeezed his balls, knowing his one particularly sensitive spot, and he gasped loudly, hips bucking again. You usually didn’t touch him here that often, as it seemed to drive him mad with passion and, well, horniness, and usually you didn’t get the chance to see how much he could take because he would tackle you and fuck you until you were exhausted.

But now, this time was different. You massaged that area again, and his head pushed back into the pillows, wrists straining against his bonds.

“Jesus FUCK.” He panted. You hadn’t ever heard him raise his voice that loudly. You felt yourself becoming wet, and you continued your gentle but consistent assault on his balls, watching him in silence as he gasped and moaned and shuddered, waiting for him to surrender to you.

He actually held out way longer than you had expected, and you felt so impossibly hot watching as he slowly went from an alpha-state to one of literal physical submission, his body no longer trying to violently break itself free from the headboard except for some exhausted tugs, his voice almost hoarse, his body completely covered in a cold sweat.

“Please, please, pleassee….” He begged, voice breaking a little. “Please, y/n, I can’t. I can’t - ahhhh, FUCK, please.”

You stopped your torture, and a huge exhale rattled through his body, attempting to soothe itself. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Hi, sweet boy.”

He looked up at you, completely at your will, still panting, and his sweaty hair and mildly wet eyes made you feel so deeply for him. You leaned forward, placing your hands besides his head.

“You’re so good to me, Ken,” you whispered, and he leaned up to kiss you then caught himself, lowering his head back down onto the pillows. Fuck, he was trying SO hard to please you.

“Am I doing good, y/n?” He whimpered.

“You’re doing so good, Ken. You know why I had to exhaust you, right?”

“Because I wouldn’t stop moving,” he choked, gasping for another breath.

“Good, Ken. You learn so quickly.” You glanced at the clock and saw he had held out almost the full ten minutes now, but you wanted to make sure he was okay before delving in any further.

“Ken? Is it alright if I keep going?”

His entire body went rigid, his biceps clenching tightly, as if ready to jerk himself free of his restraints if necessary - or if he actually could this time. He never took his eyes off of you, contemplating his answer. You leaned down to his ear to whisper, and you felt the shiver that ran through him.

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you touch me for a moment.”

He nodded then. “Yes, please, anything, I’ll do anything -“

You captured his lips in yours and he moaned into you, almost as if he was thanking you and his lips pulled yours roughly into his mouth, his tongue darting into yours to clash with your tongue for a brief moment before you pulled back. He looked devastated.

You reached for the restraints and his eyes brightened.

“Only one for now,” you said, untying his left hand and making sure that his right remained firmly connected to the bed. “Because if you need me to stop, I might not be able to hear you. If you need me to stop at anytime, I want you to slap my leg, really hard, so I know. Okay?”

He held onto your every word, nodded when you were finished, trying to figure out what it was you were going to do. He began moving his hand to your waist then caught himself and paused, waiting for instructions.

“Mmm, I have the best Ken,” you cooed, and he smiled a little. You allowed him to rest his hand on your waist as you straddled his face, slowly lowering yourself down onto him.

You had barely come into contact with his nose when you felt his free arm tighten around your thigh, pulling you closer into him, and you cried out, grabbing the headboard for support as his lips roughly sucked on your clit, pulling hard. He moaned hungrily into you, and you forced yourself to make sure you didn’t fully collapse onto his face, his tongue and lips so eager and rough, and his moaning into your opening was the most vulnerable yet hot you could remember feeling in your life.

You began moving your hips a little, trying to maintain your attempt at dominance, but fuck if it wasn’t almost impossible while working against Ken’s strength and enthusiasm. He wrapped his arm around your thigh tighter and almost forced you still as his tongue penetrated into you, licking and flicking and then his lips sucking around your opening in a dizzying sequence.

“Ken…I…ah, fuck, okay, I need -“ You yelped as his arm freed itself of you momentarily only to spank your cheek sharply, the pain shocking you but not having time to react because he immediately forced you back down onto his face and held you until you came, your knuckles white from holding onto the headboard and you cried out over and over as an intense orgasm washed over you. Ken didn’t stop until your body began becoming limp, from which he then removed his arm and you un-straddled him, sitting next to him on the bed.

He lay there, one arm bound above his head, his hair a mess, his face flushed and covered in your juices, and he was grinning at you.

"I like you making me submit to you. That was fun." His free hand reached for you. "Now untie me so I can fuck your dripping pussy. I am losing my mind."

You forced yourself to maintain control as you quickly grabbed his hand and began tying it back up.

"Hey, hey!" he protested, but you were quicker and he was bound again within moments. You moved back to look at him, confused, and *now* he looked a little angry, but you knew it wasn't from actual anger, more just not getting his way, which is something he didn't enjoy. *Especially * when he was this horny.

He grit his teeth and jerked hard on the restraints. "Let me out of these."

You cocked your head. "Mmmm, no."

"When, then?"

"When you've orgasmed."

He growled. "That's what I am actively *trying* to do!!"

You sunk down onto him then, no warning or buildup, and he cried out in ecstasy, his entire being melting as if relieved.

"Ohhh, fuck, y/n, my love…thank you, thank you, thank -"

You reached up and placed a hand around the base of his throat, just barely, not even applying pressure. He looked up at you, and despite not experiencing this before, the look he gave you made you all the more hot, and you wrapped your fingers around his neck, squeezing ever so slightly. He moaned loudly, and his eyes had that gorgeous teary look that you had seen the first time you had fucked him - his own special mix of love and pleasure and experiencing something amazing for the first time. He thrust up into you then, and the sharpness of it told you he was already way too close to climaxing.

You pulled your hips off of his, sitting on his waist but keeping your hand around his throat. The noise he made when you left his cock was like a mangled cry, and his eyes went into dominance mode, that look he gave you when he was warning you things were about to go his way.

"But you're not the one in control this time, Ken." Your hair brushed his face and you squeezed his throat a little harder. "I am. And you don't get to cum until I say so."

You swore you saw stars in his eyes when you sunk back down onto him then, fucking him the way you knew he loved, and you removed your hand from his throat to press down onto his hips like he always did to you. That did something extra for him and he groaned, jerking against the restrains again, and the image of him slowly coming undone because of you made you so tempted to just untie him and finish you off the way he wanted - the way you knew you both wanted - but you had come too far to quit now, and once again when you knew his orgasm was close, when his abs began their gorgeous tightening and his hips bucked up into yours, you let him slip out of you again, and he literally sobbed.

"You're not doing a very good job at not moving, Ken."

You tried to keep your head together as he glared down at you, and you knew *exactly* the thoughts that were swimming through his mind: jerk himself free of the headboard, force you down onto the bed, his fingers bruising themselves into you as he fucked you like he was in heat as you held on for dear life.

You had one more trick up your sleeve, and decided you had best do it now because you weren't sure if you would ever be successful at getting Ken tied up again after tonight. You got your only other pair of pantyhose and ripped them in two.

Ken's eyes grew huge and you expected him to fight back, but to your surprise he didn't. He lay, watching you while you pulled his legs open, tying each one to an opposite best post, until he was splayed out in front of you, unable to thrust up even if he tried.

He remained silent as you climbed back onto the bed and leaned down, gently taking one of his balls into your mouth while massaging the other. His head fell back and his moans were beautiful, as you decided you wanted to be gentle the rest of the night but still wanted to see how far you could push his stamina.

After he began squirming from a little too much sensation, you moved back up to his cock, your lips wetly sucking and licking around his tip, and you loved watching how much he was trying to move his hips. He seemed to be working really hard to play along now, though, because the gritted teeth and glaring eyes had morphed into your name almost being sung as you touched him, sucked, licked, loved on him, before kissing and biting your way back up his abs and chest to his face.

You looked down at him now and he at you, those baby blues lost in you, telling you he was yours to do with as you pleased. "I surrender," he whispered, and you gasped. How was this so…incredibly…

"I love you," he said.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him then, and he allowed you to lead to how deep and invasive the kiss became before leaning down to mark his neck with your lips. He moaned contentedly every time you did that, and this time was no different.

You were going to make him feel *sooo* good.

You lowered yourself back down onto his cock slowly, clenching yourself around him as hard as you could until he was fully inside you, and his head rested on one of his arms still bound beside his head.

"You're doing such a good job, Ken."

"Mm…I…good..Ken…" His moans were accompanied by an attempt at words every few breaths as he became less coherent.

You fucked him gently and he was so sensitive that his body began to tremble a couple of time. Each time you would stop fucking him until he calmed down and then you would begin again, his voice becoming more of a whimper the longer you edged him on, and at last when it seemed every ounce of energy had been drained from him, you gave him what he deserved.

He lay limp, shuddering, moaning incoherently, muscles still spasming of their own accord as much as they could muster after becoming exhausted.

"You've done so, so incredibly well, Ken." The shock of you allowing him his release was like a lightning bolt shot through him and he sobbed your name endlessly, head thrown back, eyes clenched as his body convulsed underneath you.

You watched him closely as he began to calm down, tears stinging his eyes, his body still shaking a little. You got up and tore off his restrains one by one, untying his hands last, and his tired muscles fell by his sides as he lay underneath you, panting.

You were scared now. Was this how he felt when he had spanked you for the first time? Like, that he could have actually gone too far? Had YOU gone too far?

"Ken?" you didn't meant for your voice to come out in a whisper. "Are you okay?"

He looked at you, rolling his head on the pillow to do so, as he seemed too tired to even raise it at the moment. "Kiss me," he demanded, soft and delicate, but you knew it was a command.

You kissed him deeply and he did the same, and his eyes locked on yours when you pulled back. "I love you so much, y/n."

You spent the next hour taking care of him. You sat upright against the headboard and he relaxed into your body, his being nestled against your chest and in-between your legs, humming sleepily as you massages his hands and wrists, peppered him with kisses, told him how much you loved him and cuddled his face. At one point he took your legs and folded your ankles across his waist, his forehead leaning into your neck.

"Just like being close to you," he murmered.

After having come down for awhile, he began to shiver a little and you coaxed him into the shower where you gentle bathed him off, the heat making him comfortable again, as your fingers danced across his body with soap suds, and he held you under the running water close to him, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding the side of your face as he languished himself in your kisses.

You both ended up back in bed just as the sun was beginning to rise, and you thanked the gods that you didn't have class today as Ken pulled you into him like always, but unlike usual, he fell asleep almost instantly, and you got to experience him sleeping around you, hearing his little moans and breathing, feeling his body limp and relaxed all around you. You hugged the arm that held you to him and nuzzled into the pillows, drifting off.

"Hey."

Ken's voice broke through your sleep, and you blinked your eyes open. The room was bright with the day's sunlight, and you had a moment of struggle to come to, you had been so deeply asleep.

The moment your eyes adjusted, you looked up and saw Ken beside you, kneeling, his cock looking painfully hard and a smirk on his face. You attempted to move but realized your wrists were bound above your head tightly, and you saw Ken's fist clenched around a leather belt in his right hand. You sucked in air sharply, already overwhelmed when you hadn't even been fully awake a whole minute ago.

Ken leaned over you now, your mind racing as he stared down at you, kissing you lovingly before nipping at your lower lip and running the belt gently up your thigh.

"Now," his words made you already want to tremble, "it's my turn."

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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(Pst. I plan to complete the second part to this as a "bonus" part, but wanted Ken's first sub! experience to be its own chapter. If you want Ken's dom! time, too, I'll be posting it soon, because I have SOOO many ideas and I cannot *not* write it. I promise <3)

Tags: @microwgreen @skeletonea @sunpuffsstuff @maxcsworld @michaelslover @m21-k @uncle-eggy @heyareyoulistening @cliffbar-booth @exo-wayv

[actual-changeling]

Uh. Hi! I'm Alex and I love writing pain.

I've seen the angst war going on and I am incredibly tempted to contribute; I'm not quite sure of the rules (if there are any) so feel free to bring me up to speed. Updates will be at whatever pace is fun/doable for me, interactions, asks etc. always very much appreciated 💚

@goodomensafterdark @daneecastle @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog @vavoom-sorted-art @kotias

I will put appropriate content tags on every chapter and make a masterpost once I have a handful of posts. Please keep in mind that this series is going to deal with a heavy dose of unreality, self-injurious behaviour, substance abuse, erratic behaviour/mood swings, and more. There will be a happy ending.

Now, without further ado, the first instalment of what is going to be us following Crowley down the path of (hopefully temporary) insanity.

rest your head \\ chapter 1

(~800 w, no additional warnings)

Sleep deprivation, while usually not fatal, is not the least bit pleasant. Human brains require sleep to function—and not just their minds, either. The entire body breaks down oh so slowly as every system designed to keep it alive deteriorates without the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

However, the actual cause of death is yet to be identified, and luckily Crowley's corporation functions on the principle of 'what it doesn't know won't kill it'.

Over the centuries, earthly indulgences have become more and more common, pleasures easily sought and found no matter where he went, although nothing ever beat a good night's (or decade's) rest. Sleep calms his mind and allows him to drift through time without a care, surrounded by ever-shifting dream clouds and the occasional vivid interference. In short, it takes away the pain, and Someone knows there is a lot to carry when he returns home for the first time in four years.

No dust had dared to settle on the furniture, and the familiar smell of damp earth welcomes him. Locking the door behind him, Crowley blindly finds his way through the corridors, kicking off his shoes as he goes and throwing his glasses onto the nearest surface. When he pushes into his bedroom, which is just as pristine as he had left it, the anger churning in his gut cools.

Home. Has he ever had a home? Once upon a time, maybe, before time had been born, surrounded by breathing nebulae and void, and then—

Eden. Him. Right, that's done.

A snap of his fingers and his clothes change into a set of silk pyjamas, the fabric brushing over his skin like liquid silver, and the black-out curtains snap shut. Darkvision is one of the advantages of being a demon, but he finds the dark has nothing to offer him today, so he closes his eyes and pulls back the sheets to curl around a pillow.

Images flicker in the pulsating emptiness left behind, piercing blue eyes and fluttering hands, a press of lips against his, words digging into his skull like tadpoles making a home within his brain matter. Electricity crawls over his slowly numbing body, urging him to disappear, to sink into nothingness and waste away until he is a dried stain on the mattress. 

No one will come looking for him, after all.

Maybe the world will be brighter once he wakes, the pain duller, the loneliness less aching and all-consuming. Within his chest bleeds a hollow, jagged wound, dripping black blood and drowning the radiant remnants of Aziraphale's presence; his essence is familiar, it's- home. 

Crowley does not need to sleep, yet somewhere between Rome and the present, he had forgotten about it, his corporation shifting and changing, craving rest and punishing him for its absence. It will not kill him, it does not even occur to him that it might, but there are countless fates worth than death and he is already living one of them. What's another added to the mess his life has become?

His nails dig into the pillow case, his consciousness choking on the scorched battlefield of the day, but no matter how hard he tries, how desperately he commands his body to bend to his wills, sleep refuses to come. A new, different kind of pain rises, worse than fatigue and infinitely more addictive. Its sting is battery acid on his tongue, infusing him with a restlessness that is scratching on his bones, and when blue irises keep mocking him behind closed lids, he forces his eyes open, turns onto his back, and stares at the ceiling, waiting.

Light wanders and shifts, barely visible through the heavy fabric adorning his windows, and it dips behind the horizon before reappearing on the other side. Crowley stares at white paint and counts the moving dots gradually clouding his vision, absently pressing his knuckles against his sternum over and over—whether to calm himself or to chase away mental pain with physical is beyond his awareness. 

Both, neither, maybe. 

His too-human body protests and whines, and once he begins to see blue shadows in his periphery, Crowley bites his tongue and gets up. Coffee will help, then a hot shower, and yelling his plants back into order is going to occupy most of his afternoon anyway, so what's a night without sleep?

The next one will bring him the rest he needs, and Aziraphale's eyes will stop striking him down whenever he blinks. He is alone now (alone in London, alone on earth, his chest constricts and twists at the thought, stealing his breath) and he will have to get used to it; it'll be fine eventually, right?

—

Three days later Crowley is staring at his bedroom ceiling, impatient, restless, exhausted, and attempting to chase away the bone-white teeth hovering underneath lightning-blue eyes.

"Fine, have it your way," he snaps eventually, his voice too loud in an empty room, and feels the smile breathing down his neck all the way to the kitchen.

[soongtypehuman]

Boo-hoo update

I’m sorry to say I have an update I was hoping to not ever have to make. Some of you already know that I have some serious health issues, but I've been pretty quiet about the extent of what I'm dealing with.

The gist of it is that I have a rare bone disease called fibrous dysplasia that turned certain bones in my skull into tumors and then those tumors grew inward and started crushing my brain, so I had a craniotomy last year to remove as much as was safe and got a cool new titanium implant in my head to replace the removed bone/tumor. The unfortunate result was encephalomalacia, which is the end stage of liquifying necrosis, and now part of my brain is liquid instead of solid (it’s dead, in a nutshell). Most people don’t survive encephalomalacia, much less remain able to function, and most who survive the initial stage don’t survive the three year mark. Even when you do survive it, it often continues spreading. The last MRI showed it had already taken over about 1/3 of my brain. But I’m a stubborn asshole and am still hanging on.

Unfortunately, things aren’t getting better.

I have to have constant MRIs, EEGs, physical and cognitive therapies, and have been on more meds than I’d like to be in order to control seizures and various cognitive issues. I didn’t mention this before, but I had to go through a series of speech therapies just to learn to talk properly again. And the most unfortunate part of this is that my ability to write has been affected. Since the surgery over a year ago, I’ve only made 10 new posts in the Positronic Rivalry series, totaling around 87k words. For reference, I posted over 200k words in 2022. I’ve posted even less this year, and it’s not improving.

With that said, I have to take a step back. I’m not quitting and I’m not walking away from the fandom. I’d like to think I’ll still be able to post here and there. I just don’t know when and under what circumstances that will happen. I most certainly can’t handle the longer multi-chapter fics I once could. Maybe one day, but not this day. Since I started posting on AO3 back at the end of 2021, I’ve posted every Sunday more often than not. I’m sorry to say I can’t make that happen right now, and can’t say when I’ll post again or what it will be. I won't be able to continue with season 4.

But I’m most definitely not leaving the fandom and the people and the characters I love so much. I’ll still be here interacting and posting when I’m able. This fandom and the people in it are incredible and mean a lot to me. Data and Lore and Star Trek in general are integral to my life and general enjoyment.

But!! I’ve nearly completed compiling seasons 1-3 of Positronic Rivalry as well as 2022/23 Kinktobers into files that will be ready to print in physical book format (completely free, obviously), which I’ll make available for everyone to download in various print sizes, complete with covers, which you can then have printed at various POD sites if you’re so inclined. Digital versions will also be available (you can already download various formats from AO3, but they’re not compiled into seasons, don’t have covers, etc.).

I’m also continuing with the Trek-themed crossword puzzles because those are fun and my therapist thinks making them is good for my cognitive rehab.

This update is a massive bummer for me, but I felt it was better to just admit my limitations instead of constantly trying to convince myself that I could continue the way I had been pre-surgery and beating myself up when I couldn’t.

Lastly, I’ve finally taken the suggestion I’ve gotten repeatedly and set up a KoFi. If you’d like to buy me a coffee or toss a coin to your android porn witcher, you can do so right here and I’d be giggling and kicking my feet in gratitude.

Anyhow, I want to thank all of you for being amazing and coming along on this ride with me for as long as you have, and for as long as it might continue in whatever form it takes.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

School-side Staycation - Staff Shenanigans

@ashipiko has a super fun 1k follower event going on that reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend a While ago!! I decided to turn it into a drabble, so I hope you guys enjoy some NRC Staff Shenanigans!! (Including my staff/greenhouse caretaker oc, Aspen Zoi - I apologize in advance for the stim word "like" OTL if you don't check out his profile, just know he speaks like your stereotypical surfer/hippie/stoner)

Also apologies OTL I have to write on my phone due to Technical Difficulties, RIP my formatting. Um just as a heads up, there is some food talk in regards to calories and dieting. It's not talked about a lot, but it is in there.

Also also this is my first time writing all the staff together so I hope it's at least entertaining!

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

"Turkey burgers, really Divus, I'd have thought better of you." Mozus scoffed lightheartedly over the younger man's shoulder, watching the black latex clad hands work in a mix of shredded vegetables into the meat.

Crewel raised a questioning brow to his senior, using his shoulder to push away hair from his face for the upteenth time that day. Even with his dark shades on, both the unamusement and the spark of competitiveness was felt to be fanned.

"Well, Mozus, if you cared to ever look past those dusty old history books of yours and indulge in the dietary world, you would know that ground turkey-"

"Sucks. It sucks." Vargas interrupted, shaking his head in disappointment. He was wearing near neon orange shorts and a white tank top, though clearly splattered with some stains from his preparation, shades sat nicely atop his lofty locks. His food was currently concealed in the two heaping platters he had under aluminum foil as he set them down on the table next to the barbeque. "It's got less protein, less iron, less zinc, and more sodium than ground beef. It has a little more 'healthy' fat," the air quotes were heavily emphasized by the gym teacher, "but for Sevens sake Divus, it's supposed to be a vacation sort of thing. Let the kids loose for a little while."

An audible "hmph" left the alchemy professor, moreso at Trein's smug grin than Ashton as he refocused on his work. His UV protectant, black, long sleeve shirt was rolled up to his elbows, a simple red short sleeve button up layered on top. "Not everyone can afford to give up their calorie intake over a vacation."

"Then you may as well have just made black bean patties and volunteered yourself to make the vegan option."

Trein sighed and shook his head at Ashton's apparent naivety as he opened his grill, throwing a few patties on. Perhaps his air of superiority would have been less humorous if not for the cargo shorts, white shirt, the blue, green, pink and yellow tropical overshirt, the matching, tropical bucket hat, and the apron that read "Grillmaster", but Trein continued anyways.

"He's using the leftovers of his dogs food that he thawed and forgot to use."

An awkward silence filled the air between the three of them, save for the soft sizzling of Treins burgers and the distant sounds of their beloved students having fun. Ashton spoke up in near disbelief.

"....Divus is that-"

The older of the two suppressed a scowl, trying to play it off best he could as he waved off his former underclassmans concern.

"Ground turkey is ground turkey, how I was going to use it is irrelevant! Really now Mozus was that necessary?!"

Vargas exchanged glances with Trein, before grinning a little more, willing to 'poke the bear'.

"I know you call them your pups but..."

Crewel felt his eye twitch slightly. Not much got to him, but the implication that 1. His dogs weren't incredibly dear to him, and 2. That his students weren't held to the same regard as his dogs in terms of how he cared for them, was not something he felt he could articulate well enough to get it through Ashton's thick, thick skull.

" It's still perfectly fine food, it's ought to be better than whatever Dire has!"

In an attempt to get the attention off of him for once, Crewel directed his, and his colleagues attention to the approaching headmage, ignoring the soft snickers behind him from Ashton for the sake of his sanity.

The headmage wore a huge grin under the stupid mask of his, dressed in his normal vacation attire. His arms were outstretched, as if anyone there would hug him as a greeting - none of them would, but especially not now that one was grilling, the other had his hands plunged into raw meat, and the third...well Vargas wasn't doing anything that would impede him from doing so, but he pretended to look busy as he fidgeted with the aluminum foil from one of his platters, careful to not lift it up.

Trein glanced at the headmage as he joined them under the white tents, his clawed gloves drawing most of his attention as Dire lowered his arms to his sides.

"Dire. What are you bringing to cook?"

The headmage looked at him blankly before smiling, chuckling a little awkwardly as he took his hat off and held it to his chest. As if he didn't already look pathetic, now he looked like he was going to apologize, and the staff in front of him already looked unamused.

"Ehe, well you see, I was generous enough to allow our students host this event-"

Knowing glances were exchanged between the three as Crowley continued.

"So neeever did I ever think my kindness would be taken advantage of like so! After all the budgeting and set up and organizing and ordering and nights laying awake and wondering how to make today the best success it could be, I didn't think I would be expected to cook too!"

The masked man rested the back of his hand against his head dramatically, trying and failing to gain the sympathy of the staff who all very well knew he had signed off on the event, and being a part of the catering. Hell, he had admitted it himself- he hadn't done any of that. That was all part of hosting, something that had very much not been on his shoulders, like many other responsibilities this year.

Vargas moved to the table across from Crewel, starting to make a protein-packed sauce to go with his still-mystery food, shooting Crowley a bit of a shit-eating grin.

"Well I guess you better go buy hotdogs or something from Sam's and be prepared to lose."

An indignant squawk left Dire, his dramatic display clearly not working in his favour, and he couldn't fathom why.

"Lose??"

"Hot stuff comin' through! And it ain't just me-"

Sam wheeled a tri-level service cart over the grass with ease, thanks to magic, each level with absolutely delicious smelling, but hidden food. Aspen followed close behind, Willow, his Pekin duck toddling after him.

Dire moved out of the way so as to let the trio through, Sam moving next to Vargas and starting to load tray after tray onto the serving table, a determined and slightly crazed expression on his face.

"Ain't nobody beatin' Mama's mac'n cheese recipe. Not even your fancy ass brisket Ashton, don't pretend like that ain't whatchyer tryna hide under there, I know you too damn well fo' you to try an' hide it."

Vargas and Same broke into easy conversation as Aspen hung back with Crowley, who was still visibly confused. He looked down at his hands, as if they held the answer to his questions.

"Lose?? Beating his mother's recipe??? What have I missed????"

Aspen's single, amused "haaah" was rather annoying to the headmage. Despite the sharp turn of his head and the glare he directed at Aspen, he just gave him his same old dopey grin.

"Aww man, you really didn't, like, read anything you signed, did ya? The teacher who like... looses the cook off gets pelted with water balloons by like...the whooole student body. It would really suck if one of us forgot to bring something. It'd be like...immediate disqualification or whatever."

The blond tilted his head a bit and giggled as he watched a few of the students play volleyball not far from them, oblivious to the rising panic on the headmage's face.

"But you haven't brought anything?! So what if two faculty members didn't bring anything?! The penalty is halved, right?!"

Aspen let out a small laugh.

"Hah. As if. Babygirl and I made seven layer salad, which is like, on Sam's cart, and a buncha desserts last night, isn't that right?" He bent down to pick up Willow, kissing her head as he cradled her. "I mean sure, baking isn't, like, COOKING but I don't think anybody is gonna complain about brownies 'nd, like, homemade ice cream, y'know? I just gotta wait to bring it out cuz..like....the ice cream...duh."

He waited a beat, the rising panic from the man beside him finally catching on. He was about to ask, but Crowley was on his knees next to Sam in a split second, holding his hand and groveling.

"PLEASE- no, actually, as your boss, I DEMAND you open your shop and sell me the best cuts of meat- no, actually, I want as many tube's of ground beef, ah, no, Trein is already- ground PORK-"

Sam shook his hand away from Crowley in mild disgust.

"Oh hell no, might I remind ya, I'm on vacation, as are the rest of us and the little imps. If you want to serve hot dogs, you'll have to go into town and move fast. Otherwise you're gonna have to embrace your fate of death by a thousand waterballoons." Sam swapped the position of one of his trays with Vargas' platter, so as to get his jerk chicken onto the grill after changing his glove out for an untouched one.

"With all due respect, your poor plannin' does NOT constitute an emergency on my part, Mr. Crowley, Sir."

Dire let out an undignified noise at Sam's facetiousness and lack of cooperation.

Trein looked down at the rather defeated looking headmage and sighed at the mess of a man, shaking his head again in disappointment.

"For Sevens sake, pull yourself together Dire. You could go ask the ghosts in the Cafeteria if they've got anything they'll lend you to cook."

Crowley looked like a kicked puppy at Trein for a moment before standing back up, beaming and near launching himself at him for a hug, which Trein avoided as if this was something that happened often. Despite not getting what he wanted, Crowley clearly had new vigor.

"Ah! You're right. Of course, if the ghosts are there I could- hm! Nevermind, nevermind, yes thank you my dear friend, I knew you wouldn't let me suffer! Unlike SOME people." He shot a fake dirty look at the rest of his beloved faculty, only to be met with snickers and mildly amused expressions. Yes, even with all their jests and disagreements, these were the people he felt most comfortable around. His expression softened for a half second before he clapped twice and smiled widely again.

"I'll be back with something delicious! I swear to defeat you all!" His voice lilted playfully, before he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A shared sigh came from Trein and Crewel, amusing their younger colleagues with the similarity.

Crewel wiped at his head with his shoulder again, grinning knowingly at Trein.

"Mozus."

"Divus." Trein kept his focus trained on his burgers, though his voice had an air of amusement to it, and it was clear the corner of his mouth was kicked up in a small smile.

"Were you really trying to be of assistance?"

Crewel finished rolling the last of his turkey blend into disks, turning his full attention to his conniving collegue.

Trein hummed a bit in response.

"Yes. Not to him, to us, but his absence makes it much easier to concentrate."

Crewel shed his latex gloves, put some hand sanitizer on and walked over to 'supervise' Trein's grill, before grabbing a patty that was cooked and looking over it in mild disgust.

"Concentrate on what, perfecting a burn on your patties, oh 'grillmaster'" he mocked, breaking a piece off and eating it, hardly hiding his distaste.

"Ah, I see, you're trying to make up for your lack of seasoning using charcoal, well old man I can guarantee the turkey burgers you were so quick to dismiss will certainly be better than that piece of semi-edible Sahara."

Trein sighed, annoyed, plucking the rest of the patty from Crewel's fingers and throwing it out.

"I always burn my first one. It guarantees I won't burn the rest of them. If you used those astute powers of observation you're so proud of, you'd have seen the rest of the burgers are cooked beautifully."

He lifted the foil just enough to show Crewel the admittedly, mouth-wateringly delicious looking patties underneath, though Divus refused to show any indication that he was impressed.

"They're still bland. The students don't have a grandpa stomach like you."

Trein rolled his eyes internally, huffing, but even Sam and Aspen snickered at the comment.

"It will be fine once I make my sauce to go with them. My daughters love my cooking, I'm sure our students will as well. You have your dogs as reference for your tastes. I would be more worried if I was in your shoes."

Crewel moved towards Sam, who made room for him, moving his chicken to the top rack so Divus could use the main part of the grill to start cooking.

"You say that as if I don't cook for myself either. Really Mozus, I'm hurt by how lowly you think of me. Besides, I understand cooking as not only an art, but from the very chemical bases of it. I have every confidence that if no one else, I will be getting votes from Pomefiorians."

Aspen snorted from behind him, waving his hand dismissively.

"Nahh, Poms are gonna go for Sam's mac or, like, his chicken. They're like, tired of eating that Vil guys super bland food. Ya might, like, get Vil himself? Maybe? But I feel like he's prolly just gonna beeline it to my salad cuz of that new green diet thing one a his freshies said he's on. I only know cuz like, they were getting veggies from the greenhouse. If anything, I think ya might pull a few votes from Savanaclaw, but like, to be honest, even as a vegetarian, Ashton's brisket looks really good and prolly will come in after Sam's food."

Crewel let out a soft sigh, but Vargas was beaming, as Sam and Aspen exchanged finger guns and a wink. Trein squinted slightly at his watch.

"Lunch is meant to be in about 45 minutes. Aspen, Vargas, seeing as the two of you have nothing better to do, I suggest you start cutting up veggies for the burgers and fruit for after. Just make sure to use some hand sanitizer first."

The two exchanged a glance, both mouthing a mocking, lighthearted 'yes dad' behind Trein's back, making Sam snicker a bit.

"Dontchya worry Mozus, they got it covered."

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

And that's where my brain stopped RIP

In case you're wondering, Crowley showed up like 3 hours late and got ambushed. It's okay though his "food" would have put him in last place anyways.

I'm not used to typing things like this out on my phone, and I'm even less used to reading them so this is not proofread or betaread or like. I'm not. Rereading it so here's to hoping it flows okay and it's as engaging as I think it is lol.

ANYWAYS thank you for such a fun event Ashi!!

Taglist: (ask to be added)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

[heartshapedbubble]

Hi can I request Andrew, Luca, William, Wu Chang and Antonio reacting to having an s/o that can crush a watermelon between her thighs.

this req made me shit bricks when i first received it in august LMFAOOOO this was so fun to write anon thank you so much for this/gen

andrew, luca, william, wu chang and antonio reacting to their s/o crushing a watermelon between their thighs🕸⚡🏈☂️🎻

andrew kreiss🕸

he is... confused to say the least

when you first did it he jumped out of fear thinking you hurt yourself by doing so

this man would probably burst into flames after one pretzel stick he has NO idea how to react

....he'd be lying if he said it doesn't interest him though

like. he is INCREDIBLY lost and maybe even disturbed but like. do it again

"is this something they do to sinners in hell? can you use it as self defense? does it hurt your thighs?" a bit gulity of asking these questions ngl but he can't help it

might start avoiding you after that... simply out of fear that it was a bad omen and that you might try crushing his skull instead when he messes up in the games LMAO

william ellis🏈

not shocked at all

he didnt even fucking flinch when it burst he just stood there with his usual 😃 face

"hehe. nice. now watch me" (proceeds to crush a watermelon with his own thighs)

tbh william can be competitive as hell and he would somehow make a competition out of this too

after that whenever y'all ate watermelon in the manor he always shouted "DID YOU GUYS KNOW ___ CAN CRUSH WATERMELONS WITH THEIR THIGHS¿¿¿¿¿ GO ON ___ SHOW THEM!!!!"

might ask you details on how you train/build your thighs just in case...there's always room for self-improvement

next time he sees you he's going to whip out two watermelons and ask you if you can crush both at the same time (cheeky bastard)

luca balsa⚡

mans is just losing his shit at it

"how do you do it??????? how long did you have to build your legs for this??? at what angle does it crush the fastest/easiest???? what technique did you use???" like andrew but with zero self control or fear

so intrigued he'll whip out the nerd glasses and the notepad to study it. bring a few extra watermelons cause once he begins you'll realize it's gonna be a looooong day

i kinda think that he'd be more interested in the physics aspect of it than the crushing itself tbh

after enough research he would try to crush one with his own thighs

...which didn't really go well🥲he's got chopstick legs but we still love him

that absolutely did not discourage him though. he'll find a way to do it himself. somehow. one day.

wu chang☂️

their reactions are quite different

at first they just kinda... side eye each other. not condescendigly tho they just have to clarify they're both seeing the same thing since they didn't expect this when you told them you have a suprise for them

xie is like ☺ "thats... very cute honey!! i'm very proud of you!!!! you've been working very hard!!!!"

no idea how to properly react or process it really but since you seem really happy about it he simply has to share your enthusiasm okay!!! xie the world

fan just smirks. "now crush a pumpkin."

this motherfucker is going to tease you and give you more and more impossible physical challenges just to make you all red in your face and see you angrily give up just crush his head instead at this point

would rather drown himself in that goddamn river again than admit out loud that it's absolutely badass but it becomes obvious after some time. he's not an emotional mastermind after all

antonio paganini🎻

not overwhelmed by it either! hes just chill like dat

he finds it so funny actually - he's grown tired of all the elegant plays and balls that he experienced while playing for royalty so this little peculiar performance of yours put a wide smile on his face

it gave him a good laugh too, not in a mocking way it's just so bizarre and unexpected that he couldn't help but laugh

would joke about it like "i love a partner that can just beat the shit out of me" after seeing it lmao

"you can kill people with that, but personally i wouldn't have an issue with it if it was your thighs in question~" what a fucking flirt GET HIM OUT

if you'd challenge him to do the same he'd just give up after the first two tries... his legs aren't his best asset

he CAN crush a watermelon with his hair though. maybe you should be more careful the next time you try to wriggle out from its grip...

[thesith]

Can I request a Hunter x fem!reader where the Batch are undercover a criminal party for a mission and he asks her for a dance and they tear up the dance floor with their moves and undeniable chemistry? (Can be spicy or SFW, your choice)

If you need music to set the mood for the party, I got you:

— Dancing with a Stranger

hunter x f!reader

this is a requested one shot (1k)

warnings: 18+, sexual topics & implication of sex, alcohol usage

notes: neither hunter or reader are drunk/intoxicated - neither have finished their first drinks.

summary: hunter sees reader from across the room while he (and tech) are undercover at a pirate party for intel.

A/N: thank you so much for the request, @kombatkid ! this is my first request for tbb & i hope i did it justice. also, i’ve wanted to write a fic like this for so long - thank you for giving me reason to xd <3

requests are open!

“Hunter,” Tech started, eyeing the girl across the room, “If you do not initiate a conversation with her, I will.”

Hunter looked at his brother, wide-eyed, “What has gotten into you, Tech?” When the mentioned didn’t offer an answer, Hunter continued, “We have a mission - best we stick to it.”

“What better way to gather intel than from the source?” Tech’s eyes wandered to the girl clad in a dark red dress, hugging her form in all the right places. “It is not a bad thing to ‘let go’ once in a while. I am sure Echo would agree with me if he were here.”

Hunter’s mind wandered to his brothers stuck on the Marauder, wishing he didn’t have one of the less attention grabbing appearances in the group - face tattoo and all. The tattoo did help him fit in with the pirates surrounding him, though. At the change of the song, Hunter was brought back to reality - back to you.

“Am I allowed to say no?” Hunter rhetorically asked, already knowing what Tech’s answer would be. Before his brother could even reply, a sigh left Hunter’s lips, “If you record this, you’re on cleaning duty.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Tech spoke, a mischievous glint in his eye. Once Hunter was far enough away from him, Tech started the recording for his brothers. Force, they were going to love this.

You leaned on a high table and observed the scene around you - loud music, dancing people, drinks. God, the drinks were incredible - they were the only reason you were there to begin with. Partying with people like you was definitely not your idea of fun, but people watching was. You took a sip of your drink, hardly having touched it. Your crew seemed to be having the time of their lives on the dance floor, leaving you by yourself. That was how all of these outings went - they coerce you that “it will be fun!” and “you’ll have a great time!”, but these parties have yet to live up to either expectation.

You were disturbed from your thoughts when a man with a half-skull tattooed on his face walked up to you - he looked to be having as much fun as you were. He stood beside you, holding a drink of his own and sipping from it. You’d be the first to admit he’s attractive - more attractive than anybody else in the crowded room. You turned to face him fully, placing your elbows on the table.

After a few moments of pounding music in the background, the man spoke.

“Do you wanna…” He awkwardly started, motioning with his head toward the pit of people, “with me?”

You thought for a moment. Anyone who’d asked before you declined immediately, yet this was tempting. You weren’t sure if it was the alluring presence of the man or if the liquor was hitting, but you ultimately decided to accept the invitation, taking the hand he offered.

The man led you to an open space between people before grabbing hold of your waist and giving you a look, asking if his hand placement was okay. You nodded, letting a smile grace your lips. A polite and handsome man? That’s a first at parties like these.

A familiar song came on, to which your eyes lit up - you love this song. You’d always wanted to dance to it at parties like these, but you’d never had a partner to. You felt yourself let go of whatever front you were putting up and allowed your hips to sway, the hands on your waist gripping you tighter.

You’d found yourself with your back turned to the stranger after the first verse, his hands now on your stomach. You bent over and brought your hands up your legs, leaving his hands to trail to your hips. Your ass brushed against his crotch, something almost bursting at the seams of his trousers. As you came back up, your back was flush against his chest and he breathed heavily in your ear, head slightly tilted downward.

The two of you continued the sensual dance to the song - two strangers in sync. The chemistry between you only strengthened with each song played, the last song ending with both of you out of breath and leaning against each other - your hands on the nape of his neck, tangled in his hair and his hands gripping your waist. Sweat was now dripping from your faces as you looked at the man you didn’t even know the name of - he was perfect.

For the first time, you didn’t want the night to end. Usually you were anticipating the time to leave - not this time. You were with the perfect man, who somehow single-handedly made the experience one of the best you’ve ever had.

“All of that and I didn’t even catch your name,” he whispered into your ear, the music finally having been turned off. You refused to move, as did he - you were both enjoying it too much.

“You know, everyone has to pass the dance test before earning that right,” You joked with him. You leaned back far enough to see the smile on his lips - along with the blush on his cheeks.

A laugh fell from his lips, “Surely I got a passing grade.”

“Just barely,” You offered your name with a smile, and learned his name - Hunter. “Well, Hunter. Thank you,” You combed your fingers through his hair, “I had a good time. Too bad it’s over.”

Hunter thought for a minute before boldly speaking, hoping he didn’t read the room wrong - “Who says it’s over?”

The next morning (after getting your comm channel), Hunter returned to his brothers on the Marauder. They all greeted him with knowing looks - looks that said ‘you got laid’ in not as many words.

“I am impressed by your ability to ‘connect’ with people,” Tech said, eyes trained on his datapad. “I would not be surprised if you returned with no information - thank the Force I was there too.”

“Didn’t know you could move like that, Hunter!” Wrecker laughed with a clap to Hunter’s upper-back, “Ya gotta teach me sometime!”

“Cleaning duty for the next month, Tech.” Hunter winced, knowing his brothers have all seen his less-than PG dancing with a stranger. He walked to the bunks, ready to get some much needed sleep before hearing someone’s muttering.

“Worth it.”

tags: @skellymom @burningfieldof-clover @dangraccoon

if you’d like to be tagged, fill out my taglist form through the word “agree” in my bio or at the bottom of my masterlist! <3

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist!

[decadentpostnacho]

Rant. Trigger warning, r@pe, and sexual assault.

I can say with utmost certainty that I passionately hate all male specimens who try to ridicule and belittle women's very real fear of men. Women are saying confidently and honestly that they would rather encounter bears in the forest than men. And instead of reflecting and asking yourself why that may be, you make fun of them for it.

"My mom got mauled by a bear and wrote a book about it, y'all are just too privileged, so you choose the bear." No, Chad. Use your frontal cortex. You look at least thirty. What happened to your mom happens so rarely that she got a book deal out of it. Do you think every molested and r@ped woman could write and sell a book about that?

"You are just repeating the same points over and over again." Yes. Because they are valid. The real problem is that you don't even seem to get the things we repeat over and over again into your thick skull.

Bears are more likely to leave you in peace than men. Statistically, there are about 40 bear attacks per year. Globally. This is offset by the following, annually, globally: 89 000 femicides. 250 000 rape cases. 433 648 cases of sexual assault.

Junko Furuta, Mary Vincent, Kelly Anne Bates, Anita Cobby.

There's a registered case of men r@ping, killing, and eating a lizard. I repeat, a lizard.

These are the registered cases. How many women don't talk about those experiences?

Sincerely, I would rather be brutally mauled by a bear than encounter a man in the woods, and I'm not even conventionally attractive.

Edit

I forgot to mention this in my fit of anger from before. I have encountered a bear once, while hiking in a wild park in Norway. It came out of the brush, maybe 50 meters away from me, and looked at me for about five to ten seconds before turning around and leaving. That was my wild encounter with a living, breathing brown bear. A very fascinating and incredibly beautiful being I kept a respectful, intimidated distance from.

Now men are a very different thing. Experiences with men on hikes or even just peaceful walks through forests range from ignorance which is very fine, over slightly creepy questions such as "Are you alone here?" to following me for twenty minutes until I had to fucking climb a tree and watch this fucker walk by.

Not all men, no. But enough that women have to worry about every man they encounter being like this. With the bear, I know I'm not supposed to bother it, especially when it has cubs. Men are unpredictable.

[amusingmusie]

After seeing the non-canon demon interactions of Nel and Al in your god blessed writing. I can only imagine the mischief Nel would get up to after realising she can use Lucifer to her advance to get back at Al.

The chaos, I can see it now.

THIS IS FOR FUN ONLY AND NOT CANON TO YOURS TRULY

An Apple a Day

Lucifer motherfucking Morningstar is in the hotel. Nel is fighting not to stress smoke or shit her suit pants.

She cannot fuck up in front of this guy. Not fucking up is decently easy. She’s made plenty of mistakes- some of which landed her here in this inferno of eternal torment- but she’s also made plenty of sound choices, like huddling away in a corner of the lobby as she watches Lucifer occupy himself with rambling about the intricacies of crafting rubber ducks to his daughter and her girlfriend.

Because peace is never an option, a chill washes over her and static tingles dance on her skin- it's the only warning she receives of the incoming suffering.

Alastor materializes at her side with a crackling hum, one elbow propped up to rest on her head while the other grips his microphone. Nel doesn’t even flinch.

“Hello, my Negative Nelly! What are you doing skulking around this cobwebbed corner? You’re missing out on all of today’s grand fun!”

“The fun of you ribbing the big cheese of Hell, you mean,” she snaps, sticking out a finger to jab him in his ribs. “Cut that shit out. You’re playing with hellfire.”

Alastor drops into the floor before reforming on her opposite side, his other elbow weighing down on her skull.

“Jealous? Don’t be! My disdain for him could never compare to the special contempt we share.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I speak from the heart.”

“You don’t have one.”

“Oh, my sweet, you wound me!”

His dramatics grate on the single nerve of Nel’s that his hoofed feet haven’t trampled already. At this rate, he threatens to draw attention to them, and by proxy her, and she is not going to have Lucifer associate her with the jackass like everyone else in this ratty hotel already does.

She’s going nuclear.

“Allie,” she coos, placing her hand over his upon his staff, “I heard all that mess earlier with you and Charlie. If you wanted to have a daughter so badly, all you ever had to do was ask me.” 

There’s a harsh, sharp pitch in radio waves while Alastor’s gray face twists into one of pure, utter, absolute mortification. The beanpole sinks down into his shadow on the musty carpet and darts away, becoming nothing more than a black mass fleeing to his radio tower.

Ah, she’s still got it. 

A very pleased snicker catches her attention, and she snaps her head to the side, coming face to face with the devil she’d been trying to avoid all day. Mortified, she stammers over herself, staring up at Lucifer who’s beaming so widely that his red cheeks are pressing upwards into his eyeballs.

“Oh Jesus Christ- shit, no, not him- Your Majesty, I am so sorry you had to see that. Look-”

He holds out one hand to silence her. Nel brushes aside the indignation of being told what to do by a man and falls silent. 

Then, he bends over and giggles.

“Are you kidding?” Lucifer wipes away a few tears threatening to fall down his rosy cheeks as he keels over cackling. “Oh, oh, oh! Woo! You! Ah, sweet Eden, that was incredible, phenomenal, fantastic! Way to stick it to that tacky piece of crap! Keep up the good work, uh-?”

“Penelope, sir. Or, uh, Nel. Nelly.”

“Keep up the good work, Nancy!” he chirps with a wink, clapping a hand onto her shoulder.

She blanches. “It’s Nelly.”

“That’s what I said! That’s what I said, right? What did I say?” 

Awkward tension settles between them. One of her yellow eyes twitches.

After the brief pause, a mischievous grin slithers onto the king’s bone white face. “Well, Mel, if you ever find yourself in need of some assistance with that halitosis-ridden bellhop, don’t be a stranger!”

“...You don’t say?”

“Mhm! Now..." he leans in close to her, deathly serious, and Nel begins to fear that she's done something terribly wrong. "How do you feel about rubber ducks?”

Oh. Huh.

Maybe she does have an ally here after all.

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

friends in the dark

REQUEST: Hiya!! I saw you were looking for brienne prompts?if you're still open I'd love to see something where breinne for some reason has to go to a bar or brothel and the reader works there and is flirting with her and gives brienne gay panic!

Wordcount: 3719 words

[Instead of steamy, this whole thing turned into fluff. I couldn't help it. ;-; Brienne deserves so much love. I was writing it in a way that showed that her trust might've been affected after Jaime left her so yeahh. Reader is just delicate with her :) ]

"Tonight is going to be a night of fun and free of responsibility!"

Having convinced the Small Council, Lord Bronn shepherded the little group into what appeared to be a regular building not too far from the castle. Had they not known King's Landing so well, they still would have guessed where the Master of Coin was leading them all for his nature was incredibly predictable. Lord Tyrion had no objections nor did Lord Davos who only wanted to escape the confinement of the castle. Podrick, somehow, got the chance to tag along as well. Grand maester Samwell had gone home without entertaining the thought and Ser Brienne wished she could have done the same.

Against her own will, she had been brought to a place of the night's entertainment and the sight of the scene before her was enough to make her skin crawl. Women and men alike strode past her with barely a shred of clothing on them. Even those lounging seemed perfectly comfortable in the absence of garments. It made her feel entirely overdressed in her uniform. Never had she imagined visiting a brothel, and now that she was here, she felt entirely exposed despite being the one in a fair amount of layers.

Lord Davos and Podrick had disappeared to fetch themselves a drink, much to her dismay. Left with Tyrion and Bronn, she could feel their cheeky little grins burning into the back of her skull. She refused to look at them to feed their amusement, but Bronn was already having a good laugh at her usual scowl.

"Enjoy, won't you?" he jested as he slung an arm over Brienne's shoulders. "I'm sure there'll be someone for you here. If you want one that looks like Jaime, I can get him. But if you fancy experimenting a little, you're at the right place."

Tyrion grimaced at the remark about his late brother and swatted at Bronn's side. "Be nice, Bronn. She won't go easy on you."

"While I appreciate your hospitality, I will be fine," Brienne muttered as she flicked the arm off her shoulders.

"Suit yourself. At least get yourself a drink. Wind down a bit," Bronn offered as he tossed her a coin. "First one's on me." With that, Bronn trotted off.

Tyrion rolled his eyes but offered Brienne a comforting smile. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We just thought it would be nice for you to come out once in a while."

"I'll go get a drink. That's it."

"Be my guest. Don't feel like you have to stay either, okay? We know you can take care of yourself." Tyrion patted Brienne's arm then, with a hum, followed after Bronn through an archway to another room.

Left alone to her own devices, it was the perfect opportunity to leave. She had no desire or obligation to stay, unless Bronn caught her in the act, but she did not answer to him. The buzz of the brothel was livelier than she had seen in a while but it brought her some peace seeing that the people were happy. To some extent. It was nice basking in other people's thrills but she wanted no part in it. She turned on her heel and made her way to the door in a hurried stride, head bowed low to watch her steps than the scene around her.

"Leaving so soon?"

You saw her first when the Small Council came tottering in. They were not exactly the most subtle of people for everyone knew their faces but the one that stood out to you was the woman among them. The Lord Commander herself. It was astounding to you how a woman had managed to claim a seat among the council. A change in the system. A revelation.

She stopped in her stride to acknowledge you. You saw how her shoulders tensed up but after a quick look at you, she dropped them, releasing a slow breath. You were the only other person dressed in modest clothes. Something to look at rather than something to touch; a display. But Brienne did not know any better.

Shaking her head, Brienne stepped away from you. "I'm sorry but I'm not interested."

"But of course. Though, I'm sure a conversation wouldn't hurt."

"Wouldn't I be distracting you from your work?"

"The others are a bore," you scoffed. "I would much rather be in your company." You spoke with an air of fascination, the kind of glow you would not see in a worker who only desired to serve.

Brienne was uncertain but she was no fool. Years of experience taught her how to listen to the tells in people's voices when they were lying. She knew mockery like no other, in the face of it or concealed behind sweet nothings. It was too early to assume your intentions and there was nothing too strange just yet.

"Won't you consider... Podrick?" Brienne recommended. "Unless you've already had a go with him."

You threw your head back in laughter. "I've heard all about him. He's quite popular with the ladies, but no."

The laughter surprised her. Most well-groomed ladies would laugh into the back of her hand or let out a timed giggle. The way you had let the sound express itself in your physicality said more than enough about your character. You had nothing to hide.

She turned away from the door to face you properly once more. "Well, alright. I won't guarantee that I'm any fun to speak to."

"And yet I'm still here. You're not trying to chase me away, are you?" you teased.

"Oh, I don't mean to be rude."

"I was just joking! Come." You extended a hand to her. "Let us get some wine. Or do you prefer ale?"

"Ale will do just fine." She took your hand almost awkwardly but you were far too busy basking in your own delight.

"Because you are my guest, it's on the house~"

You sat her down on a plush couch, away from the other occupied ones where you could get your own privacy. Just before you joined her on the couch, you got someone to fetch the ale. While you draped yourself over the cushions, Brienne sat upright, hands planted firmly on her knees. What a sight she was. No other patron had ever swooned you the way she did and it was if you had forgotten how to breathe.

It took you a moment to recollect yourself from your rude staring, but Brienne had seen just how taken you were. It did nothing to ease her discomfort being in such a place but the somewhat civil exchange between the both of you was not at all unpleasant. She scooted a little closer to you.

"Forgive me for my silence. I did warn you that I'm not very interesting to speak with," she murmured under her breath. "I'm not sure what to do either."

"Speak whatever you wish. We can talk as regular folk do," you told her with a smile.

"But is there not a way for me to speak to you? As in- Well..." she fumbled with her words.

"I promise you, there is no catch. I speak to you as... An acquaintance. Consider me a friend." You rested a hand on her arm; something less intimate than resting it on her hand. "Don't think about my job. I'm not here for the sake of pleasure. I want to talk to you."

She could find no trick in your words. Even her suspicions were beginning to fade away of the possible fool you wanted to make out of her. You radiated comfort and it was all she wanted for the night while the rest of her companions were off in search of their own satisfaction. This was enough. When the ale came, she grabbed the mug and took a swig of it, a sigh following the large mouthful she had had. Swallow every other little insecurity that was nagging her at the back of her head, shut away the rest of the world and focus on who was in front of her, allow herself this bit of company without feeling guilty.

She had to admit, you were quite a beautiful person. She was as taken by you as you were of her but she did the better job of hiding it. The giveaway was the shine in her eyes when they found yours and they never seemed to break away from their gaze. She saw the ways your eyes smiled with the stretch of your lips, a pure glimmer in your own two irises. As you two sipped your ales, you would fill the silence with your giggling while Brienne stared.

If your beauty had not been the one to capture the Lord Commander, it might have been your tenderness. Anyone with a good heart could sway the knight, and receiving such treatment from someone who was beyond her league (or so she believed) was otherworldly.

Clearing her throat, she took another sip of ale and managed a small smile. "We could start by introducing ourselves..."

"I know who you are, Lord Commander," you purred as you inched closer to her.

"But I don't know who you are. It isn't very fair," she protested.

"You're right. It's only proper. But why should I give you my name if we will only meet tonight?" you asked, brows raised.

"I always remember a face and a name to it. I wish to remember the person who kept me company tonight while the rest of my companions left me on my own," she told you after a sip.

"What an honor! But it's no fun giving you the answers directly~"

"I'm not one for games."

"Will you wait then?"

"What for?"

"To see if I deserve to be remembered. We've only just started. We can deal with names later."

Without much of a thought, Brienne shrugged. "Sure. I will say this, my opinion will not change. I will get your name."

"I'm sure you will~"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she challenged.

You leaned in close to her, smirking lips hovering mere inches away from hers. "Was that a challenge, my dear~?"

A sound alike a squeak rose from her throat but she remained where she was. Persistent. "Two can play this game." She inched away a little, unable to take the heat of the tension but the heat was coming from the red in her cheeks.

"I'm not one to back away from a challenge," you warned her with a grin.

"Good"- She was backed up into the side of the couch, your frame still looming over hers. How had you come so close? "I like a good challenger."

"Don't blame me when you're stuck with me for hours."

"I don't tire easily."

Oh, how it made you shiver.

But in the end, you two soon forgot the concept of time. Hours slipped from your fingertips, breezing away as you whisked Brienne away into deep conversation. During the late hours, more patrons came in but you two were too occupied to bother with the world around you. Whenever you could not hear one another, either of you would move a little closer and at this point, your knees were already touching. You thought you were imagining things but you could see Brienne's cheeks flushing red every time you listened to her speak. The most obvious reason would be the ale but she had stopped bringing the mug to her lips just a few hours ago. Being the weakest drink, there was no chance that the knight was already tipsy. The other reason was delusional. The adoration in her eyes. It was similar to what you have seen before from your patrons under the influence of alcohol and lust.

Those hungry wide eyed men. This adoration was gentler and Brienne was watching you as if you were a gem. When she knew you were listening and acknowledging her every word, she would look down at her lap before meeting your eyes again to continue her story. An easy tell, but you found it adorable. From the night alone, you learnt a number about Brienne, mostly of her soldier days while she learnt about your interests outside of your work. The burning question had been the path that led you to this place but you promised that it was a story for another time which she took willingly.

You shared a good laugh, shared tales you had never told your peers and best of all, you earned the trust of the Lord Commander. It was far too surreal.

However, all good things came to an end but in this case, there were other times to continue. Tyrion and the others stumbled in Brienne's direction to pick her up as the night aged, bugging her to hurry up but she barely budged. With courage, you took her hands from her knees and gave them a squeeze.

"Visit me soon, will you?"

"Not here," Brienne whispered. "Perhaps some place else."

"I'll be waiting~"

As she got up, her hands did not leave yours until they slipped out of your grasp but she did not leave just yet. She stopped the group for a brief second to ask you one important question.

"So, whose company did I have the pleasure of having?"

Smiling, you bowed playfully. "[Y/N], at your service."

For the first time, Brienne gave you a full smile. "It was an honor to have your company, [Y/N]."

"And yours too, Lord Commander."

You saw her off at the door with her companions and waved them goodbye. What a strangely wonderful day it was. Meeting the Lord Commander and the rest of the Small Council. There was truly nothing that could top this day. Once they were out of sight, you retreated to your quarters, more ecstatic than ever before.

Brienne kept her composure until she arrived back at the castle. She was grateful for the candlelit hallways as they did not reveal secrets as much as the Sun did. In plain sight, she did not have to hide the reddening in her cheeks or bother if anyone saw her clutching her chest, over her rapidly beating heart. She looked more disturbed that stricken in the dark. She had always been known to dwell in moments she should leave behind but it was the moment that clung on to her that she could not shake off.

Thank the Gods that Tyrion and the others had disappeared somewhere at the courtyard. She could not bear to tolerate their humiliation as the events of the night played through her head.

The touch of your hand on hers when she had reached out to grab the jug to refill your drinks, the genuine kindness you had given to her and not a single lie in your sweet words. The suggestiveness in the phrases you would slip her by; she caught each one of them. In all disregard to masculinity and femininity, on a rare occasion such as this, she felt like a person.

She knew she would never get another chance at feeling so alive again, but now she knew a name to the face she would seek for in the city. Perhaps next time she would dare to do more and take the step forward. Maybe she would be the one to make the first move. Gods, what was she to do? So helplessly attached already to anyone who cared to give her a chance.

She needed it all again, even if you were just a friend in the dark. She had to have you.

TEENIE BONUS:

Weeks went by but the Lord Commander was not a distant memory. Some part of you hoped to see her one day but you knew that the chances were slim. After getting to know her from that one night, it was obvious that she was not the sort of woman one would find lingering in a place like this. You often saw the King's Hand as well as a few others in the Small Council. They would approach you occasionally to tease you about having the honor of the Lord Commander's company but other than that, there came no regards from the lady.

That was until you received news of a letter waiting for you in your shared quarters. The other girls were herded at your bed, sat around the envelope where it rested on your pillow. Letters from secret and not-so-subtle admirers were not uncommon but there had never been excitement in the room like this. Most letters would be thrown away but you soon came to understand why the girls were eager to see who it was from.

A wax seal.

Only a noble would use anything so grand to seal a slip of paper. It was bold too for a noble to be in contact with such a lowly person, and to make it clear it had been from them. At least it kept the letter out of the bin or away from prying eyes.

Upon studying the seal, there was a sigil you did not recognize. A smaller house of moons and suns. A smart move. With a sigil or not, the girls' patience ran thin and they beckoned you to open the letter. You felt like one of those pretty young girls in frilly dresses at a fancy sleepover, huddled up with your friends in a nice plush bed to open a letter from your secret admirer. This may be the only time you ever felt so childish and giddy. Without a moment to spare, you popped the seal open carefully to avoid damaging the paper and unfolded the letter.

The girls began to cry out, a flurry of questions hurtling at you as you struggled to read what was written. Reading alone was a tricky task and the commotion was no help at all. It was a short letter, thankfully, and a clear observation that you had made was that this was no ordinary letter. It was an invitation.

"What does it say?!" you heard.

"Who's it from??"

"Do you know them?!"

You shook your head as you read it out to them. "It's uh- It's an invitation to the Summer's Ball. And it's addressed to me." You pointed to what had been an empty space where your name was written. "There is an address to a dressmaker and a set time to go there."

"That's tomorrow!" a girl in the far back squealed.

"You must go!" another of the girls cried out. "This is an opportunity you can't miss!"

"But I haven't got much money to pay for a nice dress," you muttered as you tossed the invite into your drawer.

"Maybe the person who sent you this will meet you at the dressmaker? Your partner-to-be for the ball," another girl swooned.

"I could always stop by and see what happens."

"Yes! Then, you'll come to us and tell us all about it."

"Now, don't get jealous when I've gone to the ball with many stories to tell." You flopped onto your back and waved the girls off, sending them scurrying back to their beds now that the whole ordeal was over.

"Well, it depends on who this secret person is~" you heard someone hum.

"I'm sure it'll be someone absolutely fucking gorgeous," you mused.

"In your dreams you will!" The girls all scoffed and laughed as they settled into their beds.

They continued to shriek and giggle through the night like children while you found yourself sleeping with surprising ease. It was a dreamless sleep, one of the most peaceful rests you have had in a long while. It was possible that it had something to do with the secret sender of this invitation for only one person came to mind. Or rather, a few. The Hand of the King, who you were already acquainted with, would be considerate enough to invite you as a friend to see a certain someone again, and Ser Bronn, on the other hand, would invite you to jab at the Lord Commander. The Lord Commander herself sending the invitation was more of wishful thinking.

You had not heard a word from her but you remembered her words. Not here. Perhaps some place else. Was this it? Away from this hellhole and in the castle? It was far too much like a fairytale to believe in, but you wanted to see where this would take it.

You were ready to be faced with a brutal trick as soon as you left to find the dressmaker's shop. After all, no one in their right mind would bring a whore to a ball. You still dressed up for appearances were a selling trade to lure people into the brothel, but you could not help but feel uncomfortable in the clothes you worse so often.

What made your skin crawl even more under the summer sun was the sight of the dressmaker's shop. You were ready for humiliation, for the girls to be there to laugh at you for falling for something so stupid. For being so naïve.

As you trudged towards the shop, a person by the window caught your eye. You stopped in your stride to stare just for a moment to see if you were simply daydreaming, but for once, your eyes were not deceiving you. Speaking to the dressmaker was the Lord Commander herself. Free of her armor, she donned a lovely blue with a sigil sewn to her top. A sigil of moons and suns. The same one on the letter. You felt your heart skip a beat when she noticed you from where you stood, a smile gracing her lips. Before you could walk any further, she was already out the door, coming to meet you.

"I didn't think we'd meet again," you said with a laugh.

She bowed her head in greeting, her smile growing in the slightest. "I said we would meet some place else. And here we are." In the daylight, Brienne was drinking in the sight of you, your true self outside the silks and false glamor. "It's um... It's good to see you again."

[cupidspup]

kitten regressor Alastor from Hazbin Hotel headcanon? Do you do moodboards too? If not that’s fine but I would also like a moodboard on the same subject with gothic cat items and gothic Lolita aesthetic with a gothic teacup with red tea if at all possible.If you are uncomfortable with the moodboard request it’s ok. Please, I know this is an incredibly weird headcanon but… ps: you don’t have to include any bones/skulls/blood/gore ect. if that makes you uncomfortable. If all of this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it.

Hello! I'd be more than happy to make a headcanon list for you! I will say first that I don't do moodboards or anything like that :") this is an agere fanfic account so anything under the writing category is more than welcome! ^^ (it's also my first time doing this too so I hope you like it!!૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა)

Kitten Regressor! Alastor Headcanons!

Ft. Auntie Rosie!! :D

🐾 Kitty alastor is definitely the temperamental type. He will refuse to interact with you if he doesn't get to know you first and will only interact if he comes up to you first.

❤️ Little Alastor is also extremely picky on who gets to touch/pet him. His cg or Auntie Rosie are the ONLY ones allowed to touch him, especially without asking.

📻 He isn't into playing in the typical way you'd think he'd do. He's the kind where he'll "hide and stalk" whatever he deems as his "prey" and attack it when he feels ready! He's a lil kitty hunter!

🐾 Because he's a cannibal it can be a bit difficult to get him to eat foods especially the stuff he's usually used to. BUT, Auntie Rosie always has some snacks handy! Just a pinky finger or two maybe x]

❤️ If it's naptime, Alastor will ONLY allow himself to be tucked in and put down for sleep if you cuddle up, hold him and pet him until he's snoozing away (his cg is NOT allowed to move until he's awake again)

📻 When Alastor is upset he's not the crying type, he lashes out and isolates. He can be a lil violent that's because he doesn't know how else to express himself when he's so deep in kittyspace! Give him time/patience. All he needs is love and safe space ❤️

🐾Not necessarily a kitty alastor headcanon but I like to think he'd play with his shadow self when he's alone! He's not fond of many people in that headspace so why not? ^^

❤️ Alastor isn't a fan of pacifiers when he's regressed BUT he does like chew toys like teethers! Especially the ones with liquid in them! The only issue is getting some that his pointy teefies won't puncture :"]

📻 Kitty Alastor doesn't like talking much BUT his personality is very similar to how the Cheshire cat would act! (And he absolutely loves watching Alice in Wonderland for that exact reason too! But only on vhs)

🐾 He absolutely does make muffins but only if no one is looking

❤️ He loves to play dress up with his Auntie Rosie! She'll play his favorite music on the radio and talk to him for hours and hours while dressing him up in a outfit she "just had to see him in"

📻 Alastor has a hard time expressing himself and saying "I love you" more than anything so! How does he get around this? A slow double blink and a soft head but to show he loves his cg❤️

A/N: Weeee!! I hope you liked it! This was my first time and I really had to sit and think about this one but I had fun! ^^ I hope this is up to your standards and I hope I get more writing requests soon! Stay safe everyone!!🩷

-Love, Kyupie˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗