#all of them really do inform everyone's way of acting going forward

[franeridan]

rereading whole cake and I love how sanji's like I went against you and fought you so I can't come back to you cause that's obviously him remembering what happened with usopp back in water seven but also it means that he totally forgot all it took for usopp to be allowed back was for him to apologize and say he wanted back in and that's just. typical mugiwara behaviour. to remember how seriously they have to take luffy as a captain but forget just how easily luffy forgives them anyway. to remember they have to respect him but forget that he loves them first and foremost

[solipseismic]

"the dems are pro-genocide" "harris is just as supportive of genocide as biden" and what. do you think. the republicans think. of american imperialism and genocide? please. do let me know.

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2)

You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: mentions of sex, sex toys, and some ~self-pleasure~

A/N: hiii guys!!! I honestly cannot get over the love for part 1. That was probably one of my favorite things I’ve written since I’ve been here on tumblr, and I’m so glad you guys shared the love 💜😚

I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint!!

Here we go!!

~

“You shoulda seen the way she was blushing! I’ve never seen her act that way!” KK roars to the rest of UConn’s women’s basketball team, the girls leaning forward in extreme interest as KK recounts how Paige had turned into a bumbling mess in your presence the day prior. 

“God, KK, shut up. I did not,” Paige whines, her face growing warm with humiliation. 

“There she goes again,” Jana teases, and the girls erupt into another round of laughter. 

“Y’all suck,” Paige pouts, walking off the basketball court and heading towards the locker room for a much needed reprieve. 

The taunting had yet to stop since she had stepped foot in the sex shop a week prior. KK and Ice had hunted down valuable information that a certain someone had worked there, and they had forced Paige to come inside, knowing you were standing behind the counter.

Paiges’ thoughts drift back to that day, as they had nearly a million times the past week, and she muses over the way your hair had flowed over your shoulders and your lips glistened pink.

Her crush on you was unwavering, the same way the ocean waves continuously kissed the shoreline. 

And despite what nearly everyone had perceived about Paige Bueckers, she was absolutely terrified when it came to expressing her feelings. Especially about you. So she bottled them up, settling for watching you from afar with a hope that maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you.

That was until her teammates had made the decision to do so for her. 

She really couldn't be all that mad at them.

Her crush on you had started three years ago. The two of you had shared a fondness for studying in the same area of the library, where it was quiet and away from the loudness of your respective roommates. Paige’s grades had always been good, but the daily motivation of seeing you, tongue occasionally peaking out in concentration and your body nestled in large, comfy-looking sweatshirts had Paige securing her place on the Dean’s List semester after semester. 

And with everything Paige did, she completely lacked subtlety when it came to you, and it only took a few longing glances in your direction for Ice and KK to connect the dots. 

~

“Oh, c’mon you can’t be mad at me,” KK whines, running into the locker room after Paige. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “Well, you ain’t gotta put me on blast.” She sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

“You’re being way too dramatic. She offered to show you how to use the damn toy,” KK stresses, and Paige’s face goes pink again.

“Soo,” she drags out the word with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just take her up on the offer and boom you can have sex and then live happily ever after!” 

Paige’s eyes widen as KK, in the midst of her rambling, doesn’t see Coach Geno walk in behind her. 

Based on the look on his face, he had definitely heard KK, and he clears his throat, causing KK to whip around, her hand flying over her mouth as she pieces the situation together.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, sending a weak smile over to Geno, who just waves her away, a disgusted grimace on his face.

But as Geno rambles on about how the practice went, Paige’s thoughts drift back to the way you suggested to help her. 

Would you really want to? Paige was navigating something completely new, and it was stressing her the fuck out.

If only there was a way to get rid of the pent up anxiety.

~

On the other side of campus, you were having a similar dilemma. You had been trying to work out what had come over you yesterday when you had boldly and uncharacteristically offered to teach Paige Bueckers how to use a vibrator.

The interaction plays in your mind for the millionth time, and you slap a palm across your forehead in frustration.

“I am so fucking stupid,” you groan, catching the attention of your roommate who was working on a paper at the seat across from you at your most favorite spot in the library.

“What’d you do now?” She asks, and you divulge her in yesterday's interaction with Paige, and her eyes widen.

“Dude, you have been drooling over her for the past three years, and you’re telling me you’re not going to wife her up?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“I think she was just being polite,” you sigh. “We exchanged numbers, but I’ve been too scared to do anything.”

Charlotte shakes her head in mock derision, “I raised you better than that.”

You sit there a moment, contemplating. 

“Fuck. Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up Paige’s contact information, your fingers shaking slightly as they ghost over the keypad. 

“Hi, still need some help? If not, no big deal. Just thought I couldn’t leave a pretty girl stranded,” you read out to Charlotte as you compose the text, and she claps loudly in approval.

“God I hope she doesn't think I'm some sort of sex addict,” you moan, looking at the delivered sign under the text. 

~

Back in the locker room, Paige nearly chokes on a swig of water as your text appears on her screen. Aubrey, who is sitting next to her, slaps her on the back a few times, before leaning over to take a good look at what was causing the reaction.

Aubrey hoots loudly as she reads the text and promptly snatches Paige’s phone out of her hands to show it to KK, who had proudly deemed herself the captain of yours and Paige’s ship.

“FINALLY!” KK yells, fist pumping the air with great enthusiasm, and the whole locker room erupts into laughter again. 

Paige rereads the text. And then again. Your words were flirty and sure, just as they had been yesterday, and Paige is once again reduced to a blushing, simpering mess. 

She looks around the room, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face. “What do I say?” And the girls erupt again.

“Tell her you wanna fu—” KK starts eagerly before Azzi, who was sitting next to the younger girl, covers her mouth with a sharp look on her face. KK moves Azzi’s hand away, pouting and muttering to herself about how she’s “just tryna help Paige get some pussy.”

With pink cheeks and a pounding heart, Paige composes a reply, hiding her phone from the curious eyes of her teammates, hoping it seemed way more confident than she felt. You had a strange effect on her, reducing her assured ways into a bumbling mess, teetering on the edge of falling into madness.

And it was just the beginning. 

After all, you had yet to even touch her. 

~

That night you stand in front of Paige’s door with a pounding heart, determined to keep up the facade you had attached to your being, and as she appears on the other side, it is cemented. 

There was just something about seeing a bashful Paige Bueckers that makes your confidence soar, and you send her a cheeky smile, reveling in her mannerisms.

Paige leads you into her bedroom, and you immediately spot the purple vibrator laying atop of the comforter. 

You break the ice. “So what’s stopping you from finishing?” You ask, looking her in the eyes.

An embarrassed chuckle leaves those pink lips, and she rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I guess I just keep gettin’ distracted,” she mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“I like to think about someone,” you say boldly and pointedly. “If you close your eyes and immerse yourself into a fantasy, it’s almost like they’re there with you.” 

You watch as she takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally preparing for what she says next.

“Can I try again? And you can walk me through it?” 

The air leaves your lungs, surprised by her suggestion, and you agree before any other thought could cross your mind. 

The situation was something out of a filthy romance book, and as Paige undresses down to her boxers and her sports bra, you thank every star you had wished on the last three years for letting this happen. 

Paige settles onto her pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and with shaky hands, grabs the vibrator.

“P,” you say softly, and her eyes fly back open, meeting yours. “Use your hands first. Tease yourself, and let the arousal build up,” you suggest kindly, and she nods, putting the toy back down.

She runs her hands across her toned stomach, causing your own to lurch with want. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillows, and her bottom lip was red and plump from biting it, and despite just getting started, she looked completely fucked out. 

You secretly hope the image never leaves your memory.

Paige continues to tease herself, her fingers delicately dancing across the fabric of her boxers, and a quiet moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes are still closed in concentration, and you wished you could peer into her thoughts, hoping you were the object of her most intimate fantasies. 

And as if she could read your thoughts, your name leaves her mouth in a broken whimper that has you wanting to jump her bones and connect that sinful mouth with yours.

She’s panting now. Her eyes open, those crystal clear baby blues pleading for more. The unspoken words spoken between the two of you bridged a formidable bond, and you know at that point that this would lead to a whole lot more than offering friendly tips on masterbation. 

“Need more,” she whispers, her lithe body squirming on the bed hinting at her growing arousal. 

“Okay, baby, now take the vibrator and start at your tits and run it down your stomach,” you instruct, your voice nearly trembling. 

The quiet buzz fills the room before it’s cut with Paige’s whimpers as she runs the toy over her now exposed breasts. The pointed, pink peaks of her nipples make your own strain against the lace of your bra, and you shift uncomfortably in the gaming chair you are sitting in. 

The toy gets dragged over her belly, going lower and lower until it grazes the waistband of her underwear, and with a frustrated sigh, she lifts her butt to rip off the offending fabric. 

And now she was laid out bare in front of you, occasionally peeking at you, making sure you were still watching. 

You could not look away, and your body subconsciously leans forward toward the blonde girl. 

She places the buzzing toy on her clit, her back arching off the bed in response, moaning in pleasure. Her hips jump, grinding against the vibrator, desperately seeking an orgasm that had been denied from her several times over the past week. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” you whisper, enthralled with the display in front of you, and Paige opens her eyes once more at your praise, sending you a needy look and a pout. 

“Keep going,” you encourage, and she adjusts the vibration, a higher pitched buzz ringing through the small room. 

Paige’s skin glows with a subtle sheen of sweat and arousal that you want to meticulously lick, and her whimpers grow louder as she squirms, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” she groans, and you bite your lip, her noises effecting every fiber of your being. 

And with a loud moan, your name leaves her mouth, along with a long string of expletives, as her back arches off the comforter again. Her chest heaves as the orgasm rips through her, and her eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

Your gaze rakes over her, taking in the gorgeous woman laid out before you, watching as she slowly comes down from the high. 

“Oh my god,” Paige breathes heavily, suddenly feeling exposed and shy again. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, your own cheeks flushed with arousal, and Paige’s eyes trail to your peaked nipples straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. And that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I have ever had,” she responds, putting her underwear back on, much to your displeasure. 

“Thank you,” she adds shyly.

You shrug, moving to sit next to her on the bed, you run your hand across the flesh of her thigh, goosebumps erupting in its wake.

And before you can even make your own move, Paige connects your lips in an impassioned kiss that adds fuel to the fire that was raging in your core. The kiss was messy with unrestrained want and need, swapping unsaid words that had been brewing in both of your heads over the last three years.

The two of you had unknowingly fallen in love with the thought of each other, and now, here you were, falling right into each other. 

And it wasn’t going to stop there. 

~

The next afternoon, you are back at work, your mind continuously going back to the delicious display of Paige’s naked body. You had been on the edge all day, dying to get home to rub one out. Or four, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Sitting in the back room in front of the fan, desperately needing a cool off, you hear the familiar jingle of the bell on the front door, alerting you that someone had entered the shop. You take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. 

It was hard to be cordial when you were surrounded by sex toys.

You walk out of the back room, your eyes immediately trained on Paige who was now standing at the front counter with a huge smirk on her face. 

Blushing you walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers, the taste of her mouth sending your body up in flames once more.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask breathily.

Paige gestures towards the package she had set on the counter with a wide smile. “Figured I’d add to the collection. Wanted to buy something for your pleasure,” she adds casually.

Your belly lurches as your eyes land on the strap on, a deep purple and six inches of thick rubber.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, feeling yourself drip with excitement at the thought.

“Oh, I plan to,” Paige grins, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

Things were just getting started.

~

This was a blast to write!! Also I am obsessed with shy, blushy Paige

xoxo katy

~

You can now read part 3 here

[wannabeschyulersister]

you keep his shirt, he keeps his word

The strong aroma of coffee woke you up that morning. It confused you because you were absolutely sure that your coffee maker was still in a box somewhere. Opening your eyes, it only took you a matter of five seconds to realize that you weren’t in your new apartment.

You were in Carmen Berzatto’s bed.

What started off as a night where you were meeting your best friend’s work friends ended up with you in the bed of one of them.

You never did this kind of thing. You never met a guy at a bar and went back to his place.

There was just something about Carmen.

When Sydney first introduced you to him in that small bar near The Bear, you literally fell in love with his eyes. They were this beautiful shade of blue. You instantly got jealous of him because of them. How ordinary your eyes were compared to his.

You wanted to stay far away from him, scared that you’d do or say something stupid. He eventually made his way back towards you and the rest was history.

Sydney gave you a rundown before you met everyone. She informed you that Carmen was shy as hell and often kept to himself. She also said to not be offended if he did so.

It surprised you when he made his way towards you and struck a conversation. It started off a little slow but there was this unspoken connection that blossomed.

He was shy in a totally adorable way and super charming. Sydney and everyone else that worked with him on a near daily basis was shocked at how he was acting. They didn’t dare think that he’d be the guy to approach a woman and have an actual conversation.

You sat with him in the little corner of the bar and talked about everything. He wanted to know what made you move to Chicago. How you knew Sydney. What your favorite food was.

His last question surprised you, “Would you like to go back to my place?”

Your response surprised you the most, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Fast forward to eight hours later and you were still tangled up in his sheets. You sat up and looked around for your belongings. You quickly found your phone, purse, jeans and undergarments. The shirt you wore last night was nowhere to be found.

You grabbed the first white shirt that you saw and slipped your clothes back on.

This was all new territory to you. You had no idea what you should do. Thank him for a great evening? Give him a high five? Run out without saying anything?

The door to his bedroom was cracked open. You heard the soft sounds of the radio playing.

As quietly as you could, you walked down the hallway and made your way to the main living area. You spotted Carmen in his kitchen. Shirtless.

He was at the stove. The sizzling of the pan and the smell made your stomach growl. Carmen turned to grab a plate when he saw you standing in the doorway.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” He asked you.

You nodded, “Uh, yeah I did surprisingly.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m one of those people that has a hard time falling asleep if it isn’t in my own bed.”

“I’m glad that you were comfortable enough here to where that wasn’t a problem.” He made his way towards you and tugged on your- his shirt, “Looks good on you.”

You looked down and he still had a grip on you, “I normally don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Have one night stands. Going back to a guy’s apartment after barely meeting him isn’t really my thing.” You confessed. Part of you hoped he believed you. The other part didn’t want to be ashamed if it was something that you normally did.

One night stands weren’t something to be embarrassed about. You were a single woman who could date/hook up with anyone she wanted.

“Was this just a one night kinda thing to you?” Carmen asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, “What do you think?”

You wanted him to answer before you could. It was killing you inside to figure out what he was thinking.

“I think that last night, I met a woman that I would really like to get to know better.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Really?”

He nodded and grinned, “Yes, really. Plus, you look great in my clothes and out of them.”

“Well that was a smooth line if I ever heard one.”

“There’s plenty more of that if you stick around with me,” Carmen leaned closer and placed a sweet kiss on your lips, “I made you breakfast.”

“You’re going to spoil me, Berzatto.” You set your purse down before taking a seat at his counter. He served you a delicious looking omelette with a cup of coffee.

“I plan to do so as long as you’ll let me. I’m a man of my word.”

[tlou-reid]

All of the Books Beside Your Bed ✿ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: Spencer can’t help but save the day after your weekend plans are ruined

♡ WARNINGS: gross disgusting fluff, mention of a book that talks about nazi propaganda but it’s the same book that was mentioned in the show, a steamy kiss, reader really goes through it mentally in the beginning

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Everyone could tell you were in a bit of a sour mood. Working with profilers upwards of 9 hours a day (and that was an easy day), made it hard for subtleties to go unnoticed.

The team caught on to the lack of jokes passed around the bullpen, the way you huffed when you sat down after getting each cup of coffee, and they definitely noticed the scowl that had been etched across your face all day.

“What’s got sunshine all cranky today?” Derek asked, posing the question to Penelope and JJ in the break room. “We’re not sure, she’s been awfully quiet today,” JJ informs, looking long-fully at your desk, where you angrily shaking your keyboard, tired of the delay when you were typing.

All three of them watch as Spencer slides his chair around, “Hey, hey, hey,” he calls, moving to grab your arm. “It’s not working!” You huff, moving back so Spencer can work his magic. Derek, Penelope, and JJ can’t hear the rest, but they see you relax as Spencer shows you how much better your keyboard is working.

The three disperse, settling back in to finish the paperwork assigned for the day. If all goes well, they’ll get their weekend off. So, everyone was locked in.

Everyone except you. And, oddly enough, Spencer.

The rest of the team had noticed the surface level differences, but Spencer saw you on a different level. He noticed that you started picking at your fingers after you went outside to eat lunch. He noticed when you turned down the brightness of your desktop computer. He noticed the lack of your usual, rotating choice of a novel resting on your desk.

Spencer wasn’t saying he was a better profiler than the rest of the team; he just tended to notice the little things. Especially about you. You were one of his friends, after all.

You weren’t sure why your day was crawling by. You were aware of why you were in such a poor mood, but the only thing that could make it better would be to get off of work and head home. It was silly to be so angry over something so trivial, but you really did plan your weekend around going to the library tomorrow morning.

Your weekend plans surrounded the book you were going to spend hours selecting. Going to the library was something you looked forward to every week, and you knew Hotch has plans with Beth this weekend, so chances were there would be no case and you could truly enjoy your time. You wanted to make a nice dinner for yourself tonight, curl up and watch a movie, and then head to bed.

Tomorrow, you were looking forward to getting up and doing your makeup, browsing around the library until your heart was content, grab lunch with Penelope, and then going home to read in the bathtub. You couldn’t have been more excited.

But your plans were quickly ruined. The library you frequented had sent an email to all its patrons, informing them they the library would be closed until further notice, due to a water pipe that was underground breaking. It had completely ruined your mood for the whole day. And it was continually getting worse with each little inconvenience. You left your notebook at home, when you passed Morgan a file you had given yourself a paper cut, your lunch was soggy, and now your computer was acting up. There was no winning for you today.

“Thank you,” you tried your best to be kind to Spencer, he always tried to help you. “Just try not to smash the keys again,” he teased as he slid his chair back to his desk. “I make no promises.” You mumbled.

Spencer spent a good majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to ask why you were in such a bad mood without making it any worse. He continued to notice how your mood steadily declined, even as the people in the bullpen started to head home. “Is something wrong?” He settled on, after you threw your head back in agitation. You couldn’t help the way tears started to form in your eyes, all the emotions from the awful day spilling over, as you laid your head down on the desk.

No matter how much Emily loved you, she took this as a sign to head home, leaving just you and Spencer. As the glass door to the BAU closed, Spencer made his way to your desk, crouching right down. He rested his arm close to you, wondering if he should rub circles on your back like JJ does for him when he’s upset.

“Hey,” he cooed in that soft voice he only used with people who were vulnerable, “what’s going on?” Being entirely overwhelmed with everything that had happened today, and being engulfed by Spencer’s being had your mind going fuzzy, not allowing you to properly articulate the struggles you’d been facing. “The whole thing just crashed,” you mumbled your most recent misfortune into your arm, doing your best to hold back sobs that were threatening to come through.

“Have you reopened it?” Spencer questioned, springing into action to come up with a solution. You shook your head as more tears fell. “Can I sit there?” He asked, needing your limp body out of his way so he could help you. You nodded again, trying your best to wipe your eyes before lifting yourself up and moving to lean against your desk. “Are you crying?” Spencer couldn’t help himself from asking, very ungracefully.

You simply nodded, turning your head away. Spencer’s cheeks turned red, realizing how inconsiderate he sounded despite just wanting to help make things better for you. He turned his attention back to your computer, easily recovering the file you’d been working on. “There you go. You might’ve lost some work, but it recovered to six minutes ago. I can help you catch up, if you want.” He offers, wanting to recover from his uncouth comment earlier.

You sniffled, “I think I just want to go home.” Spencer nodded, moving out of your chair to allow you to pack your things. “Hold on,” he mumbles to himself, moving back into your desk space. He saved your file, opened your email, and sent it to himself. “What are you doing?” You questioned, rubbing your eyes. “I can finish it for you tonight. We worked on the geographical profile together, so I got it.” Spencer smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Thank you, Spence.” You said with a breath of relief. “It’s no problem at all. I can tell you’ve had a hard day, I just want to make it easier for you.”

Spencer’s simple heartfelt concern for you sent your waterworks over the edge. You couldn’t help yourself as the tears fell, staining your tired cheeks with dark streams of mascara. You couldn’t imagine how goofy you looked, but every emotion was hitting you all at once. You didn’t know how to control it. It was all just too much.

Spencer cooed your name, not hesitating to put a gentle hand over your crossed arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was unusually soft, trying his best to create a safe space for you.

You nodded your head, wanting to share but struggling to express all of your hardships. It was as if your throat was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe and impossible to talk. Spencer could see this written across your face, hesitating for one second before pulling you into his chest. “Shh,” he comforted as one hand ran up and down your back and the other held you close, “it’s okay.”

You weren’t sure how long you two stood like that. Spencer continued to whisper sweet affirmations to you, really just wanting you to feel better. His concern for germs and the stains that could appear on his lilac button up shirt were far away, not circling his mind. All he could focus on was getting you to calm down. He waited patiently for your sobs to slow down and your shoulders to relax.

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry,” you apologized. For everything. For how silly you looked, for crying, for the dark spot on his shirt, everything.

“No need.” He dismissed your attempt, “do you want to talk about it now?” You once again nodded, leaning back against your desk. You were more relaxed now that you had let out your feelings. Still, you felt somehow even sillier as your biggest problem escaped your lips, “I really just wanted to go the library tomorrow.”

Spencer’s face scrunched up, expecting a much more catastrophic reason behind your emotional outburst. You saw the confusion written across his face and went into a deeper explanation. “I had my whole weekend planned out, and the highlight of it was going to the library tomorrow morning. I got an email that said it’s closed indefinitely because of a plumbing issue. And then all the computer issues and my lunch was ruined and it’s just been all around a shitty day. And I can’t even go home and relax like I wanted to because the fucking library is closed.”

Spencer nodded at your angry rambling, happy you were past the crying part of your frustration. He was a bit shocked at your foul language, knowing it wasn’t a common thing for you. His brain moved on quickly, recognizing he had a solution to your problem. “Why don’t you come to my house?”

It was your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion, not understanding what he was proposing. This instantly launched Spencer into an awkward recovery rambling, “I mean, I have a lot of books. Not as much as the public library, as the average library has over 100,000 books, most of which are general fiction, although some would argue that young adult fiction is more common,” he took a breath and attempted to move on from his side track, “I have a fraction of that, but more than the average person. I bet you could find something to read from my collection.” He concluded.

Your entire mood changed as he finished his proposition. It was amazing that he could come up with such a practical solution to such a ridiculous problem, and it was even more amazing how quickly he did. Spencer was welcoming you into his home, allowing you to borrow a book, which you knew were precious to him. He was being so caring, so kind.

“Spencer,” you said, with the amount of awe and adoration you were feeling dripping through, “that is so nice.”

Your sweet tone as you said his name had Spencer’s knees feeling weak. The way you said his name sounded so sweet, like you dripping ooey gooey honey from your mouth.

His cheeks turned red, “it’s nothing. I just don’t want to see you crying again.” You nodded, making a mental note to do your best not to cry in the bullpen anymore. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Spencer immediately nodded, “of course it is. I’ll send you my address.” The smile that adorned your face contrasted sharply with the tears stains on your cheek, but he was so happy to see it.

“Thank you so much,” you said one last time, before packing up your bag to head home.

You tried to pretend that you didn’t set your alarm a little bit early so you’d have more than enough to get ready. You justified it by telling yourself that this was your day, you just wanted to feel as good as possible. Sure, going to Spencer’s house had absolutely nothing to do with it.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as you climbed into the car, turning on your favorite song and started making your way to the local cafe you and Emily frequented. You knew Spencer liked his drinks sweet, so you did your best to pick out something he’d like, and then hopped back in your car and continued your drive to his home.

It didn’t take long to get there, thankfully. You didn’t want to hand him a cold coffee.

“Hello,” he greeted after you shyly knocked on his door. He was dressed in a FBI branded hoodie and a pair of jeans. You guessed he was only dressed because of your presence, judging by how lackluster his outfit was compared to the button ups, ties, and cardigans he wore to work.

“I don’t think I can say thank you enough, so I bought a coffee to show my appreciation.” Your smile grew tenfold when his eyes lit up at the small cup in your hand. “I told you, it’s no problem. But, thank you for the coffee.” He nodded as he took it from you and opened the door wider, allowing you to step into his apartment.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting it too look like, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because the real thing was much more grand than anything your imagination could’ve conjured up. Green walls with dark wood molding, a beautifully worn leather couch, bookcases full of books and DVDs of his favorite tv shows. It was so incredibly Spencer, and easily the coziest place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Not even the cluttered stacks of books that adorned parts of the floor and coffee table could take away from the beauty that is Spencer Reid’s apartment.

“Wow, Spence,” you sighed in awe, glancing around the space, “your home is beautiful.” Spencer blushed, ushering you to step farther in. “I’m sorry to be a pain, but could you take your shoes off? I don’t want to track the outside in.” You understood what he meant and nodded, knowing it would save him a lot of mysophobia-induced worry.

“Do you want a tour?” Spencer inquired, setting his cup down on the coffee table. You excitedly nodded, wanting nothing more than to explore his space. He moved towards the left-most bookshelf in his living room, “This is all non-fiction, organized with my very own Dewey decimal system,” he gloated. It was easily to tell that Spencer was proud of his book collection, rightfully so. “The rest of them,” he gestured to two more shelves on the left side of his RCA brand television, “are fiction. They’re organized by author, so you should feel right at home when you’re browsing.”

You nodded excitedly. You couldn’t wait to sort through his mountains of novels.

“This TV is probably older than you,” he quickly breezed over it, “and this is the start of my disc collection. It’s just my favorites right now, Doctor Who, a few soap operas and a couple French films.” You nodded along as he made his list. “This is where my records go, and the occasional CD. I prefer physical media, as opposed to streaming.” That factoid made sense for Spencer.

“There’s a chess table over there, my couch, and the kitchen. My room and the bathroom are down the hall.” Your eyes scanned the room one last time, completely and utterly impressed. “I love it, Spencer. I can only imagine how good it feels to come home to this.” Spencer’s cheeks turned red, not used to being showered in compliments like this.

“Um,” he took a second to collect himself, “I’ve read all of the ones on the shelves, so if you need summaries or reviews I’ll be here. This stack,” he points to the one next to the couch, “are my newest ones, but you are more than welcome to any of them. And this one,” he points to the one next to the chess table, “are ones I am planning to donate, so you are welcome to keep them if you’d like.”

You nodded at his words again, practically ripping at the seams with excitement. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how long you’d been smiling.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Spencer remarked, reaching for his coffee cup. He wanted to make sure he was honoring your previous weekend plans, allowing you to browse his home library to your heart’s content. He wouldn’t go far, just to the kitchen, so you could have your space.

Before you could stop yourself you were calling out a hurried, “wait!” You stopped, almost if you’d shocked yourself with your remark. You couldn’t help yourself. You felt like you wanted him, no, needed him around. As if the beauty and the warmth and the coziness of his home would dampen by his departure. You stuttered a bit, trying to justify your interruption. “Do you have any recommendations?” was the best you could come up with.

As if he didn’t notice how much higher your voice had gotten, Spencer’s back straightened up and his eyes widen with joy. “I do!” He cheered, heading over to his shelves of fiction books. “This is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury,” he didn’t even have to look before pulling it down, “it’s a number of stories tied together with a narrative about a man whose tattoos tell stories.” Spencer moved to the coffee table, setting it down right in the middle.

“This one,” he moves back to the shelf, “is called Mother Night. It’s about the conflicted emotions of a Nazi propagandist who doesn’t believe in the propaganda.” Spencer places this book right on top of the previous one.

He does this a few more times, until you have your own stack of books he’d picked out for you. You couldn’t help but notice how your pile fit like a missing puzzle piece in his world of books.

“And this one,” Spencer starts for the fifth or sixth time, but takes a second to glance at you. He realizes quickly that you’re no longer paying attention to the summaries he’s providing. Instead, your attention is turned to the pile of books he’d been creating. For the third time since you arrived, his face is read with embarrassment. He’d been rambling. For far too long. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, moving to return the books to the shelves, “you wanted to browse. I just love books, and I wanted to make sure you found something you like! I didn’t mean to start rambling.”

You’re easily broken out of your trance, quickly pulled away from your imaginations of your own novels mixed in with his on these shelves. “No!” You said, stepping closer to him, “I loved your recommendations, Spencer!” You reassured him, reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay, I promise. I like listening to you talk.” You successfully rendered him speechless, creating a momentary lag in brain. You were so close to him, complimenting his rambles and being interested in his opinions. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the sparkles in your eyes.

“I don’t mean to come on too strong or anything, but if you want to, I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Spencer whispered into the delicate space between you. You simply nodded, too enamored with the moment to say anything. His right hand came to rest gently against your cheek as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. His touch was feather-light and his lips tasted like sugar, definitely from the coffee you’d given him.

The kiss was a few seconds long, filled with nothing but sickly sweet puppy love.

“Thank you,” he whispered again. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, “anytime, Spence.” He let out a light laugh as well.

He couldn’t help himself from pulling you back into him, taking up on your ‘anytime’ offer. This kiss was filled with sweetness, just as last one was. His hands moved to waist, making sure you were flush against him.

You reciprocated, just wanting to be close to him. Your hands moved upwards, entangling themselves into his hair, as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. You smiled against his lips, breaking the ever-growing tension in the room.

When you two pulled away, you found yourself marveling at Spencer. He just looked so pretty, with his now tussled hair and slightly swollen lips. You wished you could commit this sight to memory, just as he was doing to you. While he never had to try, Spencer’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer, making sure his eidetic memory was doing its job, before he spoke.

“I know you had plans for your weekend, but I’d love to take you on a date, if you’d like.” Spencer stumbled through his proposal, trying to find the words. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of trouble to get to this point.” You joked, sending both of you into a fit a laughter. “C’mon,” you stepped away from him as you moved closed to the door, “let’s go grab lunch.”

[endiness]

okay, i have gone through probably 50+ s2 interviews of hc researching this so far and i have to say that at this point i really don't see how he wasn't deliberately trying to manipulate the fanbase and the media against the writers and the show to get them onto his side. (and also, like, a very specific, extremely toxic section of the fandom at that.) (it's the sexist incel gamerbros. i'm talking about them.)

"I wanted to represent as much of a book-accurate Geralt as possible and a lot of the fans did as well, and so I campaigned really hard to make sure that he was more verbose, he sounded more intellectual, his choice of words was more thought out and that his approach to Cirilla and everyone else wasn’t antagonistic. Because it initially came across as he was just grumpy all the time with everyone and everything and I really wanted to show this three-dimensional character […] It’s gonna be tough to do the stuff which is as brilliant as Sapkowski’s writing, but it’s something I’m always gonna campaign for and it’s hopefully fit into the vision of the show."

there are so many interviews (ie virtually every interview out of 50+ with the exception of maybe, like, 3) where hc says the exact same thing about how he just cares so much about book accuracy, specifically where geralt's characterization is concerned, and that he really started to push for a more book accurate geralt in s2 and wanted him to be more verbose and intelligent and show that he isn't just a one dimensional character who just grunts and says hmm all the time like in s1 — and at no point does he ever take any responsibility for how that was due to his acting choices in the first place because he would cut his lines.

he also just straight up lies about the situation because the writers originally wrote geralt as being more verbose and book accurate in s1 but then changed the way they were writing him due to the acting choices he made. and yet he acts like that was never the case and that geralt was never originally written that way and he pushes this idea that a book accurate geralt went against lauren's vision. even though, once again, that was the original vision and it only changed due to him.

and on the extremely rare occasion (i'm talking, like, maybe 2 con panels here) that he ever takes any kind of responsibility for his role in all of that, he still waffles about and tries to present this image that he wasn't really cutting that many lines and they weren't really that important anyway and it didn't really matter:

"I didn't even cut that much. Just little bits when someone says how they feel, I thought if Geralt says nothing, and maybe the well-known grunts or hmms and sometimes the occasional f-word, people can take from that what they will."

even though that can't be true as confirmed by joey:

"Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

and even hc himself confirms this and what joey said in a s1 interview:

"All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

i also have to point out that hc directly links his push for a more book accurate geralt to reading comments on reddit as i think that's very relevant to what section of the fandom exactly that he's pandering to and why he's been so vocal about it while lying about the role he played in everything and what actually happened:

"I’m on all the Reddit forums. I’m reading all the reviews. I’m literally trying to get everyone’s information. Some of it is not useful, and other criticisms are incredibly useful. I take it all in, and I look forward to bringing it even closer and closer to Sapkowski’s writing. I think any of those criticisms, they often lie in things like I was saying—we don’t have the advantage of a long involved conversation or dialogue with Geralt, so they are criticisms which I think I was prepared for. So for me, it’s about seeing that, understanding it, and working out how I can do my job better within the framework provided, [how to] appease and make those people feel comfortable that I do actually understand this character—and love this character just as much as they do."

"As a source for information, it's really helpful for me to see what everyone's saying, what everyone's thinking, and to see how much my thinking falls in line with whichever side of that spectrum it is and whether I'm doing the wrong thing, for example, by campaigning hard for the book Geralt to exist or whether I'm doing the right thing."

and just another important thing to point out imo: virtually the only times hc ever takes any responsibility in any capacity whatsoever for his own role in the show not adhering to the books (which even then he barely does and it's still always with a lot of excuses), it's only ever at con panels — which are far less likely to get picked up by news outlets and seen by a broader audience — and not in formal interview settings. (except for, i think, one interview he gave early on when s2 first went on hiatus. but even then, it still has the same problems that the con panels have where he comes up with a lot of excuses that don't match what happened.)

then there's an interview hc gave where he went on about how he added some book dialogue into a scene and he made it out to be like it was some kind of rebellion against the writers and he didn't consult them as he was just going to do what he wanted, consequences be damned:

"I did not feel like having long discussion about whether I could add this bit somewhere. So I just did it, said the words in front of the camera, and was ready to face the consequences."

and meanwhile what actually happened was that lauren eventually let hc have free reign and rewrite a scene that he was unhappy with. which, y'know. kinda fucking weird to present what happened in the way he did.

and then there's him pushing this narrative that the female characters — namely yennefer and ciri — were given more depth and focus than geralt and the male characters as if that came at their expense and all of which is somehow due to lauren's women-centric vision of the show as if that's somehow opposed to how the books themselves are:

"On season two, I wanted to bring as much of 'Book' Geralt into the show that Lauren's vision and that the plot would allow. That's a tricky thing to do, because the plot, as Lauren has said, is very centred around bringing women into the centre of The Witcher."

"In Season 1, there wasn't really much of an opportunity for expansive dialogue which Geralt is known for — in the books, he's often known to monologue — because we had two original origin stories which were the center point of the show."

"Lauren’s vision was more of an ensemble piece than the first Witcher books. It’s driven a lot more by the characters of Yennefer and Cirilla."

"I wanted to make sure we really explored as much as showrunner's vision could allow. She has her own plan, so I’ve got to toe that line between book Geralt and Lauren’s vision."

"I wanted to try and bring as much of the book’s Geralt into Season 2 as possible, and as much as the vision, the plot and storylines would allow. The toughest part for me was finding that balance between the showrunners’ vision and my love for the books, and trying to bring that Geralt to the showrunners’ vision."

"It’s important for me to have the character be three-dimensional and it’s tricky to do, as I was saying earlier, because there’s a certain vision and there’s a certain set, storyline and plot. And so, it was about me trying to find Geralt’s place within that."

"There’s only so much space to provide the same character from the books within the showrunner’s vision. But, I did my best to provide a bit more of a three-dimensional character with a bit more emotionality."

"It's important to me that the men in the story are three dimensional as well."

like, first off — and not to continually reiterate this but — that's not true. in s1, geralt was originally written as being just as verbose and intellectual as he was in the books and that only changed due to hc cutting his lines and we know that joey often had to take his lines, too. so there was, in fact, always plenty of time for geralt to be book accurate and for yennefer and ciri to have their own focus. these things were never mutually exclusive and it's definitely some kinda take to imply otherwise.

secondly, while it is true that geralt is the main character of the short stories, ciri is the main character of the main series starting from blood of elves, the book that s2 adapted. and despite claims otherwise, her pov has always had the most focus — yes, even more than geralt (sans baptism of fire, obvs.) and it's not like ciri is the only female pov, either, or that there aren't other important female characters that make up the series. there's yennefer, triss, milva, philippa, fringilla, nimue, condwiramurs, kenna — and that's just off the top of my head. there are plenty more where that came from. women and their stories have always played a central role in the books. nothing about that goes against them or is unique to lauren's vision.

and just with boe in particular, like. triss's pov is either focused on more than geralt's or at least about as much as his depending on how you want to break things down. and with dandelion following very close behind them, too! like, ciri may be the main character of the main series and geralt may be the main character of the short stories and their povs are the most focused on overall, but the books are still very much an ensemble piece made up of a collage of many, many povs to paint a full picture of the universe. and, yeah, the women make up a huge part of that. so the show focusing on ciri and yennefer and the women — and, yes, the men as well because it does actually do that! — is um, still book accurate. so y'know, why the fuck is he presenting this idea that's somehow not the case.

in general, hc emphasizes in a lot of interviews how much he fought for "male characters to be three dimensional." which yeah, given the context of everything else, is some suspicious kinda phrasing because it gives this undertone that the show wasn't writing three dimensional male characters in the first place as opposed to the women and that it's only due to his efforts that anything changed.

also, i have to highlight this quote of him talking about the three dimensionality of men because ~curious that he omits women from the list of people real menTM can be loving and caring toward:

"I believe that real men are very sensitive. They are very capable of doing things which can be violent, if possible, or necessary. But at the same time, they are incredibly capable of love and caring amongst men and towards children and family and all sorts."

and then there's the way hc talks about changing things which comes across as so suspicious, too, imo. especially when there is every other cast member to compare him to. because the way the rest of the cast has talked about this is that they all very consistently say that the whole process is very collaborative and that lauren is very much willing to hear them out about their thoughts and concerns and that it really feels like a team effort and that everyone is working together. and meanwhile the vibes that hc gives off is either "me vs the world (ie the writers)" or "but there's nothing that i can really do to change anything and it's all on the writers~" either way, his attitude very much comes off like all bad decisions are the writers' fault but meanwhile any good decision was due to him and him alone (or maybe the rest of the cast, but definitely not the writers.) like, weird af to play it off that way especially since every other cast member didn't seem to have any problems and they all gave credit where credit was due ie to lauren and the writers.

in conclusion, it'd be one thing if hc had just taken the l and admitted that he is the one who fucked up geralt's characterization in s1 and so he sought to rectify that in s2. but yeah, he doesn't really do that. instead he lies over, like, 50 times to create this narrative of him pushing for book accuracy as if that's somehow in opposition to lauren and the writers and as if they didn't originally write geralt book accurately in the first place and as if he played no role in the lack of book accuracy at all. and then that there's also him pushing this subtle (or not so subtle) narrative about how the women were taking a more central role as opposed to the men and that's somehow unlike the books and something purely due to lauren's vision, too? even though women have always played a central role in the books to the point where ciri is the main character of the main series? and that he's directly linked this narrative he's pushing to reading comments on reddit? (and that he also has a history, since s1, of trying to cater to game stans?) yeah, i just don't see how this doesn't add up to him trying to manipulate the media and audience — especially the worst parts of the fanbase — against the writers and the show and onto his side.

(also just one last thing i'd like to note as i find it super weird that when hc was asked about giving freya any advice, he immediately shut down the notion that he would ever do anything like that and he would never offer her any unsolicited advice and he would only ever give her any if she came to him first. like, there are literally s1 and s2 interviews where freya talks about hc giving her advice. i mean, maybe she did come to him in the first place, idk. but the immediacy in which he shut down the idea that he would ever do anything like that as if offering someone younger than you advice and being a mentor to them is wrong… weird. sus, even. like, why are you scrambling to cover your ass for something that's not even bad and, also, why are you lying about it by omission in the very least.)

[qwimblenorrisstan]

A Smoke For 3 | Price x Reader x Gaz

Summary: You, a new and bold recruit, decide to inform Price that smoking is bad for him, and he and Gaz proceed to figure out that smoking is also very bad for you after they tag-team you.

Word Count: ~ 1.5k

Warnings: sort of noncon, smut, p in v, fingering, shotgunning smoke, asthma attack, gaz being a little cutiepie, punching weird men

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: yall idk what got into me, full credit to @syoddeye and @twistytimesandthoughts for the idea, find the inspo post+comment here and go give them some love!! hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

For a new recruit, you’d always been a little mouthy.

Nothing terrible, really, but as one of the only women in your group other than a few, you and the other girls were always silently communicating, if not just flat-out gossiping to each other at the lunch table.

Price had been watching over the newest recruits during lunch in the mess hall once, and it was hard not to notice the group of three girls, all having already finished their lunch, in avid conversation. Talking, laughing, giving each other looks. It was all he could do not to try and listen in.

Gaz, however, had accidentally heard a few glimpses while walking past your table. It was entertaining, to say the least.

“He has the attitude of a man whose dick is the size of a baby carrot,”

You’d casually said one day amongst your group of girls, and they’d all given nods, one just taking a bite of her food as if that wasn’t abnormal at all, meanwhile, Kyle was choking on his spit.

Despite being one of the only girls, you had plenty of spunk, as well. You weren’t a bunk bunny, and you certainly didn’t react well to any sort of flirting or forwardness from any men to you. When the men tried showing you up in training? Price saw firsthand how you put in extra effort just to embarrass them.

It was amusing, he’d admit.

But what he didn’t find amusing was how that same spunk came to bite him in the ass.

You’d always had a sort of evil eye for him, it seemed, especially when he was puffing his cigar. He didn’t fail to notice the way you held your breath when passing by him or didn’t stay close to him or Kyle (Kyle smelled like smoke because of Price’s constant smoking around 141).

Hell, even at training you often didn’t ask him for help demonstrating something, opting to observe what everyone else was doing, or ask one of your male friends for help.

It all came to a culmination when he’d already been having a shitty day, considering his favorite packets of morning tea had been out, and he’d chosen one of his more expensive cigars to cope. He’d walked into the mess, seen you and your girls giving nasty looks to some idiotic soldier trying to get into your pants, and you’d socked the man straight in the jaw.

Well, they must’ve been teaching you something right, because he was out cold.

And now Price had to deal with it, and he sure as hell wasn’t handling your temper without Gaz to act peace-maker.

So here you were, standing in his office, arms crossed as you stared point-blank at him.

“You canno’ just punch people when they say something you don’t like.”

“He was bein’ disrespectful.”

A heavy puff of his cigar, and you cringed. Kyle sighed through his nose, just enough for Price to notice, and he raised a brow.

“Wha’? Don’ like the smell ‘o smoke?”

“Smoking’s bad for you, you know.”

You said, clearly trying not to breathe in the smoke Price was now obviously puffing right into your face. As if you were better than him. You might be a pretty little bird, but you weren’t getting away with that.

He didn’t know who moved first, but after he and Kyle exchanged a glance, his hands were on your hips and you were bent over his desk. Your lip curled in distaste, as you struggled and kicked, hands scratching at Price.

“Get the fuck offa me, bastard-“

You hissed as Price forcefully held you down. In truth, you probably could’ve used any of the maneuvers they’d taught you before to throw him off, but did you want that? Were you really going to complain about attention from both the hot captain and sergeant?

“Easy..,”

Kyle cooed, bringing your hands out in front of you, over your head to hold them down while his other hand gently stroked your hair, a stark contrast to Price’s actions as he not-so-gently tugged your pants off and panties to the side.

“Fuckin’ brat, mouthin’ off. Need a lesson.”

He said, taking only one glove off before slipping a thick finger between your folds, rubbing at your clit in a way that had you mewling and squirming while Kyle tried to soothe you. Right when you were almost on the edge, he stopped, much to your protests.

“Though’ I was gonna le’ you? No, not after tha’.”

He said, slipping a finger in, not exactly gently, but still measured enough that you knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you. Even when pissed out of his mind, it wasn’t in his nature to hurt a lady.

You kept squirming, hips trying to buck against his fingers as he added another, but Gaz wrapped an arm around your waist, not letting you move an inch.

“Just a little longer, pretty. Be patient.”

He murmured, and you shot him as much of a glare as you could muster, and he only returned a pearly-white handsome smile you couldn’t even frown at. Though you couldn’t frown at much if anything when Price’s fingers were rubbing up and down, then he began curling them, hitting that sweet, gooey spot.

“Fuck…that’s good—“

You groaned, eyes screwing shut as your climax built again, only for it to be just one more little stroke away when he pulled his fingers out, making you huff in frustration. The scent of smoke remained, and you tried not to breathe it in. Price could tell.

That wouldn’t do.

He unbuckled his belt, undoing his fly as he took another deep inhale of smoke, slowly pulling his hard dick from his boxers, slowly giving it a few strokes. You didn’t fail to notice the way Gaz watched it so closely. The tip was a flushed red, a bead of precum at it. He was an absolute monster.

“Garrick,”

He began, lining his cock with your entrance, hands rubbing little circles on your hips from where he held them down to make you relax before he began pushing in.

“Sir?” Kyle asked.

Price took another deep inhale of smoke, using deep, punishing thrusts that he knew would have the both of you finishing in time. Especially with how your walls milked him already.

Eyes half-lidded from pleasure, Price gently grabbed Kyle’s shirt, pulling him forward until their lips met, and Gaz, getting the memo, opened up just enough for his captain to shotgun the smoke straight to him. It gave you a tiny moment of wiggle room while Kyle was distracted, and you used it to slam back on Price and squeeze as hard as you could.

This tactic seemed to work well, considering his cursing, the stuttering of his hips, and the frantic movement of his calloused thumb pad against your clit, bringing you to pleasure faster than you’d like to admit.

Just as you hit your climax, and Price began filling you up amidst slutty groans and pants, he jerked his head from Gaz to you, and Price hooked a thumb in your mouth, pulling it open just enough for Kyle to shotgun the smoke forcefully into it, despite your protests.

“Good girl, keep it in..”

He cooed, and Price’s hand fisted in your hair as he slipped out, redoing his trousers.

You began coughing a moment later, and Price raised a brow, thinking you were just being dramatic at first. When Kyle’s expression became worried, though, he realized that a normal cough didn’t last quite that long.

He put your panties back in order and slid your pants up for you while sitting you down on a chair in his office as you wheezed and coughed, seemingly completely out of breath.

“Shit, what’s wrong with her?”

“Is she allergic or something?”

Their eyes met for a moment, and they both suddenly realized what was happening. You had asthma.

It should’ve been obvious, from the small bulge always in your pocket or jacket that was your inhaler, to how you avoided cigarette smoke like the plague. They didn’t know how you got into the military, but you did, somehow. Maybe you just lied about it.

But you always carried your inhaler on you.

Gaz began searching your jacket pockets, and Price began searching your pant pockets, Kyle finding it first and making you open your mouth, placing the device in.

“Just breathe in, yeah? That’s it, good girl..”

He cooed, letting puffs of the inhaler enter your mouth. As a result, your body became a bit shaky, but you could still breathe at the end of the day.

“Assholes.”

You rasped, and Price sighed.

“‘M sorry, luv. Didn’t mean to get carried away. Let’s get you to medical.”

And so Price and Gaz, much to your protests, carried you to medical, which was quite funny to Ghost and Soap who were training and got to see the equivalent of two grown men trying to carry an angry wet cat that lost its voice.

When you finally got there, they put you on oxygen, and Price and Gaz didn’t fail to stay there until you felt like you could breathe again.

“We’ll make it up to you, we promise.”

Gaz assured you with a soft smile as he let you hold his hand, while Price was now thinking about quitting smoking.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Ship //// Part 4

Part 1 • 2 • 3

Vera immediately becomes critical when the Captain and Lieutenant keep making their way to the meeting room that has no cameras, no recorders, and nothing to summon Vera with

“Uh, Vera why did you double lock the door like that?”

“No reason. Just checking that they work.”

“That’s not ‘no reason.’”

“Sorry, I messed up with my sayings again.”

“It’s fine, I mess it up all the time too.”

Vera was actually remote-controlling your communicator to silently alert Jule of this behavior

Jule acts immediately putting an EMP-immune drone smaller than a land-fly into the room

“--Captain I say we leave. Go to the enemy planet and try to find our secret base there. You’re right about this ship being unreliable.”

“But I wonder how can we convince the technician to come with?”

“Ugh! Who needs him?! And that (L/n) character too. I say we leave them to self-destruct with this virus-ridden ship.”

“We need the technician. He’s the only one with interplanetary know-how on top of understanding the inner workings of the escape pods we’d have to travel in.”

“Then let’s just knock him upside the head and leave that thing behind.”

“Lieutenant I admire your determination but I’m leaving no one behind to stay with this thing.”

The two continue to talk about how they plan on making a fire at the furthest part of the ship 

Something that could easily be fixed if the technician was near but they planned it so it’s on the other side of the ship 

And since he’s a priority person, they’d be evacuating him 

And if not him then you of course to lure him out 

“Hey Ver I think we should have you take a crack at your new bod.”

“Awesome! I’ll start booting it up now!”

Jule purposely doesn’t inform Vera of the whole conversation and plan

By now he knows just how intense Vera’s feelings are about those he cares about

Except he knows that Vera’s less concerned about restraint than he

So he’ll commence his own plan

Immediately running to you in one of the hobby rooms when Vera stops responding 

Knowing they planned to cut Vera to start the fire

When the alarm blares and Vera turns back on 

The Captain and Lieutenant are right there to tell them to prep the launch pods

“But Jule is more than capable of—”

“IT’S OUR CALL Veras!  Remember your programming!”

“....Yes Captain.”

He preps the pods for the location of an enemy-ruled planet 

Doing all the necessary protocols to filter everyone out safely 

Of course, Vera neglects to really inform you like the others

He knows that it’s best to have you in your own pod away from the stressed and hostile people cramming in

Which is why they’re not prepared when the lieutenant comes in harshly knocking whatever you were doing out of your hand to grab your wrists tightly

“OW! What are you—”

“STOP STRUGGLING! I’m saving your pathetic life.”

She does explain after knocking you around a bit before shoving you towards the captain’s pod

By the time Jule finds you they’ve tied you inside while beckoning the technician in

“I know you’ll think wrong of us for this but these people need you.”

“So IT’s OKAY TO ATTACK SOMEONE INNOCENT?!”

“Please Jule get in the pod. We can talk about ethics more when I’m not inclined to knock you out.”

Jule will step forward before stopping

The Captain goes to yell at him when the alarms stop

So does the smoke that had been permeating through the vents

“The issue of the fire has been neutralized.  The issue about an evil miscreant and their oh-so-powerful captain is underway.”

“V-ver?”

The voice of the ship was coming out of a beautifully crafted android

Glowing blue eyes and black hair flowing along their lean but strong shoulders

The body type is hard to place but from what you can tell it’s male and their stature is lean giving an elegant look to him in general

Their stance has the lieutenant attempting to punch them 

They dodge like they are dancing, grabbing her hand and twisting

“AAAAGH!”

Ver doesn’t let her mourn her wound because they’ve jump-kicked her into the back wall of the pod

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first met you.”

The Captain’s stunned shock allows you to stumble out and into Jule’s arms

The Captain tries to reach for you only to be met with a stabbing pain in his eyes

Jule shuts your eyes and buries you into his chest, blocking your view

The Captain screams like his lieutenant but it’s cut off by the pod doors closing and then ejecting themselves from the ship

Ver immediately turns to join the hug, Jule’s keeps you in

Only to shrink back when Jule’s glares at their bloodied fingers

They wipe it away before joining the hug

“I’m so happy it’s you guys I’m stuck with.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Me three!”

“...”

“..Vera…I don’t know if you know this but it’s really improper to touch there without consent.”

“Yeah Ver get your hands out our pants.”

“But I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“VER!!”

“Fine, maybe later?”

As much as Jule doesn’t want to encourage that behavior

He has to leave you alone for a while to make sure his plan plays out perfectly 

His message to the enemy sky-guard under an alias he made years ago as a baby-hacker

‘At 43:94 enemy escape pods will be arriving in your airspace. Ur welx’

Watching the enemy broadcast reports about enemy spaceships it apprehended and the officials that were facing a public torture session

When he returns he’s insistent you both open a bottle of champagne

“I really don’t think now is the time, Jule.”

“Oh but it is babe! I think we should party now that we’ve gotten rid of those neets.”

“Wait got rid of–?”

“(Y/n)! I’ve never seen you drink that before! Will you please?!! I’d also like to hold a microphone nearby while you do.”

Now you three will have free reign of the ship learning to live your life in the worlds beyond

Vera knows it doesn’t get any better than this 

They’ve also decided that they’d do anything to keep it this way 

More?

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Random HC's That I Probably Overexplain - Cater Edition 1!

TW: Angst heavy, using kids for profit via social media, emotional/physical abuse (nothing explicit/gory) His mom was a family life vlogger. I've dabbled on this topic a few times before, but never got really into it. His mom ran a channel called the "Beloved Diamond Family", in which his mother went by Dreamy Diamond, and his older sisters went by Dazzling and Ditzy Diamond. He was "Daring Diamond" or sometimes just called "Little Gem/Diamond". "Daddy Diamond" was never around, but his mom sometimes went on rants about him on camera. They rarely made it onto the channel though. Part of the reason the Diamonds moved so much is because of his dad's work, but the other part was because of how much information his mom would divulge and put her kids in danger. Cater's dad did his best to protect his kids from the consequences of her actions, but couldn't get ahead of them. Cater was the star of many of the videos, as he was the baby and everyone wanted to see more of him. He hated being made to do everything that his mom said, or repeating the actions a hundred times until he got it "perfect", but the comments of other parents telling him how much their kids loved him and whatnot was enough to keep him going. It's also why he's so attached to his phone now and a big part of why he just keeps up the facade. To be caught at a less than picture perfect moment or with a subpar reaction at this point scares him. Irrationally, he worries about his mothers reaction, and because he's never really been to school for long enough to make friends, he has to act the only way he knows how and hope that people keep liking the show he puts on. A lot of the videos were pretty fluffy, happy videos, but Ms. Diamond would do anything for views, and did put out videos of Cater sobbing over his dead pet, about him breaking his arm on his skateboard, and a lot of her "prank" videos that were mostly just endangering her kids or trying to prove her husband was cheating. (At one point she did a "slip and slide" in the kitchen and called Cater over to try some of her cookies. He couldn't have been more than five or six, so he came running in excited and ended up in urgent care. All the scars and marks he got from his moms wacked out ideas have been carefully hidden under makeup and magic for years now, but sometimes he doesnt have the energy to cover them up on his clones). Obviously, none of the Diamond kids were off very well, but when they were "too big to be cute anymore" his mom kind of let the channel die out and became a more severe alcoholic. However, when her channel started to pick up traction again years later, Ms. Diamond decided to keep her channel going with behind the scenes clips and telling stories about her kids while mildly tipsy. She didn't tell her kids she was going to do this, and now that they're all 18 and over they want to stop her, but don't want to cause more drama from her. Cater's bigger sister wants to take her to court for everything she's done, but Cater and his eldest sister just want to ignore it and sweep it under the rug like nothing is going on because it hurts too much to revisit the things they used to have to do. Cater's mom is...a BoyMom. Like she is Not Normal about her son to a creepy uncomfortable extent and Cater doesn't know how to deal with it, he mostly tries to break contact with her, but she is relentless and a master guilt tripper. He had been looking forward to his 18th birthday to officially disown her or put a restraining order on her, but never had the heart to actually do it, because...it is his mom, and family never abandons each other unless you want to be a piece of shit, right? (This is not serious, please, if you have family that doesn't treat you well don't be afraid to leave if you can)

[corpsebasil]

Princes and Prostitutes +18

Nikolai and Y/N, the absolute meanest, most ridiculous pirate queen of the seas, had been running for their lives the past few days.

They’d been hiding in inns, taverns, and even went so far as to squash themselves together in the contraband compartment in someone’s wagon, all in hopes to escape the Stadwatch that trailed their every movements. The guards seemed to have a sixth sense for the two privateers, and the two of them were sick of being squashed together at all hours. It was all his fault, too, for bickering with her over who was docking where in Ketterdam, only for them to damage their own ships and take out several others by accident.

Hers was wrecked beyond belief and was being worked on, the dock crew promising to have it sent to Ravka with some other travelers as long as she didn’t wind up in jail. She bristled at the idea of anyone else operating her ship, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

Idiot, that’s what he was, and she’d gladly informed him of it.

“Come on,” Nikolai whispered, tugging the girl along as they ducked into an alleyway. Saints, he really was an idiot. It was a dead end. “Dammit we—” he paused, head snapping around when he heard the approaching sound of guards. “We’re going to die.”

“You’re going to die.” She argued, glancing around the alley. The only people other than them were a couple of prostitutes and their night’s customers, tucked into different areas and ignoring everyone else with trained skill. Her nose wrinkled. “Nevermind. We might.”

“Quick,” Nikolai said, yanking his cloak off as he backed against the dark wall, his face covered in shadow. “act like a whore.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re almost here just do it.”

She opened her mouth to snap at him but tensed when she heard the footsteps growing closer; they were right around the corner, and she sure as hell hadn’t planned on spending the rest of her years in a sinkhole of a prison. Nikolai seemed to read the expression on her face and tugged her forward, almost tripping her when he yanked her completely up against him.

She bristled at the proximity, even more so when one of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other hand slipping into her hair as if to play with it. He smirked, the playboy incarnate, and tilted his head down towards hers. She hated to admit it, but he smelled really, really good, and he was even more handsome up close than she’d realized.

“I still hate you.” She whispered, glaring up at him, at those blue eyes filled with mischief. And as the first Stadwatch rounded the corner, searching for two criminals on the run, he simply smiled and said, “You can kill me later.”, before lowering his mouth to hers.

She pressed her hands against his chest hard, attempting to keep some space between them, but his mouth was—and she—

Her eyes slipped closed as her hands clenched tightly around the material of his shirt, and pressed her body closer to his. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped him harder, her restraint breaking when his hand pressed deeper into her break and his fingers carded through her hair.

After five or so minutes, all signs of the guards, and the prostitutes, were gone. Clearly whoever their customers were were eager to get out of the way of the officers, likely criminals in their own rights. But Nikolai had now gotten Y/N pinned against the wall instead of himself, and was kissing her languidly, as if they had all the time in the world instead of only the next few minutes they’d bought themselves with their ruse.

“Nik—” she gasped against his mouth, attempting to push him away, but he only smirked again, and nipped her bottom lip. She jolted in surprise, opening her mouth to curse at him, but he only took the opportunity to slide his tongue over the injured lip, and her brain emptied of the harsh words she’d been preparing. “Nik.” She repeated on a sigh, and he let out a small noise of pleasure, pulling her left leg up and wrapping it around his waist.

With the difference in the angle between them he was able to press his hips roughly against her own, and she made a sound that crossed between a gasp and a moan. He stiffened, pulling his head back half an inch and scanning her face.

“If you make a sound like that again I’m going to take you right here in this alleyway.”

Her stomach dropped and she shoved him off, ignoring her flushed cheeks and likely swollen lips. But then he grinned, that shit-eating, sarcastic grin of his, and her glare was right back on her face.

“I’m not interested in other pirates.” She scoffed, wiping her mouth as if to remove evidence of his kisses. “I like my men powerful. And not on the seas.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Technically, I’m also a—”

A loud crack of thunder echoed around them as the skies began to open up, Y/N tilting her face up to receive the first droplets. Her mood darkened further. She had no intentions of walking around like a wet cat; she’d catch her death in this weather.

“Here,” Nikolai offered, quickly shrugging off his jacket and holding it over her head like an umbrella.

“I don’t need your stupid jacket.” She snapped, and began walking away, stomping down the street towards the nearest inn. He followed without comment and did his best to bite back a smile when he pressed closer and wrapped his jacket over the both of them, and she didn’t protest.

They were quiet as they walked, but his heart was still thrumming in his chest. Sure, she annoyed him, and had the temperament of a feral raccoon, but there was no denying her beauty, or the fact that when she’d moaned when he pushed his hips against hers…

He stifled a rush of desire and forced himself not to look down at her, and not to breathe in the sweet smell of her perfume too deeply. A smell that was slowly being washed away by the rain, his jacket beginning to soak, and with no small ounce of relief they pushed through the door of a shoddy looking inn and stepped into the dry warmth.

The innkeeper barely gave them a second glance before handing them a room key. Y/N insisted on two, and rather than fight with her anymore, he grumbled his annoyance and slid the extra cost across the counter. He snatched up the second key and began walking towards the stairs, eager for a hot bath, maybe change his clothes…

Y/N kept right in step with him, only to knock him aside with her hip as she cut in front of him to the stairs. She squeaked out loud when his hands grabbed her waist and he picked her up, turning to set her back down behind him. Her arms crossed.

“Really?” She asked, rolling her eyes. “It’s just stairs.”

“No cutting in line.” He grinned when she cursed under her breath, but didn’t try it again as they made their way up to their rooms. His floor was first, so he gave her a mocking salute as she continued up, his eyes catching a glimpse of her backside in her tight, way too tight, pants.

“Stop looking at my ass, Lantsov.” She called down, not even turning as she wounded a step and moved out of sight.

He was still chuckling to himself when he unlocked his room, shut the door, and began running himself a bath.

***

Y/N was brushing her hair when a knock hit her door. At first she jumped; but if it was the Stadwatch, they would’ve simply barged in. Mumbling under her breath she stood, tightening the thin robe the inn had provided around her, and opened the door.

Nikolai stood front of her, his arm braced against the doorway, a fresh shirt and pants on him. His hair was damp, and a piece of it was stuck to his forward. Her fingers itched to push it away, but instead she cocked her head, tapping a bare foot on the floor.

“Can I help you?” She asked sweetly, mockingly sweet, but for once he didn’t smirk. In fact, his grin was half-hearted when he replied.

“Just…making sure you didn’t drown in your bath.”

“How kind.” She waited in silence for him to continue, but when he just kept glancing around her room, then at her, she sighed impatiently. “Nik, what are you—”

He moved forward and shut the door, his hands immediately darting up to grasp her face as he kissed her. It was harsher than the ones in the alleyway, more bruising and rushed, and she choked on a surprised gasp before she shoved him off.

“What the hell—you can’t just—”

“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave.” He promised, eyes burning down at her, and her mouth went dry. She looked around the room as if for another exit, but he touched her face again. “Y/N, tell me.”

“I—” her voice faltered as she looked at his mouth, and that was all the permission he needed before he kissed her again, backing her up towards the bed.

Her back hit the mattress with a soft groan, her mouth parting on a sigh when he climbed over her, pressing every inch of that glorious body of his against her. His kissed her mouth, then her jaw, and she whispered his name reverently as her fingers clutched him to her. His lips trailed warm kisses down her neck, and then his free hand tugged at the ties of her robe, and she sat up on her elbows to watch him.

His eyes took her in as he parted the fabric, a mumbled curse leaving those perfect lips. She would’ve grinned, if only for the fact that he hadn’t bent down and put his mouth on her chest, licking her and making her head fall back on a moan.

“You’re gorgeous.” He breathed, moving down to her stomach, tugging her robe off as he went. “Your body is…” he didn’t finish, only paused above her navel, listening to her shallow breathing as he neared the apex of her thighs. “I should corner you in alleyways more often, shouldn’t I?” He teased.

“This was your…evil plan, huh?” She let out a breathy laugh, her heart quickening when he picked up that same left leg and tucked it over her shoulder. “Wreck my ship just so you can—oh.” She gasped and almost choked on it when he licked her slowly, then circled his tongue around the bud he then sucked gently on. “Nik.” Her voice practically whined his name, and his chuckle sent vibrations across her center.

“Tell me how it feels, love.” He said against her, before slipping his fingers between her legs, deep.

She only gasped his name, her heel digging into his back. She was definitely going to bruise him but she didn’t care, not when her fingers were locked in a vise like grip on his curls and his mouth was doing that to her.

“You’re shaking.” He observed, adding a bit more pressure with his tongue, and she tugged his hair harder, her voice cracking in half when she spoke.

“Nik I’m—”

“I know.” He said, cocky bastard that he was, and she came, barely able to yank in a sharp breath into her lungs as her body jerked with the shot of intense pleasure that blossomed up between her legs. Her foot pressed harder against his back before she weakened, shoving at his head and when the sensitivity became too much.

He still licked her one more time anyways, for good measure, and she could’ve smacked him for it.

She was exhausted, but she still reached for the waist of his pants, only to see him retreating from her.

“Where are you—” she asked, watching him walk to the other side of the bed. He tugged off his shirt and pants, and blew the candles out, slipping under the covers. She followed suit, her confusion still hanging in the air when he didn’t immediately leap onto her and fuck her lights out. “Nik?”

“When I have you for the first time, it’s not going to be in some inn.” Was his explanation, rolling to face her. She snorted.

“Really? You’re not going to—?”

“Not tonight.” He said, reaching out to wind her hair around his fingers. “But I can go down on you as many times as you want me to, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart.” She informed him, but her face still warmed at his words. Damn her, he was starting to worm his way inside of her heart. The bastard. “Do you think we’re going to make it out of here?” She whispered now, meeting his eyes.

He didn’t respond at first, only brought his face closer and kissed her softly, his nose pressed to hers as he ran a hand down her bare side, marveling at the expanse of smooth skin.

“It’s you and me, Y/N.” He told her, and nestled into her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “We always make it out of trouble.”

She laughed softly, burrowing into him. She never would have done this before today, she tried to tell herself. It definitely wasn’t chemistry that kept them on their toes around one another, their sharp tongues and attitudes covering up need. But as she ran a hand up his shoulder to touch his hair again, she felt a rush of desire so intense it almost took her breath away.

“Easy, tiger.” His dark chuckle against her hair made her redden, and she nipped at his chest, making his laugh gutter out. “We’re leaving at dawn. I want you in my bedroom with nothing but your wonderful attitude.”

“You love my attitude.” She muttered, but flushed from head to toe, legs winding with his as she tried not to imagine what exactly he was planning on doing to her once they got back on his ship and left Ketterdam.

This one’s for the nasty gals you’re welcome

[deconstructthesoup]

Some miscellaneous stuff for the Fantasy High Leverage AU:

After getting kicked out, Kristen got taken in by Ankarna and Cassandra, who are living their best country-lesbian vibes out on a farm together---a farm which eventually gets in financial trouble and almost gets shut down by a corporation, which is how the crew learn about Kristen's past before she was a hitter. The farm winds up doubling as a safehouse. (Also, Ankarna wears flannels and has a shotgun, and Cassandra does tarot readings at their stall at the farmer's market on weekends. They also have a little black cat, with no relation to Kalina.)

Despite all the rumors swirling around, the way Fig and Fabian met is surprisingly mundane: when Gilear moved from Portland back to London after he and Sandralynn divorced, Fig went with him, and she got enrolled in the same school that Fabian was attending. The two of them became fast and immediate friends, wound up becoming the most popular kids there due to their combined chaos and the fact that they were kind to those who needed it, and were pretty much inseparable from that point forward. And when Fig introduced Gilear to Fabian's mom, who'd been widowed for a while and was looking for someone stable... well, as much as Fabian complained, it meant that he and Fig were officially siblings. (They learned how to grift from Hallariel, who was a very well-renowned thief in her day. It's how she met Bill, after all.)

Fig is the sibling who's the "bad actor in a theater setting, good actor when she's breaking the law" type, though it's a bit more complex than that. She's amazing at coming up with a character on the spot, building off of the questions that people ask her, and remembering details so none of the information contradicts what she's already said, but she finds scripts "boring and restrictive," and always tries to put her own spin on things... which doesn't always fit well. She does get a little better at following a script of sorts when she's on the crew---at least, she learns to follow the plan.

Kristen hasn't gone by "Kristen Applebees" since she was fifteen---instead, the criminal underworld knows her by "Kristen Justice-Forester," referencing her adoptive moms. Mostly because that sounds generally more badass, but also because she really wants to forget about her old life as the church girl next door.

Gorgug's legal name is "Gavin Thistlespring," but he's been going by Gorgug since he was twelve---it was the name of his first ever D&D character, and it eventually became his hacker handle. (This is really because I just needed an explanation as to why a perfectly normal human in a world that's basically ours would be named "Gorgug." I do something similar for Fig in a lot of my AUs---her name's either just "Fig," or she's named after a character from a fantasy series that Sandralynn likes.)

Someone suggested that Kalina is the Sterling equivalent, and I liked it so much that I decided to make it canon---but instead of being Riz's former partner, she's his dad's old partner and mentor who was forced to help cover up Pok's death. She's not necessarily bad, but she does have a very black-and-white view of morality, and she's not a fan of Riz's new, less-than-legal idea of justice.

Adaine still has the Parker rep of being "crazy," but in a very different light. Rather than being a thrill-seeking ball of chaos who's an unpredictable wildcard in every way when the story begins, she's unsettlingly quiet, perceptive to the point where she can predict things minutes in advance, and acts seemingly without morality and with her own skewed logic. As she spends more time with the crew and warms up to them, however, everyone starts to see that Adaine is unflinchingly and unfailingly kind---and that once she actually warms up to you, she will talk nonstop about anything she's invested in, whether it be obscure history facts, thieving tips, or whatever show, book, or video game that one of the others has gotten her hooked on. She's just closed off as a defense mechanism.

Fabian is the sibling with a deep and personal bond with Riz---not that Fig isn't close to him, but Fabian and Riz shot each other when they first met, and you can't beat that. And while Fabian used to have a thing for Riz, he eventually realized that Riz wasn't interested in any kind of relationship, though neither of them fully had the words for it (because, y'know, this story still starts in 2008). Still, though, he considers Riz his best friend and vice versa, and once he's on the crew, he never dates anyone without introducing them to Riz first. And his affections tend to bounce back and forth between Gorgug and Ragh. Or both. Let's just say that Fabian's got the most romantic drama out of any of them.

Riz is still close with his mom, despite the fact that, as a lawyer and former cop, he knows that she probably wouldn't approve of what he does. He just tells her that he runs a private detective agency, which isn't too far from the truth---hell, it's their cover story, after all.

Fabian's father was the greatest thief in the world when he was alive, but that came with a lot of enemies, and that's not something that Fabian wants to deal with---not to mention, he's always been adamant about making a name for himself, and to not just skate by on the Seacaster name. If that means that he has to refer to himself as "Fabian Faeth," well... so be it. He reasons that it's Fig's last name. Not Gilear's.

Fig has never met her bio-dad before the story begins... but she does meet him eventually. There's a whole thing there.

Adaine does not kill Angwyn in her backstory. However, she does get to do that eventually, and it's cathartic as fuck.

[intheticklecloset]

Hiccups (Bungo Stray Dogs)

One Shot

Summary: Akutagawa gets the hiccups. Atsushi helps him get rid of them with tickles. ^^

Word Count: 894

~~~

A tiny noise like a squeak came from the direction of the kitchen, and even though they’d been living together for a few months now, Atsushi’s first thought was – huh, do I have a mouse in here?

Until the second squeak came. Then a third, all evenly spaced out. By the fourth, the weretiger was on his feet and heading to investigate.

The fifth squeak came at the same moment he saw Akutagawa’s body jolt slightly from where he stood leaning against the counter with a glass of water in his hands.

Their eyes met.

“Akutagwa—”

“Shut up.”

A few months ago Atsushi would have been offended. Now he just laughed. “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“I said shut - *hic* - up.” Akutagawa took a quick sip of water, attempted a deep breath, and was thwarted again. “Everyone gets hiccups. Don’t act like I’m some kind of anomaly.”

“I’m not! It’s just…that’s really cute, actually,” Atsushi replied, moving further into the space despite his partner’s cold glare.

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Oh, please. You know you love it.”

Akutagawa put his glass down on the counter so hard the water sloshed, pushing up to his full height – a whole two centimeters taller than Atsushi – and growling, “If you say one teasing word to me right now, Atsushi Nakajima, I will - *hic* - have Rashomon slice you into a thousand pieces.”

Atsushi giggled, wrapping his arms around Aku’s neck, though he knew that his boyfriend was entirely serious given the use of his full name. “I promise I won’t tease you. But I do think it’s cute.” He kissed him before he could protest again, gazing lovingly up at him in such a way that he got to witness Akutagawa visibly falter, any angry retorts dying on his tongue, replaced with another hiccup instead. “Want me to help you get rid of them?”

“You have some kind of cure-all for hiccups? If you’re hoping to - *hic* - scare me, I’m sorry to inform you that won’t work on me.”

“We’ve known each other for years. You think I don’t know I can’t scare you? I’ve tried a million times.”

“Then what - *hic* - do you propose?”

Atsushi cupped Aku’s cheeks with the palms of his hands, brushing his thumbs along his cheekbones, smiling at the way it made the usually serious man melt a little. Then he curled his fingers inward and gently scribbled along his neck.

Akutagawa fell right into the trap.

“Weretiger!” he snapped, lifting his arms to grasp at the empty air where Atsushi’s wrists had just been, leaving his torso open for the real attack aimed at his ribs. He let out a yelp and shot his arms right back down, lips turned upward in a traitorous smile. “No! S-Stohohohop - *hic* - thihihihis at once! I’m wahahaharning - *hic* - you! Weretiger!”

“Seems it’s not working quite yet,” Atsushi said with a smile, quickly moving to stand behind Aku and pull him against his chest, wrapping his arms around him in a tickly death trap that worked every time. He grinned into his boyfriend’s back as he screeched and began flailing in earnest, the giggles he’d been trying to hold back turning into loud, raspy laughter as Atsushi found the bottoms of his ribs and dug in mercilessly.

“Stahahahahahahahap! Ahahahahahatsushi!” Akutagawa clawed desperately at his arms to no avail, twisting and writhing in his grip. Luckily for the weretiger he wasn’t wearing his coat right now, which meant he had to rely on his own strength to get out of this situation.

There wasn’t much to begin with, nor was there practically any left now.

“Dahahahahammit weretiger, cut it ohohohohohout! They’re gohohohone! My hihihihihiccups are gone now stahahahahahap it!”

Atsushi hummed in contentment, smiling as he hugged him closer and tickled even more, leaning forward to plant little tickle bites along his neck and make Akutagawa go absolutely crazy.

“Ahahahahahahaha! Stahahahahahahap!” The older man cried, changing tactics from trying to pull his partner away to slapping his hand against his arm instead. “I gihihihihihihive! Please!”

“Aww, so soon?” Atsushi pouted but stopped anyway, knowing he couldn’t push too far if he wanted to be able to keep getting away with tickling him at all. He kissed the back of Aku’s neck, relishing the shudder that went through him in response. “You good?”

“Shut up,” Aku muttered, turning in Atsushi’s loosened grip so they were facing each other. This way, Atsushi got to see all of him right up close – his blushing face, his bright eyes, the ghosts of dimples in his cheeks. The aftermath of what a little tickle now and then could do for his boyfriend’s spirits.

Atsushi smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Akutagawa scoffed. “See what I do to you next time you get hiccups.”

“Joke’s on you. I can shift into my weretiger form to get rid of them.”

“Fine. Then I’ll take my revenge now.”

Akutagawa’s eyes suddenly lit up with a different kind of light, and Atsushi had only barely processed it before he was squealing with his own round of giggles as his boyfriend squeezed up and down his sides. He didn’t mind – it was beyond worth it to have a little bit of playful fun with the Port Mafia’s Hellhound.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Forbidden Sight

With the threat of the Fallen forcing Bumblebee to act and Megatron long since out of the picture, he is left with no choice but to seek out the aid of the divine. Unfortunately, meeting the divine is not all it is cracked up to be, and sometimes the price is not worth the sacrifice.

(Please note: This is LONG and there is body horror going on so do be aware.)

“No, I am not going down there again.” Ratchet clutched his dented arm possessively, his optics flaring in fear of all things. Bumblebee stilled as the Doctor’s plating flared, his servo doing a terrible job covering obvious digit shaped imprints. What could have possibly caused such damage?

“Ratchet, you are the only one who knows the way. You went with Optimus when he-” Ratchet cut him off with a look of pure terror and grief that ran so deep it was clear to see in his body, field, and expression. Bumblebee couldn’t help but stare in shock as the Doctor shook his helm frantically.

“No. No. I will give you the path I mapped, but I will never go down there. Not again.” Something had shaken him to the core. Ratchet was never like this, at least not around anyone who could see or hear what he was dealing with.

Bumblebee took a moment to meet the gazes of his team. They were worried. They looked to him for guidance. None of them said a word, but Windblade’s dipped wings and Strongarm’s nervous twitching told him everything he needed to know.

None were looking forward to the journey ahead, even in light of its necessity.

“Ratchet…” He trailed off as everyone fell silent. Guilt radiated in Ratchet’s field, but he did not budge. He wouldn’t be guiding them, no matter how much Bumblebee pleaded.

In order to defeat the Fallen, they needed information that no living mech, save for perhaps Megatron, possessed. With Megatron lost to the stars, Soundwave stuck in the shadowzone, and other possible sources similarly scattered or deceased, there really was only one choice. It was a faint hope, but Optimus had made the journey to Primus’s core long ago in search of both an end to the war and a way to restore their world. There were none left alive who knew the exact details of what went on that cycle, but Ratchet and a small cohort had journeyed with Orion Pax and they knew that when he emerged, he was greater than he was before.

Orion Pax gained knowledge on that dark cycle. Bumblebee’s hope was that he could do the same.

Optimus was gone, dead, and given to the Well. There was no one else except Ratchet, who might have had the faintest idea as to how to get to Primus’s core safely. And yet he was shaking, terrified to the point of being unable to move, regardless of how badly his field flared with the desire to flee. Something had happened, and that fact did not give Bumblebee any confidence.

“I… I will wait for you here. But Bumblebee, you must listen to me.” Ratchet released his death grip on his damaged arm, leaving it free for all to see. Sideswipe cursed softly somewhere behind him, but Bumblebee could only stare at the damage in horror.

Deep, dark, and dangerous dents that turned into tears ran across Ratchet’s arm. Rust and dried energon bordered the wound, nonlethal, but a testament to something powerful down in the depths. There were four clear imprints, huge and imposing digit marks—dug into metal that for all intents and purposes, appeared delicate now. If Bumblebee looked closely, he could see a fifth imprint running along the underside of Ratchet’s arm.

Ratchet had been grabbed by something. And whatever that horror was, it had destroyed the long maintained stoicism of a mech that had never so much as flinched in the face of danger, save for the sake of another.

“Don’t touch him. Don’t even try to damage him. He will not hesitate to leave a far greater mark.” Ratchet’s entire being spoke of desperation. His plea rang with true terror, not unlike the horror that had been evident in his voice when the Unmaker woke. Still, this was deeper, more… personal.

“I understand.” Bumblebee didn’t bother trying to convince Ratchet to come. He was dead set on remaining, and based on his reaction, it was a miracle he wasn’t already high tailing it all the way back to Iacon.

“Here are the coordinates of the tunnel entrance and mapped paths I recorded.” Ratchet sent a message over a private link, a file quickly blaring red across Bumblebee’s vision. He accepted it easily and shared the information with his team.

“Be careful. You won’t like what you see.” Ratchet stepped away, his gaze turning anywhere except the giant hole in the ground leading down to the core of their planet. Bumblebee nodded and gestured for his team to follow. There was no more time to waste and he couldn’t afford to think too deeply on Ratchet’s warning.

Bumblebee half expected to have to rock climb down the Well in order to get to his target, but according to Ratchet’s map, there was a path for him to follow. It did take him and Drift arguing over the thing for half a groon before they found the entrance, but once the journey began, any mirth evaporated in an instant.

“I don’t like this…” Strongarm muttered, breaking the silence for only a moment before it became suffocating once more. She shivered, and not even Sideswipe was willing to talk as they delved into the depths. Bumblebee did his best to lead confidently, but the road was long and there were things that shifted in the dark the deeper they went. The entire area felt oddly… holy, but only in the vaguest sense.

Controlled seemed like a better word. The path was controlled. Everything was methodical, placed with purpose, even if Bumblebee was unable to parse it out. Drift and Windblade made a few awed comments off and on, but as the light dimmed and the tunnels became more cavernous, his team refused to speak. Bumblebee couldn’t blame them, especially not when there were pedeprints in the dust from mecha who traveled with Optimus Prime millennia ago.

This place carried too much history to be disrupted for longer than absolutely required.

“We are almost to the core. Stay together, and don’t touch anything. This is a place for Primes and Primes alone.” Bumblebee shivered instinctually as his internal map alerted him to the fact that they were close. It was hard to keep track of the time so deep beneath the surface, but he assumed they had been on the move for around a cycle. He expected the trip to take longer. Wasn’t Primus at the very core of their world?

The tunnels made no sense. They hurt to think about.

“Sweet Primus…” Sideswipe cursed, but it was lost in the void as they stepped through a final arch, quickly finding themselves basked in the light of their maker, or at least, his core. Bumblebee had to pause and look on in both awe and a degree of existential dread as cogs larger than life turned in a rhythmic manner, adhering to laws and designs long forgotten by any living being save for the one who ordered their continued functioning.

A thin pathway led closer to the core, one large enough for a mech or two depending on frame type. A few stray Predacon corpses long rusted littered the ground, dark energon leaking from their battered frames. They were lifeless, but they were a reminder of the battle hard fought and won.

“Everyone, keep a ways behind me. If something goes wrong, one of you needs to get out of here and regroup with Ratchet and my old teammates.” He held out an arm, not thinking too deeply on the motion as he cautiously moved forward. He could sense his team moving slowly a few dozen feet behind him, watching him like techno-hawks as he followed the curved pathway toward where he assumed he could address the slumbering god of Cybertron, or at least attempt to commune with the Primes of old.

Everything seemed to pulse and hum around him as he walked. And yet, there was no noise. Not a sound, not a creak, not even his own pedesteps as the light of Primus washed over him in waves. He might have been imagining it, but everything about the area felt intelligent, even alive. If mythology was to be believed, then his senses would be correct. However, it only served to unsettle him as he noted the marks of small pedes moving forward and far larger pedes heading toward the entrance.

How long had it been since the soil was disturbed? Were these Optimus’s marks? Or had someone else made the journey down to Primus to cry out to their absent god? He didn’t think so. The marks matched Optimus’s specs. That thought bothered him, although he could not pinpoint why. The dust should have moved. Something should have changed. Despite that, the echoes of a darker time remained engraved in the very path he walked.

He stepped cautiously, his optics drawn to a series of cables and connectors hanging down from where Primus’s core reached an accessible level. He momentarily wondered if Optimus’s body was stuck amongst those of the Predacons, or caught in wires beneath the thin path he carefully tread. Was the body of his leader hanging limply, forgotten by all but the void that embraced him?

Bumblebee wished that were the case. By Primus he wished that were the case when he finally ascended, following the path as close as it came to Primus’s core.

He wanted to purge as he set optics upon the tattered mess that hung from countless wires and cables. There was no denying who it was. No other mech bore red and blue so proudly or carried a relic of a forgotten age within his spark chamber. He was thinner now, seriously emaciated with rust and dried gore of all kinds spattered across his frame at various intervals. His plating hung off him at odd angles, some pieces even missing altogether. His left finial was broken and the optic on the same side was damaged to the point of almost appearing crushed.

The connectors attached to him dug beneath armor and protoform alike, bloating his frame in strange, unusual places. Blue tinted ooze dripped from unnatural wounds, falling down into the void beneath. The cables seemed to slither into him, creeping into every seam and strut, pulsing with the waves of Primus’s light. The Matrix glowed in time with it all, seemingly content even as its bearer hung lifelessly.

“Optimus, I’m so sorry.” His digits shook, and it took all his willpower to not turn away and purge as he stared at what remained of his mentor, his leader, and the only fatherly character he had ever known. The Prime was not honored in death, not like this. His body hung up like some sort of twisted trophy.

It wasn’t right. Optimus deserved better than this.

“I wish I could bury you properly, but this will have to do.” He stepped forward, doing his best to not look at the deep gashes along Optimus’s back where his jetpack had once been. He could see cables slithering there, sliding deep and along Optimus’s spine. He fought the urge to gag as he readied himself to act.

He would take the Matrix out of Optimus’s chassis and use it to find a way to commune with the Primes of old. His leader’s body would then be cut free, and he could rest without being strung up like a tormented attempt at taxidermy. It was the least he could do. After everything, Optimus should be allowed to pass without being held up in a grim state of disrepair.

“I wish you weren’t like this… I wish things were different.” He found himself murmuring softly as his digits barely brushed against the relic. However, his movement seemed to stir it, and Bumblebee leapt back with a yelp as the Matrix became encased in arcs of electricity. Optimus’s body convulsed, the cables holding it up twitching and shifting as the body was lifted higher, away from Bumblebee’s reach.

“Bee!” Sideswipe was the first to move forward, with the rest of the team following behind him. Bumblebee wished he could curse and ward them all off as what remained of his leader contorted in horrible ways. The legs squirmed, kicking at nothing, as power rippled through the living corpse. The arms tensed up, digits twitching madly as the body’s optics began to flare without rhyme or reason.

His spark flared in its chamber, terrified as the corpse gave another unfortunate spasm, a deafening crack echoing amidst the eerie silence. The entire chamber seemed to lurch in a spiritual way before the lights all dimmed, Primus’s very core lowering in intensity. Nothing happened for a klik, and Bumblebee was half tempted to try and reach out again as the body fell still. Maybe it was just… lingering processor function acting up. Perhaps the Matrix was trying to awaken a host that had long since gone offline. There were always possibilities-

“Bumblebee.” The garbled designation in that oh-so-familiar voice shook him, freezing Bumblebee in place as the corpse’s helm raised. The lone functional optic blazed bright enough to blind a mech as it settled on Bumblebee and his team. There was no way Optimus was alive. He couldn’t be. That… the thing hanging from wire and cables was a corpse. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.

“You have come to seek wisdom.” The corpse shuddered, its staticky voice steadying with every glyph uttered. Its helm tilted, the lone functional optic cycling in on Bumblebee in what could have been interest if it weren’t for the fact that there was no spark to power the frame that continued to defy reality.

“You come for my knowledge, that which has been lost to you, dear children.” The cables holding the corpse shifted, growing as more came down from the void. They slithered and writhed beneath the corpse’s plating, allowing the body to lower closer, almost to the point of being within touching distance. The blazing optic that illuminated the entire chamber flickered off and on, its gaze seemingly so glued to Bumblebee that it felt like fire on his plating. Yet, at the same time, it seemed the corpse was looking right through him, not seeing so much as observing.

“Little Orion came to me long ago. He too sought out my guidance.” The living corpse shifted, its arms moving in haphazard, jagged movements. Its digits twitched, seemingly trying to gesture and grasp at nonexistent objects. It hurt to watch as ooze leaked from between cracks, forced out by movement that should not have been possible. A few of the cables loosened, allowing the corpse to move a degree. It leaned forward, its tattered frame straining as its derma failed to match the syllables of the glyphs being uttered.

It was sickening. Bumblebee wanted to retch and flee, but his very spark lurched in his chassis, frozen before the entity that wore his father figure’s frame like a suit. There was no escape. Not for him, not for his terrified team.

“What will you give for that which you seek?” The corpse’s neck cracked and energon so old that it was little more than a tank churning goo dripped from torn ligaments and connectors. The corpse remained focused on him, a smile beginning to form on its face, cracking the delicate facial plating that once gave Optimus his classical reputation.

It reached out. Its arms gestured to Bumblebee as the light of Primus’s core pulsed behind it, shadowing it while also making it impossible to look away. It was a mockery of all Optimus was, and Bumblebee couldn’t help the rage that began to pool in his spark alongside the dread.

“What will you offer when my Champion gave me everything?” The Matrix flared, power arcing off it as the entity spoke. The corpse’s helm tilted a little too far to be possible for a normal mech, almost shifting a full ninety degrees. It grinned, its arms pulled close to itself as viscera and torn cables seeped out from between cracks in the corpse’s armor.

This thing was not Optimus. It merely wore his frame and mimicked his voice. Bumblebee’s desire to flee quickly found itself overshadowed by grim determination. Whatever the entity was, it could not be allowed to continue desecrating the frame of his leader and father.

“Who are you?” A slight tremor entered his voice as he spoke. His team huddled close to each other, stepping back from Bumblebee as the thing descended lower, its smile wide enough to tear through facial plating with ease. Bumblebee could see molar derma showing through the gashes that formed as the thing pushed Optimus’s body beyond its limits.

“I am the one below, he who formed your sparks from fire and starlight.” The entity’s smile softened, although it did nothing to take away from the rotted scent that emanated from the corpse. Rusted metal, stagnant energon, and the rancid smell of corroding internal fluids long since left to rot. That one optic blazed with renewed fury as Primus’s core brightened for a moment, joining the entity, the god as it, he spoke.

“I ask you again, what will you offer? How much are you willing to give for victory?” The cables slithered ever deeper into battered protoform, puppeting limbs as the god of all Cybertronians hung within the confines of Optimus’s corpse. Bumblebee’s digits shook as the being known as Primus continued to stare through the optic of his father.

This was so very wrong. What use would a god have for a mortal frame? Why would Primus do this to his chosen? Why would he demand sacrifices when already they had given all they could?

“I… I will give whatever is required.” He clenched his jaw, steeling himself for whatever was to come as Primus continued to stare, uncaring, unnatural, and yet so very loving all at once. His team’s fields flared in horror, and distantly he was aware of Windblade and Drift dropping to their knees in submission, be it out of fear or reverent respect. Strongarm and Sideswipe continued to step away, terrified as more cables wrapped around Optimus’s frame, supporting it so that the god could pilot it more freely.

“How noble of you. Optimus tended to you well. I can sense his touch, feel his influence all throughout your very being.” The corpse moved, the cables dragging it through the chamber as it did a slow circle around Bumblebee and his team. The god kept a safe distance away, remaining half submerged in shadow at any given moment as the spotlight that was Optimus’s optic continued to illuminate Bumblebee and those with him.

“I was right to let him keep you.” The voice echoed from all around and yet nowhere at once. Primus hung directly above Bumblebee for a moment, the corpse of Optimus Prime dripping fluids that made him want to gag. He resisted the urge, trying with all his might to not show how frightened he was as the god returned to his former position in front of the core, seemingly content.

“What does that mean?” The implications of the god’s words were startling to say the least. He spoke as though he controlled Optimus as easily as he did now, moving his body and commanding his voice. Would Optimus have left him if Primus had not ordained the Prime’s acquisition of Bumblebee after the destruction of his home city? Did Optimus have no free will? Or was the god toying with him just as Unicron had all those years ago?

“Nothing to you. It is of no consequence.” The god continued to smile in that sickly way that was only found on corpses where the mortician simply couldn’t manage to make the expression look natural. Optimus’s other finial snapped and fell into the void below as Primus contorted Optimus’s frame again, forcing it to jerkingly return to a somewhat comfortable position resting within the wires.

It didn’t look comfortable at all, not with wires and cables threatening to burst from every line and seam. If Optimus were alive, Bumblebee had no doubt that he would be in agony. He sincerely hoped his father figure wasn’t still functioning, trapped by some divine will within his frame as it twisted and shifted in ways it wasn’t meant to.

“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you let him rest?” Anger returned in full force as Bumblebee shook. Why did the monster that called himself a god have to do this to his chosen? Had Optimus not served enough?

He got his answer as the god paused, and then laughed.

It was a deep guttural and almost pained sound, one that bordered on a wheeze and the buzz of radio static all at once. Fluid must have been gathering in Optimus’s vocalizer all throughout his time rotting in the Well. The laughter merely emphasized that fact.

“Sweet child, have you no optics to see? Look upon this form, see that which it is and what it represents.” The god haphazardly threw Optimus’s arms open in a mock mimicry of an embrace. Primus smiled even wider, shattering further pieces of Optimus’s face as he forced it to match his design. He must have seen himself as benevolent and holy. He did not seem to understand the sheer horror of a god speaking through the deceased and rotted frame of a Prime.

“That means nothing to me.” Bumblebee stood defiantly, his door wings locked in place as he forced his hydraulics to stiffen. He refused to shake, to show weakness in front of an entity that bordered on maliciousness at every moment.

“A pity. No others have ever matched this one, my dear Optimus.” Primus spoke and almost lovingly forced Optimus’s arms to wrap around himself. The god tenderly caressed the Matrix, lovingly looking down upon it with what would have been an adoring expression if not for the rust that crept along the corpse’s face.

He looked so serene, and strangely enough, even holy. In Bumblebee’s mind, what he saw before him was a true depiction of their god. A rotting power of the old world who in turn chose new champions to pilot, corrode, and ultimately make just like him. Broken, and so very divine.

“So strong, so dutiful, so very faithful.” A look of pure joy spread on the corpse’s face. A piece of Optimus’s shoulder plating broke away and fell into the darkness. Primus did not react as he forced the arms of the corpse to stretch beyond their limits, as if to embrace the god’s chosen Prime with even more adoration.

“Always obedient and kind. He was, he is perfect. A true beacon for all my wayward creations.” The frame shuddered, almost like a clockwork engine as it let off steam. Energon long unused began to sizzle as the spotlight that was the god’s borrowed optic again returned to Bumblebee.

His team shook behind him. Sideswipe and Strongarm had long since fallen, their plating rattling as they unknowingly found themselves bowing. Bumblebee refused to budge. He clenched his servos into fists, unwilling to show the god before him just how frightened he was. Primus could destroy him in an instant, he was sure of it.

“How could I relinquish such perfection? He gives himself to me so very freely. Total submission, true supplication. Much unlike others who have come before and after him.” Again, the corpse moved forward, coming closer and closer to Bumblebee until it hung only a little ways off. He could almost touch his father’s broken face if he so desired.

But what truly set him off was not the proximity of the living corpse. Rather, it was the red and white paint that had been transferred onto the left servo of Primus’s borrowed vessel.

“You, did you-?” Realization dawned on him like a lighting strike. The corpse merely tilted its helm with its ever present smile.

“You think of the doctor, my Champion’s dearest friend. Yes, the damage was done by this borrowed servo. He dared to try and take what belongs to me and me alone.” Primus clenched the corpse’s fist, cables bulging within the limb in question as they were forcefully bloated with energon to facilitate movement. Bumblebee bit his lower derma as images of Ratchet’s terror and possible experience conjured in his processor. This thing had hurt him, that much was clear.

“He might have been a fine vessel once. But he is too tainted, no longer pure. Wise perhaps, and dutiful indeed. But he would never heed my call.” Primus reached up to cup his, or rather Optimus’s face. Weathered servos touched scuffed and dirty facial plates with all the delicateness one would give a porcelain doll. Bumblebee wanted to recoil in horror as the implications hit him. No mech should be subject to whatever in the name of the Thirteen this was.

“Optimus… my beloved Optimus. His faith has been a delight after so many ages of silence.” Primus maneuvered his borrowed servos down, brushing up against thin and frail armor plates. The singular functional optic Primus had to use trailed every movement, watching those servos which he controlled as they caressed the body the god inhabited. It was disturbing to watch. It almost looked like some sort of convoluted assault with how pleased the god looked as he forced Optimus’s body to examine itself.

“He gave himself to me willingly. Anything to win his little war. He called himself a sacrifice, but I have named him my Chosen.” The body shivered in what looked to be pleasure. Bumblebee couldn’t help the gag that he let out at the sight. The corpse merely continued to grin as it forced Optimus’s body to embrace itself, prompting a series of cables to burst and oozing energon to slide from new wounds.

“He obeyed my every command, listening to my whispers and calls for my brother’s return to slumber. He was so dutiful that he chose me over all others, even the likes of you.” The god laughed again, a sweet chortle that did not match Optimus in any capacity. Then, as if that weren’t enough, its helm tilted again, this time even further than before. Something snapped as Primus forced the corpse to comply with his wishes, ensuring the rotted frame’s helm all but swiveled into an impossible one hundred and eighty degree angle.

Anger swelled in his spark at the mere idea of Optimus throwing everything away for some dying deity. It wasn’t like him. Optimus was a Prime for the people. He would never cast away everything just for… some god who hardly cared. But what truly shook Bumblebee were the tears that began to fall from the singular functioning optic Optimus’s body still possessed. The tears were discolored due to rust and other contaminants, but they were real, and he highly doubted it was Primus who ordered Optimus’s coolant stores to empty themselves.

“He gave himself back to me entirely, and yet as he fell, he thought of you.” Bumblebee took a step back as Primus’s tone turned sharper, edging on something akin to agitation if not hatred. The god rattled, his borrowed frame shaking as the smile fell away.

“You and your fellow companions, his little playthings meant to guide and serve.” The god’s helm swiveled back into proper position, another unsettled crack echoing as something or other broke in Optimus’s battered frame.

“Be quiet. You don’t know him.” Bumblebee shot back, wrath, anguish, and everything else he had been doing his best to bottle up swelling to the surface of his mind and spark. Primus didn’t know slag. He had not been there as their people died off during the great war. He had not so much as offered one vague prophecy through his Prime throughout all the time Optimus carried the Matrix. He had no right to speak on the behalf of a mech who gave everything for their world.

“But don’t I?” Primus’s tone was sweet like freshly purified energex, but he did not smile.

“I know his spark. I lived within him throughout your entire war. His thoughts were mine to glean and his affections mine to allow or deny.” The corpse was moved, again shifting away from its lighted position and into shadow. Bumblebee couldn’t see it as Primus maneuvered through the dark, silence reigning for a long klik. The urge to activate his weapons was almost suffocating as he scanned the darkness, desperately trying to pinpoint the lurking threat.

His team didn’t so much as twitch as they remained in various states of terrified worship. Their optics flicked around, following Bumblebee’s lead as they too tried to track the threat. Not a spark spoke, not when the core of their world pulsed so calmly, serenely even. There was no acknowledgement of the body that hung in living chains, lurking in the dark and almost certainly observing.

“Do you miss him? Does this voice make you wish he were here?” The corpse called out, this time without any undertone of Primus’s interference. It sounded almost exactly like Optimus, and it came from all around. He had to fight back the instinctual urge to cry as the familiar gruff softness reached his audials.

It wasn’t Optimus. That wasn’t his father. Optimus Prime was dead and a god was making a mockery of him.

“Come. Come greet him.” He turned around, facing the way he came to try and determine where the voice was coming from. But when he returned to his previous position, the corpse was a mere few feet away, far closer than ever before. He let out an undignified scream as the corpse leaned in, its arms outstretched.

How had it moved so fast?

“You must come closer. He cannot hear you so far away.” The tone of the thing was sing-songy, but Bumblebee shook his helm rapidly in primal terror. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t HIM. The thing that smiled and watched him with one wide and far too bright optic was not his leader. The mech he wished he openly called father would have never done this. Optimus would have never beckoned him like some sort of… creature.

He stepped back, his bravery falling in the face of true fear. His venting hitched and he prepared to run as the corpse tilted its helm again, a snarl forming on its features for the first time since it began to speak.

“Why do you flee from me? Am I not your maker?” The thing lurched forward, its movements so stiff and unnatural the Bumblebee scrambled back just in time to dodge its attempts to grab him. The god seethed and Bumblebee’s team quickly floundered in their attempts to get to their pedes as a wrathful field pressed against them from all sides.

“Come here.” Primus looked enraged. His borrowed face contorted into anger so rarely seen on Optimus in life that to Bumblebee it looked like the mech he once called his leader was possessed by the Unmaker himself. The god looked a klik away from forcing his borrowed frame into combat before he stuttered, power arcing off him until at last, he stilled.

“You… must… run.” The voice of the corpse whirled to life once more, but unlike the clear sound that Primus produced despite the state of his borrowed frame, this sound was pained. It came in a wheeze that gurgled and croaked, finally matching the tears that stained the corpse’s face.

“Leave. Go before he can take you.” The body looked up, and the movement was smooth, evidently practiced. The optic that settled on Bumblebee was not nearly as bright. Rather, it was dim and flickering, sickly in the purest sense. It was a light that should not have been there with how badly the frame it was emanating from was damaged.

Bumblebee’s processor scrambled for an answer, but the conclusion was obvious. He didn’t want to believe it. A part of him hoped that his leader was at peace, if only in spark. But seeing the desperate expression on Optimus’s face… he knew who it was that spoke to him, and he wanted to kick, scream, and cry all at once as the body spasmed and control returned to the god of their world.

“How dare you.” The corpse bore no expression now. Only the words came out with a thick vile venom that stung just to listen to. The ground began to shake as Primus’s core pulsed rapidly, wires convulsing and ancient gears stalling for nanokliks at a time.

“How dare you taint him.” The voice rose in volume, no longer sounding like Optimus at all. A maelstrom of sound and sensation assaulted him from every conceivable angle as voices that were few and yet singular at the same time all converged on him. Energon and thick viscous fluid exploded out of Optimus’s throat as Primus’s speech shattered more and more of its components.

“He belongs to me.” The corpse stiffened, its singular optic blazing so brightly that smoke rose from places, prompting more tears to fall. But instead of smiting him as Bumblebee expected, the god instead fell still once more, his borrowed optic flickering as something seemed to change.

“He is innocent. Merely a child.” Optimus, the real Optimus spoke out in the gloom. His words were slow and agonizing, grating just to listen to. But Bumblebee found himself crying all the same as his leader began to plead, desperation evident in every glyph he uttered.

“I serve. I serve willingly.” He sounded like he was in agony.

“Glory to the one below. He who slumbers and gives us life.” Prayers flowed from his torn derma, regardless of the absolute torment he was likely enduring. Optimus held his servos in a loose symbol of the Primacy, his gaze unsteady as he spoke.

“Praise be to His holy station. His will is our demand.” He did not look up, but his stuttered venting spoke of life forced to continue operating regardless of its viability. Bumblebee couldn’t find the strength to wipe away his tears, not when his Prime pleaded for his very existence.

“There is no greater purpose than to offer Him our loyalty. For He is the truth where lies fester.” The prayers continued for kliks. There was no pause between them, nor did Optimus look up even once. Eventually, the prayers changed and strange glyphs that made no sense began to emerge in something akin to a babble. Bumblebee couldn’t tell if Optimus was too pained to continue or if something deeper was happening, but ultimately, the shaking stopped and everything returned to its previous state.

“What will you give to achieve victory?” The question was repeated and Bumblebee was not given time to move before the corpse swept down, grabbing his face with one monstrous servo so tightly that he could feel his jaw creaking. That lone optic all but blinded him as the god held him in place, all but lifting him off the ground as Primus demanded his answer.

“Would you give me your spark?” The servo that was not holding him still wandered to Bumblebee’s chassis, sweeping over his plating in a seemingly fond manner. He wanted to curl in on himself in shame, horror, and something that had long since evolved beyond terror. However, he was helpless to stop the god as he ran his borrowed digits along transformation seams, his expression hopeful as if he expected Bumblebee to open for him.

“If not yours, would you give me theirs?” Seeing his lack of reaction, Primus looked over his shoulder, down at Bumblebee’s team. He flailed, but the death grip the god had on his face was all but unbearable. Fear ran so deeply in his spark he couldn’t find a way to produce words. Linguistic codes were gone, far out of reach as he stared, meeting Primus’s gaze properly for the first time.

He saw his team reflected for a moment in that lone optic as it flickered and struggled to remain online. They were terrified, but similarly frozen. They were at the mercy of their god, and they had no say in the matter once he decided what to do.

“I am not a cruel maker. I am willing to make deals.” Digits reached up, dirty from energon, rust, and years of contamination. They brushed his derma, tracing around his optics and facial features like a lover would. He wheezed, tears falling from his optics with greater ferocity than ever as the god watched him with that strange apathy and love all balled together into a disgusting mix that left him wishing it could all be over.

Primus continued to touch him for a long few moments, a hum bubbling in his borrowed throat. Bumblebee sobbed softly all the while. This wasn’t right. Optimus was his father. All of this was wrong on a fundamental level. He only wanted information, a way to save their people. Why this? Why did it have to be like this?

“Ah… it seems the debt has been paid by another.” Suddenly, without warming, Primus let go of his face. Bumblebee fell to his knees gasping in sheer relief as the corpse pulled back, slowly returning to its original position.

“There shall be no sacrifice from you this cycle.” It spoke soothingly, as if nothing at all had happened during their interaction. Primus smiled in that divine manner that should have been comforting but only served to remind Bumblebee that this entity was a god more than capable of violence.

“You shall have your victory, when the time is right.” Weathered arms stretched out as the corpse performed a mock bow, at least as much as it could with the way it was bound.

“I will lend him to you for a time, at least until the threat is removed.” It straightened, more cables coming from the walls of the chamber to connect to Optimus’s battered frame. Bumblebee continued to shakily vent, observing in silence as the god pulled his puppet back, far out of reach.

“Go now. Tell the doctor and prepare yourselves.” Optimus’s arms were crossed over his chassis, an almost respectful position if it weren’t for the sheer amount of damage inflicted all over him from Primus’s attempts at controlling a mortal frame. Optimus’s lone optic flickered and glanced around for a moment before Primus uttered a final statement that haunted Bumblebee throughout his return journey.

“I know he was too afraid to stand before his god once again.”

Huh.

So what if he was?

Bumblebee couldn’t say he blamed Ratchet for much of anything anymore. He couldn't help but wonder if getting Megatron would have been the easier decision. At least the warlord wouldn’t condemn his spark to the void if he failed to show proper respect. At worst, he would be disemboweled. And quite frankly, compared to Primus’s little attempts at touch, he would prefer that any cycle of the vorn.

“I told you not to touch him.” Ratchet’s first comment was simple, but without any malice. Bumblebee all but collapsed into his arms, the aching marks on his face clear to see.

Ratchet didn’t comment after that.

No one did.

What happened that cycle was never spoken about, at least not in public. Bumblebee did his best to forget, especially when Primus seemed to keep up his end of his supposed… deal.

Optimus came back, pristine and shiny as if he’d never been dead to begin with. He showed no signs of distress or the vaguest recollection of events down in the Well. He played it all off as if he had been peacefully deceased and promptly returned to existence at the drop of a hat. But after everything, Bumblebee now knew the faint look in his optics, the shadow that followed him wherever he went.

Primus was watching. There was no escape from the god of Cybertronians and his precious Champion.

Over and over again Bumblebee found himself haunted, hearing the words replay again and again in his mind whenever Optimus’s optics met his.

”The debt has been paid by another.”

By the Thirteen. Just what had Optimus given to ensure no others suffered as he did?

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 13)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (3.5k words, angst at first, just a little overthinking, then fluff, Fernandos a big sap, sloppy kissing, they're desperate, choking, daddy kink kinda, dry humping, unprotected sex, overstim) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {Now that they can be cute this is so easy to write}

last part - masterlist - next part

It'd only been a few days since Lance and Fernando had seen eachother so it made no sense for them to be as excited as they were but that didn't change anything.

Lance had persuaded his father yet again to book the same hotel as the Spaniard, not wanting to spend a moment away from him now that they were together.

They were together, right?

Lance hadn't gotten a straight answer, ahen he asked Fernando what they were he felt stupid, he really felt like a teenager as he looked up to the man and uttered the words.

Fernando said he was whatever Lance wanted him to be but he wasn't sure, did Fernando want to be with him? Was it just casual sex? Is this casual to him? Does he do this with everyone? He felt like his head was spinning as he shoved his face into the pillow of his hotel bed.

Lance was getting bored waiting to see the Spaniard again, knowing he'd been booked a later flight so he wouldn't arrive for ages (he texted Lance 10 minutes ago saying he was 15 minutes away)

His stomach was in knots as he thought about seeing Fernando again, worried things would be awkward, worried Fernando was going to say he made a wrong choice, he felt childish for worrying about things like this. He knew Fernando was more mature than the people he'd had little crushes on, nicer than all of them too, but he couldn't stop worrying that he was going to change.

He was torn away from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door, jumping out of his bed and peeking through the peeper before opening the door to the Spaniard. He was about to pull him in when Fernando came forward, pulling the Canadian into his arms

"Missed you so much, mi vida" He whispered, squeezing Lance as the boy giggled

"I missed you too, Nando" He responded, closing the door behind them. Lance's hand found its way to the mans head, running his fingers through his overgrown hair

"How are you? Was the flight fine?" Fernando spoke, pulling away to look at him as they spoke

"I'm good, Nando, we were just texting a few hours ago" Lance smiled, still playing with the mans hair "The flight was good, wished you were there"

"Really? Am here now" Fernando hummed, hands settling on the boys hips "Why did you want me there?"

"Not for anything dirty!" Lance said, hitting Fernandos chest and pulling away with a scoff "Dirty, dirty, dirty!"

"You don't wanna go again, Lancito?" The man frowned, trailing after the boy with a whine, it was funny to see how Fernando acted away from the cameras

"I'm jet lagged" Lance lied, turning away from Fernando to hide the smile on his face

"I could help" Fernando whispered, kissing the boys jaw between his words, earing giggles from the ticklish rookie

"Later" He answered, turning to face the Spaniard who looked fairly pleased with the answer

"I can live with that" He smiled, placing his hands on Lance's cheeks as he brought him closer for a kiss, the Canadian happy to give him what he wanted this time. "You look lovely" He felt the Spaniard whisper against his lips, breaking out into giggles, flustered at the sweetness.

They got to the paddock together, walking and talking before they parted ways to get ready for quali, both of their teammates quick to notice what was going on

"So," Nico started, looking at Lance from his side of the garage "Anything exciting happen last week?"

"Uhm" Lance thought, lifting himself up onto the counter behind him "Not that I can think of"

Nico scoffed, shaking his head as he listened to Lance, mr "i'm not gay"

Fernando was pissed, he'd just gotten pole then his team informed him he was given a 2 second time penalty for some bullshit ass reason. Those two fucking seconds bringing him from p1 to p15.

His irritation subsided when he heard a cheery Canadian coming his way, calling his name in a sing-song tone

"Nandooo"

"Hola, Lancito" He hummed a response, turning around to face Lance as he pulled out the chair next to him

"So, on pole again, feel good to be back?"

"Not anymore" He responded, seeing the confused look on Lance's face "Me and Michael got a time penalty for each part so I'm p15"

"What?" He scoffed, Lance confused at the decision "What'd you do wrong?" He asked, the man just shrugging, Lance felt bad especially considering how he'd just walked in talking about Fernando being p1

"Is alright, am winning the championship still" Fernando added, feeling bad at the sight of the sad boy, glad when his face lit up, knowing Fernando was right.

The race started and Lance was off to a good start, passing De La Rosa once again and getting closer to Button ahead of him, it seemed to be going well until turn 6 when his rear wheels locked up, sending him spinning into the barriers in a matter of seconds, all he could do was groan.

"Are you okay, Lance?" Brad asked, Lance feeling like he'd heard that constantly all season

"Yep, I'm fine, sorry." He responded, getting out of the car just in time to see his boyfriend drive past

He was in his drivers room, laying on his stomach since him and Nico both retired at this point of the race.

He was about to fall asleep when he heard a knock on his drivers room door, sitting up to see who it was "Huh?"

"Lancito, can I come in?" His eyes lit up, Fernando being greeted by a very enthusiastic looking Lance

"Is the race over? That was quick."

"Did not finish, they put my wheel on wrong." Fernando laughed as he stepped in, Lance closing the door to meet the man on the couch

"Isn't this your first retirement in a while?"

"23 races, yeah." He hummed as he sat down, leaning his head on the wall behind him, race suit unzipped half way down to his waist

"I'm sorry, Nando, are you okay?" Lance frowned, leaning his head on the Spaniards shoulder

"Mhm, I do not mind" He nodded, turning to look at Lance as his arm snaked around his waist, pulling the Canadian against him, planting gentle kisses on the side of Lance's face

"You sure? If you were upset I was gonna offer my help.." He whispered, head settling in the crook of the older mans neck to conceal the giggles from the feeling of the mans facial hair brushing against his cheek, leaving soft kisses near the tattoo on his neck.

"Did I say I don't mind? I mean..." He dragged out his words, resituating himself as he pulled Lance onto his lap "I'm so upset, Lancito," Fernando frowned, making eyecontact with the Canadian "It's so sad, I really wanted to do well"

"Oh, my poor Nando," Lance cooed, lips curving up as he leaned forward to plant a kiss on the mans forehead, hands settled on his shoulders

"Can you make me feel better, Lancito?" He questioned, looking up at the boy on his lap, pleading eyes admiring the sight of him from above

"Since you're so hurt I guess it's the least I could do" He spoke quietly, well aware of how thin the walls around them were. After he got quiet Fernando was quick to connect their lips, done with waiting for him, it was already enough torture to keep his hands off of Lance all day that now that he could he wasn't planning on holding back.

He started slow again, gentle, not wanting to make the boy overwhlemed but as soon as he could he brushed his tongue on the boys lip, grinning slightly as his lips parted, taking it as a chance to slip his tongue in, refusing to wait before exploring his mouth.

Lance whined quietly, hands gripping tighter onto Fernandos shoulders as he took breaths between each kiss, not wanting to stop the man but he hadn't exactly gotten the hang of kissing yet.

As the kisses got sloppier the two got more desperate, Lance whining quietly as he rocked himself back and forth on the stronger mans lap, adoring the different feeling of this kiss, he liked how it felt to have Fernando somewhat manhandle him.

He was no longer being careful, no longer treating Lance as if he was glass that could shatter at any moment, he was rougher. His hands were gripping him tighter, guiding his hips as he finally pulled back, Lance whining at the loss of the Spaniards lips on his.

"Shh, be patient mi vida" Fernando whispered, turning to lean back further, liking Lance on top.

"Nando, please" He begged, seeing how quick Lance was to get desperate caused Fernandos dick to twitch, Lance grinding down as a response.

The Spaniard groaned, the feeling of Lance pressing down on him made him feel like he was on cloud nine, he knew if he kept moving how he was the boy could easily make him finish untouched. Fernando was truly in awe at how much of a natural Lance was, how quick he was to catch onto things and get good.

"Fernando" Lance muttered, leaning down to rest his head between Fernandos neck and shoulder again

"Si, Lancito?" Fernando spoke "What do you want, mi sol?"

"You, Nando" He breathed, the shorter mans eyes closing at the feeling of Lances lips brushing against his lips "Please, need you so bad" He spoke quietly, part of him scared of being caught but the other eager to know what would happej if he was.

"Okay, baby" Fernando nodded, propping himself up on his elbows as he moved the boy to sit up, wanting to look at him "Move like you were before, Lancito, can you do that for me?" He asked, the Canadian nodding eagerly as he did what the man asked, supporting himself with his two hands on his boyfriends chest as he rocked his hips, eyebrows furrowing at the friction, he'd never considered himself to be horny before but as soon as he found out how it felt to have Fernando in him it was all he wanted.

As Fernando started to guide the boy Lance couldn't stop the noises he made as a response, embarrassed at how loud he'd become at barely anything.

Fernando bit his lip, one hand leaving the boys side to wrap around his neck, pulling him down by it as if he was picking a kitten up by his scruff as he connected their lips again, Lance breathlessly whimpering into Fernandos lips as he began to move faster, deeper, body needing more.

"Fuck, Lancito" Fernando breathed, hand tightening around Lance's neck, pleasently surprised at just how receptive he was to it. "Sound so pretty, mi vida, who's making you feel this good, Lancito?"

He whined, eyes lidded as he struggled to continue, legs beginning to ache as he rocked back and forth "You, papi" Lance couldn't help himself as the name slipped out, Fernando absolutely adoring it.

The man loved knowing he was the only person to ever make Lance feel this way, the only one to ever have Lance on him like this

"Nando, please, please, need you in me" His grinding slowed down, practically stopping as he panted, the grip on his neck loosening, Fernando not wanting to stop the boy from catching his breath. It was endearing, how quick he got out of breath considering he was a literal athlete.

Fernando leaned to kiss the boys jaw, leaving wet kisses and bite marks on his skin as he pulled his race suit down more, wasting no time before pulling the waistband of his underwear down as well, just enough for the cold air of the room to hit his cock

"Lancito, need you to get up if you need me so bad" Fernando couldn't help but laugh at how quick Lance was to listen, being off the mans lap in seconds. "Take it off for me, baby, need your suit off"

The Canadian listened again, finding his way back onto him after he finished

"So good for me, Lancito, always so good for me, baby" He praised, fingers brushing over the tattoo on the boys torso, the two drivers' cocks pressed together as he waited for Lance to get situatied "Tell me when you're ready, mi sol, we need to be quick." He leaned back again, half lidded eyes watching as the pale boy moved on top of him

"I'm ready, please, need you."

"Put it in, Lancito." He instructed, hands moving down from his bare hips to Lance's thighs "Do you think you can do that for me, princesa?"

The boy nodded, quick to lift himself up and line the Spaniards cock up to his hole "Do I.." He began to ask, unsure if he was doing anything right on his own.

"Just sit, baby, you're doing great" Fernando reassured him, hands moving up and down his thighs as he felt his tip be pushed inside, the two of them breathing shakily at the now familiar feeling.

Lance shut his eyes tight as he felt himself sinking down, hands gripping onto Fernandos shoulders as he took him in fully, the Spaniard unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, seeing how Lance's eyebrows furrowed at the feeling and lips parted slightly as he panted drove Fernando crazy.

"Fuck, Lancito." He groaned, hand wandering to Lance's neck again as he leaned forward to finally kiss him, not noticing how he'd absentmindedly began moving the boy on his lap "Taking me so well. You're so billiant, mi vida"

The boy whimpered, not satisfied with the slow pace Fernando had set so he took matters into his own hands, bouncing himself on the Spaniards cock.

"God" Fernando groaned quietly, grabbing onto Lance harder as he let the boy set his own pace.

The taller boy leaned forward, bringing Fernandos hand back up to his neck, missing the pressure.

"What do you want, Lancito?" He asked, hovering his hand over the rookiee throat "Use your words, princesa."

"Choke me, please papi." He whined, his movements getting sloppier as his legs began to give out, struggling to keep a steady pace.

Fernando obliged, not going to deny Lance of something he asked so nicely for. He tightened his grip on his throat as he sat up slightly, leaving the two drivers chest to chest, their position familiar.

"Doing so good, Lancito, such a good boy for me" He cooed, praising Lance as he connected their lips again, adoring just how desperate he'd become after not having Fernando for a week.

The kisses were wet, neither of them in a position where they could be gentle, gentle was the last thing Lance wanted now that he knew how it felt to be choked and bit by the Spaniard.

Fernandos eyes lingered to his hand adorning the boys neck as he pulled away from the kiss, settling on the now red and purple marks he'd left on the boys jaw and neck, leaning forward to kiss them softly, even as they got rougher the last thing he wanted was for the boy to be hurt by him.

"Nando" He whined, laying his head in the crook of the mans neck

"Yes, mi sol?"

"I can't-" He started, practically just sitting with the mans cock in him "Need your help, Nando"

Fernando couldn't help but smile, kissing the boys cheek as he lifted him up, laying him on his back on the sofa.

"Look so pretty under me, Lancito" He purred, connecting their lips in order to contain his moans as Fernando began to move, pleased with the string of sounds that left Lances mouth as he did.

He set a steady pace, one hand tight on Lances neck as the other settled on the rookies waist, adoring the sight of the boy under him being reduced to whimpers and whines.

He parted their lips to get a better view, needing to see just how much Lance relished in the pleasure Fernando was bringing him.

Fernando loved knowing he was the first to make him feel this way, the first to hear his perfect moans as he thrusted in and out. The Spaniard adored knowing he was the best Lance would ever had.

The Canadian felt the eyes on him, whining as he brought his arms up to cover his face to hide the pink tint covering his cheeks.

"Nando" He moaned, unable to stop himself from being loud as Fernando fucked into him

"Shh, you need to be quiet, mi sol" Fernando whispered, hand gripping the boys throat harder to pull his head up "Can you be a good boy for me? You don't want to be caught, do you?" He raised his eyebrows slightly, knowing the boy was still learning what exactly he wanted.

The Canadians breath hitched at the idea, cock twitching on his stomach as he heard the man above him scoff

"Would you like that, hm?" He cooed, moving Lance's hands away from his face "You want someone walking in and seeing just how much of a mess you are under me? How pathetic you look begging for my cock?"

He tried to respond, his words getting caught in the back of his throat, the thought of being caught causing Lance to react more than either of them thought it would.

Fernando continued thrusting into the boy, feeling himself slowly getting closer as the Canadian mewled. His sounds were so sweet, music to the Spaniards ears. He leaned down to nip at the skin on his neck, not bothering to care about the full garage on the other side of the door as Lance panted his name.

His hand left the pink drivers waist, wrapping his fingers around the base of the boys cock, knowing they needed to hurry up.

He began stroking his member at the same pace as his thrusts, enjoying the feeling of his hips bucking into the Spaniards hand, head arching back as he felt his orgasm creeping closer

"Fuck, fuck Nando, I- I- God, I'm gonna..." He struggled to form a sentence, gripping onto the material he was laid back on

"Cum, Lancito, Cum para papi." He instructed, biting harder onto the skin surrounding his collarbone, his goal to leave marks on the boys skin, claiming him.

As soon as Fernando told him to cum for him he did, his load coating both of their chests, Lance prepared for Fernando to slow down until he didn't, hand continuing to stroke the boy at the same pace

"Nando" He moaned, body shaking at the overwhelming amount of pleasure, the two cumming together seconds later, filling the room with gasps and pants at they both caught their breaths

"Fuck, Lancito, Took me so well, Such a good boy for me, mi vida" Fernando spoke, praise spilling out of his lips as he slowly rode out his high, feeling how full Lance was.

Lance moved his arms around Fernandos shoulders, pulling their chests together as Lance blushed, something so romantic about just laying in eachother presence after doing something so..... so.

Fernando found a hand towel and wet it, figuring the two had laid still for long enough. He sat Lance up, whiping off the boys torso before cleaning his own

"Nando?"

"Si, mi sol?"

"I love you"

Fernando smiled, setting the towel aside now that the two of them had been cleaned off. He leaned forward, softly planting kisses across the boys face, adoring hearing the giggles that came out of him as a response

"Stop, stop, stop" He breathed, wide smile on his face as he tried to push the Spaniard away "You could at least say it back"

"Te quiero mucho, Lancito" He spoke, patting the boys hair to lay smoothly on his head as he spoke "Now, If we stay here any longer people are gonna start worrying"

"I guess you're right" The Canadian whined, getting into the jeans and team shirt he'd came in while Fernando put his race suit back on, the two walking out of the drivers room as if nothing had happened.

As if everyone in the garage hadn't heard them and were now acticaly trying to not look at the bruises on the Canadians neck or make eyecontact as the drivers left together

"I think you were a little loud, mi sol" Fernando teased, Lance hitting him on his shoulder before hiding his face in his hands

"God, Nando, that's so embarrassing!"

"You sure seemed to like the idea before" Fernando hummed, wrapping his arm around Lance as he headed to the Renault garage, needing to change before the two could go back to their hotel.

[rainbowsky]

Hello hello! Baby YiZhan fan here :) totally random but...... I was watching the whole Untamed BTS and I noticed that on 2018.05.04 their interaction was kind of different, WY with his hands on XZ shoulder a couple times, their "can you find my nipple?" game (hahahaha), they were very touchy with each other. I tried and didn't find any theories about his specific date but it seems something changed from that point on. Do you know if there is anything about it?

Hi new turtle! 💛🐢💛

Well, there are various dates that different turtles focus on based on how particular BTS clips land on them. Not every turtle reacts the same way to the same clips. It can be a very personal thing. What one turtle finds very exciting, another turtle won't be moved by at all. Everything is an interpretation and nobody knows what really happened, so we all just clown and theorize according to our personal interests.

There is also a lot of unreleased BTS, so there are gaps in our understanding of how things unfolded during filming. In the absence of information some turtles will try to fill in those gaps with theories, and others will ignore those parts and focus on the content that we do have.

As for my own take on this particular date, I think it's entirely unknowable and therefore I don't see a huge point in digging too deeply into it. After all, this all happened 5 years ago. It's water under the bridge, really.

I don't think that I would immediately jump to something shifting in their relationship that makes them suddenly more comfortable with each other.

For one thing, I think the idea that there is such a huge change in their level of comfort with each other is very debatable. There are moments from the first days of filming where they look quite comfortable with each other and some moments later in filming where people could interpret them as not looking very comfortable with each other at all.

Only GG and DD know exactly how they felt and why they behaved the way they did at any given time. What we might read as being about their level of social comfort with each other could be about something entirely different.

It could be that they're tired and don't have a lot of energy and therefore don't appear to have a lot of sparks with each other in certain moments, or it could be that they had an argument, or that some personal or career stress is distracting them, or that some other third party has said something to them to make them more subdued with each other. We just don't know.

Devil's Timeline people sometimes theorize that they were trying to hide their relationship in the early days, therefore they acted a bit distant with each other to keep up the charade but quickly grew tired of making the effort, or forgot to keep the pretense up.

One of the things that fans most frequently forget to take into consideration is GG and DD's experience as queer people in a heteronormative society. I think it's worthwhile to consider what it would feel like to go on to a movie set with a whole bunch of strangers and to be acting across from your gay partner in a climate such as the one in China. I think any perceived tension between them in front of the cameras at the time could be easily explained by that alone.

I talk about the climate on set in a bit more detail in this post.

Any shift in their behavior on any particular date could be entirely because of conversations they had with production that we are not privy to. That could be the date they fully realized just how queer-friendly the environment was for them on set. Perhaps they were able to relax from that point forward in the certainty that production had their best interests at heart and would protect them as a couple.

We simply don't know. Everything is CPN, and everyone will have their own take on it based on their own perspective. As a gay person I'm more likely to theorize based on my understanding of the social realities of being gay in a heteronormative society. Others might be more drawn to the romance, and still others might be trying to build a case for their own personal timeline.

My advice is to not get too married to any one particular theory of how things happened. After all, it could have happened any number of ways. We will probably never know what really happened, so there's no point in attaching ourselves too much to a specific perspective.

I find it more fun to look at it from a bunch of different angles and come up with different reactions or theories based on that. If they got together during filming, what might be happening here? If they were already together, what might be happening there? That kind of thing. I did that with my Japan trip post, and several others you might encounter as you browse through my blog.

Most importantly, no one can tell anyone that their perspective is the right and true one. We will never know for sure. We are all clowns working from the same information and taking it in our own personal directions based on our own personal backgrounds, baggage, interests, etc., and based on what we need from fandom.

As a new turtle you might find my masterlist post helpful. There are a bunch of older posts and lists and resources there that new turtles might find useful.

[seafoamreadings]

week of march 31st, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: let's not beat around the bush; these are not easy times for aries people. self care is critical. finding joy in the small things is critical. allowing joy and despair or any other blend of emotions to coexist is critical.

taurus: the focus upon your 12th house of hidden things intensifies like a magnifying glass catching something on fire. do not be an ant under that beam. you won't be able to see it necessarily, it's hidden after all. but you can feel that fire and act accordingly.

gemini: the eclipse is no small thing but for you, mercury retrograde is bigger. you will feel an urge to blurt things out, but do not. probably not even to your most trusted circle, unless it is a very serious matter. everything else can wait a few weeks, no?

cancerians: eclipses are always major for you. cardinal eclipses even more so. it isn't until the weekend - actually technically monday! - but you feel it already, i'm sure. mercury retrograde nearby to the eclipse point happens first. it is intense. stay home if you can. if not, keep to yourself a bit anyway. everyone will be blurting things out; let that inform you, don't be the informant.

leo: aries vibes build and build all week which ultimately is good for you in a really transcendent, perhaps also cerebral way. but you also feel the first hints of the coming eclipse which is not meant to be a comfortable time for you. still, comfort can be overrated.

virgo: so much is going on it can be overwhelming to your constitution so take it easy physically AND mentally. avoid debts or loans, other people's money, stay in your lane, etc, but also i suspect a good relationship development occurs IF everything in your partnerships has been aboveboard and authentic.

libra: relationships are always a focus for you of course, but with everything going on in aries there's no way to ignore them or let anything else take center stage for most librans. you have to maintain balance of course, but attend to what needs your attention.

scorpio: no matter how tired of pressure you become, you have more ability to thrive under it than probably any other sign. it intensifies all week, it transmutes us all and you emerge the most beautiful phoenix. doing hard things, surviving hard things, is worth it.

sagittarius: fifth house activity is fun, at minimum in a dramatic soap operatic way. fine, the eclipse is hardcore, mercury is retrograde, and chiron is still over there doing his thing. but see if you can't get a bit of a thrill out of the chaos. start over if you want.

capricorn: these cardinal times are hard on you, but the antidote is to beautify your home and make it a peaceful sanctuary. yes you might want to be out there making status and legacy for yourself, or finding a suitable partnership of one kind or another. for everything a season. but this season is for the peaceful lair you make for yourself, from which you spring forward later in full bloom.

aquarius: your local community or people close to you emotionally are probably in some chaos. your money though? your resources? all good there. avoid delusional spending, just stay a bit frugal and it all plays out very nicely for you.

pisces: something or someone you thought you could depend on - thought you HAD to depend on, maybe - it turns out is not so reliable. it may or may not be their fault. but you have to become independent. if you already are, you are called to rely upon that independence this week, fortify it, and appreciate it. there are still others to lean on. not all is lost.