#also put in the request for time off work a couple days ago and its still pending so hope thats approved soon so i dont have to fight them

[heyitsphoenixx]

its starting to sink in that im actually going to nyc for the first time this month to see d20 live and im trying not to let it sink in so the anxiety doesn't hit too lol

[fireinmoonshot]

second impressions | joaquín torres x fem!reader

READ PART ONE HERE Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: After making a terrible first impression on you, Joaquín goes back to the Avengers Training Facility in hopes of making a better second impression on you... but you have other ideas. Warnings: Mentions of fighting/combat and food Word Count: 2.1k A/N: I had a few people requesting that I write a second part to First Impressions so I have been working on this for the past couple of days. I am also going to be writing a third part to it as well which will hopefully be up in the next couple of days. Not much happens in this tbh but I still hope you guys enjoy it. I think it has some fun elements to it 💗

When Sam asks Joaquin if he wants to join him for some training at the Avengers Training Facility, there isn’t a second of hesitation before he says yes. He does truly want to learn the art of being the Falcon… the fact that you’re also going to be there is just a bonus.

He even puts on an extra spritz of cologne before he leaves his apartment. The fact that he’s wearing gym gear and therefore doesn’t need cologne doesn’t even cross his mind.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Sam asks him as they walk into the training room. “You seem a little distracted.”

Joaquin shakes his head and tries his best to pretend that he’s not looking for you. He is a little distracted, he can admit that. But it’s just because he’s here and you’re also here somewhere and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since you body slammed him in this very room two weeks ago. “Nah, man. I’m ready. I’ve never been more ready.”

Sam gives him an amused look. “Yeah, sure…”

He drops his gym bag by the corner of the mat and starts to do some stretching. His body is tense from the drive and he needs to loosen up big time before he starts to train with Sam. He’s fully aware he’s probably going to be getting his ass kicked, but he has to start somewhere, right? He’s a pretty decent fighter when it really comes down to it, but he knows he can do with some improvement.

“So,” Joaquin begins, stretching one of his legs. “Do you think that if I can win in a sparring match with you today, you’ll let me face off with that Black Widow we saw here last time?” He purposely doesn’t use your name in an attempt to make Sam think he’s nonchalant about it all. Sam is well aware he’s the entire opposite.

Sam snorts. “Yeah, in your dreams. Even I wouldn’t fight her.”

Joaquin frowns and stands up straight, momentarily pausing his stretching. “What do you mean you wouldn’t fight her? You’ve fought Super Soldiers, you’ve fought aliens. You even fought a Red Hulk and won. I mean, come on – you totally could!”

Unbeknownst to Joaquin, you’ve slowly been walking up to them for this entire conversation, a small smile on your lips. As you reach them, you casually drape your arm around Joaquin’s shoulders, enjoying the way he tenses beneath your touch.

“Yeah, listen to the kid, Cap. I reckon you could totally take me on.”

Sam rolls his eyes and continues his own stretching. “I could, but I don’t need that kinda humiliation. By the sound of it, though, Joaquin sounds like he’s up for it.”

Joaquin’s eyes widen. “I did not say that.”

You look over at Joaquin, still smiling. “What, are you scared, Torres?”

His breath hitches as he looks at you. Your face is so close to his, closer than its ever been before, and your arm is still wrapped around his shoulders. He’s never been electrocuted before but he’s pretty certain it must feel something like this. “Me, scared?” He attempts to scoff but it comes out as more of a choking sound.

You remove your arm from around his shoulders and move to stand a little in front of him. “Aren’t you here to learn some fighting techniques? C’mon, Torres. I’m a good teacher.”

For the first time probably ever, Joaquin is a little lost for words. He’s looking at you, trying not to think too much about how attractive he finds you, and also trying to convince himself that maybe he should accept a match against you. It’d be a good way to learn… and to get his ass kicked. But if you are the one doing the ass kicking, he could definitely get behind it…

“I’m just teasing,” you say, breaking his train of thought. “I’m not fighting you today.” There’s not a single bone in your body that is willing to fight against someone with such little training compared to your usual partners. When he was better and could really hold his own against you? Sure, that was fair game. But you hadn’t been able to help yourself today when you’d walked into the gym and heard them talking about you. “Do you mind if I watch though?”

Sam shakes his head. “Nah, that’s fine. It’ll probably be good for him to have another set of eyes to see what he needs to improve on.”

“Okay, great,” you hum, starting to walk over to the edge of the mat. You pause by Joaquin and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You got this, Torres. Oh, and by the way, you smell good.”

Joaquin stares at you, a little bewildered, as you move to sit on the floor by the edge of the mat, leaning up against the concrete wall behind you and stretching your legs out in front of you. Did you actually just say that to him? How the hell was Joaquin meant to fight under these conditions? He’s all hot under the metaphorical collar now.

“Joaquin, you ready?” Sam asks, finishing off his stretching and stepping up onto the mat.

He clears his throat, looks at you one last time, and then nods. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Oh, he’s so screwed. 

~~~

You stay, watching the two men as they spar on the mat in front of you. Sam is good, as you had expected him to be with so much experience under his belt. Joaquin, though, is better than you’d expected. He fights almost as effortlessly as you, although some of his movements are a little clunky in places and he could definitely learn a thing or two about predicting his opponents movements. All things considered, though, you’re impressed.

After the training wraps up for the day, you excuse yourself from the gym and head into the kitchen – a popular place among the Avengers while using the Training Facility. You’re making a sandwich when Joaquin walks into the room.

He has a towel resting over his shoulder and there’s still a sheen of sweat over his skin from the fighting. His hair, which had been neatly styled before, is now a little messy, some strands of it falling over his forehead and softening his face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of the gym and even though you knew that he was good looking before, nothing can prepare you for the strange feeling that erupts in your stomach as he saunters into the room. 

“I guess Avengers eat sandwiches too,” Joaquin says, breaking the silence as he sits on one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter from you. He notices that your eyes are a little unfocused as you look at him, but then you blink and you’re back to normal.

You chuckle. “You say that like we’re some kind of special breed, Torres. I’m a human, too, sweetheart. We humans eat sandwiches.”  

Joaquin is pretty sure he feels his heart stop as you call him sweetheart. He’s not even thinking about the sandwich anymore. All he can think about is the fact that you never refer to him by his first name and the fact that you just gave him a nickname that he hasn’t been called since he worked in a supermarket as a teenager and the older ladies would fawn over how kind and lovely he was.

“Yeah, sandwiches are pretty great…” is all that he can manage to say, his head swimming with thoughts about how you’re so tough, so strong, but how the word sweetheart sounds like music coming from your mouth.

You look at him for a moment. “Are we really gonna stand here talking about sandwiches, Torres?” 

He pauses and attempts to clear his thoughts. “What else would we talk about?”

“I don’t know, but I really don’t feel like trading sandwich secrets with you,” you admit as you grab a knife and cut the sandwich in half before putting it on a plate. You push it to the side, then, and lean down on the bench, looking across it at Joaquin. “I wanna talk about the fact that you wore cologne to a sparring session at the gym.”

Joaquin is glad he’s not eating or drinking. He’s certain he would’ve choked on it. You telling him that he smelled good had been on replay in his mind for the entire sparring match against Sam and had definitely been the reason Sam had gotten a few punches in. He hadn’t thought you’d notice it, letalone mention it, and he’s pretty sure it’s worn off by now considering he’d sweated so much during the fight. But here you are, cornering him about it.

“I wanted to make a better second impression on you than my first one,” he explains, a little sheepishly.

Truthfully, his terrible first impression on you had been weighing on his mind. He’d made a total fool out of himself, even though you’d assured him that he hadn’t. He had decided very quickly that he needed to do better next time.

You look at him for a second and then extend your hand towards him. “Give me your phone for a sec,” you say.

Joaquin furrows his eyebrows. “Why do you want my phone? He replies, mid-way through grabbing it and handing it to you across the counter. There’s nothing on there that he’d be worried about you seeing. Well… apart from a few selfies in his camera roll.

“Because,” you start, taking the phone from him. “I want to put my number in it. We’re on the same team now and if you ever have any questions about fighting techniques or anything similar, shoot me a text and I can help.” You open up his contacts, adding yourself to them. “And because you are not going to make a good impression on me simply by wearing cologne to a sparring session, Torres.”

He takes his phone back from you after you finish adding in your number and places it on the bench in front of him. “How am I going to do that, then?”

“We may be Avengers, Torres, but that doesn’t mean every interaction we have has to be within the walls of this training facility. I’d honestly prefer that they aren’t,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. “We should meet sometime out in the real world, where we’re just you and me instead of a Black Widow and the Falcon. Get to know more about each other rather than just our fighting styles.”

Joaquin finds himself smiling. He hadn’t expected that from you. According to Sam, you’re one of the best fighters and a damn good Avenger. He’d thought you’d want to keep things that way – co-workers and nothing more. He’s never been an Avenger before so he assumed that would be how it was – his friendship with Sam being the exception. But apparently not.

“You’d actually wanna do that?” He asks, a little in disbelief.

“No, actually. I just said all of that but I didn’t mean a single word,” you reply, deadpan. “Yes, of course I would want to do that, Torres. I do actually have a life outside of being an Avenger, you know. I don’t only exist in this facility.”

A thought pops into Joaquin’s mind… you have a life outside of this place, which means there’s a very possible chance that you might have a partner. Someone you go home to every night, someone that listens to your troubles and fears when it comes to your job.

Almost like you can read his mind, you speak again.

“I’m basically asking you on a date, Joaquin.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “You– wait, you and me? You want to go on a date with me? You’re– you’re asking me?”

“What is with you and not believing me when I say things to you?” You laugh a little, shaking your head. “I’m not talking anything serious, hence the word basically, but yes. You don’t need to give me an answer straight away. You should take some time to think on it. This is only the second time we’ve met, after all.”

You stand up straight and pick up the plate with the sandwich before walking around the counter and sliding the plate in front of Joaquin. 

“Eat. You need to regain your strength after getting your ass kicked by Sam,” you hum. “And then text me yes or no once you’ve had some time to think, yeah?”

Before Joaquin can even recover from his shock enough to actually say yes to you, you’re gone. He spins around in his chair, eyes falling on the empty doorway. Then, he turns back around, picks up his phone and types out a message to you.

I don’t need time to think on it. I’m in. Yes.

[fr33time]

Hiii (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶), can I request for a hurt/comfort reader x Jin or Romeo fic?

✦❘༻Self care to forget༺❘✦

Divider credits: @thecutestgrotto

Pairing: Romeo Lucci x GN!reader

Synopsis: MC was cursed by an anomaly, which caused them to have one of the worst days of their life. After breaking their arm after an investigation with Vagastrom, Romeo calls MC to his private room on business, but MC is more than over with the day.

A/N: Yesss of course!! I chose Romeo this time, so I hope you’ll enjoy the idea I have for him!!! I don’t find many Romeo fics so I felt like I should fill the space with one. He’s still a tad difficult to write but I made sure to go through his in game chats, and check through the wikis to see how he spoke. I had fun writing this, and it’s interesting to try something new. Enjoy! Also sorry this took so long to release, I’ve been busy again and I have work to do so I’ll probably only get to writing on weekends. I wrote most of this late at night so I apologize for any mistakes, feel free to let me know! I’ve been waiting for episode 9 to release and I can’t wait since it looks like a Halloween special chapter. Until my next work!

Genre: Hurt/comfort, oneshot

Find my requesting rules here!

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Life did not particularly favour you at the moment. You ended up being taken to an emergency room for breaking your arm, if it had been a sort of sprain then a couple anomalous medicine packs could have fixed it, but the world loves to beat you when you’re down.

About 4 days ago you were sent to be the inspector of a mission with the Vagastrom house. They were investigating a mass wave of kidnappings that they believed to have been caused by an anomaly. This morning was supposed to be the final day of the investigation, where you and the ghouls were planning to capture the anomaly and complete the mission. The day was doomed from the start with an air of bad luck following you throughout. You fell through the floor of the Clementia house, you kept stepping in pot holes and almost spraining your ankle, when the world was seemingly trying to kill you, it also made everything very inconvenient. You were losing everything you placed on furniture the previous night, stepped on a pregnant spider, the power went out, etc.

The final straw was when the investigation was reaching its final stages. Some plans flew off the rails and you ended up being chased by the anomaly. Once it grabbed you, you managed to maneuver yourself out of its grasp, but in turn you ended up falling from the second floor of a building onto the first floor because of a giant hole in the floor. It would not have been this bad if you fell in a different position, but you fell head first and it triggered the instinct to break the fall with your arms.

You were rushed to the emergency room after the anomaly was unfortunately destroyed. Apparently, the anomaly put a mini curse on you that gave you dreadful bad luck. On the bright side, darkwick had come across a curse like this before and was able to lift it almost immediately. Your arm was patched up, and was told that it would heal in up to 12 weeks on account of the clean break, and sent you home.

You felt shitty, all you wanted was to rest and you were stuck having to deal with the ghouls in Vagastrom on the way back. Alan and Sho seemed really concerned for you, but decided to stay silent for now in fear that you weren’t into conversation. Leo on the other hand had a bitter face plastered on, it will always be perplexing how he manages to say the worst things at the worst times.

“Y’know, we could’ve captured that anomaly if honour roll hadn’t screwed up.” Alan immediately threw him a nasty look and signalled him to shut up. Honestly, you weren’t in the mood, if you didn’t feel so drained then you could’ve responded back to him but you didn’t have the heart. Soon, you were back at your dorm, once the Vagastrom ghouls dropped you off and said they would check on you later, you sat in silence for a while. You laid down on the bed and started to drift to sleep until you heard a buzzing on your phone. You could’ve ignored it but clearly someone was spam texting you to get your attention. Out of obligation, you peeked at your phone and checked the messages.

New girl!

Report to the VIP room this instant!

Are you ignoring me?!?!

This won’t be tolerated, if you’re not here in 5 minutes there will be serious consequences!

You groaned out of frustration seeing Romeo’s spammed messages on your screen. You immediately went to pick up your phone and text back, trying to explain what happened today,

Romeo I can’t come right now, can you let me off the hook this time? I’ve had a really bad day and I just want to lay down…

I don’t want your excuses, I’ll add 2 extra minutes on your clock, you better be grateful because you’re wasting my precious time!

And it’s Fico, get it right!

You guessed that there was no saying no to him. You rushed to Sinostra as best you could, but there was no way that you were going to attempt to run there. As you walked inside, the guards that were standing outside of the VIP room were greeting you,

“MC, Fico’s expecting you, head inside.” Most of the staff knew who you were by now. You had been working around Sinostra more recently due to Romeo making you do “Eyes in the Sky” surveillance for him. He was a teensy bit more lenient on you lately, you weren’t sure why but you liked to think that he was getting used to you, bit by bit. It was already later than usual, so you wondered why Romeo wanted you to come to the VIP room at 9PM. The guards opened up the VIP room for you, and stepped inside. Romeo was sitting down on the luxurious couch, sifting through paper work that surrounded his desk. The door behind you closed, and you realized that Romeo didn’t bother to have bodyguards with him. You stood in front of the table, barely keeping it together. It felt like you could snap the tiny bit of composure that you had at any time.

“I thought I told you to rush over here!” Romeo finally decided to look at you and noticed your horrendous physique. Your arm was in a cast, clothes were dirty, eyes drooped down to hell, and your posture was so unacceptable that it felt violating to his eyes.

“What the hell happened to you?”

In that moment, everything inside of your head spilled out onto the floor. You couldn’t hold it any longer. Before you realized what happened, you were on the floor, breaking down. Your chest tightened and tears streamed out on your face and onto the floor. It felt humiliating, crying in front of Romeo like this but you’ve never felt so down on your luck before. It was crushing that it felt like the whole world was against you today, it wasn’t always like that but a pile of stress was building up over the course of the mission, especially today.

“I just- I just wanted to be left alone! My arm hurts so bad- everything is so fucking- shitty!” Your brain couldn’t keep up with your words, your line of consciousness was being interrupted by your hyperventilating. Your throat hurt, it hurt so much from wanting to cry out and having to swallow everything down.

“Just leave me- the fuck alone! I want to sleep— so fucking bad- why won’t any- one just let me rest for once today!” Romeo was stunned, he sat there looking at you while your cries were the only noise echoing in the room. Your eyes were red, and puffy, you looked pitiful while sitting on the floor of his expensive private room. He got up from his couch and kneeled down in front of you, hovering his finger over your mouth.

“Shut up for a moment!” You stopped speaking but there was nothing you could do about your hyperventilation. You tried to breathe deeply, but didn’t help your uncontrollable gasps for air. You looked away from his eyes and tried to look down at the floor, it felt less shameful. Romeo sighed heavily, and got up onto his feet.

“Stand up” you followed what he said and tried to get off of your knees.

“Just looking at the state you’re in is giving me wrinkles. Don’t say anything and follow me” Romeo started walking and signalled you to come along. You followed him and ended up in his bathroom, one of the most spotless bathrooms you’ve ever seen with countless beauty products on the counters and in cupboards. Your breathing was starting to calm down but you were still in rough shape. Now you were confused, why would Romeo take you in here? He started filing through his cabinets and grabbing a few things.

“I’m going to fix you up because you look horrendous, but for now go and monitor my EITS and wait till I’m done. This just means you’re gonna work twice as hard tomorrow as payment for this.” You started to realize that he was going to take care of you when you looked at all of the products in his arms. You listened to what he said and sat down on his couch to look at the cameras in the casino. You didn’t mind staying any longer anymore, it would be nice to rest but you felt like Romeo wanted to help you in his own weird way. That’s what you wanted to believe, and in reality it wasn’t that far from the truth. It made you smile a bit, but you knew that if Romeo caught you then he would probably throw you out in an instant, so you kept it down. You were done with everything, this was the best you were gonna get out of everything. Not much time passed before Romeo set up, he called you over before you knew it.

“New girl! Get over here!” You got up and met Romeo in the bathroom, finding a chair in front of the sink, with a whole line of facial items set up.

“Sit down and straighten your back. I won’t accept sloppiness.” As you sat down, Romeo cleared space and put his laptop on the counter in front of you. It looked like he still wanted you to work, but he interrupted your thought as he spoke.

“I’ll watch it, but tell me if you see something wrong or there’ll be consequences.” Romeo turned your chair so that it was parallel to the counter. Facing it towards him, it helped him see your face better and it was easier to apply things on you. He stayed organized and started to put things on your face, first a cold compress eye mask, then a cold towel to reduce overall swelling in your face, applied a couple moisturizers, gently massaging your eyelids, it felt like pure bliss. You weren’t sure why he was doing this, and even Romeo was questioning why he did this all for you. He wanted to make you stop crying by giving you a mini facial, and registered it as wanting to get rid of your scrunched up face and out of his sight to use it against you later.

You looked in the mirror after he was done and barely recognized yourself. You were glowing, and it looked like you never even cried in the first place. When you checked the time, it was almost 11PM. There were many missed messages from Alan, asking where you were and if you were alright.

“Oh wow, it’s getting really late. I’m so sorry for taking up your time, I should be going soon!” When you were getting back up, you felt a pair of hands push down gently on your shoulders to make you sit.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, I’m not listening to complaints. You’re getting up in the morning and working all day for me tomorrow as payment. I spent my precious time on you, so you should feel indebted to me.” He folded his arms and looked at you, expecting an answer.

“Um… where would I even sleep?” You didn’t have the strength to fight, it’s not like you wanted to walk all the way back to your dorm late at night anyways. You were tired and needed to rest, it didn’t matter where it was anymore.

“On the couch, it’s high quality so it should be better than the shabby one you have. Any BFB would be able to tell the quality difference as soon as they sat down.” You were a bit perplexed by his out of place acronyms, but you had no clue what he was talking about.

“…BFB?”

“Bumbling Fucking Buffoons, it should be obvious.” All you could do was smile slightly and nodding your head to appease him. Romeo got up to set up the couch comfortably, you still had a broken arm so you needed a cozy space to be in to put your mind at ease.

“Thank you Romeo, I feel much better now. You helped me alot, and I appreciate it.” He was turned away from you, so you couldn’t see the look on his face, but a slight blush came across his face. He shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed but he did, he didn’t understand his own feelings.

“It’s Fico, you BB. I’m making sure you wake up early to get started in an organized fashion, so enjoy comfort while it lasts.” You were surprised that Romeo did all of this for you, but it was sweet in his standards. He made you feel better by giving you some self care, and offered you to stay here so you wouldn’t walk back. He did want you to work all day tomorrow, but you could make it through, he didn’t assign hard tasks to you so you weren’t worried. You hoped that you and him could have a better relationship someday, it was going to take a while, he had multiple walls in front of him that were made out of brick. But it felt like you climbed over that first hurdle.

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[countessvalentines]

Why Dont You Do Right (pt. 1?)

pairing: the ghoul/f!reader

word count: 2.2K

warnings: 18+ Only, Minors Do Not Read!! sex work, smut, oral sex, P in V sex,

summary: a mysterious ghoul requests your services in Gomorrah during his visit to New Vegas.

notes: this is my first time writing the ghoul and not cooper, I hope this was what y'all were hoping for!

dividers by @saradika

gif by @hereticstations

Gomorrah hotel and casino but of course its so much more than that. You'd been employed there for a couple of months but have already made quite the reputation for yourself. Not many "smoothskins" here take ghoul clients, but you were an equal opportunity dancer and sex worker and caps were caps. Besides, sometimes ghouls could produce an experience only they can give and you were all about gaining new life experiences since you arrived in New Vegas...

It's a far cry from where you came from.

It's a typical day for you at work, dancing in Brimstones lower lounge as you had been stationed. Not every dancer also takes clients either, but you wanted to take every opportunity that came your way and being in the lower lounge with easier access to the courtyard outside made that a much easier task for you.

It's the start of your shift and not many customers have come in yet, the place is empty save for a few regulars that always come as soon as it opens. That's when you see a particular cowboy come striding in. His duster is old and worn, colors on his jacket faded. His tanned hat is pulled down over his face, but something is striking about him and his presence.

Everyone in the place seems to have some sort of reaction to him, most seem to cower in fear, some customers just leave. To you, he's another customer so you keep up your seductive dance. Besides, your favorite song just came on.

You had plenty money 1922. You let other women make a fool of you...

The slow jazz tune plays as you snake your arms above your head and sway your hips to the low bass. It seems to get the attention of the cowboy who walks over to your station and sits down on the booth. His hat still covers his face as he spreads his thighs and removes the bag slung over his shoulder.

You continue to dance to the music, turning around slowly as you remove your lacy robe, spinning it around your head before walking up to him and wrapping the lace around his neck playfully.

Why don't you do right? like some other men do...

As you get a look at him, you notice he's a ghoul, which explains some of the reactions he got when he walked in, but certainly not all. That's not all you notice about him, his eyes are piercing, perceptive, watching you closely in a way you can't quite put your finger on. Part of his look makes you think he wants to kill you and eat you, while at other times he looks like he's trying to see through your soul. It's not the usual vulnerability you're used to feeling with hungry eyes on you, but you try to shake it off and focus on the art of the tease.

If you had prepared twenty years ago You wouldn't be wanderin' now from door to door.

You turn away from him, putting your backside in the air and crawling to the ground. You claw your way on the ground away from him, emphasizing your hip movements with each crawl. You get up on your knees and spin to face him, whipping your hair around. You roll your hips in waves over and over to the beat of the low notes, making eye contact with him.

Something about him draws you in where it seemed to repel so many others, and it makes you so curious about him. You get to your feet and dance your way over to his seat, making his lap your chair and wrapping an arm around his neck.

"What brings you to Gomorrah cowboy?" You know better than to ask for names in a place like this.

"Same as everyone else, darlin." He says in a growl as he hovers a gloved hand over your waist and eyes your body as you sit on him.

In encouragement, you put your hand on his and invite him to touch you, guiding his hand to your waist while you straddle him.

"And what's that?" You ask curiously as you lean forward and press your chest to his while rolling your shoulders back in time with the rhythm of the song.

"I know it when I see it." He says as he looks at you, his hazel eyes gazing into yours. His eyes are heavy with an exhaustion only the wasteland brings.

In your time here you've gotten to read people well enough and there's a determination in his eyes that of which can't be compared. Besides, the way he looks at you makes it clear he hasn't been touched intimately in quite some time. You begin rolling your against him as the music swells to its finish. You can feel his arousal building beneath you and you smirk knowingly.

Get out of here and get me some money, too Why don't you do right? Like some other men do Like some other men do

"Are you seeing it now?" You ask coquettishly while you wrap your arms around his neck and smirk at him.

Wordlessly, he smirks at you and takes off his hat, placing it on your head before lifting you up.

You yelp in excited surprise as he lifts you, but you can't help but giggle as he carries you to the private tents in the courtyard outside. You wrap your legs around his waist as he makes his way inside one of the tents.

The heavy canvas blocks out most of the light and sets a particular mood inside. The ghoul carries you and sets you down on the mattress inside, pining you underneath him.

"Does that answer your question, sweetheart?" He growls as he lowers his body over you, the weight of his body and his heavy clothing keeping you from moving much beneath him.

"Only partly," You tease as you watch him move back and shrug off his heavy duster, falling to the floor with a thud.

He quirks his head as you answer his unspoken question.

"I don't know how much of my services you require."

You say while sitting up on your hands and bringing your knees up slightly to emphasize the shape of your legs.

"Lets just say I want whatevers on offer." He says in a low voice while taking his vest off and sliding it onto the floor. He starts unfastening his belt, and you take that as a signal. You get on your hands and knees and crawl over to him, taking his gloved hands in yours and stopping him.

You unfasten his belt for him, unzip his pants and spring his hardening length free. He growls as he grabs your jaw, looking down at you with hunger. You go to wrap your lips around him, but he stops you.

"Not just yet, doll." He coos before he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a tin of Rad X. He shakes the tin before popping it open and pulling out a pill.

"Open wide." He instructs by mimicking the gesture. You comply and open your mouth for him and he pops the small pill in your mouth. With a gulp you swallow and he growls erotically as he gives you a crooked smile.

"Good girl." He says stroking your hair before grabbing your chin again and encouraging you to pick up where you left off.

Without hesitation, you wrap your lips around his erection. He groans as you continue to take him in more and more. The length is a bit intimidating but you manage to take him down your throat. Your tongue expertly licks up and around his shaft while you wrap your hand around the base and squeeze softly.

The ghoul moans and his eyes flutter closed while his hand wraps around the hair on the back of your head. He wraps your hair around his hand and tugs, pulling you away from him roughly. "You're doing that a little too well, darlin." He says gruffly while gazing down at your mouth dripping with saliva.

You take the compliment with a delicious grin and take only his tip inside your mouth. You flick your tongue over the sensitive slit and pump your hand up and down. The ghouls body reacts and his hips buck into you, needing more of your touch. You take more and more of him in your mouth slowly again and his grip on your hair tightens. He can't help but push you further onto him as much as he can. You take his entirety in your mouth and down your throat as he continues to thrust into you. His cock choking you slightly, but you're able to relax your throat enough for it to be comfortable for a few moments. That's all it takes for the ghoul, as he expels his release down your throat as his hand grips your hair and his whole body trembles. He groans harshly as he continues to spill down your throat, breaths getting more and more even as his hips calm down.

Slowly, you pull your mouth away from his body and release his cock from your lips. You look up at him for his reaction and he's looking down back at you with glazed and half-lidded eyes, clearly satisfied with your work. You smile as he grabs your chin, wiping away remaining cum and saliva left behind. You get to your feet, straightening your clothes and hair, and preparing to exit the tent.

Before you do, the ghoul quickly and roughly grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards him.

"Where do y'think You're goin?" He says with a smirk as he pulls you in towards his chest.

He tilts your head up towards him before taking your lips between his, tongue parting your lips open and tantalizing yours. His hands wrap around your waist and tugs what's remaining of your clothing and you help him take it off.

His rough leather gloves run over your soft skin, the contrast sending a shiver through your body. His eyes wander over you as his mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, nipping and biting with a low growl.

You definitely weren't expecting him to want to continue, usually your clients are a one-and-done situation, but this all felt so different.

With his arms tightly around you, he lifts you in the air and you instinctively wrap your legs around him. He holds you up with one arm, clearly incredibly strong, and he moves a gloved hand to his mouth removing it with his teeth. Quickly, he moves his hand between you and finds your heated core. He slips two fingers over your sensitive bud stroking it slowly and intentionally. You can feel your clit throbbing, your arousal building and your need growing. He smirks as you react, watching as your body clenches and writhes and your eyes close.

"That's it, sweetheart." He coos as he continues to expertly work your clit. You whimper and your breathing hitches, letting yourself relax and enjoy the sensations.

It doesn't take long for you to feel slick with desire, and he takes the opportunity. He pulls your hips downward in an aggressive motion and you feel him slip inside of you. Your internal walls clench around him and pulsate in time with his thrusts. Your breasts bounce as you ride him, pressing against his textured skin and adding additional pleasure. His moans get more and more frequent, his movements getting more and more sporadic as both of your pleasure continues to build. The way his ribbed cock feels inside of you is incredible and the way he knows how to pleasure your clit is like he's pleasured you 100 times before.

You feel your own rapture building in your center and your whimpers get more and more desperate. The ghoul growls in your ear before biting your earlobe and kissing down your neck.

"Come for me." He commands as you feel yourself shudder around him. Your clit throbs faster and faster and your walls clench around his dick as your orgasm reaches its peak. It causes you to cry out in ecstacy and as you do, you feel the ghoul's own release spill inside of you. It fills you with warmth as he holds you and his hips get slower and slower.

Finally, you both come down and he slips out of you, holding your sweating bodies close together for a moment before helping you to your feet.

As you stand, you feel a bit woozy and your balance starts to waiver. The ghoul holds you upright as he exhales a laugh.

"The Rad-X will help with that." He says while cleaning himself up and gathering his belongings.

As you gather your things, you're so satisfied you nearly forget this is a business. You've enjoyed yourself so much it seems almost wrong to charge him. Before you can say anything, he walks by you, brushing his shoulder against yours as he starts to leave.

"Start me a tab, doll. I'll be back." 

[judasgot-it]

literally I’ve been checking your profile every day cause I really love your work :c hope you’re doing alright ^^

could i request headcanons of make out sessions with tecchou?

i haven't done headcannons in a while, also I got this ask almost a year ago but if you're still checking this account I am somehow still alive! The Tecchou brainrot is still going strong amen

Headcannons: How he kisses you + when its sloppy style (slight nsfw warning)

Tecchou's kisses are between the best thing either or a nuisance - he has impeccable timing though, that's for sure.

Kisses you while you have your hands full, or kisses you while you are absolutely disgusting - he doesn't care sometimes, he just wants a smooch

Once he kissed you while you were covered head to toe in dirt and grime from a mission. Full on open mouth kissed you despite how much you needed a shower. He really just doesn't care sometimes

Will always try to greet you with a small kiss on the cheek or a peck on the lips.

Please kiss him back it has him weak in the knees.

Pulling him in by his belt is one of his favorite things

Usually has a hand on you somewhere whenever he kisses you

It's casual, but he has a tendency to let it wander whenever he thinks you're both alone

Definitely is shoving it up your shirt or is grabbing your ass - if you're alone can you really blame him?

If there's a big height difference he's def guiding you around, cause dude does not want to end up with neck and back pain

Will straight up hold you in his arms so he doesn't have to bend over; if he's kissing you longer than 10 seconds, he's just holding you

Manhandles you a little bit. He's a gentleman but like dude is strong as hell, he probably does it without thinking

Has caused you a few minor bruises because of this. He is deeply apologetic each time

Somehow always loses his shirt(?)

Sticks between being conservative and sloppy with his kisses, really depends

When he's really in the mood, man has no problem trying to shove his tongue down your throat

He will make you taste what he had to eat that day, even if it means holding you down on his desk and making you lick it off of him

Every day it's something different, it's fun to guess at this point

I think he's the sloppy kind of guy, like afterward you'll feel like you were drooled on

Pray he didn't eat anything spicy cause he probably is leaving that taste everywhere...

Isn't the noisy type of guy, although I think he asks a lot of questions - he wants to know if you're okay and he can't really read your mind

Puts you two in some weird ass yoga positions - Tecchou is the nerd who's into couples yoga but like in an extreme way

Like you're making out in a hallway and bro is doing the splits for no goddamn reason

Bro will be the guy to do pushups on top of his partner willingly because he needs to get that workout in throughout his day

once you told him to say your name during them, and he didn't realize until push-up 21 why your face was so red

might have been the only time he stuttered in front of you

kisses between each pushup, does not break his streak, however - he needs to get his workout done so you're going to have to deal with it

Quality time (i guess?)

Either completely silent or says some corny shit like 'I love you' and compliments you. No in-between with him

Idk how good these are, sex is literally the funniest thing to me like i cannot take that shit seriously

[redeyerhaenyra]

perv neighbor basil smut im begging u

Perv!Neighbour Basil finds your camgirl account

Summary: Basil is your neighbour, and after having formed a parasocial relationship with you, he finds your camgirl account. Things get.. a little out of hand.

Warnings: Oh man this one is filthy- Stalking, Parasocial relationships, m masturbation, cum tribute, professional sex work, cumming untouched, jealously, crying, like alot of crying, sextoy use, f reader

Notes: Myself and @ominoose have been bouncing this headcanon around in the dms for a bit and I finally have the opportunity to write it! I hope you like it baby tysm for requesting xx I really got carried away like this is SO LONG my goodness- This can be read as a part 2 to this fic but can also be enjoyed standalone x

Basil has been watching you for a while

You're his neighbour, you moved in to the flat opposite him a couple months ago, and the only verbal interaction you'd had with him was a polite introduction through his letterbox when he wouldn't open the door

You hadn't seen him at all, physically. He'd seen you though.

Oh had he seen you

His heart swelled every morning and evening he'd watch you leave and come home from work, nights out, trips to the shop, ect

His relationship to you, practically non-existent as it were, at least from your perspective, was... complicated

Half of Basil understood you two were already dating, loyal to one another. The other half of him understood that that was a fantasy, and he often found himself caught between the two realities

Poor Basil so desperately wants the untruth to become the truth. He wants to kiss you, profess his love, have it be your hand tugging him off instead of his own every night

But since the... accident, he wouldn't dare let you see him. You'd never accept him- no one would. He was a monster

Poor baby, so insecure 😔

Eventually, jerking off whilst peering at you through the letterbox whenever you enter or exit your home isn't enough. He needs to see you, properly. Stare at your beautiful face and take in all it's contours and shapes without having to have you do the same to him

And so.. he goes online.

He knows your name- you'd told him when you'd tried to be a nice neighbour and say hi, and so with a little sleuthing, he finds your Instagram

Basil spends hours pouring through your every photo, getting wildly jealous and crying (yes he cries poor baby) when he sees photos with other men, and roughly pulling on his cock until its red and raw, having cum so many times over his thighs and chest.

He becomes even more obsessed, his need to see you covered in his cum in some way or another becomes an vital as eating and drinking

He starts printing out your photos and cumming on them- considers laminating them so he can wipe them clean and go all over again

But then what about keeping them covered? Forever staining you with his seed? He can't pick

One day, when he's going about his ritual of jerking it to your insta, he finds a new link in your bio;

"18+ site! Adult only content! Click here❤️"

That perks his interest

Sure he's not stranger to porn, or camgirls, what with all the time he spends alone watching porn, but you? He'd never have assumed.

Basil's heart races, and his dick twitches beneath his sweats

Tentatively, he clicks on the link

Your website looks professional, all properly set up

The first thing he sees is a trailer video- and oh boy

He literally cannot stop the sudden, untouched orgasm flooding through him when he sees the sneak peak you've put together of your content

He's so loud moaning and whining, tears well up again in his eyes becuase he's so sensitive but he needs more

This teaser video of you playing with your nipples and rubbing your tiny pussy through your panties isn't enough

And so, Basil goes to your subscription page. Immediately gets the highest sub deal, he doesn't care if he can't afford it. He needs you so much he'd bankrupt himself if he had to

The benefits of this subscription are many; He gets access to your work DM, he gets two video calls with you a week, and he gets to request some content from you.

Basil couldn't not be happier, he even forgts about his facial insecurity when a few minutes later he sees a message from you pop up on his notifs;

"Hi baby! Thankyou so so much for becoming one of my top donors! It really does mean the world x"

He forces himself to respond, anxiety creeping up his shoulder;

"Yeah np love your work."

Jesus he didn't mean to come off so dickish

You quell his feelings of worry with a smiley emoji, and ask him "So, what's with the username? "Lightningface"?"

He gulps. "I just like lightning is all."

"It is such a pretty phenomenon."

Pretty.. you'd called it pretty. The thing that had maimed him, his deformity... might you have called that pretty too?

"Soooo you're due to request some content from me! What would you like?"

And honestly, Basil isn't sure

Anything you'd give him, he'd take

"I don't mind."

"Are you sure? It is your request that you've paid me for, you can ask for whatever you like!"

Basil really thinks for a moment. A real head scratcher.

"Can you say my name?"

Basil doesn't realise how possessive he sounds

"Sure can!"

"Can it be my irl name?"

"Of course! What is it?"

The man holds his breath as he responds; "Basil. Like the herb."

"Omg!!! That's such a cute name!"

He giggles to himself, you're so fucking adorable he loves you so much

You tell him you'll make his request into a segment during your next livestream

He's jealous, he doesn't want you performing for anyone else.. but like I said, he'll take what he can get

Most of the time until his segment of your livestream he spends crying and jerking off in a strange cycle.

You're his, you shouldn't be showing off.. he feels like you've betrayed him. But at the same time you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen

Poor Basil is so conflicted

Finally, however, his request segment begins

You smile sweetly at the camera, and wave

"So, next up, I have a request from one of my top donors, he has such a cute name! Said he didn't mind what I did so I think i'm gonna surprise him~"

You reach to the side, pulling forth a clear silicone dildo

It's big. Basil gulps, could you take it? What if it hurt you?

You place it beneath you on your bed and slowly tease it between your folds, having already discarded all your clothes at this point

Basil chokes, his worn out cock stirring to life again

And then.. oh then..

You moan out his name, slowly sinking yourself onto the sextoy

Basil moans with you, and figures you must have an expensive microphone because the sounds coming from the screen are all but blasphemous

He loses himself to the rhythmic squelching of your cunt and your moans of his names

He cums so quickly, and there's so much of it, all over his chest

Poor baby whimpers, trying desperately to coax his poor dick back to life, not wanting to have finished so quickly

He wanted to last longer for you..

Luckily you finish not too long after him, he wants to swallow all of your sounds with his mouth

He's never seen such perfection

Glistening with sweat and panting, satisfied, you address the camera for the final time that night;

"I hope you enjoyed Basil, again thankyou so much for donating, I love you all so much, goodnight!"

You end the stream, Basil is plunged back into the dark loneliness of his flat

He sits for a few moments, taking in what just happened..

He soon finds himself looking at wedding rings online

[applesontheground]

I am officially here with my very first request from you! 💕

Now, considering that I've been struggling with 'The Horrors' for...a while now, lately, I find myself more and more in need of comfort.

However, my idea of 'comfort' may be quite a bit different than someone else's, especially when you take into consideration that I've always found comfort in the creepy and tranquility in terror.

(Not to be overlooked is my ability to see the beauty in the bizarre and to take solace in sin...*ahem*)

Very conveniently, two of my 'comfort characters' that just so happen to embody all of these qualities are also on the list of characters you write for - Asa Emory, and Gabriel May.

So...here is my request. Since I *adore* a surprise, I'll leave it up to you who you pick to give me comfort. I'm not picky about the details, but there is one thing that needs to be included, something I desire most of all...

A warm, strong embrace.

To be held snug and secure.

A hug, Riri.

I need a hug...

what an understandable thing to ask for. love writing myself some good slasher snuggles when i'm sad, too.

i've been mulling long and hard about who i wanted to choose for you, and while gabriel is still very funky fresh and new to me ... i miss asa. besides what i did a couple days ago, really haven't written him since JULY OF 2022. A GODDAMN TRAVESTY.

it's been too long since we've shared our love for these fictional guys, darkly <3 as i've said, i hope i've made the wait worth it, and that you're doing well! (and hope the horrors have ceased, as well umu)

i can put my arms around you🕷️

SFW | Word Count: 1,300 | Asa Emory x GN Reader contains canon typical/mentions of collector work, injury, fluff 🎼: x

Realizing how hard it was to stand again had only actualized itself during the car ride home.

Working on some sort of autopilot since you had left the house, the weight of holding a pancreas preserved in a jar, watching human body parts placed beside insects pinned to sheets of paper in the similar inquisitive sanitation, and the incident with a live harvester skittering along the back of your hand with needle-thin legs bigger than its entire being, was felt now. In the canopy of your shared house, the garage cold to the touch of your exposed face, you watched him walk inside with saliva sitting in your mouth, sticking to the walls like honey. He gave one glance back, made sure you didn’t look completely devastated, and then disappeared inside.

It was hard to show gratitude even without the minor afflictions besides mental anguish: you had taken a particularly hard fall on your side, limping when you finally got yourself to walk away from the car door, and your head was thundering from a 2x4 – left loose from another one of his projects not relating to, well, collecting – having fallen from against the wall, center against the back of your head in a numbing connection.

Still, you let go of any frustration and ill will towards it as you crossed the threshold between the garage and your shared space with Asa. When you were entwined with another soul, you had learned, these ugly things were far easier to wash off at the end of the day – and you were hurting, but you didn’t mind doing it.

You really hoped he knew that despite limping into the kitchen, silently grabbing the nearest soft surface and burying your face into it. Catching sweat, catching the pained expression, hiding the flush that came with finally calling the horror you witnessed off.

It was all normalizing, helping him with what needed to be done and being let into his double life. At first, he had just asked you to come with him. Sit by in another room and do some busywork while he handled self-made problems. He made sure you knew his other motives, too: the shared time that came with the close access in between work.

Tonight, it was one of the first of a few since he needed assistance: you seeing the people he had been working on. Some were still alive; some still had the eyes to bore into your soul, lingered now in the momentary dark you offered yourself. Bad physical feelings – nausea, fatigue, all of it – would pass. It always had, always would. You did what you could to stabilize yourself now, brush it off again while breathing the familiar smell of the house in through the fabric, hand placed on the cold countertop.

The sink running next to you jolted your attention back, dragging the dish towel off your face. He had been staring, not yet taking off his mask despite the blinds drawn and his gloves coming off. All the reason to, but he still hesitated. You smiled only halfheartedly back; the best one you could manage as he held his hand out. Lost, but once again complying without any more explanation, you gave him the towel, and only then he spoke for the first time in hours.

“Did you hit your head?” He asked, and you replied, “I did. Can still…” Your jaw locked in a moment, so you instead gestured downwards as you started over. “I can still stand, despite that.”

He hummed in reply, now taking the opportunity to start reaching for the laces on the back of his head. You felt a slight spin to your vision, so you then admitted, “I am feeling lightheaded, though, so I might go lay down.”

“I’ll join you in a moment.” He said, sliding the strangely stiff material from his face, turning to you with an exposed face, “Right behind you.”

You smiled again, a little more meaning behind it this time as you stepped away. His focus lingered, more pointed towards your gait to make sure you’d make it up the stairs to the bedroom. When you sighed, straightening your posture and now moving with a strong purpose to go fall into bed, cocoon in the covers, he turned away again.

Relief slipped over you, first falling stomach first into the bed, the same need to hide your face for a few long seconds. After a few more moments of trying to wash the recollections, get it all out of your head, you begrudgingly bent a leg, undoing your shoelaces with your face still down in the mattress.

A snicker got you to pull your face up, looking over your shoulder as you scoffed back at him. “I’m a little bent out of shape, don’t mind me.” You joked, rolling over to your back, and he stepped further into the room. Setting a few remedies down on the nightstand, the man now stood between your legs, outsides of his thighs brushing the insides of yours.

You still had to hold your breath, too worn down to initiate anything like that but still letting him lean down, hands framed on either sides of your head. He leaned in, kissing your neck as he then trailed up to your ear. “I don’t thank as much as I should for…accompanying me.” He lamented, and you responded with a tilt of your head, lining up with a hand to his cheek and kissing him.

“You don’t have to.” You reminded him, “I have a knack for surviving what you’ve decided to throw at me, Mr. Emory. It’s becoming…” You pondered the word, hand sliding from his face to the back of your neck. Fun, maybe? No, too lighthearted. Bearable? Too distant. You met his eyes again, his pupils still impossibly dilated, no color in sight. The word suddenly rushed to the forefront, and you breathed it out below your breath, “Impossible, in all the ways I want to bear.”

He seemed puzzled at that, but you smiled and added, “I’ll make more sense after sleep. That’s all I can ask for.”

He nodded finally, eyes trailing down  your body for a beat. “Oh, actually I will ask-“ You hooked a leg around his hip, “Could you get my other shoe?” He was frozen, standing back up straight before he smiled, his voice still tender as he took hold of the laces. “Of course.”

Slowly, with as much contact between chests and legs as possible, Asa crawled into bed with you. He waited until you seemed utterly relaxed, curled in the large beige duvet and surrounded by pillows, to find where he fit beside you. Holding his forearms, you let him be the one to adjust now, and then tangled your legs with his as they came around tight. Constricting you to his chest, you felt like you could die in this position, relish the contact and feel the other side of the collector's coin flip to Asa Emory again.

A fast, cold force against the back of your head made your eyes snap open. The dishtowel you had handed him was holding a bag of something frozen – ice, those mixed vegetables you hadn’t gotten to working with yet – where the wood had knocked you almost senseless. Immediate rushes of cold, soft relief made you sigh deeply with once again more force, every muscle going soft and tucking closer to him.

“Oh, that-“ You groaned, your chin settling into the material of the sweater, full weight against him, “Asa, that’s perfect.”

He was silent, but the satisfied peck of his lips on your temple was enough acknowledgement. A perfect fit in all ways that mattered, he mused to himself as he kept the pack held to your head.

[solarrclxud]

HAPPY VALENTINES

pairing : multi x reader (wriothesley , neuvillette , childe , ,xiao )

genre: fluff

warnings : not proofread , the use of " my love"

a/n: well guess who just got revived from the dead ! (its me hello) ALSO ill be getting to my inbox soon! thank you for the requests while i was gone !

Wriothesley watched you dust a shelf that held his extravagant and excessive tea collection . You were muttering something about how he really needed to clean more often when he shifted his head off of his palm to grin . You squinted at him . " You're being suspicious" you prodded him. He shook his head and looked down to the work he was supposed to be doing as you resumed dusting , moving to the shelf below , only to see a tiny box behind the usual boxes of tea. With a slight frown you attempted to move it to the front . As you put it down , something rattled within and u heard wriothesley get up from his chair . " Finally, i thought you'd never find it" he laughed. You stared at him confused . He smiled and made his way over to you , opening the box in your hands to reveal a keychain . One you'd seen in the market a few days ago but hadn't bought.

" Happy valentines my love "

Xiao was deliberate with his gifts. They were frequent and personal. Thanks to him, you had an entire box tucked away in your cupboard , full to the brim with charms to ward off evil, flowers he had picked up and chunks of ore he had carved while u slept. Today when you awoke to a piece of jade used as a paperweight for a small note on your side table, it was not a new occurrence. The note was written in beautiful flourish and u smiled as you read it. A simple good morning and a wish for a good day. You didn't think much of it through the day as you went about the Harbor , couples exchanging simple affection was a usual for you to see at the cafe u ran but today it seemed more frequent. In the evening you walked back to the Inn , to find Xiao pacing on the balcony, slightly red faced. When you called to him , he jumped like a startled animal before he smiled a little, holding out what seemed to be a hair piece fashioned from the same kind of jade he had given to u in the morning.

"i have heard that mortals have this celebration of love. i thought it fit hat we must take part as we are...in love."

Childe was out on a business trip. His absence felt strangely heavy that day due to the presence of couples around liyue harbour. You had longed to see him for a week now but all you had was a letter from a few days after he had left , dating his return to the next month. It was one of his longer trips no doubt . As you got home that evening, you unlocked your home and was met with the sound of someone already there. You frowned , grabbing a knife from the kitchen as you etched towards the sound of...singing? Now that you thought about it the voice was familiar. You entered your bedroom to childe leaning over a bouquet of flowers strategically placed on the bed humming a tune in obvious excitement. You began to laugh, causing him to turn around to see you and inevitably join in.

"the job finished faster than planned, thanks to my expertise so i thought id suprise you ! happy valentines!"

Neuvillette was a doting lover, and contrary to his professional persona, at home he was nothing but a tired man. That morning you woke up to him for the first time in what felt like ages. You checked the clock, 10am, he was late. You uttered his name softly in an attempt to wake him up. He just hummed and nuzzled further into you, it was obvious he was awake by the soft smile on him face. " Neuvi you're late" . He shook his head and pulled you closer. His voice muffled as he said,

"I took a day off...i have a reservation at a restaurant but can we go back to bed for now my love?"

slaying with the comeback (school is murdering me)

[neonovember]

Golden Boy

part three of three

warnings; filth, angst, lover boy, self deprecation, anxiety, mentions of death, smut, heartbreak, fluff, face fucking, oral (m recieving), piv (wrap it yall), 18+, explicit language, Richie, carmen being in love, the nickname bear, some very not so slef inserted heartbreak and love confessions

w/c: 6k

a/n: this request really changed from a drabble to a 3 part series holy fuck i need a job, but really this is actually so self fulfilling to be able to deliver your requests about a character i love we all love so much! it’s like we’ve created this aesome little community here :) i love this universe sooo much so be sure there will be drabbles connected to this series

BEAR COMES OUT IN LESS THAN A DAY! LET’S START AMPING IT UP

also if anyone was wondering how i’d imagine high school!carmen it would honestly be this one edit i saw of lip ages ago lmaoo

The dull rain of the shower resounded through your bathroom, the rest of your things had been delivered in the early Friday morning, and you rushed to enjoy the high water pressure Mae had boasted about before you moved in.

The steam has begun to fog up your mirror, and you wipe a hand across it, your reflection distorted between the streaks of your fingertips. Today was the day. You would finally see Carmen again and your body was racked with fear like it was the day you left him.

After you had come back from the Farmers Market, you had received a text from Sugar, and you spent the afternoon unloading everything to her about work, your move back and most importantly Carmen. 

You and Sugar had grown close after you and Carmen had become friends, in fact, you had grown close to the entire family before you left for New York. And all it took was a phone call for you and Sugar to fall back into that familiarity once again, all you hoped was that it would be the same for you and Carmen.

Once Mae had finished up with work, the both of you, as promised shared a bottle of a wine and a blunt where she had squealed at your news of the dinner, and, despite your protests on the phone brought a rosy hued summer dress that she had begged you to keep. 

It was left on a hanger on the door hook, and you stare at the gorgeous wave of the hem, and dip of the neckline that you had got you looking at Mae in doubt. She had screamed when you had tried it now, boasting about her amazing fashion sense and how utterly ruined Carmen would be.

You steered clear from feeding into her delusions, Carmen could be married for god's sake, whilst you were thinking if he would like the colour of your dress. He was not though, you had practically burned the entire timeline of his socials into your retina and there had not been a single indication of Carmen having a partner. But he had always been sort of secretive, and you couldn't hold onto the hope that Carmen hadn’t taken a liken to any one of the hundred girls that threw themselves at him.

I mean, it wasn't like he was waiting for you, right?

The heat of the shower spread through your body and you sighed in relief as the water loosened the soreness of your muscles that had begun to ache. You had a couple hours until the time Sugar and Richie had told you to come in, and you spent it leisurely, washing your hair carefully, and scrubbing your skin clean with the multitude of products you had accumulated the second you had more money to spend on just food, rent and utilities. 

You forget to put a bath mat near the shower, and the cool stone is stained with your wet footsteps. You make quick work of drying yourself off before reaching for the same old bottle of shea butter you hadn't stopped using since high school. It was on its last leg, the worn label tearing apart, and soon enough you would have to cut it open to get to the last droplets. Old habits die hard and you had been a broke college student for a long fucking time.

After you've finished with your makeup and curling your hair so that it lay in soft blown out curls, you carefully and not so gracefully step into the dress. You don't own a lot of nice pieces like this, and you were forever grateful to Mae for coming in the way she did even despite your protests. 

Because as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realise you look pretty fucking hot. You put on the last of your jewellery, spritz yourself with some perfume, before sliding your feet into flats that wouldn't destroy your feet. You reach for your phone, the time flashing 6:30 and later than you had anticipated.

Stress fills you at the thought of coming late, especially since you really only knew three people there, but you force yourself to calm down with a breath, realising the beef was only a 5 minute drive from your place anyway.

The drive to the Beef was one that was filled with anxiety and glee, you couldn't help keeping the smile off your face as you passed through the familiar roads leading up to the family restaurant. Despite the familiarity of the streets, your mind always finds its way back to the most familiar place of all, Carmen. You wonder what he might look like all grown into himself, you've followed his many strides in the culinary world, even if you didn't understand a bit of the kitchen itself, but you were unbelievably proud of every award he had and numerous received. But that had been all online, to see Carmen in person was a whole different thing entirely.

It was an experience, to see the way he’d body moved, from the light touches of his fingers helping you play guitar to the way he glided through the kitchen concentrating on cooking you up new recipes he’d made.

He’d take criticism from only you, even if Mickey's loud booming voice intercepted your comments from across the kitchen island. You had to sniffle back tears at the memory of it, Mickey and Carmen were so incredibly close, you feel like a fraud having not been there for him when he died, how could you even call yourself his friend? 

The truth was, you and Carmen had a horrible way of dealing with grief, you were battling with your own loss at the time, getting news of Micheal’s death only months after your own Father had died from a drunk driver. You had come back to Chicago for the funeral before running back to New York and stuffing yourself with your work. The pain had been too great then and the regret of leaving your brother and mother to clean up the mess had eaten you alive for years. 

You and Carmen had a habit of stuffing your emotions into tight spaces. Your father, Mickey, the both of your absence in each other's lives, it was a grief you wore well.

In the knots in your shoulder, in the bags underneath your eyes, in the aching hearth of your heart, in the emptiness of your suppressed stomach. As well as you could anyway.

But the world keeps turning, and the view of the renovated Beef catches your eye as you shakily turn into the car park adjacent. You can’t run now, there isn’t a back door you can slip through and a plane you can catch to escape the reality of your past. 

This was it, had this been what you had waited for? 

You can feel your heart in your throat as you walk through the car park, the soft lantern lights hanging across the top of the restaurant in ribbons. The place had changed from the last time you'd seen it, the rotting wood replaced with pristine painted planks and the cloudy windows now crystal clear. It even had a name change, replaced instead with the unmistakable nickname of Carmen,

Bear

Sugar had texted you to meet at the front, and as you bite your lip in anticipation, you see a blonde haired woman shout back a swear before walking towards the front of the Beef, her eyes catching you through the front windows, shooting up in surprise and glee, before rushing through the doors.

“Holy fucking shit! You were always hot Bug but goddamn, you outdid yourself! How are you my love?” Sugar replies, reaching to gather you in her arms. 

You press your face into the familiar scent of her, and you sigh in relief as your fears begin to dissolve, you weren't utterly alone here.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Carm is going to fucking implode when he see’s you” Sugar whispers with a grin, in which u shake yout head with a chuckle.

“Uh I don’t know about that, we haven’t really talked in, well, since High school” You reply honestly, you may have lied to Richie, but you couldn't escape Sugar’s bull-shit- detector gaze.

“You both were always so scared to make the first move, Mikey had to hold me back a couple times from just locking you both in a room and forcing you both to confess” Sugar replies with a grin

“Confess? What do you mean” You reply, and Sugar shakes her head with a chuckle,

“Don’t bullshit me Bug, it’s as clear as day. You both were inseparable then, and you will be inseparable now, everyone has their own timeline.”

You nod with a sigh, rubbing your eyes as you thought back to the call you had received asking you to join the design group in charge of revamping Madison Avenue. So much had changed since then, and it was about time that you faced what you couldn't 8 years ago.

“You changed him, ya know?” Sugar says, all of a sudden into the comfortable silence between you.

“Hm?” You reply

“I don’t know. Carm, he’s just, he’s distant, always has been. And then somehow, you became friends and there was this just change in him. He started to smile and laugh more, started opening up to us, because of you. Whether or not you realise it, you marked him in a way that was permanent you know? And when you left- well, it all went to shit, he was fucking destroyed and the only person that could help him was Mikey, and you, you get the rest of it” Sugar sighs, shaking her head as you stare at her.

“Sometimes, I’d bring you up, or-or we’d be talking about a new building, architecture or whatever, anything that related to you, and you'd just see him shutdown. He needs you hun, he doesn’t realise it but its like he’s fucking decaying without you.”

Anyone else and you would have shaken your head, but it was Sugar, and all the years you've known her she hadn't once sugar coated anything. 

“It was always going to be Carm, Sugar. A million times over and it would always be him” You reply, a tight smile on your face as you try and blink back tears, and she nods with a frown. 

“No crying, god I told myself I wouldn't cry” Sugar says, shaking her body as you laugh, sliding a hand in hers before walking into the Bear.

You aren't given enough time to investigate the changes to the restaurant, eyes glancing at pictures frames and stainless kitchen benches before stepping into a decorated back dining space, fixed with a long table covered with steaming plates of food and entrees. 

The sound of your footsteps has the entire room coming to a halt, and you scan the many people seated at the long table, their eyes watching you with a look of surprise before recognition floods across them. 

You can't recognise a single face, all unfamiliar to you but you get the strange feeling they know who you are, as they await for you to speak.

“Uh, Hello, um, you all probably have no idea who I am and this is kind of weird so-” You ramble nervously, trying and failing to introduce yourself to the many people watching your every move.

“Oh carino, you are gorgeous! You must be Carmen’s friend?” A short hispanic woman grins, making her way over to pull you into a hug, and the move causes the entire table of people to come over and introduce themselves. 

You can’t stop keeping the smile off your face, as you learn about each of the amazing people around you who have kept your sweet boy company. They were incredible, and you don’t doubt they shared a bond you only ever built working together, piecing together where Carmen had spent his time, and recognising the glimpses of faces you had seen on the walls you had walked by.

You converse easily with Sydney, a young aspiring chef who had kept Carmen on his toes, but your mind isn’t exactly present. Your eyes are glancing every second at the door, waiting for the man you've been dreaming of since you were 18 to walk through those doors.

You hear a tumble coming from the back door leading to the alleyway behind the Bear, before the familiar voice of Richie yells out incoherent curse words. You aren't able to prepare yourself for the footsteps coming up the steps and into the entrance of the dining room before Carmen cerulean blues catch you immediately. 

His eyes take their time with you, indulging in the peek of skin from the slit in the dress, before they trail up to your hips, snaking around your waist and blinking back at the dip of your cleavage. Carmen is undone, entranced by the way you hug and fill out the dress so perfectly, it does something to him he feels guilty about. Like the moments he would thrust up into the column of his fists after that one party where you leaned against him, or when he remembered the taste of your body wash.

Carmen is scared to move his eyes up to your face, fearing that he will be irrevocably gone if he does, but he does it anyway, because he's wasted enough time without you, and he can’t bear the seconds past him by without seeing the face he's dreamt of since forever

Carmen has to reach for the table near him, gripping the wood in his fists as he steadies himself when he sees you for the first time. He has to bite back his immediate response to let out a swear, his eyes trailing along every curve and line of your features he has begun to forget. The rush of memories, and feelings of you unleash within him like an unyielding current, breaking down every wall and shield he’s put up to stop it. It was fruitless, Carmen knew one day it would all come crashing down, because it was always going to be you, a thousand times over.

You let out a shaky breath as you catch his eyes fluttering over every single feature, you should feel self conscious but you don’t, you bare your entire self to him. You furrow your brow as you take in the honey caramel wisps of his hair pushed behind his ears. Your eyes catch the numerous inked sketches running along his arms and hands, you yearn to run your fingers along them, feel his veins jut out, they trail up his arm, like a stream and you have to swallow back the desire that had begun to unfurl at the vision in front of you.

He was utterly beautiful, his clean shirt contorted and stretched from the sheer size of him, the muscle and girth of his biceps and shoulders were so different to the lanky teenager you fell in love with. You feel a sadness at the thought of not seeing him since then, it had truly been too long. 

He still wore his chef apron, though it lay untied and around his neck like he had quickly run into the kitchen to fix something.

You don’t know how you’re able to form the words, but you can hear yourself calling his name like a plead

“Hey Bear” You whisper, the tears at your waterline one whisper away from falling

And it’s the simple sound of your voice that has Carmen crashing and falling, swallowing back tightly.

“Hey” 

You can make out Sugar calling everyone out to the front of the house, mumbling about flying pigs or whatever conjured up lie to leave you both alone. But it’s practically white noise around you, as your eyes remain forever on Carmen, like they always wore.

There's a silence that stretches between you two, and you feel the distance between you both from your fingertips.

“Thought I told you I’d punch your stomach if you cried” You say with a smile, tears falling down your cheeks and Carmen crumbles at your words, it's like his been hit by a freight truck, when you reminder of that day, but he still lets out chuckle, looking up at you with a grin.

“So I hear you're redesigning our very own Madison Avenue?” Carmen says, and it's like he’s been practising and rehearing the sentence over and over in his mind, it sounds more like a script than something he truly wants to say.

And you see through his bullshit, turning your head to the side as you look at him like he's translucent, and Carmen gives up before he is even able to start, what’s the point of faking it now when you could both see through each other.

“God, you're beautiful” Carmen says after a beat, the blues of his iris crashing and falling into a deeper depth as he looks at you. You blush, you never blush, you only ever blush for Bear.

“Carmen..” You whisper, the tears continuing to fall and roll down your neck

“Why didn't I tell you? God why didn't I?” Carmen says in a tight voice, like he's holding himself back, like he's holding himself from breaking, and you want to reach out and hold him instead.

You feel your heart drop, as you look up at him in anticipation, no no no??. You didn’t run half way across the state, you didn't spend years searching for Carmen in relationships and first dates, no- how? All this time. All this fucking time you could have spent with him, whether long distance, in New York, whatever, you would’ve made it work, hell you would have travelled endlessly for him.

“Why didn't you?” You breathe out. letting every tear and cry loose. And Carmen lets out a breath, your eyes communicating what your mouth could not for 10 years, letting your body shake with grief at the truth of it all.

Carmen feels his entire world breaking, he can feel the ground beneath him shake, he is consumed with you, you you you, and always and forever you.

“All this time..” Carm replies, shaking his head, laughing a little to himself as he stares at you in grief and love

“Yeah” You chuckle, before tears spill down your cheeks, and Carmen kind of breaks too, all the worries and missed time and love you would have shared out in the open between you. You both had been so foolish, so wrapped up in the fear of rejection/ruining your friendship you had ruined it all instead.

“I love you, I have loved you the moment I walked you home. I have loved you desperately, I loved you from afar, I have loved even when you didn’t know it”

“God Carmy, my sweet golden boy, I always knew it” You sniffle, and Carmen scrunches his eyebrows, grinding his teeth against his jaw as he shakes his head, undoing his apron so that he doesn’t get your gorgeous dress dirty, pulling you close to him. You reach for his hand, its size massive in yours, as you bring it to your chest

“You feel that? My heart beats for you Carmen, only you, forever you” You whisper, as you hold onto his hand tight

“I was just- I was so scared, so scared that I would ruin everything, our friendship, it was the one thing going for me and I couldn’t ask you, I couldn’t ask you to love me?” Carmen says, shaking his head like even saying the words felt stupid

“Carmen you are worth loving, I loved you then and I love you now. Sugar was telling me about how I changed you and you know what I was thinking the entire time? How everytime I think back to those years before my heart just aches. It aches because I have always been searching for you, Carm, my body yearns and reaches for you every day, you were the one thing that made me feel like I could make it out of here. That if I tried hard enough, if I had you believing in me too, I could really do it.

“And you know what Carmen? I did do it, I’m back in Chicago designing something that I believe in and I still feel so out of place. I feel scattered, like half of my body and mind is missing, and I’ve always known, even when I didn’t, that you kept that part of me. You held it safe, and I want it back, I want you back Carmen. I want my boy back.” 

“It was always going to be you Carm, that’s the truth, I love I love I love love love you” You breathe out, your heart hammering against your chest as you let all the chips fall where they may, you each Carmens face, trying to decipher the look on his face.

You want to know what he's thinking, have you scared him? Does he not love you anymore? And it's like Carmen can tell the thoughts are consuming you because you can't think of them anymore, in fact you can't think at all except the feel of Carmen lips pushed up against your own.

They’re pillowy and soft, and it takes you a second before you kiss him back with such reverence that you swallow back each other’s groans. You don’t come up for air, you won't, you can't let him slip through your fingers again, Carmen can’t let himself lose you now, with the taste of you on his tongue, so sweet like he imagined you to be.

Carmen fears he might combust, that he might dissolve into a puddle right in front of you because you taste so good, he slides a hand up your neck pressing you closer to his chest as you grip his shirt in tight fists.

Carmen can feel himself smiling into your lips, and it causes you to let out a chuckle, allowing Carmen to press his canines into your lip, just a little, a nibble that has you moaning out loudly in a way that shocks you both.

You press your body impossibly closer to Carmen’s, until you can feel him nudge against the curve of your stomach, grinding down against him until he grip’s your waist tight, pushing you deeper until you both have to let go with a breath.

“You don’t know how long I have waited to do that” Carmen says, his eyes still shut, like he was savouring the taste of you that was on his tongue, on his lips, his skin, everywhere. Carmen wanted you everywhere.

“And how long I have waited to do this” You trail your nails across his chest, his eyes watching the mischievous grin on your face grow as you trail your fingers down his chest, resting on his belt before the sound of a yelp and a clap breaks out, causing you to retract your hand and causing Carmen to let out a whine.

The rest of the crew and Sugar come tumbling into the room, hootting with cheers and laughter like they had been pressing an ear to the door the entire time, which they probably had. Sugar makes her way over, hugging you both, and pressing a kiss to your cheek before punching Carmen lightly.

“You didn’t think I knew? God what kind of sister do you take me for??” 

It’s all a blur of laughter and smiles and light shooting colours, Carmen keeps his eyes on you the entire time, and you don’t leave his side, holding onto him like he might fly away. And in all the commotion, in all the light and laughter and love Carmen sees Mikey. Sees him in flashes, the nape of his neck, the corner of his mouth pulling back in a smile and he swears, Carmen swears he sees him nod towards him.

You let it rip, bear, you did it, you did it. 

And Carmen did, and he looks down at you in his arms surrounded by people he loved and his heart for the first time feels full. Carmen had written himself off to a life of fulfilment through his work, and whilst that was purposeful and important to him, he always felt like a piece of his life was missing, a piece of his heart, it was taken by you just as he had taken yours. 

And now he can’t mask himself from his feelings, he can't watch you from afar anymore, he wants you beneath him, wants to bottle your laugh and drink in to cure him. He's broken and he doesn’t deserve you but god with the way you look up at him? It makes him question everything, makes him think he's enough, that there might be a chance he's more than the vile words he calls himself.

He want to get better for you, for the both of you, and its overwhelming, all these feelings he feels all of a sudden, it's like a switch has turned on and he can’t stop it, it washes over him, those memories from before, and you grip his arm with a squeeze, looking up as him before walking him out, guiding him with a hand until he follows you out into the alleyway.

“Sorry, it just was a whole lot at once, I haven’t even properly asked about you and now the entire kitchen knows you and” Carmen rushes out, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously

��You forget how well I know you bear?” Is all you say, and you can see the way he relaxes into himself, looking up at you with a nod. And it’s true, you know him completely and utterly, and it’s almost a relief, it almost makes Carmen cry because for the first time he doesn't feel like he needs to explain himself. Carmen feels like he has someone who knows him deep down, knows all his flaws, and problems and issues, and still wants him. 

The thought is so foreign and strange but he stomach bubbles with the elated glee of the start of something, something you both know, deep down, was meant to happen whether it was now or in 30 years. You would always, always find each other, how could you not? When it felt like half of you had disappeared without them?

Carmen can’t help but a press another kiss to your lips, snaking his arm so that it rested on your hip, squeezing a little before you break from him

“The food in there looks lovely, but considering what has just occurred, do you want to go somewhere more..” You start

“Intimate? Fucking yes. I don’t need Richie watching me and Sugar breathing down my neck. There is so much..” Carmen replies, eyes having a bit of a faraway look as he thinks back to all the times he had wished he could confide in you but couldn't.

“Let’s make up for lost time, shall we?” You grin, holding out a hand that Carmen eagerly grasps, before practically running into whichever car is closest. 

You and Carmen end up in a dimly lit jazz bar that sells signature shirley temples and tampalas that make your heart sing. You spend the entire night talking about everything, you both spill the entire contents of your guts to each other and you couldn't be happier, wiping each other's tears when the love got too much and your chest filled with gratitude at finding each other again.

You tell him you're only here for 6 months, and you leave the bar calling Mae to extend your lease. It doesn't take long for you both to slide into the familairy of your friendship again, spending every waking moment with each other, fulfilling every desire, checking off every firsts, exploring Chicago again with the one man who's been waiting for you for eternity. 

It would have been cute if you werent fucking like rabbits as well, you were addicted to each other, chasing orgasm after orgasm like it was a high. You should have been thrown in jail with the amount of times you had nearly been caught, and Carmen’s office was practically a health code violation.

But the truth was, Carmen finally had something to come home to in the late evenings and you had something to say goodbye to in the early mornings.

*

The early morning sun drags along the horizon, it cuts through the shapes and cuts of the intricate frost that had begun to develop over the window, showering the room in its dull yellow through the linen curtains of your shared bedroom.

It had snowed during the night, and the city council had closed the roads, advising as many people to stay indoors if possible, causing you and Carmen to finally have an excuse to stay indoors and pressed against each other the entire day.

The only sounds you can hear in the early cold July morning are the shutters of shop doors opening and the simmering wave of traffic that would soon begin to spill into the city streets below.

That and the strangled sound of Carmens moans as you slide your hand across the slick length of him, heavy in your palm.

He watches you carefully, eyelids heavy as you blow on the tip of him, causing him to wince in desire. Your motions are slobby and wet, and Carmen is still half asleep from your sleeping position not moments before.

“Please…”

You bite back a giggle, looking up at him from your knelt position between his legs. You’ve pulled him to the edge of the bed, and he grips the white sheets in his fists as he tries to restrain himself from coming undone by the way you smile up at him.

“You want me to suck you off him? You wanna feel good baby, you gotta tell me you wanna feel good cause I can't hold back any longer

“Fuck..please make me feel good, you know how to do it, please h-honey” Carmen replies before knocking his head back with a groan when you take the tip of him in your mouth.

You and Carmen weren't exactly experienced at first, you both had never truly held a relationship long enough to progress to that stage, but it had only taken a month before you knew how to have him stuttering thrusting up into you with need and it had taken him 3 weeks to know how to make you cum 9 times a day. What could you say? You had waited long enough.

You don’t waste time as you circle your tongue around the red tip, licking the precum clean from the slit, groaning around him at the sound of his throat letting out strangled moans. You want to take him in entirely, but he was so thick and long you couldn't possibly without getting used to him again.

Carmen loved giving, he could spend hours with your thighs around his shoulders, but there was something special with getting your broody chef to come undone, to be reduced to a puddle at every lick and kiss from you.

You push him deeper, circling your tongue so that it drags flat against his length as you pump the rest of him that you couldn’t yet reach.

“Holy-sh-fuck babygirl, easy, easy” Carmen groans out, and as you flicker your eyes up at him, the vision causes you to sneak a hand down between your thighs. 

Carmen looks down at you with furrowed brows, struggling to sit, grinding and jutting up into your mouth as his blonde hair lays across his forehead sweaty. His cheeks are a rosy crimson, and his tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth biting down when you catch his blown out almost-black eyes.

You ignore his protests, pushing him further down until you feel him in your throat, constricting the space until it has him groaning out in pleasure. Carmen can’t help thrusting up into your throat, quickly apologising before you shake your head, reaching for his hand to grip your hair, begging him to use you however he wan’t. It’s too much for Carm, he feels like your puffed out cheeks, the tears eager to drip down your cheeks, the rut of your hips trying to find any friction causes the very tight bind to nearly snap in him.

“Fuck, don’t- not gonna last long” Carmen heaves out, gripping your hair until the veins in his arms and neck begin to juttt out.

You continue bopping your head down onto him, gathering the spit and cum and hollowing out your cheeks before taking him out and then in again. Carmen can’t take his eyes off of you, his chest heaving up and down as he watches you entranced.

“You don’t want to cum huh? Am I not making you feel good? Fuck my throat Carm, show me how you want it and i’ll show you how I do” You groan out, looking up at him from under your lashes and it causes Carmen to groan out, before gripping your jaw in his hand, and dragging your tongue back down his length.

Carmen is careful with how he fucks into you, but it’s reverent and heady and full of need, and he finds himself gripping your hair, watching you bop down on his cock until it bumps against your throat, and he feels that tight warmth that surround his sensitive tip.

He’s a mess, a jumble of incoherent swears and half moans of your name as the slick heaviness against your tongue shealths up and down, the mess of cum and saliva dripping from between your lips. 

“S-so fucking, so good, all mine babygirl, you’re all fucking mine” Carmen replies with a growl, as hes thrusts into you grow sloppy, and you press your nails into his thigh, breathing through your nose as Carmen loses himself in the warmth and feel of you, chasing his release without a break.

The tight band deep in him snaps when you constrict around him, and catch his heavy gaze, he screams out your name, jutting up into your throat, slick shooting down as he holds you head against him, and you milk him dry eagerly, taking every last drop he gives you.

You swirl your tongue around him, gently taking him out of your mouth as he winces at the over stimulation, you look up at him, opening your mouth and poking your tongue out, and you don’t miss the low fuck he whispers at the image of you swallowing every last bit of his mess.

You aren’t able to get up yourself before Carmen is dragging you up to him, wiping and kissing away every tear before swallowing you with a heated kiss. Carmen can taste himself on your tongue, manoeuvring your bodies so that he lay against the headboard, with you grinding up against his lap.

“Need to feel you fill me up Carm, I need it so bad” You groan out between your heated kiss, and Carmen grips you against him, his cock hardening again at your words, he always wanted to please you, it was his dying quest, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you like it was nothing.

You line yourself up with him, before sinking onto his length, the both of you breaking apart from your heated kiss to suck in a breath, Carmen leans into the croon of your neck, biting the skin there lightly as the feel of you tight around him gets too much.

You have to grip him, pressing half moons into the contorting muscle of his shoulders and back as you get used to him, before sinking further down with a groan. You felt impossibly tight, walls velvet and soft like caramel as they glided up against him with its slickness.

“You sure you can take it all? Hm darling?” Carmen whispers as he leans over in your ear, so that you slide further down his length, and it glides across a sensitive spot in this new position that causes you to rock your head back with a groan.

“Oh no baby, no no no, eyes on me hm?” Carmen reprimands you, sliding a hand so that he can see the dazed look in your eyes.

“We have the entire day, locked in this house from the snow, and I’m going to fuck you stupid doll” Carmen replies with a grin, before easing out of you and thrusting back into you hard, causing stars to appear in your vision, the white hot pleasure of the beginnings of your orgasm gripping you.

[kallie-den]

Rescue Hound Chapter Six

Kione finds herself growing closer to the rebels around her, even as her new handler-hound relationship with Sartha places her at a greater distance than ever before

This is a Warhound story! The preceding stories can be found at this tag

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“Let me ask you something,” Kione asks languidly. “How come the food keeps getting worse around here?”

Muted laughter around the rec room. Vola, Nese, Amynta—Radio Girl—and a few others Kione doesn’t really know yet. All bored shitless. Sorties have been few and far between. Nothing to do but keep their heads down while the imperial net closes.

“Terribly sorry, my lady.” Amynta feigns a little bow from her slouched pose on the bench. “Any requests for dinner? Fresh fish, perhaps? A nice salad?”

More laughter. Their banter isn’t exactly high drama, but anything to lighten the mood.

“If you could bring me that,” Kione sniffs, “I’d pay you your mech’s weight in imperial coins.”

“Gods,” Vola grunts. “Don’t you ever get tired of being such a rich bitch about everything?”

“No.”

“Then, don’t you ever feel like putting that ridiculous hoard of yours to good use? A contribution to the cause? That’s what a good rebel would do.”

“No.”

“Can’t you at least share it around a bit? Among friends?

“Got that fresh fish for me?”

Everyone groans at her. Kione drinks it in, of course. She’s never happier than when she gets to play the villain. Plus, all the rebels seem to appreciate having someone to groan at too.

“No fish.” That’s Nese. She’s been quiet today. Sounds dour. “Imperials secured the east bank of the Lethys River a few days ago. We’re cut off.”

That brings down the mood at once. This front of the war hasn’t been doing well—not that any of them have. The imperial war machine crawls across the land like a locust swarm. Let them take what they want, and they’ll never stop. Fight them, and the buzz of resistance drives them into a frenzy. Oh, the rebels fight well, to be sure. They know the land they fight on, and they love what they know. But you need resources to win a war, and on that front more than any other, the empire is unmatched. They have machines that turn mountains into legions. That rip great wounds into the ruined earth, drinking the dredges of its long-spent wealth the way a mosquito might a still-warm corpse. Against a foe like that, victories are only temporary. The accountant’s toll of gains and losses is forever.

The rebel base—Leukon Base, it’s called—is getting surrounded, inexorably but slowly. It’s up in the Orestis Highlands. Difficult territory to claim. And so far, the rebels have managed to remain in the dark. Probably, the imperials don’t know if it’s a fully-fledged outpost or just a few stragglers, and they also probably don’t know which hole or peak they might be hiding in. So, there’s time. But only time. Resupply will keep getting harder. Kione’s glad she got Theaboros all patched up already.

Learning all these proper nouns for places is kind of a pain in the ass, honestly. Kione never bothered with it before. You take a map, you get a job, get some coordinates. You show up, you shoot some people, you get paid, you fuck off before anyone can try to engage you in a scintillating conversation about the weather this time of year. Now, Kione hears the place names coming out of people’s mouths, and they actually mean something to her.

‘Not part of the job’, is what she’d normally say. But she supposes this one stopped being ‘just a job’ a while ago.

“Doubt we were getting much fresh fish out of the river anyway,” Kione grumbles. “That’s fairy tale stuff.”

“Not true,” Nese tells her. “Most of the year, it snows clean on the mountains to the north of here. Keeps the waters pure. There’s a few springs, too. Plenty of fish spawn in the hills around there, and some of them even make it this far downstream without choking on runoff.”

Finally, Kione twigs it. “You’re from around here, aren’t you?”

Nese nods.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Kione feels oddly nervous about offering condolences. She’s not used to it. “Your people?”

“Don’t know.”

“Damn,” Kione replies. Then she says, “I’m sorry,” again because she’s not really sure what else she’s supposed to say.

“Thanks.” Nese looks up from her game of solitaire and offers Kione a bit of a nurturing smile; ‘A’ for effort, apparently.

“Relax, merc,” Amynta reaches over and claps Kione’s shoulder. “It’s not such a rare story around here. No offense, Nese.”

“Yeah,” Vola pipes up. “I grew up in the Memphin Desert, across the Panropa Basin. They occupied it years ago. Turns out there’s still oil under there, if you dig deep enough.” She takes a breath. Exhales her cigarette. “Hope they drown in it. They probably won’t. Either way, I’ll probably never see the sands again.”

Kione nods slowly as she absorbs that. “You?” she finds herself asking Amynta, because she realizes she actually wants to know.

“Me?” Amynta is surprised by her curiosity. A little delighted, too. “I’m from nowhere, babe.” She flashes a peace sign, just to make Kione giggle. “Born on a refugee trail. Grew up moving here and there. Joined up to fight the first chance I got. Now, your turn. Where you from, Ki?”

“Uh.” She asks casually, but the question lands on Kione like a lobbed boulder. She’s not good at talking about herself. But she’s really in it now; this has already turned into a sharing circle. And worse, she asked first. “I’m… from Kinbashi.”

She sees recognition in Amynta’s eyes. A touch of pity, too. Kinbashi is—was—a large city-state, one of several in the resource belt far to the south of even Vola’s home. One of the sad little comfortable dreams of those who wanted to keep living sad little comfortable lives, as they had done in the days the world was whole.

“Surprised you didn’t join our cause a long time ago,” Nese snorts. “Pay the imperial cunts back for it.”

Kione shakes her head. “It’s imperial now,” she corrects. “But Kinbashi fell a long time ago. Madness and greed. People fighting and dying over all sorts of stupid shit. I grew up running from shelter to shelter with my parents whenever the sirens sounded.” She forces a smile. “Then one day, the sirens were a little too late, and I was on my own. Kinbashi in rubble. Nothing to stay for.”

All around the rec room, sympathetic glances. Kione really wishes they wouldn’t. There’s a reason she doesn’t usually go on about herself.

“’Madness and greed’,” Amynta quotes. “If that’s how you see it, why be a merc?”

Now Kione grins. “Yeah, and it was madness because none of those greedy fucks ever actually got what they were fighting for. Now I make damn sure I’m getting paid before I get out in front of a bullet.”

The smiles return. Everybody loves the rich bitch. Doesn’t quite banish the sympathetic looks, though. They’re all getting a bit too used to it. They don’t see Kione as some merc anymore.

They see her as one of them.

Not all of the rebels do, that’s for sure. Skulking in one of the rec room’s corners is Pela, that Sartha fangirl Kione once dressed down in the canteen. There are plenty of others like her. Rebels Kione has pissed off so mightily it’ll take more than just time to heal the wounds. But on the whole, they’re softening. Kione is too, and she knows their names, and she knows the names of the places they’re fighting for.

It’s… a new feeling. One Kione isn’t quite sure how to get to grips with. Even more uncomfortable is the novel idea that all these rebels might, sooner or later, actually know her.

“I’ve never heard you tell that story to anyone besides me, Ki.”

But for now, there’s plenty they don’t know, of course.

They don’t know about Sartha Thrace. They think they do; Kione can see that plainly from the little looks of adoration and comfort on all their faces as the hero walks in. She’s been in the hangar-cave, helping to calibrate Ancyor’s new upgrades. With her arrival, she warms the room. The world is brighter and better with her in it. The rebels look at her, and see a hope beyond hope. They see salvation.

Not Kione.

The truth of Sartha Thrace stares her in the face. First of all, she sees that Sartha is wearing her jacket buttoned up tight, all the way to the top of her neck. To most, nothing noteworthy; just a concession to the cold. Kione knows that beneath her collar are a bouquet of bruises that match her own fingers. Evidence of the previous night’s excesses, now blossoming into grotesque, ugly purple. Just thinking of it makes Kione shudder.

She went too far, of course. Kione knows that. But she’s already forgiven herself. Her task is to plumb the depths of another woman’s soul. Certain mistakes are inevitable. What counts is that the damage is not permanent. And in the process, Kione grasped something crucial.

Sartha Thrace is not human.

Presumably she was, once, but she gave it up. Traded her humanity for the comfort of existing on the end of a metaphysical leash. She does not think as people do. She does not feel as people do. When she was taken and brainwashed, Sartha was not broken on the surface; coerced into a set of simple, mechanical acts as the core of her personhood buried itself deep within her mind for protection. Oh no. She was broken all the way through. Broken the way glass breaks when an entire pane shatters from a single strike—because she wanted it. Now, her very internality has been crushed into something abhorrently one-dimensional. There is no deeper meaning to be found in her than one would find in a dog scraping the bottom of its bowl for food.

Can you really speak of abusing such an animal? Of violating it? Of course not. Kione’s guilt would be senseless, and that very senseless guilt is what almost drove her over the edge when she had her hands clamped around Sartha’s throat. So now, she has discarded it. She has forgiven herself—and for whatever it’s worth, she knows that Sartha has forgiven her too.

Why? Because they’re in love, of course.

“Hey, Captain Thr- I mean, Sartha,” Amynta turns to greet her. Sartha has been insisting on names over titles, but it doesn’t come easy to most of the rebels.

“Hey,” Kione says too.

Sartha has eyes only for her. She hurries across to Kione’s side, adoring, no hint of fear or resentment over the way Kione tortured and strangled her. That no longer strikes Kione as strange. When Sartha looks into the eyes of those around her, she sees hero-worship reflected back at her. Kione once suffered that delusion—but now, when Sartha meets her gaze, the fallen hero sees nothing reflected other than her own nothingness. Kione sees her clearly. The nothingness is validating. For that, Sartha would gladly trade all the abuse in the world.

She is sick with love for Kione.

But nobody else sees it. Not even as they move aside to allow Sartha to sit next to Kione and rest her head on the merc’s shoulder. To everyone else, it’s cute. They’re a little jealous, probably, but mostly they’re glad Sartha has someone at her side. They can only imagine what the two of them do behind closed doors. They don’t know what Sartha is.

That thought pricks at Kione.

Why don’t they? Can’t they see it? Isn’t it obvious? It is to Kione. She isn’t sure how she ever missed it. She sees an abyss in the dark pupils of Sartha’s eyes, the surrounding color a mere echo of the spirit that had once driven her. She sees nothingness on Sartha’s lips, wet and parted when she looks up at Kione, eager for commands or praise or abuse or the three words that deliver her from the thin pretense of personhood. She sees oblivion in everything Sartha does, even in the way she acts like a hero, so desperate and forced and pathetic.

Why doesn’t everyone else?

That’s why Kione isn’t one of them. She sees. And they are blind.

“How’s the new beast looking?” Amynta asks.

“Good.” Sartha grins as she leans into Kione. “A couple more weeks, and it’ll be ready to tear them a new one. She’ll be the finest machine on the planet.”

A couple of appreciative whistles. “Watch it,” Vola jibes, energized. “Kione’ll be complaining we keep getting parts shipped in instead of haute cuisine.”

“No way.” Amynta answers on Kione’s behalf. “Even she’s not that much of a hypocrite. You were plenty grateful for our supply lines when you were getting your babygirl fixed up, right Ki?”

“Yeah, I’m so ‘grateful’ that they cost me more than I’ve ever made working alongside you lot,” Kione complains. It’s true. Her coffers have never been so empty—not that they’re likely to run dry any time soon.

As she plays up her discontent, Kione reaches across and drapes an arm over Sartha’s shoulder. Accidentally, her forearm ends up pressing against Sartha’s collar and the bruises beneath. Sartha flinches subtly, but then settles in to press even closer to Kione, a look of giddy, drunken contentment settling across her face.

Fucking freak. But nobody else takes any notice.

“From what I heard, you paid so much because you needed some seriously weird shit,” Nese puts to her. “How does that machine of yours work, anyway? The flying, I mean.”

“Antimatter?” Kione shrugs. She has a pretty good idea of Theaboros’s basic engineering—enough to direct repairs, anyway—but the finer points of its machinery escape her, as do the deeper physics underpinning them. “You want much more than that, you’d have to ask the person I got to design it for me.”

“What’s their name?” Nese asks. “I had no idea any rebel groups had the labs and resources to develop this kind of tech.”

“They don’t,” Kione replies. “She’s imperial.”

That gets a few looks. Rebels are no strangers to appropriating imperial technology, but they usually have to steal or salvage it, not commission it.

“How’d that work, exactly?” Vola asks, a touch guardedly.

“First of all, I’m a merc,” Kione reminds her. “If I take a bit of care, I can go wherever I want. Second… have you ever met a mech engineer? Those adorable little freaks are all exactly the same. They’re all gagging for a chance to get their pet prototypes built.”

“So? How’d you get her to give it to you, instead of the empire?”

Kione looks from side to side, then leans in, like she’s about to let everybody in on a big secret. Then she brings her free hand to her lips—and makes a little gesture of sticking her tongue out between the V of her fingers.

All the rebels howl with laughter. Not Sartha—but it’s not jealousy or envy that stop her. She looks up at Kione, awestruck, like Kione’s some kind of goddess for it. Gods, can the rest of them really not see her for what she is?

“OK, seriously,” Kione adds. “You gotta remember, the imperials don’t build like you do. It’s all production lines and interchangeable parts over there. No way you can get their bean-counters to approve some flashy one-of-a-kind machine that’s only as good as whatever fresh-faced academy dipshit ends up in the cockpit.”

Vola nods slowly. It’s a hard thing for some rebels to get their heads around, especially if they’re still a little green. If they’ve only ever fought in skirmishes and insurgency actions, not in the kinds of full-scale battles that showcase the empire’s horrific aptitude for total warfare. Their factories can churn out Dorus on a scale that a girl like Vola could scarcely believe possible. It just doesn’t make sense for an industrial war machine like that to derail its manufacturing, maintenance and support logistics just to build exactly one of something that might turn out to be a terrible idea anyway.

For the rebels, it’s just the opposite. Every rebel mech is a mongrel. They’re all one-of-a-kind, so if you have the parts to build something special and a pilot that can make it work, why not? It’ll be no more of a pain in the ass to keep in service than any of the hundreds of thrice-reconstructed imperial mechs the rebels usually fight with. Besides, rebel tactics are necessarily local, flexible, and improvisational. Give them a weird machine, you can bet your ass they’ll figure out an equally weird way to put it to good use. Kione respects the resourcefulness. What she doesn’t respect is that, beyond everything else, the rebels need icons. Symbols. Heroes, like Sartha and her Ancyor. Instantly recognizable on a poster. It’s a way to rally people. All the more reason to favor wacko prototypes.

“So…” Amynta ventures, “you didn’t really eat out an imperial engineer to get Theaboros?”

“I paid her handsomely, and I gave her a chance to see her baby fly,” Kione answers primly. “And then I ate her out. Just for fun. I mentioned she was an adorable little freak, didn’t I?”

Amynta gives her a playful punch whilst everyone else groans.

“Whatever,” Vola snorts. “If you ask me, you’re the freak for trusting it. I’d never want to count on imperial tech to keep me three hundred feet in the air. I’ll bet on my Phassus any day of the week. She’s not flashy. But she gets it done.”

Amynta and Sartha both flash her a warning look, but it’s too late. She said the magic word, and Kione is already wearing her finest shark grin.

“You’d bet, huh?” Kione purrs. “Easy enough to settle that—unless you’re all talk, of course.”

At once, Sartha switches gears. Suddenly, she’s a guard dog. A cheerleader. She partakes in Kione’s smugness, and glares challenging daggers at Vola. The other rebel bristles at Kione’s taunt, but Radio Girl is quick to shut down the suggestion.

“Absolutely fucking not,” she insists. “Command is not in the mood, and neither am I. Try for some dick-swinging duel, and I’ll have both of your machines drained of fuel so the entire base can laugh at you when you try and launch only to fall on your asses. Do not test me.”

She’s really growing into herself. Kione’s a little bit impressed, but mostly just annoyed she won’t get her dick-swinging duel.

“Fine,” she yawns. “No fun allowed.”

A crooked smile forms on Nese’s face. Apparently, Kione isn’t the only one who wanted a show.

“How about you get it out of your system a different way?” Nese suggests.

“What did you have in mind?” Vola asks. She’s game.

Nese licks her lips. “Nobody’s gonna complain about a little arm-wrestling. Right?”

And nobody does. It only takes a few moments to set it up; Kione and Vola on chairs, a table between them, staring menacingly at each other, while the other rebels pretend to be an appropriately riled-up crowd. They’re all in Vola’s corner, of course. She’s the hometown girl. Kione stands apart. She’s the heel. She’s not one of them. Only Sartha stands behind Kione, resting a hand on her back with a doting affection.

She’s so damn obvious about it. They’re going to see you, Sartha. They’ll see the nothingness in you. They’ll see that you’ll always betray them in the end.

Kione hopes they see. She hopes Sartha sees that none of them could love her the way she does.

“Three,” Amynta counts, as Kione and Vola plant their elbows on the table and grip each other’s hands. “Two. One. Start!”

Kione tenses the muscles in her core as well as her arms as she begins to push against Vola. She feels the other woman’s palm shifting in her grip as both of them jockey for angle and position. Vola is young and strong. She gives it her all from the first signal, and Kione has to give it hers just to stay in the fight. She can tell at once, though, that she’s being underestimated. Kione likes to keep herself looking pretty, and she knows she looks a little slight in her jumpsuit—but she’s a merc, and sometimes that means having to carry a lot of heavy shit all by yourself.

So Kione relaxes into the hold, letting her wider shoulders give her a better angle, and lets Vola huff and puff until she’s all out of juice. It’s not so easy that she doesn’t sweat from the strain, though, and Kione’s not such a poor showman that she won’t let Vola force her all the way back like she’s on the verge of defeat.

But just as her rebel comrades are already beginning to whoop and cheer for their hometown girl, Kione flashes them a grin and starts pushing back. Every grunt from Vola’s lips and every grimace on her face is a little gift to Kione, and the gifts only end when Kione plants the back of the other woman’s hand flat on the table.

Victory.

Lots of groaning. Kione takes that as applause. Sartha rubs her back and coos for her. That makes her feel kind of nauseous. Vola grimaces again, then amicably shakes Kione’s hand. She gets up—and Amynta sits down.

“Come on, then.” Radio Girl winks at her. “Can’t have everybody think a merc is better than a rebel.”

Kione’s arm is already tired. She really shouldn’t—but she just rolls her eyes and meets her grin for grin. She just can’t say no to a good flirt.

“Fine,” Kione replies. “You’re on. Just one moment.”

She makes a little performance of the way she reaches up and unzips her jumpsuit from the neck, before peeling it away to her waist in order to expose her shoulders and her belly. Only a thin, fabric sports bra covers her torso, and Kione’s dark skin is covered in a sheen of sweat from her bout with Vola. Everyone is ogling her. Especially Amynta.

Kione smiles. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

“OK.” Kione makes a show of stretching, too; bending left, then right, folding her arms across her shoulders, making sure Amynta gets a fine look at her back muscles flexing. “Let’s do this.”

“Yeah,” Amynta pants. “Let’s.”

The atmosphere in the room has changed. Amynta is openly leering at Kione. She can’t help it. The poor girl has been sweet on her ever since that first mission together. Sartha is the only thing that’s kept them from sharing a bed. Now she’s feeling a little more than just rebel pride. And she’s not the only one. The rest of the rebels are watching with a voyeuristic interest. They want to see who might come out on top.

In many senses of the word.

“Three.” Nese counts this time, as the two women grip each other’s palms. “Two. One. Go!”

Kione tenses up again as she and Amynta begin to grapple. Amynta can’t hide her interest; her eyes keep flickering to Kione’s stomach and shoulders as Kione flexes her trim figure. She’s distracted. Kione has a wild grin on her face. This is going to be fun. But not right away; no, she lets Amynta get a little warm and a little riled. Lets her marinate in her own stupid animal brain chemicals for a moment.

Then Kione flashes her the filthiest look Amynta’s ever seen, licks her lips, and does something truly sinful with her extended tongue.

Amynta blushes and squirms and, just for a moment, lets her concentration slip completely. Slamming her hand down onto the table is the easiest thing Kione’s ever done.

“No fair!” Amynta protests, while Kione throws back her head and howls with victorious laughter.

“Love and war, babygirl,” Kione tells her. That forces another blush into Amynta’s cheeks. “Merc two, rebels zero. Kind of embarrassing for all of you, honestly. Surely you can do better than that.”

“We can,” Nese retorts.

And looks at Sartha.

A heartbeat later, and everyone’s looking at her. Their eyes are full of expectation. They already know: Sartha will save them. Sartha can’t lose. She’s a hero. Sartha, to her credit, doesn’t flinch from it, although Kione feels her tense invisibly at her side.

“What do you say, Ki?” Sartha asks, with cocksure lightness. “Think you can go another round.”

Asking for permission, of course. She can’t do anything here without Kione’s permission. But she threads the needle, and finds a way to ask while still acting like the confident ace everybody wants her to be. Cute.

How does that work, exactly? Kione makes a mental note to pry into that, the next time she’s playing with Sartha’s head. Is it a conscious deception? An anxious lie? If so, is it motivated by simple self-preservation? Or by a twisted, not-quite-obliterated sense of pride? Alternatively, is it simply second nature to the dog Sartha Thrace has become? Has the fundamental lie of her identity been seared so deep into her soul, she no longer realizes she is deceiving everybody who has ever trusted her?

Kione’s nostrils flare. She has so much to learn, if she’s to become the equal of Sartha’s handler.

“Sure,” Kione answers eventually. “One more.”

Sartha sits opposite her. Nese, Vola, Amynta are all cheering. Others too. The atmosphere is bordering on riotous. Several more have heard what’s happening, and come to watch. Who wouldn’t want to see Sartha Thrace arm wrestling another dyke? On the surface, Sartha is a perfect match for their expectations. She sits easily in her chair, a slight, smug smirk on her face; it’s easy to imagine her sitting in Ancyor with the same ease as she readies herself to deliver a hammer blow against the empire.

Kione, though, can only imagine her one way: on her knees, wearing a muzzle.

What would all the rest of them think if they saw her like that? Even once?

“Ready, Ki?” Sartha challenges. As loyal as she is, she means to win. Kione can see that in her eyes.

“Ready.” Kione is no less competitive. She plants her elbow on the table. The two of them lock hands.

“Three,” Amynta counts. “Two. One. Start.”

Sartha starts slow the way an avalanche starts slow. She eases into the grappling—but gods, she’s strong. Stronger than Kione, that’s for sure. Even if she’d been fresh, Kione couldn’t have beaten her. She strains every sinew, of course, but Sartha is already pressing her down, down, down. Her fellow rebels drink in her impending victory. They urge her on, yelling and cheering. The looks on their faces are jubilant. To them, it’s fate. It’s justice. In the end, their rebel hero wins the day.

Something about that just pisses Kione off.

Don’t you get it? She betrayed you. And she’d do it again.

Maybe Kione should show them. Just a little bit. Just in a small, harmless way.

She looks straight into Sartha’s dead eyes and tells her: “Sartha. Let me win.”

Most of the people who hear it laugh. They think Kione’s begging. Sartha doesn’t laugh. Her eyes flash wide in shock for a moment. Kione can tell it’s not surprise. She’s not surprised Kione is doing this to her. It’s just the bow shock of a cold, clear command spearing through the persona she had been wearing. A moment later, color hits her cheeks. Gratitude. Arousal. Every chance to obey is a chance to submerge into obedience. Sartha is always glad of those. Kione’s lips curl.

They’re all watching you, Sartha. Show them.

“Yes, Kione,” Sartha replies, very quietly.

And lets her win.

Sartha’s arm goes limp. Kione feels the fight drain from her. No more smug hero act. She is a doll in Kione’s grip. Something she can pose with ease. The small crowd turns hushed as they see it happen. As they see Sartha give up. Kione looks over each of them, delighting in their half-amused, half-disturbed shock, before slowly forcing Sartha’s hand to the table.

Clean sweep.

The audience churns uncomfortably. A few of them are tittering with approval. They think they know what they saw: a kink dynamic, spilling out from the bedroom. Even some of those, though, seem faintly disappointed. Most of the watching rebels are plainly discomforted. They suspect nothing, but this isn’t what they wanted to see. Sartha Thrace doesn’t just lose. Not like that. The natural order has been subverted. And Radio Girl is looking between Sartha and Kione like she’s suddenly not sure she knows either of them at all.

That’s right, Kione thinks. We can play nice and swap stories all we like, but the truth is: I’m not one of you.

And neither is Sartha.

***

“Here,” Kione commands. “Strip. Take everything off.”

It’s late at night. The whole of Leukon Base is asleep; that’s the only reason nobody has seen Kione leading Sartha through the base’s narrow corridors, muzzle bound tight over her face.

“Yes, Kione.”

Kione had wondered, idly, if this would prompt any questioning from Sartha. Any hesitance. Of course not. A fervent eagerness shines across the surface of Sartha’s deep, dead eyes as she reaches up and begins to pull her jacket away from her body. The more clothes she removes, the more bruises she reveals; a discolored necklace around her collar, then a few irregular rows down her sides and a couple of huge, yellowing marks on her belly. All of them are two days faded now, but all the prettier for it. As excessive as the violence might have been, Kione is proud of the proof of her handiwork. She made Sartha look like exactly what she is.

A kicked dog.

The most wretched creature on the face of the world. And Kione’s beloved.

As she sees her now, naked, beginning to shiver against the nighttime chill, Kione almost bursts with love for her. Her love for Sartha threatens to drool out of the aching grin fixed on her face. She’s so lucky. Nobody has ever been more lucky. She and Sartha are joined, utterly. They have stared into one another’s darkness, and they have not blinked. They accept each other totally. Partners in atrocity. What bond could be greater? Purer?

And what’s more, they’ll do anything for each other.

“Chin up,” Kione instructs.

As the tip of Sartha’s muzzle tilts upward, Kione reaches into her pocket and fishes out a dog collar—a real one, sized for a large breed. She was able to pick it up at Leukon Base’s commissary. The rebels have a relaxed policy around pets. In multiple senses, actually. Kione could have bought something nice and leather, hand-crafted, padded on the inside, with a nice big D-ring on the front for ease of use.

But no. Kione thinks this ugly, red nylon thing that fastens with a cheap clip instead of a proper buckle is a much better fit. Sartha’s opinion on the matter doesn’t count, but Kione is pleased that she seems eager enough; her eyes widen with palpable excitement as Kione twirls the collar around her upraised index finger for a moment.

“Long overdue, right?” Kione grins. “Here.”

She fastens the collar tight around Sartha’s neck. Sartha relaxes eagerly into its embrace, grateful for the chance to be a pet instead of a person. And now Kione has Sartha Thrace collared. Owned. It’s the stuff of dreams. Kione lifts her hand, and strokes her fingertips lovingly across the high part of Sartha’s cheek, the part that peeks over the muzzle’s cage.

Then she snaps out of it. Then she remembers. Sartha doesn’t want gentle. Sartha doesn’t want loving. And she’s a filthy fucking traitor who let them break her.

“Get down,” Kione barks, scowling. Before Sartha can possibly react, Kione grabs the end of her muzzle and uses it to shove her downward. “On your hands and knees, dog.”

Sartha stumbles a bit in surprise, but obeys instantly. Kione’s rictus grin flickers back to her face. Sartha might be a subhuman bitch, but that doesn’t mean Kione can’t enjoy this. Mastering her own emotions is still new to her, and still a struggle. But she’s determined to keep her adoration well-aimed. She will not love the false idol that is Sartha Thrace, hero. She will love the dog.

“There we go.” Kione bends down and starts petting Sartha’s head—oh, and it’s so hard not to love her when she starts looking stupid and brainless like this. “That’s where you belong. How do you feel, Sartha? Not too cold?”

“No, I’m- ah!”

Kione cuts her off by knotting her hand into a fist in Sartha’s hair and yanking so hard Sartha’s hands lift off the floor. Her face is pained, but Kione sees the ecstasy beneath.

“Wrong!” Kione laughs. “Do you know why it’s wrong, Sartha?”

“No, K- f-fuck!”

The same treatment again, only harder. “You really are a dumb bitch,” Kione scorns. “It’s wrong because dogs don’t talk. What do dogs say, babe?”

Sartha gets it at once, and as Kione releases her grip and lets her pet slump back to the ground, a look of voracious, submissive glee settles across her face.

“Woof!”

Kione laughs a little at that, but she isn’t completely satisfied. Sartha says it a little too much like a person-word, rather than a sound.

“Try again,” she encourages. “Bark, bitch.”

To her credit, Sartha senses exactly what Kione wants from her. “Arf!” is what comes out of her next. A simple, brute, guttural ejaculation. Now Kione truly throws back her head and cackles.

Gods, doesn’t she know how fucking embarrassing that sounds?

“Good girl,” Kione mocks. “Now. Louder.”

“Arf!”

“Louder!”

Now Kione senses a touch of hesitancy—although only a touch, before Sartha lets out another wretched, bleating: “Arf!”

Kione knows exactly why Sartha hesitated. Yes, it’s late at night, but a military base never quite sleeps. There are sentries. There could be people awake and wandering around for all kinds of reasons. Hell, the walls around here aren’t so thick that someone awake in their bunk might not overhear a loud bark and decide to come and check it out.

A little shiver of danger races down Kione’s spine as she thinks on it. Yes, this is going to be delicious.

“You really do make a good dog,” Kione announces. “And honestly? I’ve been a neglectful pet owner. I’ve waited this long to take you out for walkies.”

Deep in subspace though she is, Sartha’s cheeks redden from sheer embarrassment. She’s not completely beyond it—not until Kione gives her the words. For now, all she can do is twist and turn in her own nauseous delight. In the shame of being, and the bliss of being less than human.

“Arf!” is her only reply. That, and the sound of a drop of Sartha’s wetness hitting the floor.

“Good,” Kione repeats. “Now, here.”

Kione pulls out a leash. Her next commissary indulgence. It takes no more than a moment to clip it to Sartha’s collar—and then Kione turns on her heel, and she’s away.

She picks her pace carefully. Not rushing, but not slow either. Leisurely—but not leisurely enough for Sartha. Shuffling on her hands and knees, she struggles to keep up. Unfortunately for her, Kione was careful to pick a short leash. After just a short distance, Sartha’s pace slackens as she pauses to breathe. Kione steps forward again, heedless—and pulls Sartha up short. As soon as Kione feels the barest hint of resistance, she yanks. Hard.

“Keep up,” Kione orders merrily. “Or do I need to find a bone to throw for you?”

Being pulled along by her collar only makes Sartha’s task harder. She’s forced up onto her feet, not her knees, and into a desperate, headlong scramble just to relieve the pressure on her neck. When she catches up, it’s no better. Kione is still walking just a little bit faster than she can comfortably crawl or shuffle, so Sartha ends up settling into an awkward, exhausting, half-raised gait just so she can keep herself at Kione’s side.

Kione’s face hurts from grinning. But she can’t stop. You’re perfect, Sartha. Perfect like this. Maybe this is simply the way you were always meant to be.

“Good girl,” Kione tells her again. Sartha deserves to keep hearing it. And then, for her own benefit: “I promise. I’ll keep you safe. With me. Just like this. Forever.”

You don’t need that handler, Sartha. I’ll be her. I’ll be better than her. Just you watch.

As they walk through Leukon Base’s corridors, the two of them pass door after door. Most of them, closed; a few of them, open, leading into empty rooms or other passageways. Each of those that they pass makes Kione feel like she’s going to throw up and blow her load at the same time. Each time, she glances into the dark doorway and thinks the shadow she sees has a pair of eyes. The threat of discovery is ever-present, and it activates all the small danger-instincts Kione has honed in her time as a pilot.

Would happen if someone saw? Kione keeps running through it in her head. What would they think of her? What if they saw her use Sartha’s trigger? What then? Would they hate her? Would they punish her? Would they envy her?

It’s too much. The adrenaline is kicking her something fierce. Kione can’t stop giggling as they walk.

And what if they saw Sartha? What then? Would they hate her? Would they think she’s let them down? They’d be right to, of course. But would they look upon her as a traitor? Or merely as a broken wretch?

Kione is desperate to find out. It’s the only thing that could snap the merciless tension gnawing at her.

Gods, maybe some of them would envy Sartha too. She’s not the first rebel girl to enjoy being collared. Plenty of them would look good that way, too. A sudden vision hits Kione, as the flames of arousal lick at her: Amynta Tet, Radio Girl, muzzled and kneeling.

Kione laughs long and loud. She’s not sure if Radio Girl swings that way. But it sure would be fun to find out.

“How you doing, Sartha?” Kione abruptly comes to a halt. “Getting some of that energy out of your system?”

That’s an understatement. Sartha looks wrecked. Fit as she is, scrambling on all fours after Kione has left her bedraggled with sweat and shivering from both cold and exertion. Kione’s heart swells with the knowledge that Sartha would keep going forever if Kione told her to. Until she collapsed into sleep from exhaustion.

“A-arf!” Sartha answers. Her voice trembles, but she’s no less eager for being so tired. “Ruff!”

Love and contempt fight for primacy in Kione’s bosom. It’s strange how accustomed she’s becoming to those two emotions coexisting. She wants Sartha to be so much more than this, even as she adores her being lesser. In the end, a perverse sense of pride sweeps through Kione’s mood.

She remembered! She remembered not to speak. Who could ask for a better pet?

“Good girl,” Kione purrs gleefully. “You’re doing so well. Almost perfect, in fact. You’re just missing one last piece.”

There’s one other thing Kione got at the commissary. Something that really got her some looks from the quartermaster sitting behind the counter. Kione plucks it out of her pocket now, already giggling at the thought.

A butt plug. With a long, canine tail attached to the other end.

“Turn around,” Kione orders. “Ass up.”

Shaking with need, Sartha obliges. While she turns, Kione uses her spit to get the plug nice and slick. Then she bends down and pushes it all the way into Sartha’s ass. Sartha yields to her without question, but then her legs almost give way from the sensation, and she lets out a wild, throaty moan that fills the dim corridor. Kione can’t help but notice that Sartha seems used to being taken this way. Jealousy rises in her. She would rather not picture all the ways imperial pilots have been using her.

“Quiet, slut,” Kione snarls coldly. “Unless you’re really that eager to be overheard.”

The pathetic little whine Sartha lets out fixes her mood at once. She really is being loud, though. If she carries on like this, it’s almost inevitable that someone will overhear them. Suddenly Kione wonders about that.

“Maybe you actually are,” Kione muses. “Is that what you want, dog? You want people to see you? Hear you?”

“Aarrfff,” is the only reply Sartha can give. Kione can’t tell if it’s meant to indicate yes or no—but it’s certainly eager. Sartha is incapable of anything but eagerness. Her eyes are as wide and shiny as any puppy. Her shivering is now more pleasure than anything else, and Kione can see rivulets of drool trickling down her chin behind her muzzle.

Sartha is lost to this. She’s exactly where she wants to be. Maybe she really does want to be discovered. Maybe that would be a release for her, or an ending. Kione finds herself craving that same ending more powerfully than she had expected. She fights to keep a tight rein on the self-destructive impulse. Not now. Not when they’ve both come so far. She’ll give Sartha a climax, oh yes. But of another kind.

She’ll make sure that, for a little while, there’s no Sartha at all.

“Sartha,” Kione says. Her tone is enough to make Sartha yip with glee. “Off The Leash.” Kione giggles. “Not that you’ll be coming off this leash any time soon.”

She’s growing used to Sartha’s dissolution, but that doesn’t stop it from feeling like a fresh miracle each time. The way Kione appreciates the transformations keeps changing, though. More and more, she finds beauty in it. When she wields those three wonderful words against Sartha Thrace, she is a sculptor with a chisel, cleaving away at all the rough edges and imperfections of her. Removing what is not needed. Removing what is impure. Her hero’s facade, made a lie of so many times. Her confident stance, her smug grin, her warm smile, her hopeful eyes—all of them made meaningless by the ravages of the handler’s brainwashing. The gossamer-thin facade of personhood, which she is so much better without.

It breaks away. It falls apart. In its wake, there is nothing.

In its wake, there is the hound.

There is no confusion in Hound when she wakes. She understands her place perfectly. Kneeling, muzzled, collared. Beyond the obvious eagerness and adoration, there’s a kind of comfort in her dull, brainwashed eyes as she looks up at Kione. This is exactly where she belongs. All is right with the world. To her, the dehumanization is a balm. She doesn’t want to walk on two legs, because that’s what people do. She doesn’t want to speak in words, because that’s what people do. Better to be this. A thing. A weapon. A pet.

Kione’s heart aches in love for her. Sartha’s better half. Sartha’s truest self.

“Come along,” Kione says sweetly, adoringly. “You deserve to stretch your legs too, puppy.”

Kione turns her back again and begins to walk. The same awkward pace as before—only now, for Hound, it’s infinitely harder. The way she has to move her hips with each scrambling step works her new tail around inside her, prompting high, vicious moans from her lips and drooling droplets of wetness from her cunt. After just a short distance, she’s shivering violently, plainly struggling to keep herself from collapsing onto her belly.

It’s so wonderful. Kione keeps grinning and laughing unsteadily. She’s so hot, and so pathetic, and so needy, and so easy, and she’s all hers. Kione must be merciless with her.

“Keep up,” she warns, and yanks on the leash.

Hound does, although it’s almost more than she can take. Her panted moans turn ever more whined and strained, and her whole face is drenched with sweat and drool. Taken with her bruises, she’s never looked less like a person. The tail is the final touch, of course; as Hound moves, it sways from side to side to match her gait, just about stiff enough to stick a little way into the air when she fully extends her hips. It’s ridiculous and frivolous and hot and absolutely fucking humiliating all at the same time. Kione keeps giggling over and over again.

“R-rarf!” Hound bleats, as her legs give way. From the arch of her spine and the helpless tremble of her thighs, Kione can tell right away what happened: she came.

A crooked smirk comes to Kione’s face. Just from that? Adorable.

“I said,” she hisses, “keep up!”

Kione barely misses a beat before she yanks the leash again—hard. Hard enough to drag Hound’s limp body across the cold, rough ground for a pace. It’s not a choking collar, but even so, nobody likes being dragged around by the neck. By the time Hound has recovered enough to claw her way back up onto her knees, her face is a deep, pained red and there are scrapes down her shins.

But she makes it. She catches up.

“Good girl!” Only now does Kione pause. She reaches down, she ruffles Hound’s hair, she pets her for all she’s worth. “Oh, aren’t you a good girl? Who’s a good dog? You. Yes, you are. Yes, you are!”

The look of stupid, lovestruck, praise-drunk glee on Hound’s face makes it all so very worth it. And it might just be from the pleasure or the cold, but Kione still adores the way that Hound looks for all the world like she’s wagging that dumb little tail of hers.

“Let’s head back to my room,” Kione decides. She’s gotten exactly what she wanted out of this little excursion—and besides, Hound looks exhausted. “This way. Should take us a full circuit.”

She leads the way. Slower, this time, to let Hound crawl more comfortably at her side. Kione still holds the leash tight, though, so it tugs on her a little with each step. She knows Hound will appreciate it. Walking just like that, they make it almost all the way back to Kione’s quarters, before Kione notices something dangerous.

An open door. A light. And voices.

It’s the rec room. It’s unusual for anyone to be in there so late, but not unheard of. Sometimes soldiers find themselves sleepless, and in need of company. As they come to the doorway, Kione comes to a halt. Two people inside, from the sound of it. She thinks she recognizes the voice of Pela, Sartha’s fangirl. Less sure about the other person. It seems like they’re sitting a fair way distant from the door. Probably facing away from it, too. It should be easy enough to pass quickly and quietly, without anybody taking any notice.

But…

A wicked mood takes Kione. Was their little walk really enough for Sartha? She’s used to much worse; of that, Kione’s certain. Used to being watched, too. Kione can’t quite suppress a hint of disappointment over the fact that nobody happened across them during their walk. It would have been a disaster, of course. But she wanted to see what might have happened.

“Hound,” Kione instructs quietly. “In the doorway. Now.”

She doesn’t even need the gentle leash-tug Kione provides for guidance. Unquestioning, unhesitant, Hound crawls into the doorway. The yellow light within spills out onto her face, leaving a long, canine shadow behind. Hound shivers. Even now, it seems, she retains a certain pilot’s instinct, flooding her with adrenaline.

She’s exposed.

And what a sight she’d be, down a mech suit’s targeting scope. The slower pace Kione struck was easier on her, but there’s only so easy moving can get with something so large and intrusive inside her. Hound is stuck on a permanent hair trigger, and her body is already covered with proof of her deprivations. Bruises, scrapes, sweat, drool, her own slickness. She’s a mess—and then, of course, there’s the muzzle itself.

What would any of the rebels say if they saw that?

The rictus grin is carved so deep into Kione’s face that it hurts. Maybe she’ll finally get to find out.

“Up,” she hisses, not loud enough to risk anyone overhearing. “Sit.”

A pair of heartbeats pass as Hound works her fucked-up brain to try to figure out what kind of pose Kione wants from her. But she gets there in the end. Hound straightens her back and then lifts herself up, balanced precariously on the balls of her feet, her torso bared into the rec room.

Still, Kione can hear voices coming from inside.

“Go on,” she urges gleefully. “Paws up, too”.

It doesn’t matter how dumb and humiliating Kione’s orders get, there’s no question that Hound will obey. Trembling, fighting for balance, Hound lifts her arms up to around her shoulders, wrists hung limply to make her hands into feeble, ludicrous impressions of paws.

Kione is about to bust a gut laughing. At this point, if anyone hears anything, it’s going to be her dying of laughter. Not that she isn’t also insanely turned on. That’s always a given, with Hound.

“Legs apart,” Kione orders next. She’s grinning so wide she’s showing teeth. Her voice sounds wet. “Let’s give your friends a good show.”

A drooling whimper comes from Hound’s lips as she spreads her thighs apart, adopting a truly pornographic, bow-legged pose that sends shocks of pleasure up her spine as her butt plug digs all the way in. A moment more, and she can’t take it. Can’t keep the pleasure in.

She moans.

Kione’s heart stops. Did someone hear? She isn’t sure. The voices from inside the rec room have stopped—which could be a red flag. The last warning Kione is going to get that they need to get the hell out of there. True, Kione might be able to talk her way out of it. Excuse what she’s doing with Sartha as some kinky sex that got out of hand. But there are those who would immediately see in Sartha’s muzzle something far, far more sinister. Anyone who saw Sartha as they brought her in from the rescue, or who participated in her rehabilitation. Kione should put a stop to this, right now.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to.

The ludicrous risk of what she’s doing crashes over Kione. When her heart beats again, it’s in her throat? What is the point of this? Gratification? Hers, or Sartha’s? She’s risking everything. All her progress. All her efforts to reclaim Sartha from the handler’s jaws, just so she can… get her off?

It doesn’t make sense. She can’t make it make sense. But she can’t stop, either.

The voices from within the rec room resume. A reprieve. Clearly, it’s time to end this madness.

But then Kione looks at Hound.

Fuck. She’s a mess. She’s such a mess. And she looks so fucking turned on by it, too. By the abjection and dehumanization. By being turned into a stupid, exhibitionist bitch for Kione’s amusement. Beneath her, a small but distinct puddle of her wetness has formed on the floor, and she’s got a look on her muzzled face like she’s riding the edge again. Like she craves discovery every bit as much as Kione does.

Before the merc can think better of it, the order slips out.

“Speak.”

“Rrrrarf!”

The eager yip erupts instantly out of Hound’s throat. Ever the good dog. Ever obedient. At once, she tenses up and, for the second time, cums her bitch brains out all over the floor. It makes Kione moan her laughter—even as the voices from inside the rec room cut off for the second time.

“Hey?” someone calls out. “Who’s there?”

A chair shifts.

Immediately, Kione’s instincts take over. “Quick,” she hisses, and for good measure she yanks hard on Hound’s leash while she’s still in the throes of orgasm. Beleaguered, Hound does her best to walk, to crawl, to keep up with Kione as she hurries away from the rec room. Luckily, the next corner is only a few paces away. Not far beyond it is Kione’s quarters, and safety.

Kione’s heart is still pounding something fierce. She’s terrified—but she’s grinning too. She’s never felt more alive. She’s never felt more in tune with Sartha Thrace, with Hound, with her dog, with her love.

“I love you,” she says quietly, swept away in the moment.

She hopes to hear it back. But of course, dogs don’t talk. All she gets in return is an eager, doting “Arf!” from Hound.

It’s just as good. It’s perfect. The night has been perfect. Kione knows, more than ever, that she is Sartha’s, and Sartha is hers.

Her only regret is that she couldn’t be there to catch the looks on those rebels’ faces when they stumble upon the mess Sartha left for them.

***

“I win.”

Kione actually feels the truth of her boast as she stares up at the viewscreen that’s displaying an image of the imperial handler. She’s in Theaboros this time, not Ancyor. Copied over the comm codes. Continuing to slip into Sartha’s mech seemed unwise. Arguably, letting this bloodless ghoul into Theaboros is even more unwise, but Kione’s pretty sure her systems are secure and untraceable. Besides, if talking to the handler is a red line, it’s one Kione has already crossed.

And how is that?

Above her, the handler is a monolith. She looks exactly the same as when Kione last saw her. Not a single hair is out of place. Not a single hair seems to move as she opens her mouth to speak. She is one with her black leather uniform; the coat, the cap, the way they frame her icy face. She is perfection itself.

Kione wants very, very badly to see that composure of hers shatter like glass. She wants to do it somewhere Sartha can see. She wants to ruin her in Sartha Thrace’s eyes.

“I asked her,” Kione brags. “Just like you said. I got Sartha’s secret. I know what she is—and I’m still here.”

What is her secret?

A shiver races across Kione. She is being weighed and measured. She puffs herself up.

“She wants this,” Kione answers. “Deep in Sartha’s soul, she wants what’s happening to her. You brought that desire to the fore, yes, but it was always there. She needs Hound, because otherwise the sheer hypocrisy of her being would tear her apart. But it’s a mask she wears willingly. She’s… happy, like this. In a way.”

The handler nods. Her smile sharpens. She’s impressed. Kione grows warm.

Correct. Sartha Thrace’s spirit grew thin under the weight of her own weariness. She conceived a broken longing for freedom—from strength, from expectations, from the burdens of heroism. From humanity itself. That is exactly what I gave to her. On some level, she wanted it. That was enough.

Another shiver. Kione’s heart is beating the way it usually only does in combat. When she flies Theaboros high above the battlefield, looking down on all the rest of humanity, she is gifted with a delicious sense of superiority. This is no different.

“It’s… it’s why there’s no fixing her.” It’s the first time Kione’s said that out loud. That truth should weigh heavy on her, but she feels as light as a feather. Talking to the handler like this feels like sparring. It’s energizing. “She doesn’t want to be fixed. She knows she can’t carry all that weight again.”

Just so.

“But.” Kione glares daggers at the viewscreen. “I can still save her from you.”

The handler laughs, just once. A quiet sound. Snow trampled into ice underfoot.

She does not want to be saved, either.

“No,” Kione admits. “But she deserves it. For… for who she used to be. At least I actually give a shit about her. At least I won’t make her betray her own people.”

I assure you, I care for her deeply. Regardless, what makes you so confident that you can—as you put it—save her?

“Because she loves me,” Kione answers firmly. She was ready for this. She rehearsed her answers in the shower. “And I love her. I’m… still learning how to do that, exactly. But I can give her what she wants. Last night, I stripped her naked and walked her around the rebel base. Muzzle, leash, tail. And she fucking loved it, and I took care of her afterwards. I can give her everything she wants. She doesn’t need you anymore.”

Fascinating. The handler’s smile is like a needle. I have a question for you. After your walk with Sartha, did you fuck her again?

“What?” Kione splutters. That takes her entirely off-guard. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you need all the lurid details to jerk off to or something?”

The handler smiles politely. It’s simply a question. We’ve already discussed your proclivities—and hers.

Kione finds herself red in the face. Gods, it’s like talking about sex with a teacher. Or a priest.

“I’m not answering that,” she growls. “I don’t have to give you shit.”

I see.

And she really does. That’s the truly awful part. She sees all of Kione. Her blue eyes flash with something, and Kione has never felt more seen. The color of the stars, perhaps.

You aren’t embarrassed because you fucked her. You’re embarrassed because you didn’t.

“The fu-“ Kione has to fight to calm herself, but it’s hard when she suddenly feels cold all over. “H-how do you know that?”

Tell me why. Why not use her?

Her words are a fishhook down Kione’s throat. Before she can think better of it, she finds herself answering.

“It seemed…” she spends a moment grasping for the word, “perfunctory.”

The handler nods thoughtfully. Say more.

“And…” Kione’s brow tightens. She had not thought to put a name to the feelings that moved her to release her urges on her own time, rather than with Sartha. But she must find the words now. She must master herself. She has so much to prove. “For me… demeaning?”

She didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but it did. The handler lets it hang in the air for a moment. Kione has time to ask herself why she’s so stupidly fucking nervous, and the answer only unsettles her further.

She’s nervous because she’s waiting for approval.

You’re doing very well with her indeed. It’s true that Sartha has been conditioned to crave sexual gratification and objectification, but it needn’t be from you, in quite such a… direct fashion. You will find that she prefers a certain separation. Authority is as essential to her as degradation. Beasts fuck other beasts. Their master provides something altogether different.

Kione nods slowly as she absorbs that. It doesn’t occur to her to doubt it. She would never dream of trusting the handler, but she hasn’t misled her yet. Besides, Kione feels as though she’s already seen much of that in Sartha. It all stands to reason. The harder part is maintaining her grip on her own emotions as she digests. She doesn’t want the handler’s praise to feel good.

But it does.

“Well, thanks for the notes,” Kione says sarcastically. Brashness is her refuge. “Really helpful. But I think I’m good, actually. No need for any more of these delightful little chats. I just wanted to give you a friendly heads-up. Sartha’s mine. I win.”

How amusing. What makes you so sure that she won’t come running back to me the very first time she hears my voice?

Kione’s blood freezes.

“I… she won’t,” she replies lamely.

Why not?

“Because… because she loves me!”

I can make her love me instead.

Cold, then hot. Kione’s fighting not to throw up. She’s embarrassed that’s all it took to plunge her into a panic attack, and the shame only deepens her struggle. She can feel sweat on her brow. No. No, no, no. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not love. She loves me.

Me.

I’m the one who saved her, Kione. I’m the one who broke her in the precise way she most needed to be broken. You forget yourself. You believe that because you hold on the other end of the leash, you are my equal. You are not. You are a pale imitation. I know it. You know it. Sartha knows it.

A nightmare unfolds before Kione. She sees it happening. Sartha, running away from her. Towards the loathsome, beautiful creature on the viewscreen before her. Slipping Kione’s leash. She’d be eager. It’d be a homecoming. And all the words in the world couldn’t stop her.

It’s a knife in Kione’s heart. She starts fumbling for the hatch release to her cockpit. It doesn’t even occur to her to end the transmission. This place feels more like it’s the handler’s domain than her own. She can’t breathe. She can’t believe she was so stupidly fucking cocky. She needs to get out of here.

Calm yourself, Kione. I meant what I said: you’re doing well. But you’re still finding your footing. You must go much, much deeper if you wish to make Sartha Thrace truly yours. Don’t worry. Did you forget? I promised you that I’d help you. I always keep my promises.

Kione can just about hear her words over the sound of her own pounding heart. “How?” she asks thickly, before realizing that’s the wrong question. “No… why? Why pretend you’re fucking helping me?”

Because you and I are not entirely dissimilar. And I would hate to see someone else with such rare qualities remain so aimless.

“We’re nothing alike,” Kione growls. She can’t hear this. Not when she’s already so fucking angry. Being made anxious always gets her angry.

You should hope to be wrong about that. If you’re right, you stand no chance.

“Fuck you.” A furious spray of Kione’s spit hits the viewscreen. “Fuck you! I don’t care what you have to say. I’m gonna beat you. Understand me? I am going to reach into Sartha’s head and rip you out of it. I don’t care how deep I have to go. I don’t care what I have to do. I will tear your face and your voice out of her memories. I will make her hate you. I. Will. Win. Bet your fucking ass on that.”

All the anger in the world wouldn’t have made the handler flinch. Kione should have known that; now, as the corners of her lips turn upward, Kione merely feels petty in her rage. Still, petty is better than panicking.

I am no gambler, but you can call it a wager if that makes you more comfortable. I admit, there’s a certain charm to the idea. Sartha Thrace is the game, and the prize. If you can take her from me, I invite you to do so. I’ll even show you how. Your next lesson is already on its way.

Before Kione can question the sinister implications of that, the handler makes her another, even darker promise.

But one day—and it will not be so very far off—I will come for her. Mark me well, Kione. I will come for her. I will come at your worst moment, to call Sartha back to my side. And if you are not prepared for me, you will lose everything.

Strangely, Kione’s heart has begun to slow. A game. A wager. A challenge. She can handle that. Kione’s life has been nothing but challenges. That’s life, as a mercenary. Nobody’s ever had her back, and it’s never kept her from winning. Kione meant what she said. Whatever it takes. She’ll learn every lesson. She thinks back to that night she had her hands wrapped tight around Sartha’s throat. Kione knows that moment was the cusp of something. A metamorphosis. She gazed into the darkest black, and held its stare. There is nothing she is not capable of.

For love. For Sartha.

Kione nods. It’s on. But as she girds herself to cross the threshold and enter the handler’s world, another question comes to her. Another why. An embarrassing one, really. One any sane person would have asked right at the start. Kione feels almost childish as she asks it—but she really does need to know.

“Why do this?” Kione says quietly. “Like… any of this, I mean. Turning people into… like that. I can’t even imagine… I get it, it’s useful. It works. But, fuck, how did you ever even begin to think of something like that?”

The handler raises an eyebrow. She’s not truly taken aback, but the question seems to have surprised her a little. Perhaps it’s just the incredulous simplicity of it. The tall, black-clad corpse of a woman takes her time to properly consider before answering; before speaking the words that take root inside Kione and grow there like a tumor.

Kione, the handler says slowly, and with great weight. Haven’t you ever moved through your life and felt like you were surrounded by nothing but dogs?

---

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[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello Henry :D I've followed you for quite sometimes and I really love your works!! So I'd like to request if you don't mind: Lisa, Shenhe and Yae with a very emotional reader. Like the reader can easily burst into tears, either when they feel too happy or too sad (kinda self-indulgent since that's me irl). I hope you can write this and if you don't that's fine!!! Thank you sm and have a good dayy!!!

Them with a very emotional reader

characters: Lisa / Shenhe / Yae Miko x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: *September 2022* OH GOD THIS REQUEST IS A YEAR OLD WHAT AM I DOING?!?! I am so sorry it took me this long, also, if you’re still following me and remember that you requested this anon, thanks for the nice words!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Lisa

When the sun started to set and most people had already left the library a long time ago, one person outside of the librarian would almost certainly still be seated where they’d been for hours already, reading the same book they had been reading for hours already while still breaking out in laughter, tears of joy or sad weeping depending on whatever they were reading.

A long time ago, Lisa would have felt her peaceful naps disturbed, almost going as far as to reprimand them for not following every library's most sacred law. And yet, as she heard you giggling to yourself now, she couldn’t help but feel the corners of her lips shape into a smile as she left the comfortability of her chair to rise before slowly making her way over to where you sat.

“And cutie? Like what you’re reading?”, the librarian asked once she was behind your chair, putting her hands on it and leaning against it until her face wasn’t too far from the side of your head, something that proved to be lucky as you quickly whipped your head around, causing you to nearly headbutt her, the happiness on your face almost as radiant as that of a dog excitedly wagging its tail at the sight of its owner.

“Lisa!”, you exclaimed with excitement, throwing the notion of trying to keep quiet in a library completely out the window.

“Very much so, it’s surprisingly funny. Everytime I think I know what’s going to happen next, it takes a completely different turn. I can’t stop laughing…”, you slowly trailed off, staring into the far for a split second before once again turning your attention towards her, your cheeks growing red from shame. 

“I was loud again, wasn’t I? Of course I was, that was a stupid question. I’m sorry Lisa, I know that I’m supposed to be quiet in here but- I tend to lose track of the real world whenever I’m here”, you frantically apologized, talking so quickly Lisa could feel herself growing lightheaded trying to keep up with you, only to eventually calm you down with an assuring smile.

“I know. I’m sure most people that come here kind of expect to hear you already at this point, so don’t worry your cute head over nothing.”

“Anyway, want to tell me about the book?”, she asked before taking a seat next to you and listening to you excitedly recollect about the book.

It only took her a couple of sentences to realize she had already read it, managing to finish each of your sentences during your plot summary in her head before you. But as she looked at your happy face as you went on, interrupting you was the last thing on her mind.

Shenhe

There were times your behavior didn’t quite seem to make sense to Shenhe. Tears coming out of your eyes only for you to smile and reassure her that they were tears of joy when she awkwardly tried to console you. Crying not out of sadness but from feeling happy? Shenhe must have been even more out of touch with human emotions than she had realized, that or the last time she felt such happiness must have been too far in the past for her to remember.

At the end of the day it didn’t matter. If you were happy that was great, and if you showed your joy by bursting into tears then it was also fine. Even if it caused her to worry a bit. 

Today was your birthday and while the two of you had agreed to spend the day together, Shenhe didn’t come empty handed. She had seen people buy each other presents for special occasions and how happy they made others, and so, before she had realized it, she went and asked her master for help with choosing something to give you.

In hindsight it would have been quicker and a lot less embarrassing if she had just kept to herself, Cloudretainers choices being… rather unorthodox, but once she was involved, there was no way Shenhe was able to back out. Or bring the present back with her for that matter.

So here she was, handing you the present as her chest tightened up, uncharacteristic levels of anxiety building up in her in worry you wouldn’t like it, and yet, as she finally looked back at you, seeing you stare inside the opened bag with tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, that same anxiety quickly found itself replaced with panic.

“I’m sorry, it was stupid of me to try and get you something when I’m this out of touch with human society. Please for-”, Shenhe was just in the process of apologizing, when you basically jumped at her and gave her a hug, happily swaying from side to side.

“Thanks Shenhe! Where did you even get a Cor Lapis Amulet this beautiful?”, you asked before pulling back for a moment and pulling the string attached to the stone around your neck.

Here you were again, crying while being happy and leaving Shenhe completely dumbfounded. And while she silently stood there for a few moments, letting everything that was happening pass by, a smile slowly made its way onto her face, your joy far too radiant for the red strings around her body to stop all of it from rubbing off on her.

Yae Miko

Somehow, was it because Yae took pity on someone this easily moved to tears or because your display of unfiltered joy and happiness was too contagious for her to ruin it with a comment or two, you found yourself almost unharmed by the notorious Guuji. Sure, there were still more than enough times even you had to endure her teasing, but even then it was anything but humiliating.

The same could not be said about whoever was unlucky enough to hurt your feelings, be it by deliberately being mean to you or saying something hurtful in the heat of the moment…

When you had entered Yae’s office while loudly and enthusiastically greeting her, only for her to respond with nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement, the room quickly returned to being completely silent, causing her to eventually look up at you, wondering why your enthusiasm had died down so suddenly, only to be greeted with the sight of you spacing out, your expression growing increasingly worried and down.

“Is something wrong? Why so silent all of a sudden?”, she asked, finally putting her work to the side, causing you to snap out of it and look at her again, even if you avoided eye contact.

“Miko. Am I annoying?”

“Who called you annoying?”, Yae almost immediately shot back with another question, her voice betraying her determination to find out a name, and while she saw your eyes widen in surprise as you quickly tried to assure her that there was no one, she knew you better than to be fooled.

“I’m just saying that if I annoy you, you can tell me-”, you barely managed to get the sentence out of your mouth as small tears started forming on the corners of your eyes, before Yae cut you off again.

“My little bird, go around the streets and ask about me for a minute and you’ll find out quite easily that I’m not exactly someone that holds back when it comes to saying what I want. So don’t even think I’d be too afraid to tell you if I really found you annoying.”

By the time she finished talking, Yae stood only a meter or two in front of you, only to continue talking after a small pause.

“So. What’s their name?”

Was it out of intimidation or because some deep, part of you wanted them to get their comeuppance, but before you knew it, you had spilt the name, immediately feeling guilt over what was about to happen wash over you, only for Yae to give you a reassuring smile before lightly patting your shoulder.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

[oldestfriend-invisibly]

Little Pril & Little Jennifer

Hello!! Sorry I went a month and a half without posting any fics, I was having an extremely stressful time.

I made a post a few weeks ago about April and Jenn hanging out together when regressed and decided to write a whole fic of it.

There's a mandatory, all-day meeting at the Washington office and whilst April is too small to attend it, Ben can't get out of going. Instead she gets to spend the day with Jenn who is also regressed (though older) and has been told she can't be in the meeting and agrees to watch over the younger girl.

4.8K words (I got carried away.)

Warnings- brief mention of harmful stimming during a meltdown. I've put [red brackets] around the paragraph it's mentioned in if you need to skip it.

...

Until now, Ben hadn’t actively taken April into the Washington office when she was regressed. She had slipped a couple of times whilst already there before, but he’d been able to let her nap or sit quietly next to him in his office. And if she was small in the morning, Ben would just call and request the day off work altogether. 

But today, April hadn’t been obviously small when she woke up. Ben had noticed she was a bit more tired and grumbly than usual, but April wasn’t exactly a morning person, so he brushed it off. Now however, they were in the car, running late, and all Ben was focussed on was preparing himself for the big important meeting they had that day that everybody in the office would be attending.

Ben was so focused on mentally running and re-running his planned discussion points and planned schedule for the day, he completely missed the fact that April’s Scooby Doo audiobook CD had been left in the player and that it had automatically started playing when he turned the car on. 

He was only made aware of this by the soft humming of April in the passenger seat beside him mumbling along to the Scooby Doo theme song that played between the end of one story and the beginning of another. Internally, Ben started panicking, knowing instantly that she was small, though wasn’t sure how far April had regressed. From the singing which was somewhat coherent- not quite bordering on babbling- he guessed she wasn’t as young as she often was, but also, probably wasn’t big enough to be able to sit through the meeting. 

Ben couldn’t exactly just get April to be big, knowing being forced out of her headspace would most likely cause April to melt down later on. Equally, Ben could not miss this meeting. The current project was in its most critical phase, and as its leader- they couldn’t coordinate it without him there.

Additionally, Ben knew the others back in Pawnee were currently equally as busy, so likely wouldn’t have any free time to sit on a video call to April to keep her company. The thought of leaving his girl alone in the office made Ben’s heart constrict with anxiety. 

Glancing momentarily away from the road and at April he observed the way she was wriggling around in her seat and heard the way she was parroting back the words spoken by the narrator on the CD. Whilst not understimulated to the point of upset, Ben could tell that today was a day where April was going to need pretty constant sensory input and thus ideally- supervision. However, whilst Ben would never ever describe April’s stimming as disruptive, he knew that the ignorant, irritable idiots he worked with would tolerate hearing the small girl absentmindedly echoing each word they spoke back to them just about as well as April would tolerate having to silently sit still for hours on end. 

Running out of time as they were nearing the office building, Ben’s only plan of action consisted of getting April sat down in a quiet corner of the empty office and queueing up a day’s worth of movies for her to watch, with a handful of toys to fiddle with. He’d try his best to insert a few breaks into the meeting which he could use to get her to eat and use the bathroom, and maybe later in the day he could even get her to nap for the last few hours of the meeting. 

“Dad, what are we doing today?” April questioned, drawing out the words out in a way that Ben knew meant that she knew exactly what was scheduled for that day, but was hopeful that she could convince Ben to change the plans.

“I’ve got that big meeting today, remember? Do you think you’ll be fine to keep yourself busy on your own?” 

Ben winced at the pout and frustrated whine from beside him. 

“Meetings are stupid and boring though. Why can’t you cancel it, aren’t you meant to be in charge?” her tone was as biting as a five year old could reasonably manage.

Ben got out of the car and opened the passenger door, crouching down face-to-face with April as she turned away from him, crossed her arms, and huffed- refusing to get out of the car. He sighed, trying to remain patient, yet keep the conversation short enough that they wouldn’t be any later than they already were.

“I am in charge, April, which is why I absolutely have to be in the meeting. I’m going to need you to behave really well for me today or else we might have to go to bed early and then you wouldn’t be able to call Mommy for a nighttime story.” He hated to use the threat of punishment like this, but he urgently needed to get her out of the car and into the building.

April didn’t respond further than another very grumpy pout, and Ben doubted he’d get anything else out of her. She still shifted back straight in her seat to let him reach over and unbuckle her seatbelt, so she obviously wasn’t irreconcilably mad at him, though she didn’t accept his outstretched hand to hold as they entered the building. Instead she swung her arms back and forth, eyes fixed resolutely on the ground as she trudged behind Ben and angrily muttered a mix of complaints about the meeting, complaints about Ben, and Scooby Doo theme song lyrics. 

…

Whilst the meeting wasn’t due to start for another 4 minutes, by the time the two of them got up to the office it was already empty- everyone else had already made their way to the conference room. But as Ben didn’t technically have to be there until 9:30, he was going to stay with April, making sure she was settled, until the last moment; he didn’t care if it made him seem like a cold and distant boss.

When Ben scanned the room to determine the best place to get April situated, he realised he was incorrect in his initial assessment that the room was empty. 

Sitting in one of the corners closest to the door was Jennifer. This was slightly strange, but Ben wouldn’t be surprised if she too was taking advantage of the remaining four minutes of freedom she had that day- she had always been incredibly efficient when it came to putting in the exact amount of time and effort needed to do a good job and get paid and not a second more. 

“Avoiding the inevitable too, Jenn?” Ben called as he made his way over to where Jenn sat, deciding it would be a good idea to put April close to the water fountain there in the hope that maybe it’d prompt her to stay hydrated. He could hear April’s shuffling steps following not too close behind him, though she had gone silent in the unexpected presence of another person.

Jenn fixed Ben with a glare halfway between judgemental and disdainful, not uncommon, but didn’t provide any other response.

“Jenn…?”

“Ugh I’m so annoyed. I told them that I’m supposed to be in the pointless meeting and they can’t kick me out  because I’m important then them, but no! I’m not apparently because I’m not ‘fit for work today’ which is so stupid! I literally don’t even care about the meeting either because it’s probably going to be mind-numbingly boring because everyone in there are actual idiots, and they all acted like I’m a baby and I’m not! I hate them so much!” 

Ben was slightly taken aback by Jenn’s outburst. April seemed equally as wary as Ben felt her move closer behind him peering round at Jenn, similar to how a much smaller child would hide behind an adult's legs. 

“Jenn,” Ben wasn’t completely sure of the best way to go about this, so decided to just ask plainly, “are you regressed at the moment?” 

“Ugh no. Ok yeah fine, I am, whatever but it’s not even a big deal, I’m not even a baby or anything. I’m basically an adult and I’m definitely way more responsible and reasonable and smarter right now than any of them have ever been.” 

Ben was stumped. Not only did he not realise Jenn regressed, but he also had extremely limited experience with teen regression. Before he could reply, Jenn noticed April and spoke first. 

“Is she regressed too?”

April stepped out from where she was hidden and nodded, though she did grab onto Ben’s hand- clearly slightly intimidated. Although Andy was almost always older than April was, April had never been around an older girl.

“Do you have to stay here all day as well?” April asked, confidence growing when Ben squeezed her hand. 

“Yep” she popped the p.

April’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Da, please please can I play with Jennifer today?” It seemed her previous upset with Ben was completely forgotten. Jenn was older and kinda mean which in April’s eyes made her really cool. 

Ben hesitated. Whilst he realistically couldn’t stop them hanging out together and wouldn’t want to stop April having fun, he knew Jenn could be intense and often quite loud, and Ben was somewhat worried that April might get overwhelmed and Jenn wouldn’t be able to help. 

The meeting was due to start in only a minute now, so Ben really couldn’t stay deliberating any longer. 

“Yes you can, so long as you behave and stay with Jenn and don’t leave.” April nodded excitedly.

“Jenn, I’m gonna show you my evil torture prison dungeon on Minecraft.”

Once April had run over to her desk to retrieve her stuff, Ben turned to Jenn.

“Look, Jenn, I really need to run off now but you have my number right? If anything happens or she needs me please let me know? I’ll let the others know I’m waiting on a doctor’s call. She’s never been without one of us before and I guess I just really worry about her, she might be a bit high-maintenance today.”

Jenn just rolled her eyes at him. “Please, you’re so lame, it’s not like I’m going to let her loose on the streets, we’ll be fine. I’ll let you know if there’s an emergency.” 

“Thank you so much Jenn. Have fun, April!” He called back as he all but sprinted away. 

Pushing her own chair out from behind it’s desk, Jenn pulled another round next to it, patting it to invite April over. 

“Come over here and show me your prison then, kid.”

… 

April had a ton of fun showing Jennifer the different rooms in her prison. The one where the pistons pushed the chickens into the lava pit made the older girl snort with laughter, and April was so excited about Jenn thinking it was cool that she even let her push a few chickens into the lava herself. 

Once Jenn had received a full tour of not just April’s prison but also her castle with all of her pets and the rocket that Andy had insisted on building, Jenn decided it was her turn to show April a game. April had never played a fashion dress-up game before but she quickly found that she absolutely loved picking the worst outfits and hairstyles possible, and then laughing at how stupid the models looked. The robotic announcement of the in-game judge- “te-rri-ble! Zero stars!”- in particular sent her into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, and had her repeating “te-rri-ble” and “Zero stars!” for the next twenty minutes with the same annunciation as the man in the game. 

A little later on, the two were sat on the ground playing dolls. Or more accurately, Jenn was passionately explaining the intricate web of drama between her dolls whilst April rocked back and forth with her head on her knees, listening enraptured to the story whilst she mouthed along with Jenn’s words as she had done earlier with the audiobook.

“And then, just after Eleanore found out that her dad was going to jail for breaking into the city records office to destroy her popstar best friend’s birth certificate and erase her from existence, she also found out that her boyfriend Jake had been lying about being her boyfriend and he was actually an undercover robber all along trying to steal her diamonds!” 

“Then what happened??” April was entirely invested.

“Then Eleanore called her other best friend- Cindy, the karate champion- and she fought Jake by-”

“by using her secret evil witch powers to turn him into a tiny beetle and trapping him in a jar until he says sorry and agrees to be her servant forever!” 

“Well actually first she karate kicked him in the head but sure then she trapped him as a beetle.”

“And then he lived in Eleanore’s dungeon forever and ever and had to bring her and her friends cake and presents and new pet sharks every single day!”

“Yeah, sure, kid!” Jenn agreed, slightly thrown off after having her well planned out storyline derailed by April, but not particularly upset about it. 

“Hey, wanna hear a secret?” Jenn leaned close to April conspiratorially.

“Yes, yes, tell me!” gasped April.

“Well, I’ve got a whole bag of chocolate in my desk from back when I was working in Pawnee. And I know your Dad would probably say no because he’s probably packed you a lunch with like fruit and stuff, but he isn’t here so he’d never find out… do you want some?” 

This was the most exciting thing that had happened to April since Andy visited DC, and she was too eager to even speak, instead nodding enthusiastically and clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. 

Ben in fact did find out. Even if not for the empty wrappers conspicuously flowing over the top of the bin, the sight of April giggling and propelling herself round and round in the desk chair as her hands flapped were obvious signs that April was on a sugar high.

“Hey, guys, I’ve got thirty minutes off for lunch, but something tells me you’ve already had a feast.” Ben sighed but ultimately wasn’t angry with the pair. He knew today was probably difficult for both of them, so he was glad they were at least having some fun.

“What? No. We didn’t have any feasts, you’re lying.” April was an awful liar, and Jenn had to suppress the laughter that had started the moment she was sure Ben wasn’t about to get annoyed at her. 

“Oh you haven’t? Well then I’m sure there’s lots of room in your tummy for lunch?” Ben smirked.

April, unable to continue her lie, simply huffed and crossed her arms. After making sure had a drink and a bathroom break, Ben did convince her to eat at least half of her sandwich and some grapes. She sat on his lap to eat whilst Jenn sat beside them picking at her own lunch. 

Ben had to keep reminding April not to chew and talk at the same time as she immediately went into an explanation of everything the two of them had gotten up to that morning. However, by the end of the thirty minutes, April had fully crashed down from both the sugar high and the emotional high of the morning. Knowing one of the smaller rooms attached to the main office had a couch inside, Ben decided to try and get April to nap earlier than initially planned. 

In anticipation for the meeting, April had worn comfortable leggings and a long sleeved t-shirt so luckily Ben didn’t need to get her to change into something she’d actually sleep in. All he needed to do was fetch her blanket and whatever stuffie was currently in her bag- which ironically was Jenn, her monkey.

It didn’t take long at all for April to drift off, and Ben gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before he left to resume the meeting, but not before quickly stopping by Jennifer on his way out.

“The meeting should last roughly another four hours, she’ll probably stay down for at least half of that time, and once she wakes up, just to get her to stick a movie on her tablet or something.” 

Jenn nodded, attention split between Ben and the Monster High dress-up game she was playing. 

“Yep”

“Thank you again so much, Jenn, remember call me-”

“Yes, I will call you if there’s an emergency. You’re already late getting back.” Jenn snickered as Ben noticed the time, and like he had earlier, sprinted out.

…

Ben had been right in his estimate, and about two hours later, April stirred from her nap. 

She was immediately disoriented, taking a few seconds to remember where she was, and where Ben was. Upon recalling her morning, April had the distinct thought that whilst she loved hanging out with Jenn, she kind of just wanted her Dad and to go home now. She wasn’t going to cry about it. though. She knew that Da really couldn’t abandon the meeting and had asked her to behave whilst he was gone. Yes, she could be a big girl and play with Jenn again and behave and not cry, though all her earlier enthusiasm seemed to have left her. 

When Jenn heard shuffling footsteps from across the room she looked up to see April, hair frizzy on one side, and holding her orange monkey. The subdued expression that revealed the girl’s change in demeanour set Jenn on edge slightly, as she tried to decide how best to handle this. 

“Hey April” she winced as the girl startled at the sudden loudness of her voice, consciously softening her tone as she continued. “Wanna do some colouring?” 

After a beat, April nodded. Stopping by her own desk on the way first and retrieving a green chewy toy which she immediately put in her mouth, April hesitantly walked over to Jenn. The blanket trailing behind the girl made her look a bit like a snail, and the thought made her smile. 

April didn’t want to accidentally make a mess of the picture Jenn was colouring, so she decided to make a start on the other page. It was a picture of two girls sat together in a coffee shop. April thought this seemed boring, but the idea to give them purple skin and red eyes and make them drink neon yellow radioactive coffee did sound fun.

April wasn’t the biggest fan of colouring. She would get very frustrated when she went out of the lines, and would often abandon a picture altogether in response. She didn’t want to waste any of Jenn’s colouring pages though, so she picked up a light purple pencil and started very carefully filling in the picture.  

Ann once told her that colouring was a calming strategy to help deal with big loud emotions. April hadn’t understood that. It was too quiet and still- leaving nothing to combat the loud emotions she was trying to avoid, and some types of pens made bad squeaky noises on the paper, and combined with the aforementioned frustration of having to start a new picture every time one went wrong made colouring a surprisingly overwhelming activity for April. 

She tried to stop thinking about missing Da and focus on the picture but tears sprung to her eyes, blurring her vision. Not being able to properly see the page, April accidentally ended up colouring in some of the table purple by accident. But April had to carry on. She had to behave and making a fuss and leaving Jenn’s book with an unfinished picture because she was overreacting was not being well behaved. 

These swirling thoughts brought more tears to her eyes and thus, more mistakes on the page. A moment later, Jenn noticed the tears about to spill down April’s face and started to panic, unsure of what had caused this reaction. 

“Hey, April? Kid, are you ok?” In response, April only nodded, Jenn was cool, she couldn’t know April was being a big baby and crying about messing up a picture and missing her Dad. That was stupid and not cool.

Changing tactic, Jenn tried to steer the conversation to the picture April was colouring in, not expecting that this was in any way related to the problem. 

At the mention of the colouring, April choked out a gasping sob as her emotions boiled over. She threw the pencil down with force, a purple dot now stood out against the girl on the paper’s still-white eye, which made April cry harder. 

“Oh, uh, is it the colouring that’s upsetting you? What’s wrong with it?” 

[April was now pressing her nails into her arms in a way that Jenn thought had to be somewhat painful, though she refrained from intervening terrified of making it worse, unsure if April would want to be touched. April’s crying unnerved Jenn slightly- her choked, strained gasps and low whines sounding nothing like how Jenn’s little sister used to cry, and for a moment Jenn worried that the girl was having some sort of asthma attack, her sobs seeming more pained than emotional. ]

“Bad colouring. Terrible, terrible, terrible.” Jenn would’ve snickered at the reappearance of the earlier vocal stim if not for April’s failure to communicate otherwise indicating how distressed she truly was.

Jenn felt awful. April had been excited to hang out earlier and she had assured Ben that April would be fine and now she wasn’t and she didn’t even know what went wrong. She suddenly felt very out of her depth, despite being older than April, she was still regressed herself, after all, and she was not equipped to deal with the situation. 

Shakily reaching for her phone, she decided that this probably counted as an emergency. She glanced at April while the call connected, making sure she wasn’t at any physical risk, which she didn’t immediately seem to be, having thankfully removed her nails from her arms in favour of clutching the soft fur of her toy monkey. Ben, predictably, picked up barely a moment after it started ringing, and she heard a muffled “I really have to take this” over the top of some light murmuring, followed by an opening and closing door, and then just silence punctuated by Ben’s heavy breathing.

“Jennifer? Are you two ok? Is April ok?”

“I don’t know, Ben. I’m so sorry. She woke up and was all… quiet and we were colouring and she was crying I think? And when I asked her what was wrong, she started crying harder and I think… she seems really overwhelmed but I don’t know why.” Jenn rattled off in nearly one breath. 

“It’s ok, Jenn, is she safe?” Ben tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he ran to the office. Jenn nodded, before realising he couldn’t see her nod, and replied “yeah, I think so.”

Ben soon arrived and ran straight over to where April stood swaying as she skittishly shifted from one foot to the other. 

“Hey, Pril, shh. I’m here. Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?” 

April opened her eyes, and once she registered Ben stood in front of her, she all but collapsed into him. 

Catching her, he lowered them both down, swiped the blanket from where it was discarded a few feet away, and wrapped her up tightly in it. He gently rocked her back and forth, knowing the gentle, repetitive movement would help ground her. 

“Da, terrible!” she whined in between gasps.

“Shhh, I know, Pril. Just keep doing deep breaths for me.”

April nodded, dropping her head to lean against him so she could fully focus more on her breathing. Her Da was here now and the emotions in her head were getting quieter and quieter. 

Jenn wasn’t really sure how to help. She spotted the chewy toy discarded on the floor and picked it up, quickly running to wash it off. 

When she arrived back, she wasn’t entirely sure if either of the other two had noticed she’d left so she nervously cleared her throat.

“Uhm, I washed this off. For if April wanted it.” She held out the toy which Ben gratefully took, he gave it to April who immediately started chewing on it again, letting out a shaky but calm sigh.

“Thank you so much, Jenn.” Ben smiled at the older girl who clearly felt very lost in the situation. 

Then he tilted his head down to look at April. “I still have 30 minutes until I can leave, are you ok here until then, Pril?” 

“Go home straight after?” She asked.

“I promise we’ll go home as soon as the meeting’s over.”

“Will Jenn stay until then?” she asked with a slight hopeful tone. 

Ben looked up at Jenn who nodded assuredly, relief flashed across her face with the confirmation that April wasn’t upset at her.

“Yeah, she’ll stay with you.” 

Deciding the easiest thing to do was to pull up a movie for April to watch, Ben went about setting the tablet up.

“Do you want your headphones, Pril?”

“No. Jenn needs to hear too.” Both Ben and Jenn smiled at that.

Eventually, Ben left to finish the last half hour of the meeting and Jenn and April were left together, sitting side by side on the floor with April’s tablet in front of them. 

A couple of minutes in, Jenn noticed April twisting her fingers together and panicked once more thinking she was getting overwhelmed again. 

“April? Do you need me to get your Da again?” 

She wasn’t expecting the reply April gave- “Can I sit on your lap? Please?” she looked down, obviously nervous to ask, and Jenn sighed in relief.

“Yep” Jenn popped the p as she had earlier which made April smile. Jenn stretched her legs out and still holding her monkey, April moved to sit in the space. Jenn gently rewrapped the black blanket around the younger girl, making sure to include April’s monkey in the bundle. 

“Your monkey looks nice and cozy in there.” Commented Jenn.

April nodded in response. “She has your name.”

That was not what Jenn expected to hear. “Wait, does she really?” 

April nodded again. “Got her in DC and you’re from DC so she’s called Jenn.” 

It was so sweet that Jenn didn’t even feel it necessary to comment that she was actually from Chicago not DC. 

“Well, it is a spectacular name.” 

This time April’s nod wasn’t accompanied by any following comment so Jenn let the silence settle between them. 

From her position with April’s beck to her front, Jenn couldn’t exactly see April’s face. However, after five minutes with no sound or movement from the girl, Jenn was certain she’d fallen asleep, and made it her own mission to stay stock-still until Ben returned.

When he did, only ten minutes later, Jenn was barely awake herself. The soft lull of the movie and the weight of the younger girl in her lap relaxing her after the stress of the day. 

When Ben returned and saw the two girls so obviously exhausted, he had to refrain from taking a photo to remember it, knowing Jenn would likely try and find a way to sue him for it later. Whilst the scene was undoubtedly very sweet, Ben’s heart did pang with the realisation that April clearly hadn’t been getting enough sleep recently, explaining her sluggishness that morning, and almost definitely contributing to the day’s upset. He sighed, not wanting to disturb either of them, but equally wanting to honour his promise to April to take her home as soon as possible. 

“Girls?” he half-whispered. Jenn cracked her weary eyes open whilst April offered only a grumble.

“I know you’re super comfy there but it is time to go home now.” Hearing this, April slowly got up and moved over to Ben, immediately leaning all her weight against him- she was practically dead on her feet. 

Jenn also got up, noticing the colleague she was getting a lift home with entering the office.

“I gotta go too now.” She informed the others. “Bye April, play another time?” 

April looked up, nodded, and extracted herself from Ben’s arms to throw herself into a tight hug with Jenn. 

“Bye bye, Jenn. Thank you for playing and being cool.” 

“Any time, kid.” 

April was practically asleep again by the time Ben got her buckled into the car. With the promise of a future playdate from Jenn, and a quiet Da & Pril evening and a call to Leslie and Andy from Ben, April curled up in the passenger seat with monkey-Jenn in her arms, and finally felt calm.

[captainsophiestark]

Nosy Best Friends

Tristan Flynn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Based on this request from Anon! It was very fun to write and it gave me a second, related idea that I'm planning to post Monday, so thanks for sending it in! Hope you like it!

Fandom: Crescent City

Summary: Flynn's been disappearing a lot to spend time with his human girlfriend, and his friends have decided to finally figure out where he's been going.

Word Count: 2,219

Category: Fluff, Humor, maybe a tiny bit of Angst? But not really

A/N: This fic also has a prequel called Presentation Problems and a sequel called The Best Night Ever, but can also be read on its own!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Ruhn's POV

"Where the Hel are you going?"

Flynn barely stopped at the sound of my voice, half-turning back with an irritated look. I gave him the same one right back.

"I'm going out. Why do you care?"

"You've been disappearing doing Urd knows what for weeks. Come on, Flynn, what's going on?"

Flynn just rolled his eyes. "Nothing, mom. Just relax and mind your own business."

He turned on his heel and walked out the door without looking back. I watched him go, then turned to Dec on the couch.

"Something's going on with him."

"Yeah. Think it's time we do something about it?"

"Definitely."

****************

Y/N's POV

I sighed, rubbing my eyes as I tried to reread what I'd written for the thousandth time. I'd been holed up in my apartment for almost forty-eight hours straight working on a paper for grad school, and I'd started to go a little crazy.

The only reason I hadn't gone crazy about twenty hours ago was my boyfriend, Tristan Flynn. He'd been keeping me company, providing a stream of encouragement and my favorite snacks and helping me take a break when I really needed it, even if I wouldn't admit it. He'd left a couple hours ago to go do something he needed to do, and I'd come very close to hurling my laptop at the wall in his absence.

We'd first met in a similar situation, when I'd hurled my notebook across what I'd thought was an empty classroom. Flynn had been looking for somebody the Aux had followed to campus, and only his fae reflexes had kept him from taking my notebook to his head. If I hadn't been stressed out of my mind already, I would've been worried about having accidentally attacked a member of the fae Aux, especially as a human, but I'd hit my limit that day, so instead I'd shouted at him for interrupting my studying.

Luckily for both of us, once he'd recovered from his shock, he'd seemed to be into that. He'd tried to get me to leave for safety reasons, and I'd refused, so he'd stayed. We ended up hitting it off the bat, and the rest was history.

We'd been together for a few months now, and despite every warning I'd ever heard against dating a member of the Vanir, it was quite honestly the best relationship I'd ever been in. We hadn't told anyone else in our lives yet, mostly because we didn't want our little bubble of happiness being burst, but I had a hard time believing anything could ruin what we'd found together.

The few seconds I'd spent losing myself in memories had been nice, but the glaring light of my laptop screen didn't let me escape for long. I sighed heavily, trying to decide whether it was worth it to power through. I didn't entirely have a choice, unless I wanted to drop out of grad school, but maybe I could find something to do as a small break.

Somebody must have been listening to my silent pleas, because a moment later my phone rang. I smiled when Flynn's face popped up, a terrible picture of him that I'd taken when he wasn't ready. He always switched it back to a shirtless one he'd taken himself when he got the opportunity, and it had become a little silent war between us.

"You have amazing timing," I sighed as soon as I picked up. I could hear his smile through the other end of the phone.

"I always do. Come downstairs."

"...You know I shouldn't. This paper-"

"Is something you've been holed up in that apartment working on for way too long. You're driving yourself insane, and last I checked, you can't turn in anything if you smash your laptop to pieces against the wall. Besides, humans need sunlight. And fresh air."

"An expert on that, are you?"

"I sure am," his voice purred over the phone and I rolled my eyes, but I also felt heat rising on my cheeks. "Just come down here, and I'll show you how much of an expert I am."

I let out a long breath through my nose. Flynn was right. Sitting in this apartment driving myself insane wasn't helping anything. And besides, I really wanted to go spend time with him.

"Alright. I'm on my way."

"Good. I'll see you in a second."

****************

Ruhn's POV

"What in Hel is he doing here?" I hissed to Dec, trying to keep my voice down. We'd tailed Flynn to some apartment complex not far from the college we'd chased some monster down at not long ago.

"I don't know..." said Dec. "Maybe he's got a lead on something for the case? Or a new case, related to all that shit we dealt with last time?"

"You think Flynn's spending his time off work doing more work?"

I shot Dec a look, and he snorted.

"Okay, you're right. It's probably not that."

We turned back to watch Flynn, who had a full bouquet of flowers in his hands. He'd put on the nicest clothes he owned, and if I didn't know better, I would've thought-

"Oh! Tristan, holy shit!"

Dec and I stared wide-eyed as a human female came out of the apartment building, absolutely beaming at Flynn. She ran to him and jumped in his arms, hugging him tight, as he picked her up and spun her around. He kissed her, and when they pulled apart they stayed close, forehead to forehead, just staring at each other lovingly, something I'd never seen Flynn do with a female. I glanced at Dec to find him looking just as shocked as me, and when I turned back to find Flynn practically floating looking at the girl in front of him, I couldn't help my surprised shout.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

****************

Y/N's POV

Tristan and I whirled around in sync at the sound of a loud shout from across the street. I found two fae males staring at us, looking absolutely outraged, and I started to get a little worried until my boyfriend shouted back.

"What the FUCK are you two doing here?"

"I take it you know them?" I asked, turning to Flynn and keeping my voice low. He shook his head, but the irritation in his eyes faded the second he looked at me.

'Yeah, sweetheart, I do. They're my roommates and my friends from the Aux. And they're absolute idiots."

I turned to find the idiots in question storming across the street and towards us, shouting at cars that almost hit them in the process. Unconsciously, I took a half step towards Flynn, and he immediately wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him.

Not a moment too soon. His friends finally made it across traffic to come to a stop in front of us, and my jaw literally almost hit the floor when I realized one of them was the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae.

"What the Hel are you doing?" demanded the prince before turning to me. "And who is this?"

"I'm his girlfriend," I snapped, not quite able to stop myself. Both newcomers stared at me in wide-eyed shock, then whirled on their friend.

"Your what?"

"My girlfriend," Flynn said, an edge of steel in his voice that I'd only heard once or twice, usually in relation to Aux business.

The fae before us shared an absolutely shocked look, then whirled back around to look at Flynn.

"Why the Hel didn't you tell us?"

"Is that where you've been sneaking off to every day for the last few months?"

"What the fuck, Flynn?"

They shouted their questions at Flynn in sync, then without waiting for my boyfriend to get ahold of himself enough to answer, the one I didn't recognize turned to me with an apologetic smile.

"I'm Declan," he said, holding out a hand for me to shake. I stared at it for a minute, then slowly took it. "It's nice to meet you."

"...Nice to meet you, too."

"Ruhn. Also nice to meet you," said the prince with a chin nod of a hello in my direction. Then, he turned back to Flynn. "You know everybody's gonna lose it when they realize you've been keeping a steady girlfriend a secret from us, right?"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Bunch of Aux members, a spy, and Bryce, it's your own fault for not figuring it out sooner. You should be better at your jobs than this."

Ruhn and Declan's mouths dropped open, and I laughed. I could see them getting ready for a comeback, so I stepped even closer to Flynn and fixed the other two fae with a bright smile.

"It's been nice to get to meet some of Tristan's friends, and I'm sure I'll see you both again soon. But right now, I was promised a break from my term paper by my wonderful boyfriend, and I don't intend to let anything get in the way of that."

"I'd listen if I were you," said Flynn, a massive smile on his face as he looked at me with the most lovesick expression I'd ever seen. It made my heart melt. "We met because she almost clocked me in the head with a notebook for interrupting her study session."

"Well technically I threw the notebook before you came in. And then I yelled at you for interrupting."

"Are you trying to say you wouldn't have thrown the notebook at my head anyway if it'd still been in your hands?"

"...No, I probably would've."

"I know. And I love it." He grinned, leaning in for a heated kiss. It still took my breath away, kissing him, even though it'd been a few months now, and he pulled away far too soon for my liking. "What do you say we get the Hel out of here for your distraction?"

"I say Hel yeah, let's go."

He gave me one last quick peck, then pulled back with a wink. His arm stayed wrapped around my waist as we turned to head off to whatever surprise he had planned, not bothering to spare more than a nod at his absolutely stunned friends.

"You get the weekend, Flynn!" one of them called after us. "And then we're having a party and getting to know this female you're so head over heels for!"

"Sure!" Flynn said, calling back over my head. "As long as she decides she actually wants to meet you!"

I snorted, and when I looked at Flynn I found a beaming smile on his face as we walked down the street together. He held out the hand that wasn't around my waist, finally presenting me with the gorgeous bouquet he'd first shown up with.

"For you."

"Thanks, Tris." I took the flowers and leaned into him, and we continued in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Flynn cleared his throat.

"So, do you... uh, do you want to meet them? My friends and everybody?"

"Well, that depends a little bit... why were they so shocked? Was it because I'm human?"

"No." Flynn's response was immediate, and he stopped dead in his tracks to turn me to face him. He put both hands on my shoulders, his warm brown eyes finding mine. "I would never voluntarily spend time with people who felt or thought that way."

"Okay... then why did they seem so surprised to see you with somebody?"

He grimaced. "You... might be the first serious girlfriend I've had. Ever."

My eyebrows shot up, and my heart skipped a few beats.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think my record before this was... seeing the same female for two weeks? Maybe?"

I couldn't help barking a laugh, and Flynn grimaced again. My heart, on the other hand, was soaring as I reached up to gently cup his cheek.

"Well, I guess I can see why your friends were so surprised then. I'd be happy to meet them. And I'm honored to be the first female you've decided to stick around for."

He grinned at me, making my heart race even faster, then slowly leaned in until our lips were just a hair's breadth away.

"I'm honored to be a fae male you're willing to date. Based on what another friend has told me, a human like you wouldn't be willing to give just any of us a chance."

I snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. But I'm glad I gave you one."

"Me too."

I gave Flynn a little smirk, then leaned in to close the rest of the distance between us. He wasted no time kissing me back, hard, and we quickly deepened the kiss. I let my one free hand wander up to tangle in his hair, and I was ready to lose myself in him right then and there, but after a few long moments he gently pulled back.

"As much as I'd like to continue this... I think you'll really like the surprise break I have planned."

I smiled, going in for one last quick kiss, then pulling all the way back.

"Alright. Let's go. As long as we can continue this after I finish my assignments?"

"If I ever say no to that, you should be concerned."

I laughed as we headed off down the street together again, hand in hand. I still had many hovering stressors, from school to finally meeting Flynn's extended friend group, but I knew I'd have him with me for all of it. I was starting to get the feeling he was in it for the long haul, and even though that brought plenty of challenges, I couldn't help being excited for it all the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[sturniolo04]

could you make a fic where chris has POTS and passes out a lot(NO Y/N) and nick and matt are always there for him?

Bf!Chris x Gf!Reader

A/n:  ofc i might do a reader version of this! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I did add a girlfriend aspect momentarily I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

dividers: @issysh3ll

"okay can you be careful seriously"

nick exclaims to his younger brother Chris. Chris had a tendency to randomly pass out at different points during the day without any warning it seemed like almost. Nick and Matt had thought they figured out the signs of when they thought he might pass out but something new always occurred. His girlfriend, Bailey, wasn't too keen on this part of daily living due to them only dating for a couple months.

"im fine"

chris laboredly puffs out from all the movement he was doing cleaning his room. which was very random may I add considering they were all just hanging out in there not being productive whatsoever.

"okay like sit down you are making us nervous"

matt states simple scaning his face to notice a slight shift in his demeanor.

"i-i just wa-"

chris trails off going immediately limp falling back to the ground passing out and the day had just started.

"okay that wouldnt have been good if no one was behind him"

matt chuckles as he slowly lowers Chris's body to the ground to lay him flat.

"i will grab some water real quick"

nick states causually simply becaiuse this is what they do they are used to those episodes and know what do each time.

"hello there are you back on earth"

matt chuckles as he sees chris' eyes slowly flutter open.

" i need some water'

chris quitely mumbles out completely ignoring the previous joking statement his brother made.

"i figured here you go"

nick states sitting on the floor with the pair as chris slowly sits up to drink the water.

it was only 9 am in the Sturniolo household and unfortunately chris himself in addition to his brothers had a busy day today there were some simple errands that they had to run together and a couple rehearsals for the upcoming tour to attend and also chris was hanging out with Bailey that afternoon as well. it was only the beginning.

"okay guys lets just run through the last part of the agenda line up for the shows specifically for the Orlando show"

their tour manager speaks as they are all standing on the stage. Chris who miracoulsly hasn't had an episode since an hour ago seemed okay for the most part but nick and matt both knew it was just a matter of time.

"c-can we actuall-"

chris trails off. there it was

"okay i got you"

nick rushes out catching him before his body hit the ground.

"can we get some water"

matt exclaims to their manager him immediately bringing some over to them right as chris begins to come to.

"ugh i hate this"

chris mumbles out slowly sitting up.

"at least you are sitting for most of the tour shows"

nick states rubbing his brothers back slightly.

"i guess thats true"

chris huffs out.

"are you going to be okay when you hang out with bailey"

matt questions him witha raised eyebrow.

"oh my god thats right fuck im suppose to hang out with bailey later"

chris exclaims awarding a soft smack to his forehead as nick gasps out shocked at the simple action.

"okay lets not do that you could knock the consciousness out. of you on purpose"

nick gasps lowering his brother's hand.

"its okay i think you will be fine we will be there since we are picking her up and just going to the store after"

matt shrugs out.

Chris couldnt stop thinking of the worse simply because she had no clue that this could literally happen at any given moment and was something he didn't necessarily have control over either.

"hi party people"

bailey greets opening the door and climbing into the car.

"whats up"

matt chuckles shifting a slow gaze towards chris who appeared to be in a sleeping state but of course matt knew that's not what was happening at all.

"is he sleep"

bailey asks sitting next to him in the backseat leaning her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"something like that"

nick chuckles out softly. Chris slowly begins to come out of the episode realizing bailey's presence finally.

"hi you"

chris simple states leaning his head on top of hers.

"oh so you are awake"

she giggles as he slowly nods his head 'yes'

You guys finally got to the store attempting to figure out what in the world you guys were wanting to eat for dinner since you guys were simply going to have a movie night at their house. Chris still nervous that he was going to have an episode in front of his girlfriend had been holding onto matts shoulder to keep somewhat steady as they walked up and down the aisles.

"you okay chris"

bailey asks as he and her were standing off to the side waiting for nick and matt ti be done arguing about what snack they should get for tonight. Chris simply nodded because he knew what was coming next and there was nothing he could do about it.

"you sure you look well not okay"

bailey slowly states scanning his face in the process and also hoping matt and nick would be done to pay attention to their brother if something was going to happen.

"bails I n-nee-"

chris stutters out before falling limply in her arms.

"matt nick help"

she squeals not wanting to drop chris but his body was heavy in comparison to her 4'1'' height.

"oh my god here i got him"

matt states helping you shift his wieght upwards so you two were both holding on to his limp figure.

"is he okay he just passed out"

bailey panics out.

"yeah it happens alot unfortunately for him"

nick states simple scratching the back of his head as you scan his face for any sort of joking manner but there was none.

"youre not joking"

bailey gasps.

"unfortunately no he-"

nick trails off as chris finally slowly flutters his eyes open slowly.

"holy shit'

chris groans out begining to even out his weight between bailey and matt stilling having either arm around their shoulders.

"whoa okay take it easy partner been a bad day for you yeah i think it is time to go home what you think huh"

matt states simply trying to make light of the situation slightly as chris nods his head as they begin to walk out to the car as nick stays behind to checkout out the items they were planning on getting.

"bails im sorry"

chris mumbles out as you softly smile at him.

"its okay seriously im just glad i didn't let you fall and hit your head on the ground that would have been bad"

she giggles as chris simply nods his head chuckling.

Taglist🗂️

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi

[chaoskirin]

Today, While I was in the middle of typing an email, Microsoft Outlook 365 popped up a window demanding feedback. And boy did I have shit to say.

I had to keep the swearing out, because apparently any report I make is duplicated and sent to the IT department. But the text I ended up sending follows:

---

God, I have so much to tell you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity. First: Stop messing with everything. Outlook works fine, but you keep changing things that don't need changing. Moving buttons around. Turning on features that I have explicitly turned off for not working before. Just today, you turned on the auto-suggestions again, which would be great if it actually worked. Instead, when it suggests anything you don't accept, it just mashes words together. Do you know how it feels to be typing a professional email and you miss one of those failures and send your email anyway? I mean, to be fair, I caught ten, so I still got a 90% on the ol' Microsoft-sanctioned-typo-factory. But the person I emailed doesn't see it that way, do they? They see that I mashed three words together like there was a wasp on the space bar.

Plus, my signature keeps getting deleted. Not just switched to nothing, but completely deleted. Which means I have to re-make that every time your developers get bored and decide to re-haul a program that absolutely never needs re-hauling. I remember once a couple months ago the attachment button just disappeared, and there was no way for me to attach a final bill. I had to actually use my personal gmail address to send an email to a customer because for about 16 hours, it was impossible to attach anything.

But, you say, I should have sent error reports. And I did. But the question in my mind always comes back to "why are you messing with something that does not need changing?" The only thing that ever happens is that you change aesthetics. Colors. This time the boxes are gone. Do you think you're at risk of losing customers? Do you think you have to keep things new and fresh? No. People are shackled to you. You have a quasi-monopoly and a stranglehold on a whole lot of workflows. People cannot leave you. In the world of word processing and spreadsheets, you are Alcatraz. You don't have to change things to keep people here.

Instead, long-time bugs continue to plague everything I do within this hell-suite of software. Sometimes when I try to start typing in the body of the email, outlook decides that, no, I don't want to type an email! I want to send the other emails in my inbox to the archive, where, if I don't notice this, they will sit and fester forever. There's also the bug where I create an email and it duplicates it and puts it in my drafts. Or the bug where it just creates a blank email and puts it in my drafts. Do you want to know how many blank emails I've deleted from my drafts folder? There are not enough numbers in existence to count this.

If you REALLY want to know how to improve Outlook and this message isn't just going into the wilderness like all those notebooks from the hit-TV-show-where-nobody-liked-the-ending, LOST, then please. Listen. From the bottom of my heart and from the top of my lungs: Stop changing everything. Nothing needs changing. Just run a good service. Get your programmers onto fixing longstanding bugs instead of trying to make an email and scheduling program look like a fashion show in Paris.

And if I seem a little ticked off in this message, it's because your request for feedback popped up in the middle of me compiling an email, which was just about halfway done. Outlook, in all its wisdom, decided that I didn't actually need that email and went ahead and deleted all the text in it. All of it. So after I finish giving you an earful, I'm going to have to retype it.

Hope this helps. Have a wonderful day.

[wordsofasarcast]

It’s your gal sophie here, and I come bearing a sorta long ask. I’m going to pack a lot of things into this so it might feel a bit rambly-

Firstly, CONGRATULATIONS ON THE NOMINATIONS!!!!

You deserve it, really. The amount of time and thought you put into your fics is absolutely unfathomable, and updates literally make my whole week. 

Secondly, the latest Dolce chapter has me literally spiraling, I’m so excited for the next one! (take your time btw, there’s still a good two weeks until I start rereading and making theories about what happens next)

(You’re really dropping chapters like Nico drops surprise songs tho)

I also went through your ENTIRE tumblr just now, so here are a few observations I had.

You’ve said that in the Dolceverse Silena is a singer/songwriter under the name VALENTINA. I don’t think you’ve mentioned it in Dolce, so I was thinking that you could just plop that name in there sometime.

The song ‘Free Now’ by Gracie Abrams was suggested for Will on JULY TWELFTH. It’s been half a year, and just now it’s been mentioned in Chapter 43. I would’ve forgotten it at this point

Your first post was on June 27, 2024. It’s been half a year-ish.

Lastly, I have a request. The two chapters of ‘stars, hide your fires’ that have been released are pretty lengthy, and I’ve had to read both chapters over the course of a couple days to finish them. (Still working on the second one.) Could you possibly make them shorter? I know they aren’t always going to be this length, but right now it’s really hard to start them because of the rather intimidating word count. 

Love your works, love your writing, and love your personality. Mwah<333

P.S. I know I sound like a stalker, I PROMISE I'M NOT, I’m just really invested. Plus pls excuse me for any weird grammar, I am writing this at one AM.

Hi Sophie!

First off, I love rambles—they are so fun to read and answer. Here's a ramble in exchange :)

I'm still in shock over just how many nominations I got, especially the Author of the Year nomination in my first year of posting fics! LIKE WHAT?!! Whatever the results, I'm super proud and very grateful to everyone who votes <3

The latest Dolce chapter marks the beginning of the very last act of Dolce and that is such a bittersweet feeling. (Also, I smile every time I see your rereading comments, I think you've read Dolce more than I have at this point!)

I don't mind a bit of good natured tumblr stalking, though it might expose how frequently I've pushed back chapter releases lol. Anyway...

Good pick up! So Silena (or VALENTINA) actually had a fairly big part in the secondary storyline for Dolce Dissonance that I decided to cut. So, she won't appear and there is a reason why I've chosen not to mention her at all. I do still have plans for her in the Dolce universe though (eventually).

Has it really been half a year?! That tells you how long Free Now has been sitting in my chapter outline waiting for the latest chapter to be written. Shout out to @solitaire-addict for the great song rec! <3

I started posting my fics on April 20th, 2024 which feels like SUCH a long time ago but really it hasn't even been a full year. And then it took me a few more months to get on tumblr, but I'm so glad I did, I think answering asks might be one of my fav things.

And lucky last: 'stars, hide your fires'. The chapters are intimidating to write, too. But I've been wanting to challenge myself to write a long-chaptered fic for a while now, and Stars felt like the perfect opportunity since its very action heavy. So TLDR, they're kind of intentionally long? Future chapters will continue to average around 10K. This won't the case for all my future fics, I will continue to have a little mix of everything to suit different readers. If you'd like I could post a version of Stars that splits each chapter into 3-4 shorter chapters over on my wattpad? Would that make it less intimidating? Let me know...

Also sorry in advance for when you finish Stars Chapter 2 :) Thank you for the ask and of course, for reading along x

More stories to come,

~ Sarc