#and i'll be damned if i don't give it to him

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris spend the night hanging out on his roof after your first day of making sales together.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

The sun sank slowly below the skyline, and the evening turned to nightfall as you and Chris finished up your last deal of the day. You'd been showing him all the stops, introducing him to your customers, and teaching him the way you did everything.

He got into your passenger seat and sighed as his head fell against the headrest, really wishing he had a joint right about now. "Damn, ma. I can't believe how much money we made today," Chris mumbled, slouching down into his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he'd made for the day.

"I know, and we're only a third of the way through the product," you smiled back, doing the math in your head about the potential profit. "I could never work a 9 to 5," Chris sighed, sifting through the $100 bills. "Can't believe I just made in a day what it would take some sucker to make in two weeks at some office job."

You fastened your seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, admiring Chris, who brought his fingers to his lips and slowly licked them as he separated the crisp hundreds. "What are you thinking about, ma? My tongue or my fingers?" Chris flirted, catching you staring out of the corner of his eye and giving you a seductive smirk as he ran his tongue along the pads of his fingers again, flitting through his money.

You squeezed your thighs together as you bit down on your lip. For a moment, you were thinking about both at the same time. You hated the effect he had on you, the way he knew how to get inside your head, intrude on your thoughts, and invade your sexual fantasies. "You're fucking gross, Chris," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to hide how turned on you were.

He responded with a chuckle, knowing that he was getting to you even if you wanted to deny it. "So, am I dropping you off at your girlfriend's house?" You asked, reminding him that he had one. "Nah, can you drop me off at my place? I'm staying home tonight," Chris requested. "I can do that. Just tell me where to go," you replied, your eyes darting around between the road in front of you, your side mirrors, and your rearview.

"So, have you told Daisy yet?" You asked, your gaze flickering over at Chris, who was shaking his head. "I'll tell her, ma, when I'm ready," Chris grumbled. He knew you were right. He knew he had some things to work out, like telling his girlfriend the real way he made his money or dealing with the fact that he was finding himself sexually attracted to his new business partner. He stole another glance at you from your passenger seat as the fantasy he'd had the night before flashed through his mind, praying you wouldn't notice the tent forming in his jeans.

When you pulled into Chris' driveway, he thanked you again for the ride. "I can't believe I've been sober for eight hours," Chris mentioned, bouncing his leg as you parked. "No wonder you've been so uptight today," you teased him. "Maybe you should come smoke with me since you're always uptight," Chris smirked, nudging you in the arm with his elbow, but his offer was genuine.

You gave him an annoyed look, but you couldn't hold back the smile that spread across your lips. "I don't smoke weed, Chris. I haven't since I was a teenager," you replied, fidgeting with the material of your black steering wheel cover. "Why not?" Chris wondered, surprised by your admission. "I like being clear-headed. I don't like feeling out of control," you shrugged.

"We're on a floating rock in space, ma. The idea that you have control over anything is an illusion," Chris laughed, reaching for his door handle. "C'mon. Come inside. Do you drink? I've got a beer with your name on it if you wanna hang out with me for a little."

You were quiet for a second. It wasn't often that people invited you to hang out or just do something fun with them, and for a moment, you thought maybe you could use it. "I could stay for one beer," you responded hesitantly, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. "That's what I'm talking about, ma. Let your hair down once in a while," Chris replied, beaming with a smile.

You trailed behind him, staring down at your shoes as you followed the pattern of the stepping stones that led to his front door. "Oh, shit. I forgot my house key at Daisy's place," he sighed, running his finger through his hair. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Do you need me to take you to Daisy's place after all?" You huffed, slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nah, it wouldn't do any good anyways. She's at work. Plus, this won't take long," Chris said, pulling a pin out of his pocket and fiddling with the lock. You nervously looked around, worried someone was going to see him picking his lock and call the cops or something, but in a matter of seconds, you heard a click, and you watched as he turned the knob. His door creaked open, and he glanced back at you with a mischevious smile.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "What can I say, ma? I'm good with my hands. Gotta show you my skillset somehow," Chris playfully winked at you. You scoffed, biting back a smile. A part of you liked the way he couldn't keep himself from making sexual innuendos and flirting with you.

"If you need me to pick a lock on a deal, though, you're splitting the money 50/50 with me," Chris told you, stepping into his living room. "What kind of shady shit do you think I'm up to, Chris? I'm just selling coke. Not robbing people," you joked, following him in. "You never know," Chris peeked back at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

"This is it," he announced, raising his arms to present his place to you. It was a dimly-lit, relatively small place, but it had a safe, cozy vibe to it. "I like it," you told him, your eyes scanning them room. You noticed his sprouting marijuana plants in the corner sitting beneath his grow lights and an old shelf beside it that was littered with comic books and novels you'd never heard of.

His house faintly smelled of weed and sandalwood, like how Chris always smelled, and you found the familiar scent comforting as it wafted through the air. He directed you over towards his couch and motioned for you to sit. You sat down, awkwardly perching at the edge of the couch cushion.

"C'mon, ma. You can relax. Kick your feet up," he told you, heading over towards his fridge to give you that beer he promised you. You exhaled and slowly leaned back into his sofa that was much softer than you imagined it would be. Chris twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it to you. The red and white label that read Stella Artois stared back at you, and you hesitantly reached out and took it.

Chris plopped down on the couch beside you, and you watched as he sprinkled a bit of ground weed into his rolling paper. You peered down at his rings and his fingers at the way they skillfully handled the joint, tucking the paper in and folding it in on itself.

His gaze flickered up at you as his tongue darted out, and he licked a long, slow stripe across the edge of the joint. His lips curled into a suggestive smile as he noticed you watching him, but you acted unamused, pulling your eyes away from his. You held the bottle up to your lips, taking a small, refreshing sip, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you relaxed further into the comfy couch.

You peered down the hall to an open door at the end. The room was dark, but you imagined it was probably Chris' bedroom. You found yourself wondering what it looked like, how comfortable his bed was, and how hard it would be for you to keep your hands off of him if you ever found yourself alone with him in there.

"You coming?" Chris asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and standing to his feet as soon as you'd gotten comfortable. "Coming where?" You wondered, giving him a perplexed look. "To the roof. The view's great up there," Chris responded, making his way towards the back door.

You hesitantly followed him back out into the cool air of the backyard where he had a ladder propped up against the side of his house. "C'mon, ma. I'll hold your beer. You start climbing the ladder," Chris told you, extending his arm to take your bottle from you. "Yep. Just smoking and drinking on a roof. What could possibly go wrong?" You muttered under your breath as you wrapped your fingers around the cold, metal rungs.

"Don't worry, ma. I'll be right behind you, so if you fall, I'll catch you," Chris' breath tickled your neck as he pressed his warm body into yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. It was the closest you'd ever been to him. You were just glad you were faced away from him, so he couldn't see the unmistakable look of desire written in your expression as heat radiated off his skin.

You cleared your throat and regained your composure. "Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?" You snarked at him, peering over your shoulder in an attempt to take control of the situation again. Chris chuckled, but he didn't answer you, leaving it up for interpretation. You started to hesitantly climb the ladder, and Chris followed closely behind, keeping his promise to not let you fall as he held your beer in one hand and the unlit joint between his lips.

The two of you made it to the roof, and Chris handed you your beer once the two of you got settled. The star-filled sky hung overhead as you looked out at the horizon. You saw the tops of the other houses, the city lights scattered across the skyline, and the waves crashing on the beach shore off in the far distance. You brought your bottle of Stella Artois up to your lips and took another sip as you took in the view. There was something about this perspective that made your problems feel smaller and less pressing.

"Pretty cool, isn't it, ma?" Chris asked beside you as you heard the flick of his lighter sound as he held the flame up to the end of his joint. You quietly nodded, surprised by how much you could see from Chris' roof. "So, ma. What do you say we get to know each other better and play your favorite game, twenty questions?" Chris smiled over at you with the lit joint pinched between his two fingers.

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't have an excuse this time. There was no work to be done, and there was nowhere to go to avoid his questioning, so you took a deep breath and another swig of your drink. "Okay, fine. Hit me," you finally replied after a moment of hesitancy.

"Where do you go to clear your mind?" Chris wondered, his gaze locked on you. "The beach. I like the waves. The sounds of the seagulls. Feeling the sand between my toes. It's peaceful," you shrugged. Even though the question wasn't a very personal one, you felt vulnerable answering.

"What about you, Chris?" You wondered aloud. "You're looking at it," Chris said with his joint tucked between his lips. He didn't need to explain anything further. You could tell why this was the place he went to sort out his thoughts.

"Alright. What kind of music do you listen to?" You blurted out, not sure of what to ask him next. "Anything, really. But I prefer indie over everything else," he told you. "Okay, play me your favorite song," you told him, gesturing towards his phone he had sitting beside him. He picked it up, staring back at you as he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he responded, scrolling through the saved albums on his phone until he came across AM by Arctic Monkeys. No. 1 Party Anthem started playing through the speaker of his phone, and you nodded in approval as the melody filled the space between you.

"If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would you choose?" Chris asked, turning off his phone screen and letting the song play softly in the background of your conversation. You thought about it for a moment. "See, I wanna say Pablo Escobar or something, but I think I'd want to have dinner with one of those druglords who flew under the radar so well that we don't even know their names," you replied. "Damn, ma. That's a good answer," Chris mumbled with the joint hanging from his lips.

He glanced up at you as if silently reminding you it was your turn to ask a question. "What did you think of me when you first met me?" You wondered aloud. You gave him a look like he should be careful about how answered this question. He cracked a smile, remembering the first time you'd approached him and threatened him for selling his weed on your block and trying to steal your customers. "I thought you were tough. Not the kind of woman you want to mess with. I also thought you were super hot," Chris admitted. You blushed, hoping Chris couldn't tell in the glow of the moon.

"What's one thing you don't leave the house without?" Chris asked you, pulling a long drag from his joint. "My keys," you sharply responded, subtly teasing him for having to break into his own place earlier. He let out a laugh. "And my gun," you told him. You sipped on your bubbly drink, noting that the song had changed.

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High started to play as you glanced back over at the blue-eyed man beside you. "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?" You asked, peeling the label off your beer bottle. "Nothing," Chris smirked over at you. "Nothing?" You reiterated, furrowing your brow. "Nothing," he repeated. "You're a little cocky, aren't you?" You shot back. "I prefer confident," Chris chuckled before he pulled from the joint again.

"What do you think the most important quality in a friend or partner is?" Chris asked after a few seconds of silence. "Honesty and loyalty," you said without hesitation, and Chris nodded in agreement. "You?" You asked. "Probably just someone who isn't going to bail when things get hard," Chris sincerely responded.

"What's your biggest fear?" You asked him, the questions getting deeper and deeper. "Losing the people I love," he answered, staring down at the build-up of ash on the cherry before flicking it off. "How about you, ma?" He returned the question. "Trusting the wrong person and getting hurt," you responded almost immediately. "I get that," Chris answered, his gaze still fixed on you.

"What's your guilty pleasure?" Chris asked you, his luscious lips curling into a smile as he awaited your response. "Probably those dumb reality shows," you admitted, your cheeks growing warm. "Really? Never took you for a girl who likes trash TV," Chris teasingly nudged your arm. "Daisy loves that shit, too."

"What's one of your guilty pleasures?" You asked Chris. He bit down on his lip as he looked you up and down. He knew what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be crossing the line of just playful flirting and venturing into uncharted territory, so he came up with something on the spot.

"Watching the trash TV with her. I'm always making fun of her for watching The Bacholorette and shit like that, but then I find myself watching it with her and getting all invested," Chris confessed.

"I totally get it. Like, I started watching it as a joke at first, and then you get to know the people. Then you start wanting them to end up together," you said, glancing up at him, and his eyes met yours. The song changed again, and you listened as the lyrics came through:

🎶 If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours. 🎶

The two of you stared at each other in a comfortable silence for a moment, Chris taking a puff of his weed as you took a swig of beer. "So, what does Daisy think you're out doing all day when you're working?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. "As far as she knows, I work in sales, which isn't totally a lie. She just doesn't know about the drugs," Chris shrugged. "Yeah, she doesn't know about the most important detail," you scoffed, tapping on the glass of your bottle.

"Why are you always judging me for that, ma? I've got my reasons. Why are you so pressed about it?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. "I had an ex who kept things from me, like how much money he owed certain people. He put me in a lot of dangerous situations. Don't want to watch you do the same shit to Daisy," you murmured, letting Chris in more than you had up until this point. "I didn't know, ma," Chris said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder and relaxing his jaw. "You know, I'd never intentionally hurt her. Or you."

"It doesn't matter, Chris. You can be the most well-intentioned person in the world and still hurt the people around you," you responded. He was quiet for a few minutes, mulling over what you said.

"Your ex? Alex?" Chris wondered, blowing out a cloud of smoke against the night sky as he recalled Joe using that name earlier. "Yeah. My dumb fuck ex. He got himself killed because he owed the wrong people money," you said in a dry tone. "Holy shit. Ma, I'm so sorry," Chris whispered. "Don't be. He deserved it," you muttered under your breath.

"Hey, I have a question. Why do you always call me ma?" You chimed in. "It's just a sign of respect. That's all," he shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. It's fine. I don't care what you call me. You gotta stop looking at me like that, though. Looking like you're gonna kiss me or some shit," you accused him, following his gaze that danced between your eyes and your lips as you took another drink of your beer. The song changed again.

🎶 How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. 🎶

"I'm not looking at you any type of way! Maybe you're projecting because you wanna kiss me," he shot back. The sexual tension between the two of you was thick, and for a moment, you each thought about it. The temptation was there, and it was strong. You wanted to pull him as close as you could, passionately press your lips against his, and tangle your fingers in his soft, brown hair, but you didn't want to ruin your business relationship with him.

Chris thought the same, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, but he didn't want to screw up what he had with Daisy, and he didn't want to give you the wrong impression. He diverted his eyes, glancing down at his joint that had burned down to the roach, and he put it out. "Get enough of the view, ma? I'm getting kind of tired," Chris chimed in as you admired his profile in the moonlight.

For a moment, you forgot he was talking about the scape of the city from the roof. "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. I should probably go," you said, fiddling with the empty bottle in your hand. "You can stay the night if you need to," Chris motioned towards the alcoholic beverage you'd finished off, but he knew he was playing with fire the moment the words left his mouth, inviting you to stay the night.

🎶 Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay. 🎶

The two of you exchanged a look like you both knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Even with you both sleeping in separate rooms, you each knew deep down that a closed door wouldn't be enough to deter you two from the temptation. "It's cool, Chris. It was just one beer. I'll just grab a glass of water, sit on your couch for twenty minutes, and I'll be fine to drive," you told him. Chris picked up his phone and paused the song. "I got you, ma. I'll help you down."

You felt elated once you were finally sitting back down on Chris' couch, sobering up. You weren't sure if it was a buzz from the alcohol, an adrenaline rush from being on the roof, or just the way you were starting to feel around Chris.

Chris gave you some crackers to help "absorb the alcohol," because he had "heard somewhere that it does," and even though you'd only had one beer, it was sweet that he cared enough. You also both just knew that you had to sober up, because staying the night wasn't an option unless you were both prepared to give into the force that was pulling the two of you together and end up doing something that could hurt Daisy or hurt your business relationship.

So you were munching away on Ritz crackers on Chris' couch after your single beer, and once you felt like the effects of the alcohol had worn off, you made a comment about how late it was getting and about how you should probably get going.

You left, following the same stepping stones you'd used when you walked up. When you approached your car, you reached into your empty pocket for your keys just to remember you'd left them on Chris' coffee table. "Shit," you whispered, realizing you were going to have to do a walk of shame back up to his front door after giving him shit for forgetting his keys earlier.

Chris had already started to get ready for bed, shedding his layers and slipping into a pair of flannel pajama pants when a soft knock sounded at his front door. He peeked through the peephole to make sure it was you, his heart racing and secretly wondering if you'd come back to kiss him or confess your feelings for him, his mind swirling with half a dozen possibilities.

He turned the doorknob, and when you saw him, your eyes were immediately drawn to the fact that he was shirtless. "Uh, sorry. I forgot my keys," you told him, unable to conceal your smile at the irony of the situation. "Oh, you mean, the keys you don't go anywhere without?" Chris asked, leaning against the door frame and indulging in the fact that you were doing nothing to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

"Yeah. Those ones," you smirked, biting down on your lip. "I'll go get 'em, ma," Chris chuckled at you as he turned to retrieve your keys. You found yourself holding your breath as your gaze danced over the definition of his back muscles in the soft lighting of his living room.

He handed them to you, and as you took them from him, his hand brushed against yours. You both exchanged a look that was heavy with the words unspoken between you, but you also both silently agreed it was for the best. "Okay, goodnight," you said, unconsciously batting your eyelashes at him. "Goodnight," Chris smirked, eyeing you up and down as you turned to walk away before closing his door again.

As soon as you made it to your car, you reflected on the way you acted and how stupid you must have sounded, silently kicking yourself. You didn't harp on it for long, though. Your embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the intoxication and bliss you felt from being around such an attractive man who was beginning to make you smile more than he made you roll your eyes.

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[tangerineastronaut]

bibliophile ⟡ j. yunho

you're stressed...your study buddy has an idea.

Pairing: Yunho x Fem!Student!Reader Genre: Smut - dark twist Requested: Yes/No w.c. 5.8k Warnings: heavy on the smut, semi public sex (ish), mutual pining, food? - THE SUCKER - he does...things with it. Yunho is a FREAK. Reader is desperate for yunho dick (yes YOU, reader) Spoiler warnings are in comments if you need them. A/N: So, this is sort of two requests in one, however I don't want to disappoint anyone so I'll post it solo. I hope it's okay! <3 god deleted my ticket to heaven with this one. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs

Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Taglist: @baby-stay92

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please DM me or click here.

You release a tired sigh and rub your eyes, throwing your pen down. It bounces off of your ridiculously thick textbook and lands on the papers scattered around your study partner. 

“Ah ah. No crashing yet, we’ve got three more chapters,” Yunho says with a laugh, tapping you on the end of the nose with his own pen. You pout, making a face at him before dramatically collapsing on the table. 

“I give up. You can become a lawyer, I’ll go back to making sandwiches,” you groan, muffled against pages of your future. 

“I thought you liked working at the sandwich shop?”

“I did,” you reply, tilting your head to look at him. “But sandwich shops don’t pay me six figures.”

“Then stop whining,” Yunho shrugs. You grumble words unintelligible even to yourself and sit up, fixing your hair. You stretched, yawned, checked your phone for the thousandth time that evening. Finals were next week. Then there was the Bar exam. You were so close to being y/n l/n, attorney at law…but you were beginning to feel nauseous at the mere sight of words on a page. 

“Wanna take a break?” Yunho suggests, leaning back to stretch. You avoid looking at the way his sweater rides up, revealing inches of what appears to be a toned belly. 

“No,” you mumble, forcing yourself to look away. “If I leave this library…I think I may never return.”

Yunho chuckles and nods, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. For a few minutes, you both just sit there, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Usually the library is filled with students, exactly like you—stressed, depressed, drowning in student debt and reading assignments. 

“Yunho?” you mumble. He hums a response, looking over at you. You swallow. “If I start to cry, will you judge me?”

“Not at all,” he responds. You nod once, feeling tears burning in your eyes. 

For the next hour or so, you take turns reading passages and summarizing them, going through various laws and statutes that you could barely comprehend. Your brain felt as if it might explode, and you considered calling it a night, but it was only 10 p.m. and you’d be damned if you gave out before midnight. 

“What the hell are these ‘title 16 provisions?’” you scoff, crinkling your nose. “Were these even part of our assignment?”

“Let me see,” Yunho says. He scoots his chair over to your side of the table rather than just moving seats, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. And god, his arm slides over the back of your chair as he leans in to look at the tiny words on your page. 

He smells like coffee and the peanut butter granola bar you shared earlier, and this close you can see that he has very light freckles on his cheeks. You kind of want him to never move. 

“Ah, no this isn’t part of this assignment but we will have to know it for finals,” he says, words going in one of your ears and out the other. He begins talking about these provisions, but you must be numb to all forms of communication other than Jeong Yunho’s body heat. 

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” you mumble, shaking your head. Yunho has a funny look on his face, one brow raised. Oh god. Oh god. He caught you staring like a fucking creep. 

“...You good?” he chuckles. You swallow and quickly nod, brushing your hair back so fast you nearly hit him in the face. 

“Yep, uh huh,” you mumble. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Oh,” he says as though relieved. “Good. Well, if you need to take a break, let me know.”

He begins to move; you panic and grab his wrist. 

“Wait! You didn’t explain this part to me,” you say, pointing at a random section on the page. Yunho sits down again and tilts his head. 

“You need me to explain…marital property to you?” he asks, sounding both amused and disbelieving. 

Well, if you’re gonna be a bad liar, at least you’ll be persistent.

“Yes,” you nod. “Just like a refresher, you know? My brain is cooked.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, and you feel your cheeks heat up. It feels like he knows something you don’t know, and you don’t like that. So you yank him back into his seat and let go of his wrist, pretending to be very interested in one of the most basic aspects of your degree. 

Marital property is boring, even when the hottest guy in your class is explaining it to you. And what’s worse—he knows. You know he knows. He’s explaining basic concepts to you, and then explaining the basics of those basic concepts, all the while keeping a little smirk on his handsome face. You consider caving, thinking of any possible excuse for your behavior. You’re delirious from lack of sleep, that’s actually true. But you were too deep in this to give up now. 

“That’s most of it,” Yunho finally says, long fingers splayed over the textbook. They nearly reach from one end of the open book to the other. You shiver. “I guess we should move into parental rights—”

“Yunho,” you begin with a sigh, ready to admit defeat. He smiles innocently, resting his chin in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“I—”

You freeze, having forgotten how to form sentences. Yunho’s still smiling at you, but his free hand is now resting on your thigh. You thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a skirt today. 

His palm is large, warm, spanning much of the plush skin there. He’s not gripping it, but it’s still very obviously intentional. You feel your cheeks burn hot; you’re determined to remain unaffected.

“Nevermind,” you mumble. He chuckles and turns back to the page, though he doesn’t move his hand. 

You don’t ask him to. 

You go back to your respective chapters, thankfully far beyond the basics, but his hand stays right where it is. He even reaches over his other arm to sip his coffee, refusing to move it. Your skin burns in the shape of his fingers; you almost want to push him away simply because your body is reacting to his touch in a way that’s making you feel crazy. You’re practically feverish, just because he’s near you. Pathetic, honestly. 

When you sigh and rub your eyes, those long fingers twitch, making you jump. You try to play it off, though you know he’s aware of your reaction, because he does it again. When you don’t react as dramatically, he squeezes gently.

Your knee jerks up so fast it hits the table, causing your belongings to rattle, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. Yunho chuckles, though doesn’t move his hand. You clear your throat as though everything is normal. As though he’s not currently squeezing your upper thigh. 

“Yunho,” you say quietly. 

“Hm?” He doesn't bother looking up from his textbook.

“What are we doing?”

He does look up this time.

“Studying,” he says, giving you a sweet smile. You narrow your eyes. 

If he was going to do this, then so were you. You were sleep deprived, numb to the world, and horny as hell. So you parted your knees. 

Not much, just an inch or so, but very obvious. You didn’t miss the way Yunho’s throat worked as he swallowed, clearly not expecting the reciprocation. You go back to your textbook, but your victory is short lived, however, as his large hand slides further inward.

You’re flustered. But you’re also stubborn. So you drop your pen and look him in the eyes as you open your knees. Yunho’s gaze is steady as he slowly moves his hand, as though expecting you to stop him. You don’t. 

Yunho went back to reading and you did the same, just as his pinky brushed the crease of your inner thigh. You knew you were wet, knew he could probably feel the moist heat radiating from your body behind your pink panties, but you chose to be nonchalant. Until he rubbed the back of his knuckle against your panties, over your clit. 

The soft moan that escapes you is mortifying.

Yunho quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, laughing breathily as your brows pull together and you shudder. He looks as shocked as you are, though now you’re hazy, focused only on how good it felt, and wanting more. 

“Shh,” he chuckles nervously, glancing around despite the fact that you’re the only ones here. “No wonder you act like you’re walking around on thin ice. You’re frustrated as hell, huh?”

“P-Please,” you whimper pitifully against his palm, though it’s muffled. He moves his hand and you grip his wrist, looking up at him. You silently communicate your needs, praying he has mercy and doesn’t force you to say it out loud. Yunho glances around one more time, licking his lips before looking down at you like a fucking steak on a platter. 

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta be quiet for me,” he murmurs. You nod quickly, gasping when he effortlessly yanks your chair closer to him. He adjusts his glasses before lowering his hand to your thighs, gently stroking them. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly. You open your mouth, but he presses a finger to your lips. “Quietly.”

“Yes, yes,” you whine. “T-Touch me.”

Yunho bites his lower lip, as though imagining doing much, much more than that. When he rubs your thighs again, your knees fall open and you stifle a moan behind your sleeves. Yunho smiles at the sight of you, slipping his hand between your legs again. 

This time, he’s more careful, though it’s much more frustrating for you. You squirm when he strokes either side of your cunt, making a ‘v’ and squeezing your plush pussy lips between them. You moan again, loudly, and Yunho scrambles to cover your mouth. 

“Baby, you’ve gotta be—”

“Quiet, I know,” you pout, gripping his wrist. “C-can’t help it…feels good.”

Yunho swallows, letting his fingers brush against you again. You manage to stay quiet this time, but your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmurs, drawing his hand back. You nearly protest, but he presses his index finger to your clit like a button and you jolt, covering your mouth just in time. Yunho smirks. 

“H-Haven’t had sex,” you say, fisting the sleeve of his sweater as he pushes again. “In m-months.”

“Why?” he asks, beginning to rub slow circles against your panties. You feel your wetness spreading beneath them, but you don’t care. You grip the edge of the table and swallow. 

“Busy,” you breathe, licking your lips. Yunho’s eyes follow your tongue. You don’t notice. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes,” you nod frantically. 

Yunho uses the hand between your legs to turn your entire body toward him. You want to mention how attractive that is, but he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is nothing like his touch; there’s nothing dirty or hurried about it. His nose brushes the crease of yours as he tilts your heads to the side, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss that makes no sense when his fingers are currently resting against your panties beneath your skirt. 

He seems to have forgotten what he was doing amidst your soft kisses, as you break away from his lips to impatiently bounce and whine. Yunho smirks and begins rubbing his middle finger directly over your clit, applying very little pressure. He kisses you again, and you throw your arms around his neck, trying to push your body into his. His knee prevents you from doing so. 

“Nng…what are you doing?” you whine, fisting his sweater. “Wanna…wanna be in your lap.”

Your own admission makes your cheeks flush red, but you don’t care. You’re horny and your crush’s hand is between your thighs. 

“Not yet, baby,” he mumbles, stealing another lazy kiss. “Wanna keep you like this. I like how desperate you are.”

“I…I’m not desperate,” you mumble. Yunho bites his lower lip and applies more pressure to your clit, you buck your hips and grip his sleeve. He’s laughing, but you don’t care, aching for more of him. 

“Desperate,” he hums, pulling you in for another kiss. You don’t understand his obsession with kissing you; wasn’t he as horny as you were? But you kissed him back anyway, because you’ve had a crush on this guy since your freshman year and even the slut hormones clouding your brain couldn’t block that much out. He was a damn good kisser too, taking the lead and hardly giving you time to breathe.

In contrast to his soft mouth, Yunho’s index finger hooks your soaked panties, tugging them to the side. His finger brushes your bare cunt, though he knowingly silences your moans with a kiss. 

“What can I do?” he asks once you finally break apart. You’re unwilling to let him go, however, pulling his lips back to yours.. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble between kisses, body buzzing with need. “Whatever you want.”

“Can I go in here?” 

He prods at the needy hole between your folds and you fucking purr, clutching his sweater and pulling him close with a whine. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. He waits for you to eagerly nod, then brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. “Open.”

You do as he says and he slips his fingers inside. You nearly moan around them as you instinctively suck and lick his digits; they’re long and thick, two of them practically as big as a few hookups you’ve had in the past. Yunho watches, pupils wide as you act like an obedient doll a little too eager to be fingered in a library at midnight. 

When he pulls his fingers out, they’re slick and shiny with your drool, and you see him suck in air. You blush, a little embarrassed at how thorough of a job you’ve done. You expect Yunho to go beneath your skirt, but he slides his wet fingers in his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen, next to the look of pure bliss in his eyes as he sucks your saliva off of his fingers and replaces it with his own. You decide then that you do not want him to finger you. 

“Fuck me,” you blurt out. 

You barely register what you’ve said, but you’re damn near ready to jump his bones. Yunho blinks in surprise, obviously not having expected that. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth.

“Really?” he asks. He sounds surprised for reasons you don’t understand, but you nod. 

“Yeah,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss. “Want you inside me. All of you.”

“Fuck,” Yunho groans. He grabs your face in his hands and kisses you back, harder. Your hands are shaky as they go for his jeans, but then he freezes like you’ve just slapped him. 

“What?” you ask, breaking the kiss. Yunho curses and rubs his face with both hands, tilting back in his chair. “What is it, yu?”

“I don’t…fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

He runs a hand through his hair like this is the biggest mistake of the century. You bite your lower lip—the idea of leaving tonight and not getting fucked by him makes you genuinely want to cry. 

“We could…you know?” you mumble, face hot. “I mean, I-I’m clean. Obviously, haven’t had sex in god knows when—”

“No,” Yunho says, shaking his head. “I don’t trust myself.”

“Don’t trust yourself to what?” you frown. Yunho looks at you, 

“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to make myself pull out once I’m in you,” he murmurs. “We need a condom.”

You swallow. You really shouldn’t push; but you need to hear more. 

“How do you know?” you breathe, licking your lips. 

“C’mere.”

“What?”

Yunho reaches over, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you into his lap and you gasp, able to feel the rigid line of his cock beneath you. But he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss again. 

“I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he hums, and you mewl in response, grinding down against him. He kisses you again to stifle what was no doubt a moan. 

“Y-Yeah?” you manage to squeak out. Yunho nods. 

“Yeah. Not gonna be able to pull out if I’m balls deep in that little cunt with you fucking crying for it like this.”

Fuck. You needed him. To be honest, with or without the condom, but if he felt it was necessary.

“Let’s go get one,” you mumble dizzily. “A c-condom. There’s a convenience store down the street.”

Yunho frowns, looking at the clock on the wall.

“The library will be locked, won’t it? Don’t we have to lock up?”

You lean back in his lap, smiling. 

“Yes. But I’ve got a key,” you chime.

The moment you stepped into the store, you immediately regretted it and felt all the horny escape you. Not really, but it was embarrassing as hell, and painfully obvious as to what you were doing here. Yunho didn’t seem to mind, his hand tightly clasping yours as he guided you toward the back. 

You had a little trouble finding the condoms—it made you inexplicably happy when Yunho suggested asking the clerk as he didn’t know either, even though your answer was a firm NO—but eventually found the rack next to the sex pills and cold sore cream. 

Hot. 

Yunho squints, and you cross your arms impatiently. You grab a box and shake it. 

“It’s not a shoe store, here,” you mumble, pushing the box into his hand. Yunho glances over the label and smirks, tossing it back on the shelf. You want to ask what the hell is so funny when you’re so fucking wet your panties are sticking to your thighs, but then he finally makes a choice and puts the box in your hands. Oh.

Oh. 

XXL. Makes sense.

You make him grab a few more things as though that makes the purchase less shameful. When you go to check out, you look everywhere but at the clerk—until he has the audacity to speak to the man holding your hand, very obviously purchasing condoms so the two of you can go fuck in a library. 

“Finals week?” the guy says. Yunho slides his card across the counter and squeezes your hand.

“Finals week,” he nods.

“I just realized we could’ve gone to my apartment,” you say, unlocking the library door. Yunho leaned against the wall, unwrapping the candy he’d apparently decided on last minute. A red round sucker. “It’s only a few minutes away.”

You’d been given a key to the library your second year here, as you were a trusted student who often pulled all nighters—and you lived in the shitty part of campus where the power often went out. You were aware this was a total abuse of that power, but you figured if you showed Yunho to Ms. Lin, she’d understand. 

“Yeah, well, my fantasies during puberty weren’t at apartments,” Yunho shrugs, holding the door for you. You head inside and find your table, where you drop the bag of your purchased items. Yunho grabs it, immediately fishing out the box. 

“Very boy of you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Let me guess, the hot librarian offers to help you find your dick? Is that part of the dewey decimal system?”

Yunho smiles. “Can we get back to you whining for me to fuck you? I liked that.”

“I was not—”

Your freakishly tall study partner grabs your wrist, tugging you against him. You swallow and look up, lips parted at the sudden contact. 

“Not what?” he asks. You blink, but something is suddenly pushing at your lips. You open dumbly, feeling too obedient as you take whatever he’s putting in your mouth apparently. The taste of artificial cherry makes you grimace. 

Yunho backs you up to the table, crowding you against it. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheek, thumbs brushing below your ears. You realize you’ve been staring at him wordlessly, sucker in your mouth. 

“How’s it taste?” he asks.

“Good,” you mumble. It doesn’t taste good, you hate cherry, but if Jeong Yunho puts something in your mouth, you love it, you decide. Cherry is your new favorite flavor. 

“I doubted if they sold gags, so,” he chuckles. “This’ll do.”

You frown, but he takes the stick of the sucker before you can respond. 

“Open,” he says. You open. 

You see his eyes twinkle, almost like he can’t believe how well you’re listening to him. If only he knew you’d do anything he asked. 

Rather than pull it out, Yunho rubs the sucker around your mouth. He coats your tongue with the sticky flavor, then the inside of your cheek. By the time he pulls it out, you don’t realize you’re drooling, mouth open for him.

He pops the sucker in his own mouth, just like his fingers, and you shudder. Then he’s slipping his hands beneath your skirt, pushing your panties down your thighs. 

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, more curious than concerned. Yunho takes the sucker out and kisses your cheek, then your lips. You can taste it on his tongue, just like yours. 

Something sticky and wet prods at your clit and you gasp, but Yunho wraps an arm around your waist and keeps you from pulling away. You squeak helplessly in shock, caught between mind numbing bliss and disbelief. He’s rubbing the bulbous head of the sucker against your clit. 

“Shh…figure it’s too risky to eat you out properly,” he hums in your ear, crushing you to his chest. You squirm, though not out of discomfort. 

You have no idea how to react, hands gripping his sweater as he holds you in place. The candy feels warm and sticky, sliding through your cunt juices as he teases you with it. 

“I wasn’t going to,” he says, voice strained as though he’s doing all he can to hold back. “But I saw it and…well fuck, baby, if I’m honest, I just wanted to see if you were desperate enough to try and fuck yourself on a piece of candy.”

You whine and bury your head against his shoulder, because you fucking are. You are desperate enough to try, because he slides the candy between your lips and you jolt when it brushes your hole.

“F-Fuck, Yunho,” you gasp, nails digging into fabric. You hear him laugh, and it sounds so fucking cocky, like he knew you’d end up like this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you work yourself to ruin on a piece of candy. 

He slides it beneath the hood of your clit, twisting the stick in his fingers. Your knees buckle, but he’s gripping you tight. He works it like a toy, rubbing up and down, focusing on your clit until you’re nearly there before he moves it again. It didn’t feel this big when it was in your mouth, but you’ve never wanted something inside you so bad. 

“Oh my god,” you moan, thighs clamping together. It doesn’t stop his hand, or the candy, the rounded tip pushing against your hole. He starts rolling it again, and you gasp as you feel yourself snapping inside, the hot neediness spilling over the edges. You try to warn him, but only manage to squeak.

“Are you…are you cumming on a fucking lollipop?” Yunho asks, voice filled with awe. You nod. 

Your ears ring, your vision blurs, and you feel something pushing against your mouth. It’s Yunho’s hand you realize, but you can’t stop, can’t stop shaking and screaming and there’s something wet on your cheeks. 

You haven’t had a proper orgasm in months, maybe even a year, and were it not for Yunho holding you up, you’re pretty damn sure you would’ve fainted. 

When you open your eyes, Yunho is laughing quietly and hugging you tight, rubbing your back. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” he asks, sounding concerned and impressed. You sniff and nod, using the back of your hand to wipe your cheeks. Yunho cups your face and uses his thumbs to clean you up. You were crying. 

“I’m sorry, jesus, I didn’t think it was that bad,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You realize then that the damn sucker is in his mouth.

You whine, yanking him forward until you’re kissing him. It’s clumsy, but he takes the sucker out and tosses it on the table behind you. You begin working desperately at his jeans, and hear him release a cherry flavored groan. 

“Still gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, keeping his lips against yours. 

“God yes,” you say in a shaky voice. “P-Please.”

Yunho towers over you, one hand moving to cup your thigh and open you up so he can stand between them. The other goes to his jeans, and you find yourself biting your lip and digging your nails into your palms. 

“I can do that,” Yunho breathes. He places a large hand on the softness of your belly, gently pushing you back. 

XXL?

“Since you look like you’re about to fucking eat me,” Yunho says with a laugh, “why don’t you do it? Hm? When’s the last time you put a condom on?”

You feel yourself blush at having been caught, but sit up to snatch the box near you. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, refusing to give him a proper answer.

Your hands are too shaky to open the box, so you end up ripping it down the side, condoms spilling out. You sigh anyway and grab one, slipping the foil packet between your teeth. You move your hands to his jeans, and realize that for the first time…you’re nervous. 

Until now your brain had been sex focused; it still was, but your post orgasm clarity made you realize how fucking desperate you looked. You roughly popped open the button of his jeans. 

Yunho was so damn tall that his hips were practically level with your face whilst you were on the short table. This meant that, as soon as you’d tugged his boxers down, you suddenly found yourself face to face with the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. 

XXL.

For a moment you were too dumbstruck—why did they bother sculpting the soft dicks when the hard ones could look like…this? All veins and smooth skin and a pink mushroom head that looked perfectly designed for…use. You wanted it in your mouth. But he hadn’t technically put his mouth on you, and you were both in a library, and right now you were starting to get a little shaky at the idea of this thing going anywhere near your neglected pussy, so you swallowed your resolve and took the condom from between your teeth. 

Yunho watched as you struggled to tear open the packet, biting your lower lip in frustration. You finally got it open, sighing as you placed the rubber at the tip. He grabbed your hands then, and you paused. Shit. Were you doing this wrong? 

“We don’t have to do anything,” he mumbles softly, cupping your chin. “You wanna stop right now? We stop. Not trying to ruin the mood, just want you to know it’s okay.”

You shake your head.

“I’m okay, thanks,” you say quietly. “It’s just…fuck, Yunho.”

He laughs, his little ego having returned just a bit, you wanted to roll your eyes and kiss him at the same time. He bites his lower lip and strokes his thumb over yours. 

“I’ll be gentle,” he hums. “You can take it for me.”

Fuck. Yes, you absolutely can. 

Yunho guides you onto your back, though you settle on your elbows, propped up for him. You watch as he squeezes the rest of the lube from the packet onto his cock, giving a few tugs before nodding at you. You weren’t sure if you were excited or scared, but there were two heartbeats and one was between your legs. 

He pushes your legs apart and guides his cock forward. You lick your lips and let your knees fall open, bunching your skirt around your waist, offering yourself to him. Yunho sucks in air through his teeth and curses. 

“So fucking pretty,” he hums, supporting his weight on one palm as he brushes his cock against you. You shiver as the cold lube is smeared around your sensitive cunt. “Knew it from the day I saw you freshman year in a skirt just like this one. Thought I was gonna die when you smiled at me.”

“I didn’t know you remembered,” you mumbled. You were so nervous your first day, which wasn’t helped by the hot guy who approached you and asked if you were lost. Apparently you could stop feeling ashamed for having mind fucked him back then. 

“Of course I do,” Yunho chuckles, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit. “So cute, how you blushed when I talked to you. You still do that, you know.”

“Shut up,” you mutter. Yunho laughs, then licks his lips. 

“Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it’s too much,” he says. You nod.

The swollen head of his cock catches on your hole, and Yunho uses his weight to lean forward and urge himself inside. It aches a bit, not just from the size but fuck it’s been so long since you’ve had something more than your own fingers in you. Your thoughts go from not so bad to okay damn to holy fuck there’s more? Because he keeps pushing and you keep taking, and you feel every inch of him filling your insides while his body offers more. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” Yunho whines, still gripping the base of his cock as he guides it into you. Your head falls back and you curse at nothing; his cock is somehow too big but perfectly sized at the same time and you’ve never felt so god damn full. “Look at you, that needy little cunt is swallowing me babygirl. Keep fucking taking it.”

His words make you dizzy, and you whine when he’s finally fully seated. You feel heavy, pinned to the table, as though you can’t move. You reach down and feel the rigid sides of his cock, shocked to feel just how much is inside you. 

“How’s that, beautiful?” Yunho asks. He places both palms on the table, either side of your body, and you tense. If he started thrusting, it would fuck you up. 

“Good,” you say, nodding. “Big, but good.”

“Knew you could take it. 'm gonna fuck you now. Stop me if you need to," he murmurs. You can take it.

"I can take it," you nod. He smiles, kissing you once, then twice.

You squeak as Yunho begins fucking you properly, ploughing into you hard and fast, moving with need and instinct rather than reason. 

The table shakes with his heavy thrusts, pistoning into you so hard it makes you dizzy. You’re surprised you can take him like this, able to feel every inch of him when he’s seated inside, pressing deliciously on your walls. 

Yunho ruts into you like an animal, unfortunately one with a very big cock as he struggles to keep every inch buried inside you. He wasn’t lying about not pulling out, as he refused to do so even when thrusting. You had no room to breathe, no chance for air, as he fucked into you repeatedly while trying to go deeper. 

You’re at a loss for words, lips parted, eyes following his expression and movements. He’s desperate in his own way, obviously holding back, though you don’t know from what. You consider encouraging him to let go—until he groans loudly and snaps his hips, stealing the breath from your lungs. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. So fucking…need you to hold still for me and take it,” he breathes. "Hold still. A-Almost done, fuck, keep taking it so good for me."

You do as he asks without question, clinging to his shoulders, nose to nose with Jeong Yunho as he forces his cock as far as it can go in your body and begins to pump a thin condom full of cum that should be you. 

Yunho takes a few moments to breathe, arms shaking where he holds himself up on the table. You run a hand through his damp hair, watching as he moans softly and leans into your touch. 

“You okay?” you giggle. He nods, tilting his head to kiss your palm. 

“Just…You’re so fucking perfect. Want more of you if you’ll let me, wanna make you feel good every day," he says.

You blink at the surprising tenderness of his words, feeling they were more than sex related. You wanted to ask questions, but right now, you were both sticky with sweat and fucked out on a library table that would need to be wiped down with holy water. 

You separated, which left you shuddering from the sudden cold emptiness inside of you. Yunho exhaled sharply, waiting a few moments before removing the condom and tying it off. 

You both cleaned up and fixed your clothes as best you could—though you stuffed your panties in your bag because the sticky wetness was a little much. 

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, making sure your skirt is covering your ass. “You know. To clean up.”

Yunho smiles, which makes you smile, and then you’re blushing and cursing at yourself. He nods and brushes your cheek with his knuckle. 

“Sounds good,” he hums. You beam and gesture for him to follow you. Yunho watches as you collect your things with shaky legs, smiling to himself. 

You were so damn pretty. Intelligent. He’d noticed right away that you were someone he was going to want. 

He grabbed his own bag and walked past the table, pausing as he stepped on something. 

The sucker. 

You crinkle your nose when you notice it, too. 

“Guess we need to throw that away,” you mumble. He nods, bending down and picking it up. He holds it in his hand for a few seconds. 

What a good idea it had been. 

He slips it into his pocket, for the memories. 

Memories like, your name. Your favorite color. That skirt you wore on your first day. Apartment 2B, where you lived. You like the right side of the bed, don’t you? Yunho likes the left side. 

The last man you slept with—11 months, 1 week, and 4 days ago.

Yunho hated that one.

You had waffles for breakfast this morning. You usually have oatmeal. You sleep with a nightlight on.

You’re afraid of the dark.

“You coming?” you ask with a shy smile, pausing at the door. Yunho looks up. You didn’t see him slip the sucker in his pocket. You never notice things like that. 

“Yeah,” he says. He follows you out the door and waits for you to lock up. Then, without thinking too much of it, he takes your hand. You don’t pull away. Your hand is small compared to his, and he squeezes it. You squeeze back. 

You like hot showers.

You sound so pretty when you moan, especially when you think you’re alone. 

Your bathroom window is never locked.

You're never alone.

Yunho has a good memory when it comes to you.

[mvctavish]

hesdcanosn for graves and price where the reader is pretty bossy and kind of intimidating? for graves she's sort of the co-commander of shadow co. and for price she's the 141's medic

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 - 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒

notes: i love this idea so so much you're a genius anon!! since the relationship wasn't specified... i just made the reader their wife... cuz it felt right to me. if u were hoping for platonic hcs or anything different don't be afraid to send in another ask and i'll do it!! anyways, happy reading <3

summary: (seperate) headcanons of graves and price with a bossy/intimidating wife

cw: wife!reader (for both), deputycommander!reader (for graves), medic!reader (for price), general war stuff idk, probably inaccuracies when it comes to the military/PMCs, reader is kind of bitchy, for price reader is mentioned to be at least smaller than him

cdr. phillip graves

౿ ۪ ݁ he's scared of you, and it's pretty obvious despite his attempts at hiding it. when you get mad, he gets all quiet and mutters a quick and respectful "yes ma'am" no matter what you request or say to him. it's rather funny seeing the commander so scared of his own wife. phillip has seen first-hand just how angry you can get when things don't go your way. the aftermath ain't pretty. while he knows you'd never actually hurt him (besides throw around a few choice words) he prefers to keep the peace at all costs. he hates seeing you upset, whether it's a mission gone sour or down to something little like him leaving the toilet seat up.

you two first met way back in the marines, fresh outta boot camp and ready to conquer the world. even then you were intimidating, a fiery attitude that could challenge the sargeant above you both. you ended up leaving the military when phillip did, and got married not long after. despite the fact that he'd much rather have you not risk your life — you were insistent on being part of shadow company when it was formed, and not behind the scenes.

as his deputy commander, you're right there by his side. the shadows are like family to both you and graves — they're your boys — but you aren't afraid to whip them into shape if necessary. some new recruits are being too rambunctious for your liking? you're giving a sharp, glaring look to your husband and he's quick to get them in line. it doesn't take long at all for them to learn to respect (and fear) you, perhaps even more than graves. you're a force to be reckoned with.

down to the more domestic aspects of your life, you're always on his ass about the upkeep of the house. when you're both home, the work is split 50/50 (which was a huge shock to graves at first since he's always been a bit more traditional) but he knows it's only fair since you both work. you like your house in pristine condition, down to the floorboards being dusted, to the lampshades being in just the right position. you're bossy about little things, like always pairing up the socks when they're taken out of the dryer or him rinsing his beard trimmings down the sink whenever he's done shaving. he knows you tend to get a little pissy when things aren't done exactly how you like them, so that's why graves makes sure he — and the shadows — always listen to your input.

capt. john price

౿ ۪ ݁ price is more impressed than anything. there's so much fire and spirit crammed into one small thing: you. it's funny to him, how most people you interact with can be so intimidated by you. you have the bossy attitude as an angry mother bear, yet can still be sweet when it's needed. price first met you when he was still a lieutenant, suffering from a bad injury on the field. you were the only combat medic on duty. he'd tried to convince you that he was fine — there were other men that needed your help, too, and that he could keep going — but you'd grabbed him by the ear and chewed him out. calling him a "damn fool with a death wish," and that if he wanted to live he'd "better listen to you and sit his ass down." he'd immediately gone quiet and did as he was told. price wasn't used to being spoken to like that, much less from someone of a lower rank. that was the moment he knew he had to have you, and the rest was history.

it took a while to gain your attention around base, and you were the reason he grew out his beard in the first place, after a passing comment that you'd made about how you thought it'd make him more rugged. it took time, but you were worth every second.

relationships in your line of work can be messy, and perhaps one of the worst aspects could be the judgment from others. in one interaction with a new face on base, you'd gotten into quite a heated argument. the guy thought you'd be easy picking, a way to make fun of you and show off in front of his new pals. your sharp tongue and quick insults resulted in the man leaving close to tears, whilst price watched round the corner with a little smirk on his face. deep down, he'd always worry about you. you were his wife, his woman, his world. it was only natural — but instances like that reminded him that you could stand up for yourself. you were strong and independent, and never let anyone walk all over you. you'd been a people pleaser in the past, but never again. you lived for yourself.

once task force 141 was formed, it's obvious that your husband recruited you to join as well. it was difficult, and he had to abuse a few loopholes in the policies to even be allowed to be your CO, but in the end, it worked. rounding back to the mama bear point, ghost, gaz, and soap quickly warm up to you. you're honestly the closest thing any of them have to a mum. a scary, bossy, picky one, but still a mum. your team's safety is your number one priority, and you certainly aren't afraid of getting your hands dirty both figuratively and literally. you keep the boys and price in line, constantly nagging about drinking water and insisting that they need to eat more than just a damn protein barn before a mission. MREs suck, but it's better than going hungry.

price lets you boss him round whenever you two are home from deployment. of course, on the battlefield, he's in charge. but home? it's a different story. the lawn needs to be mowed? you bet it'll be done by the evening. low on groceries? he's starting a list and planning to drive down to the shops. you and price never really get into any real arguments. he's seen you on the battlefield, frightening as you shout orders to anyone around as you're patching up an injured soldier — that sort of intensity is one he does everything to avoid seeing in you.

[tinylilacbun]

School Fights

Pairing: brother!rafe cameron x teen!sister!reader

Warnings: reader getting into fights, arguing, angst, set in s4, mentions of ward being dead, fluff at the end

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝ ͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ 𝅄

Rafe's on his way towards your school, again, this is the third time this month that the principal has called him because you got into another fight.

Ever since Ward died, Rafe took it upon himself to take care of you since you didn't want to stay with Rose and leave the island you grew up on behind but boy, he really didn't expect that taking care of a teenager would be this exhausting.

You kind of remember him of himself when he was around your age, which scares him sometimes, because he made stupid decisions and even more reckless stuff.

He couldn't say no when you somehow managed to come back to Kildare all on your own from Guadaloupe, standing in front of him sobbing and begging him to let you stay with him, saying that you miss him and everything.

Now it's been a while and things have gone smoothly, all until the calls from your principal became more frequent and worse every time.

Arriving in front of the school building he takes a deep breath before climbing out of his car, making his way inside and towards the principal office, the way all too familiar for him by now.

As he opens the door to the office he sighs at seeing you sitting in the seat in front of Miss Tinks desk, your arms crossed over your chest and a faint bruise forming on the corner of your mouth together with a cut on your eyebrow that the school nurse already patched up.

"Mr. Cameron, please take a seat." She greets him, a small professional smile on her face to ease the already growing tension in the room.

"What happened now?" Rafe asks, taking a seat right next to you, reaching out to tuck your hair away to get a proper look at your face but you just turn your head from his reach.

"Well, there's been a little altercation between Y/N and some other students during lunch break." Your principal starts to explain everything, that you lashed out at two other girls for reasons you wouldn't tell her yet as you knew it wouldn't change a thing.

"A'ight, we'll- I'll talk with her. It won't happen again, I'm sure of it." Rafe says, knowing there's no way in hell that things would change but he has to say something to assure that he's capable to take care of his sister.

"Mr. Cameron, with all due respect. I've been patient for a while now, and I can't let these things slide anymore. Y/N will be suspended for the coming three days. Should things not work out soon I'm forced to take more drastic measures to ensure a healthy learning environment for my students." Miss Tinks states calmly, sliding the paper with your suspension towards your brother.

Rafe clenches his jaw, rubbing a hand over his face before glancing at you, who seems completely unbothered by this whole situation.

"Okay. I'll handle it from here, I apologize on her behalf." Rafe musters up a forced smile as he stands up, shaking your principal's hand goodbye, turning to face you. "Let's go."

You grab your bag and stand up to catch up with your brother, walking silently beside him as you both make your way outside and to his car.

After he slams his door shut he starts the engine, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he wheels onto the road, staring ahead but he's visibly upset, rightfully so.

"What happened?" He asks through gritted teeth and when you don't reply he breathes deeply through his nose.

"Y/N, I'm trying to help here but- but when you don't give me a reasonable explanation I'll ground your ass for a damn month and take away your phone, if that's what you want instead be my guest." He waves his hand.

Again, just silence. He's about to start scolding you again when you mumble something under your breath. "Speak up, kid. I can't understand gibberish."

"You wouldn't understand..." You mutter again, trying not to cry as you feel your eyes well up.

"Then help me. At least try to explain what the hell is going on. I can't change things when you don't talk with me, you know that." He runs a hand over his buzzed head, not used to talks like this with you.

"They all pick on me...e-everyone whispers when I walk past them, saying how Dad's a murderer and that he deserved what happened, t-that you're psychopathic, that Sarah turned into a dirty pogue, telling me that I'll just end up like all of you." You finally ramble out, starting to sniffle as the tears roll down your cheeks.

"I just- I couldn't stand it anymore, hearing all that shit and just snapped. Bitches had it coming ever since I started school again..."

Rafe doesn't say anything for a moment, taking everything in you just said, already preparing himself for the phone call he's gonna have with your principal when he gets home.

How can shit like this just slip past all those teachers? Hell, he's pretty sure he can press charges for the fact his sister gets suspended after getting harassed by fellow students. A healthy learning environment, my ass.

"I...I get it." He finally responds, starting to calm down now that he knows why you've been acting so strange lately. "You just wanted to defend your family name. Guess we got more in common than I thought, huh?"

"You- You're not mad?" You question, wiping the tears from your cheeks subtly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm actually proud of you for not only standing up for yourself but also for dad. He wouldn't get it, but I do...hell I understand you more than anyone ever could."

There's some silence after that, both of you processing the depth of the conversation you just had, there's never really been a chance to talk about what's bothering you since you're still partly grieving your father's deaths.

He wasn't the best dad of the world. Everyone knows that, but still, he tried everything to protect all of you and make sure you'll never have to worry about anything in the future 'til his last breath.

"I miss him..." You whisper suddenly, looking down at your bruised knuckles.

"Yeah, me too." Rafe replies with a low voice.

You furrow your brows when you notice that he doesn't turn into the next street towards his house but keeps driving straight ahead.

"Where are we going?"

He simply shrugs, a smirk forming on his face. "I think we both deserve some McDonald's, don't you think?"

You finally start to smile again, a sight that Rafe hasn't been able to witness for a while now. He should have paid more attention to you, having deep talks like this, he's all you got now after all.

[saturnbellfromhell]

Roasting your Moon Sign

Welcome back everyone to a little silly goofy post. I haven't been on the app for a long time because of my school, work and internship, but now I can proudly say I've finished a big chapter in my life and can't wait to be back writing, posting, chatting! Hope you all enjoy this easy-going post and don't take it to heart, it's just a fun time, not a serious time.

〰️ If you're easily offended by jokes and giggles don't read this post, most of my friends, family and people I know are some if these signs, so don't take it so far. In the end I will ne roasting myself as well. :)

➰️ARIES MOON

Why so explosive all the time? I know your emotions run wild, but being so dramatic won't get you anywhere. Take a nap sometimes will ya. No nobody thinks you're annoying all the time, just sometimes. We still love our divas.

➰️ TAURUS MOON

Sleeping again? Shopping again? Fighting over food with your significant other, aren't you? No, you can't get that puppy, you're too lazy to take care if it. Also, we get it, you love art and have the best taste in movies. You do have a nice decorated house, I'll give you that.

➰️GEMINI MOON

Yes, you're so different. Yes, we are all boring in your eyes. No, it's not cute to have an avoidant attachment style. Yes, your shoes are amazing, no, I wouldn't wanna go shopping with you. Why are you constantly buying new apps on your phone? Did you forget about your old friends again because you found a new group of people?

➰️ CANCER MOON

The moody bitch you are, always complaing about how stressed they are even though they cried 2 years ago. Do you always wake up and remember what food you didn't eat in a long time? I know for a fact you would be mad if I showed up at your house without an invitation. Do you also hate traveling because you're too scared to leave the safe place of your house or because you hate leaving your house?

➰️LEO MOON

We get it, you're always right. Yes you are loud yes you are annoying at times, but lovable aswell. Does everybody need to know your bf/gf treats you like a princess? Stop buying so much gold jewerly! You're moving in with a celebrity?

➰️ VIRGO MOON

So how was your day? No,no not work, not the new cleaning appliance you bought, how was your day? O the Turkish eggs at brunch were too cold when served and your dermatitis came back? And you deleted your "sad girl playlist? Damn that's harsh, but your eyeliner is still phenomenal, hope you have a good week even though I know you haven't had a normal week in a long time queen.

➰️LIBRA MOON

No I can't remember all your situationships, boy toys and playboys and wasn't Mark your ex in fucking elementary school, how'd you find him again? I know you're into pilates, you told me that 5 times already. No I don't want to get botox after 2 shots of tequila. Tramp stamp tattoos are cute, sure.

➰️SCORPIO MOON

Ok...yes your ex was a whore and that ex best friend really did lie to you. No don't get in your car and crash it into their house and than set it on fire and watch the flames feather out. Stop looking at me with those serial killer eyes! No, we will not stalk your boss because you think she's having an affair. Yes your knife collection is hot.

➰️ SAGGITARIUS MOON

We get it...you love porn. Yes we get it, you're so loose and easy going and so open and so talkative. No, blondy at the bar is not staring at you, she literally is sitting with her husband...You're moving to Malta? And you got a job in Thailand? And you're 2nd wedding is on the coast of rural Australia??

➰️ CAPRICORN MOON

Is your favorite movie still American Pyscho? O really, you still have the same routine as him, interesting. We get it, yes, you're an introvert. Yes people are gross, yes your cat is amazing. You got into Harvard Law?? On a random Tuesday and you got your Masters? Still fighting with your dad eh...yea, he's a cunt.

➰️AQUARIUS MOON

Can you stop being in your head for 10 minutes damn. And also can you stop talking about your feelings and just start you know...feeling them? Still trying to figure out why society is weird and you feel left out? You spent all your money on your library cards, are you serious..

➰️PISCES MOON

You broke up with your dismissive,back stabbing, crazy ex again? That's the 10th time this month. No, you don't love her, she's literally using you. No, we are not doing MDMA at a carnival to forget everything. Where have you been, why were you taking a walk for 5 hours?

That's all for now, hope you giggled a little. Love all my signs at the end of the day, we are all a little too much at times. Can you guess which I am...😅

[gothamite-rambler]

Batman and Jim faced a woman who has the flu, her boyfriend was on the floor crying with a knife in his thigh.

Liz: I have the flu, not that 'flu', but regular flu. I am not feeling well. I just wanted to have my broth and relax in bed until my flu went away. Then… that motherfucker!

Liz pointed to her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend who glared back at her.

Liz: Was like, "Let's cook together! Let's cook together!" Like a damn Muppet!

Kyle: I don't sound like Kermit the Frog!

Jim: Maybe don't keep talking.

Liz: Thank you! Anyways, he said if I went to the store to shop, he'd make me a meal that I could digest, because you know I'm sick! So I relented, we got the stuff, went home and I couldn't 'cook together'. I couldn't stand… I could barely walk! Kyle sucked his teeth in denial

Liz: I went to bed and thought he would leave me alone, maybe bring me some Campbell's soup. He came in the room with a cutting board, a bell pepper and a knife.

Batman (pointing to the knife in the man's thigh): The knife that's in his thigh?

Liz nodded, hands on her hips.

Liz: Oh yeah, I lost it. I'm not proud to admit it, but "cooking together" with that man is me doing ninety percent of the cooking! He does this with all his family and I can usually let it go, but not when I'm going through the flu!

Kyle: Oh my God, I had a cold at ten and it wasn't even that bad. You're such a—

Liz tossed the bell pepper she had been gripping in her hand directly at Kyle's head, making him grunt and interrupting his whining for a second.

Kyle (whining again): I just wanted to cook together!

Jim: You keep saying that, but that doesn't mean anything. Especially since she's sick. Why would you want her to cook when she has the flu? Also you lied to her, you promised her a dinner you'd cook.

Kyle: There is a knife in my thigh!

Jim (jokingly): You're alive. I got stabbed once and could still work so that means yours can't be that bad.

Liz: He's done crap similar to this. One time he did that stupid TikTok challenge where the guy says 'what's for dinner, bitch?' and I let it slide, but what he did was uncalled for! Batman has said anything, but I'm ready for my scolding.

Batman covered his mouth, unintentionally laughing. He turned to Jim, placing his hand on the man's shoulder.

Batman: This is fucking wild!

Jim nodded, rubbing his eyes and laughing as well.

Batman: I'm sorry, I just keep picturing you grabbing the knife and jabbing it into his thigh and he shouts "I just wanted to cook together!"

Jim: This fucking guy. He's like the dog that keeps bringing the ball back and I just want to rest.

Liz started laughing next, still pissed but glad two other men were on her side.

Liz: Dude, agree. I couldn't take his nonsense anymore.

Kyle: I'm right here!

Liz scoffed rolling her eyes.

Liz: Look I know I overreacted, but he promised to make dinner and give me my medicine then brought me a cutting board!

Batman: Which is the worst task to give a sick person. Bringing a knife and cutting board in bed. You're going to prison, but I don't blame you.

Jim: Yeah, you overreacted, but he's alive. We just have to wait for the EMTs to take him away and then take you in for questioning. Honestly you might not get jail time.

Kyle (defiant, whining): I'm suing her either way!

Liz: I'll pay half of your medical bills douche. This was a good reason to dump him at least. Kyle, pack your shit later and leave. We're through.

Kyle: Fine! I'll find another—

Batman and Jim: STOP SAYING COOK TOGETHER!

Kyle pouted, resting on the ground with his arms cross while Liz sat down to blow her nose.

Based off a reddit story I saw on smosh pit that angered me so much I had to write a what if. In the AITA post OP is the boyfriend who brought in the cutting board and she didn't stab him (I would've hit him with the cutting board at least). I can only hope she dumped his ass.

[nabi-unveiled]

With each rewatch of When It Rains, It Pours, I had become increasingly uncomfortable. A question had begun to plague me.

How did I miss it?

It's no secret that I've been in the "don't trust Fujisawa" camp for a while. But I felt bad for him during the early episodes. After all, it really is a nightmare situation for him too. Why did it take me until my THIRD watch of ep4 to fully convince myself of Fujisawa's nature?

Missing sounds? Not a surprise.

But COMPLETELY missing something that's literally GLARING at me? Not even having it on my radar? That's unusual.

I always have multiple theories and numerous potential scenarios running in my head. It's not like I was watching this series casually.

And make no mistake - the man's been glaring since episode 1. It wasn't constant, but the glaring is not a new development.

Even Fujisawa's words have never been subtle.

So how did I miss it? Why did it take me so long?

I realized the answer yesterday, and I don't like it.

I missed the signs, because I was trained to miss them.

I see these dynamics all the time in my community. And when you see something all the time, you begin to notice it less.

Being uncomfortable with sex?

Growing up ensconced in purity culture means I know A LOT of people with very complex relationships with sex.

Some want it but would NEVER dare talk about it.

Some see it as something shameful.

Some see it as something to be feared.

It's what happens when you're constantly told libido is a swamp.

So this...

I didn't see it as a problem beyond them wanting different things. Either Fujisawa was ace or had issues with sex. He had been open about it with Sei, and he was doing the best he could.

This is fine as long as both parties are content. But Fujisawa is controlling and manipulative. Note the "bars" in the picture above.

Matching your partner's preferences?

I was taught catering to my partner's commands was an expectation. It was required to be a "good" partner. So this....

At one point WAS me. And even if I don't obey the rules anymore, I still see this type of "consideration" in most relationships around me.

IT'S NOT HEALTHY.

Consideration should not mean self-sacrifice.

At one point I thought, "Well, it's Sei's choice."

And that's true. But I know better than to fall for that logic.

It ignores his trauma.

It ignores his low self-esteem.

It ignores his fear of being left alone.

It ignores the difficulty of leaving those you care about and the life you know.

It ignores the manipulation.

Because this type of statement? It's tricky. It can be completely innocuous. But it can also be controlling, and a lot of that comes down to the power dynamics of the relationship.

Fujisawa holds the power here. He HAS been controlling and trying to manipulate Sei. I questioned last week what the purpose was of the editor if Fujisawa wasn't having an affair. However, it became clear when watching for the sizzle. Sei says he will go to the party and Fujisawa IMMEDIATELY says "I'll introduce you to my editor."

The unspoken words are if you don't go to the party. Mentioning the editor was a manipulation tactic. A subtle one, but it was there.

I give Sei credit. He went to the party. He kept emailing Hagiwara. He pushes back on occasion. He doesn't always follow commands.

But well.... damn.

I thought I could at least recognize when my raising was influencing interpretations. I thought I had worked through those issues.

So thanks When it Rains for reminding me not to forget my ID.

I sure as hell don't plan on getting trapped in that room again.

Break out Sei. It's not easy, but BREAK OUT.

There's a beautiful world waiting.

[kittendreaw]

Actor! Satoru x F! Reader.

Mainlist

Pt.2

Satoru was on top of the world, he was the prince of Hollywood, the new heartthrob of the big screen, sounds fantastic, doesn't it?

It was for everyone except you, his poor manager, the only reason you haven't quit is because of how ridiculously good the pay is.

"Just Please make my job easier Satoru." You couldn't help but be frustrated, Dealing with Satoru was sometimes like dealing with a spoiled brat and sometimes it was just worse.

"Well, I'll pay you for that."

"You pay me to be your manager, not your babysitter so please stay here and cooperate."

And of course he didn't because it was complicated, no matter how long he had been in the industry he was still a pain in the ass for assistants, makeup artists, directors, photographers, etc. Basically anyone who had the misfortune to work with him.

It was always the same, you should be used to it by now but it was impossible.

"What do you mean you're not going to come with me?"

"It's not that hard to understand."

He rolled his eyes while his arms crossed over his chest. No matter your size or how high your heels are, Satoru was simply giant in front of you. "Don't be a Smartass, Yn, you're my manager, you have to come with me."

"Nanami will do the job of going with you that night."

"but I don't want Nanami! "

"I'll be busy with some paperwork that night."

" Well, have Nanami do the paperwork and you come with me."

" It's not that easy."

Yes, it was that easy but you hated big events and going to the Oscars was torture for you, you had managed to get away on most occasions but Satoru was getting more and more insistent.

"Why?"

You let out a sigh, you could make up as many excuses as you could he just always kept asking.

"Satoru, look, I don't want to go."

"Why?"

"I don't know I just-" You could deal with people, that was no longer the problem but you still don't get used to all the cameras ready to capture every second.

"Why do you mean? It's not that hard, you just have to get pretty and come with me, you can do that."

"But I don't want."

"But you don't want." He repeated, clearly he was not happy and clearly not the day was not going to end without him getting what he wanted. There was a pause in which no one said anything. "I'm your boss, you can't tell me no."

"You should review workers' rights, Satoru."

"Dammit." He muttered. "Just say yes, please. I swear it won't be so terrible, besides I already bought you a dress, it would be rude of you to refuse it."

A pair of puppy eyes and a few more pleas and just as he wanted it, there you were with the pretty burgundy dress, the high black heels and gloves of the same color.

"Look at you, you are beautiful."

Satoru approached you, observing every detail of your appearance. It was true that the dress was pretty and that the makeup artist had done an excellent job, but you couldn't help but make your stomach churn every time you remembered the place you were going.

"But I know how to do it even better."

Satoru called one of the attendants who held out a box from which he pulled out a diamond necklace. It was beautiful and also damn expensive, it was the kind of thing you'd never pay for but always admire from afar. Satoru put it around your neck giving the final touch to your look that night.

"I-" It was too much for you, you couldn't accept it.

"Not a single word, tonight you have to stand out, after all you are my date." You felt your soul leave your body for a few seconds, you had planned to stay as hidden as you could but Satoru wanted you next to him posing for the cameras, this was definitely too much, much more than you were ready to do, you couldn't, Your mind was only thinking about all the negative possibilities this could bring and all the embarrassing things you could do. You wanted to throw up, was it too late to get back to the paperwork plan?

"What?"

[respectthepetty]

At one of the nearby-ish universities, researchers can use the lab that attaches those little pads to people's heads and see their brains light up (the sign-up list is loooong), and I always think my brain would look like fireworks going off while I watch color-coded boys fall in love because once Black Brooder Yotha said that Green Guy Gun was his boyfriend to his Blue Boy brother and Gun's Blue Boy best friend in Perfect 10 Liners' sixteenth episode, I'm sure my brain stayed lit!

Even when I saw Yellow Yal Arm and Red Rascal Arc not in their colors, my brain wanted to shut off right here, but I think Arc's shirt has yellow highlight over the text (for his man), and every time I see that Manchester United poster, -I- see red from my rage, so I guess I'll make the colors happen with or without the show giving them to me.

But Sam makes up for it since he has consistently been a Red Rascal in the second portion of the show, always popping up to talk shit and bounce, and it appears Arm is wearing a light yellow, so my brain is, once again, lighting up!

However, I wish we would have gotten more of the other color-coded friends since we don't get enough Orange Oddities (Book) or Pink People (Franc) in BLs. But I know every story is going to have the Blue Boys (Kong AND FAIFA!!!!)

I won't be too mad at it though because, as I've mentioned every single week, this show's color coding is just so damn good, so my brain is always lighting up. Like these are the exact faces a jovial Green Guy and a mean Black Brooder would make. Perfect faces. Perfect colors. Perfect 10 Liners.

Even Faifa's rage is perfect!

Because even though Faifa's dark blue shirt is telling him to "Seize" the day and "Just trust yourself then you will know how to live," as a sign of the dark Blue Boy coming his way, he can't see his own happy ending when he is listening to Gun say stupid shit like "Love makes you tiny." I'd also be plotting murder if I was him.

COLOR-CODED BOYS IN LOVE ARE DISGUSTING(LY ADORABLE)!

Random: Someone at GMMTV likes puppy play because every single show has some aspect of it, so good for that person getting everything they wanted!

Because I got matching birthday ties! So Yotha got matching binary tattoos with Wa, but he has matching bracelets and ties with his current boyfriend cementing that Yotha is an emo who likes sentimental gifts.

Emo Black Brooders in love are the best!

I'm not going to get over that there was a whole ass Pink Person and Orange Oddity in this portion of Color-Coded Boys The Series, and I know minimal information about them.

But thank goodness I know everything about these two yin yang colored boys!

Because they are meant for each other. They are toxic AND in love!

They fight just so they can have make-up sex.

Good for those beautiful bastards!

That could never be these two color-coded boys though.

Gun doesn't understand anger or foregoing sleep in favor of sex unlike these other color-coded boys.

Good for him!

And the more light Blue Boy Faifa cries about not having someone, the more I scream that he is about to meet his match in dark Blue Boy Wine. Newton is going to hate BOTH his brothers.

Now Yotha and Gun are putting on matching pajamas just to take them off the way God and Arm intended.

Have I mentioned how happy my brain is about color-coded boys in love? Because I'm very happy about color-coded boys in love being there for each other when they have to deal with big emotions.

Even more so when they are color-coded brothers who yell at each other that "You're too pessimistic" and " You're too optimistic" since the colors only emphasize those points!

Newton remains neutral, the dad is blue, and the mom is pink. This is Heterosexuality 101, which is why Yotha and Faifa do not comprehend it.

Yes! Keep saying this Gun! Keep reminding me that the people who worked behind the scenes on this show deserve a raise! Keep saying you bring light to this Black Brooder's dark world!

Because your shirt will explicitly state it later ("Sunshine on my Mind")

All is right in the world. Everyone is in the color, and Yotha got jokes.

AND ARM AND ARC ARE FINALLY IN THEIR COLORS TOO!

Thank God for small miracles and color-coded boys in love.

NOW BRING ME MY LAPIS LADS!

[fizzing-imagines]

ooo can i request Casual with Billy? congratulations!!

Casual | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Notes: Thank you!! Of course you can! This is based on my current song fics, so anyone else can request song prompts based on this post

Words: 760

Warnings: Sex scenes. MDNI

"Oh fuck, Billy!", you moaned loudly while he had his face buried between your thighs.

Billy had you spread out in the back of his car. Like most days after practice, he needed you after a rough training session. Your hands were gripping his hair in an attempt to get him closer. The noises he made while eating you out were just as messy as his technique. "I'm gonna cum!", you squealed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your breathing got more irregular than before as you felt an orgasm wash over you. "Billy!", you squealed while he let you ride your orgasm out on his mouth.

"Good job, baby.", he said in a low tone once you finished. Billy patted your upper leg once before helping you put on your clothes again and driving you home.

"Max asked if you wanna go shopping with her.", he said as he parked in your driveway. Your eyes lit up as you looked over; he noticed the hopeful glimmer in your eyes. "I'd love to! Ask here when she has time, I'll make it work." In the meantime, Billy lit a cigarette. "I'll tell her." He reached over to open your passenger door. "Remember, this is casual." With that, you left his car.

He always said the same thing when dropping you off. "It's casual." Every single damn time. But how casual could it be when you hang out with his sister and he invited you to dinner with his family?

"Shh, we have to be quiet.", Billy hushed you while putting a hand over your mouth. The two of you went to his bathroom for a quickie - which meant he put you up on the counter, pulled your panties off and fucked you against the bathroom mirror. He kept thrusting his entire length into you, which made it hard to stay quiet. You moaned against his hand when he hit your g-spot over and over again. "My family is downstairs, be a good girl and stay quiet." How could you stay quiet when he hit that magic spot so perfectly? But you just nodded with teary eyes. Fuck, he knew just how to make you see stars.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him in as deep as possible while you calmed down from the mind-shattering orgasm. "Good girl.", Billy cooed before removing his hand from your mouth. He helped you get dressed before you walked back downstairs to dinner with his dad and step-mom.

"You're right, I can't stand your dad.", you told Billy while he drove you home. His dad is someone he told you was an asshole from the second he mentioned him. "He was playing nice today, you don't know the half of it.", Billy said while parking in your driveway. "Max asked me to go to the arcade with her.", you told him while unbuckling your seatbelt. There it was again, the glimmer in your eyes. "Remember baby, just casual."

Yeah, yeah. Just casual. That's why he treated you like a girlfriend.

Max and you had a blast at the arcane. You waited on the sidewalk with her for Billy to pick her up. "Personally, I think all boys are stupid.", you told Max while she complained about Lucas again. But your statement confused her. "Isn't Billy your boyfriend?" You sighted and picked up a piece of gravel from the ground to play with it. "No, he's not." Max was even more confused now, but she knew just what to say. "He's stupid, too."

Billy parked right next to you two and got out. "Get in, shitbird.", he told Max. With one last hug to you, she got in the car. Meanwhile, Billy went up to you and kissed you. A deep kiss. The kind boyfriends give their girlfriends.

"Thanks for taking her out.", he husked before leaning down to your ear. "You're the best casual one could have."

If it's so casual, how come you were around his family? How come you hung out with Max and talked about her boy problems with her? How come he kissed you like that?

When he stood up straight again, your hand worked faster than your brain. To make it short, you slapped him right across the face.

"I'm not your casual if you treat me like a girlfriend, Billy.", you said. Max was looking at you in awe from the passenger side, but you didn't know what. "Get over your dumb commitment issues. I'm not your casual."

You left him standing there, dumbfounded at what just happened.

[seokmn]

DAMN TRIP .ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･

pairing: junhui x fem!reader wc: 0.8k words warning: pet names, jun as girl dad (yes, its a warning for my delusional besties out there.)

“let me be over there again”

Junhui dropped his bags on the floor and wrapped his arms around your waist, tightening his grip as if he would never see you again. He let out a defeated sigh. “I can't believe I have to go… what if I tell my boss I got sick? I can tell him I have dengue fever, and he’ll let me stay at home!” You laughed at your husband's comment and shook your head while caressing his hair. “We don't live in a tropical or subtropical country, you can't have dengue fever.”

“You have no idea how good I can be at acting,” he smiled and hid his face in the crook of your neck. “I don't want to leave you and D/N by yourselves. Seven days is too much time away from you."

You placed your hands on his shoulder and pulled him away just enough to make him look at your face. You smiled in a comforting way and kissed his temple. “Junnie, we’ll be fine, and we’ll be always facetiming each other. These seven days will pass in a blink of an eye, okay?”

Junhui still looked upset, but he nodded and gave you a peck on your lips before looking in the direction of your daughter's room, “D/N? Dad is leaving soon, won't you give me a hug?”

In a matter of seconds, you saw your daughter running to him with a frown on her face, arms raised, and one of her hands holding a folded paper. “Daddy, don't go!”

Junhui picked her up and gave her a sweet kiss on her forehead. “I wish I could stay, but I have to go… It's only for seven days, though,” he tried to comfort her, but his heart was absolutely broken. Since you gave birth to your daughter, Junhui and D/N became inseparable. “And I'll facetime you every time to tell a story before you sleep. I promise you.”

He caressed her puffy cheeks as her frown was deepening. D/N used her free hand to rub her eye while giving him the folded paper that was on her other hand, Junhui smiled and looked at her with the kindest expression ever. “Is it for me? Can I open it now?” she nodded, and he shifted her in his arms so he would be able to open the folded paper with his two hands. Once he opened it, he saw a drawing of you, him, and the little girl with a bunch of hearts around the three of you. He couldn't help but tear up as he showed the drawing to you, making you a little bit emotional as well.

“Sweetie… That's so beautiful, I'll take this drawing with me all the time. Thank you for giving it to me,” he kissed her forehead once again and searched for something in his pocket. “I have something for you as well.”

Her eyes lit up in curiosity as he took out two bracelets out of his pocket and showed them to her. "I asked uncle Joshua to help me to make them for us, the pink and yellow one is yours, and the pink and blue one is mine. It has our initials, look!” The little girl grabbed the pink and yellow bracelet and took a look at it, seeing the stars and three letters, being them the initials of your names. She smiled widely, wrapped her little arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek.

“Daddy, I loved it!” Junhui chuckled and rubbed her back. “I'm glad you loved it. I hope to see you wearing it!” He turned his gaze to you. “Yours is on my side of the bed. It's pink and white, your favorite colors,” you smiled and wiped your tears away. “Gosh, you're acting like you’re leaving for a whole year,” you placed your arm around his waist, and Junhui took this opportunity to give you and your daughter a family hug.

“I love my girls so much,” he sighed before continuing. “I promise to come back quickly and bring you gifts.”

The three of you stayed like that for a while before you broke the hug. Junhui pampered his daughter with sweet kisses all over her face before putting her back on the ground, then he looked at you, gave you a sad, yet lovely smile, and pecked your lips. “I'll text you when I get to the airport, before the flight, after the flight, and when I get to the hotel,” you chuckled and nodded. “Have a safe trip, love. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he turned to your daughter and crouched down to be on her level. He booped her nose and smiled, “I love you as well, got it?”

“I love you too, daddy! Have a safe trip!”

Junhui sighed before standing up once again and grabbing his bags to leave. He looked at you and D/N and smiled before leaving the house, leaving you and your loved daughter alone for the next seven days with his heart broken in pieces, absolutely hating the thought of not having you around.

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:4 C:68]

(Ramos)

“Wh, what is. . ." "Ramos!?!"

(You were. . . You’re in the greenhouse.)

 "Look out, everyone!"

(This. . .  Moment. You remember, remember. . .)

"Loop please!!! We can handle it, please! Just go rest!" 

(You can’t move. Vines of mint entangled your legs, arms, body. You could hear, you could hear them, your, friends-)

"I'm fine! I, I can't leave you guys to, to do this alone."

(You, you just wanted to be strong. You just wanted to be strong. You, just. . . There’s water filling the green house.)

(Black, inky water.)

"We might not have that luxury. If we . . . figure  . . . . . op them . . . then. . ."

(Fading, you can hear them, fading. FADING!! No, no no no!!! You can barely hear them now, the water, the ink, the void it, it’s flooding in, up to your ankles, no, your KNEES now!!! You struggle against the mint. No, no no NO!!!)

". . .ine! B. . . . . .er fo. . . . .ste. . . ."

(You can barely hear them!!! Please, PLEASE NO NOT THIS!!!!)

{WHAT DIFFERENCE WILL IT MAKE.}

(What, w-who was--)

(A tendril of that void rose from the ink and grabbed you by the shoulder, pulling you down to a knee. Water rising, mint not, letting, go! You, you-)

{WHAT DIFFERENCE WILL IT MAKE. YOU. ARE. NOTHING. TO. THEM.}

(N-nonono!! NO!!!)

{YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE. ISABEAU THINKS YOU ARE WORTHLESS. ISABEAU IS JUDGING YOU. YOU ARE HOLDING. HIM. DOWN.}

(Another tendril bursts from the water and drags your head closer to the water, it’s, inches away. You’re panicking, breathing faster. No no no no no stop talking, STOP TALKING!!! You, y-you need to, go, help--)

{YOU DIDN’T HELP, LIKE ALL THE OTHERS. YOU LET ISABEAU GO OFF ALONE AND NOW HE’S LEFT YOU ALONE, AGAIN. AND NOW YOU’VE RUINED. THEIR. LIVES.}

(You see a ripple in the water, and take a breath just in time for the void to surge upward, engulfing you in the chilling waters.)

{YOU’RE NOTHING. NOTHING. WILL ALWAYS BE. A. NOTHING.}

(You couldn’t see or hear anything through the water, it was cold, it was icy cold and thick as blood! It grasped at you, clung to you, squeezed you, begging you to give in! You, y-you don’t want to give in!!! You, y-you-)

{WHY DENY IT? LET GO. LET YOUR BODY SINK. ACCEPT IT. NOTHING, AND, NOBODY.}

(You, y-you can’t see a face but, the void it’s, it’s looking at you. You KNOW it’s looking at you! You feel it all around you, cold, gripping, clawing at you you, you, don’t. Want. To--)

{LET GO.}

(N-no--)

{LET. GO.}

(N-no! I won’t!!)

{LET!!! GO!!!}

(JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!!!!!!!!)

(SO WHAT!!! WHAT IF I’M NOTHING!!! WHAT IF I'LL ALWAYS BE NOTHING AND NOBODY!!! SO WHAT IF I STAY AS USELESS LITTLE RAMOS WHO COULDN’T DO A SINGLE THING RIGHT!!! WELL I DON'T CARE!!! I DON'T CRABBING CARE!!!!)

(You open your mouth and let the air out of your lungs.)

(I’LL DO WHAT I ALWAYS DO!! MY STUPID! CRABBING! BEST!!! AND IF THAT’S NOT ENOUGH?!? THEN I’LL DIE!!! I’LL DIE HAPPY KNOWING I AT LEAST TRIED TO DO SOMETHING WITH MY LIFE!!!)

(The greenhouse is fading away. The memory is getting darker.)

(SO GO ON!!! DROWN ME!!! DROWN ME ALREADY, JUST DRON ME!!! KILL ME!!! YOU CAN’T KILL ME IN ANY WAY THAT MATTERS SO JUST DROWN ME!!! DO IT!!! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!!!)

{. . . . . .}

(The mint vines snap.)

(. . . . . . This was. . . Where the, the memory ended.)

(After this you turned back into a human, Loop fainted, and. . . You were. . . Welcomed in. . . ?)

(You’re floating in that void. . . Who, who, are you again? You’re. . . You know you’re, someone, and you, were. . . You were. . .)

(You feel something, grabbing, at you. You feel someone calling to you. . . It sounds. . . nice?)

(Something grabs your arm.)

(Ramos) [Alex] {?????} |Jasmine| <Altiare> 

(In a moment you’re pulled from the well in the center of the garden. The liquid stained black like ink. You’re coughing up water and, a-and feel, exhausted, terrible, surprisingly refreshed-)

|R-RAMOS?!?!|

[STARS ABOVE!!]

<You put yourself between Alex and Jasmine, and that THING and Ramos. Damn Ramos, you look like death spat out last night's dinner.>

(Wha, what? Who, what- You look up, the garden was here again? But, like some storm had come through, and things were still being put back together. Those three, the, imaginary friends? They-)

|WE’RE NOT IMAGINARY!!!! YOU!!!! BATFACE!!!!!!|

<Cool it with the names, Jazz, Ramos didn’t know.>

(Know what-)

[We’re a system, idiot.]

(. . . What? But, no I’m-)

|WE ARE!!!!!|

[Yeah we went through a whole two day long crisis over it. Welcome to the party.]

(But?!!? I’ve never had memory problems?!?! You shake your head and get into a sitting position. A-and, I don’t remember anything, super traumatic about our childhood so. . .)

<. . . . . You put a hand to your head. Buddy. . .>

(. . . You look away. Uh-)

<Our childhood was pure batshit, finely refined guano, perfectly festered fertilizer.>

(C-crab, rea-)

<A finely mulched manure- >

(OKAY I GET IT!!! You sigh. So, we were a system the whole time?!?)

[Yeah.]

(But, I mean, well. . . I haven’t heard from you guys in a while so, what. . . O-oh, oh.)

[Yeah.]

(O-oh Change, oh Change oh my fu- I, did, what’d he-)

[Buried us alive in the garden.]

(. . .)

[“I just wanna get stronger, clear up my head, be able to focus better” and I guess Perci mc’fuckpants heard that and said “alright, better burry these guys in THE BLINDING GROUND!!!”]

|It was, i-it was really scary.|

(. . . O-oh I. . . I’m, I’m so sorry. Change I’m, I’m so, so, so so sorry.)

[Yeah. You cross your arms. You better be.]

(. . .)

[. . . You better be sorry for leaving your PARTNER all worried for you.]

(WH- W-WAIT HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN!?!?)

|Uhm, three weeks? A month?|

(CRAB!!! I gotta go apologize and, a-and-)

<Woah hold up, are we not talking about the obvious?>

[Yeah there’s that, too.]

(They’re all looking at you still. Uh, Huh?)

<Well first off, you have a massive stab wound in your chest.>

(You look down, and sure enough, there's a giant gash that tore through your shirt and left a scar on your skin. . . . Oh. O-oh. . .)

<Second off, uh. . . Mind turning around, buddy?>

 |YEAH!!!! I TOLD YOU IT WAS REAL!!!!|

[And I shoulda believed you little buddy, it sure was.]

(What’re you- okay. You turn aroundCRABBINGStARSWHATIS--)

{. . .}

|THE BUGGY!!!|

<Yeah, it sure is. You eye at the. . . The weird as hell bug mask thing with a cloak. Jazz’s been saying there’s been a bug wandering around here, first time me and Al’ get to see it it’s dragging your sorry ass out of the well.>

(T-that. . . That’s, y-you, you’re--)

{You crouch down, getting more on level with Ramos. Are. You. Hurt?}

<!!!>

|WOAH!!!|

[So it does speak.]

(W-wha- I-I mean, I’m, I’m okay, I think, ah, w-what. . .)

{You’re. A. Good. Swimmer. You stand up, and climb into the well.}

(HUH?!??!?!)

|WAAAA!!!! You run over to the well and peek in. BUT!! BUGGYYYY!!! WHO’RE YOU!!!!!|

{He-llo. You peek at Jasmine.}

|Hi!!! :D!!!|

{Name, is. . . Nihil.}

|Nihil!!! Good to meet you again!!! I wanna see you again and talk and do cool stuff again, kay?|

{O-kay. :)}

[. . . . What? What? That, that’s really the bug Jasmine’s been playing with?]

<I guess we found our tamed sadness.>

(. . . You feel like you’re going to pass out.)

[Oooh no ya don’t. I’m forcing you to be in charge today.]

(WHUH?!!??! You stand up, b-but, I just, got back?!?)

[And you have five months of experience and was the one fronting or existing the most or whatever. Congrats, get your ass in the greenhouse.]

(I-)

<We’ll catch you up, help ease you in. Got it?>

(. . . O-okay. Okay. Got it.)

(Siffrin) {Mal Du Pays} <Null> |Asterion| +Rosmarinus+ =Socks= [Loop] [(Saffron)] 

(You hopped up the stairs two at a time, heading to your shared room to grab your journal. There wasn’t any rush, you just wanted to be fast.)

<And to check on Ramos and company.>

(Right, that too. You hoped they were okay.)

<They’re fine, Siffrin.>

(R-right. . . You get to your door, quickly knocking twice before walking in. Oh! Groundskeepers were already getting dressed! Hair down today, with their vest and loose pants, and they were just putting on the bandana. They turn to you, mouth open about to say something, then pause. Wait-)

“. . R-ramos?!?!” (You ask, hopefully.)

(They sink into their shoulders shyly, but smile.) “H-heySif--”

(That’s all you needed to run and tackle-hug the defender-in-training. You squeezed them close, hold them close. They’re not gone. They’re here. They’re okay. They’re okay and alive and here and talking and okay. They’re okay. They’re, okay. You feel their arms around you. . .)

“. . . . . Miss me?” (They finally ask.)

“Very.” (You mumble into their shirt.) “. . . I’m sorry, Ramos, I-”

“Oh shut it.” (You feel them bonk you on the head.) “I was poking in business I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry-”

“YOU’RE SORRY?!??” (You look back up at them with a Look on your Face.) “YOU GOT STABBED AND YOU’RE SORRY!?!??!”

“I-I MEAN, I, DIDN’T REALLY-”

“YOU DISAPPEARED FOR A COUPLE WEEKS!!!!”

(They sink into their shoulders again.) “. . . O-okay, sorry, Sif- NO! N-not sorry!!! I-I mean I’m-- y-you get it!!”

(You giggle at that, and give them one more squeeze.)

{Cloak.}

(RIGHT!!!) “Oh yeah!!! We found something you might want.” (You step back and excitedly walk to the closet, and start digging around in it.) 

“Huh? What is it?” (Ramos walks over, curious.)

(Then stops.)

(You found what you’re looking for, you hold it up. A white cloak, with segmented, petal-like ends.)

“. . . . . We, Alex and I, were looking through some of the things Eri left you and found. . . This.”

“That’s. . .” (You could see gears turning in their head.)

“Isa cleaned it and finished some of the stitching they never got to. He used the same ones that are on my cloak.” (You hold it out to them) “Eri made it for you.”

(Ramos was stunned. You could see the tears welling up. They eventually reached out, shakily, and took the cloak. They tossed it around them and put it on. You helped with the pins. After a moment, you step back, both to see them better, and let them look in the mirror.)

“. . . V-void. . .”

“We match!!!” (You flap your hands excitedly.)

“. . . Y-yeah!” (They turn to you, crying.) “We match!”

(They take your hands in theirs and jump in place a little. The both of you end up doing a silly little dance on the spot, giggling and crying just a little.)

“W-woah!! Rams?” (You turn, Isabeau’s in the doorway! His new glasses and cool jacket in place. You beam at him.)

“Hi Isa!!!” (Ramos replies, excited, but still teary. They go over and hug him.) “T-thanks for, for, for just being the best.”

“Aww Rams.” (Pat pat. You pat them too.) “Right back atchya, buddy- oh yeah!!! BONNIE COME UP HERE!!!” 

(Isabeaus yell downstairs was met with an equally loud one.) “NUH UH!!!”

(Your turn.) “BONNIE HAS A CRAB FAAAACE!!!!”

“WHAT!!!!!” (NOW you hear the quick and loud footsteps of an angry preteen. You and Ramos step back.)

(Bonnie bursts into the room still wearing their own new attire. Ramos’ little gasp was all you needed to hear. Bonnie had their own little white cloak on, with extra fabric and pockets in the front so it can act like an apron. Upon seeing you and Ramos, who now had their own cloak, Bonnies eyes lit up.)

“. . . CLOAK BUDDIES!!!!”

“CLOAK BUDDIES!!!!!”

(The three of you do that same silly little dance as before.)

“WE GOTTA SHOW EVERYONE!!!” (Bonnie starts dragging you to the door.)

“Do you have one, Isa?” (Ramos asks.)

(Isabeau shakes his head.) “Nope, not yet at least. I wouldn’t wanna make one for myself, right?”

“Right.” (You nod.) “It’s given by a family member s-so, uh, I'm gonna be learning how to sew after this is all done!”

“Awww!!! That’s sweet of you, Sif.” (Ramos beams.) 

“COME OOOOONNNN!!!”

“Okay! Okay! We’re coming, Bonbon.”

(The three of you hurry downstairs, Bonnie smugly leading the charge into the living room, with you holding Isa and Ramos hands! THAT earned a cheer from everyone!)

<Eugh.>

{. . .}

(What!!!)

<Too sweet for my taste.>

{. . . . You smile, happily.}

“Looking good, you three!” (Mira claps.)

(Odile smiles.) “Glad you’re back, Ramos.” 

“Oh crab Ramos’ back?!?” (You see Nille pop her head through from the kitchen, then a grin spreads on her face.) “THERE’S the idiot!!! Do you know how crabbing worried we were about you?!?”

“S-sorry, Nille-”

“You’re off the hook this time, buster.” (She smirks, before going back to what she was doing.)

(Stars this is nice. You sit down on the couch, Isa and Ramos taking the initiative to flank you on each side. Trapped!!! No!!!!)

<You’re a terrible tactician, Siffrin.>

(Ramos kisses your cheek, causing you to retreat into the cloak, which causes Isa to kiss your head! Stars help!! Help!!!)

{No. This is nice.}

(!?!??!?!?!?!)

<?????????>

{. . . . :) }

(STARSokay. You eventually collapse on Isabeaus lap. A moment later, Isa was playing with your hair, and Ramos started massaging your probably very overworked leg muscles. You lean into the touch, sighing wistfully. . . Stars above. . .)

(You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life.)

“Be careful you two, you might drag out Socks again.” (Odile chuckled.)

“Hehe, activating their kitty cat mode.” =Mira giggled along.=

=Too late :3=

(STARS--)

=You nuzzle close to Isa, mumbling softly into his lap and letting yourself melt a little. You close your eye, bliss. . .=

“He is so cute. . .” =You hear Ramos whisper.= “How can someone be this cute?!?”

“They’re just adorable!!” =Isabeau whispers back.= 

“. . . You know we were supposed to have a meeting about dealing with the Monets.” =Odile starts.= “But. . . I think that can wait until later.”

“Yaaay. . .” =You say softly. Oh right. You’re not getting front back. I want cuddles.=

(. . . It’s okay, so do I.)

=You’re happy to stay then!=

(Yay!!!)

[grimesve1l]

When Rafe met Barry's cousin from the mainland

Summary: Barry and Rafe gets a suprise visit from Barry's favorite cousin

Warnings: Drug use, swearing, mentions of weapons, and a lil suggestiveness?

Rafe and Barry were discussing prices and doing lines when they heard a car pull in Barry's drive way. "You expecting someone?" Rafe asks. "Nah, I don't know who the hell just pulled up but ima find out." Barry goes outside while Rafe waits. "Well shit you could've at least told me you were coming." Rafe hears Barry tell the stranger.

"I didn't wanna ruin the suprise" he hears a female voice reply. Barry comes back inside with a girl he didn't recognize following after him. "Y/n this is Rafe, Rafe my favorite cousin, Y/n." Barry says introducing the two. "Sup" Rafe says barely looking up from the line he was making. He takes a hundred dollar bill and snorts the line before turning to look at Y/n.

"Damn Barry if I knew you were hanging out with cute frat boys I would've dressed more like a sorority chick." Y/n says sitting next to Rafe. "What do you know about sororities. Your ass didn't even go to college." Barry responds. "Neither did you asshole" Y/n retorts. She turns to Rafe and asks "So what are doing with my cousin cause this doesn't really look like your scene?"

"Just uh business." Rafe replies "Oh business. Okay." Y/n replies while nodding. "Well you two have got yourselves another partner." she says putting her hand on Rafes shoulder. "Wait what?" he replies. "Oh nah." Barry butts in "Look you can stay here with me all you want but you're not getting involved with this shit." he says motioning to the coke, money and guns lying around the room.

"Why the hell not? It's not like I wasn't involved with this kinda stuff back home." Y/n replies. " That's back on the mainland. Here you're gonna get your shit straight alright. You're not gonna be like me." "What I am gonna do then." Aye country club won't you just complaining about how the cart girls at the country club can't do their job right?" Barry asks Rafe. "Yeah always mixing up the wrong drinks and shit." Rafe replies.

"Perfect looks like you have a job" Barry says pointing to Y/n "and you have a new cart girl" pointing toward Rafe. "A country club seriously?" Y/n asks. "I don't know why your complaining guys like Rafe secretly love your whole weird poor girl vibe i'm sure you'll make bank." Barry points out. "Whatever" Y/n replies while sitting back on the couch. Barry's phone begins to ring. " I gotta take this. Don't do nothing stupid while i'm gone." he says while leaving room.

"So Rafe you gonna show me around your country club?" Y/n asks pulling her legs up on to the couch and turning to face him. "Maybe." he replies. "Maybe? What you scared to take a girl like me up there around all your preppy friends?" she jokes as she lights up a cigarette. "Nah but if you want you could come to a party i'm having tomorrow. See what kinda people will be at the country club."

"Is this your way of asking me to come over to your place?" she asks while blowing out her lips. "I guess so." he replies while laughing and putting his hands behind his head. Like this Y/n could see how big Rafes biceps were. She leaned over to touch one "I look forward to it then." She says looking him in the eyes while giving him a mischievous smile. He looks up at her and smirks "Yea?" "Yea." she replies while leaning in closer.

Right before their lips could touch Barry came back. "Aye man what did I just say?" Rafe jumps as Y/n sits back in her spot. "Seriously Barry?" Y/n groans. "What do you mean "seriously" y'all were about hookup up on my couch!" "I was only gonna make out with him geez Barry. I'll remember that when you bring a girl back here." Y/n says standing up. "Whatever i'm tired. Ima go to bed" she says.

"But first gimme your phone" she says to Rafe. He does so instantly and she puts her number in with the contact "y/n<3". "Call me alright?" "Yeah" Rafe replies. "Okay goodnight boys" she says as she disappears down the hall. "Man why didn't you tell me about her sooner?" Rafe asks once he knows Y/n can't hear. "For this exact reason. She's already got you pussy whipped and y'all ain't even kissed yet." Rafe just sat back in the couch with a smile wondering what would happen the next time they saw each other.

A/n: i think i'm gonna make this into a series cuz i'm already thinking about where else i can take this so hope y'all enjoyed cuz there's fs gonna be more!!

[fmhobeus]

house and you as pill/smoke buddies is on my brain rn mhmmm...

it probably starts when he catches you on the roof, blunt in hand, sighing into the void. your lab coat is abandoned on the sill. hard day at the hospital, child patient. couldn't save them. you know this is a high stress job, emotionally draining and you've never been good at coping. so there you are. some diazepam you swallowed down thirty minutes prior already in your system. must've kicked in already. house see's you and he's instantly intrigued by the arch of your back and the curve of your hips. perfect in those tight pencil skirts you wear. he doesn't know you but he's dying to figure out.

"i think you've stolen my spot." he clambers up to you. he's surprised you hadn't turned when you heard the cane. were you so deep in thought? you turn to look at him. register him. disheveled looking older man, 5 o'clock shadow, piercing blue eyes... and so you're type. you try to recall who he is. definitely a physician from the absence of a lab coat. is this the infamous...

"dr. house," he states. obviously the speed of your reaction, or lack thereof had intrigued him. your pupils were dilated and your breathing was irregular... though you might attribute that to present company "and you should not be this high while still in the hospital."

you breathe out the smoke you inhaled with a slight smirk. it makes him smirk too. you turn your back to the view and face him and subsequently eye his frame. he returns the favor, a lot less suggestively then you were. but of course he can't hold you to it, the way your eyes flutter is mostly because of the weed. heavy, intoxicating eyes. something tells you he doesn't mind it.

"don't tell. i'll leave in a minute and you can have your space back" you say.

"i said you stole my spot... who says you have to give it back?"

you smile and scoot over, tilting your head slightly gesturing him to join you. he pops two vicodin innocuously but you notice.

"damn, you swallow your pills dry? you're a sociopath" you giggle.

"i thought you as a doctor would be careful throwing around serious medical terms like that" he says, feigning an accusation. there's something about the intensity of eye contact you're holding. you've just met the guy and there's wayyy too much sexual tension in the air.

"not in the psychiatric department so no one can hold me to it," you say, blowing smoke in another direction. some part of house wanted you to blow the smoke right at him, not breaking the mutual eyefucking going on at the moment.

"how else did you get the lorazepam you've taken?" he asks, a sly tone like he has you all figured out. this was just a question to get you to spill the beans about your department. god you made him so curious. rarely had he seen a hot young doctor brazenly smoking after, presumably, taking a little something something. one so open to converse with an old man whose in her business.

you chuckle at his self assuredness.

"wanna take another guess?"

house uses this to shamelessly eye you. you're well put together, great sense of fashion. nice proportions. your body, not the outfits... he'd prefer you without them surely. no tremor. no injury, so no usual pain medication. you let out a heavy sigh and house darts his eyes towards your chest. great rack, he thinks, almost like he's going to put it in this mental patient report he's creating.

"hmmm, haloperidol? you don't strike me as the psychosis type though... valium wouldn't give you selective hearing. diazepam?"

"you know your anxiety medication, doc," you smile. he sighs abashedly. god he's hot. something about that rasp in his voice, good god, paired with the vanity radiating off his skin... it does something to you. you finally introduce yourself, partially because you need him to call you by your name in the same raspy, smug tone.

"pediatric pulmonology..." he puts a hand to his chin, scratching his stubble as if contemplating something serious, "it's always the childcare specialists trying to overdose on the hospital terrace. dont blame you, if i had to deal with those parasites i'd want to kill myself too."

you shoot him a look. your sure you dont need to tell him the stakes of the job, the weight on your soul when a child with an obvious chronic and fatal condition comes into intensive care. the cruel hand fate plays on a mere baby. "kids are a product of their environment." you put plainly. you look away into the distance. "and i'm not trying to kill myself. not yet anyway." he stops prodding, obviously he's ticked you in some way.

"are you trying to kill yourself? doctor house?" you stare at him now, and then move your eyes to the almost empty bottle of vicodin.

"oh, i'm an addict. an addict whose due for a refill." he puts the bottle at eye level, as if examining a test tube. you can't help but give a defeated smile at his bluntness. you stare off into space again. a hollow silence follows. you don't dare look at house once.

"you mind if i take a hit"

his question catches you off guard. there's an earnest in his blue eyes. almost as if involuntarily, almost hypnotized, you hand him the joint. your fingers brush as if on purpose. your breath hitches again. and house notices, coloring his eyes a different shade of vain. he puts the blunt to his lips, your eyes follow his every move with heed. the pink of his lips soon emit the familiar smoke. he looks you right in the eyes as he blows it onto your face. you bask in the smoke letting it cloud you. cloud your judgement for a split second as you lean forward. for a kiss? maybe but

house puts the blunt to your lips this time, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. you look up at him through your lashes, eyes blown out wide. he's so tall, even with his cane. he lets you intake the smoke for a second longer than you like, maintaining the intense gaze on you. there's a kick in your stomach. maybe it's something. maybe it's nothing. maybe you're just high. but you swear you've never been wetter.

[nonsscrapheap]

i-i cannot

resist

THE REQUEST BLARGH—

@linxel HERE YOU GO

== Dance of the Fire Bot : General Snippet ==

In all honesty, with a designation like Hot Rod, nobody should've been surprised when young Hot Rod suddenly caught on fire one day. But there's a reason why everyone was surprised when he did, that's because of Hot Rod's impeccable yet unnatural olfactory senses.

Heightened sensors weren't very common, but they weren't exactly considered outlier abilities. Unless those sensors went beyond the norm, and by beyond, they meant beyond.

Being able to smell emotions? Smell truths and lies? That definitely was beyond the norm.

When ol' rustbucket Tripper was so confused as to who got into his high grade stash, Hot Rod was there to reveal the culprit who'd been trying to lie to Tripper's face. "Zipzap! Stop lying to old Tripper! Not only can I smell your lies, I recognize your scent all over those empty cubes! Tripper, he drank only a little and hid the rest away, c'mon! I'll show you!"

When two new 'enforcers' came, acting kind and nice, Hot Rod warned everyone to keep safe and stay away from them. "They smell like lies, deceit, dark... They're not good people. Please, be careful." Cycles later, actual enforcers came to arrest the impersonating criminals who tried to assault some poor mini-bots who thankfully heeded Hot Rod's warning and stuck together at all times. The two criminals couldn't attack all of them and Hot Rod, Springer and Arcee were there to protect them as well.

Whenever anyone was sad, Hot Rod would stop by to comfort them- one way or another, be it by talking to them or gifting little gifts or doing some chores, it didn't matter if someone was hiding their sadness or grief, Hot Rod always seemed to know. "You smelled sad." Was always his answer whenever someone asked how they knew they were upset.

Hot Rod was the kindest bot in Rust Narrows, little youngling did his best to help everyone in the area. So, over the mega-cycles that passed, they accepted that Hot Rod's outlier ability was his extremely enhanced olfactory senses.

Until he set himself on fire while battling a spark-eater.

== Dance of the Firebot : Deadlock Snippet ==

The first time Deadlock met Hot Rod, the damned mech sniffed him while he was injured. It was very weird, but Deadlock couldn't exactly stop him on the count that he was; injured, duh. Enough that he couldn't move or do anything else but growl when the red and yellow bot called over some help from two bots; Springer and Arcee. Hot Rod's Amicas.

The three of them hauled him to the nearest doctor, he didn't remember much of the encounter but he had found it fragging weird when the doctor didn't seem at all bothered when he threatened him as soon as he woke up.

Later, when he asked him, Springer and Arcee why the frag he was treated so nonchalantly, their answers confused him.

"Hot Rod says you smell nice."

The second time he meets Hot Rod, he's blindsided by the kindness the mech shows him even when he points the end of his blaster at him. He was just so happy Deadlock was okay! Or so he claimed.

Weirded out, Deadlock asked him why he wasn't scared or even intimidated. "You smell nice!" The mech chirped, smiling widely. So very weird, but Deadlock demanded the real answer.

Hot Rod's green optics softened, "It is the real answer, underneath the energon, the anger, the hate, you give off, there is a scent of undeniable kindness. Not only that, but I smell a sense of honor from you. You wouldn't hurt anyone here unless they hurt you, or maybe if you were targeting them, but I don't think anyone here is a target, so why should I be afraid?"

Later, when Springer comes back, Deadlock asks who the frag is Hot Rod and what's his deal. "Hot Rod's got this weird sense of smell." Springer answered with a shrug, "He smells stuff. Emotions, truths, lies. If he smells you're okay, then we trust it. Trust you, to an extent anyway."

Flabbergasted, Deadlock concludes that it's Hot Rod's outlier ability. Weird as it is, it explains it at least.

Until it doesn't.

Through wide optics, Deadlock gawped at the sight of Hot Rod dancing underneath the dark sky, fire trailing after his limbs as he moved lithely- the only source of light while bots gathered to watch him.

"I thought you said his unnatural sense of smell was his outlier ability!" Deadlock hissed to Springer, who sat beside him with Arcee on his other side.

Both Springer and Arcee shared an amused look, "I never said it was his outlier ability. I just said he had this weird sense of smell!" Arcee cracked up, hunching over with quiet laughter. Wheezing as she lightly patted Springer's shoulder.

Deadlock would've continued glaring at them if he wasn't entranced by Hot Rod's dance. It was so beautiful. The way he moved, the way the fire curled around his limbs... And Springer said Hot Rod was going to dance until the sun rose in Nyon? No way.

Only, he does.

For joors, he dances with no sign of stopping or even being tired. Even when bots began to leave, until it was only Springer, Arcee and him left, Hot Rod dances until light filtered from the distance.

It illuminates Hot Rod, who slowly comes to a stop with a soft vent and a content smile.

The entire thing, from start to end. It stays in his processor, filed away in a folder he created just after he became a Decepticon. Surprisingly, he arranges it to stay beside his diles of that medic from Dead End, Ratchet...

Deadlock doesn't stay in Nyon, he has duties as a Decepticon soldier after all. Hot Rod, thankfully, doesn't ask him to stay.

"Please be safe." Is all Hot Rod tells him when it's time to leave, with the kindest smile Deadlock has ever seen. "I hope one day, when we next meet, that kindness you have isn't buried in so much anger and hate."

Deadlock flees, terrified from the temptation he felt just from Hot Rod's words alone.

He meets Hot Rod again, a third time.

This time, he stays.

How can he not? When Hot Rod swings a sword as beautifully as he danced.

== Dance of the Fire Bot ==

that's all i can offer you for now! but yeah, when i DO make a fic of hot rod with tanjiro traits- it's going to be called Dance of the Fire Bot.

i hope you're happy!

[floral-comet-whump]

slept well!! I was supposed to have a field trip and it got cancelled cause of the weather so I'm not sure what I'm doing now but basically I'm at home. I'm here to do the thing you (fenris) do with destroyer cause it looks rlly fun! my commentary might not his the spot but I'm trying :D

Cyrus wishes to at least have a look around while outside. It would only be a military camp, soldiers walking around, tents set up, maybe some horses on one side. Not a very pleasant nor interesting view.

But at least he would be seeing the sky, and the grass, and people.

AAAAAAAAAAAA IT'S REAL!!! IT'S HAPPENING!!!! this is a really strong start I can already feel the like. yearning

He's not. He's seeing pure black from behind his nullification glasses, being guided by an unrelenting hand on his neck, just above his heavy collar.

yearning!

Not even allowed to feel skin, only the tough material of a glove.

I REMEMBER THAT FROM THE CYRUS & WALENTY RP THINGY!!! that I'm not sure if will be posted but it happened in tumblr dms.

when you asked it there I assumed you were asking cause cyrus can use his magic via any skin contact :0 now I'm wondering if it's that or habit or both...

aaaaaa he's so feared and sad :( I'm gonna read the comfort asks after this. OH can the emoji for the one I sent be changed from 🌺 to ☄️ please?

A strong sensation of nausea hits him when they enter his designed post tent of this campaign. It feels like the protection barriers put around the tents are getting stronger each campaign.

are the protection barriers making him nauseous??

Being on an empty stomach doesn't help, either. Regret fills him from refusing breakfast, but he's sure his stomach wouldn't have kept it down anyway.

ohhh so he's allowed to refuse food??? damn. did wilson also suspect he wouldn't keep it down or is doing things that make him less powerful allowed

"... This is it? The rumors made it look spine-chilling, not... this." A voice from his right side says, a bit far back. Further into the tent, then. Cyrus doesn't recognize the voice, but the words are familiar.

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE LW TROPES OH MY GOD. when. when whenw when the weapon is expected to look scary and is not but WILL be scary... I don't like underestimation much in other stories tho for some reason which is weird. oh well!!!

The gloved hand on his neck squeezes, and he stops after a second of trying to figure out if it was out of frustration or a command to stand still.

No scolding comes, so it must have been a command. Or both.

ohhh :( he makes me sad I'm definitely gonna read the comfort ask

That voice he does recognizes in the very core of his being.

good shit 👍

Cyrus doesn't have time to feel ashamed of the words before a pressure on his neck commands him to kneel down. Even with the knee pads, a mercy not chosen by his handler, the impact hurts a bit.

:( he knelt fast then. man...

"Behave." Is what reaches his ear before the leather gloves are unfastened from his wrists.

oooo did wilson whisper that or say it outright?

Magic wraps around the metal gloves that were beneath the leather ones and bend it open. Cyrus didn't even hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do that. Maybe this gifted doesn't have a handler, he knows there's some free Gifted that serve the military willingly.

ANOTHER GIFTED!!!! also that's rlly interesting how his restraint is tied to another person's magic

Unlike Cyrus.

yeah I know </3 man this is a bunch of info I know cause I've already been exposed to bits of this story but for future newcomers this is probably necessary clarification

He obediently waits with unmoving hands until his handler applies pressure on his head in another silent command. No one speaks as the nullification glasses are unlocked from his bowed head, nor when his half-necrotic fingertips find the floor beneath him.

ugh he's so well trained

It's not grass, it's rocks. He suppresses a disappointed sigh.

I'LL GIVE YOU ALL THE GRASS EVER SWEET LOVELY BOY </3

The metallokinetic does in fact have a handler, and a black eye. He can't see anyone else, they're all behind him for safety.

That black eye must hurt, there's probably more bruises under the clothing, it never stops at just one.

Cyrus shouldn't care that the gifted was hurt. But he did. They deserve someone to care.

aw man :( yeah he really cares like that! it's genuinely remarkable tbh

"You have permission to use your power, Wither." An uncomfortable eagerness blooms in him at the words.

aaaaaaaaa? wilson my beloved he's so cold

"Yes, sir," Cyrus whispers and his collar beeps, its blue lights turning red as magic comes to life under his skin once again.

ooooooo :D I remember wondering why the art of him showed him with blue lines in his collar when he was a threat level red!!! fascinating :3

It took less than a minute for him to spiral into euphoria this time.

the description of the withering magic is amazing and also pretty long so I don't wanna paste it. but man it's good

Faintly, he knew his lips were moving, in that same eerie murmur of always, singing words he couldn't understand, but also couldn't forget. An incantation that breaks the laws of nature. A chant that was never created... only repeated. The echo of something that always existed.

And so he repeats. From the words, waves of withering magic follows the colorful branches and pushes it forward.

going back to this chapter from wilson's pov, you said it's a fan ver of the tangled hurt incantation? "wither and decay, cease this misery. break this earthly chains, and set the spirit free. bend it to my will. steal the sunlight's glow. take their final breath, and let the darkness grow"

A warm mist swirls on his arms pleasantly. Something similar started filling his eyes, and Cyrus's head was pure delight. His chest shudders with a bubbly feeling as a smile grows on his face.

veins in his eyes!! last time they went black taking cyrus out of the euphoria took 3 days 👍 I rember >:3c

Cyrus didn't even know he had made a noise until the collar beeps again with a warning electrical shock. With a flinch, he goes dead quiet.

(from wilson pov chapter) The weapon knows better than to complain or move without being told to, but Handler gives it a warning electrical shock at the almost pouty whimper. It flinches and goes dead quiet.

aaaaaondonfbofnof sobbing he got shocked for whimpering and didn't even realize until it

Cyrus wants to keep using his magic, why can't he? It's so warm and happy-

I remember you mentioned his species is way better suited for warm climates :(

"Mmn?" The order takes a second to click. "Oh... yes, sir..." To speak was hard, his tongue didn't move the okay he wanted it to.

YESSSS THAT WAS THE ORIGINAL INTENT OF THE PROMPT RESPONSE I DID!!! you changed it from "okay" to "yessir" :000

Should he even be speaking, actually? Wilson doesn't usually like him speaking. Did he say "Sir" as he was supposed to? He doesn't think so... but no shock comes. Perhaps he did. It's hard to remember.

you did say this is unreliable narrator! in the wilson pov he still says "okay" so now I'm curious if he did misinterpret his own informal wording to formal wording

The floor seemed to spin beneath Cyrus when he stood up.

the thehthehthe

He still couldn't hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do it, maybe it had been a silent command.

poor metallokinetic whumpee :(

He feels the leather gloves being fastened on his wrists, too, before Mr. Wilson grabs him by the upper nape and guides him out.

oooo so he has gloves on when not working got it got it. leather! I assume it's to avoid skin to skin contact? or his hands are the most effective conduit and the higher-ups don't want him touching anything with his hands?

On the way back, there's no longer any murmuring. Even blinded, he knows everyone is just staring. There's only the sound of heavy steps and the wind slowly bringing the smell of death into the camp.

feared whumpee my beloved

Blindly, he's pushed to sit inside his resting capsule. Oh, that's right, he's at a campaign, his den isn't here... the sad longing only lasts a second.

yeppp you said he's used to being guided blindly in the rp we did. also den??? anyways here's the link to said capsule cause I wanna look at it

The thin mattress is cold, and the restraints are too tight.

!!!! he gets a mattress <:D

Cyrus hates the cold,

ough I know </3 poor baby

Cyrus hates the cold, but it feels so weird, he can't help but giggle. It sounds off, but he can't pinpoint why.

"Quiet," Mr. Wilson scolds sternly, fastening his legs securely inside the capsule. Cyrus flinches and tenses from the upcoming shock that doesn't arrive.

What a silly thing, to flinch from something that didn't even happen. He suppresses another fit of giggles.

>:( wilson when I fucking get you

The pressure building up behind his eyes and neck is getting harder to ignore. His fingers twitch with the need to use his magic again, but the nullification doesn't let him.

oooo is his collar nullifying it? or the gloves? capsule??? I think it's the collar

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

Now the shock comes, and Cyrus's flinch is not so funny this time. It wasn't just a warning shock, but he doesn't know why he has been punished. Mr. Wilson doesn't clarify it, either. He's scared of not knowing.

the euphoria narration thing is. so fucking good man. but why'd he get shocked?? this isn't in the wilson pov chapter 😔

The twitches are getting worse. He wants to move. The cold is starting to creep in again, and he wants the warmth back.

someone please give him a blanket istg. I know this is a different kind of cold but can he have a blanket :(

His hands move slowly under the temporarily loose restrictions, trying to relieve some of the painful nervous energy without grabbing Mr. Wilson's attention.

!!! sneaky :0

It doesn't work. His handler always sees everything.

a

also love that. “his handler always sees everything.” !!! love love love that love the sheer amount of fear and expecting danger

"Did I say you could move, Wither?" Cyrus freezes from the gelid tone. His shoulders go up chastened just before a gloved hand fists his hair harshly.

HE'S NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO MOVE WITHOUT PERMISSION??? I mean I expected that but damn. also gloves again. is it a military thing or is this the skin contact thing

That'll form a knot later... he wants to wash up and detangle his hair already, before it gets too bad.

From how harsh Mr. Wilson's grip is, he doesn't think he'll be allowed that so soon.

pfft I love those moments of like. passive caring about everyday stuff in whump. they're funny but then they're not funny

"Stop trying to be sneaky, that's the only warning you'll be given." Cold and firm as always. Frightening as always.

HEY DON'T CALL HIM SNEAKY I DID IT FONDLY >:(

"Yes, sir," Cyrus answers quietly. It's weird how he still feels afraid and sad even when he's feeling giggly and euphoric.

ough.. he's so scared poor baby

He doesn't want to talk, he wants to move.

What weapons want doesn't matter.

HE SAID IT!!! HE SAID THE LW LINE!!!!! HE SAID ITTTTTT

He tries again. "I'm... I won't be sneaky again. I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson," he tries. The hand leaves his hair without any further words.

:(

So you can kill more people with it?

No. What? No, no, no-

Your handler stopped you before the euphoria truly took place. Where is your gratitude, you vile thing? Why must others die just so you can smile?

That's not what he wants, he just... he just wants the colors back, the happy feeling of-

Of killing.

The memories of colored forms change. These were people.

People you killed.

D: man I don't even know what to say this is just rlly fuckin good. guilt my beloved

"Are you crashing already?" Comes the distant, cold voice. It takes long seconds for Cyrus to recognize it's Mr. Wilson's.

YEAH I THINK SO!!

Crashing. Yes. Yes, he's crashing, and he's still on war camp, so he doesn't even get his white den-

okay what is the white den?? is it his usual cell with nothing in it?

...swallowing hard. He tastes blood. He knows it's not his.

huh??? how come he didn't get physically close to any of it

Cyrus's back presses against the capsule mattress, and he can barely separate what is real touch and what isn't. Sharp goosebumps run up his arm, his hands are being held, there's a pressure on his chest and a numbness on his left leg.

is this unreality?? eh

"It's euphoric state was pretty fast this time, it was a good timing to retrieve it," Mr. Wilson's out loud thinking reaches his ear along with a faint noise of screams that mustn't be true.

They're true, you're just hearing them too late.

"Today will be easy, then."

Cyrus couldn't disagree more with his handler.

WOW!!! love the logic and treating cyrus like so much of an object wilson can just talk out loud while he's there. also lemme go get a thing from the wilson pov drabble

As always, it's an active effort to not show any discomfort. If Whumpee sensed uneasiness from its handler, then everything would go to shit. This type of weapon needed a constant, firm, and steady structure.

YEAH!!! this. this thing

man. I love cyrus. I love wilson. I have so many feelings about them both... I rlly love handler whumpers those are so neat I love cold whumpers that are professional. wilson has such a presence in this chapter. cyrus is so cute I wanna wrap him in blankets...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA ME WHEN HIM ME WHEN HIMMMMM

I loved how this was like. stractured eith the euphoria and conediwn and everything. I also love how despite everything cyrus is still so caring towards others it's so. ough </3

I think that's all I have to say rn pjdondnod I might make a repost with more but probably not

Sweet Creature

Content: magical living weapon, dehumanization, "it" briefly used as pronoun, dangerous whumpee, magical euphoria, shock collar, sensory (visual) deprivation, manhandling, military whump, implied institutionalized whump, magical slavery, heavily implied mass murder, hallucinations.

(chapter 1) | next chapter ->

(Curse of Withering masterpost)

Cyrus wishes to at least have a look around while outside. It would only be a military camp, soldiers walking around, tents set up, maybe some horses on one side. Not a very pleasant nor interesting view.

But at least he would be seeing the sky, and the grass, and people.

He's not. He's seeing pure black from behind his nullification glasses, being guided by an unrelenting hand on his neck, just above his heavy collar. Not even allowed to feel skin, only the tough material of a glove.

Around Cyrus, talk dies down, and muttering comes to life, as he's used to. It never stops making him feel ashamed.

Also not allowed to curl up or hide in any way, he's just dragged forward to keep walking.

A strong sensation of nausea hits him when they enter his designed post tent of this campaign. It feels like the protection barriers put around the tents are getting stronger each campaign.

Being on an empty stomach doesn't help, either. Regret fills him from refusing breakfast, but he's sure his stomach wouldn't have kept it down anyway.

"... This is it? The rumors made it look spine-chilling, not... this." A voice from his right side says, a bit far back. Further into the tent, then. Cyrus doesn't recognize the voice, but the words are familiar.

The gloved hand on his neck squeezes, and he stops after a second of trying to figure out if it was out of frustration or a command to stand still.

No scolding comes, so it must have been a command. Or both.

"Wait until you see it destroying a whole military camp while laughing like a maniac," Mr. Wilson says. That voice he does recognizes in the very core of his being. And by the coldness of it, his handler is audibly used to that question as well.

Cyrus doesn't have time to feel ashamed of the words before a pressure on his neck commands him to kneel down. Even with the knee pads, a mercy not chosen by his handler, the impact hurts a bit.

"Behave." Is what reaches his ear before the leather gloves are unfastened from his wrists.

Magic wraps around the metal gloves that were beneath the leather ones and bend it open. Cyrus didn't even hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do that. Maybe this gifted doesn't have a handler, he knows there's some free Gifted that serve the military willingly.

Unlike Cyrus.

He obediently waits with unmoving hands until his handler applies pressure on his head in another silent command. No one speaks as the nullification glasses are unlocked from his bowed head, nor when his half-necrotic fingertips find the floor beneath him.

It's not grass, it's rocks. He suppresses a disappointed sigh.

Cyrus knows better than to look around or shift from his position, but he's still able to see a bit of the tent's inside. The metallokinetic does in fact have a handler, and a black eye. He can't see anyone else, they're all behind him for safety.

That black eye must hurt, there's probably more bruises under the clothing, it never stops at just one.

Cyrus shouldn't care that the gifted was hurt. But he did. They deserve someone to care.

Mr. Wilson blocks his vision of the gifted by crouching down. The direct, practical delineation of where the enemy camp is sinks into his mind easily as his handler speaks. It's easy to map in his head exactly where he needs to focus on.

"You have permission to use your power, Wither." An uncomfortable eagerness blooms in him at the words.

"Yes, sir," Cyrus whispers and his collar beeps, its blue lights turning red as magic comes to life under his skin once again.

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

Pain doesn't even register in the sea of feelings building up in his body. The rocks puncturing the palms of his hands aren't nearly enough to ground him, not after years of the magic slowly numbing his nerves.

The tent disappears and all he can see is colors erupting from the blackness, like thousands of little roots travelling through the grass. Ignoring the surrounding life had become easier over the years, and the withering knew to travel until it's closer to the delineated area than to him before branching to reach all soldiers of the other side.

It took less than a minute for him to spiral into euphoria this time.

Faintly, he knew his lips were moving, in that same eerie murmur of always, singing words he couldn't understand, but also couldn't forget. An incantation that breaks the laws of nature. A chant that was never created... only repeated. The echo of something that always existed.

And so he repeats. From the words, waves of withering magic follows the colorful branches and pushes it forward.

His hands crack and dug further into the ground, and he repeats the chant again. Again, again, again...

𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

Cyrus could see, or in a way feel, the life bursting out of the enemy's camp. It was hard to separate what was greenery and what was people, but it didn't matter in the end.

Wither magic fills the entire enemy camp with thousands of black ramifications that only he sees the colors of. Growing, rotting, decaying.

Every cell in his body beams with giddy energy.

A warm mist swirls on his arms pleasantly. Something similar started filling his eyes, and Cyrus's head was pure delight. His chest shudders with a bubbly feeling as a smile grows on his face.

And then everything goes black. The cold, painful reality crashes down on him, harshly taking all the cheerfulness away and leaving behind an itch, a hysteric uneasiness. A faint beeping of his collar tells him he's done today, it had turned blue again.

Cyrus didn't even know he had made a noise until the collar beeps again with a warning electrical shock. With a flinch, he goes dead quiet. An argument was happening over his head.

Cyrus wants to keep using his magic, why can't he? It's so warm and happy-

"It was fucking smiling, it is fine to keep on! What is the point of having a weapon that can't be used?!" A man behind him almost yells. Not the same one from before, a slightly more familiar one. It might be the general, but without seeing it's hard to be sure.

Yes, Cyrus was fine to keep going, he was! It's been less than a minute with the nullification glasses back on, but he misses the colorful cheerfulness already, his body is taut with the need to move, to do something, anything.

But Mr. Wilson is right there, so he stays obediently still.

"I'm not telling it to launch an attack again! The magic would consume it's head and-" Mr. Wilson pauses, and Cyrus recognizes his temper rising. It's an effort not to flinch. "Ugh, you have no idea how bad it gets. Wither. Up, we're leaving."

"Mmn?" The order takes a second to click. "Oh... yes, sir..." To speak was hard, his tongue didn't move the okay he wanted it to. Cyrus could hear the ecstatic smile on his own voice, and he almost winces at it, but without knowing why. To smile was good, wasn't it?

Should he even be speaking, actually? Wilson doesn't usually like him speaking. Did he say "Sir" as he was supposed to? He doesn't think so... but no shock comes. Perhaps he did. It's hard to remember.

The floor seemed to spin beneath Cyrus when he stood up.

A gloved grip squeezes his arm and Cyrus knows to stay completely still, despite the dizziness. Magic envelops his hands as the metal gloves are bent to fit them again. He still couldn't hear the metallokinetic's handler telling them to do it, maybe it had been a silent command.

He feels the leather gloves being fastened on his wrists, too, before Mr. Wilson grabs him by the upper nape and guides him out. The sound of many boots around them tells him the escort team is here already.

On the way back, there's no longer any murmuring. Even blinded, he knows everyone is just staring. There's only the sound of heavy steps and the wind slowly bringing the smell of death into the camp.

The heavy metal door shuts with the escort team outside, and the only steps that echo inside the container are his and Mr. Wilson.

Blindly, he's pushed to sit inside his resting capsule. Oh, that's right, he's at a campaign, his den isn't here... the sad longing only lasts a second.

The thin mattress is cold, and the restraints are too tight. Cyrus hates the cold, but it feels so weird, he can't help but giggle. It sounds off, but he can't pinpoint why.

"Quiet," Mr. Wilson scolds sternly, fastening his legs securely inside the capsule. Cyrus flinches and tenses from the upcoming shock that doesn't arrive.

What a silly thing, to flinch from something that didn't even happen. He suppresses another fit of giggles.

The pressure building up behind his eyes and neck is getting harder to ignore. His fingers twitch with the need to use his magic again, but the nullification doesn't let him.

The pressure gets worse.

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎.

Now the shock comes, and Cyrus's flinch is not so funny this time. It wasn't just a warning shock, but he doesn't know why he has been punished. Mr. Wilson doesn't clarify it, either. He's scared of not knowing.

The twitches are getting worse. He wants to move. The cold is starting to creep in again, and he wants the warmth back.

His hands move slowly under the temporarily loose restrictions, trying to relieve some of the painful nervous energy without grabbing Mr. Wilson's attention.

It doesn't work. His handler always sees everything.

"Did I say you could move, Wither?" Cyrus freezes from the gelid tone. His shoulders go up chastened just before a gloved hand fists his hair harshly. That'll form a knot later... he wants to wash up and detangle his hair already, before it gets too bad.

From how harsh Mr. Wilson's grip is, he doesn't think he'll be allowed that so soon.

"Stop trying to be sneaky, that's the only warning you'll be given." Cold and firm as always. Frightening as always.

"Yes, sir," Cyrus answers quietly. It's weird how he still feels afraid and sad even when he's feeling giggly and euphoric.

Euphoric. Didn't that word mean something important? The headache is getting worse.

Mr. Wilson's grip only grows even more painful. There's more to be said, but Cyrus's head is not working well. He doesn't want to talk, he wants to move.

What weapons want doesn't matter.

He tries again. "I'm... I won't be sneaky again. I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson," he tries. The hand leaves his hair without any further words.

The need to move only gets worse in the silent. He knows Mr. Wilson knows. Cyrus's body is so tense it hurts.

He needs to use his magic, he needs to. It hurts, it's bad, he wants the giddy energy back, and not this nervous, restless cold creeping in. Everything is still pitch black, and the restraints are too heavy, and he wants his magic free again-

So you can kill more people with it?

No. What? No, no, no-

Your handler stopped you before the euphoria truly took place. Where is your gratitude, you vile thing? Why must others die just so you can smile?

That's not what he wants, he just... he just wants the colors back, the happy feeling of-

Of killing.

The memories of colored forms change. Those were people.

People you killed.

"Are you crashing already?" Comes the distant, cold voice. It takes long seconds for Cyrus to recognize it's Mr. Wilson's.

Crashing. Yes. Yes, he's crashing, and he's still on war camp, so he doesn't even get his white den-

Images strafe his mind. People died. People were killed. By him. And he was just smiling. He giggled to people losing their lives. Not only soldiers, there were medics, and servants, and-

A cold, sharp thing runs his arm and he flinched away, swallowing hard. He tastes blood. He knows it's not his.

Vile thing. You're a plague on earth that should be eradicated.

Cyrus's back presses against the capsule mattress, and he can barely separate what is real touch and what isn't. Sharp goosebumps run up his arm, his hands are being held, there's a pressure on his chest and a numbness on his left leg.

"It's euphoric state was pretty fast this time, it was a good timing to retrieve it," Mr. Wilson's out loud thinking reaches his ear along with a faint noise of screams that mustn't be true.

They're true, you're just hearing them too late.

"Today will be easy, then."

Cyrus couldn't disagree more with his handler.

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Want to see Mr. Wilson's pov? This is the drabble this series began as. You can consider it a loose version of this chapter, but in Mr. Wilson's view.

Taglist: @whump-till-ya-jump @floral-comet-whump @paingoes @bonbonbobomb @inhurtandincomfort @half-duck @scoundrelwithboba

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