#and said second in command is having NONE of it lol

[l-l-s]

Hi OP, I couldn't get this post out of my head so I made a drawing, hope that's okay XD

Today on Weird Ideas My Half-Asleep Brain Has:

Sauron x Curufin and Sauron x Celegorm.

I mean…. ehhh?? Oddly enough it works??? Sauron and Curufin do share smithing as their main craft, and Sauron and Celegorm share the whole canine thing, so it isn’t too wild to assume they’d have something to bond over. Plus, both Cs would absolutely HATE the concept of “Oh No, Dark Lord hot,” so there’s no shortage of drama.

(Someone please tell me if this is good or not lol, I don’t know enough about the three Cs to tell 😅)

[dwaekkicidal]

Lessons

˚ʚfwb!Bang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Just a regular session of your best friend helping you learn Korean <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, nicknames; ‘honey and good girl,’ pvssy slaps, playful ass&thigh spanking, Chris calls himself Daddy once lol, rough sex, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: max and I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it was soo hot so I wanted to write something for it,,, but then I lost motivation for it for a while😭 anyways hope u enjoy <3

OH and thank you for 700 followers!! (im late so now so ~25 away from 800) :''') I have something planned for if/when I hit 1k hehe, Love u guys :>

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

After you had moved to Korea, you made it your sole goal to be completely fluent in Korean as soon as possible. You knew the basics and some vocabulary that got you through day-to-day encounters, but holding an actual conversation past introductions was rather difficult. So, this is how you found yourself in your current situation. Your best friend and fuck buddy of 2 years giving you weekly Korean lessons.

And this? This was a normal thing between you both. Sitting in his lap practicing while he sits there explaining things and kneading your thighs mindlessly. It was a normal occurrence! The only difference is you usually wore sweats or some sort of bottom that would cover your legs more. Today was one of the hotter days of the week, so you disregarded the extras and opted to only wear one of his shirts, nothing else.

His hands rubbed eagerly up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh like he does with soft pillows. Again, it was normal, but today he seemed to be restless with his movements. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath when he mindlessly squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh rather roughly while he translated a word you couldn’t figure out. “What is up with you today? You’re more touchy-feely than usual.”

“Sorry haha. Had a long day so I’m fidgety.. And you know I can’t resist you in nothing but my shirt.” You only hummed in response. You believed what he said, but you also knew that he wasn’t stupid and that the apology was not for his roughness as much as it was for how riled up he knew you were getting. He was never actually sorry about being physically affectionate with you, but you both knew how you tended to get very horny when his hands were on you so desperately.

“Mmmm.. Let me play with you a little while you read, okay?” You shake your head and push your study items away, pulling a laugh from him when you mumbled out ‘Fuck that, I need you.’

“None of that hahaha. Focus on the reading, honey.” He said, placing a kiss on your cheek before leaning down and biting into your neck. You groaned and leaned back into him, grinding against him in an attempt to make him fold in your favor. He let the first few grinds pass as he left hickeys along your neck, but the second your hands cupped him through his shorts he grabbed your hips to still your movements.

“Hey.“ The commanding tone in his voice caught you off guard and had your hands immediately stop in their tracks. “Stop that. You’re going to finish reading this text and then I’ll fuck you nice and good.”

“It’s not that serious, Chris. It's just a few paragraphs, we can do it after or just skip out this week.. Plus it’s your fault I’m this horny anyways.” The attitude in your voice makes him narrow his eyes, and then he grabs your chin and angles you to look back at him.

“Watch your tone. And I’m not gonna tell you again,” His hand grabbed both of yours and placed them on the table before moving to spread your legs open for him. Then, he finishes his sentence and enunciates each word with a harsh smack to your bare cunt. “Finish. Reading. The. Article.” The last one comes off harder than the others and it pulls a squeal from you, making your hands shoot down and wrap around his wrist while your legs slam shut against his hand. He grabs from your inner knee and hooks your legs over his, keeping you spread for him, and he pulls your book closer again.

You can feel the teasing smile on his face after he places a kiss on your cheek and then speaks against it. “You only have one article left, honey. The quicker you read it, the quicker I can bend you over and fuck you into the table~” You can’t help but whine and nod. Once you look down at the material again, Chris’ hands that were previously rubbing your inner thigh move back to rub along your wet folds. 

Then for what feels like the next hour, but was really just 20 long minutes, you slur out the words in front of you as best as you can. Chris’ left hand swapped between drawing circles into your clit and pinching your nipple, while his right hand shoved fingers against your walls. And every couple of minutes he would swap between kissing your neck to sucking hickeys into your collarbone. However, you weren’t allowed to cum and any time you mispronounced something or took too long to read a word, a stern slap was sent against your clit. As long as you continued to read well, he would pump 3 of his fingers in and out of you.

By the time you’re halfway through the material, your mind is foggy and you’re almost drooling on yourself from the constant edging. By the time you’re on the last sentence, your legs are shaking and you're slumped against him letting out quiet moans. Your neck and collarbone were so red from his incessant suckling, and you were desperate to get this over with. And then, when you finally finished, he stopped all movements to place a soft, congratulatory slap on your thigh and massaged your hips.

“Good girl… Now was that so hard?” With that, he hurriedly clears the desk before helping you stand and then standing himself. The chair you both rested on was kicked backwards and your whole world spun as he suddenly pinned you to the desk. You whined as his hand held a tight grip in your hair and pushed your face into the table. His free hand playfully squeezed and slapped at your ass a few times before you heard his shorts and boxers hit the floor.

You sighed out his name as he teased his tip through your folds, silently pleading with him to hurry it up. “Shhhhhh… ‘Atta girl. You did so well, baby. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”

He finally sunk in and nothing but low, whiny moans left your lips as you clenched around him. His free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it in appreciation while he slowly sunk every inch he had to offer. Once he bottomed out he gave you only a little bit of time before his thrusts started, albeit slowly at first but quickly ramping up due to his own impatience. It doesn’t take long for him to change to an unforgiving and rougher pace, his hand still holding your head against the table.

“Fff-fuck.. Christopherrr-”

“Yeah yeah, baby. Daddy’s got you. ‘M nice and deep, just how you like it right?” You missed the way he smirked when you let out a desperate ‘Uh-huh’ in response, but you could feel the way it encouraged him when his hips slammed against yours with more eagerness. He keeps this pace up for a while until he feels you tighten around him, and then he changes to slow, deep thrusts that make your eyes roll into your skull. 

The hand in your hair slides on top of yours on the desk, intertwining your fingers, and he leans forward to place his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Mmmm keep squeezing me, Honey. Fffuck, juuust like that..”

When you’re tipping over the edge, he places a kiss on your sweaty skin and moans against it. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up just how you like it, okay?” You want to nod, but everything hits you at once so you can only cry out against your desk.

As your orgasm starts to fade into overstimulation, he fixes his posture and focuses on his hip movements. A squeaky moan falls from your lips as he suddenly bottoms out and the hold on your hip tightens. He threw his head back and bit his bottom lip as he came, attempting to muffle his whiney moans. He rides out his orgasm by sometimes pulling out and snapping his hips harshly against yours.

“Fuck… If that’s how we end the studying session from now on, I might consider this payment.” He jokes.

You let out a breathy laugh and he starts to pull out slowly, pushing you into the table as he did so. You take the moment to catch your breath when you realize he’s gone quiet and there’s the light feeling of breath on your thighs. Your head snaps back and you realize he was kneeling in order to watch his cum slide down your folds.

“Hey!” you whine and place a hand on his forehead, pushing his face away only for him to resist, so you use your feet to push him harder. He laughs at your embarrassment and stands up, pulling you to sit up as well and lifting the shirt off of you. He uses it to wipe you down before throwing it into your hamper and grabbing one of his spare shirts from your dresser. He steals a kiss before covering you in the shirt, then drags you to the living room to watch a tv show together.

You two spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching tv and relaxing in each other’s warmth. It’s no surprise when soft snores are heard and you look down to see his sleeping face squished into your chest. You huff out a laugh before you snuggle him closer. Then, your eyes get heavy until they inevitably close, and you fall asleep too.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

[whoreforsexymen]

This might be kind a kind of crazy request but hear me out, but feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable. So it's Jace Talis x reader SFW but it aludes to smut. Basicaly jayce wants to gets freaky with his girl or guy or whatever, but Jayce want to watch victor get freaky with the reader, Jayce's partner. I don't want to see any smut, but I just want to see the conversation go down between Jayce and Victor, of Jayce asking Victor if we would like to smash his partner and watch them lol.

Your wish is my command, darling. Sit back and let Mommy do her thing 🤍 (Also, tagging this as NSFW since it uses strong language, and heavily eludes to is directly about cucking.)

Jayce asking you to cuck him w/ Viktor | Flash

Pairings: Jayce Talis x Reader x Viktor

Pronouns: None used for Reader. Can be read as GN!!

Rating: NSFW, 18+ MDNI !!!!!

Word Count: 447

Tags: Cuckholding, Implied M/M (if you squint), Heavy implications of sex (duh), maybe slight OOC Jayce (also, if you squint), slight Sub!Jayce (if you REALLY REALLY SQUINT)

Notes: I have yet to watch S2 because I already can’t handle the heartbreak I know is waiting around the corner for me. So this is written with S1 Viktor and Jayce!!

Also, my first request!!! EEEE!! I hope you like it!! I wrote this so fast cause I was so excited and had nothing else to do hehehe xo

I ALSO KNOW YOU ASKED FOR THE CONVO TO BE BETWEEN VIKTOR AND JAYCE— WHICH ILL DO SOON, TOO, AS A PART 2!! But I liked this idea better ansjdkdkskkkkk for now!!

“…What?” You ask, bewildered.

“I know— I know it’s a weird request. But. I don’t know. I just think it would be hot to watch you… y’know… get fucked by someone else. And— I mean. It’s not like there’s anyone I trust more than Viktor—“ Jayce spoke quickly, a hint of embarrassment lacing his words as he let out a nervous chuckle, his fidgeting betraying his best efforts to exude a calm facade.

He swallowed tightly, his nerves making him feel exposed and helpless, like a child left alone in the dark.

“So. Let me get this straight. I just want to make sure I’m hearing you right. You want Me— And— Viktor, to fuck… While you watch?” You ask plainly.

Jayce swallowed once more, his nerves spiraling as he struggled to hold himself together.

“That is what I said… yes.” He mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

You stare at him, dumbfounded. The idea itself doesn’t catch you off guard—not really. In fact, it stirs something exciting within you. It’s a little unconventional, sure, but you’re not opposed to exploring what could lie ahead for your sex life with Jayce. You might enjoy letting him take the lead most of the time, but there’s something about the way he’s dancing around this topic in particular— too nervous to be bold—that sparks a fire in your gut.

“Hmm.” You hum softly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Is it just because you wanna see your boyfriend naked~?” You tease, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you look up at him, your gaze heavy with playfulness, smoldering as always.

Jayce stammers harder than before.

“I- wh- No. Pfft. It’s just- I just-..” He can’t even continue his stammering before you kiss him. It was a soft and chaste one, yet needy in its own way, and above all—understanding.

After several long seconds, once you sense his nerves start to settle, you slowly pull away, the tension lingering in the space between you.

“We can do that.” You say softly, giving him one extra peck to the lips.

“Really?” He queries, unsure of if you’re being truthful.

You emit a gentle chuckle.

“Yes, my love… I’m open to it.” You explain, running your hands along his chest… Over his vest… and down the length of his tie. You felt him shudder beneath your wandering hands.

“Why don’t you ask Viktor, and if he’s open to it, we can try… let’s see… tonight, hmm?” You ask, leaning in and nibbling his ear ever so teasingly.

After a long pause, Jayce finally speaks again, his voice quieter now, as if weighing his words more carefully.

“I already asked him. He said yes.”

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Champagne Problems

♥ masterlist | request rules | 12 days of ficmas

♥ pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: the two of you end up at a party with different intentions

♥ wc: 2k - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing, angst, and alcohol (drink responsibly please lol) !!!

♥ a/n: TONS of angst in this fic so get ready lol <3 i've been wanting to put out this fic for SO long you don't understand. tagging bestie @theonottsbxtch

Charles was head over heels in love with you—it was a shame, really.

You sat on your shared king sized bed in a sparkly dress, observing your boyfriend as he slipped on a gold watch. 

“We need to leave soon mon amour,” he said, wandering over to you and kissing your cheek. “We don’t want to be late, do we?”

You nodded and adjusted the jewelry on your hand.

Charles folded the cuffs on his sleeve, “You alright?”

“Mhm,” you nodded with a fake smile.

You hadn’t seen Charles in months because of his work. Ironically the first place he wanted to take you was a gala... For his work.

The two of you met because of your love for F1. The narrative of Ferrari brought you together and despite his promises to be there for you, he always left them unfulfilled.

You were alone. Way too often. Left by yourself to take care of Leo and be his wag.

You and Charles wandered outside the apartment to his car. He opened the door for you���like a gentleman. But you couldn’t shake this melancholic feeling whenever you’re around him.

-

”Hey, where’s Charles?” Arthur, your boyfriend’s younger brother asked with a smile.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink, and gazing at the room full of talkative people. The second you got there he wandered off to find Pierre. You couldn’t even blame him. This was for business after all.

”Hm, that’s odd. I’d expect him to be with you.” he scrunched his nose. “I remember one time last year—he was so excited to come home for winter break and see you. He would talk about you all day to me on the phone,” Arthur chuckled.

You gave him a faint smile. That was the Charles you fell in love with. Alas, he was across the room talking to someone else’s girlfriend.

“Well, let me know if you see him. I’ll see you in a few weeks for Christmas, yeah?”

You swallowed hard, pausing before a response.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” you smiled with a nod.

“Great, Maman said she already got you gifts,” he laughed. “I’ll see you around Y/n.”

He nudged your shoulder with an infectious smile, wandering off with a drink in hand.

God, why did this have to hurt so fucking much.

-

“Thank you all for being here,” a man said into a microphone, commanding the room to silence. “It has been an incredible season, but now we must start planning for the next one. Thank you to all our sponsors who are able to make this happen and congratulations to all that we have done this year.”

He raised his glass of champagne, leading everyone to follow and clink theirs together. You sat at a round table with your closest friends from the industry, Pierre and Kika as Charles got up to ask the man at the front of the room something. He came back with the microphone in hand and turned it on.

He stared down at you, eyes peering lovingly into your soul.

“Y/n… you are the most beautiful, kind, intelligent woman I have ever met,” he spoke into the mic, elicting a few ‘awh’s’ from the crowd and drawing at least a hundred eyes to you.

Charles slowly bent down, grabbing something out of his suit pocket.

Your eyes widened and you tried to say something but you couldn’t. Every word was trapped in your mouth, despite your jaw being on the floor. Plenty of gasps and whispers came from the room. You could see Kika’s eyes light up, clearly ecstatic for you.

“I don’t really have a whole speech planned,” he laughed softly. “All I can really say is how much I love you… Will you marry me?”

He flicked the ring box open, revealing a gold ring with a huge diamond.

You paused, trying your best to take in everything that has happened before shaking your head.

“Charles… can we talk about this somewhere else?” you whispered.

Charles' expression dropped instantly. He knows what that really means.

More gasps. More gossip.

Clearly the whole room knew what it meant too.

“Is she fucked in the head?” you heard someone from the crowd whisper.

Followed by, “If she won’t marry him I will,” and “What a shame.”

”I’m sorry Charles, I’m gonna get a Lyft.” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Kika looked at Pierre completely stunned. This was certainly not how the two of them thought the night was going to go. This was certainly not how you thought the night was going to go.

Kika’s heels clicked on the tile floor as she ran after you, pushing the two glass doors open to find you sprinting down the long set of stairs.

“Y/n, wait!” she shouted after you.

You sat at the bottom step, waiting for your ride to arrive.

She stopped beside you, “I can drive you home,” she mumbled.

“That’s alright, I already paid for it.”

She sat down beside you and put a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

You grabbed her hand gently, feeling the coldness of her gold rings. You shook your head no.

She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, forcing your head to rest on her shoulder.

She kissed your head sweetly, “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in your hair.

-

You tossed your things on a table right next to the front door and kicked off your heels. You strut over to your kitchen and opened the fridge in hopes to find more alcohol. You were already probably drunk on Dom Perignon and your own tears, but with everything going on you might as well try to forget the horrendous night.

You grabbed a small glass from a cabinet and closed the fridge door, flinching when you saw Charles standing in the dark.

“Jesus Christ, Charles…” you whispered, pouring yourself some straight Vodka.

You braced your hands on the side of the marble counter, closing your eyes. Maybe if you close them tight enough he’ll disappear.

You sighed, “I don’t know how to start this conversa-“

“You said no?��� he whispered. You could hear the heartbreak in his words.

You swallowed hard, looked around the room—anywhere but his eyes.

“I never said no…” you trailed off.

“But you meant no, right?”

You thought about marrying him before. A lot, actually. Racing, Traveling, Family. But there was always one thing missing from every daydream. And that thing was Charles.

You can’t follow him around the country for his job and even if you did—is that who you wanted to be? Just the wife of Charles Leclerc? 

“I don’t think you can truly be committed to this relationship. This isn’t what I need, and that’s okay.”

“I can't truly be committed?” he scoffed. “I'm not truly committed enough to get down on one knee?” 

Your relationship this past year wasn’t what you wanted. But one day it will be what someone else wants, and that’s what he deserves.

“C’mon Y/n, I love you-“ he muttered.

“Love isn't always enough,” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Ah, the painful truth.

You watched as his face dropped, fully taking in the cruelness of your words. 

“Charles, I’m sorry…” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Just go. Dégage de chez moi, I don’t want to see you right now.” (translation: get the fuck out of my house) he muttered harshly. 

-

It’d been a year since you last saw him. That night you packed up all your things as he slept at Arthur’s. You were gone by the time he got home.

You still spent time in the F1 scene. You had friends there too, but it still felt a little cruel. You didn’t fall out of love, at least not with someone like Charles—that doesn’t happen. 

If the circumstances were different you might have been married. You would’ve had a beautiful ring, a beautiful family, and a beautiful man. 

“Y/n,” Kika shouted through a laugh, half sprinting in her heels. Her right hand settled on your bicep and her left took your forearm, yanking you towards a group of women. 

“C’mon, I haven't seen you in months,” she said, causing you to crack a smile. You rolled your eyes and slipped off your bar stool, ready to get a little tipsy with your friends. She was right. It had been way too long since you had a girls night. The last one was before you lost your status as a wag. 

Today it was you, Kika, and Rebecca—all in elegant outfits that perfectly fit your vibes. Kika in a black long sleeve, off the shoulder neckline number, Becs in a sparkly red one that she luckily got to keep after modeling, and you in a short white satin dress with spaghetti straps and some matching white heels. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Rebecca said, looking you up and down. 

You sighed, “I haven’t been to an F1 event since you know…” 

She rolled her eyes, “That's exactly why you need a drink. Forget about him and have fun with us. Your favorite sport should not be attached to the memory of a man.” 

Great point. 

“Come here,” she dragged you back to the bar Kika pulled you from. 

She ordered three martini’s on the rocks, extra olives.

She handed you one of the glasses, “We’re going to meet up with Lily M and Carmen in about an hour alright? We’ll be out of this place in no time and you won’t even think about you know who.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked, sipping the drink with your eyebrows raised. 

“It's a surprise,” Kika said with an eye roll as if to say “duh”. 

You spent the next hour drowning in new conversations and shots. Sure you were at someone’s work party, but it’s not like you had to be professional. No one seemed to give a shit what Charles’ “Ex Wag” was doing.

“Carmen and Lily are outside, are we ready to go?” Rebecca asked, peering up from her phone. 

“Yeah, I just need to find the bathroom and then we can go,” you lied, grabbing your clutch off the circular table. 

You wanted to step outside and get a quick bit of fresh air before you returned to the group. They were doing something amazing in order for you to move on from your past relationship, but all you could think about was something you shouldn’t be. 

It's been a year, you should be over him, right? Too bad the pain didn’t stop at Charles. It was his whole family. God, you missed Arthur so much. You missed fighting with him about what Christmas movies to watch and hanging out in the Ferrari garage together. You missed Lorenzo and his older brother-like wisdom. You missed Pascale and how she welcomed you with open arms into the family. Fuck, you felt like a traitor. 

You sighed and wandered off onto the balcony, picking at the rhinestones on your purse. You leaned over the railing, letting the cool wind kiss your skin. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” an accented voice said from behind you. You would recognize it anywhere. 

Charles took his place beside you, avoiding eye contact. It took a good minute before you were able to respond. 

“I- uhm… I heard you and your new girlfriend broke up. I'm sorry,” you muttered. What an odd way to start this conversation. You weren’t even sure if it was true, you heard it in a tabloid. 

He hummed, “I suppose love wasn’t enough to save us.” 

Ouch. 

You scoffed, “Yeah I guess not.” 

The silence was loud. 

“Sorry,” he whispered in a change of tone. Maybe even a change of heart. “It’s good to see you again.” 

“Yeah,” you whispered back, unenthusiastic. 

“The family misses you.” 

You smiled slightly. That was good to hear. “You can tell them I miss them too.” 

“...I miss you.” 

He placed his hand on top of yours slowly, gently rubbing his thumb across yours. His cold silver rings brought flashbacks to your mind.

You looked up at him, tears begging to fall from your lashes but you kept it together; at least until he was gone. 

You squeezed his hand like you used to, “‘l’ll see you around, Charles.” 

You had to remind yourself why you said no everyday. It didn’t matter if you loved him and it didn’t matter if he loved you. You won’t settle for second in his life.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

taglist; @sainzzreputaticn @theseerbetweenus @yawn-zi

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 12, Unlucky - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of violence.

Word Count: 1.2k

Previously On...: You learned the extend of Rhodey's condition and, based on Sam's testimony, Carthage is to be held responsible. When Tony ripped into her, Bucky came to her rescue. Much to your embarrassment, Tony called out his penchant for being there for Carthage over you in front of the entire team. Sam overhears how you want Carthage gone; he suggests you, he, and Natasha talk.

A/N: Some interesting information is revealed. Interesting information indeed. This is a scheduled post, so I hope I'm having a good time in NoLa right now! lol

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

Moments later, the three of you were holed up in your room, as it was on the floor closest to the med bay. You and Nat sat on the couch while Sam, who had quickly rinsed himself of Rhodey’s blood in your shower, and was now wearing your terrycloth robe, sat in one of your armchairs. While passing Jade’s room, you’d put an ear to her door and heard her still crying, the low thrum of Bucky’s voice as he tried to reassure her.

“Spill,” said Nat eagerly. “Who knows how much time we have before Barnes gets back.”

“Yeah, on second thought, this might not have been the best place for a clandestine meeting,” Sam said.

“Just talk!” you urged him.

“Okay, okay!” he began. “So, I think we were set up.”

You and Nat both gasped simultaneously. “You’re not suggesting–” you said, just as Nat said:

“You think Carthage faked the intel?”

Sam shrugged. “I can’t prove it, but none of it adds up,” he said. “To be honest, she was pretty useless on the entire mission. Didn’t come up with a single piece of intel until that final night, and it just so happened to point to an abandoned Hydra base? Come on, man, what are the odds of that?” Sam scoffed. 

“We told her protocol dictated we report it back to command, then wait for back up if the intel was deemed worthy of investigating. She got real insistent we check it ourselves, told us it was probably nothing, but even if it was something, it’d just be an abandoned spot. Said her source told her it had a motherlode of dirt on Hydra operatives in positions in international governments. If we could bring it home, we’d be single handedly exposing the very inner workings of Hydra, and how could we not do that? Rhodey wanted to go interrogate her ‘source’ himself, but Jade wouldn’t give it up; said he just had to trust her.” Sam snorted. “Girl, please. You’re a fucking snake.” You couldn’t help but giggle at that; you’d had essentially the same thought, once upon a time.

“Everything we do to try to convince her to hold off, she fights us on. There was nothing we could say to get her to let go of the idea. But we’re thinking Probie just wants to prove herself in the field, right? We’ve all been there. When she took off, we followed her. Figured we’d at least have her six if something went screwy, and we weren’t going to get reamed out by Cap and Stark if something happened to her out there. But here’s the thing:” Sam scootched forward until he was sitting at the very edge of his seat. “She went in there well before us. By at least three, maybe five minutes, okay?” You and Nat both nodded. “So, my question then becomes, ‘how come the shooting don’t start until after me and Rhodey go in?’ ‘s almost like she went in first and gave them the signal to start firing.” You and Nat stared at each other, wide-eyed. It was speculative, true, but…

“And she don’t come out with a scratch, or a drop of blood on her.” Sam continued. “Plus, I checked her clips when she was sleeping on the flight home. Girl didn’t fire a single shot. Me and Rhodey are in a shootout for our lives, and she doesn’t fire one bullet? Almost like she knew she didn’t need to defend herself.”

“Or you,” Nat added thoughtfully.

“Sam,” you began slowly, “I hate her more than everyone else in this building, but you’re making a really heavy accusation. We would need real, hard evidence in order to do anything about it. She could just really be that incompetent.”

“That’s why I’m comin’ to the two of you,” he grinned. “Computer genius and a super spy. Shouldn’t be hard for the two of you to help Ole Sammy out.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you refer to yourself as ‘Ole Sammy,’” Nat bemoaned. “But I’ll reach out to some of my old KGB contacts. See what they drum up. Pocket, can you go through the Tower’s systems, see if she’s tried to access anything she shouldn’t have? Anything that sets off alarm bells?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that’ll be easy enough.”

“Good,” said Sam, standing up. “In the meantime, this stays between the three of us. Pocket, you gonna be able to keep this from Tin Man? He’s a little too cozy with her for my taste.”

You snorted at that. “Yeah, mine, too. Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.”

“Neither will I,” Nat promised.

“Alright then, ladies, meeting adjourned.” Sam said as he walked to the door. You followed him, wanting to see him out. As you opened the door for him, you met Bucky in the hallway, leaving Jade’s room. 

“Hey there, Buck,” Sam smiled cheerfully before giving you a peck on the head. “Thanks for the chat, Baby Girl. I’ll see you later.”

You and Bucky watched him walk down the hall before he turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Care to tell me why Big Bird is coming out of our room wearing nothing but your robe?” he asked carefully.

“We’re obviously having an affair,” you said dryly, walking back into your room, him right at your heels.

“Well, if it walks like a duck,” Bucky’s voice was angry as he entered your room.

“Are you serious with that right now?” you asked.

“In that case, you’ve been quacking like a duck for a long time now, Barnes,” Nat said from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, hey Nat,” Bucky said, relief washing over his features at knowing you and Sam hadn’t been alone.

Nat stood up and made her way to the door. “I’m gonna head out, let you two work through your ducking issues. See you later, Pocket. Barnes; nice projection work just now.” With a nod, she was gone.

“Listen, Pocket,” Bucky, blatantly ignoring Nat's jab, began, “about earlier…”

“I get it, Buck,” you said, sighing. “You were just trying to protect your friend. I’ll be honest and tell you that I didn’t love the way it looked, and it was embarrassing. But I’m not holding it against you. How can I when you wherefor looking out for someone you care about, even though I really wish you would care about literally anyone else but her? Sorry– that was petty.” You sighed. “Tony made it worse. He’s the one I’m furious with, not you.”

“Thank you for understanding, doll.” He kissed your forehead. “Stark had no right to yell at her like that. He was way outta line.”

“Oh, I’m completely on Tony’s side about that,” you said, holding up a hand when he began to argue with you. “But you and I are going to have to agree to disagree there.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a cute half-grin. “Alright, sweetheart.” He pulled you to him. “I’m just sorry your special day got overshadowed by all this other shit. I know!” He looked down on you, grinning. “Why don’t you pack a bag and first thing tomorrow, you and I’ll drive Upstate, find ourselves a nice little BnB, and spend the rest of the weekend celebratin’, just the two of us? Maybe we can drive out to the Catskills, find a nice spot to look at the stars. You always complain how you can never see them in the city.”

“Yeah, Buck,” you said, snuggling close to him. “‘S long as we know Rhodey’s gonna be alright, I would love to do that with you.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[itsabouttimex2]

I love your platonic yandere writing! Your characterization and dialogue is one of my favorite things. You can tell you really thought hard about how these characters might get to this state. I wanted to say I also love your multi-target Primal Moon Sun Wukong! He's down from tens of thousands of subjects! Let him have a whole family to grab up and hoard! (RIP Y/N and Macaque. I'd say MK too, but honestly, Primal Moon MK seems pretty here for it lol.) (Also not gonna lie, Y/N is the center focus of course (and special RIP to them for being a human caught up in the middle of a group of monkeys! It's exactly as stressful and dangerous-feeling as it should be!), but Macaque's particular dynamic with Wukong and MK have caught me heart and soul here. The actual monkey social structures you're translating have really made this my favorite part of this AU, honestly. It's really good!)

Oh, thank you so much! I spend a lot of time cross-referencing my dialogue to that of the characters I write, so I’m glad my efforts have been paying off!

I really liked the idea of Sun Wukong going yandere for multiple people- part of his backstory is that he just wanted more and more.

So when his inhibitions are artificially stripped away, he sort of temporarily devolves in terms of character development, going back to “I want everything I can have!” but in a familial way, this time. So he builds himself a new troop for the week, no matter how much Y/N and Macaque might try to resist.

As you’ve said it, MK is living for this. One loving family member who doesn’t want to leave you under any circumstances (SW) and two who can’t. (You and Mac)

It helps that being second in command gives him a serious sense of control and power, which he does exert frequently.

I’m glad you think it felt stressful and dangerous! The Primal Moon definitely… messes demons up, and none of the three are the best at dealing with it.

Macaque definitely comes the closest, but he still has a lot of his own nonsense to deal with, like his own overwhelming urge to obsessively engage in stress-relieving behaviors. This can easily lead to Sun Wukong and MK putting him under lock and key, if not outright physically restraining the shadow demon to keep him from accidentally committing some form of self-harm.

I’m glad you like the dynamic he has with these two! Macaque tries to portray himself as some kind of “edgy badass”, but the Primal Moon strips away his ability to do so- there’s so much that Mac needs now, like affection and reassurance and warmth. And, even if he gets them, there’s still the harmful stereotypies that he’ll engage in, any form on self-soothing that makes things feel better.

So restraints and forced cuddles and genuine love from his “troop”… though Y/N is the only one he openly accepts the doting of, given their respect of his boundaries.

And I’m super glad you like the social structures! Monkeys are absolutely fascinating creatures, after all- if also brutal and complex.

Thanks so much for the comment!

[lavendertales]

kiss it better || Joel Miller x f!reader**

summary: one of Joel's bad days turns into a rather heated make-out session.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: tension, dry humping, Joel being needy & somehow still a gentleman lol.

A/N: for my dearest @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage who came up with this idea 🥰 feedback is always appreciated!💕

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

The air in the room feels constricting, even damp. Tension floats from the second you set foot inside, but especially when your eyes land on his figure.

Joel Miller has more bad days than good days, but usually with you, the good seems to outweigh the bad. You’re like a patch, conveniently pressed on his past’s wounds. You learned how to identify his behaviors, when to back off and when to inch closer to him.

Based on the dimmed lights in the room, the thick air and the exhausted look on Joel’s face, this is one of the times he might need company. So you cautiously approach him, trying to find his eyes.

“Didn’t see you at dinner,” you say taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Wasn’t hungry.”

You take his hand into yours, pleasantly remarking that he allows that.

“Bad day?” you ask.

Joel nods, still not looking at you. He seems to be doing everything possible to stare at the floor—virtually anywhere but around him.

“That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all have good and bad days.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you when you need it, always.”

Joel squeezes your hand, still staring at you. During tough times like these, Joel finds himself speechless in his attempt to express to you how much he appreciates your presence in his life. Your presence has become more than just a constant; you’ve become a rock when he needs you most.

“I can leave if you want some space,” you coo, mindlessly playing with a few locks of hair.

As usual, Joel doesn’t express himself through words. He simply squeezes your hand further, thus letting you know he still wants you in the room. You concede, pressing a tentative kiss on his cheek. But then Joel turns his head and captures your lips instead.

The kiss is a mere small gesture of I-got-your-back, something to let each other know that you understand one another. Yet it rapidly evolves into something slightly needier, with Joel grabbing your hips and lifting you slightly so that you’re straddling his lap. None of his touches or wishes are anything new, but the moment feels still too sensitive to take any of this for granted.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, darlin’,” he coos.

“Joel,” you coo, oddly enticed by this point.

You cup his cheeks, feeling like you’re holding the whole world in your hands as you do so, peppering small kisses all over his face.

“Whatever you want to do, whatever you need… I’ll give to you,” you tell him in the sweetest, most intoxicating way.

Like usual, Joel isn’t a man of many words; they often fail him. So instead, he grabs handfuls of your ass and starts to help your body grind against his thighs. You’re already clenching against nothing, huffing and puffing as Joel’s lips travel down your neck and licking wet stripes on the sensitive skin there.

“Are you sure you—hmmmfff—are you sure you want—“

“Are you questionin’ my intentions?” he growls in your earlobe, biting it gently right after, thus causing you to shiver.

“Never,” you smile and reposition yourself so that you straddle only one of his thighs. You remain clothed, and yet somehow, the friction between your covered clit and Joel’s thigh is causing your head to spin feverishly, a delicious frenzy to be had.

“Take off your shirt,” Joel mutters.

His hands linger on your back, having been tugging at the fabric long before he even gave the command. But you obey without much thought, if any at all. You only stop to remove said shirt, exposing your bra. Joel briefly licks his lips, his eyes falling to your beautiful breasts, then back at your face, darkened by lust.

“Take that off too.”

And you do; you unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. You expect to remove everything else, but Joel says nothing else and simply begins playing with your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth till they pebble under the wet touch of his tongue, and remaining buried between them as you resume your grinding.

Your hands are joined around his neck, holding onto his broad shoulders as you chase your high, and Joel takes an even greater pleasure, as well as comfort, in watching you use him like that. It isn’t usage as much as a simple need. A primal, carnal need that is entrenched into the idea of comfort. Joel didn’t really need to get off. He simply needed to feel you, to have you there, a physical reminder that things will be okay and that yes, he can do this.

He can be alive and enjoy it.

Before he’s fully conscious of his own actions, his hips jerk upwards, in a failed attempt to rub up against you, to feel every—clothed—inch of you, however attainable.

“You’re s’soft,” you hear him grumble from your neck, his voice rich with want and something else, something that’s utterly consuming him. “That’s it, take what you want, darlin’.”

You can’t do anything but mumble mostly nonsensical things, chasing your high like your life depends on it. Yours might not, but Joel’s seems to be: he’s grunting, his hands gripping your ass tight as he’s stirring you front and back on his thigh. You’re a mess at this point, and so is your underwear, already soaked and riled up just as you are.

Then you feel the buildup in your belly; slowly, steady, but burning nonetheless. You act on a whim and pull Joel’s face close to yours, kissing him with an aching fire. His kisses always consume you, burning your whole body from inside out and making your head spin so fast you swear you feel high whenever you’re with him.

Your skin is hot and tingly in anticipation, and you moan in Joel’s mouth as your orgasm slowly builds in your belly. He feels your whole body tightening, and holds you even closer to him, whispering words along the lines of It’s alright, I’m right here and Let go for me, I got you, I always got you.

And you know his words to be true; especially when you seize up on his thigh, clenching around nothing and cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a manic kiss to prevent yourself from screaming his name and thus having the whole neighborhood hear.

Although Joel wouldn’t mind that one bit.

But for now, you remain locked Joel’s arms, topless and reeling from the power of your orgasm. You find the strength to pull away in the slightest, just for a mere second, to look at him. You notice the faintest trail of smile on his lips, which makes you smile as well.

“What?” you can’t help but ask, perhaps foolishly so.

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

It’s not often that Joel makes such declarations, but when he does… oh, how he makes your heart flutter and your eyes teary.

“Are you okay?” he asks in return.

“I am. I’m the luckiest woman in this whole damn country.”

And then you melt into his arms, into his touch and into the kiss he chastely presses to your lips.

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part II/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, mild allusions to violence? Idk this is surprisingly mild (for now lol)

A/N: in case you couldn't tell, this chapter came out of the notes I had written down for "Poison In Your Coffee". It's one of the snippets I was DYING to flesh out, so here's to a little self-indulgence from time to time. Enjoy<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I noticed.

My eyes didn't miss Liebgott's rushed half turn when we were dismissed after our Friday night march. It stood out to me; he didn't wait for anyone, not even Grant or Tipper.

I figured he was just eager to get to the barracks after a long day and didn't think much of it.

At least until our Commanding Officers retreated each to their own quarters, and Talbert hurried to fall into step with Luz, a few feet ahead of me and Shifty. I didn't catch much, but the hushed words 'beaten up' from Tab and 'again' from Luz as the latter tentatively explored the faces surrounding them stirred suspicion in me.

"George." Calling his name was enough to make the two of them slow their pace with mildly concerned faces, allowing me and Shifty to join them.

"You were marching with Liebgott, right?" I nodded in response to Luz's question, Talbert's inquisitive gaze on me. "You saw where he went?"

"Looked like he was headed to the barracks." The way both men scanned the moving crowd of soldiers made me become unsure of my own reply.

"He took a turn." Shifty corrected me, motioning ahead of us before taking off his helmet. "Second on the left."

"What the fuck's his game?" George complained, swinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Malark— hey," he stepped in the ginger's way, making Penkala, Muck and More come to a confused halt. "Mind helping us out?"

"What's wrong?"

"Liebgott's at it again." Tab finally disclosed the obvious, making all of us let out different levels of desperate groans and sighs. "If Lip finds out—"

"Is he tryna get himself kicked out of the Airborne?" Don rhetorically inquired with raised brows. "Where'd he go?"

"Shifty says he turned left. Y/n says the barracks."

More's eyes pivoted from Luz to me. "The barracks? Really?"

"I'm not his babysitter, Alton." I spat, taking off my own helmet to hold it under my arm. "I don't know where the fuck he went."

"Weren't you two marching together?" Muck echoed George's question whilst gesturing at Perconte to join us.

"In case none of you noticed, we don't have the smoothest conversations." I retorted. Just like Talbert was growing tired of covering for Liebgott in front of the other Sergeants, I was growing tired of getting the third degree everytime he disappeared.

"This about Joe?" Perconte chirped in, and without missing a beat, his thumb pointed behind him. "He was in a rush to get to A Company's area."

A flash of realization flashed across George's face, the back of his hand nudging Talbert. "What's his name? Bailey?"

Oh. That one asshole from Able. The one who was double Liebgott's size. Taking a peek among the group sufficed to let me know we all were on the same page.

"To hell with getting kicked out," I blurted out, worry seeping through my words. "he's gonna get himself killed."

"He's an idiot."

Penkala's words were followed by Don's decisive steps. "C'mon, we're no help here."

"Wait," I took a hold of George's sleeve. "you're gonna go to Able's barracks?"

"Got a better idea?"

"Maybe." I mused about it for an instant before striding back. "You guys be careful."

"You're not coming?"

"I'm gonna try the smarter option for a change." I replied to Don's baffled question in a slightly louder pitch before rushing to the Winters' quarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word had spread faster than a forest fire over the weekend about the incident that never happened.

By the time our friends had found Liebgott on that Friday night, he was being led back into the camp —along with Bailey and three other men from A Company— by Winters, Able's First Lieutenant and a couple of privates who happened to be on patrol duty that night.

The eight boys who had gone looking for him hadn't said a word about what they knew, or how they thought the event had unfolded for Liebgott to come back to his barracks in one piece and with nothing to say.

He didn't get to leave the camp that weekend.

None of the men disclosed anything, yet somehow rumors still ran around; whether or not they carried my name in them was up in the air. Of course, it mattered little to Liebgott, who more often than not found a way to tie things back to me.

This time, though, he happened to be right.

JOE'S P. O. V.

It wasn't the violent swing of the mess hall's door that brought some of the men's attention to me, it was the fact that I stood still at the entrance, scanning the place with intent and how I zeroed in on her before making a beeline across between the packed tables.

"You couldn't mind your own business, could you?!" I didn't need to call out her name for Y/n to look up from her breakfast. The way my hands slammed her table as I leaned on across from it made her jump on her seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about." It was barely a mumble and she was trying to make it sound like a careless response.

"Cut the act. You reported me off camp." I looked away with a bitter sneer at her discomfort, my voice loud enough to draw unwanted attention. "Got my weekend pass yanked because you couldn't help being a prissy."

She shifted in place, trying not to look around too much as she struggled to stay composed. "Maybe you shouldn't have been sneaking around where you don't belong."

"That’s rich, coming from you." I snapped, leaning in for only her and the ones close to hear. "I didn’t think you'd stoop to snitching, Y/l/n."

A part of me had expected to be wrong, so when she struggled to even meet my glare and her voice turned quieter, the anger brewing inside me bubbled to the surface.

"It’s not like you didn’t bring this on yourself." She made an effort to gain control in our conversation, but her fidgeting was giving her away. "Maybe you should think twice before picking fights with people twice your size."

Wait, what?

"How the hell did you know about that?"

"You're not exactly quiet." It was an instant, almost unnoticeable, but she averted her eyes. "Don't you think?"

With suspicion, I followed her sight and found Talbert who, unlike the rest of our nosy company-mates, seemed more interested in his breakfast than in the confrontation I was provoking. "You kiddin' me?"

Another hit to the wooden table on my part visibly shook her, and it dawned on me that she wasn't only uncomfortable— she was uneasy.

"What? You want a thank you?"

"I wanted to have breakfast in peace." She snapped, her emotions tilting more towards anger now.

"And I wanted my weekend pass. Go cry about it."

She jolted up and mirrored my stance. The soldiers around her moved away as if being too close to us would get them caught in the crossfire.

"Don't worry. Next time I'll let them take a swing at you." It took longer than she would have liked for her usual temperament to start up. "See if I care."

"That's what you should've done, instead of tampering with someone else's business."

She squinted at me with an irritation that reflected mine. "I think you're just mad someone had to bail you out of trouble."

"And I think you don't know how to stay in your goddamn lane." She had that piercing look in her eyes; the one that only showed up when I had her on the ropes. "I didn't ask for your help."

"Okay, you got your little moment," She grabbed her tray, threw a leg over the bench she had been sitting on. "now leave me the fuck alone."

I scoffed and, unwilling to let her walk away for whatever reason I myself didn't fully understand, I stalked around the table, only to be stopped by Toye's arm, lazily raised to block my path.

"why don't you sit down, alright?" His raspy voice sounded tired.

"Yeah, knock it off, Joe." Malarkey jumped it, a mild concerned on his demeanor.

"Piss off." I countered, smacking Joe's hand away and resuming my walk.

By the time I reached her, the tray had already been returned to its place and she was about to exit the mess hall.

I huffed, trailing behind her. "You don't get to walk away on me—"

The words were knocked off me when she halted dead in her tracks, did a half turn and took a step forward. "After the bullshit you just pulled," her index finger dug into my chest. "I get to do whatever I want." I opened my mouth but no retort came out of it before she clapped back, as if she was reading my mind. "You don't need my help. Noted. I'll make sure to remember that next time you get a whole squad running around to stop you from getting beaten up."

"I didn't say—"

"That you needed their help either, yeah. You're such a tough guy, aren't you?" Unlike me, she wasn't rising her voice, which was just as infuriating to me as the bite in her sentences. "You're a fucking idiot, that's what you are."

I didn't have the chance to follow her out; Lieutenant Winters crossed paths with her, getting a quiet salute from a flustered Y/n before his inquisitive, unreadable gaze fell on me.

"Liebgott." It was a warning disguised as a greeting. I wasn't that stupid.

"Sir." I repeated Y/n's salute and took Winters arched brow as a cue to sit down at the nearby table.

Guarnere, having breakfast by my side, muttered something under his breath after giving me a side glance.

"What?"

"C'mon Joe," Luz sighed, turning from an adjacent table to make eye contact with me. "You really think you would've won that fight?"

"She made you a favor." Smokey clarified.

"She's got no right to make that call." I grumbled, stealing a bite from Perconte's plate, earning a muffled complaint from him.

"Jesus Christ, Lieb." Muck complained, shaking his head. "Bailey could deck you any day. She's looking out for you. We're looking out for you."

"Yeah, can you think about the rest of us for once?" I rolled my eyes at Luz's tell-off. "You know the amount of crap we'd get from Sobel if he ever finds out?"

"Alright, that's enough." I dismissed them with a grimace. "I get it. 'M sorry for the trouble. Jesus."

"Good." Penkala nodded, pointing at the door. "Now apologize to Y/n."

"Don't hold your breath, Penk." I retorted before standing up to grab a proper breakfast for myself before drill training.

Maybe the boys were right and I did owe her an apology. Not that she would ever get it, though.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

What is your Favorite Jon Snow Moment?

"The Wall will stop them," Jon heard himself say. He turned and said it again, louder. "The Wall will stop them. The Wall defends itself." Hollow words, but he needed to say them, almost as much as his brothers needed to hear them. "Mance wants to unman us with his numbers. Does he think we're stupid?" He was shouting now, his leg forgotten, and every man was listening. "The chariots, the horsemen, all those fools on foot...what are they going to do to us up here? Any of you ever see a mammoth climb a wall?" He laughed, and Pyp and Owen and half a dozen more laughed with him. "They're nothing, they're less use than our straw brothers here, they can't reach us, they can't hurt us, and they don't frighten us, do they?"

"NO!" Grenn shouted.

"They're down there and we're up here," Jon said, "and so long as we hold the gate they cannot pass. They cannot pass!" They were all shouting then, roaring his own words back at him, waving swords and longbows in the air as their cheeks flushed red. Jon saw Kegs standing there with a warhorn slung beneath his arm. "Brother," he told him, "sound for battle." (Jon VIII, ASoS)

Still upset that they didn't let Jon have this kind of moment in the show. Instead they gave it to...Alliser...

He laughed, and Pyp and Owen and half a dozen more laughed with him.

I really wanna talk about this part for a bit. I believe it also has significance here, because:

[Joffrey] laughed...and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. (Sansa IV, ASoS)

:)

My second one is this:

"The lord commander must pardon my bluntness, but I have no softer way to say this. What you propose is nothing less than treason. For eight thousand years the men of the Night's Watch have stood upon the Wall and fought these wildlings. Now you mean to let them pass, to shelter them in our castles, to feed them and clothe them and teach them how to fight. Lord Snow, must I remind you? You swore an oath."

"I know what I swore." Jon said the words. "I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?"

"They were. As the lord commander knows."

"Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?" Jon waited for an answer. None came. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?"

Bowen Marsh opened his mouth. No words came out. A flush crept up his neck. (Jon XI, ADwD)

Jon has this way about him that really gets people to listen. They may not agree, but they listen, and he gets his points across succinctly.

I like a lot of Jon moments, but those two are certainly my favourites. I like who he is as a character. He's such an internal one, so much of what we know about him is because we have his POV, and I enjoy that. He's snarky, he's stubborn, he's fierce, he's an enigma. Pragmatic, straightforward, brave. (and abnormally strong but that's neither here nor there lol)

He's written incredibly well. Certainly my favourite overall in the series.

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: I will be posting individual warnings for each chapter so look out for that! In this teaser: swearing, alcohol, frat party

☆word count: a big fat 145.6K (slow slow burn I said)

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: THE BIG BOY IS READY!!! After two months and a half of work, I can proudly say that I have finished writing the longest fic/book/story I've ever written in my life. The fic will upate every Friday starting from this Friday, April 7 2023, unless I specify that it doesn't (I do have other upcoming projects lol). Once again, I have @moonleeai to thank for beta-ing like the queen she is! You are the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden by @daechwitatamic, the fic that inspired this big boy! It follows the story of Taehyung and Jo (who's the reader in that fic). Jo, words can't describe how thankful I feel for you writing What Was Hidden. It was a masterpiece from start to finish, and look where it brought us? The Forgotten Spaces wouldn't exist without you, and I thank you with every beat of my heart for giving me this opportunity. Thank you for reading every chapter, for screaming and crying and laughing with me during this whole process. You are amazing and I love you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

You turn around to make your way through the crowd. Jungkook’s lips stretch into a smirk as you move closer, and he cocks an eyebrow once you stop in front of him.

“Missing me?”

You roll your eyes. “Why are you fucking staring at me, Jeon?”

For a second, darkness overcomes Jungkook’s gaze, but he blinks and it’s gone. “I’m just chilling here, I wasn’t looking at you.”

You say nothing, raising your eyebrows as you fold your arms on your chest. He scoffs, glancing away from you.

There’s a moment where you both don’t speak, and you realize you have nothing else to tell him. You’ve never been friends, and you’ve never wanted to be friends with him. You’re about to turn on your heels to head back to the dancefloor when a question pops into your mind.

“Did you leave because of me?” you ask.

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. You rarely see him expressing something other than contempt when it comes to you, and it makes you want to disappear.

“Is that what you all think?”

You scoff. “What else do you think they believe?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He just shrugs his shoulders, looking anywhere but at your face. You even notice his eyes dipping to your cleavage, but he’s quick to recover and look at a spot on your shoulder instead.

“Seriously, Jeon, why did you fucking leave?”

“I told you earlier, it’s none of your business.” He runs a hand through his hair, which makes it fall in front of his eyes a little. You only then notice his hair is longer, fluffier than what it was last year. “And no, it’s not because of you. Though I’m pretty sure you like me being gone, huh? Hoba told me you took my place.”

"Someone had to," you mutter.

In fact, yes, you like being second in command. You and Jungkook had fought for the spot a few years ago, when the last leader had to leave the group because his girlfriend was pregnant. Hobi, who had been second then, became the leader, and it had taken him forever to choose who would replace him.

The only reason why he had chosen Jungkook was because Jungkook was his friend. Yet, Jungkook had never let you live it down, had always felt the need to remind you of it. Even today, when he’s been gone for over a year.

“Are your choreographies any good?” Jungkook asks. It’s a little condescending because he knows damn well you’ve never been good with coming up with a choreography. One of your many shortcomings when it comes to dance. “Wait, have you even created one?”

You see red again. "Fuck you", you say through gritted teeth.

“That’s what I thought.” You want to punch him, to curse him for giving up on the group and then making you feel like you shouldn’t be second. But Jungkook’s not done yet. “The crew’s not going to last long, is it?”

“Maybe if you didn’t fucking abandon everyone out of the blue we wouldn’t be in this position.” You shake your head. “But no, you’ve always been so important uh, you think the world revolves around you and you don’t care that your actions have consequences.”

Jungkook wasn’t really angry before. He was mostly trying to get on your nerves because it’s always been his favourite activity. But now, his face flushes red, and a vein pops on his neck as he stares you down. “You have no fucking idea why I left. I had no fucking choice.”

“You could have told us.”

You’re almost screaming now. But you’re alone where you stand, and you wonder if the crowd has moved to give you space on purpose, sensing the storm that is coming.

"I had nothing to tell you guys," Jungkook says.

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “You know what, I don’t even fucking care anymore. We don’t need you on the crew.”

He chuckles, bitterly. “Oh you don’t? I recall you fucking up on live TV last year.”

Because Scottie had to take his place in the choreography. A choreography you had been working on for years, gone to waste because Jungkook had disappeared.

“You watched us?” It’s your turn to let out a bitter chuckle. “You missed us too much? Couldn’t stay gone?”

“You’re a fucking bitch when you want to, uh?”

It takes you by surprise, not expecting him to straight up insult you. “Excuse me?”

“No, but you really are.” He looks around, before settling his big eyes back on you. “I had my reasons. You getting angry at me about it won’t change anything.”

Chapter one

☆☆☆☆☆

SO ARE WE EXCITED?? Bc I sure am! Let me know what you think!!!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[megamindsecretlair]

Be My Little Darling

Masterlist Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. One shot. There is some making out, unresolved sexual tension! Mentions of private parts. Cursing. There's violence with weapons. Established relationship.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. At least they will be after you stop a creep from bothering one of your waitresses. And Loki has to stop the fight with you. He takes you back to his office to set some things straight.

Word Count: 3,826k

A/N: Ever since hearing that the Loki show had an early concept of Loki running a 70s dance club like the show Lucifer, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So I knocked this out. It was fun to write LOL. I conceived it as a one shot, so enjoy. Not beta'd or proof read, so all mistakes are mine. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!

“Hands. Off. Now,” you snarled. You looked up into the ugly mug of some random person who had too much to drink. He stank of ale and dried sweat and something faintly oily.

He sneered down at you and looked you over. You wore the same thing as the other girls, except you took liberties with yours. The skirt was a little shorter, the cleavage a little tighter, fishnet tights, and fingerless gloves. You wore all black like the other waitresses complete with a fresh black rose pinned to your lapel. 

He saw you no more than background noise, blending into the decadent atmosphere. So, in his mind, he could do whatever he wanted. 

“I don’t hear her complaining,” he said, with a heavy accent. You couldn’t place it, but then again, you were still getting used to New Asgard. Between the Asgardians and the humans native to this part of the world, there was an eclectic mix of voices, accents, and dialects. 

He held one of your girls by the arm and from the looks of it, it was none too gently. She was a pretty brown haired girl, a little mousy and pale, but this room preferred the look of a doe-eyed innocent. You nodded to her, to give her reassurance that everything would be okay.

You turned your scowl back on the idiot. “She’s told you no a few times. Clean out your ears and let her go. I won’t ask again,” you said. 

“And what will you do?” He asked. He looked around the room at his buddies who laughed along with him. You looked around, committing each idiot to memory. They were definitely banned after this. 

You licked your lips, trying to keep your cool. You were so over this bullshit. You weren’t a bouncer and you resented the extra load Loki dumped on your shoulders. As if managing nine fucking rooms in a club was an easy task. 

He chuckled some more, getting his cronies to increase their mocking laughter. The Alfeim room was supposed to be one of the most relaxing and ethereal rooms. You didn’t know where the meathead came from but you made a mental note to deal with the front house staff in the morning. 

You moved forward and conjured a defense baton, bringing it down on his arm at the joint. There was a faint crunching sound and he yelled as he dropped the girl. She grinned and backed away, using her tray as a shield from the other cronies. They stood up and you slowly unveiled a conjured sword, waving it about.

“Ah ah ah,” you tsked. “Play fair.” 

The meathead wailed like an unruly child and you curled your lip in disgust. So pathetic. 

“Out, all of you. And I never want to see you here again.” 

There were five men who encircled you, each remaining in place. You glanced around the room. There were log tables set up with stumps to sit on. There was fake moss on the walls and floor, fake branches overhead, and a cave facade built onstage for the performers. The girls in this room wore leafy, flowy skirts and loose peasant shirts. Flower crowns were woven into their braided hair and they wore sandals on their feet. 

The patrons in this room needed that bit of fantasy to escape for a bit. For now, they were content to watch the fight unfold. They weren’t freaking out, so you decided to keep the mood light. 

The meathead in charge stopped crying long enough to struggle to his feet. “You will regret that,” he said, low and menacing. Well, at least he thought so. But once you saw a man sniveling on the floor with snot running down his face, you kind of lost all respect. 

You swung the sword towards him until it was flush against his neck. “Care to try me? I haven’t had a good fight in a good while,” you said. 

The meathead scoffed. He suddenly thrust his arm up, moving your sword out of the way. But it still nicked him across the neck and cheek. A red line opened up on his skin and bled freely. He paid it no mind as he got in close, using his good side and broad frame to crowd into you. 

You stepped in close as well and used the hilt of your baton to hit him in the abdomen. You stepped in, turned, and used the momentum to bring the baton across his face. His face whipped to the side but then turned back to you with fire in his eyes.

Finally, a good fucking fight. He yelled and ran at you, picking you up and slamming your back against the nearest table. You dropped the sword and conjured another baton and began wailing on any available body parts you could reach. You rained down holy fire on his back and arms until he finally leaned back far enough for you to land a solid kick. 

He stumbled back, cursing at you and calling you out of your name. You hopped off of the table and bent low to bring your batons down on his kneecaps, ankles, and shins. He yowled in pain before grabbing your arm with a snarl.

“Let her go.” A deep, rich voice called out into the room. The faint faerie-like music slowed to a stop. The lights seemed to dim in his presence. 

You sighed. This was the last fucking thing you needed.

“I got it,” you said. You twisted in the man’s hand making him twist in an unnatural way. He could either let go and save his hand or keep going out of spite. He cried out as his wrist twisted too far. You grabbed it and twisted it behind his back. You elbowed him in the back until he was bent over and back to crying. You applied pressure until his knees buckled. 

“All of you, out. And you already know what I will do if I catch you here again,” Loki said. His breathy baritone commanded all the force of a prince. The eggheads who stayed out of the fight looked to their pathetic leader. He looked between you and Loki, trying to determine who was the real threat. You with the weapons, or the owner of the club and his former prince.

The meathead nodded and you let him go with a final shove. He stood up and one of his buddies came to help him stand. He glared daggers at you as they were escorted out by a team of bouncers. 

You weren’t even out of breath. You released your constructs and set about setting the room to rights. You didn’t want to look at him. You already knew that he’d be scowling at you. As if the disturbance was somehow your fault. 

Loki approached you on silent feet. While you were looking down, his shiny black dress shoes came into view.

He called your name and you suppressed a shiver. His voice made music out of your name, pronouncing all of the syllables in his own unique way. Every time felt like you were discovering your name for the first time. 

You dragged your eyes along his all black suit that hugged his frame, accentuated his small waist, and broad shoulders. He wore a black on black suit, with a black tie, and a black rose on his lapel. His hair draped down to his shoulders. He was letting it grow out again and gods it was glorious on him. 

His signature scowl was on his face as he regarded you. 

“I had it covered, you didn’t have to do that.” You hated that even from across the fucking club, word spread so fast that he always spoiled your fun. 

“It shouldn’t get that far,” he said.

“How about you trust me next time?” You snapped. You weren’t a fucking child that he could scold. He raised an eyebrow at you.

Perhaps you really had lost your mind, because you didn’t care this time. “You can’t expect these people to trust me, let alone my girls to trust me, if you swoop in and command people about. They need to fear me, not you,” you continued. 

“He had his hands on you,” Loki said as if it explained everything. 

“He had his hands on Sugar, or did you not see that?” You asked. Loki gave every waitress a name. Sugar, Sweetie, Honey…

“Darling,” he said, with a slight smile. “There’s nothing that goes on in my club that I don’t know about,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes. Yes, you’ve heard the speech. He is the lord and king of the club and no one could tell him different. 

You finished righting the tables and stumps. You grabbed the towel hanging from your back pocket and wiped down the table. The couple who had been sitting there had stood up in the commotion to avoid being trampled. They nodded their thanks. You gave them vouchers for a free drink on their next visit. 

“I don’t need your fucking help, Loki,” you said. You brushed past him but he dug his fingers into the fleshy parts of your upper arm. 

He raised a finger into your face. “Have care how you speak to me,” he said.

His dark eyes bored into yours. Oh he was angry. If he had the ability to burn you with one look, it’d be this one. His jaw flexed as he clenched it and his eyes were so narrow, he looked like his eyes were half closed. 

You yanked your arm out of his grasp. He reared back as if you had slapped him. “Fuck you,” you said. 

Instead of rising to your obvious bait, Loki chuckled. He clapped slowly and turned around, getting others to clap along with him. “Let’s thank the lovely Darling for keeping us safe.” 

The room clapped awkwardly before Loki nodded to the band. The music resumed, the soft and ethereal music floating through once more. Waitresses floated in and out carrying full trays of drinks to go with the forest theme. 

Loki smiled and waved to patrons. He leaned down to speak to a group of women who giggled at his words. Giggled. You dry heaved. 

Loki turned back to you and his smile disappeared. He stepped closer and leaned towards your ear. “My office. Now,” he demanded. 

You sucked your teeth but his expression told you that he wasn’t in the mood tonight. Whatever. If he wanted to fire you, you’d welcome it. You didn’t sign up for this shit. 

You whirled around and exited the room. The common areas were decorated in velvet and revolving lights that switched colors and swirled on the walls. Waitresses dressed in regalia from all over the nine realms marched to and from the various kitchens and bars, carrying drinks or finger foods. 

Your high heels clicked on the floor, despite the thumping music from various rooms you passed. You were all too aware of Loki stalking behind you. He didn’t make much of a sound. If it weren’t for his shoes, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was there. Well, besides the overwhelming presence of him. 

His disappointment and anger were like thick blankets around you. Suffocating you. Your skin was overheated and oversensitive. You wanted a fight but now you were left unfulfilled. Your denied release made you antsy, eyes flicking across the assorted artwork and sculptures in the labyrinth hallways. 

You led the way to his office. Smack at the back of the club, Loki had a spacious and elegant office. He was done in his signature black and emerald. Deep, plush couches he probably fucked people on. 

He had a dark mahogany desk that was large enough to dominate the room. Two chairs were in front of it. File cabinets, boxes, and random sculptures made up the room. He had a private bar in the corner with the best liquor according to his tastes. 

He entered behind you and slammed the door shut. You hated that you jumped. You hated it more that the sound of the door locking didn’t scare you. It excited you. Your pitiful crush on your boss was embarrassing. All of the women loved him. Half the men did too. He had a unique way of making you feel like the only person in the room, despite being surrounded. 

You crossed your arms and faced forward. He stalked towards you, way too close for comfort. You shifted as he trailed a finger down your exposed arm. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“If you don’t respect me out there, the other girls will stop listening. So instead of running a club, I’m now stuck with the task of hiring and training a completely new staff. Do not disrespect me out there,” he said. 

You faced him. “Then don’t disrespect me. I had the situation under control,” you said.

He laughed at you and shook his head. He dropped his hold on your chin. “I’m sure breaking his knees and arms was a controlled situation,” he said.

“He would’ve healed,” you said.

“That’s not the point!” He yelled. Fresh arousal flooded you and made your stomach flip. This was so fucked up. His yelling should not excite you. But it did. Gods, it did. Every single time. 

“There’s no fighting in my club. Ever,” he said. 

“You embarrassed me out there. How can people respect my position if you don’t?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t respect you. I know you can do a good job. Itching for a fight will drive customers away. What’s going on with you?” He asked.

You blinked at him. “What? Nothing. Can’t a woman rage without there being a reason?” 

“Not you, no. What is it? What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth.The hell did he truly care anyway? Maybe you were in a shitty mood because you wanted to be. You were stressed out to the max. The highlight of your day was managing the club. Outside of it…it wasn’t pretty. You preferred the dark interior of the club and its nine rooms to the sunny and bright world outside. It was all so sad. 

But you weren’t about to tell your boss that. If you broke down, he’d be more than justified to replace you. And you didn’t want to think about what would happen if you didn’t have the club anymore. 

He approached you, crowding into your personal space. You backed away until your round ass hit the top of his desk. Still, you tried to get out of the web he weaved. His entire being made the room feel tiny. 

“Tell me or we’ll have to find a more constructive use for you,” he said. He looked down his nose at you, eyes raking over your plump brown lips. 

A sigh escaped you. “We’ve never crossed that line, Loki,” you said. 

“I can’t fathom a reason why right now,” he said.

You chuckled to try to dissipate some of the tension in the room. “You couldn’t give me what I want,” you said.

You and Loki had flirted plenty of times over the years, but you both respected your positions. You didn’t need anyone thinking you got this job on your knees. Some of the girls liked to still gossip and call you Princess when they thought you couldn’t hear them. But no one thought you two had a relationship.

How could they? Loki had a different woman or man or those in between on his arm every night. He made no secret of the type of people he liked. And safe to say, you did not fit the bill. You weren’t ugly. You knew that for a fact. You were gorgeous with real curves and a real tummy. 

Loki seemed to go for the weak willed, bland people whose personalities came from a quiz online. He liked to boss people around and you made sure that he knew that he couldn’t do the same to you. 

“You think you’re so hard to figure out?” He chuckled and looked over you as if you were nothing. “Darling, I know what you need.” 

You jutted your chin out and crossed your arms. He poked your side. You slapped his hand away. He poked your other side and you slapped his hand away again. What was he playing at? 

He scooted closer, molding his body along yours. You felt the unmistakable imprint of his dick straining against his trousers. You inhaled sharply, not expecting that at all. You looked into his eyes. He had a downright devilish grin on his face. 

He dragged his fingers from your tummy, up and over your chest, in between your breasts, and then wrapped them around your throat. 

You prayed he couldn’t feel your heartbeat increasing. He smelled like wood and smoke, like sin. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said. He kept eye contact with you as he leaned down and kissed the tops of your breasts. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. 

“Shove me away,” he said. He increased pressure on your neck and you whined. His free hand roamed over your thigh before pulling it up and wrapping it around his hip. It pressed his dick closer to you and your pussy throbbed. 

He moved his hands higher, lifting your skirt. He went so agonizingly slow, giving you enough time to reject him. To shove him away. To tell him to leave you alone. Yet…what if this is all you got from him? What if this was your one chance to experience Loki’s attention directed at you? 

“My poor, overworked Darling. So many responsibilities I gave you. I have no doubt you can deliver. But so little time for a proper release,” he said. His breath fanned over your face, smelling of whiskey and mint. 

His fingers slid up to your jaw, running his thumb over your lips before pushing in. You suckled his thumb as his other hand drifted closer to your pussy. He played with the outline of your panties, lighting running his fingers back and forth. 

You shamelessly moaned. You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to do anything else. He couldn’t stand here teasing all damn night. Surely, you would recover from his rejection after this. You weren’t the first to hold out on him but it was a game to see how flustered you could make each other. 

Once he had you, there was no reason to continue the game. 

“Eyes on me,” he demanded. 

You snapped your eyes to his. His magic must extend to his eyes, because you were lost. Pulled in. Fuck it. Heartbreak was worth whatever he was about to do to you.

“No funny remarks? Is that all it takes? Playing with your needy little pussy?” He asked.

You nipped at his thumb but he didn’t pull it away. He grinned. “You don’t know what I need,” you said. But your comeback was weak to your own ears.

“You take care of so much, but who takes care of you?” He asked. 

“I have a trusty vibrator. Better than any man,” you taunted.

Loki grinned. “Don’t stand there and lie, Darling. Shall I prove you wrong?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, daring him to. He hooked his finger under your panties and cooed at the amount of wetness on the gusset of your panties. “Quite a mess you made.” He leaned his head down and nuzzled your cheek before resting his nose against your shoulder. He took a deep whiff. 

“Divine,” he said. 

His knuckles brushed against your slick folds and you whined, moving your hips to get him where you needed him. “You’re so used to being in control, aren’t you?”

He took his thumb out of your mouth and grabbed your chin. He brought you close, close enough for your lips to touch. He licked his lips and the movement caught some of yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop,” he said. 

“Fuck you, Loki,” you said. 

He chuckled and started to rub his knuckle back and forth with increased speed. You bit your lip to keep from moaning on his knuckle. There was no way he was playing you this well. It was embarrassing. 

He kissed both of your cheeks and hovered his lips over yours. You wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other around his tie. You yanked and he fell forward, giving you a quick kiss. 

You dug your hands into his scalp, pulling his hair at the roots. He growled but still didn’t take the hint. He bit your lip and you cried out. He licked away the sting. 

“Ask nicely if you want me to kiss you,” he said.

“Fuck you,” you breathed. 

“Say the word and I will,” he said. You mashed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction. 

His knuckle stilled and you cried, rolling your hips forward. He withdrew completely and you groaned. You were nearly there. He kept eye contact as he licked his knuckle. You could smell yourself on his fingers. It was obscene. And it was fucking hot. 

“If you want this cock, you’ll have to beg for it.” His voice weaved a spell on its own. You sighed at his filthy words. 

“Like hell,” you said.

Loki chuckled and shrugged. “Until you beg, you’ll stay like this. You’re not allowed to cum or let anyone else touch you.” 

He backed away from you, dropping you unceremoniously. Your leg hit the ground and your knees slightly buckled. You caught the desk behind you to keep you upright. You hadn’t known that he held the majority of your weight. The bastard took all the heat with him. Your hands shook with overwhelming need. 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you scoffed. 

“I know I can. Go home. Think of me. Curse me. Whatever you need to do. But I will be very angry if you cum without my permission.” 

He nuzzled your neck again before planting a soft kiss to your neck. He caressed your cheek before fully backing away. He rolled his shoulders. His pants were tented. Surely he was in pain as well. 

“Don’t worry about me, Darling. I can last longer than you,” he said. Oh, now he activated your competitive side.

You smiled sweetly and fixed your skirt. You took your time fluffing it around your hips and thick thighs. Two could play that fucking game. You stood up and sashayed past him. 

“We’ll see. But you’re not allowed to touch anyone else either,” you smirked. You trailed your hand along his chest as you passed him. His dark chuckle followed you out of the room. This ought to be interesting.

Masterlist| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

[sweetea-rosey]

Greetings @ham-cheese-toastie ! Lol

I was very much intending to write you fluff for this secret santa, but....well, you said angst :)

If you give me your Ao3 I'll gift it to you on there

Nestled within the thick of the strangler fig trees, under the dappled view of the sun above the vines, is an oasis. At least, that is how Odysseus refers to it. It's a small dip in the ground and it goes dry easily, leaving sandy mud and long grasses in its wake. But it rains often enough that it fills with muddy water, the sun shines onto it just enough to make it barely reflective.

Odysseus can visit when he likes, safe from the prying of Calypso.

Whether she truly doesn't know of his getaway, or if she simply deigns to overlook his sporadic absences, he does not know.

But, in those moments, he gets to truly look at himself. The murky water dulls him, but he can't deny it. In the water, he thinks he can see himself trapped within the embrace of the lotus. His body is older, and much more weary. Lines have spread across his face- more like the cracks in a foundation than the rings of a tree. He has less color in his hair than he remembers, gray slowly encroaching from his temples and sneaking its way up into his hair and down to his beard. Both of which have grown out past his shoulders. But his eyes …they seem cloudy. His sight is focused- intrinsically, like breathing, he knows exactly what he wants- where he wants to go.

But the haze weighs him down. It makes him want to drop and plant himself right where he is.

That, he suspects, is Calypso's enchantment. Maybe she's trying to encourage him to love her.

He can't tell if his love for Penelope is so true and profound that no love magic could ever truly bend the flow of his heart …or if this is what Calypso thinks love is.

This heavy feeling that doesn't allow him to fully entertain leaving, that clouds his mind and makes him forget how to build a raft. The weight in his limbs that bind him in place like a dog, each day getting quieter and quieter before it realizes that escape is impossible and trying is pointless. This…this helplessness that trails him each day.

As if love is just …not being able to leave.

He thinks it might be easier if he did try to learn to love her. Maybe he's just exhausting himself for a fruitless task. He'll never get to see if his son has his mother's eyes, he'll never track the gray in Penelope’s hair, he'll never again catch up with Diomides, he'll never know how Helen is fairing after being reunited with the King of Sparta.

And all for what? For disarming an active threat?

Zeus can order him to drop a baby from a wall; but he pokes the eye of a man-eating Cyclopes and suddenly none of Odysseus's previous heroic acts matter at all?

He fears his despair may drown him, like a more depressing rendition of what happened to Narcissisus.

A haunting sound- like a minor chord on a kalimba- breaks his terrible musings. He snaps his attention up abruptly and wishes his soul could truly leave his body for a bit, so that he might converse with him on an equal plane.

“Why do you follow me?” He asks, his voice rough and painful.

Polites smiles. Only Polites would smile as a shade.

Odysseus just watches the stillness of his old friend, the way the air seems to warp uncomfortably around him. He stiffens at the cold that trickles down neck.

The wind whispers into his ear, stealing Eurylochus’s voice to do so. “I've never known you to roll over so easily,” he comments.

Odysseus turns around, but he sees no one. He looks back across the pond and Polites is gone. In his place is a little gray winion, with fluffy fur that occasionally wisps out like stormy cirrus clouds. It wears a red bandana around its head and holds a lotus flower in its stubby hands.

The voice returns. “In the end, you ate the lotus.”

Odysseus scowls. His mouth doesn't move, but he sees his reflection respond, the figure of his Second in Command standing just behind him. “She forced it on me.”

“Maybe he doesn't love Penelope enough,” the voice of Perimedes comes from somewhere.

“No, he loved them too much!” Declared the slurred voice of Elpenor, which Odysseus thinks is just unfair.

“Regardless,” Eurylochus cuts them off, “he can never seem to do the right thing. Maybe if he didn't ruin things with Athena …”

The Winion across the pond doesn't say anything. It simply stares, offering the lotus.

He'd have to swim to accept it.

Eurylochus scoffs. “You were never fit to be Captain-”

‘Captain’ echoes. All at once, he hears six hundred voices calling out to him in distress. Each one is begging for him to do something, to protect them, to make a decision and use his wit to get them away from certain death.

But direct combat was never his forté. He didn't know what to do.

In his frustration, he slashes the water, watching the little waves tear apart his reflection.

He opens his eyes with a start, finding his lungs constricting and the sun waving a wobbly goodbye above him.

He panics and flails until he's in a good position to shoot up and hull himself back onto the grass, coughing out dirty water. When he's done heaving, he looks up to find a figure blocking the sun.

His heart skips. He tries to speak, coughs, tries again. “I..p….Penelope?” He gasps.

The figure leans down, and then he thinks it's Athena, swooping down to pick him up and carry him away in her talons.

He blinks and it's gone.

He glances behind him, to the other side of the pond, to find it empty.

He stands up, taking slow breaths, only to startle at the woman that's appeared in front of him.

He slumps. “Calypso,” he relents.

Calypso's sweet, genuine smile is too much. “Hello my love, let's get you away from this pond, alright?”

She lures him away with cold and heavy hands.

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Feverish Flirtations

Summary: You've been the lead medic for General Billaba's battalion for awhile now and you've had a crush on Captain Grey for almost as long. What happens when a fever and a trip to the med bay loosens the Captain's tongue? Pairing: Captain Grey x Reader Rating: Gen (but minors DNI) Word Count: 4,219 A.N: This is for the wonderful, beautiful, and lovely @imarvelatthestars ! While writing this I think I may have become a Grey fan lol. Also, I know there's some inconsistencies with him from the comics, like having the rank of Commander in the comics but Captain in TBB. I went ahead and went with Captain since TBB is more recent, but I included the characters Styles and Stance from the comics since they're the only other named clones from their battalion. Anyway, I really hope you like my interpretation of Grey's character and that you enjoy this little fics!

Warnings: Mentions of medical procedures and illness.

“I’m telling you I’m fine, Doc, you just said the bleeding is internal- that’s where the blood’s supposed to be!”

Your eyes flickered up from your datapad to meet the clone’s attempt at a charming grin. A part of you wanted to laugh, mostly at the expectant look he was giving you, and if you weren’t so tired you probably would have. Right now, though, all you could do was sign.

“Styles, you already told me that joke. You know, the last time you landed yourself in here with a traumatic injury.”

His face fell just a little, “Oh- I did?”

“Guess you should scan to see if his brain’s still there too, Doc,” called Stance from the next bed.

That one did manage to get a small smile out of you, and you saw Styles get some of his pep back at the sight. Then, in a light tone, you said, “Oh, I don’t think it’s that, I think his time with me is just that forgettable.”

Styles sat up as best he could in the med bed, “Come on now, mesh’la, you know you’re as unforgettable as they come.” He winked at you, and you also might have felt a little flustered at his term of endearment, again, if you weren’t so tired.

“I’m sure,” your tone was still light, and you gave him a small smile as you finished making the notes in his chart. Despite the nature of his injuries, he would be just fine. Thank the maker.

“Oooh, barely a polite brush off,” Stance crooned, “Better luck next time, brother. Now, Doc, when can this poor injured trooper get your undivided, tender care?”

“When you have a real injury,” Styles rolled his eyes, though even you could tell there was no real malice there, just brothers in arms giving each other a hard time.

“I do have one!” he lifted the arm the field medic had already temp-treated with a bacta wrap, “Look, I have a boo boo on my bicep. Kiss it better, Doc?”

You felt your eyebrows quirk up, but before you could think of a comeback a stern voice called out behind you.

“Stance, Styles!”

Both men were snapping to attention- or in Styles’ case, as best he could laying down. You turned to see none other than Captain Grey walking into the med bay with the medic who would be relieving you for the next shift. Grey’s eyes were firm as he looked between the two men, a look that, while not uncommon for the Captain, was rarely present when you were in the room.

“Make sure I never hear you speaking so disrespectfully to our staff again. Am I understood?”

A minor rush of panic flowed through you as both men said a loud “Sir, yes sir.” 

You held up your hand, instantly catching the officer’s attention. “Oh, please, Captain, there’s no need for all that, they weren’t being disrespectful.”

There, you saw it, the way his deep brown eyes softened when they were on you for more than a second. The way the lines at the corner of his mouth smoothed, his eyebrows lifting up a fraction, and his head tilting just a bit as if to lean closer to your presence. Maybe you imagined it every time, a hopeful fantasy, but he most definitely did ease up a little at your words.

He couldn’t backpedal on the order, though, which you respected, and settled for him asking how the boys were doing. You gave him and the other medic your reports, which were thankfully standard and very little cause for concern. It was a good day- or, as good as a day could be during a war.

Now that you were officially relieved, you wished the troopers a good night, reminding Styles to rest up, lest he have to spend more than a night cooped up here. You had just started to turn to the door when… 

“Let me walk you back to your quarters.”

Even your exhausted state couldn’t stop you from feeling the nervous excitement starting in your chest, given that it was Grey who offered. Outwardly, all you gave was a polite, thankful nod, before saying goodnight to the others and heading for the door.

There was a brief, comfortable silence for the first few moments you two walked together down the corridor, before he cleared his throat.

“I’m…sorry about them, sometimes they forget that comments like that can make civilians uncomfortable.”

You turned a smile on him and, again because it was him, it was easy to make it warm. “Don’t worry, Grey, I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

His mouth twisted a little as he looked at you from the corner of his eye, “You just seemed…a little stressed when I came in, I assumed it was because of their flirting.”

“Oh! Oh no, it wasn’t that,” you laughed lightly, hoping to put his mind at ease, “I’m just tired is all. You know I spend all my time here on the ship worrying about you boys, it was a long day of that when we lost contact with your recon team.”

Finally, it was his turn to grin and your heart did its typical pitter patter whenever he smiled at you. Unfortunately, the look vanished as suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and held back a grunt of some kind. Then he was turning his head away from you, fist shooting up to cover his mouth as he let out a string of deep coughs.

“Grey, are you alright?” you stepped a little closer to him as he tried to hold back another cough, then cleared his throat.

He nodded his head, trying for that small, lopsided smile again, “ ‘m fine, just a scratchy throat.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Should I be sending you back to the med bay?”

As if to usher you along, he started walking again, pointedly in the direction of the lifts. “No no, I’m fine. Promise. I think the plant-life around the old ‘sep base just got to me a little bit.”

Even though you had resumed walking beside him, you still kept your gaze concerned and a little suspicious. “If it gets any worse, you call me, or go to the medic on duty, understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir” he said as if you were his CO, though his tone was lighter this time and he was still smiling.

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, then this time he cleared his throat in a way that might have had nothing to do with his cough. “So, what you said earlier…you really don’t mind the flirting?”

You let out a little huff of laughter, “Not really, it never goes too far after all. You and your men have always treated me with respect and I know they’d listen if I ever told them it wasn’t appropriate.”

Something in him seemed relieved as he nodded. “Good. I didn’t like the thought that they were crossing a line with you, I’m glad they weren’t. And I’ll…keep that in mind.”

You weren’t exactly sure what he was going to keep in mind, but, given how he suddenly looked like he was turning something over in his head, you decided not to ask.

Another comfortable silence fell over you both for a while, and it wasn’t until you were out of the lift and on the level for your quarters when he struck up some small talk. It wasn’t anything noteworthy, besides the fact that talking to Grey about anything was something you would always welcome. 

Though, he did seem a little different in his way of talking, halting at the end of sentences like he was holding back a question, or taking a breath to prepare for another comment, before closing his mouth silently. It was almost as if he was trying to find an opening to say something specific.

Or, maybe he was just trying to hide his cough from you, because a few steps before reaching your door, he burst into another short fit.

“Grey,” your tone was soft, but firm, “Please go have that checked out, we don’t want our captain getting sick.”

“It’s not bad,” he insisted again, “We have some antihistamines in our emergency med kits, I’ll take one of those and be fine.”

“Grey-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Doc,” he insisted, not unkindly and with a soft expression that lightened the depth of the scar across his face. You knew that some of the boys liked your fussing, finding it endearing, and you wondered if Grey felt the same.

But it didn’t matter if he liked it or not, you would worry and fuss either way. “Yes, I do have to worry, Grey, it’s my job.”

“I promise if it gets worse, I’ll go straight to the med bay and raise you on the comms to let you say I told you so, how about that?”

Well, that was probably the best you were going to get out of him. “Alright, deal.”

Again, Grey opened his mouth, as though some sentiment or question was on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were even lit up a little, like an idea was sparking something behind them.

Alas, whatever it was, he hadn’t found time to broach the topic before you were at the door to your bunk and he closed his mouth yet again. Still, he shifted for a moment, tucking his helmet under his arm a little more securely as he looked to your door. He hadn’t said goodnight yet, either.

“Grey?”

His eyes finally met yours again and looked a little surprised, “Yeah?”

“Is there… something specific you wanted to talk about?”

For a moment, all he did was stare back at you, again, seeming to think something over in his mind. Finally, though, he closed his eyes and let out a small breath, then looked at you again with a polite smile.

“Maybe another time. For now, you need your rest, can’t have our favorite medic this tired.”

You nodded, maybe feeling a little disappointed, but respected whatever decision it was he had come to. “Sir, yes sir,” you said with a little salute. “Goodnight, Grey.”

“Goodnight, Doc.”

The next morning, you had just gotten your hands on your first cup of caf in the mess hall when your commlink beeped. The code was Styles’ and your brow furrowed in confusion as you answered.

“Um, hey, Doc, the Captain told me to call you and say ‘you told him so’?”

Well, kriff.

You were down in the med bay in record time, even leaving your drink behind, a testament to just how much this particular man meant to you. There was the on-duty medic and Styles, flanking a very dizzy looking Grey who was dressed in nothing but his blacks. Though he was sitting upright on the bed, he looked half ready to tip over with the way he was swaying.

“He insisted that you be the one to look him over,” said the other medic, stepping aside as you approached.

“ ‘Course I did,” Grey mumbled, eyes barely staying open, “I promised Doc could say told you so…so-” he waved his hand at you, as if presenting a valid point with the gesture.

“As you can tell, he’s a bit delirious,” your colleague huffed.

Grey opened his mouth to say something to the other medic, but when your hands reached up to press against his forehead, he let out a long breath instead. “Ooh, your hands are niiice.”

It was no wonder he thought so, he was burning up badly, the fever coating his face in a sheen of sweat. He burst into a horrendous fit of coughs then, worse than last night and sounding full of phlegm.

“I was on my way back to my bunk when I found him slumped against the walls of the corridor near his quarters,” Styles informed as you took Grey’s pulse the moment the coughing died down, “said he was trying to get to the med bay so he wouldn’t make you mad.” Then he actually huffed out a chuckle. “Or at least, that’s what I gathered from his babbling.”

“Alright, Captain,” you started, gently guiding him, “lay back, let’s run some tests and find out what’s going on.”

“-don’t have to call me Captain, good-lookin’,” Grey mumbled with an attempt at a smile while he did as you asked.

Figuring that keeping him talking was good, you quirked an eyebrow as you grabbed the scanner, “Good-looking, huh? And here you were scolding Styles for flirting just last night- No no, lay on your back, Grey, keep still,” you insisted when he tried to roll over on his side towards you.

The action caused another bout of choked hacking to ensue but Grey obeyed, staying flat on his back, even as he kept slurring nonsense when he could speak again. “Want to flirt… Wanted last night… chickened out. You’re too sweet when you fuss over me.”

You tried to ignore the heat creeping across your face, this was no time to feel flattered or embarrassed by his words, ones that you barely caught as you read the data scrolling across the screen of your scanner. Styles was silent as you worked and Grey rambled on, a sign of just how worried he was about his brother. Hopefully your tests would bear good news, and Styles could tease his Captain’s hypocrisy in no time.

“Haven’t said told you so yet.” Grey said it just barely above a hum, eyes fluttering shut as more sweat beaded on his forehead.

“I’ll say it later, for now you just-”

You were interrupted by a third round of retching and your heart ached at the little groan of pain that rolled out of his mouth at the end of it. Thankfully, your scans were finally done and a little bit of relief filled you.

“Alright, Grey, looks like you have a mild pulmonary infection, nothing too serious,” you smiled down at him then, “though it would have been better if you came here last night, you know, like I told you so.”

The smile he gave back was worn and tired, but no less genuine, “There it is, ’ll listen next time, mesh’la.” More coughs ended his bleary promise, but they were shallow and short this time.

You turned to the other medic, who was already going to the cabinet with the antibiotics in it, and told him exactly what you needed and in what doses. At the moment, you were mostly worried about breaking his fever, while it wasn’t life threateningly high, it was still on the dangerous side.

Then you turned to Styles, “Can you get a patient smock out of the wardrobe? I think he’ll be more comfortable in it than these sweaty blacks.”

Grey hummed loudly, drawing your attention back to him, “Doc, if ya wanted to get m’ clothes off, just had-” another cough, “-ask.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little, “Oh, Captain, you’re going to be very upset with your babbling once your fever’s broken.”

He shook his head just as his brother came back with the red two piece outfit. “I won't. Told you, wanted to say all this last night,” his mumbling was a little more clear this time, as if trying to make a point and you weren’t sure how to respond.

Thankfully, the younger medic came back with the needed fluids for the IV and said he would help Grey into the smock while you readied the medication. As the privacy curtain was pulled closed, you could have sworn you heard Styles whisper something about Gray wanting you to undress him instead, but you chose to ignore that as well.

They worked quickly, and the Captain’s treatment was ready by the time the curtain was pulled back. Grey was sitting up again and he stayed like that while you administered the IV. He took it like a champ, though he still looked quite dizzy the whole time he was sitting up.

“Alright, Grey, these fluids will help bring your fever down, and the antibiotics will start clearing up your lungs, I even put in a little something for the pain. We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

“Hmm,” he cocked his head, “I feel better already,” he hummed as he watched you work, big brown eyes still looking tired. Then, he echoed a sentiment from earlier, “You’re too sweet when you fuss.” 

Again you had to ignore the fact that the flirting, coming from him, made your face heat up. Grey kept his tired eyes on you, even as you motioned for him to lay down again.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Styles asked in a quiet tone.

You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’ll take some time to clear up the infection, but he should be just fine, nothing our resources can’t handle. Though, I think you should send his helmet down to equipment maintenance, make sure the filters are working right.”

“On it!” He cast a look at his captain, “If you keep flirting with our favorite medic here, make sure you go all out, Cap,” he ended the statement with a wink before heading out of the room.

That made you laugh a little, feeling much more at ease now that your worry had calmed down. A quick look at the time told you that your shift had officially started, so you relieved your colleague, leaving you and Grey as the only ones left in the med center. You had thought that maybe he would fall asleep, but you still felt his eyes on you as you kept working. 

Then, while you were typing up his medical chart, he whispered, “You wanna hear a secret, Doc?”

“What’s that, Grey?”

“If I wasn’t sick, I’d ask if it’s okay to kiss you.”

That made your eyes go wide and your fingers halted their tying on the datapad. You weren’t sure if it was his fever, the pain medicine, or a mixture of both making him even bolder than before, but this time, his comment was hard- or rather, impossible, to ignore. When you looked down at him over the pad, his eyes were fluttering again, the exhaustion of his fever and relief of the medicine kicking in making it harder to stay awake.

“Wanted…” he hummed, coughed once, then tried to look up at you only to close his eyes again. “...Have to get better at…flirting first…Then I’ll ask…”

Despite how easy it would be to pretend you didn’t hear or understand him, you found yourself answering him. 

“Ask me when you’re healed up, Grey.” 

You said it quietly, but there was an undeniable lift to the corner of his mouth before he finally drifted off to sleep.

Overall, you deeply disliked the way the troops were treated by the overseers of the GAR, but, one thing that you would give credit for, was that they actually provided their medical division with good supplies. Thanks to that, Grey was cleared of his illness quickly and didn't have any signs of lasting symptoms. 

You wish you had been the one to give him his final check up and clear him for duty, but you weren’t. Instead you were stuck in a meeting that all head medics employed by the GAR had to sign into via holocomms. 

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to seek you out.

Grey caught you late in the evening, a few hours after your meeting, standing in the hallway conversing with some of your newest staff. Respectful as always, he waited patiently for you to finish your talk, though your skin felt warm knowing his eyes were trained on you the whole time. Had he come to see you because of what you said about that kiss he seemed to want? No, no, he was half asleep, surely he was just there because he knew you wanted to see him all healed up.

Once the nurses finished with their last question and took their leave, you turned to the captain with a warm look. He looked as healthy as ever, skin his usual tanned  tone, eyes bright, mind seeming alert and present.

“I see you’re back on your feet.”

“Thanks to you,” he said lightly as he took a few steps closer to you. He must have noted the late hour, because he asked, “Are you heading back to your quarters?” and when you nodded he seemed to straighten just a little, as if reading himself. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Alright,” you found your own tone a little teasing as you two started walking, “but if you start coughing again, you better listen to me when I tell you to go get it checked this time.”

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, cyare, I’ll make sure to listen to you next time.”

Again, he seemed to make your heart skip a beat with nothing but a simple endearment. At least you were able to compose yourself. “Good, I’m glad someone’s learning to listen to me around here.” Your tone had no bite to it, and you could tell Grey knew it with the way he flashed you a smirk.

Unlike the last time he had walked you to your door, you were much closer to your quarters this time and any conversation you two would have had couldn’t last long. You asked how he was feeling like any good friend would, and he told you he was fine, that you didn’t have to worry. He asked what your plans were when the ship landed on Coruscant and you were only half joking when you said “sleep”.

Then, just like the other night, when you two reached your door, he seemed to hesitate, something weighing on his mind. Except this time, he actually spoke up.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He looked over at you from the corners of his eyes and when you only looked back at him patiently, he went on. “I know I was feverish that first day in the med bay but…” he rolled his shoulders, “I heard what you said after I made that comment about wanting to kiss you.”

Your heart was suddenly acting as if it was competing in the galactic gymnastic championship, somersaulting in your chest and leaving a nervous heat to creep across your skin.

This time it was you who cleared your throat, “O-oh, you did?”

Finally, he turned his body to face you fully, his face set in determination. “Yeah, I did. And you should know that I might have rambled those things because I was sick, but I still meant every word of it.”

That caused your breath to hitch and you found yourself taking a step closer to him. “You did?”

At the soft, hopeful sound of your voice, his determined expression softened and now he was giving that cute, lopsided smile again. “I did. I really, really like you, have since the day you first stepped on board.” He let out a little laugh then, “I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve wanted to tell you that, or how many times I’ve wanted to ask to kiss you, but I’m not the best at flirting.”

“Oh I don’t know, you did alright the other day.”

That earned another small chuckle. You realized then that you were holding your breath, waiting for him to make good on what you said that day when you thought he was falling asleep. 

It must have clicked for him too.

Grey’s eyes somehow softened more as he took another step closer and reached out his hand. Your breath hitched when his fingers gently brushed your cheek, then you held your breath altogether when his thumb ran over your bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

The air held in your chest pushed out with a breathy, “Yes!”

And you saw his eye shining for only a moment before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was light at first, a nearly feather-light touch that nevertheless took your breath away again. Then, he was tilting his head and slipping the hand at your cheek to cup the back of your neck instead. It was all too gentle, even when he started moving his lips against yours in a way that told you just how much he had been craving this moment.

Who knew how long the kiss went on, all that mattered was that your head was spinning by the time you two finally parted.

“Wow.” Both of you said it at the same time, which made you both laugh together too.

“If it leads to moments like this, maybe I should land myself in the med bay more often,” he winked.

You groaned at the thought, “Oh, please don’t, my heart couldn’t take it!”

Grey was chuckling again and this time, he slipped his hand to your waist and pulled you even closer to him. When he spoke again, his tone was deep, yet playfully intimate. “Then I guess I’ll have to find other ways to make your heart race.”

And you knew he would make good on that promise too.

[itsbenedict]

murders on the yangtze river spoilers:

This is the second, spoilery part of my year-end review of this game. If you want to play it, don't continue, because I'm going to spoil a lot of the culprits and stuff.

Number five amongst Knox's 10 Commandments of Detective Fiction is "No Chinaman must figure in the story". Which, like, sounds racist, right? People usually ignore this one. But the historical context for it is that, like... people kept writing mystery stories where the culprit was a Chinaman- you know, one of those shady cutthroat scam artists from foreign lands who can't be trusted. And in Knox's view, this was overdone and racist and embarrassing. And only slightly less overdone and racist and embarrassing was "have a sneaky Chinaman in your story as a fakeout culprit, who the reader expects to be the killer but actually he's not." No more! None of that! No Chinamen, period! Don't involve racist stereotypes in your story!

Murders on the Yangtze River, being a game set in China with a Chinese protagonist, can't exactly follow the letter of the law here, so obviously it gets a pass on that. But the spirit of the law, it flagrantly violates, to a humorous degree.

Thematically, MotYR is very strong. It has a core theme, which it revisits again and again and again. That core theme is: westerners are greedy exploitative scoundrels bent on China's economic ruin and must be driven out by good upstanding Chinese citizens working together.

There's seven westerners in the game:

Two of them are incompetent human obstacle London bobbies who look at the most suspicious crime scene in the universe and keep going "iunno, locked room, must be suicide" no matter how much evidence you present

One is a fraud chemist who falsifies quality control reports on Chinese steel to keep a steel mill buying expensive European raw materials when actually they have ingenious homegrown Chinese steel techniques that are better

One is the big bad, whose thing is a conspiracy to profit off the opium trade by secretly replacing it with anti-addiction drugs and coca-cola (with cocaine in it), and killed your brother to cover up the secret

One is the corrupt judge who tries to protect said big bad via the horribly unjust loophole known as "consular jurisdiction", preventing Chinese courts from passing their superior justice

The other two are this guy:

and his five-year-old daughter.

I took one look at this guy, and his black-and-red suit, and his intimate involvement in your brother's mysterious obviously-not-a-suicide, and his being presented as the protagonist's close friend and mentor who he trusts implicitly, and his being named Iscariot, and assumed "Oh. Okay. This guy is the big bad."

But he's not. It turns out he's called Iscariot because he's the only non-evil westerner in the entire game, and has a crisis of conscience because his dad is the big bad with the cocaine plan. The Iscariot is because he realizes westerners are evil and turns on his dad to help drive him and greedy exploitative western industry out of China, to atone for his sins.

As a white American, I don't think I've ever experienced this kind of... bad representation in fiction before? It's got a very different character from the self-effacing "lol white people suck" generally purveyed by white people. Like, wow! It's really racist! Being on the other side of that for once is kind of surreal!

The propaganda angle is more palatable to me than American propaganda, though. The thing it's doing is presenting like, logic and science and progress and truth as virtues of the Chinese national character, which must be upheld against reactionary forces and foreign enemies. It takes the piss out of superstitious religious tradition as much as it does those shady evil westerners. It's the kind of thing that might work on me, if I weren't in this weird position squarely in its sights.

It's a good game! But it's also a very interesting cultural product that conveys a view of the world I never had a great sense of from the inside. Kind of a fucked-up one! But worth checking out.

[folkwitchofthewest]

Dancing in the Rain

Hi all! I'm back! This is a fluffy fic inspired by my first date with my dearly departed fiance. It went something similar to this, lol. Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

Word count: 2,387

Warnings: None, other than tooth rotting fluff!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was perfect at last. Donatello took a step back to admire his hard work.

The rooftop looked gorgeous. The flames of the cream colored candles that were carefully placed around the roof swayed in a mesmerizing dance, red rose petals scattered about, his playlist of all your favorite love songs was waiting at his command to start playing.

The warm, romantic, glowing atmosphere he had meticulously put together was exactly what he wanted for your anniversary. You and Donnie had been dating for 1 year. 1 year 6 hours, 13 minutes, and 52 seconds exactly he mentally calculated. 1 year ago today he had asked you to be his girlfriend. He shuddered when he thought of how he had stumbled over his words, and his face felt like the surface of the sun that night. Not that he had become any better at expressing himself, but conversation had become much easier. Your interactions were no longer awkward, and stiff thankfully. They had become comfortable, almost instinctual.

He wanted this night to be special, you deserve nothing less than perfection. So he spent months collecting data on how to make this night something thus far you had only seen in your dreams.

Pride swelled in his chest as he looked over his handy work again. The sound of a door closing and light footsteps behind him brought Donnie out of his reverie. He couldn’t help but grin. Time to give you a night you would never forget. He quickly made his way over to the roof accessible stairway door to intercept you. His little surprise was set up on the opposite side of the roof, and he intended to keep it a surprise until he was ready.

“Good evening, my dear,” Donnie greeted you.

“Good evening, and happy anniversary,” you replied.

“Happy anniversary,” he said, handing you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Oh Dee, they’re beautiful, and my favorite color too! Thank you,” you said, breathing in the sweet smell,” They smell lovely.”

“I am thrilled you like them. However that is not the only thing I have in store for the evening,” he beamed at you.

“Is that so?” you asked, a smile gracing your lips.

“It is! Close your eyes,” Donnie instructed.

“Pray tell, how am I to see what your surprise is, or even reach it if my eyes are closed?” you challenged him playfully.

You squealed as your ever so chivalrous boyfriend scooped you up into his arms bridal style, before placing a kiss on your temple. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes going wide in surprise at the unexpected touch.

“Like this,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear,” Close your eyes, love.”

You laughed and did as you were told, putting all your trust in Donatello not to accidentally drop you.

Ahhhh, that sweet, wonderful, laugh was music to his ears.

You rested your head against his plastron, relishing in the rare physical contact. Your genius didn’t often show his love for you through touch or words, but when he did you soaked it all in like a sponge. The patter of his feet suddenly stopped and he set you down gently. His hands shifted to your shoulders, and he moved to your side.

“You can open them now,” he muttered in your ear.

You once again obeyed, and were left breathless by the sight that met your eyes. You drank it in, the candles, the petals, the soft music playing in the background.

“What do you think?” He asked, the slightest bit anxious.

“Tello, I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful,” you whispered, completely in awe,” You did all this just for me?’

“Of course. I wanted this to be perfect, like something straight out of your dreams,” Donnie replied.

“You certainly did not disappoint,” you cooed.

“Come on then. We both love to dance, I could not think of a better way to spend the night,” he grinned.

Donnie was nearly vibrating with giddiness as he led you over to his candle lit dance floor.

He took a moment to take in your appearance. You wore your favorite outfit, the one he knew made you feel confident and beautiful. This time though you donned his signature royal purple. It was a subtle detail but it still made his heart flutter that you would put thought into something on that small a scale, just for him. You were stunning.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, my queen?” he asked, bowing deeply, while extending one hand to you.

“Of course, my king,” you giggled, accepting his hand, and giving a mock curtsey.

The familiar feeling of your hand in his made butterflies rise in your stomach, still after all this time. His free arm wrapped around your waist, and yours draped across his shoulders; pulling you together in the typical ballroom position.

You both drifted elegantly across the roof to the slow, romantic, violin music. The cool evening breeze blew through your hair, and your collective laughter filled the cloudy night sky. You danced together for what felt like hours, though in truth it was no more than 45 minutes. The conversation soon turned to the familiar playful jabs and light teasing you 2 were known for.

The witty banter between the 2 of you was something you both thoroughly enjoyed, he the stimulation you provided, and you the challenge he presented. You intrigued him, you always had. Though when you first met, Donnie saw you as an annoyance, a fascinating one, but an annoyance nonetheless. You had been an insufferable distraction introduced to his tediously created world by his brothers, and April. Slowly though his intrigue became fondness as he got to know you more deeply. And fondness became affection. While he did not understand these feelings, and they scared him, he wanted nothing more than to explore them with you.

You had been determined from the word go to charm your way past Donnie’s defenses. He was like no one you had ever met, and you wanted to see who he truly was behind his emotionally unavailable bad boy image he so flawlessly maintained.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined falling for him, and he doing the same for you.

Donnie was your biggest crush, your first love, and first serious boyfriend. Sure you had dated a couple guys in your highschool years so far, but none of them gave you butterflies the way Donnie did.

You could only hope that ridiculous saying wasn’t true, and that some things would last forever.

So caught up in your own private piece of heaven you both failed to notice how the air had grown heavy, and the wind had picked up. A sudden drop of water landing rather unceremoniously on your nose startled you both. Another landed on Donatello. Another fell on the wick of one of the candles, extinguishing the flame with a sizzle. And then another fell, and another, and another, and another until the sky let loose a torrential downpour.

No! It wasn’t supposed to rain for several more hours! Donnie had planned for you both to be back at your respective homes long before it started. He had planned all this, calculated it down to the second. How could he have screwed it up so badly?!

He scurried over to the stairwell access, flinging the door open, and stepping inside to hide from the obnoxiously large droplets. He looked out over the rooftop, feeling utterly gutted as the music came to an abrupt halt. His surprise for you was ruined. You would surely be disappointed.

Only you didn’t seem disappointed at all. You stood smiling, laughing, as the last of the orange candle light flickered out, surrounded by the water. You hadn’t run to find shelter like he had. No, instead you twirled about in the rain, its drumming sound the beat you followed and swayed to.

“Tello! Come dance with me!” You called, a smile so vibrant on your lips it could light up the entire city.

“In the rain?” His absolutely astonished voice rang across the roof, slightly higher in pitch than normal.

“In the rain!” You beamed at him, holding out a hand.

Your hair was a dripping wet mess, your clothes clung to you in a way that would surely be uncomfortable later, and droplets of the cool liquid rolled off your face. Yet Donnie thought you couldn’t look more beautiful. Well, if a dance in the rain was what his queen desired, who was he to deny her that wish?

A grin spread across his face as he stepped out of his safe haven, shivering a bit as the cold rain hit his skin, and made his way to you. He grasped your hand tightly, and spun you into him. Your eyes widened and a laugh escaped your lips as he did.

“As you wish, my dear,” he grinned down at you, admiration and devotion shining in his eyes,” Play All of Me by John Legend.”

The song began to play softly in the background as you swayed with each other. The city's lights glittered around you both like a thousand diamonds, though its beauty could not compare to you in the slightest in his heart.

You pulled a strand of hair away from where it was clinging to your jaw, and giggled. Slightly embarrassed you tilted your face downwards, jeez, what was your boyfriend going to think of your appearance?

“I’m sure I look like a drowned rat,” you smiled, flinging the invading strand over your shoulder.

“Trust me, you are much prettier than Papa after being the unfortunate victim of one of Mikey’s water balloon attacks,” Donnie joked, lifting your chin so your eyes met his.

“Awww, Dee I’m flattered! You really think I’m pretty?” a mischievous grin creeping onto your lips.

“You look perfect,” Donnie mumbled under his breath.

“You’re pretty handsome yourself, Donatello,” you cooed.

“You heard that?!” Donnie nearly shrieked, his cheeks flushing in horror,” I didn’t mean for you to hear…”

This time it was his turn to bow his head in utter humiliation. You sighed and gently shook your head at him. Smiling lovingly, your boyfriend was the most adorable thing in the world to you. It wasn’t often he became flustered, and you took great pride in being one of the few people who could elicit this kind of reaction from him. You slowly moved your hands to rest on either side of his face, careful not to startle the purple clad turtle, and gently pulled his face up so he was looking you in the eyes.

“Donnie, you don’t have to pretend your feelings don’t exist, or bury them so deep they will never see the light of day. I know you aren’t good with expressing your emotions, but I need you to know the last thing I want you to do is hide yourself from me. This is a safe space, so when you’re ready please share what you’re thinking and feeling. No judgment here, I promise. Please don’t be ashamed. Just like the song says, ‘All of me loves all of you. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you.’ We’re a team, darling. You and me forever, so please stop hiding yourself from me,” your eyes looked deep into his.

He searched them for a moment. You kept those beautiful irises soft, like an open book, just for him. Adoration and tenderness swirled in them, adoration and tenderness you only held for him.

He sighed and smiled softly, lovingly, in a way only you could make him smile.

“Being in love with you is the most natural thing in the world, it’s like breathing. And you, you loved me even when I could not love myself. You showed me what romantic love truly is. And for that I shall be forever grateful, my dear. These things I feel for you are….terrifying, but I cannot think of anyone I would rather feel them for. I trust you, feel completely safe with you. And just when I think these feelings cannot run any deeper, they do. I’ve neve felt so……captivated by someone before. I have cherished every moment of the last year. I - I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he paused before taking a deep breath, his arms wrapping around your waist a little tighter, and his face inched closer to yours,” And I….I love you, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He had never opened up this much when it came to his feelings for you. This was the first time he said he loved you.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your lips brushing against his.

Donnie suddenly closed the distance between the 2 of you, his lips pressed against yours, and a 3 fingered hand tangling itself in the wet strands of your hair. Fireworks went off in your mind, and your heart felt as though it was going to explode. Eyes wide, you stood frozen for a moment before melting into his touch. This was everything you could have ever dreamed of for your first kiss. For a time, everything was perfect. Pure unadulterated ecstasy ran through your veins as you relished in the soft touch of his lips on yours. The kiss seemed to last forever and you were both disappointed when you had to break apart for air as your lungs began to burn.

Neither of you could seem to find your words after you parted, so you settled for simply wrapping your arms around him, and burying your face in the crook of his neck as you both began to gently sway again. All of Me was still softly playing in the background. You knew from now one you would always associate tonight with the tune, and more than likely it would be deemed your song. It was perfect, the lyrics fit your relationship so well. All of this was magical.

Well, if Donnie wanted to give you a fairytale evening, he had absolutely succeeded. This was better than anything you could have dreamed of, and you would be dreaming of it for the rest of your life.

[dragontamerno3]

DS9 S2 E21 - The Maquis (Part 2)

Before I destroy this episode, I also enjoyed this one. I'm very dissatisfied with the ending but it was overall a very good episode and there were some fantastic moments. Also I want a Dukat/Sisko team up show where two enemies have to work together to deal with various issues and they still hate each other by the end of the show but it's fun to watch them also be buddies. Frenemies if you will.

On to the recap though.

I'm kinda pissed Hudson got to live. I really wanted Dukat to reach across the console and just fire on the fucker. Hudson is so far gone that only death is going to stop him.

I'm also kinda pissed the Sisko didn't tell the Admiral about Hudson when she showed up.

I'm also also pissed at the Admiral thinking that ANY terrorist group would just stand down after being talked to.

I 100% agree with everything Sisko said in his Earth is a Paradise speech that he spewed to poor unsuspecting Kira. He hit the nail on the head about how those who are living within any issues just assume that other places live the same way or can change super quickly to do so. None of the folks living on Earth (in the far far future) understand a second of hardship at least not to the extent that half of the species we come across do. They're living in pure Heaven while a majority of the universe is still fighting to live. And in some ways their ignorance is deserved, no one SHOULD have to go through war, have to starve, have endless crime, or other horrible things. But that doesn't mean that the Admiral isn't blind to it.

When the Cardassian Command showed up I knew they were throwing Dukat under the bus because that was the easiest thing to do. They wanted to blame him and let him die so that they could continue their attacks but I'm super happy that Sisko saw right through that. I was afraid he was going to be too optimistic about the whole deal and take them for their word.

The fact that Dukat can resist a mind meld was fascinating to me but honestly should have been expected. The Cardassians are known for their torture methods so of course he'd be able to block his mind.

Dukats discomfort after realizing that his superiors left him to die was fun. Especially since he had just given a whole speech about how Cardassians don't make mistakes and how trails are decided before they begin, so if he had one he'd be on the losing side. What I liked most about this scene, though, was when Sisko left and said that Dukat would have save Sisko if the situations were reversed. In that moment Sisko chuckles because its such a bizarre thing to say but Sisko actually believes it and then the camera pans to Dukat doing the same. I think Dukat, in that moment, realized that he probably would have. Not for sentimentality but rather to hold it over his head, but he'd still do it.

Another thing I liked was the scene where they're trying to find the ship that might be smuggling weapons in for proof and Dukat has to intimidate the Captain into letting them search the ship. In that moment Sisko is pulling ever diplomatic Federation line he can and then Dukat stands up and essentially outs the aliens crimes. During this specific conversation Sisko ends up slowly smirking. The thing that got me though was Kira's admiration. It was so clear that she was uncomfortable every second of it but a part of her was having an internal conflict of how badass Dukat was in that moment. She'd never say the words out loud but they were there lol

And Quark, out logicing the Vulcan? It was a beautiful thing to see. He might have help start all of this and he is certainly not the brightest of bulbs but its rare to see someone change a Vulcans mind, even just a little.

8/10 - this probably would have been a 9 for me if they actually killed Hudson lol