#but despite everything he's done to me i still miss his company

[psychoticwillgraham]

resisting the overwhelming urge to unblock my abuser and scream at him for an hour

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 3

___________________

"Missing: If found dead or alive, please contact the authorities"

Dick feels like he's about to puke, every time he sees that fucking poster, every time it's played in the news

He feels like he failed, not just as Nightwing, but as a brother, he was supposed to be a protector, projecting you as a vigilante and as a hero

Everything keeps replaying in his head, how you were always out of theme in family photos because Damian keeps telling you the wrong one, but no one bothers to tell you the real one

How in a single day, everything you've ever built was abandoned, your room, your school, your friends (he wasn't sure if you had any) (ps: you didn't, Damian wouldn't let it happen)

How no one was there to help

And he saw another poster "bring back dead or alive"

He wasn't sure how he's going to accept if you're actually dead

Because if you're alive, there could be a chance, he'd apologize to you, and he knows you're kind enough to accept it, he'll spend lost time with you, and everything will be fine

But with every minute that passes, it feels like slowly you are pulling away further from him (if it's still possible that you could be pulled further than you are now)

________________________

2 years ago

"How long are you gonna keep disappointing me like this...?" Bruce sighed deeply

He got your report card, funny enough, the only time he sees you is when you do something wrong

And it wasn't like you failed either, it's just that it's lower than what your siblings got, it's lower than his standards

Well sorry you're not Tony Stark level, am I right? Ahaha-

You weren't stupid, you just weren't as smart as your siblings, in your defense you were smarter than them at some other stuff, it's just that it's the stuff your father didn't care about

"Dad are you finally throwing out the anchor?" Damian snickered

You huff at the insult, knowing if you insult him back you'll get in trouble "it's not even that bad-"

Jason furrows his brows "yeah, but it's not good enough, I hope you realize how lucky you are compared to the other kids in Gotham, you should repay it by being outstanding"

"And not to mention as the first born biological child you should uphold yourself to the standards given to you, if you can't do that then stand down" Tim scoffs at you

That comment may or may not be from an insecurity that he isn't Bruce's real kid (despite being more loved than you)

"don't you think you're being too dramatic? I don't even want that stupid company" you grit your teeth

"that stupid company is what keeps a roof over your head, stop being so ungrateful"

Damian's face has that shit-eating grin once again "throw it out the streets maybe then it'll know"

It's always that fucking suggestion that throws you off, every fight, they call you a burden in this house, they want you out

You feel like if it weren't going to be a legal problem Bruce would have done it

"you guys are so full of yourselves, I don't know where you pull the 'i'll fix Gotham' mentality when you can't even fix your own issues" you grab your grades and leave

"You fucking-" you hear Damian say but you ran to your room, to the far corner of the Manor, a guest bedroom (you were kicked out of your master bedroom when Damian came, his reason was "it's too stressful seeing it everyday", so they moved you)

______________________

Present

"Diana...?" Bruce calls

"Diana!, what is it!?" Bruce yells "What do you see?"

Diana looks like she's about to cry, as she examines the footage in front of her

another demigod dead

She thinks, her hands shaking at the sight of another child, like she once was, dying at the hands of those monsters who hunt them down

Does Bruce know? It didn't seem like he did, if he knew- he would have protected the kid right?

Then she sees light, she sees the little kid run into the garden, and meet nymphs, she sees the kid escape

"oh thank the gods..." She whispered

Without saying another word, she left the tower, leaving the others confused, she knew where the kid was

(Name) was safe at camp

_______________________

I just finished an exam and the entire time I was taking it, the edit of "dynamic duo", starring Nightwing and Redhood kept playing in my head

Also this series is gonna have multiple parts, I wanna make things easier for you guys :3 , how do you make a masterlist?

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

@bat1212 @vanessa-boo @sweetconnoisseurgardener

[solxamber]

Yours to Keep — Rollo Flamme x reader

Rollo is calm, collected and confident. Jealous? Rollo Flamme? No way! ...unless?

Rollo Week D6!

You’re walking through the sun-dappled streets with Rollo, your hand brushing his occasionally as you stroll side by side. The warmth of your newfound relationship hums in the air, making the world seem a little brighter. You’ve worked hard to get here—after all, Rollo was no easy conquest. But now, here you are, together at last, content in each other's company.

As you walk, you spot an old friend from the academy. A wide grin spreads across your face as you jog over to greet them. "Hey! Long time no see!" you exclaim, excitedly launching into conversation, catching up on all the things you’ve missed. Your laughter rings out as your friend cracks a joke, and just for a moment, it's feels like you forgot Rollo's presence.

Meanwhile, Rollo stands a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back, quietly observing. At first, he’s patient—he knows you’re social, that you light up a room with your enthusiasm. But as the conversation stretches on, his chest tightens.

The more you laugh, the more a gnawing feeling builds inside him. He knows he’s not the most entertaining person in your life—certainly not someone who could make you laugh so freely. And seeing you enjoy someone else's company like this stirs something bitter within him.

He lowers his gaze, struggling to keep his composure. It’s irrational to feel this way, he tells himself. But no amount of rationalization can quell the jealousy tightening around his heart. With a deep breath, he steps forward, the hurt creeping into his tone despite his best efforts to hide it. "I’ll be at the dorm," he says, as politely as he can manage. "Please... come when you’re done."

You blink, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. There’s something off in his voice, something pained. As your friend waves goodbye and heads off, you turn back toward Rollo, concern furrowing your brow. You quickly close the distance between you and him, jogging after him until you catch his hand in yours. "Hey," you call softly, gently squeezing his hand. "What’s wrong?"

Rollo doesn’t answer immediately, his jaw tightening as you walk together. He tries to hide his vulnerability, but it’s impossible now that you’re so attuned to his every shift in mood. You reach the dorm in silence, but the tension lingers, unspoken.

Once inside, you tug him into a soft embrace, arms wrapping around him tightly. He stiffens at first, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but then slowly, he melts into your touch, resting his head against your shoulder. His voice, when he finally speaks, is low and hesitant. "I’m afraid," he admits, the words barely above a whisper. "I’m afraid that now that you’ve... won me, you’ll lose interest. That I’ll be—" He hesitates, voice cracking with insecurity. "That I’ll be a disappointment."

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands still holding him close. "Rollo," you begin, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "The chase was fun, sure. But you’re not some prize I just wanted to win and leave behind. You’re everything to me." You reach up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You’re not a disappointment, and I didn’t pursue you just for the thrill. I pursued you because I care about you. I want you. And being with you now, like this, is even better than the chase."

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s speechless. The vulnerability in his expression makes your heart ache—he's spent so long guarding himself that the idea of being genuinely wanted still seems foreign to him. Slowly, though, a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips, the tension in his shoulders easing as your words sink in.

"You really mean that?" he asks, his voice still carrying the faintest hint of doubt.

"Of course I do," you reply, cupping his cheek gently. "You’re stuck with me now."

He lets out a soft chuckle, the sound of his relief palpable. He leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. "I’m... grateful for you," he murmurs, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. "More than you know."

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's warmth, the earlier tension melting away into something more intimate. You sway slightly in place, still holding each other, and when Rollo finally pulls back, there's a new sense of ease between you.

"Okay," you say, breaking the comfortable silence with a teasing grin. "Now that we’ve gotten all the serious stuff out of the way... I think you owe me some cuddles for putting me through that emotional rollercoaster."

Rollo’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t protest. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you once again, this time without hesitation. "If that’s what you want," he says, his voice just shy of playful.

You smile against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and calm beneath your cheek. "Always."

And just like that, the two of you sink into a comfortable rhythm, finding peace in the simple act of being together—no more chasing, no more doubts. Just you and him, perfectly content.

Masterlist

[httpkaulitz]

kiss me again

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: Smut

SYNOPSIS: Tom isn't ready to give up on you.

WARNINGS: kissing, fingering (f reciving), public

A/N: I wrote this in the morning while waiting at the hospital so it's kind of shit

You regretted getting so dressed up as soon as you discovered that the bonfire party was actually a cheap imitation of your old school party.

Young drunks were scattered throughout the forest. Even though the place isn't exciting, the music isn't that good and you aren't excited at all. Peter was good company, you had managed to talk about all kinds of topics with him.

And to your surprise, you found yourself genuinely interested in getting to know him better. And he was being a good distraction after the fight you had with Tom.

You knew from the beginning that you two would never be more than friends, that was evident, he never wanted a relationship. He wasn't that kind of guy.

But you chose to delude yourself, you chose to believe that he could be different from what the media showed. Your mistake.

After a while of sitting just talking, he leaned over and kissed you. Soft lips enveloped you in a calm yet passionate rhythm and you couldn't help but compare it to Tom's kiss but still you walked away smiling.

"Wanna Dance?" He asked looking at the people moving to the rhythm of the music.

You laughed, realizing that he didn't like the party either, but that he was trying to enjoy it. "Sure." You responded, getting up and walking with him closer to the other people.

Within minutes, what was supposed to be just a dance turned into a fervent make-out session. Peter's lips seemed to travel all over your neck, returning to your mouth every now and then. Everything seemed wonderful, but it was as if something was missing. And as horrible as it was to admit, you knew that something was actually someone.

You were so caught up in your desires that you could feel his energy nearby. You could feel it. Damn it! You thought, opening your eyes. You watched the figure standing in a far corner on the other side of the fire. Even from afar, the imposing and intimidating posture could be seen. No matter how far away he was, you knew he was watching you.

Peter's hands still pass over your body, leaving gentle squeezes in strategic points. It was almost shameful that Tom's presence could make you more excited than Peter's caresses. You noticed him walking towards you.

"Would you get me a drink?" You asked in the most normal voice you could muster and slowly walked away from Peter.

"Of course, baby." He responded by kissing you before pulling away.

Walking away from people wasn't a good option, but it was better than risk being caught with Tom.

"You shouldn't be here." You said, still facing away. You didn't need to turn around to know that Tom was behind you.

Despite the soft, almost silent footsteps, you could feel him approaching. His presence was like a wave of energy that caressed your skin, leaving you hot and uncomfortable.

"Lately you've been telling me what I should or shouldn't do so many times, it seems a little possessive, don't you think?" He said, sounding confident again, unlike two days ago when you two had fought and you had left him alone.

You turned to look at him and felt your heart skip a beat. Black was definitely his color. He was almost mesmerizing using the coat and the black jeans.

"I thought I made it clear that we were done." You pointed at the two of you with discomfort written all over your face.

It wasn't like you two were ever together. You were never really in a relationship with Tom.

He smiled looking at his feet for a moment before looking back at you. "Don't act like you're not happy to see me." He said slowly walking closer to you.

You watched him expectantly, he was like a panther with soft steps and an engaging rhythm.

"Are you insinuating that I want everything that's happening?" You asked, letting out a giggle clearly mocking Tom.

"I'm not implying anything, I'm stating it." Pinning you against a nearby tree. You let out a squeak of surprise when you felt your back hit the rough surface.

"Admit it to yourself." He said, smiling mischievously when he noticed the panic in your eyes.

"Not here, Tom." You asked, knowing full well what his true intention was. It was like an engaging dance he used to seduce you, but you wouldn’t let it happen again.

"Then admit it." His hands went to your lower body, he gently caressed your skin just below your navel.

You bit back a moan and felt shivers run down your spine. It was shameful how quickly your body responded to Tom's touches.

"I wanted it when I thought we could have something serious, but now it's over!" You responded, trying hard not to let the doubtful tone show in your voice.

"Liar." He whispered hoarsely looking into your eyes.

His fingertips dug into your dark blue jeans and lightly rubbed the lacy material of your panties. You felt your hips jerk and heat instantly pooled between your legs. The suppressed moan finally came out muffled by the lips you insisted on keeping closed.

"That's right, silent. We don't want anyone to hear how loud you moan." Tom's hot breath hit your face. A mixture of alcohol and mint that was almost mesmerizing.

Unfastening the rest of the missing buttons, Tom skillfully moved the pink panties to the side. The moment he moved his fingers between your soaked folds, pressing two digits into your entrance, you gasped and began to move your hips forward to get every inch of his fingers inside you.

Tom smiled pressing his fingers even deeper and slowly moved his thumb to stroke your clit. You sighed audibly, your legs shaking and your head spinning. He continued to explore every inch of you, felt the walls around his fingers tighten in your orgasm.

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from moaning and held Tom's shoulders tightly, seeking balance.

"It's hard when you really want to do something and you can't, isn't it?" He asked smiling, watching you closely, your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed. "That's how I feel when you keep denying me what I want."

He sped up the movements of his fingers, holding your waist against the tree so you couldn't move.

"Tom... stop." You whispered in a moan, feeling your body burn with desire.

You wanted to be able to grab him, kiss him, even if it was wrong. Damn, this was all more than wrong, you were in a damn forest letting Tom touch you like that, even after saying he would never touch you again. None of this should be happening.

The skillful and insistent touch on your pussy made your legs increasingly tremble. You were ready to scream when you felt Tom lean in and silence you with a rough kiss that was quickly returned.

You sighed in frustration when he walked away, removing his hands from your pants and taking two steps back. Still dizzy, you wanted to scream at him for stopping you from reaching your second orgasm.

"What is it? You asked me to stop." Tom asked, smiling as he brought his fingers to his mouth. Your flavor was surprisingly delicious with a hint of citrus. Better than anything he's ever tasted before.

You heard Peter's voice next to you and saw him walking towards you.

Tom approached you again. "I hope your little friend makes you feel as good as I do." He whispered leaving a kiss on the back of your neck before pulling away.

You took a deep breath watching Tom walk away while Peter approached with a confused expression. You knew you had nowhere to run cause Tom wouldn’t let you go that easily and deep down you didn't want him to let you go.

[gtgbabie0]

hi!! could i request touch starved remus lupin? loved your sirius one!!! xx

-Remus Lupin x Reader

{Remus doesn’t want to seem clingy, he just loves your touch}

Thank you! And of course you can lovely, Enjoy! 💕💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Remus chews on the inside of his cheek as you tidy up the kitchen, you’ve been busy all day whether it’s work, studying or chores there was always something that had your attention, anything but him.

It’s ridiculous he thinks, you’re both adults with adult problems and yet here he is sulking because he feels pushed to the side. He blames it partly on the long week he’s had, nothing seemed to be going right and all he wants is to be wrapped up in your warm love and to forget about everything.

However he doesn’t want to come across as clingy, he cringes as the thought crosses his mind, because what if you get sick of it? Sick of him? It’s a thought that festers from some deep-rooted insecurity and he tries his best to talk himself out of thinking that way, but that’s easier said than done especially when those thoughts are at the forefront of his mind.

You smile over at him, the sweetest smile he’s ever seen and there’s an odd sense of guilt that builds up in his chest. He feels awful for moping about all day and he knows he hasn’t been the best of company.

He smiles back at you, although it’s strained it’s still a smile. “Sorry Remmy” you sigh, walking into the living room. He’s sitting on your couch, a throw blanket draped over his knees as he fiddles with the fabric. “But, I’m all done now” You look over at him, your smile dropping as he lets out a shaky sigh, he looks almost frozen as if he wants something but he’s holding back.

Your hand rests against his arm, and he feels the warmth of your palm seeping through his jumper. “Hey, did something happen at work?” You ask, your hand soothing his upper arm, and he thinks he might just start crying because you’re still so caring despite his sour mood.

“No dove, work was fine” he sighs glancing over at you, “I just missed you is all” Your heart clenches in your chest as he whispers the words, his tone so quiet that you almost miss it.

“But I’m right here,” you tell him, slightly confused about where this was coming from.

Then it hits you all at once, as you notice how tears collect in his eyes. You pull him towards you, his arms wrap around you immediately and his hands settle against your back, “It’s been a really long week” he mumbles against your shoulder, breathing you in. You turn your head to press a kiss on his cheek.

Remus pulls back slightly, still close enough that he can feel your body heat radiating against him and he rests his forehead against yours, the ends of his hair tickling your skin, “I’m yours for the entire weekend. No work, no studying, just me and you” you tell him, watching as he smiles widely, bumping his nose against yours.

Your hands cup either side of his face and he sighs softly at the warmth of your palms against his skin. He melts at the way your thumb grazes against the small scar just under his eye, he closes them as he leans into your touch.

“Sounds like a great plan lovely,” he says, his hands resting against your hips as he tugs you closer to him.

His lips press against yours as he gives you little pecks that turn into a slow and gentle kiss, “I love you” you mumble against him, the words have him smiling like a fool and he doesn’t miss the way you let out a breathy giggle.

“Say it again?” He asks dropping a kiss to your jaw.

“I love you Remus” you smile, and he reckons you might just give him heart failure as you play with his hair. He goes completely giddy with love and he can’t quite believe that it’s him you’re talking to.

“I love you too,” he says in between kisses as he litters your face with them, the feeling has you reeling with joy and you both are overtaken with laughter, a sound that has both of your hearts full of sickly love.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[impactedfates]

hello! platonic astral express (mostly welt and dan heng) + jing yuan with a teen reader like collei?

they were used as an experiment from a very young young thankfully the crew/jing yuan found and rescued them, they also took them in but they were still traumatized from their time as an experiment,they are chronically ill which makes them weak and are scared of being touched due to their time as an experiment subject

★ A/N: Colleis backstory makes me so sad :(( I love her sm. Characters here are just Dan Heng, Welt and Jing Yuan

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Hurt/Comfort (kinda?)

★ Format: Mini Scenarios (Separate)

☆ Warnings: Implied torture + human experiments on reader // Scar/injuries mentions

★ Extra: Reader is shorter then characters // Reader is with the Express

Dan Heng is very careful around you, whether or not he sees himself as threatening he doesn't know if YOU'D see him as threatening. He could quickly tell how untrustworthy you were when the Express found you. And based on the scars scattered around your body, some clearly new as it seems they were inflicted on you recently and how you held up a make shift dagger towards them, you seem to have a very good reason not to trust them.

It takes some time but eventually Himeko and Welt do manage to gain your trust and let you on board so they can give you a better life then what you had experienced.

Dan Heng makes sure to always be gentle with you and helps you when you need help, he himself isn't much of a touchy person himself but he still ensures to steer clear from any touches, even the lighter ones.

He allows you in the databanks, especially when you have nightmares. He has them himself, although he isn't completely sure about what the nightmare is about, he'll never pry. Only comfort you.

He's also a bit more hesitant to show his dragon form, he doesn't want to potentially scare you but if there comes a time where he for any reason NEEDS to get into that form, he'll inform you and if you want he'll ask March or the Trailblazer to bring you away.

Overall: Dan Heng is careful around you, making sure that whatever he does doesn't trigger you in anyway - he makes sure he doesn't touch you, even slightly and comforts you if you ever have nightmares. He thinks a lot of his actions through just encase it may affect you negatively.

Welt was the first to attempt to gain your trust, his fatherly instincts kicked in as soon as he saw you, he could tell despite the face you put up to try and scare the others behind that was a scared child.

So he was patient with you, took the time to gain your trust, carefully tended to your injuries when you allowed him and as soon as you were comfortable to be on the express. He became your father, whether or not there was any paperwork done or not, you have eventually seen him as your father.

Due to his age (*cough cough* grandpa *cough cough*) he's very smart, so he takes the time to teach you, if you don't understand he'll go over it again and make sure he does it in a way that you'll understand.

He can tell that most of your childhood seems to be lost. So he attempts to make you smile, experience a good childhood you seemed to have missed.

He can also tell that your chronically ill, you're more weaker then others so he offers to get you a cane, something that can provide aid for you so it's hopefully more bearable for you, and if you ever get to weak for even that? He's more then happy to carry you, he'll always ask first as he does know you're a bit more hesitant on being held or touched in general.

If you ever have nightmares he'll make you some tea and listen to you about what it was, even if you decided to not tell him he'll keep you company.

Overall: Welt is a very patient man, who became your unofficial father, knowing that your childhood was seemingly mostly lost he tries to make up for it and he also teaches you the basics of everything. He offers a cane to hopefully help you with your more weak body.

When Jing Yuan first met you, he knew something was wrong. Whether or not you looked better then how you looked before meeting the Express, he's still a General and can catch a lot of things. He won't pry at all but when you're not around will ask about it. He's worried, a child so young and it seems like you've been hurt more then you've smiled?

He doesn't wish to pry, he knows it's none of his business but the fact he knows something bad happened to you and likely at a young age doesn't please him one bit.

Just like Welt, he's patient with you. He's also very careful around you. One time when he was supervising you he happened to summon Lightning Lord as some enemies tried to ambush you and this seemed to send you into a panic, Jing Yuan quickly made sure the enemies were gone before checking on you, being careful not to touch you but still finding a way to comfort you.

Whether or not he manages to calm you down is up to you, however you'll end up with a blanket wrapped around you in the comforts of his office. He'll give you various of games you can play, books or whatever. If you want to try a new hobby he'll get someone to get anything needed for it.

Overall: I think he's similar to Welt however he does sometimes scare you unintentionally. Whether it be due to having to summon Lighting Lord or even hearing him talk in his more "General" voice, he does feel bad though. He doesn't mean to scare you and if you're around he does try not to do either.

Sorry if this take a while to do wrjggdvg. This was slightly difficult to write as I wasn't too sure what direction to take but hopefully this is okay!

[hugmekenobi]

Heal

A Bad Batch Post S3 Oneshot

Gif by @barissoffee

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: Shaking the effects of Tantiss is easier said than done

Warnings: Literally one use of (Y/N), swearing, hints of Tech/Phee, references to past pain and torture, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares and trouble sleeping, descriptions of illness (headaches), reader is hard on herself, suggestive dialogue, light PDA (kissing, teasing touches), mentions of food, me making up what everyone is up to on Pabu, fluff and happy ending

Masterlist for S1, S2 and S3

Word Count: 7.2K

Rating: 18+

Author's note: Okay, not gonna lie, I struggled with this one. It was a last minute idea as I was rewatching and writing the final few episodes of season 3 but it worked and felt a lot better in my head and when it came to writing, my brain was not my friend lol. I hope it's still enjoyable! The next oneshot is the story I've had planned for months so that should be a smoother process haha

It had been a few weeks since you’d all taken up official residence in Pabu.

Shep’s offer of setting up homes for you all stayed true.

You and Hunter had been put in a hut perfectly designed for the two of you that was a short walk away from the water and there was even a spare room for Omega who alternated between sleeping in your home and the home Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker all shared.

The three other clones may have been grouped together but there was plenty of room, and not a lot of time was spent indoors anyway.

Wrecker had taken to fishing like, well, like a fish to water.

Crosshair did a bit of everything, helping out with tasks of whoever needed assistance but he mainly he kept up with practicing shooting with his left hand. He wanted the practice, and he genuinely enjoyed it. He didn’t miss being a soldier anymore but that didn’t mean he had to renege on his skills.

Tech spent much of his time with Phee or assisting Shep in rebuilding parts of Pabu that still needed it and upgrading equipment.  

Omega often kept close company with Lyana and the other young reg clones or she went off with Tech to plan out a potential search for lost or salvageable pieces of the Marauder- the two of them had dreams of rebuilding new a ship with as many pieces of their old home as possible. It was yet to be undertaken but the vision was there.

The task of reuniting the children from Tantiss with their families had been successful but with that final mission complete, you and Hunter were also in the same boat as Crosshair and still yet to find your official niche on island. For now, you both were just relishing in the peace and each other’s company.

One thing you had managed to achieve was finding a way to finally get in touch with Lyra again, who- despite being filled in on everything that had happened since you parted ways on Christophsis- still managed to scold you for the lack of communication. But after hearing you all were alive and settled, she’d sent you all packages of more suitable island clothes with promises to visit soon.

Everything was coming together and so you were feeling one with the island life.

However, life here was not without its challenges.

The impact and aftermath of Tantiss remained a constant shadow that would still find ways to rear its ugly head. Something you and Hunter in particular found yourselves dealing with.

--

“I figured we could have the party in the next couple of weeks right here in the colonnade and, I don’t know, you could slip away or…” Shep trailed off as he saw the way Hunter’s brow furrowed in pain.

“Uh huh.” Hunter agreed distantly. He didn’t want to ignore Shep, especially when he was doing him the favour, but fuck had the sun always been this bright? The blinding pain behind his eyes and throbbing in his skull was getting harder to dismiss.  

You were a casual observer and listener to the conversation between the young reg clones and the adult clones that had remained on the island- Deke, Stak and Mox had no shortage of questions for them. But you sensed a rising discomfort and then you caught the way Hunter kept pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting to get away from the glare of the warm sun. “Excuse me.” You politely removed yourself from the conversation and hurriedly walked over to where Shep and Hunter were conversing. “Shep, I’m sorry to interrupt but do you mind if I steal him away for a moment?”

“Not at all.” Shep bid the two of you farewell with a smile.

You lightly rested a hand on his upper arm. “Hunter? Another flare up?” You figured, keeping your worried voice quiet.

Hunter just about managed a nod and said through gritted teeth, “But I can wait it out. Shep-”

He would attempt to come up with an excuse every time and every time you wouldn’t even entertain it. “Come on.” You carefully wrapped an arm around him and guided him back home.

--

You opened the door and carried on through to the bedroom. You gently prompted him to sit on the bed as you knelt down and took his shoes off before you shut the bedroom window to cancel out the noise outside and closed the blinds to keep the sunlight out. You kept your voice low and monotone as you instructed him, “Lie down.”

Hunter did as you said and rested on his back.

The routine was second nature to you. He hadn’t had headaches like this for a while but since Tantiss and because of what he’d suffered there, they’d become more frequent. His senses hadn’t quite readjusted back to what they used to be.

You moved silently throughout the house as you went to the freezer and came back with the cold compress you stored specifically for these moments and placed it over his eyes. “I’ll just be in the living room if you need anything. Try to sleep.” You whispered caringly before you lightly squeezed his hand and made to leave. However, you had barely stepped away from the bed when Hunter’s hand caught your wrist.

“Stay.” He requested through a wince.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you.” You cautioned quietly. You had remained a couple times before, but it had never been a certainty that he wanted you to stay when he was going through this. You always waited for him to give the okay.

“You can’t.” He murmured. He needed you here to ground him in a way the usual methods could never do.

You removed your own shoes and supported his back as you sat him up and slotted yourself behind him.

Hunter rested his head against your chest.

You readjusted the compress slightly once you were both in a comfortable position. “This okay?” You asked as you softly massaged each of his temples.

Hunter let out a tranquil sigh and he could already feel the discomfort receding. You always knew just what it was he needed from you in these moments. “Perfect.”

--

Hunter wasn’t the only one still feeling the lingering toil of Tantiss. Your screams of terror and the way you thrashed next to him woke him up. He called your name and shook your arm to wake you up. “Hey, hey. Easy, easy. It’s alright.” He assured you as he saw your eyes widen in fear.

You shot awake and hastily sat up, your breathing hard and uneven.

“You’re okay. I’m here.” Hunter whispered soothingly as he sat up alongside you.

You closed your eyes and let his voice be the only thing you focused on.

“You’re alright. It was a bad dream.”

Right yes, a bad dream.

“Hold on.” Hunter pressed his lips to your clothed shoulder before he got out of bed and ran a cloth under some cold water.

You worked on getting your breathing back under control. You ran a hand over your face and felt the beads of sweat dripping down your temples and down your neck and back. Your sleep top was sticking to you uncomfortably. But you forced yourself to concentrate on anything that didn’t remind you of the nightmare you’d just escaped. You took in your secure and familiar surroundings of your bedroom to calm yourself down. You weren’t back there. You were on Pabu with Hunter. You were safe here.  

Hunter slid back in bed beside you. “Arms up.” He prompted delicately. When you did that, he carefully removed your sweat soaked top and tossed it to the side of the bed– he’d deal with it in the morning- and placed the cool cloth to the back of your neck and spine before he tenderly dabbed at your temples. He then put a replacement top back over your head and continued to press the flannel around your forehead and neck.

“I’m sorry.” You rasped as you hid your face in your palms in embarrassment. You hated this. He would already have tough days and you couldn’t even offer him any relief in the evenings. The two of you had gotten into a rather unfortunate ritual where you would comfort him during the day and then the roles would switch as soon as night fell.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Hunter reassured you lovingly. He placed the cloth on the bedside table and rubbed his hand up and down your back to ease away the lingering tension and to help settle you back down. “Same one?” He guessed.

You nodded but kept your face hidden from him. “I’m just standing there. I’m watching him hurt you over and over again and I’m not doing anything to stop it.” You said, your voice cracking with each word. “Then he goes to the rest of you- to Omega. I’m completely frozen and all I can do is watch you all writhe in pain. I keep fighting to move but nothing happens. I’m just so useless and I stand by and let it happen. You’re crying out for help, and I just stand there.” You whispered with plenty of self-loathing behind your words.

Hunter shushed you consolingly. “But that’s not what happened. It’s just the nightmare talking.”

“Is it? Because it feels an awful lot like that’s what I did.” You said with self-directed disgust.

““You didn’t do nothing. You didn’t give up. You did what you thought you needed to do to get us out of there alive.” Hunter reminded you.

“Imprisoned.” You corrected.

“Alive.” Hunter countered.

You knew there was no sense in arguing with him over it. “I should be over this by now. I coped after Christophsis. I don’t know why this is sticking with me so much.” You said critically instead.

Hunter was all too familiar with this line of argument. As soon as you admitted to the nightmare and the fear it brought, you started looking for ways to berate yourself for feeling the way you were. “You couldn’t process Christophsis on your own time. You were in a position where you were forced to carry on. And I don’t think going through and being impacted by torture has a time requirement.”

You finally half-turned to face him. “Do you really believe that?”

The doubt in your voice made his throat constrict and chest tighten. “I know it.”

“But dealing with this is annoying.” You mumbled self-consciously and you averted your gaze once more.

“Do you get annoyed when you’ve needed to help me?”

You lifted your eyes back to him. “No, of course not.”

“Exactly. You help me through those episodes. Why do you think I’d treat you any differently?” He rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone. “You still need to give yourself the same treatment you give other people.” He said caringly.

You leaned your head against Hunter’s shoulder and just gave a series of reluctant but agreeable noises to signal your acceptance of his statement.

“You’re talking to me though. That counts for something.” Hunter praised, angling his head so he could kiss your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m a work in progress.” You managed to say with some light-heartedness before your voice went solemn again. “Just don’t give up on me… please.”

“Never.” Hunter promised with steadfast seriousness.

Your eyes flickered shut and you snuggled closer to him as he ran his hand up and down your arm in soft, delicate patterns.

“Want to sleeping try again?” He suggested after he felt your breathing and pulse settle back down.

You gulped but agreed to give sleep another go. “Okay.” You laid back down readjusted the covers you had kicked off in your sleep-panicked state. You breathed deeply as you closed your eyes and willed yourself to at least get a couple uninterrupted hours. But the darker part of your nightmare, the part you couldn’t vocalise, lingered with you and you didn’t know how to get past it.

Hunter wrapped his arm around your side and pulled your back tight to his chest, but despite all you opened up about, he knew you were holding something back. It was the same every night and he knew sleep would continue to elude you.

--

This new day was nearly over. Dusk had come and gone but the concept of night and sleep filled you with a deep anxiety. You needed to clear your head before you even thought about winding down for the night. “I’m going for a walk; I’ll be back soon.” You said, giving Hunter a chaste kiss to his lips before you exited your home.

Hunter gave you a slight smile as you parted from him, and he could only watch you leave. He had never felt so helpless.

He knew he couldn’t quite help you in the way you needed but there might be someone else who could.

--

“Hey there, Hunter.” Phee greeted cheerily as she opened the door to greet the clone.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” Hunter asked apologetically.

Phee rolled her eyes, “Pfftt no way. He’s been at this for hours, if you can get his attention onto something else, be my guest.”  She led him through to the living room.

Tech grunted his greeting as he sought out the tool that he needed for the task he was completing for Shep. The island had a healer- Dalia, but she mainly operated out of her home because, until recently, that suited just fine. But when the attack on Pabu occurred, Shep and Dalia had found themselves ill-prepared for accommodating the seriousness of the injuries that followed so Tech was assisting in expanding and updating her equipment and resources. AZ was already a big help with that, but more was needing done. It was a longer but important project that Tech was taking very seriously.

 “Sorry about the mess.” Phee said with an annoyed yet affectionate stare in Tech’s direction, but she was not surprised when the clone did not appear to even register that she’d spoken. She had stopped trying to get Tech to tidy as he went about altering this latest piece of machinery since he’d insistently claimed there was an order to the chaos around him. The entire area in which he was working was covered with random tools and intricate pieces of machinery. Phee struggled to see how this all equalled a system since all she saw was an array random pieces of metal taking up her living room floor. It didn’t truly bother her though; it was just another quirk she was fond off. Her appreciation for his intelligence and passion outweighed a little untidiness.

“Don’t worry, it’s something I’m very used to.” Hunter said lightly as he carefully stepped over some discarded screws.

“Sit down.” Phee encouraged, gesturing to a spare chair as she took a seat on the couch across from where Tech was working in the middle of the floor. But when Hunter made no move to do so, Phee properly looked at him and she noticed the distant and slightly nervous expression Hunter donned. “Everything alright?”

“I need your help, Tech.” Hunter said in answer.

Tech spoke for the first time since Hunter arrived as he found the spanner he needed, “I’m not yet finished with this. Once I’m done-”

“I don’t need you to fix anything, Tech. It’s about (Y/N). She’s struggling right now and-”

“Well, we know that she has a habit of taking things on by herself. A habit both of you have shared for quite a while.” Tech said plainly, not taking his eyes off the medical equipment he was fixing up. “I wouldn’t take her refusal or dismissals personally.”

Hunter bit back his frustrated huff. He knew attempting to get his brother’s focus when he was so absorbed by a project was always going to be challenging. He went to speak again but Phee beat him to it.

Enough was enough. Phee firmly nudged Tech’s good thigh with her boot, “Would you stop playing around with that and actually pay attention to what he has to say?”

Tech snapped out of his intense concentration. “Right, yes. Sorry, Hunter.” He started officially packing up. Once he was done, he gave his brother his full attention and it was then that he saw the genuine worry on Hunter’s face which told him it was more important than any mechanical repair. “What’s going on with her?”

“She keeps having nightmares from her capture on Tantiss. I can’t remember the last time she slept through the night.” Hunter took a ragged breath. “And it’s not like she’s keeping them to herself and that’s why they’re so bad. She’s doing everything we’ve worked on. She talks to me; she lets me in and help her, but I know there’s something else she’s keeping hidden. And it’s because she knows I can’t offer her the right words, or she wants to protect me from whatever it is she’s not telling me. I’m stuck and she’s not getting any better and I can’t offer her anything more than what I’m currently doing.”

“So, how exactly can I help?” Tech asked, rather puzzled as to why his brother had come to him with this dilemma. He wasn’t exactly known for providing helpful assistance for this type of issue. It wasn’t that he never wanted to, it just always didn’t come easily to him and usually you and Hunter would always be able to work through it yourselves.

Hunter began tentatively, “Y-your experiences were- were similar. I’d thought about Crosshair but what he went through was a bit different and from what you’ve told us, it sounds closer to what she’s been through. I hate to ask it of you but-”

“Where is she?” Tech asked, getting to his feet.

“If you’re not comfortable doing this I understand. It’s a lot to talk about and-”

“Hunter, just tell me where she is.” Tech interrupted with a firm reassurance to show that he truly didn’t mind.

“Down by the shore.” Hunter told him through a grateful sigh.  

Tech nodded and got ready to leave for the beach.

--

You breathed in the fresh and clean sea air, a gentle breeze wafted through your hair. The moonlight cast the water and sand in a luminous white glow. It offered you a peace you were yet to find in your own mind. The faint but demanding whines of the hound you’d acquired on your walk down had you smiling to yourself as you focused on the sounds of the waves lapping on the shore.

Tech saw you seated on the sand, Batcher waiting for you to throw a stick for her. “Did you know that gravity and the gravitational pull of the moon creates a phenomenon called tidal force, which is what causes the ocean tides to change?”

“I mean… I knew it was something like that.” You straightened your shoulders and managed a tight smile in his direction. “Hey, Tech.” You hoped you didn’t sound as exhausted as you felt.

Tech picked up on the heaviness in your voice despite your attempts to conceal it. “Also, did you know that water absorbs the red light of the colour spectrum, leaving the blue for us to see.” He added as he threw the stick for the hound.

You hummed out your acceptance of the fact as a reply whilst Batcher returned the stick but- after greeting Tech- decided she’d had enough and curled up beside you. “You didn’t come here to share ocean facts, Tech.” You said after a moment. “What’s going on?”

“You’re right. I have another purpose in joining you.” Tech admitted as he sat down on your other side.

“Which is?” You asked leadingly.

“Hunter asked me to. He’s worried about you.” He gave you a chance to speak but you offered nothing, so he carried on, “From what I hear, you’re having difficulty sleeping due to nightmares. They are based around your confinement on Tantiss?”

You cleared your throat to buy yourself some time before you answered, “Yeah.” You brought your knees to your chest.

“Can you tell me more? Whatever you’re comfortable sharing is fine.”

You breathed deeply and peered up at the starry night sky. “Well, you know about Christophsis.”

Tech nodded. That was something he’d been told about on the shuttle back.

“Tantiss… Tantiss was different. I took beatings but they were a treat compared to that fucking droid. Hemlock did a much better job of getting the most out of that damn serum. It got harder and harder to fight it. He knew exactly what buttons to push.”

“I’m afraid I had a helping hand in that.” Tech said sheepishly.

You placed your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t blame you, Tech. Not at all.” You reassured him earnestly.

“Regardless, his methods would’ve been that effective because I told him what would work.”

You patted his shoulder to indicate that you really didn’t hold any of that period against him before you removed it and placed it back across your bent legs. You surprisingly found that you kept wanting to talk so you carried on, “I’d never be able to ignore him, he’d always be able to get in my head so, instead, I’d would look for things to take me out of it.”

“A reasonable response.” Tech agreed. The times when he’d resisted, he’d acted similarly.

You felt irritation rise in you. You’d been weak, how could he not see that? “He told me you were alive, and I used it as a way to keep pushing back against him. Omega didn’t doubt it and she only heard him say it once.”

Hunter had warned him about this before he’d left. He expected you to say things designed to make him reprimand you instead of sympathising with you. The part of ‘no emotion’ element of the Jedi Code was deeply engrained in you. Despite your affinity for handling attachment and genuine love for them, when it came to your own emotions, you had gotten a bit too good at supressing or dismissing them. “Years fighting in a war has a way of creating a certain cynicism- or realism- depending on your point of view. It helps with survival and enduring each battle. I may have gotten out of it but even I have to admit that the odds were slim. I called out the plan. I knew what I was doing, I didn’t expect to live, and I didn’t expect you all to assume that I had.” Tech easily explained away the argument. “I’m grateful for Omega’s optimism and hope- it is a wonderful quality of hers and it got me out of there and brought me back to you all-, but I never expected you to believe I lived.”

You couldn’t accept the fact that the people around you were okay with how you’d acted. Every night was a painful reminder of how you’d failed them. “What I don’t understand is why Tantiss is still affecting me in this way. I got over Christophsis just fine.”

“No, you didn’t process Christophsis. You were thrown into mission after mission and were left with no choice but to keep going. It is highly plausible that Hemlock’s own similar torture was harder to get through because it was a reminder of a traumatic time that you’d already experienced but not healed from. Plus, I don’t believe feeling the effects of torture has a time requirement.”

You sighed heavily, “You’re the second person to tell me all that.”

“Does that not tell you something?” Tech prodded but he did it gently.

“I guess.” You said through a weary sigh as you ran your hands through the sand to distract yourself. “I handed myself over to Hemlock though. I gave up.”

“The guilt you’re experiencing over agreeing to Hemlock’s terms is natural. You-”

“It wasn’t guilt. Not wholly.” You said, your voice so quiet it barely registered over the rhythmic lull of the waves.

Tech glanced at you in surprise, but you were keeping your head down, stroking Batcher’s snout- the dog seemed to sense your distress and had nuzzled closer to you. He allowed the silence to grow as he patiently awaited further explanation from you.  

You swallowed thickly as you went to speak again. “I was relieved.” You admitted, it was the first time you’d ever said the words out loud, and you instantly wished you could take them back. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you awaited the disappointed and shameful remarks from Tech.

“What were you relieved about?” Tech asked calmly.

That hadn’t been the response you were expecting. “Um-” You searched for the words to answer him. “When I was-” You broke off and started again and you found yourself being more honest than you’d anticipated. “When I was in that training room watching Hunter be tortured and I heard Hemlock say that he was going to do the same conditioning to Crosshair again and to Wrecker too… I gave him what he wanted. Throughout my time there, he wanted me to join him and that’s what I was prepared to do. But as I said it, there was a sense of relief. Finally, I could stop fighting him. The torture he put me through would end. And in the dream- nightmare- I keep having, as much as I hate what’s happening, part of why I can’t move to help any of you is because I’m just relived it isn’t me.” You visibly tensed as you finished speaking. Saying that last part out loud caused you physical pain and your stomach churned nervously as you waited for judgement. There had been a reason you couldn’t share this with Hunter. It sounded so selfish, so pathetic.

“I understand that.”

You angled your head to face him. It was your turn to wait for him to talk.

Tech took a grounding breath before he elaborated, “In my time imprisoned there, Hemlock wanted to know all he could about you all. He knew there would be a time where he’d have to face you all again. I didn’t quite experience the same beatings you took; it was always psychological. But whenever I showed willing to give him information, all I felt in that moment was a profound relief that the torment and pain would end. Granted, that swiftly became guilt as soon as he left but I couldn’t deny the respite those few minutes of me telling him about you all gave me. Now, did you only feel relief at it being over? Or was it relief that you could join him and do his bidding?”

You thought back to that time and realised what he was getting at. “No, it was because I knew if I gave him what he wanted, then at least they wouldn’t have to go through any more agony. At the time, imprisonment felt like the better option than becoming one of his operatives and experiencing that level of hurt.”

“Precisely. Your sleep is being haunted by the worst outcome. It’s praying on the flash of relief you felt and twisting it into something more than what it was. If you accept what happened and stop fighting it, it loses its power. You didn’t do anything wrong, you acted how you needed to. The only person that has the power to blame you is yourself. No one here does, sometimes it just helps to hear it out loud once in a while and it’s true. You resisted him for as long as you physically could. Those circumstances would’ve cracked anyone.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “Is that how you did it?” You asked quietly.

“Well, I didn’t. Not always.” Tech reminded you, assuming you were referring to how he resisted Hemlock’s torment.

“No.” You released another deep sigh. “You seem to have settled here. You’re coping with it, and you were there for a long time.”

“I was in hell on Tantiss but not so much anymore. Being reunited with you all has really helped. Though I think if I had to watch any of them get hurt the way you had to, it would be different.” As he spoke, Tech realised why Hunter had come to him for this. He was sharing this part of him with you because he knew you were the only one that would truly get it. There was no worry of judgement, no worries of saying something too jarring. You would understand him just as he understood you. “I’ve accepted what happened to me and how I reacted to it but you’re the only one that knows those particular details of my experience. Phee and my brothers do not. Family helps with some of the burden but until you’ve had the unfortunate time of living it, their support can only do so much. We need each other it would seem.” Tech said with a kind look in your direction.

You widened your eyes at his openness. You were incredibly touched by that, and you didn’t take the lightly. “Thank you, Tech.”

“You asked a question, I merely answered.”

You shot him a look, “That’s not the only thing I’m thanking you for.” After speaking to him and fully unburdening yourself to someone who could only understand where you were coming from without the worry of saying the wrong thing or being too much, you felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You weren’t plagued by all the horrible and conflicting feelings that had followed you since Tantiss. You could breathe. You were free. You gently squeezed his hand as you said, “Thank you for what you’ve done tonight. For all of it.”

Tech shrugged off the thanks but smiled at you all the same. “We’re family, it’s what we do.”

--

You walked through the door to your home and took your shoes off.

Hunter walked out of the bedroom as he heard you come through the door. “Hey, how was your walk?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you just drank him in. You took in the way he leaned against the doorway, the book he was reading dangling from his hand. The way the soft linens of his sleep clothes framed his body. The way he’d still kept and worn the necklace you’d given him all that time ago. And the way he was looking at you with such deep care and affection, it made your heart clench and emotions clog up in your throat- you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

Hunter took your silence for upset. “I had to tell him. I thought-” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence as you strode towards him and embraced him.

You hugged him tightly. “Thank you.” You whispered.

Dropping his book and wrapping his arms around you instantly, Hunter rested his cheek on top of your head. He didn’t need or expect you to share the details of the conversation with Tech, he’d realised that you needed a different kind of comfort and that was okay. All that mattered to him was that it helped you.

You let the warmth of his soothing hold flow through your body, and you kept your voice hushed as you said, “I want you to know that it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you it all.”

“I know.” Hunter replied softly as he caringly caressed your back. He would not break away until you wanted to.

You pressed your face into the crook of his shoulder. Even though he had sent Tech your way, you didn’t want him to feel like he’d let you down or anything along that vein. “You did everything right. I needed you there… I still need you there. I can’t get through it without you but…” The words to describe just what it was Tech gifted you got lost and you frantically searched for them so he would know why you hadn’t just come to him with it.

The last thing Hunter needed or wanted was you feeling like you had to reassure him on the issue. “Sweetheart, all I wanted was for this to get easier for you. I know that there are emotions and parts of that experience on Tantiss that I will never fully understand- as much as that kills me, I wish none of it had happened to you or Tech in the first place but that doesn’t change the fact that it did. You needed more than a shoulder to lean on, and if Tech gave you that, then that’s all that matters to me. I won’t stop being there, whatever it is you need, I’m here.”

The wave of emotion came rushing back and tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you found yourself pressing yourself tighter to him still so there were absolutely no gaps between you. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I love you, giving up is never an option.” Hunter murmured as he kissed the crown of your head.

“I love you too.” You croaked as you fought through the lump in your throat.

You stayed like that for a couple more minutes before you finally pulled away.

Hunter wiped away a few stray tears that had escaped your eyes. “Fancy an early night?”

“Yeah.” You said through a deep exhale as the exhaustion you’d been fighting with came crashing into you. “That sounds good.”

--

3 weeks later.

“How’s your pain? Anymore headaches?” You asked Hunter as the two of you wandered arm in arm through the main square. You had been keeping a watchful eye in the time that had passed but he hadn’t had any bad episodes of late.

“Everything feels back to normal.” Hunter replied. “And you? How are you sleeping these days?” From what he could tell, you were sleeping through the night but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t still there.

“No nightmares at all.” You said with a relieved sigh. The weight of what you’d endured was no longer keeping you down. It had no control over you anymore. You’d thrown yourself back into mediating again and that also seemed to help a lot.

You both walked in easy silence, smiling at the clones from Tantiss who had stayed and at the merchants shouting out enticing deals and offerings from their stalls as you passed by.  

“Although, there’s one thing I need…”

You glanced at him expectantly.

“Can you try it now? I should be fine.”

You hadn’t done it since settling down here in case it was too much. “You’re sure?” You double checked.

Hunter nodded. It was the final step to the normality that he craved.

You both paused and headed over to the side walkway of the colonnade that offered shelter from the open area. You reached out into his familiar Force signature, the connection you formed with it giving you an extra sense of security and warmth. How does this feel?

Hunter closed his eyes and breathed out a serene sigh as he heard your voice in his head, but it felt like everything finally clicked back into place. Then, he felt the gentle press of your lips against his. He reacted automatically and placed his hands on your waist as he returned the embrace.

“What was that for?” He whispered against your lips as you parted.

“It’s part of the check up process.” You murmured before you took half a step back to look at him properly, but you kept your arms looped around his neck so that he was still close to you.

Hunter gave you a fond smile. “Ah, of course.” He sweetly stroked his thumb along your jawline.

You shut your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“Are you happy?” Hunter asked after a few beats of silence.

You dropped your arms and looked at him in surprise. “Yes, of course I am!” You looked at him, worry furrowing across your brow. “What brought that on?”

Hunter awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “I know things haven’t been easy since we arrived here. It didn’t get off to the peaceful start that I’d hoped for. I just want to make sure it’s still what you want and that you’re definitely feeling better.”

You were caught off guard by the emotions that caught in your throat. What did you do to deserve such a man? “I am very content and happy here; Hunter.” You took a hold of each of his hands. “I’m very content and happy being here with you.” You let out a faint, slightly embarrassed laugh, “I am very much in love with you, you silly man. Every day that I wake up beside you, every day that I get to come home to you and every day I just get to be around you is a day that reminds me that how lucky I am.” You removed your hands and lightly followed the lines of his face tattoo. “Are you happy?”

“Completely.” Hunter murmured as his eyes fluttered shut as he fell completely complaint under your touch.

“Good. Settling down here is what exactly what I want, things just weren’t settling down as quickly as I would’ve liked but it’s different now. We’re both doing much better, it’s a good thing.” You kissed his cheek and delicately brushed your fingers through the shorter strands of hair at the front of his head. I love you, that’s never changed, and it never will. Does that about cover everything?

“Almost.” Hunter said huskily as his own love for you overcame him.

Before you could question what he meant, he tugged you in tight to him and kissed you passionately. You felt him cradle the hinge of your jaw, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss and you granted him access without a second thought. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pressed yourself close to him. You allowed yourself a few minutes to just get lost in the pleasure he was giving you, but you remembered where you were and with a groan, you withdrew from his embrace.

It hurt you to pull away and from the way Hunter just insistently pushed you back against the stone column and carried on kissing and raking his teeth along your neck, he wasn’t impressed with stopping either. “We- we came here for groceries.” You hummed distractedly as you found yourself titling your head to give him easier access.

“So, we’ll get them tomorrow.” Hunter responded simply as he kissed behind your ear and brushed his fingers under your shirt and along the soft skin of your stomach.

“We have- have no f- food and-” You attempted to protest but now his mouth was doing wonderful things along your pulse point that was making you feel very lightheaded.

“That’s fine. What I’m in the mood for, only you can give me.” Hunter teasingly dipped his fingers just under the waistband of your leggings.

You forced yourself to get a grip before you were too far gone. “Get off.” You playfully shoved at his chest with an exasperated shake of your head.

Hunter inclined his head in surrender, “How about you shop, and I meet you at home?” He offered as he stopped his teasing and removed himself from you.

“Is this your bizarre way of just wanting to get out of a chore?” You joked, crossing your arms and feigning irritation.

“No, I just think that if I stay, we’re going to wind up getting done for public indecency and it would be entirely my fault.”

Despite his admission, you still saw a faint but lustful glint in his eyes and you knew he was envisioning precisely what would happen if the two of you remained by this column. And you knew both of you would decide it was worth the risk. You gulped as you hastily said before you lost control of yourself, “I’ll see you at home.”

Hunter released a low chuckle before he kissed you softly once more, the promise of what was to come still lingered behind the action despite his best attempts to keep it brief.

You took a few hesitant steps away him and then gathered yourself and went about your task- your walk brisker than before.

--

Hunter watched you before he moved out from the shelter of the pillar. He spotted Omega sitting with Lyana by the Maya tree. He called over to her.

“What’s up?” Omega asked breezily as she jogged over to him.

“Can you round up the boys and meet me at home? I’ll get Echo on comms.”

“How come?” Omega asked curiously.

“There’s a mission I’m gonna need all your help with. But it needs to just be the five of us.” He indicated to where you were making a purchase. “Think you can get Lyana to delay her return?”

“A mission? Then why can’t-” An excited gasp left her as she saw the silent but confirming look that Hunter gave her. They’d all been eagerly waiting for this. “Yes! I’m on it!” She sprinted off back to Lyana, chaotically relaying the instructions before she ran go find the others.

Hunter laughed to himself as he saw her enthusiastic departure before he hustled off back home and readied the comm channel for Echo. It didn’t take long for the clone to answer.

“You better be calling for the reason I hope you’re calling for.” Echo said by way of greeting.

“Think you can help me out?” Hunter replied with a validatory nod at the holoimage of Echo and he saw the way Echo’s shoulders lifted as he realised it was finally going to happen. Hunter had talked to them all about it in the days after arriving on Pabu and it had been met with an enthusiastic yet somehow still teasing response. It reminded him of how he felt back before the two of you officially got together, with the others just waiting for it to happen. He’d wanted to do it sooner, but your circumstances changed, and so he wanted to wait until both of you were recovered. And, whilst they’d all accepted his decision to hold off, they had been impatient for this day for both genuine well-being purposes but also because they wanted it for the two of you- his family were very supportive and insistent on him doing this. With things faring better, he felt comfortable doing it now. “I don’t want to take you away from anything urgent or-”

“Name it!” Echo said with a pleased smile.

Before he could get into what he needed Echo to do, he heard the door open. Hunter half-turned to see the crowd of eager and motivated faces made up of Omega and his brothers.  

All of them gathered round him and Echo’s hologram.

Hunter took a deep inhale and exhale. In a strange way, this was going to be one of the most important yet daunting missions he’d undertaken. “Alright, we don’t have long before she gets home. Here’s what I need…”

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @notgonnaedit, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @allthingsimagines , @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff , @qvnthesia @justsomerandompersonintheworld

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[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP1: Kant & Bison's Desire for Agency

I recently wrote a post around Kant being the vehicle for Bison's freedom, but I'm spotting a bigger theme that these two lovebirds share in common. Both feel stripped of their agency, their ability to dictate their lives freely on their own terms and by their own ideals and desires.

For that reason, they're respectively struggling with where they are versus where they want to be, as factors beyond their control currently inhibit that from being attainable.

"I've cleared my name of car theft. My hands are so damn clean now." Kant is keen to put his past behind him, however Captain Chris has him cornered under the threat of re-opening his previous felonies and possible jail time, dangling custody of his brother as a bargaining chip. "If you get this done for me, not only will your criminal record be swept away, I'll wipe it clean." "If you go to jail, who'd take care of your brother?" Leaving Kant with no choice but to begrudgingly concede.

Bison feels similarly trapped by a life he didn't choose, clearly eager at any opportunity to 'clock off'. "I do what I have to do. Now I want to do what I want to. Can't I just live a little?" "If being hitmen makes it so hard to live, shouldn't we just quit?" "I don't want to kill people for a living my whole life... I just want to live my life." He just wants to enjoy a normal life - to have fun, to be frivolous, to embrace being an ordinary 24 year old.

TOGETHER WE BREAK FREE

Their relationship serves as temporary relief or escape from the situations they both find themselves in. Bison finds Kant's company a break from routine and monotony, a welcome distraction in between killing and working at the burger bar (neither of which he chose for himself). Dating Kant is an insight into the joys of life he fears missing out on. 'When I'm with you, I'm not a killer, I'm just a boy'.

By some poetic irony, Kant's mission to instrument Bison's capture would grant him access to the freedom he is seeking - allowing him and his brother to truly start afresh. There will absolutely be more backstory to come as to why Kant wants this so badly, that he’s willing to throw so much in. Dating Bison may begin as a means to an end, but Kant does find himself falling in love - despite his objective.

Once everything is out in the open, I do think they'll aid one another in acquiring the agency they each so desperately desire. No one can better understand how it feels to be trapped than someone who is also fighting against the bars of their own cage.

OVERCOMING YOUR RESTRAINTS

On their first date, Kant shares the following with Bison: “Would you believe me if I told you that I'm afraid of the ocean? Something happened when I was a kid. I almost drowned. Now I'm still afraid of it." One could argue that we don't know if Kant's admission is true, but I don't see any reason for him to lie about this specifically.

This promptly takes me back to this moment from the trailer, which has prominently stuck in my mind. I still get the impression that they are working together here when Kant jumps in. If Bison was on the offensive, I don't think he'd be as stationary or calm. Maybe he's performing under someone's watchful eye, or his gun is aimed at something out of shot, or they're practicing for a specific stunt.

Whatever the context, this scene now has considerably more weight. The fact that Kant jumps in whilst his hands are bound, when he has a fear of drowning is an indication of putting his complete trust in Bison (who is adept at swimming), to rescue him if needs be. The implication here being that Bison may quite literally, mentally and symbolically free Kant from his restraints, helping him to overcome what he’s most afraid of.

BDSM: THE PLEASURE OF CONTROL

Funnily enough, this duo's exploration of BDSM even aligns with their shared desire for agency. From the few snippets we’ve been shown, Bison likes being the one in control. Your partner consents to be at your mercy, affording you the power to enact pleasure and/or pain. And there’s a heady thrill in being handed such control. (It's also worth noting the inherent power play in taking a life, but whether Bison derives any pleasure from this, I'm not 100% sure. Kant also knows Bison is capable of killing, so letting him dominate actually says a tonne). During their one night stand, Bison even quips, "you're not doing this solo, you know," which teases that he's no passive participant. This seems to be Bison's philosophy on life overall (and the root of his dissatisfaction), that he's not one to sit back and watch his life pass him by.

Kant seems happy to indulge Bison in taking the reins. Having his agency taken away during acts of passion, but on his terms is noticeably different to feeling forcibly pushed - because you've chosen how and who you forfeit that agency to. This is partly why I suspect Kant actually gives Bison permission to tie him up in that boat scene (above), for the greater purposes of a mission or task they have agreed to help each other achieve.

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[moscnios]

★ the new intern portgas d. ace, my beloved.

cw: nsfw. f!reader. afab!reader. ace is from the south idk. takes place in the states for some reason again idk. i was just writing lmaoo. reader wears a skirt. not proofread. hear me out. MINORS DNI.

── intern!ace who has recently started his internship at your company you have only been at for almost a year. mentoring him is somehow pushed onto you despite any of your colleagues being here longer than you and having much more experience in mentoring. you’ve never done this before. you try your absolute damnedest to get out of it but no one seems interested in relieving you of the responsibility. so best of luck to you

── intern!ace who is unlike anything you’ve seen before. why would a rowdy man start an internship at an office where he’d just be behind his desk or in meetings all day?

── intern!ace who never went anywhere without that distractingly bright orange hat.

── intern!ace who has a southern drawl about him, you aren’t surprised to learn he comes from somewhere down south. he has a special way of speaking that you, born and raised up north, struggled with understanding his creative idioms.

── intern!ace who you could always hear before you could see whether it was his loud mouth or the loud clicking of those ostrich skin square toe boots he was so proud of covered by his long trousers. they were louder than your heels.

── intern!ace who has a load of questions and is at your office door every five minutes. you’ve even started to recognize him by his knock. he always greeted you with a wooden toothpick between his plump lips.

── intern!ace who is a very respectful man who cares a lot about honorifics. that’s how he was raised. you are his mentor, his senior. he can’t just call you by your name. what kind of man would he be? you have become, miss.

── intern!ace who is very friendly, very touchy, but sweet as candy. you chalked it up to southern hospitality that you have yet to experience. when you’re explaining something, he stands extra close, he’s almost touching you. when you’re coming in, he jogs in front of you to hold open the door. when you fix the problem he has, he compliments you. he always looks so amazed when in just a few clicks everything is fixed. you’re like his superhero.

── intern!ace who has made it a habit to eat with you. or wait to take his lunch until you’re done. you’re like his only friend in the office and he likes eating with you.

── intern!ace who gets onto you about forgetting your lunch and eating fast food all the time. a woman like you deserves a homecooked meal he’s made it a habit to bring you an extra lunch. he does it so much, he’s even got you your own lunchbox that’s your favorite color.

── intern!ace who doesn’t leave the office until you leave. he could be done for hours but he still wants to walk you to your car to make sure you get there safely. plus what if you get lonely being the only one in the office?

── intern!ace who worries that you overwork yourself only to never be recognized. he’s only been here a month and a half and he’s already noticed it. he is always ready to remind you that you’re too good for this job and that they don’t deserve you or your time.

── intern!ace who looks a little different. dressed in a tight white button-down that looked like he was going to pop out of any second. were his arms always that big? was his chest always that broad? what did he look like without the shirt on? was he hiding more freckles under there?

── intern!ace who isn’t a fool. he may have been born at night but it damn sure wasn’t last night. he sees how you’re eyeballing him, undressing him with your eyes. he’s flattered. he’s always thought you were a beauty too, pretty as a peach, hotter than a fire in july.

── intern!ace who once again doesn’t leave with everyone else, he stays to keep you company. though this time he is bold enough to stay with you in your office until you’re ready to go. he’s distracting you with his presence alone. how are you supposed to finish when he’s sitting there with the top buttons of his shirt undone because it’s a little warm in here? he sprawled out on the chair, his legs open and his hat resting over his face because he wanted to 'rest his eyes'. you never noticed how built he was…how nice and lonely his lap looked. maybe it was kinda warm in here.

── intern!ace who hears you shuffle in your seat and hears you call out to him. he sits back up, taking his hat off of your face. you ask for his help, something you’ve never done before. he’s honored. he steps behind your desk to see the problem, to see exactly what you’re stuck on. it’s something simple, something you’ve helped him with before. why were you struggling now? maybe you wanted to test his knowledge, maybe you wanted to have him closer.

── intern!ace who stands behind your chair, reaching over the side of you to grab the mouse while his other strong hand rests on the back of your chair. you take on his warm, heavenly scent. it was intoxicating, you could hardly focus, and you hadn't heard a word he uttered.

── intern!ace who must come even closer, to actually finish your report so he can use the keyboard. he is particularly towering over you as he types so slowly. the tension in the room was so high. you cross your legs making your skirt ride up your thighs a little. with your eyes stuck on your monitor, you fail to watch him bite down on his lip.

── intern!ace who steps back to let you send your report to the boss before spinning your chair around to face him. there is one more work-related question he needs to ask you before you go home for the night.

── intern!ace who is a liar. it’s not work-related at all. he just wanted to be dramatic.

── “can i kiss you? i’ve been wanting to for a while now. it’s been killing me not to”

── intern!ace who barely lets the word yes fade into the air before he’s captured your lips on his in a passionate kiss. he kissed you like a desperate man, like a man who has waited god knows how long.

── intern!ace whose hands fiddle with your top, unbuttoning it just enough to reveal your bra and remove the tie you wore to work today.

── “i love me a businesswoman in a tie. you’re the boss here tonight, miss”

── intern!ace who wants you to take the reins, to take charge, to take what you want from him tonight. anything you wanted you could have.

── intern!ace who followed your every command with “yes ma’am” that sent shivers down your spine.

── intern!ace who finds his face place to be is in between your legs, with your tie tied tightly around his wrists behind his back. your fingers locked into his hair as you pushed him as far as he could go into your sopping wet cunt that has already drenched the lower half of his face.

── “like this, miss?”

── intern!ace with a praise kink. he loves hearing you tell him how good he’s treating you. looking up at you through hooded eyes as he waits for your praise. it sends chills down his spine and makes his cock twitch and leak in his pants.

── intern!ace who doesn’t know how you got even hotter with his hat on top of your head, your face contorted in pleasure, your shirt unbuttoned and your little skirt pulled up to your waist. it was a picture that was never going to leave his mind. from now on, you had to wear his hat more often.

── intern!ace who has an oral fixation. he’s attached his plump lips to your throbbing bundle of nerves yet again like a starved man with his eyes closed in delight. he moaned and hummed against you. he loved how your body trembled underneath his tongue as you came for him yet again. he lapped up all of your juices without fail like you were his favorite meal.

── intern!ace who whines when you pull him off your cunt.

── intern!ace who loves it when you take ownership over him. he’s your intern. he's your boy. he’s your baby, only yours and he’ll do whatever it takes to please you. he wants to hear you say it. he needs to hear you say it when he’s got you over your desk, balls deep into your pussy, fucking you like he’s in heat as you hold onto your tie that’s wrapped around his neck. say he’s your baby when he’s fucking this rough, this deep. say you own all of him, as his balls slap against your tight, creamy cunt.

── intern!ace who only cums after you because your pleasure is first. he only cums when you tell him to. he needs to kiss you when he does, emptying his load deep into your pussy, something he wasn’t supposed to do. he lets you pull on the tie one more time for good measure since he couldn’t behave.

── intern!ace whose oral fixation comes back to bite you in the ass when he’s already back on his knees to lap up all of his cum out of your sensitive cunt.

MANGEKYOU 2024 ── do not copy, repost, or translate my works onto this platform or any other !

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 30

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: can't wait for Friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Mr. Laufeyson reappears as the tea steeps. You pour him a cup and bring it to him, quiet and bashful. Despite washing away the mess, your hand still feels strange.

He takes it and eyes the amber liquid. He blows over it and sips tentatively. He checks his watch.

"Alas, as much as I'd love to say and... watch," he drawls, "I do have somewhere to be."

This surprises you but you try not to let it show. You should be happy for the respite, some time to get yourself together, to try to understand all the emotions and sensations unfurling inside you. You nod and clasp your hands together.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I'll continue cleaning," you avow.

"Hm, yes, please do make sure to put away the clothing in the bedroom. My sister left them in the front room. You make make space in the closet," he explains. "As well, I've let the carpenter in, if you haven't heard--" he pauses for effect as the dull, distant hammering carries through the wall, "as it were, you've proven yourself capable. I cannot speak to my return but I trust all will be in order."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you answer.

His eyes flit up to you and his lips slant. His cheek ticks but he doesn't speak. He merely arches a brow and spins on his foot and waltzes away with his tea. You watch him, almost reverently. You never noticed how nice his shoulders look in those shirts...

✨

With the house empty, you find your work is simple. You can focus, not so distracted or paranoid by Mr. Laufeyson's looming presence. You finish your usual sweep of the first floor and carry the piles of clothing upstairs in several trips. 

You're out of breath as you slide open the closet and do your best to fit in the dresses, skirts, blouses, and a few pairs of pants. The stockings and undergarments you fit in one of the drawers below the hanging jackets. You can't help but take your time as you admire all the lovely colours and fabrics.

You're struck by a thought. When he's done with you, do you get to keep these or do these only come with the work? With your peculiar arrangement. You falter and shut the closet. 

You tidy up the spare hangers and try not to think. You look down at the black velvet under the white apron. You look ridiculous. You're dressed like a whore. That's what this is, isn't it?

Your skin scalds as you shove away the hangers in the hallway closet and return to the bedroom. You can't keep this on. It's like a brand marking you. You pull out a plain pair of black pants and a rosy blouse. It'll do.

You've been so caught up in everything, it's as if you've completely detached from reality. There's more than this house and Mr. Laufeyson and his orders. What about your father? Your real home. You grab your phone and stare at the screen, wanting to dial his number, but thinking better of it. You swipe away the several missed calls from the electric company.

You shake off the malaise but it trails after you. You go to the library and settle in behind the laptop. You sit and stare at the clustered excel and rub your eyes. You can't seem to focus. The dull thumping draws your attention from the glare of the screen and you go to the window, tearing open the curtains.

You peer out but can't quite see past the hedges. It's a beautiful day. You could go around, just to make sure nothing needs tending. It's a weak excuse but one you'll gladly take.

You leave the library and descend the stairs, a pair of flats in hand. Oh, you didn't even put out any water. You go to the kitchen to fetch a jug and glass. You carry it to the back door and stop to slip on the shoes.

You go out into the sunshine as your eyes slit against the bright yellow sheen. You balance the jug and glass as best you can as you follow the path down to the gazebo. The hammering is quieted but you can hear Ronan's footsteps on the wooden stairs. You blink through the sunny haze as you enter the shade and catch sight of him.

"Morning," you greet him as you stop just at the bottom. He turns to you and offers a small curve of his lips. He wears a sweat-stained tank which shows off the top his chest and his muscular arms.

"Morning, miss," he returns, "how are you?"

"Alright, you?" You ask, "I brought some water."

"Thank you," his voice rumbles from his chest as he wipes his forehead, "haven't seen you in a while."

"Uh, well, I've been busy," you chew your lip.

He comes down the steps and takes the jug and glass from you. He places them at the edge of the second step and turns back to you.

"Oh yes, I'm sure that boss of yours keeps you all tied up," he muses, "your little chipmunk friend has been looking for you, I think."

"Really?" You look around, "I... I guess I should try to get out more."

You reach back to scratch your neck. You're suddenly regretting your choice. Facing him makes you burn from more than the beaming sunlight. You're sure he can see right through you.

"I should... uh," you point weakly behind you.

"Yes, suppose you should," he sighs, "shouldn't take much longer."

"Um," you look past him, "yeah, er, looks really good."

"Mm," he hums curtly, "see ya around, then."

He turns back and hops back up the steps. You frown and dip your chin down. You walk away glumly, kicking your feet around heavily. 

It's your own fault. You forget your place, you forget who and what you are. No one cares about you, they only have a use for you, and you're better off out of his way.

✨

As Ronan pulls through the gate, a toot comes from the other side. You keep the switch held down as Mr. Laufeyson’s car glides through. His return darkens the black cloud that's formed in his absence.

He gets out, light on his feet as he swiftly heads up the walk. You close the gate, put off by his brusque disregard. He's reverted to cool sternness. 

You follow a few minutes after him but find no sign of him inside. You wet your lips and go upstairs. You enter the library silently and sit in front of the laptop.

There's a block in his schedule but no label. You've been staring at it for some time, trying to figure it out. You lean forward as you click through notes.

“Hard at work, I see,” he enters with the droll remark, “I see this place is spotless, and yet here you are…”

You look at him and blink. 

“Mr. Laufeyson, did I miss–”

He quiets you as he reaches to touch the collar of your blouse, “I did not bid you to change.”

“I… sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I finished cleaning–”

“But I did not finish with you,” he retorts.

You blanch and stand up, shifting awkwardly between the chair and him. He catches you by the shoulders and his eyes glint. He tilts his head and you hit the armrest.

“I also told you I dealt with the carpenter, didn't I?” He snarls.

His tone slices through you and you wince, “sorry, I only–”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. I only want you to do your duty. Obey, that is it.”

You snap your mouth shut and pout. You look down and bring your hand together, wringing them as you sway. A thought flickers and lights an epiphany.

“How…” you peek up, “how do you know I went out there?”

He tilts his head dangerously, “since when do you question me?”

You shrug and look away. He grabs your chin and puts your head straight, crowding you against the chair. He leans in as his green eyes bore into yours.

“As fun as you are, pet, I am not fond of disobedience. You grow careless and it is not becoming,” he sneers.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you gulp, “I…” you wiggle your nose, “I will listen. I promise.” Your lower lip trembles, “what do you want me to do?”

He considers you, his jaw tensing. He lets you go gruffly and flutters his fingers as he sighs. He struts to the door as you stare dumbly. Did you say the wrong thing? How? Why is he so upset? You didn’t do anything. You’re confused.

He said he wanted you, didn’t he? So why is he walking away?

He stops in the doorway of his study. He reaches to grip the frame and lingers there.  He lowers his head and turns. You look at his profile as he thinks beneath the shroud of his eyelashes. They flick up and scan over to you.

“Yes, let’s work on your obedience, pet,” he lets go of the door frame and turns as he wags his finger at you, “pull up that chair.” He goes to the other side of the desk, “here.”

You take his command eagerly. If you’re good, he won’t be mad. If you’re good, he’ll say nice things again. If you’re good, he won’t throw you away.

You struggle to lift the heavy chair but do. You scrape it just before you put it where he points. You step back, expecting him to claim the seat himself. He tuts as he steps back on his heel.

“Sit, pet.”

Again, you accept his order without a thought. You lower yourself onto the edge of the chair and await his next demand. He looks down on you, his eyes narrowing on either side of his long nose. He brings his hand up to tug on the knot of his tie just before letting it trail down to the end. His throat bobs and he exhales slowly, his chest deflating.

“Do you recall the game we played earlier?” He asks.

You nod. Of course, you remember. It’s stuck in your head.

“Well then, you may go ahead,” he gestures to his trousers.

You let your eyes descend from his face. Your gaze crawls down his long torso and to his belt. The burgundy leather looped through the brown fabric. You twitch then steady yourself. There’s something in you that’s excited, and that other part that’s terrified.

You unbuckle his belt shakily. Clumsy as you catch the little stick on several holes before you get it loose. You let the leather fall lax and fumble with the metal button, your head pounding at the air trapped in your chest. You pinch the tab of his zipper and tug it down, little by little.

He wears no briefs, as if he planned this. Maybe he did. You don’t care. None of that matters. You know what he wants. You need to think of that before you ever think about what you want. Maybe you want the same thing. That tickle between your legs seems to say so.

He shifts as he pokes out of the top of his pants. You spread his fly open as he bulges through. You push his trousers down a little further and let out a gasp. Up close, he looks even bigger than before. It’s still so new to you, so strange, a bit silly looking even.

You raise your hand and touch him. You brush your fingertips against his taut skin and he groans. You wrap your fingers around him lightly as he braces his hips, tilting his pelvis slightly.

“Tighter,” he growls.

You obey. You squeeze and pump up, then down. He shudders and lets out another groan. His fingertips curl into his hips. You keep going, the same motion, the same noise. You do it several times as you feel the tension coiling in him.

As you play with him, heat speckles in your thighs and your core sparks. You wince as Mr. Laufeyson’s hand surprises you, reaching forward to pet your cheek, then trails up over your hair. He hums and spreads his fingers behind your head.

“Pet,” he rasps, “with your mouth.”

He pulls you forward just a bit and you squeak. You look up at him, shocked. He can’t mean… that.

“Mmm, pet, please, yes, keep looking at me,” his other hand loosens your other from his dick. 

He grips his base and steps closer, angling his tip against your lower lip. You try to pull back but he keeps you in place. He grasps your head tighter and crushes his swollen head to your lips. You have no choice but to open up to him.

He slips into your mouth as you close your eyes. He tisks and fists your hair, tugging.

“I said look at me.”

You snap your eyes open, peering up helplessly as he urges into you. An inch, then another, then another, until he pokes at your throat. You murmur as he eases back then in again. The wet noise of you around him curdles in your stomach yet the glow in your pelvis radiates hotter.

“Mmm, pet,” he drags you along his length slowly, rocking his hips slightly, “don’t you like to obey me?”

You hum around him and he grunts. He prods at your throat with each thrust, each time blunter than the last. Your eyes glisten as tears bobble along the brims. For more than the discomfort, but the shame. The realisation of what he’s doing to you, of what you’re letting him do.

You latch onto the arms of the chair as you slide closer to the edge of the chair. He brings his other hand to your head, gripping it firmly as he uses your mouth. Your eyes roll back behind the lids and he snarls.

“Open,” he sneers, “look at me, pet.”

You sniffle, barely able to breath as he speeds up. Your tears flow free as you look up at him and his green irises darken as his pupils dilate. He bites his lips and growls as he stills you, instead tilting his hips into you. He hits your throat again, this time breaking past the resistance. 

You gag and spasm but he doesn’t relent. He holds himself there, wiggling his pelvis as his thumb stretches to touch a droplet along your cheek. He purrs and rolls back before gliding back into your slick mouth.

“When you look at that carpenter, I want you to remember this. I want you to remember who you belong to,” he hisses around pleasured grunts.

You bat your wet lashes as you sit mercilessly in his thrall. Your vision blurs as your mortification swells over and your body wracks as his intensity builds. Through it all, your mind wanders to the den and the camera hidden on the mantle. It can’t be the only one. It’s the only way he would know.

But it isn’t him who’s wrong. It’s his house, his rules, and you disobeyed him. He told you he dealt with Ronan, he told you who you belong to. You didn’t listen and this is the lesson you learn.

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 1.1

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: He mentions her name after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times.

(In which Touya returns home after rebelling against his family for 7 years. And no, it wasn't about forgiveness. He wanted to fix himself because of a certain someone.)

themes: nsfw, domestic abuse, violence, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, mental health, co-dependency and other related themes (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: for this one, pls keep in mind that touya didn't have much scars on his face; mostly are on his body to accomodate the plot; charas might be ooc since this is modern au

Todoroki Touya has returned; it wasn't a drill.

The eldest of the Todoroki family has returned, and it was all over the news like wildfire. Pictures of him were around tabloids and newspapers, imprinted on TV screens along with family pictures of his 13-year-old self as news anchors and writers all over Japan broadcasted about the Endeavor Corp. finally having its original heir back to where he belonged. Two years ago, Todoroki Shouto announced he wouldn't be the one to replace his father, Todoroki Enji as the owner and CEO of their family business. However, Shouto focused on one part of the Endeavor Corp., particularly their sports and training business, as he wanted to become a personal trainer someday.

Touya was aware of what was happening on the business side of his family despite his rebellion seven years ago. After all, he saw them all over the news, watched his father on TV, and observed how everything was faring for them. So when he returned to the main house, he was a bit surprised at a few details he had missed. For one, his mother, Todoroki Rei, had already been discharged from the mental ward, faring well and welcoming him back with a big, warm hug and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It also seemed that things were a lot better between his parents, but some of them still held reluctance to forgive their father.

Particularly him and Natsuo.

Enji was aware of their hatred towards him, hence he would talk to them politically, as Enji the CEO of the Endeavor Corp., not as their own father. Touya believed it was only fair. He would've resorted to violence if that wasn't the case. Speaking of which, that was another reason, he returned.

"I have to settle things between this family and me once and for all," he informed them on the first day of his return. "I need to talk to Father."

He knew what Enji would say to him. His father will apologize and be remorseful over what happened. He will also mention about him being his successor in the future, even though he was having none of it.

"I don't need that title anymore," Touya coldly argued, resisting the urge to punch him in the face as he knew he wouldn't defend himself after everything he had done to them since they were kids. "Not from you, specifically."

Enji understood. Touya meant, "I will have that title by my own hands, not because you passed it to me cheap because Shouto didn't want it anymore." Afterwards, his father explained everything he was required to do before his first day in the company. He also mentioned something along the lines of, "You need to undergo rehab and therapy for a while. I knew what you have been up to these past seven years with your cigarette addiction and alcoholism."

Before, Touya would violently react, would be against his decision and say, "You're just scared because I might surpass you." Now, he just nodded at his direction much to Enji's surprise.

"Why are you so shocked? You think I will half-ass my return to this family?" Touya questioned, slightly mocking him.

"I know you wouldn't," Enji commented.

And before Touya left his office, he added: "Just so you know, I am not doing this for the family."

Enji raised a questioning brow.

"I'm doing this because of a certain someone."

------

The first few months of Touya's rehab and therapy were tough as shit, gnawing at him like sharp nails and digging his soul like he was trapped in darkness. He felt overwhelmed by everything, talking about his feelings all day, breaking out of his shell, and slightly wanting to just break things and be alone. Touya craved darkness at some point, the urge to be violent creeping on his shoulder like the devil even though a rational part of him warned him that it would not be the best choice. He wanted to destroy himself at this point, missing the familiar pain his piercings left on his ears and nose. He was breathing hard to calm himself, persuading his brain to shut its damn trap.

It's getting annoying, fucking shit. Everything's been chaotic.

The first few days were blank, spending it staring at mindless paintings and counting how many times the water from the faucet dropped in the sink. It was eerie yet relaxing, the silence enveloping him like a plague until it bit back to tell him how much madness he needed to unleash but couldn't. He secretly had his mp3 player in his pocket, and he would watch the door and the shadow underneath, checking if someone would come in. To this day, he still couldn't take it out.

He missed that damn voice, but he needed to be patient. He shouldn't miss her. He shouldn't think about her. This is nothing, he convinced himself. This is nothing compared to all the abuse I've endured before. The angry stare. The hateful remarks. The violent beatings. The disapproval underlying Enji's tone. His rough hand smacking him in the face. The burning scars left on his skin from the heating iron. The pitiful stares. The blood he spat from his mouth.

Everything.

EVERYTHING.

I WANNA DIE.

Out of panic, he quickly reached for the mp3 player from his pocket, a secret he kept from the treatment center. He wasn't supposed to have any gadgets with him, but he knew he had to. He couldn't drink alcohol. He couldn't smoke a stick to curb this annoying feeling. He cannot destroy shit. But he had to hear that soothing voice. He had to endure.

He put in the earbuds and played the audio, his breathing coming down in sighs as he felt himself relaxing.

"Touya..."

"Yes, call me that," he said to no one, tears streaming down as he smiled in satisfaction.

"Touya..."

"Touya..."

"Are you awake?"

"I made you breakfast."

"Touya..."

"Do you want me to take an off day from work?"

"Yes," he answered, hugging the pillow beside him and imagining it was her. "Just stay. Stay with me."

"Touya..."

"I love you..."

"Touya..."

I love you too.

------

Touya has learned something, and that therapy was another form of circle from hell, or that was just him. He heard people preach about therapy all the time, that undergoing therapy healed them, made them see the light at the end of the tunnel, and had them humbled in a way they could never explain. Touya wished it was the same for him, but nah. It wasn't. Therapy was another circle from hell. It made him too vulnerable, too open he could feel the burnt scars on his skin itching too much the more the therapist asked him about himself.

He also thought his therapist couldn't care less about his minimal responses, the first few days boring him as the man asked about his name, how old he was, what he did for a living after he ran away, what helped him cope—you know, the basic questions every therapist could ask for.

"Todoroki Touya. 26. I did odd jobs. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Fighting."

The therapist looked displeased, he noted. He probably wanted more answers than that.

"Have you been in therapy before?"

"No."

"What do you expect from this session?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you seeking therapy?"

If he was being honest, Touya's answer would be: "I don't know? Just to get this shit done, I guess?" Not like he would be rude now. After all, he returned as Todoroki Touya after seven years of rebelling. He should keep his damn trap if he wanted them all back.

Even her.

"Do you want to become a better person?"

"Yes."

next chap

masterlist

[taraa-dactyl]

𝖀𝖓𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝕸𝖎𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘

Masterlist

A/N -> Horny on main for this mf, heads up idk how to write steamy scenes and this is slightly unedited because im writing this at 5am.

Pairing -> Jake Sully x f!Reader

Summary -> Set during the events of Avatar (2009) Jake Sully is your escort through the forest as you complete fieldwork, he unknowingly comes into contact with a potent plant that causes ruts in Na’vi.

Warnings -> nsfw, p in v, cunnilingus, sex pollen, not enemies to lovers but nuisance to lovers, Na’vi!Jake x Human reader, ruts. MDNI

word count -> 2.6K

You’d been swamped since your return back to work, taking two weeks for yourself was definitely worth it to protect your sanity and reduce the chances of a burn out. However, now in an attempt to make up for the work you had missed you found yourself working late nights and early mornings, nose practically pressed to your tablet as you wrote up papers on your samples. 

You were finally given the green light to complete your own fieldwork on the condition that you had an escort with you at all times, most commonly an avatar driver. Norm was good company because you were able to bond over your mutual passion for science and the Na’vi culture. You did tend to grow exasperated when he monitored and micromanaged your work, committed to doing your work by the book, rules set by the RDA. 

Grace was way too busy to babysit you as you picked and trifled different plants and herbs, when she could be connecting with the Omatikayan people. Which left you with Jake, the perfect candidate as he was not only an avatar driver but also had a military background. 

It wasn’t that the two of you didn’t get along but you tended to butt heads over your work, he didn’t understand why your field of research was botany when scientists could be better utilised studying and researching the Omatikaya, clearly a connection and new respect for the people had formed since training with Neytiri.

Obviously he had no room to talk as he wasn’t even a scientist but that didn’t prevent him from voicing his opinions, which was definitely exacerbated by Grace and Norm’s allegiance to you.

Which brought you to this, trudging through the forest following the map downloaded on your tablet with a disgruntled ten foot tall Jake grumpily following behind you, muttering to himself about how he clearly knew more about the Na’vi because of his connection with the clan, despite you having years of training and study before you were allowed to go on the mission. Egotistical asshole. 

There was no arguing with Jake because it seemed like no matter what you said to him to defend yourself was met with laughter, clearly enjoying riling you up and getting a reaction out of you. Skxáwng didn’t feel like a strong enough word for him. 

“Are you nearly done, I need to check in with Grace before I go train with Neytiri. We’ve been out here for nearly an hour, surely you have everything you need by now.” He’s borderline whining as he playfully swats overhanging leaves out of his way.

“Calm your damn tits, I’m nearly done, it just takes a while to actually extract the samples.” You huff out with a roll of your eyes.

“Ugh I don’t have time for this, I’m supposed to go hunting with some of the warriors today.” His whining is endless, you think to yourself.

You attempt to stifle your anger with a sharp inhale. 

“You are more than welcome to leave, so I can get this done in peace. Besides, Hell’s Gate is nearby.”

“Mmm, actually I can’t. In case you haven’t noticed Grace will have me by the balls if I just leave you out here. Also you’re practically defenceless out here.” His patronising ends with a snort.

Unimpressed, you side eye him. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you may have an Avatar body but you're still human underneath that.” He doesn’t want to admit that it causes a pang within him.

He doesn’t respond, just walks past you to lead the way, pulling a rather large branch out of the way, waiting for you to walk through.

You finally set your equipment at the base of a tree where unruly moss sprouts and prepare your tools to harvest it.  

Jake continues to babble on behind you voicing his dissatisfaction and urges you to hurry up. You ignore the grunt he lets out when he sags to the floor, which soon turns to exaggerated sighing. You’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice when he runs his fingers over the plants around him with abandon. A patch of cerulean blue growths hidden from your view when you first walked into the clearing are the first thing he touches, enjoying the texture on his fingers as he picks at it and rubs it between his thumb and forefinger. 

You only pull out of the trance that you find yourself in when focusing when his sighing ceases, the sudden silence a forewarning. 

Jake stifles the urge to burst out laughing when he sees the size of your widened eyes, almost bursting out of their sockets.

“What? I’m letting you focus.” The blue coats his fingers now.

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” His prominent eyebrows knit together.

“Oh my god.”

He’s alarmed now. “Can you say anything other than oh my god?”

“Jake those are microspores, why would you touch a random plant?” Your voice is a whisper as you stare at him in disbelief.

“Eh it’s fine, it’s just a random plant.” He shrugs.

“No! It’s not fine, that random plant has spores on it that can trigger Na’vi ruts!” You exclaim, thumb and forefingers pinched together as you enunciate each word. His understanding of the situation dawns on him. 

“You mean- like the horny animal thing?” Not how you would describe it but you nod anyway.

You voice your thoughts as they run through your mind. “Okay, okay, I’ll take you to Grace-no what could she possibly do? Maybe the Tsahik or healers, surely they have a treatment to prevent it. Ok, yes.” You nod in finality.

Your tools are swiftly packed away as you usher Jake towards Hometree with urgency. He follows you blindly as you drag him by the forearm, he’s careful to slow his steps so he doesn’t bump into you. 

You find yourselves jogging through the forest with abandon, no longer attempting to clear branches and debris from the path. Jake’s steps begin to slow as you’re about halfway to Hometree and you glance back in confusion. 

“I don’t think you understand the severity of your predicament, we have to get you to the Tsahik before it kicks in.” You tug on his arm in an attempt to get him moving again. When you turn to face him, his large chest is heaving in an attempt to get enough air to his lungs. 

He licks his lips and breaks it to you with a shaky sigh, “I- I won’t get there in time, listen to me closely I need you to get to the Tsahik and tell her what is happening, tell her I sent you and ask for an escort back to Hell’s Gate.”

“What! No, c’mon we’re almost there.” Your confusion is palpable.  

He says your name to gather your attention. “If you don’t leave now, I won’t be able to control myself…around you.” He’s hesitant to add the end of the sentence.

You don’t budge, mind already made up.

“Jake, I’m not leaving you. we’ll work something out, surely a hunter or someone wandering will find us.” You’re urging him to go along with you.

His lips part and quiver as he finds the words to say. “I’m…out of time, it’s starting. If you don’t go now I will not be able to restrain myself.” 

You double down on your stance and come to a decision, “Fine, then don’t, because I’m not leaving.” You hold eye contact in the hopes he will understand your meaning. Thankfully he does.

He attempts to say something but quickly abandons it, bending at the waist to pull you close to him, chests flush together. His glazed eyes stare into yours hazy with lust, a final questioning for permission. A searing and hungry kiss is all he needs before his palm grasps your jaw, in an effort to deepen the kiss. Your lips part, his tongue enters and you’re hyper aware of your shared breaths mingling and intertwining with one and other. 

You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you feel the effects of Jake in your senses, his masculine scent invades your nose, comforting and enticing all at once. You’re almost dizzy from his strong chest and muscled arms pulling you as close as possible. Weak knees force you to rely on him to hold you up and keep you from toppling over, surrendering to his hold. You’re thankful you can’t form Tsaheylu because he would feel the immediate reaction the stimulation has on you, nipples swelling and pressing against the thin material of your shirt, a slick wetness growing between your folds. 

He’s hesitant to pull apart from the kiss, finally concedes and forces the words out. “This is not how I wanted to do this. I wanted to take you out, wanted to take care of you.” He’s distracted by your lips, his breaths puff against your swollen lips. You glance up at him in confusion but let the thought go when he delves back into you.

He cups your cheeks gently as he plants all the passion and lust he’s clouded with onto you. You're forced to hold onto the backs of his hands as he walks you backwards till you’re leaving against the smooth bark of a tree. 

Now that you have some stability he parts from your body, planting kisses down the slopes of your face arriving at the innermost sensitive skin of your neck. He kisses, nips and suckles causing your eyes to fall shut once again and you can’t control the breathy gasps and quiet moans that escape through your parted lips.

Your head thumps back against the bark resulting in Jake’s new focus being your heaving breasts, that he has to admit look enticing. He abandons his task and is quick to grope at them before giving up and scrambling to pull the hem of your cotton shirt up and over your head. The folds of your skin and weight of your breasts jostle, he takes a moment to take in your form in all of its glory. Soft and delicate in comparison to his hardened warrior physique. 

His plump lips attach to your perked nipple, sucking and licking over and over until the sensitivity takes a hold of you, producing a moan from you. You want to smack him when you feel his lips quirk into a smirk, instead settling on running through the long tresses of his hair, groping and palming his queue. He whimpers, and now it’s your turn to smirk. Large hands trace down your ribs then stomach, kneading and pushing into the skin.

He pulls away from you, swiftly dropping to his knees, now level with your crotch. He looks up at you sending you a comforting smile that turns cheeky when he slides his hands around and gives your ass a squeeze. You blush and can’t suppress the shy smile that takes over your features.

You want to laugh and simultaneously aw while he scrambles to untie your boots and slide them off your feet.

All his focus is put on pulling your belt open and popping the button of your tactical pants, promptly sliding them and your underwear down your legs and holding the backs of each calf as you step out of them. 

Finally bare in front of him, he places a wet kiss to the space above your mound and slinks down to lick up your slit, lapping up and down before finally landing where you want him. Darting his tongue in fast circles on your clit and sucking softly which changes pace every so often. He continues on the seconds trickling into minutes before finally pulling away, your slick stringing from his lips. He goes back to pepper a few more kisses along your pussy, before pulling away again with a shake of his head.

“No, I’m going to have you around my cock when you cum.” There’s no room for argument when he pulls at you and moulds you into the position he wants. Your back is pressed into the forest floor, legs pulled apart and bent. His patience wears thin and is apparent when he pulls roughly at the ties of his loincloth, removing the offending material. He spreads the sticky fluid around the tip of his cock and pumps it, hips stuttering into his fist.

You’re entranced by the stripped pattern around his member, large and pulsating and prepare yourself.

The spores have full control of him now desperation and lust all culminating in him yanking you further closer to him by your thighs, he finally has you where he wants you. He slides his cock against your sticky folds, grinding on you before pulling back and aligning his head with your entrance. 

As he pushes in slowly, careful to not hurt you, the stretch is delicious pulling a loud high-pitched moan from deep within you. Heat flares all over your body, your eyes close in ecstasy as he pushes further and further into your wet heat. When he bottoms out and your clit is flush with his skin you take in a breath in an attempt to compose yourself. 

Slow pumps in and out give away, he’s unstoppable now, a brutal place that reminds you he’s under the effect of this carnal rut. He burrows into your neck placing more kisses across your glistening skin.

A resounding wet pap occurs every time he pushes back in, slick and sweat coats both of your skin, blending together, and you don’t know where he ends and you begin. He’s everything you’ve ever known and all you want, there are no words to describe the passion and connection you feel, undoubtedly reciprocated by him.

Grunts and moans echo throughout the immense forest, pure pleasure and fulfilment between the two of you. You’re hiding your face in his neck, it does nothing to muffle your moans and unrelenting gasps. 

You both make the steady climb to the apex of your orgasms, pleasure building steadily in the pit of your stomach as he hits the soft spot deep in you over and over, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He reads you so easily. “I’m not pulling out.” There’s no room for argument, though realistically you don’t have one.

All you can do is nod against him as you stammer out that you’re close.

You finally reach your peak, pulsing and clenching around his cock, somehow more slick runs down his length and a long drawn out moan is inescapable. You look up at him wanting to memorise the lines and groves of his face, the white dots and freckles spread across the bridge of his nose. He stares deep into your glassy eyes and lets out a stuttering breath, eyebrows raising when he joins you at the peak. 

Warmth spreads within you as his hips stutter against you, gasping breaths intermingling, enjoying the remnants of the shared orgasm. 

When you both stop grinding and moving against one another's body, you remain like that, coiled within each other soaking up the aftermath. When he’s ready to move, he pulls out with a final deep groan, potent seed slowly dripping out of your sensitive cunt and trickles down to your puckered asshole.

“Beautiful.” He mutters with appreciation.

You untangle from one another and he shapes your malleable form onto your side and settles behind you, face nestling into your neck, sweat cooling. You both lie there in the afterglow, clouded with pleasure and slight surprise about what just occurred. He places another kiss to the notch at the back of your neck, sighing in content. 

After a couple of minutes lying there basking in the exaltation, you break the silence. 

“What did you mean this isn’t how you wanted it to go?”

The haze of his rut has subsided, and he’s finally able to conceive a coherent thought. He chuckles before answering, “I was gonna wine and dine you, that is when I could grow up and stop annoying you.” 

“I’m definitely a lot less annoyed with you now.”

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 25.

Summary: Oliver, Farleigh, and matters of pride.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: non-graphic smut, implied noncon (the Oliver/Farleigh scene), manipulation.

A/N: 3085 words. i really didn't mean for this to be ANOTHER chapter about the henrys dinner however i thought it was important to get an Oliver POV regarding everything that happens between him and farleigh. this was meant to be longer and extend over several more days but i think i'd rather we follow reader for the fallout.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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You've been off all night. Oliver can tell you're trying to hide it, trying to mask your feelings with drinks and the company of the Catton siblings, but he's not blind to you, he never has been. Occasionally, from where he'd been observing the three of you, he sees your gaze land on Farleigh, sees the barest crease of your brow that everyone else seems to miss, and the way you always looked away. Never more than a moment spent on the likes of Farleigh Start.

The same man you seemed to otherwise have all the time in the world for.

Something had happened, something he wasn't privy to, something that occurred in the time you and Farleigh were outside, and Oliver was otherwise occupied with Felix's kindness and attention.

While Oliver never wanted to see you upset, there was a quiet triumph in his chest upon witnessing the disconnect between yourself and Farleigh. Farleigh had tried to drive a wedge in your relationship with Oliver, but it seems as though it had backfired, despite you still believing him over Oliver's attempt at manipulating the truth. Small victories, Oliver thinks to himself.

Perhaps it was overconfidence that lead him to his seat beside Farleigh later that evening. Feeling tipsy and vindictive with his own conversation with you still playing on repeat in his mind, he humours Farleigh's game of 'Fuck, Chuck, or Marry' with the portraits, lets him press against Oliver's side as he murmurs almost knowingly about Richard III's insecurities would lead him to work harder in bed. Every word Farleigh has ever spoken to him after their very first meeting has always been so clearly deliberate and insidious; Oliver's wondering if he's projecting here, while trying once more to psych Oliver out.

But if Farleigh wants to play games, Oliver wants to win.

"Or you could just fuck me?" He offers, voice low, turning from the stern-faced portraits to Farleigh himself after a moment. Farleigh is rather beautiful when drunk in his own right and caught off-guard. There's something so deliciously tempting in his big, brown eyes, something suddenly dangerous about how close this beautiful boy was sitting in this moment. But he could never trust Farleigh's intentions, especially not now.

And clearly Farleigh didn't trust his either. Clever boy. Too clever for his own good.

"Why'd you tell Y/N about me and Venetia?" He asks plainly. Watching Farleigh's mind try to come up with a justification was fascinating; it seems even he knows that Oliver won't believe whatever lie he comes up with.

"Well, I didn't think they'd react that badly -"

"Yes, you did," Oliver cuts him off without a second of hesitation, and already Farleigh's lips are twisting into an amused smile, but Oliver's not done, "you knew they'd run right to Felix about it too, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," the look in Farleigh's eyes is far meaner than his sly smile, something unexpectedly sharp there. A nerve struck; what had you and he said to each other earlier? But Oliver keeps his façade up, lets his face drop; if Farleigh reads guilt in his disappointment, that's on him. For a moment, just a single moment, he thinks he can see a flicker of apology cross Farleigh's delicate features as Oliver sighs softly. His gaze drops.

"You know, if you ever wanna talk to anyone, you can talk to me, Farleigh," he offers softly, expression open and honest as he once more meets Farleigh's gaze. An imitation of an olive branch.

"What do you mean?" There it is, that distrustful look that Oliver had expected. Farleigh's well aware of how observant Oliver is, it wouldn't be a stretch for him to figure out he'd picked up on the tension between you and him, the wedge between supposed best friends. Oliver lets the unspoken implications alone apply pressure to that wedge for just a moment before he changes tact in his continued effort to disarm this man.

"Well, I know you're going through a hard time at home, I know how that feels," Oliver allows himself to be read as vulnerable in this moment, "when things are so precarious," he sighs deeply, gaze wandering as if lost in thought, and not carefully catalogues each minute change in Farleigh's expression, "it's terrifying... and lonely," and he meets Farleigh's almost disbelieving gaze. Farleigh was not so easily lead, it seemed, but the challenge of him is almost thrilling, "and it must be so fucking weird feeling like you have to ask them for everything," and your words about Farleigh's pride echo through Oliver's mind as he drops his gaze, "I know how demeaning it can feel."

A spark of recognition in Farleigh's eyes, something surprised and just a little pained for reasons even beyond Oliver, before they settle into something that almost looks like regret.

"And I know you fuckin' hate me -" Oliver starts, but suddenly the regret is no longer just in Farleigh's eyes, his whole expression softening for just a moment as he tries to deny it.

"I... I don't hate you," his voice is uncharacteristically sincere, as is the look in his eyes. Perfect. This is exactly where Oliver wants him. Despite his better instincts, Oliver wants to forge this connection, wants this common ground, needs Farleigh on side. Both of them love you and Felix; they're going to be in each other's lives whether they like it or not, and Oliver's fucking sick of fighting Farleigh on that at every turn.

"But," Oliver lets his tone soften to something sincere, as if to appreciate the admission before attempting to double down on this fragile moment of connection, "if you ever wanted me to talk to them to see if there's..." he sighs, searching for the right words to appear as earnest as he's able, "if I can help in any way..." Farleigh's too proud to ever ask, so Oliver knows he can't do any more than imply he should do as much. Instead, he adds, "even Y/N," for good measure.

Something shifts in Farleigh's expression, a hint of skepticism.

"Even Y/N?" But his tone is strange, unreadable, gaze still boring into Oliver's.

"I know they're too proud to offer," Oliver tells him with the faintest notes of sadness, "too afraid of sounding like their mum, but they love you," he watches the way pain momentarily flickers in Farleigh's eyes, "I can talk to them too."

He hopes Farleigh can hear the intention in his words; they all love you, so I'm willing to do right by you.

After a beat, Farleigh laughs softly, finally tearing his gaze from Oliver, the movement of his head too quick for Oliver to read his reaction properly. Alas, the moment is broken, Farleigh is standing, and Oliver just hopes his words have had their intended effect. At the very least, he's sure he's subtly needled Farleigh's insecurities enough for him to reconsider his ongoing cruelty towards Oliver.

Except in the next few moments, it's made clear that he'd pushed him too far. He doesn't trust the look in Farleigh's eyes as he's pulling Oliver up to sing whatever song he's chosen, but Oliver reluctantly goes along with it. There's alarm bells in the back of his head as he plays along, wanting to believe that this isn't some kind of trap, that this is really Farleigh trying to connect with him in some way.

Nervous with microphone in hand, he scans the room as the song's opening plays. The tightness in his chest eases when he spots Felix in the corner of the room by the bar cart with you and Venetia, smiling at him warmly, encouragingly. But only after he begins to sing does his gaze focus upon you, and his blood runs cold. Amid the cheering of the Catton siblings beside you, and the others around the room, you're not looking at Oliver, you're looking at Farleigh, and you're fucking furious.

But the song's begun now, even if he's not entirely listening to the lyrics, he can't stop in front of all these people, can he? But his attention turns back to the little screen and he reads the words as he sings, voice faltering -

"I love you-" oh. Farleigh really fucking hated him, "you pay my rent."

Farleigh cheers obnoxiously from the side of the room, and Oliver actually sees you make a start to move towards him, but Felix holds you back. The sight of your furious indignation on his behalf does little to ease the shame and embarrassment that flares up in him in this moment. All he can think to do is spitefully insist that Farleigh finish the song, that it's his song too after all, but Farleigh's high on the victory and completely without shame as he accepts his place in the spotlight.

All Oliver wants to do is just disappear, hot, angry tears pricking his eyes as he absconds through the nearest door. He needs to get out of this suffocating house, away from these entitled assholes, he needs fresh air -

"Ollie, mate -" he couldn't even hear Felix's footsteps running to catch up with him, only hearing him when his hand is on Oliver's shoulder, "that was fucked -"

"It's fine, Felix," Oliver tries to insist, even as Felix turns him around to face him.

"It's not fine, it was fucking cruel is what it was," Felix holds him steady by the shoulders, but Oliver just hangs his head. There's no way he's letting Felix see him cry over this, especially after he'd just bore witness to Farleigh's thorough public humiliation of him.

"I'll be fine, really, I just need some air and some space," Oliver reiterates, trying to step back. Felix lets him go; Oliver can almost picture his crestfallen look, but still doesn't have the nerve to look up.

"Ollie," Felix's voice is so soft, so apologetic. Oliver wants nothing more than to hold him tightly, hear him reassure that Farleigh was being a cunt and that no-one thinks of him like that, even if Oliver knows that it's not true, that you and Felix are the only ones that see him as anything more than just a pretty, little charity case. Felix would believe himself, though; he was far too earnest for the rest of his family half the time. It's one of the countless things he's come to love about Felix.

He takes another step back.

"I just need to be alone for a bit," Oliver's voice softens, fighting back the urge to sniffle, "I'll be fine, Felix, I promise."

"Will you come find me later? Please?"

Oliver has no idea what he's going to do in the next five minutes let alone beyond that. But he nods.

"Maybe," is what he says, "I promise I'll be okay; if I don't see you tonight, we'll still hang out tomorrow."

"Okay," Felix sounds almost disappointed, before he sighs deeply. His concern is quickly turning back to irritation as his thoughts seem to be returning to his cousin, "you know I love you, mate."

"I know," Oliver agrees, "love you too, Felix," and he walks away, because he knows Felix would wait in this moment forever if Oliver let him, unable to properly leave his clearly upset friend even if dismissed. A loyal dog in his own right when he wanted to be.

Sitting in the garden, Oliver's sense of shame crystalises into fury with each deep breath he takes. The absolute audacity of Farleigh to do that to him, and after all the trouble he's been causing you and Felix lately! Prideful prick.

So certain of his place in their lives, Oliver knew the only thing that would ever really matter to Farleigh is losing it. The cruelty was almost predictable at this point, Oliver's actually foolish to have not seen it coming. Oliver feels as though he should never have believed you for the supposed kindness you saw in Farleigh; like Felix you were too loving, too permissive for your own good sometimes. Honestly, Farleigh didn't even deserve your kindness, he thought ruefully.

Oliver couldn't say he hadn't at least tried diplomacy.

After the house had grown quiet and he was sure he wouldn't run into anyone, aside from that uncanny butler, though he seemed incredibly adept at ignoring the strangeness of Saltburn's youth, Oliver heads back to his room. The sound of Felix's door opening makes him start, and he ducks in quickly, closing the door over to avoid whoever it was who was leaving. He knew he was too full of rage to face yours or Felix's kindness in this moment. However, he's surprised to hear Venetia humming to herself, and to see her wearing your navy robe as she trots down the hall towards her own room. Not a second later, Oliver hears the shower on in the adjoining bathroom, and he closes the door, confused, wondering where Felix could have gotten to at the end of the night.

But considering Venetia only made his rage and guilt grow stronger in his gut. Another person who took you for granted, another person who felt entitled to your affection. As much as he tried, he couldn't get to sleep, and his eyes land on the dark shape of the book by his bedside. Saltburn: The Art of Saltburn House, The Catton Collection. It had been left undoubtably by you near the beginning of his stay, and had helped him ingratiate himself to Felix's father as he took an interest in the antiquities Farleigh had simply sneered at. The antiquities Oliver knew the exorbitant value of, and how much that money could theoretically mean to Farleigh, and a plan began to form.

Farleigh would never let him live this night down, Farleigh would never let him live this life with you both that Oliver craved so desperately. Farleigh would never let him live in peace, if he could help it. So Farleigh couldn't be allowed to live here.

Oliver is quick to find his way to Farleigh's room, stalking as quietly as he's able through the grand halls with furious intent. Each time he'd sought it out, you'd always been with Farleigh on the other side, lavishing the bastard with undeserved attention and pleasure. Sinking down, Oliver peers through the keyhole as he'd done time and again, but there's no silhouette of you against the night sky beyond Farleigh's window, just the man himself sleeping soundly.

Unlike you, Oliver does not know Saltburn well enough to slip through it silently, but Farleigh doesn't stir when the door creaks. Farleigh is beautiful and terrible, even as he sleeps.

Oliver had tried to play nice, Farleigh had left him no choice. He would take Farleigh's pride, and his precious place in this house whether he liked it or not.

It's almost disappointing how little of a challenge Farleigh poses. It's almost too easy to break him, to make him submit, to make him obedient. Despite the fact that he'd watched you do it, he hadn't realised how desperate Farleigh was to be under someone's thumb in moments like this, how quickly his resolve would crumble. Oh there's anger, there's push back, but it's a token effort at best. He snarls as Oliver rides him, digging his nails into Oliver's thighs hard enough to draw blood, but he still cums.

"You're fucking sick," he spits breathlessly, but he still has a hand on Oliver's cock, still let's Oliver's cum splatter across his chest without complaint before he shoves him off to clean himself off.

Are you going to behave? He must have Oliver's soft orders playing on repeat in his mind, because he doesn't even complain when he sees Oliver sitting on his bed when he gets back. His scowl is to be expected, but Oliver knows this is his victory, and that it won't be the last for tonight, as he'd already found Farleigh's phone on the windowsill. Opening the curtains, Farleigh cracks open the window before he lights a cigarette.

"You don't fucking love them," Farleigh doesn't even look at him, barking a soft, humourless laugh. Oliver freezes, his expression hard as he looks to Farleigh; his victory feels short-lived as the anger quickly returns at the accusation, "I told them you were just going to use them, and break their fucking hearts, and I was right."

"Watch yourself, Farleigh," Oliver warns sharply, voice low and dangerous.

"And the fucked up part is that if you were honest, they would have let you," Farleigh continues, sounding almost disgusted; with himself, with you and Felix, with Oliver, with the whole situation, "but now they think they're in love, and I just have to watch them crash and burn because of you," taking a long draft of his cigarette, he holds the smoke in his lungs before it spills out around his words, lip curling in derision, "you're a fucking black hole, Oliver."

Oliver watches him finish his smoke and close the window, drawing the blinds once again. He doesn't look at Oliver. He doesn't ask him to leave. He doesn't get it, so he's done with you all; he's broken, he behaves.

"Good night, Farleigh," Oliver says flatly as Farleigh stretches out on the bed beside him, on his side, back to Oliver.

"For the record," Farleigh bites out quietly, "I do hate you." As if it wasn't abundantly clear already. But Oliver remains quiet, despite the absolute outrage Farleigh's words had sparked inside him.

Everything he was doing, he did because he loved you and Felix. Everything.

Laying still and quiet beside Farleigh, he gazes up at the roof, trying to keep his breathing even, listening to Farleigh's own as it grew slow and deep, and Oliver was sure he was asleep. Giving it just a bit more time to make sure, he sits up carefully, making sure not to jostle Farleigh in the slightest, before he reaches for the phone on the windowsill.

Farleigh didn't understand you and Felix, and he certainly didn't deserve any ounce of your attention. Farleigh was a self-serving, entitled creature fuelled by spite and pride; he'd set this house on fire if it would keep him warm, Oliver's sure. So he enacts his plan, sends the email that would spell Farleigh's ruin, and deletes all trace of it from the man's phone before he puts it back where he found it.

And he leaves as quietly as he'd arrived.

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

oh im gonna be SO annoying about bbh in a minute. i keep saying the same thing over and over again but his character is too fucking complex motherfucker is like:

"i'm a demon who is 11,000 years old and i refuse to acknowledge that im a demon nor that i do bad things (like steal furniture) but i will help people every chance i get despite saying im going to stop doing that and i am going to devote my life to protecting these fragile little eggs even though i know im going to lose them one day because i love them too much (and i know i can do that and it will one day be okay, because i have an immortal diamond to keep me company even if he isn't here now). when my friend throws himself beneath the spokewheel of the federation i will be there, bitter about my loss, but i will not start a revolution until he proves he deserves one. i will do what i can to safeguard his system against corruption because i am afraid the federation will use him to hurt us. i know he doesn't want to hurt us. he keeps hurting me. he is isolated by our distrust in him and he is still working hard to try to be a good person in an inherently corrupt system that cannot be fixed so i will build him a statue. i will not kill him when he takes a picture of me in the presidential chair (that was almost mine) and puts it on his wall and calls me 'employee of the month.' i didn't do all of that work for the federation i did it for him like i do it for others because they are my friends. i will exhaust every option i have to build a reason to NOT start a revolution. to not kill him. because i have to say that i tried. i feel like i have made so many compromises. i have held myself back to try to find reason. i will still remove his access to my base. when the island turns against me and he locks me in a cage for a crime i did not commit, i will remove everyone's access (except for my family the french and my family the eggs). i am having fun. when the eggs appear the next day with cracks and dirty shells i will worry, but i know they're strong. they'll be okay. (when i find my son's secret lab and his unethical experiments that cause him harm i will be proud because he has done what i do. he has helped. i want him to be safe but we are never safe and i trust him more than anyone else. i know now, and i can help him be safe.) when the eggs go missing i will be silent. i will look for them, and i will destroy for them, and i will bargain for them, and i will cry for them, and i will not accept their loss. when my friend who is president who once built a safehouse that saved my eggs' lives is finally damaged by the federation (like i knew he would be when he became president) and he starts to hurt people by pushing the same treatment onto them i will not be surprised. i will be surprised when he tries to marry me. i will not blame him (much) when he tries to kill me. our children are missing. he is forced to pretend that his is not. i wish i could too. i will not tell him yes or no because i need an open avenue to manipulate him (because to save him i will have to manipulate him). i will not marry him because he is out of his mind. i have said marriage is overrated. i have also said that i want to live with him in a house with our kids and my skeppy. when he tells me that he wants to be happy with me i will still say 'aw' because it is the most genuine thing he has said to me and i miss my friend. i will still try to kill him. i fail to kill him with someone else's plan. i don't place a block to lock him in place. i hesitate. it doesn't matter if it's on purpose because the next plan works. i will reveal an item that could destroy me to my closest allies (and tubbo) because it will let us save him. we save him. when he kills himself 18 times over i back away from the explosion in surprise and then step close again. while i have grieved i have thrown myself into mines. it doesn't matter. i am numb and want to feel something. everything has lost colour. we save him.

i visit federation workers and ask them about my eggs and they do not tell me anything. i know they are lying. i visit the graveyard to talk to my lost eggs. i have lost all of the eggs. i do not know how to save them. i lay in the mud. it rains and rain signifies the monster has returned to kill my children but my children are not here and so i do not care. when i go home i will become so angry and i will go down to my basement (which i have locked like my friend locked the entrance to his greatest fantasy. we are so alike and our delusions are different. he child was real; here is the secret to finding my children) where i have locked a federation worker away. i will not wash away the blood stains.

i am also part-time grim reaper and i only ever dress up in robes to make people drink more water."

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 3

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

Sorry for the wait! The day I set aside to get loads done on this I ended up having to visit a family member in hospital, he’s much much better now. Anyway oversharing. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I loved writing it. Let me know if you wanna be added to my tag list 💕

Part 1

Part 2

——————————————————————

You woke up on Saturday morning to a missed text from Art.

7:58am - text from Art

Sorry if I woke you when I left. Gone to play hard court today hope you slept alright on that couch.

The sudden realisation that you were not in fact in your bed hit you almost as hard as the loose spring in your back. You groaned, reaching for some leftover pizza. None left. You groaned again.

9:26am - text to Art

Did you eat all your pizza?

To your surprise the boy replied immediately, showcasing his ability to read your mind.

9:27am - text from Art

Afraid so :) Look in the fridge if you’re so hungry

The fridge, despite the tightness of your apartment, had never looked so far away. You’d rather wait the nine hours for Art to return and pass food to you through a funnel. He could create some sort of feeding tube, perhaps he could fashion it out of one of the dozen tennis ball containers Patrick left lying around. You hadn’t seen the floor in years.

It took you almost thirty minutes to peel your lifeless body off the sofa and trudge the eight metres to the fridge. Before all of your fingers had grasped the cold metal you caught it. The smell.

The month you and Patrick were flat hunting had been a difficult one, full of stress and disappointments. A week before you found the flat you now called home, Art had found crying outside your favourite pancake place. You didn’t know if Patrick had texted him, giving him a heads up of your less than stellar mood and where to find you, or if he had simply ran into you by accident but one minute he was there.

The two of you had shared your favourite, strawberry and kiwi pancakes with whipped cream, despite having never spent time alone together previously and it hadn’t been awkward. Any awkwardness had come from your inability to keep your emotions to yourself and not a mess for all to see. Art hadn’t minded in fact, unbeknownst to you, he’d greatly enjoyed your company and had had a shitty day himself before your talk.

10:02am - text to Art

Did I ever mention I love you living here??

Sitting proudly in the fridge, in between Patrick’s abandoned pasta and your pathetic amount of cheese, was a plate of strawberry and kiwi pancakes. You looked at the pile of washing up and noticed essence of strawberry still dripping from the chopping board next to a whisk and bowl.

‘God damn…’ you actually moaned aloud at the first bite. Not only were they delicious but they’d been made especially for you for no reason. No one had ever made you breakfast before, unless you counted the time Patrick threw a box of muffins at your head to wake you up for school. It often didn’t take a great amount of effort to impress you, something maybe a therapist needed to hear about, but you felt justified being impressed with Art for this. They were truly wonderful.

10:20am - text from Art

Come thank me in person if you want, Liam is taking another break

You couldn’t help but smile at his little dig at Liam, whether intentional or not it told you everything you needed to know: Art was the better player. Art was always the better player, he usually wiped the floor with anyone who wasn’t Patrick.

It was only a twenty minute walk to Stanford and although you were ashamed to admit it … you had nothing better to do on a Saturday morning. You decided to pack your laptop, so you could kid yourself that this was a productive thing and not just an excuse to watch Art sweat. The damn thing wouldn’t even get opened and you knew it.

It was a hot day, even for Summer it was unforgiving. You pulled at your tank top, attempting to negate any sweat stains by leaving a gap between your wet skin and the thin fabric. No such luck, the car window reflection of yourself showed you the harsh reality. How did Art do it? How did he look sexy whilst sweating? You felt like a drowned dog, heaving and panting in the back of a muggy car trying to see past the drops of sweat in your lashes.

You reached Stanford earlier than you expected and to your great satisfaction, saw no Art present. That gave you ample time to tidy yourself up in the toilets before meeting him. The college had crisp air con, much better than the pathetic excuse for a fan you and Patrick would crowd round on hot days.

Art didn’t text you directions because he didn’t need to. He knew you’d visited Patrick enough times to know your way around all the tennis courts, hard or otherwise. It didn’t take you long to find the right one.

‘Fuck!’

You scanned the indoor courts for the source of the outburst. Art, third court from the left and he was not happy. For a moment you teetered on your feet, unsure if it was better to wait a bit before interfering with their clearly tense match. Before you could make a decision however-

‘Y/N!’

Liam spotted you, putting his racket down immediately to wave you over. He’d once gotten drunk and told Patrick how much he liked you but that it had been so long ago that you’d almost forgotten and his new girlfriend was a tennis star. On the ‘up and up’ as Patrick’s dad would say.

Although Liam’s hug was intense, sweaty and pretty uncomfortable you were too focused on Art to cringe. He was rubbing his face with his hands, looking more pained than you’d ever seen him. You didn’t know why. He’d been playing well before you arrived.

Noticing the object of your frown, Liam suddenly grinned even wider. ‘He just lost the third set.’ Art took a large swig of water, not noticing the way you stared in awe at the angle of his jaw and the wet curls on his forehead. He was too focused on the racket he was clutching fiercely enough to force the veins of his forearm to pull your attention.

‘I know it’s not over yet,’ Liam panted slightly, clearly Art had still run him ragged. ‘But this never happens - never.’ In the years they’d played together, Liam had never beaten Art. Not in singles or doubles. Not on hard court. Not on clay or grass. Never. You were not convinced, however, that poor Liam had never won a set before so you voiced your opinion without thinking.

‘Art, you can still win. It’s fine!’

Art shot you a glare. It didn’t last long but it burned you a little, the intensity of it. He wanted so badly for you to be right, for it to not matter to him. ‘It’s just a game’ well it wasn’t to Art. It was his entire future and if he lost - if he lost ever - it was him throwing that future away.

‘You’ll win the fourth.’ You smiled, reassuringly. That lifted Art a little and bruised his partner.

‘I thought we were stopping for a bit since Y/N’s here.’ Art watched your face for a reaction, daring you to decide for the three of them. Without removing your eyes from Art you smiled. ‘No, no. I’ll watch.’

You watched them play for another hour and a half. Art just won the fourth set, by the narrowest of margins but that gave him the confidence boost he badly needed to destroy Liam in the fifth. Th-wack! Smash. Th-wack! Slice. Th-wack! Topspin. You were honestly confused why Liam bothered serving. If it had been you - well - let’s just say the floor would have made a more than sufficient bed. It was certainly making a sufficient seat for you to watch Liam get massacred. God was Art good.

‘You win…’ Liam was dripping, his white shirt almost see-through. ‘I need a sec…’ So did you. It was practically a workout just watching them. You clapped as Art walked over to you, looking very satisfied with his win. ‘You happy now?’

‘Very.’

As Liam rung out his shirt, Art gestured to the court with his racket. ‘You and me. One game.’ His eyes were full of amusement.

‘Ha.’

You’d die.

‘One set?’ He smirked, desperate for you to humour him. Not today. ‘Absolutely not.’ You laughed, standing up.

‘Actually, I’d love lunch right now,’ Liam’s suggestion was a necessity. ‘After a shower.’ And so was his afterthought. They both needed one desperately. Art’s hair didn’t even look blonde anymore.

‘Yeah you two go, I’ll wait then we can get food. I’m not super hungry but I can always eat.’

Liam was already rushing to the showers, practically leaving a pool of loser evidence behind him but Art heard. He looked like he was waiting for something from you and for a moment, in your haze, you wondered what. Oh!

‘The pancakes,’

‘Hm.’

‘De-licious.’

‘Good.’

You could tell he was happier with your compliment than he was letting on. The truth was Art craved praise, mostly for tennis but for anything he accomplished. It didn’t matter if he’d made a three tier cake, organised a trip or won every set in a match he wanted to know he’d done good.

‘Seriously, how did you even find the recipe?’ The two of you walked together out of the hall. ‘I’ve been asking the staff for years, pretty sure they hate me now actually.’

‘I have my ways.’ He grinned. ‘Now, I’m gonna go shower-‘

‘Good, you stink.’

‘Fuck off.’

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn