#but what about the deep conversations he has with jester?

[flashhwing]

My only filtering issue (unrelated to wanting tags *excluded*) is when I search *for* a character or pairing tag, but a million fics pop up in which that character is there for 5 seconds or barely does anything in the plot. And the [X]-centric tag isn’t used a whole lot in general, so often I’m combing through fics only to find the character doesn’t do much in the story or are just plot device for other characters. This is more of a problem in fandoms with a huge cast of characters. For cases like that, I wish authors would be a bit more mindful of what character and pairing tags they choose to include because the filter function can’t do anything for that. Obviously I know tags also help readers *exclude* characters or pairings they don’t want to see, but in my opinion, if a character/pairing is barely there, it’s worth it to not tag them at all. Unless the character is one of those “[Name] is their own warning” characters 🤔

see this is one where i wish ao3 would actually change how they do things instead of authors coz like. if u got a character that does feature in a fic and therefore should be tagged for accuracy's sake, what you end up with is this -- where someone searching for a character will find so so so many fics where that character is not the focus.

genuinely i think ao3 should introduce like. main characters/side characters as a separate category. i think that would streamline things

[hyperfixatedbastard]

do you write hypnosis stuff?? it's not specifically against the rules but idk it's kind of an iffy era for a lot of writers-

if it's okay with you, could you write some Vox x Singer!Reader who he uses his mind control on to sell their soul to him so they remain under the VoxTek label? (im sure remaining with him is an ulterior motive of his as well lol)

thanks :]

I can absolutely do that! I’m a little iffy about NSFW hypnosis, but I can do a SFW oneshot :)

siren songs

Obsessed!Vox x Singer!GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

WARNINGS: Yandere-ish behavior, hypnosis, manipulation, toxic behavior, all that good stuff

A/N: I told y'all I'd be back with some toxic Vox!! I wasn't entirely sure how to end this one, but I've spent enough time rewriting it to stop caring. This one is only romantic in theory - nothing actually romantic happens between Vox and Reader, it's more mutual pining than anything else This is also my first time writing obsessive behavior, so I hope I did it well!

Dividers

You’ve been working with the Vees for years now. You were originally recruited by Velvette, who’s like a bloodhound for new talent. She saw some popular videos of your singing online, and she made you famous.

But you don’t work with her that much, oddly enough. Over time, you gradually started to see her less and less. Vox was the one to take her place. By the time you noticed, there wasn’t much you could do about it—you’re certainly not an equal to the Vees, so there wasn’t much you could do. Sure, you could’ve quit then and there, as you’d never signed a soul-binding contract, but you really liked your job. You were getting to do what you loved for a living! Who wouldn’t want that?

Well, you. You don’t want that anymore. You’re getting burnt out. You feel like you’re out of creativity for writing songs, and singing no longer has the same appeal it used to. It feels like a chore. Getting on stage doesn’t get you excited—it just fills you with dread.

Then you saw the videos of the annual clown pageant down in the Greed Ring. How Fizzarolli, Mammon’s favorite little jester, just…quit. Just like that. 

Can you do that?

You don’t have backup like Fizzarolli did. There’s no Prince of Hell to protect you if the Vees lash out in response to your resignation. But the Vees aren’t Mammon. They’re powerful Overlords, sure, but they wouldn’t kill off an easy cash grab like you. And they don’t have any leverage to use against you—you’re a fucking superstar, you learned to stop keeping secrets a long time ago.

Yeah, you can totally do this!

You spend the next week making a plan. You currently live in V Tower, so finding another living arrangement is a priority. Luckily, your standards are just as low as before you got famous, so snatching up an apartment doesn’t take long. You’ve been building up savings for some time now, just little bits here and there that wouldn’t look suspicious among your bank withdrawls, so you have enough money to last you a while. You’ve made a go-bag, but you’re not too worried about bringing anything with you, as you have enough cash to just buy new shit. By the time the end of the week comes around, you’ve got your escape plan ready to go. All that’s left is to actually quit.

You decide that directly speaking to Vox is your best option. Velvette and you don’t have the same rapport that you used to, and Valentino is just… no. During your time working with Vox, you like to think there’s some sort of friendship there. The two of you chat amicably, and he always makes sure you’re okay when it comes to creepy fans and the like. You feel like there could be something more than just friendship, but you don’t plan on staying long enough to find out. As much as you like Vox, you’re not willing to spend the rest of your afterlife hating every second of your job just for him.

You stand outside Vox’s lair, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation. You take a deep breath, and right before you can knock on the door, it opens.

Okay, here goes.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You aren’t as sneaky as you seem to think you are.

A normal boss wouldn’t have noticed the small transactions in your bank account, or the little trips you’ve been taking to go look at apartments. But Vox isn’t a ‘normal boss’ by any means. And he noticed.

From the moment Vox set eyes on you, he knew he wanted you. You’re beautiful, and fuck, your voice—he just can’t get you out of his damn head, no matter how hard he tries. And he really fucking tried. But he couldn’t avoid you, thanks to VoxTek being such an integral part of your performances. And you’re like a damn siren with that voice of yours, even though he’s supposed to be the hypnotizing one here. Eventually, he just gave in and accepted that he was more than a little obsessed with you. That’s why he started drawing you closer to him, pushing away Velvette and taking control of your brand. He doesn’t like sharing.

Obsession isn’t a particularly new feeling for Vox. He certainly has… tendencies. But this isn’t like whatever the fuck he’s got going on with that deer-headed, old-timey bastard Alastor. It’s not a lust thing, either. You’re certainly attractive, and Vox most definitely would sleep with you, but that’s not the main factor at play here. This is a deeper obsession than any of that bullshit.

Vox knows that he doesn’t own your soul. He’s well aware that he can’t truly stop you from quitting. Even if he managed to trap you inside V Tower, he can’t force you to keep up the performances. If he had you under a proper soul-binding contract, though…

He would own you.

Now, he’s not Valentino. He doesn’t plan to take that kind of advantage over you. He doesn’t want to change a damn thing. He just wants you to stay.

And he will make you stay.

He knows when you approach his office, and he opens the doors with the touch of a button on his desk. He plasters that casually perfect smile on his screen and turns to face you as you enter. The doors shut behind you.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, my dear,” he lies easily, the charismatic mask fitting into place like it was never absent in the first place. “How can I help you?”

You hesitate, your anxiety starting to get to you. But you’re determined to do this. You clear your throat and step forward. “I’m resigning.”

Vox’s smile doesn’t falter, nor does his screen glitch. His demeanor is…unnerving, to say the least. You’ve known him to be temperamental, emotional. You expected some kind of reaction. But he’s just smirking at you like he always does.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to change your mind,” he replies smoothly, tilting his head to the side just slightly.

“No,” you confirm, trying to sound confident in your answer. You’re not sure if you succeed. “I’ve already made my decision.”

Vox sighs, though he doesn’t sound very defeated. His smirk hasn’t gone away, either. “Well, then. It’s been a pleasure working with you, darling.”

He holds his hand out for you to shake. The gesture immediately worries you, as it’s the well-known sign of a deal. But you reassure yourself that there’s no deal being made here. Hell may be chaotic, but there’s rules when it comes to these kinds of things. Neither of you have offered anything, therefore there’s no harm in shaking his hand. It’s just a respectful gesture of a boss wishing their employee farewell. It all feels too easy, but you’re too relieved to think too hard about it.

You go to take his hand, but as you lift your head up to meet his gaze, everything goes fuzzy.

Vox grabs you by your wrist before you can shake his hand. He’s not rough with you. He’s careful of his claws, ensuring they don’t put too much pressure on your skin. Not that you’d notice, either way—your mind is far gone at this point, thanks to those spirals in his eye.

“In exchange for your soul, you’ll remain under the VoxTek label and continue working for me. Your work will remain the same as before. You’ll forget about leaving. You will want to stay here. You will want to stay here with me.”

A golden scroll appears out of thin air, and it floats in front of you as it unfurls. “Sign it.”

Your body moves on its own. You sign your name on the line at the bottom of the page.

Vox releases your wrist, and takes your hand in his own as his eye reverts back to its normal state. When you come to just moments later, he’s shaking your hand with calm professionality.

“I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Vox remarks smoothly, his smirk looking almost proud now. “I look forward to your next performance, my dear.”

You blink a few times as you become more lucid and aware. “Uh, yeah. Can’t wait!”

You smile, and Vox releases your hand, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You don’t remember what exactly you came in here for, but you’re happy with the outcome.  “Perfect.”

[edelgarfield]

the soft tender way essek talks abt caleb like.

campaign 2 episode 90

when jester asks him about himself he takes a pause, seems to contemplate what to say, before shaking his head and answering:

There's a waver to his voice before he seems to harden and his facial expressions are very dismissive and a bit sarcastic.

The episode ends shortly after this, and at the start of the next one is when Essek comes over for dinner. So IMO this moment Essek is debating whether to open up to M9, initially brushes them off, then thinks about it & changes his mind.

episode 91 we have this exchange:

he doesn't elaborate. he's completely flat & unemotional. he changes the subject by asking to sit as soon as he can.

yasha asks abt him and he does the same thing

noteably there's a long pause after ashley's question, at which point sam & travis chime in where essek's eyes are literally darting around and he's clearly uncomfortable, and that's when caduceus interrupts.

deep breath, nervous chuckle, crosses his arms and looks down before answering

jester asks why he changed his mind

he's making eye contact during this part, casual, & expressing mild frustration but still calm

there's a pause between this line & the next where he looks down and does this:

at this part he doesn't make eye contact until halfway through and only maintains it for a few seconds as a time

deep breath, does this again:

then looks up and says as quickly as possible:

head bowed, speaks into his lap

another pause, a look of clear confusion on his face before shaking his head

after caleb gives him a dunamancy potion in repayment for his help:

same hands folded head bowed posture as before

the whole conversation, he DOES NOT offer up information without being asked directly, usually multiple times. he deflects by talking abt his position, and whenever he decides to be vulnerable or reference the actual reasons for his visit (his loneliness & feelings of kinship) he looks away & braces himself. imo any time he admits to his loneliness his posture reads "ashamed." particularly when jester asks if he lives alone; i don't see a reason for him to look down & hunch his shoulders if he didn't feel like he was admitting to some personal failure (either bc he lives alone, or bc it shouldn't bother him as much as it does). there's also, of course, his newfound guilt at having betrayed m9 and being unable to walk it back.

compare that with cr3; while in the smut shop he deflects BH's attempts to learn about him, but that night he not only answers their questions without resistance but actively offers up more information.

he tells them abt his connections to ludinus, he tells them he's partially responsible for the current state of the world despite having every reason not to, he tells them abt his friends & his partner. he admits to his past faults openly & with little hesitation. he breaks eye contact briefly when talking abt ludinus etc. but never for long, and never in the same way, shoulders hunched, head down, hiding behind his hands.

the only time he seems to experience anything resembling shame or embarrassment is when he gets flustered admitting to wanting to message his partner before he sleeps.

i didn't mean to go through every single part of cr2ep91 where m9 ask about essek's personal life, but i did bc it was fascinating. when essek spoke to m9, he very much does not want to talk abt himself. the few things he does share say that he's very solitary & the few relationships he mentions are not close. any time he feels pressed to admit his true feelings, he feels ashamed and struggles to do so.

i imagine to essek in cr2ep91, he couldn't even imagine having a partner that he'd want to speak abt the way he speaks abt caleb. the idea of a version of him who has a life he wants to talk abt and share is absurd. but in cr3, for all his faults & mistakes he's made, he does, he wants to talk abt his partner & friends & the things he's learned. he has a life he wants to share bc it brings him joy.

[enviedear]

holy terrain ⟶ anakin skywalker

description ⌙ anakin can't deny the pull his bratty princess has over him, or rather, has always had over him.

pairing ⌙ anakin x f!princess!reader

warnings ⌙ nsfw, 18+ mdni i will block you. mean(ish)!anakin, equally mean(ish)!reader, they're toxic 'friends', an unreciprocated childhood kiss, also an unexpected kiss, mention of alcohol, brief mention of anidala (they're not tg), a flashback (it's not long dw), improper acts in a royal garden, fingering f!receiving, use of the nicknames petnames princess and jedi, no use of y/n.

word count ⌙ 4.1k

— request | masterlist

ur gonna have to pry anakin & princess!reader fics from my cold dead hands

loosely based off of mother's song.

to the untrained eye, the elaborate ball around you would seem perfect, flawless even. a truly divine display of political power and proceeds all around, but all you're able to take note of is the glaring absence of a certain jedi knight.

it's not your place to ask for his whereabouts, and the idea of anyone knowing that you're looking for him has your head throbbing.

you'd grown up with him, running around the halls of both the jedi temple and your castle respectively.

while your mother, the queen, would discuss and debate with the senior jedi and pompous planetary delegates— you were off getting the young padawan into trouble.

you've never been the most considerate to him— rather, you liked to tease and push him around. anakin was your first and only acquaintance to allow you to deter from the rigid nature of your regality.

he'd take your witticisms and throw some back at you with even more vigor, and when you'd roughhouse with him he never drew back his hits.

he was anakin, and to him, you were just you.

but since the war, and its recent end— you've seen little of him. the most, if only, of him you've seen has been on your holopad.

'hero without fear', the words most always surrounding his likeness.

you're half inclined to think that the boy you grew up with may now be too substantial for you.

you fiddle with your dress' skirt, trying to keep your eyes from drifting back to the jedi and their apprentices who are present, lined in an almost perfect row against a wall. one more glance and you fear you may be drawn into a long conversation about the force, and you'd rather brood in your corner than deal with that.

your body goes stiff at the feeling of two hands coming from behind to clutch your shoulders, "princess, don't tell me you're sulking."

the voice that hits your ears is familiar and warm, and you fight back a grin as you turn to face the young man, "no. but i will now you're here."

his lips upturn in a simper, "oh, then shall i leave you? all alone?"

you hum, in faux thought, "never! i always need a jester at my side. what could be better than your funny face?"

you take him in while he laughs off your quip. his hair is neatly out of his face, longer and more curly than you've ever seen, and his long arms have become fuller, muscles apparent even with his tunics and robe.

his black and flowing garments starkly contrast your fitted and fair-shaded gown, and you take it as a reminder of your evident differences. anakin is a warrior now, while you're left to relegate menial court duty. in a strange way, you envy him.

his path has standards and steps to prove to him and everyone else that he is growing, learning, and becoming more. in your case, you come up lacking.

most people look and speak to you as though you're an idea. a sheltered royal with little to no concept of the galaxy around her.

you like to believe their whispers weren't true, but as you look upon your jedi companion, you feel a deep sense of ineptitude. how could you compete or compare to someone who has seen more planets than you could even name?

you put a small smile on your face, trying to block out your thoughts, "how have you been? i heard a certain senator has been keeping a close eye on you."

anakin's eyes narrow, "royal gossip? may i be privy to such information, your highness?"

he's being coy and you know it, you bring your voice to a whisper, "amidala. i hear you've been seen fleeing her chambers."

he hums, hands coming to rest at his hips, "well, princess, are you asking if the whispers are true," he pauses, head dipping closer to you and whispering, "or are you confused as to what goes on behind closed doors?"

you roll your eyes, "i most certainly do not need any aid in understanding such matters. i have my fair share of suitors. i just wonder how long until such information finds itself back to your council."

he gives you a contemptuous look, "you think too highly of my affection toward her. besides, i've heard she's found someone new to engage with."

"you've heard, or you were told?" you can't help the smugness in your words. truthfully, you've known of anakin's obsession with the young senator for years, and when you learned of her shared interest in him at the beginning of the war you had a strange aggression towards the idea.

the knowledge of the endeavor finally coming to an end relieves an unidentified weight on your chest.

anakin waves you off, "the specifics aren't important, however..." he trails off, looking you up and down.

his words and look pique your interest, "yes, anakin?"

you watch as his eyes leave your form to scan the ballroom. guests are everywhere, leaving the room crowded— and the walls seem to reek of whiskey and nectar wine— usual amongst 'high status' officials.

anakin leans down to you to whisper into your ear, "follow me."

your eyebrows knit together but you do as you're instructed, slipping away from the noisy ball and out into the night air.

there are a few stragglers outside, either intoxicated, engaging in less than pure actions, or a mix of the two.

you look away from a couple touching each other hungrily to glower at anakin, "why are we out here?"

his head turns to look back at you before he continues forward, "patience, dear princess."

your face scrunches in confusion but you continue on, hands pulling your skirts off the ground as you enter into the royal gardens.

you've walked the path beneath you countless times, and one of your earliest memories of the footpaths was shared with anakin. his boyish face covered in dirt after you had convinced him to unearth a large plot of soil for a lake— in your honor of course.

he had spent hours on his assignment, promising that you'd get what you desired.

in truth, a twelve year old you desired no lake, you simply wished to see how far you could get him to go for you.

it was you who held the power then, and he was a faithful devotee— albeit to his masters' chagrin. no one was able to really understand the hold you held over him.

not even the pair of you.

the incident landed both of you in a great deal of trouble, and you were forced to spend the next morning filling said hole. little you was apt to make anakin do most of that chore himself.

not that he had complained.

after a few quiet minutes of walking, anakin stops at one of the smaller fountains in the green. one of the oldest landmarks in this garden, predating the lavish castle on its horizon. it sits surrounded by tall fruit trees, leaving the area sweetly scented and mostly hidden.

"do you remember when i pushed you into this fountain?" anakin asks, voice deviant and deep.

you ponder up at him, "yes, and i also remember how i pulled you in with me."

he hums, a light chuckle falling out of his lips, "hm, and what did i do right after?"

you think back to the day, you, fourteen, and he fifteen. your defensive action had made him so outraged at you. his teenage face had been vibrant pink and his knuckles white.

"maker, you're such a brat!" anakin's voice was riddled with annoyance as he pushed himself out of the fountain, "look at me! i'm all wet and master obi-wan is never going to let me hear the end of this."

you had simply laughed, following him out of the chilly water, "i'm not a brat, and you pushed me first! goodness anakin, you're so boring now."

he turned to glare at you, "don't say that— i am not!"

you rolled your eyes, "are too."

in one quick movement, he had your back pressed hard into one of the trees, "i'm not boring. and if you say it again i'll make you regret it, princess."

you weren't scared of him, you could never be scared of anakin, "well, skywalker, if you're not boring, why don't you prove it."

it had been a silly and childish remark, and you weren't exactly sure how you wanted him to showcase opposition to your teasing. you weren't sure if even he knew how, but his thumbs traced along the veins at your wrists. his touch had left the air around you soft and hushed.

his blue eyes met your own for a split second before he leaned down to you, flushed lips parting ever so gently. he let his hands drop from your wrists down to your hips, and you stiffened at the touch. he had never behaved in such a way before, and the contact had your heart racing.

with little time to think, you watched him erase the space between the two of you, pausing for a short instant, before closing the gap between you. your eyes had gone wide at the feeling of his lips on yours. those perfect lips, full and chapped, lamented at your own— so foreign and new to you.

there wasn't much to the exchange, very little movement on your end and your eyes had stayed open in shock the entire time. just as you thought to kiss him back— he had pulled away.

he had then wiped his lips with the back of his hand before speaking, voice higher than normal, "there. i'm not so boring." and with that, he ran away, back to the castle, and you didn't see him again until months later.

you'd never brought it up and neither had he, so his question had you reigning yourself in, eerily motionless. he had taken your first kiss and never mentioned it again, why would he bring it up now?

you can't shame him much for it, as you had replayed the memory back in your mind thousands of times. commonly going so far as to try and remember what he had tasted like, to memorize the feel of his hands on you.

your mind often wondered what your reaction would be now, you hoped you'd at least be able to kiss him back now. but anakin didn't need to know that.

with a sharp look at him, you reply, "you robbed me of my first kiss, jedi." you inflect when you mention his title, reminding him of his virtuous position.

his left hand finds a place on your waist, drawing you into him, "i've never been considered a thief before— is that really how you recall it, princess?"

you fight your fluster, refusing to cower down to whatever game he's playing at, "oh? what would you call it?"

he quirks an eyebrow, "unfinished."

your stare up at him, body turning to fully mirror his own, "excuse me?"

"incomplete, insufficient," you watch as his other hand, metal, and cool comes to a rest at your shoulder, tugging you even more so to him, "i'd hate to think that was as good as you could do, sweet princess. you couldn't even rally the courage to kiss me back."

you look at him and decide that the jedi knight before you has changed. no longer was he the boy who followed along with your every whim with silent invocation, no longer the young man who engaged in your childish games— instead, the man before you had a presence that alone could send your mind rushing into quite debauched places.

"who said i ever thought about kissing you back in the first place." your voice is barely a mutter, despite the teasing intention.

anakin gives you a smug look, head tipping to the left, "you've grown to be quite the liar, princess."

your words go pointed, "you've grown overconfident."

in truth, he hadn't. his assumptions were correct, but how could you give in to him so easily? anakin is almost entirely overpowering, but you can see the soft pink tint on his cheeks. and you know you have an equal, if not greater, effect on him.

his metal arm is stern against you, and you feel his grasp growing stronger, almost evidence of your words.

lips upturned, he speaks, "overconfidence isn't what this is, i only wish to be useful, princess. how cruel it is to have my dedication be met with apprehension."

his words inflict a firey sensation deep within you, and the atmosphere between you seems to build, fizzling around. you feel as though your sanity has become severed— evolving into an amalgamation entirely made of him.

"and how remiss would i be if i didn't let you fulfill your favor?" your voice feels shakey, but you allow your own hands to find his shoulders, digging in ever so gently and forcing him closer.

he chuckles, eyebrows darting up in surprise, "horribly remiss i'm afraid."

your lips curve, "and this favor," you pause, narrowing your eyes, "you think it should be a kiss? that seems self-seeking."

the knight looks down to your lips, mirth clouding his features, "this is purely for your benefit, princess. don't you deserve the practice?"

in the back of your mind, you could find a tactful solution to this situation. perhaps something that involves stepping farther away from the man peering down at you, but strangely, you've never wanted to be closer to him than you do now.

"as if i need it, jedi." your voice is low when you speak, and you catch anakin's adam's apple hitch up.

you feel like your body is humming as you slide your hands from his shoulders— grazing over his clavicle, up, and towards his neck. you watch his eyes widen slightly, and you can hear his little intake of breath— you got him right where you wanted.

you look up at him once more, silently looking for approval, gratitude, need— something. the blue eyes peering down at you fail to disappoint.

you let yourself stand a bit taller and pull him down to you, inching up until your lips graze his own. you feel his smile when your lips brush, and you bite your tongue before kissing him.

your kiss is deliberate and delicate, but you're fully in control.

he gives into you so easily. he waits for you to pull him closer before he follows suit, nose pressing into the side of your own. he tastes of fruit, and you let your tongue slide into his mouth, greedy for him.

he exhales at that, palming your hips and pressing himself into you ever so slightly. you let out a lewd breath at that, and anakin breaks the kiss to lean his forehead on your own.

you wait a second before looking up at him, and he stares back down at you. his lips part again, but this time you expect them to be followed by words. possibly an apology or a rejection.

he surprises you instead, by dipping down to you once more. his hands trail up from your hips, stopping just below your breasts. you groan when you feel his lips begin to leave kisses along your jaw, trailing down toward your neck.

your shared behavior is absolutely improper for both of you, but you can't seem to care while he's leaving lingering kisses upon your neck, sending goosebumps along your flesh.

your hands push upward, fingers knotting themselves in his hair. you let yourself give his locks a little tug just as he begins to suck on your skin.

you catch your breath from his raw and desperate action. your heart pounds harder, the sensation overcoming you, sending a swell of pleasure through you. he takes every signal you give him, pulling himself closer to you until you can feel the flutter of his heartbeat against your chest.

his lips graze your ear before he speaks, voice barely a whisper, "i'd say we're even now, princess."

your eyes remain closed at his words, enjoying the feeling of his breath against you, "i'm not so sure, jedi."

his hands find a home at both sides of your face, and you look up at him, "and how does my crime of stealing your first kiss continue to go unpunished?"

you're not sure of what to say for a second, shocked still by the look of conviction caught in his eyes, "i never said i wanted to punish you for it."

he moves one hand from the side of your face, tracing it back down towards your hips. he smiles at your words, and looks up at the sky before answering in a low voice," then how else should i show my appreciation?"

you take a step back, leaning against the tree for support. you can feel his gaze on you, but before he can say anything your own bravery speaks up, "appreciation?"

he lifts an eyebrow at your remark and tilts his head inquisitively in response, "yes princess, don't you want me to show you how grateful i am?"

you grin devilishly in response and answer him confidently, “i think i could come up with something."

he grins back lazily, humming a response, and moves closer, hands still firmly positioned on either side of your face. his lips meet the corner of your smile. he leaves a gentle kiss there before meeting your lips with so much passion that your body feels faint.

each trace of his lips sends electric sparks through your body as his kisses fall down your neck towards your collarbone. you shiver at the touch, as he brushes across each sensitive spot. you feel as if he's satirizing you in some way until his lips finally meet the delicate area around your shoulders— leaving soft nipping kisses that cause an uncontrollable moan to escape from you.

you feel his hands drop to your dress' skirt, bunching up the tight fabric and inching it up. when his skin makes contact with the flesh of your thighs, you let your forehead drop to his shoulder.

anakin seems to like this motion, breath hitting against your ear again, "do you want me to touch you, princess?"

you feel overwhelmed, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. you manage a slight nod before finally croaking out, "yes."

anakin's hands immediately respond, brushing up the side of your thighs until they find their way near your pulsing cunt. you feel obscene and exposed by your own need, but anakin seems to grow more confident the closer his fingers dance to you. you hear him laugh lightly as you press yourself into him, silently begging for more.

he abides by your wish, nimble fingers beginning to stroke your clothed slit. you moan at the contact, voice somewhat muffled as your head remains at his shoulder. anakin however chooses this moment to speak, tone falsely saccharine, "sweet princess, aren't you going to tell me what you want? use your words."

for a brief second, you feel impossibly hot and annoyed. you'd rather not voice your desperation for him. you'd be reckless to follow his orders so blindly.

"you're the one with your hands under my dress. what is it you're wanting, jedi?" you finally draw your head back from him, eyes catching his.

anakin lets himself grin, haphazardly letting his thumb brush your needy nub. he watches as you attempt to hide the roll of your hips, "i want you."

he doesn't continue with words, no, he slides your underwear to the side and feels your wetness against his fingers. he lets out a low groan when you grip him tighter.

your back is pressed into the tree behind you and anakin's body seems to lock you in place, not that you'd move away from him now. not when he's teasing your opening and causing your mind to go wild.

"tell me what you want," he smirks, one digit dipping ever so slightly into your heat, "and i'll obey."

you screw your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself. your voice is uneven when you respond, "touch me, please."

he doesn't neglect your demand and he lets his finger slide into you, slow. you clench around the digit, hands snaking into his hair and forehead pressing against his own.

he lets you feel him, as deep inside you as he can possibly get, before sliding out and back in again. you want to scream at the way his digit barely hits the spongey part inside of you, but instead, you let your hands grasp him harder.

he takes pleasure in your whiney noises, pushing further into you before sliding out once more. you whine at his teasing, and you catch the softest grin on his lips as he presses into you, two fingers this time.

you feel more full of him, and the notion has you reeling.

"maker, anakin." you barely hear yourself when you speak, voice so low.

he arches his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that sends your weight fully into his being, "yeah? am i doing a good job princess?"

you hum in assurance, blissful and teetering the edge. you feel drunk with how good he feels, how good he's making you feel.

"good," you moan. "so good."

you cry out his name in praise, only to be met by a lament. the rumble that answers you sounds like distant thunder colliding with sand and stone. a rolling sensation races through your body at the sound of it. your heart thuds in your chest and he watches its movements in delight.

he seems to like the way you're falling apart for him, eyes unwavering in their view of you. slowly but surely, you feel him putting pressure right where you need it until you can hardly handle it anymore. anakin thrusts his digits faster and faster, and you can't help but pull quite firmly at his curls.

his throat elicits a wanton groan at the feeling, and you feel yourself rock your hips to meet his hand. you're so close to the brink.

"do you want to come? hm, want me to make you feel good?" you can hear the strain in his voice.

"please, ani." your voice begging, warm at your own words.

his thumb finds your clit again, this time though, his touch isn't feather-light. no, instead he's cruel in the way he massages the bundle of nerves, leaving you a moaning mess beneath his body. he knows exactly how much pressure to use as he presses down on your bud repeatedly. making it impossible to form a coherent thought inside your head.

instead, all you can focus on is the thumb on your clit and the two digits in your core—driving into you relentlessly and the other pressing into you until your eyes shine white, you can feel yourself blanking.

his digits continue to pump in and out of you, humming his approval at your vulgar display— your eyes are heavy, legs unsteady, and lip slightly raw from biting it.

"i'm so close, anakin." you pant, fingers stiffening in his hair.

he whines, "yeah? let go, princess, i've got you."

and with one final plunge of his digits in and out of your warmth you feel a rather sudden wave overcoming your body, jolting everything inside and outside too. the sensation is a pure high, and you claw at anakin's shoulders until the feeling begins to subside. the night air suddenly feels so chilly, but you nuzzle closer into anakin. with you face hidden, you allow yourself a satisfied smile upon your, as well as anakin's, lips.

anakin grins down at you and kisses the top of your head in adulation before slowly removing his hands from you. you feel him trail his fingertips up your spine before speaking in a raspy tone, "how was that, princess?"

your body feels as if it could quaver at the sight of this man before you— a strong and assertive jedi warrior— so taken with you, eyes brimming down with a mixture of pride and adoration.

he pushes himself back slightly, still hovering above you, and looks down into your eyes with an unmistakable warmth in his gaze. you'e sure no one had ever looked at you like that before—like they wanted to consume every fiber of your being, of your soul.

anakin's eyes search yours for a moment before he presses his lips gently against yours in a temperate kiss.

as he moves away again, this time, drawing away enough to extend his arm above your head, fingers now clutching the tree's trunk.

you both remain still there for some time, taking comfort in each other's presence, until finally, anakin speaks softly again,"i thank the force to have met you, to know you. i've missed you, princess." his voice sounds brazen yet gentle.

his free hand lifts, raising your chin up to look into his eyes once more.

you hum, "you've grown better with apologies."

anakin huffs, lips upturned, "maybe, or perhaps solely for my benefit regarding you."

you roll your eyes, "is that what this was? some self-aggrandizing ruse?"

he smirks, eyes widening in faux horror, "never, princess. i only mean to say that i seem to behave best in your company. you wield a tight reign."

you can't help but smile at the compliment, unabashed. "i have no hold over you, jedi."

anakin's lips quirk into a fiendish grin as he reaches up to gently brush his thumb along your chin, "of course you do, princess," he murmurs softly. "of course you do."

[chaosfae-writes]

𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

premise: the lioness gnaws on her favored maiden.

pairing: yandere!cersei lannister x poc!reader

warnings: abuse of power, gender identity issues (slight, but this is cersei), wlw, dead dove smut.

ao3

a/n: although I love show cersei, she was watered down a bit. I wanted to see more of her delulu side, and exploration of her gender issues. Sansa Stark cameo! Sansa is just a baby that needs protecting! <3 anyways, enjoy! <3 do not repost my works!

Cersei Lannister doesn’t have companions.

An unruly child grew into a woman with a crude tongue. Where she lacks empathy with a blackened heart, she makes up for her beauty and charm—- that only extends so far.

Golden locks, and fair skin—- with a temper of a lion. Deludes herself that she has been deprived of her inheritance to Casterly Rock, and is the true queen majesty of all seven kingdoms.

Everything belongs to her.

Her kingdom, her brother, her children —- even you.

A possessive creature. Her love only extends to what she craves, and what she sees in herself. And whenever she senses a threat upon her possessions, that anyone could snatch away her toys —- the lioness becomes irate.

A small council, and a small flock of handmaidens. Only a handful of maids are entrusted in the queen’s space, but only one to bear witness the queen at her rawest.

You are punished by her unsought favor.

To clean her, to dress her, a vessel for her to unburden herself on you. Mistakenly you offered sympathies as a woman one day —- perhaps, too kindly.

Prior, you were just a handmaiden blending in within the palace.

The late king had struck Cersei, you catered to her. Cleaning her split lip, all you spoke was that a queen should be respected, no matter what she has uttered.

All you did was to perform your duty as the queen’s servant … no ill will. Perhaps it’s your shyness, or your taught obedience that caught Cersei’s meticulous eye.

Eventually, she demanded more of you. Requesting your presence for everything, and eventually more demanding—- more touchy.

Dressing you in her house’s colors—- gold and deep red. Adorning you with luxurious fabrics, and discreetly pinning a lion brotchee upon your shoulder. It brought a wave of embarrassment, for such clothing is above your station.

Showering you with such gifts as a king does so to his paramour. It became abhorrent at times to nearby eyes—- more than once, you caught her father’s cold glare.

Conversing with you—- or rather at you, rambling on about her fits of rage upon her father’s lack of respect, how she isn’t respected as queen, how the small folk should be kissing her feet—- or how her little brother should’ve died at the birthing bed.

Delusions of greed and arrogance woven with the silk of self-wallowing, and pity.

Always touching.

Grazing your skin by the fingertips, her breath upon the slope of your neck, gripping your mound tightly as if she possesses any ownership. Sending Bernadette —- against the maid’s growing irate —- to fetch for you almost every fortnight.

To the point where you don’t even sleep in your own chambers anymore.

-

The traitorous wolf is dead.

Long love the youthful stag.

A feast, a celebration held by the newly crowned king. As he cheers over the death of one of the noblest men to live. A cruel boy who immulates his mother’s strife. A feast of dancing, and platters of luxurious food, merry music and jesters.

Seated beside Cersei, as well as her other maidens Bernadette and Senelle. Carefully, your eyes float a peek at the little dove seated beside Joffrey. Sansa is now a shell of the young girl she once was. Pity dwells within you, a somber child, who’s eyes never leave her lap.

You were once that child, once hopeful, only for life to beat you as if you were nothing. Life doesn’t spare the young, age has no limits.

You’re picking at the fruits and meats on your plate, rather bored at the royal nonsense. Gossip among ladies, and redundant chatter of politics among the lords —- it doesn’t pertain to you.

Never has, never will.

As a young girl, it bothered you. How unfair it was that the town folks suffer, as the noble float above the clouds with fine clothing, unending platters of food, and spoiled beyond their dreams.

Now, it doesn’t matter. The bitterness doesn’t matter. Grief to spite, to then an achromatic sense of life. You learned that you are no different than these flocks —- we all are born, then we die all the same, buried in the same soil we go.

But fantasies of escaping to the East, to the land of your ancestors —- to start anew keeps you hopeful. Meet someone, have a babe or two. Live on a farm fruitful of crops.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t sense a presence looming nearby, ever so watching, gawking at its prey.

“May I have this dance?” A voice soaked in sultry warmth, beckoning and confident. Startling you to jump just a bit, turning over your shoulder, standing above you, is Jaime Lannister. Gold yellow hair, smooth and silky, and a confident smirk to match.

“Lord Commander.” You speak in a gasp, bowing your head respectfully. Jaime’s smile twitches, growing wider—- Lord Commander —- not many address him as such. It’s always Kingslayer , never an ounce to respect.

“May I have the pleasure of a dance?” Jaime’s tone is more smoother, his canines flashing as if he’s ready to bite.

Cersei’s eyes narrow, “Jaime, let her be.” She tries to keep her voice low. Jaime scuffs playfully, “ And why? All these squawking hens must be such a bore.” He turns to you with a boyish grin, making you laugh softly.

All it does is make Cersei more annoyed. She has been upset all evening—- rather all day. Cersei found you earlier in the morning tending to Sansa. The little girl was bruised and broken by the mongrel of Cersei’s beastly son.

Tending to Sansa felt wholesome, it filled a void inside you. Reminded you of how it felt to be a mother again.

It irritated something in Cersei, to see you so kind to another.

“Thank you, Ser,” You cautiously say, you can feel Cersei’s tension. Doe eyes flutter back to Jaime, “But there are more gracious ladies who are more suited for your hand.”

Jaime tsks at your rejection. “ Nonsense. These birds are not to my taste.” He out-stretches his hand, not taking no for an answer.

Hesitantly, you take his hand, his fingers curl around, no space for escape. Jaime guides you by the feet, feeling the heat of anxiety flood your flesh, as if you felt the thousands of gazes in your direction.

But—- the daggers lodging themselves in your back were from a pair of greens.

A clunky sway between four feet, it’s quite difficult to catch up to Jaime’s step. Unaware at first to steady yourself; Jaime takes this to his advantage, slithering his palm to the nape of your tailbone, luring you into him.

Muttering low, “Follow my lead.” Jaime whispers. Slowing his footfalls, you follow his pace. Clenching your jaw, rather upsetting to be in this position, in the hands of a noble —— in such a vulnerable display.

“I am afraid I won’t be much of a dancer,” Your eyes glued to your feet, a little flumpily. “I haven’t had lessons.” Not daring to glance upward at his intense eyes.

“And weren’t taught lessons on manners.” Jaime jests, earning your head to snap up swiftly, now eye to eye, with a frightened stare of a doe. “Have I offended you, Ser?” Your eyes wearily gaze down.

Jaime chuckles, “There it is again,” his finger curls under your chin, making you look at him in the eye. “Most of the dance, you have not addressed me with so much as a glance.”

You hum, eyes downcasted to the flooring. “My apologies, I am accustomed to not stare too long at the noble.” Swapping harshly, your throat clenching a little.

“Mousey little creature, you are.”

You breathe a titter, bowing your head still, “The bored lion plays with the mouse.” Shyly staring at your feet, careful not to step on his toes.

“Bored isn’t the word.” Jaime whispers, tilts his head closer, attempting to catch your eyes. He leans in your space, you can feel his warmth beat against your face. His nose is just inches from yours.

“Merely curious.” Jaime teases. “My sister has had many maidens, but never any has been beautiful.” He has always snuck glances.

Your eyes slowly gaze up, fully taking in his golden hue.

A natural skin of rich brown —- not many folk in the West possess such color, he can tell you are not of Andal birth. Your flesh shines as sun brown, and curly tresses brushed back to a gold thin lined headdress.

You hum low, not intrigued in his antics, your mind is too preoccupied by another twin —- one who is more meaner.

“You hide yourself in plain cloth, dare to deprive a man?” He chuckles, but his eyes are heavy with need. A simple dress of royal blue—- not the colors of the house you serve, it doesn’t shape your bodice, nor do you seek for it to.

“There is nothing beneath to be desired.” You snip softly. A ripple of fear shivers your flesh, sneaking glances over Jaime’s shoulders. Barely a glimpse at the royal table, a flash of angry green eyes burns you.

“I beg to differ.” His voice pulls you back, eye to eye now. Jaime swirls your bodice around, his open palm tight on your tailbone. Sending a shiver upon the curve of your spine, never been touched by a man.

“My sister has kept you all to herself, I’m envious.” Jaime holds you to his chest, heavy breathing collides. “You tend to her hand and foot—- is there any way you can tend to my needs?” A smirk curls on Jaime’s mouth, ready to sink his teeth.

“When I am cold in my grave.”

“A knight and a handmaiden,” Jaime’s shrugs his head, “A sight all too common.” Gesturing to this as it could be a casual affair. He enjoys your bite, so used to the familiarity of women throwing themselves at him, such easy prey to play with, but he rejects them all.

This is new, a fun game.

You admittedly enjoy his touch, Jaime is breath-taking. Golden honey hair, a strong beautiful sculpted nose, and beautiful green hues.

“I must behold my reputation.” You said in a hush, “I am a lady in your sister’s circle, it would be improper to entertain her brother—- a Lord Commander no less.” You hum low, a small twitch of a smile.

Before Jaime could speak, you catch a glimpse of an ornery glare from a distance, burning with fury. The boldness fades on your lips, but confidence still lingers.

“Doesn’t your oath forbid you of any intimacy?” You jest with him, but your mind is still wondering for Cersei, as well as making sure your feet are coordinated.

You’re nearly breathless, and frightened.

Jaime feigns shock. “My oath won’t be burdened nor broken, if it is kept a secret.” He twirls you again among the sea of dancing lords and ladies. “Secrets can be delicious.” He whispers a wisp into the shell of your ear.

“Even poison can be enticing.” You tilted your chin at him, Jaime smiles, his hands circle your waist even closer to himself. His thumb stroking against your waist.

The environment blurs for a moment, it feels nice. To be treated with kindness, and gracious banter. To not be touched so harshly. But simultaneously, it’s all too much. As if a foreigner in unknown land, touch such as this is—- new.

“How could anyone deny themselves pleasure? Even if it’s —- dangerous?”

You gasp, mouth agape, for once, you didn’t have a snip to his flirtations. Jaime hums a chuckle, “Why, has the mouse lost her tongue?”

“I—”

“The Queen is ready to retire for the evening.” Bernadette’s voice floats behind you, and you thank the Gods above for her —- for just a moment. To be freed from this burning grasp.

“A thousand apologies, Ser. I must tend to—”

“My sister… yes. ” There is a mirth to his tone, mischievous. His eyes stare as if he knows something, toying with it his tongue.

“Yes…” You nod with a timid smile. You bow your head to him, grabbing the skirt of your dress, “I am grateful for the honor of a dance, Commander.” Jaime’s mouth is agape, and genuinely it spreads to a wanton smile.

“ Jaime.”

You gasp a breath, eyes taken back. Jaime grabs your hand into his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

“Please call me Jaime.” His eyes are pleading, almost glassy. You blink, a simper of appreciation. A royal has never been so amiable with you. Always ‘my lord’ this, and ‘my lady’ that.

“Thank you, Jaime.” You say, a human sensation of appreciation is twinkling like feathers in your belly. It feels nice.

A cough emits behind you. You close your eyes —- it’s time. Lashes blink back, “I must go.” Feet backpedals, hands slowly slip from the warmth of his fingers.

“Yes, you must go.” Jaime says coyly.

Oval nails slip back to your stitching, you twirl around to walk behind Bernadette. Duckling footfalls in line, as Bernadette walks with a hast stride, slinking through the dancing bodies.

“Our majesty is very impatient.” Bernadette’s voice is snarky, as if she chastises a child.

When has she ever not been?

All you can do is strum in agreement.

As you both reach the king’s high table, you catch Cersei’s eyes. Envy as green as her hues, mouth wrinkled. Immediately she stands from her chair, bidding her son a good evening —- all he does is give her a wave and a cantankerous smile, too busy boasting with low lords.

You immediately follow behind Cersei’s trail, biting your tongue, the edge of your jaw clenching in unbridled anger.

Bernadette is not far behind, trying to level at Cersei’s shoulders, but Cersei snappily dismisses her with a flick of her wrist.

Bernadette is sent away to her own rooms, much to her dismay.

-

The lioness is prowling.

Foaming at the maw.

Cersei walked with a firm gait. Her hands clasped over each other, her lips twitching; her brocade fabric sways against the flooring. Her brother —- her lover, and her maiden in such a display.

The walk back to her chambers is eerily quiet. Anxiously your fingers fiddle with your rings, as your belly is churning as slippery eels.

Hastily, you grasp the large oak brown door handles, opening it wide for her—- hopefully pleasantries can ease the tension.

Without a look at you, Cersei immediately walks into her chambers. Harsh fingers tugs at her dress collar, Cersei’s back to you. Routine is often instructed to undress her, but she isn’t thrilled to be touched yet.

“Prepare my bath.” She demands, without even looking at you. “Yes, your Majesty.” You speak in a strain. Rolling your sleeves up to the joints of your elbows.

In the washroom, you fill the tub with warm water that has been on flame for awhile. Carefully, you begin to pour in scented oils, put her bar of soaps on the dish tray, and a rag over your forearm.

Cersei strides to the room, only in a crimson robe, with golden threads. Her face is cold, frozen in disgust.

Ungraciously Cersei drops her robe, it glides down her arms. She steps out of the bundle of fabric, and into the steamy bath. The routine commences—- you have it ingrained on what she likes.

As you kneel, Cersei untangles your headdress uncouthly, letting it fling to the floor, your hair flows down your shoulders. You resume your duty, as if nothing happened.

You unclasp her hair from the gold clips, softly caressing her skull. Untangling her swirls, and unclipping her jewelry. Tenderly, you knead the nape of her neck, to the slope of her throat, to her collarbones.

Cersei moans, closes her eyes in content, but she won’t be manipulated by your touch.

Her eyes flicker open.

“Bring me wine.” Curt and sharp. A dismissive wave of her hand. You stand up from your knees, grabbing the wine jug, pouring the dry sweet Arbor wine into her cuppee.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Cersei asks, if possible, the heat of her jealousy can boil the bath. Hesitant, you cautiously say, “Yes, the Lord Commander is a gracious dancer.” You offer her the goblet.

“Formalities,” Cersei chuckles, her head bobs tipsily, “ Ser… Lord… ” Her laugh dies, with a frown, “—with how you were fondling him, might as well refer to him by his name.” Her voice is sharp. She snatches the cuppee from your hand.

“I wouldn’t dare to speak to him so formally.” You say, sinking into yourself more and more. You resume cleaning her, trying to get through the night.

“Is it men you seek for?” Cersei asks, twisting the cuppee between her fingertips. You shake your head, “No, your grace.”

“No?” Cersei’s voice rises in pitch, almost mockingly.

“I do not seek companionship.” You peek through your lashes, trying to keep your composure. As a fawn caught by the hands of a hunter.

A thread snaps in Cersei’s mind at those words.

“If I bore a cock, perhaps you would be enticed.” Cersei hissed, her milky fingers clenching her gold cuppee. Her voice slithers into an incoherent mumble, ‘If I was born a son, we would be wedded.’

Her drunken vulnerability turns sour once more.

An empty malicious thought plagues Cersei.

“The Mountain has a taste for sweet gentle creatures—-” Cersei whispers, fiddling with your sleeve. “He would eat you alive.” An airy laugh escapes her, head reclines. She’s rambling poison, trying to hurt you, as if you have pained her in return.

“Perhaps then your whorish behavior would then be satisfied.” Cersei growls into her drink.

You remain mute, not daring to speak in your defense. It’s better fitted to let her ramble in her delusions. Cersei’s eyes spark again, feline eyes stare at you.

“Remember what he did to our late Princess Elia Martell? That was just sport for him.” Her face morphed to a devilish grin, hazy eyes sharply baring into your wet doe ones. The threat is clear, but you don’t catch the bait.

“All of the realm recalls the tragedy.”

Cersei’s face falls a bit, her smile morphs to a frown, her eyes narrow spitefully. She hoists her slender leg up, splashing her bath water everywhere, even drizzling your fabric, and face; earning a flinch. Your eyes scrunches shut, from the swash.

“Scrub.”

Gently you resume washing Cersei. The wash cloth soaps her skin, avoiding her lower regions, not daring to touch her —- it will only spark her. You save that task for last.

Cersei gulped down her wine, the warm twang floods her blood, and her mean strike.

Cersei calms for a moment, her eyes staring yards away. Finally, her body is cleaned, and you cautiously dove your hand into the soapy water, scrubbing her mound. You can feel her pubic hair through the rag. Out of instinct, Cersei bucks her hips against your palm.

Cersei moans happily.

“My brother desires you.” Cersei slurs, just a little. Staring into her wine, her fingernail scraping against the gold engraving. She speaks in a manner as if she talks to herself. You ignore her, swallowing harshly. Cersei is bristling, you prepare yourself —- for the outburst.

Her wet hand reaches for your hair, waves of midnight brown. Her fingers fiddle with the tresses, coiling into a makeshift fist.

“Pretty little thing…” Cersei deadpans, her pink mouth purses. She tugs downward, causing you to wince. And without any hesitation, her back hand swacks your cheek, sending you to crash into the flooring.

That was Cersei at her gentlest.

Cersei stands from her tub, her tuft of hair in view, nose down at your pitiful state. Crumpled onto the floor, cheek swelling, wet moon eyes —- fragile and broken, just how Cersei likes it.

“My husband wasn’t so kind.” Cersei spits, “He didn’t grant me such mercy.” Cersei’s bare foot grazes against your belly, slightly pushing. Towering over you as if you were a mere worm.

The late king was a brute, harshly thrusting his drunken rage onto Cersei. His swollen belly crushed her, and to add salt to the wound, after violating her body, he would whisper Lyanna in her ear.

“Undress.” Cersei seethes.

Shakily, you untie your dress, one shoulder at a time. “If you dare lay with Jaime—- or with any man, I will cut that tongue out of your little head.” Cersei clicks her tongue, “But oh, that tongue of yours is too delicious. It would be a waste.”

You slip out of your dress, with only a simple white cotton undergarment. Cersei snags your cloth, tearing it to thin ripped shreds, ‘as so a man would’ , Cersei thinks.

Cersei kicks the cotton against the floor by her foot, as you stand shivering under her watchful gaze.

“Kneel.”

As you kneel onto the chilled flooring, Cersei waltz to the bedding, leaning onto her spine, her legs spreading as if she’s presenting a feast.

Crawling on all fours as a dog, head bowing, nose flaring to maintain a steady pace of breath. Closer and closer now, you can feel the heat from her thighs, a natural essence emits from her mound, damp and fresh with herbal water.

Cersei’s fingers sought through your hair, fondling your scalp; guiding you further into her.

Your nose goes against her pelvic bone, her blonde tuft of hair envelopes your entire mouth, tickling your skin. Cersei’s fingers interwoven with your curls, tugging against your scalp sharply now, tight at the roots.

You catch yourself voluntarily suckingly her clit into the cave of your mouth. Sloppily nibbling and licking her folds.

Suckling her mound, mouth latched onto her as if savoring a succulent fruit. Your nose pinned against her hair, all that can be heard is the echo of your tongue lapping. Cersei’s grip is woven tight, it feels like pricking needles against your skull.

Cersei hisses through her teeth, legs spreading wider, hips thrusting against your mouth. Completely at her mercy, her palms holding your head, struggling to breathe, as her cunt is spilt and soppy against your mouth.

Hair not as dark as Robert’s but thick as his once was in his youth, it stirs something in Cersei. As a pot boiling at the rim, she snaps.

“If I was born a son,” Cersei shouts, nearly at her peak, thrashing you off of her. Wiping your mouth by the back of your hand, it glistens with Cersei’s slick.

“Perhaps then, I would have my way with you, not in such a secret!” How dare Jaime try to sway you in his bed, although Cersei warms it herself.

“Fuck you on the hill of Casterly Rock!”

Cersei isn’t always this cruel. Sometimes, she can be kind, and gracious —- as much as she can. Find the humor and joys in her privileged life. When she isn’t drunk, when she can hold a conversation—- she is tolerable.

That Cersei is ‘sweet’ , and in those sparse moments, you can forget that you are merely a servant, and she is the Queen.

“On the bed.” Barking orders as if she is a commander on the battlefield. As you crawl onto the mattress on all fours, Cersei serves herself a handful of your ass, fingers digging.

A pregnant pause.

“Do you desire my brother?” Do you desire a man?

Your face wrinkles in a silent sob, shaking your head, “No, your grace.” Bowing your head down in-between your arms.

“Do you not find him attractive?” Cersei goads, her finger tracing between your cheeks. “No—” a whack against your backside, causing you to wince in pain.

“As children, many couldn’t tell Jaime and I apart.” Cersei says, as she relishes in the blooming heat of your ass. “We mirror each other in so many ways.”

Even both acquire the same appetites.

“You insult him, you insult me.”

“What do you most yearn for in this life?” Cersei asks, tracing your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I have no ambitions.” You tiredly say. Sucking in your lips into your mouth, tasting your tears. Blindly blinking with damp lashes. Cersei ignores it, humming low in her throat.

“Every little girl has dreams,” Cersei goades, hovering over your spine, her mouth edging near the shell of your ear. In a warm whisper, “to seek for a prince to whisk them away. Surely I did. ” Her pink tongue slithers, and kitten licks your ear, the warmth jolting a shiver to your mound.

Cersei’s mouth trails down from your cheek, to the slope of your neck, leaving behind open kisses. Scraping the skin of your shoulder with her teeth, nipping here and there —- as if an animalistic urge to tear you apart has overtaken her.

“To be Lady of Casterly Rock, is that what you want?” Cersei says, sitting up again, smacking your back, she hums at your whence.

“I do not yearn for a title,” You wail, speaking through choked tears. “I serve only you.” Wrinkling the satin sheets, bunched between your fingers. Strands of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks.

Cersei plunges her fingers into your cunt, making you cry out. “Does this cunt serve me as well?” Tight walls sucking her fingers in, velvety cave explored.

Intrusive thoughts plague her mind. Images of Jaime crawling and ravishing your body; kissing, biting, and licking. It drives her mad—- with lust. She yearns for it to be three of you.

He is hers, and you are hers.

But what if you two convalude with each other? To leave her behind? To have a life together? An intimacy she has no space to shoulder herself in.

“You plot against me—” Cersei yells, her chin wobbles. Any inkling of logical reason is dwindling now. “Where do you go at night?” She interrogates, nose flaring.

“You slip through the walls, parade yourself for the guards?” She spoke through the cage of her teeth.

“I do not conspire against you, Cersei.” You shrivel, trying to inch further into the bed. “I do not want a life as such with Jaime, I desire to stay here …” you swallow a sob, “in the Red Keep with you.”

That is not enough.

You are Robert, and she wants to hurt you—- sex is electric, or it can be painful. She will fuck you as Robert —- this is what men do. Powerful men take what they want, this is what her father would do —- take, take, take, take ! Power, fear! Take all that she desires, take what she loves—

Love?

Affection isn’t a foreign concept to Cersei, but it isn’t something she gives freely. Only threads of herself can feel her love.

Cersei exhales deeply, trying to organize her thoughts.

Her eyes open blankly, one closes lazily after the other.

“I can see it now,” Her voice is hushed. “A Lannister wedding. Lavish as it can be. Gold it shall be.” Cersei’s head glances down, with an unhinged smile.

“I take Jaime as my husband, and you as my paramour.” Her head is swimming, the wine has sunk her even deeper. “Or perhaps, you as my bride. Oh —- how my father would throw a fit.” Cersei slurs and chuckles as a child.

“If only I was a man,” Cersei leans her body down, engulfing your body into hers. “We would live here, as a man would not be questioned on how many mistresses he possesses.” Her slender fingers creepily slip near your ass.

Guiding the slope of your under thigh between her legs, resting her cunt on your kneecap. The soft tuft of blond hair tickles your bare skin, grinding herself.

Soft wet slick sounds fill your ears, as her fingers grip and tug on the meat of your ass. Her hips are thrashing a bit more harsher now.

Her milky hands slither up the hill of your navel, cupping the weight of your under breast; twirling your brown nipple between her fingertips, twisting.

You hiss at the sting, as she relishes in your distress. Cersei bows her head into your chest, swallowing your breast into her mouth. Her tongue lapping at your nipple, her ivories nibbling and tugging harshly against the skin.

Violently suckling your tit, as you twitch and gasp; worried she might bite it off by the teeth. Despite the astringent offense upon your body, the wave of pleasure cascades you.

Skin breaks into bruises, as you twitch. Sensations of pain and pleasure blur, confusion and ecstasy. Without thought, your fingers caress Cersei’s hair.

Cersei’s mouth releases your breast with a wet pop. A tint of burgundy against the brown of your skin, a reddish ring encircling your nipple. Her puss leaves your knee.

The tip of Cersei’s tongue glides down the path of your belly, down to your navel, to finally your pubic bone. Her warm breaths tickle you.

Raspy moans escape from Cersei, as she slowly licks your mound. Plump, and soft. Flickering with her pink tongue, teasing you.

Her green eyes watch you, as her tongue slips through your folds, tasting you. Delving deep, to your puckering hole. Fucking you with her tongue, no matter how much you fight yourself, the sensation of her mouth on you always sends sparks.

Wetness echoes, as her cheeks puff up against your mound. You move your hips down, fucking yourself on Cersei’s mouth. Slamming your hand against your bedding, gripping the sheets between your roving fingers, as undignified grunts leave your lips.

Cersei admires your heaving bare breasts.

The lioness is selfish—- her mouth leaves you. You whine, stiffly leaning back. Her mouth is damp with your essence. With a harsh slap on your cunt, and another. Cersei finds her enjoyment in your misery, as you mutter for more.

“Pathetic little mercies.” She taunts you.

Silently, Cersei kneels once more, twirling her legs. Lifting your knee upward, over her shoulder, along with your other leg underneath her.

Both of your puss connect, dripping with want. Panting, and sweating, only grunts are in conversation. Your hair is messy, damp baby hairs cling to your forehead.

Cersei’s milky fingers hold the flesh of your thigh, as she rides your cunt with hers. Spilt wet clits, dancing together. Electric sensation that pulls the silky moans from you, as Cersei rides you fast.

Your fingers daringly hold her jiggling ass, fondling her asshole. Toying with it. Cersei squeals at the intrusive touch. A primal surge takes hold of you, placing your fingers into the cave of your mouth, soaking in your saliva.

Your hand cups Cersei between her ass, fiddling the bridge between her asshole to her gaping pussy hole. Her head falls back, as you plunge your fingers inside of cunt.

Her golden hair is loose and disarrayed. Cascading down her face, a lion reduced to a whimpering kitten. Your leg twitches against her chest, Cersei bites at your calf dully.

Your toes curl and flex, as the pit of your belly is unfurling. A choppy high-pitched moan spews from you, your head digging back into the pillows.

Cersei shrills a yes , as her climax reaches itself to the heavens. Bruising your thigh under her fingers. Cumming together, Cersei grinds herself onto you, connecting together, with no space of separation.

Clits throbbing against each other, stinging pleasure. Riding your highs, gently thrashing her clit against yours, earning airy moans. The tuft of her pubic hair against yours fuels the sensation.

Cersei moans delightfully, satisfied with herself. Her body towers over yours, crawling into your heaving arms; not caring of the dewy sheen of sweat that covers your body.

Legs interlocking together, as she pulls you into her arms fully. Turning herself onto her side, her knuckles stroking your hip.

These are the sparse moments you enjoy with Cersei. When she is human, when she relishes in touch, rather than harshness.

“Jaime should not be burdened with duties of the King’s Guard.” Cersei whispers. “He needs a bride. Father is aging, and one day, Castlery Rock will be in need of a lord.” She is mumbling now, mostly to herself.

“That disease of my little brother will defile us with his whores.” Hate spills from her naturally, as it always does.

Her voice trails into silence, her fingers snagging onto your flesh, pulling you closer to her.

Sleep takes Cersei, sinking into the mattress. Paralyzed in her hold until slumber overtook you as well.

The morning sun shone through the windows, baring its light onto your eyes. Rubbing your eyes by the heels of your palms, sinking deeper into the blanket furs.

The hinges of the chamber doors creak, jolting you further into reality, eyes heavily leaning to shut closed. Clicks of heels follow, and a hum.

“It seems the morrow has escaped us.” Her voice is light, cheery even. Not an inch of maligne in her infliction. It’s eerie how the mask can slip on and off—- a performance.

Cersei leans, invading your space, seating upon the mattress. Her eyes lower, and darken. How easily eerie her charm and spite can transmute to one entity.

“If I were to find you in the arms of another,” Cersei says, her voice on edge, taking one step closer, her lips stretch into a gritted wolfish grin. “I will gladly brand your cunt with the sigil of my house.” Her green eyes unflinching, her lips smirking devilishly.

Silence prevails, your hair cascaded against your face. Barely hiding your shame, you subtly nod; submitting to her demanding presence.

Cersei smirks, “Good.” The lioness prowls around her chambers, licking your blood off her paws. A victorious slaughter, a fragile doe locked in her cave, with broken limbs—- and a broken spirit.

-

Peace and quiet.

You inhale a deep breath, as it floods your cavity. Solitude has finally granted itself upon you, away from the yaws of the lioness.

Flexed fingers stroke against the wall, basking in the brisk air. The balcony’s view is marvelous. Unclipping your cleavage, so the breeze can grace your breasts, and sweep against your scalp.

Cersei had taken her leave for a meeting with the king’s council. And surely, no mere maid is allowed in such a space.

Away from her suffocating touch, you can relax in your own skin. A thought comes to you, there are a handful of empty rooms to explore. Your feet carry you down the corridors.

Without thought, searching for an empty chamber, you find one. With the tug of the knobs, you walk freely inside—- only to be greeted with whisking reddish hair.

A gasp catches itself in your mouth, holding your stomach, kneeling legs curtsying in respect.

“Lady Sansa.” You bow your head dutifully. “A thousand apologies, I didn’t intend to intrude.” As your feet backpedal to the entrance, a soft whisper calls.

“Please stay.”

And just like that, her sweet child voice sweeps you.

“Oh, little wolf.” You pinch the fabric of your dress, lifting as you walk with haste. The instinct to hold Sansa over took you. Sitting on her mattress, engulfing her in your arms, quickly her red hair melts against the sapphire threading of your dress.

Sansa’s head is tucked in the crook of your shoulder. Quietly sobbing, her delicate fingers grip against the base of your back, as would a cub cling to its mother’s teat.

Caressing her hair, you shush her softly, rocking her back and forth. “I’m scared.” Sansa’s words are muffled, vibrating against you. “I want to go home.” She wails, mewling.

“My sweet girl, how I long for you to be safe.” You whisper, “I’m so sorry for what has happened.” You kiss her head, muttering apologies into her hair, hoping your kindness weaves itself into her hair, and stays for a rest.

The morrow stretches into noon, as you watch over Sansa. Comforting her in placid silence, brushing her hair. Humming a melody, as your fingers thread intricate braids within her auburn flaming hair.

This feels like home again.

Outside of these walls, both are prisoners within a castle. But here, in this moment, is a woman, and a child. Reliving memories past, as a mother, and as a daughter—- through each other.

To heal these wounds, as mother and daughter.

Just for a moment.

[togetherhearted]

Hello Ma'am/Sir, may I request headcanons for RoR characters and their ideal types? It would be even better if the first ones you write about are Thor, Poseidon, Hades, Odin, Apollo, or Loki (they are my favorites). Thank you very much!

Hi! I hope it's still fine if I only did 3 characters [I specify it in the requests post ^^]

POSEIDON,ODIN AND LOKI'S TYPE

-I imagine Poseidon's type as a calm one, just like him. Even better if they can keep up with his strength. Doesn't like people who brag about him or get too cuddly. He prefers to keep his distance. He's not a soulless god, he just prefers to keep it to himself. He will open up with patience.

-Odin's type has to love reading and having deep conversations. Prefers smart ones but he also finds satisfaction in teaching a clueless partner about the gods and whatnot.

He hopes to find a partner who enjoys drinking tea with him and long quiet evenings. He seems to favor nights so he would appreciate a night owl person.

Loki's type is either a jester-like him or the polar opposite. With someone that likes pranks and being annoying he's sure he will have tons of fun. He would appreciate a lover who's serious and keeps him grounded. Whichever is not important, what he looks for is a lovable partner who doesn't mind him being touchy.

[sssarrrra]

𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠

Fyodor can still feel things, no matter how much he tries to hide it. We know where he channels his negative emotions (to sinners). But where do the positive ones go? Well, he dedicates them to God.

God is a time capsule for all the positive feelings that are still left inside Fyodor. They're too vulnerable, too tender, too childish to share them with humans. People will only trample over them and leave him empty.

But Dostoevsky still can't part with his sentiments. They give his heart a little jolt so it can keep living a little longer. So where can he direct them?

God is left as his only safe space for that.

Fyodor treats the concept of God like a coffer, where he can store his dreams from the earlier days. All of his hopes, aspirations, fantasies are better be locked inside the God's chest. Since God is the only one occupying Fyodor's brain, he'll keep them safe.

Devine being became a target for Fyodor's affection because He can't reject or hurt Dostoevsky in any meaningful way. It's left up to Fyodor's mind to imagine God as he likes. And so he does it.

God becomes not only a symbol to thrive for, but also a companion that helps him to cope with the loneliness.

God accepts all the Fyodor's needs humanity haven't fulfilled. His agonizing idealism, his need for deep understanding of his soul and a connection that makes him feel at home.

Surely, during the centuries of Fyodor's life, he came close to forming a bond with people at least a few times. But the process of separation was so painful, Dostoy decided it wasn't worth it anyway.

His failure to organically morn the end of his relations led to his fatal inability to reattach once again. Fyodor mistrusts new people in his life: he compartmentalizes them, puts on labels, and tries to keep every interaction under control.

The only one who can relate to this mindset is Bram, but even he is able to break away from it because of Aya. Stoker risks taking interest in the girl and then sacrifices his life for her. Now Bram's time is no longer frozen in place, he's moving forward, his character progresses.

But Fyodor is too overwhelmed with his feelings and memories that have never healed. He probably thinks that even a small bit of a emotional pain will break him entirely. So even if someone comes to Dostoevsky, waving a friendship flag in the air, Fyodor will shut down to keep them away.

This is what happened with Gogol. Nikolai wanted to be friends with Fyodor. But Dostoy never showed him any of his deeper emotions. By hiding all personal information, Dos-kun maintained a distance between himself and a jester. So the later couldn't reach out to and comfort Fyodor even if he wanted.

Of course, there is always a chance that Gogol would use Dostoevsky's feelings against him. And Fyodor also probably thought about that, so he cut off that option entirely. Sadly, we'd never see where their connection could lead, if Dostoevsky chose to share with Nikolai his everything. Maybe, it would lead to an even bigger disaster, but perhaps they would be able to find some solace in each other.

Now Fyodor is too hurt to open up his soul. All the scars on it had fused into an armor, protecting him from caring about others. Dostoevsky's soul became a shell, impenetrable from the outside. He made sure it would never change. His fortress. His prison. His mind.

Trapped inside of it, Dostoevsky still craved for someone to be there for him. Fyodor wanted a friend with whom he could converse without lying. He wanted a family. Maybe, he even wanted a lover.

Therefore, God was cast in all the roles that had been left vacant in Fyodor's life. And of course, Devine Being could fulfill them better than anyone. At least, from the Dostoy's perspective, his life was easier this way.

In Fyodor's story, God is a star of every relationship he still has.

God is almost like a friend, but he won't argue back or abandon him in pain. He won't make Fyodor feel inadequate by disagreeing with his perspective.

God is like a family, but he loves Fyodor unconditionally or at least His “conditions” are kinder than human ones. They're much more bearable than the rules Dostoevsky had to abide by when he was a child.

God is like a lover, but his love isn't physically “sinful” (whatever sexuality Fyodor has, it's very morphed and repressed). Devine being won't be put off by Fyodor's appearance and won't leave once He sees who Fyodor truly is.

God is like a teacher, but he doesn't have a hidden agenda and actually wants Fyodor to be better. God knows indefinitely more than Fyodor, so He can always share something new from His well of knowledge.

And of course, God will never change, die or choose someone else. He is always there.

It feels safe for Fyodor to love and admire someone who is so perfect.

And well, God can't disappoint.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Completed Chaptered AO3 Fics (5) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four

A Different Man (ao3) - RhenNuggs

Summary: Dan is struggling to find love, but it is easier said than done when all he has is a long list of horrible exes. He doesn’t know if he will ever find love. That is, until he gets invited to an unexpected party that may forever change the course of his life.

A Game of Life (ao3) - Koolhotsweetloveberries

Summary: Daniel Howell, an honorable member of the King's Knighthood, does not expect much from his time at court. All changes when the court jester, Philip Lester, enters.

Babylon (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: Just a little story about two boys realizing that they can make their own rules, and even if it's hard, they are worth it.

because we are fools (ao3) - queerofcups

Summary: He realizes it calmly at first, and then suddenly with more clarity. He’s in love with Phil.

But he absolutely cannot be in love with Phil.

Brick by Brick (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne), embarrassing_myself

Summary: No one said having an unmated Alpha and an unmated Omega living under the same roof was going to be easy, but add in a mess of feelings and desire, and things go from bad to worse. When Phil Lester asked his best friend, Dan Howell, to move in with him, he thought he could ignore his feelings and refrain from submitting, but with an oblivious Dan scenting him every other day, he decides he has to put a stop to it. Jealousy and misunderstandings collide to throw their lives into chaos, forcing both men to reconsider their relationship. Will they ever get their happy ending, or will prevalent sexism force them apart?

Burning Bibles (ao3) - cherryheartz

Summary: phil lester loved curly headed boys with tattoos on their arms and a joint made with torn bible pages between their soft lips.

and dan howell was exactly that.

Butterfly (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: Phil Lester, a lonely writer, finds a dying boy with beautiful black wings on a cold, rainy night in a dingy alleyway. He recognizes the boy as one of the winged men hated by human society. They are considered to be wild, ferocious beasts, but Phil's sympathy forces him to help the boy.

What happens when the boy, considered to be a wild beast, gets too attached and follows him home with an innocent, dimpled smile?

Catch You on the Flipside (ao3) - Amorist (dead_on_the_inside)

Summary: Dan is holding himself together by the seams after running away from a religious cult. He has to ask himself why he keeps going, but deep down, he knows the answer already. It's the same answer it was long before his parents packed up and moved him to a thinly-veiled conversion camp in America—Phil.

Or, my excuse to write self-indulgent angst, because sometimes we need that.

Coffee by Chappell Roan (ao3) - danswideslit

Summary: someone on tumblr mentioned needing a dnp fic with the narrative from coffee and I felt inspired because I love that song a whole lot

Come along (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: In medieval England, a young knight rides north, sent to serve at the court of the quiet young Duke of Lancaster.

Deeper (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: Inspired by the idea of "Pass Around Party Bottom Dan."

Don’t be scared (ao3) - danisnot3131

Summary: Before agreeing to go on Tour for Interactive Introvers, Dan is hit with the realization that he’s been in love with Phil for years.

I Fell For You (ao3) - TheWolfWithinMe

Summary: Dan's meant to be a good little Angel. Doing what Heaven wants. Following orders. Being the soldier they created.

But then he answers a prayer. From a certain blue-eyed boy so desperate for forgiveness that he's willing to die for it.

A fic about betrayal, freedom, friendship, love and that it's not 'where you're from' that matters but 'who you are.'

I try to picture me without you but I can't (ao3) - solarpower21

Summary: After Dan's tragic death, Phil starts having a bunch of strange dreams where he is still alive. But are they really just dreams?

Or: Phil's soul consciousness can't cope with Dan's death, so he starts hopping between different universes, trying to look for him.

Let Me Be Your Call Boy (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne), embarrassing_myself

Summary: After coming out as gay to his friends on his birthday, the last thing Dan is expecting is to be gifted a call boy as a present, let alone one that’s been paid for for the entire night. Allowing Phil to show him the ropes is his first mistake, paying him to come back every week is his second, and using him to convince his parents he really is gay is his third. As a successful lawyer, the money isn’t the problem - falling in love is.

life happens, coffee helps (and so do you) (ao3) - halfofacrackedbluesky

Summary: Dan makes friends with the barista at the local coffee shop.

Like a Bowl of Oranges (ao3) - cloej88

Summary: Dan has built a solid career for himself as a ghostwriter. He safely hides behind other people’s words, crafting their tales and pocketing the cash without any threat of notoriety. But lately he has been working on a book of his own, itching for a change.

Phil is an indie filmmaker who happened into some huge breaks over the last few years. He wants to use his influence to uplift queer stories for the screen, so he puts out an open call for story submissions. At his agent’s behest, Dan submits his story.

The writer!Dan and director!Phil friends/co-workers to lovers AU that we never knew we needed.

Live Incidentally (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: At thirty-two, Phil’s fine with this lot in life— manager for Printzoid, a flat he rents on his own in a relatively nice part of London, friends he sees at least twice a month for board game nights, an ex-fiancé he’s trying damn hard to get over, and a brother who means well even if Martyn doesn’t understand why Phil insists there’s a distinction between their father’s artwork being creative and Martyn’s music being creative and Phil’s novelty t-shirts being... not-creative.

A fic about adulthood and opening up.

Monochrome (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: When you build your life out of fear that your mental illness could worsen, it leaves little room for excitement. Luckily, Dan has found a space online where he feels comfortable.

My Sanctuary, You're Holy to Me (ao3) - skygremlin

Summary: Sister Daniel isn't very good at being a nun, but she's stuck living in a convent because she's got no other plans. The church needs a new priest for Sunday mass, and the responsibility falls on her to meet him for the first time. Will he see through her false devotion?

Sister Daniel/Father Philip convent au (Sister Daniel's origin story)

names of collision in the dark (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Of enemy kingdoms, Prince Dan and Prince Phil meet one fateful night, leading to a surprising friendship that evolves into something more. As the looming threat of a major battle grows stronger, both princes grapple with their roles and the burdens of leadership, all while their growing bond forces them to confront their own kingdoms’ expectations and the possibility of peace in the chaos.

(aka the dan and phil royal au fic they wrote for the gaming channel but taken seriously)

Nothing Like a Storybook (ao3) - Merrydith

Summary: University Of Manchester, 2009

Dan Howell is an aloof loner and Phil Lester a well-known weirdo. In theory they are worlds apart, but a chance post-party meeting under the Manchester moonlight sends their lives spiraling and soon they find they have a lot more in common than they thought.

Origins of the Phass Inflation Post (Dan and Phil in Greece) (ao3) - EverythingIsAsItWas

Summary: Dan and Phil rarely take vacations just for themselves, vacations in which they make no content, do not work, and simply enjoy each other's company. Going to Greece feels like the perfect opportunity for this, but Phil also thinks it's the perfect opportunity for a video... and Dan likes being a little shit.

Ready Player Two (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Their paths diverge for a time.

some killer queen you are (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan’s enjoyed taking a break from YouTube, but for some reason, he still feels like something is missing. Determined to fill the creative void in his life, he decides to try out something new: drag.

Someday (ao3) - philsdrill

Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

taking the veil (ao3) - buskingalbatross

Summary: Twenty-two year old YouTuber Phillippa Lester accompanies her Dad on his trip to fulfill a commission to create a piece of art for a family friend who is living a monastic life in an abbey in the south of England. Angry at her parents and lacking other plans, eighteen-year old Dan Howell tags along with her grandma on an annual, summertime trip of her own: a two week secluded religious retreat at the same abbey.

The Phat (ao3) - gaydreaming

Summary: When Dan and Phil find an abandoned cat on a late-night walk to Dominos, Dan insists that they aren't going to keep him. After all, they know nothing about taking care of a pet. Dan will have the self control to put his foot down when faced with both Phil's big eyes and the cat's, right? ...Right?

Time is on our side (ao3) - Mysticallykai

Summary: In 2010, AmazingPhil decided to make a video trying to time travel. He ends up meeting his boyfriend Dan in the year 2023 as well as himself, and he has a lot of questions.

voice on the wind (ao3) - CapriciousCrab

Summary: A life-changing injury leaves a desperate musician looking for a miracle. He finds it in the company of a Fae muse, but at what cost?

what, like it's hard? (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: title, obviously, from legally blonde

You are Not Sleeping on The Goddamn Floor (ao3) - pepelovesme

Summary: Dan and Phil's 2009 meeting reimagined. Dan is curious, they talk sexuality. Smut ensues.

[khonshus-stardust]

Different Ways

Pairing: Khonshu x Reader

Word Count: 2429

Summary: Once in awhile, Khonshu will allow his avatar to have a break. It's the four of you: Marc, Layla, Khonshu, and yourself in a town you love to visit. You are happily strolling along when you spot a necklace that was far out of your price range. So, keep going along when you notice the tall mummy bird god gone from sight. Where did he go?

Author Note: Don't worry folks! I haven't forgotten about our favorite dead god. I got caught up in requests on my other blog and have been trying to keep up with them.

Masterlist

Ao3

There was something about seeing the moon god causally chilling on the wall’s edge. One leg hung over the edge while the other rested underneath that one. His staff leaned against said brick wall, between his legs. The crescent end next to his skull.

After all that has occurred with Ammit and Egypt, you didn’t expect to see him like so. Khonshu looked relaxed compared to how you first saw him. So demanding and ready for battle, and grouchy. Very grouchy. You smiled minutely at this. He’s a very grouchy and jealous god. You didn’t know why but your heart fell for him.

Before you, Marc and Layla conversed about something. There was no mission to worry about currently. Instead, the three of you were taking a short vacation. One that everyone needed.

A deep breath of oxygen filled your lungs. The air up here was fresh with the pine trees. You’ve missed this place, only visiting a few times throughout your life. Leavenworth, no matter the time of year, was amazing to visit. Though the cooler weather wasn’t for everyone. You didn’t mind one bit. No jacket as your two friends were wrapped up with one of their own.

The shadow of something past near you, making your head tilt up. A hawk of sorts glided far above the ground, eyes searching for a snack. It’s wings flapped a few times as it circled in the air. That made you look over to Khonshu’s last position once more, but the god wasn’t there. You raised a brow at this in question and turned your head to search for him.

He appeared behind Marc, making him jump at the sudden appearance. Any person around him barely gave notice and stayed focused on their conversations. Said human whipped his head to glare at the god but immediately looked back at Layla. “Khonshu,” he spat out quietly with a harsh tone. You giggled at this and leaned back in your chair.

Layla peered over at you and smiled. “Shouldn’t he be used to that by now?” she teased her husband and pointed her thumb at him. You agreed with her, nodding your head at Layla, a sparkle in your eyes.

“Yeah, I have been around him the least and quickly got over it,” you jestered alongside Layla. She took at sip from her bubbly drink, no ice. That was true. Though, you were easy to scare. The spooks the god gave you were quickly thwarted after the third for forth time he suddenly appeared in your apartment.

Marc turned his glare to the two of you, causing said duo to snicker at his expression. “I’m easily frightened by him,” he tries to excuse himself. It doesn’t work as much as he thinks it does.

Instead, the two of you looked at one another again and laughed, both leaning towards the other. Marc huffed and harshly fell back against the back of his seat. You two just laughed all over again. “You’re playing yourself, Worm,” Khonshu snarked from behind said avatar. You shook your head at the name calling but couldn’t hide the minute smile.

Khonshu disappeared then reappeared neck to you, casting a shadow over you. “I saw that, Stardust,” he was quick to point out. A hint of red blushed over your cheeks at this. You grasped at your drink and sipped away at it.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you stated and peeked out to look over at the masses moving about on the street. No clue. Completely innocent here. Khonshu hummed deeply at your words and rested a large hand on your shoulder. Your entire body tensed up at this. What is he doing?

“Hmm, I thought I saw you smile. Isn’t that something you mortals do? When I called the worm here ‘Worm’,” he continued to try and get you to admit. Something you didn’t want to do. You disliked when Khonshu called Marc ‘Worm’. It’s disrespectful. After everything that has occurred. How could Khonshu name call him things that like? Yet, he calls you ‘Stardust’. You didn’t mind that one. You did have a passion for the stars.

You shook your head once more, denying the accusation. Everything besides the god was intriguing. You saw the playful smirk on Layla’s face and gave her a knowing look. One she laughed at. Being at the other end of the teasing wasn’t fun. Your arms crossed with a pout, lip jutting out. Your cup still hiding a portion of your face.

The god hummed, the stood up. Though, his face doesn’t have the ability to move, you sensed a smirk before he straight up disappeared. Uh oh. That made you fear on where he had gone. He has something up his sleeves. Sometimes, you swear he should be the god of tricks. “Well that’s not good,” Layla stated and set down her bubbly drink. You shot her a ‘no shit’ look.

“He has something planned and I don’t like it,” you sighed and scanned the surroundings. Not a sign of the mummy god anywhere. “I swear, if he messes with my apartment, I will find a way to kill him.” That’s your place, your little place carved out in this world. You hated when people messed with your things.

Layla laughed ad rested fully on the backrest of her chair. “I believe he won’t dare do that,” she said with honesty. You hoped she was right. Or else.

Later on, after lunch had been consumed, the three of you paid and left for the streets. Though, it wasn’t the winter months, where everyone from all the states migrated to see the lights, Leavenworth was still busy. People bustled about, making you nervous and sticking close to Marc and Layla. People weren’t your thing. Let alone a bunch of them. Yet, this place calls to you and makes you take the trip up here.

Something in a shop’s window caught your attention, you broke away from the trio and made your way into the building. It smelled like old pine wood, one of the best smells. You smiled at that and slipped between people towards the window.

A silver necklace with a gold crescent moon and stars hung from a holder. Call yourself cliché with your whole situation and feelings for a specific god, but it was maginfic. You checked the price tag and cringed. Of course. You pouted, gave it one last look, then moved away to graze through the small shop.

Nothing else called to you. That frustrated you. There was a buzz from your phone. You slipped the device into your hand and noticed a text from Marc. ‘Where are you?’ Shit, right. Whoops. A quick response to explain what happened and where to meet was sent to him. You got a thumbs up in return. You deadpanned at the message before leaving the store.

As you stepped back onto the wide sidewalk, you peered back into the window. The necklace was gone! The others around it swaying. With the amount of people around, you held onto a sadden noise and slugged your shoulders. Welp, that was that. You lost your opportunity.

Though, you didn’t grow up a densely populated area, you knew how to snake your way through the sea of people. It wasn’t long before you saw the familiar faces of Marc and Layla. You quickened your pace then stopped before them. “Sorry, got distracted,” you apologized.

“Find anything interesting? “ Marc questioned as the three of you started on your path again.

“Yeah, but it was too much. When I left the store, it was already gone,” you said and scanned the upcoming buildings for anything of interest. There was one store that caught your attention. That have the best ice cream you have ever tasted.

Marc made an ‘aww’ noise and placed a consoling hand on your shoulder. “There’s always next time.” That, he was correct for. But that didn’t less that face you lost this opportunity.  You purposely knocked your shoulder into his.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You smiled at him then felt a certain presence behind you. If you haven’t been around him so many times, you would’ve spooked. Instead, you spun on your heel to face the towering god. You continued to walk backwards and act like you were enjoying the sights. Then, you turned back around and strolled behind the two. “What are you up to, Khon?” you questioned, acting like you were talking to your friends.

Said duo turned their head back to find Khonshu keeping an easy pace with us. You could feel how close he was to you, almost pressed to your back. Yet, the god didn’t say a word.

At every step, you saw the end of his staff in the corner of your eyes. He was almost hovering over you, like a guard dog. That thought made you giggle with a minute smile. Hilarious. You tilted your head up to find the god’s skull within your vision. “What are you doing?” you quietly asked again with a raised brow.

Still nothing. If that’s the case, you continued your pathing with a shrug of your shoulders. You stepped closer to Marc and Layla and rested your elbows on their shoulders. “There’s a few things that we can do tomorrow, if you guys wanna?” you offered.

Leavenworth had a lot to offer. From not only the sights but to adventures. There was horse back riding, rafting, ziplining, etc. You had already done most of the things possible here, after visiting so many times.

This caught Layla’s attention. She perked up and gazed at you. “I would love to! What is there to do besides browse the shops?” You stated the easier adventures possible without needing to book far in advanced. This was sort of an impromptu vacation.  

“Horseback riding sounds great,” she said and nudged her shoulder into Marc’s. The man nodded his head in agreement, gaze casting behind you for a second. You pulled away from them to return a pace or two behind them.

As you opened your mouth to respond, someone knocked into you kind of roughly. By the looks of it, she was a someone lived here. Her glare set hard on you. You rubbed at your shoulder and tried to apologize out of curditisy. Instead, the woman beat you to the punch, face pulled into a disgust. “Watch where you’re going, tourist,” she spat out then promptly strutted away.

A sudden gush of snowy wind knocked her right on her ass. The sight caused you to burst out laughing before quieting when her head snapped to you. Uh oh.

She angrily got to her feet, stomping them as she made her way back to you. Before she could get within ten feet though, she froze, almost falling over as she did. You were confused as her eyes peered above you.

Then, a golden staff slammed next to you, making the ground shake. A cool hand held onto your shoulder as the god leaned over you. You tensed at the touch, feeling the way his power wrapped around you like a blanket. The woman was smart to turn on her heel and make a quick escape away. Everyone around glancing at her strange actions.

Marc and Layla came up to after the whole ordeal. The former leaned close to you but secretly peered up at the towering god. “Khonshu, you can’t fucking do that!” he quietly growled and grabbed your hand. Before he could do anything though, Khonshu tugged you back away from Marc.

But, Khonshu didn’t say anything. Unusual for cocky, sometimes rude, god. Marc scoffed and backed off, hands up in surrender. When the two of you didn’t move – you too still shocked about what happened – he walked away. Layla gave you a knowing look and rushed after Marc, trying to talk him down.

Khonshu hummed, grasp squeezing your shoulder. “I swear, if anyone lays another hand on you, I will cut over their arm,” he growled. With the public around you and no known people, you held in your laugh. A smile grew on your face. Sometimes, he says the weird of things. Or he does the weird of things. Like less than five minutes ago.

You patted at his hand on your shoulder then tried to walk after Marc and Layla. Yet, the grasp he had on you prevented that.

Something cold and thin kissed your skin. You tried to peek down but a hand grasp at your chin. “Khon? What are you doing?” you whispered softly, nervous on what he had planned. You still don’t know what he did early.

“Stay still, Stardust,” he said lowly and removed his hand. Khonshu continued to mess with whatever he was doing. In the meantime – not to look like a fool, you gazed out at the mountains as if you were sightseeing. Well, to be honest, you were. The mountains were your home. Of course, you would love to look at them all day.

“What are you doing?” you whispered and fidgeted in your spot. His hands ghosted over your skin, making you shiver. You felt him step even closer as if to stop you from moving more.

Khonshu’s hands still, hesitating in pulling away. Then, the god stepped around you and knelt down in front of your form. This time, you discarded the fact you needed to act sane. Your gaze was set on him, head tilted to the side. His head tilted down, hands pulling a cold chain around your neck.

The god paused, hands still on your skin before he stood back up to his full height. You immediately looked down at what he had down. A gasp escaped your mouth.

It’s the necklace! You squealed, hands shaking at your sides. It was all you could do to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him. A few tourists gave you weird looks, but you didn’t care at all. “Thank you!” But a thought came it mind, a brow falling as you peered up at him. “How did you know?”

A large hand rested on your shoulder, Khonshu nudging you towards the direction of Marc and Layla. “There’s a saying you mortals have. ‘A magician never reveals his secrets.’” You set a deadpanned expression on him then rolled your eyes. You willingly went where he directed, people parting a way for you. A smile bright on your face.

[escape-from-reality-reads]

Armored

The start of a fic set in regards to a conversation that happened between my partner and me in regards to Tieflings using their tails for various things.

M9 x Reader

slight mollymauk x reader

slightly suggestive but that's up to interpretation

Find it on AO3

----------------

You were staring. You knew it. Molly knew it. Everyone knew it and it was starting to get weird. 

It wasn’t the first time Molly had been stared at, being part of a carnival for a while, but the Nein were a bit more cautious about where they looked so as to not garner unwanted attention. Yet here you were; deep in thought, unmoving, and staring at his tail. At first he thought you were just staring into space so he started moving the appendage back and forth to be sure, only to have your eyes follow its every move. 

Glancing towards the rest of the crew with a smirk he lifts his tail to eye height, your eyes faithfully following.

“Glad you were able to find my eyes darling.”

“Why don’t you use your tail as a whip?”

He freezes at the random sentence. “I — What?”

You finally focus on his face. “Your tail. Why don’t you use it as a whip? I’ve seen both you and Jester lash your tails fairly quickly and it's about the width of my whip.” You place your bullwhip on the table, unwrapping part of it. 

Jester was the first to recover “That would hurt tho.” 

You look over. “Not if you wrap or braid it with leather or something. You’d essentially be making a new piece of armor that protects your tail. Plus you could probably find a blacksmith and get a piece of metal that you could place over the end that would be sharper to help deal damage.” 

“Almost like a stinger on a wasp.” Yasha responds, entering the conversation. “You could grapple with your arms and wrap around with your tail.” 

“Even without wrapping I feel like it wouldn’t be too different from clotheslining someone with an arm.” Beau leans forward, now entrenched in the idea. 

You nod. “It would probably hurt more than that, considering that the amount of contact would be smaller.”

“We could even get different things to attach to the end!” Jester states, pulling out her sketchbook and scribbling down some ideas while muttering to herself.  

Molly, finally snapping out of it, leans forward onto the table. “Your brain never ceases to amaze darling. Where did this come from?” 

You stare at him in confusion, slowly raising the bullwhip from the table. “You have something attached to your ass that looks like a shorter version of my main weapon of choice. I have seen you actively move it however you want. Why are you so surprised I asked this question?” 

Beau laughs. “Molly they say the most out of pocket shit that I have ever heard. You can’t be surprised by this. Between the threats of shaving people bald, wanting to make mimics their pet, and responding to things with random noises that make no sense, I'm just happy there’s some logic in this one.” 

Fjord, Caleb, and Nott sit down with new drinks, Nott speaking up first. “We making fun of Y/N and their mannerisms?” Jester jumps in, quickly explaining the small conversation that had happened while they were away, leaving you able to lean over to Molly. 

“You know, I could just braid a fabric around your tail for fun.” 

Molly looks back to you. “Oh?” 

“Wrap it up, put some charms on the fabric. Could even do so as to match the rest of your attire. Doesn’t have to be a defensive thing.” 

Molly smirks. “Was this just a long con to be able to play with my tail darling? You know all you need to do is ask.” 

You shrug with a smile, a glint in your eye that Molly quite enjoys. “But now Jester has an option to use to get alone time with a certain green someone.” 

Molly barks a laugh “Oh you clever little thing you.” All you respond with is an eyebrow wiggle as you drink your ale. 

[burnedwriter]

‘’jealousy’’

warnings:none,just fluff,some angst,mention of cheating,petnames,some suggestive elements but not too spicy,!gender neutral reader

A/n:some headcannons of how jealous they are

A/n:Dottore and scara have me on a chokehold lately

🐉Zhongli

🐉zhongli is the least jealous person on the list.He doesnt really get jealous by you talking to other people,sometimes he even joins in the conversations,since your job consists with talking to people constantly

🐉hes totaly oblivious of how human interact with eachother,hes still learning after being a god for thousands of years,so even if you purposly tried to make him jealous it wouldnt work.

🐉but you had to put it to the test to see the results,so one day you decided to take it upon yourself and start flirting with a customer.Both of you talked while zhongli watched the whole thing unfold

After the customer left you see zhongli get up from where he was sitting and slowly approach you.You finally got him you thought to yourself,were you really about to see his jealous side?,just the thinking about it turned you on by what he could do to you to show you who you belong to

‘‘Dear i saw you speaking to that customer,do you know them or is this how mortals talk to their favourite customer?’‘Zhongli asked you confused

You were left speechless,did he really not notice what you were trying to do,was he really that oblivious

‘‘no’‘you replied,signing defeated

‘‘no?’‘he said questioning your reply

‘‘i tried to make you jealous but i failed miserably’‘you said disappointed by the results

‘‘hahaha...I know how much you love me and have showed to me multiple times’‘he laughed softly,at your little test you tried to put him through,Though he wasnt wrong at all,you did love zhongli and you were ready to spend an eternity with him

💉Dottore

💉Dottore also falls in the category of people that dont get jealous at all,i mean you wouldnt dare to make him jealous to say the least

💉The only time you saw him get jealous was when you and Dottere went on one of the ball that the Tsaritsa organised for her Harbingers and of coursed you were obligated to attend it since you were the signaficant other of a harbinger

💉 and there you were with your drink in your hand still waiting after an hour has passed waiting for dottore to come back after the Jester called out to him for an emergency meeting,he reasured you that it wouldnt take him long before leaving into the backrooms

Thats when a pyro agent walked towards your direction,the conversation starting off normal but the more it progress the more flirty it became,you told him that you wer already taken and not interested but he kept insisting.

Until you felt the presence of someone standing right behind you

‘‘How dare you try and take the signaficant other of a Harbinger’’Dottore said,anger slightly visible in his voice

The pyro agent started apologising profuriously,stambling over his words before running away with his tail between his legs

‘‘are you alright my dear?’‘he saked,placing his hand on your shoulder as a mean of reasurance.

‘‘Thank you for looking aout for me,he just wouldnt leave me alone’‘you answered as you exhaled in frustration

‘‘anything for you dear,lets go dance now shall we"he said grabbing your hand softly guiding into the circle

💨scaramouche/wanderer

💨Scara is at the top of the list of jealousy.He will try to play it off like it didnt bother him at all but deep down hes fuming.

💨He will give you little remarks until you confront him about the situation and explain yourself,although he might have changed for the better, some parts of him are the same

💨one day while trying to get to the location you and scara agreed to meet,you stumbled upon one of your childhood friends that you havent seen in a long time,You sat there for hours the two of you laughed and talked about your lives,making you loose track of time

Finally going to wave goodbye to your friend,you felt someone draging you by your wrist only to see it was scara and he looked pretty pissed.He pulled you away from the people and behind a tree were you could speak in peace

‘‘do you know how long i have been waiting for you,i thought somethings happened to you but no you were out there cheating on me!’‘he spat angryly at you

‘‘what are you talking about?,i was talking to my childhood friend that i havent met in a long time’‘you reasured him and telling him the truth

‘‘if you dont want to be with me,just say it i wont be mad at you’‘his words cold stabbing your heart like dagger but you knew he was just bitter

‘‘are you jealous’‘you said with a sly smile that started to form on your face

‘‘no’‘turning his face away from yours

‘‘yes you are’‘you started poking fun at his reaction

‘‘fine,maybe a little bit...’‘he admitted feeling not being able to hide it from you

‘‘i knew it!’‘you explaimed happyly

‘‘how about we go to the place we agreed to meet and talk it there hmm’‘

‘‘sure’‘agreeing to his proposition 

The both of you started walking to the correct diraction while you held his hand

[kymerawrites]

Sir Simon Riley EP 4

I got carried away, enjoy 8K words ;)

Summary: the whole team goes out to a club but it seems the night takes a twist that makes shym and ghost end up together

TW WARNING: mention of drugs and alcohol

A day has passed, and today we will be interrogating the shadows to uncover their true intentions. We have at least eight of them in custody, so it shouldn't be too difficult to extract some answers. As I walked through the barracks, I spotted one of my teammates whom I hadn't spoken to in a long time. "Roach, good morning! How is everything going?" I called out, feeling a mix of anticipation and relief at the sight of a familiar face with all this drama going on

Roach looked up as I approached, a warm smile spreading across his face at the sight of me. "Ah, good morning!" he greeted me cheerfully. "Everything's going well, can't complain. How about you?"

"I'm still reeling from the injuries I got at the club the other night, but today we have to start interrogating the shadows, using force if necessary." I glanced ahead and saw Soap, Ghost, and four other teammates deep in conversation, their expressions tense and focused.

Roach nodded as he listened to my words, his expression growing serious. "I understand." he said. "I'm glad you're doing okay, but we have to make sure these shadows know they messed with the wrong people."  His gaze followed mine to Soap and the other teammates, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Looks like we're gonna have some fun today." he said with a chuckle.

I looked at him in surprise. "How so?" I asked, my voice filled with curiosity.

Roach chuckled a bit and gestured toward the group of team members with his chin. "Well, there's Soap, and you know how much he enjoys a good interrogation." he began, his expression mischievous. "And there's Ghost, who can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be. And then there's the rest of us." He grinned. "Between the six of us, I'd say we'll have those shadows singing like a bird in no time."

I smiled and rolled my eyes playfully. "I already know, Captain Price is going to love this—if he ever comes out of his office for once." My tone was light-hearted, but a hint of frustration lingered beneath the surface.

Roach chuckled along with me, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Captain Price's been working himself too hard," he agreed. "Maybe a good old interrogation session will be just the thing to get him out of that office of his." He winked at me, a devious glimmer in his eyes. "Who knows? Maybe he'll even join in on the fun."

I looked at roach intently and as he looked back we knew exactly what stunt we would pull, I put on a mask I had and a baclava, also my gear. Roach did the same and now we could do our plan. We ran towards captain price's office and opened the door with much force

"hands up captain!" We screamed. You saw the split second of fear in his eyes when he started laughing "you had me there roach and shym." I laughed

"All funny and games, But sir your coming with us." I nodded at roach to give the sign to do our act and lifted him and his chair up

we walked towards the others and saw a faces of surprise and laughter

"Roach! You really are a jester aren't ya!" He laughed we put down the chair and I begun talking "you have been forced to start interrogating with us captain price. I do not take no as an answer!"

Captain Price shook his head, his eyes still shining with laughter. "You two are incorrigible, aren't you?"

he said, a wry smile on his lips. "But I have to admit, that was a clever stunt. You've got me fair and square."

He looked at the team around us, who were all watching with wide grins on their faces. "All right then, if you want me to join in on the interrogating, I suppose I can't say no. Let's see what these shadows have to say."

I shifted my eyes towards his "don't they know who knocked them out? We are already at war with them. They know who we are" I tilted me head to the side questioning why I had to keep my mask on that was only used for my shenanigans.

Ghost's expression remained stoic as he replied, his eyes never leaving my face. "They may know who we are, but we still have a few tricks up our sleeves. We don't want to reveal our full hand just yet." He gestured towards the team around us, who were all still waiting for instructions. "Now come on, let's get this show on the road. The shadows should be waiting for us in the interrogation room by now."

I nodded, still feeling a little uneasy about Ghost's insistence on keeping our masks on, but I trusted his judgment. We all headed towards the interrogation room where the shadows were being held. As we entered the room, I could feel the tension in the air, the shadows looking at us with a mix of defiance and fear.

Ghost spoke up, his voice low and dangerous. "All right, let's get started. Which one first?"

Captain Price gestured to the first shadow, who was being held tightly by Ghost and Soap. "How about we start with this one?"

The first shadow glared at us, defiance flickering in his eyes. "You'll never get anything out of me." he snarls, his voice cold and defiant. Ghost stepped forward, his mask hiding any emotion he might have. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said quietly. "We have ways of making you talk." He gestured to Soap, who immediately grabbed the shadow's arms and held them in an uncomfortable position. The shadow winced in pain but remained stubbornly silent.

I was scanning the room when I found the person I was dancing on the other night. I grabbed a knife out of my pocket and walked behind him towards his neck, right in the spot where his gun was "you might be a good dancer with the ladies but I don't think you haven't seen anything like this yet right?"

The shadow stiffened as I held the knife against his neck, his eyes widening as he realized I recognized him. "Wait, wait!" he cried out, panic clear in his voice. "I'll tell you what you want to know, just don't hurt me!"

Ghost stepped forward, his mask concealing any emotion that might be on his face. "Then start talking. We want to know everything about your organization and your plans."

"If we think you are lying your fellow teammates will feel pain inflicted on them, so I suggest you speak up" I kept my knife right on his neck putting more pressure than before I already saw a little blood dripping from him

The shadow's eyes widened as he felt the knife dig deeper into his skin, a small trickle of blood flowing down his neck. "Okay, okay!" he exclaimed, his voice shaking with fear. "I'll tell you everything I know about our organization! We work for a man called "The Director", he's the one who gives us our orders and pays us for our services."

"This is bullshit" I sighed

" then why don't we even know a single ounce about this group. It should have been on our radar a long time ago!"

I walked to the next guy to him and put my knife behind his ear putting pressure just to scare him

The shadow's eyes darted around nervously, sweat beading on his forehead as he saw the determination in our eyes. "All right, all right!" he said, his voice a higher pitch than before. "I'll tell you everything. The Collective is like a secret society. They operate outside of any government or law enforcement, and they have their fingers in many pies. They're involved in everything from drug trafficking to human smuggling to illegal weapons sales."

"So the artifact was all a lie huh?" I chuckled and looked and price and ghost

"I don't know who made you believe in circus magic but that thing was fake as fuck." I rolled my eyes and continued

Price and Ghost looked at me for a moment, their expressions inscrutable beneath their masks. "We knew the artifact was just a cover-up," Price said quietly. "But now we know who's behind it." He turned his gaze back to the shadow. "Now, tell us who the Director really works for. Who's giving the orders?"

The shadow hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for a way out. "I don't know," he said finally, his voice strained.

"I've never met the Director's superiors before, I swear! They only communicate through heavily encrypted channels, and their identities are always kept secret." 

Ghost and Price exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. "Do you have any idea where to find the Director," Ghost asked, his voice cold and toneless.

The shadow shook his head rapidly. "No, no, I don't know where the Director is," he said quickly. "He's always on the move, never stays in one place for too long." 

Soap stepped forward, his expression hardening. "You better start cooperating, mate," he growled. "Or things are going to start getting painful very quickly."

I laughed "my biggest question is how he hired a bunch of rookies to fight against us, it was evident when we took down half of your team the other day."

The shadow's eyes darkened with anger at my words. "Don't underestimate us," he snarled. "We may not have the same training or experience as you do, but we are still a formidable force to be reckoned with."

Ghost stepped forward, his mask hiding any emotions he might have been feeling. "You may have thought you were ready, but you were still no match for us. Now start talking before something bad happens to you and your teammates."

"Let me make it simple for you lieutenant." I got to another male who had a deep scar on his eye I put my knife on the other eye and made a cut he agonized in pain.

Price, Ghost, and Roach all tensed up at my actions. Ghost stepped forward, his voice firm but calm. "That's enough, Shym. We don't want to stoop to their level."

But I was focused on the shadow, not caring about the blood running down his face. I grabbed his hair and pulled his head up, my eyes locked on his. "Now start talking, or the next cut won't just be a scar."

The shadow looked at me, fear and defiance battling in his eyes. "Okay, okay," he said finally, his voice a pained whisper. "I'll tell you everything I know." 

He took a deep breath and began speaking, telling us about the Director's plans and the organization's structure. As he spoke, the rest of the team listened in silence, absorbing every piece of information. 

Once the shadow had finished speaking, Ghost turned to me, his expression hidden behind his mask. "Good job, Shym."

The shadow looked at me, fear and defiance battling in his eyes. "Okay, okay," he said finally, his voice a pained whisper. "I'll tell you everything I know." 

He took a deep breath and began speaking, telling us about the Director's plans and the organization's structure. As he spoke, the rest of the team listened in silence, absorbing every piece of information. 

Once the shadow had finished speaking, Ghost turned to me, his expression hidden behind his mask. "Good job, Shym."

His words were simple, but they sent a shiver down my spine. I felt something spark inside me at his praise, something I couldn't quite place. I nodded curtly, trying not to show how his praise affected me.

Roach smirked at me, a small spark in his eye as he noticed my reaction. He knew exactly what I was feeling and found it entertaining

The briefing continued, we all gathered around a table discussing the information we had gathered. Roach remained close to me, his playful smirk never leaving his face.

He couldn't resist a teasing remark. "You seem a little flustered, Shym," he murmured with a wink.

"You forgot when you felt so flustered when ghost broke down the door of the toilet when u where dismembering ur bowels because of the spicy food you ate huh" I smirked and tried my best not to laugh  (a ghost task scene which was too funny)

Roach winced at my jab, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. "Oh, har har har," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You don't have to remind me of that every chance you get." 

Price chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, come on, Roach. You know we love to give you a hard time about that."

Roach rolled his eyes, a sheepish smile on his face. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But sometimes I really wish I could go back in time and avoid eating that cursed Seychellian food"

Price slapped Roach on the back, a big grin on his face. "Well, mate, it gave us a good laugh at your expense, so I'd say it was worth it."

The rest of the team laughed, the atmosphere lightening for a moment as we all enjoyed Roach's faux pas. Roach just shook his head, a good-natured chuckle escaping his lips. "I suppose it's all part of the team bonding experience, right?"

"The smell that hit my nose that night wasn't that team bonding nor pleasant" I said

Roach grimaced, a mix of embarrassment and amusement on his face. "Yeah, that was a rough night for all of us," he admitted. "Especially me." 

Ghost, who had been mainly silent up until now, finally spoke up, his voice a dry monotone. "I'm still not sure I've fully regained my sense of smell since that night."

I chuckled "well Riley maybe you shouldn't have broke that door, aren't you a curious man huh"

Ghost stiffened slightly at my comment, his expression hidden beneath the mask. "I was responding to a potential security threat," he replied coolly. "I didn't know Roach had a case of food poisoning at the time.", his expression as unreadable as ever behind his mask.

Roach, on the other hand, snorted a laugh. "You know, I still remember the look on Soap's face when he heard the crash." 

Soap's expression darkened, a grimace on his face. "Don't remind me," he muttered. "I've had nightmares about that smell ever since."

Roach looked at me with mock horror on his face. "Oh, please, not you too. Can't I just forget that ever happened?" 

Soap grinned back at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, no chance, mate. That memory is now etched in our minds forever."

Roach rolled his eyes, a defeated smile on his face. "You all are never going to let me live that down, are you?" 

Price chuckled, slapping Roach on the back once again. "Not a chance, mate. It's just too good a story to forget."

Roach shook his head, a resigned grin on his face. "Well, I suppose I should at least be thankful you all find it so amusing." 

I laughed, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the team. "Don't worry Roach. You may smell bad in there but outside on the field you're my favorite buddy."

"Anyways guys what shall we do tonight?" I looked around the room to find someone who would give some suggestions but it seems like everyone wasn't coming up with an idea.

I smiled mischievously "we can go back to club soleil tonight? You guys need to get some chicks you all look so distressed.." I looked sympathetic at everyone

"Price shouldn't you be married with this age? You aren't getting younger!"

Price chuckled at my remark, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I'm not getting any younger, but sometimes life keeps you on your toes." 

Roach smirked, a sly grin on his face. "Yeah, well, maybe we can find Price a cougar to keep him company tonight. Someone who can keep up with his energy."

"So all 13 of you are with me, or not?" I looked at ghost who wasn't so amused with the idea, ofcourse he wasn't, they found me unconscious there 2 days ago. But it shouldn't keep me from having fu, It was an incident nothing more.

Ghost's gaze locked with mine, his expression unreadable behind his mask as he considered my question. For a moment, he didn't respond, and I couldn't tell if he was going to refuse my invitation. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Fine, I'll go." 

Roach grinned at Ghost's response, a sense of excitement building up inside him. "Well, now we're all in. Let's go have some fun, lads."

"Well one small problem..." I sighed and tried to phrase it as well as I could without making the team refuse our night out "who will watch those bastards we have in custody?"

Roach shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, don't worry, mate. We'll leave that task to Ghost and Soap. They'll keep an eye on them while we're out having fun." 

Ghost and Soap nodded in agreement, exchanging a look that spoke volumes. I could tell they were up for the task, ready to keep our prisoners under control while we enjoyed ourselves for the night.

I grinned and sarcastically said "that is great! atleast now I can sneak someone in here for a good time in my bed tonight!" I winked at roach

Roach's eyes widened at my comment, a surprised chuckle escaping his lips. "Oh, you really are mischievous as hell, Shym." He grinned back at me, a playful glint in his eyes. "Just make sure you don't get caught sneaking someone in. I don't think Ghost would approve."

Price stifled a laugh, a wry smile on his face. "Yeah, Ghost isn't one for romance, especially not when we're on a mission. Keep it low-profile, and maybe he won't find out." 

Ghost remained silent, his expression unreadable behind his mask as he listened to our banter. But the twitch in his shoulders hinted at a silent chuckle. Even he found our conversation amusing, despite his usually serious demeanor.

"That won't be a problem lads, I have my clubbing identity she's called seraphina and loves to dance."

Soap grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Aye, don't worry, I'll keep the prisoners occupied while you two sneak around. Just don't stay in bed all night, or we'll have to search the whole base for you." 

Roach's face flushed slightly at Soap's comment, his cocky smile faltering for a brief moment.

"Alright let's get ready folks we don't have all night." I walked past ghost and went to my room where I would get ready for this evening

Roach followed me, a mischievous grin on his face. "I hope you're not planning anything too crazy tonight, Shym," he teased, "or Ghost might have a few unpleasant words for us tomorrow." 

I chuckled, a feeling of excitement building inside me as I thought about the night ahead. "Don't worry, Roach," I reassured him. "I just want to have some fun and forget about all the... unpleasant things we've been through lately. Maybe a pretty lady or two wouldn't hurt either."

Roach nudged me playfully, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, you're looking for a little adventure on the side, huh? Just remember, don't do anything that'll land you in trouble with Ghost. I don't want to deal with his grumpy attitude tomorrow." 

I laughed at Roach's warning, a smile on my face. "Don't worry, I'll keep it low-key. I wouldn't want to rile up Ghost any more than I already do."

As we reached my room, I opened the door and stepped inside, Roach following behind me. The room was simple but functional but I tried to make it more to my taste, with a bed, a small desk where I did my makeup, and a closet for our gear and daily clothes. I headed towards the closet and started rummaging through my clothes, trying to find something pretty to wear for our night out. 

Roach plopped down on the bed, watching me with a mischievous grin on his face. "You got your eye on someone tonight, Shym?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

I couldn't help but chuckle at Roach's attempt to act casual. "Oh, come on, Roach. You know me better than that," I teased. "I'll just flirt with whoever catches my eye. You know I can't resist a handsome lad."

Roach pretended to swoon with mock-hurt feelings. "Oh, how could you be so treacherous to me, Shym? And here I thought we had something special." 

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in amusement. "You're such a drama queen, Roach. But don't worry, you're still my favorite buddy on this base."

Roach chuckled, his mock-hurt expression shifting back to a mischievous grin. "I knew you couldn't resist my charms," he taunted, leaning back on the bed as he spoke.

"But remember, there's a lot of competition out there tonight. I have no doubt you'll have a flock of hungry males following you around in no time."

"Right, let's hope for the best." I turned around and threw a towel on his face "I suggest you leave because you cannot see a lady get undressed in her own room."

Roach grabbed the towel off his face, a smirk on his lips. "Oh, come on, Shym. Don't be shy. I've seen a lot of ladies with different bodies, and I'm sure this won't be any different."

I rolled my eyes, secretly amused by his teasing. "Gross.. Yeah, well, keep dreaming, Roach. You'll never be that lucky."

Roach feigned disappointment, a theatric expression of hurt on his face. "Oh, I'm wounded. You won't even let me get a glimpse of you undressed?" 

I couldn't help but grin at his over-the-top performance. "That's right. Now, out. I'll see you later at the club."

Roach reluctantly got up from the bed and started heading towards the door. "You're a cruel woman, Shym," he muttered playfully, trying to hide his amusement. 

As he reached the door, he turned back one last time and smirked. "Have fun tonight. And don't get into too much trouble... or do, I won't complain."

I screamed at the door "I will see you tonight! I hope ur charms will atleast get u one girl tonight."

Roach chuckled on the other side of the door, his voice slightly muffled. "Oh, you have no idea. I'll have them all swooning before you even walk through the door." 

I laughed, shaking my head at Roach's confidence. Knowing him, he probably would have a flock of girls around him within minutes. He had that effect on people.

While I was getting ready soap and ghost had another conversation mostly about the night out, me wanting to take a man home and them needing to watch the shadows.

Soap and Ghost sat in the surveillance room, the dim glow of monitors casting a pale light on their faces. They were keeping a watchful eye on the shadows, making sure they didn't attempt anything foolish. 

Soap looked at Ghost, a teasing grin on his face. "So, Ghost, how do you feel about our dear Shym's plans for tonight? Think she'll find a special someone to share her bed with?"

Ghost stared blankly at the camera feed, his eyes fixated on the shadows. "I care little for her personal desires," he responded, his voice monotone.

"Our duty is to watch these shadows and ensure our team's safety. Whatever she does in her personal time is of no concern to me."

Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "You say that now, mate. But I have a feeling your thoughts will take a different path when you see her flirting with a handsome stranger on the dance floor." 

Ghost simply grunted in response, not denying Soap's statement. He knew deep down that he couldn't resist the temptation of observing her interactions with others.

Soap chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Ah, Ghost. Always the stoic one, pretending not to care. But we all know how you really feel. You can't help yourself from wanting her to give you her undivided attention. But maybe, just maybe, tonight she'll find someone who appreciates her company more than you do." 

Ghost's jaw tightened slightly, the only outward sign of his irritation at Soap's words.

Soap noticed the subtle tension in Ghost's jaw and decided to change the subject, sensing that the conversation was veering into uncomfortable territory. He shifted his focus back to the surveillance screens, keeping a watchful eye on the shadows while the gears of his mind quietly processed his observations.

"Well, let's hope tonight turns out to be a good night for everyone," he said, breaking the silence. "We could all use a bit of excitement and distraction from the mundane routine. And maybe, just maybe, some of us might find a little happiness in the process."

Ghost remained silent, his mind swirling with conflicting feelings. He knew Soap's words held more truth than he wanted to admit. He couldn't deny the fact that he had developed complicated feelings for Shym. The thought of her getting intimate with someone else sent a surge of jealousy through him.

Soap shifted the conversation to a new subject "well seems we have a long night ahead of us" he chuckled.

"God, why couldn't we just kill them in that club that night, I could go out and now we are sitting here.."

Ghost scoffed in agreement, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "We were ordered to capture them and extract information, not kill them in a crowded club. " 

Soap shrugged his shoulders slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. "I understand the orders, Ghost. It's just that sometimes, the straightforward solution seems more appealing than all this waiting and watching. But we have our duty, and we must follow it, no matter the circumstances."

Back in shym's room she was getting ready while blasting Sean Paul from her speaker, tonight was going to be better, with foundation she covered the mark she got from the club 2 nights ago and had another very cute dress in her closet this time it was a satin gold dress which she only wore to special occasions

I stood in front of the mirror, assessing my reflection with a critical eye. The foundation concealed the remnants of my accident, and the shimmering gold dress hugged my curves perfectly. I felt confident and sexy, ready to take on the night.

I added the finishing touches to my makeup, applying a coat of mascara and a touch of rosy blush. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement course through me. Tonight was going to be different. Tonight, I was going to let loose and have some fun.

With a final glance in the mirror, I took a deep breath and grabbed my phone, scrolling through my music library for the perfect soundtrack for the night. As the opening notes of a playful and seductive track filled the air, I felt the energy within me rising to the surface. 

Tonight, I was going to dance, flirt, and forget about the worries and responsibilities that had been weighing me down. I deserved to have a night of carefree fun.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror and smiled, my confidence boosted by the vibrant energy that pulsed through me. Feeling unstoppable and ready to dance the night away, I made my way out of the room, shutting the door behind me with a firm click. 

As I sauntered down the dimly lit hallway, my hips swaying to the rhythm of the music in my ears, I felt a sense of liberation. Tonight, I was free to explore the possibilities that the night had in store for me.

The beat of the music grew louder as I entered the common area, my gaze immediately locking onto the faces of Roach, Gaz, and the others. I could feel their eyes on me, taking in the sight of me in my gold dress. 

I strutted towards Roach, a teasing smile on my lips. "Well, well, well, what do you think, Roach?" I asked playfully, doing a little twirl to showcase my dress.

Roach's eyes widened, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he shamelessly checked me out. "You look absolutely stunning, Shym," he complimented, his eyes trailing down my figure with unabashed admiration.

"My face is here roach." I said

Roach's eyes snapped back up to my face, a guilty look on his face. "Right, sorry, love. Can you blame a man for appreciating a beautiful woman?" he replied, his tone dripping with charm.

I rolled my eyes, playfully smacking his arm in mock annoyance. "You're unbelievable, Roach." I couldn't help but smile at his blatant flirting. It was all part of his charm.

And then soap and ghost came from the surveillance room to the common room where they were met with everyone

As Ghost and Soap entered the common room, their eyes widened slightly at the sight of me in my gold dress. I could feel their gazes on me, their silent approval or possible judgment, it was difficult to tell. 

I stood tall, my confidence unwavering, and gave them a flirtatious smile. "Well, boys, how do I look?"

I looked glum at the guys "you know it's so sad you need to stay here. I suggest you guys grab some beer to make the night a little more enjoyable! While we're gone.."

Ghost's eyes remained focused and disciplined, disregarding my efforts to lighten the mood. Soap, on the other hand, considered my suggestion for a brief moment before responding with a smirk. 

"I appreciate the sentiment, Shym," Soap replied. "But we won't be needing any beer to make the night enjoyable. Our focus is on keeping watch of those shadows." 

I nodded, accepting his response. It was no surprise that Ghost didn't offer any reaction to my suggestion. He was all business tonight.

"Alright let's get going everyone!" I screamed trough the common room leaving the room as fast as I could

Everyone  followed close behind me, eager to start the night, and Soap chuckled softly, shaking his head at Roach's enthusiasm. However, Ghost remained stoic, his expression unreadable. I could feel his gaze lingering on me, but I tried not to pay attention, keeping my focus on the night ahead.

We arrived at the club, the thumping music and flashing lights welcoming us with a sense of excitement. Roach immediately joined the crowd and began dancing like a maniac, his carefree energy drawing attention. Soap stood nearby, bobbing his head to the music but keeping an eye on our surroundings.

I looked at gaz while John and the rest of the team went their own ways "care to offer me a drink gazzy?"

Gaz chuckled at my question, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Of course, love. Can't let you have a dull night." 

With a wink, he leaned in closer and whispered, "You look absolutely stunning, by the way. I don't think there's a man here who hasn't checked you out ."

I whispered back "that's the whole point comrade."

Gaz nodded in agreement, a sly smile on his lips. "Well, mission accomplished. You'll definitely have your pick of partners tonight." 

I smirked, feeling the confidence coursing through me. "That's the plan, Gazzy. Let the fun begin."

After 10 minutes gaz had left me to fend for myself as he made his way to the couch where a few of the others where sitting.

I kept myself at the bar for a little while when a guy stood next to me buying a drink he looked at my direction "would you also like a drink?"

I looked up from my phone and smiled at the guy next to me. His confidence and charming demeanor made him seem like a decent choice for a partner for the night.

"Why not? I'd love a drink," I replied, feeling a warm buzz of anticipation. As he ordered two drinks, I took a moment to study his features, finding myself appreciating his appearance.

He slid the drinks over to me and gestured for us to move to a nearby table. I followed his lead and we claimed a cozy spot near the edge of the dance floor. As the pulsating music filled the space around us, he leaned in to speak, his words barely audible over the rhythm.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before," he remarked, his eyes trailing over my figure admiringly.

I sipped my drink and told the man "I'm not from here actually I'm on a business trip."

His eyebrows arched in surprise, adding a captivating allure to his gaze. "A business trip, huh? That's quite intriguing," he replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "What kind of business has brought you here?"

I responded with a vague answer, keeping my true purpose under wraps. "Oh, just some meetings and negotiations," I said, my tone light. "It can be a bit tedious, but it's important for my work." 

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my explanation, and his eyes roamed over my figure once more, a flicker of admiration evident in his gaze

Sensing his interest, I shifted slightly, making sure to accentuate my curves. I knew the way I moved caught his attention and it was just about time to make my move. 

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "So, you like what you see?" I purred, my eyes locked with his. 

The man's breath hitched slightly, a flicker of lust passing through his eyes as he composed himself and replied in a low, rough voice, "I wouldn't be a man if I didn't.."

I smiled and looked him in the eye. "Maybe we should grab another drink?"

He grinned, his eyes never leaving mine. "Sounds like a plan. Same as the last one, love?" he asked, already signaling the bartender.

"Ofcourse, that would be fine." I said

Roach stumbled towards me, two giggling girls hanging onto each arm. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his antics, but the girls looked completely mesmerized by his charismatic charm. Roach was having the time of his life, but I doubted he would remember much of it tomorrow.

"Oh roach.. it seems you got urself not 1 but 2 ladies for tonight, I hope you won't bring them home also I think ghost will feel very grumpy tomorrow."

Roach let out a hearty laugh and grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "What can I say? These ladies can't resist my irresistible charm," he said with a wink. "And don't worry about Ghost. He'll just have to deal with it.." 

The girls around Roach tittered with laughter, clearly finding his bravado charming and enjoyable.

I stood up "well ladies enjoy ur evening with this pest, I will now go to the dance floor" I waved them goodbye and when I stood somewhere in the middle I started swaying on the music

Roach's laughter followed me as I made my way to the dance floor. As soon as I found a spot, I let myself get lost in the music, moving my hips and arms in sync with the rhythm. The club lights flashed and pulsed, creating a dazzling display of colors that made the dance experience even more exciting. 

As I danced, I felt the eyes of the people around me, their gazes drawn to the way my body moved, the way my dress shimmied and spun.

Meanwhile back at the base with ghost and soap when they anticipated going to the club

Ghost and Soap remained vigilant, their attention focused on the surveillance screens in front of them. Ghost's gaze remained steady, never faltering as he monitored the various feeds. However, Soap couldn't help but feel a sense of restlessness, his eyes occasionally wandering to the clock on the wall. 

"How much longer?" Soap asked, his voice laced with impatience.

Ghost's gaze didn't waver from the screens as he replied, his voice steady and cool. "We stay until everything is clear, Soap. No need to rush. The club isn't going anywhere. Our priority is here."

Soap sighed, his impatience evident in the way he shifted in his seat. "I know, I know. But it's still just... a bit boring, y'know? Just sitting here, watching for something that might not even happen." 

Ghost finally glanced over at Soap, his expression stern. "We're not here to have fun, Soap. We're here to do our job, regardless of how boring it may get."

Soap shifted his attention from the screen towards Ghost. "Och, how everyone's enjoyin' their night, and Shym will surely bring someone home. But I cannae imagine anyone else doin' the same. We all ken Roach might manage it too," he exclaimed with a chuckle.

Ghost's brow furrowed at Soap's comment, a hint of irritation in his eyes. "We're not here to worry about who's bringing who home, Soap," he responded gruffly. "Our focus is on the mission, on gathering intel. Everything else is secondary." 

Soap shrugged nonchalantly, a teasing smile on his lips. "Ah, c'mon Ghost. Don't play the grumpy ol' soldier. You should loosen up a bit, maybe even find a pretty lady for yourself."

Soap stood op "c'mon what if we just go for an hour to the club? Nothing bad will happen we tied them down pretty good didn't we?"

Ghost's expression hardened, a mixture of annoyance and frustration in his eyes. "Tied them down good enough?" he echoed. "This isn't some game, Soap. Those shadows are dangerous and cunning. We can't afford any distractions, no matter how small." 

Despite Ghost's firm stance, Soap's enthusiasm was undeterred. He slapped Ghost's shoulder playfully. "Aw, Ghost. Lighten up. One hour won't break the rules, and I bet you need a bit of excitement too."

Ghost's eyes narrowed, the last thing he wanted was to be dragged along to a club by Soap, who was clearly in a reckless and carefree mood. He sighed, reluctantly giving in. 

"Fine," he huffed, his tone laced with irritation. "We'll go for an hour but not a minute more. Understood?"

Back in the club shym was with the man she was drinking with earlier having a blast on the dance floor where they were dancing she was pretty drunk and couldn't think straight until the weight on her back changed and felt someone or something else dancing with her

The weight on her back caught her off guard, and she suddenly felt disoriented. The music and lights continued to pulsate around her, but her focus was entirely on the unexpected presence.

Before she could fully process what was

happening, a voice, low and dark like a whispered promise, rumbled softly by her ear. 

"Leaving yourself vulnerable, love? Not too bright..." His breath was hot against her skin.

Shym's heart raced as she realized who it was. She'd recognize that voice anywhere even in the haze of inebriation. The familiar, rough yet seductive tone of Ghost's voice sent a shiver down her spine.  

She mustered up enough composure to muster a witty response. "Oh, Ghost," she replied, her words slurred slightly. "Finally realized I'm the only entertainment you need tonight?" 

Despite her attempt at nonchalance, her body reacted involuntarily, leaning back into him as they moved to the rhythm.

Ghost's laughter rumbled through his chest, a low, husky sound that sent tremors through her body.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, firmly holding her in his embrace. 

"Quite the opposite, love," he murmured in her ear, his hot breath teasing her skin. "I came to make sure you don're do something that would be... regrettable." 

She could sense the tension in his words, a hint of possessiveness that made her heart race even faster.

My words where slurred and I couldn't think straight, the alcohol was really taking a toll on my mind "s-shouldn't... you be..watching uhh, the camera's in our basement? And why.. do I see Soap right there?" My head fell in his chest trying to find support

Ghost chuckled softly at her drunk stumbling, his grip on her firm and unyielding.

"The base is covered," he responded, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and a hint of something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. "And Soap is there to enjoy the night, just like us." 

He noticed the way her head lolled against his chest, her body seeking his support. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her even closer.

"You know lieutenant" she looked at his skull mask, it never came off and she didn't question it. "This isn't..like you?" I muttered

Ghost's grip tightened as she mentioned his usual demeanor. "Perhaps not, love," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy.

"But sometimes even soldiers need to take a break." 

His fingers grazed gently over her arms, a tender gesture in the midst of their dancing. He seemed distant yet close, lost in his own thoughts as they swayed to the music's rhythm.

"I need to find the person I was just dancing with... me and roach made a deal to take someone to the base tonight.." I walked towards the bar to find the person I was eyeing but instead took another drink.

Ghost's eyes followed her as she stumbled towards the bar, concern flickering in them. As she reached for another drink, he stepped in, gently taking the glass from her hand. "Perhaps it's time to cut back on the alcohol, love," he suggested, his voice low and tinged with worry.

"Then let me.. find the man I was just with." I looked around the room but i couldn't find him I sighed

"you know I made a pact with roach for the night, which I think the other guys are also following somehow to bring a hottie back to our base, and I will not leave before I got my gift wrapped and ready to unpack at home.."

Ghost's lips curled into a smirk beneath his skull mask, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Ah, the pact," he said, his voice tinged with teasing indulgence. "It seems like a grand mission, indeed. But I assure you, love, you have no need to worry." 

As she searched for her previous partner, Ghost discreetly took in the scene around them, his observant gaze sweeping the club.

Meanwhile, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd - Roach, stillaccompanied by two giggling ladies. He spotted Ghost and me together and approached with a mischievous grin. "Well, look who finally came out to play," Roach teased, his voice filled with mischief. 

Ghost nodded subtly in acknowledgment, his eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. "Seems like we're all indulging in some entertainment tonight," Ghost replied, gesturing towards the women on Roach's arms.

Roach nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yeah, got myself a couple of lovely ladies too. Can't complain." He turned his focus to me, a devious glint lighting up his gaze. "Ah, there you are, my special lady. Have you found your partner for tonight?"

I looked at the floor I felt like I was spinning "ghost scared him off so now he's the one I'm going for tonight.."

my eyes sparkled and looked at roach "as my last resort.." I grabbed his hand and told him and his girls to help me find someone, ghost as always looked irritated deep down he wanted to make sure he was going to be his last resort

Roach's mischievous grin widened, sensing the underlying tension between me and Ghost. He took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Don't worry love, we'll find you a new handsome man for tonight," he assured, his voice full of determination. 

Ghost's eyes darkened, his fists clenching slightly. As Roach and I weaved our way through the crowd, he felt a mixture of frustration and an inexplicable possessiveness stirring within him.

As Roach chatted up potential candidates, I couldn't help but glance back over at Ghost. His eyes remained fixed on me, his jaw clenched just slightly. There was something more behind those eyes, an unmistakable flicker of jealousy that he tried so hard to mask.

And then I realized, deep down I wanted to make him jealous, deep down I felt something and I knew he did too but he could only be nothing more than my upper rank, someone I could only command to. It wasn't professional at all what we where doing

Roach, ever the observant one, noticed the shift in my demeanor as I glanced back at Ghost. He leaned in, a devious smirk on his face, and whispered, "Ah, I see how it is. You're enjoying this little game, aren't you? Trying to get a rise out of our Lieutenant?"

I chuckled, "it's time I will go outside for a smoke, when I come back I want a guy next to me, I am not losing this bet."

Roach nodded, his wicked grin widening. "Consider it done, darling. I'll make sure you have a tall, dark, and handsome specimen waiting for you when you return." As I stepped outside, Roach discreetly approached Ghost, a playful glint in his eyes.

Somehow being apart of the military made me stressed, and my only resort to become more calm was marijuana I don't do it as often as I did back in the days but right now I felt the urge. Somehow I still had one hidden in my bag and lit it up. That was a bad idea, the effects hit me almost instantly making me feel clouded, and not thinking straight anymore. I ran back inside to see roach. Everything felt disorted though, but I made sure no one noticed my shift in emotion.

Roach's eyes widened as I returned, a hazy grin replacing his earlier smirk. "Well well, someone looks like they're feeling a little... relaxed," he commented, his teasing laced with genuine interest. 

My eyes dilated ever so slightly, my muscles felt a bit looser, and my expression held a hint of giddiness. Roach noticed the change and couldn't resist the urge to egg me on.

I shut him down "quiet, I want to see the random specimen you brought me."

Roach chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Alright, love, your wish is my command." He led me through the throngs of people toward a secluded corner where a tall, dark- man stood in the dark, leaning against the wall.

Roach whispered in my ear, "A beautiful man, isn't he? I promised to deliver, and I never disappoint." His words were tinged with a hint of pride, and he waited for my reaction. 

I observed the mysterious man with a clouded, hazy mind. My eyes roamed over his form, taking in his tall stature and dark features. He was undoubtedly attractive, with a rugged edge that intrigued me in my altered state.

The thing I didn't know it was ghost.

Roach stepped back, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he gestured towards the mysterious man waiting in the dark corner. "There you go, love. A tall, dark, and handsome specimen, just as you requested." He watched me closely, curious to see how I would react. 

My eyes widened slightly,

and I licked my lips, feeling a heat rise within me as I took in his form. Something about the way he leaned against the wall, his dark features blending into the shadows, called to me, drawing me closer.

Despite my clouded mind, I managed to maintain some semblance of composure, but the alcohol and the drugs I did made me feel bold, almost reckless. Taking a deep breath, I approached him with a slow, seductive stride, my steps almost melodic.  

His eyes met mine from under the shadows, and for a split second, a flicker of recognition ignited within them.

[thelavendersquid]

Weak Spots

Tickletober Day 4

Essek denies having any weak spots. It doesn't take long to determine that is a lie.

Fandom: Critical Role (The Mighty Nein)

Words: 1.5K

AO3 Link

“So,” Fjord begins, once the little group is settled into the comforts of the dome somewhere deep inside Aeor. Essek is left pondering their comfort in such tight quarters. It’s stressing him out.

Fjord goes on. “We’re probably going to be fighting Lucien in the next day or two and I think we need to get prepared. I know our plans usually go to shit at the last minute but we should at least try. Let’s start with what we’ve got - strengths, weaknesses, put it all out there. I don’t want him to find anything he can use against us that we aren’t prepared for.”

Essek starts to zone out, tuning out the rest of this conversation. They’ll have to forgive him - he really doesn’t need to listen to a list of weaknesses and potential solutions. He’s already accepted his fate. He leans back against one side of the dome, staring off into space and letting his mind drift to the dunamis the group discovered earlier, running through what it could possibly mean.

He’s snapped back to the present when the conversation suddenly shifts to him. “Essek? What about you?”

Essek blinks quickly and pushes himself up a bit straighter, turning to look at the others. “I'm sorry, what was that?”

“I was just asking if you have any strengths, weaknesses, anything we could use against Lucien or he could exploit against us?” Fjord raises an eyebrow at him.

Essek shakes his head. “No particular strengths you haven’t already seen, I’m afraid.”

“What about weaknesses?”

Essek pulls his cloak around himself like a blanket and shakes his head again. “Only that I am like Caleb, a bit - ah, what did you call it? ‘Squishy’.”

“Wizards,” Fjord agrees with a wry nod. He turns back to the others. Essek leans back against the dome wall again, relieved that the conversation seems to have moved on from him.

Beau pipes up from a few feet away across the dome. “Any specific squishy weak spots? Caleb has several.” She shoots both Essek and Caleb a smirk.

Essek blinks in surprise but shakes his head. “Not in particular.”

It’s at this moment that Essek feels something against his sock. He flinches away sharply with a muffled yelp - and looks down expecting to find an insect crawling on him. Instead he finds Veth, crouched and grinning up at him - and holding one of her feathers mere inches away from his foot.

The energy in the dome shifts in a split second. Essek can feel it and is not comforted by doing so. He doesn’t have to look up to be acutely aware that everyone is grinning at him. The sudden sense of mischief is palatable, and Essek can’t imagine how he’s going to get out of this one.

“What was that, Essek?” Veth asks. She’s still grinning up at him with a downright evil look.

“Nothing,” Essek says quickly. He starts pulling his foot away, going to tuck them both underneath his robe. “I-“

He’s cut off as Veth, with lightning-quick reflexes, grabs his foot before he can successfully hide it and flutters the feather over it again. Essek yelps again - louder this time, causing a flush to leap to his cheeks - and his ears flick as a spasm runs up his leg and throughout his whole body.

Jester squeals and claps her hands in delight. She is suddenly very close, Essek realizes - it is not a comforting realization.

“Es-sek! Are you ticklish?!”

Essek opens his mouth to respond. He doesn’t get a chance before Jester grabs his other foot (how did that happen, he thought he’d pulled that one underneath his cloak already) and spiders her claws against the heel. And Essek yelps his loudest yet and slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle any more noise - as well as the grin that’s forcing its way onto his face. He leans back against the side of the dome, as far away as he can get, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jester laughs at him and it’s almost enough to make him break and let out the giggles that are threatening to spill over. Instead he squeezes his eyes shut even tighter and shakes his head frantically.

Jester giggles at that. “I think you are!” She sets to work scratching against his heel again.

Before he can even begin to adjust to that, Essek feels a second set of fingers grab his other foot - Veth, who has given up on the feather it seems. “You know what this looks like to me?” Veth asks, grinning brightly and holding up his foot. “A weak spot.” She punctuates this with a sudden scribbling across the sole of his foot.

And Essek can’t hold back - he bursts into giggles, muffled against the palm of his hand. His ears are twitching frantically and he shakes his head side to side, kicking his feet in a desperate attempt to break free.

He hears the others start laughing too. His face flushes white-hot.

There’s shuffling and then another set of hands grabs his foot. Beauregard’s voice breaks through Essek’s giggles. “Here, I’ll hold his foot so he can’t get away.” And then, sure enough, he can’t move his foot even an inch - and Jester, with a delighted giggle, sets to work scribbling and scratching and working her way up towards his toes.

Essek’s brain short-circuits. His hand flies away from his face as his body jackknives and he attempts to frantically bat Jester’s hands away. To no avail - and he dissolves into laughter. “NOHOHOHOHO NOHAHAHAHA NOT THERE!” He falls back against the dome again, laughing.

Essek doesn’t notice the others moving in closer, but he does notice when his other foot suddenly becomes just as immobile as the first. His eyes blink open just long enough to see Yasha, smiling at him as she holds fast to his foot, while Veth pokes one finger under his toes and scribbles others over the top of his foot - and why does that tickle so much?! Essek yelps again and attempts to yank his feet free - but Beau and Yasha hold firm and he gets nowhere. Instead he collapses back against the wall, turning to bury his face in his arm and resigning himself to laughter.

Veth’s grin is clear in her voice. “Wow, Essek, you’d better hope Lucien doesn’t find out about this! We would be screwed!” Essek could never hope to respond, laughing himself silly as he is.

There’s a sudden feeling against one of Essek’s ears - which have been twitching frantically as he laughs - and Essek spasms so hard he almost pulls out of Beau and Yasha’s hold. Almost - they quickly grab him again and hold on tighter. Caleb, who is now sitting right next to Essek’s head (Essek realizes he’s slid almost all the way to the floor - that’s unfortunate), runs another finger over the elf’s ear, wiggling it ever-so-gently. Essek cackles.

Caleb laughs and tries it again, and Essek feels as if he’s going to shiver out of his own skin. He shudders, twisting frantically away from Caleb’s evil, evil fingers and slapping at the ground. He's laughing harder than he ever thought possible.

Fjord laughs from somewhere to Essek’s left. “Two weak spots? Man, Thelyss, how do you function?”

“SHHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHHUHUP!” Essek’s retort carries no malice, he can barely get the words out through his laughter. Fjord laughs along with him.

There’s another shuffling sound and a warm, fuzzy hand flutters against Essek’s other ear. Light above, they’re going to actually kill him. Caduceus’ slightly fuzzy fingers are even more ticklish, if that were possibly. Essek’s laughter kicks up another octave. He spasms again, leaning forward and hands suddenly flailing desperately in attempt to push someone, any of them away - but he can’t coordinate himself enough to even began to manage that. He collapses back into laughter and falls over onto Caleb, burying his face in his shoulder as he shakes apart with laughter.

Caleb smiles and brings a hand up to wrap around Essek’s shoulders and pull him closer. This means, mercifully, that Caleb’s hand is no longer scratching against his ear. Less mercifully, Caleb brings his other hand into play - slipping it underneath Essek’s cloak to wiggle against his ribs. Essek yelps again and slaps a hand against his back involuntarily. He feels more than hears Caleb’s chuckles along with him.

Fjord slides in next to Caleb and joins in, hands sliding underneath Essek’s coat and tickling. Essek feels sure his face is going to split open with how wide he’s beaming and his whole body is sure to explode into a million pieces from laughter.

Nevertheless, it’s nice. He had forgotten what this felt like, the warm feeling of laughing and being held close and tickled apart. Never in a million years would he have thought he’d find himself enjoying it with friends - but here he is. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised, life has certainly handed him stranger surprises in the last few months.

Jester’s fingers are under his toes again. Caduceus is scribbling behind his ear in a way that makes him want to scream. Veth, Fjord and Caleb are methodically taking him apart. Beau and Yasha are joining in the fun, fingers spidering over his feet and legs, squeezing at his knees. They’re all laughing at him. And all Essek can do is laugh and laugh and laugh.

Perhaps having weak spots isn't so bad.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Just a cute little thing about Robin, Steve, and Eddie getting high and having a nice time. And hints at future Steddie. 💛 The conversation in this is nearly verbatim a conversation that me and @friendly-jester had not an hour or so ago, and they suggested we sounded like Robin and Eddie getting high.. and i had to agree... So ... take that as you will 🤣 ( thanks for the inspiration love!!! 💚)

"They just make me uncomfortable." Eddie says, taking a long drag from the blunt pinched between his fingers before passing it back to Robin.

"Oh I get that. For sure." She nods sagely, hair shaking, before taking a long drag herself. She passes it to Steve, his eyes are foggy, but he takes it, takes a drag, passes it back to Eddie and let's his head fall back against the couch.

"Did you know they lure people into swamps and drown them?" Eddie supplies, stretching his legs out in front of him on the floor. They make a wide V, one leg resting between Robin's own, spread just the same.

"Kangaroos!?" Robin gasps, staring at Eddie. Blinking rapidly.

"Yes!!" Eddie nods aggressive, his hair shaking wildly.

"Demons." Robin says, stoic.

"I always knew it." She shakes her head, takes another drag, tries to hand it to Steve, he doesn't respond, his eyes are squinted, he's staring at the wall. She bumps his knee with her hand, he eventually waves her away, so she passes it back to Eddie.

"They pretend to be stuck and when people go to help them. They shove them underwater! They are evil beings!" Eddie continues, takes the last drag and stubs the tiny end out in the ashtray, next to their last one.

"I bet it's a defense mechanism." Robin says, blinking rapidly again, her head resting on Steve's knee before rolling to rest against the couch.

"Drowning people!?" Eddie says, incredulous.

"I bet it is!!" Robin says, lifting her head to look at him. Eyes bloodshot and darting around the room before coming back to Eddie again and again.

"Jesus christ. They're evil. Creepy, little handed, fucks." Eddie breathes, shaking his head. He scratches at his head for a second.

"I do like Wallabies though. I think that's what they are. Like, tiny Kangaroos that just stay small." Eddie says, making a little motion with his hands, indicating how they are in fact small. His hand hovering a few feet off the ground. Robin's head is nodding slowly, like she'd started nodding to agree but then just... kept nodding.

"Yes! The small Kangaroos that animated ones are based off of! Those are Wallabies... I think. Not 100% sure on that though." She shakes her head, looks up at Steve and smiles, he's staring at the wall, before looking back to Eddie, a sad look on her face. He frowns to match her as she says,

"I was so heartbroken when I found out how terrifying actual Kangaroos are." Her voice is quiet. Eddie bumps his leg into hers and then reaches over, curls his hand around her ankle in comfort.

"They're horrific. Like..." he takes a deep breathe, gathering his thoughts as they seem to float away from him.

"Like, solid muscle bouncing around. With a weapon at the back and the bottom. AND THEY DROWN PEOPLE WITH THEIR TINY..." his yell, that has made all three of them flinch, trails off, his thoughts stalling.

"Their... um... shit. What are they?" He raises his hands, Robin looks at him, eyes wide, and he makes a grabbing motion with both hands.

"Boobs!" She shouts, pointing at him and snapping her fingers. Steve snorts but doesn't take his eyes off the wall, his hand reaching out toward it now.

"Hehe! Wait what? No! No! This!" And shakes one hand in the air, using the other to point at it.

"Oh! Oh! HANDS!" Her own hands splayed wide in front of her, flailing in excitement.

"HANDS!" Eddie yells back, pounding his hand against the carpet between his legs, nodding as he points at Robin.

"HANDS! THEY HAVE EVIL TINY HANDS FOR THEIR EVIL DEEDS!" Eddie shouts. Robin nodding enthusiastically across from him, patting at his knee.

"They're TERRIBLE. JUST THE WORST!!!" She cries, falling back against the couch dramatically, the motion doesn't even draw Steve's attention. He's sitting very still on the couch, his finger moving over and over a small scratch in the paint on the wall of the trailer.

"Steve." Eddie says. No response. Robin cranes her neck and looks up at him.

"Steve." Nothing.

"Steve." Eddie narrows his eyes.

"Steve." Robin looks to Eddie and smirks.

"Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve!" Both of them calling his name over and over seems to do the trick. He drops his hand slowly and lets his head fall to the side so he can see them both.

"Mmm? What?" The little grumpy groan makes Eddie smile, his chest feeling warm and full.

"What are your opinions on Kangaroos?" Eddie asks, leaning foward impossibly far, his elbows hitting the carpet as he rests his chin in his hand, looking up at Steve. Steve smiles at him for a moment, slow, and sweet, and hazy. Then a frown crawls onto his face and he moves his eyes to Robin, then back to Eddie.

"What... what the fucks a Kangaroo?" He breathes, sounding confused and slightly concerned. Eddie's eyes widen, he looks at Robin, her eyes are wide open as well, and when they meet Eddie's it's all over.

Robin laughs until she snorts, and then just laughs harder. Eddie's laughs have gone silent, his face red as he slaps his hand against the carpet. Steve's on the couch, a small, satisfied smile on his face.

His friends are here. Laughing. Because of something funny he said. He doesn't remember what he said. Or what they'd been talking about. But he watches Robin and Eddie laugh and laugh and feels lighter than he has in years.

He slides down until his butt hits the floor, both of them reaching for him as they laugh, like they're trying to pull him into the laughter too. Eddie's hand is warm on his knee, his eyes bright as he smiles at Steve, laughter echoing through the trailer, beckoning Steve to laugh with him.

Steve grabs Eddie's hand, tangles their fingers, almost says something too much for the moment, but Robin snorts again and sets Eddie off, his eyes linger on Steve for the briefest moment before Steve lets himself be pulled in.

He lets laughter bubble up in his chest and fall past his lips as Robin and Eddie cling to him, and he clings to them, and their joy fills Eddie's trailer on a random Saturday night.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Part:2

Pairings: priest!eddie x fem!reader

Warning: priest kink oral( female receiving) unprotected sex.

Summary: porn with no plot. Father Eddie wants you to pay him a visit to his motel room.

Not proof read once again

18+ no minors allowed.

Tuesday's came and went with Father Eddie coming over to your house offering his services. He didn't touch you or barely even speak. Once he was done reading his passage that you missed on Sundays, then he left. He never stayed long no matter how much you tried to strike up a conversation.

You didn't expect him to touch you or kiss that way again. He just seemed so interesting and you desperately wanted a friend in this town. Thinking maybe he regretted what you and him did almost a month ago. That has to be why he's practically avoiding you. The temptation was too strong, or he just genuinely didn't like you.

Making your way to lock up for the night you notice a taped to your door. Opening the note you began to read it noticing who it's from.

Meet me at Motel 8 on Monday around 9:00 pm outside of town room 25,and wear those cute white stockings.

- Eddie

Clucthing the note to your chest, you race to your room to make an overnight bag. You got two days to prepare for this and it couldn't come and quicker. You think back to that day where he had you on the couch with his fingers buried deep inside of you. You craved his touch ever since that day, hoping he would cave and make you his dirty little secret.

After getting your bag ready for that night, you try your best to sleep. Tossing and turning all night of fantasies about what he was gonna do to you. That's when the nerves start to kick in. You barely know him, and now you're preparing to meet him at some dingy motel room. Would he hurt you? Would anyone ever find your body if he did? You push thoughts away if he wanted to he would have. He's had plenty of opportunities to do so and never has laid a hand on that wasn't gently and soft.

2 days later,

Today was the day you were going to meet Eddie at the motel. Your stomach had been doing flips all day long. You were nervous and excited to finally see him. Going home, you take a long shower putting on all of your sweet smelling products that you hope he would like.

Eddie told you to wear those stockings he likes, so that's what you did. You paired them with a short pleated skirt and cropped sweater. Heading to your car, you put the overnight bag in the passenger seat and head out.

Once you arrive, you notice Eddie's car is already there. He's parked right in front of the room he told you to meet him at. Knowing he was already in there made your heart race.

Hesitantly, you get out of the car, heading for the door to knock. Before your hand can even connect, it swings open, revealing a very different looking Eddie than you're used to. His shoulder-length hair is down, and he's wearing a leather jacket with a cigarette in his mouth. Looking at him now, you would never have guessed this man was preaching sermons early Sunday morning. He eyes you up and down, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Well, look who came to visit. I didn't think you were actually going to show up." He said with a sly smirk.

He jesters for you to come in, and that's when you notice his priest uniform hanging up on the back of his closet door. Closing the door behind you, you start to take in your surroundings. Eddie, standing behind you, he takes the bag off your shoulder. He tosses it Iightly on the chair by the window.

He puts his cigarette out and notices you haven't moved since he invited you in. Eddie goes to stand behind you, putting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist and begins kissing your neck. He starts playing with the hem of your skirt before toying with the stockings he wanted you to wear.

"Why don't you go get comfortable on the bed for me, darling?" He said, biting and licking your ear.

You go to move and sit at the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers in your lap. He since your nerves and goes to offer you a drink. Shaking your head and scrunching up your nose.

"No, thank you. I don't like beer," you tell him.

"So polite and innocent." Eddie commented," Instead offering you a Dr. Pepper. He goes to sit next to you and playfully nudges your shoulder with his. You look over to him, and he gives you a soft smile. The same smile he gave you when he first came over to your home. This time, you speak up first quickly, looking away from him.

"You look different than how I'm used to seeing you" taking a sip of your soda.

He laughs lightly and agrees with you, and that's when he gives you a brief background story of his. You're looking at him as he talks, but you can only focus on his mouth. His lips are full and pink. That's when you remember what his cock looked like as he jerked it above your mouth. He notices you're no longer paying attention to his words anymore.

"Hello, are you listening to me, darlin?" He snaps his fingers.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I got distracted." You shyly tell him.

That's when he moves to stand above you, taking his jacket off.

"What's on the pretty mind of your honey?" You thinking about what I'm gonna do to you tonight, hmm?" He said, moving to take the belt out of his jeans.

Looking up at him all could do is nod in agreement. He gets on his knees in front of you and rubs his hands up your thighs. He's inching higher and higher until he hooks both of his thumbs on the waistband of your panties. He starts to pull them down gently until they hang around your ankles. He puts them in his back pocket.

"Spread your legs wide for me. I want to see you" he says

Spreading your legs as wide as they can go, he puts his lifts your skirt up and hums as the sight before him. He licks his tumb and goes to rub press down and rub your clit. Throwing your head, you fall back on your elbows.

He grabs your ass and throws your legs over his shoulders while he's still kneeling in front of you. He spits on your clit before diving in and sucking on it lightly. He swirls his tongue and sucks again. Bringing one of hands away from your has and uses his two fingers to spread your lips wider for him. He's flicking and sucks harder at your clit. You fall back completely on the bed and palm at your breast through your sweater. He moans in your pussy and grab his hair to pull closer to you.

"I'm close, Eddie. I'm so close please make me come. You say breathlessly, holding back a moan.

You squeeze your thighs tighter and moves so one of your legs is still hooked over his shoulder while he's pinning the leg open and flat on the bed. You're grinding up into his face, moaning his name and begging for release.

"That's it, baby grind on my face until you come."

Your legs are shaking, and you come so hard your vision becomes blurry with white spots dance around your eyes. With a loud pop, Eddie releases your clit from his mouth grunting as he did. He crawls up the bed next to you and lightly tapping your face.

"Hey you still with me" He asks while rubbing your bottom lip with his tongue.

Nodding your head, yes, that wasn't good enough for him. "Words, honey, I need words." He told you. "Im here, thank-you Father" he laughed at that. "Good girl."

Moving, he pulls your shirt and takes your bra off. You move your arms over chest instinctively, and he gently pulls them away, telling you not to hide from him.

"You're so beautiful darlin there is no need to hide from me." He looks down at you with a smile.

He made you feel safe strangely and felt no judgment from him. He stands up off the bad and takes his clothes off. Leaving him naked and his hard cock free. He lays back down on the bed and pats his thighs, signaling for you to straddle him. You got to move and take your skirt off, but he stops you and says to keep it on. You to go to straddle him and slip his cock inside you but he stops you.

'Wait, have you done this part before?" He didn't seem upset just concerned.

"I have, but it was only with one boy, and he wasn't as big as you." You say hanging your head in shake.

He hooks his finger under your chin and kisses you. "That's okay. You'll just have to get used to me, but it'll feel good, I promise."

Move again to straddle him he grabs his cock to help you sit on it. Slowly, you sink down, and both of you throw your head back and groan. Once you're fully seated on him, you try to move, but he holds you in place by your hips. Letting you adjust to him and keeping him from cuming inside you so soon he stills your movements.

He nods his head and taps your hip telling you to fuck yourself on his cock. Slowly, you grind back and forth on him. Achingly too slow for Eddie, but he lets you into your groove. Once you find it, you start bouncing up and down his thick cock. Your tits are bouncing he goes to grap them and tweak your nipples. He moves his hand and slaps your ass telling you to fuck him faster.

"Princes use your hands to lift your skirt up. I wanna watch as you bounce on me".

Biting your bottom lip you move your hands from his chest and hold your skirt up to show him your puss sliding up and down his cock. He grabs your thighs helping you get more leverage as you fuck him.

"Ooh father, I'm so close," you moan out.

He slaps your ass and tells you to keep your skirt lifted he wants to watch you come around him. Shifting slightly so you're now in a squatting position, you start to bounce on him even faster than you were. Eddie eyes roll to the back of his head, and drool begins to leak down his chin.

"Fuck ride me princess, that's a good fucking girl...oh my god. He babbled on

He starts thrusting up into you, making you cry out every time he hits your cervix. You're so close to coming, and Eddie can feel you clenching around him. He takes his finger and plays with you clit as your still bouncing up and down on him.

You're so cock drunk you don't even care how you look. He starts rubbing it faster and you come hard again around his cock. He moans out loudly when you clench down on him. Falling over, you lay your head on his chest and takes this opportunity to trap you underneath him.

He repositioned himself so he's straddle your waist. He begins to start jerking himself off above you. Rubbing himself up and down faster until hes spilling hot ropes of cum all over your chest. You sit up slightly and lick his tip cleaning up and left over cum he had. He jumps at the feeling and smiles down at you.

Falling over beside you, he grabs a tissue from his bedside table to clean you off. He pulls you close and kisses the side of your mouth. You go to speak but are too tired to form any coherent sentence.

"I know, sweetheart, just get some rest, and we'll talk later." He moves to cover you with his blanket.

"I think we both have some confessing to do," He said before turning the light out and falling asleep next to you.

@ceriseheaven 😘

[wild-karrde]

Part 3: The Jester

Series Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: Soooo uhhh... here's Part 3, featuring my favorite boy Chuckles. If you're new, Chuckles has his own fic, One Step at a Time, but I figured it was time he gets some *ahem* love. If you know what I mean. THANK YOU to @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me and screaming with me about the boys. There is absolutely going to be a Part 4, and it will be longer.

Pairings: OC Crater x f!Reader, OC Chuckles x f!Reader, mentioned Gregor x f!Reader

Fic Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE)

Warnings: language, fingering, PiV sex, anal play, mention of cum eating, marking, sex toy use, mention of foursome (in case you were wondering what Part 4 might entail)

Word Count: 6.5k words

Weeks pass with you and Crater continuing to meet in secret. He already reads you so easily, knowing what you need and when you need it with a shared glance or a subtle touch. There are nights he practically peels you apart until you’re laid bare for him, shuddering in the aftermath of however many orgasms he deemed necessary, but there are also nights where you don’t have sex at all, just enjoying one another’s company like you always have. 

Tonight seems as though it’ll be the latter. It’s been a hard week with too many fighters going out and too few returning. Crater’s even lost a few brothers, and yet, somehow, he decided you were the one that needed consoling, showing up late in the evening with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Now, you sit perched on your desk with him in your rickety chair, the two of you a respectable distance apart as you sip the amber liquid in your glasses. Some of his men are still milling around in the hangar outside of your office, and you wonder if it’s to avoid going back to barracks that will be emptier than they were a week ago. You spy Strike, Chuckles, Guin, and even the medics Sticks and Stones speaking quietly to each other. Chuckles catches your eye for a moment before turning and speaking to one of the droids working on his fighter. His words don’t carry to you, but you can see how tired he looks. Grief is a part of the job, but it takes a toll regardless.

Crater’s quiet, his eyes more distant than usual. You suspect he’s doing the same thing as his brothers, biding his time until he’ll be too tired to count the empty bunks and think of their previous occupants. He’s lost fewer men than most, but you know each one weighs heavily on him. 

“Rough week,” you murmur, staring into your glass. Not a strong start to a conversation, but you hope it’ll open the door for your friend if he needs it. 

“Heard special ops might be back on Coruscant soon,” he notes, purposefully ignoring your statement as he swirls his whiskey. You take the hint, adjusting accordingly.

“Oh?”

“Gregor commed last night. Asking to meet up at 79s when he gets back. Couldn’t give an exact timeframe other than ‘soon’. Sounds like things haven’t gone great for him either the last little bit.” 

You hum under your breath. In the chaos of the last week, you’ve hardly thought of the commando. A small pang of guilt settles into your stomach. You still wouldn’t say you like him, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him. You’re glad to hear he’s safe. 

Crater’s studying you, and you meet his gaze. 

“What?”

“He asked how you were.”

Your entire body suddenly feels warmer, and you take a sip of your drink to try and hide it, even though you know that won’t work with Crater. 

“You gonna see him?” he asks.

You shrug. “Dunno.”

“I won’t be jealous.”

You smirk into your glass. “Wasn’t particularly worried about that.” 

Crater taps his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You given any thought to what I mentioned a while back? With him and Chuckles?” 

A jolt of electricity licks up your spine as the memory takes hold of you. You laying on your bed with Crater’s cock buried deep in your ass while he fucks you into your mattress, sweat slicking your skin as he whispers filth in your ear. 

“I bet you’d love to have Gregor’s cock in here too. Maybe he takes your sweet little cunt while I pound your ass. But that still leaves your mouth. Maybe I get Chuckles in here to fuck that smart little mouth while Gregor and I take you. Would you like that, pretty girl? To be ruined by three men at once?”

Yeah, you’ve given that plenty of thought. 

You shift as your cunt clenches around nothing, and Crater huffs before taking another drink. 

“You want me to talk to him and Chuck?”

You catch your lip between your teeth. “If you did, I’d want the rules to be the same as they are with us. And we’d need to be careful.”

“Of course.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lowering his voice. “I’d already planned on making the ground rules clear if you wanted me to approach them. They’ll know the limits and boundaries. The big thing I need to know from you is what you are looking to get out of it. How you’d want it to go.” 

You allow your gaze to drift back out to where Chuckles is standing with his brothers. 

There’s always been something between you and Chuck, although neither of you have ever made a move to explore it more. You’ve often found yourself snuggling into his side at 79s, even sitting on his lap a few nights, his hand settling protectively on your lower back as the two of you cackle uproariously at whatever antics are taking place around you. But you’d never thought there was anything more to chase after. Especially not after some of the fights you’ve had. And he’s never approached you, not like Gregor or Crater have, so you’ve always assumed there isn’t much interest on his part. But still, you know you trust him. And if you’re honest, before Crater came along, when you were alone in your bunk at night with your fingers buried in your cunt, it was a different member of the 28th who you cried out to as you came undone. 

Crater’s staring at you, waiting for your response, and the corner of his mouth twitches, as if he can read your mind. You stutter out a response, hoping to distract him and derail your thoughts of Chuckles.

“I’d want… I’d want it to be something to blow off steam. I’m not really looking to be romanced or anything.”

“You never are.” 

You huff indignantly and toss a wadded up piece of flimsi at him. He catches it, eyes boring into you. You haven’t said exactly what you desire, and he knows it. His voice is a low rasp, and you feel your face heat even though you are certain no one outside of the office can hear him. 

“Ask for what you want, pretty girl.”

“I-I want it to be rough. I want the three of you to use me. I’d want to feel it the next day. I want to get out of my head, and help you all do that as well.”

Crater watches you for another moment before leaning back in the chair. “I think we can manage that. I’ll talk to them both when Gregor is planetside. If that’s what you want.”

It’s his last check for your confirmation, ensuring you’re really all in on this. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “It is.” 

He nods. “Good. Now, what do you need tonight?” 

You’re taken aback. You didn’t think he’d be up for anything right now, and you certainly weren’t about to ask, but his posture has shifted to something less rigid. His legs are splayed a little wider, and he seems more relaxed, and now you find yourself wondering if this isn’t just for your benefit. He’s relaxed with you, and maybe you can finally help him for once, taking him out of his head in the same way he does to you. You don’t want him thinking about empty bunks or burning fighters. 

You hop off the desk, standing over him until you have one of his thighs straddled between your knees. 

“I need you to take what you want from me, Crater. And then I need you to sleep here with me.” 

He knows what you’re doing, and you think he’s going to push back on the second half of your request for a moment. Instead, he tosses back the rest of his whiskey without breaking eye contact, letting one hand drift to your thigh, gripping you firmly and rubbing circles with his thumb against the fabric of your jumpsuit. 

“Alright. Close the door then.” 

You step away from him and head towards the entrance to your office. You can see the hangar has mostly emptied now, with the final few stragglers heading for the exit. Chuckles is among them, the last one out. As you go to shut your door, he turns back and meets your eyes. You can see his gaze flick to Crater, still in your office, before it moves back to meet your face. There’s something in those familiar brown irises that you can’t identify, and you briefly consider calling out to him. But before you can make up your mind, he puts on his helmet and leaves. 

Something in your stomach twinges, but you ignore it. 

You shut the door.

—

A few rotations later, you’re in your office when there’s a soft knock at the door. 

“Come in.”

Crater enters, helmet still on. 

“You busy?” 

“No more than usual,” you reply without looking up from the datapad you’re punching away on.

He doesn’t remove his helmet. “Color?” His voice is lower in the modulator, almost as if he’s whispering. 

You inhale sharply, finally looking up at him. His head is tilted to the side, evaluating you. He’s never come to you in the middle of the day before. And you suddenly realize why he’s probably here.

“Green,” you breathe.

He closes and locks the door, and without another word, he goes to your makeshift bedroom, returning a moment later with your plug. 

“Strip and bend over the desk.” 

You can’t shuck off the top of your jumpsuit fast enough, dragging your panties with it to your knees and bending over. You rest your elbows on the wooden surface as you have many times before with him, unleashing a shuddering exhale as he comes to stand behind you.

“Gregor’s back,” he rasps as he pulls your top desk drawer open, retrieving the bottle of lube you’ve hidden there for your more impromptu encounters in your office. You hear it click open, and you shudder with anticipation. “Chatted with him and Chuckles this morning. If you’re still alright with it, we’ll be by this evening after Gregor and I get out of our briefings.” 

“Lucky for you, my schedule is clear,” you tease. You and Crater both know you hardly ever have plans. 

He dips his helmet in a nod. His gloved hand comes to rest on your back, arching it slightly until your ass is presented to him. You feel some lube dribble onto your asshole, and you shudder at the chill as he presses the plug against you, working it in and out of you slowly until it’s fully nestled inside of you. 

“If I had time, I’d break you in myself right now, but that’ll have to wait until tonight. Leave that in,” he growls. “And wear something nice.” 

“Yes, sir,” you pant. You don’t know how you’re going to get through the next few hours like this. 

“And don’t you dare go back there and touch yourself,” he warns. 

You whine. 

“I’ll see you tonight, pretty girl.” And with that, he slips out of your office, leaving you stripped bare and bent over your desk, trying to catch your breath. You slam the button under your desk that locks the door again, bracing yourself on your palms as you try to get your legs to stop quivering at the feeling of the plug pressed inside you. 

Fuck. 

You stumble into your back room on wobbly legs, wanting desperately to climb into your bed and stuff your pussy full with your vibrator. But Crater always knows somehow when you disobey him. Last time, he tied you up with some silk rope and toyed with you until you cried and begged for release. The rope was still tucked in your bedside drawer, a silent threat.

Not what I’m looking for tonight. More hoping for instant gratification. So I’ll behave. This time.

You quickly dig through your crate of clothes, finally finding the parcel you’d purchased a while back. Ever since you and Crater started sleeping together, you’ve tried to find a few more pieces of lingerie to add to your sparse wardrobe. Nothing expensive since you’re on a budget and Crater has a penchant for tearing delicate fabrics, but this one you’ve been saving for a special occasion. It’s a dark grey bra and panty set that matches the grey accents on the 28th Combat Wing’s armor perfectly. The lace tickles your skin as you pull it on, and you glance at yourself in the mirror briefly, admiring the way your breasts are pushed together. A tiny fake gemstone sits embedded on a charm that dangles between your breasts. It’s a deep magenta, the main color of the 28th. It really had been too ideal to pass up.

Perfect. 

You pull your jumpsuit back on, trying not to think too hard about how full you feel as you recompose yourself and step back out into the garage. 

The hours drag on. For better or worse, no one really bothers you, and you are able to mostly remain in your office, leaving you squirming in private as you try to get through your paperwork while not thinking about how tonight's going to go. When you finally hear the main lighting systems begin to power off, signaling the end of the day, you can’t help but sigh in relief. Stretching your arms above your head, you stand, heading out in the garage to make sure everything got put away properly at the end of the day and that all of the droids made it back to their docks. 

It’s almost deafeningly silent in the darkness, and you keep to the path illuminated by the emergency lighting, taking your usual route through the hangar. Everything looks to be in order until a loud clanging sound makes you jump. 

You halt and hear another loud clatter followed by a few muttered curses and some indignant beeping, making you pause in the darkness. Under one of the emergency light beams, you spot movement. A mohawked head pokes up out of a cockpit of a Headhunter, and you watch as a tool is tossed out of the fighter, hitting the floor with a loud clang right next to a borderline belligerent droid. You sigh, heading over to see what the fuss is about. 

Chuckles is hunched over in his Z-95, muttering to himself as you quietly ascend the stepladder he’s pulled up next to the fighter. His armor is stacked on the ground next to the ladder, and as you reach the top step, you see he’s changed into a black tank top rather than his regulation undershirt with the Republic cog emblazoned across the chest. He’s leaning forward, giving you a view of some of the lines of the tattoo on his shoulder blade, flexing in the dim lighting as he grumbles unintelligibly. His arms and shoulders have several long, deep scars on them, more than Crater or any other pilot you’ve seen. Even his knuckles and fingers have a few light patches where the skin has had to heal. You wonder what caused them, and wonder if it’s tied to the large scar on his face. He’s burrowed under the flight controls, unaware of your presence, and you watch him for a few moments before leaning forward. 

“Can I help you with something?” you ask at a volume that’s slightly louder than necessary. 

Chuck jumps, smacking his head on the underside of the console with a loud curse. You giggle as he sits back in the seat, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at you. 

“What the kriff, Bolts?”

“I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in here?” 

“My karking eject handle isn’t working.”

“You know you shouldn’t pull that in the garage, right?”

He glares at you again. “I’m well aware. But I can’t even get it primed. Something’s jammed.” 

You raise an eyebrow down at the droid, R0-G3, that’s parked just below, who beeps to inform you he was in the process of repairing it when Chuckles showed up. 

“Why can’t you let Rog do it? That’s his job.” 

Rog beeps angrily in agreement, and Chuckles glowers at him. “He said he wasn’t going to finish it until tomorrow, and I won’t have time to check it tomorrow before we head out the next day.” 

The droid beeps again, flashing his charge indicator, which is warning him it’s starting to get low. It seems he’s expended a good chunk of energy arguing with the pilot. You chew the inside of your cheek, something telling you there’s more to the story here. 

“Why do you need to check it? Don’t trust the quality of work around here?”

Chuckles freezes, unable to meet your eyes. “Of course I do. It’s not that, it’s just…” He sits back heavily in the seat, his eyes fluttering closed as he releases a long sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. You jerk your head at R0-G3, and he takes his leave, rolling off towards the far door that leads to the chargers. You lean on the edge of the cockpit, resting your chin on your forearms. 

“Alright. You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not especially,” he mumbles from beneath his fingers. 

You pick at some of the paint that’s peeling along one metal seam, changing tacks. “Crater talked to you about tonight, right?” 

One of his eyes appears between his fingers, locking with yours. “Yeah. He said you’re onboard with it. That you asked.” For a moment, his gaze is as piercing as his brother’s, and you fight the urge to squirm as he analyzes you.

“I did.” 

He hums, letting his hands drop to his lap and studying you. “I need to get this fixed tonight. Don’t really want to get into specifics. Just needs to be done. Even if I miss…all that.” 

You nod, noting the way his fingers brush the scar on his cheek that you’d always thought of as sort of his trademark. The damaged skin seems to pull his mouth into a perpetual smirk, but to you it has always been obvious that the event that caused it was anything but joyous. 

“If that’s the case, then we’d really better get this fixed,” you conclude, and before he can protest, you scale the rest of the ladder and climb into the cockpit with him, settling into his lap. He inhales sharply, and you wiggle your hips a little bit more than necessary as you duck under the console, pressing your ass against where his codpiece would normally be. It doesn’t take long before you feel something else that’s hard as plastoid pressing against you. 

“BOLTS! Maker almighty, what the kriff are you doing?”

“Helping you fix your ship. That’s my job.” 

You pull a penlight from your breast pocket and click it on, turning upside down to examine the eject mechanism under the seat. Everything looks normal. 

“Try to arm it for me.” 

Chuck sighs above you, but leans over you, one hand resting on your hip as the other flicks the eject switch on his console. You see the indicator light blink green, and you cautiously reach your hand out to the handle. 

“There should be a little give if it’s actually disengaged,” Chuckles says. “If there’s no give, then it’s not actually armed.” 

You gingerly tap the handle, and he’s right, the thing doesn’t budge a millimeter. 

“Hm.” You trace the connection along the floorboards, following it under the flight console to where you originally found Chuck. “Can you hand me the driver that’s in my right back pocket?” you ask. 

He huffs. 

“It’s right there, Chuckles. And if Crater actually talked to you, that’s going to be one of the more tame things you’re doing tonight.” 

You feel his cock jump where it’s pressed against your ass, and you playfully grind backwards a bit. The grip on your hips tightens, and Chuck huffs again before you feel a tug on your back pocket and the tool is thrust under the panel at you. 

“See, teamwork makes the dream work,” you snicker. You can practically feel his eyes roll at you, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

It only takes you a few moments to pry the panel loose and find the wiring. You can’t keep from wiggling and pressing back into Chuckles, and about the fifth time you do, you swear you feel him grind against you, but you ignore it, focused on your task. 

You finally find the source of the issue, a broken connection in the wiring, and you tap his thigh, reaching behind you again. “Soldering iron. Other back pocket.” He hands it to you without protest this time, and within a few moments, you’ve got the connection fixed and look back between your and Chuck’s boots at the indicator light for the eject. It’s still on, but this time, when you tap the handle, there’s give. You sit up, your hair flying in every direction, grinning triumphantly. “Think I got it, but double-check that’s what you’re looking for.” 

Chuckles leans over you, but without you climbing out of the cockpit, there’s not much room. He winds up practically doubled over you, his breath hot against the back of your neck as his fingers find the handle. You watch him give a slight tug, just enough to move it slightly. 

“That’s it,” he says directly into your ear. “Perfect.” There’s a pause before he leans a little more forward and kisses your cheek. “Thanks, Bolts.” 

Your face flushes with heat as he sits back, which feels ridiculous. This man is going to claim every part of you later if things go to plan, but here you are, giddy over a kiss on the cheek. “No problem,” you murmur, keeping your voice steady despite your fluttering stomach. “Now make sure it’s off so we don’t both get thrown out of here.” 

You hear him huff a laugh as he leans forward and disarms the eject while you clamber back under the console to replace the panel. Once that’s done, you sit back against him, propping one foot up and allowing your head to drift back against his shoulder. 

As much as you two bicker like drunken Jawas sometimes, Chuckles has always been your friend, another person you trust, even if you want to push him in front of a speeder at times. He takes your tools from you, carefully setting them on the top of the ladder before wrapping one arm around your waist, hesitantly letting the other hand rest on your thigh. 

A silence settles between you two as you sit pressed together. You allow your hand to drift over his, resting there, and he presses his cheek against your forehead. You can feel the day-old scruff against your skin. His chest rises and falls, pressing against you, and with every passing breath, the anticipation seems to grow, making the air around you feel charged with electricity. This isn’t the first time you’ve sat like this with him, but normally, it’s done out of necessity, squishing together in a booth as more brothers arrive at 79s. Chuck’s hand has often found a place on your thigh, resting comfortably there. It thrilled you in the past, even though you’d always figured it would go no further.

You both know tonight is different. 

Finally, he breaks the silence. 

“So why me?” he asks. “Gregor and you needed to fuck it out. Crater’s… well he’s Crater. But why involve me?” 

You reach up, letting your hand rest against his unmarred cheek. He doesn’t pull away, but watches you carefully. “Because I trust you, Chuckles. You’re right, Gregor started as a way to blow off steam. And so did Crater. But I wanted to… explore something, and Crater and I both agreed you and Gregor are the ones to explore with. I know whatever happens tonight will stay between us and won’t wind up scratched into a ‘fresher stall at 79s.” You swallow hard. “And… I care about you, more than I think you realize.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You sigh. “Do you trust me?”

His brows knit together. “Of course.”

“With your life?”

“Where’s this going, Bolts?”

You interlace your fingers with his. “Did you know, I check every fighter that leaves this place myself? That is what’s going to happen tomorrow night before your squad leaves the following morning. I will be up all night if I have to, double-checking every millimeter of your fighter to make sure it’s up to snuff and will bring you back here.” You pause again, meeting his eyes. “Bring you back here to me.” 

Something shifts in his gaze, and his expression softens. He squeezes your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “The eject didn’t work right when I got this,” he says quietly, tapping his scarred cheek. “I was in an uncontrolled spin, losing altitude, and no matter how hard I pulled, the damn thing wouldn’t work. When it finally did work, it launched me into the canopy, and that’s when I got cut. Broke more bones than I can count. Punctured a lung. And then I hit the water. Thought I was going to drown because I was too hurt to swim, and water was just leaking into my mouth through my cheek. It… it was the most scared I’ve ever been. I don’t want that to ever happen again. If I go out, I want it to be quick. I-I don’t want to have time to think about it. So, I always check.” 

Your chest aches as you turn in his lap to straddle him, bringing your hands up to cradle his face, finally running your thumb along the raised skin on his cheek where the canopy’s transparisteel sliced him open. His eyes bore into you for a moment before he closes them, relaxing into your touch. Your heart twists at the thought of him, broken and bloodied in the seas of Kamino with his face flayed open, certain he’s going to die. 

You kiss him. 

It’s gentle and tender. There will be time for hunger and urgency later, but right now, you want to reassure him. You want him to know how much he means to you, that you care for him, and above all, you want him to know that he can trust you. 

And something sparks within you as he kisses you back. 

He’s careful and slow, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Warmth floods through you as he hesitantly traces his tongue along your lower lip, and you allow him entry, burying one hand in his short mohawk and cupping his jaw with the other. He probes your mouth gently, and you feel him melt into you, his grip loosening on you but still keeping you pressed against him. You’ve kissed Crater, hells, you’ve even kind of kissed Gregor, but nothing felt like this. Chuckles is consuming you, and you know you could easily get lost in him just like this. You want to, but after a few moments, you rest your forehead against his, stroking his cheek gently. “I will never let that happen to you again, Chuckles. Ever. You are too important to me.” 

He meets your gaze for a few moments, and something unspoken flickers in his eyes before his face breaks out into a grin. “You know, if I’d known all this, I might have tried to get you out of that jumpsuit sooner.” 

You understand what he’s doing; he’s not good with sentimentality. He’s always dealt with humor. He’s allowed his jester’s mask to drop more than he ever has before, and you will treasure the trust he put in you in that instant, but if he’d allowed the moment to linger, it wouldn’t be Chuckles. 

But you also can’t deny that you already want to kiss him again. 

Instead, you roll your eyes, turning around to face forward once more and resting your back against his chest. His hands slide down to your hips, and you feel him readjust. He’s still hard as durasteel, maybe more so now. You give a playful grind, and he gasps behind you. 

“You’re playing dirty, Bolts,” he growls in your ear.

“I thought you liked it dirty. Weren’t you the one just talking about getting me out of my clothes?” 

His fingers slide to your stomach, tracing the zipper of your jumpsuit upwards until he snags the tab up by your throat. “Indeed I was.” He playfully nips at your earlobe, pulling you closer with his other arm. “You got any cameras in here?” 

“I’m flattered you think I have that kind of budget.” 

He tugs the zipper down. “Good.” 

You lean into him, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder as he fully unzips your jumpsuit. He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching hungrily as each new centimeter of your skin is exposed to him. When the zipper is all the way down, he slips his hands inside of the rough fabric, tracing his fingers from your collarbone to your breasts before he gently cups the lacey grey garment you’ve chosen for this evening. 

“This feels rather impractical and fancy,” he hums in your ear. He pinches the charm in the middle, huffing a laugh. “Pretty though. Especially on you. Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” 

You shrug out of the top half of your suit, trying to hide the way your lips quirk at his praise and the heat in your face. He trails kisses along your bare shoulders as he helps you push the rough material downwards. “Very impractical,” you agree. “But not expensive. Meant to be ripped off of me.” 

He laughs again, a low growl that rumbles through you, and his hands are on your skin again, rough and warm as you sit nearly bare in his lap. He slips one hand inside your bra, grazing your nipple and causing you to writhe in his grip. He squeezes your breast and you moan. “Lift your hips,” he grunts in your ear, and a thrill shoots through you. You comply, and he manages to push your suit down past your knees, helping you as you kick it the rest of the way off along with your boots. You go to pull your panties down too, but he stills your hand. “Leave them on.” 

You sit back, and Chuckles immediately groans. His fingers reverently trace over your abdomen before they find their way between your legs, parting your thighs, and he inhales sharply when he feels the warm dampness there. 

“Matching panties? And you’re soaked. Bolts, you’re filthy.” 

His fingers are thick and warm against the seam of your undergarments before he slips his fingers under the lace, running his digits through your slick and bringing it to his lips. He moans as he tastes you.

“Fuck, you taste good.” 

“You wanna taste more?” you ask, quivering as his fingers glide back between your legs. 

“Not yet. Right now, I want to fuck you in this cockpit. I wanna think about how your pretty pussy feels wrapped around my cock when I’m flying.”

“Sounds distracting,” you reply in a tone far breathier than you care for. 

“I hear I think better with my dick anyway,” he counters as he toys with your clit.

“Crater said to wait for them,” you gasp, desperately clinging to the last of your resolve. 

“Since when do you take orders from the captain?” he teases, grazing his teeth along the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “I thought it was your garage, your rules.”

“Since he started leaving handprints on my ass for disobeying him.” 

He hums as he slips a finger inside you. “Seems like you want it right now though. I’d slide right in no problem with as wet as you are.” He nuzzles against your ear as he adds another digit and starts driving his fingers into you, rutting against your ass. You moan as he slips his fingers in and out of you, digging your nails into his arm. “Do you want my cock right now?” he rasps in your ear.

You hope Crater will appreciate how compromised you were later as you grind against Chuckles’s palm. 

It’s really his fault for not getting here sooner.

“I want it. I want you to fuck me,” you moan. 

“Lift your hips again for me then.”

You obey as Chuckles rolls down his pants enough to pull his cock out, pulling your panties to the side and notching himself at your entrance. You feel his knuckles graze you as he pumps himself. His other hand grips your waist. 

“Sit.” 

You sink down slowly on him, and you hear his head thunk against the headrest of the seat as you clench, gradually adjusting around him until you’re fully seated in his lap. 

“Can feel the plug in your ass,” he grits out. “Crater said you might let us all take you at once, but I didn’t think he meant there. Maker, I can’t wait to feel you.” 

You give him another squeeze, trying to pretend you have an ounce of composure as his fingers find their way back between your legs, playing with your clit. 

You’re glad the garage is empty as you and Chuckles give into your carnal desires in the seat of his cockpit. You start off grinding slowly against him, allowing your walls to adjust around his thick member before you begin carefully bouncing up and down on him, ensuring to keep the head of him inside you before you drop back down on his thighs. It doesn’t take long for the wet slaps of your cunt slamming against him and your moans to start echoing throughout the empty garage. 

He’s a talker. Of course he is. 

“Maker, Bolts. I never thought you’d let me fuck this sweet little cunt. I’ve fisted my cock so many times, thinking about what it’d feel like to have you wrapped around me like this, but you’re so much warmer and wetter than I ever could have imagined. You’re like a fucking vice. I’m gonna fill you tonight. Take you in every way I can. Fuck, how are you so soft?” He presses against the small of your back, tipping you further forward as he thrusts up into you. His fingers trace the bruises on your hips and ass. “Crater leave these?”

“Mhm,” you moan, catching your lip between your teeth as he presses gently against the marks. 

“You gonna let me leave some of my own tonight, sweetheart? Gonna let me brand you when I claim you?” 

“Fuck, yes, Chuckles.” 

He groans, gripping your hips harder. You brace yourself against the edges of the cockpit, ignoring the burning in your thighs and calves as they protest the awkward position. It’s nothing compared to the feeling of Chuckles inside of you, and right now, that’s all that matters to you as you chase your pleasure. You’ve been wound up all day, and Chuckles is finally giving you what you’d longed for, rubbing your thighs together at your desk for hours. 

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps guide you up and down. Sweat dribbles between your breasts as you ride him frantically, chasing your high. He adjusts, and suddenly he’s hitting the perfect spot inside of you. Your head tips back and your brows pinch together as you frantically roll your hips, trying to ensure the head of his cock strokes the same place again and again.

“‘M so close, Bolts. Gonna cum in this pussy right now and then gonna have you clean my cock off. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck, I can’t wait to fuck your ass. You’re gonna be screaming my name all night, sweetheart. You close?”

You whine as he slips his hand back between your legs, circling your clit. “Yeah. Yeah I’m close.” 

“Gonna cum on my cock, Bolts?” 

“Not if she doesn’t want to get edged until she’s crying for the rest of the night,” a voice calls out from the darkness. 

You and Chuckles freeze in the cockpit as two figures step into the light: Crater, who’s glaring at you, and Gregor, wearing a cocky smirk. Both of them are stripped down to only their under suits and boots, and Gregor’s wearing a tank top of some burger joint you don’t recognize, but it shows off his arms nicely. Both of them have bedrolls slung over their shoulders. Chuckles’s thumb rubs against your hip, and you clench around him. 

“I thought I told you to behave yourself,” Crater reminds you, his tone the low and dangerous baritone you’re more than familiar with. 

“Technically, you told me not to touch myself in the backroom of my office. And I didn’t,” you reply sweetly.

“You’re right, she is a brat,” Gregor giggles. 

“Better a brat than an asshole,” you pant, ignoring how relieved you are to hear his ridiculous laugh again.

Gregor is completely unphased by your words, snickering as he climbs the ladder, leaning on the edge and looking over your body. “Good to see you too, Bolts,” he jeers, gripping your chin and kissing you. You dig your teeth into his lower lip defiantly, and he grunts. Chuckles gives an indignant huff, thrusting up into you slightly to remind you he’s still there. You squeeze him as hard as you can and he groans as you release Gregor.

“I still fucking hate you, but I’m glad you’re safe,” you mutter.

Gregor just winks at you.

“Out of the fighter, you two,” Crater growls. You playfully roll your eyes, but oblige. Chuckles gasps when his cock slips from you, still hard and now glistening from being inside of you. 

“Sorry,” you whisper teasingly. “More where that came from though. Promise.” You kiss him again before readjusting your lingerie and climbing down the ladder, coming to stand in front of Crater. His eyes are practically glowing. 

“Think you’re cute, don’t you?” he says quietly. 

You shrug. “Like I said, didn’t technically disobey.” 

His fingers reach out, toying with the charm between your breasts. “Well, we’ll see how long that technicality deprives you of an orgasm tonight.” 

You shiver but try to keep yourself composed. “Chuckles, can you hand me down my suit and boots?” 

The pilot goes to toss them to you, but Crater snatches them out of the air. “Oh no you don’t. You wanted to get out of your clothes so much, you can walk back to your office like that.” 

You open your mouth to retort, and Crater raises his eyebrow in warning. You’ve come to recognize that look and all that it entails if you keep pushing your luck, so instead, you tuck your tongue in your cheek haughtily. 

“Alright then.”

A/N: Part 4 soon... and it's gonna be another one over 10k words.

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