#he's been wronged! how can i justifiably ask him to just roll over and take it?

[willalove75]

hello hello!! I hope you’re doing well and also super congrats on your baby 🎉🎉

Was wondering if you could possibly write more about domestic Alcina based on that one fic you wrote? Maybe something along the lines of a romantic night in together when it’s stormy outside. I’m a sucker for how you wrote her in a domestic and modern setting and I’d love to see more if you wouldn’t mind ^^’

no worries at all if you don’t take this request!! I just super love your writing for Alcina Dimitrescu and it makes me super happy to read your work when I can 🩵🩵

Hiii! Thank you so much! Baby and I are doing great! He’s the best thing in the whole world, I love him so much🥺😭💕

Thank you so much for the request! An idea for this popped into my head immediately when I read this ask and I’ve been super excited to write it since!! I’m so glad you liked my domestic!Alcina so much! She’s so much fun to write in different settings but a modern Alcina always has me in some kind of a chokehold😂

I hope you enjoy!!

Tags/warnings: fluff, smut, teensie bit of degradation kink and mommy kink, and more fluff.

A/N: ITS FINALLY DONE😭 I proof read this once so please ignore any errors or whatever. Or let me know and maybe I'll fix them (wishful thinking lmao) also soft!Alcina is baby.

Rain pelts against the back door while lightning fills the sky with flashes of white. The boom of the thunder makes the house shake. You find yourself curled up on the couch, staring out into the inky, rainy night as you pout. Usually, you’re not one to pout, but tonight, you make an exception. Justifying your sour attitude by telling yourself if anyone else was in your situation, they would be pouting too.

Today is your anniversary with Alcina, a day you were immensely looking forward to. The two of you have been together for a few years now, and every year Alcina would take the reins and plan what the two of you would do on your anniversary. Extravagant vacations, expensive jewelry, on your one year anniversary she even got you a brand new car meanwhile there was nothing wrong with the one you were driving. Alcina spared no expense and always went above and beyond.

This year, however, you begged her to let you plan the day. She could still arrange whatever ridiculous plans she could come up with; because a three year anniversary normally doesn’t call for a two week stay in a luxury resort on a tropical island, but for Alcina, it wasn’t something she thought twice about before booking.

After softening her up with some good sex and puppy dog eyes, Alcina rolled her blue-gray eyes while a smirk pulled at the corner of her lips as she relented.

“Fine, draga. You may plan what we do the day of our anniversary. However, I still fully intend to book the European getaway I’ve been eyeing for you.” You look up into her eyes as you lay on top of her, resting your chin on your arms folded over her chest, a wide smile gracing your features. Before you can speak she holds up her finger to stop you. “Only on one condition.”

Arching your brow at her, you ask “what condition?”

“In the condition that I finance whatever it is you are planning.” You go to argue and she cuts you off again. “Absolutely not, I will not have you spend your hard earned money on our anniversary. You may plan whatever you like, but you’re using my credit card.”

You roll your eyes at her and groan in disapproval. Before you can register her movements, Alcina’s large hand lands a firm smack on your ass. A yelp escapes your lips; your ass is already red, raw and sore from the night's earlier activities.

“Don’t make me spank that attitude out of you my darling. You know I won’t show you mercy.”

Rolling off of Alcina and onto your back, you cup your ass as you let out a whine.

“God damnit!”

Alcina smirks and before you can recover from the sting, you feel her weight settle on top of you.

“So, have we fixed that attitude? Or is a punishment in order?”

“Nooo.” You whine. “Fine, I’ll use your card.”

“Good girl.” Alcina says as she trails her lips and nose up and down the side of your neck, her skin just barely brushing against yours.

After the multiple rounds the two of you just went, you were convinced that you were tapped out for the night. However, in typical Alcina fashion, she knows exactly what to do to elicit a response from your body. As she places feather-light kisses up your neck, her hands slide up from your hips to the dip of your waist. Her hands travel higher until her fingertips are skimming the sides of your breasts. Even with the weight of her breasts on top of yours, you can still feel the sensation of your nipples hardening against her skin.

A familiar wetness forms between your legs for what feels like the hundredth time tonight as Alcina presses her thigh against your cunt. She smirks at how easily she’s able to arouse you. Sitting up, Alcina hooks one of your legs over her hip and rocks into you, grinding her cunt against yours.

“Mmm, I love how wet I can make you with just a few light touches. My sweet, sensitive girl.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a filthy moan as she picks up the pace. Before you know it, the two of you are rutting against each other, crying out each other's names as you chase your highs together.

The closer your anniversary got, the more excited you were for what you had planned. From morning until night, you had the whole day planned out. For breakfast, you were going to take her to her favorite cafe for coffee and pastries. After breakfast, the plan was to walk to her favorite art museum, which conveniently happened to be only a couple of blocks from the cafe. Knowing Alcina, even though she’s been there hundreds of times, the two of you would be wandering around the museum for hours. Especially since a new exhibit was supposed to open up a couple of weeks before your anniversary. It would be lunchtime by the time you were done at the museum, so you planned to have a picnic set up in the park in her favorite, secluded spot. You spared no expense on buying all of her favorite meats, cheeses, crackers, spreads, and of course, a couple of bottles of her favorite wine: Sanguis Virgnins. After lunch, you planned to walk around the park a bit and then before sunset, head to the beach for a sunset walk along the water. For dinner, you made a reservation at her favorite restaurant that overlooks the ocean. To conclude the evening, you planned to have rose petals scattered across the floor and candles lit around the house to set the mood for a passionate, romantic end to your anniversary.

Everything was set and perfect, now you only had to wait for the day. For days you were on the edge of your seat with excitement, hoping Alcina would love what you’ve curated for the two of you. It wasn’t until yesterday did things go south. A storm warning lit up your phone screen as you and Alcina were having dinner. The storm was supposed to veer off into the ocean and bypass you completely, but as if god himself wanted to shit all over your perfectly planned day, the storm came straight up the coast and landed practically at your front door.

Alcina knew how excited you were to surprise her with the perfect day so she insisted on doing as much as you possibly could. So on the morning of your anniversary, the two of you headed over to the cafe. Even though you were only outside just to get in and out of the car, by the time you finished breakfast and made it to the museum, the two of you were soaked to the bone. To make matters worse, the museum had the air conditioning on full blast, which caused the both of you to shiver as you tried to enjoy the artwork. You weren’t even in the museum for half an hour before you decided to cut your losses and head home.

So here you are, sitting on the couch staring out into the storm and pouting. After you got home, Alcina went to shower. She invited you in but you were too down and didn’t want to bring her mood down also, so you declined her offer and changed into comfy sweats and made your way downstairs to the living room.

“Draga?” Alcina’s voice pulls your focus away from the dark, dreary outdoors.

“Hm?”

“My darling, don’t look so upset.” She says as she makes her way over to you.

“I can’t help it, I am upset! I had the perfect day planned and it got completely shat on.”

Alcina comes to a stop in front of you and lifts your chin to look up at her. When you’re standing you have to crane your neck to look up at her, but when you’re sitting? You basically have to bend your head as far back as it can go.

With her other hand, she cards her fingers through your still-damp hair, gently scratching at your scalp.

“I’m sorry your plans got rained out, draga. But we still have plenty of time to turn this dreary day around.”

You place your hands on her hips, that are practically eye-level with you, and smooth your thumbs over the silk of her robe. “I guess.”

“Besides,” she says as the hand in your hair slides to the back of your head where she slowly grabs your hair by the root, just the way you like it. “You weren’t the only one who planned something for today. And luckily, the inclement weather has no effect on what I have planned for you tonight.” 

She gently pulls you up by your hair as she leans down and brushes her lips against yours. “So, what do you say, iubirea mea? Come, show me what you have here.”

Alcina pulls away before you can lean in to kiss her and she grabs your hand, leading you into the kitchen where the spread that was supposed to be for your picnic is laid out on the island.

Picking up a few items and inspecting them, Alcina raises an eyebrow and smirks at you when she recognizes all of her favorite, super fancy meats and cheeses.

“This is quite an impressive spread you have here, draga.”

You pick up a jar of caviar and turn it over in your hands as you speak. “Yeah, this was supposed to be our lunch, which was supposed to be in our favorite spot in the park.”

Alcina’s eyes soften at your words, touched at the thought and little details you put into your plans.

“Well, even though it’s past lunchtime, it would be a shame to let all of this go to waste, don’t you think?” She says, trying to bait you, but you can be just as stubborn as she is. So you just shrug your shoulders, mumbling an “I guess” in response.

She walks around the island and takes the jar of caviar out of your hands. Knowing how much you love her hands, she makes a show of popping the jar open and dipping a tiny spoon into it. When that doesn’t work, she offers you the spoon, knowing damn well you hate caviar. You take one whiff and you scrunch your nose and pull away.

“Oh stop, it doesn’t even have a smell.” She says before popping the spoon in her mouth and slowly closes her lips around it. Always one for theatrics, she slowly pulls the spoon from between her lips and rolls her eyes back and moans in pleasure. “Mmm, delicious.”

When her gray eyes open and meet yours, you can’t help but shake your head and let out a small chuckle at her antics. She leans in to kiss you and you pull back, avoiding her lips.

“Nuh-uh. I am not kissing you when you most certainly taste like fish.”

Alcina rolls her eyes for real this time and sets the jar and spoon down on the counter. To your surprise, she grabs the ball of mozzarella with her hands and pulls a chunk of it off. Splitting the piece in two, she leans her head back and drops the cheese into her mouth. After a couple of chews, since she is never one to speak with food in her mouth, she swallows it and arches her perfectly manicured brow at you.

“Better?” She says, flatly.

You can’t help but smile at her and nod your head. She leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips.

“Open.” She says once you part, still holding the other piece of mozzarella in her hand.

Opening your mouth wide, she drops the piece of cheese onto your tongue and you happily chew it. This time it's your turn for your eyes to roll to the back of your head and let out a moan - only it’s genuine, you’re not trying to put on a show like Alcina was earlier.

When you open your eyes, you open them to Alcina sticking her finger into her mouth, cleaning off the remnants of the cheese. Your mouth goes dry and your pupils dilate as you watch her. She always knows how to get you going and offers you her other finger to clean, and because you’re a total slut for this woman, you part your lips on command and take her finger into your mouth.

You caress her finger with your tongue a few times before Alcina presses down on it, pinning it in place. Her lips part and her eyes dilate as she looks down at you with her finger in your mouth and she slowly thrusts her finger back and forth across your tongue. With each thrust her finger goes a little deeper and deeper and you whimper around it. After one final thrust that goes deeper than all of the other ones, nearly making you gag, she pulls her finger from your mouth and captures your lips in a kiss. Cupping your face in her large hands, Alcina flicks her tongue into your mouth, once, twice, and as you lean in for a third swipe, she abruptly pulls away.

An actual whine leaves your lips before you can stop yourself and Alcina chuckles, brushing her nose against yours. She pulls away and makes her way back around the island, putting a small plate of food together.

Looking up at you, feigning innocence, she cocks her head to the side and asks “aren’t you going to eat?”

You let out a groan, now that you’re almost uncomfortably wet, you rub your thighs together and make your way next to her. Alcina smirks, knowing just how turned on you are. Her little plan to distract you is slowly coming to fruition.

Some time passes by and you end up sitting on the counter while you and Alcina feed each other different meats and cheeses and refill each other's wine glasses well before they need refilling. She spreads your favorite fig jam on a cracker and puts it between her teeth, offering you the other half. With a giggle, you bite into the other half. As you’re each chewing your piece, in an uncharacteristic move, no doubt fueled by the copious amounts of wine you’ve both had, Alcina presses her lips into yours. You can’t help but laugh as she kisses you while you both have crackers and jam in your mouths and you feel Alcina smile into the kiss. She places both hands on either side of you on the counter, caging you in and continues to kiss all over your face, jaw and neck. In a fit of laughter, you try to lean back but she wraps her arms around you and pulls you to the edge, her hips slotting perfectly between your legs.

By the time her kisses come to a stop, the two of you are giggling like teenagers and you wrap your arms around her neck as you nuzzle into each other. When you pull back, you still have smiles plastered across your faces and you see the sparkle in Alcina’s eyes. When you’re this close to her, you can really see the crows feet in the corners of her eyes and the delicate smile lines that line her perfectly plump lips. 

Your heart stutters in your chest at the way she looks at you so lovingly. It still amazes you that you were able to melt the heart of the self-proclaimed Ice Queen. There was a time where you weren’t sure if you were ever going to get past the layers and layers of walls she had built up over the years before you met. It took time and patience, but she slowly let her walls come down brick by brick. There were a few times where you thought you were never going to see the real her and you debated on ending the relationship. Alcina always seemed to know when you were reaching that breaking point and even though it was hard and wildly uncomfortable, she tore down a few more walls and let you further in. She showed you the scared girl underneath that cold exterior. The girl that was terrified of having her heart broken again, each time you saw past another wall you melted for her.

There was one time where you were literally walking out the door after an argument over her keeping you at arms length. The only thing that stopped you was the way her voice cracked when she called after you. When you turned around you saw her lips trembling and tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. That night she broke through the rest of her walls and let you completely in. She told you things she’s never told anyone else before. Told you about her childhood, her tumultuous relationship with her family, how they tried to marry her off just to get rid of her. She poured her heart out to you and you knew then and there that no matter what else happened, you were going to be the one that protected her fragile heart from then on.

“What?” Alcina asks as she stares back into your eyes.

“Nothing.” You say as you shake your head. “I just love you so much, Alcina.”

“Și eu te iubesc atât de mult, draga mea.” 

(I love you so much too, my darling)

Alcina takes your wine glass from your hand and sets it down next to hers on the counter. Before you can protest she silences you with a kiss. It starts out soft and slow, but before you know it your kisses become more passionate, more frenzied. Her hands slide from your hips to underneath your ass and you grab the hair at the back of her head with one hand and hook your other arm around her neck.

In one swift movement, Alcina lifts you off of the counter and you squeal into her lips. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around her waist. She carries you up the stairs as if you weigh nothing, and heads into the bedroom. Often times when the two of you get to this stage, since it’s not the first time she’s carried you into the bedroom, Alcina will unceremoniously toss you onto the bed and either pounce on you, or torture you by making you wait. As you brace yourself to be tossed, you’re surprised when her grip on you tightens and she gently lays you down, allowing some, but not all, of her weight to rest on top of you.

Alcina looks at you in the most tender way. Her eyes take in every detail of your face and you can’t help but do the same, admiring her naturally long eyelashes, the blues and grays that swirl in her irises, and her lipstick-free lips that look all too kissable. She brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face before cupping your cheek and capturing your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. The kiss intensifies when you feel her lick against your lips and you eagerly let her in. More of her weight settles on top of you when you pull her closer, her hips slotted perfectly between your legs. As you’re reveling in the feeling of her on top of you, Alcina takes you by surprise by taking your bottom lip between her lips and sucking on it, drawing out a moan from your lips. She nips at it before letting it go and dives in for a hungrier kiss. You can’t help but roll your hips into her as she claims your mouth, and she groans into the kiss, rolling her hips into you in response. If she was wearing her strap right now she’d be buried to the hilt and the thought sends a shiver down your spine.

Chuckling at feeling you shiver, she rolls her hips into you again and again, a little harder each time. You desperately try to grind into her but there just isn’t enough friction at this angle and you let out a pitiful whine before you can stop yourself. Alcina smiles into the kiss and slows down before pulling away. She rubs her thumb across your eyebrows, softening the furrow that developed between them once she stopped kissing you.

“Do you want your present now, sweet girl?” She asks as her fingers dance across your skin.

“Mhm.” You hum, nodding at her with a smile. 

“As you wish. There are just a few things that need to be done before you get your present.”

“Like what?”

“Well, first things first, this,” she says, tugging at your sweatshirt. “Needs to go.”

Alcina sits back on her heels, giving you space to sit up. Her hands slide under your sweatshirt, letting out a purr when she feels bare skin underneath her fingertips. 

“Nothing underneath? Today must be my lucky day.” She teases.

She helps you pull your sweatshirt up, her hands stopping at the sides of your ribs. You pull it over your head and toss it onto the floor. She guides you to lay back down, each of her hands palming a breast as you fall back into the mattress. Cold fingers send a chill down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your nipples to harden at the touch. Alcina gropes and massages them before squeezing one and dragging her tongue across a hardened peak. A gasp of surprise escapes from your lips and you hum and roll your hips as she mirrors the action on the other side.

Alcina peppers your chest with kisses and small bites, soothing over each sting with her tongue. Once she is satisfied with the marks she left, her fingers hook into the waistline of your sweatpants.

“Next, these need to go as well. May I?”

Your hips roll at the question and you nod your head, not wanting to let her hear the desperation in your voice.

Alcina lets out a tsk.

“Use your words.” She reprimands.

“Yes, god, take them off!”

“Good girl.” She says with a chuckle and she begins to pull your sweatpants down your legs.

Her eyes glow with lust as she pulls them off, realizing you’re bare underneath those as well. 

“And no panties either?” She hums. “You spoil me, draga.”

Your sweatpants are cast away, landing somewhere on the bedroom floor and immediately forgotten about. Alcina takes a moment to admire you sprawled out, naked on the bed before her. A faint flush develops on your cheeks and across your chest as her eyes roam over every inch of your body. 

“Doamne, ești uluitor.” She whispers to herself.

(“God, you are breathtaking.”)

Even though you’re not sure exactly what it was that she said, you feel your flush deepen and you instinctively cover your face with your hands, a sudden bout of shyness overtaking you.

“No, no, don’t hide.” You can hear the smile in her voice as she takes your hands and pulls them from your face, holding them at your sides but not restraining you. “Let me see you, draga.”

You open your eyes to see her gray-blue eyes staring back at you and you can’t help but smile up at her.

“You are so beautiful, my love.” Alcina says before capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

The kiss doesn’t last long before Alcina pulls away and sits back up. Her hands slide down the hourglass of your waist and down your thighs, coming to a rest at your knees.

“Now, there’s one last thing that needs to happen before you get your present, my sweet girl.”

“What?”

Alcina spreads your legs apart, opening you up wide for her.

“I need you absolutely soaked for what I have planned next.” She says as she drags the back of her knuckles up your already dripping slit, just barely nudging your clit. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” You pant. Her thumb brushes over your clit a few times before slowly circling it. “Fuck, yes, I can.” You moan.

“That’s my good girl.” Alcina says before settling herself between your legs.

She teases your clit with her fingers for a few more seconds and just before you become too impatient, she holds you by the back of your knees, spreads your legs wide, and licks a broad strip up your cunt, flicking your clit with her tongue. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a guttural moan as she repeats the motion over and over again. Just as your legs begin to tremble, Alcina pulls away and removes one hand from your leg. Looking up at her, you see her lips, nose and chin glistening with your arousal and she sucks two of her fingers into her mouth, her eyes never once leaving yours. Heat pools in your belly when she releases her fingers with a pop and they disappear below her. Without taking her eyes off of you, she effortlessly slips them into you. You’re the one who breaks eye contact when she pushes them deep into your pussy and curls them into that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

With your eyes rolling into the back of your head, Alcina nips and licks the inside of your thigh as she gently massages that sweet spot inside. It’s enough to have you moaning her name, but not quite enough to get you where you so desperately want her to take you to. Alcina senses your growing frustration and gently laps at your clit, adding even more pleasure to your body. You don’t feel yourself getting close until she takes the hardened nub between her lips and sucks at it, occasionally flicking her tongue over it. At the first spark of arousal that shoots up your spine, you cry out as your hands grab at Alcina’s head, burying your fingers into her hair.

Just as you’re about to get to the edge, Alcina pulls her fingers out and releases your clit from between her lips. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips and you look down at her in disbelief.

“What-”

“Patience, draga, you can’t come yet.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because I said so. Now be a good girl and spread your legs wide. You can take more of me, can’t you, draga?”

“Yes, fuck, please. Fill me.”

“Be careful what you wish for, draga.” She says with a dark chuckle.

Before you can react, Alcina slides three fingers into your cunt and sets a near brutal pace. You collapse back onto the bed with a cry as she fucks you harder and harder. Your legs tremble around her and just as you’re about to reach your peak again, she slows down, taking your impending orgasm with her.

“Fuck!” You cry. “Why?!”

“I already told you, I’m just getting you ready for what’s to come, my love. Patience.”

She thrusts her fingers in and out of you, keeping you right on the precipice of bliss until she’s satisfied with how drenched and stretched out you are. 

After edging you once more, Alcina pulls away all together and sits back up.

“I think you’re ready for your present now, don’t you think?”

“God yes, please!”

“Is my sweet girl's tight cunt all wet and stretched out for me?” She teases as she hovers over you.

“Yes, fuck.” You breathe.

Alcina places a soft kiss on your lips and moves off of the bed and towards the walk-in closet.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

You wait, impatiently, for Alcina to return and when she does, she’s holding a double ended strap-on dildo in one hand, a bottle of lube in the other and a towel slung over her shoulder. The dildo is purple and quite large, both in length and girth; it’s easily one of the biggest toys you own. Now you get why Alcina needed you so stretched and wet.

She sees the excitement in your eyes as she makes her way towards the bed and lets out a low chuckle.

“Are you excited about your present, draga?”

With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, all you can do is mumble “mhm” and nod your head; your eyes never straying from the toy in her hand. Your legs unconsciously open wider for her as she approaches.

Alcina kneels in front of you on the bed and guides you to lay back down before popping open the lube. She coats her end in the lube and makes a show of using two fingers to spread her lips wide. You can already see how wet she is and that her clit is enlarged and puffy. It takes all of your self control to stay where you are and not pounce on her and bury your tongue inside of her. Noticing the look in your eyes, Alcina teases you by slowly rubbing the toy between her lips, letting out tiny gasps as she nudges her clit with the tip. Just as you feel yourself begin to clench around nothing, Alcina slides the toy into her cunt and throws her head back, letting out a satisfied moan.

When she looks back down at you, her irises are all but swallowed by her dilated pupils. Wordlessly, she pops open the lube cap again and this time coats your end in it. You think she’s going to wipe the excess off on the towel but instead, she cups your soaked pussy and spreads the remaining lube all over you. She takes you by surprise when she shoves three fingers deep into you again, making you cry out in pleasure. After a few twists and thrusts, she pulls them out and begins stroking the cock jutting out from between her legs.

“Are you ready, sweet girl?”

“Yes, fuck, please. I need it.”

Alcina lets out a chuckle. “We haven’t even started and you’re already begging for my cock? Such a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” You whine.

She takes a moment to admire how turned on and eager you are, her eyes focused on your throbbing pussy and she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at you, so wet and clenching around nothing already. Since you’re so desperate, you’re going to be a good girl and take mommy’s whole cock. That’s fine with you, isn’t it, draga?”

“Yes! Please, please give it to me. I’ve been so good.” You let out a whine as Alcina rubs the head of the purple strap up and down your drenched slit, just barely brushing over your clit.

“You have been a good girl for me tonight, so I won’t tease you too badly. Let me get you a little more stretched before I fuck you into the mattress. Is that alright, sweet girl?” She asks as she slowly pushes the head between your lips and past the first ring of muscle. It's deep enough for you to clench around, but not enough to get any pleasure from, just the sensation of the head stretching you out.

You whine and try to rock your hips to get her deeper, but Alcina grabs your legs underneath your knees and spreads you wide, holding you in place.

“You’ve been such a good girl this far, don’t make me punish you this early.”

All you can do is whine in response and try to not squirm on the bed. Finally, Alcina decides to stop teasing you and without warning, sinks the entire length of the strap into you and you let out a strangled cry.

“Fuck, I stretched you out so nicely and you’re still so tight.” She says as her eyes flutter from the pleasure she’s receiving from her end of the strap.

Alcina pulls out and thrusts back into you again, she does this a few more times before she begins to lose her composure and she pushes your knees so far backwards they’re practically at your ears. At this angle, with you so spread, Alcina is able to pull out and fuck you deeper and harder as she sets a pace that causes you to cry out with each thrust.

“Good girl.” She purrs. “Look at you, taking my cock so perfectly. God, I love all of the little noises you make when I fuck you.”

Just as you feel like your orgasm is about to build, Alcina switches her pace and bottoms you out, with her hips flush against you and begins to grind the cock deep into your pussy. A surprised gasp escapes your lips and you whimper each time she grinds into you.

“Oh fuck! Alcina!”

“I know baby, it feels so good doesn’t it? That’s it, keep taking it.”

Outside, the storm begins to pick up. The room is occasionally lit up by the lightning cracking across the sky and the thunder continues to shake the house. But with Alcina being buried so deep inside of you, neither of you give it any attention.

The room is filled with the sounds of both of your moans and cries and the sound of her hips slamming into you over and over again. Alcina lets go of your legs and you wrap them around her, keeping her close. Your arms wrap around her neck and you pull her down into a sloppy kiss of clashing teeth, tongues and noses. She bites down on your lower lip, nearly breaking the skin and you rake your nails down her back as she rails into you over and over again. She cries out from the mixture of pleasure and pain from your nails. One of her hands wraps around your neck, just the way you like it, and she adds a slight amount of pressure to the sides.

“You take my big cock so well. Look at you, such a perfect little fuck toy for mommy, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Fuck.” You whine as your eyes roll back.

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me, I can’t wait to make you explode.” She says with what sounds like renewed determination as she switches her strokes to long, hard ones.

The new pattern causes you to arch your back into her, letting out a guttural moan. Her relentless pounding causes your orgasm to build once more, this time much more quickly. As Alcina feels you begin to clench harder and tense around her, she lets out a dark chuckle.

“You’re so close already, I can feel how hard you’re clenching. You want to come so badly, don’t you, my sweet girl?” All you’re able to muster is a whimper and a slight head nod. “Tell me, tell me how badly you want to come.”

“So fucking bad. Please, please don’t fucking stop.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’m nowhere near done with you, draga. Especially not before you give me what I want.”

Knowing what she means, you let out a whine and tightly grasp at the hair on the back of her head. Alcina reaches between your bodies and her thrusts falter for just a moment. Before you can even complain, the cock begins to vibrate inside of you and you cry out for her.

“That’s it, draga, that’s it. Don’t fight it, give it to me my love.” She says in an unexpectedly soft tone, especially given how hard she’s fucking you; but you’re too far gone to really notice.

After a few hard thrusts you’re right on the edge and you can hear how wet you are each time she slams into you.

“Fuck, Alci, fuck, please, please, make me, I’m gonna-”

Before you can finish your ramblings, your orgasm hits you like a bus. Your back arches off of the bed and your eyes roll to the back of your head. A scream rips through your vocal cords as the intense pleasure takes over your body. As Alcina fucks you through it, you feel a rush of liquid between the two of you. Your orgasm gets splattered across your thighs and lower stomach as Alcina’s thrusts continue until your body collapses back onto the bed. She slows her pace and comes to a stop, the strap still nestled deep inside of you as you clench around it while your body trembles from the intensity of your orgasm.

Alcina buries her face into your neck and you feel her panting against you as she catches her breath. When you finally come back into your body, because you’re pretty fucking sure you soul was separated from you for a few minutes, you run your fingers through Alcina’s hair and hold her close.

“Holy shit.” You pant. “That was crazy.”

“That was so fucking hot.” Alcina mumbles into your neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever made you squirt that much before, we’re fucking drenched.”

You let out a breathy chuckle and Alcina presses a kiss into your skin. She sits up and slowly pulls out of you and you whine from the loss.

“Oh hush, don’t think I’m done with you just yet.” She says with a devious smile. “I still have to come.”

“How you didn’t during that is actually insane.”

“I came close a few times, but that’s not how I want you when I do. And as you well know, I usually get what I want.” 

You can’t help but laugh at her arrogance. Does she usually get what she wants? Of course she does. But you have her wrapped so tightly around your finger that more often than not, you get what you want too. 

“Oh? Then how do you want me?”

“Ready for more already?” She asks with an arched brow.

“I will be, I just need a minute.”

Alcina leans down and pulls you into a passionate kiss. Your tongues dance around each other as your hands wander across your bodies. After a couple of minutes, Alcina pulls away and has you flip onto your stomach. She begins to pull your hips up and you get up onto all fours. Before you can get comfortable, you feel Alcina’s strong grip on the back of your head as she pushes you down onto the pillows, face down, ass up.

“Just like that.” She says as she holds your head down and spreads your legs wider.

Even though you’re drenched, Alcina still pops open the lube and coats the toy in it again. Both of you agree, there’s never such a thing as too much lube. Plus, the last thing she wants is to subject you to any kind of friction burn. The two of you have been down that road before and even though it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, it definitely put a damper on the night and kept you out of commission for a couple of days.

She rubs the toy against you a couple of times before slipping it back in. A few slow, long, deep thrusts have you mewling beneath her and you hear her smirk with pride at how easily she can unravel you.

“For my final gift to you tonight,” She says as she keeps her thrusts steady. “You can come as many times as you want.” You let out a satisfied moan that turns into a cry as she thrusts hard into you. “Don’t get too excited, there is a catch.” She says as she returns to her slower pace. “You can come as many times as you want, but I won’t stop until I come. Alright?”

You know if you used your safe word she would stop in an instant. As torturous as the orgasms she forces upon you can be, they’re also other-worldly and there’s definitely a part of you that never wants them to stop, even if you’re a trembling, overstimulated mess.

Eager for her to start, you whine a “mhm” and nod your head. A sharp smack lands on your ass and you yelp both from the surprise and the sting.

“Use your words. Do you understand me?” She says as her tone darkens and the grip on your hair tightens to the point of almost being painful.

“Yes! I can come over and over again and you won’t stop until you come.”

Another sharp slap meets your ass and Alcina immediately soothes it by running her hand over the mark that is definitely starting to develop.

“Good girl. Now be a good little slut and take my cock like the perfect little toy you are.”

Alcina immediately sets a brutal pace, slamming her hips into your ass over and over again. Even if you tried, you wouldn’t have been able to keep the moans and whimpers from slipping through your lips. The grunts coming from behind you as Alcina fucks you spurs you on and you rock back into each thrust, causing her to let out a groan.

“Fuck, good girl.” She says, smacking your ass again. “I love your cunt, taking my cock so perfectly.”

The first orgasm hits you hard and you cry out as you tremble underneath her. It came faster than you were expecting but you’re too blissed out to care that this will inevitably be the first of many orgasms in this position.

Alcina’s pace doesn’t falter or slow down as you come and you whine from the slight overstimulation.

“I told you, draga, I’m not stopping until I come.” She says between pants.

The next two orgasms come one right after the other and you cry out while you shake underneath her. Alcina tightens the grip on your hair and pushes you harder into the mattress while she digs her fingers so hard into your hip there’s no way there won’t be small bruises there later tonight.

You lost count of how many times she made you come by the time you feel yourself losing steam. Her thrusts begin to falter just a bit, signaling she’s getting close. Cracking open one of your eyes, you see Alcina in your peripheral. Her eyes are screwed shut and her lip is caught between her bottom teeth. She tries to keep quiet but you can still hear the small moans and whimpers that escape from her as she gets closer to her release.

With a renewed determination, you slam your hips back into each of her thrusts and she lets out a groan of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, draga, good girl. God, yes!” She says as she throws her head back.

Alcina stops holding back her moans and her thrusts start to lose their rhythm, her low moans and whimpers get higher and higher the closer she gets to her release.

After one high-pitched moan, you can feel the hand in your hair begin to tremble and she releases her grip. Alcina falls forward until there isn’t an inch of room between your bodies, catching herself on her hands that landed on either side of you. She buries her face into your neck and sinks the strap deep into you before grinding down. The closer she gets, the sweeter her moans are when she cries into your skin. With her forehead resting against your cheek, you sink your fingers into her tousled hair, holding her against you.

“Baby, I - I’m gonna -” she whimpers softly into you. “Oh, oh! Oh fuck!”

Her body trembles on top of you and as she fucks herself through her orgasm crying out your name. You hit your peak once more and try to grind back into her as much as you can with her laying on top of you. Your bodies tremble in overstimulation as you both slow down, loud moans and cries softening into quiet whimpers and panting breaths.

The two of you lay there for a couple of minutes as you catch your breaths and come down from your highs.

“I just need a moment and then I’ll get off of you. I’m sorry, I must be crushing you.” She says softly. You can hear the vulnerability in her voice that she lets through only when she’s with you in the privacy of your bedroom.

For someone who is so strong and confident in herself and her body, Alcina also holds many insecurities about her size. She’s learned to accept and embrace the space she takes up, but in quieter moments, she’s opened up about how there are days she hates feeling like a giant. Especially when you’re so small compared to her, with nearly a foot in height difference between the two of you, she often worries about putting all of her weight on you, or afraid she’s going to do something that will hurt you.

She moves to get up and the hold you have on her hair tightens, keeping her against you.

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I like the feeling of your weight on me. It makes me feel safe.” You quietly admit.

“Are you just saying that?”

“Nuh-uh.” You hum. “I promise. I always feel so well protected by you, but when you’re on top of me like this, I feel like nothing in the world can hurt me.” You say as you do your best to nuzzle into her.

It takes a few moments of an inner battle inside of Alcina before you feel her relax, the rest of her weight settling on top of you. After a quick wiggle to adjust so you can breathe, you let out a content sigh and you scratch at your scalp. Alcina snakes her hands underneath you and holds you tight.

You feel something wet on your shoulder just as you hear Alcina sniffle above you.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice is thick and you try to turn your head towards her as much as you can.

Alcina shakes her head and takes a quivering breath in.

“I’m alright.”

“Baby why are you crying?” This time you try to turn your body a little to get a better look at her but she keeps you pinned in place.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“For what, honey?”

“For loving me. All of me. You have no idea how much I treasure you.”

“Can I look at you?” You ask.

Alcina nods her head and slowly pushes herself off of you before sliding out the toy still buried in you. As you roll over, Alcina removes her end of the you and tosses it onto the towel at the end of the bed. Stretching your arms out towards her, Alcina crawls into them and you place a kiss at the top of her head, holding her tight.

She sniffles again and you pull back from her and place your knuckles under her chin, raising her gaze to look up at you, as she’s done to you countless times.

“I love you so much. Every inch of you. Every part of you, even the parts you don’t like about yourself, I love them and I always will.”

Looking into her gorgeous eyes, she looks up at you innocently. Alcina may be a lot of woman, but in moments like this you see the young girl she keeps buried inside of her. With all six foot three of her curled into you, you can’t help but cuddle her like she’s your size.

Alcina slides her hand into your hair and pulls you into a deep kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made up for when words failed. The kind that conveyed so much love it made your heart nearly burst.

When your lips part you wipe the trail her tears left behind and she lets out a huff before sitting up and wiping her eyes.

“Ugh, well this wasn’t part of the plan!”

You let out a chuckle while rubbing your hands over her thighs.

“Maybe not, but I do love when you’re soft.” Alcina rolls her eyes at you. “What? I love seeing the soft side of my big, bad, intimidating girlfriend.” You say as you wrap your arms around her waist and rest your chin on her chest, looking up at her. 

Alcina playfully rolls her eyes at you before wrapping her arms around you and pulling you back down onto the mattress. You let out a surprised squeal and laugh as she pulls you down.

“I’ll show you big, bad, and intimidating.” She says, flippantly snapping her teeth at you.

“Oh no, I’m so scared!” You say with almost too much sarcasm in your voice as you laugh.

Alcina scoffs at you.

“Don’t be fresh!” She says as she goes to tickle you.

“No! No, no, no!” You yelp, trying to squirm away from her.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere!”

The two of you end up in a pile of limbs and laughter before she finally gives up on tickling you. The drastic shift of moods tonight has you absolutely wiped but Alcina convinces you to shower with her before going to sleep.

Once you’re both done and ready for bed, you notice the rain has finally stopped and all you hear outside is the sound of frogs croaking in the distance. Alcina holds you against her and kisses your forehead.

“I truly am sorry your plans got rained out today, draga.” She says. “Perhaps we can reschedule what you had planned for next weekend?”

“You really want to do that?”

“Of course I do! You put so much time and effort into it. All of the little details you decided to add, like my favorite foods or my favorite museum, it means so much to me that you wanted to do all of those things with me for our anniversary.”

“Well, yeah. I have fun when you have fun. Besides, it’s not like I get many opportunities to woo you.” You say with a smirk.

Alcina laughs and kisses the side of your head.

“We shall have to remedy that, then.” She puts her fingers under your chin and guides you to look up at her. “Happy anniversary, draga mea. Ai toată inima mea. Te iubesc atât de mult îngerul meu.” (You have my whole heart. I love you so much my angel).

“Happy anniversary, Alcina. I love you.”

[freelancearsonist]

Some Fools Fool Themselves

➔ Javier Peña x fem!Reader - 2.7k

➔ You were meant to be a mission—an insider that Javi could wring information from on some of the biggest names in the trade. It didn’t go to plan, but maybe that’s not so bad.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (m receiving), throatfucking, handjobs, creampie, spanish dirty talk (both javi and reader - translations in footnotes), reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader wears a bikini, smoking/nicotine use, cheating (reader is married this is the mob wife fic you all asked for), kind of angsty but mostly just porn with the slightest sprinkling of plot for ✨flavor✨ [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

The bright, glaring yellow waves of sunlight reflect off the surface of lapping pool water and cast it in a nearly green light. Javi’s dark eyes are transfixed on it through his polarized sunglasses as he marinates in the beating hot Colombian summer sun.

Javier has never questioned his dutiful determination before. He’s never wondered if the ends actually do justify the means. He’s been in the palm of Uncle Sam’s hand for so long that the lines have become blurry—that the consideration of moral superiority doesn’t cross his mind anymore. Not that it ever really has; that’s why he’s so well-suited for the job he’s in. He follows his orders, no matter the cost.

And that’s why you pose such an issue to him. You make him question everything. Every move he’s made, every goal he’s been so set on accomplishing for so many years. If he sends this shiny-sinister iceberg of a drug hierarchy tumbling down the way he’s always believed it should, you’ll be buried in the debris. And maybe, at first, that knowledge didn’t bother him. Maybe he even believed that you deserved that—to be crushed by the weight of your own empire.

If he did, he certainly doesn’t anymore—and it’s killing him.

He’s never been so shaken and unsure. Maybe that’s why the water has caught his eyes—it’s a visual representation of how he feels. Rippling and indecisive, desperate to cling to you yet eager to let you go just like the droplets that part from your form as you lift yourself onto the concrete lip of the pool.

You stride toward him with slow movements, and the dilemma vanishes completely from his mind.

”You look stressed,” you murmur as you kneel beside the lounger he’s sprawled himself out on and take his hand. “What’s wrong?”

”Just tired,” he hums in response. He runs the rough pad of his thumb over the back of your hand in an unconscious effort to sooth your worry over him. “Long night at work.”

You don’t know what he actually does—as far as you’re concerned, he’s just a lowly janitor at the embassy. You can imagine that such menial labor is thoroughly exhausting, though, and you’re determined to help ease his sore muscles.

”Flip over,” you instruct—and like a good agent, he follows orders.

For fingers that he’s noted time and time again are so much daintier than his own, they work wonders on his sore muscles. They work with skill and intuition, magnetically drawn to the worst knots in his back. The pressure is perfect, and it has him practically drooling.

When those skilled fingers of yours hook into the waistband of his swim trunks and start tugging them down, he doesn’t even think of resisting.

You’ve learned to do something that no one and nothing else has managed to accomplish in all his lifetime—you quiet his swirling mind. There’s nothing beyond the bubble of you and him. Nothing to worry about, nothing to accomplish. No ulterior motives to his presence here, shirtless and lounging like he owns the place. Like this isn’t your husband’s house that he’s supposed to be searching for intel. 

You coax him to roll over again onto his back. He can’t miss the heat of your gaze—the way your eyes shamelessly skirt down the broad expanse of his torso to take in the softly swelling length of his cock. He knows you relish in these moments—when all you have to do is look at him to get him going. You’re proud of yourself for it, for the effect you have on him.

It’s easy to forget, when you have him completely at your mercy like this, that you’re just as weak for him as he is for you.

”Missed you,” you mumble into his lips as you straddle his lap. 

He takes your hips in his steady grip—guides the pace as you rock against him. “It’s only been a couple days.”

”I know,” you whisper. You grind down harder than he means to allow you, drawing a deep groan from his diaphragm. “Still missed you.”

And then, because he finds it nearly impossible to lie to you: “I missed you too.”

He licks eagerly into your mouth before you can say anything, and you accept his tongue without complaint. Your fingers now move to his face, practically clawing in desperation to pull him closer and deepen the already heated kiss.

It’s been nearly a year of him hanging around here, playing his role in the act of your affair. He has you figured out to the most minute details—he knows all your wants, all your needs. He knows the exact sounds that he can draw from you when he sucks over the pulse point on your neck: a squeal as you begrudgingly push him away and mumble something about not leaving marks. He smirks and moves on to the next spot, knowing that you can’t resist for long. Knowing that you don’t even want to in the first place.

He knows that you’re eager for him in the same way he is for you—to please, to take care of. He sees it in action when you reach down and wrap your fingers around his length; when you let out a little breath at the way your fingers can’t quite fit all the way around his girth. You act surprised every time, no matter how many times he finds you in his lap like this. And he loves it—loves the way you practically soak through your little bikini bottoms at just the feel of him in your hand. 

“That’s it, bebita,” he murmurs close to your ear. “Fuck, that feels good.”

You hum your appreciation at his words, a silent thank you in the twist of your wrist and the tightening of your grip. It makes his hips jump, cock throbbing under your touch as he tries to fight your slow pace in favor of more intense stimulation. But you aren’t having it—you pin his thighs down with your weight so you can languish in torturing him.

He actually growls as your pace slows—a deep, rumbling, animalistic sound that goes straight to your panties. His restraint is slipping second by second the longer you tease him. He’s throbbing, aching in your grip; he would be embarrassed over how quickly you’ve reduced him to such a primal state if he had any blood left in his brain.

”Dámelo.” There’s nothing pleading or polite about his tone. This is a command, an instruction; an order you don’t dare disobey.

You pull away quickly, but you’re back before he can even process your absence. You’ve shifted to the end of the lounger, face deliciously close to where he’s aching to feel you.

”Relax, Javi,” you hum pleasantly. “Déjame cuidar de ti.”

”Then don’t be a fucking tease.” There’s an evident smirk in his tone, and it makes you smile as you slowly trail your tongue along his length, from the seam of his balls up to swirl around the thick, leaking tip of him.

He grunts as your lips seal around him, one thick-fingered hand coming down to gently urge you deeper. He’s not shy of being greedy with you; he knows how much you love the authoritarianism of his dominance. To let go of your mind and let him take the reigns. As much as you love to play at a power struggle, this is what you want in the end. To be controlled, to be guided. To take exactly what he gives you, exactly the way he gives it to you.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he groans with a buck of his hips that pushes him against the back of your throat. “Take it all.”

And always eager to please, you try your best to do exactly that. You open your throat as much as possible to accommodate his girth and do your best to tamp down the gag reflex that he’s bullying awake. Your nails dig into the meat of his hips as you let him guide you deeper, further—he’ll admire the little crescent moon marks later, alone in his government-issue apartment.

His unoccupied hand slips down the back of your neck and tugs at the string of your bikini top. He doesn’t get quite the view he wants with you choking on his cock, but reaching down to gently pinch and tug at your nipples is enough for him—especially with the little moans and vibrations you let out around his cock.

He tugs your hair a little harshly to pull you off of him when the pleasure compounds. You whine at the loss of his taste, and he groans at the shiny spit that links your swollen lips to his cock.

His breathless moan goes straight to your neglected cunt and makes you squirm with arousal. “Shit, sweetheart. Christ, you’re a fuckin’ dream.”

You shake your head and muster every ounce of seduction your lust-addled brain can generate as you trail open-mouthed kisses over his clenched thighs. “I’m real, Javi. And I really want you.”

Normally, he would want to get his hands on you. He would want to press his fingers deep into your cunt and languish in the embarrassing squelch of your arousal as he works you open for him. He would want to pull orgasm after orgasm from you until the pleasure is so blinding that you can do nothing but slump into his arms and take it. But you’re impatient today; it’s been more than a week since you last saw him, and that means it’s been more than a week since you felt anything remotely pleasurable. Your husband didn’t marry you for love, or even lust—he married you for convenience, for security. For cover to keep up appearances. 

Maybe Javi’s been taking advantage of that all this time—how deeply you crave the connection that you’re constantly deprived of. Maybe he should call this off now, before he takes anymore than he already has from you.

But he’s not selfless. He has his flaws, and his biggest one is that he’s irreversibly fallen in love with you. He craves that connection just as deeply as you do.

Your desperation bleeds into his veins and makes him dizzy with arousal. He nods as his throat bobs around a deep gulp. “Alright. Dealer’s choice.”

You only have to consider for a moment before you flip in his lap, bracing yourself forward on your arms in between his legs with your ass pressed snuggly against his cock. You grind lightly against him, and it’s almost enough to make him lose his head.

But just as quickly as his sensible thought leaves, it’s right back where it belongs. He grabs your hips harder than he should to drag you against his solid length and relishes in the deep moan you emit.

”Take what you need, baby,” is all the encouragement you need from him. You take him into your hand again and rise up onto your knees so you can tease his spit-soaked tip against your entrance. You look over your shoulder so you can see his reaction as you trace him around your slit; you relish in the hard set of his jaw, the clenched teeth that you can see through his parted lips as he fights the urge to slam you down hard onto him. He’d only be feeding into the bit—he knows your sole mission is to make him lose his composure. 

But it’s so hard not to when you’re looking at him like this—like he holds your very soul in the palm of his hand. The trust, the admiration, in your gaze is nearly enough to make him choke.

Thankfully, you choose this exact moment to sink down the length of him.

The sheer size of him is overwhelming on a normal day, and even more so today when you’ve not had your usual preparation. He bullies his way deep enough to fill your chest, stretching you to your very limit and maybe even past it.

But he’s prepared for it, for how staggering he can feel at first thrust. He grounds you to him with heavy hands on your hips and fits you snug against him. He whispers up at you, little encouragements and sweet nothings. His praise rings sweet and clear as he tells you how good you feel, how warm, how tight, how wet. He basks in the feeling of you soaking him all the way to the very base—in the feeling of your sweet juices dripping down him to soak the coarse patch of hair above his cock.

You pause when you feel his tip kissing your cervix, moaning in tandem with Javi at the way he twitches within your snug walls. It’s like the first time every single time you take him—you wonder if that’s what keeps him coming back for more. You’ve never heard him say he loves you, but you could believe it when you’re like this; when he starts rocking up into you with the sole intention of finding that one little spot that’ll have you shaking and sobbing in his arms.

”You’ve got this, baby,” he grunts in reassurance. “You’re takin’ it so well, honey. Tan perfecto.”

The praise runs up your spine from where you’re connected with him and lodges itself in your brain—it plays on repeat while you start bouncing your hips in an effort to match his pace. It draws a deep, heady grunt from him and pulls him into action. One hand grabs a harsh handful of your ass while you spear yourself on his length, and the other hand slides up the curve of your waist to find a nipple to roll between his expert fingers.

It baffles you, his ability to multitask. When you’re like this—filled to the very brim—all you can focus on is the delicious friction of his cock dragging against every sweet spot inside you. But Javi has a precious ability to attend to as many erogenous zones as he can all at once—something you admire more than you can put into words. His ability to rip you apart is completely unrivaled.

There’s a desperate fury to his touch as his hand slides over your hip from your ass, wrapping around you to circle your clit. It’s harsh and fast—the exact pressure that makes you tremble and scream.

And you do; you come with a cry of his name, cunt clenching around him in a vice grip that almost makes it impossible to keep up the pace. But he tries anyway—anchors your hips in his large hands so he can thrust up into you through your high.

The lounger creaks dangerously beneath you, but the sound is lost to your ears when you’re so thoroughly blinded by your pleasure.

Within a few moments Javi follows you, growling deep in his diaphragm as he spills himself hot and thick into your soaked pussy. 

You don’t think it’s ever been this messy before. All you can focus on is the hot, sticky mess slipping down your thighs. Javi can tell that it’s uncomfortable for you, so he reaches down and grabs your discarded bikini top to wipe away as much as he can. You’ve got plenty of others—and even if you don’t, your husband will buy you a new one without question.

He discards it back on the burning concrete once he’s satisfied with his clean up job, then leans back on the lounger and grabs a cigarette from the open pack on the table next to him.

He tries not to smile too much when you stay in place and snuggle into his chest. He really wasn’t a cuddler before you—but now, all he wants is to feel your warmth and weight against him.

It’s not nearly long enough before you look up at him with your pretty eyes and say, ”He’ll be home soon.”

”I’d better beat it then.” He flicks the ash off of his cigarette and pushes himself slowly to his feet—finds his swim trunks discarded on the ground at the foot of the lounger.

”Hey?” He pauses, brow furrowing at how small and timid your voice sounds in just that one word. He’s never heard that quality to your tone before, and it worries him.

”Yeah?”

”Just… please come back sooner,” you mutter. “I missed you.”

Javier Peña is a weak, weak man within these walls. He smiles the softest smile he can muster and pulls you into his arms to press a gentle kiss to your hairline. For a moment, he forgets that you’re not really his. “Okay. I will, baby.”

And he means it, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

THE END

➔ Translations: bebita - baby dámelo - give it to me déjame cuidar de ti - let me take care of you tan perfecto - so perfect

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 title is from “love hurts” by nazareth

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

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[destinationtrekk]

Okay so... this idea has been cowering in my mind for awhile now..

You work for Wesker and have like a bad day at work or whatever, like he fusses at you or something (also you've got a crush on him because who doesn't cough cough)

you go home and you've been kicked out (either roommate or partner or whatever) and the only place you can go is like really far or something and it's started raining but apparently you live like near him somewhat so he opens the door and you're just standing there drenched, needing a place to stay

id love to know how he'd react or what he'd do 👉👈

umbrella wesker for this... all employees have to live x miles from the facility or something for emergencies idk

anyway lets say your day was fucking awful. i mean nothing was going right, multiple projects on hold or even cancelled because just... everything is wrong. wesker knows how research goes, sometimes things just don't work out, but it doesn't stop him being pissy too. he takes it out on you because you work closest with him, and his harsh attitude is enough to make you tear up on the drive home.

when you go home to a complete shock of your partner ending things, of course you realize the place in in their name. you have enough time to pack a bag until you can come back for the rest of your things and... great. now it's raining

you have no where to go without calling out of work for a few days, which is just not an option, period. you've been to wesker's house once to drop off a few files but, you have no other choice. the facility is in the middle of no where, you can't just get a hotel or sleep in your car, you're fucked. you have to risk asking him for help.

you're drenched when he opens the door, looking like a truly pathetic lost puppy, and he just stares as you sputter through excuses to explain what you're doing at his house. you're shivering and leaving a puddle on his welcome mat so he rolls his eyes and invites you in.

he makes you stand in place while he goes to get you a towel, and surprisingly comes back with a dry shirt and sweatpants too. he doesn't say anything about it, just points you to the restroom and wanders off.

you come back out somewhat dry and in comfy clothes, expecting him to... honestly you weren't even sure you'd get this far. he doesn't ask you to explain or justify why you're suddenly without a place to stay, which unnerves you a little. wesker is not the kind of man to bitch at someone all day and then accept them into his home and into his clothes without question. he washes your sopping wet clothes for you and you spend the night on his ridiculously comfortable couch. you leave in the morning before the sun rises, clocking into work hours early just to avoid an awkward morning with wesker, though you know he heard you leave.

the next day, work is marginally better, despite your awful mood and severe anxiety over what you'll do tonight. it's only wednesday, and you need a plan until the weekend. all of your half-assed plans are cut short when wesker finds you just as your shift is ending.

"leaving so soon? i thought you'd be more eager to work a double, considering how early you got here." he's got an eyebrow raised above his stupid ass sunglasses and he cuts off your sputtering with a raised hand.

"I have...meetings to attend tonight. the back door will be open, if you...need it." his expression is tense, but you hear the genuine meaning behind his words. he walks away and leaves you mouth agape in your lab. guess you have a place to stay after all.

[darling-i-read-it]

Please Don't Kill Me Mr. Ghostface!

Ethan Landry x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k 

Warnings: SCREAM 6 SPOILERS 

Very susceptible reader, Ethan’s reaction to Richies death, heavy insinuations to smut, faking the reader and Quinn's death, the slight cringe from scream movies dialogue <3, they literally have sex in the stab shrine room (when will it be my turn), (that is all skipped over), me being unsure of which ghostface was at which part of the movie. I have only seen Scream 6 once and was just going off what I remembered from it! So if things are wrong (timing, Ghostfaces, etc) then I’m sorry! 

Author’s Note: This one requires some suspension of belief lol. I don’t know HOW to justify the reader doing all these things except Ethan was cute and this is fiction <3 I hope you enjoy love!! Also I wasn’t 100% sure on if Ethan’s name was Landry or Bailey. I went with Landry (which I’m sure is fake but what we all know him as! So when I refer to the house under that name, I was torn lol)

Requested by anon, ooh ok so can i request ethan x reader where reader is in on the ghostface thing (but she’s not killing people she just knows about it) and like helps them with stuff (maybe with like faking quinn’s death and stuff like that idk) but also it’s somehow fluffy relationship stuff in there too lol (sorry it’s kinda all over the place😬)

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were laying on the back on Ethan’s bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. His room was as familiar to you as your own was. You had practically grown up at the Landry’s home, going to school together for your entire lives and staying close to Ethan throughout it all. Once you had hit your senior year in high school, it seemed only fate the two of you would start to date.

You put down your phone with a gentle huff. Ethan was sitting in front of his computer, doing homework. You turned your head to face him, trying to telepathically ask for attention. As if he could read your mind, he spoke. 

“Give me five more minutes.” 

“I told you taking chemistry for your lab credit was dumb,” you said gently, wanting to sneak in an ‘I told you so’ but also not wanting to agitate him. He was brilliant but he couldn’t always grasp the concepts he had too. You suspected some sort of undiagnosed learning disorder but you were far from a doctor. You were just his best friend. 

“I don’t remember you being there when I picked classes,” he said quietly. You rolled your eyes. 

“I was there in spirit.” You grabbed your phone again, flipping onto your stomach. You opened it back up, looking past the screensaver of you and Ethan over the summer before, when you had been on vacation with his family. You reopened Instagram to continue your doom scroll. The first story you opened was that of a friend from school. 

You usually skipped through them, not even registering what they said, but paused at the large bolded letters over a black screen. 

Rip Richie <3 

You didn’t deserve to be caught up in that. 

You squinted, trying to place a Richie that you knew. The first that came to your mind was Ethan’s older brother but just as quickly as the thought came it left. It couldn’t have been him. He was with his girlfriend in Modesto or something. Plus, how would this rando in high school know before you and Ethan? You kept flicking through your friend's stories, confused. Someone had posted a blurry picture of some sort of a crime scene. It was clearly reposted over and over so the picture itself was almost lost. You squinted and then opened your google app.

“Okay I’m done,” Ethan said, shutting his laptop with triumph. “I’m gonna ace that test tomorrow.” He looked over your face and could read you with ease. Something was wrong - or at the very least, confusing. “What?” 

You googled Richies name. A flood of reports came up. Your lips parted in surprise as you looked up at Ethan. 

“What?” he repeated. Before you could explain, his phone rang. You both looked towards where it was resting on the bed beside you. You picked it up. A picture of his dads face was on the screen. 

“Oh God,” you whispered, unable to contain it. 

“What?!” He grabbed his phone and answered it quickly. You sat up, tossing your phone aside and getting off the bed. You knew right now that he was going to be grieving more than you. You had to be there for him. “Hello? Dad?” You stood beside him and watched as his face fell according to the muffled voice coming from the receiver. His eyes were laced with confusion and then a flash of pain. “What do you mean Richie-” He was cut off. 

There were a few more words and then his eyes went dead with emotion. You weren’t sure what to do so you stood beside him. He hung up the phone after a moment and then looked up at you. 

“Richie?” He nodded. His mouth was ajar, stunned. He threw his arms around you and you embraced each other as he stood up. “What happened?” you questioned. He was silent. You didn’t think you were going to get an answer until he spoke, quietly. 

“He was murdered.” 

-

“It’s actually kind of easy to rig the roommate system,” you muttered, sitting at a chair in front of your computer. The room behind you was filled with the remaining Landry’s. 

You turned around to the curious eyes. 

“So he’s in?” Wayne questioned. You nodded. 

“He is going to be Chads Meeks-Martin’s roommate,” you explained. He slapped you on the back in approval. You had always been on good terms with Wayne. He was the kind of dad who would ask if you had a boyfriend and then wink at his son after the question. He had been slightly overjoyed when Ethan told him you were dating. This came only after, he caught you and Ethan making out in his bedroom. It was mortifying but he was pretty okay about it. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Wayne was not on board with telling you about the trio of Ghostfaces he had planned but Ethan insisted. You had been there when he found out about Richie and you had been there through all of his hardships. 

“And you’re okay with coming around my place when we have to…you know…” Quinn made a gesture of slitting her own throat. “I mean, I need someone to drag my body out of there while my dad brings a new one.” 

You tried to ignore your moral dilemma to this. Ethan had promised you wouldn’t be implicated in any of this. But sometimes when Wayne looked at you during this you knew that you would go down with them if he went down. You were in on this now. You couldn’t exactly back out. 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

Quinn smiled brightly. She was slightly too excited about this. Part of you still didn’t think it was actually going to happen. You couldn’t imagine Ethan actually killing anyone, even when his eyes lit up while talking about it. 

“For Richie,” Ethan promised, placing a hand on your back. You nodded, getting up and out of your seat. You gestured to the computer. 

“I didn’t think this is what I would be doing with my computer science classes,” you admitted. Ethan smiled gently at you, ever soft, even when planning people’s literal murders. 

“For some reason I feel like she’s gonna have no problem faking our deaths but is gonna have a major problem not getting to hang out with Ethan everyday,” Quinn teased. You rolled your eyes. You wouldn’t be able to see him when he’s hanging out with his new group of friends. At least, you would have to act like you didn’t know him as closely as you actually did. You were meant to be Quinn’s friend in all of this. 

Wayne was grabbing papers off the table, presumably planning. He actively tried to burn everything after memorizing it. You thought it was dumb of him to write anything else. 

“You gonna be okay?” Ethan questioned, jokingly. You rolled your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be worried about me E. I’m not the clingy one in this relationship.” 

-

Sam and Tara shouldn’t have been as nice as they were. You recognized the hate in Sam's eyes, the paranoia that was justified. She was out, attempting to get Tara from a party she went to. You sat in the apartment with Quinn. She was working through some homework. You were still amazed she did all that during this planning. 

You walked around her room, making sure that all of the blood that needed to come out, would come out. You liked to double check. You blamed the nerves. 

“Is he supposed to be here soon?” Quinn questioned. You glanced back at her. 

“You know we aren’t supposed to talk that much over the phone.” You were standing on top of her bed. Everything was in place for when your Ghostface arrived. You hopped down. She turned away from her computer. 

“I know you’re not supposed to. I also know he can’t help himself.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Soon. Within the hour,” you admitted. She left her computer open, to show that she was ambushed. You and Quinn were supposed to die tonight at the hands of Ghostface. After Sam and Tara left, he would sneak in and find you both, unsuspecting and oh so helpless. By the time the sisters returned home, you would both be dead, or close to it.

You glanced down at your phone which was still open to your texts with Ethan. 

Can’t wait to stick something in you tonight ;) 

You rolled your eyes, flushed, and turned off your phone. 

Quinn helped you to make sure everything would look as realistic as possible. She explained, again, that they would blame Sam for all of this. Once she was dead and Richie’s death had been paid for, the two of you would be able to return to society as though Ghostface had held you captive. 

You were too far in to back out now. 

You heard the front door open. Quinn shut her blinds so that no one would see Ethan maskless. It had been a couple of weeks since the two of you had been alone (or alone with Quinn). He walked in through the front door, which Sam had left unlocked in her rush, and quickly made his way to Quinn’s room. 

You met him halfway, throwing your arms around him. His laughter was muffled by the voice changer. You took his mask off of him, eager to get your lips on his. You couldn’t believe you were really doing this. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend was going to fake kill you. 

He kissed you before you could get to it. 

“Alright alright love birds,” Quinn grumbled. “Get in the closet Ethan, the girls are gonna be back soon.” 

“Will you give us one sec?” Ethan questioned. Quinn looked like she wanted to argue but knew that an argument would just continue this further than she wanted to. You stood outside of her door, leaving it ajar. He looked around carefully to make sure no windows were in view. You were alone. 

You took the mask from him. You felt it in your fingers. You hadn’t seen him in the outfit yet. You had seen Quinn and you had seen his dad but you hadn’t ever seen him in the full get up. 

“You’re so scary,” you whispered, a buzz in your voice. “I would be terrified.” 

“Are you scared?” He put the mask up to his face. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. 

“What’s that part in the first Stab?” You thought for a minute, pressing yourself up against him. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes. He had missed you desperately. You had grown up together and spending a long time apart was proving to be more difficult than he thought it would be. “Please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel!” 

He chuckled lowly and clutched your face, leaning over to kiss you. You let him, relishing in his lips. Who knew when he would slip away again to see you. You would be sentenced to hiding until all of this was over. He placed his other hand on your side, holding you in his grasp. 

“Alright you two! Andele, andele!” Quinn opened up the door. He let you go. You grabbed the mask with both of your hands, rubbing it with your thumb. It was scary. It wouldn’t be hard to act the part. 

“You ready to die?” he asked but his voice was so gentle it was almost comical. It was like he was checking in on you. 

“Yes sir.” 

You put the mask over his face and then he was no longer your boyfriend. He was Ghostface. You slipped into Quinn’s room and prepared for your end. 

-

“Maybe I should’ve joined in on the killing,” you muttered, looking up at the ceiling. You were stuck in the Ghostface shrine that Richie had created. It was fun for a while, considering there was so much to look at, but there were only so many times the Stab movies were interesting to watch. Quinn came and went but mostly went. You weren’t sure where Wayne was keeping her otherwise. 

The burner phone in your pocket buzzed. You quickly reached for it. 

“Hello?” 

“Lemme up.” 

You knew that voice. You also knew he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near here until much later. This room wasn’t even supposed to be found yet. He hung up the phone. You walked to the elevator and pushed the button to lower it. It took a few minutes but you heard it come back after a while. 

Ethan practically threw the gate open. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He threw his arms around you. 

“Those people are really fucking annoying.” You scoffed. You were grateful for the company but not at the behest of his cover. “I missed you.”

“Does your dad know you’re here?”

“I’m supposed to be in a study group.” 

“Skipping study group to see me? Tsk, tsk Ethan.”

“Shush.” 

He dipped his head to kiss you. You put your hands on his cheeks. You melted into him. You tried to imagine what Quinn would’ve said if she was here. Probably some crude joke that all three of you knew to be true in the end. 

You pulled away from him and kissed his jaw as you did so. 

“Bet you’ve never made out in the Stab shrine before,” he questioned jokingly. You scoffed. 

“Alright Ethan,” you scoffed. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about feelings,” he whined. “I have to be back soon.” 

“You came all the way up here to have sex in front of all these dead peoples possessions?” He paused. He knew how that sounded. He also knew he had faked your death. He wasn’t super sure how to handle this one. 

“Yes?” 

You narrowed your eyes. 

“I’m not gonna see you before the whole big thing. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Pillowtalk,” he breathed. You pretended to think. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

-

You sat up against the wall of the backrooms. You dragged him away from the prying eyes of all the killer memorabilia. 

“Are you scared?” you questioned. He had his head resting in your lap. He had to leave soon, you both knew it. 

“No,” he said quietly. “My dad will be there. He wouldn’t let us die when he’s with us.” You were brushing your fingers through his curls. You looked down at his big doe eyes, a faint smile on your face. 

“I’m scared.” 

“Don’t be.” 

“You can’t stop me,” you promised. He rolled his eyes. He hummed pleasantly from your touch. “You’ll be safe, yeah?”

“I’m going to kill someone.”

“I know. I know.” You tried not to think of it. You couldn’t imagine his eyes going black, killing people without remorse. Even when he was rushing at you with the knife, you knew he was just Ethan. “I still want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe.” 

“You have to go.” He groaned. You pushed him gently so he would get off of you. You would be stuck here. Maybe you would have another Stab marathon. You were beginning to like even the shitty ones. Stab 3 started to become an odd comfort. “I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

“You promise?” 

“Yeah E. I promise.”

[inyourfantasyfanfics]

Hi! Can we have the crusaders reacting to their fem!s/o wearing lingerie for them, but she was really insecure to use it, because she doesn't have like, big boobs or bigs thighs and booty. And she tells them that and they tried to comfort by saying sweet words to her and maybe it leads to some smut? Maybe comforting her by touching her too?

(you can age up Kak and Jotaro :))

Yeah absolutely!

Warnings/disclaimers: slightly spicy, mentions of sex, part 4 jotaro and kak.

Lined for modesty hehe

Joseph JOSTAR!

He’s EXTATIC when he sees you all dressed up for him, you probably won’t have time to express any concerns before his hands and lips are on you. He’s so big compared to you and he LIVES for it

When you can finally get a word in and tell him that you feel super insecure it will almost completely fly over his head but the look on your face stabs his heart. And he will immediately reassure you by basically screaming praises and kissing every little insecurity until you smile at him.

He is going to take his time with you that night, to fully make sure you understand just how sexy you are to him.

Never doubt you have beauty around this man because he's going to disagree and he's going to be loud about it. He will learn from this moment and make it a point in the future to compliment you more. He's also going to buy you more cute skimpy outfits. He says it's like exposure therapy but really he just wants to see you in lingerie.

Jotaro Kujo

You can’t read his expression when he comes into your shared bedroom. You had just finished adjusting the fabric to your body when you spotted him. He was exactly on time. Everything with him was like clockwork. He doesn’t say a thing as he sets down his things and removes his coat, never breaking his dangerous eye contact.

You use this moment to almost apologize as if your standing in all your beautiful glory was something to ever apologize to him for. He does however let you voice your insecurities as his hands find your hips and he pulls your fronts together. He almost rolls his eyes when you say that you're lacking in ‘important areas’ He doesn’t roll his eyes though. For once, he deems this situation unfit for his attitude.

He backs you to the bed with a “Be quiet.” And presses his hips to yours. His arousal was apparent and it made you swallow hard. He will start debunking all of the insecurities you listed before he cornered you on the bed. His gaze was intimidating and his tone dangerous as if he was daring you to disagree. He would have none of it. He didn’t like hearing a pretty voice say negative things. It was pointless. What pissed him off the most was seeing you upset.

He made it his goal that night to make sure that the only thing that came out of your mouth was pretty little moans.

Avdol

He is very perceptive and probably noticed and had conversations about your insecurities before. This man worships the ground you walk on and he hates seeing you uncomfortable. So when he sees you in pretty lingerie he thinks maybe there's been a breakthrough and you are one step closer to seeing the goddess that you are.

It occurs to him that he's just been starting as if analyzing you when you start to apologize. This man gets on his knees before you and thanks you for blessing him. He’d start kissing your thighs and hands completely ignoring that you were apologizing for not being more.

His words haven't worked before his actions will have to suffice. Don’t get me wrong I think this man has an ultimate praise kink and will still spill sweet words about you through this whole ordeal but he may not justify any self-degrading comments with any sort of response

Polnareff

He’s a lot like Joseph in the way of pouncing now and asking questions later. Fully tackles you to the bed the moment his eyes land on you, hands are everywhere he just can’t help himself. Unlike Joseph, you won’t have time to express any concerns because he’s ravenous. You’d have to kick him to get him to listen.

This man is so confused because he thinks the world of you. But deep down he understands he has quite a bit of insecurity too whether he shows them or not is a different thing.

He’s the type of guy to be butt-ass naked and stop what he’s doing to find a guitar to serenade you. It’s awful and hurts your ears but the effort he put into it is astounding. He’s probably the one that shows you off the most out of the group. Having insecurities about your size around him is near impossible.

Kakyoin! (He’s alive and lives till a very old age ok!!!???) anyway this would be part 4 kak

The type to very happily watches you get into the lingerie without disturbing you. He’s very quiet so you sometimes are startled after realizing he’s in the room on a day-to-day basis. He enjoys people's reactions, especially yours. So he stays letting his eyes scan your body like it was built for him. That is till he notices your pained expression when you look in the mirror or your hands that restlessly adjust the fabric in discontent. Only then does he strategically enter.

He probably starts in the room a little noisier so you aren’t caught off guard by his presence. He will immediately launch into pretty compliments and touch you in the places you hate the most. He’s calculating and cunning. He wants you to associate his loving touch with your insecurities in hopes that it will make you love them too. He has deep-rooted insecurities as well so he knows just how terrible they can make someone feel. He doesn’t want you to be hurt like that.

This man kisses every inch of your body that night and gives you a reason he loves every part of you. I think his words are so sweet it would be hard not to cry because of them

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

“Y’know… I’d always imagined coming here with a cute girl on my arm, taking her around to all the games and winning her stuffed toys before ending the night on this Ferris wheel.” Cloud rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tighter against his chest to hide the discomfort and seething jealous roiling beneath.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Zack looked at him from across the booth, eyes wide before his hands were shooting up in front of him, shaking them as he also shook his head.

“Wait no! That came out wrong! I didn’t mean anything by it!” Cloud raised a brow toward him for a brief moment before huffing, turning to watch the seemingly endless fireworks instead.

“Whatever.” He could hear Zack shuffling on the seat, looking as if he were stuck between deciding to get up or stay seated. The last time he’d gotten up he’d knocked the table in the middle, sending them spinning for an uncomfortably long time.

The other man sighed after a long moment, scratching the back of his neck as he also looked away, “I just meant. Dreams can change a lot over time. Once upon a time mine was to become a SOLDIER and get a cute girlfriend from the city.”

Cloud relaxed a little, eyes softening as he hummed out a vague noise. He did actually know about that. He’d dreamt of the same thing once after all. Granted, he’d had his heart pretty set on Tifa back then. Determined to become some hotshot SOLDIER and come riding back into town to sweep her off her feet.

The thought was equal parts amusing and embarrassing when he looked at it now, quietly wondering how he’d missed the blaring signs of his attraction to a certain first class for so damn long.

Zack smiled a little toward him, this one more reserved and timid than the usual ones he let loose, “Now my dreams are different, and I reckon I’m pretty damn close to maybe, hopefully, achieving one of them.”

Cloud fought down the rabid hope in his chest, tilting his head in such a Zack move that he had to fight not to correct it, lest he draw even more attention to it.

“What do you mean?” The other man smiled a little wider, shuffling over on his seat until he was clear of the turn table before walking over to sit on the same bench as Cloud. The blond followed him with his eyes, turning to face him better when he did sit.

“I mean, I don’t dream of having a cute girlfriend from the city anymore, and even though I didn’t have a cute girl to win plush toys for today.”

Cloud snorted, stealing a quick glance at the heinously big Chocobo sitting by their swords in the corner, before focusing on Zack once more. Who had - at some point - shuffled right in against Cloud, their thighs now touching as a hand came up to brush against his bangs lightly.

“I had a beautifully feisty merc that gave me a run for my money at every turn, and he fits into my new dream perfectly.” Cloud could feel the heat spill across his cheeks, mouth dropping open in a quiet gasp as Zack closed the distance between them.

It’d be so terribly sappy and horrible for Cloud to describe the feeling of finally - finally - kissing Zack as fireworks going off. But considering the very real ones still erupting behind him, he felt it justified that he did.

The older man pulled away, just enough to speak in a lightly amused but kind of scared tone, “That is, if he wants to?”

Cloud huffed out a fond laugh, hand coming up to grip one of the others shoulder straps, “Maybe you should’ve asked that before you kissed him.”

He didn’t give Zack time to respond though, pulling him back in with his grip. The older man went easily enough, practically falling against Cloud and pushing him into the wall of the cabin, hands eager and determined as one slid through his hair and the other ran down his side.

A Ferris wheel cabin wasn’t exactly the most ideal place to be making out with the guy you’d been crushing on - and madly in love with - for who knows how long but Cloud felt he deserved this at least. Just for the moment.

[milflewis]

trick or treaaaat ❤️ - also a glass of milk for ur hangover🥛

It isn’t until 2017 that Sebastian has a problem with Michael flirting with Lewis.

Michael isn’t at the track for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix. He doesn’t go to many of the races anymore. He hears about it from Niki.

Sebastian calls him after he has seen the data. He’s gone all quiet, voice distorted like he is pressing the phone against his mouth.

It takes Michael a minute to understand what is going on.

“So you’re saying Lewis has forgiven you?”

An inhale. “Yes.”

“Okay. So. Why are you still upset?”

A harsh exhale. “Because he forgave me!”

“Right.”

And then: "I still don't get it."

Another exhale, breath whooshing. The sound comes out all crackly. It is the most defeated Sebastian has ever sounded. "He just — you had to see him. His face. I hurt him when I said those things. That he brake-tested. To him, it was worse I said this, I think. Worse than hitting into him."

Michael had dismissed Lewis when he first properly met him. He had noticed how fast he was, how quick on the corners and the way he managed his tires, and thought: huh. He'd then had a conversation with him, a handful of years later, and well — Michael has never really enjoyed looking in the mirror now has he? That gets boring fast.

But he's not — like Michael that is. Not completely. Not overwhelmingly. Just enough of himself that he's interesting.

Lewis doesn't like being accused of cheating. He's not the cleanest of drivers by far, even if he has tightened up his act in recent years. Michael doesn't have a line — or so he's been told. He never really thought about it before they shoved a microphone in his face and asked him to justify racing that everyone could be doing if they wanted to.

Michael exists on the extremes, threading the edges of things.

Lewis does not. Lewis cannot.

Michael isn't sure exactly what that line is - where the things he does starts and where the things he does not do ends - but he knows that inside Lewis there is a carefully bound book that has been read over and over, and written on its cover in Lewis's blocky handwriting is: RULES.

Being accused of cheating would be one terrible thing to Lewis. Being accused of cheating by Sebastian would be quite another.

From the sounds of it, Sebastian is starting to realise that Lewis considers him his Mika.

"I hurt him," Sebastian says, sounding very small. "I've never done that before. I didn't know I could."

"Yeah," Michael says, because he has nothing left to say but Sebastian is leaving space for him to speak. "You can. You're one of the few who can."

"And then he just forgave me! Like that! I said sorry and I said I was wrong and I said — other things — and he looked at me with The Face." Sebastian curses. "The only thing he says — listen to me now, Michael — the only thing — the one thing, he says is: are you going to tell everyone this?"

Michael hums. He kicks off his runners and stretches out his toes.

"And I say: yes, of course. I was waiting to talk to you. But I will. I was going to. And he just — ugh! He just smiles at me and -"

"Forgives you?"

"This is not funny."

Michael rolls his eyes, grinning. "Okay."

"It's not! He — fuck's sake. What am I supposed to do with this? That's all it took. All. Nothing at all. I want to break something. What do I do?"

Michael shrugs even though Sebastian cannot see him. "You love him. This is what Mika told me."

Sebastian is very quiet for a long moment. Michael would think he hung up on him if not for the sound of his breathing.

"Mika," he says eventually, voice strange. "Right. I forgot about your Thing with Lewis."

Michael doesn't say anything.

"You have to be careful with him, Michael. You have to. Promise me. This matters."

Michael rolls his eyes again. He thinks about telling Sebastian that a person only has enough room in their body for one Mika and Michael isn't Lewis's, and Lewis isn't Michael's, so it is okay. Michael can only do so much damage. He thinks about telling him that he made Lewis laugh — actually full belly, bent over double laugh — and Lewis's hand was warm and heavy on his shoulder. He snorted at the end, hiccuping, and it was a ridiculous sound for a person to make. Michael can't wait to hear it again. He thinks about telling him that sometimes he is the fifth, sixth — tenth — person that Lewis notices when he walks into a crowded room. Michael dreads the day that he isn't seen at all.

"I know," he goes with instead.

"Promise me." Sebastian sounds almost angry.

Michael looks at the ceiling. You're so young, he thinks.

"Promise," he says.

[steviewashere]

WIP Word Game

Rules: You will be given a word. Share on sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Thank you for the tag @ataliagold this is honestly one of my favorite tag games I've ever played with. My word is WHUMP.

The following "little" excerpts/sentences are from three separate places: Steve sick with the flu (a wip that still has no name), my steddie college roommates au (that also has no name), and one where Eddie's dealing with his survivor's guilt after vecna/chrissy's death (another steddie wip without a name, are we surprised). Also, apologies for such giant excerpts, oops.

Under the cut because they're so long <3 (also heed the content warning on the letter "M")

———

W - (Steddie college roommates au)

“Was on the varsity team in high school, one of the—not to be cocky—best pitchers in the region. But I’ve been hit in the head too many times by baseballs. And I absolutely decimated several muscles and ligaments just running the bases. Few broken bones here and there. Collarbone that never set right.” At that last one, Eddie marks the sobering seriousness in his tone. But then, Steve looks over his shoulder, mirth in his eyes—that seriousness from before here and gone in a breath—and grins. “I’m a cautionary tale,” he mock-whispers.

H - (Eddie's survivor's guilt)

He takes a deep breath. Admits, “I don’t know how to stop feeling…guilty.” There’s silence for a few seconds. Then, “You didn’t know that was going to happen.” “Yeah, but I”—he heaves a deep, unrelenting sigh—“I feel like…I feel…Feel like this all could’ve been prevented, y’know? Maybe I should’ve…I didn’t need to bring her back home. I didn’t need to—The deal was only supposed to be for marijuana.” “I know,” Steve murmurs. His voice takes on this…careful quality. Like he’s tiptoeing around shards of glass. “You’ve told”— “And I was going to sell her only weed. In fact, I didn’t even…I couldn’t even justify selling to her to begin with. She was all jumpy and off-guard and cagey. Like she didn’t trust me. Or like…like she was seeing something that wasn’t there.” Steve stares at him for a moment. Leaving the words to float, stagnant and uncomfortable between them. He turns to the dining table under the window, hefts the kitchen box down to the floor, gestures for Eddie to sit—so he does—and then takes his own seat across. His eyes roam over Eddie’s face, gentle and too soft to make sense. “We know that now,” he states softly, “but you didn’t know that then. You didn’t know what was wrong. You trusted her word and that’s…it’s okay that you didn’t know, Ed.” “But what if I could’ve prevented it?” he asks, words bursting from within him, “what if I…I saw the signs that something was wrong and took that and ran with it and told her, firmly and sure, no. What if I told her…What if I had just—just offered a shoulder or a hug or maybe we could’ve smoked weed in my van during lunch and she could’ve listened to my radio and we could’ve talked about music and she…what if she told me all the things I want to know now, but she told me when I would’ve needed it?”

U - (Steve with the flu)

“Uh…yeah, Steve, we have to. You’ve barely had anything to eat or drink. You need something before this shit gets even worse than where it’s at right now. Plus, sweetheart, drinking something like Gatorade will probably make your symptoms better.” Steve huffs. “But the flavor I have left is so gross.” “I can go get you something else, baby,” Eddie offers gently. “Just need you to drink a little something. Start on the flavor you don’t like while I’m at the store, and I’ll pick-up some that you do like. Maybe that’ll spur you on to get your fluid intake, yeah?” “You sound like a doctor, Eds. It’s kinda cute,” Steve teases. “I sound like somebody who’s been really sick before and hates seeing you sicker. Just promise me you’ll drink a little bit?” To add to it, Eddie holds out his left pinkie. Steve wraps his right around Eddie’s, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’ll have a few sips of the orange flavored one, as long as you pick up a few fruit punch Gatorades.”

M - (Steddie college roommates AU) CW for Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Homophobia (so skip this one if you don't want any of that)

“My dad knows the kind of person I am, okay? If he finds out that I’m with you, he’ll assume you’re like me. And I don’t want you to get hurt…or worse. This is between my dad and I. Not your uncle. Especially not you.” Slowly, “What do you mean, Steve?” Eddie asks. Immediately, a part of him seems to know the severity, the weight of that question. Something sinks heavier and heavier inside of him. Steve levels him with a tired, distraught stare. He takes in a slow breath. Lips floundering for a moment. That unwavering conviction from their first day makes a resound return. “I’m gay.” And as if a microphone was put on those two words, the sound reverberates through the room. “He found out years ago, when I was still in high school. After I broke up with my one and only girlfriend, I had told her pretty privately that I wasn’t into women…that I think I had just liked her kindness, y’know? And I don’t…don’t know what exactly happened, but somehow word got around to my dad. And…” He trails. Time seems to pause. And when Steve takes another deep, cautious breath, it slows in painfully tense fragments. Quietly, “You remember how I said that my collarbone doesn’t sit right?”

P - (Steve has the flu, but with a line of dialogue in here that I've already shared because who cares)

“Please,” he says quietly, “‘m too dizzy to do it by myself.” Hands are already gently rolling down the waistband of his underwear. Eddie’s speaking softly to him, “I’m gonna getcha into the tub, put the trashcan next to you, let you soak for a bit while I take care of the blanket”— “Just throw it away, Ed.” Eddie gives a small nod. “Okay,” he murmurs, “and then I’ll be right back in here to help you clean up.”

Tagging, no pressure:

@scoops-aboy86 @sidekick-hero @marvel-ous-m @hotluncheddie @queenie-ofthe-void

@werepuppy-steve @ataliagold (why not throw it right back lol)

Your word is: BAND

[kybercrystals94]

The Stardust Conspiracy (Part 3)

Read on Ao3 here!

(Part 1 & Part 2)

Rated: G | Words: 2331 | Summary: A change in perspective as the space hamster debacle continues

Tech felt a little remorseful that he had sent the squad away, self-inflicted loneliness striking an uncomfortable chord. After an hour of quiet and contemplation, Tech considered checking in and perhaps seeing if he could join them. After all, it was a rarity to have unallocated time available, especially planet-side. And the repairs to be made were simple enough that they could wait a few hours. However, guilt made him put down his comm and set about the tasks he had claimed to want to do in solitude.

The others arrived back sooner than he expected. A hush surrounded them. Likely because of his poor behavior earlier, and not wanting to disturb him further. He sighed, preparing for the unpleasant sensation that accompanied an apology. However, as he got up to leave the cockpit, Hunter came in and stopped him short.

“Tech,” Hunter said, “How are the repairs going?”

It wasn’t the question itself that gave Tech pause. Rather, it was the tone. Almost conversational.

Tech hesitated another moment. “Just about finished,” he answered.

“Good, good.” Hunter nodded. His form leaned against the doorway, preventing Tech from going through without asking Hunter to step aside.

Tech could hear the others, even Wrecker, quietly moving around the main area, voices low enough that he could not make out distinct dialogue. It reminded him of his original intentions, Hunter’s uncharacteristic conduct aside. Tech stepped forward, but Hunter, still firmly planted, asked, “Need any help?”

This only solidified the oddness of the situation. Not that Hunter never had or never could help...however, he was the least qualified of the squad for ship repairs as a rule. Even Omega was better equipped for such tasks. Tech quirked an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Tech did not claim to be emotionally intelligent by any means; however, the awkward expression that flashed across Hunter’s face was stark enough that even Tech could comprehend. His heart sank a little, and he realized that his presence must not be wanted at the moment—at least not from Wrecker or Echo, the targets of his disdain earlier in the day. Omega must have been upset with him as well, justifiably so.

His expression evidently revealed something, because Hunter softened. “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured Tech genuinely. “I just thought that if we finished up the repairs, we could go back into town for late meal. Not often we can do that.”

While something was obviously still amiss, Tech pushed the uncertainty aside. Whatever it was would pass. After all, they were indicating that his presence was desired for the evening meal, which logically meant that any previous offenses could and would be smoothed over effectively. Releasing a breath of relief, Tech took Hunter up on his unexpected offer to help with repairs.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

They’d found a respectable eating establishment with outdoor seating, although the table was a little more compact than Tech would have liked. He had Wrecker’s bulk on one side of him and Omega’s slight frame on his other. Wrecker’s personal space, as usual, lacked any depth, and he gestured widely to explain every detail of their outing earlier in the day. Tech had to duck or dodge several swings of Wrecker’s arm as he gave an exaggerated account of the marketplace.

“...and then,” Wrecker said, his voice taking on a fond tone, “we found a pet store.”

Omega bounced in her seat, eager to take over the story. “We saw all sorts of animals, Tech!”

“And we got--” Wrecker began, but his sentence was cut short by a pained squawk. “Hey! Why’d you kick me?”

Tech looked across the table to where Echo and Hunter sat. Echo glanced at Hunter, and, if looks could kill, Hunter would have murdered Wrecker on the spot. How strange.

Echo rolled his eyes. “You were saying you got to hold a tooka kitten?” he prompted Wrecker.

Wrecker glared at Hunter but allowed Echo to persuade him back to the conversation. “Yeah, that’s what I was saying, Hunter. I wasn’t gonna say anything about...”

The toe of a military boot met smartly against Tech’s shin. Tech yelped, both in surprise and pain. “Why are you kicking me?” he asked Hunter, appalled.

Hunter’s mouth fell open and the color of crimson flooded across his face. “I didn’t mean...”

“You were gonna kick me again, weren’t you?” bellowed Wrecker, indignant, even though it was Tech’s shin that had been assaulted.

“How about,” Echo said diplomatically, as though dealing with very small children, “we don’t kick anyone under the table, and let Wrecker finish his story.”

Properly admonished, Hunter muttered an apology in Tech’s general direction, but kept his focus on his meal, eye contact carefully avoided.

Tech wanted an explanation; however, Echo effectively steered them away from further discussion. He pressed Wrecker to talk further about the tookas, asked Omega’s opinion on the kittens, and then moved on to other topics. Tech distantly wondered if there might be a tooka kitten somewhere on the ship. However, he couldn’t imagine Hunter allowing such a thing. Space travel was no life for a tooka.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Tech took the first watch. It didn’t take long for his siblings to settle down and fall asleep, the Marauder falling into wonted stillness that came with a night cycle. He tapped away at his data pad for a while, researching some adjustments he wanted to eventually make to the hyperdrive when they had the extra credits for parts.

A small sound interrupted his concentration, and he looked up. His first thought was that Omega was up, as she often did when she couldn’t sleep. They’d spent many early night hours together, watching the stars or hyperspace until her eyes were heavy and he guided her back to her room. However, the sound was far too small for even Omega. It was also incessant and unfamiliar. Tech liked to think that he knew what sort of sounds his ship made. This sound was not one of them.

Standing, he stretched out his limbs and back before he walked silently down the hall to the area of the nav computer. His eyes fell immediately to a glass and metal contraption tucked snugly in what used to be an open space next to the console. Through the glass, he saw a thick layer of wood shavings and brightly colored objects strewn throughout. There was a watering system hung to the side, and a dish.

“What in the stars...” Tech breathed, crouching to investigate further.

A criceto suddenly popped up and out of the shavings, golden fur tinted blue in the night cycle lighting. The creature saw him and approached the wall of its cage on slow, curious steps. It stood on its hind feet, putting its front paws on the glass, and Tech could see the pads of its tiny fingers. Tech didn’t normally find himself endeared to animals of any sort. However, he found himself sighing out an appreciative, “Awww.”

He considered a moment before he carefully opened the door of the cage and put his hand in, some distance from the criceto so as not to startle it. The rodent turned its head, nose quivering as it assessed Tech’s scent. Dropping to all fours, it made its way to his hand and poked his palm with its nose. Tech flattened his hand, palm up, and without much hesitation at all, the criceto climbed up, light as a pinch of stuffing from Lula.

Lifting it out, Tech held the animal close to his face, his breath ruffling its downy fur. “You must be who I should thank for my bruised shin,” he whispered. It was silly to speak to such a thing as though it has any capability to understand; however, the criceto stared at him wisely, whiskers twitching with a sageness worthy of a jedi.

The criceto sniffed the air, turning its head to take in its surroundings. Maybe it was hungry? It had food in its dish; however, perhaps what was left wasn’t its preference. Tech closed his fingers slightly around the animal to prevent it being dropped or escaping before he began to search for its food. He found everything tucked in a crate under the cage. There was a bag labeled Criceto Treats. He wonders if his siblings had already given the animal its allotment of treats for the day; however, a few more seeds would not harm it, he was sure.

He took out a small handful of seeds, one pinched between his index finger and thumb to offer it to the criceto. It took it eagerly, expectantly. It expertly tucked the seed away in its cheek pouch. With tiny, reaching hands, it tried to open Tech’s hand that was closed over the remainder of the treats. Cricetos, Tech knew, were incredibly intelligent; however, seeing the natural behavior in real life somehow felt gratifyingly surprising. Tech opened his hand, and the criceto plucked the seeds up one by one, each being stowed away to be stashed somewhere in its bedding later.

Tech had not realized how much he’d wanted a pet criceto until this moment. Not to mention, a pet was an excellent learning tool for adolescents. Tech approved wholeheartedly, although, he admitted to himself, he might not have that morning when his siblings set out.

After he granted the criceto a few more seeds, he returned it to its cage. He made sure the door was latched tightly. He had not done in-depth research yet on cricetos, but his limited knowledge on the subject made him well aware of their ability to escape enclosures.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Tech decided an experiment was called for. Obviously, his brothers did not want him to know about their new pet. At first, he had been a little offended by the deception. But now, he saw an opportunity. How long could he let his brothers believe they were keeping a secret? How long before they felt inclined by their own power to tell him?

The limited parameters of his experiment in place, Tech began.

Through snatches of eavesdropped conversations, Tech learned that the criceto’s name was Stardust. An apt name, given the color of her fur. However, overall, the other members of the Batch managed to keep the matter of Stardust close to the chest.

A standard week later, Tech was finally settled into his sleep cycle when he heard the sound of the bunkroom door sliding open. He pressed his face more firmly into his pillow, trying to ignore the disruption. That’s when he heard Hunter’s voice say, Cockpit. Now.

Curiosity would be his downfall eventually, Tech knew, but he peeked out with one eye as the blurry figure of Hunter strode out of the room, followed a few seconds later by a grumbling Echo. Giving his brothers ample time to arrive at their destination, Tech slipped from his bunk as silently as a shadow and snatched his goggles from their hook.

As he approached the cockpit, Tech heard the conversation begin.

“What’s wrong?”

“Stardust is missing.”

Tech looked down at the cage, the door carelessly flung open. Probably left as such after being – hopefully – adequately checked by Omega and Hunter.

“Can’t you, uhm, you know, track her?” A meaningful pause. “I see. So much for enhancements, huh?”

“Listen, I’ve never had to track something that small before. And that little thing has been everywhere on this ship! I tracked her going into wall panels, coming out of wall panels, going in circles, doubling back...”

A rare sound burst out from the stoic cyborg: laughter. Tech smiled, his own mirth at Hunter’s plight – despite Tech’s own worry for the criceto - threatened to give him away.

“Echo, it isn’t funny!”

Echo’s continued laughter verged on hysterical, and Tech wondered if his brother was able to breathe at all.

“If you aren’t going to be helpful, you can leave.”

Echo’s gasping became semi regulated. “I’m sorry! I’ll help. I just...” His words were dissolved by more laughter.

Omega giggled, her voice lighter than before. “It is kind of funny.”

“Fine. But we really do need to figure this out.”

Tech knew his moment had arrived, and he stepped into the doorway of the cockpit. “Figure what out?”

Tech did not have time to fully appreciate the look of horror on Hunter’s face, nor the mute surprise on Echo’s. Omega was the only one who looked remotely unscathed by his appearance.

“Nothing,” Echo said, “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Tech tried to look annoyed. “If you didn’t mean to disturb me, you wouldn’t have been laughing so loudly. And in that vein, what did you find so humorous?”

“Nothing,” Echo said again. Obviously, a drowsy Echo was much less adept at lying.

Tech gave each of his siblings a hard and meaningful look. “Fine but do keep it down.”

Omega did not need a moment to recover, and easily offered a purposely poorly executed salute. “Yes, sir!”

Tech allowed himself a grin before he turned and left his siblings to their own devices. Meanwhile, Tech spent the rest of his sleep cycle researching ways to find a runaway criceto.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The next morning when Tech discovered that Stardust was still MIA, he decided to put some of his learned methods of criceto entrapment to use. He could tell through discreet observation that Hunter, Echo, and Omega were still on the lookout, so he had to be discreet in his own efforts.

Using a downloaded criceto whistle at a pitch even Hunter would not be able to hear with his enhanced senses – or, frankly, his enhanced distraction – Tech was able to lure Stardust out of hiding and into his hand full of the tempting promise of abundant treats. He kept her tucked in one of the pouches on his belt until the others were adequately distracted in another part of the ship. Then, he put her back in her cage and waited for what he knew would be a shocking discovery.

It was everything he hoped for.

TBC

Up Next: Secret knowledge is revealed…

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[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Deep Throat

Rated X / 1451 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder knocks firmly on her door three times. Okay, maybe it’s more of a pound than a knock, but it’s justified.

He’s pissed. No, enraged. He’s fucking furious, namely because he knew from the start that he shouldn’t trust her, but he stupidly let her wide blue eyes and pouty mouth lull him into a false sense of security. His father always told him to watch out for the pretty ones, and for once he’s seeing value in the cold-hearted bastard’s advice.

His jaw is sore from clenching his teeth, and there are little half-moon indents on the meaty parts of his palms from his balled-up fists. If she were a man, he’d hit her. He’d knock her ass halfway to Sunday and never look back. Her car is parked outside but she’s still not answering, and his anger begins to boil over. He lifts his arm and knocks again.

The door flies open and she appears on the other side, regarding him with shock and concern. She’s bare-faced, and she’s tying a fluffy white bathrobe around her waist. She’s so fucking small, so soft, and he feels his anger begin to wane. But then he remembers, and it comes charging right back.

“Mulder, what’s wrong?” she asks, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. “How do you know where I live?”

She’d be pissed if he told her how he got her address, and there’s no room for her anger right now. This is about him. He stalks into her pristine kitchen and wheels around, holding up the rumpled field report in his shaking fist.

“What the fuck is this, Scully?” He barks at her, and she flinches but quickly recovers, then steps forward and takes the paper from his hand, giving it a cursory glance.

“It appears to be my field report on the Budahas case,” she says calmly, handing it back to him.

Mulder snatches it from her and crumples it up, then tosses it into her immaculate living room. Her apartment looks like a fucking magazine. She cocks an eyebrow at him and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Is there a problem with my field report, Agent Mulder?” she asks haughtily.

She’s not even remotely intimidated by him, and it makes him want to punch something. He takes two steps toward her, attempting to leverage his height, but she only lifts her eyes to his face, not even giving him the gratification of craning her neck up to look at him.

“Special Agent Mulder’s insistence that Budahas may have been a test pilot on a top secret project involving aircraft using recovered UFO technology, and may have suffered severe stress related trauma by flying these aircraft, is inconclusive,” he recites from memory, spitting the words at her.

Scully sighs and slowly rolls her neck to the side, leveling him with an exasperated stare. He can smell her, the perfume she wears at work and something else that’s fruity, maybe lotion. She smells good.

“Are you of the opinion that my field report is inaccurate?” she asks, emotionless.

“You were there, you know what we saw!” he shouts, pointing off to the side as though indicating that the lights in the sky are now hovering around her foyer. “You just don’t want to admit it!”

“There’s nothing to admit, Mulder,” she says sternly, raising her voice ever so slightly. “What we saw was some flashing lights in the sky. Flashing lights does not a UFO make.”

“You know as well as I do that there was something in that hangar, Scully! Just because I can’t remember it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!”

“And it doesn’t mean that it does!” she throws back, and he has the sudden confusing realization that he’s hard.

He stares at her. At her freckled cheeks and ocean irises. Her blonde eyelashes and that little mole over her lip that she tries to cover with makeup. He wants to hate her so fucking bad, but he doesn’t. He normally convinces himself that he doesn’t care whether anyone believes him, but he cares whether she does.

Her eyes narrow slightly and her lips part as though she’s preparing to speak, but he doesn’t give her a chance to. He takes one more step forward and grabs both sides of her pretty face, registering her surprised gasp before he covers her mouth with his. One second, two, three. He finally pulls away with a huff, and she gapes at him, stunned.

He waits for the sting of her slap, and the subsequent banishment from her apartment—and perhaps her life. Her eyes dart down to his groin and then back to his face, and then her tongue peeks out and flashes across her bottom lip, wet and red. He wants to taste it. He wants to know what it would feel like on his lips. He re-enters her space and kisses her again.

She is surprisingly acquiescent to his advance. She kisses him back this time, and he tastes the tart bite of wine on her tongue. She doesn’t stop him when he pulls the tie on her robe loose, revealing remarkably matronly silk pajamas. She’s such a fucking enigma, he doesn’t know what to make of her. Is she a school marm or a sex kitten? A friend or a foe? Maybe she’s everything. Maybe that’s why he can’t stop thinking about her.

She’s nude under her pajamas, and he happily fills in the details of what was obscured by those little bra and panties back in Bellefleur. She eagerly unbuttons his jeans, and he wonders how long it’s been since she fucked someone. For him, it’s been a long time. He hoists her up onto the arm of her couch and pushes her legs open, stealing a look at the red slash of her cunt before she pulls his shirt off over his head. He’s so fucking angry, so fucking turned on, so fucking afraid of what they’re doing. He runs the head of his cock up and down over her slick folds, then pushes into her.

Scully makes a sharp sound that stills him, and he feels her cunt beating around him like the tell tale heart.

“We should use a condom,” she says, more of an observation than an admonishment.

“Do you have one?” he asks, flexing the muscles in his thighs to keep from thrusting.

“No,” she says, breathless. “It’s okay, I’m on birth control. Just…don’t come inside me.”

“I won’t,” he promises, then experimentally withdraws a little and rocks forward.

Scully whimpers, and the sound makes his balls tighten. He wants to fuck her so hard she can’t speak, can’t tell him all the reasons he’s wrong, can’t make him want her approval so badly. But he doesn’t want to hurt her, her body or her feelings. He’s all mixed up and he can’t figure out how to feel.

He does fuck her, but not angrily. She’s so small, and soft, but she’s also powerful and dauntless. She held a man at gunpoint for him, stole a vehicle. She probably saved his life. He wants to hate her, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Oh, I’m gonna come,” she whispers, and he feels the strangling grip of her as she unravels around him. He waits as long as he responsibly can, teeters as close to the edge as he dares before he pulls out and grips himself, using her wetness as lubricant as he jerks himself off and spurts a milky streak of cum across her belly.

He steps away from her, his jeans still bunched up around his ankles, and she wordlessly slips off the couch and disappears into her bathroom, collecting her robe and pajamas on the way. He dresses and sits at her dining room table, and when she re-emerges a few minutes later she is all business.

“I take it you’d like me to make some changes,” she says casually, retrieving the balled-up field report from the living room floor and smoothing it out with the edge of the table. “I won’t put my name to anything that’s untrue or intentionally misleading, but if there’s something you’d prefer that I omit, I’m willing to consider it.”

He looks at her, stunned by her sudden change in demeanor. Her lips are slightly swollen and he can see the beginnings of beard-burn on her chin, but if not for that, he might think he imagined it.

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head once to clear it. “There are a couple parts I’m hoping you’ll make changes to.”

She meets his eye and hands him a pen.

“Make some notes and I’ll look at it in the morning.”

[gwenbrightly]

(Re)Building the Future chapter 5

“She called me a monster,” Roxy says, backing away from the unconscious child. How can she justify being anywhere near Cassie after that?

“Roxy, I'm sure she didn't mean it,” Eclipse tries to comfort her. She doesn't seem to hear him.

“I mean, I know I can be a little competitive and maybe I'm moody sometimes but…” the wolf trails off. The thought of frightening a kid that badly hurts more than she'd like to admit.

“Sometimes?” Helpy repeats sardonically. A glare at the monitor he's hanging out on from Eclipse is all it takes to shut him up.

“Maybe she wasn't even talking to you. She could have been hallucinating. Those Moondrop candies are such powerful things and we did give her more than one serving size,” Eclipse suggests, frowning thoughtfully. Maybe giving Cassie the candies hadn't been such a good idea after all. One or two candies at nap time has never been a problem (for most kids, anyway). But they’ve given her way more than one or two. Probably more like one dozen. Or two. Suddenly, Eclipse finds himself wondering if they've given Cassie permanent brain damage on top of her damaged limbs… Oh Fizzy Faz, this poor kid!

“Honestly, I think you're both being over dramatic here,” Helpy announces with an eye roll. Okay, so maybe he’s being a bit harsh. But the constant panicking of everyone around him the past 24 hours has gotten old. Roxy looks like she’d like to strangle him (too bad), while Eclipse doesn’t look phased by his comment. Huh. Must be a theater thing…

“It’s not like this is the end of the world,” he continues.

“How would you know?” Roxy mutters, still offended. It does feel a little like the end of the world to her. All the Fazbear animatronics, herself included, are meant to bring joy to children, after all. Not strike fear into their hearts. Even if there has been the odd parent complaint in the past. Those are usually brought on by some Karen and her spoiled offspring not getting exactly what they want, when they want it, anyway. Oh, how she misses the days where the wrong flavor of birthday cake was their biggest worry. Everything has been so… broken lately…

“Easy. I see the bigger picture,” Helpy tells her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks. Well, more like growls, but who’s keeping track of semantics?

“Roxy, Roxy, Roxy,” He says as though talking to a confused child, “think for a minute. Where did you get those horrifyingly outdated eyes from, again?”

“… oh…” Roxy brings her good hand up to her face in horror. Of course Cassie would remember the way it’s eyes looked in her first moments of consciousness. They had probably been one of the last things she’d seen before… How could she be so stupid?

“Now you’re getting it! Yeah, you should probably find some sunglasses or something,” Helpy suggests. He’s not cruel enough to suggest she remove the eyes just yet if there’s another (possibly more entertaining) solution.

“I’m sorry, can we back up for a second, please?” Eclipse interrupts, thoroughly confused by the direction this conversation has taken. “Where did Roxy get her new eyes? Am I missing something?”

“Oh, didn’t she tell you? Roxy stole em off of It during her epic battle royale earlier. No biggie!” Helpy explains casually. He’s actually pretty impressed by the way she had ripped them clean out of their sockets, truth be told.

“Roxy, did what?!”

/////

“Can’t this car go any faster?” Gregory asks, anxiously staring out the window. Usually he’s fine with the half hour drive between his new home and the Pizzaplex. Usually there’s no reason to go anywhere near it and having a bit of space from the place they almost died (multiple times!) is a good thing. Usually-

“Gregory, I’m already driving over the speed limit,” Vanessa tells him, making a sharp turn. There’s a bump as the car goes over the curb. “If I go any faster, we’ll get pulled over for sure, which will not help our situation!”

Gregory groans in disgust. Why does Vanessa have to be a responsible adult at a time like this? Cassie needs them!

“She has a point, Superstar,” Freddy observes apologetically.

Ugh. Two responsible adults are even worse than one.

“I bet if you let me drive, we could-” Gregory starts in innocently.

“There is no way I’m doing that. I’d like to live a little longer, thank you very much,” Vanessa cuts him off. The lack of faith in his driving abilities is so unfair. She has no proof that he’d get them all killed. Roxy being maimed the last time he ‘drove’ a vehicle wasn’t even really his fault (she’d had it coming)!

“Not to mention, you are far too short to legally sit in the front seat,” Freddy adds. Bold words for a bot that was built by a company with more OSHA violations than an oil spill.

“Freddy. Vanessa. Cmon, you guys… This is an emergency!” Gregory pleads. Vanessa ignores his puppy eyes, even though she can clearly see in the rear view mirror. Freddy doesn’t seem affected by it either. Can’t they hear Cassie’s screams ringing in their ears, too? Don’t they understand the gravity of the situation?

“We want to help Cassie just as much as you do,” Freddy tells him, sensing his rising fear, “but let’s save the reckless endangerment for once we’ve arrived at the Pizzaplex.”

“I’d be good with avoiding it there, too,” Vanessa mutters. What a killjoy. She slams on the brakes to avoid going through the red light up ahead, making Gregory momentarily grateful Vanessa made sure he was wearing his seatbelt before they left (for about five seconds before remembering that he’s supposed to be annoyed with her).

The light takes forever to change back to green, and by the time it does, Gregory has begun anxiously doodling with his fingers on the window. The Fazcraft logo, a cow being abducted by aliens, Freddy in a cowboy hat, a duck with a clump of grapes, a FizzyFazz soda can, a frowny face. He’ll probably be stuck cleaning the marks off the windows later, but at least it gives him something to do besides worrying. Another frowny face. And another. Okay, maybe this isn’t working so good.

“Hey, look. It'll only be a few more minutes. Just hang in there,” Vanessa says when she notices his poor attempt to distract himself.

“Thank goodness. I’m running out of things to draw,” Gregory admits. And draws another frowny face. Because that feels easier than mentioning that every second he’s stuck in this car is another second that Cassie could be laying somewhere dying. Or dead. No- bad idea. Definitely don’t think about it like that. Giving up on his window art, Gregory stares out the window at the darkening sky for the rest of the drive. He’s out of his seat before Vanessa has even parked the car.

He races over to the entrance. It’s not looking so hot. The light of the full moon illuminates boarded up windows and scaffolding. The obnoxiously bright neon lights and signs he remembers from previous visits are all gone now. Broken glass litters the ground in more than one place. If the inside looks as bad as the outside, it’s a miracle that Cassie didn’t get taken down by tetanus long before it got to her. Freddy and Vanessa come to a stop next to him, similarly taken in by the scene.

“Well, I think I know how Cassie got in,” Vanessa muses just as Gregory is about to suggest using Freddy as a battering ram (there isn’t an obvious entry point at the moment and it’s not like it would hurt Freddy). She points a flashlight towards a child sized opening in the newspapered glass on one of the upper levels of scaffolding.

“Guess we better get climbing, then,” Gregory announces, one foot already on a ladder rung.

——

Footnote: If you have never watched a 350 pound animatronic bear try to climb construction scaffolding, you should know that it is simultaneously hilarious and painful to do so.

Freddy’s efforts are valiant, but it’s safe to say that if Fazbear Entertainment ever decides to finish repairing the Pizzaplex (which, let’s face it, they won’t), they’re going to need a whole new set of ladders, platforms, and railings. Flat surfaces? Haven’t heard of them. Dents and awkward slants are totally in now. Also, that hole in the glass has always been that size… why do you ask?

Gregory and Vanessa try to hide their entertainment at Freddy’s suffering, they really do. But in the end, they can’t help but share a moment of laughter as he clatters down the final ladder and onto the floor inside the Pizzaplex. Freddy pauses to glare at the contraption before joining them, acting as though it was placed there specifically to inconvenience him.

“Take this before we go any further,” Vanessa says, handing Gregory one of the flashlights she’d packed before they left (along with a first aid kit and several other items she thought they might end up needing). She isn’t too worried about Freddy, what with him still having Roxy’s upgraded eyes, but Gregory is already a tad accident prone without blindly stumbling through a pitch black space filled with deadly objects. She’d really appreciate it if they make it through the rest of the evening (or however long they end up stuck in this hell hole) without anyone else getting hurt and/or trapped somewhere.

Gregory waves the flashlight around like a lightsaber, nearly blinding Vanessa. She briefly considers legally changing his middle name to ‘Distractible’, but decides that it’s not worth the effort. The flashlight beam bounces off an assortment of debris, construction equipment, deactivated floor bots, cleaning supplies, and several spray paint messages left behind by previous trespassers.

“Wow…” Gregory comments, looking around the ruined lobby, “they’ve really let this place go.”

“You can say that again,” Vanessa agrees.

“They have really let this place go,” Freddy repeats, taking her literally. “I am a bit disappointed that Corporate would neglect things like this.”

“It is kinda sad,” Gregory agrees. The Pizzaplex used to be so impressive (Fazbear Entertainment had clearly put a lot of time and money into the place) and now it looks like the setting for a post apocalyptic thriller. He remembers being a little in awe the first time he saw the giant golden statue in the lobby. But now, especially after everything he’s been through, the place gives him the creeps. The things that have happened here are not worthy of any awe. Probably just anger and disgust, along with a healthy dose of fear.

“So, uh, question,” he says, not wanting to dwell on his lingering trauma, “how exactly do we get,well, anywhere in this mess?” There’s a gaping hole in the floor directly in front of them. Shipping crates and safety barriers block off another hole on the left side of the lobby.

Vanessa carefully picks her way around bits of debris and caved in flooring. It’s a shame Gregory hasn’t started watching the security footage a little bit earlier so they’d have a better idea of how Cassie had navigated this mess. Deciding the areas with the biggest holes aren’t worth exploring, Vanessa wanders towards the area that used to house the final set of turnstiles before the entry pass display. Somehow, this area has significantly less damage done to it. If you ignore the headless staffbot in the distance and the spray painted warning that says ‘Danger’. How very welcoming and not foreboding in the slightest!

“The floor seems a little more stable over this way,” Vanessa calls to the others against her better judgement.

“Time for some reckless endangerment,” Gregory announces, leading the way into what’s left of one of the gift shops.

[hocuspocusbylooble]

Sorry I needed to say this again more calmly to satisfy an urge and it's not required reading or anything but

Random and self-indulgent, already mentioned in a freak out to no one and everyone. Mentioning it again because it's nagging at me

I had a ~15 y/o burgundy DSi XL with a copy of Dragon Quest IX: Sentinels of the Starry Skies in it that I haven't seen since before my partner's ex-roommate left. It also had 2 brain training games and a doodle animator pre-installed. I had it since I was 14, and it has childhood memories on it, pictures, drawings, animations. It has 15 years worth of memories on it. It has one awkward animation my best friend drew when we were 15-16.

I would not assume it was the ex-roommate if the cat jar and several cups of mine hadn't also gone missing. If the cat jar turns up, I will update and say so. He also tried to replace one of the cups when I got upset over a missing mug, which... he replaced it with a cup that wasn't exactly like the old one, so that's how I became aware he was responsible.

He also had plastic stained (as in too dirty to ever be clean again) flamingo bowls he never used and didn't value enough to take with him, but he used our new bowls that he also ate out of to feed cats outside. When they would fall off the porch and roll underneath, he wouldn't look for them. He would use another. Now they're all gone.

I saw the bowls as a mistake. He washed dishes and cleaned more than anyone else. He was not the worst roommate and his problems with us were justified. But destroying/stealing possessions, including medication and my irreplaceable DS, are too fucked up. And he did not have a conversation with us about a lot of it until after things went missing and were destroyed. A lot of it, he never had a discussion with us about at all. And I have reason to believe he saw me struggling and suffering enough.

Sorry, I deleted the paragraph about my adderall before posting this. Now I've edited it a lot so whatever. But he threw away a CVS bag that very obviously contained a full pill bottle and I spent hours trying to find it. It was in the nasty outdoor trash can. If I hadn't found it, I would have been screwed for the rest of the month. I had just bought it, it hadn't been opened, so that was an entire month's worth of adderall. I left it in the living room by accident, he threw it in the trash, and there was no way he couldn't have noticed the noise, the weight of it, the movement of the pills. I took that into account when I found it and it was too hard to believe it was a mistake.

And I never made a problem about anything he did wrong to me because I felt like I was worse. But in hindsight, it bothers me a lot more now. It never happened while we were in the same room. I wasn't aware of any of it until after the damage had already been done, and I felt too guilty over other things to make a problem about it.

He never had a conversation with me or tried to talk about any of his problems with me. He did one time, during one bad incident, and he was very helpful that one time, and he showed he had the ability to be reasonable and considerate during that one incident, but only after he had left me on read and given me the silent treatment before. And he was very nonverbal, which was why I never wanted to hold it against him. I have trouble talking to people I feel awkward with, and I know it can be taken as silent treatment, but this was “silent treatment” since it was over text and he left me on read.

I would have preferred negotiating repayment with him over time instead of having my possessions stolen or destroyed, but now I don't feel indebted to him at all.

I feel like he was impulsive and destructive when he was angry at worst, and maybe felt entitled to stealing things instead of asking to be paid back, and nothing much worse than that. If either the cat jar or the DS shows up, I will update this.

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 19 Blink and You Miss It: Stunned to Eye-lence

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: After you leave Angel's room, Alastor appears to be irritated about something, but you're not sure why. So you poke at him more than you should, and croon to him in French. You might have stunned him to silence. Now you have to get him back to his normally jovial self lest someone see, or take semi-drastic matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Cannibalism, Alastor goes mute, French pet names

As you leave Angel’s room, you straighten your dress and push back a few wayward strands of hair. You head down the hallway to the lobby, where Alastor is waiting for you, dressed in his familiar red suit and leaning on his microphone. He looks impatient until he sees you. His whole posture shifts, his tense shoulders relax, his ever-present but tightened smile loosens, and something fills his gaze that you struggle to name. It is something unexpected, whatever that look means, and you flush in response to it trained on you. Why does he make me feel this way? When he looks at me like that, it’s as if no one has looked at me before in my entire existence.

When you’re within arms reach of him, he wraps his around you, and you return the embrace.

“Hello, Al.” You greet him with a smile, your head tipped up to look at him. “Did your search for a candidate for our little frame bear any fruit?”

“Hello, darling. Have you been enjoying your afternoon?” He asks as he leans down to kiss your temple. “I heard you got into some mischief while I was away.” He purrs in your ear. “Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

You shiver and flush, but take a deep breath and steel yourself, rolling the eyes on your face. “I hardly think discovering a secret room in the hotel and justifying our relationship counts as misbehavior, Al.”

“Hmm,” He thinks for a moment. “You did help our dear Charlie with her little emotional burden as well as seek to spend more time with little Niffty. I suppose I can find it in my desiccated heart to forgive this transgression, just this once, my dear.”

You arch your middle eyebrow at him. “Is this because I spoke on behalf of our relationship to Vaggie without you present, because I spent time in Sir Pentious’ laboratory, or because Niffty found me in Angel’s room? I only defended what is, quite frankly, our business alone; I think I might have accidentally terrified Sir Pentious into fearing me by accident, and Angel was just introducing me to his pet demon pig, Fat Nuggets.”

A look you can’t place flashes in his eyes but is gone just as quickly as it arrives. The look that replaces it is stone-faced and distant. “Don’t you already know? You seem to think you hold all the answers.” His grip on your waist tightens.

You glare at him over a tight-lipped smile of your own, your grip on him tightening in return. “We promised to talk things through, Al, remember? How can I know for certain what I did wrong, to upset you, if you don’t tell me?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He snaps back at you, his glare daring you to challenge him.

You take the bait. “To the contrary, Al. There is plenty that needs to be discussed.” You narrow all your eyes at him, and as you do so, realization dawns on you. He was jealous of Angel. Your smile softens, even as his glare hurts you to see.

You’re still wrapped around each other despite your combative words, enveloping each other with a fierce, seething grip of a frustrated nature. You want to put your hands on his face and pull him close and kiss him in this moment, but you don’t. It would only reward his troublesome behavior, if he even wanted such an act in the first place.

He doesn’t speak, still glaring defiantly, so you do instead, your face full of genuine affection and understanding. You pull him closer, but unlike his still fierce one, your grip is strong but gentle. Your face is a breath away from his as you murmur, “Al, mon point focal,” you watch as he relaxes again, his grip softens on your waist, and you see in his eyes a spark of something you’ve never seen before, “may I touch your face?”

He flushes for the briefest of moments. If you weren’t so observant, you never would have seen it. “What?” His ears twitch. He is confused as he speaks, but his voice is filled with only surprise, not a trace of uneasiness to be found. “Permission granted, dearest.”

You remove your arm from his waist to place a soft, feather-light touch to his cheek with your palm. “Mon point focal,” You croon that he is your focal point in French as you stare into his eyes. They are filled with an emotion you struggle and fail to name. It’s one you see often, and you hope to understand it someday. “While unnecessary, it is alright if you experienced feelings of jealousy.” He looks like he’s struggling to try and speak, but you shush him. He is so taken aback that he listens and lets you continue. “We are beginning something new. There are going to be bumps in the road, especially when one we’re traversing is in Hell of all places. I need you to be able to trust me, to converse with me when you’re uncomfortable. That includes jealousy.” You take your other hand and cup his other cheek so you’re holding his gaze to yours. “If you can’t find the words you want or can’t speak them, I want you to take my hand and tap my wrist twice. I’m going to remove my hands from your face now to demonstrate, alright?” You lower your hands to take one of his wrists in yours, then you tap lightly with your middle and pointer fingers on the inside of his wrist. “Like this,” You tap twice. “Tap twice, so I know you did it with purpose. Do you understand?”

He nods and swallows thickly, too stunned to speak. You continue, "Don't fret, mon point focal, you'll still manage to surprise me and catch me off guard, stun me to silence sometimes, just as I, you. I know it must be hard to talk right now, hmm, with me crooning French in your ear and telling you just what you need to hear. Can you show me what I just did, Al? Tap my wrist twice to tell me with your hands what your mouth can’t say.”

He nods and swallows again, takes your wrist in his hand, and taps the inside of it twice just above the eye there.

“Very good.” You croon. “When you do that I’ll know not to push you too far, know you’re uncertain or uncomfortable but can’t speak.” You take the hand still holding your wrist and place it on your cheek, lean into it for a moment, then turn your head and kiss his palm. “Now I’m assuming you’d arrived to whisk me off to a secondary location with the intent to cause a soon-to-be-corpse to bleed out at your feet by my hand, and it will.” Your eyes flash red and the shadow of your tentacles threatens to emerge, but you push it down, for fear of all of this being too much for the deer caught in the headlights in front of you. “Take as long as you need.” You take his hand down from your face and bring both of his in front of you. “Can you squeeze my hand?” He does. “Good.” You smile up at him. “Now I’m going to ask you a question. Do you want me to go or do you want me to stay? Squeeze my hands once for leave, twice for stay.” Two quick squeezes. “I’ll stay for you.” You smile, then close your eyes and open the ones in the hotel. You see the residents aren’t near you both yet, but if you don’t either get him back to his normally lively demeanor or take this elsewhere, then that pristine image he’s worked so hard to maintain will be shattered in an instant. I did this to him. I must fix it.

You make a decision. Telling him that you have no time would cause him to panic and waste what little you have. So instead, you open your eyes but keep the ones of the hotel open as well. It’s draining, and overwhelming. So you can see every variable at once, you open the ones on the outside of the hotel as well. You cannot afford any surprises. Seeing him from every eye in the lobby and through all the ones you’ve found littered throughout the hotel, you focus your main middle eye on him alone and ask, “Do you trust me?”

He nods. “One squeeze for your radio tower, two squeezes for your room.”

Two squeezes. You put his arms around your waist and then wrap yours around his. “Don’t let go.”

Leaving caution to the wind, you do the one thing you never thought you’d do, in all your years in Hell. You use the eyes in the lobby and the ones in his room to manifest there, him in tow. You close the ones in and around the hotel as soon as you arrive.

He blinks in surprise as you both appear there, and you guide him to his armchair. After he sits, you start to walk away to make him a cup of coffee, but his arms snake back around your waist and pull you into his lap. You flush but make yourself comfortable. You sit in silence, your side leaning against his chest and your legs over one of the arms, for an indeterminate amount of time.

Despite the context of this silence as opposed to the last time that silence fell between you, it is just as comforting, now that the two of you have found the secluded space of his room.

You listen to the sounds of the swamp that you see not far from where you’re perched on his lap. It is dark, and the natural sounds are soothing. You hum a tune you’d forgotten the words to but the melody brings you great comfort nevertheless. You don’t move from this spot, but you do worry how he will react when he is ready to speak again. You hope he won’t mind that you enjoy sitting here, on his lap, with him, in his room. It just made sense to bring him here, and he had agreed. It seemed like the best place, given his familiarity with it.

He shifts slightly, and you move to get up, but he grips you like a vice, and you settle back into his lap. You think that maybe he is not quite ready to communicate with you.

Moments pass, and you relax again. You breathe, and you hum. You sigh. He smells so nice. You think before you realize that you’d thought it. Musk, coffee, tobacco, whiskey, and old blood. You want to bury your nose in his chest and inhale his scent until it’s all you will ever smell again.

He makes no move to remove you from his lap when he finally speaks, his voice low in your ear. “I didn’t know you spoke French.”

You chuckle and look up at him as you reply, “You never asked.”

“I suppose I never did.” He lets his arm relax around your waist, but he still holds you gently, securely to his side. “What else have you been hiding from me, Theia?”

You wince at the use of your alias. His point is made. “Well, I said I had powers I never told you about. What view just witnessed was some of that. Since I used them to pull you here, I suppose I should elaborate. You’ve earned it.” You sigh. “The short answer, Al, is eyes. Any eye depicted anywhere on any object or building that I can see, I can use to view through later, and I can manifest to its location as long as I know where it is located. So when I knew I needed to pull you out of the lobby, I focused on the eyes in this room to pull us here. Couldn’t afford to have anyone else see you like that.” You give him a soft smile, and he kisses your temple.

“So you could, say, peek in on Rosie’s emporium and know what she’s up to, perhaps?” Alastor raises an eyebrow, fascinated.

“Among many other locations, yes.” You nod. “I can’t look at too many places in quick succession or at once or it gives me a headache.” You close your eyes and open the ones in Cannibal Town. “She’s…leaving the Emporium for the day. It looks like she just finished packing up and is about to head out the door. She’s leaving now, locking the door behind her and walking down the street.” “That’s enough, dear.” He says, and you open your eyes to look at him again. “Do you have to close your eyes when you do it?”

“No,” You shake your head. “I do usually, though. It helps me to concentrate.” You bite your lip. “There’s one other thing you should know.” You say as you snuggle in closer to his side and look up into his eyes. “If I get too drunk, when I pass out, I see everything around me as it happens.” You watch his face as he processes what you’re saying. He flushes deeply for a moment, then relaxes.

“That is the reason you were receptive to moving forward. It did perplex me why you had such a quick change of heart, dearest.” He says evenly, as if trying to avoid divulging something he’d rather not admit.

You rest a hand on his chest and start to rub small circles with it. “That combined with the first draft of the note, a talk with my three closest friends, and I knew I was willing to give this a chance. I regret the deception for so long, Al, but I don’t share my powers with anyone. Rana is the only one who knows, besides you.”

“I recall part of our conversation, that night at Tourniquet. You got interrupted as our food arrived, but you were talking about deals with you. Care to elaborate now, dearest? What were you going to tell me?” He raises an eyebrow.

This is a test, and one for which you are willing to provide the correct answers. “I believe I was saying ‘They never warn you what deals with me are like. Want to know why?’” You say as you look into his eyes and give him a small smile. “And you replied with some deadpan answer about how I’d bore you with the details anyway, right?” You smirk at him, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Perhaps I misjudged the value of your abilities, my dear, but how was I supposed to know when you keep everything from me?”

You frown. There are so many secrets that I can’t share with you, Al. I’m sorry. “I was trying to prevent Vox from finding out. I had a bet to win. Yet, it looks like you’ve won without even playing.” You grin, and he smirks back at you. “Leaning into my rivalry with him, are we? I suppose I can see the value in that choice.” He chuckles. “That still doesn’t get you out of explaining your deals to me, darling. I want to know everything.”

You feel guilty but you continue. “Just like all those who stare to make deals, mine come with a price.” You start with a shrug. “Everyone who sees them from the moment the deal has been struck will know that it came from me, even if it is never disclosed to anyone else what the deal was regarding. From the moment the contract is sealed, the other agreeing party walks away with another eye, gold with a silver iris to match my own, somewhere visible at all times on their skin.” You wink with your middle eye at him. “So when, not if, you do, I’ll leave a pretty little gold eye with a silver iris on you. I’m thinking…on the underside of your chin.” You reach up to tap the spot you have in mind and give him a devilish smirk. “So that anyone who looks up to you will know that I’ve made you mine.”

As if seized by an instinct, he leans forward and places his lips on yours. It feels as if you’ve kissed static itself as the radio kicks on behind you, smooth jazz playing. A shocked noise escapes your lips, and then you let out a soft contented one. Despite the awkward angle, you could not have been happier. Once you realize his intent, you readjust the angle so you can kiss him back in a way that is more comfortable for the both of you. Even still, you let him set the pace. He moves his lips against yours, testing the waters. You kiss him back with just as much fervor as he, which is to say, a lot. Your hands come up to wrap around his neck.

After a moment or two, you have to break the kiss, finding it difficult to breathe. You say nothing, panting and staring up into his half-lidded eyes.

He seems perfectly composed, unfazed and unchanged, until he speaks. His voice is slightly ragged and you can tell he, too, is out of breath. “Ready to go, ma très chère?” He croons in your ear, and you flush further at hearing one of his favorite pet names for you in French. “There’s a ‘soon-to-be-corpse’ with your name on it.”

You give him a small, chaste kiss on the lips before you move to stand, but he grips you tighter and does so himself, holding you in his arms. You let a laugh escape your lips. You haven’t been carried like this since you’d passed out in the hallway, but before that, it had been years. He doesn’t say anything, only smirks down at you and kisses you again as you feel his shadows envelop you both.

A/N: I adore this chapter. Ugh, these two are so cute. I hoped you enjoyed this as much as I did! I wasn't intending to even have them kiss when I first wrote this chapter. This was supposed to start the 'Stab Stab Murder Time' but Theia and Al had other plans. So instead, we get this insanely way too cute interlude beforehand.

Chapter 20 will finally be the anticipated Stab Stab Murder Time (not the actual chapter title)! We'll see Theia in her full demon form, on the prowl and nauseatingly affectionate towards Alastor.

First || Chapter 18 || Chapter 20

[livredebelle]

Twenty-one.

MIND-RACING, HEART THUMPING, ADRENALINE RUSHING...

I blinked three times rapidly in an effort to keep the tears from falling.

I hate this, I hate this, I HATE YOU!

"Not now, Mother," I managed to ground out, "I'm not feeling well." I rushed over to the elevator and pressed the button over and over, as if that would make it come sooner.

"What's the rush, love? If you're not feeling well, come inside and lie down for a bit, and I'll get Mrs. Young to make you some tea or congee."

"I'm busy."

"Well, make sure to join us for dinner this week. You know your presence is required as part of our bargain."

I pressed my lips tightly together in an effort not to scream at her. She was so insufferable--clearly she could see I was suffering, yet she chose to go ahead with what she wanted to say anyway, and throw a little bit of shade in it.

Truly the Mother of the Year.

"Great," was my response. "I'll try."

"You really shouldn't be so nonchalant, you know? What will you do if I decide to give Pete a ring, and ask him if he wants to come meet his daughter for once?"

I whirled around at that, seething.

"You're really going to do this now? Fine, why don't you say it louder--let your precious little daughter know about how you're selling her out to the devil. How can you be such a bitch?"

"What did you say--"

"Irina!"

Rosalie's chirpy voice came from the entrance. I smacked my lips and grinned at my mother.

"Well? Do you want to continue this conversation now, or what?"

Mother's face turned turnip red. Good--she deserved to feel like shit for what she was trying to do. This woman was shameless, but she had a buttload of pride; because I was the same, I knew exactly how to make her writhe. Of course, I also knew I'd regret it later, but God it felt so good--especially when I was already feeling like shit.

Rose's face fell when she came to encounter the confrontation in the hallway, her eyes darting back and forth between us, sensing the ominous mood.

"Um..."

As she fidgeted, Mother snapped out of her silent fury.

"Hurry up and get inside. If you're done with practice, you should head home immediately--where have you been until now?!"

As usual, taking her anger out on the wrong person. Still, Rose obeyed and, after giving me one parting glance, she hurriedly ran after Mother into their house.

I grimaced. I didn't want to get involved, and I definitely didn't have the capacity to interfere--but I still had to try. For my sister's sake. If anything, I was acting out of guilt, which in my opinion justified nothing.

I sucked in a deep breath before willingly stepping through the door; it felt like I was crossing the barrier into hell. I looked around the house, taking a long good look at the way Mother had arranged the furniture. She had always fussed about how decorating your home was critical, because it was an opportunity for people to appreciate your taste in art, culture, etc. Blech. What nonsense. I saw that to this day, she was abiding by that philosophy; there were numerous paintings on the walls that I could only recognize as being famous for something. I wished I could ask Maria about it.

"She was with me," I grunted, catching up to where Mother and Rose stood in the living room. "That's why I just got in too." It was a half-lie--I didn't know where Rose had been in between the time she had met me and now, but I figured it wouldn't appease Mother in the slightest, unless it was more dance practice.

"You stay out of this."

"But why? I'm the one you were originally angry at. You wanted to know where Rose had been, and I'm telling you. Now will you let the poor girl go so she can change into comfortable clothes and get started on homework?"

Mother crossed her arms spitefully. "Who's the mother--you or me?"

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes--a miracle. "Do you expect me to answer seriously?"

She glowered. "Aren't you supposed to be sick? Why are you entering someone else's home and causing a ruckus?"

"I'm just trying to preserve the peace."

"Somehow I doubt that. You've always had a talent for stirring up trouble since you were young. What are you playing at?"

"Melanie."

A low, gruff voice interrupted us--all in good timing, too, because my stomach could no longer take the intense anxiety I was trying to bottle up. The container was full. I darted to the nearest kitchen sink and vomited everything I had eaten that day out of my system.

"It appears Irina is feeling unwell indeed," Richard said, his lanky self appearing from the shadows. His sharp features and indifferent expression scared the bejeezus out of me still. I wiped and rinsed my mouth. "We should allow her to get some rest in the guest room while Ms. Goodham prepares dinner."

"I'm not hungry, thanks."

Richard's eyes were steel cold. "It wasn't an invitation."

I openly rolled my eyes. "You have no authority over me."

At that precise moment, something crashed near my right ear. I blinked rapidly, only to realize that my stepfather had thrown a nearby glass cup towards me, which had shattered behind me on the kitchen wall, missing my ear by a few mere centimeters. It took me more than a moment to regain my composure.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you old fuck?"

"Irina!" Mother hissed, at the same time Rose made a small whimpering sound.

"What? Oh, of course you're going to take the side of your new sugar daddy. God, you people make me sick."

"R-Rina, your ear..."

I touched the back of my right ear and winced; shards of the shattered glass cup had scratched it or something. I laughed at the awkwardness of the situation--how else was I supposed to react? My family, old and new, was always going to be crazy. This was why I had pried myself free years ago; I felt my sanity slipping away each and every second I was forced to weather their presence. I couldn't even look at Rosalie--a part of me secretly harbored resentment for the fact that she chose, time and time again, to be an "innocent" bystander, watching me suffer yet doing absolutely nothing about it.

I shrugged and squared my shoulders. "Richard, you may be my stepfather legally, but you have no actual hold over me. Although I haven't yet been able to break out of this vicious cycle of having to deal with shit people like you who call yourselves human beings, never doubt that I wouldn't hesitate to defend myself. I'll kill you with my hands if I have to."

And I meant it. At that very moment, I was seeing red in my vision--no rhyme or reason would break me out of my spell. A court of law would side with me on this and call it self-defense, right? Without thinking, I grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter and held it out towards him.

"Well? Shall we dance?"

Richard was breathing heavily, as if he had realized the absurdity of his action and needed a minute to compose himself. Well, I wasn't going to wait for that.

But I also didn't want to murder someone who wasn't worth my time for shit. We had barely begun to get acquainted with each other since the wedding, but already it was a mess, which was a gross understatement.

Sighing, I threw the knife onto the floor, acting bored.

"You're insane! You're an insane witch!" Mother screamed, rushing to Richard's side. Her look of concern for the man who had thrown a glass cup towards me made me actually gag.

"I'm insane? Hey Richard, guess where I learned this antic of threatening people with knives? That's right--from your dearly new wife. She probably never told you about the numerous times she threatened her own daughters with a knife, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!" she squawked, her eyes brimming with panic.

I grinned at that. Good, I was getting on her nerves. Richard said nothing but stare at the knife, at the shattered cup. As if he was assessing the situation like it was someone else's fucking problem.

"It never ceases to amaze me how age is just a number... since obviously I am the most mature one here, I'll excuse myself first, because I don't feel like bleeding anymore today."

With that, I left the house which was worse than hell, not having said another word.

The elevator took forever to get to the ground floor, and the ride up to the penthouse was excruciatingly slow. It had been so long since the last time I had blown up like that--Mother knew just how to get on my nerves to the point I could no longer hold back. But Richard was a new blow. Of course, I had never expected him to be a decent person, but still... Tears brimmed in my eyes, and my vision turned white as I seethed. Why did Mother always have to choose to entangle herself with people who hurt us? Hurt me?

A big motivator for my having agreed to this situation in the first place was for that very reason--I was afraid of Pete, of what he would do to Rose what he had done to me those years ago...

Of all her suitors, Pete was undoubtedly one of the worst. He was a raving lunatic whenever he got drunk, which was often, and he loved to lash out at me for whatever went wrong in his life. Got a crap hand at a lottery ticket? SLAP. Boss yell at him for doing work wrong? PUNCH. Mother fooling around with other guys at her work during those late nights at the bar? WHACK.

I could quite literally never do anything right per his standards, and the only reason he didn't extend his abuse to Rose at the time was because she was his blood, and the one principle he abided by was that "blood is thicker than water." I hate that phrase; it means horseshit. Why is our culture so dedicated to the idea that family equals protection, warmth, love and happiness? That's not universally true. People are just displacing their wants and desires on others because they refuse to live in a world where such cruelty happens on a daily basis.

Instinctively, my palm cupped my jaw, remembering the worst of Pete's tantrums--when he had kicked me in the face and my jaw had been fractured for two weeks. It had been so painful to endure, especially because Mother didn't want to let me to go to the doctor out of shame of what had happened. No, she was perfectly content to let me suffer in pain, so long as no one would blame her of being a terrible parent for failing to prevent this from happening in the first place.

My anger started to boil towards Rosalie now--where was she when that had occurred? She had been out with her friends. When she had returned and seen my face, her face had fallen and she had cried for me, but again what did she really do?

Absolutely nothing.

Why had I protected her this time? Why worry about what Pete, her father, could do--when he had never abused her to begin with? No, it was me who was abused and tortured; yet she never apologized, never told anyone, never went looking for help but utterly ignored me when I needed her for once...

It was hard to differentiate between the good memories with my sister and these memories that continued to haunt me, that I had completely forgotten until I was thrust back into this life. I hated living with them. I hated my family. And then I would feel guilty for thinking that way, for feeling resentment towards Rose when she was just a child at that time...

What about me? I was a child back then, too!

Stop victimizing yourself.

It's true. I've been through so much. Why do I only continue to suffer like this?

There's no good answer for that. If you want to blame anyone, blame God.

There is no God.

Then blame yourself.

Why? Why?

Rather than continue with that conversation in my head, I struggled to drag my ass into the penthouse unit at last--the destination was my bed. If I couldn't muster strength to get that far, then the couch. Hell, the floor would even do, if I could get some peace and quiet so I could think about nothing, nothing at all.

"Rina? Are you home?"

Great. In my current state, I definitely didn't have the capacity to deal with Heath right now.

Heath entered the living room, then his eyes widened when he saw me trying to take my shoes off at the doorway in my current state.

"What's happened to you? You look like shit."

I said nothing. My vision was going blurry, and the tension in my limbs was fading. I couldn't quite gather my surroundings, and eventually I crumpled to the floor--or fell? I couldn't tell. One second I was standing, albeit barely, then the next I wasn't anymore. Facing the black wooden floor, I felt my face fall down, down, until I was swallowed whole by the black hole that had opened up on the ground.

The last thing I heard was Heath shouting my name.

"Rina!"

[panharmonium]

okay, honest question about 5.11 -

are we seriously supposed to watch this episode and still come down on arthur’s side?

i’m not saying that’s what the show wants us to do.  on the contrary, i think they actually do a pretty good job this episode of NOT hammering us in the face with “you’re supposed to root for camelot,” which i appreciate, because there have definitely been other times when they’ve approached the moral dilemma of magical oppression and have kind of punked out at the end - most noticeably in ‘the sorcerer’s shadow,’ when they finally force us to look merlin’s cognitive dissonance in the eye by putting him in the position of saving uther from a magical youth fighting for freedom, and then they back off from that uncomfortable question by having kilgharrah say “you, like i, must hold hope that arthur will bring about a new age, an age where the likes of you and i are respected once again.”  

they don’t quite do that in this episode, which i really appreciate, because i just cannot see how they would have been able to pull it off without sounding ridiculously disingenuous.

arthur is WRONG.  

(i’ll get to merlin later, he’s...he’s got a whole different issue going on, but let’s just deal with arthur first.)

that whole conversation where he interrogates kara in front of the court - just look at it:

were you part of a cohort of saxons who attacked an arms shipment bound for camelot?

yes.

and were you acting under the orders of morgana pendragon?

what i did, i did for myself.  for my people, and for our right to be free.

i have no quarrel with the druids. 

i have spent my life on the run because of my beliefs, and seen those i have loved killed.

once, maybe.  but i’m not my father.

you don’t kill those with magic?  it is not i, arthur pendragon, who needs to answer for my crimes.  it is you.  you and your father have brutally and mercilessly heaped misery on my kind.  it is you who has turned a peaceful people to war, and it is you and camelot that will pay the price.

are we supposed to look at this girl and condemn her?  nothing she says is wrong.  

whenever we encounter these magical rebel types, the show always tries to play it like ‘well uhhhhhh they’re a little extreme......i mean......they kill people 0.0,’ as if camelot’s regime hasn’t been killing magical people all along.  like - kara stabs that soldier when she’s escaping from the cells, and the show kind of plays mordred’s reaction as...‘omg she killed someone oh no what a baddie,’ but dude!  the soldiers are about to kill her!!!!!  she’s running for her life!  killing a guard is nothing merlin and arthur haven’t done a hundred times, when escaping from captivity on their own adventures, but it’s never been framed as some sort of evil thing, for them.  why is kara the only one branded as a sinner?  a knight’s life isn’t more valuable than any of the children uther drowned.  a knight’s murder isn’t more deserving of reprisal.  

the girl’s murdered innocent men in cold blood.  we are at war.  i must be resolute.

we hear arthur say that and we kind of just want to shake him like - CAMELOT has murdered innocent people in cold blood!  if arthur can use “we are at war” to justify killing someone who has magic, then the same justification should apply to magic-users attempting to kill him.  camelot declared war on magic-users decades ago.  these people are fighting for their lives.

arthur is showing his father’s reasoning here.  his own rules don’t apply to him.  his rationale, his justifications, they only go one way.  there is so much to pick apart in his response to this situation - he tries to make it sound like ‘the problem isn’t magic, it’s that you murdered some guys,’ (he tells kara “you stand before the court not because of an act of sorcery or sedition, but because of an act of murder”) but literally in the previous episode he sends out a squadron to hunt down finna (and merlin, unknowingly) just because gaius said finna practiced the old religion.  

finna had killed no one.  she’d done absolutely nothing wrong.  but arthur went after her and said she ‘must be found and brought to trial.”

brought to trial?  for WHAT????  she hadn’t DONE anything.  nothing except be a follower of the old religion.

and his hypocrisy!  ‘it is [people like morgana] that have terrorized camelot and forced us to outlaw such practices’ - really, arthur?  literally two episodes ago, you went the cauldron of arianrhod and used magic to save your wife from an enchantment.  at the beginning of season 5, you used magic to summon your father’s ghost.  at the beginning of season 4, you used magic to try to save uther’s life.  

arthur has always been willing to use magic for his own purposes, when it suits him.  all while continuing to restrict others from doing the same.

this show is big on pushing the narrative that “arthur’s different from uther” - and he is - but how different, really?  seriously.  in the end, how different are they?

i feel like because we are fond of him - because we’ve gotten to know him personally, in settings where we can temporarily forget the impact of his policies - we’re sometimes asked to sort of look past the real harm that is constantly being done in his name.  like - ‘it’s okay for us to let it slide when arthur persecutes people with magic, because he has valid reasons to think magic is a threat.’  but what, then it’s not okay for someone like kara to want him taken out?  

she has valid reasons to think ARTHUR is a threat.  he IS a threat!!!  to people like her!  that’s the reality.  these people have every justified reason to want arthur off the throne.  they have every rightful reason to riot.  they have EVERY RATIONAL REASON TO REBEL AND REMOVE HIM FROM HIS SEAT OF POWER.  

if this were star wars, they’d be the rebellion.  we’d be rooting for them!  it is not wrong for an oppressed population to rise up against their oppressor!!!!!!!!!!  we all know this!!!!!!!!  just because we like arthur on a personal level doesn’t make it less true.  we CANNOT fault these people for refusing to just sit back and wait for arthur to someday wake up and give them their rights.  that never happens.  that is never how people become free.  we can’t fault these people for not choosing to be like merlin, for not choosing to hover in a morally questionable limbo for years and years and years and become complicit in their own oppression.

(and again, i’ll...i’ll deal with merlin later.  he keeps fucking up and i hate to see it but i also have to remember that he is a victim of the same oppressive policies as kara and mordred so it’s like...his case is more complicated.)

but arthur.  i honestly feel like the most telling moment is when he gives kara that opportunity to “repent,” which is supposed to be like ‘oh wow look how benevolent,’ only the thing is he’s completely missed the point.  the point is not that she needs to apologize for her crimes.  the point is that she hasn’t done anything wrong.  

no.

it isn’t.

the way they cut to merlin at that particular line is devastating.  it’s this...reminder of how far we have wandered, from who he used to be.  he used to think this, too.  he used to fight for himself, too; he used to come home to gaius angry and upset saying “i want to be seen; i want to be free.”  and now he’s just...locked into this impossible place where he can either ignore the veritable chorus of dragons, seers, and literal gods who keep telling him he has an absolute responsibility to make sure arthur triumphs, or listen to their counsel and thus betray himself, and his own people along with him.  and all this while still living under threat of execution himself - what is he supposed to do?  

this episode calls back so strongly to ‘the sorcerer’s shadow,’ which is the first place where the show confronts this problem so directly, when merlin outs himself to gilli and gilli challenges him about his choices:

i know how it feels.  i understand.

then you understand why i have to fight.  if uther is killed, so what?  how many of our kind have died at his hands?  how many more will?  it's time those with magic fought back.

gilli - 

you can't tell me what to do!  

you need to learn to use your magic for good.  that is its true purpose; it's not meant for your own vanity.

i'm not going to apologise for who i am!  you can be a servant and - and pretend you're less than them -

no, that is not what I do - 

no?!  you're defending the king!  protecting a man that would have you dead!

i'm protecting you!

you've been pretending for so long now that you've actually forgotten who you are.

merlin gets so upset by this.  he’s visibly shaken, and on the verge of tears, and he weakly protests, and then the next shot is of him lying awake in his bed, agonizedly stewing over it, because deep down he knows that gilli is right.  

this conflict has never been resolved.  i would add, as we move toward the spot where i am now in season 5, that it’s not so much that merlin has “forgotten” who he is, exactly, but that he’s been forced to abandon who he is, for the sake of his mission.  and most of the time he tries not to think about that, because it’s the only way he can survive, but he feels deeply conflicted about it still.

watching 5.11, it is so easy for me to get frustrated at merlin, because i feel like he should do more, in this episode, and do the Right Thing, but honestly at this point the only way for him to do the right thing is to reveal himself.  that’s it.  there is no other option for him.  we’ve exhausted all other avenues; there is no other step he can take.  he is trapped, in his current situation, and his deception is not just hurting him, now, it’s...it’s an abdication of his responsibility to everyone like him.  

i don’t like saying that.  because in real life it’s never okay to just say like...’oh, you need to out yourself because you have a responsibility to the community.’  that’s never okay.  a person’s primary responsibility is to their own safety, when they’re living as a marginalized, threatened person.  

so in real life, i would never say that.  but this is fiction, first of all, and it’s more complicated than that, for merlin, because he is already in a position of responsibility over these people, whether he wants to be or not.  the decisions he makes are things that impact their lives.  

and secondly - how threatened is he, really?  he is supposedly the most powerful sorcerer who’s ever lived.  do we really think arthur could successfully get merlin up on a platform and hang him?  do we really think arthur could hold merlin in a cell?  when merlin was newer to intentional magic and unstudied, absolutely, yes.  but now?

the risk merlin faces now isn’t necessarily to his life.  it’s to his lifestyle.  he might have to leave camelot.  he might lose all his friends.  and these are valid fears and i UNDERSTAND, because merlin has never felt safe and he has so rarely felt loved and i UNDERSTAND how paralytically frightening it is for him to consider doing anything that would jeopardize even the tiniest bit of belonging that he has been able to scrape together for himself, but i do not see that he has another option - not one that doesn’t poison his soul, at least.  he knows that what is happening to kara in this episode is wrong.  he tells arthur “free them both.”  he knows that’s what should have happened.  but then arthur executes her, and merlin does nothing to stop it, and i hate to put one more burden on merlin’s young shoulders but the fact of the matter is that this cycle of violence will never end until merlin ends it himself.  merlin cannot continue to stay trapped here between the dictates of destiny and his own sense of right and wrong.  it is killing him, and now it’s killing other people, too.

it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.  

merlin desperately needs to remember that.  he needs to remember it for his own sake, not just for the people around him.  he is one of them.  their struggle is his struggle.  it is not the magical community’s fault that merlin has more information than they do - how are they supposed to know that arthur is supposed to be some kind of great saviour?  without knowing that, why would they ever choose to bow to him?  he has done nothing to earn their trust.  they have no reason to approach this situation the way merlin has, with infinite patience and a willingness to suffer constant injustices.  

merlin has to understand that.  he has to know that.  he can’t condemn them for fighting for their freedom.  they haven’t done anything wrong.  and i think he does know that, deep inside.  but he is trapped, where he is now, and the only way out is for him to tell the truth.  

the truth will set you free.  it might upend your entire life, but it will set you free.  and it is past time that merlin was free.  from camelot’s oppression, and from the oppressive dictates of destiny, too - if destiny had shut up for two seconds about ‘don’t trust mordred,’ we wouldn’t necessarily be in this situation now.  

i guess overall this episode leaves me feeling pretty grim.  and sad, i guess, because honestly like - it’s hard to for me to even root for arthur, as we enter the finale.  i can’t condemn mordred for running away to join the rebellion.  i don’t think morgana’s ideals are exactly pure, obviously; we’ve already seen several seasons ago how her goals have slid from ‘liberation’ to ‘power’ - but mordred is only motivated by the fight against injustice.  he’s in it for freedom.  and i can’t fault him for that, because he isn’t wrong.  i can’t fault him for giving up merlin’s identity, either, because merlin’s been treating him like crap from the very beginning (and again, yes, it’s more complicated than that - merlin is in an impossible position; he has reasons to trust all of the people who make prophecies at him - but still.  that doesn’t make mordred less wronged.)

so it’s kind of like - i’m going into the finale feeling like i shouldn’t really be rooting for our heroes.  which is kind of...depressing.

i mean.  yeah. 

he kind of does.

[ijustwant2write]

Communicating-Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant

(GIF credit to @luke-skywalker)

MASTERLIST

Summary: After a hard day, all (Y/N) wants to do us rant to her boyfriends. But Marc ends up making things worse, and becomes jealous of Steven who seems to solve everything.

Characters: Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) was frustrated, and that was putting it lightly. She had the worst morning at work, despite only being in for half a day, then when she went to her friend's birthday lunch, all two of the girls could do was argue with each other; turns out, one of them had been sleeping with the other girl's boyfriend, so the argument was justified, except for when they began to get physical with one another. In fact, the whole week had been going downhill for her.

She could crashed on the sofa as soon as she got in the flat. Dragging her feet along the floor, she mumbled a hello to the two fish, before throwing herself back onto the sofa. As she kicked off her shoes, she heard the bathroom door open, Marc walking out. She knew who was present now, but it was incredibly confusing a few months ago.

"Woah, what happened to you?" Marc asked as he approached her.

She didn't like how he worded that."You could just say hello and ask how I am."

"I just did."

"No, Marc, no." Steven could already see this going bad.

(Y/N) huffed, rubbing her eyes."I've had the shittiest day. So my manager had a go at me because I was working a half day, she called me selfish and not a team player, even though she was happy to book it off for me all those weeks ago. Then I was relieved to go meet up with the girls, thinking we would have a lovely meal together. But nope. Turns out Lisa has been sleeping with Erika's boyfriend, and it may as well have been WWE in that restaurant. And just this whole week really. Everyone has been negative, nothing is getting done. Urgh, it's just been a lot."

"Well, it's done now."

Marc didn't mean to sound blunt, he was genuinely having a normal conversation. However, (Y/N) took it the wrong way.

"What's wrong? Has something happened whilst I was out?"

"What? No? Why would you ask?"

"Your tone, it's just very sharp right now."

"It isn't."

"It is."

"Babe, you didn't even say hello when I came in."

"Neither did you."

She huffed."Whatever."

"What have I done wrong?"

"Are you listening to yourself Marc?"

"Nothing. Look, I'm just upset about the day I've had."

"Then leave it at the door, it's done now."

"Maybe I should take over-"

"Marc! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Marc was genuinely confused, growing angry over something so little."What I meant was just forget about it! It's happened, you're home, there's nothing else you can do."

"You don't have to sound so cruel about it! I just wanted to rant to you, get all my feelings out. Instead you've just pissed me off even more."

She stood from the sofa, throwing her handbag to the floor as she made her way over to the bed. Stripping herself of her coat, (Y/N) said nothing as she laid down, curling up into a ball facing away from Marc.

"Look what you've done."

"Me?!" Marc harshly whispered, whipping around to face a mirror where Steven was glaring back."What the hell just happened? I don't know what I've done!"

"Let me take over, it will be better if I handle it."

"No, I'm going to deal with this, I don't need your help."

Before Steven could argue back, Marc approached (Y/N), sitting on the edge of the bed. Although he was determined to sort this, he didn't know where to start.

"Do...do you want a hug?"

(Y/N) rolled over to look at him in disbelief. He had no clue what he had done or how to comfort someone.

"Marc, you're going to make this worse if you keep talking."

"What's with the attitude?"

"I'm not your teenage daughter Marc, speak to me like an adult, like your girlfriend."

"I'll speak to you like an adult when you act like one."

"Mate."

Now Marc knew he had fucked up. (Y/N) shook her head, he saw the tears begin to fall. She rolled back over, her voice snappy as she spoke.

"Go away Marc."

That didn't mean for Marc to physically leave the flat. That meant she wanted him gone and Steven to be with her instead. He hated when she did this. It made him feel invalid. She never told Steven to go away. But he was angry, and he wanted nothing more than to leave the situation.

Steven quickly took over, quicker than expecting, gasping a little when he had the control. He had to pick up the pieces, something that annoyed him. Marc had to learn.

"(Y/N)?" he softly said, he was so different to Marc."Love, do you want to talk?"

When she didn't move, Steven cautiously moved closer, slowly lying down behind her, spooning her as he wrapped one arm around her. He kissed her bare shoulder, feeling her body shake as she started crying.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?, has something besides today happened?"

"No, it's a mix of things." (Y/N) cried, gripping onto the arm wrapped around her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"He'll be listening."

"Who? Marc?"

"It's just...it's not just him, for starters. Yes, this week has been hell. Honestly, coming home to you two is always great, it's been such a relief. But Marc just has to ruin it. I can't say anything without a remark, or if something annoys me he has to quip back. I get you're two different people, but after days like these I just want to get my feelings out of my system and cuddle. Marc doesn't get that."

Marc was listening to everything she said. He felt like a dick. He understood why (Y/N) always wanted Steven when she was upset. It was true that he was better at handling it. It hurt that he was the reason she was crying though.

"You know he cares about you right? He might not be as soft as I am, but he does."

"I know, and I feel bad for saying stuff like this. It's how I feel though."

"Dont feel bad, you're expressing your feelings."

"I can't help it. Especially after all you guys do, you don't exactly want to come back from a fight to listen to your girlfriend complain about her normal life."

"Yeah, sometimes the bad guys are easier."

She let out a little giggle. Steven smiled at the sound.

"He's so mad at me, I can feel it." (Y/N) sniffled.

"No, he's never mad at you."

"Yes he is, Steven."

"I would use the word annoyed."

"I guess that's a little better. Do you see him when he gets angry? He looks like he wants to shout and scream at me."

"I do?"

"I'm not scared of him, I know he's not going to hurt me."

"I would never."

"I hate arguing with either of you. You're just easier to resolve with."

"I think you two should talk."

"Not yet, please. I need a moment."

Steven agreed, letting them lie in silence together. He always wanted (Y/N) to be happy, it hurt him so much to see her cry. However, Marc had to step up and take responsibility for these arguments; Steven feared that Marc would push (Y/N) away if he didn't change.

"I need to speak to her."

"Not yet." Steven mumbled back.

"Hm?" (Y/N) perked up."Is that Marc?"

"Yeah. He wants to talk."

"That makes a change." she winced at her tone."Sorry, I didn't mean to be harsh."

"Maybe you should talk now. He's really regretting what he said."

(Y/N) thought for a moment. She was nervous to speak to him. Although she knew they would make up and put it behind them, she wasn't in the mood to start crying again. Slipping out of Steven's hold, she sat up, bringing her knees up to her chest. Wiping at her wet cheeks, (Y/N) sighed.

"OK, let me speak to him."

Her gaze was elsewhere as they switched. The bed shifted beside her, Marc now present and looking unsure.

"I'm sorry for my tone earlier. I don't realise how much I sound like a douchebag at times. And you know Steven is the total opposite of me, you two have never argued."

"I understand that's how you speak sometimes. But I had a hard day and it really wasn't what I wanted to hear."

Marc cautiously inched closer."I know. I'll work on that, I promise. Steven is just so much better at being sympathetic. I never want to see you in a state like this, it pains me. I'm...I'm just crap at consoling people. Which I then get annoyed about because I can't do anything to help."

"I appreciate you trying though Marc."

"You know I love you, more than anything else in this world."

"I know. And I love you just as much. I'm also sorry."

"For what?"

"For always dumping my negativity on you. I could come back a bit happier and also make sure you've had a good day before letting it all out of my system."

"That's what we're here for though. Each of us support each other. And how many times have I come back to you bloodied and bruised up?"

"More times than I would like."

He placed a gentle kiss to her cheek."Are we friends again?"

She looked at him with a smile."Friends."

They kissed, and it was so sweet. (Y/N) got up onto her knees, hugging him close. They needed to speak about this.

"Can we lie down together now?" Marc mumbled into her shoulder.

Without saying anything, (Y/N) fell onto her back, pulling Marc down with her. They laughed as they adjusted into a more comfortable position, both content. Steven was smiling to himself, Marc could be a softie sometimes.