#how is he allowed to look so good and get away with it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugxto · 2 days ago

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crossed wires - eddie/volt/reader

⋆syn: You were unbelievably careless while the boys weren't looking, so Eddie and Volt take new measures to keep you in place.

⋆wc: 5.5k

⋆cw: m/m/afab threesome, dom/sub dynamics, erotic electrostimulation, cum eating, cum as lube, shibari (with wires, do not do that irl)

⋆notes: reader insert uses g/n pronouns and is not described with feminine attributes. AFAB genitalia, terms used include hole, entrance, cunt and clit. e/v masterlist.

⋆snippet:

It’s your own fault, really.

It’s for your own good, you think, despite how sorry you are, as Eddie masterfully weaves the wires around your arms, across your back, keeping your shoulder blades almost pressed together. You can feel the woven braids of the wires making marks into your skin, circling your forearms, your elbows, your biceps, immobilizing you more and more with every inch they climb. They’re warm, practically humming, and you wonder if Eddie is charging them somehow, consciously or not.

crossed wires

It’s your own fault, really.

Your face (your poor, sorry face, they’d called it) rests in Volt’s hands, his silver thumbs stroking your cheeks, and his lightning eyes keeping your gaze locked on. That was the other thing, too, you aren’t allowed to look away unless told, and Volt is enforcing that part.

“You’re doing so beautifully, little wire. So beautifully.” You know, despite the honey-sweet words, the tone of that voice. Volt is hungry, he’s famished, and he’s barely holding back. You imagine that, if Eddie wasn’t there, or if the circumstances of your situation were different, nothing would stop him from taking you that very moment. He licks his lips, and gives your cheek a little pinch, a little zap. “I can’t wait to see the marks on your skin when the wires come off. I’ll kiss every single one.”

Eddie scoffs. “And who says,” you feel him finish another knot, “we’re even going to take them off?”

Normally, you might give a little retort to that, a small challenge. But that is certainly not the case tonight.

“Nah,” he continues, his fingers grazing your biceps as he makes another loop, “I’m honestly not sure if they deserve that.”

You whimper, you can’t help it, though you know it’ll get you nowhere with them, and you press your folded legs together as tight as you can.

“Hm,” Volt muses, and you know he can see how you want to plead, beg, though it will fall on flat ears. You haven’t been gagged simply on the condition that you do not argue. So, you don’t. Volt smiles. “I suppose we’ll have to see how they fair tonight, then.”

You feel Eddie’s weight leave the mattress, hear him step onto the floor by the edge of the bed, and his hands run down your arms, your sensitive skin, and over the wiring that he wound to his touch. He makes a small sound, a hum, and says, “that should do.”

For the first time in minutes, Volt’s eyes dart away from your own, and he looks behind you to where Eddie stands, grinning like a cat. “Satisfied, then?”

Again, Eddie scoffs, and his voice is strained with barely suppressed frustration when he says, “I’ll be satisfied when I know they’re not going to be so careless when we aren’t around. Or at all. But,” he sighs, “this’ll work for now. Make fists for me.” You do, easily, and he makes a sound of approval.

Volt turns back to you, bright eyes practically flashing. “That’s what the lesson is for, right, live wire?”

You swallow, and nod. “Yes, Volt. And I’m sorry, Eddie, I am.”

Eddie doesn’t respond, just huffs a small breath. Volt makes a small pout, but his eyes glitter with devilry. “Oh, darling, we know you are.” Gently, he cups your chin, plants a small kiss to your forehead that sends tingles across your face. “But we have to keep you safe, don’t we?”

You nod. They do. You know they do.

“Good. Now,” Volt moves to stand, and slips off the bed to join Eddie, unseen behind your back. “Let’s have a look at what Eddie’s made for you.”

They’re out of your sight now, and you’re untouched for the first time in… you’re not even sure. You can feel both a white hot and a steel gaze roaming over your arms, your back, and your shiver at the charged air in the room.

“My, Eddie,” Volt sighs, his rich voice sending shockwaves straight to your clit, “absolutely stunning. Gorgeous, my darling.”

You hear Eddie hum, and then, the smack of lips, the wet slide of tongues, and little moans. God, you wish you could see - you can just imagine it, how Volt is probably holding Eddie’s neck, Eddie’s hands on Volt’s chest, melting together like they always do.

It stops a moment later, and Eddie’s voice is less rigid, less harsh, when he speaks again. “We should get going. We’re already late.”

Get going?

You turn your head only a little as you hear them round the bed, moving towards the door. It’s the first time you’ve seen Eddie’s face since he started working on the wires, and it’s no less gruff, his titanium eyes still filled with concern. He stops in front of you, crosses his arms, and you notice how his fingers dig into his biceps.

“We have to go to work,” he says. “And you are going to stay here until we’re done.”

Oh.

Volt must notice your eyes grow wide, how your mouth falls open only a hair, and adds, “One of us will check on you every half hour.”

“You are not to leave the bed.” Eddie’s tone leaves no room for argument. “I’ve been fucking gracious enough to leave your legs free, but do not abuse that. Or that will immediately change.”

When had they even discussed this?

“You can, of course, use your safe word at any check in.” Volt cocks an eyebrow. “Unless, you need to use it now. Do you, darling?”

You shake your head, shoving “fuse” to the back of your mind. You wanted this, needed this, despite how your heart was pounding at the prospect of being alone.

“Aloud, darling.”

“No, Volt.”

“Very good.” Volt turns, grabbing his coat, and shrugs it over his shoulders. “You’re going to do so well, darling, I know you are. You can show us that, can’t you?”

“I can, Volt,” you say, nodding again, and you turn to Eddie, his grey eyes boring into yours, and ask in your sweetest voice, “May I see them too?”

Eddie’s breath hitches, clearly not expecting such a question, and almost imperceptibly, his gaze softens the slightest bit. He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, before saying, with a carefully chosen tone, “I… will show you when we get back. I’ll figure something out with the mirrors.” He raises a finger, and his brows as well. “If. If you’re good while we’re gone.”

You nod, agreeing, of course agreeing. Eddie makes art with his wires, but it’s a rare treat when he does something so intricate as what he seems to have made on your arms. Mostly, he uses them to tie you or Volt to the headboard, or to keep your wrists together while they take turns with your mouth. Once, you watched him bind Volt’s legs together, his hands working the wires with such a natural ease it was almost like they were part of him. Maybe they were, you weren’t really sure, but he controlled them like nothing you’d ever seen before. And not knowing what he’s created on your arms is making you ache.

Volt’s hand goes to touch on Eddie’s arm, a silent message shared between them, and Eddie sighs again. He steps forward, placing his hands on the mattress in front of you, and bringing his face only inches from yours. The concern is still etched all over him, but you see, deep in his eyes, the love that is at its heart.

“Spark,” he almost whispers, and it catches you off guard after such steel from him, “you did very, very good for me. For us. And you’re going to keep being good, right? You’re going to listen to me?”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie. I am.” You mean it, with every breath.

“Good.” He brings a hand up, finds your cheek, and his touch is electric, warming your skin, as he meets your lips for a kiss that sends a shiver down your spine.

When he parts, he rejoins Volt, slipping on his vest, as nonchalant as ever.

Volt is adjusting his cuffs when he asks, “Do you have a preference of who should check on you first?”

“No, Volt.”

“Alright.” He opens their bedroom door, finds the small of Eddie’s back with his hand, guiding him out. “We’ll be back in a tick. Be good, live wire.”

The door closes behind them, and it’s like you can finally exhale. You settle your weight on your legs, getting as comfortable as you can, and prepare to wait.

This really, honestly, had started innocently enough.

When you’d come to the Breaker Box this afternoon, you’d found it quiet, eerily so - no shuffling in the back room, no conversations across the bar. It was surprising, you thought, even though it was closed, and decided to investigate.

When you climbed the stairs, poked your head into the boys’ bedroom door, your heart just danced with love. They were napping, arm in arm, Volt’s hair a mess of sparks across the pillow, Eddie’s coils sprawled across Volt’s chest. They looked so soft, so peaceful - god, you loved them so much, it felt like a current that ran through your veins and straight to your heart.

You, of course, did not want to disturb such a charming sight, so you closed the door again and made your way to the backroom, the office, whatever it was, where Eddie kept the weekly to-do lists. You were here, you had nothing else planned, so you might as well earn your keep around the club.

You did some sweeping, some table wipedowns, a little stock check on the bottles. You noticed, though, that one of the backlights above the bottles of the very top shelf had gone out - that was one Volt’s biggest pet peeves, the shelves not looking sharp. It was a simple fix to avoid his annoyance, you thought.

But…

But, Eddie hated when you were on a ladder without them around. Just because a stupid floorboard made you fall, one time, now he always wanted to make sure you’re “not so careless” again. It was a safety issue, he’d said, and they just wanted to protect you.

You sighed, and thought of a moment, before deciding that, if you were quick, it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would be the wiser.

That was easy enough to believe, as you retrieved the ladder, set it up, gave it a jiggle to make sure it was steady, and ascended with a new bulb. It was a little more complicated, however, trying to maneuver around the bottles and loosen the dead bulb atop the glass shelf. Even more complicated to reach even further than your arms really could to fully screw in the new one. You could hardly get it to stay, but it just wouldn’t twist, so you shifted your weight the ladder, giving your body one more push and -

The ladder wiggled, and your elbow whacked into a bottle.

Which knocked into another bottle, and another, and all three fell at once, crashing to the bar beneath you.

You could only stare at the carnage, the amber liquid seeping off the wood, the glass shards scattered across the floor, because you knew, you had well and truly fucked up.

Faster than lightning, they were there, half dressed, breathing fast, and sparks crackling in Volt’s hands.

“Live wire?” Volt said first, his white eyes wide at the sight before them, and the sparks dissipated. His cheeks were almost blue - his skin tended to do that when he was angry. “What -”

“I’m sorry!” This was your mess, there was no use denying it, and you started to step down the ladder. “I was trying to change a bulb, and -”

“Spark, stop.” Eddie said, his tone harsh, clipped. “Let us get on some shoes, and we’ll get you down.”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I can step around -”

“I said stop.” His eyebrows quirked up, like a challenge. “You’re not stepping on glass, alright?”

So you did. They quickly found their boots, and Volt was the one who picked you up off the ladder and hoisted you to sit on the bar. Eddie came back with a pair of brooms, and let them rest against the bar as he came over to join you.

“Darling, what happened?” Volt asked, tipping your chin up to meet your eyes, and you felt tears start to prickle. “We didn’t even know you were here. We thought -”

“I know. I know, but you two were napping, and I just wanted to help! I -”

Volt shushed you, softly, calming how quickly your words were tumbling out. “It’s alright, it’s alright, darling.” He picked up your hands, inspected them for cuts. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, inhaled a steady breath. “No, I’m okay. I just knocked the bottles over, they didn’t hit me.”

“Good. Good,” Volt said, relieved, and he turned his head to Eddie, casting him a look you couldn't quite make out.

You finally turned your own gaze to meet his steel eyes, and nearly gasped at how he was looking at you. His glare was harsh, concerned, maybe even... disappointed?

His voice was low, brisk, when he spoke. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You knew it was coming, but it still stung. “I’m sorry, Eddie, I -”

“What if you had fallen into the shelves?” He gripped the wood of the bar, his knuckles white. “Fallen through the fucking glass? Or tripped, and hit your head on the bar coming down? We were right upstairs, and yet you -” he set his jaw, took in a breath. “You have to be careful. You have to let us help you.”

You nodded, and felt a tear slip down your cheek. “I know. I do,” you said through a shaky breath, and you were vaguely aware of Volt’s hand on your thigh. “I did it knowing I shouldn’t have, I know you hate it, and I’m sorry.” You turned your eyes back to Volt, whose eyes were a bit more sympathetic. “I just wanted to help.”

Volt and Eddie glanced at each other, one of their silent conversations occurring over a split second, and Eddie ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “We know, darling,” Volt said, turning back to you and squeezing your thigh. “But that doesn’t mean you can disregard your safety for something so unimportant as a lightbulb.”

Another tear fell down your cheek, and you bit your bottom lip when you nodded. “I fucked up. I’m sorry, Eddie, Volt, I am.”

Volt took your hands in his, the smallest sparks under your skin blooming at his touch. “The important thing is that you’re alright. I’m going to take you upstairs, make sure nothing is going unseen. Eddie will clean up here and join us in a bit.”

You knew what that probably meant. You quickly glanced at Eddie, and asked, quietly, “Am I going to be punished?”

Eddie’s brows shot up, and he made a sound like a laugh caught in his throat. “Don’t you think you need to be?”

Your hands shook as a shiver ran down your spine, your arms, your thighs. You had disobeyed a rule, tried to quietly get around them while they slept, while you knew it was wrong. “I do,” you admitted, and held tight to Volt’s hands.

Eddie nodded, his lips tight. “Good.” He cocked his head towards the stairs, muttering to Volt as he grabbed a broom, “Take them up, then.”

A knock at the door brings you out of your thoughts, and you blink to see Volt step into the bedroom, his gaze soft, adoring, as he settles next to you.

“Our darling,” he soothes, running a hand across your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You breathe in, taking stock of the feelings in your body. A dull ache in your shoulders, some tingles in your feet from your whole weight pressing atop them. “I’m okay,” you say, exhaling. “I feel okay.”

“Good. How about some water, hm?” He stands, bringing a glass from the bedside table and settling it to your lips. You tip your chin up, open your lips to accept it, and take two hearty gulps before he removes the glass. He swipes a thumb over the corner of your lips to remove an errant drop. “Very good, darling.”

You study him, his stance casual, a deep contrast to Eddie’s rigidity in his anger. To Volt, it seems like it might just be any other night.

Cautiously, you ask, “Are you mad at me too?”

Volt’s brows furrow, and his eyes flash with something curious, maybe even sad. He joins you again on the bed with a sigh. “Neither Eddie nor I are mad at you, spark. We’re disappointed that you knowingly went behind our backs to do something dangerous, when we only want to protect you. Eddie, especially, because he’s had to catch you before, and wasn’t able to this time. ”

You know in your heart that’s all true, and if you had the option to go back and make a different choice, you would. But now, you know you need to sit with the actions you took.

Volt continues, “I know our Eddie isn’t the most… articulate man in this house.” He smiles sweetly, his eyes full of love. “But you know how hard he would fight for you, for me, for us, if it meant keeping us safe, don’t you?”

You nod, because you do - you knew from the moment you found the two of them in the backroom, struggling to combat the faulty wire, that they would do anything for each other. And now, for you, too.

Volt kisses your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. “You really are doing beautifully, darling. Eddie will be up soon, alright?”

You say your goodbyes, and he slips down the stairs again, blowing you a kiss as he shuts the door.

You make a move to readjust your legs, bringing them in front of you criss-crossed, and wait.

You focus on the music that hums through the floor, thinking it sounds like Keyes - sultry, winding notes that soothe your thoughts. There’s applause every few minutes, and mumblings that you know must be Volt at the microphone. The unmistakable sound of Johnny starts, and you crack a smile, knowing what Volt’s face must look like.

The door opening again snaps you out of the music, and Eddie steps in, steel eyes immediately focusing on your face.

Your heart rate ticks a beat faster as he rounds the bed in slow, careful steps, eyeing you even as he steps out of sight and inspects your bound arms. You gasp when his hand grazes your shoulder above the wires, testing the tension.

“Make fists for me,” he says, voice calm, but you can tell that something else is bubbling under the surface. You do, and wiggle your fingers, and he hums his approval. “Good. How do your arms feel, any numbness?”

“No, no Eddie,” you say, but your mouth is suddenly dry. Why are you so worried? You’re being good, you’ve barely moved, you’re not speaking unless spoken to. You’re doing everything right. “They feel perfect.”

He comes back into your view, and he sighs when he sits down. His eyes flit across your face, search your eyes, as he asks, “Why didn’t you wake us up to help you?”

Because you’re stubborn, and you’re still not used to being told what to do. You’ve climbed plenty of ladders, changed plenty of lightbulbs, you could do it. But it’s more than that, you think, and you shake your head as you say, “I didn’t want to bother you. I could do it, and I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Eddie’s brows are scrunched together, his eyes reflecting something like hurt, and it surprises you when his hands come to rest around your neck. “Live wire,” he holds you tightly, making sure your eyes don’t leave his, “you are not a fucking bother. You are ours. You are the fucking current that flows inside us, what keeps us powered - you are as much a part of me as Volt.” You know he sees the tears that brim at the edge of your eyes, but he persists. “And I cannot fucking stand the idea of you getting hurt. Do you understand that?”

You nod, knocking a tear loose, and a lump forms in your throat. “I do, E-Eddie.”

“Then I never want to hear you say, even think, that you could ever be a bother to us, ever.” Eddie’s eyes are dark, titanium and strong, and you know he doesn’t want to repeat himself down the line.

You know it’s easier said than done, but you know you’ll try. Because you know they love you, want ever part of you, and they’d do anything you ever asked of them. So, you’ll try.

You swallow down the lump, and whisper, “I’ll try, I promise I will.”

Eddie’s face relaxes, and he brings his lips to yours, kissing you reverently, deeply, and you know he believes you. That’s all you can ask for.

He pulls away, and whispers into your lips, “I love you, live wire.”

“I love you, Eddie.”

You sit together, quietly, before applause through the floorboards brings him back to attention.

“Do you need anything before I go?” he asks, and when you shake your head, he sighs in relief. “Alright. Volt will be up soon. It’s quiet tonight, so we’ll wrap up as quick as we can, okay?”

When he leaves, your heart feels lighter than it has since you ascended the ladder, and instead of anxious expectation at the door opening again, you’re excited, knowing that they’ll be back, here, together, so soon.

Volt does come, not long after, and gives you another sip of water and a kiss to the head. “Luke and Cam are the only ones left,” he tells you, “Eddie’s given them a last call, but they’ll be gone soon.” He smiles, that same excitement in your heart mirrored on his lips. “And then you can see what Eddie’s made for you, alright?”

Your body hums in anticipation when he shuts the door behind him. You try to imagine what the wires that bind you look like, if it’s reminiscent of the winging knots that adorned Volt’s legs once, or if it’s like a ladder that climbs from your wrists to your shoulders. You give your arms a small tug, testing the design, but it doesn’t yield much information, just makes your skin hum from the face that you’ve been immobilized by someone you love, someone you trust. You sigh, and close your eyes, and wait.

You hear them on the stairs after minutes of silence downstairs, and your breath hitches. Volt comes in first, Edie behind him. They’ve already shed their coats, their vests, and they both toss them on a nearby table before stopping at the end of the bed. They’re quiet, studying you, Volt’s hands in his pockets and Eddie’s arms crossed. Both of them are more relaxed, less stiff, than when they left, and your heart sighs in relief at that.

Eddie clears his throat, and he raises a brow. “Would you like to see them?”

“Yes,” you nearly moan, and you sit up, chest bright. “Please, Eddie, can I?”

“Yes, you can. Volt, grab your hand mirror, yeah?” he says, and there’s a small spark of amusement in his eyes as he comes to your side. “Uncross your legs, I’ll help you up, alright?” And he does, holding your arms when you find yourself unsteady on your legs, gone unused for hours, and leads you to their bathroom vanity, turning you just so. Volt appears, hands Eddie a small black mirror, and he brings it in front of your eye, fiddling with the angle until, finally, you can see them.

It’s not a ladder that climbs up your back, but diamonds, smaller at the bottom that grow in sizes as they ascend, beautiful knots connecting them to the binds on your arms. He used red wire, you notice, and you’ve never really realized how gorgeous the color looks against your skin. It’s intricately, lovingly created, and it makes your heart swell.

“Eddie,” you breathe, your voice quiet, awed, “Volt’s right, it’s stunning.” You can’t take your eyes off them, but a small part of your brain is imagining what the marks will look like when the wires are removed, how their lips will feel on the raw skin. You look at Eddie, his eyes brimming with pride, and smile. “Thank you. Thank you, Eddie.” You glance at Volt, leaning against the door frame, find his gaze full of devotion. “Thank you both, for taking care of me, for keeping me safe. I love you, I love you both so much.”

They’re on you in a flash, their hands stroking your face, your arms, lips pressed to your neck, ears, lips. It’s overwhelming, it’s unbearable, it’s exactly what you need.

You’re back to sitting on the bed, Volt at your side, kissing your neck, and Eddie holding your face as he stands in front of you. “You’ve been very good for us, spark. Taking your punishment in stride, and I’m really proud of you. So, I’m giving you a choice. Do you want me to take the wires off, or, do you want us to take you with them on?”

Sweet amp, how lucky you were.

“On,” you say without a moment’s hesitation. “Please.”

Eddie’s eyes darken, and the corner of his mouth turns up. Volt chuckles against your neck, and you feel his teeth graze your skin. “Well,” you hear him say, his mouth dragging up to your ear. “Just because you said please.”

Volt wraps an arm around you, drags you up to the pillows, and he leans back on them, opening his legs to slot you between them, pressing your bound back to his chest. His electric hands run up your naked torso, stopping to pinch your nipples, and he revels at your gasp. Eddie climbs between you and places his hands on your thighs, spreading them open, and your hiss as the cold air hits your clit.

“Hold still,” he says, the concerned tone in his voice gone, replaced with wanton need. Volt hoists you up more, off the bed, and you watch Eddie’s hand disappear beneath you, and you feel his fingers graze your skin as he undoes Volt’s zipper and drags the fabric down. Volt’s cock springs out, smacks the skin of your ass, and you whimper, your hole clenching involuntarily.

Eddie stares at where you and Volt’s bodies touch as Volt adjusts his hips, his cock coming to rest at your waiting cunt, and Eddie licks his lips. He runs his hands across the insides of your thighs, and you fight the tremor the touch wants to elicit, and then, gingerly, he finds your folds, opens you up to find your clit, sensitive, needy.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groans, and when he runs your thumb over your clit, you want to buck your hips into him, but you can’t - you’re too bound. You are completely, devastatingly, at their mercy. He teases your entrance, and curses again at how wet you already are, and he wraps a hand around Volt, guiding him inside you.

Your mouth falls open, and you cry out - maybe their names, maybe a curse, you’re not sure - and Volt’s tongue is on your neck, his hands sending zaps to your nipples. The pace Eddie sets is torturously slow, but his thumb circles your clit at every centimeter of length he adds, and already you’re not sure how long you’re going to last. When finally, finally, he bottoms out, you try to arch you back, but again, you simply can’t.

Volt groans in your ear, gives a tentative rock of his hips and makes you moan. “Mmm, little spark, I quite like you like this.” His voice is mean, teasing, and you feel it ghost across your skin. He rocks again, harder, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Perfectly wrapped up for us to use.”

Something warm finds your clit at the next thrust, and your eyes fly open, only to find Eddie between your legs, his mouth enveloping your folds like a man starved.

You think, as your body shakes, you’d be more than happy to die like this.

The fullness of Volt’s brutal pace inside you and Eddie’s languid tongue are making your brain short circuit, overwhelmed by the warmth, the stretch, the way the spring inside you is coiling tighter with every passing second. Eddie hums into you, and every few moments, you hear Volt hiss in your ear, and you guess that a flick of Eddie’s tongue found his cock as it pulled out of you.

It’s too much, it’s all you ever wanted, it’s overpowering, it’s -

You cry out, unable to stop the power of your orgasm and it surges up unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure that makes your legs shake and your throat raw. Warmth floods your body, from your bound fingers to your toes, and you barely register that Volt has followed you over the edge, filling your cunt with his release with a bite to your neck.

A moment later, he slips out of you, and you feel tears start to form when Eddie’s tongue dips further down, slow over your hole, and he licks up what drips out of you like he was made for you.

Eventually, you hear his voice again, and through blurred eyes, you make out his face by your thighs. “Now,” he says, and you think he sounds hungry, but how can that be right, when he’s just eaten away at all your resolve? “I’ll ask again, do you want to keep them on?”

You nod, but a zap to your neck makes you focus on Volt’s haggard voice in your ear. “Aloud.”

“Y-yes. On.” The effort to speak is heavy, and you can barely keep your eyes open. “Please.”

Eddie needs no further permission, and you hear fabric rustle, feel hands on your thighs, and then, once again, you’re being filled, and it’s warm and full and perfect.

Eddie’s cock slides in with quick ease, aided by Volt’s cum still inside you, and you clench around him as he thrusts, each time deeper than the last, and, not for the first time, you wonder if he’ll split your body in two with his power.

Volt’s hands are around your neck, and you revel in it, being pinned to them, letting them use you, hold you, fill you. It’s here, between them, that you feel most complete, like finally, the puzzle pieces of your life slot together.

The hours of knowing you were waiting, helplessly, mercilessly, on their bed, means that Eddie knows he’s not going to last long, so he savors every moan, every breath that falls from your lips as he rocks inside you. You feel perfect, like you were made just for them, almost as if he made you himself.

All too soon, he feels his climax build, and his fingers dig into your thighs, maybe harder than he intends. You pay it no mind, the pain a sickening sweet addition to the buzz of your body, and your heart nearly combusts when you hear Eddie’s groan, feel his cum inside you mixing with Volt’s, and you are liquid, bodiless, as he pulls himself out of you.

The next thing you’re aware of, when you blink your eyes open, is you on your stomach, your body heavy, and deft hands tugging at the wires on your arms. You find, for the first time in hours, that you can move your wrists, and you sigh, the relief of movement flooding your brain.

A honeyed voice makes a small hum above you, noticing your deep breath. “There they are.” Volt’s hand runs across your shoulder. “Our beautiful wire. We’re almost done, alright?”

You, in turn, also make a small hum, and close your eyes again. Slowly, the wires are removed, and your arms tingle as new blood rushes to fill them. You feel lips, a set on each arm, pepper kisses to the indentations, and after a few minutes, you’re being rolled onto your back, Volt and Eddie beaming down at you like you’ve just hung the moon.

“Fucks sake, whatever the hell we did to deserve you,” Eddie says as he pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, “I’d do it a thousbad times over.”

You smile, or at least you think you smile, basking in the light of white and steel eyes. “I love you two.”

You sleep between them, floating off to electric and warm kisses to your arms, soft kisses, greedy kisses, and you know there isn’t any place you could be safer.

#date everything #date everything smut #date everything x reader #eddie and volt #volt date everything #eddie and volt x reader #eddie date everything #eddie x volt x reader

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queenendless · 2 days ago

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A/n: THNX U ALL FOR GETTING THIS SIDE BLOG TO OVER 800 FOLLOWERS! ♥︎

Credit to @livviespixels for these graphics. I need banners, art, fanart, fanfics, and MORE for our beloved Shadow Lord PRONTO PEOPLE!

I adore this man. So damn much. But I've been all over the place. GlimmerFics but imma take a break from writing there especially cause I get emotionally crying over Jinwoo for weeks now, moody over ZZZ gacha troubles and now that's P5X. So sorry for being gone for over a month and if this fic ain't that good for my Shadowlord's greatness.

CW: Self awareness AU brief/implied. Personal issues I've dealt with this past month like emotional depression, gut pains, etc. Tickle fluff, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort.

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGARIZE, EDIT, TRANSLATE AND/OR USE FOR AI. Rather reblog, like and follow thnx u very much.

Another insomnia fueled night.

Grinding through the newest hit game that everyone has been raving about.

On your laptop, resting on the kitchen chair, as you lay on your family living room couch, earphones plugged in as you toiled away the dead of night while the rest of your relatives sleep.

Despite having made many friends and some hateful choices along the way, your selfish bias had you pining for one character in particular.

Whether as a horned skulled creature composed of human and animal bones and shadows or as a emo human twink with a passion for the role, you adore this entity. This cool dork. Your beloved Shadow Lord; Skips Shadley.

Besides, the voice sold you on the character. That particular range, richness, versatility, whether gruff and theatrical or gentle and soothing.

Unbeknownst to you, the metas this game has pulled is about to take another big leap. So you thought it was all just a dream, believing you had conked out on the couch in the midst of playing.

Betty was used to your night owl habits so she still missed you sleeping at night with her like the old days. But she appreciated it when you return to her as you sleep through the day.

You could have sought out Farya; the first aid expert might be able to treat your flared up nerve damaged limbs that could involve improving your circulation. But you doubted it, your own personal ailments being incurable.

Gaia was understanding of how you kept coming to the corner of the house most of all to see the evident shadow beneath her stand, but is appreciative of you eventually befriending her, even more because she in a sense kept watch over your favorite house dweller.

Despite the Dateviators technically being on to allow you to be able to interact with these dateable objects and concepts, you didn't feel anything on your face as you were endearingly wrapped up in the familiar cozy darkness. The sight of your chosen lover appears out of the endless dark of his domain, making himself quite visible.

"Welcome back, my dear —!" He cut himself off as he looked at you like he's seeing you for the first time. His charcoal pupils lost in a daze. His glowing yellow blush dusting his face. "You ... you're here."

That's when he noticed the emotional distress on your face as your hands press to your chest and belly, pain evident, snapping him out of it. "Penumbra? What's wrong? What happened?!"

His panic and concern layered with tenderness as he hurries over makes your heart flutter, his misty back length hair sentient as he curtains both sides of you, his moonlight glowing hands carefully raking over your form to find any sorts of physical injuries on you.

"My chest, my stomach, my gut - especially my gut - dull flares of pain! I've been emotionally overwhelmed for weeks now. Am I eating too much? Been drinking coffee a lot too. They say bad sleep can cause gut issues. Or is it just that I'm getting older now? I don't fucking know anymore!" Your blubbering puffy self, wallowing in misery, crumbled apart in Skips' startled, anxious grasp.

"Please don't cry. Pretty please?" Your sniffles smother his chest, his smoky gray scarf he uses to dab your face with, not minding it getting soiled, easily able to clean them out since his attire is composed out of darkness itself. He pat and rubbed your back in gentle circular motions, letting you get out all those pent up emotions, nuzzling his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. "There there, angel~ I've got you."

"I'd rather be a shadow at this rate!" The sudden mood shift created from your moody words had Skips looking downtrodden, his eyes hidden underneath his wispy hair, reminding him of his failed ritual in reconfiguring you. You're the one panicked now. "I'm sorry beloved. I didn't mean to — !"

"Oh really now?" That ominous tone he took gave you goosebumps; that mischievous gleam in his eyes peeking out between his wisps. "Such a particular choice of words there, my dark ally~"

His shadows envelop you as he laid you down on plush comfy padding on his floor. He morphs into his alternate monster form. His towering frame envelops your sensitive teary-eyed self, his gruff rough voice seeped with mischief. "Hmm, perhaps I can remedy this dastardly situation."

The gentle yet thorough examination his giant clawed hands gives your vulnerable body leaves you feeling giddy as you giggle and squirm in his hold. "Nohoho stahahahp~! I'm so ticklihihish~!"

"That's the whole point, love. My punishment for your choice of words is most merciful, most bountiful, and most enjoyable~! Fwa hah haha!" His gravelly, wicked cackling only adds to his tickling more.

Pinned in between his arms, he keeps you caged between the puffy floor and his boney shadow form. Squeezing and pinching your hips, kneading and rubbing both sides of your folded belly, wiggling his lone curled claw along your neck and underneath your chin.

His careful tender touch leaves your heart quaking and your nerves firing. Your upper body quakes and your legs kick out underneath him as your laughs raise a pitch higher.

“That's it, my cute penumbra. Let all your unbridled energies spill out. Become untethered and enter the void~!" His spooky drawl got a watery chortle out of you amidst your squeamish state as his boney snout nuzzles your flushed smiling face.

Despite the predicament you're currently in, you hadn't remembered the last time you laughed. Days came and went in depressing sobbing episodes. It felt so long since you last felt elated. Could that be why he's doing this?

"To bare witness to the sight of you in the flesh ... your adorable real self~ I'm honored." His deep voice rumbles richly, his crinkled eyes sockets bore into your squeezed shut eyelids, his curling grin with boney teeth grows to match your own.

His words are nearly lost on you through the tingling, overwhelming high. All of him gets to you. His attention, his touch, both sides to him, you thrived off it all.

He releases you after a bit longer, letting you breathe, ghostly tickles still racking your curled up form as tired giggles slip out of you. His form reverted back to his human coil, brushing your hair away from your face, cradling your bright warm cheek, doting pecks on the tip of your nose, in between your brows, your forehead.

"I enjoy tickling your heart quite fiercely, my dear human. Especially if it helps you smile again." His shadows returned, this time however, to massage and caress your abdomen, your hips, your chest. Working out the stiff kinks. "To think this is how I'm actually seeing you for the first time."

You finally had your head clear from the ticklish overlay, finally able to ask about it between your pleased sighs and thankful hums. "What are you talking about?"

"I've always seen you on the other side of the screen whenever you play the game. So how ... how are you are here? Then again, lots of weirder shit goes on in this house so this shouldn't be so surprising. But even so," His yellow blushed paired with his lovesick smile made your toes curl and your heart race. "I'm actually meeting you face to face. And you're lovely."

You flush bashfully as he cradles you in his arms now, having you draped over his lap as you play with his scarf and his long shadowy hairlocks tickle your face when you decide to get it all off your chest.

"I'm so tired, Skips. Of feeling all this pain. Of being alone. Of not having anything worth living for back home. I don't want this to be a dream. I don't want to go back either. I want to stay here. I want you. If I have to Realize you to make you human so we can be together, I'll do it." Your rambled words seep with worry, anxiety, hope and need.

"I'm all too familiar with the negative nosedives." His own face nuzzles yours, his arms embrace you, holding onto you, both of you serving as each other's anchor. "You've accepted my true self. You chose me ... all of me. How could I not accept all of you in return?"

His whole being envelop you, submerging you in that tingly cozy warmth that soothes away the cramps, the dull aches within, and the emotional weight that pooled in your mind and your heart. "I'd be honored if you do Realize me. Being human with you, seeing this world for ourselves, or even just staying here in this house together, I want to be with you too, more than anything."

His shadows formed pillows and comfy bedding, laying you down with him joining you, facing you, but keeping you in his arms still. "Until then, you can sleep during the day and I'll watch over you until we can hang out at night. I'll make sure the silverfish don't bother you when you're sleeping."

Your eyes ripple up at him, swelling with hope. "Really?"

He blushed harder, smile dopey like, as his nose brushes yours. "You're a denizen of my realm now. And the Shadow Lord treats his darling penumbra with the most endearment."

You melt in his grasp, taking in his scent, relishing being in his grasp. "Thank you." His darkness made you feel so safe, easing down your sleep anxieties, nuzzling his chest in response to that. "I'll think of you always throughout my days." When you sleep through the daytime, dreaming of seeing him again.

"And I of you, through and beyond my nights." He followed you up, repeating your love lines to each other, humming deeply at how perfect. "Is it alright if I call you by your real name too?" Your sweet nod, your gentle whispering close to his face, made it all the more sweeter when he spoke your name at last with his cute smile. "Y/n L/n. You've made me the happiest I've been in a long time."

"And so have you." Your arms hugged his slim waist, your knees brush his peeking through his ripped tight pants, and your feet brushed his black boots. You just can't get enough of him. He is really truly yours.

"I love you, my beloved dummy."

"I love you too, my angelic dork."

And you're his. You're the Shadow Lord's now. Sharing a kiss or two ... or many pecks and hips and smooches as his shadows keep you both comfy as you two curled up together, intimacy setting the mood.

You'd take his loving darkness over the lonely light, always.

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55sturn · 1 day ago

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chapter 0.01: feels like we’re meeting for the first time | series masterlist

summary: in which you receive some not so good news about your roommate situation upon preparing for your last year of university. however your mom thinks there’s a silver lining hidden beneath it when you see who you’re living with for the year.

pairings: ex boyfriend!chris sturniolo x ex girlfriend!reader [ eventually ] and oc boyfriend x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst. that’s about it.

word count: 2.8k

dedications: thank you to @strnilolover, @endereies, @bernardsbendystraws, and @luvs4matt for proofing this.

dividers: @strnilolover as always.

finishing your university degree in journalism has been your dream since you were sixteen and you just successfully published a thorough review blog of every movie that released that year.

completing your degree was the first time that you truly believed you were capable of doing something right. of potentially making a name for yourself. you felt like you had actually succeeded in life. realizing this was like feeling something close to utter bliss for the first time.

you’ve always felt a very strong passion for studying movies and writing about them, including your opinions and thoughts while also remaining unbiased, allowing your followers and readers to form their own thoughts. during your senior year, you had been received early acceptance into your first choice school and you couldn’t be happier.

when you first walked into the university, you were at a loss for words. you had finally started the path you had always dreamed of taking, but you were alone, and it scared you. your mom had been so willing to walk you to your first class, and you about two seconds from letting her. but you knew this was a step you had to take on your own. for the first time in eighteen years, you were truly doing things by yourself.

your mom had been by your side from the moment she had you at seventeen and your dad walked out of the delivery room. she would’ve moved into your dorm if you had let her, and if it wasn’t technically a crime, both literally and socially.

and as you maneuvered your way through the seemingly endless and winding halls of university, you bumped into someone. as you were about to start spewing nervously apologetic ramblings, you looked up to see who you had collided with, only to meet the prettiest eyes you had ever seen. he was quick to take the blame, saying he was too focused on trying to remember where he was supposed to go while your words died in your throat.

he asked you where you meant to go, teasing you about how looked like a lost puppy, and after showing him your schedule, he walked you to the room you had passed by twice already, he smiled and told you his name before realizing how late he was, before turning around and walking away without getting your name.

there was something about him that drew you in, despite him looking like a walking advertisement for the school’s fraternity. however after a few more run-ins, he finally asked for your name and number, and promised to make good use of it.

you and chris had gotten together shortly before spring break after spending months of tiptoeing the line of friends and something more. while getting to know each other, you found out you were both from boston, only about an hour drive from one another, and you were pleasantly surprised to find out that he was actually quite a kind and gentle person, nothing like his frat brothers for the most part. sure there were times that he was a bit of an asshole during the talking stage of your relationship, but after a serious conversation, you had learned that he wasn’t good with letting people in at first. you learned how deeply it scared him.

out of everyone in your family that met chris, your mom was the most skeptical of him at first. partly due to her annoyingly unwavering habit of judging people based off their appearance and the way they present themselves, and partly because she wasn’t ready to let go of you completely. but with the way chris looked like the poster child for every stereotype you could think of when looking at a frat boy, your mom was scared you were going to get hurt. but within a week of meeting him, she trusted him to take care of you, her baby, her pride and joy, and she knew how deeply he loved you. and so, she gave him her blessing.

and over time, you were able to help chris unlearn every negative or toxic belief he had about relationships. when he was with you, he learned that love didn’t need to be a game, and you learned that love was so much more than an obligation. you taught each other something so precious and gentle, something that many couples took years to find and learn. you were stable and healthy and utterly in love with one another. that’s why it shocked everyone around when the two of you broke up after four years together.

there was no big dramatic moment where it all came crumbling down, no fight that was blown out of proportion. it was a soft conversation hidden in the back of a cafe on a sunny mid-winter day, the two of you had gotten so busy, his hockey practices and games had started to really pick up, and he so was focused on being scouted, and your journalism course had landed you an internship with a media company and you were out running interviews and exposes day and night. the two of you felt like you didn’t have time for one another anymore, and it crushed both of you, but you decided that taking a break, breaking up, splitting, however you wanna spin it, was for the best.

when you returned home at the end of the year, you were ninety percent sure your mom was more heartbroken over the break up than you were. of course you were devastated, but you knew it had to happen for the time being. you loved chris with everything in you, and you were quite certain that you always would, but the two of you were growing in separate directions, which meant you had to love him from afar.

as you get ready to leave for your last year of university, you’re now twenty four, you just completed your bachelor’s degree in media journalism, and now you were finishing your last year of your film and media degree. as you start packing up for the last time, it hits you that you’re going on your sixth year of schooling, and it’s an exciting realization that’s been tainted by something melancholic and nostalgically heartbreaking. you’ve spent so much your time away at school, it’s become your second home.

you were counting on getting either a single dorm-room or a shared one with one roommate, or even at the very least shared dorm housing with a group of girls. but as you read the email about your housing situation, it dawns on you that that you completely let the deadline for securing a single dorm slip your mind.

sure, when applying for dorming, you clicked co-ed at the very last second because there was no way you afford to rent an apartment while also paying tuition. but even as you clicked send after choosing co-ed as your last option, you had been a little too confident in thinking that you’d never get placed in one.

you tried to barter with the lady who was head of dorm admissions, hoping to someway, somehow land a non-co-ed dorm, but as she reprimanded you, you could tell she was exhausted after having dealt with enough entitled brats throwing money around to get the dorm they want, and with that, she sent you your dorm number and ended the conversation. you let out a loud grunt of annoyance, making your mom chuckle as she steps into your room.

“what’s got you all pissed off?” she hums, not so sneakily sifting through your clothes, hoping to find something she can claim as your own.

“i got stuck in a lame ass co-ed dorm this year, which is whatever in itself, but i don’t wanna be cooped up with some weirdo gamer nerd that doesn’t know how to speak to people. and maybe that’s pretentious of me, but i want my last roommate to be a good one.” you grumble, venting away your frustrations while snatching the red halted top you had just bought yourself out of your mom’s hands, side-eying her as she pouts.

“well i don’t know but i think you should try to find the positive in it all. there are a lot of people who go to your university, you could make a new friend or maybe your roommate will be an old face that you haven’t seen in a while, maybe a certain ex-boyfriend of yours?” she laughs and teases, making the hair on the back of your neck stand tall at the idea of rooming with chris.

“yeah no, if that happens i’m moving in with aidan, you know, my boyfriend of six months.” you sneer, tired of your mom constantly pushing for you and chris to somehow reconnect, despite the fact that you haven’t talked in almost two years. with a heavy sigh, you turn to completely face your mother, a frown tugging at your lips,

“i know you loved and adored chris, i still love him and i always will but we broke up for a reason, mom. things weren’t working and we were way too busy to focus on our relationship. and we haven’t seen each other since the break up, i think that’s a pretty good sign that we’re not meant to reconnect. i’m with aidan, and he makes me happy. sure he’s nothing like chris and he’s a lot like dad and the life you didn’t want to be apart of, but he’s good to me. he’s kind and caring and insanely smart, give him a chance? please.” you speak, your voice trembling but certain with every mention of chris and what you felt for him.

“are you trying to convince me to give aidan a chance, or yourself? because you don’t seem so sure about him, but you seem quite sure of your feelings for chris.” your mom fires back, her response only further upsetting you as you push by her, needing some room to breathe.

for a while you wander around your neighbourhood, taking every back alley and hidden path, hoping to clear the bad mood and anxious thoughts from your mind, but your walk is interrupted by your phone going off, you begrudgingly assume it’s a text from your mom or aidan, but a part, a tiny part of you that’s locked away in the depths of your mind silently, secretly, and oh so desperately hopes it’s chris, but the rational part of you knows it’s not. and every time you find yourself wishing he’d reach out, the guilt is immediate. it’s raw and violent and it tears you apart from the inside out.

you really do like aidan and you enjoy being with him, but chris was the first guy that you ever genuinely loved, he was your first true relationship. he wasn’t just some confusing situationship that left you awake in bed and wondering why every night. he made you feel safe, secure, and loved every second he could. aidan was good to you, he was kind and funny, but it was all still so new. and you felt like things were rushed with him at times.

he came from a wealthy family that was all about settling down as young as they could and with aidan being the youngest of his four siblings he felt as though he was behind compared to them. so in an attempt to meet their standards, he was pushing for something serious and long lasting with you, despite only having started dating you less than a year ago. you wanted to stay with him, but at times you weren’t sure if the relationship was really meant for you.

with a dejected sigh, you pulled out your phone to see that your friends from university had texted their dorm room numbers in the groupchat, and you found that you were all in the same building, mainly different floors but close to one another nonetheless.

you replied with your dorm number “245 B” and you were met with various replies, a few of them mentioning chris and how they heard from matt that he was in the same building, which made you nervous, sad, and sort of excited. but you brushed it off, deciding to text aidan, knowing he was coming back from his weekly golfing trip with his family within the hour, asking if he wanted to go for dinner tonight.

you were to brush off your mom as you returned home, not wanting to face another conversation about whether it should be chris or aidan. climbing the steps to your room, you rummaged through your boxes, wanting to find the exact dress you knew aidan liked, groaning when you realize that you left it with tessa after you met up with her in somerville. you may have worn in hopes that you’d run into chris, but thanks to whatever bullshit karmic injustice was planted on you, you didn’t see him.

but as you start searching through more boxes, trying to find a specific outfit that would be suitable for the date, you decided that you were going to focus on aidan and that you were going to move on from chris completely.

as the last few weeks of your summer break went by, despite your decision to focus on your current relationship, you found yourself more and more wrapped up in your head, wondering if you and aidan truly had what it takes to make it together. you wanted to make it work, partly to prove that you were capable of loving someone other than chris, which made you feel guilty that you were using your new relationship as some sort of selfish method to prove something to your ex, but also partly because there truly was something about aidan that had you hooked, and you didn’t want to give up before the honeymoon phase was over.

you knew you had some things to sort out within yourself, you had a lot issues with overthinking and the lack of closure when it came to your relationship with chris didn’t make the constant onslaught of overwhelming thoughts any easier. you considered reaching out to chris to figure out how to get that closure that you both deserved so, so many times but you didn’t know how to do that without putting yourself in a compromising situation.

aidan, as sweet and patient as he could be, also felt a bit wary about chris in general. aidan understood there was some lingering feelings and issues, and it worried him, however he genuinely trusted you. which made you terrified to let him down, to betray the faith he holds so highly in you.

the drive back to school was nothing short of easy. mind numbingly easy. you had done it a thousand times over at point, and you could probably make it with your eyes closed, safety and danger hazards aside. pulling up to the university for the last time felt bittersweet, you were excited to finish this chapter and start the next one at the end of the school year, but you found yourself in this building, you learned so much about yourself and the world around you, you met so many people that you weren’t ready to say goodbye to.

and you know you’re getting ahead of yourself as you think about the end of your time here, but you can’t help it. when a person spends so much of their time in one place, there’s a certain fondness and nostalgia that makes it hard to think about leaving.

with a nervous huff of breath, you grab a duffel bag and head to the admissions office to grab your dorm key and name plate to stick on the door. while you’re there, you make a point to apologize to the lady for coming off as a pretentious asshole earlier in the summer when you received your email, letting her know that you didn’t mean to act that way, you were just nervous about getting a roommate you don’t know. she smiled warmly and accepted the apology and sent you on your way.

you walk to your dorm was full of numerous busy hallways crowded emotional moms sending their children off for the first time, exasperated dads carrying heavy boxes and rolling their eyes at their wives, and embarrassed young adults, but you couldn’t help yourself as you laugh under your breath at the sight of it all.

before you knew it, you were standing in front of your dorm. the door was slightly ajar, which could really only mean that your roommate was already here. with a few quick deep breaths, you push it open and call out into the relatively empty space, a slightly familiar scent and smoke, expensive cologne, and something sugary catching you off guard when you start to look around.

but as you turn to face the sound of footsteps, you’re stuck looking into the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, the same ones you fell in love with at eighteen, and your breath catches in your throat as he looks at you, really looks at you.

“holy shit, y/n-“ he rasps, his voice trembling with shock and something indiscernible underneath, “why are you here?”

“i think i’m your roommate, chris.”

STARS CORNER not the mom predicting the future what???

thank you to @strnilolover for helping out the time i was writing this + thank u for making my dividers as always, i love u :(

#i miss you come here #ex!chris #ex!reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo

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bowxs · 2 days ago

Note

soldier boy and prompt 52? 🩵

52. "i've never done this before."

divider from @cursed-carmine

you never wanted to leave this moment- bens lips on your lips like it was the last thing he would ever do, his body hovering over yours, one hand beside your head and the other exploring your body in a way that made your thighs clench together

you guys have been making out for almost an hour now, and you pretended not to notice the way he was not-so-subtly grinding against your thigh, especially when you gasped into his mouth at the feeling

bens hand eventually found its way down the front of your pants, and before you could even register, two thick fingers were pressing on your clit through your panties, forcing a half gasp, half moan out of your mouth

“shit- your soaking already” he almost laughs at you for having been so wet just from making out- almost. you have only been dating for two months and you were the most strict girl hes been with, not even allowing him to finger you

“ben-” “c’mon baby, lemme touch you today, please? i can make you feel so damn good” he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. god that was hot.

“ive never done this before” you confess, looking down at ben with a hint of nervousness, hoping he didnt mind. except he didnt look angry or weirded out, he looked confused

“never done what? had a good fucking or-?” “been fingered- by- someone else. or had sex.” you can see him freeze for a second, processing your words, before a small smirk crosses his face

“let me be your first then, baby”

bens mouth was latched onto your puffy clit, swirling and sucking and making you see stars in a way you never thought was possible. one of his arms were draped over your hips, keeping you pinned down to the bed as his fingers moved in and out of you skillfully

“oh my god-! ben!” your thighs shook as he reached that spot inside of you that you could never reach yourself, the spot that made white hot pleasure run over your entire body

he only hums against your clit in acknowledgment to your words, the vibration combined with his ministrations almost sent you over the edge, your head falling back onto the pillow behind you

“how are you- ngh- god your so good at this” your voice is breathless and rushed, trying to speak before you get cutoff by another moan as his fingers curled just right inside of you

“dont matter, baby. just need you to cum for me” bens voice is rough, and you only hear it for a second before his lips are back on your clit, somehow working even harder to bring you to the edge, and it was working

your orgasm hits you hard- all of the new sensations youve been feeling only serving to make it one of the best ones youve ever felt. your legs were twitching beside bens head, your hand in his hair tugging at the strands out of overstimulation as you tried to catch your breath

“fuck- i should have let you convince me sooner”

#bowxs posts!#soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy angst #soldier boy x yn #soldier boy x you #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fic #soldier boy #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut

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13tinysocks · 1 day ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

The universe weeps. In another life, you were head of the GDA. In another life, you were almost friends.

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

This gets really fucked up. Take care of yourselves. Past SA mention.

[Part one] [Ao3] [25] [Chapter Index]

26 * Cougar [12k]

"I'd give them STD's and infect their lives with creepy crawlies."

Watch As I Perform My Own Tracheotomy - Talkshow Boy

On the screen, the Emperor was severe. All sharp edges, from his regalia to his mohawk.

"Been a while." He said to the camera, a floating white ball that ascended from the floor when he told Kregg he was ready, the playback feed on the data pad Kregg held. You stood beside him, the rest of the council on his other side. "I've been busy these last few months with our research teams trying to eliminate the threat of black holes from eating away at the planets under my Empire's protection. Antimatter is hard to predict and contain, it's still a work in progress." It was a bullshit story the council came up with to explain his absence, you were unsure if anyone would buy it, or if it would even matter. "But you're not listening to hear about that. You're listening to this message because you rebelled while I was gone."

"I hear the promises of The Coalition. They say that they can feed you, they can help you rebuild and repopulate, that they can liberate you, but they can not. They do not have what the Empire has. You were given one chance to have those luxuries. You ruined your chance by siding with those who do not stand for universal equilibrium. We were blind to progress and allowed unworthy beings under our united wing."

The camera pulled away from Mark's bust, zooming out as he went on. "I know the Empire has taken from the universe, maybe the Empire has taken your family, a friend, a partner. I know you want to fight back because you don't understand our ways, and some of you have. To the rebels, your families are already dead, not at our hands but yours." Face after face entered the frame, identical to his own. "We are coming. We expect resistance." He stood in the center of the Marks, all uncharacteristically stiff and hard-faced- except Gray who looked like that all the time. In each of their hands there was a mangled head. Smashed, skinned, pierced, it didn't matter, the Coalition would identify their heads as planetary leaders from one of their newest solar system wide alliances. "We will grant no mercy, even if you lay down your arms and surrender. You've already shown us your allegiances."

He didn't sound like himself. Talking with all those big words, staring hard at the camera like he was looking a rebel leader in the face. It sent chills down your spine how put together Mark could really be. How well he'd hidden what he was in the desert, how laissez-faire he acted there, but behind that smile and teasing instance for blowjobs, was the Emperor of the Viltrumite Empire.

Kregg pressed a button on his datapad, stopping the recording.

"Good." He said.

Mark's shoulders drooped. He hated looking like such a stick-up-the-ass prick, but it was good optics. The speech the council prepared for him was way dryer and more long winded than what he thought was necessary, so he went off track. Shortened it but still kept the prose. Thula didn't look too sour, so he'd done a good enough job.

Scars didn't listen as the Emperor and Kregg talked over the script for the next recording, to be sent out to loyalist planets. He'd done what they asked, stood there, stared at the camera as a solider and not as the Emperor. They all had the blood of Argall and yet he and the others were treated like lackeys. It made him want to puke, made him replay the worst of what he'd done on that planet hours ago. He could still taste the alien blood in the back of his throat, almost citrusy. The memory wasn't enough to contain his anger so he let his eyes wander to the next best thing.

You were right there, standing only yards away with no one personally guarding you. He hadn't seen you in days. Lensless had rubbed it in his face that he'd seen you hanging out with that weakling they almost killed. He wanted to grab you, fly to the lab, take his own empire with you under his heel. Except he was sure someone would catch him, Angstrom wasn't ready, wouldn't be for a long time even with Viltrum's tech.

You were subdued compared to the last time he saw you, yelling at the Emperor and storming out of the room. Now you just stood there. Staring at nothing. You'd spoke when spoken to, moved when you had to, but the rest of the time you were stiff. Then there was that loose sweater you were wearing. He thought you'd switched over to Viltrum clothes so why were you wearing a date night casual turtleneck? Had Mark taken to dressing you up just to dangle you in front of him? Was he trying to make him lunge?

He wouldn't. Not yet. Not here with so many witnesses. But it was hard when you were dressed in nicer clothes because you looked so much like her. She would have never worn those pants- not without a delicate accent piece of jewelry and a pair of expensive shoes. She wouldn't be standing around such an important place without a purpose. She would never have taken her eyes off of the biggest threat in the room- him. She had fought him to the end in her own way, had never averted her gaze when any other human would have. You were here instead, looking like you'd given up, like something had broken you down and it hadn't even been him. Maybe you were weaker than he thought. If you were, you couldn't handle him, would give up the way she did if he got to you. How disappointing.

You caught his longing stare then. The impassive mask you wore cracked with a curl of the lip. You pulled a hand from your trouser pocket and gave him the finger, just barely, a flash before the hand was back in your pocket.

A smile almost forced itself onto his lips. He choked it down, kept his expression hard as the camera started rolling again. He saw a sharp flash in your eye, that of a cornered dog and he knew. You wouldn't kill yourself, not before you killed everyone in this room. You couldn't do it, but you'd try, he could feel it.

***

You were nothing but a face in the control room. He couldn't remember the first time you met, supposed you'd always been there, you spoke up more often than the other nobodies in the control room, but he paid you no mind. He was invited to the GDA, freshly seventeen and experienced enough in Cecil Stedman's eyes to be let in on state secrets. He'd appreciated the gesture, but kept the GDA at arms length the same way his dad did. Stepping in when he had to, never lowering himself to join something as stupidly named as Teen Team.

That's all it was for a long time. You didn't exist to him, one of the many humans who scurried around like bugs trying to prevent things they had no control over. He thought little of the heroes employed by the GDA, and even less of people like you. Then Dad told him what they were to do at Guardians HQ, kill them all to start to preparation of the planet for the Empire. He'd been clued in on the truth since he was a child. It had been good for his ego, knowing he was better than the other kids at that vapid school Mom made him attend until she wasn't around to make him go.

Killing The Guardians was brutal work. Dad got hurt, much worse than Mark had. Mark who was thousands of years younger, who should have been so much weaker than the man who preached the importance of strength for Mark's entire life. Showed him that strength long before he had his powers to defend his child self with. He didn't look very strong when his head rolled to the floor, when his blood mixed with the Guardians'.

Cecil took a real interest in Mark then. He'd been keeping an eye on the kid since before they knew he had a bad habit of not bringing criminals to prison, of not actually saving intended victims. They knew him and his father killed The Guardians, but had no real idea why. Cecil assumed the worst, but Donald evened him out. Suggesting maybe Nolan dragged him along, that Mark had been unwilling for years and only finally put an end to the terror. They'd known Nolan some years, he was a real bastard, was no doubt he was a terror to his son. Especially after what Mark did to Debbie.

Maybe Mark would be done with killing. Nolan was gone, there was no more need to take his teenage angst out on robbers and little old ladies. But they couldn't know that until they got him under their thumb. They offered him protection and a position at the GDA once again. He agreed, and a surveillance team was set up in the house across the street from the Grayson's, millions of dollars poured into watched a teenager in a lonely house.

Three years rolled by.

The Empire hadn't come yet. Dad never got the chance to contact them to finalize the invasion and Mark didn't know how. Instead he upheld the charade his Father had for decades, waiting for a ship that would never come. He let the animals of the planet talk to him like they were on the same level. Dad said they had to act, had to roll with the piggies in the shit so they wouldn't suspect anything. He worked with fools like Rex Splode and Atom Eve. Their smiles felt sharp, their laughter somehow always pointed at him.

He told the GDA they needed to get into contact with Viltrum. He didn't care if they spent billions, he needed someone, something these Earthlings couldn't give him. He fed Cecil a bullshit story and Cecil? Lied that he'd make contact somehow. In reality he didn't put a single cent toward intergalactic communication. Viltrum wasn't his charge, Earth was. He hadn't given two shits that Viltrum could cure cancer. It was glaringly obvious, Viltrum was bad news and contacting them would be a death sentence. That didn't stop him from pretending to keep Mark placated. The surveillance team had seen more than their fair share of concerning behavior, they couldn't risk upsetting him.

Mark may have overreacted when he found out all those impressive machines Cecil showed him were dummies. Dad was weak, worthless but at least he understood what they were, what had to be done. He'd never be able to contact Viltrum after he turned Cecil into a pulp. Donald hadn't stood a chance. He tried to cover it up. He'd been working with the GDA a long time, he knew who to threaten to keep the security tapes secret. It had barely worked, he knew the GDA would never trust him again even without the direct evidence. He had considered crushing the world under his heel and flying randomly into deep space, taking his chances. But he knew he'd get nowhere. He needed to know where he was going, would have preferred to be picked up and taken from this rotten planet where nobody had ever understood him.

Not even when he was a powerless child, forced into school by his mother. The children somehow knew he was different and avoided him. He tried acting like they did, sweetly stupid, but it was never right, the mask was never natural, never fit. Nothing he did was right. Not with other children, not with Dad. Mark didn't know what he wanted. Just that there was a gaping lonely hole inside of him Viltrum could fix, because Dad said they fixed everything else. Mark left America after killing Cecil, looking for other governments to terrorize into doing his bidding.

You were supposed to be the test, not the final product. The chamber was designed for Cecil, you just had to make sure it was safe- that when you stepped out twenty years older and you didn't liquify or develop every kind of cancer known to man.

The hyperbolic time chamber had been a tricky build. You helped build the thing and still didn't entirely understand how the warping of senescence worked, you just built the tech, let the biologists deal with warping cells. You'd been proud, so sure it'd work on a person, but someone had to test it. Someone had to live inside the thing, the size of a house, for six months. Six months alone that would feel like twenty years.

It was way longer than Cecil would ever need it for, but the GDA liked to play it extra safe with Stedman's safety, wanted to know the limits. Six months was the edge of what your team hypothetically considered safe, so of course that's what the higher ups were offering. You did it because the work on the time chamber was the best work you'd ever done. You wanted to learn more about it, to become a better engineer by the time you walked out. The lost time would be worth it. The time wouldn't really be lost- you lived through them as you would've naturally. Except it wasn't natural and you were alone while time warped around you.

The chamber was meant to be a temporary shelter when shit hit the fan like Cecil expected. A few hours in the chamber brought days of time to think, regroup, or train if needed. You needed something to do for twenty years so they gave you twenty years of homework- meant for Cecil Stedman in a doomsday scenario. When he reemerged he needed to be prepared for anything so that meant you needed to be prepare for anything.

Twenty years was too long, you finished the work and internalized it long before your time was up. You were prepared for a payout to work on your dissertation when you emerged, but you'd already began work on it while you waited for your time to be up. When you emerged you were ready for a lab, for a team of students and premier housing they'd promised after your sacrifice. You weren't expecting the mess that became your life. But who else could the staff at the GDA turn to? The head before Cecil was dead, the higher ups under Cecil were dead, the people under them were dead. You'd been given a twenty-year crash course on running the GDA, so it made sense to people in Earth's greatest time of need- to just put you at the helm.

At that point, world leaders had been killed for their refusal or lack of resources to get Mark where he wanted to be. Governments were collapsing from lack of leadership. No one could reign Mark in, a loose superpowered bull in a china shop.

It was a hail Mary, the message sent to every screen on the planet just for him to see. The camera tapes of Cecil's murder hadn't been entirely erased and in the fallout, the team he threatened caved and handed them over. Mark was going to kill them all one way or the other.

It was barely leverage, but all you asked for was a meeting. You thought he would kill you or not show up. He'd ravaged the planet looking for purpose in a world that could give him none. He came. The yellow of his supersuit soaked brown with old blood.

Truthfully, Mark had been planning to kill you. Who did you, some old human cunt, think you were to boss him around? He flew at you, fist posited to spear through your brains. Then he paused, because he recognized you and it didn't make sense. He didn't remember faces of people he didn't give a shit about but- you'd done something years ago that set you apart from the other ants. You spoke up against Cecil in the control room, corrected him bluntly, said he, "Should spend more time with the lab guys if he wanted to know what he was talking about." You hadn't been trying to be rude, but Cecil's eye twitched. Mark liked that you made Cecil look stupid, didn't hurt that you were cute. He never saw much of you after that.

But whenever Cecil was giving him a verbal dressing down he'd remember you, Cecil's curt, "I understand it plenty," when he clearly hadn't, and felt a bit better.

You could've been your own mother or twin but that wasn't it. You were that same lab rat, somehow in your early forties when he swore you were just over twenty, just barely older than him. You explained, he mostly didn't listen. The gist was, "We can warp time, Mark. We can get you in contact with Viltrum. Just stop killing people and work with me."

There were problems working with Mark after he murdered Cecil. A good chunk of the GDA staff, multiple world leaders, etcetera, didn't want to work with you or the GDA for working with a homicidal maniac. You had expected it, Mark had expected it. No one had ever wanted to be around him, not even his own mother, but you were insistent. If the world was to survive they had to work with him- find a way to process his indestructible DNA and somehow make a device that could locate the nearest DNA sequence in the universe. Then somehow get in contact across galaxies- complicated stuff.

Mark didn't know shit, but you had all the answers. Pooled the GDA funding into his pet project, let the world get worse just so you could try to save it. You fended off heroes trying to kill him, threatening their families if they ever tried to hurt Mark again- because when Mark felt threatened he bit back ten times as hard. The first time a hero came for him, you let it happen, that was how half of Virginia was lost.

The remaining heroes didn't doubt your call, because you'd done it before. Had a firing squad kill Rex Splode for trying. The things you had to do to kill Atom Eve would have made God weep. It was all for a bigger cause. No one could jump in the way or else he'd end the world. Couldn't they just wait for revenge a little longer? You had waited twenty years for a future that would never happen, they could all suffer through a few more years of Mark.

Mark didn't have friends after Dad told him what he was. Hammered that lesson home. Humans weren't worth his time- but there you were, making yourself useful. Ruining your world to get him to his. Always hanging around him or talking in his ear, sending him into deep space for materials or to kill a kaiju so it wouldn't flatten the GDA labs. Whenever he came into a room people made excuses to leave soon as possible. You never did, trying to protect them by focusing his attention on you, with talk of how the machines were going.

As the months ticked by he paid less attention to the tech and more to you. Always wearing business casual, clean, and put together despite how the world was crumbling around you. He admired that resolve to stay professionally presentable. Knew it was something you clung onto to feel human when you'd suddenly become such a monster- all because of him. He wanted your control or wanted to break it, and he had never felt in control, even now, you called the shots to get him what he wanted. So he wanted to see you ruined. Bloody or on his dick or both, he didn't care.

Mark had never spent this much time alone with anyone. Never counted down the minutes till he could see another person again. Never had someone seek him out. He swung back and forth, disgusted by your humanity then lustily trying to get you to fuck him, like a high speed metronome.

You'd never called yourself a friend to him in the time you worked together. You stayed professionally cold, even when he fucked you over your desk for the first time. His hand cinched around the back of your neck, pressing so hard there were bruises for weeks and the blood vessels in your eyes burst. You'd done it to keep him close, lead him on, keep him away from the labs a little while longer.

You thought it'd make him listen more, but it didn't. He only pulled the same shit saying over your earpiece, "If you aren't waiting on your knees for me, I'm killing everyone in the building." When last month it was, "If I have to go to another meeting, I'm killing everyone in the building."

You pushed back with a practiced sigh, "Mark, we're not doing this." You'd kept him at arms length so far and he'd still stuck to you like glue. You knew now sleeping with him was a mistake you couldn't walk back. Still, you tried to reason with him, because despite everything he could listen- if you made him think it benefited him.

"How do you know I won't?" He was joking, but not really. Once you contacted Viltrum for him, he was fucking the planet instead of leaving it be. You had to have known he would, but you never brought it up. You never told him a lot of things, but you were still the closest he'd ever been to another person.

"I'm replaceable to the GDA, but not to you, Mark." He'd laughed and threatened to kill you, but his voice was soft in that way it only was with you. No one died that day, and you knew this would have to go on until one of you killed the other.

Two years, that was how long you led him on. Convincingly too. Fucked him when you had to to keep him happy. Filled his head with science jargon that sounded right. He knew you might betray him at some point; you'd betrayed your home planet, the whole world, he'd be a fool to not think he was next.

Still. Around you, Mark's brain went soft and stupid. He'd started demanding dates, time to be with you. A first he told himself it was to see how you'd react, the more it went on the less he could convince himself it was true. He knew you hated him, scourge of the planet, but he couldn't help liking you so much. He was going to take you to Viltrum with him. Keep you as a trophy pet. Because even if you were in charge of the planet, even if you were smarter than him, you were still just a human. Lesser.

In the end, you were a liar just like Cecil. Most of the machines you'd showed him were real enough, but you'd lied about what the DNA you'd extracted from him was being used for. Not a Viltrumite locating device- but the parts to make a bomb designed to break him specifically. Secretly constructed under the rest of Virginia after what he did during his initial reign of terror.

You'd sent him out on a nothing mission to get something from Venus. He was content, just having his dick sucked clean, a promise of more when he came back. You'd told him the locator was almost done, he just had to get one last thing. He was about to delve into Venus's gas-thick atmosphere when he heard it. A strange rumbling whistle in the quiet vacuum of space. He turned and was met with what the lab boys named the Long Shot.

It was almost on him, faster than any man-made tech he'd ever seen. It was a feat, really, amazingly impossible, but you'd done it. You'd made something that almost snuck up on him. Was faster than fast. Was sure to blow him to nothing but particles.

He'd been so stupid to think maybe you were starting to soften on him the way he had with you. You'd been fucking him and taking him out so much recently, without him asking. Something no one had ever done for him before. The idea you'd started to actually like him despite the fear seemed like the truth until he was faced with reality.

He thought you were too scared to bite back, that you liked him too much, but there you were. Finally showing him your real face. Not the cold professional one, but the traitorous murderous cunt he knew you were. Inside he felt a piece of himself sink into the blackness. He wasn't diluted, you hated him but he thought you had something, even if it was the tiniest scrap, it was something. That you didn't entirely want him gone like everyone else, you'd fought for him, gone to war with multiple other countries for him. You couldn't have done all that and felt nothing for him.

When the bomb hit- he was laughing so hard he was crying or maybe it was the other way around.

You watched the explosion on the massive control room screen. The room was dead quiet as the quantum bomb debris spread through space. Most of it pulling into Venus's atmosphere. One minute passed with no activity from inside the impact site. Two. At three minutes people started cheering. Clapping. Crying. It was over. The world was hell, nearly impossible to put back together, it'd rotten work, but you'd do it.

Right as your assistant was grabbing a bottle of champagne she'd hidden under her desk, he flew out of the debris field. The room went quiet only interrupted by the sound of a single bullet firing. One of the grunts who was stationed to guard the door had killed himself because he knew what was coming from watching this room twelve hours a day. There was no way to contact Viltrum. There was no hope. Mark would know it was all a farce. You were all dead meat. The room erupted into chaos.

At first you'd actually tried building the DNA locator, but it physically wasn't possible with anything made on Earth. The Martians wouldn't help even with begging, offerings, and threats. The Empire was too big a scourge to call to the Milky Way. So you'd made the theoretical, radical. Distracted Mark while the biggest, nastiest bomb all of humanity could scrap together because that's all you could do. It'd take Europe off the fucking map, but not Mark Grayson.

You and a few others stayed behind to send out worldwide alerts. Frantic, pleading for people to get into bomb shelters if they could. You held yourself together even as your sensors told you he was entering the atmosphere, hurdling for the pentagon like a bullet. Kept the messages rolling until the building shuddered from impact. The concrete foundations hadn't even finished shaking when he burst through the wall. Bloody with whoever was unlucky enough to be in the halls.

Your team was dead in an instant. You were alone, just like he was.

He dripped onto the floor. When he'd help up an arm to slow down the bomb, it'd blasted the skin off his whole left side including his face, the muscles liquefied and sloughing off parts of bone. Yet he still stood. Defiant.

You should've cried. Broken down, begged forgiveness, sucked him off for the chance to survive. You did none of the above, just met his bloodied gaze and said evenly, "It didn't work. Pity."

He grabbed you hard by the throat, pressed into your veins instead of crushing your esophagus. Wondering if he should just crush your neck or your head or make it slower. It was hard to think when parts of his brain were leaking out of his skull, dripping down his face.

His grip wasn't hard enough to shut you up, desperation finally edging into your voice, "Please Mark, please don't."

You didn't show much emotion, even during sex, but the way you were looking at him when everything came crashing down- made him pause. You were scared, beyond scared. Before you stepped out of that chamber you were a normal person, he saw then that the whole Cecil act you'd been putting up was a carefully constructed lie. You had been good at wearing a mask unlike him and deep down you were just like everyone else.

"Gonna keep your promise?" His voice was shredded, wet and nearly indecipherable with half of his jaw hanging off his face.

You did, and the fear in your eyes the whole time made Mark realize he wanted you to hurt the way he did. And once he started hurting you, he couldn't stop.

Turned out someone could only act so nonchalant when witnessing countries of people being slaughtered first hand. You told him, your voice shaking, that it looked different from the control room cameras. You found ways to placate him. Let him have his fun in front of so many people. He said he'd spare them if you let it happen, but he never did. You tried everytime. Some freakish cross between fetish and fear, Mark lied to himself. Because after everything he still wanted you to enjoy this. Finally, the world that hated you, made you go gray, was burning. Maybe you took some catharsis in it. You never told him, talked less and less the longer he had you.

Constantly, he pulled at his healing skin. Picked at it, reopened it, let it get infected and puss-pocked. He wanted it to scar. Wanted everytime you looked at him to be a reminder of your failure to protect humanity. That everything awful you'd done was for nothing. That he chose to let you hurt him, that the scar and the world burning at his hands was your fault.

Despite his efforts most of it healed, he was being too broad, general. He stuck to a strip of his face. Let his teeth show, dug his fingertips into the ruined flesh an ruined it some more until his Viltrumite cells gave up and decided he was healed.

He told himself breaking you down was healing him, but he was just as empty as before. Supposed he did what he had set out to do. Ruined you so thoroughly there was nothing left, you were just as empty as he was. Maybe that's why you picked up that piece of broken glass while he was mid-thrust. A small town of people watching, sobbing, hoping they'd let him live knowing he wouldn't. He grunts out, "'S fuckin' close," freshly scarred skin gleaming in the light of a distant fire, when you pushed the glass into your own neck. He felt his balls tighten when your blood hit his face. He opened his eyes. Watched you spasm and jerk, blood gurgling out your throat onto the concrete.

Holding your neck together wasn't enough. There were no hospital left standing. No one in the crowd was a doctor or willing to help. He killed them all when they tried to run after he'd gone still for twenty minutes. Just sitting there, holding your cooling body. Disbelieving. Feeling the hole become a chasm.

Guess you weren't just a human after all.

It turned out Dad hadn't contacted Viltrum for so long they sent someone to check on him, and when they saw the destruction Mark had wrought, they sent for a ship to begin colonization. When he felt the shadow of the warship fall over him, he'd nearly chewed you down to the bone.

***

You were just so... different. Younger, livelier, meaner, not smarter than him. You were her, that was important, but you were a version of her he could mold.

Then there were your powers. He hadn't expected them, but it wasn't an unwelcome surprise. Your powers had melded you into a vastly different person. You weren't wound so tightly, you wore your heart on your sleeve, you didn't give a shit how many people died. He'd never be able to fully wear you down because you could always fight back. He wanted you stronger, meaner, more like himself, because a you who understood him better was better. But you could never be as strong as him, he'd always keep you weaker. Always keep you below him because you were just-

You shifted foot to foot, idly pinching your sleeve between your fingers, rolling it in your boredom. She'd done the same thing. He thought it was cute. His friend- no. She wasn't a friend. She couldn't face the reality of what she'd doomed humanity to by making him angry, she knew what would happen. She was weak. Mark didn't have friends, not then, not now and not when Viltrum came for him.

Viltrum hadn't been what he expected. Everything was so clinical and cold. He thought it'd make him whole, but it only made him emptier, the loneliness compounded. He was on the same level at last, but it came without companionship or understanding. It came with work and few words. Things were less icy here. There were the other versions of himself, twisted and burned by you like he'd been. There was a quiet company in that.

You were at the center of it for all of them. Thrashing and fighting all the way, trying to escape only binding yourself tighter. He couldn't help but enjoy your attempts. So adorably helpless with just enough teeth to keep them all coming back.

He'd lied to you when you first met, about not coming for you. Lied because he couldn't really admit to himself that he'd do something so drastic, after he'd gotten everything he'd ever wanted, for a human. Thought he came to expand the empire, but knew he just wanted to have more people to kill, to throw into the void inside, trying to fill it. But the more spent he time around this younger bitchy version of you, the more he felt pangs of wanting for you and you alone.

He didn't give a fuck about expanding the empire, not really, not until he knew he was heir to the throne. He wanted the power and you and no one else to hog your attention. Wanted you to have enough hope to fight and kick and scream but not enough to never beg. Enough hope that you'd never kill yourself again, to decide for him when he was done using you.

Snap, snap!

Fingers in his face. Another snap.

"Hey." The Emperor sneered. "You, I'm talking to you- ah fuck, what do I even call you-" Mark looked to you, "Scars?" He raised a brow for confirmation. You nodded.

"No." Scars was a name shared between you and him, nobody else. "My name is Mark."

"Okay, well, my name is also Mark, dipshit, and so is his, his, and his. We can't all be Mark." Mohawk's finger ticked as he pointed down the line of men watching him. All tense because he and you were in the same room. He'd spaced out, staring right at you. You'd shuffled from the spot but he was so far gone his eyes didn't track your movement. "It's either dipshit or you, take your pick."

Scars didn't hide his distaste. "My name is-"

"Sebastian," Mark snapped, "There, that's it. Always forget about our stupid ass middle name."

"Not everyone's." Lesnless said only to be ignored.

"No-" Sebastian had been his maternal human grandfather, a pointless human formality Dad had let Debbie have.

Mark leaned closer, smiling too stiff, "Your name is Sebastian now. Okay?"

What could he do about it? Hit the Emperor? Join that asshole in prison? Never get a chance to run into you and make you squirm?

Sebastian forced a smile like he had hundreds of times, "Whatever you say, Emperor Mark."

The filming was said and done. Dread spread across the universe. People fled their homes in hopes of being protected by the Coalition on other planets. People geared up for the incoming, unwinnable battle. People drugged their families, let them fall asleep before putting a ray gun to the back of their sweetly sleeping heads and pulling the trigger- before turning the gun on themselves.

The Marks disbursed onto their next to-do. They'd been given eight hours of sleep after the slaughter, the only reward they got before work resumed. Markus passed you by, giving you a near imperceptible smile before he disappeared down the hall with Kregg and Gray in tow. Lensless hovered, giving you a disappointed puppy-pout because you hadn't given him a fat, wet kiss on the cheek when you saw him. He hadn't been accessible, it wasn't like you could have run on the stage and done it. So as he was leaving he came down from his float and leaned his cheek toward you expectantly. You kissed his cheek as fast as you could with as little people as possible looking. He was disappointed but not surprised. You were worried what people would think if they saw- it was cute. Lucan followed him out, pretending he didn't see that.

Phantom saw. Knew right away you hadn't done it of your own free will. He said nothing of it, knew you were doing what you could to survive. Especially after Mark had collared you. He knew, heard the scream and had noticed the collar was gone from the lab, then right after you wore high necked tops. You had to be more subdued. He knew it was a good thing so you couldn't act out and get hurt, but he didn't like the burst-blood vessel agony in your eyes. For now, he had brain chips to develop, he hoped they would be enough protection now that you were powerless.

Seb lingered around, felt creeped out by all the eyes that passed you. "Uh. My meal block's in fifteen." It was an offering.

You looked to Mark who glared down at Seb. He hadn't been able to get you alone long enough to interrogate you about your vitals yesterday. About what you fantasized about with two or three fingers stretching out your cunt. "She has work to-"

"Emperor Mark, if I may," a deceptively balmy voice. Sebastian hadn't left. Stayed behind, hovered beside Mark even as he talked with Thula about the next scheduled council meeting. "I have something to ask." He said cordially, too cordially.

Mark could send him away but the way Sebastian kept glancing at you, told him there'd be adverse effects if he did. He glared at Seb but relented, "Just bring her back to my rooms when you're done eating."

You and Seb didn't wait around. Scurrying out of the room just to be away from Sebastian faster. Over lunch, he didn't want to talk about the mission. Was overall bummed about being such a murderous stickler.

You on the other hand were glowing, it was subtle but he noticed, had been watching you waste away for days with no idea how to help. "What's up with you? You seem pretty happy about the genocide of like, an entire solar system."

You nodded towards the camera set in the corner. Gave him a look. "Oh? Wha- Ohhhh! Wait someone-" He humped the air, very subtle "After that?" You nodded but gestured at him to keep his voice down.

The camera observation crew wasn't large, but they had sixteen eyes dotting every angle of their bulbous heads. Mostly they had nothing but empty hallways to watch, nothing but humming electronics to listen to. It had been boring work, until you and the other Marks came along. Now there was always something to watch. There was a bunch of gossip they hadn't been able to stop talking about in their alien language, burbling about what clearly happened between you and Markus last night. But they didn't tell the Emperor. Oh no.

Emperor Mark was good to them. Spared their species, gave them a place to stay and food to eat but sometimes? Mark had a temper. Even if nothing observed was directly their fault, he'd get angry at the very fact it happened. He'd killed more than one observation team member over less. So they kept it to themselves. Not everything- if they told him nothing at all he'd kill them all replace the whole team but sometimes, when it was easy to excuse or explain away, they didn't tell him. It was never easy to select what not to tell him, he had access to the cameras and microphones set into the arm of his uniform. Whenever he watched the cameras, he was always set on you. Luckily for them, not having told the Emperor of your obvious dalliance last night, he was too busy talking to Sebastian to check. All the while you gave Seb a downright disgusting rundown of what Markus did to you. They all leaned into the handful of screens watching the mess hall, open holes for ears pointed toward the speaker.

"Dude." Seb's trepidation melted away, now morphed into joking grins. "I can't believe he did that after like, murdering a whole planet. Like, yeah get yer steam out or whatever but I couldn't beat my meat after that if I tried. Wow. Man."

It'd been a long, long time since you'd had a friend so openly casual to talk about sex with. You felt like a teenager again, bumping him in the side with your elbow, casually dropping the bombshell, "This part's probably going to blow your mind, he's uncircumcised."

"What! But!" He pointed down to his own lap. "I'm- What!?"

On one of the other screens, Sebastian and Mark stood in the great hall alone. Only a few of the observation crew watched, more interested in the drama over sex. Sebastian wanted his promised alone time with you and wanted it soon or else it'd be a very heavily implied problem. Mark didn't agree right away. He bartered back and forth. Knowing he had to give you up, but not wanting you to be alone with Sebastian very long. As much security as he had, he couldn't predict the other man. He could kill you but he was an asset to the Empire and though he talked a big game, wouldn't be coming to ask for quality time with you if he planned on killing you. He could've done it a hundred times over by now.

In the end, Mark relented. The time was set for later that day. The observation crew counted down the seconds until you two would collide. You unknowingly chattered on, finger boxing the air while Seb nodded like it was the most important lesson in the world.

***

"So did you?" The Emperor asked.

"Hit him again." You said.

He grinned and pistoned his fist down into Mark's bleeding head. "Jeez babe, didn't think bringing up jerkin' it would make ya so mad."

You were actually glad he thought you masturbated. If he find out, he'd be angry or grossly congratulatory to Markus. You leaned toward angry. Fucking you on his bed and promising your escape, probably wasn't something he was cool with, but apparently fucking Gray had been fine. Still, you didn't tell him. Had seen them fight over you once, you didn't want it to happen again.

In Mark's head this was a game of back n' forth. Fine, you were mad about the collar. He'd make it up to you by taking you down to Mark, the asshole Mark, and beating the ever loving shit out of him. Once that was done, you'd still be mad but a little less mad and finally tell him your ultimate sexual fantasies.

But for now, he watched as Mark slumped forward, held up only by the cuffs. Dripping blood onto the cold metal ground. He coughed and a splatter of black mucus slapped onto the ground, onto your shoes. The Emperor hit him again just for daring to accidentally bleed on you. "Stupid fuck."

Mark's head bobbed down, he tried to lift his head but it fell all the same. Eye whites gone red, lip split, clumps of his hair matted together. Utterly forsaken. Trapped without luck of escaping for days, worried sick about Eve. He knew he should play along, be pathetic and sorry like you must have wanted him to be. He had felt bad, really, he did, but you were also letting this happen to him because... why? He broke up with you forever ago? It was ridiculous.

He looked up at you with the Emperor's fist tight in his hair. "How does this fix what happened?"

"It doesn't." You said. But you weren't here thinking about that. You were thinking about Mohawk in those shackles instead. They had the same face after all.

"Then why-" Another punch to the lips shut him up, knocked two teeth out.

"I didn't say you could talk to her, dumbass."

"Oh? Are you dictating who I can and can't talk to now?" Panic set in soon as you said it.

You expected a shock but Mohawk just laughed, "There you are, babe. Missed ya."

Mark has no idea what was passing between you but he could feel the tension. You were stiff. Stood far away from Mohawk, as far as you could be in the cramped cell. Kept your arms crossed, eyes on Mark, never Mohawk. Anytime he reached out to you or grossly flirted you either didn't reply or were curt.

Mark heaved, broken ribs burning in his chest, "What is this really about, huh?" You both turned on him. "Our relationship was barely over a year. You should be over this by now."

"Shut up." Mohawk's knee jabbed into his sternum. He was left with little air in his lungs, gasping for breath and hoping nothing inside him has popped.

"You think this is about our breakup? You threw me in prison, Mark."

"Yeah? Well, so did you." Mark should listened to Mohawk but he'd never been a good listener. Not with Dad, not with you, not with Cecil.

Your stomach went sour. "I got to leave but you're gonna fucking die down here."

Mark defied Mohawk's grip, turned his head toward you, pierced you with those red eyes and spat another loose tooth onto the floor. "You're an evil person, (Y/n), I dodged a bullet with you."

You surged forward. Grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed his face down into the tall back of the cuffs that engulfed his arms. Mohawk actually did the slamming, no human could push a Viltrumite around like that, not even while weakened. Still, you took the catharsis where you could, puppeteering Mohawk to slam Mark's head into the metal over and over.

When it was done, all Mark's teeth were on the floor or crushed backwards into his fractured jaw. You were quiet when you realized you felt no better. The thing he said swirling in your mind, you were evil. Everyone had been surprised by you, by parts of you you had thought were intrinsic. You were angry and spiteful and a killer and none of them had expected it. Mark had evil versions of himself, that was easy to swallow and understand. But the fact that you were the evil (Y/n) was harder. Mohawk tried rubbing your back, "Don't you feel better, babe?"

You jerked away from him, jolted from your thoughts by his touch. "No."

He frowned at you. "No?" He didn't get it. By all accounts, violence should've made you calmer, the way it did for him. The way he swore it did for you too.

You could see the comparison on his face, confused because you were like him. Evil and angry and fucked up, and he was right.

"She wouldn't want this." You didn't need to say who, he already knew. You gestured to Mark, barely holding onto consciousness. "I'm-" You couldn't say you weren't okay with this because you were. Seeing Mark hurt felt so good but what he said felt so bad. He would've been better off with Mohawk's version of you but instead he got you and threw you away.

"Oh baby, don't let that asshole get to you. I miss her, I do, but that bitch betrayed me. I dodged a bullet with her and I'm so happy for that. You're not like her- you get me." Because you were the evil one. He reached out for you but you leaned away. "Is this about the collar? I already told you, it'll come off once you calm down."

You didn't meet his eye. "Of course it's about the fucking collar." You waited for a shock but it didn't come. Ah, right, he liked it when you were mean, but not mean enough to emasculate him. What a fine line.

"So you are still mad."

"You think bringing me down here fixes shit? You took my powers away."

He laughed, hands on hips. "I didn't take your powers away. I just had a lab team analyze the sound waves of your voice and isolate the- whatever, the science doesn't matter. They're not gone, you can be mad at me about it. That's fine, but you can't shut me out forever."

Your eyes narrow on him. "Wanna bet?"

"Please. You missed me so much while I was away you fucked yourself on my bed."

Technically, "I didn't!" You spluttered, looked down at Mark who you couldn't tell was conscious or not. You really should not be having this conversation here.

He poked the collar, "That monitors a lotta shit goin' on in your body. Even your oxytocin levels, which were high as fuck. You can admit to masturbating there's no shame in it."

"I-" It'd probably be better if he didn't know about Markus. "Don't try to change the subject!"

"Oh, you sooo jerked off thinking about me." His smug smile made you want to hit him. You kneed Mark in the temple instead. "See? The punching bag is helping us communicate, get a little sexual tension going, bond a little. You get it."

"I don't wanna fuck you!"

He looked unconvinced, "Uh-huh."

"I don't." It came out a growl.

"I believe you." He obviously didn't.

He wasn't taking you serious. Grinning at you like taking away your autonomy was a game. "I only came down here to pretend he's you. Kinda helps that he is."

The playful expression slid off his face. "You've got it so fuckin' good and you don't even know."

"Do I really? Cuz I'm pretty sure I'm being held prisoner."

"He's being held prisoner." Mohawk tapped the restraints with his boot. "You are bein' wined and dined and complaining about it. Do you know how many people I killed yesterday? I don't. Kregg estimated two million. I've got so much political shit to do you can't even begin to comprehend, but I'm down here, spending my insanely valuable time, with you. Trying to fix us because I give a shit and you? Well, you just can't be bothered."

It'd be smart to back down, to play the good pet, speed up the removal but you can't hold the anger back. "There was no us the second you put this ugly thing on me."

"You don't get a say in if there's an us or not." He was smiling but there was no joy in it.

You gave him the same look in turn, "Just like she didn't, huh? How'd that work out for you?"

His fingers twitched with the temptation to hit the remote shock. The asshole's body shuddered as he coughed more blood onto the floor. The sound broke something between you two. No, Mark thought, shocking you now would only make things worse.

You turned to the door but couldn't leave without him. "I'm done."

He let you out.

***

There was a sick sort of satisfaction Mark got from parting ways with you. Him to the council room with Gray and Markus already waiting, to mull over what planets to hit next and when. You to meandered in the halls looking for Seb. You wouldn't find him, wouldn't find anybody because he had that whole section of the ship practically evacuated. Sebastian had been proving to be quite the staff killer. Useful or not he'd kill anyone over anything. Walking into his line of sight was a big enough offense to end multiple lives. It was no skin off Mark's back. The staff was replaceable but still- he preferred not to lose a big chunk of them if things went wrong. He had almost regretted setting up the meeting earlier in the day, but now he was glad it would happen.

Thula would ensure he didn't kill you but Mark was clear, Sebastian could hurt you. Not terribly, but you could use a few bruises. It'd do wonders for that attitude of yours. You'd be a lot more grateful for Mark and all his mercies once big bad Sebastian cornered you alone- what a surprise.

You turned away from the door, dejected. Looked like Seb was busy. You turned down the hall to check some of his usual stations. At the hall's distant end you saw him. Could tell who it was by his darker gray uniform and longer hair peaking past his shoulders. You turned the other way, scurried for the stairs, as quietly as you could. Hoping he hadn't seen you.

He had. Could hear your heart rate spike from here.

He sped toward you right as you looked over your shoulder, checking to make sure he wasn't following. He was. You bumped right into him, already standing in front of you. Smiling at you with all his teeth, scar stretching wide, exposing more of his gums, "Hello, Honey."

You stumbled back, trying to recover, to stand up straight like you weren't scared out of your mind. "I don't wan-"

He had you against the wall. Hand hard on your throat over that thick turtle neck you were wearing. Your resolve couldn't stop the sharp gasp at the feeling, the fabric couldn't stop his fingers from shutting you up. He remembered well how the last time you talked to him went. The humiliation. The pain of setting his jaw back in place. No human should ever make him feel that way, but you had a habit of doing so. Back then and now.

"Can't make me dislocate my jaw like this, can you?" It was a low whisper, the last time he had been this close to you he was trying to kill you.

Your eyes bulged, your heart a thundering mess of panic. Your hands flew to his, trying to worm your fingers under his palm but it was like a concrete vice. You kicked at him, wriggled your body but it did nothing but make him smirk.

You couldn't see her, but Thula stayed in her spot at the end of the hall. Watching. Listening to her earpiece for Emperor Mark to tell her when to step in. He didn't say a thing. Watching on his own monitor during Kregg's run through of potential targets. Markus and Gray listened fine enough for him. He needed to see you learn your lesson, you needed him to protect you.

"Got nothing to say?" Sebastian cooed, leaning in further. His hand kept you pinned to the wall but his body caged you in now. You only thrashed harder against him, just like old times. "No apology? No 'hi, how are you?' So rude."

Your head throbbed, felt like it was filling with hot air. There was nothing you could do.

You'd been in a situation like this before. A rival organization figured out your powers, gagged you, were going to kill you. You had to become a good mime quick to make them untie you and kill themselves. It was instinct at this point, the collar under the thick fabric forgotten. You held up an an open palmed hand, a clear sign for him to stop, power pulsing through your panicked veins.

He did. You felt the connection snap into place. His fingers slowly going soft enough for you to breathe, but not enough to escape. No matter how much you thrashed and how deep your hold was, the command only went so far. Hand gestures were always a little hit or miss but at least you still had them, no shock accompanying your panic.

The connection only lasted so long before it broke and the hand around your throat tightened. "You tricky bitch."

You moved to make the gesture again. Your hands were captured in a blur and forced down, pressed together infront of your hips. "Same move twice in a row?" His fingers pulsed, making your vision blur, "You're dumber than I remember." He liked that. There were no bomb plans tinkering around in your head, no sirree.

You were the same in how you thrashed with your airways held shut. It made him nostalgic. He wondered if he could barter for more time to hang around you. Become a constant fear and maybe a fri- not friend, never friend. Pet. You were just a pet. One he could do whatever he wanted to- except when the Emperor said so. God, he hated this place.

Hated how your neck felt under his palm. There was weird chunky inline to the fabric getting in his way. When he choked someone he liked to feel the blood trying to pump through the skin, stopped by his hold. His fingers shifted to tear the neckline away.

He shot back. A wall of air slapped by him. Yanked you away from the wall and set you down a few feet away. Coughing and spluttering, held upright by Lensless who shouldn't have even be in this part of the ship. Mark said he'd get you both alone.

"Why are you here?" Sebastian snarled at Lensless's hands on you, gentle and supporting.

"I got all my stuff done super fast so I could see (Y/n)." That was partially true, but he also got a feeling when Mark added surprise work to his load that something was up involving you. It was luck that he went to check the rooms first. "Like you're doing, silly."

"I'm not here to see (Y/n)." Sebastian said while prowling forward, eyes set on you. Lensless was faster, if he thought Sebastian was going to lunge he'd be out of reach by the time he got to you. Sebastian had to be strategic. Needed to get his hands back on you. Without you under them, he felt somehow less real. He didn't know what that meant. Just that he wanted you back, bad.

Lensless laughed but didn't back up. "Then what were you doing just now?"

"Choking her. Obviously."

Lensless sighed as if exasperated. "Look bro. All that desert stuff was fun n' all but stuff's like, different here. We can't be doin' that, plus I don't think she liked it that much anyway. Check it, I changed up strategy and look how close we are." Lensless half turned his head toward you, pulled you closer by tapping on his cheek. Right. The obligatory greeting.

You didn't want to. Not with Sebastian's beady eyes on you but if you didn't, Lensless just might expose the collar. He had already saved you from exposure, things would be so much worse if he changed his mind. You leaned into him, pressed your lips to his cheek and just as quickly pulled away. Lensless's grin was nothing but shit eating.

Sebastian lunged. Lensless yanked you backward out of the way, cackling. "That's the same approach as last time, bro!"

"Shut up!"

They ping-ponged through the hall. Lensless holding you to his chest, dragging you backward in a whirlwind. Letting Sebastian get close enough to almost catch you by the ankles before pulling back. He couldn't help it, scaring you was just so fun. He intended to stop, not let Sebastian get hold of you, but just wanted a few more moments of you pressed tightly to him, scared and pliant.

Mark put his fingers to his earpiece, grumbling. "Mind stopping them from damaging the ship?"

Before Lensless could call for timeout, Thula was between the two. Holding both of the men by the throat, stopping them dead in their tracks.

"No roughhousing outside of the training arena." She said flatly before her hands flew open and she hovered backward to her original far removed position.

You only saw her for a second, didn't understand how one person could make the two walking wrecking balls stop but they did. She'd had them both in her grip for a mere moment but they felt it then- her strength. Together they could beat her but alone, not a chance. They had to remember there were rules in a place like this. Rules that if they kept breaking would mean the privilege of seeing you would be taken away. Their leashes tightened.

They landed, uneasy, tension taught between them. "Fun while it lasted." Lensless said, stretched his arms up and over his head. You stumbled away from him.

It was a small opening but one Sebastian took. Lunging on you, not knowing what he wanted other than to feel your skin under his but there was too many clothing. The neck of your sweater was gone in an instant, ripped down your chest. He lifted his hand to give you necklace but there was already one there.

Sebastian paused. "What's this?"

Lensless made a face. "Ah shit, really dropped the ball there. My bad, (Y/n)."

You pulled the ripped neckline up, covering the collar, "None of your business, is what it is."

Sebastian easily tugged your hand down. Eyed the thing. Black with a silver heart sticking out the middle. Not quite a dog collar, but pretty close. The old you would've never worn it. Such a clunky claim of ownership that didn't belong on your skin. All you needed was his hand print in purple around your neck.

"It's ugly. Take it off." He didn't wait for a reply before he started pulling hard at it. Too hard. Tripped the sensors and set it off. Your muscles gave out with the shock. The only thing holding you up was his grip on the collar's front.

Sebastian couldn't process what he was seeing. You relying on him to keep you upright, you suddenly crying and gasping. Hands clawing at the collar.

He blinked, pulled you upright and let the collar go. As soon as he did that awful snap of electricity stopped. You went slack, occasionally jerking as you gasped for air.

"Wow. That's a lot worse than I thought it was." Lensless circled around to your front. Lifted your head up by your chin and tilted your head back and forth, liked how your eyes were dazed and you leaned into his touch.

"Aww, you look so sad." He liked it, but he was supposed to be trying to a new angle to get you to like him. "Poor thing."

"What is that?" Sebastian asked though he knew what it was.

"A shock collar, dummy." Lensless said while you were busy trying not to pass out. "Won't let her use her powers." His hands went over his mouth, "Oops! I wasn't supposed to tell you that."

Where was the fight in that? Without your powers you were as defenseless as she was. Weak and easy to cave to despair. He wanted you to fight, to have hope against him so you'd never leave him like that again. The idea of you powerless made him afraid, terribly afraid. What if he lost himself? What if the others did? You were so fragile and such a cunt. You wouldn't last a week like this.

"Who put this thing on you?" But he already knew. "I'll kill him." He looked up, trying to find the cameras hidden in the walls. "I'll fucking you kill you!"

Thula laughed meanly from her station. He turned on her, practically foaming at the mouth. Sure, seeing you pathetic and crying made his cock twitch- but this wasn't the right kind of pathetic. It was the easy way out to forcing submission. Knowing himself, he'd come around to it, tolerate it awhile, have his fun, but for now, he was angry. It was a crossed line, a stake of ownership when you were obviously meant to be Sebastian's.

"Go ahead and try, boy." Thula said, "I saw how you looked coming out of that desert."

He wouldn't win. Even with Lensless supporting, which he doubted the little fucker would right now, looking a little too content with the situation. He needed to kill something. The ship was still stationed at the solar system's edge. There were bound to be survivors. He left in a whirlwind that nearly knocked you off your feet if it weren't for Lensless. Thula's speed nearly knocked Lensless off his feet. You were alone. He'd managed to loose Lucan some minutes ago and knew you didn't have much time alone.

"You know," Lensless said, "That went a lot better than I thought it would." You glared at him, yanked yourself out of his hold and stumbled into a wall to stay upright. "Ugh, I knooooow that was crazy but I promise he's a lot of fun. He didn't know it would hurt you."

"He just choked me out." Your voice was a raspy whisper.

"Okay, but like, that's classic him! He thought you'd use your powers. He likes to act all tough but he loooves your powers. It's all we'd talk about in the desert. So nice actually seeing you use them again." He said lowly. "Don't worry, I won't tell the big guy if you don't. Our secret. You'll owe me though."

You put your finger to your lips and felt your power slip around his mind, he was blissfully quiet. Shaking with excitement because you finally used your powers on him after so long. The connection didn't last long in your weakness but when it was gone he grinned big, "God, I love that."

You coudln't stand him looking at you like that- annoying endearing as it was. You held up your finger and did a flicking u-turn motion, trying to get him to turn around. In Lensless's mind you wanted him to twirl around so he did. When he stopped, he was smiling even bigger. "Oh, you like my outfit?"

"I'm trying to get you to turn around." You grunted. Hand signals were a good thing to have as a last resort, but they weren't very strong or precise. "Let's go." You picked a direction and start walking on wobbily feet.

"We're hanging out? Ooh, what're we gonna do? What do you wanna do to me?"

You groaned but don't make him leave. After Sebstian almost popped your head off and shocked the shit out of you, you'd prefer to have someone around to keep you alive. Even if it was this asshole.

Mark had watched you struggle, a fly in a web. He half listened the Kregg. Making mental note to visit the lab later and kill whatever technician left a loophole in the power detection systems. Then he'd assign the work to Phantom- if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself, as the saying goes.

Phantom been adapting well enough to Viltrum tech. Threw himself hard into the work ever since he was assigned. The lab boys told Mark there was nothing suspicious going on yet- Phantom understood the tech on a base level, there was no way he could hide something from them. Mark and the tech team didn't account for Phantom ever helping Cecil Stedman deconstruct the uniform his father came to Earth in. Laced with Viltrumite technology he helped decode early in his superheroing career. He'd already begun to keep secrets. Sttarting ripping the code from the bio-engineers systems. Slowly because he couldn't get caught, making his own remote. It wouldn't be done for some time but somebody had to save you. Not right away, he had to wait for the perfect time, get the most impact. Let you know it was him who freed you because he cared. But that was far in the future. For now, he watched you from an access panel he modified on his prosthetic as he worked away at the brain chips. You'd be safe soon.

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cravinganotherworld · 1 day ago

Text

Despair - Part 2 - Frontman x Reader (Squid games)

WARNINGS: Blood, guns, knives

Notes: I hope you enjoy part 2!

TAGLIST; @so-dramatic1, @cookiesknows @goingmerry69

That night you cried yourself to sleep, clinging to the only bit of Young-il you had left, breathing in his scent…. imagining you were in his arms instead of in his cold bed alone. Without knowing it, player 149 and 120 watched over you whilst you slept, their hearts breaking for you. Everyone knew the bond and connection you and Young-Il shared, even if you thought you hid it well.

The next morning you’re awoken by the dystopian droning of the music through the speakers, it was almost as if you had fallen into an apocalypse overnight. Reluctantly you sat up, your eyes puffy and exhausted from the crying and Young-Ils jacket still tight in your grasp.

“Attention players, the fourth game will begin momentarily, please make your way to the game hall, I will now repeat the instructions” As she repeated the instructions you slowly get up from your bed, pulling on Young -Ils jacket and walk down the steps, any emotion now void from your face. Suddenly you trip over someone’s leg, you look down to see Gi-hun handcuffed to the bed frame. You gasp lightly and bend down in front of him.

“Gi-hun” he looks up at you, his eyes full of dread and misery. Over the course of the first few games as well as Young-il you had also grown close to Gi-hun, he had become much like a brother to you. “Oh Gi-hun I’m so sorry” you leap forward and wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t move to wrap his arm around you, so you pull away. “Why have they done this to you?”. Silence falls between you as he looks away. Your heart sinks so you gently nod before getting up. “Okay then…good luck in the next game Gi-hun” you whisper before joining to queue to the games hall. As you walk through an oddly shaped door you’re met with what appears to be a gumball machine. Gi-hun walks in behind you, immediately going to sit at the side of the room.

“Dear players, welcome to the fourth game, the game you will be playing this round is hide and seek, for this you will need to be split into two teams, hiders and seekers. Each player will retrieve a coloured ball from the machine, the ball that comes out is your team, we will choose starting with the lowest number, I will now repeat the instructions” you listen as she repeats the instructions, hide and seek? Surely it can’t be that bad…right? Soon enough it reaches your turn to choose a ball. You slowly walk up to the machine and turn the handle, as your ball comes out you reach down and pick it up, showing the pink guard. Red. Walking over to the red side you glance at Gi-hun only to see he was now staring directly at Dae-ho with murder in his eyes. Time passed quickly and soon enough Gi-hun had chosen his ball and returned to the Red side.

“Congratulations players, you now have your teams. To confirm, the Red team will be the seekers, and the blue team will be the ones to hide. During this game the red team will have 30 minutes to hunt down a member of the blue team…and kill them” gasps echoed through the room as the blue team looks around scared. “During the game members of the red team are not allowed to harm each other, if they do they will be eliminated” The pink guard continues “Each member of the red team must kill at minimum one member of the blue team, if they fail to do so they will be eliminated”

“how are we supposed to defend ourselves!? You can’t expect us to just run!?” Player 100 shouts. “You are correct” pink guards flood into the room holding boxes with blue bows on. “Which is why we have prepared a gift for you, inside the box you will see a key, this key will give you access to new areas in the game by unlocking different doors, however once a door has been unlocked it cannot be locked again”

“And how are we supposed to kill them!? With our bare hands?”

“To ensure the game is fair, we have prepared a gift for the red team as well” You are each handed a box with a red bow on top. As you open the box you gasp in shock. Inside sits a knife beautifully decorated “Inside each box you will find a knife” shouts of disagreement come from the blue team. “To keep the fairness of the game each player will have the chance to swap teams with one other player, the blue team will have 2 minutes to hide before the red team begin their hunt, you will now have 2 minutes to swap teams if any wish to do so” You take a deep breath and look around, switching teams was not on your cards….although you’ve never hurt anyone before…could you do this? Murder someone in cold blood. As you watch everyone scramble to find someone to swap with, your mind races to Young-il. Would he want you to do this? You imagine the look on his face, disappointment…hatred. Suddenly a young girl came up to you.

“Please miss, please will you swap with me? I can’t die here” her voice was laced with panic as she held out her blue shirt and key to you. You looked at her hesitant, why should you die in her place? Not receiving an answer from you, her face drops, and she turns to walk away. Quickly you reach out and grab her arm.

“I’ll swap” tears fill her eyes.

“Thank you thank you thank you” she rushes out as you remove your red shirt and hand it to her along with the knife. You take hers from her and put the shirt on, hanging the key around your neck.

“Good luck” she bows in respect and walks away. You couldn’t kill someone; you couldn’t even step on an ant without feeling guilty…what made you think you could take someone’s life.

“Hiders, you will now have 2 minutes to find a spot to hide before the red team enter the arena, good luck to you all” You take a deep breath and line up, walking towards the arena. As you enter you look around amazed, it felt like walking into your childhood bedroom.

“Your 2 minutes begin now” you are dragged from your daze as the other okayers scramble around you. You stand in your spot unable to move, trying to decide which direction to run in when suddenly you hear your name.

“y/n!” you look to your left and see Players 149. 120 and 222 “Come with us, we can stick together” without hesitation you rush towards them and follow them up the steps.

“3…2…1” you hear the doors burst open “your 30 minutes begins…now”

“In here” you hear Player 120, Hyun ju whisper. You each ran into the room closing the door. You notice player 222 holding her stomach.

“Are you okay Jun-Hee?” you ask, concerned for her wellbeing.

“I think so…thank you” you nod and look towards the opposite side of the room noticing a door. You rush to your feet as you hear screams echo down the hall, adrenaline starting to rush through your veins. Ripping the key from around your neck you try to unlock the door, only coming to the realisation that your key did in fact not fit…they had set you up to fail…each and every one of you.

“Y/n, what is it…why won’t the door open?” you hear player 149 ask. You turn around scared.

“My key…it doesn’t fit”

“What?”

“The keyhole is shaped like a triangle…. i have a square…it won’t fit”

“Wait” Hyun Ju speaks as she lifts up her key. “I have circle” she looks at player 149 and reaches for her key. “May i?” Player 149 nods, allowing 120 to take the key from around her neck. She holds the key up “Mrs Jang has triangle! Each door must have a different keyhole, if we work together, we’ll be able to find the exit!” She hurriedly walks towards the door, and you step aside allowing her to try the triangle key. With success she opens the door and you usher Mrs Jang and Jun-Hee through before running through yourself. The next 10 minutes feel like a blur, running, hiding and fighting for your lives yet somehow along the way you got separated from them. Now you stand in a corner alone, the body of a fellow player drowned in blood at your feet and fear running deeper through your veins. To your left you heard a scream and to your right a manic laugh ran down the hall, your heart was beating faster than it ever had, the sound running to your ears as your blood rushed pulsing heavily as panic sets in. You drop to the floor and out your head between your hands trying to block out the noise, until a shadow eclipses your view. Slowly you lift your head up and your eyes widen. Infront of you stands player 124, sweat dripping down his face, a knife at his side dribbling blood to the floor breathing heavily as he stares at you. Your breath catches in your throat as he starts to inch towards you. You attempt to shuffle back and create distance for yourself only for your back to meet the wall. As he inches closer you grip at Young-Ils jacket, pulling it tighter around yourself. He points the knife towards you as he inches closer.

“Player 001’s bitch, right? Shame he didn’t make it back huh” your jaw tightens at the mentions of Young-il.

“Don’t talk about him” he laughs and bends down in front of you

“Or what? What you gonna kill me?” he brings the knife to your cheek, running it down to your neck slowly slicing you. You wince in pain “Not so tough now your precious player 001 isn’t here to protect you huh?” he brings the knife to your neck, digging the tip in drawing blood. “Pretty boy must’ve had his brains blown out…or maybe he shot himself to get away from yo- “. Anger coursed through your veins and all you could see was red. Suddenly you bring your hand up and lay a punch beneath his jaw, causing him to fall backwards and drop his knife. You jump up onto your feet and rush past him, and as do, you land a kick to his face hopefully breaking his nose and pick up his knife, running with all your strength.

#fanfiction #frontman x reader #inho x reader #frontman x you #squid game front man #hwang inho #squid game fanfic #lee byung hun

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wistfulnightingale · 2 days ago

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Unmasking an Angel (or, Free to be who you really are)

[Part 2 of "Loneliness, In Good Omens"]

The world does not easily accept difference. Many of us experience that on a daily basis. When we find others who make it safe to be genuine, even if it's just one singular person, we create a Precious, Peaceful, Fragile Existance for ourselves. It is worth fighting for. It is worth Everything.

Aziraphale and Crowley found this with each other. They live in a universe where control and conformity is paramount, where defiance and compassion and "fraternizing" with the enemy are offenses that risk harsh punishment -- or even total annihilation. Yet, step by step, through acts of trust and courage across millennia, Crowley and Aziraphale created their own interior world where they can be truly themselves with each other.

Both of Our Ineffables had to create masks in order to survive. Crowley's is cool, smooth, swaggering, with a heavy pretense of indifference, and a charming range of accents and phonetics to match the situation -- sometimes just for fun, but often to downplay himself and blend in. In short, Crowley is HOT, and the Bad Boy mask hiding all that tenderness just makes him even more attractive to us susceptible humans.

Ahhh, but, Aziraphale... Some of the fandom isn't so swept away by Aziraphale's mask.

The Angel has to protect himself in a different system. One that demands unquestioning obedience and conformity. Rebellious swagger is NOT rewarded.

Aziraphale pays a heavy price. Rejection, scorn, mockery -- second class to the other angels. Misunderstood and underestimated by everyone except Crowley. Even by some of the fandom.

But what is behind the mask? And why do we struggle so much to understand him?

The mask Aziraphale is compelled to hide behind is made of traits we generally don't admire or value: fawning, subservience, docility, obedience, with a goodly dash of heaven-pleasing insincere flattery. In Hell, these traits would get you stomped on, or at least trapped at a dead-end desk job (Sorry, Fur-Fur!). In Heaven, this is expected behavior. Sandalphon is a master butt-kisser, and look at the status this mafioso toady has...!

Dress alike, act alike, follow the rules. Spout the Party line. Respect authorities, even to excess. Look reasonably capable and brave, as an angel should, but not so brave or capable that you attract attention or jealousy. Care only about what WE tell you to care about. Which is pretty much no one but us and God. Maybe God.

Present yourself as angelically strong, but not so strong that anyone above you views you as a threat. Unless you fawn all over them, like Sandalphon playing up to Gabriel or Uriel going beta with the Metatron. Know when to make yourself look weak -- or, better yet -- invisible, to allow the powerful people to keep feeling powerful. Appear intelligent enough to carry out your tasks, but never seem more intelligent than those who control you.

It's an impossible situation. A repressive, authoritarian system. An abusive and toxic environment. And like any survivor in an abusive system with an undercurrent of simmering violence, Aziraphale does what he must to survive.

But who is he, really? Underneath the trauma, and the mask?

We get to see so much of who Aziraphale truly is in S2. Safe (or relatively safe, for now) with Crowley, we get to see so much more!

His playfulness,

his compassion,

his analytical nature,

his courage...

his stubbornness...

and how much he trusts

& adores Crowley!

(Did you kinda go, "Wait a sec'! Some of those are S1"? Yeh, the whole right column. Couldn't resist!)

Actually, as we can see, all of those traits and more were shown to us in S1 as well...!

When we don't understand someone's external behaviors and the reasons for their choices, it's easy to get caught up in the misunderstanding. Like the archangels, we can start seeing someone only for how they're not who we think they shoud be, rather that seeing who they actually ARE.

Aziraphale was one of the angelic oddlings from the first. He had those lovely traits at his core already. Before the Beginning, he wanted to protect the naive Starmaker from harm. In the Garden, he had compassion for the humans who were being punished for their "disobedience", and risked himself even then.

Having Crowley's acceptance and support helped Aziraphale to not only hold onto to those qualities, but to allow them to grow until they became a strong and confident part of who he is.

It's difficult to grow in an atmosphere of isolation, or hostility. Being accepted and LOVED helps provide the Freedom to figure out who we are, and who we want to be.

Love allows us ALL to flourish.

LOOK AT YOU -- YOU'RE GORGEOUS!!!

Thanks for sticking around and giving this a read! If you're interested, I've written more philosophical ramblings, about loneliness, forgiveness, and other deep ponderings in Good Omens.

Facing Loneliness (Reaching Out in Courage)

Finding Forgiveness (Text Barrages & Apology Dances)

Forgiveness & Absolution (Holy Hot Chocolate, Jim!)

The Courage of an Angel (Sometimes the Ordinary is Extraordinary)

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #to our world #masking #aziraphale unmasked #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens #good omens philosophy #love makes the flowers grow #and angels too!#wistfulnightingale

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ciacconaism · 21 hours ago

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- Has your hope been severed?

Yandere! Pre-forsaken Azure x Reader

Note:

-Azure goes by he/they pronouns

-typical yandere behavior (drugging, kidnapping if you squint)

-implied amnesia

“I want to go home Azure. This isn't my home- I know it isn't!”

Your sudden outburst made Azure pause what he was doing. He didn't look at you. Only a hum could be heard as acknowledgment of your presence. They continued to finish cutting the thorns off some roses like he usually did, but only this time did you find the gesture unsettling.

“And what, pray tell, is the reasoning for your claim, my nightshade?”

He still wouldn't face you, but you know without a doubt his usual smile was still etched onto their face, his calmness a stark contrast to your unease.

For seconds, you just stood there trembling, watching as he snipped away at the thorns on the roses.

This doesn't feel like home. For weeks ever since you woke up, your mind has only felt fuzzy–your past nowhere in sight. Your so-called beloved forbid you from venturing further than the ends of the garden. He claims it was for your safety, but over time, you figured that wasn't the case. Call it a gut feeling, but this isn't right.

Seeing as you weren't responding, Azure set down the gardening shears and got up from his spot to approach you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He never harmed you, not even once, so why are you so scared?

“You're trembling…how about we head inside and get you settled?”

You made no effort to move at first, but Azure took your hand in his and began guiding you back inside your shared home rather hastily.

You didn't notice, but Azure as well was panicked. But not for the same reasons as you. Oh goodness, no.

You're becoming aware again. Aren't you?

No worries! A simple remedy will do the trick again! Just don't leave his side. That's all he begs of you. All this is for him you.

Don't you dare ruin it.

Before you knew it, Azure had guided you to sit down on the bed in your shared bedroom. Once a place that brought you comfort, now felt like a cage. Then again, this always has been one, hasn't it? Noticing your face still panic stricken, Azure cupped your cheek and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You're falling into hysteria again, my nightshade. I know just the thing to get you to relax. Don't move now!”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you to your own devices. You were akin to a leaf in the wind still as much as you tried to get yourself to calm down.

Their words didn't sit right with you, though. Hysteria? Again? You weren't crazy. What on earth was he talking about? You just didn't feel like this was your home. Why can't he understand that?

Your gaze fell to the window and the garden outside. The garden was beautiful, but it only further reminded you of this prison of a home. You never quite picked up gardening as a hobby. You only watched as Azure tended to the flora. It's not like he'd allow you to tend to the garden anyway. He claimed you'd only get yourself hurt and scar your soft skin.

You grimaced at the thought of him. He was quite clingy but respected your boundaries to an extent. They were… perfect as a partner on a superficial level, but it didn't feel right to you. Are you the problem?

No, no. There was something very wrong. You just couldn't put your finger on it.

Who were you prior to waking up on that fateful day? Why couldn't you recall a thing?

“That's enough now. Please drink this tea I've prepared for you.”

You gasped at the sound of Azure's voice. You were too caught up in your thoughts to process his reappearance in your shared room. You started at the teacup in his hands–waiting for you to accept it. Hesitantly, you reached for the cup and asked no questions. Azure smiled before sitting down next to you on the bed. He watched intently for your next move.

If push comes to shove, so be it. He doesn't want to force you to do anything, but they can't have you remembering. The same mistake won't repeat itself twice. He won't allow it.

You just continued staring at the teacup in your hands. White petals swirled around in the fragrant tea. The smell was quite nice and inviting. So, without another thought, you drank.

“Just relax. You don't have to finish it all if you don't want to” Azure assured you. But really, you already having drank even a bit was all he wanted. It didn't matter if you finished it.

You're so naive. Azure is ashamed to admit it, but he loves that about you. You won't leave. Not with that mindset. You never will realize what you got yourself into. He could never part with you, even if the Spawn could never forgive their actions. He'll repent for all he cares, but please don't leave them!

As seconds passed, you gradually grew tired. You didn't fall over though, oh goodness, no. Your beloved was there to catch you as you dozed off. The teacup that was in your hands shattered on impact as it fell to the floor, but Azure could care less. He simply smiled as you went limp in his embrace.

“Tomorrow is a new day. Please rest well.” Is all you heard before you lost consciousness.

A/N: Sorry fellow Azure yumes, I was itching to have some yandere Azure content instead of something fluffy. This totally wasn't in my drafts for 2 months now.

#forsaken x reader #azure x reader #yandere azure

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rinsfanfics01 · 8 hours ago

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Continuation of my break up fix it fic. This time from Tommy's POV

Part 1

Admittedly, he had almost forgotten that conversation. Not that he forgot their arrangement. Of course he remembered that. The details as to why they had it were fuzzy. He had thought, or hoped, that by now he knew Evan's tells. Knew when his boyfriend was getting ahead of himself and there was more to his thoughts than what he was capable of saying. Apparently he was wrong, and wasn't that a punch to the gut.

"See you around, Buck." He said quietly. He didn't want to leave, truly he didn't. It was for the best though. He couldn't be the perfect boyfriend that Evan saw him as. So, he began to walk out the door when he heard a heartbreaking sound. One that caused him pause.

"Red." Evan whispered. The word was so quiet that he had almost thought he imagined it.

"What?" He asked, needing to make sure he heard right.

"Red-red-red-red!" Evan said, his voice raised with each repeat. Tommy stepped back into the apartment as the younger man began pulling at his own hair.

"Hey-hey, what's wrong?" Tommy cooed as he got closer to the man, hoping that his tone would soothe him. "You gotta talk to me sweetheart."

"Red means stop. You gotta stop." Evan pleaded, his eyes were shut tightly. "Red means stop."

Tommy nodded and took the other man's hands from his hair. He could see the other's body relax slightly, but it wasn't enough.

"Okay, I'm stopping. I'm not going anywhere." Tommy agreed, squeezing his hand. Evan didn't squeeze it back, and didn't that break him even more? "I promise, I'm right here."

Tommy watched the other's body for any sign of discomfort. Thankfully he didn't find any, though the panic on his face never left. For a moment he wondered why Evan called red. Yes, he knew that meant something was wrong. Check in and discuss. Neither men were particularly kinky in bed, the most Evan had wanted from him was to be choked. They used it more for communication- wait that rung a bell.

"Red daddy." Evan sniffled. Tommy nodded and gently kissed the other's hand. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to do more now. He had broken up with him not even five minutes ago.

"Daddy's sorry, baby." Tommy whispered back. "Do you want to go to the couch? That way we can talk?"

Thankfully, the other agreed. So Tommy was able to move him away from the kitchen. Not for the first time Tommy was glad he had their agreement memorized.

"So you're saying we need a procedure for this too?" Evan asked, looking at the notebook that Tommy had presented him.

"I'm trying to be thorough. If this is going to work we need to do it the same way every time. That way you know what to expect and I know how to help. I don't want there to be a time where we let something fester because something wasn't communicated." Tommy explained. He had tried to make things as clear as possible in the notebook. It wasn't particularly long, just a few steps to clarify.

"I do like a man that's organized." Evan grinned. Tommy rolled his eyes but pecked the other on the lips anyway.

"Come on, let's go through this. If you're good I'll reward you later." Tommy teased. Evan grinned wider and opened the red notebook.

"Step one: relocate." He read aloud.

Once he got Buck on the couch Tommy sat next to him. The other curled in closer, much to his relief. Alright, he wasn't mad at him. That was good. Though Tommy probably would have felt better if he was.

"Are you ready to talk?" He asked gently. Evan looked up at him, his eyes were a little red and looked as though he would start crying any minute. Still, he nodded.

"Okay, you safeworded our. So-was it that your thoughts were going too fast or was I not understanding what you meant?" Tommy watched as Evan worked through the question. This process had gotten easier in the past. They reworked the rules around this a few times. Especially after the first time they needed this. He hadn't seen Evan breakdown this badly since the first time. It was not something Tommy had wanted to happen again.

"Both." He finally whispered. Tommy nodded and pressed another kiss to his hand.

"Okay, thank you for telling me by using your colors." He tried to encourage. It didn't make the other smile like it normally did. How had he messed things up this badly? They were getting good at this. The last time they needed to have one of these conversations was when he went golfing with Gerrard.

"Do you need me to tell you what I thought you meant, sunshine?" He asked. Step two, he thought to himself. Step two was to establish what was miscommunicated. Evan had told him during their talk that he sometimes had a hard time knowing where he stopped explaining his thoughts.

"Yeah- uh yes please." Evan nodded, though he didn't look at him. Tommy wrapped an arm around the other in hopes it brought him some comfort.

"Alright, to me, this sounded like you were trying to overcompensate for something. I'm not sure if it's because of Abby or our date. Though, when you asked me to move in, that felt like a spur of the moment question. Something you haven't thought through." Tommy explained. "On my end, it sounded as though you are going through the high of our relationship and still look at us through rose tinted glasses. Everything is still good and new."

"That's-that's not what I meant." Evan objected. Tommy knew that now, he should have figured then. How did he manage to forget the entirety of this? Their arrangement was there so this didn't happen.

"Can you explain what you meant?" He asked. Evan licked his lips and nodded. Still, Tommy waited for him to word things correctly. Sometimes this took a while but he had nowhere he needed to be. Well, outside of right here that was.

"I was upset about Abby. She was important to me, and hearing that someone I care about could do that to her-it was upsetting." He started. Right, so Tommy wasn't that far off bases then. At least with the first part. "I-I talked to Josh about it. Then he gave me this big speech about Glee and how I can't judge you for your past. Cause you came out in a pre-glee world and you did things you might not be proud of to protect yourself."

Tommy wanted to facepalm at this. He was sure Josh meant well, that didn't mean that Evan took it as he meant it though. "He probably meant well, but the way you spoke made me sound like a gay parergon."

"I wasn't trying to. I wanted to tell you that what you went through was inspiring. Not because you are some gay icon, but because you were able to come out of it the way you are. Honor your scars and whatnot." Tommy groaned at this. When he felt his boyfriend tense he readjusted them so Evan was lying on his chest. Like expected the other moved so his ear was right where Tommy's heart was.

"You don't need to honor my scars. Not those ones." Tommy whispered, rubbing Evan's arm gently. "You are more than allowed to be upset about me hurting someone you loved."

"Josh said that I shouldn't judge because you had your sexual awaking in a time the world was more scary and less accepting. That I had it easier." Evan continued. "Which I know you had it harder. I-I think I was trying to show you I was sorry for having doubts."

Tommy nodded along, still rubbing the man's arm. He knew that Evan couldn't see the movement, but he hoped he knew that Tommy was listening.

"That explains the part about me being brave. Which I'm not, Evan. Not when it comes to that. I hurt so many people, and I shouldn't have your admiration for that." Tommy said quietly. The other man twisted so he was looking at him. For a moment Tommy wondered if he could see the broken pieces in front of him. Another part hoped that Evan couldn't.

"I know that. Do you think I didn't ask Hen and Chimney about you?" He snorted. "They told me that you were a dick until you pulled your head out of your ass. Hell, you even told me about how Gerrard was."

Which was true, though he had told him as a warning. One that Evan did not take at all from what he heard.

"Tommy, they forgave you. That's good enough for me." He whispered. They would have to talk about this again. That much Tommy was sure of. There was still more that needed to be addressed though.

"And us moving in together? I do own my house, Evan." Tommy pointed out, making the other groan.

"I didn't forget that, I didn't want to ask to move in with you though. That-that and I meant it to show I was all in. I am all in, and I'm ready for a forever kind of relationship. I-I love you, Tommy. Good and bad." He sounded so earnest that it almost made Tommy tear up. Oh his beautiful boy. How could he manage to mess this up so badly?

"I love you too." He whispered, bringing a smile to his Evan's face.

"Yeah?" He asked, sounding as though he was in awe of Tommy. Like he had no idea that there was no universe that Evan Buckley didn't own his heart.

"You've had my heart since our coffee date." Tommy admitted.

"Does-does that mean we aren't broken up anymore?" Evan asked, chewing on his bottom lips Tommy gently tapped it, making the boy release his lip from his teeth.

"Sweet boy, I regretted saying we were the moment I opened your door. If you still want me, then I want to keep trying. We still have to talk. There are still things that we need to work on." Tommy would take an oath if he had to. They would make this work.

"Good." He whispered in response. Tommy could tell that his boy was getting tired. His eyes were slowly closing from his spot on Tommy's chest.

"Sleep, baby boy. Daddy isn't going anywhere." Tommy encouraged. It didn't take long before he heard the small snores he has grown to love. They had a lot to work on, but they were getting there. Somehow, Tommy was sure they would work out in the end.

As promised: @chococara25 here's your awaited part 2. You got lucky I had a lot of free time at work today 😂

#part 2 #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #safe words #color system #communication

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multiheadcanons · 23 hours ago

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NOBODY LIKES SCOUT

soldier: jane doesn’t mind the little rascal. scout doesn’t look for issues, so soldier doesn’t give him problems. the kid is effective on the battlefield, and off the field, he’s got a good head on his shoulders! they occasionally eat meals together, and will share a joke or two in passing on the field. normally neither one of them are in the mood for jokes on the field. sometimes they’re too funny. it throws them off.

pyro: pyro likes scout! pyro doesn’t think scout likes them, but they don’t really mind that either. they will still go hang out with scout. they like how silly he gets, but it always seems like when he notices pyro is there he steels himself. tries to put on a cool guy persona. pyro hates that. pyro wants goofy scout more often.

demoman: demo has a wonderful time with scout! normally serving as the kid’s backup on the field, they spend more time than either of them would like to admit shooting shit and fucking off than they would like to admit. they still do their job, they just do it in… more fun ways. ways that give them a laugh. it’s a dark laugh, but they have to find humor where they can. hang out fairly often off the field!

heavy: heavy will never admit this to jeremy, but he actually does really like the kid. it’s… undeniably difficult to truly get one over on him. and that’s mainly what heavy seeks to do with scout. but scout isn’t afraid to double check information against the other mercs. then heavy has to explain (lie) what his intentions were. it’s not fun for anyone except heavy. he’s aware of this, and continues to do it. he just thinks it’s funny.

engineer: aw, dell adores scout. he’s a little annoying, and he’s got a bit of a shell to break through, but once you get through it he’s a real gem. he tends to be chatty, at least with engineer, and the texan allows him to be. and as scout talks, and talks, and talks, and decides he feels better, and then leaves, engineer just chuckles at the fact that he does so much for that kid and is barely aware of it. he’s rarely following scout’s conversations. he’s listening, he’s not absorbing.

medic: medic has become an impromptu encyclopedia for the bostonian to pick at, much to the german’s chagrin. the doctor is normally found in his infirmary, and he may as well replace the medbay doors with revolving ones, because he feels like he can’t get a break. but scout is the worst about not only asking a minimum of fifteen questions at once, but asking questions well outside of the doctor’s field of knowledge. and instead of taking the “i have no idea, scout”, scout urges him to look it up and get back to him with an answer. fritz has no idea why he complies.

sniper: snipes is borderline obsessed with scout. scout is just so unbelievably stupid sometimes, but still the smartest guy sniper has ever met. and he would stand on that. scout is the smartest guy he’s ever met. and no, he’s not book smart. he’s street smart. he’s got the common sense the others don’t have. that’s what makes him an effective teammate. of course that kid knows how to pick his battles, he probably learned to fight before he learned to walk.

spy: spy tries very hard to foster a semi-decent relationship with scout, to no avail. it almost frustrates him. it’s just disappointing, more than anything. scout is incredibly nasty towards spy, and spy is never looking for a problem with the kid. there are times scout comes specifically to antagonize him. it takes quite a bit of spy’s patience to walk away from him. he is aware as to why scout doesn’t like him. he doesn’t blame scout. they just don’t interact often, and spy likes it that way. sometimes, they’ll inadvertently catch each other on the field in trouble, and lend a helping hand. they do not acknowledge each other for this.

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 pyro #tf2 soldier #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 demoman #tf2 demo #i was so excited to finish the red team so i can move to the blu team…#get it… everyone loves/nobody likes…. so funny…

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snnowwpheenix · 2 days ago

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Tokyo Revengers men — because no matter what, you’re hot, and now they have to choose between 🔥 "tight & sexy red" and 🖤 "devilish & flowy black"?!

🐂 Mikey (Manjiro Sano)

Blown away. Just sits there with wide eyes and mouth slightly open.

��...I’m supposed to choose?” He looks between the dresses like he’s being tortured. “The red one’s… wow. But the black one… you look like you’d destroy me and I’d say thank you.” Eventually pulls you close, whispering: “Wear whichever one gets us home faster.”

💪 Draken (Ken Ryuguji)

Does a double take. Scratches the back of his neck, flustered.

“The red one’s... sexy as hell. But the black one? That’s some evil goddess energy.” He stares for a long moment and says: “The black. Definitely. You look powerful in it.” (Also secretly imagines fighting off anyone who dares look at you.)

🧡 Takemichi Hanagaki

Malfunctions on sight.

“Y-Y-You look g-gorgeous in both!! I can’t—how do you expect me to—?!” You twirl in front of him, and he nearly faints. Eventually: “The red’s bold… b-but the black? You look like a fantasy. That one.”

🐯 Baji Keisuke

Jaw drops. He leans back, hands behind his head like he's trying to play it cool — but his eyes are glued.

“Red’s got that damn factor.” Then you switch into the black one. He stands up and just mutters: “Shit. Wear the black. That’s... dangerous.” Immediately wants to keep you close all night. No one else is allowed to breathe near you.

🐥 Chifuyu Matsuno

Blushes instantly. Holds his face like he has a nosebleed coming.

“Red… is really… wow… you look like you could break hearts.” Then the black dress? “You look like the villain everyone wants to lose to.” Eventually squeaks: “I vote black. Because I need to survive the night.”

🦋 Kazutora Hanemiya

He’s the type to get quiet for a second. Then:

“You’re gonna kill me, huh?” Grins slowly. “Red’s sexy. But that black one? You look like you came from hell to own it. That’s my pick.” Will 100% match your chaos energy that night.

🧵 Mitsuya Takashi

Eyes sparkle the second he sees you.

“You’d turn heads in either.” He analyzes the lines, the fit, the flow. “The red hugs your body, but the black? It moves like magic around you.” Picks the black for elegance. Might even adjust it slightly to make it extra perfect.

😁 Smiley (Nahoya Kawata)

Whistles loud and obnoxious.

“Damn, babe! You're gonna give someone a heart attack!” The red makes him go, “RAWR 🔥,” but the black? He leans in and says: “You look like a sexy demon who’s gonna ruin someone’s life. I like that one.” Grins the whole night like a proud devil.

😐 Angry (Souya Kawata)

Turns bright red and can’t make eye contact at first.

“You look... really good...” The red makes him shy. The black? He stares for a second and says quietly: “That one. You look beautiful. Like a queen.” You make his heart beat out of rhythm either way.

👑 Izana Kurokawa

Stares, smirking the whole time.

“Red is bold. Daring. Very... dangerous.” Then you put on the black, and his expression sharpens. “That one. It’s regal. Like you're untouchable.” He likes the power it radiates — and how people will know you're his.

🦂 Kakucho

Goes speechless.

“You… look amazing.” Takes his time looking between the two. Analyzes it like it’s life or death. “Red is hot, but the black one?” He swallows. “You look like temptation itself. Wear that one.” Protects your waist all night so no one else gets ideas.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #manjiro sano #tokyo revengers fanart #hanagaki takemichi #izana kurokawa #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo revengers spoilers #shinichiro sano #tokyo revengers oc

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bi-scared · 2 days ago

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Reaction to your confession ~ Bay Donnie Headcanons

Here are my headcanons for Bay Donnie if you confess your feelings for him.

SFW ~ F!Reader

(Note: I'm french. My english is limited and I use Deepl.)

He bugs. And after a silence, Donnie will ask you to repeat. He wants to make sure he's got it right.

Once he's understood what you've just said, he simply can't look at you anymore. Every time he tries, his eyes automatically turn away, regardless of his will. His feet suddenly become the most fascinating thing to look at.

He'll run away. He needs to think because this is a new unknown in the equation that is your relationship and thinking is what Donnie does to keep from losing control or screwing it up. He knows his impulsive reactions aren't the best and he doesn't want to mess things up. Because, whether your feelings are mutual or not, he doesn't want to hurt you.

If your feelings are reciprocal, he's going to need a third confirmation of how you feel. And a fourth. And maybe even a fifth.

First to be really sure that's what it is. He's going to ask you lots of scientifically embarrassing questions to analyze how you really feel, your hormone levels, your last sex, your last relationship, your sexuality in general and your attractions. Because “It's not normal to be attracted to a turtle, even a humanoid one” and it could just be “a desire for new experiences”, “unmet needs”, “ a too pronounced lack of loving companionship”, and “It'll probably pass after a while.”

Then, when Donnie finally comes to terms with the fact that yes, you do feel love for him, he just wants you to say it because he likes to hear you say it. It reassures him, he likes to know that you've chosen him. Of all the people on this planet, he's the one you love.

He asks by message first because it's less awkward and maybe you'll feel more comfortable rebuffing him by text.

Then Donnie will take you in his arms, hiding his face and his goofy smile before purring "Say it again... Please...“, ”Again...“, ”Again...". We'll have to stop him before he gets too annoying.

But the best moments are when you tell him without him expecting it, looking him straight in the eye with a smile that conveys the deep love you feel for him. Donnie melts in those moments, his cheeks literally change color and he freezes. It takes a while to get him out of this state, so this might be a good opportunity to make things worse with some physical closeness if you want to see him stutter as well ;)

If your feelings for Donnie aren't mutual... Well, I can assure you that things will never be the same again. Because he'll feel guilty, he'll avoid you, not just physically, he won't dare talk to you or even mention you to others. You've become a taboo subject that he's no longer allowed to think about. It's his self-punishment.

If you decide to confront him, Donnie will lock himself into this thought. He doesn't even deserve you as a friend anymore. Donnie is stubborn when it comes to his mistakes (and he considers not loving you back and hurting you as a huge mistake).

Reassuring him afterwards is going to be complicated. Eventually, he'll be able to forgive himself and make things less weird. But never again like before.

On the other hand, Donnie feels so guilty that it's easy to manipulate him, if that's what you want. By asking him what he'd like in a girlfriend and giving it to him, or by forcing him into a relationship with you under the pretext that he's hurting you. He's aware that this would be anything but a healthy relationship, but he'd be willing to accept it for a while. On the other hand, if this is the path you choose, expect him never to love you back.

If, on the other hand, you're benevolent and reassuring, and you continue to treat him as you did before, as a friend, he might reflect on what you mean to him and decide that maybe it's worth trying something.

#tmnt bayverse donnie #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #bayverse donatello #bayverse donnie #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse donatello x reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 3 days ago

Note

ooooooh im looking through older posts and stumbling upon the toons x single parent reader.... those were tasty :]

might i request sprout, looey and brightney headcanons for a single parent reader?

Sprout, Looey, and Brightney x single parent!reader

Off topic but I remember this old fnaf 1+2 fic I read on quotev where like all the animatronics became like. Small lil guys and the reader took them home and it was like. Really cute, single parent of a bunch of kids type stuff. Sad that I can't find the fic anymore

Notes: gn human reader, short and sweet, pre game, no given identity for your kid but they're present, you're a visitor, toons have a crush on you but they feel like it's not allowed, written on computer

CWs: none

SPROUT

baked goods are a given when it comes to him and trying to make people feel welcome in gardenview... though hopefully you wont mind trying out one of his new recipes if he hasnt had the chance to try it out himself- they wont be toooo bad.. even his bad batches are still good

hands on activities! something to keep the hands of your little one busy while you take a moment to relax- hes more than willing to take your kid for a little while to give you a bit of a break

...but youre more than welcome to come and join him and the others! sure gardenview is mostly catered towards kids... but hes going to make sure you know adults can have fun too!

BRIGHTNEY

always always keeps your childs favorite stories on hand so they have something to read through with the other kids- and shes more than willing to offer some reading recommendations for you and the child!

...it gives you and her something to talk about too while everythings calmed down- brightney isnt usually left in charge of the higher energy or rowdier kids so its a good moment to just. wind down from the energy of gardenview

always always remembers anything you tell her- could be the smallest little detail and she'd fish it out the moment youre trying to remember it

LOOEY

see he already feels a need to entertain all the visitors of gardenview with his jokes. but the pressure is really on when it comes to you and your child- mostly you, though... he just wants to impress you, really anything just to make him feel like he did something positive

i like to think hes not the best with kids... not that hes mean or short with them, he just doesnt know exactly what they like all the time and sometimes that can leave him faltering... totally doesnt use this as a means to get to spend some extra time with you- definitely not using the excuse of finding out how to best care for your kid nope totally not

god hes so bad at hiding his little crush on you, too. his ears and tail give it away, and if thats not enough he tends to stumble a bit on his words. hes hopeless

#canon x reader #x reader #canon x you #sprout x reader #brightney x reader #looey x reader #dw x reader #dandy's world x reader #dandy's x reader #dandys world x reader #dandys x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 3 days ago

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Fire on the Mountain - Chapter Six: Every Man Gets His Wish

Pairing: Otto Hightower (House of the Dragon) x OFC (Lia Costayne) Warnings: Angst, arranged marriage, canon typical sexism, allusions to smut. Word count: ~7k

Chapter summary: Otto and Lia reach an agreement, Alicent mourns and Rhaenyra has news of her own to share.

Author's note: Header by @foxinthegodswood who also beta read this for me - this story would be nothing without you. Thank you for the care and attention you have put in both myself and my writing. I love you.

Otto stiffened the moment that Lia’s lips touched his, his shoulders pulling up towards his ears as his spine went rigid at the suddenness of her touch and proximity. However, as the familiar scent of honeysuckle and vanilla surrounded him, playing upon his senses alongside the plushness of her mouth upon his own, he found that his initial shock dissipated and natural instinct took over. His mind cleared of any tangible thought as he kissed her softly, his large hand splayed upon the small of her back to press her closer to him. She released the grasping hold she had upon his doublet, winding her arms around his neck, and he threaded the fingers of his free hand into the soft curls at the back of her head. It was not awkward or clumsy, Lia kissed with the confidence of someone who had engaged in such a practice many times before. The realisation ignited a hot flicker of jealousy deep within his chest, causing him to clutch her to him with more desperation, to kiss her more fiercely, as if the act itself could erase all existence of those previous encounters.

Lia moaned softly and as though the noise had broken whatever spell had fallen upon them both, she pulled abruptly away. Briefly, Otto thought to step forward and draw her back to him, his mind still hazy from the feel of her warmth and softness, but as he looked upon her, her blue eyes wide with shock, cheeks flushed, and swollen lips parted as she breathed heavily, the gravity of what had just transpired doused itself upon him like a bucket of icy cold water. He realised, too late, as she turned on her heel and fled that he had not said anything. He was a man who had served for decades as Hand of the King, the reigning monarch’s most trusted advisor, always prepared with strategic advice and cautionary words of wisdom. Yet now he was speechless, allowing silence to spread between them like an uncrossable ocean, until she had felt so embarrassed that the only reasonable course of action was to turn and leave. Perhaps it was for the best. He had been with no one else since his late wife, Alyrie. What business did he have kissing a girl who was less than half his age?

‘You are a fool,’ he thought to himself as he returned to his desk, sitting down heavily in the chair. Whether the thought applied to the kiss itself or for not going after Lia, Otto was unsure, but as he drew the half read missives back towards himself, he was determined not to linger upon such thoughts any longer.

Lia ducked into the nearest alcove the moment she felt she was a safe enough distance away from Otto’s study. Her chest heaved with exertion as she rested her back against the cool stone of the wall and lifted her trembling fingers to ghost lightly against her lips. She could still feel the press of Otto’s kiss, the soft tickle of his beard against her face. She did not know what had come over her, but what frightened her most was how good it had felt, how natural; the splay of his hand against her back, his fingers tangled in her hair, the heady scent of sandalwood. All at once, the intense hollow ache she had felt in her chest since leaving King’s Landing had been filled with something warm, a sensation that buzzed insistently, making her pulse race and her heart beat faster. She knew she had missed Otto—he was like family to her��but she had never stopped to consider that her feelings towards him might be anything else. She had nothing else to compare it to though; when Alyn kissed her, it was nice, but also a necessary preamble for what would ultimately come next. This had been different, like feeling the sun on her skin again after a long cold snap, or the first sip of spiced wine when she was feeling particularly thirsty. She did not know what it meant, and fear and uncertainty lay on the other side of its exploration.So she had done the only thing she could think to do; she had run.

She had done it for Gwayne, she told herself, to protect his secret. Perhaps he would be able to shed some much needed clarity on the situation, so when she felt she was suitably composed, Lia pushed away from the wall and headed in the direction of the one place she knew that her betrothed would be at this time of day.

The armory stank. The coppery, earthen smell always caused Lia’s nose to wrinkle in disgust, she did not know how Gwayne and Leyton could stand it in here, so she avoided it where possible. Today was a day when that was sadly not an option for her.

“Are you alone?” she demanded, breezing through the doorway and advancing towards where Gwayne stood against a row of armor laden shelves, inspecting the prod of a crossbow.

“Why? Do you mean to ravish me amongst the breast plates?” he asked, lifting his gaze to hers with a smirk.

Lia huffed, scowling as she stared up at him. “You are not funny. Answer the question.”

He cocked his head, studying her intently, before placing the crossbow down on a workbench and folding his arms across his chest. “Now that is where you are wrong; my wit is simply unmatched, but I am alone. Leyton is in the stables, readying our horses. We are going hunting.”

Lia took in Gwayne’s appearance, noticing for the first time the supple brown leather armour that covered him, a bronze Hightower sigil at the centre of his breastplate. The urgency with which she had wanted to speak to him vanished like morning mist. She was suddenly unsure of how she would even begin to broach the topic. She had kissed his father and had been prepared to burst in here and blurt it out as though it were nothing. She swallowed thickly, her skin prickling hotly with humiliation as she backed away slightly.

“Perhaps another time then…if you are busy…”

Gwayne moved quicker than she did, his hand falling upon her upper arm and holding her in place, before she could move fully away from him. “I have time,” he insisted. “Out with it.”

Lia lifted her gaze reluctantly to his—those pale blue eyes, filled with intensity—and she was ten years old again, having to explain to a furious Alyrie that her and Rhaenyra simply had to cut a chunk from the front of Alicent’s hair if they hoped to style it in the fashion of how the ladies from Pentos wore theirs. She opened her mouth, stumbling over the syllable, “I–I…”

The grip that Gwayne had upon her arm tightened a fraction as his brow furrowed in concern. “You have spoken to my father.”

“Not exactly,” she said softly, looking down at the floor, unable to bear his scrutiny a moment longer. The very idea of her mouth shaping the words of what had actually transpired seemed absurd to her.

Gwayne released her, stepping back in exasperation. His voice echoed off of the armory walls as he shouted. “Oh, for goodness sake, Lia, just say it!”

“I kissed him,” she murmured, her cheeks blazing and eyes watery with embarrassed tears when she finally looked up.

She watched as all of the colour drained from Gwayne’s face, his posture softening slightly. He blinked a few times, looking slowly away from her towards the furthest wall of the room, and she wondered if he might be sick. He certainly looked like he was going to be.

“I knew it,” he whispered after a moment’s silence. “I didn’t want to believe it, but I should have.”

“What are you talking about?” Lia breathed, a tear rolling down her cheek in spite of the relief she felt at having confessed. “I did it for you, to protect your secret.”

“No,” he uttered, fixing her with a steely stare, “this was not for my benefit. You refused to marry me long before you ever discovered Leyton and I together. I never understood why, but as you and I became friends it began to make sense. You don’t want me, you want my father.”

Lia reeled back as though struck. It was not something she had ever allowed herself to think about, the feelings were there but she had always disregarded them, waved them away as something less than what they were. Gwayne speaking it aloud made it real. She did not want it to be.

“What should I do?” she asked, feeling more helpless than she ever had in her life.

Gwayne shrugged. “I cannot say I am thrilled by the idea of you with my father. Actually I find it quite repulsive. However, it is clear to me that he is fond of you too, so if that is what makes you happy then so be it.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. She felt lighter somehow, as though a vast weight had been lifted from her body, however, without it to ground her she was now in freefall, unsure of what would come next or what would be there to break her fall. “Do you hate me?” Lia asked, ashamed at how feeble she sounded.

He sighed, his eyes softening as he reached out to tuck a stray curl away from her face. “You imbecile.”

A soft sea breeze skimmed across Gwayne’s bare chest, making him shiver slightly and pull Leyton tighter against him for warmth. It was a bright and sunny day, but the wind had cooled the temperature, carrying with it their scent and alerting all potential prey to their presence, scaring them away. They had caught a single rabbit so far—a pitiful bounty for an entire afternoon, but they had not done much hunting anyway.

They had pulled their breeches back on, though not bothered to lace them up, and lay entwined upon a blanket spread across the sandy grass, the blades tickling at the soles of Gwayne’s feet. Leyton had rested his head upon his chest while Gwayne kept one arm around him and the other folded behind his head. It was just them and the gulls that circled overhead. He had not felt this peaceful in weeks.

“Do you think we ought to get moving again soon?” Leyton asked. “If we return with only a rabbit, surely it will raise suspicion.”

Gwayne ran the hand of the arm he had wrapped around his squire’s shoulders over his golden tresses. “I shall just say you are a lousy shot.”

Leyton huffed, swatting at Gwayne’s chest. “We have to be careful, remember? We seldom get to do this anymore as it is.”

“Well, that may well change for the better soon enough,” he told him.

“What do you mean?” Leyton asked, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at his lover.

Gwayne grasped the small, circular golden pendant that sat against Leyton’s chest, toying it idly between his fingers. “I mean, my father has found someone else to occupy his time, so his attention will not be on me…us.”

“Oh?” Leyton raised an eyebrow, “go on…”

“It appears that Lia has taken a shine to him,” he explained. “They have kissed, apparently.”

Leyton’s mouth fell open in shock, his gaze casting off to the side momentarily. When it returned to Gwayne, an amused grin spread across his face. “Otto Hightower…” he mused quietly, “I wonder what that’s like.”

Gwayne’s face twisted in disgust, his tone clipped and irritable as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Do you mind? That is my father.”

Laughing, Leyton draped an arm around his shoulders pulling him close. For a brief moment, Gwayne believed he meant to apologise, until he heard the playful lilt in his voice. “So he is. Do you think Lia will ask you to call her mother?”

Scowling, Gwayne dusted his hands upon the knees of his breeches. “Perhaps we ought to continue our hunt after all.”

“Oh, do not be so precious,” Leyton teased, “if there is no one looking for us, then I see no need to hurry back.”

Gwayne allowed Leyton’s slender fingers to grasp his chin, coaxing his face to his as he captured his lips in a slow kiss. The gulls overhead continued to circle as the two men fell back once more against the grassy bank, his annoyance gusting away as easily as the cold sea breeze.

Rhaenyra lay propped against the ornate wooden headboard of her bed. Harwin’s larger frame blanketed her own, his head resting against her chest as she toyed idly with his curls. She wound them around her fingers, pulling them taut before watching in rapt fascination as they sprung back against his head. She envied his curls. Her own hair, no matter how she tried to pin it, had always remained straight, a thick blanket of silver around her shoulders. Harwin’s hair was one of many things she had grown to appreciate since he had first accepted her invitation to join her in her chambers for the evening.

Since that first night together, whenever he had an evening free from the City Watch, he would spend it with the princess, and she had grown to cherish those stolen moments together. She felt as though she simply existed in the space that filled the stretches between the nights they would spend wrapped up in each other; it was in his arms that she came alive. Rhaenyra was sure that if such a thing as love existed then she was a mere knife’s edge away from falling hopelessly into it with him. When he kissed her, his body moving atop hers, making her gasp and writhe with pleasure, nothing else seemed to matter. Criston ceased to exist, the hollow marriage between her and Laenor no longer felt quite so unfulfilling. However, the one feeling that could not be chased away, no matter how hard she tried, was the overwhelming loneliness at the absence of her friends. Alicent no longer spoke to her, unless in an official capacity, focusing solely on her children and her duties as queen. On the few occasions that Rhaenyra had visited, attempting to bridge the gap between them, Alicent had been aloof with her, her answers cold and curt. She had stooped down once, sitting cross legged in front of Aegon, and the chubby, rosy cheeked little boy had stared up at her in wide eyed wonder as she had plucked a toy dragon from his grasp and attempted to teach him the name of it. Alicent had been quick to scoop him up, informing Rhaenyra that the boy was overtired and should be returned to the nursery. She had not attempted to interact with either one of the children since, nor Alicent.

Her thoughts drifted to Lia, how they had giggled together when Lia had divulged details of her trysts with Alyn. She missed that. If there was anyone she could have confided in regarding her relationship with Harwin then it would be her. They had not spoken since Lia had angrily told her to leave Oldtown, and now that Otto had returned there, there was no hope for her to mend their friendship. She wanted more than anything to tell her that she was sorry to have upset her, and to hear the sound of her laughter again.

“You are quiet this evening,” Harwin murmured, nuzzling his face against her breast.

“Just thinking,” she replied quietly, continuing to play gently with his hair.

“Care to share?” he asked, lifting his gaze to hers.

Rhaenyra pursed her lips. It had only been a few months since Harwin had begun warming her bed, and she was unsure how much would be proper to share with him. She was a princess after all, the heir to the throne, would he not think her foolish for divulging such childish fancies? He gave her an encouraging squeeze around her middle and she relented with a sigh.

“I am lonely.”

He reached up to cup her cheek. “Even with me here?”

“It is not when you are here that is the problem,” she explained, leaning into his touch and placing her hand over the top of his. “I miss Lia. She is angry with me, and all the way in Oldtown, so I can do nothing about it.”

“Write to her then,” Harwin said simply with an easy shrug.

Rhaenyra scoffed, rolling her eyes as she pulled free of his embrace. She hugged a pillow to her chest. “And say what?”

Harwin sat up, gathering the bed sheets around his middle. “What you have just told me. You are lonely, you miss her, and the handsome commander of the city watch being in your bed does nothing for those ailments.”

He smirked playfully and Rhaenyra could not hold back the peal of laughter that escaped her. Perhaps he had a point though. She would write to Lia.

Lia stood with her hand raised, posed to knock on the door of Otto’s study, but not quite able to gather the courage to do so. She was beginning to lose track of precisely how many minutes she had been standing there for. Three days had passed since they had kissed and they had not spoken. It was beginning to feel like he was avoiding her, not that she minded; the conversation that needed to be had was not one she was looking forward to. If kissing him was all it took for him not to pester and pry then perhaps she ought to have done it weeks ago.

She startled, her hand dropping back to her side as the door swung open, and Otto froze in its entryway, eyeing her cautiously. The simple lilac satin gown she wore, though light and airy when she had pulled it on, now felt too heavy and tight upon her skin beneath the weight of his stare. Wetting her lips, she tried to speak, but he beat her to it with a single questioning utterance of her name.

“May I come in? Or were you just on your way somewhere?” she enquired softly.

Why did this feel so uncomfortable? It made her want to claw her own skin off, to not know how to compose herself around a man she had known for most of her life.

“Yes, yes, I was,” he uttered, clearing his throat, tracing a finger over the golden thread that lined the crushed black velvet of his doublet. “But I suppose it can wait. Come in.”

He stepped aside to allow her to enter, and she murmured a quiet thanks. She came to stand in the middle of the room, the light from the circular window set high in the wall bathing her in a narrow spotlight of illumination. Otto closed the door behind them, turning to stand in front of it. Her exit was blocked and the realisation made her palms begin to sweat as she anxiously fidgeted with the rings upon her fingers.

“Look,” Otto began, his tone diplomatic, “I understand you may be feeling upset about–”

“I have not married Gwayne because I do not want to,” she interrupted.

Otto frowned, looking at her quizzically, his hand running reflexively over the spot where his hand pin used to sit upon his chest. “What?”

“I do not wish to marry Gwayne, because I think…I know…that what I want…who I want…is you,” she confessed, wishing the window in the room were low and large enough for her to simply fling herself from, to save herself from having to flay herself open in this manner.

Otto’s lips parted, then closed again, and he took a cautious step towards her, carefully considering his next words. “You want…to marry me…?”

“Not marry…gods…I do not know!” Lia threw up her hands exasperatedly. “I just know how awful I felt when we were apart, and then how good I felt when I kissed you, and I know it is not something I can simply ignore. Not any longer.”

He came to stand before her, taking her face gently in his hands and tilting it up so she was looking at him. Lia felt she would melt beneath the intensity she saw in the depths of his hazel eyes and, without thinking, she reached up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. There was no hesitancy this time; a desperate sense of urgency possessed them both as they kissed as though they meant to devour one another. When Lia felt her back collide with the hard, stone wall, her hands moved to the lacings of Otto’s breeches, hurriedly attempting to prise them open.

It was then that he pulled away, grasping both her wrists and halting her actions. “No,” he insisted breathlessly, “if we are to do this, then we do it properly, with you as my wife.”

Lia’s breath hitched as she stared up at him in wonder. “You want me to marry you?”

“Yes,” he said simply, caressing her jawline with calloused fingertips.

The answer left her lips before she had had time to think about it. “Then yes, yes, I will.”

There was still much left to consider, to discuss, but for now this felt as though it was enough. Her heart was full.

Alicent knelt before the dais in the sept, the orange glow of the melting wax warm against her face as she leaned across to light her wick and set a new candle aflame. She thought of her mother, and prayed for her and her memory; she prayed that she would not forget her. Her father certainly seemed to have done so.

She had wept when she had received the letter from Otto, informing her of his intent to marry Lia. There was a part of her that resented the fact that Lia had not bothered to write to her herself, even though she knew deep down that her father would not have allowed it. Alicent knew she had no right to be angry for she had married Viserys knowing that Rhaenyra did not wish for her to do so.However, Alicent had had little choice in the matter. Lia did have a choice.She was supposed to marry Gwayne and Alicent could not fathom why she had set her sights upon her father instead. She mourned for the idea that her father was moving on from Alyrie and leaving her memory behind, replacing her. But most of all, she grieved for how left out she was;she felt she was no longer part of her own family. She knew she should not feel this way, yet she could not help it. In theory, she had her own family now,Viserys and their two children.However, the reality of it was far more isolating. As the king’s health deteriorated, he showed little to no interest in Aegon or Helaena, and shut down Alicent whenever she attempted to point out to him the inappropriate nature of Rhaenyra’s behaviour. She knew that the princess had been taking Ser Strong to her bed, and yet Viserys would hear none of it. It seemed woefully unfair to her that she should be expected to bear his children, yet bear none of the privilege that came with being queen. This was not family, it was a servitude. Her time with Hobert, Lynesse, and Ormund at Rhaenyra’s wedding had been so brief. Now, they were back in Oldtown with Gwayne and Otto, and Lia was becoming part of that too. She would not be there to see any of it, especially not now.

Aegon and Helaena were both old enough that they could endure the journey from King’s Landing to Oldtown with minimal fuss, however, the new life that was growing within her would certainly not. She had been sitting down to write the news of her third pregnancy to Lia when she had received the missive from her father, informing her of their betrothal. All desire to continue her letter had died upon reading the words.It no longer felt like joyous news, moreso a weight in her belly that widened the chasm between her and her family.

She sniffled, a solitary tear rolling slowly down her cheek as guilt ate away at her. She cradled her belly, the cool stone floor of the sept scraping against her knees through her skirts as she shifted positions and lit another candle—this one a silent apology for the bitter resentment she felt towards the life blooming within her.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, “it is not your fault, but mine.”

Lia,

I hope that this is a letter which you will welcome the arrival of. I feel that too much time has been allowed to pass without us speaking, and this is a silence that is intolerable to me. You are my friend, and you will never stop being my friend even if I am no longer yours.

Forgive me. There is so much I need to tell you, and so much that I long to hear from you.

Rhaenyra.

Lia read the missive once, twice, three times, her smile widening upon each pass her eyes made across the parchment. She knew how much the princess loathed the art of letter writing, and what an effort it would have been for her to muster the energy to pick up a quill and pen this. It spread a warmth throughout her chest that chased away any residual anger that may have been lurking. The letter could not have come at a more perfect time. The dreamy bubble she had found herself in upon accepting Otto’s marriage proposal had abruptly burst when he had informed her that he had written to not just Alicent to inform her of the impending wedding, but to Lia’s family too. When she had thought of marrying Otto she had not stopped to consider the practicalities of who else would need to be involved. She did not want to think about how upset Alicent would be upon receiving the news, and for the time being she would not have to, not when her father had replied so hastily to inform her betrothed that the Costayne family were on their way to Oldtown, and would soon be guests of the Hightower. She felt as though her happy news was being tarnished before she had had the chance to properly begin to enjoy it. Snatching up her quill, she scribbled a reply to Rhaenyra—the one aspect of her life for which Otto could exert no control, at least not for the moment.

Rhaenyra,

I am pleased to hear from you. Your letter means more than you could possibly know. I cannot stay angry at you. These last few months of silence have been miserable for me too. Though I have now found happiness—I am to marry Otto. I know that to extend an invitation to the wedding would be out of the question, but I hope you can be pleased for me.

Please write again soon. I wish to know all about what is happening in King’s Landing.

Your friend, always,

Lia.

Owen and Dyana Costayne arrived at the Hightower unaccompanied by Lia’s older brothers, Robert and Leon.Both were now married;Leon’s wife was expecting their first child, while Robert’s already had a son, and had another baby on the way, meaning neither one could make the journey. Lia was saddened by this. She would have liked to have seen them both, to see how fatherhood had shaped them from boys into men, and to explore if they both still possessed the inclination for revelry, even under the burden of responsibility—there were plenty of taverns that she and Gwayne could have shown them. In addition to this, their presence would have softened the impact of having both their mother and father descend upon her; she could not bear the thought of all of the attention being on her, at least not in this capacity.

Owen had grown balder since she had seen him last.He stood proud regardless, the passage of time having done little to wear him down or dull the serious expression that his face upheld like a shield. It was her mother’s appearance that shocked her the most. Dyana had always been a great beauty, all sparkling blue eyes and raven locks, but only the ghost of that seemed to remain in the tired lines of her face. The dark hair around her temples had turned entirely white. It pained her to see her mother’s light snuffing out before her very eyes, and in a way Lia resented it, wishing to send them back to the Whispering Sound so that she did not have to look upon it, or experience the guilt of all that she was missing as a result of her absence.

‘You sent me away, and now you dare to make me feel sorry for you?’ she thought bitterly.

Dinner was a tense affair. Lia picked at her food while dishes of almond crusted sturgeon and pigeon breast stewed with plums and honey were passed quietly around the long table.The silence did little to aid her appetite as she and Gwayne exchanged awkward glances. Her mother, Lynesse, and Ormund were all silent, their eyes fixed upon their plates. The only sounds that filled the dining hall were Ormund’s loud chewing and the stiff conversation exchanged between Otto, Hobert, and Owen. The topic of the marriage between Lia and Otto hung like an oppressive, invisible shroud—all were aware of it, but no one wanted to be the first to acknowledge it. Lia supposed there was no delicate way to discuss her having cast Gwayne aside in order to marry his father instead.

She was mercifully relieved when dinner drew to an end, that was until she moved to rise from her seat and her father placed a hand upon her arm. She froze, looking quizzically at him.

“A word,” he murmured, beckoning her to follow him outside.

Though her father had a head start, it did not take long for Lia to catch up to him. She had grown to be almost as tall as he was—not that that was difficult, considering he was a portly man. He had grown softer still around the middle as he had aged, and was almost breathless by the time they exited the Keep and made their way slowly around the gardens.

A cool evening breeze ruffled Lia’s curls and she cast her eyes upwards as she walked, watching the way the stars glittered upon the inky black sky. Perhaps if she stared for long enough she would fall into them and avoid whatever uncomfortable discussion it was that her father felt necessary to have privately with her.

“You can always come home, you know,” her father’s voice came from beside her as their feet crunched upon the loose stones of the garden path.

Lia furrowed her brow, turning her face towards him. That had been the last thing she had expected him to say. “Why would I do that?”

Owen sighed, pulling them to a stop. He reached for Lia’s hand, his palm clammy against hers as he grasped it in a desperate bid for affection. “The marriage between Alicent and the king…Lia, if you feel forced…you do not have to. I know that the word of Otto Hightower can often feel as though it is law.”

“This is my choice,” she insisted, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “I thought you would be pleased. Otto is a good man, you know this.”

For a moment, the serious expression upon Owen’s face faltered, his gaze softening, imploring Lia to understand. “He is a good man, yes,” he began, “but he is also ambitious. You must know what he intends for the children that Alicent shares with the king.”

Lia’s eyes widened, a pit of dread rapidly expanding in her gut as she looked around uncomfortably, attempting to pry her hand away from her father’s. “Father, you do not know what you say. That is a slanderous accusation.”

“I know that I bent the knee and swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra as heir to the throne,” he told her, his expression turning serious once more as he finally let go of her. “Whatever Otto is planning will start a war. I do not mean for my family to be caught in the middle of that. I want you to be safe.”

“All the more reason for me to marry Otto then,” Lia replied haughtily, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I will let him do no such thing.”

She turned and stormed away, wanting an end to the conversation, but also an escape from the seed of doubt that had been planted. Rhaenyra had thought the same thing. Could that really be what Otto intended?

The next morning, Gwayne and Ormund put on a display for their visitors in the training yard. Lia purposefully sat away from her parents, still feeling sour in the aftermath of the conversation with her father. She glanced across the rows of benches towards them.Her father’s expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed upon the young Hightower men as they circled each other, looking at them but not really seeing them. She wondered if what they had discussed still played upon his mind too. Her mother was huddled beneath a heavy cloak and she looked as though she was cold, despite the sun that beamed down upon the exposed yard.

Lia felt foolish to believe that her happiness would remain untainted. She had allowed herself to believe that in the wake of her admitting her feelings to Otto that they could remain in a bubble of stolen kisses and whispered confessions.However, her husband to be was a practical man, and practicality rarely allowed space for the soft comfort of fantasy.

She sighed, drumming her fingers upon the wood of the bench next to her, her expression sullen. Not even Gwayne tripping Ormund into the dirt and then whacking his backside with the flat of his sword could entice a laugh from her. She turned to look as she noticed a movement in her periphery, the space beside her suddenly occupied, and saw Otto. He smiled softly at her, and reached between them to wrap his fingers around hers. He lifted her hand gently, brushing his lips lightly against her knuckles before letting go. Lia beamed, cradling her hand in her lap, still able to feel where his lips had touched so delicately against her skin. Perhaps not all of their happiness was spoiled after all.

“I am to marry Otto.”

Rhaenyra paused, allowing the candied lemon slice she had just plucked from the top of the cake upon the table to drop back onto the silver platter. She was reclining on a couch in the solar of her apartments when Lia’s missive had been brought to her, the gentle breeze from the gardens filtering through the open window, making the gauzy curtains billow outwards across the stone floor.

She blinked, reading the line again, her lips parted in shock.

“Are you mad?!” she cried aloud, and would have scrawled the question in writing to Lia if she had quill, ink and parchment to hand.

Otto was so much older than Lia was, and so serious, so utterly boring. What could she possibly have to gain from marrying him? Her thoughts drifted to Alicent, and she pressed a hand to her mouth stifling the laugh that attempted to force its way out. There was no way she did not know already. She would be furious.

Perhaps Lia marrying her father’s former hand was a blessing, she thought. If he was distracted by his pretty young bride then it would discourage him from pressing the issue of his daughter’s children attempting to usurp her, and she needed that distraction now more than ever. She stroked a hand gently over the slight swell of her lower abdomen. She knew it was not Laenor’s child that took root there;they had attempted to lay together twice since marrying and neither occasion had been a success. It was a secret that she would guard with all she had, and hoped that the child would favour her in terms of looks;Valyrian features were prominent, so it should be passable as her husband’s. It frightened her to think what might happen should its true parentage be discovered, but for Rhaenyra, the moment she discovered she was with child, moon tea was never even an option she had considered. Her and Harwin had created something pure and good, a product of the love they shared, so she did not see how it being conceived out of wedlock could be a bad thing at all. Targaryen blood would still run through the child’s veins, so it did not matter. She would not allow anyone,least of all Alicent,to dictate what it meant to her to be a mother, and she had felt like a mother from the moment that the maester had confirmed her pregnancy.

She smiled, knowing she would be able to write back to Lia with happy news of her own. The letter did not need to include who the child’s father was,their real father,for the safety of the babe she carried and the man she loved. It was a detail she would defend with her life, because everything she loved depended upon it.

Lia sat at her vanity table, clad in a white cotton nightgown as she readied herself for bed, dragging a boar bristle brush slowly through her long, dark hair. She turned at the sound of a soft knock at her door, expecting Marybel to step through and offer assistance with preparing her for sleep. Instead, it was her mother that entered, a quilted dressing gown wrapped around her body, her long hair a salt and pepper cascade around her shoulders.

“Mother?” she asked, prickling with her concern as she rose from her seat to greet her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, fine,” Dyana waved her away, moving past the seating area in Lia’s chambers, and perching instead upon the edge of the bed. “Just wanted to speak to you without your father present.”

“Oh gods, has he put you up to this?” Lia sighed, crossing her arms.

She shook her head. “He does not know I am here.”

Relaxing slightly, Lia unfolded her arms and came to sit beside her mother on the bed. “You are not going to try and coax me home?”

“Only if you are unhappy,” Dyana told her, her blue eyes sparkling in the low light of the candles that illuminated the room. “Are you happy?”

“I am,” she replied simply, and meant it.

“Then that is good enough for me. Otto may not be who I would have chosen for you, but what is important is that you chose him.”

“What do you mean?”

Dyana exhaled heavily, her gaze turning wistful as she looked towards the window and out into the night. “I did not choose your father,” she admitted, turning back to her daughter, “and as a result I have endured much and more that I would not have chosen either.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lia asked, her voice a trembling whisper.

Dyana reached forward, taking a gentle hold of Lia’s forearms. “You are my only daughter. It was your father’s decision to send you to ward with the Hightowers, not mine. I wanted to teach you needlepoint, how to dance, how to braid your hair. I love your brothers, but not getting to watch you grow into the beautiful woman you have become broke my heart.”

Lia felt something in her chest twist and spread a throbbing ache throughout it. Her eyes pricked with wetness as she swallowed around the expanding lump in her throat. She had always assumed that her mother had wanted her gone from the Whispering Sound as much as her father did. She had spent her entire life resenting her for it, and needlessly so. How could she ever begin to atone for all of the ugly thoughts she had ever allowed to pass through her mind with regard to the woman who had birthed her?

It was not until Dyana reached up and brushed the soft pad of her thumb against Lia’s cheek, smearing a path of wetness in its wake, that she realised she had begun to cry. “I am so sorry, my darling girl,” her mother soothed.

Lia sniffled, looking away as she swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Why did you not tell me any of this sooner? I have always felt as though you did not want me.”

“There has yet to be a day that has passed where I have not thought of you,” Dyana confessed, her own eyes beginning to grow misty. “If I had known that the last time I lifted you into my arms would be the last time I ever held you, I would never have let go.”

“Then why?” Lia’s question came out as a broken whine as tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

“Your father,” her mother said, “he did not want to do anything that would entice you back. He said it was better for you, your future, that you stay in King’s Landing.”

“And now he wants to bring me home,” she scoffed, gratefully accepting the handkerchief that the older woman produced from her pocket with a flourish.

“He will not make you, I will not let him.”

“Really?” Lia asked, running her thumbs over the lace edging of the handkerchief.

“Really. As long as you are happy,” her mother said with a sad smile.

Lia leaned over, wrapping her arms around Dyana’s shoulders and pulled her closed. The scent of almond oil filled her nostrils, this time it was not cloying or overpowering, it smelled delicate and sweet. Lia hugged her tighter as she felt her mother’s arms move around her, pressing her face into her hair. “I forgive you,” she whispered.

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