#i always hoped they'd have units but

[misamo]

i have ascended

[sastielsfandom]

Five years ago I didn't think I'd just be shitposting majority of the time, occasionally dropping original works, but mostly just having fun writing fics for fun while also having a crushing weight of sorrow from my family falling apart and being spread out. Having to ask for help, pushing down the guilt and shame I feel everytime that only washes away for a second as it goes to my family and doubles when I have to rinse and repeat. Five years ago I barely had the confidence to post silly stuff and no one knew anything about me really and now whenever I post I see the same three tags that I can't touch anymore because it weighs to heavy for me. And so many people are aware of my name something I swore I'd never share, I went by a different name so it wouldn't happen and it's useless now. Five years ago my family was strong and thriving, now we're barely surviving and I don't know what it looks like anymore. In some ways I'm proud of what I've become and in so many other ways, it doesn't feel like me, and I'm tired of constantly living in survival mode. Life's a beautiful disappointment.

[jpitha]

The Oxygen Breathers

I thought I posted this one here, but it looks like I didn’t, so here you go!

It was always an event when the Humans visited.

They'd arrive in their sleek, smooth, thick ships; completely at odds with the other ships of the Coalition. Human ships always looked like they were grown rather than built. People would whisper how the Humans made their ships as tough as they were. How human ships could go atmospheric and land on the ground.

It was nonsense of course, no ship - human or otherwise - could do that. Kre'kk figured that the Humans probably spread that rumor themselves.

After they'd arrive, they would come out of the docking umbilical in their small, highly polished suits. They were a rare class of sapient indeed.

The Oxygen Breathers.

Most 'civilized' people in the Coalition came from worlds with manganese sulfur atmospheres. The humans with their oxidizer for a breathing gas were seen as brash, reckless folks who make decisions without proper consideration. Given the reactive nature of their atmosphere, it's practically a given that they too are more reactive in their choices.

Kre'kk stands at attention at the end of the umbilical ready to welcome the humans for their - hopefully - short visit. They come from a high gravity world with a single massive moon - fully a quarter of the size of their own planet itself - so their environmental defaults are... somewhat extreme compared to the rest of the Coalition. The never fail to mention the moon.

As they approached, they reach one half unit away from Kre'kk and stop. He looked down at them - they were about half his height - and he made the Universal Gesture of welcome. The humans reciprocate and Kre'kk’s head frill rustles.

"Welcome to Coalition Orbital 43559 - known to the Lemilar as 'Habilamen.' I am Administrator Kre'kk and I welcome you as equals for you visit."

The human at the head of the group is wearing a slightly different suit. Still polished and reflective, but where the rest of the humans are wearing suits of pitch black - darker than interstellar space - this one is a deep vermillion red. Kre'kk is drawn to the color. It's so rich! It almost looks wet.

When they begin to speak, a simplified icon of a human face is projected onto the smooth polished surface of the helmet. It seems that the humans have taken some care to make themselves look less frightening in their environmental suits. "Thank you for the greeting, Administrator Kre'kk. I am Captain Margaret Kellerman and this is my crew." She gestures behind her. "We plan on staying only for three cycles demi in order to take on a load of Ribanium and trade with any interested parties. I will share with you a manifest of what we have available to trade." She gestures on her arm, and the file appears on Kre'kk's pad.

Kre'kk is taken aback at her voice. It's so clear. She seems to be speaking through a translator, but it is getting the nuance and overtones of the Lemilar Trade Language perfectly. She could have a career as an entertainer or storyteller easily if she was a difference species. Kre’kk swallows. "Uh, thank you Captain, I have received your file and will distribute it. Please make use of our facilities during your stay."

Captain Kellerman's helmet flashed a icon of a face, smiling - without their teeth - broadly. "Thank you Administrator Kre'kk, we shall."

For two cycles, Kre'kk held out hope that the human's visit would be without incident. They came in quietly, did some minor trading, loaded their Ribanium and spent a… reasonable amount of money on entertainment and refreshments - suitable for their systems - while on board. Kre'kk felt they were trying very hard to be model visitors. Apparently they knew humans had a reputation in the Coalition for being... rowdy.

On the last demi cycle before the Humans were scheduled to depart a group of Felimen came over, angry. They had spent the entire two cycles previous loudly complaining that the humans shouldn't be here, and that they had captured Felimen colonies long ago and had begun the process of 'poisoning them' to be more suitable to them. The Human authorities maintain - and have the receipts to prove - that they purchased the planets legally from the Felimen, and never attempted to hide their goals of colonization and geoengineering. Regardless, a long, bloody war had followed and the humans had pushed the Felimen to capitulate and were currently engaged in a Cold War with each other.

Kre'kk was alerted as soon as the shouts started. The Felimen seemed to come to the humans wanting to cause trouble. For their part, the humans tried their best to talk the Felimen down. Their helmet icons were looking sad and quiet and they gestured in ways to try and reduce tension. The Felimen were having none of it though.

As Kre'kk undulated over to try and calm them, one of the Felimen in the back had wheeled out a battle rifle. Kre'kk had no idea how they had snuck it in, but it was completely banned on the Orbital and was cause for immediate expulsion. Before he could sound the alarm and get the Orbital authorities to come, they fired at the group of humans.

It proved to be a fatal error in judgement.

One of the humans in the front of the group was struck directly in their center of mass. They staggered back, and their suit showed significant damage. Luckily for them the suit was not penitrated. The humans reputation for building strong was well earned apparently.

Faster than Kre'kk could follow and only confirmed by viewing the security footage after the fact, three of the humans brought massive slug throwers to bear. Kre’kk knew that the Coalition sapient races find chemical powered metal slug throwers to be far too heavy to be hand weapons. If they are used, they're tripod or vehicle mounted. The humans are apparently experts in their manufacture and use, and can swing them around like they weigh nothing.

The noise of the slug throwers in the hall was deafening. Kre'kk winced as his active noise cancellation dampened the noise and wondered how the humans could take the noise without being injured, but he assumed they must also have some kind of noise cancelling built into their environmental suits.

They fired for a short time indeed, but it was more than enough. All of the Felimen were dead, with the ones in the front unrecognizable. The silence in the hall after they finished firing weighed heavy. It felt like an eternity after they had stopped before the station alarms sounded.

Kre'kk moved over to the humans. They were checking eachothers suits and cleaning up the small yellow colored pieces of metal that come flying out of their throwers when they fire. "Brass" is what they call it. Kre'kk gestured an apology. "I'm sorry. Battle weapons are banned here. You're going to have to leave now."

Captain Kellerman's icon showed pure fury. Her gauntlet covered hand pointed at him accusingly. "You're going to take their side, Administrator? You were here, you saw them. They shot first! They damaged the suit of one of my crew! It was through the luck of Forturne herself that his suit was not pierced!”

Kre'kk slid back one half unit unconsciously. "Be that as it may, you responded with… disproportionate force to their attack. It was uncalled for."

Captain Kellerman sputtered, her melodic voice taking on frightening undertones as the translator worked overtime to relay her fury to Kre'kk. "Uncalled for!? Administrator Kre'kk with all due respect you are out of line. You know about the war I assume, but do you know what they did to our colonies? They dropped nanobombs on our legally purchased colonies. They weren't trying to take back land, they were trying to obliterate us. I was there, I saw it with my own eyes."

Kre'kk was taken aback. This was not part of the standard narrative about the war. "I did not know that no, the Felimen-"

"The Felimen tell their own version of the war in order to garner support and sympathy against 'the aggressor human' I'm sure." Captain Kellerman sounded bitter in the translated voice. "Kre'kk. Your people border the Felimen opposite us do you not?"

"Yes, our territory borders theirs but-"

"And have you by any chance heard of some border worlds coming under some kind of unknown trouble? Maybe a strange illness, or unusually strong weather on the worlds?"

Kre'kk's frill rippled worriedly and he said nothing. He had heard about things like that.

Captain Kellerman cleared her helmet. Suddenly, Kre'kk saw her clearly. Small, with bilateral symmetry, close set binocular eyes and a small mouth, this was the first time Kre'kk saw a human as they are, not as their icons show them. They are predators. They are hunters.

They are terrifying.

Kre'kk unconsciously made a gesture of fear and slid back another half unit. Captain Kellerman's face contorted into a snarl. "Know this Kre'kk. It's only a matter of time before they do to you what they attempted - and failed - to do to us. Think hard about who your friends are and who in the Coalition you can come to for help when they start dropping nanobombs on your worlds." Just as suddenly as it had cleared, her helmet darkened again, and the cartoon icon of her face returned. It felt like a mockery to Kre'kk now.

The humans picked up the rest of their debris and freed their weapons. Faster than Kre'kk could ripple, they were all carrying slug throwers. "We're leaving, Administrator Kre'kk. If any Felimen even come within 5 units of us-" The people behind her cycled a round into their rifles for emphasis "-we will take it as a provocation and will respond with 'disproportionate' force."

"Y-yes Captain. I will relay this information."

"Oh and Administrator Kre'kk? Your Station will be added to the list of Orbitals where humans will not go. We will do no trading, sell no wares, and offer no defense. You and yours will do well to consider your stance vis-a-vis us and the Felimen."

Without another word, the group of humans turned and marched towards their ship. Shaking, Kre'kk signaled that they were not to be interrupted and made sure their warning about Felimen was relayed.

After they left and the mess was cleaned up, Kre'kk sat in his quarters and stared out the window at the planet below a long time. One of his creche mates was living on a newly founded colony bordering Felimen space. He began composing a message to beam to her asking if she had any plans about moving back.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Gravity (Part 2)

This may be becoming a thing. There will be at least one more chapter and I have no idea what to call this thing. Maybe by the end I'll know. 😅

Gn reader x Raphael

Warnings: Hypothermia, language (but I think that's a given in a Raph fic?)

Part 1 Part 3

It had been one week. One week since he'd slipped. One week since the fever carried him to your rooftop.

You haven't spoken. More specifically, he hasn't spoken. Apart from texting you when he made it home like you insisted he did every night, it had been radio silence. You texted him before his patrol like you always did, and he stared at his phone, expressionless, before putting it back in his pocket.

What could he say?

He'd already had the conversation a thousand times in his head, and as far as he was concerned, it didn't need to be said. He didn't need you to let him down easy.

Because you'd mean it. Every damn word. You're sorry. He's your best friend. Nothing has to change.

But it would change, there was no way it couldn't. Things were different now.

That night had been the worst of it. He'd left not long after his confession. At that point, just the sound of your voice was enough to make him weep, and he didn't want to make things worse. Not that he thought they could *get* worse.

He made up some excuse about Leo calling it early, and ran.

He was running now, through the freezing rain, a sudden cold snap in the middle of spring, and hoping that between the temperature and the downpour hammering into his coat, he could think about anything else.

It wasn't long before he was considering ditching the coat. It was already soaked through, and weighing him down, which was hard to do.

That gave him pause.

He stopped, ducking under an overhang, and opened his coat, pulling the fabric back to expose his side. He twisted and looked at the small device mounted onto his shell just under his shoulder blade. There was supposed to be a little red light. There wasn't.

Shit.

They each had them. One of the first inventions D had come up with after they'd started doing patrols as kids.

A blizzard had suddenly torn through the city one night, and they were woefully unprepared with only winter coats. The cold dropped their body temperatures, and then them. Splinter had to hunt across the rooftops until he found them, asleep and hypothermic, huddled behind a construction dumpster.

Donnie didn't leave his lab for days. He blamed himself, he should have known the blizzard was coming, that their gear was insufficient, he should have had *some* kind of backup heat supply. No matter how many times his family told him otherwise, it was his fault, and he would never let it happen again.

So he built something to fix it. Raph didn't really get a lot of the specifics, but the overall was that the small devices "converted kinetic energy into heat that was then stored and distributed throughout the inside of their shells." Or, as Raph understands it, as long as you keep moving, you won't die.

One night a few weeks ago, someone had gotten lucky and he had taken a rusted rebar to the chest that had shattered on impact. His regulator had been damaged by the shrapnel, but the weather had already been warming up, and then the season hit and it was forgotten about.

The rain must have been the final nail, only the exterior was watertight. It was dead. He could already feel the cold and damp setting in. He needed to get home. Fast.

He set off, the only sound other than the roar of the rain was the gradually slowing heartbeat that pounded in his ears.

*Fuck* it was cold.

It wasn't long before his waterlogged coat became too much to carry. He ditched it behind an air conditioning unit, and kept moving.

Hailstones felt like bullets as they pelted bare skin, and through the sheets of rain, the haze of cold and exhaustion that had started at the edges was encroaching. It wasn't long before he was too tired to think.

He was moving on pure instinct, without even the presence of mind to pray he could make it somewhere safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny Leo was lecturing him for not hitting his emergency signal.

He stumbles. He is so, so tired. The soft darkness of sleep is pulling at him like a rip tide. He drags himself to the next rooftop, barely touching down before he collapses.

[o-sachi]

Busted Lip ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ an ice pack should be enough to heal a busted lip, but you have another trick up your sleeve

ଳ character; hiragi toma (wind breaker)

ଳ tags; fluff, soft toma, gn reader, no y/n, ume silliness

[🐟]: To anon who requested a hiragi fic... thank you from the bottom of my hiragi-loving heart.

This was far from an unusual sight—Hiragi coming back from a scuffle and requiring you to patch up any injuries he sustained. But, as often as it happened, he would still insist that he was "a grown man" and that he could handle first aid on his own.

Too bad for Hiragi but you were more stubborn than he was. Despite his protests, it would always end up with him yielding to your commands.

He'd try to look annoyed and displeased with that grumpy look on his face, but the slight tint of red on his cheeks would betray him each time. At the very least, you'd spare the poor man of your teasing.

The Vaisravana unit came back to the school grounds a little later than expected. You were sure that if it were anyone else dating Hiragi—they'd already be shaking in their boots. But not you. You trusted Hiragi and his strength that no one would be able to take him down. Besides, you were also being pep talked by Ume as the two of you waited for them on the Furin rooftop.

"Ume-san, which part of town did they even go to? It's taking so long and I miss Toma already."

A booming laughter erupts from his chest. "They probably took a detour—buying us some food or something. Don't worry."

Oh well, it was always food with Ume. But if he isn't worried then, why should you be? You sat back in your seat, marveling at the setting sun before you while Ume continued taking photographs of his plants.

You sigh, longingly—and as if on cue—the doors to the rooftop swing open abruptly. A smile stretches on your face upon seeing Hiragi and all the other members on his unit. But your smile quickly turned lopsided once you noticed his busted lip. Hiragi thought he was being smart, trying to turn his head sideways and hoping that you wouldn't notice the glaring injury on his face.

Ume, on the other hand, was frowning for totally different reason and it had something to do with them coming back emptyhanded.

"You guys took so long and here I thought you were bringing back food..." With the way he pouted, it was almost impossible to tell that he was the top dog of Furin.

"Who said we were bringing ya back food?" Hiragi retorts, scratching the back of his neck.

Suo steps in with the usual calm expression. "It took us a while to come back because we encountered a couple of townspeople who requested our help."

Ume nodded. "How about we go get some food then and enjoy it up here? Hm? How does that sound?"

Nirei and Suo were on board as they always were with Ume's plans. Sakura insisted that he'd be heading home already, but that wasn't allowed on their watch. And Sugishita would go just about anywhere Ume wanted them to.

You already knew how Hiragi would respond, but would you felt being a little cheeky today in exchange for him making you miss him too much. Standing up from your seat, the grainy sound of the wooden chair against the concrete floor prompted the boys to look at you.

"Toma, you stay here with me," you say, firmly.

The others started snickering and teasing Hiragi who had the biggest scowl on his face—a scowl which was directed at them, of course. God forbid that he look at you with such a nasty expression.

They bicker a little more, wishing Hiragi good luck before he faces your "wrath". Exasperated, he shakes his head while everyone else filtered out of the rooftop. Once it was the two of you left, Hiragi glanced over at you.

"Ya thought that was funny hm?" he asks as he made his way over to you.

You watch as he pulls a chair closer to yours and you smile sweetly at his question. "They did laugh though, didn't they?"

He plops down on the chair with an exaggerated huff. Walking all afternoon was tiring enough and here you were—being brazen as ever. In front of the others too no less.

"You're a real piece of work," he murmurs. Normally, that sentence would have you raising your brow, but it came from Hiragi. He had a strange way of showing affection—not like you minded it.

You point a finger at his face, more specifically, the lip that was swelling up. "That. That's the real piece of work here. What happened to you huh?"

Hiragi clicks his tongue. It was naive of him to think that you'd let him get away with it without so much as an explanation. Seems pretty easy to do, but the fussing that would occur thereafter was the one thing he wanted to prevent.

Looking off to the side, he muttered beneath his breath. "Sakura hit me with a sign..." He spoke so softly as if the less you heard, the less you'd care about his busted lip.

Your brows furrow in confusion. You understood what he said, but at the same time you didn't.

"A sign? What sign? What were you guys up to?"

"We were helping an elderly couple put up a new sign on their store. So all of us hoisted up the sign and we were supposed to do it on my count of 3. But that damn kid doesn't know how to listen and hoisted too early."

His gaze wandered down to his feet, perching his elbows on his knees. "...Hence the busted lip."

A sigh of relief left your lips. Thankfully it wasn't a result of a fight this time. You could already imagine the kind of back-and-forth they had earlier with that sign. It made you giggle a bit—thinking about Hiragi and Sakura pointing fingers while everyone else stood awkwardly.

As soon as you stood up, his eyes were on you. "Where are ya going?"

"To the infirmary, duh. I'm getting you an icepack for that lip."

You were already a few steps ahead when he stopped you. A firm grasp was on your wrist as he held you in place. "Ya don't have to. Just stay here. It'll get better on its own."

You turn to look back at him. His gaze was firm, telling you that he was absolutely adamant that you stay put. Not wanting to be that overbearing partner, you give up on it.

Instead, you looked back at him with the same intensity. You two did this quite often which resulted in the others calling this little thing of yours as "flirting". Your own brand of flirting that is.

But a cheeky grin broke out on your face again at a silly thought that had crossed your mind.

"If you don't want an icepack and if you don't want me to move... well, I thought of a remedy that doesn't require any icepacks or me leaving here."

His interest... or trepidation, rather—was piqued.

Whatever "remedy" you have up your sleeve, he knew it was just another way of saying, "Oh I have another way to tease you and make you look like a fool in love."

Great. Just great, knowing that he had to indulge you as the good boyfriend that he is.

"What is it th-"

His sentence cuts off once you had your hands cupping his face and your lips on his. For someone weaker than him, you sure were strong enough when it came down to it. You pulled him down to your height while keeping your lips locked.

For a moment, you let him pull away. You wondered what kind of expression he'd make after this stunt that you pulled.

"Seriously?"

Once again, he tries to convince you about how disgruntled he was. But with the way his lips bent, it was clear he was trying to suppress a smile. How adorable, you thought.

The only attacks Hiragi couldn't defend against were the flurry of kisses you planted all over his face. His lips, cheeks, the tip of his nose, forehead—none of those were safe from your affections.

Before you knew it, the smile he had fought hard to subdue had made its way on his face. His own hands cupped your face, finally reciprocating the fondness you so kindly showered him with.

Your little moment, however, was interrupted by a squealing Ume.

"Hey, Nirei, get this on camera!"

... to which everyone else face palmed.

Not only did he ruin your fun, but he gave away their presence. So nothing was caught on camera that day.

Hiragi let go of you, giving you one last gentle gaze before scowling at the idiots that interrupted the two of you.

Well, he had to teach them a lesson before they could tease him, right?

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[princeguri66]

Nom

- 🦈

(Been craving Poly Shadow company x Graves x Male reader (maybe his right handman). Id like to imagine theyre a giant poly group.

Like for example, that guys your boyfriends girlfirends partners boyfriend, so why dont you both make out and snuggle.

If you're up to it, that is.)

I'm so sorry for giving your request late, Sharko! I hope this is ok, please if you'd like more just send another ask and I'll try my best to do it ><

Graves, the man who has the whole shadow company wrapped around his finger, it's no secret that the group has some type of bond. Everyone can see that they're closer than your average military unit.

The whole team is riddled with fraternizing in the workplace, including you and especially Graves, since he's apparently everyone's favorite.

You'd think people outside of your crew would catch on but the frequent touches from soldier to soldier were easily passed off as "friendly" or even "brotherly" those were specifically the answers for outsiders. But when a new recruit joins and they've been in the company for a good few months most things get revealed.

They'd be walking to the rec room or common area and you'd be there sitting on the couch, one soldier on your lap and the other snuggling to your side. When they ask what's going on you simply answer "this one here is my boyfriend and this is his girlfriend" which would shock the new recruit for sure, but they'll have to get used to it.

And it isn't a common thing to enter Graves's office and see a soldier on his lap, either just sitting there comfortably or kissing each other. It doesn't really matter since said soldier is allowed to listen on whatever you had to discuss with him.

The soldiers LOVE sitting on Graves's lap in his office, makes them feel special and all that, they probably even have scheduled time for who and when to sit on his lap.

One thing about Graves is that his favorite seat out of all Shadow Company is your lap, loves how strong your thighs feel and how secure he feels when you circle your arms around him.

Whenever you two get caught being lovey dovey with each other by another soldier, said soldier would want in immediately, adding another pair of lips to pay attention to while making out. And suddenly another pair of lips show up, but none of you mind, that's how you all have always worked and it always worked perfectly.

[skipper1331]

Protective Moms // Jessie Fleming

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it :)

Matchday.

Canada vs the United States.

Girlfriend vs girlfriend.

Jess and you met in London, both playing for the blues.

The two of you hit off straight away, same interests, same sense of humor, you were similar in many ways but also so different that you completed each other perfectly. It came as no surprise when you revealed your relationship to your Chelsea teammates. They loved you together.

Only the Chelsea girls knew about you though. You both thought it was important to tell them yet you couldn't tell your national teammates. You kept your personal life private which is why you decided to tell them in person and not through the phone.

Considering that Tobin Heath played for Arsenal you could've told her as well as Christen Press but to be honest you were afraid. Tobin was one of the first players to approach you after you had your first call-up. She took you under her wig and became a mentor. So did Christen. You respected them so much and despite the fact that you would do anything for Jess, you were still afraid that Tobin and Christen would be disappointed in you. Or worse, if you introduce Jessie and they wouldn't like her.

As the Call-Up for camp came you were excited. You loved the chelsea girls but you also missed your friends at home. What you didn‘t like though was that you would play a friendly against Canada. There was always a certain rivalry in those games, it was physical, intense and nobody goes down without a fight.

As usual, you wore your headphones on the bus ride to the stadium. Next to you sat Rose, your bus buddy, while Press and Heath sat in the row next to you. They'd be lying if they didn't say that they noticed you checking your phone a lot and smiling at it. However, they didn’t do anything about it. If you wanted to tell them something, they would be there but they wouldn't force you to. They've known you long enough to know how you handle things.

Flem🔥

Can I have your shirt later? x

You

Only If I get yours too xx

Flem🔥

deal

Shortly after the game started, the first slide tackles came from both teams.

The game was balanced, sometimes Canada had their chances and sometimes your team, the goalkeepers definitely had something to do.

Jess and you didn‘t interact much, yes, off pitch you’re a couple but rivals on the field. The only interaction was when Canada had a corner kick and you pressed your body against hers. The canadian would bet that you did it on purpose as your breath hit the back of her neck. It made her go crazy, weak in the knees. Well, after all, it was the first time in 2 weeks that she saw you and could feel your proximity. (Spoiler: whether she had seen you or not, she still would have had weak knees and a racing heart. She always had when she’s near you)

It was 0-0 at half time. A solid result, but not satisfying.

Every single player on the field got more eager to score which resulted in more ruthless tackles.

You were in the opponent's half when Chapman took the ball away from you. Immediately you’re after her to get the ball back. You’re close behind her as she played a pass, her elbow slamming with so much strength in your face, right on your nose. "Fuck" you couldn‘t even scream out of pain because it hurt so much. You fell to the ground as you held your nose, your head hitting the ground. The game continued without anyone noticing that you were lying there. The only one who noticed was the person who caused it, she was standing by your side yelling at the referee. The game was only paused after a number of boo‘s from the stands and as soon as your girlfriend saw you curled up on the floor she ran to you as fast as she could. "Get the fuck away from her!" the brunette shoved Chapman as she kneeled down. She wasn't one to swear, but seeing you on the ground? It turned her into someone else, a protector who must protect you, her girl, at all costs. "Can you take your hands out of your face?" the sweet voice of your girl asked, taking a hold on your wrists. Just as she was about to pull your hands down slowly an angry Tobin Heath pushed her body to the ground, "Don‘t touch her" she hissed. Wrong move. Because when Tobin touched the young Canadian, Sinclair stepped in, "You don‘t touch her"

While Heath and Sinclair provoked each other, Christen went completely nuts on the bench. Still no medic team anywhere near you. Jess was by your side again, your hands out of your face as she could see the blood that was spread across your face. Definitely a broken nose and a possible black eye. You hated blood. You'll immediately feel nauseous and dizzy when you see it whether it’s your own or someone else's. "The medics are almost there, love. Keep your eyes open" her voice laced with worry as your eyes kept closing.

Finally, when the medic team arrived, they tried to stop the bleeding. After a minute or two everything seemed to be fine and you were able to stand up again which turned out to be a big mistake because as soon as you got back on your feet you passed out. They didn't know if it was because of the blood you saw or because the knock was so bad. Either way, you got substituted.

"Sub me off! I need to be with her. Please" Jess begged as she saw you getting carried of the field in the stretcher. Sinc had never seen the small Canadian so desperate while talking to their coach.

Unfortunately, Chris, who actually wanted to be by your side, was subbed on for you.

When Jess got subbed off which was 5 played minutes later she ran to the medic room. She had never felt so helpless.

On the pitch, your mentors played sloppy, everyone could see that your injury effected them. Canada as well couldn't play accurately without one of their key players. The game was dominated by bad passes and missed shots.

"How is she?" Jess questioned as she entered the room, "Broken nose and a little concussion."

You were lying on the bed, your nose bandaged with plasters, sleeping. As the last medic team member left the room the canadian sat next to you on a chair. She held your hand while her thumb stroked over your knuckles.

"I would swap shirts but mine is blood stained" you murmured. Your throat was sore but your face hurt less than before, the painkillers slowly working. "Please don‘t joke" the girl whispered, still not able to calm down "I was so worried"

"My girl, i‘m a fighter-"

The door was swung open as a worried Christen Press entered with Tobin Heath behind her, "Are you ok- What are you doing here?" the same woman asked who pushed Jess away from you.

Frightened, the canadian jumped out of her seat, turning to look at your team moms. Chris with a smile on her face, connecting the dots while Tobs had a scowl on hers. "Um.. I.." your girlfriend stuttered as she let go of your hand.

"Jess is my girlfriend"

"What?!"

You groaned as your head ache got worse due the loud noise, your hands massaging your temples. "What did the doc say?" united states number 23 asked, placing her hand on Tobins back, changing the subject. "Broken nose, little concussion. I need to rest" you answered. Tobin was glaring at your lover who was shuffling with her feet. "We‘ll talk about this, madame" the veteran said before she left the room. She was concerned about you but the news that the canadian was your girl was something she had to process first.

Her little boo with a girlfriend.

She‘d witnessed your highlights, watched you grow in the game, supported you, accompanied you at the lowest point in your career. You had been through a lot together, so maybe it was her pride that hurt because you didn't tell her earlier about your love story and that she had to find out about it through an injury, almost going for Chapman's throat because of that, by the way.

"She‘ll come around" Christen said as she saw how your face saddened, "I‘ll talk to her" she went to your side before she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead to assure you that everything will be fine.

"Maybe we all could get some coffee?" the suggestion coming from Jessie, "If you want to get to know me? Officially, i mean"

-

A few days later you‘re sitting at a little coffee shop waiting for your team moms to show up. Jess was next to you, holding your hand. It was unclear who was trying to calm whom. The brunette was nervous because she was meeting people you cared so much about and wanted to show them she was worthy of your love and you were nervous because you wanted them to like Jessie.

"Hi" you both greeted synchronously, slightly giggling at one another. "Hey" the dark haired women pressed a kiss to your forehead as she hugged you, carefully not to touch your injured nose. Jess stretched out her hand for Tobin to shake as she repeated her greeting. "Hello" the forward replied, accepting her hand. You felt relief as you saw their little interaction. Christen had definitely spoken to the forward about her behavior a few days ago.

The four of you talked for a while, there was no tension or anything negative. Everybody was enjoying the 'parents meet kids girlfriend'-meeting, it even seemed like scary Tobin Heath liked Jessie but there was this one question on the tip of her tongue that she wanted answered. "Jessie, I need to ask you this" she started as Jess looked at you nervously, your hand finding her thigh, "What are your intentions with y/n?"

She rested her elbows on the table, leaning forward to show her authority, Jess gulping under Tobins stare "Well," helplessly, she looked at CP who, however, was also waiting for an answer. Just because she, in terms of her protectiveness, acted calm and collected didn‘t mean she didn't want a straight answer to the question. She also had to know if your girlfriend was enough for you. "I love her. Umm, we‘re young but.. umm.. hopefully she‘ll be my wife one day" the canadian didn‘t really know how to answer that question. Her intensions were only good ones.

She wants to make you happy.

She wants to make you proud.

She wants to support you no matter what.

She wants to sit in the stands and she wants to cheer for you.

She wants to show you that you only deserved the best.

She wants to love you for the rest of her life.

She wants to be by your side as long as you‘ll let her.

She wants you.

Christen smiled like a proud parent as Tobin grinned widely. Jess looked cofused around, not understanding why the moms looked at her like that, you looking at her with the biggest heart eyes, "Oh no" she said as she understood those faces "I said that out loud, didn‘t I?"

"Jup"

Christen and Tobin got up, "My job here is done", ready to go.

"You chose a good one, y/n/n."

This time it was Christen who commented like Tobin would. In her mind, Heath agreed yet she would never admit stuff like that in prensence of Jess.

But Jessie was indeed a good one.

—————————

pt. 2

—————————

[robolvrr]

silk baby ✧⁠*°•

idw prowl x gn! human reader

nsfw. tags: lingerie, hatesex, petplay (wink), humiliation kink. let's get kinky.

you infuriate him.

it's almost insulting. the uniform your kind has given you, the shiny, golden lapels and glittering badge. you've served no war, fought no battles and have a fraction, no, a blink of his lifetimes experience in diplomacy.

when he first heard of your transfer from optimus himself he scoffed audibly.

files upon files were downloaded and analyzed of you immediately.

you're young. all of your people compared to cybertronians are. but you're still fresh-faced, no scars of time and still speak in those sweet, hopeful hums that makes his spark crackle.

he decides that reaction is hate.

and he shouldn't be feeling it, shouldn't be questioning his alliance and the brand on his chassis when he thinks about how easy this entire miserable planet could be wiped from the plane of existence.

somehow, humanity has managed to cause so many problems that not even his processors and planning can delegate the stress of having to pretend he was anything but superior to the generals, captains and presidents that adored to speak to them as if they were subordinate.

when you first meet prowl, you think, he must despise you. his frown on his angular features is stubborn and unmoving. he speaks to you like you're inconvenient.

"this is all wrong."

"do you even check your notes?"

"i am shocked to see just why they chose you for this role."

"don't bother me again until you find your voice. stop stuttering like a fool. you're an advisor, are you not?"

he's cruel. you're unable to find a response as he always slinks away, before you can seek a fellow autobot to properly report him.

sometimes, you can see the smirk in that disapproving gaze.

you do what most humans do. try to adapt. try to appeal. he likes to think in his spare time of you as a slobbering dog, trailing his pedes on all fours. drooling for even an opportunity of companionship.

you, on the floor. crawling. that's a bitterly tasty thought, indeed.

the rejected sentiments are visibly breaking you, slowly over time. starts with you trying to relieve his load in reports. attending his meetings, even though you're not required. he even heard you trying to argue with your own command, in some hopes they'd lessen their restraints on their current agreements with the extraterrestrials.

it's laughable. did he ask for any of this? no. you still do it.

dog. filthy, needy, pretty dog.

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

you're frustrated.

you have so much pressure on you, all the time. all the poli-sci courses and straight a's don't compare or prepare for being the middle man between the united states and co governmental bigheads and literal, walking cars.

and jets. and motorcycles, you learn.

you should be out at parties. kissing boys and girls and someone you don't remember, crying about tests and complaining to your friends about the shitty sink and your shitty landlord.

instead you get this opportunity shoved in your lap.

to be taken seriously, you pin yourself in sleek hairstyles and make sure your appearance is flawless. your boots are polished. you smell like fresh laundry and evergreen.

most of the autobots have taken a liking to you, or at least listen to your points. most have gotten the common sense having lived on earth for as long as they had to not purposefully offend.

prowl? oh no. no, he made a point to make sure you felt belittled.

why does his opinion mean so much to you? is it because his tone is always cold? is it because you feel metaphorically and literally pinned under his gaze, some twitching fly beneath his precise needle?

he knows each and every weak spot in that barely nurtured ego of yours to jab.

you lie to yourself. lie that it makes you stronger. laugh like he's just jealous.

your sheets are sweaty. his voice is level, that you remember.

his hands. servos. so articulate.

you should feel sick when your own weasels from between your thighs.

you should feel ill for thinking of him when you see the slick wetness dripping down your forearm.

would he tell you you did a good job?

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

the teapot in the shared downtime area whistles.

you're drowsy. caffeine does little to put any pep to your step so you resort to accepting your fate, hoping to bullshit your way through your rotation and worry about the repercussions later. today was boring. that was the issue - you're drained and understimulated.

not long enough it seems.

"slacking off, mm?"

a visible shake flirts up along your spine. the look you give over your shoulder is barely short of disrespectful.

"there is nothing else of importance for me to do. why would this room exist if not to relax between shifts?"

prowl towers. the doorways are higher, larger, to accommodate for humanity's new, glossy allies. you ignore the way his optics narrow. like he's studying you. like you've already fucked up.

"sounds more like failed excuses to me, diplomat. though.."

he's close. too close. uncanny valley crawls in your stomach as you struggle to forget nights ago. the dusting of his metal plates pattern similar to freckles.

that'd be cute if he wasn't awful.

".. mm, yes. you humans are so delusional. it's admirable, truly. patting yourself on your backs but too lazy to put in the effort to earn anything."

now it's your turn to frown.

"you're wrong. i work my ass off-"

"tsk, tsk, language."

"oh, fuck off!"

the tea kettle steams loud. and then it's jostled off the burner and you're scrambling, a scream caught in your throat.

cybertronians are strong. beasts, truly. they come in all shapes, sizes and talents but one thing is clear - they're living, breathing metal. there is little that can actually harm them.

prowl has your chin snatched between his digits. his helm is close and he has no need to breathe, but his ex-vents are sharp and his voice is still deliciously icy.

"see? animals, all of you. mutt. you bark and whine and complain. and i was supposed to take you seriously?"

your work shirt has lifted up your midriff. you ignore the throbbing at your core.

either he knows or he doesn't care, though it's prowl and it's rare he's in the dark.

there is no imagining how his vocals dip.

"predictable."

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

prowl finds fabric to be gaudy.

a prized trade elsewhere is commodity down here. he is much more trained on revealing what lays under that tight, useless suit of yours.

he doesn't bother answering any of your questions, only responding by yanking you by the back of your hair and letting his dentae sink into the flesh of your neck until it bruised.

he's rough. he knows you cannot take it, so when you're crying out to a god he doesn't know, his smile finally starts to edge his otherwise stern expression.

"good."

there's a snarl of disgust and despair when he gets all the buttons loose.

you are a spike tease.

underneath the bravado is the coverings of a slut.

it's gorgeous. soft, genuine silk. the straps are thin and bows dangle at the connections to heart-shaped lace that barely covers your chest. there's frill.

he tears a thread and unweaves it, just as he does with you.

your panties are yanked down your legs. they leave a red mark with how roughly he deposits them ..

for future observation.

his grip wrenches your hips, until a hole is found and he's jamming in and you're mewling, panting, huffing for him.

the "i hate you"s and "you're terrible"s just piston his pace faster.

his audials resort to memory banks that store all the pitiful expressions you make. he gets you on your hands and knees after all and when he's clutching your throat between sloppy thrusts, his grin is sharp and horrid.

"bark, puppy."

robolvrr 2024.

[writtingforfun]

Daemon Targaryen x reader

She’s Leana’s sister and married to daemon. On Leana’s funeral daemon and Rhaenys manage to convince Corlys to declare daemon son next lord of the tides. Later Rhaenyra try to talk to daemon about the issue saying her son should be lord of the tides. Daemon and reader just say to her that bastards won’t have the driftwood seat.

Hey, I hope you enjoy this and that it fits your request.

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

He should be your heir

The three Velaryon siblings had always been close. They were both fire and sea; they burned as hot as dragon fire and were restless as the sea during a storm. They grew between both elements, they were taught the Valyrian ways, they claimed dragons and they felt at ease at the shores.

The first to wed had been the middle child, a girl of beautiful dark skin and silver curls. She had a tinge of purple circling her irises. After the sudden demise of Lady Rhea, she quickly connected with Prince Daemon, the most fascinating man she had ever met. The girl had been swooned by him from a very young age. Corlys had loudly celebrated this union, happy to unite the Velaryons to the Targaryens once again.

The second to wed had been Laenor. While both parents were happy with the chance to have their son be the future Queen's consort, worry had filled their family. They all knew of Laenor's taste, and his sisters supported him with all their hearts. Regardless of agreements between the heir and him, he'd still have to bed her and have new heirs. It's a pity it didn't work.

Laena was the last one to marry.

The two Velaryon girls were happy and in love with their husbands, as for Laenor... He was happy with his side piece.

Prince Daemon and his wife were expecting their first child just two moons after they were wed. A boy was born and they named him Aelor. Aelor was his father's twin in everything but the color of his skin, a true-born Targaryen and Velaryon.

In their 10 years together, they had been blessed with four children.

Aelor with 10 namedays, Maela and Gaellor, twins of 8 namedays and Taemon with just 4 namedays. And a soon-to-be brother or sister was in their mothers heavy belly, halfway of her term.

It had been excrutiating for her to hear the news of her dear sister's death on the birthing bed, she had collapsed on the floor with tears and loud screams of the pain of losing her.

They had lived at Driftmark for their entire marriage, only leaving to take their children on adventures across the skies. They had the perfect life; it was filled with laughter and joy as well as the warmth of their family. With Laenor living at the Red Keep and Laena at Pentos, it had been up to her to bring joy to her parents. Corlys and Rhaenys dotted on all of their grandchildren, but mostly on the ones brought by their youngest girl. They had brought sunlight to their lives after beeing separated from their other two children.

She made it her mission to greet everyone to ease the weight on her parent's shoulder, forgetting that she herself had a noticable weight to carry in safety. Daemon, always the caring and loving husband he was, never left her side or their children's side.

Not even when Rhaenyra had arrived as if she owned the place. "It will belong to my husband and my son after him", she had replied smugly when reprehended about her manners.

She was nervous and saddened, Laena had been a great friend to her. But to rub in her parent's face her light skinned children... it was too much.

Later that night she and Daemon had talked about how it should be their son, their Aelor, to sit on the throne of Driftmark, for he was the closest male heir after Laenor.

Rhaenys and Corlys laid in bed with saddness between them. They'd never see their Laena. At least they had the joy of their grandchildren. Aelor and Maella had made it their mission to cheer them up, to lift their spirits even if just a tad.

"Come in," Rhaenys said as someone knocked on their chamber's door.

"Mother, father. I hope we are not disturbing terribly"

"No, of course," Corlys hurried her and Daemon inside. She was always his favorite, his precious girl, the girl that always begged him to tell stories from when he was sailling across the continents.

"We need to talk"

"About?"

Daemon took the lead and explained their concerns "you know I'm right. It's Aelor's birthright. Everything in Rhaenyra's life is because she was the firstborn of my brother. With Laena gone and no children behind, it should be my wife and then our son who becomes Lord of the Tides."

Corlys exhaled frustrated, "History remembers names, not blood, Daemon"

"Everything is about blood, father. Everything. Fire runs through my veins. As does the sea. Where does Lucerys have that? Why should he sail as if he owned the place?"

"Because-"

Rhaenys cuts him before he can defend his thoughts "They are right, husband. Our trueborn grandchildren are left with nothing when her bastards inherit the throne as well as this seat. I love those boys, and Jace is in fact Rhaenyra's heir. But not Laenor's."

"To change it would be a blow to the Targaryens."

"Except he is a Targaryen." Daemon defends.

"Exactly. He does not bear the Velaryon name. Lucerys does."

"Name him your heir," Daemon says as he takes his wife's hand. "Name him and he will take my wife's name. Your name"

Rhaenys had been adamant on making sure her husband would choose correctly, and finally he did. Finally he saw it. Aelor Targaryen would come as Lord of the Tides after Corlys. Aelor Velaryon, of house Targaryen and Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, rider of Aemax.

The first Lord of the Tides to fly on top of a dragon and to sail on ship. To say that his parents were proud of him was to say the least.

But of course that Rhaenyra was not happy. While Laenor seemed content to be freed from having to step into his father's footsteps, she was mad.

"He is Laenor's son, he should be Lord of the Tides, not Aelor. Uncle," she pleaded "its not fair"

"Lucerys is anything but Laenor's son. They are bastards, and bastards don't take the Driftwood seat"

[poetryandfluffycats]

Enstars NSFW Month Day 8 - Rinne Amagi

A/N: wrote this in like 20 minutes enjoy. sorry that its not like full on NSFW I'm actually not sure if this counts for nsfw month but oh well

Pairing: Rinne Amagi x fem!Producer!reader

Content: You're a new producer at ES and Crazy:B is the first unit you are trusted to produce. Rinne knows this, and decides to have a little bit of fun with you.

Warnings: kinda NSFW(?), teasing, spanking, fondling, panty theft, usual rinne behaviour

Words: 787

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Somethin' Wrong, Producer?

Rinne Amagi was a man who loved to tease. His words, his hands, his voice- All of them perfect tools as his disposal. And who else was better to rile up than you, the young, sweet and innocent producer of Crazy:B?

You hated much he made you blush.

He'd pull you into his lap at meetings and rehearsals, whispering the dirtiest possible things in your ear just loud enough for the whole room to hear. His hands would roam all over your legs and thighs, sometimes trying to sneak up your skirt and only stopping if you swatted him away

God he was relentless. To top it all off, he always ended these stupid acts of workplace harassment with a laugh and a wink at the other Crazy:B members. Sometimes they'd scold him, other times they'd simply sigh and go on with whatever it was they were doing. It depended on the day, really.

It was hard to tell whether they were in on the joke or if they just couldn't be bothered with his bullshit. You hoped for the latter. How unprofessional would you look if the very first unit you produced had been making a fool out of you for months? You'd lose your job for sure.

"I wonder what ya'd look like stuffed full of my cock..."

Ah.

You'd been so caught up in your wallows of self pity while waiting for your paperwork to finish photocopying at the printer that you hadn't noticed Rinne sneak up behind you, his arm snaking around your waist, settling on your hips and pulling you close. You yelped in surprise, immediately struggling against his hold. Your struggle was mostly in vain, however, as he was easily able to overpower you by grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head.

And honestly? You didn't really want him to stop.

His hot breath tickled your ear as he laughed, only proving more to you that you looked absolutely pathetic to him. He was well aware of how his teasing made your head spin and he was going to use that to his full advantage.

"Somethin' wrong, producer?" He cooed, dropping your hands and moving his own to the small of your back, his fingers digging into the muscles there. "Yer all tense back here..."

You could have escaped there, could have slapped him and ran away. But god... something about the way he said your title made you weak in the knees. Your heart wanted him to keep talking, to keep whispering dirty things until you came undone just from his voice.

A whine left your throat as he trailed lower and lower, eventually resting on the fat of your ass and kneading the skin like a cat kneads a blanket through your skirt.

"Whatca got on underneath this, huh? Lace maybe?" Another laugh from him, another whine from you as he slipped a hand in between your legs, giving teasing slaps to your cheeks. "Nah, cotton. Just plain old cotton panties for ya. Ya don't like nothin' fancy?"

"You don't have to sound so disappointed! They're... they're comfortable! And easy to clean!" You snapped back, having to swallow a moan in the process as Rinne gave your ass another squeeze, harder than the previous ones.

"Mh, true. Good for when I get ya all wet 'n' dirty, ay?"

Oh god. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. You'd probably cum on the spot if he kept up with that voice of his.

"Maybe I'll take ya shoppin' sometime. I'd like to help pick somethin' out for my-little-slut~" He punctuated the last three words by pulling your panties down bit by bit, letting them rest just above your knees.

You groaned, body betraying you as you leaned back into his touch. "I-I don't need new panties..."

"Ya will"

Suddenly, before you had time to react, Rinne ripped the flimsy fabric of your panties right off your body, shoving them into his pant pocket and slapping your now bare ass hard, leaving a faint red mark.

"I'll give em back in a few days, allrigh'? They smell just like ya, gonna help me have a nice night if ya get what I'm sayin'"

You stood in shock with wide eyes as Rinne finally let go of you fully, giving you one final pat on the ass before strutting away like nothing had happen, turning back only to blow you a kiss and a wink, his signature laugh echoing through the small room.

You felt a warm sensation in your belly, and you quickly realised that you'd been dripping your slick all over the floors.

What on earth were you going to do with him?

[wileys-russo]

Leah blurb of rehab for her injury and just being so proud of her

step by step II l.williamson

you were the first one to your feet when your girlfriend went down on the pitch against manchester united, knowing her like the back of your hand you immediately knew she wasn't alright the minute her body hit the grass and she didn't get back up.

"they need to get her off." you muttered to lotte beside you, the two of you hovering by the side lines as play was paused and the arsenal medics ran on to assess leah. "hey she's in good hands, you don't want a yellow do you?" lotte grabbed at the back of your substitute bib and tugged you back to her side as you attempted to sprint on after them, raising an eyebrow when you didn't reply.

"no." you sighed quietly, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning your head on her shoulder as the defender soothingly rubbed your back, the two of you the same age you'd been close for years, having played for the young lionesses together in your youth.

but your body tensed right back into action as the medics helped leah to her feet, watching on as your girlfriend slung her arms over their shoulders and hobbled off with a grimace of pain, your heart aching for her knowing how much she'd already struggled physically and mentally these last few months.

"she didn't need a stretcher, that's a good sign yeah?" lotte murmured as you nodded, quick to leave the girl behind and rush over to your girlfriend once she was off the pitch. "i'm fine." leah saw you fly over before you'd even arrived, holding up a hand to silence your questions with another grimace she paused, arms still slung over the medics either side of her.

"let me get my stuff i'll-" you started, reaching out for her but the older blonde shook her head. "no you won't, you'll stay here." your girlfriend ordered firmly, watching as your face fell but her attention was too centered around the burning pain in her knee to console you.

"stay, the team needs you more than i will." leah tried to reword her statement though somehow it just came off more blunt but you nodded regardless, taking a step back and allowing her to continue past you and into the tunnel, medics chatting to her quietly about the next steps of her assessment.

it turned out your team did not need you, losing 1-0 without either you or lotte playing a single minute on the pitch. barely listening to jonas as he gave the post match speech you exchanged quick words of encouragement with your team mates, passing around hugs and pats on the back at their performance.

gathering your things together on the sub bench a hand came to rest on your shoulder making you jump a little. "hey, you alright?" alessia asked softly, stood before you as you nodded, tucking your water bottle under your arm. "you played fantastically, even if it meant we lost." you straightened up and sent the girl a small smile.

"not the game, with leah going down." alessia explained pulling you into a hug as you exhaled into her shoulder, also having grown up playing alongside her as club rivals or national team mates you would always be close friends first and foremost.

"i'm trying to hope for the best and prepare for the worst." you admitted honestly, sending ella a small wave who stood off to the side contemplating if she should come over or not. "well keep us updated yeah?" alessia rubbed your back and kissed your cheek as she pulled away, ella appearing quickly by her side.

"and give her our love." the shorter of the two was next to tug you into a tight hug, the three of you exchanging a few more words before parting ways. you immediately made your way toward the medic room where unfortunately you were informed leah had been taken to hospital for further scans.

but no matter who or what you asked, no one could or would give you any further information of your girlfriends condition. kim pulled you off to the side seeing your frustrations growing, murmuring which hospital they'd taken to quietly in your ear having been kept in the loop as captain and gently shoving you out the door.

~

"leah, time to wake up baby." you whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of the blondes neck, her body tucked into yours as she stirred. "admissions at ten and i made breakfast." you continued quietly, smiling as the older girl stretched with a tired grunt, rolling over to bury her face in your neck as her arms wound tightly around your waist.

"how are you feeling?" you asked carefully, nails scratching at her scalp as her lips peppered gentle kisses to the column of your throat. "like i'm ready to not be asked that anymore." leah answered honestly, mumbling into your skin as you nodded in understanding.

the two of you had been sleeping in the guest room since your shared bedroom was upstairs, leah unable to make the trips up and down with her knee. the days since she had gone down had been tense to say the least, you felt most of the time as if you were walking on egg shells with whatever you said, always worried it would be the wrong thing and she would snap.

today had been inevitable. it was the day leah would go into surgery for her acl and you had been trying to gently remind that this was the first step forwards. but there was only so much positive talk the english captain could take before she would snap, and you had to just continually remind yourself it wasn't her talking it was the injury, and what it meant for her career.

the women's world cup, four words that had been silently banned within the walls of your shared north london home, both of you well aware without needing verbal confirmation that leah would now be out of the running for selection, only a few months into her recovery and rehab by the time it would be happening.

you knew within yourself that the chances of you being picked were also slim, due to a stubborn and reoccurring shoulder injury this season you'd hardly had any minutes on the pitch the last two months, you'd been called up for the pre tournament camp but you were struggling not to feel guilt at this when thinking of your girlfriends situation.

but today, your focus was entirely on leah.

~

"welcome back blondie." you smiled softly as the girl beside you slowly awoke, running a hand fondly through her hair and moving a few loose strands that clung to her sweaty forehead. "how'd it go?" leah slurred slightly, the anesthetic still wearing off as she blinked repeatedly trying to focus in on her surroundings.

"terribly, they had to amputate." you answered seriously, leah rolling her eyes and wincing a little as she moved the wrong way. "you can press this one for morphine and this one for a nurse." you immediately snapped back into carer mode and explained the remote by her bedside softly as leah nodded.

"your mums just getting some food and then she'll be in, alex had to go for a bit but she said she'll be pop by tonight to see you while i'm at training." the words left your mouth before you even registered them, wincing slightly once they'd passed your lips. "don't apologise, please. it's fine." leah slowly grabbed your hand, bringing it up to her own lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"i know i've been a nightmare to deal with lately but i don't want you to stop focus on your own football just to make me feel better, what's happened is out of my control but your performance is still within yours. promise me you'll go to camp and give it your all?" leah asked, gazing up at you as you hesitated, the firm look in her eyes breaking you down without any further words needed.

"i promise." you nodded, dipping your head to press your lips sweetly to hers, pulling away as her mum hurried back into the room, the blonde sending you a cheeky wink and a smile as you did.

~

you kept to your promise and it earnt you a spot on the world cup team, you started in the quarter finals and as hard as it was for leah to watch, her heart swelled with love and pride, sharing in your happiness and success.

her mum and brother had flown over with your parents to support you, you sternly telling your girlfriend as much as you'd have loved to see her in australia her recovery and rehab was more important and she'd begrudgingly agreed. though looking back now at how hard it had been to even watch the games from afar, she was grateful at the decision made.

she'd been nothing but supportive when her girls were regretfully knocked out at the semi finals by the reigning US champs, consoling you over 2am facetimes with nothing but sweet words and affirmations of how much she treasured and adored you.

most of the team deciding to stay in australia for their remaining two weeks you were on the first flight back, bidding them a fond farewell but itching to be back by your lovers side. you knew now why they said what they did, distance does make the heart grow fonder.

exhausted, sleep deprived and looking an absolute state you staggered off the plane feeling half dead as you tugged your hood over your head and made a beeline for luggage collection, breathing in leahs fast fading scent on the cosy material wrapped around you, making a mental note to swap the hoodie out for a new one of hers once you returned home.

but all of your exhaustion melted away as you stepped into the arrivals lounge and saw her.

not caring if anyone was watching on you tightened your hold on your luggage and sprinted toward your girlfriend, the defenders mouth curling into a grin as she braced herself, engulfing you in a hug as you reached her.

"babe no your knee!" you gasped as her arms hooked around you and lifted your shorter form into the air. "nah its a super knee my girl, see!" leah placed you back on the ground and kicked her leg out a few times with a cheeky smile. "i hate this stupid hat." you teased at the grey baggy green which sat atop her mop of blonde hair which was tied back into a loose bun.

"but you love me in it." the older girls eyes darted around to make sure there weren't any cameras around before she tugged you into a searing kiss, your relationship was hardly a secret but it was kept as private as the two of you could manage, anything released about the two of you was ideally from your own social media accounts.

but none of it mattered, you were here with leah again, you were home.

~

"two!" you ordered, flicking the ball back toward leah who juggled it twice and flicked it onto beth, calling out three as the other blonde juggled and flicked it over to you calling out seven with a wide grin.

"oh god okay!" you laughed, doing your best but messing up on your fifth touch, the ball sent tumbling away to the other side of the gym. "that was evil beffy." you shoved at the older girl who ruffled your hair and jogged off as a staff member called for her attention.

"look at you go superstar." you shook your head with a proud smile as leah pulled you into a hug, burying your face in her neck as she sighed softly kissing your forehead. "one step forward every day right?" leah breathed out, echoing the words you'd been drilling into her head for the last few months, by her side every step of the way as promised.

"tomorrows the major test." leah fiddled nervously with her hands as she looked away, eyes staring everywhere but at you as your face softened at the crack in her normally razor sharp defense. "hey look at me." your hands cupped her face, gently moving her to look at you.

"i have never been prouder of you leah. you are the strongest woman i know and the most admirable role model for everyone team mate or friend or footballer alike, this was a true test and i know its not been easy but you put your head down and you did the work. we're through the worst of it now and i know you'll be back out there soon, yelling and bossing everyone around again." you finished with a teasing smile, your girlfriend playfully shoving your head at your words before tugging you into a kiss, murmuring a gentle thank you against your lips.

~

"go on leah!" beth cheered loudly, your team mates all joining in as the blonde grinned, steadying herself in her starting position. "you've got this baby!" you shouted, ignoring the teasings from your friends which followed, shoving them away with a roll of your eyes.

"pretend katie is chasing you!" viv yelled out with a sly smile, the irish woman scoffing and trying to pull her into a headlock as the training staff shushed you all, warning if you couldn't behave you would all be sent back inside, firmly reminding leah needed to focus in order to be cleared to progress to the final stage of her rehab.

"go!" the whistle sounded and with a flash of red from the arsenal training top she was off, sprinting between cones and dipping and dodging between flags as you anxiously bounced your knee up and down, lottes hand coming to rest on it with a reassuring squeeze as you let out a sigh, resting your head on your chin.

the large group which had huddled to watch leahs assessment slowly broke away, called off to other commitments or their own pre season tests until there were only about five of you remaining as the girls assessment neared an end.

"she looked good." you whispered under your breath as lotte hummed in agreement from beside you and the whistle sounded again. leah bent down with hands on her knees, catching her breath as the staff patted her on the back and huddled in to compare their findings. 

"yeah but you always say she looks good." katie teased flicking at your ear where she stood behind you as you turned and pinched at her leg before your focus shifted back to leah, who now stood chatting with the medics and rehab staff, face bare of any emotion, the girl always having had a killer poker face.

your heart was in your throat as it seemed the conversation wrapped up, nothing given away in facial expressions or body language as the staff dispersed and leah wandered back over. wiping the sweat off her face with a towel which she threw at katie, the irish woman swearing at her to watch it in warning but only playfully.

"so?" you asked right to your feet bouncing eagerly on your toes as leah shook her head, looking down to the ground as your body deflated, stepping forward to console her. "i'll be back by game two hopefully!" the defender suddenly grinned, hooking her hands under your thighs and lifting you into the air with a twirl.

your small group erupted into a cheer, squashing the two of you into a collective group hug. you smile stretched so wide your face began to ache, leah putting you back on the ground as she chatted happily with the rest of your friends before they all said their goodbyes all having other commitments.

"c'mere you." leah grinned once the two of you were alone, balling your top in her fists and smashing her lips to yours, your tongues roaming one anothers mouth before you pulled away, chest heaving and trying to refill your lungs with air from the breathless kiss.

"step by step my girl." leah exhaled, her forehead pressed to yours as you nodded, eyes shone with pride as you stared at her in adoration. "step by step baby."

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 2

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, implied soapghost cw: angst, hurt no comfort (yet), MWIII spoilers

---

When Johnny died, a black hole swallowed Ghost whole, bones and blood crushed into numbness by an all-encompassing gravity. Work, duty, life went on, but even spreading Johnny's ashes in Scotland — a place they'd talked about visiting together during those rare moments when exhaustion-induced delirium held the cold voice of reason at bay — even that couldn't counter the gravity holding him suspended in a single moment, knees crashing into blood-soaked concrete and a choked voice calling out to a man who would never answer.

The longer they chase Makarov through his little puppet show, though, the more the numbness gives way to other feelings — pain, despair, rage — that grow more potent every day they fail to bring the bastard to justice.

They've searched for years, yet they're always two steps behind. 

And this bloodbath of an op is no different.

If he has to focus his rage on someone other than Makarov, though, he's glad it's Makarov's dog, dubbed Agent Zero by the task force generals, stalking his team's steps today. The demon appeared six months after their failure in the Channel Tunnel and has hounded the 141 ever since, denying them victories, decimating their support squads, and nearly killing each of the core members at least once. 

Zero seems to have it out for Ghost in particular, though. The agent has put him on medical leave more than a dozen times already, and today will be no different.

If he can escape with his life, that is.

Ghost controls his breathing and prepares for the coming fight the best he can with a bullet hole in his side. He's not bleeding out, so he'll take that as a win, even if the blood loss is making him woozy. Sunlight blazes down on him as he stands in the middle of the open area between warehouses and waits for Zero to catch up.

As if summoned, Zero stalks out from behind a building, thick body hidden behind layers of black tactical gear and a full helmet. Based on their build and the muffled growls he's heard in past confrontations, Ghost guesses Makarov's agent is a man, but the tinted glass of their helmet makes it impossible to know for sure.

It doesn't matter, though. Whoever they are, they have to die. The 141 will never catch Makarov while his dog is nipping at their heels.

The agent weaves through the detritus of dead Konni and SAS soldiers while scanning the area. Ghost has already ordered the remaining SAS support units to fall back, and all the Konni soldiers are dead, the last one lying at Ghost's feet, eyes staring unseeing at the blue sky.

It's just the two of them now.

Despite the sun's heat, a chill pebbles Ghost's skin. This will likely be the end for one of them. He hopes it's Zero, if only for his team's sake.

Ghost himself has nothing left to lose.

The pavement radiates the afternoon sunlight, the air blurred with shimmering waves. Sweat soaks into Ghost's mask and runs in rivulets down his back.

Zero's helmet turns his way.

The agent freezes for a split second... before breaking into a dead run, headed straight toward Ghost.

Feet pound on the pavement in time with Ghost's quickening heartbeat. And just like every other time they've clashed, a sinuous familiarity in the way Zero moves wraps around Ghost's senses, more an innate recognition of form than the identification of any specific action. He ponders the sensation as Zero barrels down on him, all terrifying focus and yet easy grace. If the agent weren't his sworn enemy, he thinks he could find beauty in those movements.

He waits until the last minute to dodge, using his own speed and Zero's momentum to push the agent away. Zero is expecting the move, however, and swings around to land a hard punch to Ghost's throat. Ghost twists, the blow glancing off his tac vest instead. They round on each other and dive in again. 

Attack. Deflect. Block.

So it goes for what seems like eternity, trading blows over blood-slick stones. And still, the movements haunt Ghost with that winding thread of familiarity.

A phantom ache builds in his chest, though he doesn't know why.

He dodges a fist to his injured side, and Zero pauses for a split second, helmet tipping down. Ghost uses the distraction to attempt a headlock but wheezes when an armored fist collides with his injury. In a haze of pain, Ghost grips Zero's neck harder, kicks the agent's feet out from under them, and slams them face-first into the ground. A crunching sound rings in Ghost's ears, and tempered glass fragments spill over the pavement.

The impact doesn't keep the devil down, though. Zero shoves Ghost away, using the momentum to scramble out of reach. Ghost lands on his back with a huff, the sharp pain in his side nearly blinding him.

He's getting too fucking old for this. 

Maybe tonight will prove it.

He lifts himself up on one elbow to get eyes on Zero, a little confused that he's not already fending off another attack. But... his enemy is standing stock still a few feet away.

More importantly, the broken visor leaves the helmet wide open to the sunny day, giving Ghost his first, full view of the person who's been terrorizing them for years.

A broken sound of confusion wheezes through Ghost's tight throat.

From inside the broken helmet, blue eyes flick down to meet his gaze — the exact same shade of blue that's haunted his dreams since the day he lost everything.

Or so he thought.

It can't be.

It can't.

And yet—

"Johnny?"

The name rips from his throat like a desperate prayer, mangled by panting breaths of overexertion. The man's glassy eyes go wide and... confused?

And then he drops the knife in his hand like it's burned him before falling to his knees at Ghost's side.

"Hells fuckin' bells, Lt. What happened? Are ye broken?"

Scars crisscross the man's face, puckered and vicious, but... Those eyes. That voice.

And yet—

Ghost scrambles back, his frozen body falling back on the familiarity of distrust. "Get the fuck away from me," he growls. "Dunno who you are, but... but you're not him. You can't be him."

"Lt..."

A note of sadness and desperation coats the word he's heard a thousand times from lips that look just like those. The man reaches out, but Ghost smacks his hand away.

"Don't touch me," he growls.

Because it's a trick. It has to be a trick. He's not this lucky. His life is made of tragedy, the highs only there to ensure a longer drop when everything crumbles to dust. Maybe that's what this is, then? A trick to raise him up so high that the drop finally shatters him?

Maybe he's lost his mind. Or maybe he's delirious from excessive blood loss. Regardless, he won't fall for whatever game Makarov is playing now.

He attempts to stand, but it seems his body has chosen this moment to finally betray him. He groans and presses a hand into his side. A vicious hiss leaves the man's mouth as blood seeps into Ghost's glove, turning the white paint red.

"Shite. Tha's bad. Ye need to call for med evac. Are the others here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. Makarov got you doing his interrogatin' now?"

"What? No, I'd never—"

"Never hunt the 141 for years on end. Never fuck up our missions right and left? Never ruthlessly kill soldiers without a hint of remorse? No. My Johnny would never. You, though? You've killed half of the people lying around us. Saw you do it with my scope. Now you expect me to believe you're... you're him?" Ghost shakes his head and bites back another groan of pain. "No. Johnny is dead. You're just one of Makarov's tricks."

The man's face twists into something close to panic. "Fuck. Ghost, I swear to ye... I don't... I don't remember any of tha'. What I can tell ye is I was never in tha' tunnel. Konni bastards grabbed me in Sibera and sent the 141 back with... some kind of replacement. Makarov would come see me and talk about a serum that did too good a job making them into me. Last thing I remember, I was tied to a chair in some backwater base being shot full of..."

The man trails off as he seems to realize the implications of what he's saying. All Ghost can think, though, is that even if the man is lying, the fact that he looks and sounds like Johnny means Makarov has access to far more advanced biotech than any of them suspected. 

As if to underscore the realization, a faint hiss reaches his ears as his breathing regulates. He grabs the man's vest and pulls him closer, turning his ear toward the helmet.

The hissing gets louder.

The man seems to realize what Ghost is doing and tries to pull off the helmet, but it's locked down. Zero's movements become more violent the longer he struggles, a low growl starting up deep in his chest. Ghost leans up—

And then hisses in pain as his side reminds him why that's a bad idea. His reaction seems to distract the man, though.

"Med evac, Ghost. Call it in. Ye've got nothing to fear from me."

As much as he hates to admit it, the man is right. His team is long gone with the exfil helo, so he's going to need to call in his own evac. With a shaking hand, Ghost flips on his comms.

"Ghost to Watcher-1 actual."

"Ghost, this is Watcher-1. Send traffic."

Laswell's voice soothes the frayed edges of Ghost's rapidly declining confidence in his sanity. He takes a deep breath.

"Agent Zero was waiting for us. Need med evac immediately."

"Shit. You broken?"

"Affirmative."

"Med evac already inbound. Price's doing. Hot zone?"

"Negative. All clear."

"Mission sitrep?"

"Mission FUBAR but..."

Ghost trails off, unsure of how to explain. He glances at Jo— at the man with Johnny's face and clicks off the comms.

"If you want me to believe you're Johnny," he growls, "you'll come with me and prove it."

"'Course I will, Simon," the man says in a sad tone so like Johnny's that Ghost seizes up.

Laswell's voice breaks him out of it. "Ghost, how copy?"

He clicks back into the comms and explains to Laswell that he's bringing an asset with him, the faint sound of helo blades echoing in the distance as he signs off. He stares at the man with Johnny's face, waiting for an attack. Waiting for the agent to reveal his game.

But the attack never comes. As the helo appears on the horizon, Makarov's agent just stares into space, his expression reminiscent of someone slipping into a dissociative state.

Ghost's heart makes itself known for the first time in years. Yearning, sharp as a dagger slipped between ribs, suffuses his chest. 

A stab in the back might be worth it just to feel the familiar weight in his arms, to let himself believe for a few precious seconds that his Johnny is back.

Ghost shakes away the feeling.

He can't afford to trust. Can't afford to believe.

Not yet.

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 >>

[genderqueerdykes]

Topical or Injectable Testosterone Comparison: Which is Best For You?

i've met a lot of people who are unsure of which route of HRT they'd like to take. there are a lot of pros and cons to each one, I figured I would lay out some information to try to make that decision a bit easier for folks, as someone who has used both.

both forms of testosterone are equally as effective, topical is not "weaker" than injectable, everyone's bodies processes these hormones differently and the effectiveness depends on how your body processes medications, and your dosage.

Topical Testosterone

Taken daily, or for some folks, every few days

Either comes in a bottle with a pump that dispenses measured doses, or will come in a month's worth of small packets or tubes.

Many insurance plans in the United States will not cover topical testosterone for transgender or intersex HRT purposes, and if it is covered, it often costs an exorbitant amount of money- well into the hundreds of dollars

Requires clean skin prior to and covering the skin with clothing after application and avoiding swimming and showering for several hours after application

Hands must be washed afterwards to prevent transmission of the hormone to other people in your environment

Has a strong smell due to the gel being alcohol based

Can cause burning sensation if it accidentally gets into sensitive areas such as mucous membranes, cuts, your eyes, etc.

Can cause skin irritation in some folks, though this is rare

Being an alcohol based gel, it is very flammable, so caution is needed to be practiced around flames until the gel has dried

Can be easy to miss doses if you have chronic fatigue and/or illness, memory problems, mental health issues, or a busy lifestyle

Injectable Testosterone

Usually taken once or twice a week, depending on your needs

Testosterone cypionate is almost always covered by insurance in places where transgender HRT is a part of your plan. It is extremely cheap if it is not covered for whatever reason, usually costing around $15 for a month's worth of vials and syringes, but this can vary wildly depending on your area

Requires needles, syringes, a sharps container (safe container to dispose needles into), alcohol prep pads or isopropyl alcohol or other strong sterilizing agent for the injection site, bandages for applying to the site afterwards, and optionally gloves, but washing your hands prior to injecting works as well

If doing your own injections, you have to learn how to measure your dose accurately, and how to hold the needle at the angle most appropriate for your injections, as well as learning about if you need to do subcutaneous or intramuscular injections

Despite the amount of items required, injections are very quick and can be done and forgotten about until your next injection date- there is no daily maintenance for injections

You must switch up your injection spots every time you inject as to avoid damaging muscle and skin tissue

Injections can be done by endocrinologists and prescribers if you do not feel comfortable doing them yourself

It is possible for your skin to react to, or for you to be allergic to the injecting needles. This is rare, and can be addressed with your prescriber and/or an allergist

Testosterone cypionate will crystalize in cold temperatures. It will change in appearance and consistency, but can be returned to normal by placing the vial into warm water for a while and/or by shaking the vial for a while

this is not meant to be a comprehensive guide, but rather some observations ihave made in my 8 years of being on testosterone HRT. hope this is helpful, we will add anything else we can think of. good luck figuring out what's right for you in your journey

[dollfacefantasy]

FALLING FAST ♡

pairing: billy coen x fem!reader

summary: after the mansion incident, billy gets caught and taken to a psychiatric ward for the government's problems while they decide what to do with him. lucky for him, you're there too and more than willing to provide some company.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, canon typical violence, archaic medical practices (shock therapy, manipulative therapists, etc.), psych ward setting

wc: 7.9k

a/n: heyy sorry this is a little late, i got caught up with some irl stuff you know how it goes. disrespectful especially for the man who inspired my blog's name 😓 umm sorry if the ending is a little rushed i've just been kinda struggling. i hope someone likes this tho. reblogs, comments, and asks are always appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 24 - forced proximity

The day they brought him into the ward, you could barely believe your eyes. You recognized the man thrashing around in the orderlies' grasp. His face glowed on the television every night when the news came on. Bright headlines zooming across the screen would read U.S. MARINE SNAPS UNDER PRESSURE; SLAUGHTERS DOZENS, or after that BILLY COEN, FORMER MARINE, SENTENCED TO DEATH FOLLOWING MASSACRE.

Obviously, the execution didn't take since here he stood before your own eyes, being dragged down the hallway either to his quarters or the "therapy" room. You wonder if they'd give him electroshock or hydro. Most people believed those methods to be archaic by now, but the overseers of the United States' top confidential psychiatric center didn't seem to hold those same sentiments. Outside, the world approaches Y2K, but between these walls, it could feel like the sixties were ever-lasting.

You didn't see Billy again on that day he arrived. You didn't see him for another two weeks after. You almost started to believe they'd carted him to the back to finish the execution, and then thrown his body out into the woods where the roaming wolves could take care of him.

But then on Tuesday, August 18, 1998, you found him in the common room. 

You bounded around the corner and spotted him right away. He sat in the chair next to the tv. You knew he wasn't watching it. One, because that chair was the most useless chair you'd ever seen, positioned at an angle where seeing the screen is impossible. And two, he looked off into the distance as though his mind was totally vacant. A battlefield where the war had already been lost.

That day had been going great for you. For once the night before, your roommate didn't have night terrors that woke up the entire block of rooms. And this morning, your scheduled therapy session didn't end with them pumping a sedative into your veins. The occurrence of those two rare victories coinciding told you that today was special. Only good things could happen to you during this interval of sunlight.

You strolled further into the room, scanning over what occupied the attention spans of your usual company. They all seemed to be going about their usual rituals: playing games or watching tv, some reading books or just sitting by the window. None of them talked to this new guy. You shook your head as you took in this sight. People could be so rude, but you intended to change that.

Approaching him from the front so as to not frighten him, you came to a stop and tapped his ankle with the point of your foot.

You didn't get a verbal response, but his eyes casted up to you, signaling that he's still in there somewhere. Up close, you could see the light electric burns on his temples. You wondered if they were just from that first day or if it had been more times since.

"Hey, soldier. What's your damage?" you started, giving his ankle another light bump.

Unamused with your antics, he pulled his legs back and looked up at you. His lips curled into an ugly sneer. The expression matched his rough appearance. His hair was so greasy, you thought it could be styled without any product. He had bruises up and down his arms. Your eyes trailed along the one covered in tattoos for a moment long enough to be noticeable.

You almost assumed you were going to get no response out of him until you heard his voice start to rasp.

"Don't call me that." 

He sounded like they hadn't given him a drink since he got here.

Your brows raised at the response. If he wanted you to leave him alone, he'd just made the fatal mistake of triggering your curiosity. You pulled over the nearby bean bag and plopped down in it, the small plush beads parting to support the shape of your body. The way you sat, your legs ended right where his began.

"Where have you been the last couple weeks? I thought they offed you or something," you continued with another few taps to his joint.

Again, a delay came before his answer. You weren't sure if the shockwaves scrambled his brain that bad or if he was trying to mentally size you up.

"They've had me in solitary. I guess they didn't believe I was ready to make friends," he said finally. His voice left his lips low and cool, sounding like he smoked one too many cigarettes to be forever cast as the bad boy in teen romance movies.

"Why? You seem friendly to me," you joked.

"Maybe you should try to convince the suits of that."

His fingers rose to rub the marred skin on the right side of his head. It doesn't look like he's trying to soothe any pain. More-so exploring the new scar to his own body.

"What's it to you anyways? You don't know me," he added.

"I was just curious ," you defended with a shrug, "It's not every day a celebrity joins the group."

He scowled, only a little less severe than before.

"A celebrity, huh?" he asked with disdain, "Didn't exactly feel like they rolled out the red carpet for me."

"Well not everyone gets struck by lightning on their first day," you responded, pointing to the now-faded scars on your own temples.

The mention of something based in your shared reality seemed to ground him a little, as if it served as a reminder that you and him were on the same playing field. He hummed in acknowledgement, sitting up in his chair a bit more.

"They do that to you too?" he questioned.

"They do it to almost everyone. I didn't want to take the meds, so they gave me a stronger prescription," you answered.

He didn't say anything back at first. His eyes fixated on you, studying your features and mannerisms. Assessing you, your place, and your motives. You relaxed your shoulders a little and shook your head in an attempt to appear as non-threatening as you could.

"That was a long time ago though," you said, "Haven't had to do that in almost a year."

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

You held up two fingers and wiggled them back and forth. "Since '96."

His facial expression didn't change though you felt like something about how he looked at you did. Maybe there was an air of surprise now? A hint of pity? You couldn't quite pinpoint it, but you supposed the details didn't really matter.

"What did you do to get put in here?" he said.

"Same thing as everyone else. Saw something I shouldn't have," you responded.

You considered telling him more. More about your past as one of Umbrella's top researchers. About how you dedicated hours upon hours of your life to developing bioengineering techniques for them. How you planned your future around the potential promotions you would earn climbing their company ladder.

But that required that you also tell him about how easily they flung you from the structure entirely. Putting pieces together didn't earn you a private office or cushier paycheck. All you received was meetings that seemed more like interrogations, implied threats, and finally, a new permanent residence at this luxurious institution.

You'd also have to spill what you found. That you found evidence your research was being used in dangerous and unethical experiments that already had a body count. The story you'd managed to string together sounded like something out of a hokey horror movie rather than real life. It wouldn't be one he'd likely believe, and then he'd end up thinking you deserved to be here.

So instead you left it at that. He opened his mouth to ask another question, one that might poke at some of this information you were keeping to yourself. But before he could, the orderlies called the bunch of you for lunch.

You rose from your seat and waited for him to do the same so you could walk side by side to the dining room.

Leaves outside the barred windows shifted in color, fading from bright green to a burnt orange. They clung to the trees in their last days of life as the wind tried to knock them loose and scatter them across the fenced in yards.

However, even with the temperature growing colder, your connection with Billy began warming up after that first day in the common room.

The two of you didn't become automatic best friends after only speaking a few words to each other, but he reluctantly let you linger around him. Close enough to adjust to your presence as a regular fixture. 

You had fun hanging around him. This place got so boring after a while. New additions were few and far in between, and most of them didn't do anything but weep and wallow for the first few months before giving up and letting themselves go numb. They didn't make good company to say the very least.

Billy, in muscular, tattooed contrast, did. Despite his dry temperament and cynical outlook on life, he could be funny. Most of the time unintentionally. He had stories to tell you about the marines and boot camp, even the mission that landed him here in parts. While he could get sick of you following at his heels like a puppy, in a way you made things here more bearable for him.

He let you eat lunch seated next to him. When your group was permitted out into the yard for a while, he'd allow you on the same bench. You'd look up at the same clouds and feel the same breeze blow across your skin. You'd tell him some stories of your own, things about going to school or when you first got your job.

His were far more severe though. You remembered sitting on the yellowing grass with your back pressed against the uneven wood of a wide tree. You had been studying and mentally comparing your feet to his. The difference in shoes - neither with laces but yours had velcro and his didn't. The size. The way yours constantly twitched while he remained still.

The two of you were quiet, letting the sounds of nature and commotion closer to the building fill the air around you. But you itched to talk to him, to find out more about the man you spent most of your days with now.

"If you got out of here tomorrow, what would you do?" you asked and looked over at him.

He glanced at you for a moment but kept his head facing forward. "Why? You dreaming up an escape plan or something?"

"No, it's just a hypothetical," you scoffed, "I'm just curious what would you do if you could get out."

A pause bloomed between the two of you, and you assumed this would be another time he openly ignored you and left your question unanswered. But you made your prediction too soon because moments later he spoke again.

"I'd leave this country."

You blinked at the blunt answer. "That's it? North or South?" you asked, trying to get some more.

"Either one," he responded, "It makes no difference to me as long as it's not anywhere with stars and stripes waving around every couple hundred miles."

The words came out drenched with bitterness, but you couldn't really blame him. From what he had told you about that assignment in Africa, you'd probably want to split too.

"I think you'd be kind of cool like up in the mountains in Canada or something. No one around to bother you and stuff. Seems like it'd be a natural habitat," you nodded, trying to brighten things up a little.

His eyes softened a little and he breathed out what sounded like it used to be a laugh. "Yeah? You don't think I deserve a tropical getaway?"

"It's not that. You just don't seem very beach vacation to me," you smiled.

"Yeah, probably not. I guess the mountains would be more my thing."

"Mhm. Maybe we could go together, y'know? There's nothing left here for me anymore either."

"Really?" he asked before tutting and shaking his head jokingly, "Pretty little thing like you running off with a guy she meets in a psych ward. You don't have any family that would send into cardiac arrest?"

You shook your head. "Nope. No one really stayed on my side after everything that happened. If I got out tomorrow, I'd have no one tying me down. No one expecting me home. I could just go."

"No boyfriend pining for your release?" he teased.

"Not at all. I was supposed to get married, but I guess without the vows, there was nothing tying him to me. No reason to try and help me."

Despite the heaviness of those memories, you beamed at him with the dreamy excitement of running away together. It would never happen, but that was part of the appeal. A dream you'd never have to stress about actualizing.

He looked at you with something close to sympathy upon hearing that, but he didn't say anything. He was never really good at getting sappy. Instead he just nodded and turned his head forward again.

"Alright. I'd take you with me then," he agreed with a smirk.

It was after more exchanges like those that you started to really consider him a friend. Better than any you had before you got locked up here. You tried to think of why that was. Maybe it was because you didn't have to put up any of the bullshit facades you did in the real world. There was no reason to hide anything here. You didn't have to dress a certain way or make sure your hair was styled or your lips coated with gloss. You didn't have to awkwardly laugh when something uncomfortable happened or soften your negative opinion about someone.

In here, the worst had happened, and you lived it everyday. Social niceties had dropped pretty low on the priority list of everyone staying here. Even if sometimes you said something too emphatically or disagreed on an irrelevant subject, neither of you could get away. It brought you closer than you've ever been with anyone. Even the fiance you'd vowed to forget by now.

The day you felt something a little more intricate than friendship for Billy still stands out in your memory.

You were sitting across from him in the dining hall, your foot swinging back and forth in a lazy pattern. Earlier in the day you'd caught the end of a news special. You missed the topic, but you sat there watching a petite woman with her hair in a pixie cut give an interview. Despite her smaller stature, she sported a badge. Her voice was chirpy and hopeful, easy for you to tune out until you heard some words of interest, specifically the words Lieutenant Billy Coen.

She told this naive reporter some story about how he was killed a month ago in the Arklay Mountains. According to her, the vehicle transporting him had crashed and been overrun by adversaries. Despite him fighting valiantly, he didn't survive.

You could almost hear the country's collective sigh of relief. Thank God the snapped soldier hadn't made it. He wasn't lurking in the shadows, waiting for another opportunity to strike. You had rolled your eyes when you heard the story, but it still stuck with you all day.

It bounced around your brain, driving you to ask him at dinner, "So do you think they're still gonna execute you?"

He looked up from his food with bewilderment across his features. "What kind of question is that?"

"An honest one."

After a brief pause, he shrugged. He was never one to find your bluntness off-putting.

"I don't know. They didn't give me a rehab plan or anything," he said, "Why?"

"Well I saw on the tv that they think you're dead anyways. So I don't know... just kinda seems like they might," you explained.

"They haven't said anything to me about it," he told you, "They still got me talking to that doctor three days a week so... maybe they will, maybe they won't. Not much I can do about it either way."

It was then that something struck you. It would be hard to even articulate it, but the way he acted so flippant, so casual about something that was literally a matter of life and death. Maybe he'd been out of control so long that this felt normal. As soon as he gained the freedom of adulthood, he shackled himself under the command of his captains in the marines and the sergeants at boot camp.

From across the table, he seemed to recognize that look. The gleam centered between pity and concern in the eyes of every woman he's let get close. He leaned forward, staring into your eyes.

"You'd miss me if they did, wouldn't you?" he asked with a smirk.

Your heart fluttered inside your chest like a bird learning to use its wing again. That small curl in his lip marked the first time you'd seen some fire in him. A bit of his old humanity poking through the unpleasantness of being confined here.

You didn't see a point in denying his accusation either.

"Of course I would. Everyone else here is totally boring. And we wouldn't get to go see Canada," you said, mirroring his position by leaning your weight on your forearms.

"I'll have to stay on my best behavior then. Not give them a reason to leave you stranded here alone," he teased.

And he stayed true to that assurance. A couple more weeks passed, and everyday the both of you met in the common room. Sometimes one of you had a bad day, injected with a sedative that left you slow and sluggish, talked into something by the doctor that bugged you for hours after. Other times it was just the memories of the past haunting you. The ideas of what could have been. What should have been.

On September 30th, 1998, each of you had already been having a shitty day. For you, it had started early. You took the hour sentence on the stiff couch in the therapist's office. Listened to the normal bullshit the doctor told you about false memories and paranoid tendencies. And at the end of the session, they handed you an envelope.

A small, pale rectangle. Crisp edges and totally unwrinkled from its journey here. It was thin, not carrying anything other than another paper. You turned it over in your hands and looked down at the return address scrawled in familiar handwriting.

Your heart nearly stopped when you placed the swirl in the 't' and the little dip in the 'h.' They'd handed you a letter from the man you were supposed to marry two years ago. The fiance who'd left you in the dust.

The last time you'd spoken to him had been the night heavy boots blew your apartment's door off its hinges and meaty hands strapped solid handcuffs around your wrists. He did nothing to defend you. He was the one who informed them of your schedule and when you'd be home. Either he didn't believe you or they'd paid him off. At the time, finding out his motives wasn't important to you. The betrayal cut so deep all you could focus on was how could this be happening to you.

But regardless, you didn't care all those years ago, and you wouldn't care now. You didn't care what he had to say. Whether he was sorry or curious or anything. That on top of the fact that you didn't even know if it was real. You wouldn't put it past the people running this place to try some tricks like this on you.

You decided not to read it. It ended up in the trash can outside the door before you went back to the common room to sulk on the couch. Billy was already there doing some sulking of his own. Neither of you said anything when you plopped down beside him.

It crossed your mind that maybe you should ask him what's wrong, but you weren't in the mood. You didn't think you could offer anything helpful in terms of advice or support when your mind felt so scrambled by the reinsertion of your past into your present.

The both of you remained quiet for hours as you went through other routines of the day. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. Him physically being there was enough for you, and you got the sense he felt the same about your presence as well. Brushing fingertips and the warmth of your thigh against his provided more comfort than any words could.

That evening the two of you had returned to the television set in the common room. The news droned on from the monitor. News about the upcoming midterm elections, a few stories about car accidents or trends in crime.

But that all came to a screeching halt before the sun had even fully set. Breaking news alerts flashed across the screen, illuminating the dim room in reds and blues. Snapshots of Raccoon City lit up before your eyes. News reporters spoke in nervous, quick tones; uncertain words about a rapidly spreading virus that turns people violent. Frantic announcements that residents should not leave their homes but help was on the way.

You watched on in amazement. In a way, it felt like a dream. Something you would have conjured up in your teen years after watching a horror movie. Buildings burned and people ran through the streets, weaving around traffic that was so backed up you couldn't see where the line of cars started or ended.

A pit began forming in your stomach, dread at the realization that this was what you had been onto two years ago. This was what you had failed to stop. Rationally, you knew it wasn't your fault. You understood that it was not reasonable to expect yourself to be able to take on a corporation backed by the government. But it still felt icky knowing you had ever been involved.

The images grew more graphic. Headlines flying across the bottom of the screen became more dire. You watched as people, or what used to be people, stumbled around with mangled faces and blood stained clothing. They chased after others and sunk their teeth into their flesh.

You looked over at Billy after a little longer. He was faring worse than you. This was the first time you'd ever seen fear in his eyes. He wasn't shaking, wasn't crying or starting to panic. But you could still see it. Deep in those dark pupils, he was scared.

His eyes were locked on the tv, taking in every bit of horror being broadcast the couple hundred miles to this facility. You didn't know what to say or do or if you should even say or do anything. There was something more to his reaction than normal anxiety.

All you could think to do was moving your hand over a few inches and clasping his own. Your fingers interlaced with his and wrapped around his palm. You gave it a small squeeze, a wordless reassurance that you had him and he wasn't alone.

You felt the faintest squeeze in return. He still didn't directly acknowledge you, but that was fine. As long as you had that little signal that he was still there, you were ok.

The two of you watched until the feed cut due to technical difficulties and the orderlies made the announcement to start moving to your rooms.

Both of you stood up and headed in that direction. He remained quiet while walking through the tiled hall. You reached the junction where the corridor divided into two, and you would have to go your separate ways.

"Are you gonna be ok?" you whispered, turning to look at him.

He looked down at you and paused like he did when the two of you first met. His eyes watched your face, contemplating his answer. He ended up nodding and muttering a quick "I'll be alright." Then he turned away and stalked off to his assigned room.

Reluctantly you continued the rest of the way to yours, but that night sleep didn't come. You couldn't rest as you processed what had happened just hours ago. It wasn't even the actual crisis that was upsetting you, but rather Billy's reaction. Something had bothered him. Some element of what was playing out wormed its way into his mind and prodded at some memory he'd rather forget.

Sighing, you gazed out the window and then turned your eyes to the night table. You didn't want to stay here. You wanted to be with him. He was the only person you had now who was worth anything to you. What were you doing if not making sure he was ok?

As quiet as possible, your hand reached out and pulled the drawer on the nightstand open. Reaching inside, you fetched the little twisted up pin you'd made almost two years ago. You'd crafted the little tool in your first months here, but hadn't used it since then. You made it to sneak out at night and have some semblance of freedom, but upon venturing outside your room during dark hours, you found there was really no purpose. The main exits had higher degrees of security that you couldn't break and there was nothing special around the ward worth wandering around for.

But now there was.

You grabbed the small bent pieces of metal and slid out from your bed. Padding over to the door, you bent down and jammed the little ends into the keyhole. You fished around for the right springs to unlock the door until you heard the little clicks signifying you were good to go.

Your footsteps didn't make a sound as they retraced your earlier path and headed in his direction. You slipped past the single orderly in the corner office and pranced down the remaining space until you reached another door. The pin made quick work of it like it did with your own, allowing you entry.

It was hard to see anything at first. The room was bathed in total darkness. All you could tell was that it was smaller than yours and only had one bed. You felt his eyes on you though. Apparently sleep had eluded him tonight as well.

He rasped out your name before asking what you were doing. A fair question given the circumstances. You closed the space between the two of you and came over to sit on his bed.

You positioned yourself at his side. Your eyes had adjusted by now to the lack of light, and you could make out the most basic features of his face. You could also tell where his hand was. Reaching for it, you took it in your own just like before.

"I just wanted to check on you," you whispered.

A pause filled the room for a few seconds before he responded. "I'm ok."

"It doesn't seem like it," you said back. You scooted a little closer before deciding to climb over to the other side of his body and lay next to his side.

He grunted at you forcing your body to fit beside him, but he didn't move away. The two of you stayed in place on the cramped twin sized mattress, staring at the ceiling and digesting the unspoken part of tonight.

"It's nothing... it's not anything worth stressing about," he told you. His voice fit right in with the surroundings. Quiet and low, implying a sense of something deeper.

"You just looked really worried. Like... you were scared of something specific. I don't know, maybe I'm just reading too much into it or whatever," you said.

Another brief bout of silence took over the space between your words and his response. In that time, the feeling of his skin against yours became more prevalent to you. You were increasingly aware of the fact that your arm was around his torso and that you could feel the definition of his muscles against your forearm. His arm was also wrapped around your back. It was like the two of you were cuddling, and it didn't feel at all unnatural.

"That stuff on the tv... it's not exactly why I'm here, but it's close," he started, "They aren't keeping me here because of the bullshit I was sentenced for. It's because I saw something at that mansion."

That piqued your curiosity, and you lifted your head to look at him.

"I know it sounds insane," he continued as if you wouldn't believe him, "But I swear I'm not crazy. The shit they had in that mansion... it was like it was out of a goddamn horror movie. And I knew it was gonna spread. I knew that night wouldn't be the end of it. I tried running, getting as far away as I could, but they caught me."

"Do they ask you about that stuff?" you interjected with caution, "The doctor's... do they try to make you think you misunderstood what you saw."

He nodded. So the two of you had more in common than you knew.

"I don't think they'll be trying for too much longer though," he muttered.

Your eyes widen. Your fingers instinctively dug into his shirt like a child clinging to their favorite stuffed animal. "What? Why?" you questioned.

"The way they've been talking lately, I just think they might want to finish the job soon. Now that that shit has spread, I'm more trouble than I'm worth. I don't have any information they would need," he offered.

"But they can't," you tried, "They can't just randomly decide to kill you."

"I doubt it's random," he responded.

You sputtered, scrambling for a response to make this problem go away. You knew they could do this, but you wanted to believe otherwise. It wasn't fair that they could let you get attached to this man and then rip him away so cruelly.

"But... they won't. We can get away. We don't have to let them," you said.

He looked at you with some sadness in the dark. Finally, the slightest display of emotion regarding his own death.

"You got some sort of master plan to bust out of here that I don't know about?" he asked.

You scowled and lightly elbowed his bicep. "It's not a joke," you said, "I won't let them do that to you. It's not right. You didn't deserve any of this in the first place."

"Deserve's got nothing to do with it, dollface. This is just the way it is."

"No," you shook your head. 

You were insistent about this. Maybe your emotions were fucked up from all the drugs they'd pumped you full of over the last twenty four months or maybe your perceptions of relationships had become warped from the severe lack of social interaction you'd had over that time, but even though you'd only known him for six-ish weeks the thought of being without him felt devastating. It was a rush of anxiety and dread. The kind of stress that made you feel like you had to do something.

"They can't take you away from me," you finished.

The way his gaze softened was palpable. He reached up one of his hands and stroked the flat backs of his fingers down your cheek. He didn't like the thought of leaving you alone either. For reasons he didn't fully grasp, the thought of you being isolated here, without anyone or any hope of a future, made him ache. It was a gnawing sensation. One that wouldn't go away with simple distractions.

"I don't want that either..." he murmured.

But you leaned in and clung to him with more intent. You rested on top of his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart that you never wanted to stop.

"They do the same kind of thing to me," you whispered. He already knew about your past with Umbrella. You'd told him that much, but neither of you really talked much about your current treatment beyond the occasional extreme methods you were subject to. "No one ever believed me before, so at first, I thought they might have been right. That I just misread something or went too far with it."

You felt his hand start to rub up and down your back. He didn't say anything to interrupt your little confessional, but you could feel in the air around you that he was listening.

"When I was... When I was supposed to get married before this, he didn't believe me either. I tried telling him. I even said we should just leave. That maybe I shouldn't do anything, I shouldn't say anything. We could've just left. But he didn't believe me..." you said, "I tried to do something or to tell other people, but it didn't work. And when they took me, he just let them. Just left me to deal with it all alone."

You were aware your thoughts were coming out in a manner closer to rambling, but it's all you could manage right now.

"He didn't deserve you then," his voice broke out quietly from above your head.

Glancing up, your eyes scanned his face upon hearing that. You knew the comment was sincere. He had no reason to lie about his feelings toward a man he never met. But still, the remark stood out.

He saw your silence and responded with a touch before any actual words. He stroked your face, looking into your eyes.

"I don't know if that makes it better or worse now, but you deserved better than that. Pretty girl like you shouldn't be locked up here," he said.

"Well neither should you," you responded.

He hummed in acknowledgement. "I guess. But you really shouldn't be. You were a good girl. A smart one. You can be a little wild, but I doubt you got into any real kind of trouble before this."

Two little words in the middle of that statement had you tensing up on top of his body. He could obviously feel it as his hand applied more pressure to try and soothe you.

"I didn't," you answered, feeling like the words needed one.

"Mhm, I can tell. You're too sweet," he said.

Now you got the sense he may be teasing. With a nudge to his bicep, you scrunched your nose. "Shut up."

"I'm serious," he replied in spite of your attitude, "If we met under different circumstances, I would've really liked you."

"Really?" you checked. You hated the way your voice came out. So curious it almost sounded innocent.

"Yeah. You're just my type. Cute. A little mouthy till you get close to someone. Then you're all soft and sweet."

Heat crept up into your cheeks, and you could only be thankful it was so dark so that he couldn't see the timid expression on your features. He pinched the dough of your cheek between his thumb and forefinger, only making the feeling more intense.

"I can feel your skin getting hot. I know I'm right."

"Well I would've liked you too," you fired back in an attempt to turn the tables.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckled.

"Yup. You're tallish. All muscular. Dark hair and eyes. Tattoos. You look like you can ride a motorcycle."

"Don't make me sound like such a cliche," he teased.

Now it was your turn to shrug before scooting closer. "Then don't act like one."

"Smartass," he chuckled, "Even if we had met before, I doubt you could've handled me. I wasn't winning any boyfriend of the year awards with the women I dated."

"That's cause you hadn't met the right one," you said back, not missing a beat, "I could keep you in line."

"I'm sure. Sweet little thing like you would be the one to tame me, huh?" he mocked, "You don't think I'd ruin you?"

"Not in any way I didn't want."

After saying that, you realized how close you had leaned in. Your face was inches away from his. You could hear his breaths and feel the pulsing of his blood beneath your body. You really weren't sure what compelled you, but you brought your lips forward and closed the small gap between the two of you.

Your mouth landed on his, but he responded in kind, as if he had been waiting for the gesture. His lips pressed against yours before molding to reciprocate any movements you made. You could hear the soft grunts he let out as his arms encircled your figure and pulled you even further against himself.

You let out a soft little moan when his tongue brushed over the seam of your lips, a gentle push for entrance. You granted him access and slid yours forward as well. The two of you lose yourself in the series of kisses. As you made out, he slowly made the move to adjust positions, flipping the both of you over.

Your back hit the scratchy sheets that covered all the beds in the ward. In this moment, you didn't care though. The slight itch of them was easily drowned out by the intoxicating warmth of his skin.

His kisses migrated south, dropping from your mouth down to your jawline and then your throat. A sigh left your lips as he tended to your pulse point and artery. He hit all the little sweet spots. His teeth scraped across them tenderly and arousal bloomed between your legs in response.

"Fuck... you're so soft, so perfect," he muttered against your skin.

Your breath shuddered out of your lungs. His touch felt electric on your flesh. Glancing down, you couldn't help but think he looked even more sculpted like this. His shoulder blades twitched every time he moved his head around your neck. His arms trembled as he held himself above your body.

"Been dreaming of this..." you whispered, sliding one of your hands up to rest at the nape of his neck.

"Have you now?" he asked, "You fantasize about me while laying in bed at night?"

"Sometimes," you breathed.

He reacted to the idea with a soft groan. "Cute."

His kisses on your neck grew more passionate, needier and open-mouthed. His hands grabbed onto you. They slid down your sides to your hips where they groped the soft flesh there.

"I've had a few dreams about you too," he admitted.

A moan escaped your lips, but you made sure to suppress it enough to not alert anyone of your activities. You wriggled around a bit below him, trying to signal that you craved more.

"I need you," you whispered.

"I know, baby. Need you too."

He rose back up to his knees, shoving down the sweats they issued everyone and letting his cock spring free. It was a good size, thick and lengthy enough to attract your eyes. It oozed pre for you already. There was no mistake that he wanted you.

You squirmed on the mattress in an attempt to rid yourself of your bottoms before he reached for the waist and pulled them off with ease. Then he lowered himself back on top of you. His tip dragged back and forth across your soaked folds.

Despite only having known him for a short amount of time, this didn't feel like a casual hookup. It didn't feel random or unattached. It felt like something you needed. It felt like you were doing this out of love. Out of the need to be connected to this man who'd captured your mind and body.

He took as much time as he could in that moment. He glided the head of his cock back and forth, teasing the both of you with the anticipation of what you were about to do.

Then finally, he pushed in. You felt the satisfying split as he speared you open. His hips pushed inside at an exploratory, slow pace. A groan rumbled in his chest at the tight warmth wrapped around his shaft. Once he'd sunk all the way inside, his head dropped to the crook of your neck again. His breaths puffed out against you as he got used to the sensation.

It was an adjustment for you too. It'd been almost two years since you had any type of cock. The feeling now was a familiar one, but still something to get used to.

"Had to have a taste of this pussy before they put me down," he mumbled.

You whined and smacked his arm. "Don't say that," you whimpered.

Lifting your legs, you looped them around his torso and pulled him deeper. "You're still alive right now, so don't think about that stuff. Focus on fucking me dumb," you continued.

He chuckled against your neck, but complied with your request. His hips rocked backwards before popping forward again.

"You got it," he grunted.

His pelvis set into a nice rhythm. One that didn't have you screaming and writhing loud enough to draw attention, but to the point that you were satisfied and didn't long for something more.

Your arms laced around his shoulders and pulled him closer on top of you. Your clothes rustled together with every rock of his hips. His hands stayed tight on your body, keeping you flush against him as well. You could hear him panting right next to your ear in between the small pecks he'd leave on your skin.

With how close he was on top of you, his cock slid nice and deep every time. Every stroke brushed against the internal sweet spots that made your hips buck or another whimper spill from your lips.

"When we make it out of here, I'm gonna want you all the time," you whispered with a broken whine.

For once, he didn't mock your display of optimism. Instead, he played right along. "I know you will. And you'll get me all the time."

Your legs squeezed his waist, and he increased the force behind his thrusts, putting more of his weight into each one. He licked a stripe of your neck before kissing down the wet skin.

"I'll do it right for you then. Won't have to be quiet. You can scream as loud as you need. I'll have you filled up till you're shaking and crying," he said.

This time your walls embraced him. You whimpered at the pictures he painted in your head. Your breaths grew heavier to the point that you were panting too now.

He was so deep now that he didn't have to slide back and forth to make you feel good. He skillfully ground his hips against them, rolling them against your skin and rubbing up against all the places that made you keen.

One of his hands wormed its way between your two bodies. His fingers endured the lack of circulation to get at your clit. The rough pads of his fingertips swirled around it, giving the little bud a few good flicks.

Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sounds that broke out in response. The sparks of bliss burned brighter into full on flames in your belly. Your toes curled, and your thighs quivered against his sides so hard it was like they were vibrating.

"Gonna cum soon, babydoll?" he rasped.

You nodded from behind your clamped palm. Your eyes fluttered with the weight of your impending release. The sensation boiling down below was close to bubbling over. Your breaths hissed against your palm as you tried to hold off, but he wasn't having it.

"It's ok. You don't have to wait. I'm right there too," he murmured, "Cum on my cock, sweetheart. Make me feel real good."

And after hearing that, you couldn't hold back. A broken cry escapes your lips, louder than you'd like it to be. Your body melded to his with the force of the high crashing into you. Your hands clung to his back while your legs locked around his waist.

A few more pushes of his hips and he was gone too. Sighing against your neck, he pulled out as fast as he could, spurting warm ropes of cum onto your pelvis. His teeth dug into his lip to stifle a few noises begging to be heard.

You both rode out your highs in tandem before he collapsed next to you. He nuzzled your neck, wordless appreciation for you. A silent reassurance that things would be ok. You brought your hand up to gently stroke his forearm in return, signaling that you knew they would be.

And you had been right.

Things around the ward got worse after September 30th. The orderlies acted nervous, as if this place was on the cusp of collapse. Restrictions became tighter, no more going outside and there were bed checks at night.

That didn't stop your feelings for Billy though. Since that night in his room, you only felt more connected to him. Affection in your current circumstances couldn't be overt. It was confined to brief touches and lingering looks, quiet words only heard between the two of you.

The people running the institute had hushed words as well though. They had lingering looks, specifically towards Billy. Day by day, you felt increasingly anxious about the possibility that they were planning something. Your nights filled with dreams of him suddenly being gone. Of him being taken away and left to rot.

There came a day when they announced half the ward would be "moved" though you doubted their transfer would be a mere difference of wings. The men who came in to facilitate the change were armed, riot gear and all.

You grabbed his hand tight, not willing to let go.

The next part you only remember in flashes.

The way they yanked him away, how he tried resisting but was overwhelmed. Then how your eyes darted around looking for anything that could stop them. You knew you grabbed a pistol off one of the holsters attached to a man's belt. You fired without thinking twice. One crumpled to the ground before you ducked out of the way.

That gave him the opening to the same. Bullets rained down across the common room, blood pooling on the tiles you walked over everyday. You moved on pure instinct. So much of the violence was blacked out to you now.

You must have ran. The both of you must have dashed out the front door, stolen in keys in one of your hands. You must have jumped in the car that matched the double click of the lock button.

Because now you're speeding down the road. The wind blows through the open windows across your face. Your feet rest up on the dashboard while one of your hands covers his thighs. The car zips down the road heading North, heading to a place where both of you would have something.

You turn your head and flash him a grin. He gives you a similar expression before putting his eyes back to the road in front.

[ceesimz]

This is gut-wrenching to see. I grew up a Man United fan, it was in my blood, my whole family are Manchester United fans and there was nothing I loved more than watching them play growing up because of what they meant to my family.

And then... the last few years happened. I've never felt more disconnected from that team then I do now, I don't class myself as a Manchester United fan anymore. Because honestly what is there to like? There's nothing! I back the girls, and I always will, but I have zero connection with the club because how can I support a system that has no humanity?

First, it was the treatment of Greenwood and how they literally threw the women under the bus by saying "We asked the women of our club whether they'd like him to stay a part of the team or not." (paraphrasing) How the hell can you, firstly, use that as a decision-making strategy, and secondly openly admit it to the public and leave the women subject to hate from the scum of the earth online? And things only got worse from here. The men's team being called 'the first team', cancelling the celebration dinner after the women won their first ever competitive trophy, how the women are always an 'afterthought', and so much more that is so infuriating to witness.

The last decade, even, has been a downward slope I've been ashamed to see. I don't recognise this club, and I know a lot of female fans don't either because of the treatment from the owners and other senior staff. Again, I fully support the girls and it's not their fault they play for such a bullshit team, but I don't think I could ever consider myself a Man United fan again. Not in these circumstances. I've been a neutral for the last few years and I tell you, football is a lot less stressful that way😅

I hope there's some heavy protests within the women's team and that some of the players realise they deserve the world, not this BS. Nobody can hate them for leaving and I hope no one does, but that's as rare as winning the lottery. They deserve so so much better, this shouldn't be their fight. As always, one step forward and a hundred steps back.

[blnova180]

The Bad Sandwiches

This story contains: multiple sick characters, with descriptive belly rumbles, scat and diarrhea!!!

Sci-fi setting: In a world where humans and robots are at war with each other, during a rare moment of armistice, two unfortunate guys end up with a bout of food poisoning. Fortunately, their commander is there to take care of them.

(FYI I'm terrible at names so...)

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On a normal, sunny afternoon, lieutenants Fleck and Hade were having lunch at the canteen, partaking in their favorite activity: talking crap about their unit's new commander, Spree.

It was ridiculous that the higher ups thought she'd make a better commander than either one of them. Spree was more book smart than street smart, and she was always coming up with new strategies and training regiments.

"She's not right in the head," Hade said, getting up from the table. "There's an efficient way to hold your blaster, and there's a hundred ways to do so inefficiently," he mimicked her in a high pitched voice.

"The old commander never cared how we shot, as long as we hit out targets," complained Fleck. "Whatever, let's got train on our own for a while, yeah?"

"Sure, man."

Throwing out their trash and leaving thier trays behind, the two made their way to holo-room 4 to start on some light training.

They'd been fighting holo-bots for about an hour, sweating and already growing a bit tired, when Fleck started noticing an uncomfortable pressure building in his stomach. Glancing at Hade, who was still going, he shrugged it off and decided to push through it. Unbeknownst to Fleck, Hade was beginning to feel something too; his insides were rather tender and were twinging in pain with the slightest movements.

They finished the round and Hade paused the session.

"I need some water," he said.

Fleck nodded, needing the break just as much. He wiped his sweaty hair out of his face, and winced as a cramp raced down his abdomen. Hade was getting a drink at the water fountain, so Fleck allowed a soft pfff to escape him, trying to ease the pressure.

Hade bent over the water fountain, really hoping the cool water would sooth his stomach. Unfortunately, bending put more pressure on his gut than he intended.

Phwaaarghhhhh. It moaned like a whale and Hade flinched. He wiped his mouth and straightened back up.

Just then, the door to holo-room 4 opened.

Fleck and Hade looked up, and Commander Spree stared back at them.

"There you are," Spree said coolly, crossing her arms. "Have you been down to the canteen yet?"

"What's it to you?" Fleck snapped. "Gonna regulate what we eat now too?"

Spree raised an eyebrow. "Control's reported a situation. Did you stop at the canteen or not?"

Fleck glared at her, his aching stomach emboldening him. "What's it matter if we did or didn't? What's the situation? Is there an attack, was there a breach?"

"More of a human error," Spree said. "Answer the question, lieutenant."

"What? So it's a matter of rank?" Fleck sneered. "We're not high enough to know what's-" he took a breath, a cramp rolling through him "-what's going on?"

Spree narrowed her eyes. She crossed the room towards him, opening her mouth to no doubt berate him, when all of a sudden, she was interrupted by a noisy fart.

As it turned out, while Fleck had been arguing with Spree, Hade was having a bit of a predicament. He'd placed his hands on his stomach, surprised to find it protruding in a tight bloat. He could feel his belly bubbling against his hands.

Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Hade's stomach quaked warningly. He gasped and clenched his butt. But it was so no avail, his cheeks were split open with a booming, dry fart.

BRRRRRRRAAPPPPPP~

Spree and Fleck looked at him. Hade's ears turned pink from embarrassment, but he didn't have time to dwell, because he wasn't done. His next string of farts spluttered out painful and wet.

Phllllbrrrrrrrtttttttttt. Krpppppppluttttttttt. Phbraaaap-braapppp. Grrrrll. Poooot.

Hade held his stomach, his legs weak and shaky. His breath came quick and hard, his stomach aching and burning.

Spree sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "As I was saying, Control reported a situation. The tuna sandwiches served at the canteen today were expired. A few people have turned up sick at the med-bay. Did both of you eat the sandwich, or just Hade?"

Gwwwwlp. The wet, upset gurgle from Fleck's own stomach answered her question for him.

"Do you need to use the bathroom before I escort you to the med-bay?" Spree asked them.

"Yes," Hade whimpered, clutching onto the side of the water fountain for support.

"I'm fine," Fleck snarled, crossing his arms.

"Suit yourself, then."

Spree walked over to Hade, supporting him the few steps to the bathroom behind him. Hade stumbled into the first stall, desperately pulling his belt loose and dropping his pants.

The moment his butt touched the porcelain bowl, a wet fart exploded from him, carrying a stream of liquid diarrhea out with it. Hade whimpered, tears pricking in his eyes. His gut was so tight and tender he couldn't do more than let spurts of mushy poo shot out from his sore butthole. Except something was getting stuck, and he needed to push, but he was in too much pain.

Gasping, and choking on a sob, he tried rubbing his belly to move things along; but he couldn't even fart anymore.

He heard a sigh, and Spree was in front of him, roughly feeling his forehead. Hade gasped for air. His breathing suddenly eased out when a new hand gently ran up and down his stomach.

Grrwwwwullllll. His tummy yawned thankfully, and his lower belly unclenched what it'd been holding back. A log pocked out of his hole, slowly working its way out with a mix of dry and wet prrts.

Outside the bathroom, Fleck stood massaging his abdomen. Alone, he let his face turn red, twisting in discomfort as he forced out little chirping farts. His churning stomach wasn't feeling any better. He thought releasing some gas would make the building pressure ease up some, though so far, it did not good.

Fleck felt bad for Hade, who'd thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of their straight-laced commander, and was sorry he was so sick. Fleck didn't think he needed to take a dump that desperately, yet, but the noises from the bathroom were starting to make his own stomach burble sympathetically.

A cramp stabbed his bellybutton, and he opened his cheeks to let out another fart.

KSHHHprrrrrrrrrtt-toot~

Only, what he'd expected to be another dry peep, came out instead as a sickly shart.

Fleck broke into a cold sweat. He made a b-line for the bathroom, holding onto his bottom like his life depended on it.

Inside, Hade, who's own pain was easing up as his log inched it's way out, saw a flash of Fleck as he raced to the next stall. Bubbly farts followed him, along with a string of breathless curses.

Fart after fart rocketed out of him, his belly crying for sweet relief. Making it into the stall, his fingers trembled on his belt buckled as he fumbled to unclasp it.

Braap. Braap. BRRRAAAP.

He kept farting consecutively until finally, finally Fleck managed to drop his pants and collapse onto the waiting toilet. He farted. And farted. But nothing but a few little mushy sharts came out.

Fleck tried pushing on his taught, bloated stomach. His guts boiled with fury at his harsh treatment.

PSHHHHHHPRRTTTTBRRRRRRR.

His booming fart echoed in the toilet bowl.

In the next stall, Hade winced sympathetically, listening to his friend's persistent farting. His log tapered off and he let out a sigh of relief. His poor gut was still hurting, but he was done pooping for the moment.

Spree handed him a wad of toilet paper.

"Thanks," Hade mumbled weakly. "I think I'll be all right to go to the med-bay after, y'know..."

He nodded towards Fleck's stall, where he'd started panting and grunting in an attempt to move things along.

"He's gonna be here all day at this rate," Spree said, shaking her head before walking out of Hade's stall and into the next.

Fleck glared at her when she took a step towards him, and she raised her hands in surrender, leaning against the stall's frame. Fleck's pants pooled around his ankles, the skid mark on the inside of his underwear visible.

A cramp rolled like thunder through him, and he bent over to fart again.

PshhhBRRRRRRTTTTT~

It started as a hiss, quickly becoming another boom. Fleck's face turned red as he strained, bending forwards, hugging his knees. His belly couldn't take being squished so hard.

The head of log snaked out of him. Fleck pushed. And a short log slid out into the bowl. He panted with relief, leaning back. He almost wanted to laugh at how over dramatic his body had been acting. After all that effort, the only thing he'd expelled was-

Another sharp cramp pierced his bellybutton; like an extra long, hot needle.

And in an instant, his cheeks were parting. Fleck held his breath. It felt like lava running out of his bottom. Clumpy and slushy, burning his butthole on the way out.

Over the sound of his diarrhea, he could hear Spree saying something to Hade. He heard her leave, foot steps fading. For a few minutes, Fleck held back tears, resigning himself to his twisting guts.

Kshhhrrrt~ Bllllrrrrrp ~ Phhhwwwwggggg. The chunky streams continued.

Then, all of a sudden, Fleck registered a hand combing through his hair. Exhausted, he fell forward, and an arm was holding him, the hand moving down to rub circles along his back. His stomach burbled and he whimpered.

Spree readjusted him and knelt down. Softly, she rubbed his sore, fussy tummy, until the last of his bout trickled to a stop.

She stood back up, offering him something. Fleck looked up to find Spree was handing him a pack of wet wipes. Embarrassed, he took them from her, thankful she left the stall while he cleaned himself.

A bit gingerly, Fleck put his pants back on. He joined the others in front of the sink and washed his hands.

Spree walked them down to the med-bay, keeping watch while the nurse asked about their symptoms and pain. Hade's stomach was achy and Fleck's still a bit bubbly, but it seemed the worst of it was over.

Their unit commander rejoined them when the nurse let them lay down. Spree cleared her throat.

"You've got the next two days off, but I expect to see you both bright and early Friday morning. Is that clear?"

"Aye..." Fleck and Hade saluted her weakly.

"Good. As you were, lieutenants."

Spree left the med-bay and Hade turned to Fleck.

"Never met such hard-ass Commander in my life."

"Don't think you will again, in this life or the next."

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Yeah, okay, so I got supper excited to write my first post and might've put all my favorite tropes together. Anyway, my first post!