#it's almost as bad as the time I added dividers to all my fics

[misc-obeyme]

Okay I'm never gonna do an overhaul of my masterlist ever again. I've been working on it for hours now and it's still not done 😭

But I'm done for now, so thank you for putting up with the random new posts lol. There will be more tomorrow!

At least now most of the masterlist matches better with the main blog theme. I'll probably never change that again, either, so they all kinda seem like they belong together? Sheesh.

I might also spruce up the lesson recap posts 'cause they have zero cohesivness at all lol. They were just random reaction posts but they kinda evolved as I did more of them. Also gonna add some for OG as I do an OG re-read...

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[daisynik7]

so first off all i wanted to say that i LOVE your writing.

but, if you don’t mind, could you make an NSFW fic about a dilf! toji with his babysitter. but like cheating.

so basically toji has a wife but he’s cheating on her with the babysitter(whose like 10 years younger than him).

i’d really love if you could do it

thanks bookie🫶🏽

Pairing: dilf!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Author’s Notes: Thank you for your kind words, you are too sweet! This is my very first Toji fic EVER, so I was very excited (and nervous!) to write it. I hope I did it justice, this is such a delicious idea for him. Also, I have never read the manga, so if the characterization is off, I’m so sorry! I really, really hope you like this one! Divider created by @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[ramblingoak]

A Thousand Kisses

For an Anon that requested a lazy kiss with Copia.

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Warnings: soft, tired and kissable Copia, sfw, 540 words, not beta read (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers)

“I never want to move again.”

You grinned at Copia even though he couldn’t see it with his face buried in his pillow.  The poor man had been practicing with the ghouls all day for the upcoming tour.  When he finally showed up at your door it was with a hoarse voice and a stiff posture.  You couldn’t even get his clothes off without him groaning every time he had to move.  As soon as you had wiped off most of his makeup and made him take some painkillers he had collapsed onto the bed.

“You should really take a hot shower, otherwise you’re not gonna be able to move in the morning.”

“I can’t move now, amore.”  He turned his head to the side so his voice wasn’t muffled, his bright green eye focusing on you.  “I’m broken.”

“Broken, huh?  That’s too bad, Papa.  I’ll have to adjust my plans for tonight.”

“Pl-ah cazzo,”  Copia whimpered as he rolled onto his back, taking a few deep breaths before trying again.  “Plans, you say?”

“You know, just the usual.”  You toed off your shoes and crawled onto the bed, moving slowly until you were resting on your side next to him.  His chest rumbled like a purring cat when you rubbed a hand up and down his bare chest.  “A candlelit dinner, some dancing…”

“Please don’t say dancing right now.”  

He pouted when you laughed at him and you couldn’t resist shifting so you could kiss his full bottom lip.

“What about wobbling, Papa?  Would you wobble for me?”

“Amore, you know that I would normally do anything for you, yeah?”  You nodded before resting your chin on his chest.  He managed to bring a hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb across it gently before speaking again.  “But Lilith herself couldn’t get me to wobble right now.”

He smiled softly when you kissed his palm before he laid his arm back down on the bed.  Even that had him wincing and you frowned down at him. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Papa?  Anything at all.”

Copia was quiet and still for a few moments, long enough you almost thought he had fallen asleep.  You started to move away to let him rest but he slid an arm around your waist to keep you in place.

“Anything?”  He opened his eyes and gave you a lazy smile when he felt you nod against his chest again.  “A kiss then.”

“Just one?”

“Hmm, or two.  Three maybe, if you feel I deserve it.”

You leaned in to give him the first one, your lips lingering on his for a couple of seconds.  It was your turn to cup his cheek, rubbing at spot of white that you had missed earlier.  Copia’s eyes were bleary with sleep and you stifled a grin when you realized he probably wouldn’t last till the third kiss.  It didn’t matter though, you’d still give him all the tired and lazy kisses you could until he was asleep.

“You deserve a thousand kisses, Copia.”

“A thousand, amore?”  He smiled against your lips when you gave him the second one, his hand idly rubbing up and down your back while he gazed into your eyes.  “I’ll hold you to that.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[navybrat817]

Sweet and Strong

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You stop by the parlor to drop off some treats. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Fluff, flir-ting, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Tess is a real one, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from my Sin on Skin AU.❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You did your best not to let your mind wander during the work day, but Bucky hadn’t left your thoughts since he dropped you off at your place. A dopey smile formed on your face more times than you could count. The tattoo artist was your dream come true. Someone who looked like they could destroy everything in their path, but treated you with such care.

And he said yes to a date with you.

How does a man like him exist?

“Careful,” Tess said, nudging you to the side so she could take a cookie from the case. “Keep making that happy face and it’ll get stuck that way.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you smiled, making sure there were no customers looking as you typed a quick message to Bucky on your phone.

“Hope you have a good day, Hottie.”

After a moment, you cringed and put the device away. Though Bucky gave you his number after he dropped you off, you didn’t message him immediately. Waiting until today was better because enough time had passed, but was the text too casual? Not casual enough? Was it clingy to message him before you had your date?

Why am I overthinking this?

“If you’re smiling because of Bucky, it’s a very good thing. Especially after what he did to help you. I think he should get a permanent discount,” Tess said, making you raise an eyebrow when you didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“We talked about this,” you gently reminded her when she pouted, a look that told you she was still upset. “Please, stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

When Tess heard that Richard ambushed you after closing, she beat herself up for not being there. You assured her it wasn’t her fault that your ex showed up. She was thankful you were okay and that Bucky, and everyone else in the shop, stood up for you. She also added that if she saw Richard sniffing around the place that she’d kick him in the nuts.

Bucky assured you he wouldn’t come around and you believed him.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t see him get put in his place. Been a long time coming,” she said, a bit of mischief back in her eyes as she leaned against the counter to smile at you. “And I’m bummed I missed that kiss.”

“Why did I tell you about that?” you asked, your cheeks hot as you recalled the moment Bucky’s lip touched yours. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel him kissing you again. The memory made your heart swell.

As if on cue, your phone went off.

“Day’s better now that I’ve heard from you, Sugar. Can’t wait for our date. Planned something special.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you reread the message and hugged the device to your chest. You weren't sure how many women Bucky dated or how many special dates he planned before you. The thought of it being a high number didn't make your stomach sink as you expected. What mattered was that the two of you were taking a chance on each other.

And even though you technically asked him out, he took the time to plan something for you. When was the last time a guy did anything remotely nice for you without expecting something in return? Why had you settled in the past for less than what you deserved?

“You told me because we’re best friends,” Tess answered with a smirk when you looked her way. “Is that him?”

“Yeah, it’s him,” you smiled, showing her the message. “I wonder what he has planned.”

“Whatever it is, you better give all the dirty details when he dicks you down. And not to be graphic, but I bet he eats pussy like-"

“Tess!" you groaned, praying the nearby customers weren’t listening. But, god, if you hadn’t thought about what he’d be like in bed. He’d be so good to you. “Let’s try and be professional.”

“Professional, my ass. I’m not the one flirting with the hunk or making eyes at him every time he steps into the shop,” she pointed out.

Fair.

“And, look, I’m not saying you have to get laid on the first date, but I am saying you have to let him in your pants at some point,” she said, laughing as you tossed a towel at her face.

You laughed, too, and wondered just how the night would go. If you put out on the first date, would he think you were easy? If you waited too long, would he move on? You were overthinking again, but you couldn't help it. You really liked him.

He likes me, too, so I must be doing something right.

“What do you get out of it if I let him in my pants?” you asked curiously.

Tess placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “I get to keep seeing you happy, which you have every right to be."

"Thanks," you smiled, a wave of fondness crashing over you. The two of you saw each other go through many ups and downs of life. She deserved the world and it meant a lot that she wanted that for you, too. "Is it too much if I run some treats over for him? Especially since I just texted him?"

Bringing a small selection of baked goods for Bucky and the guys would be a small way to thank them for defending you. Deep down, it was also an excuse to see him before your date. You hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"The guy has visited the shop for all of your shifts since he first came in. So, no, it isn't too much if you surprise him and send something his way. He might like it."

"I'll be quick," you promised, selecting some of the best treats from the case, including one with little hearts.

"Take your time. Jill and I can handle this," she smiled as if she sensed your giddiness. "Go treat your man."

"He isn't my man yet," you teased.

But I'm already his girl.

"Yeah, he is," Tess winked, giving you a gentle nudge. "Now go."

It didn't take you long to cross the street to the parlor and thankfully you didn't drop the box. You hoped you looked decent. Well, as much as you could during a work day. At least you had a cute apron on.

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" Jake said as you walked through the door. "Sugar! It's you!"

You held back a laugh when his voice echoed. "Yeah, it's me," you smiled, holding up the box. "I wanted to drop these off Bucky and the rest of you, if that's okay?"

"You brought us food?!" he asked, leaning on his arms to look over the counter. "Hold on. Lemme grab him."

"You sure? If he's with a client…" you trailed off when Jake dashed away from the counter.

You took a moment to look around again, your gaze settling on an intricate flower tattoo. Seeing the place without the fear of your ex following you made it even brighter than before. Like your shop, it was expressive and inviting. Bucky likely put as much love into it as you did with yours.

"That was my first piece."

You tore your gaze away from the wall to find Bucky beside you, a dopey smile back on your face. There was only a small amount of space between you and your heart raced as you looked him over, the large man clad in his usual tight shirt and jeans. He had his hair pulled back and you resisted the urge to tuck a few strands back that came loose.

He would manage to look sexy as hell with latex gloves on.

"It's beautiful," you said honestly.

"Thanks. She's a good friend and still a client of mine. So is her husband," he smiled gently. "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Me, too," you smiled back, holding up the box in your hands. "I just wanted to say thanks again to you and the guys for sticking up for me. It isn't much, but I hope you all enjoy them."

"Oh." A slight frown formed on his face when you handed him the treats. "You know you don't have to give us these, right? We didn't do it expecting you to give us anything in return and I'm sure as hell not going to let anyone speak to you the way that prick did."

You furrowed your brows a bit, even as you nearly swooned at his protectiveness. Had you upset him? "I know I don't have to," you said, clearing your throat. Why did the thought of them defending you just for being good guys make you emotional? "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Was this a bad idea?

You let out a breath when he smiled again. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel obligated," he said, touching your arm. Even with the glove, the touch sent heat between your thighs. "It's a very sweet gesture, Sugar. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you said, satisfied that he wasn't unhappy with the small gift. "And I'll admit. I also stopped by because I wanted to see you before our date," you added.

"You did?" he smirked, bringing warmth to your cheeks as you nodded. "While we're admitting things to each other, I've been watching the door and hoping you'd stop in. I even dreamt about you when I took a nap."

"No, you didn't," you giggled, a sense of power and elatedness filling you that his pull to you was that strong.

"I swear. I don't think Steve will let me live that down" he chuckled. You wondered what exactly he dreamt about. Was it passionate? Intense? "Can't get you outta my mind. And, frankly, I don't want to."

Oh.

You didn't think he could make your heart beat any faster, but he continued to surprise you. There was no shame or timidness in his tone or his stare. It was steadfast and true, like he wasn't afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve with you. If he could be vulnerable and open with you this way, you could do the same in return.

Go big or go home, right?

"I can't stop thinking about you either," you told him, proud that your voice didn't waver.

"You can't?" he whispered and you suddenly didn't like the box between your bodies. It made him feel too far away.

"No, I can't," you whispered back, gazing into his blue eyes. "I waited to text you because I didn't want it to be too soon. And even though I don't know where you're taking me on our date, I already have the perfect sundress laid out and ready to go."

"You can text me as much as you want. I don't care what time of day," he assured you before his eyes lit up mischievously, like he knew something you didn't. "And a sundress is fucking perfect, but no asking for hints about our date"

"Not even a little one? Please?" you asked, giving him what you hoped was a cute pout. You didn't actually want him to tell you because you wanted him to surprise you, but you hoped you looked enticing.

Bucky slowly licked his lips and shook his head. If he was trying to look hot, he more than succeeded. If he wasn't, did he have any idea what that teasing motion of his tongue did to you? "I'm tempted to tell you and I'm very tempted to kiss you right now, but no. No hints. I need to stay strong."

I'm very tempted to kiss you, too.

"Fine, Hottie. I'll be good," you teased, pouting again. "For now."

Bucky moved the box beside him so he could step closer, his eyes darker than before. "You wanna be good for me?"

Yes, sir.

"Yes," you answered, leaving out the "sir" that echoed in your mind and shivering as he continued to stare. Before you could say anything more, you noticed that the shop had gone quiet. You leaned over to look past Bucky and giggled when you saw the crew staring, taking you out of the moment. Steve and Hal both had knowing smirks on their faces, but no way could they have heard your conversation. "Hope you enjoy the treats!"

"Oh, we will," Hal winked. "What about you, Bucky? You gonna enjoy your treat?"

"Get back to work!" Bucky called back before he smiled disappointedly. "Speaking of, I should, too. I think my client gave me enough of a break."

"Yeah, I need to get back," you said. You didn't want to leave Tess and Jill hanging. "I hope you have a good rest of the day."

"You, too," he said as you went to the door. "Be good for me until I see you again."

Fuck.

"Only if you're good for me," you smiled over your shoulder, catching his surprised smirk before the door shut.

You took a breath, allowing the breeze to cool you off. Maybe a cold shower would do a better job. You smiled as your phone went off, expecting a teasing text from Tess. It caught you off guard when "Mom" popped up.

Well, that can't be good if she's texting me. God, did she somehow hear about Richard? The last thing I need is a lecture.

Instead of opening the message, you tucked your phone away. You needed to get back to work and you had a date to look forward to. You wouldn't allow your mom to sour your mood because Tess was right.

You had the right to be happy.

No ruining this upcoming date, mom! Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[diremoone]

whipped cream apology | r. sukuna

fights are uncommon between you and your fiancé, but there are times they do happen. you know you’ll never hear a verbal apology come from him, but you know he’s sorry; Sukuna’s apologies always come in the form of gifts, food, or acts of service. this time is no different :3

w — modern au, chef! sukuna (he owns and works in his own restaurant but that’s not elaborated on), itsy bitsy sprinkles of angst bc of a mentioned fight, fluff, this is super duper short haha, food and food descriptions bc I am a woman who loves her food so sue me :3 this is just a random lil fic I wrote in like a day so i won’t be surprised if this flops lmao

[ divider credit to @/inklore ]

You don’t know how you go to sleep angry, but you do.

Last night had been awful. Maybe you’d blown everything a little out of proportion, maybe not. Your energy hadn’t been so great coming through the front door of your home. You’d just been stalked by a couple of guys that wouldn’t stop leering at you, and to top that off you had an old woman at the register of the store get ugly with you. All you wanted was the nice dinner you know would be awaiting you and to not be bothered for awhile after that.

Problem was, was that Sukuna was also in a bad mood. Someone at the kitchen of his restaurant had put him in a super bad mood by not following orders, and a food critic was to be coming by in a few days. And when you mixed his bad mood with yours, it led to you two going to bed on bad terms.

But now, you’re not even sure that Sukuna had come to bed.

Did that idiot sleep on the couch?

Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you see a note on the nightstand with your name on it. You grab it, unfold it and read: ‘Stay in bed and text me when you’re awake.’

Your sleepy brain goes blank for a moment, but you oblige your fiancé’s request anyway, texting him that you’re awake with a pink heart afterward, hoping he still wasn’t upset with you.

Sukuna’s answer is almost immediate.

Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be upstairs.

But you do need to pee really really bad. You make your bathroom trip as quick as possible and hop back in the bed, miraculously just as Sukuna comes through the door with a large tray of what you smell to be food.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you.

You can see the solemn look on his face, one of upset. He’s still bothered about last night.

“Morning, ‘kuna,” you reply, smiling at him. It seems to partially work, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You flatten out the blanket as he sets the tray over your legs. Your eyes can’t help but blown open so wide in shock and excitement that you accidentally make them hurt. To your expression and blinking eyes, Sukuna chuckles.

“An apology, for my shitty behavior last night.”

There are several plates of food on the large tray. Perfectly cooked eggs, bacon, sausage; all of your favorite comfort foods all sit before you.

But right in the center is a heaping pile of one inch-thick, fluffy pancakes the size of your head, four stacked atop of another. Butter runs down underneath the sweet maple syrup. Neatly placed around the edges of the plate are bananas and strawberries. And on the very top is a generous pile of whipped cream in a fancy swirl.

You grin at his meticulousness of making such a wonderful plate that’s only just going to get messy.

“Sukuna—”

He scowls. “Don’t even bother me with apologizing back. I don’t wanna hear it. I’m the asshole. You did nothing wrong.”

Love swells in your heart and soul for the man you’re soon to marry. God, you love him.

“You’re sure?”

He tsks. “Positive.”

You smile brightly. “I love you.”

His cheeks and ears go pink. “Just eat.”

“Cheeseball,” you call him, cutting into the pancakes. “But don’t mind if I do.”

“If you can’t eat all of that, I’ll eat the rest.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.”

taglist: (no longer adding)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @yuujispinkhair | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Pinch Me

After your first date with a familiar face from home, waking up next to Steve feels like something out of a dream. 

or

This is a follow on from Clean Slate but can be read as standalone fic. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties and were in school together; you met again on a blind date almost ten years later. This is an 18+ fic; oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex. Spoiler but use of ‘good girl’ in a sexy content. Steve Harrington being a smooth mf comes with it's own warning.

I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible! Some mentions of anxiety and insecurity. Plenty of kissing to make up for that! 

Author’s Note: Clean Slate was intended to be a one off fic but here we are! This is my first attempt at smut in a fic, so hopefully it’s not horrendous! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

Thank you to my lovely @specialagentmonkey for beta reading for me💖

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

(divider by me)

Ever since you were little, your bed had been one of your favourite places. Soft sheets, books on the bedside table and a perfectly curated stack of pillows all topped off with the quilt you had made with your grandma before her arthritis got too bad. 

In your mom’s photo albums there was more than one snapshot of you as a sleepy toddler with a wild bed head peeking up from your pillow on Christmas morning. Another few of you reading Nancy Drew in a pillow nest with a gap toothed smile. 

By now, you had made your own little nest out in the big bad world now; a surprisingly roomy studio with big windows and noisy neighbours on one side. You had bought new sheets and a duvet printed with dusty pink roses on porcelain white cotton, curated a new stack of pillows and added too many decorative cushions on top of the same quilt that had made the move with you to Indianapolis and on to Chicago. There were still books on your bedside,  a little dish for your jewellery to sit in while you slept, and an accumulation of lip balms, pillow mist and a candle or two to set the mood. 

After long shifts and bad dates, your bed was still your haven. When you were particularly anxious, you could still hear the shrill of your old alarm blaring in your ears; the sound of that clock that had dragged you from sweet dreams in your beloved bed on chilly winter mornings. Some mornings, as you rode the subway to work, you swore you could hear your bed’s own siren song calling you to get off at the next stop, come home to read and nap the day away. 

The sanctuary was for you alone, save for an occasional sleepover with your best friend Annie. Your dates were never invited to stay and make themselves comfortable. But this morning, waking up with Steve Harrington in your bed? That was new. 

It was safe to say that your blind date went well. Really well. 

You had resolutely avoided talking about school, only mentioning people each other might have remembered in the context of a story about your lives outside Hawkins. Steve was still in touch with a lot of people from home. You recognised some of their names; Robin who grew up a street away from you, Eddie Munson who you knew from art class and the occasional house party in your youth, even Nancy Wheeler. The way he lit up with so much fondness for ‘his kids’ who weren’t kids anymore made your face ache from smiling.

And Steve had listened, wanted to hear how you had liked Indianapolis for college (he had spent some time there too before making the move to Chicago with Robin after Eddie had sussed the place out and found an apartment near his own for them that they still shared). He had asked about your job, your life in the city, and took a real interest in you. 

His attention had stayed on you, never straying to see who else was around or looking for an escape route. His honeyed gaze had stayed focused, watching how you used your hands when you spoke and dipped occasionally to look at your lips. Steve’s hand had stayed close by when his fingers weren’t outright intertwined with yours. He did this thing with his thumb, stroking it across the bone of your wrist, and a few times he had squeezed your hand while you spoke as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening’ - it was so centering for your often anxious mind.

You had a few more drinks, picked a few songs on the jukebox, kept talking and talking until you were sitting close enough to hear Steve’s stomach growl, making his cheeks flush pink. 

“I know a pizza spot close by if you’re hungry?” you suggested. 

“DiFontaines?” Steve smiled a little, nodding at your suggestion. “Yeah I love it. Let’s go.”

Neither of you wanted to end the night yet, say goodbye. So you didn’t. Instead you headed hand in hand into the warm night air, nicely buzzed and in search of hot pizza and crispy cold sodas. 

The sun had dipped in the sky, taking the worst of the heat with it, but the night stayed humid and sticky. Despite the warmth, Steve held your hand and between stories, as you walked down the next block, he lifted his arm to twirl you when you passed a bar blaring Achy Breaky Heart onto the street; Billy Ray’s crooning was eclipsed by your laughter. 

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, pushing him gently before Steve quickly hugged you against his side again. Never had you felt so comfortable on a first date - but this wasn’t just any blind first date. 

“Dork?! You been talkin’ to Robin?” Steve smiled down at you, sparking heat in your belly. 

“Guess your reputation precedes you, Harrington.” With a burst of bravery, owing it to your younger self, you bounced up on your toes to peck his cheek before taking off a few steps ahead, turning to grin back at him as he jogged to catch up before you swerved into the pizza place. 

You joined the line of late night pizza lovers and Steve had slipped an arm around you, leaned his chin on your head as your heart pounded hard. “So, what’re we getting?” he asked.

The familiarity of it all made you feel fuzzy around the edges, his thumb stroking your shoulder, the heat of him pressed against your side. 

“It’s probably sacrilegious but the New York style slice, veggie or… artichoke.” Feeling brave again you cover his hand with yours and squeezed. “You?”

“Okay so we’re both sinners then.” He hummed, considering his options. “You’re vegetarian right?”

“Yeah, I try to be.” You liked how he had remembered a tiny detail from a story told hours ago.

“Okay. Four cheese then.”

“You sure?” Your interest piqued. 

“Yeah, ‘course. You might not want a goodnight kiss if I have pepperoni breath.”

You swear your jaw dropped as Steve schooled his smile, watching the group of tipsy tourists ahead of you order their slices before his eyes darted back to you. 

Steve was more timid, his voice quieter as he filled the silence between you when you had been too stunned to answer. “It’s also totally fine if you don’t want to kiss me, sweetheart. I know I can lay it on ki-“ 

Instead you rocked up to close the gap between you, ignoring the pinch of your sandals to lay a kiss onto his lips. Steve was quick to cup your cheek, keeping you there to kiss you back just as sweetly. 

His nose has nudged against yours before he let you go, gazing into each other’s eyes until your attention was pulled to ‘order or get out’. His arm had stayed around you as you placed your orders, splitting a third classic deep dish slice between you so you wouldn't be run out of town with torches and pitchforks. 

Full of pizza and soda and bravery, you had taken Steve’s hand again and strolled through the sticky Chicago night, steering him toward your apartment with the guise of proving that the same pink scrunchie you wore in high school was in fact on your bedside table. You both knew what you were really suggesting. 

Part of you niggled away, expecting him to make a polite excuse to head home instead. But Steve only had eyes for you and sealed the deal with another kiss. You lost yourselves in each other, feeling younger together, and made out with Steve’s back against the shutters of somewhere long closed for the night as he squeezed your hips and you toyed with the ends of his hair. It was with regret that he had to tear himself away from your lips to hail a cab for you both, where you did your best to behave on the way to your apartment.

As you lay in bed that next morning, watching how Steve’s chest rose and fell with breath, how soft he looked in sleep, you felt warm and happy. His golden glow was just as dazzling in the morning light.  

Your night together had been unrushed. Steve hadn’t just hit it and quit it with you. No, instead you had kissed and kissed, making out and letting your hands roam like two teenagers except there was no hurry; no seven minute deadline or someone pounding on a guest room door to see if it was occupied. The rumours in school had been true; Steve Harrington was an amazing kisser. You had listened to a friend of a friend rave about his soft lips after a lucky spin the bottle in junior year; now you had tasted him for yourself, you understood why she had brought it up so much. But Steve was in your bed now, not hers, you thought smugly. 

On the way from the couch to your bed, he had unzipped your dress and you made sure his powdery blue shirt wouldn’t be too creased in the morning, draping it over the back of a chair instead of leaving it balled up on the ground. 

Steve had made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were, kissed you everywhere before taking his time with you and spent an age between your legs as he worked you open for him. Lying there the next morning, you could feel your face heat up when you remembered how his touch set you on fire. The pleasant all over ache weighed you down into your mattress. 

With a messy bed-head, Steve woke a little after you and saw you smiling dreamily to yourself. He reached out to pull you closer, tucking his face into your neck. 

“Mornin’.” His voice was gravelly and deep. 

“Morning.” You brush his hair back gently and dot a kiss to his forehead before stroking your fingers over his shoulders soothingly, dragging them down his arm.  

“S’nice,” he said, lips moving against your neck before he pressed a few kisses there. 

Lying face to face on your pillow, your fingers played with the fine gold chain that settled around his throat, dipping lower into the thick hair on his chest. 

“I had a really good time last night.” Steve’s fingers walk up your arm, before twirling your hair around one carefully. 

When you look up at him, he’s got this little smile on his face. He inches closer, letting his gaze drop to your own smiling mouth before you share a slow morning kiss. 

“Me too,” you whisper, settling your hand on the side of his neck before returning his kiss again. Your fingers skate across and behind the lobe of his ear, the underside of his jaw and the shade of stubble there. 

With his large soft hands, he drags you closer still, pressing you right up against him. The t-shirt you had pulled on after the sweat on your body had started to cool last night was rucked up over your hip as Steve’s thumb strokes the dip there. 

You sigh into his mouth, feeling warm all over despite the chill of your box fan to cool the room down. This morning you're warmed by the heat and glow that radiates from Steve Harrington, hotter than the sun itself. 

“You’re really beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, shifting his weight so you’re on your back again with one of his thighs slotted between yours. Steve brushes your hair back, fanning it out over the pillow before dipping down to kiss you again. He leaves you breathless before his lips trail lower to your jaw and neck. 

It’s an intimacy you hadn’t had with anyone in a long time, feeling safe enough with Steve to let yourself be loved on like this. You will yourself to be present with him, bask in his glow as it warms you, but barbs of anxiety have crept in to distract you.

Last night was amazing, slow and syrupy and tender. If that had been the last time you ever saw Steve Harrington you could have probably died happy - happier than before anyway. But instead he stayed, and as he kisses you again (morning breath ignored and forgotten). Steve didn’t care that you had faded into the background of your shared high school halls, he had loved how you had the bravery to break out of Hawkins and be you now. 

Steve notices you tensing up and peels himself back, thumbing your cheek again as he says your name. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, concern in his eyes. It makes your heart ache. 

You shake your head and cover the hand on your cheek. “No. Never.” You pull him to you again and relish the weight of him on top, your hands over his shoulders. “I’m getting in my head. You’re straight out of a dream, Steve. I feel like asking you to pinch me.”

You feel a little embarrassed about being quite so honest with him like this, but he oozes a magnetism and calmness that makes you want to tell him everything. But you don’t want to scare him away, be left waiting for another call that’s not coming, or hear him say ‘that was fun but I’m not looking for anything serious right now’. 

He smiles and leans his weight on one strong arm so he’s not totally crushing you. “I can, if you want. But I promise I’m real. And I’m just some guy.” 

You laugh. “Some guy? Nah Steve, I think you might be some sort of apparition. Or like, a Greek god.” You squeeze his bicep for emphasis. “Definitely dreaming.”

Steve rolls his eyes, playful, and pinches your cheek lightly. “See? Silly.” He presses a kiss to where he pinched before going in for another on your smiling mouth. Steve was not shy or stingy with his kisses, you had learned. You liked that a lot. 

“I think you’re pretty amazing, y’know. If you’re not sick of me yet, would you wanna go for breakfast with me?” Steve kneels up between your thighs, the sheets pooling around his hips. Your eyes go right to the white Calvin’s pulled tight over the thickness of him. Your eyes rake up over his body until you’re caught staring, ogling, and Steve smiles when you pull a pillow over your face. You certainly hadn’t been so shy last night; he laughs and lifts it away to gaze down at you, hoping you will say yes. 

“C’mere. Then you can take me for breakfast.” You coax him back down, hooking one leg over his hip. “Prove to me again that you’re not just in my imagination?”

Steve grins and rolls himself down over you. “You been imagining me like this? Scandalous,” he teases before resuming his kisses from earlier, which you are eager to return. Your bodies move together, hips tilting toward each other seeking out that pressure that makes your tummy sizzle. As Steve’s hands slip under your sized-up sleep shirt again, your own dips down to cup him through his underwear. His breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Baby…” 

Baby. 

You smile and repeat the movement firmer this time before beginning to coax him to hardness, breaking your hold on him only to help him remove your tshirt. It’s lost to the floor along with Steve’s briefs. His breath is hot against your mouth as your bodies press together. The feeling of Steve’s hands on your breasts draws out a whine that’s swallowed by another kiss; his hands are so big and they feel like they are everywhere, like Steve is everywhere. His mouth and hands trail lower, spreading you out for him on your dusty rose bedsheets. He cups you there, thumb swiping in a delicious rhythm that has you gasping against his shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing the tops of your breasts. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, baby. Please?” 

You whimper as his fingers ease you open, so gentle like the polite ‘please’. Steve had proven he was a talker already last night, his words making you feel hot all over as he had pushed so carefully inside, turning tipsy giggles into needy gasps. You felt the same heat engulf you now as he lay wet kisses to your tummy, your hips, pausing only so that he could lie comfortably between your thighs after shouldering his way between them. 

He’s looking up at you, his cheek against the meat of your thigh. Lips curve into a smile when you meet his gaze, and he closes his eyes when you stroke his hair back. One of his hands takes yours and rests together on your belly as he dips to kiss you where you need him, humming against you when you gasp his name. 

Your eyes drop closed, fireworks bursting behind them as he makes you feel so good. The once or twice any other man had done this was lacklustre in skill and enthusiasm, which Steve possessed in every cell of his being. When you chance looking at him you spot his hips shifting against the mattress, chasing relief for his own ache which makes you moan louder. His whispered “good girl” sends your eyes rolling back into your skull. 

Steve brings you to your peak quicker than anyone ever had before. Mindful that you might be a little tender from the night before as he presses one long and thick finger inside before a second joins it a few moments later, gentle but with a purpose of making you forget your own name. His shoulder presses firm against your thigh, spreading you wider as his fingers pump steadily, keeping the pace and press against the spot inside you that makes you feel fit to explode. 

You squeeze his arm while your capacity for coherent speech vanishes, focusing only on the swirl and suck of his mouth and the crook and curl of his fingers. It’s so sudden, and you swear you’ve never made a noise so loud as you moan for him, trembling all over. He whispers his praise against your thigh before bringing his mouth back to where you’re weeping for him and doesn’t stop until your thighs are crushing his ears, muffling your voice. 

Chest heaving, you feel him move up to check on you. He brings you close, holding you as you glow with him and presses feathery kisses to your hairline. “You still with me? Not still dreaming about me?” 

“Mm, think I died,” you manage, peeking up at him with teary eyes. Another tender kiss to the dopey smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” 

His grin is deservedly cocky, earning himself the warm grasp of your hand around his length. The prettiest frown graces his face as you squeeze and slowly pump your hand, your lips moving to his neck. 

Steve’s gaze moves from your face, dragging down your body to where your hand holds him. His size makes your hand look small and you feel the kick of his arousal on your palm. You manage to swing one wobbly leg over him, sitting on the breadth of his thighs with new confidence as he holds you steady. 

You lean across him, earning kisses to your chest as you fish for a condom to rip open and roll on to him before lowering yourself down into his lap. 

Sinking your teeth into the fat of your lower lip at the stretch of him, Steve huffs out a breathy swear against your chest. His hands settle on your hip and thigh, grounding and never rushing as you breathe into the feeling of him inside you before beginning to move. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching you in awe. “So pretty f’me.”

That spurs you on, chasing the tingle deep in your abdomen. Your fingers lace with Steve’s on your thigh, the other hand braced against the wall behind his shoulder. 

His head leans back by your hand, turning to kiss your wrist as you move in his lap. You curl your arm around him, bringing each other close as his hips hitch up to meet you. 

“So good, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you again as his breath comes quicker now. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Gasping his name, you hold him tight to you as you move together. He can’t take his eyes off of you, “Good girl, so gorgeous.” 

Messy kisses broken by gasps and Steve’s praise are traded back and forth. His hands feel huge where they hold you at your waist. 

The cord of pleasure deep in your pelvis winds tighter. Steve’s jaw twitches as he holds on to you, and you kiss the tense muscle before whispering, “You make me feel so good.” The sound he makes is almost a whimper and he squeezes the meat of your ass. Your hips continue their rise and roll, you feel like every cell of your body is aflame. 

Steve watches you, praising words fanning the fire low in your belly. The burn in your thighs makes you pause and he takes the chance to kiss you stupid again. 

“Feel good? Yeah?” When you nod, feeling spaced out, he pecks your swollen lips and whispers, “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” You wonder if he lets anyone take care of him, return his generosity and affections. 

He is so gentle as he holds you to his chest and slouches lower on the bed. You close your eyes at the feeling of being held like this, cheek to his broad shoulder. His feet are flat and firm on the bed and the experimental thrust up into you makes you sigh his name. Steve sweeps your hair to one side so that he can kiss your neck again, checking in with you before continuing. 

His name echoes on your bedroom walls as he grazes the elusive spot inside of you; the way you press right against his pelvis gives a rub of friction that makes lightning zing through your limbs. “That’s it. Huh? Right there?” His voice is tight as he drives up into you again, faster now with the new angle. 

You can hardly summon the sense to make a sentence, babbling now with how good he’s making you feel, the occasional broken curse or plea. After last night and this morning, the neighbours won’t be happy or forget Steve’s name anytime soon - not that you give a fuck. 

You kiss him again, though now you’re both so far gone it’s messy and needy, hot breaths against each other’s cheeks. The lick of his tongue against yours makes you shiver. You feel ready to burst, pleasure building as his hips drive up hard into you

With the feeling of him so deep inside of you, you fall over the edge again. The feeling of your orgasm, clenching and fluttering and soaking, drags him with you, groaning against your neck when his hips slam and stutter still. His arms are tight around you, both heaving deep breaths together. 

Steve eases you both down onto your sides, tangled together. You feel dazed and heavy but the stroke of Steve’s fingers on your hip, his hot breath on your collarbone grounds you until the sounds of Chicago on a Saturday morning remind you that this wasn’t a dream. 

“You okay? That.. Jesus…” Steve’s voice is breathy, but you hear his smile. 

“Yeah. I’m…amazing.”

“Yeah, you are.” 

There’s comfortable silence as you both come back to earth. 

After a few moments Steve dots kisses to your cheeks, forehead and nose before he eases out of you to bin the full condom. Soon you’re back in bed with him, held safe in his arms. His cheeks are pink and you want to squeeze them. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Steve.” Your fingers brush over the moles dotted along his cheekbone, and he catches your hand to kiss your fingers sweetly in distraction. “Hey. Look at me, Harrington.”

“Back to Harrington?” he teases, looking into your eyes with faux intensity to make you giggle. “M’lookin’.”

“Steve. Steven.” You match his teasing with pretend-seriousness.

“Not Steven. Please, baby.” His mouth turns down, exaggerating his unhappiness with you, but the stroke of his fingers on your hip say otherwise.

“Ms O’Donnell called you Steven.”

“Please don’t bring O’Donnell up while my dick is still out.”

You both dissolve into giggles, pressing your face against the chain on his chest. “Shut up, she had that much of an effect on you?! Calling you Steven gets you all worked up? Okay perv, good to know.”

“You’re sick in the head.” His voice is shaky with laughter against your hair. “S’a good thing you’re cute.”

“Mhm. Definitely a sicko. Two cute sickos.” You take his face in your hands again. “You’re a great date Steve Harrington.”

He smiles, but it falls a little - you just about catch it. It makes your heart hurt. Your inability to just say that you don’t want this to be a one time thing makes you want to pull your own hair out. 

“I do my best. I had so much fun with you. I’m just kinda… sick of first dates though. Yknow?” 

“I do know. But that’s not how last night felt.” 

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes as he nods. 

“Definitely helped that we had a bit of a head start on the ‘where are you from?’ shit..” There’s a twinkle of playfulness in his heart wrenching sincerity. 

“I hate that part.” You look into his eyes. It makes your chest flutter, how he looks at you.

“I know we didn’t know each other all that well in school..”

“Since kindergarten.” Your shrug is tiny, you smile playfully as he groans. 

“Since kindergarten. Shit. What’ve I been doing all this time…” he asks the ceiling.

“Same as me. Getting out of Hawkins. Going on crappy dates...” 

“Mm, true. Growing up, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Last night wasn’t crappy. Best date I’ve been on in a long long time.”

“Me too. I think I’ll let you take me out again, if you want to…” you say, whispering bravely as you act all playful despite your hammering heart. 

The smile on Steve’s face makes the butterflies in your stomach swoop again. You weren’t the only one who felt so dimmed by dating around, having your heart broken. There’s a beat of silence, charged electric as Steve looks at your lips and you touch his chain again. 

“You like pancakes, or waffles?” Steve’s eyes twinkle. 

You squeeze the bulk of his bicep. “French toast.”

His head tips back in laugh, showing off his delicious throat. “Oh she’s fancy?”

“She is.” 

He leans in to kiss you in more time. “I can do fancy, baby.” 

“You’ve done fancy twice. Fancy is hungry, Steve.”

Your laughter echoes in the golden morning light that fills your room as his fingers skate over your ribs, finding the ticklish spots before he hauls you as close as possible again. 

Steve’s nose presses against your cheek, smooching one more kiss there before sitting up to find his pants. As you stargaze at the constellation on his broad back, you think this might just be the start of something really amazing.

comments, reblogs and likes are not simply appreciated - they are cherished

[jennaajoseph]

ㅤㅤㅤ ❛ The beginnings. ❜ ⸻ David Loki x F!Reader.

── ﹙౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ MASTERLIST&INFO.﹚. ☆

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ SUMMARY. ⸻ You and David remembered your sweet beginnings together.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ PAIRING. ⸻ david loki x fem!reader.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ CONTENTS. ⸻ none, mostly fluff, female reader.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ A/N. ⸻ amazing request from anon!! (I'm so sorry it took so long) I tried a bit of a different style this time, I hope it doesn't look too bad?? I've tried to make Loki more brightful/flirty person in this. I need this man to be happy for once lol.

Work is kicking my ass lately lol, sorry for being inactive with fics, I'm still working on a few requests!! I have a few fics in my drafts I wanted to post for a long time so stay turned.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ CREDITS. ⸻ photos - pinterest (cropped by me) , divider - @/cafekitsune.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ﹙©jennaajoseph﹚

You laughed at another funny memory with David that you remembered. "Oh, c'mon, that was embarrassing." He covered his face with both hands, feeling embarrassed.

"What?! It was adorable!" You chuckled softly.

He gently shook his head. A small smile appeared on his face at the memory of him wearing a pink shirt to one of your dates because you once said that pink is pretty. Later, he found out that it wasn't even your favourite color at all. "Do you know how stupid I felt after?"

"I was actually amazed that you were paying attention to little things like that." You leaned a bit closer to his face.

"I just wanted to do my best." He smiled as you leaned closer to him, looking into your eyes. "Impress you, you know?"

"You impressed me a lot, just like the first time we met." You gave him a toothy grin and he raised an eyebrow.

"Was there something wrong with our first meeting?"

"You don't remember? You were so eager to keep talking to me."

"I wanted to keep the conversation going! You really interested me that day." He tried defended himself.

You chuckled shaking your head gently at the memory.

⭑⭒⭒

David was sitting quietly at his table, drinking coffee. His eyes occasionally landed on you from time to time. You were peacefully typing on your computer, trying to finish the work that needed to be done for tomorrow morning.

The cafe was empty, there was no one besides you and him. A few small drops of rain were softly hitting the glass windows, making it not too uncomfortably quiet.

"Anything else?" The server looked at David, holding a coffee pot.

His gaze quickly dropped off you when he heard the waitress. "Oh, no, not really, thank you."

"If you need something, I will be behind the counter." She said softly, smiling. David returned a small smile. When the waitress walked in the opposite direction, his eyes landed on you again.

Your gaze accidentally met his, you quickly turned to look back into your computer, furrowing your eyebrows. His eyes dropped to look at his half-empty cup of coffee.

Despite everything, you could still feel his gaze on you, his eyes were basically burned into you, and you felt it. Your mind was telling you that he was just another creep that wanted to say some nasty joke when the time is right, and that was the last thing that you wanted to hear today.

"Could you stop staring at me, please?" You finally spoke, and his gaze met yours again.

"I'm sorry." He said a bit ashamed, his eyes dropped down again. "I just thought that you look really good today." He added awkwardly.

"Thanks, but you don't need to burn your eyes into me." You chuckled, looking at your computer again.

"It's hard not to look at you." He gave you a small, flirty grin. You rolled your eyes.

"I didn't know I was that pretty for some random stranger." You looked back at him. A small, almost unnoticable blush appeared on his cheeks.

"What are you writing?" He took a sip of his warm drink.

"I have some work due tomorrow."

"I'm probably distracting you, don't I?"

"A little bit." You gave him a playfull smile. "I could feel you staring at me like a creep, and I couldn't focus."

He placed the cup back on the table, chuckling awkwardly. "Sorry."

You rolled your eyes, smiling and started typing on your computer again. "Next time when you stare at some random girl, don't make it that obvious or scary."

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. David wanted to keep the conversation going, but also didn't want too sound pushy or needy. You intrigued him, and he couldn't just let you slip past his fingers. "Thanks for the advice."

You gave him a quick wink and kept writing. Despite your comments, Loki kept staring at you. There was something about you that was different, unique. Something that intrigued him.

He decided to take another shot, and kept talking, even if it was something that would make you annoyed again. "I've never seen you here before."

"Because I've never been here before." You stopped typing, and looked at him again.

"You just moved in?"

"You are trying so hard, aren't you?" You closed your computer.

"Isn't what people do when they are interested in someone?" He gave you a cheeky grin.

"What if I told you that I have a boyfriend?" You returned the grin.

He shrugged softly. "I don't know, you have one?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

⭑⭒⭒

"You were playing so hard to get, y/n, that's all I can remember." He said suddenly, getting you out of your thoughts.

"You were creepy."

"I was just showing interest in you." He put his arm around you, and pulled you closer.

"In a very creepy way." You smiled, laying your head on his chest.

"What exactly was creepy in my behavior?"

"The way you were staring at me, almost all the damn time."

David couldn't help but chuckle. "But in the end, you agreed for a coffee with me, don't you?" He smiled gently as you looked up at him.

"I think in the end, you intrigued me too."

⭑⭒⭒

"What do you think?" You leaned in your seat.

"If you had someone, you wouldn't talk to me."

"Smart."

"I think there's only one way to find out." He started, and you raised your eyebrow. "Would you go out for a coffee with me sometime?"

You smiled gently, he returned a smile. "When?"

"Same place at 8 tomorrow? I can pick you up."

"You are very forward, aren't you?" You stood up from your seat, and packed the device into your bag. "I will get here by myself, but thank you."

"As you wish then."

You took a few steps towards him and held your hand out. "It was nice to meet you..."

His eyes sparkled a bit, unnoticeable for you to see.

"David, David Loki." His hand squeezed yours.

"Y/n L/n."

"It was also nice to meet you, y/n."

⭑⭒⭒

"I hated the coffee you bought for me the next day." You blurred out suddenly, chuckling.

He sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.

"But I had a very nice time, you know?" You looked up at him. "I'm really glad that you tried to keep the conversation going."

"I'm very glad about that too." He leaned softly to kiss your forehead.

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: WITERLLY WHAT THE HECK GUYS!!! You have made my heart so full! Almost 100 notes in under 24 hours😭❤️ yall gon make me cry! I am truly and utterly grateful that y'all are liking it so far! I'm a little insecure with my writing, but it's only because i'm so new. I am open to any kind of advice you can give me or constructive criticism that will help make this fic better for you readers. With practice comes improvement!! Also, look i'm evolving with my tumbler knowledge and added dividers, a tag list, and a masterlist that i hope works! Look at me go😭🤧 ANYWHOOOO... are y'all ready for this one?? I fully planned on posting this next week but i'm too freaking excited! Eheheheh writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet! Enjoy my loves<3

Summary: You and Lucien decided to leave Rita's after discovering your mates kissing each other. With no reason to stay, Lucien offers you the comfort of his home and a glass of your favorite wine to help decompress the stress of both your mates. How could you say no?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: usage of profanity, sexual tension growing between Lucien and y/n, some fluff bc why not, sharing a bed, potential grammar and spelling issues

Word Count: around 3,350

Chapter 2: "Scream my name..."

As you and Lucien walked out of Rita’s, neither of you had noticed two pairs of eyes lingering watching you both leave after they heard Rhys’ commotion questioning Mor into oblivion about what the hell was going on. Mor had almost smirked at the fact that all it took was for you and Lucien to leave together to make Az and Elain both glance at y’alls receding figures. If it weren't for Rhysand in her face, she well would have. Even as Rhys is trying to get her to talk, she could not wait to tell you the plan had worked! Even if it was just a glance, it was still something! Small progress is still progress, right? Oh, she wishes she could have Feyre paint their reactions to you two leaving because it was priceless. Maybe Mor would and give it to you for solstice? But for now, she has a very upset cousin to deal with.

You and Lucien stopped at a local market to grab snacks and your favorite wine for your impromptu evening at his apartment. As you walk out of the market towards his place, Lucien can’t help but to ask about Azriel. 

“So... The shadowsinger is your mate huh?” Lucien asks while tucking his hands in his front pockets glancing to your face as he asked you his question. 

“Yeah... When I first met Az, it was when Rhys had offered me a room to stay in for a night. Rhys and I had quite literally run into each other a moment prior. I was traveling through the night court and was so distracted by the beauty that I ended up running right into Rhysand. I had knocked his freshly bought paint that he was planning to give Feyre all over us. I felt so bad that I kept offering to pay him for the cost of the paint along with his clothes, but he kindly refused. I had no mental shields back then, so he easily saw I was a nomadic traveler that had no place to stay or wash up. He offered me a room in his home for a night and a training over mental shields as payment, and I kindly accepted. I hadn't had a nice place to stay in such a long time. But, little did I know it would not be my peace and that my mate lived in the home I was about to stay at.” you said as you walked in tandem with Lucien down the streets towards his apartment.  

“Always so generous that high lord. And, I assume you know who my mate is then?”  

“That he is. And yes, I do. If you don’t mind me asking, why doesn’t she want the bond?” 

“The same reason your mate doesn’t see yours... She’s too busy being enamored by him to try and pursue or explore things with me.” He finds a rock on the pavement to kick along as you two walk. Lucien kicks it towards you. 

“At least she knows you’re her mate.” you shrug, kick the rock back, and Lucien chuckles. 

“You have a point, and Azriel would know if you would just tell him.” 

“Yeah, but would it change anything between us? Probably not. It would most likely end up like you and Elain if I told him...” Lucien stops and goes silent for a moment. “No offense of course!” 

“None taken. How did we even end up in this mess? You and I both having mates who do not reciprocate any kind of feelings toward us because they like each other is almost ironic.” He laughs at this situation you are both in. 

“You know now that you're saying it out loud, it is quite ridiculous.” You giggle. For a moment you had completely forgotten about Azriel and Elain. Lucien once again, being so alluring that you forgotten what you had just seen at Rita’s.  

Lucien glances at you and finally takes in your appearance. Your cheeks start to turn rosy at the sight of his eyes trailing over your body. Your dress still leaving little imagination for Lucien. Your body grows hot from the sudden attention. 

“He’s absolutely dumb as rocks for not looking at you tonight, because you look ravishing.” and gives you a playful wink. 

“Lucien you're just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“Y/n I kid you not, I truly mean it. You are one of the most beautiful females I have ever seen!” 

“Thank you Lucien, that means so much more to me than you will ever know,” as you look into his eyes and smile at him. He stares at you, smiles and dips his head to say you're welcome before continuing. 

“Almost there, it is right around this corner.” 

“Perfect, because I am freezing and in dire of more alcohol. I am too sober for all this emotional shit,” you say as Lucien laughs at your comment and you both turn the corner. 

“And we're here! Home sweet home!” 

You walk into his apartment and your senses are engulfed by the smell of cinnamon sticks, crisp apples, cedarwood, and roasted chestnuts. It felt like home. Everything in his apartment felt so warm and welcoming. You sat down the groceries you had gotten on the center table near the living room couch, and slowly took in his décor. You were surprised everything looked so coordinated. His apartment was filled with warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows. It reminded you of your brief stay in the autumn court. You wondered if that’s why Lucien decorated it this way. Maybe he had found a sense of belonging in those colors. While you were taking in his apartment, you hadn’t noticed him grabbing you a change of clothes to wear along with a warm woolly blanket.  

“Here, these are for you to change into, and this is for you when you get cold later because I know you,” Lucien handed you the clothes and sat the blanket down on the couch. “The bathroom is through the hall on your left! Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Okay, thank you!” 

You started walking to the bathroom, the floor creaking beneath your feet as you opened the door. You stepped inside and quietly shut the door. You could hear Lucien in the kitchen popping the bottle of wine and pouring you both glasses, but what you forgot to realize is how you were going to take this dress off. After Mor’s last minute dress change, you had to call Nuala and Cerridwen to help you into it. You had not thought about how you were going to get it off. You slightly began to panic. “It’s okay... you can do this. It’s just a dress, can't be that hard right?” You tried to maneuver your arms into reaching the back of your dress but to no avail, Mor had to pick the most complicated thing you have ever seen. She was right though, this dress did look hot as fuck on you. You struggled a few times more before huffing and giving up. So, you had to do what you had to do...  

“LUCIEN, I NEED HELP!” You could practically hear him sprinting down the hall to get to you in the bathroom. Without thinking he pushes the door wide open. 

“WHAT IS IT? Are you alright?” His face scans you for any kind of injuries but finds none. The only thing he finds is you still in that damn dress that drove him crazy. “Why are you not in the clothes I gave you?” 

“First of all, I could have been indecent. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock! Secondly, you see, as a male you would not understand this predicament, but I cannot get my dress off by myself. I need help unfortunately... I swear this is all Mor’s fault!” 

Cauldron boil him... “So, you mean to tell me, you screamed my name to help you with your dress because you cannot do it yourself?” 

“Yes...” you can hear Lucien sigh. 

“There are much better ways to scream my name y/n and you know that but for the sake that you are quite literally stuck in that dress, I’ll help you. Turn around.” Your face turns hot at his comment, and you swat at his arm. 

“LUCIEN! This is not funny!” he can't help but chuckle at your flustered state. 

“Okay, okay, you being stuck in a dress is not funny. Got it! Now stop being stubborn and turn around so I can help.” 

“No, wait! You have to close your eyes!” 

“Y/n, how am I supposed to help you with your dress if I cannot see? Besides you act like I haven't seen you naked.” Again, your face betrays you as your cheeks turn bright red at the thought. You huff. 

“Fine, okay you can keep your eyes open but no funny business Mr. Vanserra. I am watching you!” Lucien chuckles at how flustered he had made you and he is living for it.  

You slowly turn your back to him and lock eyes with him through the bathroom mirror. Lucien takes the back of his knuckles and traces them delicately down the skin of your spine, almost like if you were made of glass and that you'd break at the slightest touch. His hand radiates so much warmth you must stop yourself from letting out a couple of sighs. The entire time he does this his eyes do not leave from yours through the mirror. His hand finally reaches the back of your dress, and he looks away to start undoing the claps. Thank the mother because his stare was driving you crazy. Each clasp he undoes, he makes sure to take his sweet time on. He doesn't miss the way your skin crawls with goosebumps at the slightest touch of his hands against your back. Gods, you had missed his fiery touch. It had felt like forever since he last touched you.

You slowly felt the dress getting heavier with each clasp undone. You could tell Lucien was near the end when your dress had almost slipped off your chest threatening to expose your naked breasts to him. Luckily, Lucien was too preoccupied to have noticed you trying to regather it back up for coverage. You couldn’t help but to selfishly think about turning around to look at him as your dress falls to the floor. Heat slowly began to warm your lower abdomen. You had to clench your thighs together in hope of Lucien not catching your growing scent of arousal. What would Lucien do to you if you did that? Would he pin you against the sink and truly make you scream his name? Gods you wished. Just then you caught a whiff of your scent. Damn your mind and body for betraying you! You were so worried about Lucien this whole time, when you should've been worrying about yourself. However, you decide that this is probably not the time to be thinking about such lewd things after what happened with Az.

As he was on the last clasp, Lucien couldn’t help catching your lingering scent in the air. You were going to be the death of him. He kisses the newly exposed skin of your back as his scent starts to slightly change and mix in with yours. Your head fell back as your eyes closed in anticipation. His eyes had wandered back to the mirror to see your eyes shut reeling in his touch as he peppered kisses up and down your spine. He marveled at this moment for a brief second before unclasping the last clasp of your dress. Your eyes met his as the last clasp was undone, and you let your dress pool to the floor as a test of restraint. For you or him, you didn’t know which. He held you gaze for a moment, never looking away from your eyes, before ghosting his lips on the nape of your neck. 

“All done...” he whispered as he slowly turned around, shut the door, and walked away back to the kitchen. Cruel wicked male.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to recompose yourself. Gods would drinking more wine be safe anymore after what just happened? You sighed and you picked your dress up off the floor and folded it as nicely as you could. You grabbed the clothes Lucien had given you to change into and started putting them on. Immediately you are swallowed by the musk of Lucien's clothes. It is almost overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that you loved the smell of the autumn court male.

You laughed at yourself in the mirror as you looked and saw his t hanging so loose on you, it was practically a dress. But let's be honest, you loved it. You slowly opened the bathroom door and made your way out with your former dress folded nicely in your hands. You sat your dress down on the table and turned towards Lucien with a smile. 

“So... how do I look?” and give him a twirl. Lucien looks at you and smiles. Gods, you looked even better in his clothes than in that dress but he wasn’t about to give in that easily. 

“Like a little boy.” Lucien said with a playful gleam in his eyes. 

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!” as you shake a finger at his face. He laughs. 

“Fine... You look like a very cute little boy!” he says grinning from ear to ear loving the effects his teasing was having on you tonight. You instead stick out your tongue and give him that all too well known finger gesture. He is practically hurled over in laughter, but you just huff and plop yourself on his couch.  

“Be useful and get this “cute little boy” more wine! I'm definitely too sober now.” He laughs again and it warms your chest. You cant help but to grin back.

“Are you sure you can drink wine? You look a little young to be drinking such adult drinks” as he grabs the wine glasses along with the bottle for refills later.  

“LUCIEN, I WILL STRANGLE YOU IF I HEAR ONE MORE LITTLE BOY JOKE!” 

“Okay, okay. Here’s your wine doll.” He hands you your glass with a smile, “You actually look even more beautiful now that you’re in my clothes.” As he sends you a wink before sipping some of his wine. 

“Thank you...” you smile as you take a sip from your own glass. 

“So, other than your mate being an enigma to you, what else has happened since I saw you last?” you both get comfy on the couch and sip on your wine. 

You had failed to realize how long you and Lucien were apart. You told him about your travels through all the different courts, and he told you about his part in the war along with how he became a part of the night court. You both sat there and exchanged every story you could possibly think of, trying to catch up on every moment you missed together. Soon the stories turn into giggling. Neither of you could hold it together as one of you would say something slurred and the other could cry out in laughter. It was the wine-speaking now, but neither of you had minded. You both had forgotten what it was like to be in each other's presence. It was nice to rekindle old flames with your friend, but you had to be careful. Recatching old feelings would not be good for you with this whole Azriel situation. You looked out the corner of your eye to see Lucien trying to fight off a yawn.  

“Oh, don't tell me my lil fox boy has grown tired of me?” as you slightly pinch his cheeks. He grins as he sees you also fighting off your own tiredness. 

“Mmmm seems like my yawns are contagious then, because I could’ve sworn I saw you do one just now.” he raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Okay, maybe I did. All this catching up and wine drinking has made me sleepy.” You decide to grab the blanket Lucien sat on the couch for you earlier this evening.  

“I don’t blame you... Now if you excuse me, I am going to go change into something more comfortable, these clothes are killing me, and then we will call it a night.” he says as he sticks a finger in his collared shirt to loosen the neck and walks off still in the clothes he wore at Rita’s. You chuckle at his figure walking down the hallway to what you would assume to be his room. You don’t know how long he was in there, but you couldn’t wait any longer. Your eyes were too heavy, and you were too drunk to stop your movements down the hallway towards where Lucien disappeared. You find the door he dipped into and see it is cracked a smidge. You decide to knock, unlike Lucien earlier.  

“Hey Lu? Can I come in?” No answer. “Lucien I’m really tired and I don’t know where you want me to sleep...” you slowly push the door open but put too much weight on it and tumble forward into his room. Unlike your knocking, Lucien heard you tumble and was at your side to catch you in a heartbeat. You let out a laugh. “Oh, I'm too drunk for this shit... I'm sorry, I only came here too-” you look up to see him in gray sweat pants, hair loose, and no shirt. Mother blessed this man too much! Oh fuck. Get me out of here.  

“Y/n, you were saying something?” He looks down at you with mischief in his eyes knowing you couldn’t keep yours off his bare chest and gray sweatpants. Your eyes blink rapidly, and you shake your head trying to get that image out your mind but its seared its way in.

“Oh yes. I was just- um, why did I- OH! Where do you want me to sleep? I’m like minutes away from passing out on the damn floor!” Lucien laughs. 

“You can sleep in here, and I can stay on the couch for tonight. Is that alright?” 

“This is your bed and home Lucien. I can't let you sleep on the couch as I take your bed... it just feels wrong. I'll take the couch and you can keep your bed for tonight.” you say as you turn around to head back into the living room before you feel Lucien's hand around your waist stopping you.  

“Y/n I swear to the mother, do not be stubborn and take the damn bed please. It’s too late for this, I promise you it’s okay! I insist.” 

“I guess old habits never die. Always trying to get me in your bed Lu.” you smirk as you crawl in and wrap up in his silk auburn sheets. You thought his house and clothes smelled nice, but his sheets, his sheets were heavenly. You almost fell asleep then and there because it was so calming. Lucien walks over to you and kisses you on the forehead. 

“Goodnight doll, I am truly sorry for your mates behavior tonight. Sleep well...” He turns around, turns out the lights, and is about to walk out the door but hesitates as he hears you say-- 

“Lucien wait-” 

“Yes?” 

“We’re both adults here, right?”  

“Well one of us looks like a little boy, but yes. Why?” Lucien replied. You rolled your eyes at his playful remark from earlier. 

“Adults can share a bed, and nothing has to happen.” 

“Y/n are you saying you want me to sleep next to you?” 

“Yes, I am. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” you sigh. 

“Always so persuasive... scoot over.” You open the sheets and scoot over in the bed to make room for Lucien. You feel the bed dip down as he crawls in. You both lay there for a moment reeling in that you two are sharing a bed again. The only difference is now the lingering heartbreak you both feel from your mates. You turn around to face Lucien and ask- 

“Can I lay on your chest?” He doesn’t verbally respond but wraps his hands around your waist and softly pulls you closer to him. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, and look up at his face. You tuck a couple of stray hairs that had fallen in his face and tuck them behind his ears and say, “Thank you for tonight, Lucien. Elain is so lucky to have you, she just doesn’t know it yet.” 

“Thank you doll, neither does Azriel. Now let's get some much needed rest. Goodnight,” said Lucien. 

“Goodnight Lu,” as you rest your hand on his bare chest next to your head and you feel Lucien's arms tighten around you. You can't help but to feel so at peace in his presence, and neither can he, as you both fell asleep holding each other all night.  

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[death-paint]

Spellbound

Leon Kennedy x Fem! Witch! Reader

Word Count: 2224

Warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff

Finally finished it! This fic has been in the works for months. Mainly because of writer's block and general executive dysfunction. It's definitely happier than my last fic, but I do also have another angst fic coming. This is my second time ever posting a fic on Tumblr, so please be gentle with any critique ;w; I hope you all enjoy!! Fic under the cut!!

Although this particular piece isn't NFSW, minors DO NOT INTERACT with my content.

dividers by @cafekitsune

You danced around the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, waving around a little stick of incense as the smoke wafted into the room. He scrunched up his nose at the smell, but stared at you affectionately from the doorway. The music you had playing only enhanced the mood as you finally set the incense in the holder before walking into the kitchen and setting it on the windowsill. You were in a good mood today, wiggling your hips as you washed the dishes, getting ready to cook dinner for the two of you.

Leon walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. You swayed a little more dramatically as you felt his touch, humming along to the song that carried through the house as you spun around.

"Hey, baby," he said softly, "What's got you feelin' so good this afternoon?"

"Getting some new supplies in the mail," you reply. "Bought some stuff online from a small business that I've been waiting on for a while."

"What kind of supplies?" Leon asked, confused.

"You'll see." You giggled at his cluelessness. "I'll teach you everything you need to know once it's here."

"Aw, come on, babe you're killin' me," he groaned. "Just tell me."

"Nope." You stand firm as you finish washing the dishes from earlier that day, taking one of the pots and putting it on the stove for pasta. "You'll have to wait, baby."

He finally let it go and sat down at the dining table, watching as you worked your magic. You bent down into a lower cabinet, pulling out a mason jar full of water with writing scribbled on the lid, and poured it into the pot. Leon raised an eyebrow. Why would you need to jar water? Why was it labeled? Did it have something in it? How did he not see it in the cabinet before?

“Hey…What’s up with the jar?” He asked, curiosity ever-so-present in his voice.

“Oh, this?” You held up the now empty jar. “It’s a little bit of moon water I made last full moon.”

He let your explanation sit with him for a beat, but he was still confused.

“I-…Moon water?” You let out another giggle.

“Yeah, baby. Moon water. You put water in a clear container and let it sit outside at night during whatever moon phase you wanna make it in.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as you provided more information.

“And what’s that supposed to do?” He pressed further.

“Depends on the phase.” You answered nonchalantly, turning back around to salt the water in the pot before adding in the spaghetti noodles. Leon scoffed, giving a smirk and shaking his head even when you couldn’t see him. But you could hear it in his voice.

“I call bullshit.” He started. “You really expect me to believe that you think moonlight has some magical powers? Come on, babe.”

“I know it doesn’t…not in the way you’re thinking, at least,” you replied, now sounding almost sad. “I know, it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

Leon immediately backtracked, taking note of how belittled you appeared to feel.

“Wait- no, I’m sorry, I…” He sighed, trying to find the words. “It’s just…an unfamiliar idea to me is all. I don’t mean to make you feel bad about it, hon.”

“Well…if you do it again I’m not gonna teach you,” you huffed, pulling cheese and a carton of heavy cream out of the fridge. You grabbed another pot, thought for a moment, and then put it back, deciding against making more dishes for yourself to clean. You turned to the windowsill, where the now spent incense lay in a pile of ash on its holder, next to the herbs you had in little flowerpots.

You plucked a few leaves of each. All for taste, as well as practising your craft. Rosemary, thyme and basil for love, oregano to strengthen the bond with your partner, garlic and parsley for protection, a little bit of onion powder for good health, salt and pepper to purify your energy, and a sprinkle of (common) sage to dispel negativity. You laid everything out on the nearby cutting board, wiping your hands and turning to the pot of noodles. The strainer was already in the sink, and you grabbed a measuring cup to fill it with some of the starchy water before dumping the rest down the drain, the noodles caught in the metal colander.

That same pot was used just moments later. You threw it back on the burner, quickly turning down the heat and throwing in just enough pasta water to cover the bottom. You were just about to pick up the block of cheese to grate it when Leon stood up from his chair, taking it from you and giving you a kiss on the cheek before grating it himself.

“Can’t have you doing everything by yourself, love.” It was your turn to scoff now.

“That was literally the only thing I had left,” you told him, eyebrows raised as you crossed your arms.

He shrugged.

“Just thought I should take care of the rest.”

“You’re an ass,” you playfully smacked his shoulder.

“You know you love me.” He looked up briefly from his task, grinning.

Soon enough, dinner was finished and the two of you curled up on the couch with full bellies, deciding to leave the dishes to be dealt with in the morning. The two of you took turns flicking through your usual channels, but nothing good was on tonight. You even flicked through some streaming networks, but to your dismay, still couldn’t find anything you hadn’t already finished or were even interested in starting.

“Hey…How about I give you a reading?” You asked, clasping your hands together and raising them to your mouth as you smiled, waiting for his response.

“First moon water, now the…card…thing?” He answered your question with another before giving a sigh. “Sure, why not.”

As soon as he gave his seemingly reluctant approval, you hopped up off the couch and quickly walked to the altar in the corner of the room. You’d done most of the decorating, seeing as Leon rarely had time (even when he was home) to worry about the aesthetics of his living space. He’d wondered what was up with all of the suns, moons and stars, the occasional seashell here and there, and just chalked it up to you having an eccentric taste– which, to be honest, wasn’t that far off. The wall above the altar was full of dried flowers, some from bouquets that Leon bought you, others foraged. If he was being honest, at first he thought they looked kind of creepy, but over time he learned to like it. He thought it was cute that you kept the flowers he bought you, figuring you putting them on display was your way of showing appreciation for his affection. Small animal bones and crystals were arranged carefully on the altar, along with candles of varying sizes and colors– some burned down a bit more than others– and little trinkets he’d brought home from missions as well.

Leon watched as you opened the drawer and pulled out a deck of tarot cards, taking in your excitement. He loved making you happy, even if it meant doing something he was a little skeptical about. He couldn’t help but crack a smile as he saw your own, affection filling his gaze as you plopped back down on the couch.

You pulled out the deck of cards and a notepad from its box, set the notebook down, and began to shuffle.

“Wait…Tarot readings tell you your past, present, and future, right?” Leon asked, bows furrowing quizzically.

“Not necessarily,” you explained. “Most readings will give you advice about a current situation. It might tell you what will happen if you don’t take that advice, though,”

“So…you’re giving me life advice…with cards?” He shot out another question. “Am I getting that right?”

“Well…yeah, pretty much.” You shrugged. “There’s different kind of readings, too. Financial readings, love readings, career readings…”

“Let’s just start with a general one, yeah?” Leon suggested, a bit nervous about being able to retain all that information.

“Alright…I’ll shuffle, you tell me when to stop, and I’ll pull a card. We’ll do that for a basic three card spread.” You picked up the pace, shuffling only a few cards around when Leon told you to pull the first card. You pulled it away from the deck and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. You shuffled again, a bit longer this time, rinse and repeat.

One by one, you turn the cards over. 

“Wait, this one’s upside down…” Leon reached over to turn the card around, but you gently pushed his hand away.

“It’s supposed to be, babe. It has a meaning that way, too.” You turned the rest of the cards over. “King of Swords in reverse…Three of Cups…and Strength.”

“King of swords, and strength, huh? I must be a pretty macho man.” He chuckled.

“Well…The King of Swords in reverse can mean that you’re…impulsive or manipulative, kind of just…irrational,” you corrected him, treading lightly on your words and trying not to upset him.

“Irrational? Manipulative? When have I ever been manipulative?” his tone was defensive.

“Shush, don’t take it so personally, babe. They’re just cards.”

“Okay…what about the other two?” Leon huffed.

“Three of Cups represents happiness or overcoming some kind of hardship,” you turn to him, awaiting another response.

“Definitely have had a few of those,” he chuckled, calming down. “Alright, and the last one?”

“Strength represents…well, strength of course, and that you’re compassionate, patient, and that you can keep a cool head under pressure. Well, most of the time, seeing as you have the King of Swords in reverse as well.”

“Huh…well I guess that’s pretty accurate,” he said with a click of his tongue. “Can…I do one for you?”

“Of course!” You answered. “I can teach you how to read them, it’ll be fun!”

“Sure, okay. What’s next, you teach me spells?” He asked jokingly.

“I can!” Leon laughed briefly at your answer, before realizing you were serious.

You pulled up a website with a list of the meanings for the cards, and shoved the three cards from the previous reading back into the deck. You then handed the deck to Leon, having seen him shuffle cards before and knowing he was fairly good at it. He made a show of it, knowing you liked to watch as his skilled fingers cut the deck and shuffled effortlessly.

“How you want me to deal ‘em, pretty girl?” He smirked, finishing up when the first card fell out of the deck.

“You can do it however you feel is best, Leon,” you said. Leon nodded, opting to just pull the next two cards from the top. “I was thinking of asking about how things would work out between us, though.”

“Do you really need cards to tell you that?” Leon asked. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Let’s see…”

He flipped the first card over.

“The moon…What’s the moon gotta do with us?”

“Ooh…The Moon…” you repeat, your tone seeming to imply to him that the meaning was a bad one. “Complicated romance, uncertainty about love.”

Leon’s face dropped before he frantically turned over the next two cards,

“High priestess and queen of wands…”

“Keep patient, calm exterior with inner passion, intimacy…And for the Queen of Wands…an independent, cheerful and confident lover and… openness in the relationship.”

“And…What would that mean altogether?” Leon tilted is head with curiosity, his pretty blue eyes full of worry.

“Well, to me, it means that what we have is a bit hard to figure out at first, but if we stay patient with each other and communicate calmly, we’ll be okay.” You tilt your head back at him mockingly before continuing. “What’s the matter, mister? I thought you didn’t believe in this kind of stuff?”

“Pssh, I don’t” Leon scoffs. “Just…wanted to quiz you.”

“Mhm…sure, let’s go with that, love.” You shove the cards back into the deck and give him a kiss on the cheek before standing up to put the cards back on your altar. Leon goes through the collection of dvds on the shelf underneath the tv, and eventually pulls out something that looks like a shitty romcom. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What? Don’t like it?” he asks.

“Never been a romcom kinda gal, you know that, Lee.” You reply.

“Fine, what do you wanna watch, then?”

“Let’s just play a game together or something.”

“Alright, but I’ll just watch you.”

Soon enough, after a couple hours of trying to figure out a puzzle, you finally got tired (and frustrated) enough to go to bed. You took a quick shower, changed into some pajamas, and climbed into bed next to Leon. He pulled you closer, noses brushing together as you tangled your legs with his own.

“I love you,” Leon whispered.

“Even if you think my witchy stuff is silly?” you asked, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Of course, baby.” Leon kissed your forehead as the two of you closed your eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

“I love you too Leon. So much."

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 2

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Summary: Tim Rockford usually works alone and has a bad temper, one day after another woman was found dead he started to believe there's a serial killer around, maybe a useful help will come from an aspiring mystery writer. Series warnings: use of you, violence graphic, slow burn, angst, fluff, mutual pining, eventual smut (18+ MDNI). Masterlist

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After almost a year that you know Tim Rockford, you learned to handle his bad temper, his nicknames he gave you and his colleagues, you learned to accept even his sometimes piercing gaze toward you, but when you met him you found him distasteful.

In fact, after his comment the day you met, Parker invited you to come in and introduce yourself to the Detective, you timidly entered on tiptoe and extended your hand, but he didn't shake it, but he merely looked at it and then looked at your face with a raised eyebrow and a disgusted expression painted on his face. For sure, you turned purple; no one had ever looked at you like that or made you feel like a complete nothing like he did at that moment.

“Give him some time,” the Commander tried to encourage you and then took his leave, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. You were about to turn your back on that obnoxious man and go back to Parker and say that you thanked him, but that you couldn't accept working with or, better yet, be inspired from a guy like that Detective. You couldn't learned from him in a hundred years. Despite this deep discomfort, you didn't move, just stood there in the middle of the room with that man going up and down the room and looking at you with an annoyed look. Again.

“I'm sorry if I'm bothering you,” you tried to justify yourself in an attempt to make you accept, but the man in response huffed and turned his back on you, ignoring you. Your words are caught in your throat, an unpleasant grip made the pit of your stomach contract, and you resumed sweating from discomfort. You really didn't know what to do or say, you lowered your gaze. It was not going to be easy to deal with him, it was clear.

“First,” he told you after several minutes causing you to look up at him, he has his back to you, “Don't wanna ya standing there in the middle of the room, I lose my focus.”

You looked around undecided where to settle down so as not to disturb him, you found a chair and were about to go there, but after just three steps, he blocked you again “Second, that's my chair and ya don't touch it.”

You were about to open your mouth and ask him then where you could sit, but he resumed “Third, dumb questions get on my nerves; so if ya have nothing clever to say shut up.”

Fuck, what a temper!

“Anything else?” you dared to ask him, finally he turned his back to you. He still had that damn disgusted expression on his face, but this time you noticed a flash behind those dark eyes “Or is that not a clever question?” you added, looking him in the eye.

His lips ruffled in a grin, to this day you would define it amused, but when you met him it was hard for you to say if he found that your question amusing or annoying.

“Yes, there's more.” he replied completely ignoring the second question “Fourth, this is my office and I'll run my business my own way, I don't share things with anyone, not even if ya were Jessica Fletcher,” he snarled taking a step toward you.

When you think back to the many nicknames he gave you from the first moment he saw you, you'd laugh because in his own way he established contact with you right away: yes, at first was a non-trust and even contempt contact, but better than being ignored altogether. There were his colleagues, in fact, who were called by him with a snap of his fingers because their names were not important to him and their faces least of all.

You looked around looking for a grip, anything to get the man in front of you to calm down, but at that moment you found nothing worthy of your attention and so, your eye fell on his evidence board, on the faces of all those women and it was impossible for you not to notice at once the expression in their eyes.

“Whatcha doing?” the Detective asked, “No, no, no I know that look, don't start crying in my office, for goodness sake. It wouldn't be a good start.”

You huffed and smiled, “Instead things are going very well, aren't they?” he looked at you making his gaze wander over your face first and then over your figure “Anyway, I was observing women's faces,” you said approaching the evidence board and reaching out your hand to one of the photos, he blocked your hand in the air wrapping it in his and you stiffened.

“No, no, I'm the only one who can touch the pictures, so stop,” he barked.

“Can I talk and breathe at least?” you asked him with wide eyes.

You felt what you would have called a chill today, but the first day you ignored him altogether. Too caught up in the shame of being recommended, embarrassed at not being accepted by that Detective, scared to be in a setting so far from what had been your world up to that point.

“I have a feeling ya'd talk anyway, so be my guest,” he said.

“Thank you.” you replied using almost his same tone of voice “Did you notice the women's eyes?”

Rockford went back to looking at the pictures, “Yes, and…? What d' ya wanna me to notice, Nancy Drew?”

You glancing him then replied, “They all have a peaceful look, as if they were ready to die…” you started to say, but he extended a hand toward you in midair and you stopped immediately.

“Don't give me any fucking comment, please.”

“I meant, those who are about to die, they don't have that look,”

“And what d' ya know about that'?” he asks turning completely toward you with his hands on his hips “How many crime scenes have ya been to? How many dead bodies have ya seen?” he shook his head, "You know nothing and ya pretend to understand something just because my boss asked me to or else I wouldn't have let ya stay here," he added as he walked past you and toward his desk.

You breathed deeply, “You know, Detective, it's true I don't know anything. About dead bodies, about murders, about crime scenes, I don't know how to act in these moments it's true, but maybe I can give you an opinion from my outside, my place of inexperience.” you offered.

He huffed with a half-smile, “And let's hear it, what else would ya notice?” he asked pointing his finger toward his evidence board.

“They're all very young, what, 25-26 years old?” you asked as you looked up at him.

“24, then?” he asked, intertwining his hands.

“All 24?” he nodded.

You looked carefully at all the photos, beyond age and expression at first glance nothing seemed to unite them. I mean, they weren't all blondes or brunettes or redheads, they weren't all skinny or fat, they had nothing in common apart from age. Then one thing struck you, at first glance it would have escaped or seemed insignificant, and instead.

“What is this?” you asked as you brought your nose closer to a first picture.

The Detective reached out to you, “Where?” he asked putting on his glasses.

“Here,” you replied pointing to a spot near the hairline, “it's something bright red like there's a cut,” you then looked at the other photos bringing your face closer to the photos as well “it's there too,” you then observed the other photos “did you notice them, Detective?” you asked observing the man next to you who took a magnifying glass to check whether or not your observation was correct.

“I need to call that damned Coroner,” he opened the door to his office “rookie?” he barked, making you jerk and widen your eyes.

Moments later the young man who accompanied you by Parker ran up to him, poor guy you were beginning to understand why he was always scared!

“Call me McNail and tell him I'll be there in half an hour,” then he looked over at you, “we're on our way” he rectified with a grin on his face.

You found yourself swallowing fearfully.

The Coroner was a man in his 50s, he looked friendly and greeted both of you with a handshake and a warm smile, McNail asked Rockford if you were a new colleague, but he dismissed you with “She's just an intern, a few weeks and she'll be gone,” you behind their backs looked up and shook your head. You've wanted to bite back, but it was not the time.

Down there in the morgue it was freezing, there were two carts and lots of cold rooms exactly like there are in TV shows, you breathed slowly hoping not to vomit and that Rockford wouldn't make jokes about your increasing pallor. McNail pulled out the last two bodies on the two carts and discovered their faces. They were very pale, two broken lives, you had a contrite expression “Is this the first time you've seen a dead body?” the man asked you.

You nodded almost unable to speak, while Rockford rolled his eyes.

“It's normal, empty your mind, focus on all the details and then confront with your boss,” he advised you calmly. The Coroner invited the two of you to put on your gloves and then took a half step back.

You nodded and looked at the first young victim, eyes closed, lips puckered, hair withered, the autopsy incision, you inhaled and exhaled deeply, while the two men looked at you, one annoyed and the other encouraging. Then, you brought a hand closer to the victim's body, you observed a tattoo on her neck in the shape of a small star, you observed the three earring entrance holes, then the perfect incision made by the doctor, finally you noticed the scratch on her forehead, it seemed to be made by a skilled, precise hand.

“Doesn't that look like a scratch…intentional?” you asked turning to the Detective who reached out to you bending over making you find yourselves very close together as he approached, you noticed a small necklace well disguised by his shirt, who knows if it was a religious necklace or some other kind.

“McNail, could it be a scalpel?”

The man approached, “Yes, I cannot rule it out. If it had been a scratch from a fall I should have found soil or some other trace, but nothing,” the pathologist answered you.

You nodded, then you noticed another small hole at navel level, “Was the girl wearing a piercing?” you asked turning to the doctor.

“Yes, her effects are still here,” he replied, holding out a sachet, which you made to take, but which Rockford promptly grabbed first. Among them were a necklace with an infinity symbol, three earrings and the piercing as you had noticed.

“Do any of the tests show anything by any chance? Drugs, alcohol, medication?” Rockford tsked “I don't think I asked for anything unusual,” you added with a doubtful look.

“No, don't worry! In fact, there were considerable amounts of a powerful sleeping pill.”

“And that was the cause of death?”

“Drowning.” he answered.

“And the other girl?”

“Suffocation.” the doctor replied, “First she was stunned with chloroform.”

“So,” you said, “24-year-old girls, they are killed for no reason after being sedated. Why? Where were they found?” you asked turning to the Detective.

“At different points in Austin, nothing that would suggest a specific place that has any significance to the serial kiler.”

“Rockford, are you really convinced about the serial killer?” asked McNail, slipping his hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

“Yeah.” he replied, nodding, “How 'bout ya, colleague?”

“I agree. What I fear is that he may strike again.” you replied, exchanging a glance with Tim, who this time returned a concerned look and at the same time almost shocked.

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

across the great divide (there is a glorious sunrise)

chapter two: home, can we go?

<chapter 1>

hiya and WELCOME BACK to the next chapter of my lovely little au for the niche-est audiences ever :DD if you're into owengejuicetv, charlie slimecicle, and camp halfblood aus, this fic is defo for you!! enjoy the second chapter <3

(also its my birthday so wish me a happy birthday :P)

Owen steps cautiously into the room, trying with little success to curb the quivering of his knees, biting at the inside of his cheek to stop from nervously jabbering away; as was a common tendency of his. Madeline is waiting at her desk, ball gown splayed out around the edges of her chair (why the heck is she even wearing a ball gown anyway- honestly just not at all acceptable teacher behavior from this person all around.). The mottled brown bulldog continues to look up at Owen from its perch under the desk, and if not for its intense and unnerving stare, Owen would have easily thought the animal to be dead.

“Hey, Ms Pemberton,” Owen greets, attempting to swallow down some of his worry (this is just a normal student-teacher conversation anyway, no reason to be scared), “Any reason why I’m being kept inside? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, darling, nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all!” She seems like she’s telling the truth, but as Owen listens a little closer, replays her sentence in his mind, he can hear the grating edge of her voice, the way it lilts higher at the end, crescendoing to an almost squeaking tone.

“Then why am I here?” He tries to keep his voice calm, he really does.

“Well, we’ll just have to figure that out together, won’t we?” She stands from her desk, leaning on it with her hands, the bulldog growling long and low beneath her.

“But… you can’t keep me inside without a reason.” Owen glances backwards at the door, swallowing quickly and resisting the urge to run out the exit as fast as he can. But Charlie told him to stay, and he trusts his best friend above all else.

“I’m the teacher. I have authority here. I can do whatever I want, honey.” Her words are somehow clipped and sloppy at the same time, a slithering quality that's masked by sharp enunciation and crisp syllables.

(The bad vibes Owen’s getting from this situation are ridiculous. He has to admit he’s never felt anything like it before, and that scares him. Usually when he’s around a dangerous or at least unsavory person, he’ll be able to tell what they want from him, and how best to go about handling the situation. That, or he has Charlie with him, and everyone knows that something bad is much less likely to happen if you’re not on your own. Plus, Charlie has the added benefit that he'll cuss out anyone who even tries to harm them, which usually scares most people away.

This, however, is different. Owen doesn’t know what to do, and worse than that, he can’t even tell what the problem is. Why has he been kept inside? Why him, why not any of the other students? Why only him? It feels like an isolation tactic, a way to get him alone so Ms Pemberton can strike. The thing is, if that’s the case, then the original query returns: Why him? Why not Charlie, or Bill, or anyone else in the class? As far as Owen can remember, he’s never met this woman before in his life. So why does she seem so intent on, presumably, harming him?

Owen doesn’t know, and that’s the part that scares him.)

“But I want to go spend time with my friend, and if there’s no reason to keep me here, then- is there?” Owen voices his question with a blanket of confusion masking simple caution, every instinct in his body screaming at him now, more than quiet chatter, to run, straight out that door, and never come back.

But Charlie said he had to “deal with… that,” and, again, Owen trusts his friend. So no matter how much he wants to, no matter how many longing glances he'll throw towards the direction of the exit, no matter how his hair stands on end, his skin prickling with nerves, Owen knows he will not leave the room- because Charlie told him, Charlie promised, that Owen would be okay.

“Oh, trust me, there’s a reason. We’ve been looking for you for a very long time. You’re quite powerful for one of your kind- born from a lesser power, though, unfortunately. Athena is nothing when you compare what she can do to Hades or Demeter- those are the ones to watch out for. I’m just here to take you out real easy, a nice meal before things really start going down,” Madeline says, her tone absolutely pleasant, only the faintest hint of hatred poking through the facade. Why is she so against him? Again, Owen can’t remember ever meeting, or even seeing, this person before in his life. So why is she suddenly acting as if he personally has wronged her in unimaginable ways? The whole situation screams unsafe, and it's so uncomfortable he can almost feel the wrongness of it in the air.

Then the implications of the other things she’s said finally reach his mind.

“Did you say a meal?” Owen asks, backing slowly away. He's not sure if she's alluding to cannibalism, or what- though, thinking about it some more, that does seem extraordinarily unlikely.

(If Owen didn’t know it was completely impossible, he would have sworn he could see Madeline's mouth lengthening, tongue splitting in two and forking at the end like a snake’s- he could’ve sworn as her shoes were kicked off her feet that he could see legs fusing together under the dress to form a silvery snake’s tail. But such things are impossible, and he chalks it up to simple hallucinations from stress. A much easier, more consumable explanation for the horrors taking place before his very eyes.)

“Yes, young halfblood,” Madeline hisses, delight written plainly across her now-hideous face, the skin bloodily crackling at the edges of her unnatural smile, “I am Lamia, and in my heyday, I destroyed countless men just like you, who thought that they were superior to everyone else. Idiot! You will be no different, little one- it has been far too long since I properly feasted. And what better time than now to satiate my appetite? You’re not much, but you’ll simply have to do. It's not like I have another option.”

And with that, she discards her dress, cackling like a witch- and Owen gasps, not so much from fear as from simple surprise. Her body is completely covered, save for her face and hands, with brutally scuffed silver scales. Some are even peeling off, hints of raw, irritated skin peering out from beneath. Her eyes have widened and eyelids thickened, snake-like vertical pupils gracing the centers of eerily yellow irises. Madeline is bleeding from her face, a continuous torrent from cracks and cuts, formed due to the stress that must be caused on her facial tissues whenever she smiles. Her nails have elongated into borderline claws, chipped and bloody, her own finger tissue still visible from where it is stuck underneath the talons.

Owen’s eyes go wide, breath becoming shaky, erratic- he is witnessing a marvel, a scientific phenomenon. He's afraid, of course he's afraid- but fear is eclipsed by wonder and interest as his eyes graze over Madeline- no, Lamia's body, and he almost wants to reach out a hand and run it along the scales, to see if they're as rough and jagged as they appear or if that's simply an intimidation tactic. She sneers at him, and his nails dig into the orange still clutched in his hand instinctively, some of the skin peeling away and sticking under his nails.

Until all of a sudden, he's no longer clutching a molded orange in his fist. Instead, a gorgeous antique pistol is how gripped lightly in his hand, and it feels as though he's held the gun a million times before, it feels as if everything has suddenly just clicked into place. Owen barely has time to register his astonishment before Lamia pounces at him (insofar as a creature with a snake tail can pounce), and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s slid under her, winding up behind the creature as she hisses in frustration.

"Stay still, idiot!" Lamia screeches, blood streaming from the cracks in her cheeks, from cuts formed by every broken scale, her mouth pulled into a hideous sneer. She reaches out one clawed hand, her fingers too long, claws far too sharp to be anything of this world- at least anything Owen knows of. He flinches back, heart beating too fast to be healthy.

After this little aggression, Owen doesn’t have time to think. He lets instinct take over, cocking the pistol as his pointer finger pulls deftly on the trigger, the world flashing into slow motion as the bullet rips straight through the monster’s chest. Owen’s sure that the gunshot, along with her subsequent scream, are loud enough that his parents back home in England can hear it- the deafening thunder crack of the bullet, a scream more enraged than terrified sounding from her too-wide mouth as blood-

No, wait, Owen realizes. That’s not blood. He’d expected it to be, but- somehow- it’s not. Owen doesn’t know how it’s possible, but all of a sudden, Lamia has exploded into soft, golden dust- the woman, the creature, is gone, and all that’s left in her stead is a meager pile of shimmering sand that coats the room, and, subsequently, Owen.

(He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get the taste of her scream out of her mouth, the memory of the bitter flavor grating at his tongue and irritating his eyes. It’s all up in his hair, and he writhes at the thought that the remnants of- of whatever that was- are still upon him even in its death. It’s an unwelcome realization, and with it, he gets the strong and sudden urge to shower as soon as humanly possible.)

Owen handles the pistol almost reverently, releasing it from his rock-solid grip and turning it over in his fingers, admiring the lacy metalwork and brightly varnished wood that adorn the beautiful, almost ceremonial-looking, weapon. The metal appears to be some kind of bronze, though certainly it is like no bronze Owen's ever set eyes upon before. It shines with an almost unnatural glow, although in all honesty it should have been varnished and scuffed beyond recognition.

(At least he assumes so, as given the state that the orange was in, and if the orange was the gun… he’s kind of accepted at this point that weird things are at work here and if moldy oranges are going to turn into guns, there’s not much he can do about that other than roll with it.)

Owen’s attention is lifted from the firearm laying in his hands by the screeching sound of tennis shoes skidding along the linoleum floor, followed quickly after by Charlie, doubled over and wheezing, hands planted on his knees, appearing in the doorway. He must have run all the way here, Owen realizes, though what he doesn’t understand is from where.

It seems to take Charlie a minute to realize what he’s looking at, to take in the pistol clutched in Owen's hands, the sand-like material blanketing the classroom in a carpet of gold- but when he finally does, his eyes widen in something resembling shock, with a heavy tinge of pride mixed in. “You- you did it!”

“No need to sound so surprised,” Owen mutters, the pistol hanging awkwardly from one hand. “So, uh, was I supposed to do that? What- what happened to her, Charlie? Why did she, like, turn into a snake person, and then I shot her and it was so loud, and now she’s just- just this, just dust, and it’s everywhere- How am I going to explain this to my parents, and the school- what have I done? Where do I go from here?”

“Well,” Charlie suggests, a happy tint to his voice that Owen does not think fits well with the situation, “you could come to my summer camp!”

Owen stares at him, the suggestion so ridiculous on so many levels that he feels it's only best to voice the most obvious concern first; lest Charlie's mental state be somehow compromised due to the way he's acting. “School’s just started, it’s not summer anymore. Plus, I don’t really think that they’d be willing to harbor a literal murderer-”

“You’d be really surprised, actually,” Charlie interrupts, beginning to walk casually down the hall. Owen has no choice but to follow, body still quite literally shaking with adrenaline. “And I may have lied about that bit. Only a little, though! Only a little bitty lie. They do a year-round thing too, for kids like you-”

“Criminals, you mean? Juvenile delinquents? Because that’s what I am now- Mom and Dad are going to be so disappointed, I’m not going to be able to finish my education and become a lawyer like they’ve- like I’ve always wanted. Charlie, why the heck did you make me do that?”

“Okay, um- well. First things first, I need to- I need to fucking- to explain some things. What that was, what you killed- Lamia. That wasn’t a human, dude, it's not murder- I promise you're not a murderer. That was a full-ass fucking monster. Monsters are what we call them, by the way-” Charlie is cut off abruptly by Owen, pushing in with his own two cents.

“But Lamia is from Greek mythology, Char! Those things aren’t supposed to exist! And why- no, the question here is how- how did you give me a moldy orange that turned into a literal gun?!” Owen accepts what’s happened, yes, but that doesn’t mean he understands what’s going on. Not by a long shot.

“Okay, stop interrupting, stop interrupting! X will explain everything when we get to camp, until then, you really just need to stick by me. Now that you’ve slain your first monster, your scent is already so much more strong, even I can smell it and with a nose like mine-”

“Scent?” Owen lifts his arms, sniffing his armpits expectantly. “I don’t smell any worse than usual.”

“No, no no no, not that kind of scent, the other one, the one that smells like- like fucking buttered bread or some shit-

(Charlie’s brow is wrinkled up in annoyance- it doesn’t seem like it’s directed at Owen, but instead at the fact that Charlie knows all of these things that he doesn’t. Usually Owen can catch onto a concept really quick, and he supposes it must be really bothersome for Charlie that he’s not exercising that ability to its fullest extent here- but honestly, what does the guy expect him to do? Greek myths and- and the monsters from Greek myths just are. Not. Real. Things like- like whatever’s just occurred- things like aren't real things that happen real to people. That’s not how the world works.)

“Okay, okay, I’ll just lay off until someone better at explaining can tell me what in the world is going on," Owen placates, hands raised up in surrender and the ghost of a grin reappearing on his face, dimples pulling inwards.

Charlie shoots him a glare (albeit not a super angry one, but Owen still instinctively flinches back) and continues to lead him down the hallway, their two sets of steps on cold linoleum the only sound permeating a silence that hangs in the air like molasses slowly dripping down the edges of its barrel. It’s only when Charlie throws open the doors of the school and gestures to a taxicab waiting outside that Owen balks, stopping in his tracks as his eyebrows raise up into his bangs in incredulity.

“We can’t just leave the school in the middle of the day. You know that, right?” Owen asks, a hint of pleading in his voice, a giggle of discomfort breaking his voice in two. His parents, still living back in England, receive daily reports from the aunt he’s currently living with, and if she finds that he’s skipped school, he’s in for the angriest phone call of the month- no, his entire life, even.

“Dude, you don’t really have a leg to- Owen, you honestly just don't have a choice at this point.” Charlie half-laughs the words out, decidedly shaking but still firm in his decision.

“I just- I-” Owen pauses, thinking over his options. He trusts Charlie with his life, that’s simply a fact. That is the only indisputable truth in his life full of uncertainty. And just knowing that, he knows he’s already made the decision. He would follow Charlie to the ends of the earth.

“Fine,” Owen relents, sighing deeply, “Fine, I’ll go with you. But just- What about my parents? My aunt?”

Charlie cringes and scuffs his shoe against the pavement, one foot on linoleum, the other on warm concrete. He’s in between two worlds right now- the thought comes to Owen’s mind, and though he’s never realized it before, he realizes it’s true. There’s something that Charlie’s not telling him, something he’s hiding- not just about this mysterious summer camp, not just about what it actually is, no. Charlie is hiding something about himself.

“You- we’ll notify them that you’re fine. Your dad will understand, he’ll know where you are. And your mom… she’ll probably also be fine. She married your dad after you were born, right?”

Owen affirms Charlie’s statement with a sulking nod of his head.

“Okay, good. We need to hurry the fuck up, though, if we’re going to get back in time for me to check in with X. I would just call the sisters, but I don’t have a drachma- of course I don’t.” Charlie shakes his head and walks forward, gesturing for Owen to follow. He does, but not without another boatload of questions.

“Who’s this ‘X’ guy, by the way? You keep talking about him and I have no idea who he is.” Owen fiddles with his fingers, the worry having seeped out of his chest and into the appendages.

“Camp director,” Charlie answers, pulling open the back door of the taxi and climbing in, handing a wad of cash to the driver. Where did he get that? “You’ll like X, he’s really smart, just like you. He’s also a super good teacher and mentor, you two will get on great.”

Owen nods, and as he slides into the backseat beside Charlie, no idea where they’re headed and no clue if it’s safe, following his best friend into what for all he knows could be oblivion, or death, or sadness. But he follows Charlie, because he always follows Charlie and always will.

Owen trusts him. And that’s the only thing he knows for certain anymore.

[amadwinter]

Making of Monday - Tracking Word Counts

On Making of Monday, we share behind the scenes of one of our works past, present, or future. All the little things that would fit into a DVD bonus content section: cut scenes, outlines, director's writer's commentary, or basically any thing that didn't make it into the final version. Send me an ask if you're interested in knowing little details about any particular fic!

This week, I decided to show my word count spreadsheet that I've been meticulously using and crafting for coming up on two years now. It wasn't built in a day, and I'm almost constantly tweaking it to make it look nice and functional as I keep writing.

Uh, fair warning. This is not a very exciting post. Unless you like numbers and data, like I do.

For the sake of my own sanity, I started a new Excel document for the new year. This is my Summary page for the year 2024. I have pages created already for each month but hide them when it isn't that month. I'll show the Overview page next after I've explained what you're looking at.

So what you see here is my monthly and annual writing totals. This only takes into account new words written, although the start number at the top of each yearly column includes my running word count. Each month's number is automatically updated from the corresponding month's page, and added up in the total column.

On the side, I have fun projections. So if I wanted to write x number of words per year, not counting the words I have already written, I would need to write y number of words per month with an average of z number of words per day. It's not something I pay too much attention to, just for fun. Below that is a projection of if I write the NaNoWriMo daily count (1667 words per day) or 1000 words per day, how much that would add up to at the end of the year.

This is the Overview page from last year (2023) plus December 2022 which is when I switched over from my previous Google Sheets document. Additionally at the bottom you can see the different monthly pages that are not hidden (I color coded them because I was bored one day).

This page keeps track of my daily totals in the form of a color gradient, linked to the monthly pages to get the totals.

Solid Red = 0

Solid Yellow = 1000

Solid Green = 1667 (NaNoWriMo Daily; 50,000 words in a 30 day month)

Originally, the idea was to be able to look at it and see if there were time periods that I wasn't writing as well due to being busy for various reasons, so I could be able to predict in the future what conditions weren't great for writing. But an interesting side effect is it's also able to track my good days and my bad days for health reasons.

That random number you see on the right side is my highest daily word count. I was curious about it, but I couldn't figure out a way to make it look pretty and fit in with everything else.

This is my month page, divided by each individual project. Y is series or event with multiple fics involved, Z is one-shots, two-shots, or very short fics. The greyed out ones at the top are ones I'm not actively working on, the ones in green are fics that I am either actively working on or trying to work on.

Also at the top are the new words added each month (which is the cell used in other pages to keep track of the monthly number), the total words in all my documents, and the daily average for the month.

The color gradient at the top for each day follows the same pattern as before; Solid Red = 0, Solid Yellow = 1000, Solid Green = 1667+

I keep track of the word count for each chapter, add the total, subtract it from the previous day, and boom, that's my daily total. If there are times where I delete things, I throw it into a document called "Binned" to balance the numbers. That way, I never subtract from the amount of words I've written, only add.

While it may look like a very simple sheet, it is very messy with formulas, conditional formatting, etc. If I were more skilled at Excel, I could probably improve it even more, but at this point, there's very little maintenance needed to keep it going and I can focus on actually writing.

In theory.

[navybrat817]

The Truth Will Set You Free

Pairings: Max Burnett x Female Reader, Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: An agent from Max's past has some questions for you. Word Count: Over 4.4k Warnings: E.S.C., Dubcon / Soft!dark (you have been warned), fingering, dirty talk, possessive behavior, manipulation, coercion, truth serum, aphrodisiac, slight feels (it's me), Max Burnett and Nick Fowler (they're warnings, okay?). A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty 's Something New Challenge. Still swimming a bit in the soft dark pool, I got truth serum. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass (and MAJOR thanks for spitballing with me!), and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The last thing you remembered before waking up was celebrating your first major score with Max. Playing the part of a down to earth girl, you got the attention of a next generation business tycoon. A few dates here and a sob story there about your deadbeat dad in debt with the wrong kind of people, that poor sap did what he could to help get your family out of trouble. Not only did you make off with more than double the intended amount, it took even less time than you planned.

You almost felt bad, but it didn't make a dent in the guy's inheritance.

You impressed Max. Made him proud. He told you that before he kissed you and danced the night away. You expected to be on a plane with him to the Bahamas by now.

Instead, the two of you found yourselves in a dark room with a single lamp and no windows, still in your clothes from the night before.

"Hey," Max said as your eyes adjusted to the dim light. He didn't look roughed up, thank God, but his hair was a bit of a mess and he was cuffed to a metal chair by the ankles and wrists. "You okay?"

You weren't hurt, minus a slight headache, but you didn't want to admit to him that you were afraid.

"I'm okay. You?"

"Peachy," he deadpanned, arching his back like he was trying to get comfortable.

"What's going on?" you asked as you tried to stand only to find yourself strapped to your chair, too. It didn't budge as you attempted to tip it since it was likely bolted to the floor. And even if you had something to pick the cuffs, you couldn't reach it. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," he said as you struggled. "Just take a deep breath and sit still."

"Sit still? Are you kidding me? We-"

"Sit. Still."

"Yes, sir," you muttered.

You weren't sure how Max was so calm, but you eventually stopped moving. Did your now "ex-boyfriend" arrange this once he realized you played him? No, Max assured you that the mark was a safe target, that he wouldn't find or go after you.

So what the hell was going on?

The single door to your left swung open and you tried not to tense up as a man you didn't recognize entered the room. You weren't sure who you were expecting, but you didn't imagine a built, gorgeous man with light brown hair to grace you with his presence. The touch of scruff on his face added to his good looks.

Why am I fixated on how handsome this guy is when I'm strapped to a chair?

"Good. You're awake," the guy said, checking to make sure you were still secure. "Max."

"Nick," he said, not giving anything away as he sized him up.

It wasn't easy to get a read on someone like Max. Most of the time, you never knew what was true when he spoke to you and what was an act. That's how good he is.

A lingering silence stretched as the temperature in the room seemed to rise. Or maybe your body began to warm up from the unease of the situation. "So, you two know each other."

"We do," Nick confirmed, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. For some reason, you didn't flinch at this touch. "Mmm. You feel a bit warm."

"Don't touch her."

Max didn't raise his voice, but something about the slight possessiveness in his voice and Nick's touch nearly made you moan. You shook your head lightly as Nick's hand fell away. Was fear bringing out some undiscovered kink? Or maybe you were going into a fight or flight response.

"I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, sweetheart."

Sweetheart?

"What exactly are the circumstances, Agent Fowler?" Max asked, his shoulders slumped in a bored stance.

Agent? Fuck!

Nick kept his attention on you as he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. "I work for the CIA," he told you as you swallowed. When did your throat go dry? "Your friend Max and I go way back."

You glanced at Max as Nick walked behind him, but he kept his face neutral.

"He fucked me over on a deal. Took a beating from my boss when I showed up empty handed. Had to work my way back up."

Max didn't confirm nor deny Nick's claim.

Your eyes narrowed. Max bribed cops occasionally, but you didn't know it went as deep as the CIA. That would explain why he was here.

But what about you?

"When I heard he was back in the city, I didn't take him in. I watched him," Nick continued, smacking Max's shoulders lightly before he moved beside him. "Both of you. He taught you well."

You didn't squirm as Nick looked you up and down, but something in his gaze left you dizzy.

"Congrats on the score, by the way, but you should really watch who makes your celebratory drinks."

That explains the headache. Just don't say anything. He can't do anything if you keep your mouth shut.

"You two were about to head to the Bahamas, right?" Nick casually asked.

"Yeah," you and Max said at the same time.

Max's brows pinched as you shook your head again, feeling a bit lightheaded.

Maybe he'd give you some water if you asked politely.

"So, Max may have screwed you over," you said carefully, trying to shift the topic away from the recent con. "That's why we're here?"

Nick nodded as he approached you and checked your forehead again. Why did he keep doing that? Why did his touch feel so nice?

You almost licked your lips when he smiled down at you, trying your best to ignore how handsome he was. "You know I had nothing to do with whatever went down between the two of you and I'm sorry it went south, but we can make it right."

Your gaze flickered to Max. As much as he taught you not to let your emotions get the best of you, worry crept into your eyes because you cared. You didn't want Nick to hurt him.

Max, on the other hand, showed nothing behind his blue eyes.

"I'm sure you will," Nick assured you. "For the record, I'm not sending you to jail or letting your old 'boyfriend' know where you are. I just want to ask some questions."

The chuckle Max sounded harsh to your ears. "You set this whole thing up for questions? That's dramatic."

"I guess it is," Nick shrugged.

Your eyes dropped to his hands and bit your lip when you saw the veins, reminiscent of Max's when they roamed your body.

What the hell was the matter with you?

"And what makes you think we'll answer your questions?" Max asked.

Nick smirked as he crouched down so he was at eye level with Max. "Where's Madeline and when's the last time you spoke with her?"

You never met Madeline, but you knew she took Max under her wing. They were involved for some time as well before she screwed him over. Could anyone in the game ever trust each other?

I can trust Max though, right?

Max glared, tight-lipped, as he slowly exhaled through his nose. "You tell me, agent," he said before the back of Nick's hand met his cheek, making his head snap to the side.

"Please, don't hurt him," you begged.

"All he has to do is answer me."

Max, to his credit, didn't make a sound as he glared at the agent, but he did begin to shift in his seat. His hands gripped the chair as he breathed in and out through his nose. It almost looked like he was struggling not to snap. "Oklahoma City. A year ago," he finally answered, his voice a bit strained.

"Very good," Nick grinned, smacking the opposite cheek lightly before he glanced between the two of you. "See, while you two were knocked out, I injected you both with a serum. Something we usually reserve for extreme interrogations. I know many people think truth elixirs don't exist, but they very much do. That's how I know you'll answer my questions."

You felt your heart rate increase as Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You have no way of knowing if we're lying or telling the truth."

"Oh, Max. You're so used to lying that you almost believe it. That was why your voice sounded so strained," Nick said, pushing himself up and crossing his arms. "Because while your instinct is to lie, the drug makes you want to tell the truth. Resisting it is extremely uncomfortable. Even the most disciplined of liars cave."

"So, what do you want?" Max demanded. "Revenge because I fucked you over?"

"So you admit that you did," Nick said, his jaw clenching.

Max's mouth snapped shut.

"May I have a glass of water?" you asked gently.

Nick smiled to himself, which unnerved you. "I'm sure you're feeling a bit parched, but I'll take care of that later," he said, slowly pacing around your chair. "When did you start working with Max?"

You took a couple of breaths in and out, a light burning sensation moving from your head all the way down to your toes when you didn't answer immediately. Nick wasn't lying when he said it was uncomfortable.

"About a year ago," you said, taking another breath. It wasn't as strained as Max's first answer. Maybe because he had been lying longer than you have. "I almost got caught lifting a wallet and he stepped in and helped. I haven't looked back."

Max may have both saved and damned you that day.

Nick hummed, brushing his fingers along the back of your neck. Your back bowed and the action didn't go unnoticed by Max since he sneered at the agent. "Was this your first big score?"

"It was," you exhaled, closing your eyes briefly. "He had me do odds and ends jobs to be sure I was ready."

"When did he start fucking you?" he pressed, his fingers gripping the back of your neck hard enough to make you gasp when you didn't speak right away. "C'mon. You're doing so well."

You gazed at Max through your lashes. The tingling began again like a flame was close to your skin. "Six months ago," you said after a few seconds.

"You care about Max, don't you?" Nick questioned, releasing your neck as he moved beside you. As much as you missed his touch, which was strange, you kept your eyes on Max.

"Yes, I do," you said softly, not trying to resist this time. "How could I not?"

The questions confused you. If Nick had been watching you, then he already knew you and Max were sleeping with each other. Why ask about it?

"Do you like fucking her, Max?" Nick asked.

"Of course, I do."

Why did that make you want to preen?

"I'm sure you do," Nick said, giving you an almost apologetic gaze before he asked the next question. "But you were also planning to ditch her in the Bahamas, weren't you?"

No.

A second passed followed by another. The man across from you avoided your gaze as he hesitated to answer. Max wasn't the kind of man to hesitate. He was trying to lie.

His silence was the worst kind of answer.

"At first, yes," Max admitted, gritting his teeth before he continued. "Fuck, I only saved her that day so I could use her. It paid off. I was going to leave her with enough to get by for a short time and take the rest for myself."

You deflated, unable to mask the hurt you felt as your vision blurred. You thought you meant something to him beyond the job. Of course, you were just another mark. A stepping stone for him to get what he wanted.

You should've seen it coming, yet he blindsided you.

How?

"Why?" you asked breathily even though you were upset. It was getting more difficult to concentrate. Did Nick give you too much serum?

Max held his head high. "Because that's the job. I'm not supposed to feel anything. None of us are. Feelings jeopardize what we do. So I planned to walk away from you," he explained, trying to get out of his chair for the first time. "But things changed, okay? You changed my mind."

Nick regarded you, his gaze softening as you rapidly blinked. "Were you planning to screw him over?"

A tear slid down your cheek as you looked Max in the eye. Was he worth crying over when you weren't worth a thing to him? "No," you whispered, glancing away from both of them.

"Hey, look at me," Max gently ordered. You didn't listen. "I know I'm a piece of shit, but I wasn't going to leave you. Nick is trying to fuck with your head. It's what he does."

Well, it's working.

"Bullshit," you muttered, sniffling. "I don't mean anything to you."

"I care about you so much. Fuck, I may even love you," Max said like it pained him to do so. "I can't lie about that. Look at me, please."

"I don't think she wants to look at you, Max."

"He's right. I don't," you said before you could stop yourself.

"Baby, listen-"

"No! You fucking liar!" you yelled, wishing you could fling yourself across the room and smack him. "I let you in. I gave you everything and you were going to leave me, you asshole!"

Your chest heaved as the room went quiet. You had more that you wanted to say, but already felt vulnerable enough given the circumstances. It wasn't like it would make a difference. Max probably had another job lined up and a new girl to take under his wing.

Nick moved to stand in front of you, effectively blocking Max from your view. "Look at me, sweetheart," he whispered, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "Now you know the truth. The kind of man he really is. I'm sorry."

"Nick, I said don't touch-"

"Shut the fuck up, Max," Nick said coldly enough that you froze and he wasn't speaking to you. "He can't help himself. It's what he does."

"Don't act like you're the hero," you scoffed, wishing you could be anywhere but there. "What do you want?"

Nick didn't seem surprised that you got back to business as he crouched beside you. "Heard you two got more than double your original score. I want half."

"Fine. Half. It's yours," you agreed before Max could argue. As far as you were concerned he had no say.

Nick tilted his head as he traced a finger along your jaw. "That easy?"

Your eyelids fluttered. You needed to concentrate. "Yeah, that easy. Now if those are the last of your bullshit questions, will you let me go?"

"Do you find me attractive?"

You sputtered at the shift in topic, heat blooming between your thighs as Nick gazed at you. "Yes," you said, your eyes wide when he smirked. "Shit."

"I don't think Max heard you, sweetheart. You might want to say it again."

"Yes, I find you attractive, okay? You both look weirdly alike," you said, not looking at Max as you let out a breath. "Fuck, I hate this fucking serum."

It was strange. If Nick grew his hair out and darkened it, and shaved, he'd look like Max. God, was he related to him, or was that a coincidence?

You didn't want to examine that thought any further at the moment.

"Why did you ask me that?" you asked, whimpering when Nick's fingertip grazed the column of your neck.

"Because I want him to know that you want me," Nick said as a matter of fact.

"Why?"

"Maybe I want to fuck him over. Maybe I want to fuck you. Maybe both."

Perhaps you were the closest thing Nick could get to revenge. He could've locked Max away or beat the shit out of him, but he brought you into this mess. Even if he let you go and Max could prove that he cared about you now, that trust wouldn't be easy to repair should the two of you leave together.

You laughed because you weren't sure how else to react to the situation. Max fucked Nick over and planned to do the same to you. Did Nick want to fuck you so he could say he got his girl?

But I'm not actually Max's girl, am I?

"Well, fucking me would fuck him over."

The way your pussy throbbed, you enjoyed that idea.

"I won't tell you again not to touch her," Max said louder than before.

"You don't get a vote," you snapped, as good as it felt that he wanted Nick to stay away from you.

"Plus, she wants me to touch her," Nick said, his hand drifting down to your breasts. He barely touched you and you felt like you were on fire. "Don't you, sweetheart?"

You tried not to reply. You tried to hold it back, especially when you felt Max's icy gaze on you, but you couldn't stop yourself. Bitter desperation flowed through you at your lack of control. "Yes."

"Good girl," Nick said as he moved his hand down to push your dress up. "Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention. You may have been wondering why you feel a bit warm. Maybe even dizzy or aroused. The serum I gave you had a little something extra in it."

"What the fuck did you give her?" Max said above a whisper, practically vibrating in his seat with true anger you hadn't witnessed from him before.

"Just a bit of an aphrodisiac," Nick said with an all too proud smile. "She'll feel a little better once she gets off."

Well, fuck.

It could've been a lie, but it would explain why your body felt hot and why you were reacting to their words and Nick's touch.

Your legs parted as much as they could with an airy moan as Nick slid his hand up your thigh, the warmth between your legs smoldering compared to the icy air surrounding you. "You're an asshole."

Nick tutted as he pushed your soaked panties aside with his thumb. "Now that's no way to speak to the man who's going to fuck you dumb, is it?"

You attempted to squirm away from his touch as he brushed his fingers along your folds. Your cunt wept for him before he even brushed your clit, an embarrassingly loud and sensual sound escaping as his finger moved in teasing circles. You should've been ashamed as Max watched Nick play with you, but it turned you on more.

"You know if he hadn't fucked me over, I wouldn't have found you. Lucky me," Nick said, sliding a finger with little resistance. "So fucking wet and already twitching around me. Can't wait to feel that around my cock."

"You made your fucking point," Max said, his voice low and throaty. Maybe this was turning him on, too. "She had nothing to do with what went down between us and she already said you'd get half of the money, so let her go."

Nick pressed gentle kisses along your cheek and temple as he pushed a second finger in, your thighs shaking lightly as they plunged deep. He pressed the heel of his hand against your clit with enough force to make you cry out. "You always know how to ruin a good thing, Max. And I can't wait to ruin her. I should be thanking you."

"Fuck you."

"No, but I will fuck her," he promised, smiling against your skin. "And you'll watch."

Oh, fuck.

"She's not a slut for you to use," your partner argued.

Ex-partner.

"No, Max, you're the one who uses people," Nick reminded him, curling his fingers as you moaned and ground your hips. "And she may not be a slut, but it won't stop me from fucking her like one."

"Please," you moaned, unsure of what you were asking for. All you knew was that your body was ready to burst into flames.

"It's okay, baby," Max said, his breathing heavy as you met his gaze. "It's okay."

"How sweet. Like you need his permission to let me touch you when I'm the one in control," Nick said, his scruff tickling your skin. "Don't worry. I'll make it good for you."

Your cheeks went hot, your head spinning as he played your body like a well-tuned instrument. You weren't sure if you were eager to feel Nick inside you because of the aphrodisiac or because some part of you wanted Max to hurt. Maybe both.

"Tell her how pretty she looks, Max," Nick suggested. It sounded more like an order.

Max's tongue poked out to wet his upper lip as you panted. "You're so fucking pretty, baby. You always are."

The praise sent another wave of arousal through you.

"She likes hearing that," Nick mocked, but you were too blissed out to care. "Don't worry, Max. You'll still get your money. I get to fuck her. And it's not like she's not getting anything out of it either. We all win," he said, moving his fingers faster as the coil tightened in your lower abdomen.

Max drank in your pleasured expression with a groan. "Don't hurt my girl," he pleaded.

His girl.

Nick chuckled when you mewled. "She isn't your girl anymore, but I won't hurt her. Hell, maybe I'll even let you fuck her one more time," Nick offered like he wasn't knuckles deep in your pussy. "But I'm not letting her go. Not after I ruin every hole of hers and make her mine."

The intensity of his words made your core pulse and explode, crying out with your release. The gush of wetness soaked Nick's fingers and the seat beneath you as a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over. He pulled the digits free once you rode out the intense orgasm, gently kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Next time, you don't come until I say so," he whispered, taking the opportunity to kiss your lips when you turned your head.

Your mind was still in a haze as he coaxed you to kiss him back. Once he pulled away, you dared to look over at Max, clenching when you saw the bulge in his pants. He couldn't even touch himself to get off.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes as you recovered, your breathing evened out after a minute as you opened them. The orgasm made you feel a little better like Nick said, but you still wanted more. Why?

"You still care about Max?" Nick asked, groaning as he licked his fingers clean.

"I shouldn't, but yes," you admitted.

Damn him, but you still cared.

Max let out a breath and actually smiled softly.

"You still want me?" Nick asked, keeping his eyes on you as he stood up, even as your gaze went to his crotch.

The guy drugged you, abducted you, took advantage of you, and didn't give you any water, but you wanted him.

You clearly had some issues you needed to sort out at a later date.

"I shouldn't want you either, but yes."

"She really is perfect, Max. Just like you said she'd be."

The air crackled with tension as Max smirked and your thighs began to shake all over again. "What?"

"Oh, baby. I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not," Max said, twisting his wrist a couple of times before the cuff came loose. He could've freed himself the entire time? "You're just so much fun to play with."

"Hey. Don't be mean to our girl," Nick said as Max got his other hand free.

Our girl?

"I guess that was rude," Max agreed, rubbing his right wrist. "I'll make it up to you."

"What the hell is this?" you asked, gripping the chair so hard your fingers ached. "What the fuck, Max?! Was this some twisted game?”

"Not really a game, but it was fun," Nick said, moving behind your chair and reaching around to grope your breasts. "See, Max really did fuck me over and I really did keep an eye on you two. It was fun watching you. Could see why he kept you around."

You arched into his touch, unable to push his hands away as Max licked his lips.

"But Nick got tired of watching and confronted me before the job was done. I offered to make things right if he let us finish it. Money. The promise of me helping with a few ops since I do have a few skills," Max explained, unbuckling his pants with a sigh. "And the cherry on top: you."

"You were going to trade me?"

Max had the audacity to look offended. "Not trade. I wasn't going to let you go. I told you, baby, I care about you."

You would've given anything to believe that, but the words sounded hollow. And if it was the truth, it didn't set you free. It shackled you, just like you were to the chair.

"So we decided on a compromise: we share you," Nick said, pinching your nipples through the fabric. "And the way you came on my fingers with Max watching, I know you want both of us. Didn't I say you'd get something out of this?"

They can't be serious.

You felt like you were going to be sick. "The serum?" you whimpered.

Was it all an act to get in your head?

"It was Nick's idea to do this 'interrogation' as his own form of personal punishment for me and he really did inject you with something to sweeten the deal," Max said unashamedly. "Even now when you're afraid and upset you still want us. You admitted it. And I know that greedy cunt of yours needs to be filled up."

Damn him for being right.

"Let me go," you whispered, needing to get far away from them. "Please."

"Let you go? Oh, you won't even be able to walk after you've had us both," Nick swore as you whined. "We'll have to carry you out."

"But we won't tell you where we're taking you. It's a surprise," Max said, his smile as cold as his eyes as he took his cock out. "Now get her out of that chair so I can watch you fuck her. I want her sobbing and begging before I fuck her, too."

Nick and Max wouldn't plot against each other down the road, would they? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[stardusthuntress]

EnigmaTech - Ch. 2

My Tech lives AU! This one is based on the idea that the Bad Batch just needs someone with a clear head to follow his trail and appreciate the man for what he is truly capable of! I’m not a many-chapter-fic writer, but this one I felt like it could be divided into 3-4, maybe 5 (yes, it's getting longer, I know) solid chapters that focus on retrieving the beloved brainiac, his bubbly little sister, and their angsty brother. Consider it a mini-series! 

Chapter 2 - One Step at a Time 

Tech x female!reader (EVENTUALLY; but he still hasn't met her yet, this is the buildup to that part, they will meet soon, I promise! just use of pronouns in this part, not anatomy)

(Part 1) (Part 3)

Word Count: ~3.7K

Chapter Summary: Now that they know Tech survived, that means they now have a list of people they care about that they need to rescue. By asking the question 'what did the Empire want with each one', will that help them figure out where each one is?

TW: I state that Tech is hurt, but I don't specify any details! No gore here! Just some notes that he might end up in the same boat Echo was once in. She/her pronouns used, but no mention of female anatomy or anything like that in this one.

A/N: Alrighty, this part feels like it's almost there but not quite, but I needed to just get it out so I can focus on the next part, or I will NEVER finish this story! Enjoy!

Tech dividers by @/djarrex

Translations: haran = hell (Mando'a) dank ferrik = the Star Wars equivalent of "oh fuck" or "damn it"

He’s alive! But dank ferrik, that looks like it hurt like haran [hell]! 

He’d managed to soften his fall a bit, and get out of the way of the railcar, but it was still a long way to fall, and he’d only been able to slow his speed enough to survive it, but not enough to prevent injury on impact. 

“Wait,” Wrecker has questions, “I don’t get it… if Tech is still wearing his goggles, under his helmet there, how can they be the thing that’s recording this?” 

“Good catch Wrecker,” Echo smirks, proud of his brother. 

“Tech had a spare pair of goggles.” Hunter adds. “They must have been in the pack he was wearing when he fell. I used to use whether they were in that pack or this pack,” he gestures with the backup pack he’s still holding, and proceeds to check for the spare pair in it as he continues, “as an indicator of whether or not Tech thought the mission was more dangerous than he was letting on…and they’re not in here. That IS his spare pair… *sigh* I guess you’re right, there were little things he would do to protect us from the full truth.” 

“Don’t feel bad about it Hunter. It means he loves you very much. I just…” she takes a deep breath, “… I’ve found he’s a lot like me, we have a lot of the same habits and ways of doing things. So it’s a little easier for me to put myself in his shoes, so to speak.”  

“So I’ve noticed.” Hunter comments, “It’s sorta comforting, really. You’re just like him… I just wish he had been able to meet you a long time ago. To know that there were others like him, that he was not alone. When we were cadets he often told me that his mind was both his gift and his curse, because it made him unique but being unique meant he was the only one like that. I don’t know if he knew the Kaminoans made him that way because of the effectiveness of people like you.” 

“I know the feeling, and I appreciate the complement.” 

“I’m glad you’re the one Rex sent to help us get them all back. I’m glad he will get a chance to meet you,” Hunter comments. 

“Thank you, Hunter. That means a lot to me, especially coming from you. I know you are having a hard time trusting me, and I understand why. I’ve had trust issues too, they are very hard to work past. Thank you for letting me work beside you guys. It’s nice to have an understanding team that doesn’t hate me for infodumping all the time.”

“I don’t think I realized how comforting it was when Tech did that until he wasn’t there anymore to do it all the time,” Wrecker added. 

“Then let’s get him back, big guy,” she pats his arm. 

Wrecker smiles and nods. 

Echo chimes in, cool headed and taking inventory like the ARC he is “Okay, so… that recording doesn’t add much. It’s only a few minutes between impact and when that trooper steps on the spare goggles and the recording stops, and it’s mostly pointed at the trees and the wreckage of the railcar during that time. But what DO we have to work with now?” 

“What about the things the TK troopers were talking about. Any names ring a bell?” She asks. 

Hunter starts the list for the group “they mentioned the name Hemlock, that’s the man who brought us Tech’s goggles and took Omega.” 

“Hemlock’s facility is the same one Crosshair was wired to” Echo adds. “That’s why we were trying to track his shuttle from Eriadu.”

“The name does appear in Tech’s notes a few times. Mostly about Crosshair and where he may have been taken, but he doesn’t seem to get very far before the railcar incident.” 

“There are so many unanswered questions though,” Hunter interjects, concerned-big-brother (read: concerned-Dad) mode kicking in. “Why did they want Omega? They’re clearly not interested in more clone troopers, so her status as a near-perfect copy of Django is not it.” 

“She knows a lot about cloning. She grew up in close contact with Nala Se, as an assistant of sorts,” Echo shrugs. 

“Tech told me once that the Empire destroyed Kamino so that they could control cloning. That was shortly after the encounter with the Zillo Beast, the one after the war.” Hunter recalls, doing his best to add as much info as he can, as per her request. 

“That’s not much to go on,” Echo sighs. 

“On the contrary, there’s a lot there to unpack.” She starts counting as she adds each one to a list on her data pad, “one: Omega's knowledge, two: her bond with Nala Se, and three: how there are far more cloning projects going on. And, four: looking at Tech’s notes on the Zillo Beast, they utilized Kaminoan technology, and yet there were no indications of any Kaminoans ever having been present in the lab. All the technology was the human-sized versions they developed ‘for interactions with the clones of Django’ as Tech puts it. And here, a fifth one! Records he decrypted when searching for Crosshair indicate that Nala Se is also alive and was transferred into custody of an unlisted scientist. A scientist? Interesting. She’s listed as a prisoner, but she’s not being held by a prison guard. Either way, it seems that Tech, Nala Se, and Crosshair are likely under Hemlock’s ‘supervision’, or rather control, within the Advanced Science Division. Considering Omega’s ties to all the aforementioned individuals, and that it was Hemlock who took her away, it is likely that she is at the same facility.” Feeling elated by the progress they’re making with everyone contributing, she keeps on rolling. “Speaking of, Tech’s notes on the reason the bounty hunters were after Omega and why the stopped hunting her are very vague, suggesting that info was well hidden. Echo, have you and Rex been able to dig up anything more on that?”

“No, Weirdly, there’s absolutely no record of bounty hunters going after Omega in any Imperial logs we’ve found so far. Which suggests it was not the Imperials that put a bounty on her. Let me crossrefference the times at which the Bounty Hunters stopped showing up with the times that things began to move off of Kamino and see if we can find any correlations there.” 

The room is quiet while Echo scomps into the computer. The screen nearest him lights up and Hunter and Wrecker provide additional eyes as he scrolls through the data, pointing out important pieces as they see them. 

“Here!” Echo’s voice is triumphant. “Tarkin issued orders to put the Kaminoan Prime Minister under surveillance and then he was transferred off world! That’s all not long after we rescued Omega from the two bounty hunters and not long before Admiral Rampart destroyed Kamino. Looks like that does correlate with the time we noticed the bounty hunters seemed to have stopped searching for Omega.” 

“So, its likely that it was the Kaminoans that put a target on her.” She reasons, “But why? What secrets do her genetics carry? What value does she have to Nala Se? Most of the evidence we’ve listed so far has to do with cloning, so it would seem that Hemlock’s work is some type of cloning project, but why is he using existing clones as test subjects? What is he cloning that requires test subjects, or are there other medical projects under Hemlock’s control?” Her train of thought seems doomed to derail just like the railcar. 

“If you’re looking for answers, we definitely have less of those than you do” Wrecker laughs. 

“There are clues everywhere.” She uses a finger to emphasize her point, but the glazed look in her eyes tell them her mind is still diving throught the data, “You just need to know where to look and how to read them.” Wrecker found himself exchanging glances with the other two. 

“Okay, let’s backup. We know Omega, Crosshair, Nala Se, and now Tech are all in the custody of this Dr. Hemlock fellow, and all are central figures in his latest cloning project, which seems to utilise Kaminoan tech (if the Zillo Beast incident is anything to go on, that is, though that is a bit of a leap) and requires test subjects, a LOT of test subjects according to the transferred records Echo and Tech recovered. This would imply that all are likely to be found at the headquarters of the Advanced Science Division, and that there are too many things getting shipped into these new facilities for it to stay off the radar for very long. Track enough of them, and they will all trace back to this secret base, like rashnold on a kylak.” 

“But, what does Hemlock want with Tech?” Like the rest of them, Wrecker’s mind is swirling with unanswered questions. 

“It’s not clear,” Hunter answers, “all we know is that he was injured, in a lot of pain and barely conscious, and they have all the facilities to patch him back up there.” 

“I think there’s more to it,” she cringes “but you’re not gonna like it.” She looks with a pointed pain at Echo out of the corner of her eye. 

Echo turns even more pale, picking up on what she’s implying. “No. No, they better not have.” 

Hunter starts to pick up on it too, he leans forwards in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” 

“Me either.” She almost whispers it, “But based on the fact that Hemlock needed Omega and Nala Se and test subjects, there’s something they weren’t able to get from the Kaminoan cloning equipment and whatever else they stole from Kamino before destroying it. Likely their records of how to actually do the cloning. Which would mean that they need a mind or two with lots of experience with Kaminoans and their cloning facilities, especially one that’s really good at untangling details and solving complex problems. Based on the fact that Crosshair sent you boys a Plan 88 message, warning that someone is in pursuit, it is likely that Hemlock knows how loyal your team in particular is. That would further suggest that Hemlock knows he’s not going to get anything useful from Tech while Tech is consciously aware of what he is doing. We also know from the Techno Union’s experiments on Echo that it is possible to use an unconscious mind as a strategic processing system. I’d wager that’s exactly what Hemlock plans to do with Tech to extract whatever in haran [hell] he’s missing.” her eyes gloss over as her mind races “kark, it would even be easy to hide him, since his name is ‘Tech’, and how Hemlock is clearly aware that clones are considered property. It’s just a box of equipment and ‘tech’ ready for installation or inspection at his facility, even Tarkin could miss a box with a generic label like that. I shudder to think…” her thought trails off as they all sit in an uncomfortable silence. 

Each of them wore expressions of disgust as they stared into the distance, minds racing. 

“Wait!” Wrecker seems to have caught something “Hemlock caught up with us pretty fast after Eriadu. We’d barely had time to get patched up and Omega got lucky that she woke up before he got there. I remember seeing a Light Cruiser or a Venator or something that looked like one above Ord Mantell! That ship had to come from somewhere and go somewhere, right? That’s a big ship to just disappear off the records all of a sudden! Do you think they already had Tech onboard?” 

“Good point Wreck! You’re right it is!” She adds Wrecker’s input to her growing list on her datapad. 

Echo’s excitement at having a lead they can act on is almost palpable. “We need shipping and transfer records from anything leaving Eriadu immediately after the explosion, specifically anything that went though Ord Mantel on it’s way to it’s destination. If we crossreference that with the destinations of shipments leaving Kamino shortly before Rampart destroyed it, we might be onto something!” 

Hunter seems less worried now that they have something they can do, “Okay, so, step one: find an Imperial communications network we can discreetly tap into and extract shipping records from Kamino and Eriadu without arousing suspicion. Do we all agree with that?” 

“Affirmative, Sergeant!” She and Echo, echo. 

Wrecker cheers. “We’re coming Tech, just hold out a little longer.” 

“...and… Omega and Crosshair” Hunter’s eyebrows raise in concern. 

“Yeah, but Tech is the one in need of a nice medic,” Wrecker points out. 

“We don’t know what state Crosshair is in, but given that he tried to warn us about Hemlock, it seems unlikely that Hemlock is treating him well. He may also be in need of a ‘nice medic’ Wrecker.” Echo points out. 

Wrecker looks around the Marauder, looking at the bandages around Hunter’s waist, while somewhat restrained by his own medical collar. “Seems like we all need that right now,” he mutters. 

“Hey big guy, AZI and I can handle you 3, I just hope we’re included in that ‘nice medic’ count of yours.” She gently nudges his shoulder, “Let’s get you lot on the mend fast so we can break into that Imperial data facility and get the stolen 3 back soon too. Yeah?” 

“Yeah” agrees Wrecker, “thanks little lady, I don’t know what we would have done without you. Echo was right, we did need an outside voice for this mission.” He claps Echo on the shoulder. Even with the medical collar on, Wrecker’s energy seems to be at his usual fervor, as Echo gives him an annoyed look and rubs his own shoulder gently. 

Hunter let’s out a huff and shakes his head. Looking back at the woman he adds in “Wrecker’s right, I don’t think we would have gotten this far without you. Thank you.” He turns to the room at large “Alright. Let’s pick an imperial data relay facility and work out a plan to get the shipping logs for Eriadu and Ord Mantel.” 

Later, during Hunter’s watch, while the others are asleep, she sneaks into the cockpit. 

“Hunter, can I talk to you?” 

He turns in his seat to face her as she sits in the copilot’s seat “Sure. What’s up?” He’s clearly aware of the fact that she just snuck in to talk to him alone while the others were asleep, and is grateful she came to him as the squad leader with her concerns, but trying not to let that get to him just yet. 

“There’s something weird here about all this. Techs actions at the railcar… something doesn’t sit right about it. I’m not sure what exactly though. But I have this weird, nagging feeling that it might have to do with what he found out about Crosshair defecting.” 

Hunter seems glad that she came to him with her concerns “I’m glad you’re telling me this, but I’m not sure I’m going to be much help figuring it out. That’s normally Tech’s job.” 

“So, when Tech couldn’t figure something out, how would you support him?” 

“Usually? I’d force him to get some sleep.” Hunter sighs, “something tells me using my Sergeant status and ordering you to sleep isn’t gonna work here.”

She smiles, “na, not likely. I can’t turn off my mind enough to sleep right now. And I’m not very tired.” 

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before he suggests she just say what she’s thinking out loud. 

“Okay. I might be totally wrong on this though, but I’m not sure how else to interpret this, but it’s more of a feeling than anything supported by evidence this time.” 

“You’ve been pretty spot on so far. I bet you’re not as far off as you think. Tech often says the same thing, and he’s usually got a better handle on it than he thinks he does,” Hunter kinda likes the way she asked what he did to help Tech when he was stuck, this felt exactly the same to him. 

“Tech had a long way to fall, which means he had time to do something. Like more time than it would take to simply get out of the way of that railcar… so why is it that that is all he did? What if there was more to it?” 

“Are you implying that Tech might have intended to get caught and didn’t intend to prevent his own injury?” Hunter asks, worry etching his features. 

“Sorta,” Her expression tells him that she doesn’t like the idea either, “he seems to have reasoned that the only way to get to Crosshair was to get caught, and then just happened to literally fall into the right solution to get to him. He likely knew that if any of you simply surrendered, you wouldn’t be taken to the same place as Crosshair, too risky for the Empire to put a completely healthy and independently creative or ‘deviant’ clone in a situation where one or more of their own was at risk. You lads fight your way out of situations like that all the time…

Tech may have also gotten the inkling that they wanted Omega back too, we established that he knew she was important to something the Kaminoans were doing. The question is what? What did he know that he didn’t write down?...” Her thoughts drift off. 

Hunter just watches, knowing she will continue, theres too many thoughts swirling in her eyes, they need to be let out. 

“But maybe that part doesn’t matter yet. Going back to getting to Crosshair and Omega though… if Tech arrived there healthy his presence would put Omega at risk. They know he’s attached to her and probably wouldn’t hesitate to use her against him. And they wanted more compliant test subjects. The most compliant are always the wounded because they can prolong their vulnerability and exploit it as a weakness. Gruesome and morally twisted, but that seems like the Imperial thing to do given the way the chips fell…” 

“And it’s exactly the sort of thing Tech would just do and then tell us later that he ‘thought it was obvious’” Hunter spoke though his hands, which covered his mouth. His brow knitted in concern. 

The doors opened and Echo entered quietly and sat down. The cockpit doors closed behind him. 

She smiled, “old habits die hard, huh Echo?” 

Hunter raised a brow, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Echo rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah. Something like that.” 

Hunter gave him a look. He wasn’t about to let it go with just that. 

Embarrassed, Echo began explaining “I, uhhh, when I was with the 501st, my bestfriend, Fives, was really good at getting into things that he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t smooth talk his way out of anything. He thought he could tho,” Echo laughed, eyes distant and filled with memory, “it was fun, and it didn’t seem fair to let him pay the price when I would follow him right into trouble, knowing that’s where he was leading us. So I got really good at getting us out of it… I…erh… may or may not have heard most of that conversation. I scomped into the system from the computers back there,” he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, “and let the surveillance feed play in my uhhh,” he pointed at the device on his head, and looked pleadingly at Hunter, hoping he wouldn’t have to put a name to it. Echo hated how much machinery he required just to live a normal life anymore. 

Hunter just laughed. “Rex warned me about your mischievous side when we took you in. I was wondering how long you were gonna try to keep it to yourself. Though you seemed content to just let it out when you thought I wasn’t gonna mention anything, I think it even encouraged the trickster in Omega a few times.” 

“Ha! Sorry.” Echo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was afraid of that.” 

“Such a brotherly thing to do, encourage his little sister to be a little troublemaker.” She was smiling at them from her chair. 

Both the men laughed quietly and returned the grin. 

“I’m glad you heard that though, Echo, but I’m not sure we should tell Wrecker. I would hate to make him more worried about Tech. It was so sweet of him to worry about the medical care Tech is recieving. I know medical things bother Wrecker the most. I get the feeling he’d be really upset if he figured out that Tech might have let himself get hurt, intentionally. Wrecker’s got such a big heart.” 

“Then let’s focus on the mission objectives,” Echo chimed in. “I’ve been thinking about whether we should team up with Rex for the intel part of the mission. I have a feeling he wouldn’t want to miss a chance to gather some intel on the Imperials while we have the chance.” 

Hunter’s eyes focused on the floor lost in intense thought, the light of the console and the stillness and determination in his expression only highlighting the tattoo covering half his face. 

After a few moments, he looks back up at Echo and nods. “Contact him. We will see what he says in the morning. Until then, you two need rest, this was supposed to be my watch after all,” he smirks, bidding them goodnight as Echo scomps into the comm system, and she exits the cockpit, yawning and ready for a good rest so they can develop a plan in the morning.

(Part 3)

Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it!

taglist: @bambambunny (FIRST time I've ever tagged anyone interested in my fics!!! YAY!!! And congrats to Johann for being the first one on the taglist!!!) (if I forgot to tag anyone, please message me! I don't have a full taglist yet, this is just whoever specifically asked to be tagged for this fic for now!)

[jeffannieresource]

My (long, long, very long) List of Favorite Jeff/Annie fics -- Notes

A friend who is new to the fandom asked me to put together a list of my favorite J/A fics, going all the way back to the beginning of the fandom. Someone on Discord suggested I post it here, which was a great idea. So here it is, my long list of favorite J/A fics, going all the way back to 2009.

I wanted to post the notes separately both because they're pretty long on their own and because I figure it will be easier to link back each time I post a part of the list. So, here are the notes... 1. There is one part (divided into two parts because it was two long for tumblr) of the list so far. There will be at least one more part, and likely even more than that. 2. The list is ordered chronologically by the date each fic was originally posted. The Discord agreed pretty unanimously that ordering this way would be much better, both because knowing exactly when it was written can help any reader know what information had and hadn't been revealed in canon at that point, and because it would almost be like a history of the fandom in a way. 3. When I've complete the list, I will combine all of the parts into one full list. 4. Fics are taken from multiple different platforms (ao3, fanfiction.net, livejournal). Each of these platforms has is own rating system, and with livejournal there was no standard rating system. So please note that individual ratings might mean different things depending on the platform. 5. I tried to link to the original posting of the story. But I also tried to include links in cases where a fic was uploaded to a different site later (but only if I could be reasonably sure the person who uploaded it was the original author). In these cases, the links to the later will appear simply as an (x) next to the title. 6. For multichapter fics on livejournal, each individual chapter had to be posted as a separate entry. In these cases, rather than linking through the story's title, I listed the number of the chapters next to the titles and linked those.) 7. This is a purely subjective list based on what I like. If your fic or a fic you love doesn't make the list, that doesn't mean I hate it or think it's bad. Some things, like full-on AUs or 2020 lockdown-set fics, just to name a few examples, just aren't for me. 8. If any of the links don't work, send you to the wrong story, etc., (or if I got anything else wrong) please let me know so I can fix it. 9. If one of your fics is on the list and for some reason you want it removed, or you want me to link or not link to it on a specific platform, I spelled used the wrong name or spelled your screen name wrong, I posted your fic under someone else's name, or anything else you might want fixed or changed, please just let me know.

Okay, I think that's it as far as the notes go. I'll also be adding the links to each part at the bottom here, so this will also be something of a master post.

Part 1a/Part 1b