#letting someone help you regulate & cut back

[drawbauchery]

he's the one who makes it for him! he's just an extreme stickler for health & regulation, especially with imposter (canonically. i cry). i will be rambling about this when i get all my thoughts together

[gacorley]

There’s some common threads I see in the anti-voting posts going around, and I feel like I need to discuss some of them. Let’s start with the biggest one:

Voting to punish evil. I see lots of variations of this. Biden is supporting Israel, therefore we can’t vote for him. Is there any viable candidate who would stop the genocide? I don’t think the anti voting crowd actually cares. They are appealing to moral feelings rather than political strategy, because strategically, you have to realize that voting is not going to change foreign policy, and that change has to be pushed by other means. It’ll probably be something in the long haul.

Democrats should run someone else. First of all, this is a shit strategy. You don’t primary your president in the second term unless your party is falling apart. This may come from people from countries where replacing the head of government is easier, but the POTUS is the de facto party head. Also, going to the lack of thought to the goal — do you know someone willing to primary Biden and able to win who would do the things you want?

Biden hasn’t done anything anyway. This is just a way to bat away pro arguments. There’s plenty of lists of progress on lots of things. Student loans, insulin price caps, regulations, anti-trust.

Putting the entire Palestinian genocide on Biden. I’m not saying there’s not culpability there, but understand that the entire US government is in support of Israel, on both sides. It was a miracle we got a handful of Senators to call for investigations. We should cut off aid, absolutely. Who’s running to do that? And keep in mind that Israel chose to engage. US officials would have liked a more limited response, not out of care for Palestinians, but because they know from experience that it will come back to bite Israel in the form of newly radicalized Hamas recruits.

Liberals just have no hope for change. This is a new one. Just some idea that people are stuck in a rut and that’s the reason the two party system exists. The two party system is a mathematical consequence of the way we vote. There is reason to hope for change. The change, though, whatever means you choose, will take decades. Keep working at it. The hope is not that this election will fundamentally change things. The hope is that many small political actions over the years will push things forward.

Funnily enough, I haven’t seen a whole lot of third party promotion, just lots of this rhetoric aiming to punish. When voting, ask yourself:

Is this problem I have with this candidate something that the other candidate would be better on?

Are there other political actions I can take that will help?

What things can change with a different President or Congress, and what needs to be pursued by other means?

Withholding your vote as a punishment isn’t really going to help. Biden doesn’t know who you are or why you are not voting for him, and there is no one with a chance of winning that will do everything you want. But you have other means. Protest, organize, donate, build up alternatives, advocate for a different system.

Vote to give yourself space and get a little bit. Do other things to keep things moving.

[thriftyshark530]

For writers that like hurting their characters

(you know who you are)

Any semi serious injury to the arms or legs can be fatal. If an artery is struck the person can bleed out in 2-5 minutes. If an artery is struck then blood will be violently spraying out of the body, as opposed to regular bleeding where the blood just leaks.

A way to stop severe bleeding is with a tourniquet. A proper tourniquet that you would expect to find in any trauma response kit, as using a shirt or anything in your environment as a tourniquet won't be very effective. The tourniquet should be placed a few inches above the wound, and tightened. The tightening process is going to be extremely painful, as it's clamping down hard enough to cut off the blood circulation. Important to note that a limb won't be at risk of being amputated unless the tourniquet has been applied for hours.

Another way to stop severe bleeding is wound packing. This is where you take gauze and fill up a wound with it. The point is to cover the area that's bleeding, so that you can apply pressure to the specific part of the body that's bleeding heavily. Applying pressure directly on top of where the blood is coming from should get it to stop, however this will again be painful for the victim.

Losing blood makes it harder to regulate your body temperature, so it's extremely dangerous to be losing blood in a cold environment. However, a victim can still get cold in warm areas from blood loss, so most trauma response kits will have specific blankets that will help the victim regulate their temperature.

Any wound that punctures the chest area is extremely dangerous. Air will begin filling into the chest cavity, which will leave the lungs with less room to expand. Eventually the lung or lungs will collapse from the lack of room, this is extremely painful. And this will all be even worse if the attack pierced a lung, which will be filling with blood. All of this will make it extremely hard to breathe. There are pads in a trauma response kit that you place over a chest wound, and they're designed to vent air out of the chest cavity while not letting any more air in. However lungs filling up with body fluids is not something you can treat on the field, and will require proper medical attention.

Getting clapped on the ears hurts and can disorient you.

Any impact to the nose will make the sinuses flare up and the eyes water, making a fight more difficult.

Any impact to the back of the skull can be fatal, or cause severe brain damage.

It's extremely easy to rip off a human ear.

The liver is located on the lower right side of the rib cage, it would be on your left side if you were looking at someone else's liver. Any impact there can put any person on the ground, as it's extremely painful to be hit there. Punches to the liver drop many professional boxers.

Kidneys are mostly the same, except they aren't protected by anything at all. Located in the lower back, the kidneys are completely unprotected from any attack. Any impact here can drop someone just like a liver punch. (I was in the gym one time and hit my kidney pretty hard on a bar and almost collapsed from the pain)

A proper punch is thrown in a way to where the knuckles are the only thing that make contact. This is so that all the force is being spread out across a much smaller area, increasing the damage to the victim.

Any impact to the neck can be fatal, and will make a person immediately start choking, making them completely open in a fight.

Removing anything that's impaled into a person will only make them bleed out faster.

Your body will force you to inhale right before drowning, which we all know it burns like hell to have water in your lungs. Plenty of people that have almost drowned have said that their body forced them to take a breath, even if there was no air to breathe.

The brain inhibits your full strength, as we're strong enough to completely rip our muscles. In times of need, the brain will let go of this limitation, basically granting you super strength. There's plenty of cases where someone was able to lift something off of someone, such as a lawn mower or car, but wasn't able to move it at all later on.

While you can live without water for a few days, maybe even longer than 3 depending on a bunch of factors, that is specifically "living". You can expect to see severe side effects of dehydration long before the person dies. Extreme kidney pain, headaches, hallucinations, dry skin, some organ failure ect.

paradoxical sensation is where you're so cold that you actually feel hot. Plenty of people have been in extremely cold environments and started removing their clothes, as they were so cold that they felt like they were burning.

The body will begin to eat itself if it's gone long enough with no food.

You have an extreme lack of depth perception with only 1 eye. You can test this out by walking around and doing tasks with only 1 eye open.

When blood and dirt and anything else gets in the hair, untangling the hair and straightening it out is extremely painful. It may even result in pulling some hair out, it might be better to shave it off if it's bad enough.

Any recent wounds sting when exposed to water, which makes taking a shower a nightmare when you have multiple of these on your body at once.

As popular as the trope is, consciousness has no effect on your survival. The "don't go to sleep" while a character is bleeding out doesn't really help, meaning you can let your character pass out or fall asleep while they're dying. This can lead to a character thinking they won't wake up while they're fighting off sleep, only to wake up in a hospital bed.

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋmy first, my last, my everything ୭ৎ ིྀ

pairing: exmafia!bakugo x reader

summary: katsuki left that life behind for you. but when the life you two built from scratch together was threatened, what else could he do but go back?

tags: fem!reader, wife!reader, mafia mentions, violence, angst to comfort, cursing, blood, pet names, no quirk au!, threats, guns, mention of death, clingy katsuki

status: complete.

wc:~2.5k

katsuki had been around blood for most of his life.

whether it was his own, or a bastard who he had to handle for his own, he'd grew comfortable to it. almost intolerant to it.

but seeing you, freaking out with a bullet in your shoulder, your blood spilled over the floors he'd taken you to pick out?

it was something he never prepared for.

glass was shattered, he ran to your side immediately. the hot flash of pain in your arm unbearable, even more so as he pressed down on it, his shirt now ripped as he had to keep the blood from pouring.

your wails echoed throughout the shop, the one you decorated and planned for months together.

he needed to call someone, anyone. you were bleeding and he needed the kit-- but it was too far.

he was failing you. you were crying and he was failing you.

he was shaking, "babe? fuck. stay awake." everything around him was mocking him. his phone being too far, everything was just out of his grasp. out of his control.

he couldn't get up and leave you, if he let up the pressure you could die in the minute it'd take for him to set up.

he always failed you in the end. this was all his fault.

until, kaminari and kirishima walked in, about to yell out and bug katsuki for some food like usual. "yo bro! what's--"

the sight in front of them was one they never expected to see. katsuki almost crushing your arm with pressure, your blood all over the place. the front of house ruined.

it was enough for them to jump into action. katsuki holding you still as kirishima worked to get the bullet out of your arm. kaminari throwing the medkit over from where katsuki had it stored in a shelf. it had barely missed an artery, you were a milimeter away from death.

honestly, they hadn't liked you for a while. before meeting you they only saw you as the woman who was taking one of their best friends away from them. from their own.

but they learned that you only wanted the best for him, so you'd all become close. they learned how katsuki made this choice because he wanted better life for the two of you.

how he was growing sick of the repeated bloodshed that never amounted to anything. how his heart ached at the sight of you crying over his wounds, his black eyes and knife cuts embedded in his skin.

how he vowed to himself that before he'd ever propose to you, that he'd tie up all loose ends with his group, before he knew he could fully dedicate himself to you.

and he did.

nobody couldve ever imagined that they'd be here, kaminari working to keep you calm, helping regulate your breaths. you were freaking out, and that wasn't good for the extreme amount of blood you were losing.

katsuki would be forever grateful for them. he didn't know what he'd do if they weren't here, if you had died in his arms.

your screams were haunting, but at least you were alive. they finally died down into groans of pain when the bullet was out and the fabric was tied tightly around your shoulder.

your shirt was bloodied, his hands were too. he picked you up and mindlessly followed the two into a car that they must of called when he wasn't listening.

back to his old life he went. his eyes were sharp and angry, his hand gripping yours tightly, his finger over your pulse.

he had frozen up. and that could've costed you your life.

your eyes were half-lidded, but open.

only the noise of the road was heard throughout the car. he was the only one in the back, holding you in his arms as he faced straight ahead. he didn't think he could handle looking at you right now.

"'suki?" you said, so quietly the thumping of the road almost completely blocked it out.

but he heard you, he always did. "don't waste your energy. we're almost there."

you nodded, squeezing tighter. your eyes stuck on his bloodied shirt.

you were immediately rushed to the medical wing, the old woman dubbed 'recovery girl' taking you into her care. "she'll be fine, young man. she was lucky. they missed." she scurried off behind the operation team, who had immediately taken her into surgery.

those words carried only a bit of comfort for him. he was guided back to the meeting room, the one he'd been in several times before. the one he took brutal beat downs just to get out of.

but he was back, and it was for you. the same reason why he left.

he stared back at his old blood. deku had taken over for all might a couple years back, so he stood at the head of the table waiting for the rest of them settled in.

he wore a soft face of sympathy. "go change." deku finally said, handing him a pair of spare clothes. "we'll wait for you. you look like.. crap."

"to say the least." katsuki muttered, before accepting the clothes and going to where he knew the old bathroom was.

he washed his hands of your blood, but he knew it'd never really leave. he had stained your life, put you in danger for something as fragile as love. you could've died today, for the only reason of you being connected to him.

he changed, emptying the tattered shirt and slacks into the garbage. he didn't want anything to do with them anymore.

after splashing his face with some water, he headed back to the room.

every old face was there waiting for him, some with understanding small smiles.

he sat next to kirishima, arms crossed as he looked to the head.

"kacchan." deku started. "you, you aren't seriously thinking of coming back, are you?"

all eyes were on him, his body tense. "of course i am. i'm going to find the dumbfuck who did this and bury them."

"but you're not one of us anymore." todoroki cut in. "you left, if you come back it's like you did all that for nothing."

"you can never truly leave though, if you think about it." iida replied before katsuki had a chance. "this is just proof of it. even though he worked so hard to get rid of the connections to us, she still ended up targeted."

"and by an ally no less."

"a what?" katsuki said, his hand slamming on the table. "repeat that shit to me scarface?"

"it's not confirmed yet--"

"don't lie midoriya, it's obvious from the bullet. even the color is mocking us." todoroki said, sliding a bag across the table, over to katsuki.

a bright purple bullet was in it. it was bigger than he remembered, a 12.7 mmx99. it took up almost the entirety of his hand. whoever shot this really had wanted to kill you.

but it couldn't be...

"..shinsou?"

"that's who it points to."

"but. it doesn't make sense. your wife was close friends with him, and we haven't had bad relations with '2 Block' for decades!" midoriya reasoned.

"that doesn't change the fact there was a bullet in her arm." katsuki grumbled, moving it around in his hand. he slammed it back down onto the table.

"wow bakugo, if you couldn't pick up on that, i don't think you should be working this operation." kaminari said, a hand behind his head.

"shinsou wouldn't have missed. she'd be dead the second he aimed for her. you should know that."

silence enveloped the room. kaminari was right, if he didn't pick up on that, he was rusty.

his eye twitched. "i fuckin' knew that dumbass."

"you have personal stake in this, we get it. but you'll end up dead if you keep thinking with your shit attitude." kaminari responded.

"he has a point kacchan. why don't you let us handle it, and you can--"

"no."

he silenced them all with that single word. a face of sincerity and vulnerability he barely wore present in that moment. "i have to do this. i can't sleep at night if i don't. you guys of all people should understand."

a collective silence came over the room. they didn't say anything, but they knew if this had happened to them they'd want back in too.

they knew midoriya had the final say though, so they wished for his opinion.

"fine. but youre not doing this alone. we'll all get in on this. you were one of our best before, im sure all might would agree."

everyone nodded in agreement, saying some variation of 'if you say so'.

kirishima patted katsuki on the back. "hey man, our duos back again!"

"only for this mission though."

"aw man."

"we start tomorrow, so fix yourselves up. i have a feeling we'll be traveling around some tomorrow." midoriya ordered. "dismissed."

everyone poured out, katsuki walking directly to the medicine ward. he passed by the hallways, the pictures representing the allyship between them and the several surrounding gangs mocking as he walked by.

it all felt so familiar, it had only been a year. not much had changed, except for the atmosphere that he brought along with him.

he finally made it to the ward, looking past all the rooms. 'lets see, torture room.. cell.. no she'd be here.' he thought before walking into a hallway.

there he found only one room with a light on. he was right, he looked in to see you, fast asleep with bandages wrapped around your arm.

'at least you were safe', he sighed. jumping slightly when 'recovery girl' started speaking to him. "you did well, a moment later and she'd be dead. don't beat yourself up young man."

a moment passed between them, her words resonating in his mind. he'd done all that he could doz

"you can go wait inside, just don't wake her. there should be a spare bed you can pull out."

and with that, she left.

he walked inside, pulled out the bed and held your hand as he slept. the guilt never dissipated, it was all his fault. and so he'd have to fix it.

he woke up to the feeling of you moving. he'd been on edge the whole night, so the feeling of your hand jerking out of his woke him up immediately.

"katsuki." you said, sounding so tired and confused it broke his heart a bit.

" 'm here." he hugged you quickly, being mindful of the wound in your arm. a desperate, tearful kiss shared between you.

you took his face into your hands, making him stare into your eyes.

"i was so scared, you don't even know." you said nervously. "i thought i was gonna die."

katsuki held you tighter, still so disappointed with himself for even letting you get to that point. he felt like he should've taken the shot. that he should be the one injured right now, but instead he leaned in closer to you. "i was too, but you're here now. safe. with me."

"mhm."

you held him for a bit longer, looking at the room surrounding you.

while he was thinking of the possibilities that could've happened, his one wrong step from you could've left him all alone, you examined the room.

it wasn't a regular hospital, probably not a hospital at all. you knew that from the guns laying on the counters. the stitches all around ready for work, the empty body bags that were bloodied. mocking as they hung from the ceiling.

the windows, all reinforced heavily. the door that had a bolt lock on it.

you didn't get to feel relieved for long. "katsuki. be honest with me."

he tensed up, he knew you'd find out eventually. but he wanted to finish this mess before you ever knew about it. "always am."

"are you.. back in this?" you asked, looking into his eyes with an anxious expression. your hands clinging to his sides.

he sighed heavily. "y'know i have to. i'll never relax if i know that fucker is still out there. he could come back and.. and hurt you again."

"and i can't change your mind about this?"

"...no. it's for.. for us. i wouldn't have left if i didn't care for you, you know that."

"i do."

"then.. just-- wait for me okay? i won't leave 'til later today."

you nodded, laying your head in his chest. "if you get hurt too i think ill die."

"i won't get hurt."

"you promise?"

"i swear."

you leaned in and pecked another kiss on his lips. though you were interrupted by kirishima walking in.

"oops, i really should've knocke-"

"yeah you should've dumbass."

"hi kiri!" you waved, shoving katsuki off of you. "hey [name]!"

katsuki had one arm around you, squinting seemingly annoyed at his partner annoying his wife.

the topic would randomly change from shows you were watching, to fun things that have happened recently, but it took a deep turn into what had just happened to you.

"so, [name]. you heard bakugo's hanging with us for a while, right?"

"yeah, i did." you said, holding him just a bit closer subconsciously.

"so, did he tell you who we think did it?"

"shut the fuck up kir--"

"you already know?" your attention was on him fully. the look in your eyes revealing just how much you wanted answers. "well, it's just a guess for no--"

"shut up kirishima."

"but we think it's shinsou."

your face twisted in confusion. "shinsou?...

no, you're wrong."

"babe, please stay out of this."

"shinsou wouldn't do this-"

"they found his bullet in your arm. nobody else who isn't retired or dead uses that shit."

you physically recoiled at that. "no way." you looked to kirishima, who only confirmed it.

"this has to be a set up or something? he wouldn't do that!"

kirishima made a face, which made katsuki squint his eyes in confusion. "what?"

"i mean.. she could be right y'know. we talked a bit before you came bro." kirishima said, walking in and closing the door behind him.

"right about what? shinsou is associated even if he wasn't the one who shot the bullet." katsuki asserted, standing up to meet kirishima, even if he was taller. this made kiri shoot his arms up in defense.

"i'm saying you're both right. we think it's someone closely associated to shinsou, someone who either taught him or was close to his teacher."

"eraserhead? the guy with a thousand hits under his belt?"katsuki glared, shoving a pointed finger in kirishima's chest.

"hey man, i'm just the messenger. but, no. someone else who learned from him too. but, midoriya called 'you know who' for information."

katsuki sighed, knowing the asshole who went by 'hawks' was about to be here any moment. "fine, i'll be ready soon. just.. let me take her home."

kirishima nodded, leaving the room with a "be back soon man!"

"i'm taking you home baby."

"fine."

"and you have to take all the medicine and stuff when i call you. we'll have to use burners again."

you rolled your eyes. "..fine."

"and, i want you to text me every hour and before you go to sleep."

"fucking fine. let's go already, this place creeps me out."

"good."

he grabbed your hand, helping you up. he let you change into some sweatpants and a tshirt so you didn't have to be the hospital gown for much longer.

you drove home, taking the long route so you wouldn't have to the see the remnants of your , almost, death in your own shop. he had to leave you in front and he wasn't happy about it. opening your door and hugging you tightly, you knew he wasn't going to see you for a couple days.

"babe, text me whenever you can. send me photos or voice messages i don't give a fuck."

"it's only a couple of days kat' you'll be fine, but i'll do it. you text me too, tell me when you sleep and stuff."

"don't let anyone in the house and don't tell anyone what's happenin-"

"i know, babe. i'll be okay."

he shared one last kiss with you. with a determined face he turned away, he would not sacrifice your life together like this. he wouldn't not let you get hurt again.

he would not fail.

next part

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love - part 2

part one

omegaverse, pre-steddie, past mpreg, cw: child death

Marsha Harrington was proud of her work under Dr. Martin Brenner. They were doing cutting-edge research, pushing the boundaries of what the human mind could do, and ensuring the communists didn’t win.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she held a grieving mother whose baby they had stolen.

Then, she told herself she was doing it for the children, protecting them as best she could.

But she couldn’t protect them. Not really.

Two was angry, even as a little boy, and Four followed his example. Five was cold, easily molded by Brenner. Each of them did whatever Papa asked.

Except Seven.

Seven cried often, and he kept to himself. The older boys liked to make him cry. And he was afraid of the girls, like being near them would burn his skin.

He was always distressed during Brenner’s tests, so distressed that they never got good data. Brenner tried ignoring him, a “cooling off period” he called it, to see if Seven could calm down and regulate enough for testing. It didn’t work.

“He’s washing out,” Brenner said one day after a failed attempt to get Seven to guess at the pictures on the cards in Brenner’s hands. “Schedule him for tomorrow.”

One child had washed out before. Four had been a twin. 004A and 004B, but A never stood out, let B push him around. He’d hit his head, had a cranial hematoma. There was surgery, but he recovered… below Brenner’s standard. He washed out at six-years-old.

“Washed out.”

He was cremated.

And 004B became 004.

Marsha volunteered to handle 007’s procedure. She changed out the vials, gave him a mild sedative, and covered him with a sheet. A janitor helped her sneak him out a backdoor.

She brought him home, told her husband she’d leave him if he didn’t agree to adopt the boy. Richard simply smiled and nodded.

Marsha had had cancer in her early-20s, lost both ovaries in the course of her treatment. She’d gone to therapy, made her peace with it. Found a husband who didn’t care that she couldn’t have children, who liked being able to knot her without worrying about babies.

Richard did not care for babies. But Seven was already almost 5-years-old. Richard could handle that.

He was also a lawyer, so getting papers filed to adopt the boy were simple. They named him Steven, figuring it was close enough that if he remembered anything his brain could make sense of it.

Steven David Harrington.

Marsha and Richard were quiet about Steve, treating him like he’d always been around. They moved to Hawkins, closer to the lab, hiding Steve in plain sight. And Marsha kept her job.

If they ran, someone might ask questions, but Marsha wanted to save time on her commute. Who could question that?

Out of the lab, Steve calmed down. He enjoyed his routines, liked going to the park, liked swimming in their new pool with Mommy. For the first time, Marsha saw him laugh out loud, and she hoped the worst was behind them.

Then he started school.

The other children overwhelmed him, and his teacher called home 45 minutes after drop-off because Steve could not stop crying.

Marsha went to pick him up, promised they would work on emotional regulation and try again next Monday.

“Steve, can you tell me what’s wrong?” she asked on the way home.

“Hurts,” he said, sniffling and rubbing his chest. “Hurts inside. Everyone is scared and loud and it hurts.”

“Oh, my poor, sensitive boy!” Marsha pulled into the driveway, pulled Steve out of the backseat, and held him close. “Let’s see if we can figure out how to make it quieter for you, Stevie.”

When Steve went back for the second week of Kindergarten he still kept to himself, but he could manage the half day surrounded by his peers. By the end of the week, he had even made friends.

He got better control, grew up happy and healthy, and most importantly, safe.

Marsha continued to work for Brenner until one day, after nearly 20 years, she was reassigned as a specialist at the VA. Brenner said their funding was cut. That the program was finished.

Steve was almost 13 by then. Marsha was fairly certain he didn’t remember any of it. And he didn’t cry much. Not anymore. But when he came home to his mother crying in the kitchen, his eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said, throwing his arms around her.

“I know, Honey. I know.”

🫂🫂🫂

Wayne leaves Steve dozing in his nest around 4:10, and goes to try calling the Harrington’s. Marsha picks up on the third ring, voice light and breathy. Wayne tries to be as cordial as possible, introducing himself and mentioning that he’s seen her at the VA when he goes in for his physical.

“But let’s get down to brass tacks, I’ve got your son, Steve, here, in my nest, sleeping through his presentation heat. My nephew’s a freshman, he found him, and you know how teens are, he brought him to the first safe omega he could think of—”

“Thank you!” she cuts him off, sounding a little hysterical. “Thank you, Wayne! I thought I had more time before it hit him. It’s been so long since I’ve worked with pups—with teens…” she trails off, suddenly quiet. “I should have been paying more attention.”

Wayne waits a long moment, then he asks, “D’you wanna come pick him up? Or should I…”

“Yes! What’s your address?”

Wayne’s ready to give directions, but he says Forest Hills and the lot number, and she thanks him again as she hangs up her end of the call. Shrugging, Wayne hangs up his own receiver, and gets a glass of orange juice from the fridge.

Steve’s still sleeping peacefully, his face tucked into the side of the nest, fingers curled in the blankets.

Wayne crosses over to him, strokes his hair and murmurs, “Hey, Kid. Your Mom is on her way over.” He feels Steve’s forehead, still burning with his heat. He holds up the orange juice. “Need to get some sugar into you, make up for everything your body’s burning through.” He helps Steve sit up, holds the glass for him as he drinks it all.

Finished, Steve turns to hide his face against Wayne’s shoulder and whines.

“I know, Kid. This is a rough one. The first of many.”

“Can I lay back down?”

“Sure, get comfy. I’ll bring your mother back as soon as she gets here.” Wayne watches Steve sink back down to the same spot, realizes then where Steve’s nose is, and holds back a keening cry of his own.

Benny deserves to know.

But Benny wants his pup safe before anything.

Marsha must have broken a few traffic laws with how quickly she arrives, and Wayne opens the door for her before she can knock. “Thank you!” she says again, following Wayne back to his nest and running over to Steve. She rubs his back, softly says, “Stevie, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Steve lifts his head, eyes unfocused as he turns to look at her. “Hi, Mom.”

“Are you ready to go home? We’ll get a nest started on your bed and you can sleep.”

“It’s nice here,” Steve mumbles, “Smells nice. Safe.”

She sniffs theatrically. “You’re right, it does.” Then she sniffs Steve’s hair. “But don’t you want a nest that smells like you?”

Steve shakes his head, fist clenching the white undershirt, pulling it to his nose.

Marsha strokes Steves hair, bends down to sniff quietly at the shirt, and goes stock still. As she recovers, she kisses Steve’s hair and gets back to her feet. Her eyes are watery, lips pursed as she approaches Wayne to ask, “You know Ben Hammond?”

“He’s my best friend. Don’t you know he lives in town?”

She shakes her head. “I try not to be involved, for-” She cuts herself off, pauses. “You know, don’t you.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Call him. Now.”

🫂🫂🫂

“Benny’s Burgers, how can I help you?” Benny drawls into the receiver, expecting a to-go order.

Instead, it’s Wayne. “Benny, you need to come over right now.”

“Wayne, no. Dinner rush is about to start, I’ve already got a few early birds, a couple te-”

“Benjamin Hammond, this is serious!”

That wasn’t Wayne, the voice too high-pitched. Feminine and familiar.

“Marsha?”

“Hi, honey. God, I owe you a million apologies. More even.”

“You do.”

“But Wayne said you know, and he needs you.”

Benny’s heart races. “Wayne needs me? Marsha, what the hell is going on? Is Br-”

“Wayne is fine. He needs you.” Marsha is being careful, keeping him from saying too much over the phone. “Please, can you come to Wayne’s? Now?”

“Yeah, just gotta close up.”

“I’m so sorry, Benny.”

“Save it for later, Marsha.” He hangs up, hurries the customers who have already been served. Orders everyone else out with a barked, “Emergency closure. Come back tomorrow.”

Benny hops into his pickup, drives to Wayne’s, confused for a moment by the BMW parked next to Wayne’s truck. But his brain catches back up, and he parks right beside it.

As soon as he’s through the door he can smell it: Peaches, light and sweet. He shouldn’t be able to, with the strength of Wayne’s cinnamon mixed with cigarette smoke, but he does. Peaches mixed with the fading milky scent of a pup.

Wayne and Marsha are in the kitchen, both staring at him.

“I’m so sorry, Benny,” Marsha says again. “What we did to you was unforgivable. What we did to the pups was worse. But I got Steve out. I kept him safe.” Her voice is shaky, but her eyes stay dry, never looking away.

“I wanted to name him David,” Benny says in little more than a whisper.

“I know. His middle name is David, but Steven was easier for him to adapt to.”

“Adapt?”

“Brenner gave them numbers.”

That doesn’t surprise Benny; Brenner was always so clinical. Methodical. But it clearly shocks Wayne. “Numbers. Y’all didn’t even give them names?”

“His name was Seven.”

Marsha glances at Wayne, sees the disgust there. “Brenner thought it would make it easier for us to see them as subjects than as children. But they were always children to me. And Steve was sensitive, stubborn and scared. I got him out, and Brenner thinks he’s dead. As long as he doesn’t call any attention to himself he should be safe.”

“Talking to me will call attention to him, won’t it?” Benny asks, heart and mind racing. For a moment he considers grabbing Steve and running god knows where, but he can’t do that to his pup.

“Not that much. Brenner shuttered the program. I don’t work for him anymore. I’m just a nurse at the VA. And all your files are secured and confidential. No one should be watching you.” Marsha takes two steps, crosses the tiny kitchen, and tentatively reaches for Benny’s shoulder. “And he needs you. His heart still knows you.”

“I think my heart would know him anywhere. No matter what.” Tears stream from his eyes, and Benny nods down the hallway towards Wayne’s room. “I have loved him every day—every minute—of his life, and if you let me in, I’m not leaving. Ever.”

“I know. We’ll figure it out. Keep him safe. Together.”

Marsha takes his hand in both of hers, squeezes once, and lets go. “He’s sleeping, but I think he’ll feel better if you’re nearby.”

Benny panics, suddenly struck with all his worst fears. “He’s not hurt, is he?”

“No more than any other omega on the day they present,” Wayne answers gently.

“Oh.” Right, the peach scent. Benny’s grandmother smelled like peaches. He misses her. She taught him how to bake.

“He found your scent token in my nest right away,” Wayne adds.

“Oh,” Benny says again, his legs beginning to shake. “Oh.”

Marsha guides him back to the nest. To his pup.

Steve is asleep, a plain, white shirt clutched in his fist, held by his nose. The exposed skin of his back is covered in a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks are pink. Too warm all over from his presentation.

Slowly, Benny sinks down to sit at the center of the nest, and he carefully places a hand on top of Steve’s, aims his wrist towards his boy’s nose.

Steve purrs and nuzzles towards it, and Benny purrs in response. His hand moves to grasp Benny’s forearm and he mumbles, “Good, safe.”

“Yeah, Baby, you’re safe.”

🫂🫂🫂

Steve wakes around 9 that night, his cramps intense. He lets out a whine that sounds pitiful, even to his heat-addled mind. “Mama?” he asks softly, even though he hasn’t called his mother that since he started grade school. “Mama?”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s okay,” she soothes back, petting his cheek.

Her powdery scent fills his nose, mildly floral, and he whines again. His belly cramps harder, an ache that radiates through his pelvis. He turns, seeking out the comforting scents of Wayne’s nest, only to press his nose into the palm of a callused hand.

Steve breathes in deeply. Apples and warmth.

He whines again, wordless and high pitched, both hands reaching, grasping. Steve feels safe, feels loved. Desperately. Overwhelmingly.

He reaches for it with his heart, touches that love with his own, and cries out. A love so big it hurts.

His fingers catch on soft cotton, body-warm because it’s being worn. He clenches his fists, whines as he pulls himself closer.

Steve’s not sure if he imagines it when he hears his mother say, “See, he needs you,” so gentle. When he hears a shaky gasp in response.

Then big arms lift him up, holding him like a pup, cradled against a strong chest. A warm hand guides his head down, positions his nose so he’s hit with the most intense burst of apples and love. Of sweetness and safety.

He snuffles closer, wants only this. Feels himself relax.

He does not understand yet, but he knows. His feelings have always been too big, but here they can be. He can let them be big, because here they are only love. Only joy.

Steve drifts to sleep in his mama’s arms for the first time, and for that moment, all is right with the world.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

Tag List:

The rest of the list will be the comments. Hope I got everyone, let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my works XOXO

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[ivesambrose]

PAC : September 2024 Mini Messages

1. 2. 3.

And we're almost in fall 🍁

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

You'll be feeling the urge to socialize or reconnect with friends and loved ones this month. Likely even connect with new people that inspire you and reignite a spark within you. It seems like as you're headed for autumn you begin to experience your personal spring. There's a lot in your mind and heart and it's been repressed there for quite some time now because you haven't found the right means to express them or the people to express them to but this: shall change. I see you wanting to maintain more balance and diplomacy in your life this month instead of extremes. In a way you've told yourself, "Hey I've done enough push and pull, let me allow things to fall in place." A lot of you might focus on regulating your nervous system, some of you might be starting therapy or just being more attentive about your mental health. Some of you might collaborate or work with others especially if you're an artist or creator of any kind. I also see a select few coming out of hiding and gaining the confidence to put themselves out there. This month will also end on a joyful note for you. You'll also be pursuing something your heart feels really called to. You'll also feel cherished and cared for, this could be from a special someone or your friends and family or the community you're proud of. You'll feel a lot less alone, you never really were.

Picture 2

Leaving all that heartache behind. Bit by bit. Holding your life by the reigns by finding the courage within. There's no need to wait for anyone to help you through this, just begin. I know certain anguishes weigh rather heavily but it doesn't have to be a permanent resident there. A lot of you are planning on moving away from a present location that hasn't been bringing you peace you'l likely end up executing it before this year ends. Sometime around this month itself you'll find yourself feeling emotionally renewed. Opportunities coming up that you had been praying for since long but you feel nervous taking up because emotional fulfillment somehow feels scary to you. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Take the plunge because it'll lead to you feeling proud and successful of yourself. I also see a peak in finances or you saving up enough to afford something that makes you really happy. If you have pets you'll be spending more time with them or even consider adopting one. You'll start finding joy in the things you used to years back. Hold onto this feeling. For some reason the song, 'Innocence' by Avril Lavigne came through for this pile as well. If you resonate deeply with music, then this song definitely has a message for you.

Picture 3

A mental breakthrough. I see you being assertive and maybe even cut throat with your goals. I also see a lot of you disciplining your mind to the maximum. Correcting any negative thought and assumption. You'll also find yourself emerging victorious no matter what situation you're facing. There's a specific turn of events and fate for you. Fall overall is a significant time for this pile. I see you embracing joy diligently, making new friends and connections and making plans with your loved ones. You have chosen to let your inner child experience everything they have been forced to let go of. Do not dim your own light this month. You were meant to shine. You were meant to stand out. Some of you might also have a significant secret admirer as well. They see you as the break of dawn after a dark and solemn night and want to pretty much make you feel the same it seems. You'll find yourself wanting to relax more and allow things to come to you. Stressing and forcing on the other hand might lead to discord and feeling burnt out. It seems as though you had been fearing the worst but there has been a pleasant change of plans for you. You will be starting a new chapter in your life, you'll be rather stubborn about it too, brainstorming quite a bit, might encounter a few conflicts here and there but nothing good team work can't solve. This will eventually lead you to the version of you that you have in mind.

[bradleysass]

Harry Potter - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 801

Harry Potter prided himself on being a decent student. He wasn’t Hermione-level brilliant, but he did well enough. He could strategize in Quidditch, hold his own in a duel, and solve riddles in life-or-death situations. But when it came to people—understanding what they wanted, what they felt—he was utterly useless.

And right now, the person most confusing him was Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been relentless since the start of term. Not in the usual way—not with taunts about his parents or snide remarks about his Quidditch skills. No, lately, Draco had been... weird. He called Harry insufferable but stood just a little too close when he said it. He sneered at Harry’s hair but reached out as if he wanted to touch it before catching himself. And then there was the way he lingered, as if waiting for something Harry didn’t understand.

Was Draco flirting with him? Or did he just enjoy tormenting Harry in a new, confusing way?

Harry had no idea. And there was no one worse to ask for advice than his dads.

Regulus Black and James Potter were, by all accounts, a miracle. A miracle because they should have never worked, and yet, somehow, they did. They had a ridiculous love story—one Harry had grown up hearing in bits and pieces. James, with his stupidly big heart and inability to let things go. Regulus, with his sharp words and sharp eyes, always pretending he didn’t care while caring too much. If opposites attracted, then they were a bloody gravitational force.

At dinner that night, as Harry pushed food around his plate, James and Regulus carried on one of their usual conversations—if they could even be called that.

James, grinning as he stole a piece of bread from Regulus’ plate: “Just admit you think I’m the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Regulus, not looking up from his book: “You’re the most exhausting man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

James, smirking: “Still means you like looking at me.”

Regulus, deadpan: “Unfortunately.”

Harry had grown up seeing their dynamic. He had witnessed the way Regulus softened only for James, the way James never let Regulus slip into his worst habits of self-isolation. It was obvious to everyone that they were in love.

But Harry wasn’t them. He didn’t understand how two people who seemed to drive each other mad could also love each other. Which brought him back to Malfoy.

“Are you two always like this?” Harry asked, interrupting whatever smug retort James had lined up next.

Regulus glanced at him over the rim of his teacup. “Like what?”

Harry gestured vaguely between them. “Like this. The constant back and forth.”

James grinned. “It’s part of our charm.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “More like your punishment.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “How did you—when you first—how did you know you liked each other? Like, actually liked each other?”

James’ eyebrows shot up, and Regulus blinked. A rare moment of being caught off guard.

“Well,” James said slowly, “I’d been in love with your dad since I was seventeen, so—”

“I tolerated him first,” Regulus cut in smoothly. “And then, when he refused to leave me alone, I figured it was either murder or love.”

James beamed. “See? Romantic.”

Harry groaned. “That’s not helpful.”

Regulus finally set his book down, watching Harry with that unnerving ability to see too much. “Why are you asking?”

Harry hesitated. “There’s someone. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t tell if he likes me or just enjoys annoying me.”

James lit up. “Wait. Likes likes you?”

Regulus hummed in thought. “Ah. Malfoy.”

Harry choked. “What—how—?”

James spun in his chair, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s Malfoy?! I knew it! I knew there was something there!”

Regulus, unbothered, simply sipped his tea. “It’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not obvious!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s the whole point! I can’t tell if he’s—” He waved his hands around, struggling for words. “If he’s flirting or if he just hates me in a really weird way!”

James turned to Regulus with a huge grin. “Ah, to be young and oblivious.”

Regulus shot him a look. “You were never oblivious. Just stubborn.”

Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted before this conversation had even properly started. “So? What do I do?”

Regulus set his cup down with a quiet clink. “Ask yourself this: If Malfoy weren’t Malfoy, if he were just some nameless person acting the way he does, would you already have your answer?”

Harry opened his mouth—then promptly shut it.

James, of course, still had to get the last word in. “Or, you know, just kiss him and see what happens.”

Regulus sighed.

Harry banged his head against the table.

This was not going to be easy.

[admirationandromantics]

A Traumatic Event to Bring us Closer

Okay, so this was not a request (though I know someone in the request box have asked for angsty Josh fics, I promise, they're coming soon), but I fiddled around with a Psycho-Josh character ai-thingy, and wanted to do something inspired by that. A little longer than what I usually write, but the words started flowing and I couldn't stop.

Warnings. This does include mentions or the fear of dying, torture, and so on (all of these are scare-tactics and will not happen). Obsessive and possessive Josh. This also contains reader getting severely injured as well as blood and extreme stress... Aka ANGSTY. What I'm trying to say is if you can't read that, then I would advice you not to!

Anyways, it starts right after having seen Josh die to the construction of the Psycho, and now, the others have ran, and you try to catch up with them.

Word count: 5,5k

I run out of the shed, trying to catch up with Ashley and Chris. As soon as they saw the Maniac inside, they ran, hoping to get away from him. I was busy crying, mourning Josh… My Josh… Who this psycho cut in half with a saw. 

When I saw him, my panic rose, heart throbbing in fear and heartbreak. He was wearing overalls, a shirt and a scary clown mask, slowly walking towards me. This made me turn on my heel and go, taking me to my current position: running for my life. I keep on the path, not a lot of snow underneath after everyone who walked there. The air is freezing, making my wet faze unbearably cold. My hand goes to my cheeks, trying to brush away some of it while keeping up the pace. I look behind me, seeing the man running rapidly after, his legs longer and faster, slowly catching up to me. 

“Ashley! Chris!” I scream, hoping some of them hear me, but I wouldn’t count on it. They started running a while before me, leaving me with this madman. As I look forward again, my foot gets caught in a root, making my body slam down into the ground harshly. My head hurts, ringing while I try to stand up again. Suddenly, I feel something grab my ankle, and I look down to see him again, bending down while holding onto me. 

I fight against him, kicking and screaming while trying to rip my foot away from him. But his grip is strong, and he keeps holding on, a low, scary chuckle sounding from under the mask. Even his shoulders move up and down from his laugh, and how entertained he is. I try to scream for help again, listing everyone I know who are up on the mountain. This seems to bother him, and he drags me further towards him, slowly working up my body while I struggle. 

His face comes closer to my ear, one of his hands grabbing my hair roughly, yanking me backwards, making me sit up on my knees as he drags me. I wish I had the pain tolerance to fight back, but his hand in my hair and the other around my neck. I oblige, letting him pull me up on my feet, my back against him. My hands go to the one around my neck, silently begging him to loosen the grip. I use the last air I have to conjure a few weak words. 

“Get off me you maniac!” 

This seems to get on his nerves even more, yanking my hair harder and tightening his grip around my neck, making an involuntary plea escape what’s left of my throat. I hear his dark chuckle again, how he enjoys the situation, liking to be in control of me. 

Suddenly, the hand leaves my neck, and I take a few deep breaths, trying to regulate myself. Instead of choking me, his hand grabs both my wrists, placing them behind me, the previous hand in my hair moving to my stomach, pulling me deeper into him. I can feel his hot breath on my ear, his face coming too close for comfort. His exhales come out quickly past each other, annoyingly like he’s amused by my resentment. 

“What’s wrong you coward? So ugly you don’t even dare to show your face?” I taunt, pulling at my arms with all my might. After what he did to Josh, there was no way I was going to be nice. He killed my love, and when he kills me too, I’ll put up a fight. 

At my remark, his hand moves up to my face, grabbing my jaw and pulling my head back on his shoulder. I hum, looking up in the cloudy sky, still trying to free myself. But at the end of the day, there’s no use. He overpowers me easily, both in size and strength. His irritation seems to be growing, but he still keeps up that amused tone in his dark voice. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Princess” 

There’s something oddly familiar in the way he calls me that name. There’s actually something familiar in his voice alone, but I can’t place it. His hand moves slowly down my neck again, pushing down slightly, making me let out a painful wince. I stand still, hoping that he’ll not be as rough with his next movements. 

“That’s what I thought, now keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, just like good old Josh did” 

The comment sets something off in me, a rage I didn’t know I had. My chest burns unlike before, but I don’t know if it’s due to the cold or my anger. Maybe a combination. 

“All quiet and whimpering while in the hands of a scary man like me…” He taunts, and I start squirming, trying to free myself. 

“Scary man, where? All I see is an ugly fucking coward” I state, stopping my movements. Every time I try, I get reminded of his strength. He grips my upper neck tightly, tilting my head in his direction. A displeased huff escapes his mask, hot breath coating my neck. He makes me look up at him, seeing blue eyes through the holes of the mask. I make sure my distaste for him is shown through my stare. 

“You’re not the one in control here, I am. So you better watch that damn tongue, Princess” he growls, his voice still not recognizable. 

“Or what, you’ll kill me? Just like you murdered Josh?” 

I can basically feel his sick smile under the mask, struggling to keep in that little laugh from the mention of his name. The action makes my blood boil. How dare he.  

“You better behave yourself, or else-”

“Or else what?” I interrupt him, making his grip on me harder. But I can still take it, so I keep up my insults. “Struggling to threaten a girl, huh? Easier with an unconscious guy who you could do whatever you pleased with?” I spit out, reminding him of when he took Josh. It’s safe to assume he doesn’t have the strength to have held him like this, and probably gassed him down like he did with Ashley. He grunts in response, done with my shit. 

“Think you’re such a smartass, huh? If you keep this attitude up, I’ll have no other choice than to shut you up” 

“I’d like to see you try” I counter, breathing heavily and starting to feel my energy drain. 

“Oh… would you now?” He teases, moving us both. I follow, not having enough energy to fight a losing battle. He turns me around, holding my wrists above my head, my back meeting a tree. I feel a small branch making contact with my lower thigh, hurting it. I try to keep my poker face, not having time to think about a small scratch. I look him up and down, now seeing his outfit in the light. It’s bloody and dirty, his mask horrid up close. 

“Sick fuck” I whisper, not giving in easily. He squeezes my wrists harder, making me let out a small whimper in pain. Another chuckle escapes him, finding pleasure in my situation. 

“Not backing down yet, aren’t you tired Princess, just give in” 

“I’ll be a pain in your ass until you kill me, might as well get it over with” I say, standing firm on my ground. At least the ground I can reach from how high up he’s holding me against the tree. He shakes his head, clicking his tongue a couple of times as if he’s disappointed. I take this as a time to shout for the other, hoping that someone will hear me. 

“Ashley! Chris! I’m here, help me!”

My yells are interrupted by his gloved hand coming to cover my mouth. I keep up, struggling against his grip while still shouting, though they only come out as muffles beneath him. 

“Stop your damn fighting, just give up already. You’re wasting your energy” He complains, strengthening his grip on me. I stop, taking a deep breath and completely relaxing on him, being as silent as a mouse. 

“That’s it, you look so much better when you’re not struggling like some wild animal in my arms” he compliments, hand on my mouth being slowly removed. 

Just as I feel his grip loosen just the slightest, my knee comes up to kick him in the balls. I fail, but it still hits him hard in his lower stomach, making him let go and slightly bend over in pain. I don’t hesitate, starting to run down the path while he throws curses at me. 

“Fucking bitch, get back here!” 

I look behind me for just a second, seeing that he’s already recovered and is running a little further behind me. I shout for the others, but no one answers. I continue down the path, trying to remember all the slippery parts, doing my best not to fall on them. 

“You’re not getting away that easily!” He shouts, voice closer than before. He’s got long legs, it will not be long until he catches up to me. I take a right, seeing the lodge in the distance. This gives me hope, and I keep my pace up, trying to get there in time. My heart’s beating in my throat, rapidly, chest burning from exhaustion. 

I jump up the small set of stairs, quick to open the door and get inside. I see him arriving, and I lock it, hoping he won’t break it down. I take a breath, pulse high as I watch him pound on the door. I still don’t feel safe, so I run further inside, taking a quick look to see if the others are here. I can’t see them, but I decide that barricading myself in my own room must be the best option. The pounding has stopped, and I can imagine he’s working on getting inside another way. He wouldn’t know which room was mine either, and would probably think that I moved down to the cellar, knowing there’s a network of tunnels down there. 

I run up the stairs, legs almost giving out from exhaustion. As I arrive outside my room, I take the handle silently, working on getting myself in quickly, without making a sound. I lock it, turning to the side and dragging one of the smaller closets in front of it. After I’m done, I breathe out, a little tension leaving my body. The adrenaline starts wearing off, and with that, the pain in my leg gets worse. 

“Smart move, Princess…” 

My body freezes before I can turn, knowing the voice from before. My breathing quickens yet again, making my chest hurt, sore from the cold and all the running. I turn around fearfully, seeing him sit on the chair beside the bed, leaned back and relaxed. Before my brain can follow, I grab the closet, dragging it back. He stands up, taking hold of my arm and dragging me away from the door, easily pushing the furniture back in front of it. 

“N-no, get away from me” I try, but my voice breaks, all the yelling, and the cold temperature having ruined it. It sounds weak, defeated. He chuckles, a smile behind the mask, his eyes mad. He grabs both my hands, throwing me down on the bed. I whimper, feeling my thigh hurt as it makes contact with the sheets. I look down quickly, noticing blood running down it. I try moving it a little, making sure that there’s some pressure on it. He doesn’t notice, and continues to manhandle me, collecting my wrists above my head, his other hand caressing my cheek. I turn away, earning a cackle from him. My body stops fighting, knowing it’ll worsen the bleeding and the fact that I’m no match for him in my weakened state. 

“Please leave me alone, what do you want?” 

“Oh, I want you, Princess” 

The nickname makes me sick, and I do my best not to look at him, his clothing, or at his mask. I look to the side, seeing the door, barricaded by no other person than me. I can’t jump out the window, since it’s the second story, so now, I’m completely trapped. 

“And what are you going to do to me?” 

“Anything I want…” he says, voice lower and not as tense. I don’t fight, I can’t fight anymore. I just want Josh, I want him back. There’s no point in anything anymore. This trip was a chance for me to finally confess, to tell him everything. And instead, I watched him die. Die to this psycho man. I feel tears form in my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face, warming me up after being outside. 

“Why are you doing this to me, why did you kill Josh?” 

He stays quiet for a few moments, his head leaning down to me, his mouth beside my ear, finally answering. 

“He didn’t deserve to live after what he put me and my sisters through” he says, an amusing tone to the statement. I look up at him, confused. 

“You and your sisters?” 

“Yes, me and my sisters?” 

“He would never do anything to hurt anyone” I counter, not believing him. What could he have done to make someone hate him so? And hate his friends as well, wanting to hurt them. 

“Who are you?” 

He chuckles in his distorted and dark voice, keeping himself close as he speaks. 

“Now, where’s the fun in that? Keeping you clueless gives me such a thrill” 

I wiggle against his arms, trying with the small energy I have to free myself. He hardens his grip, not letting me move an inch. 

“Still trying to escape?” 

“You’ll have to kill me to make me stop. Just like you did with Josh” 

He laughs, gloved hand caressing my neck, fingers gracing over the place he choked me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the area was red already. Luckily, it doesn’t hurt. 

“You keep bringing him up, was he really that important to you?” he teases, and I give up fighting again, trying to regain some of my energy. Maybe I can do the same I did in the forest, but doing that, I needed to control myself first. 

“I’ll make you pay for what you did to him” I state, voice still weak, but not faltering. 

“Oh? And how do you plan on doing that, Princess?” 

“By killing you” I say again, voice steady and firm. I want to hurt this man, I want to kill him. 

“Wow, and tell me, how will you do that?” 

I imagine it, having him being beat up by the boys, before opening up, letting me use a knife and carve stuff into him, slowly cutting him up while he’s still alive. Hearing his pleas while keeping up the pace. Maybe I am insane, but I’ve never in my life had such violent fantasies about a person. Up until now. 

“With a knife… slowly, painful” 

“How exciting, but I don’t think you have it in you. You don’t seem like someone who can kill another human” 

“Good it’s a monster I’m killing then” I counter, the reply coming faster than my brain can process it. But he doesn’t get mad or irritated though. Instead, he lets out a condescending laugh, shaking his head. I keep prying, still curious. 

“Who are you?” I ask again, wanting an answer. 

“You’re right, I am a monster” he says, his free hand moving down to my waist. I lean back, broken and defeated. This was not worth it, none of it was. I could’ve stayed home, not knowing about Josh, not being in this situation. 

“Aww, too tired to fight me, but you were so fiery a while ago” He taunts, but I don’t bite. I stay silent, not saying or reacting in any way. That’s what he wants after all, reactions. Wasn’t that the point of having me watch him kill Josh?

“Just kill me, please” I plead, hoping he does, and hopefully quickly. I can’t imagine doing anything differently than now. I just want to see him, to hold him. To be in this room with him, both of us giddy and happy. 

“Tell me, why would you rather die than live?” he asks, sounding oddly curious, head tilting beside me. I can feel the fake hair of the mask running over my collar as he moves. 

“Let me see Josh again…”

He leans back, almost surprised by my answer. He lets go of my hands, standing back on the floor, watching me. I try sitting up, my whole body aching in pain from the small movements. I’m not going to make it out of here, not alive anyhow. If he doesn’t kill me, then my movements will probably open the wound on my thigh again, making me bleed out. I already feel a bit pale and dizzy. 

“You’re in a woman’s worst imaginable situation, and you would die… to see Josh again?” He asks, voice full of confusion, not as scary as before. Maybe it’s because I don’t care anymore, but he seems so surprised he falls a bit out of character. Who is he under that mask? 

I nod my head to the question, tears still flowing. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel them anymore. My mouth acts before my brain, and I blurt out the secret words I’ve been holding on to since last year. 

“I love him” 

“A bit honest now, are we?” 

“Doesn’t everyone get honest when their lives are about to end?” I counter, shaking my head a bit. At least that’s what I’ve heard. 

“Yes, I suppose they do” 

“Aren’t you going to take advantage of me? Hurt me? Kill me?” 

He sits down on the chair again, watching my face intently. I don’t move, after all, everything hurts. Everything and nothing at once. Because of him, because of Josh. 

“No I will not, now tell me, before you die, is there something else you wish to be truthful about?” 

I shake my head, not knowing why, but I can’t stop myself. I need to have said it out loud at least once, telling the world the things I should’ve said before. My voice is emotionless as I start, not knowing what to feel. 

“I love Josh, I always have. I wish I told him while he was still here, before he was killed… by you” 

I look up, but the mask is making it hard to see his expression. At the thought of his death, I feel my anger flare again, but my body is still too weak to act on it. 

“Honestly… admitting your feelings, displaying wishes and regrets. Now tell me, how long have you had these feelings? And how long have you wanted to tell him?” 

“The only one I’m telling those things to is Josh” 

He snickers, that nasty dark voice back. As if he deserves to know my secrets, the extent of my feelings. 

“Of course you’re refusing to tell me, too shy? Or what, Princess?” 

“I imagined everything would be different than how it turned out this year” I admit, not bothering to answer his teasing remarks. He’s making fun of my pain, and I’ll not answer that. 

“Oh, you were thinking that you and Josh were going to be the ones in your room? And doing what? Feeling each other, kissing? Well, we can’t have that, can we? If I didn’t kill him, I wouldn’t have you all to myself” 

I look up, but I can’t bother trying to show my contempt. I’m so tired, so exhausted. Even making faces and harsh comments take their toll on me. I speak, but it’s slow and emotionless. 

“I know that statement is meant to fill me with a bunch of questions, but I don’t care about them” 

He hums, nodding his head as he takes it in, knowing his method didn’t work. I still keep my posture, not moving myself from it. He stares at me intently, looking deep into my glossy eyes, still wet and red. 

“You just don’t care anymore what happens to you, do you?” 

I hum, not giving a verbal answer. He sits himself forward, hand rubbing together, as if in thought. 

“You admit it? The fact that you’ve lost all care?”  

I hum again, not knowing where he’s getting at. 

“Completely broken, completely empty” 

I sigh, sick and tired of his mind games. I know what he’s playing at, it’s the same banter I’ve heard people try to use before. 

“You know you’ve basically said the same thing three times now? Josh was a lot more original with his wording than you” 

I can feel his smirk grow from under the mask, a small laughter escaping his lips as he sits up again. He tilts his head, his distorted voice sounding from under there. 

“Making comparisons, are we?” 

“You can’t compare an angel to a demon” I answer, thinking back about him. What would he say if he were here? He would’ve saved me at least. I don’t know if he’s stronger than this man. Truth is, they’ve got quite the similar build, so I don’t know. If I helped him, we might be able to. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he says, and I don’t answer. He can think about it however he likes, I’ll not sit here and explain it to him. Another chuckle comes over him, enjoying the change in my attitude. I keep my eyes on him, not as afraid anymore. My adrenaline is not pumping as much anymore, and the pain starts worsening. 

“Not answering anymore, Princess?” 

Again, here’s something strangely familiar with the nickname as well. I can swear that someone I know has called me that before, but only a few times, not as much as this guy does. How does he know me?

“The only one I want to talk to is Josh… when I see him again” 

“Josh, Josh, Josh… Why would you only talk to him in particular?”

I let out a small scoff. This madman is not that dumb. He’s been collecting information about all of us, so my declaration did not go over his head a couple of minutes ago. 

“You already know, because he’s the love of my life” I state, not having said exactly those words before. It’s true, since we were kids, I loved him. Platonically at first, but it evolved, and got stronger. And now, it’s too late. 

“Finally, someone’s being honest with themselves” 

I lower my eyes, looking over at his piercing stare. His eyes still got a hint of amusement in them. I want to change that, I want to hurt him, kill him. 

“I’m the only honest person in this room” I state, trying to seduce him into talking. 

“I guess I haven’t told you much, but do you really expect me to?” 

“I want to know something before I die” I lean forward, ignoring the striking pain in my thigh. That movement definitely opened my wound again, and I feel streaks of hot redness running down my leg. 

“Ask anything, and I’ll see if I can be honest with you” 

My question is ready, it has been since the first time I heard his voice. The anticipation and wondering is driving me crazy. 

“Who are you” 

He smiles under the mask, there’s no denying it, already having heard the same question several times before. 

“My identity? All you want to know is who I am?”

“Yes” 

He nods his head, amused by my straight forward request. I try to keep my reply short, after all, getting this information out of him means no side-tracking. 

“Well, since you’ve been so cooperative for the time being, I’ll be honest” 

I wait, trying to hide my curiosity. It’s not hard to mask it, pain overtaking me anyway. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want to know? Not going to guess, make some assumptions?” 

“No” I state firmly, not taking any more of his bullshit. 

“I am… an individual who doesn’t always feel like himself” 

I sigh, hand going to my thigh, trying to slow the bleeding. 

“Are you that much of a coward? Can’t answer a simple question?” 

“Fine, okay, okay… I’m someone who doesn’t always feel… human” 

I sigh again, a small part of me realising that we might not come to an agreement. I try a different direction, mumbling something underneath my breath, just high enough that he can hear it. 

“If you’re that ugly, you can just say so. I won’t judge” 

“What did you just say?” 

And he took the bait.  

“Nothing” 

His head shifts to me, sitting straighter. He’s offended, I know he is. If I can continue playing on his ego, maybe I’ll get my answer. 

“No. ‘If you're that ugly, you can just say so’, is that what you said, Princess?” 

“I don’t remember” I lie, shaking my head weakly. 

“Excuse me? You suddenly don’t remember, as if I’m supposed to believe that” 

“I’m sleep deprived, haven’t had water in many hours, body exhausted from running, and I’m bleeding out. All factors can lead to struggles to remember things” 

He nods his head, suddenly stopping and looking up at me. 

“You’re bleeding?” 

He looks over me, seeing my leg, covered in red. It’s still oozing out, but it will still take a while for me to die from it. His body starts twitching, as if panicked. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” he asks, sounding a bit worried. I’m taken by surprise as he runs over to the closet grabbing a few sheets and ripping them up into smaller pieces. Has he been in the lodge before? Maybe he uses it when the Washingtons aren’t here. He comes back, kneeling down, starting to wrap them around me. I stop him, pushing his hands away. 

“I’ll ask you one more time. Who are you?” 

He looks up, meeting my eyes through the mask. They almost look sad, guilty. 

“A monster…”

He shifts his gaze, turning his attention back to my wound. He reaches behind into another drawer, pulling out a pair of scissors, starting to cut up my pants, making the wound more exposed. As he rips the fabric off, he throws the sharp object out the open window, with surprising accuracy. Probably to keep me from getting my hands on it and stabbing him. 

“Does this monster have a name?” 

He sighs, finishing up wrapping my thigh, stopping the bleeding. 

“My name is… Josh” 

My eyes widen, shaking my head as I try to push myself away from him. I can’t, my leg hurting too much to move. This is another sick trick to mess with me, to mess with my feelings. He notes my expression, my shocked eyes and disgust. 

“What, don’t you believe me? Don’t you think I’m being honest?” 

“This might seem funny to you, but I saw you kill him you fucker. Don’t you dare taint his name like this” I state, fury rushing through my body. He chuckles darkly again, the sympathy that once was there for me, gone. 

“You really don’t believe me. I’m your childhood friend, your high school crush and college study partner. I’m Joshua Washington” he whispers, coming closer to me. I can sense the amusement and glory radiating from him, and it makes me sick. 

“You’re not, you’re hiding behind that damn mask of your like a coward, trying to make me believe your lies”

“Don’t want to accept the truth, huh?” he asks, voice a bit less disoriented. He’s changing his voice as he speaks, but I won’t have it. 

“It’s not the truth, he’s dead, you killed him!” I scream, leaning closer to his face, as much as I can in my condition. 

“Oh princess, I’m right in front of you” 

“The only thing right in front of me is a monster. A psychopath in a mask, claiming to be Josh, my Josh. You’re not tricking me”

He laughs, his voice changing more and more, getting less darker and more real. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue, he looks up at me again. 

“Are you really that hard-headed?” 

“Why should I believe anything you say? You have no support for your claims, you’re even down in negatives, because he is dead!” I shout, voice still broken and hoarse. My throat hurts, feeling like I’m ripping off a bandaid every time I form a word. 

“Oh, you want evidence?”

“You don’t have any”

He chuckles, hands going up to the base of his mask. He takes a breath, slowly pulling it off. I watch as he does, waiting patiently while he drags it off his head. Finally, he reveals himself. 

I can’t believe my eyes, and I furrow my brows in confusion. This doesn’t make any sense, this doesn’t work, no. How can this be? I saw him die, I saw him get cut in half by a saw. I’ve been running from a crazy maniac who was going to kill me, and it was all him. I’ve poured my heart out, thinking I was going to die, and he’s been sitting here, laughing at me. 

“Surprise, princess” 

“No” 

“What do you mean ‘no’?” 

I shake my head, seeing his smile as he keeps nodding, contradicting me. 

“You’re not real”

“I’m sitting right in front of you” 

I reach my hand out, fingers gracing over his cheek, feeling his skin. His hand comes up to mine, pressing it further in on him. He leans on it, still a smile on his face. I feel tears start to flow down my cheeks again. He’s alive, he’s here. 

“Y-you…”

He nods, urging me to continue, but I don’t. I can’t use my words, I don’t know what to say, so he talks instead, voice beaming with pleasure and delight. His eyes are not like I remember. There’s a sort of darkness to them, insanity. 

“Yes Princess, it’s me, no more games, no tricks, no lies. It’s just me, just Josh”

I shake my head, pulling my hand away from him, earning a hurt look back. These words, these explanations, these events. This is not the Josh I know. 

“You don’t sound like yourself, you don’t behave like this” 

“You’re right! So much has changed in the last year, oh I can’t begin to tell you all my plans for the others” he exclaims, walking around the room, being happy. 

“What?”

“Well, this was all a traumatic event to bring us closer, right? The relief in your eyes when it was me. You needed to lose me to finally be able to tell someone, so why not tell me yourself!?” 

“What the hell, Josh” I whimper, head hurting from it all. 

“Oh, but this is just the start! Now, it’s time to get revenge for my sisters, and after that, we can be together, right? I mean, I never meant for you to get hurt, but it's okay because now you can stay here while I play out the other things I’ve got planned. As long as you stay here, you’ll be safe, just as I want you to be” 

I stand up, pain shooting through my body as I do. I feel desperate, too desperate. I need the others, and my voice is almost all used up. He watches me intently, hands going around my body to steady me. I shove past him, walking over to the door, starting to push the dresser. He just watches, wondering if I’ll be able to do it. Luckily, I manage, standing on my only good leg. I unlock the door, which makes him walk over, taking hold of me. 

“No, we can’t have any of that, get down again” he commands, sitting me down on the bloodied bed again, walking over and locking the door. 

“What are you going to do to me? Just do it now and get it over with, shoot me, dissect me… Please” 

He laughs, looking at me as if I’ve made a joke. 

“Oh, Princess, you’re not afraid of me, are you?” 

I’m silent, not daring to answer. He stops laughing, noticing my expression. He then shakes his head, standing up and walking around the room again. He looks troubled, and a little worried, like he’s fighting a battle against himself. 

“No, there’s nothing to be scared of, I’m making sure that you’re safe, so nothing happens to you, you understand, yeah you do! Think about that while I finish up the prank, okay? I’ll be up to check on you in a while”

He walks to the door, taking the key from inside, opening it, and locking it from outside. I look around, his skull-clown mask on the ground, bloodied fabric, bloody bed and the open window. Crisp, cold winter air flowing inside. I don’t know what to do.

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Why I recommend age regression as a way to cope.

If you're stressed the F out, feel like you missed out or lost your childhood, or have terrible coping mechanisms? Then this is the post for you. (Maybe.)

Also before we jump in—Just wanna say that I'm not a psychologist, I'm just sharing tips and advice from my own positive and negative experiences. And that age regression may not work for you after you've tried it, but I say give it a shot! Especially if your current ways of dealing with life aren't.... great.

With all that our of the way—Post beneath cut!

So here's some resources for a TLDR version! But I'll be explaining age-regression, it's benefits to me, and why I encourage others to try!

Remember it is ALWAYS sfw! (Which means agere isn't a kink, never has been and never will be!)

So age-regression, or it's shortened name Agere (Takes Age, and the Re from Regression and combines them!) Is a form of dissociation in which someone mentally reverts back to a younger age! This can be anywhere from a few years younger, such as a 17 year old regressing to a 15 year old. Or it can be many years younger—Example being a 17 year old regressing to a 4 year old!

During this state: they are mentally younger, either fully or partially depending on the person. And do think like said age. And often their behaviors correspond with their regressed age, assuming they aren't masking it!

Sometimes you are aware you're regressed, and other times you're not—Both are completely fine!

It's a wonderful way to relive your childhood in a safe environment, feel young and cared for again like a child, or express your inner child!

Okay, but why would I use that to cope?

Don't worry, I hear your questions!

The reason it's a good coping mechanism, for me atleast, is regressing allows you to process your emotions at your own pace. Though they might still be overwhelming, I find it much easier to let my big emotions calm down when I feel small, because it's like they slowly burn off rather than going boom!

If you're stressed a lot, it's a good way to temporarily remove yourself from your burdens! Like you don't have any worries other than 'should I use the pink or blue crayon?' Vibes! Pressure slowly bleeding off rather than having an outburst.

And, for fun! It can be fun to connect with your inner child, do the things you liked as a kid and reunited with that mindset! You don't need to have missed out on your childhood to regress, it can be completely for fun!

Now now, age regression isn't always all fun and games. Because you do think like whatever age you've regressed to, you might have temper tantrums or get cranky or confused if something triggers it.

That's okay.

Yeah, it can feel icky—But me personally, i much prefer these occasionally than letting my emotions boil over and having a breakdown when I'm not regressed!

I've lost and wasted a lot of my childhood. This is my way of healing and re-experiencing childhood joy. Please, don't ever forget that type of wonder, it's so magical and so nice and cozy.

It's a way to cope because it can be an outlet, a comfort, a way to regulate emotions, a way to escape, a way to just relax. And, while not everyone turns out liking it, that's okay! But it works for me, and so so many others. I've had atleast 6 or so friends start regressing and they're still doing it to this day!

And the best part is it's temporary, so if there's more mature things you enjoy? You don't have to give those up, okay? You can find time to regress and relax, and come back to your normal routine later!

It's benefits can be:

Destressing.

Processing lots of emotions at once.

Enjoyment.

Getting to do things you were denied as a child.

Able to let out emotions via tantrums or fits in a much less destructive headspace.

Reliving a simpler mindset.

Helping with sleeping. (I find it much easier to nap/go to bed if I'm regressed!)

Getting a fresh feeling after you're done regressing.

Stimulating if understimulated.

Can help if you're also overstimulated.

Healing inner child.

Coping with trauma/stress in a healthy way.

Help with doing chores. (It's way easier to make chores fun if you're regressed in my experience, but some hate doing chores while regressed and that's cool too!)

And it can be different for each person!

It is absolutely okay to have a different experience, struggle regressing at first or even always, or not do it often!

I recommend if you want to start regressing—Find something that makes your inner child happy, indulge in the best things you liked or would've liked as the age you wanna regress to, find ways to incorporate your current interests into it!

Also things that you like, or positive things can help too!

It's honestly my best coping mechanism, it isn't 'weird' or 'wrong' especially if it helps you. And I can guarantee it's far better than plenty of unhealthy coping mechanisms!

Sooo... yeah! If you want, I recommend looking more into it! There's a whole community for you here on Tumblr, and other sites!

And this post mainly only covers the positives, but it's what I wanted to focus on!

Byee!! (Pssstt BTW agere doesn't have to be all pastels and cute and stuff!! Do what makes you happy! Use whatever colours and vibes you want!)

[ghcstao3]

Hi I know this is silly but what if soap and ghost had friendship bracelets and someone stole soaps and ghost who said he didn’t care about them (he never took his off) goes feral tracking it down for soap who was inconsolable because he lost something ghost trusted him with.

Have a lovely day

firstly!! apologies for getting to this so late. secondly!! not silly at all this is so cute

-

There’s nothing particular about the day other than the fact that Ghost’s first thought upon seeing Soap, is that the sergeant looks like shit.

His mohawk is unkempt in spite of the risks Soap already runs bordering the edge of what is considered regulation, and there’s bags under his eyes that tell Ghost he hasn’t slept, at the very least since the day prior.

Ghost waits too long for his liking for a moment available to pull him aside and sort out the matter. No matter the issue, a distracted sergeant isn’t ideal for carrying out their duties.

When Soap barely reacts to Ghost grabbing his arm, Ghost figures there must be something properly wrong.

“What’s going on with you?” Ghost asks, his voice kept low.

Heartbroken, Ghost thinks, is the right word to describe how he feels when Soap looks up at him with a deep exhaustion.

Soap only shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, LT. Just a bad day, s’all.”

Ghost huffs. “You and I both know that’s bullshit, Johnny.”

Soap sighs, shrugging off Ghost’s hold. He scrubs at his face with the heels of his palms, and while that might otherwise help to disperse some of his worry—Soap only seems to tense further.

“I know you said you don’t care, but…” Soap sighs again, his shoulder slumping as his arms fall back to his sides in defeat. “I lost the bracelet. Someone took it or somethin’ and it’s… it’s missing. I’m sorry, I—“

“Johnny,” Ghost cuts in, “you don’t have to apologize. It happens.”

“Aye, but it’s still—“ Soap suddenly pauses and shakes his head, arms wrapping around himself. “I still feel bad.”

“You said someone took it?”

Soap’s eyes snap to Ghost’s, widening just momentarily as he processes the question. Slowly, though, he nods.

Ghost hums. That’s something he can certainly work with.

“Then don’t let it mess too much with your head,” Ghost says. “You’re not helpful to anyone like this.”

Soap’s brows drawn together, the pout on his lips pulling into a frown—but he doesn’t have the chance to get a word in, not before Ghost is patting his shoulder and stalking off with a new task in mind.

* * *

Guilt, Soap thinks, has always been an ugly emotion.

It’s not something he experiences often, and while this seems like something far too small to feel such anguish over—he can’t help but feel like the shittiest person in the world. He’d lost something Ghost had given to him, trusted him with, even if he had said he doesn’t care what Soap does with it.

It had been on top of his things when he went to shower. He knows it was, because it always is, but this time when he goes to get redress it’s gone. And he panics. He worries the rest of the day and doesn’t sleep trying to find it.

Then Ghost notices, Ghost finds out, and that guilt increases with ferocity. Even when Ghost seems so calm about it, so unbothered.

Soap’s feet drag throughout the day, even after his talk with Ghost. He tries to act like everything is fine, and can’t help but feel immense relief when he’s finally allowed to return to his room, about ready to collapse from exhaustion.

And there, sitting neatly on his bed, is the bracelet.

No note accompanies it, nor is there any sign of anyone having really been in his room beyond the bracelet, but it’s still there. It isn’t lost.

Though weary, Soap can’t help the small smile that appears on his face.

He supposes he should’ve known better than to think Ghost didn’t care.

[genshin-side-piece]

I have a yandere Neuvillette concept that has been haunting me, especially in regard to how you write him cause I really loved your series on him :3c

So imagine a Neuvillette after he kidnapped darling. He understands why you're upset, and though he will not let you go he does feel a little guilty about keeping you with him. He justifies it by telling himself (and you) that it is for your own safety and protection.

BUUUUUUT imagine Neuvillette judging a trial where the defendant did the EXACT same thing. They kidnapped someone and help them against their will for several months. The defendant implores to him and the audience that they did it to protect the victim, they did it for love.

I think Neuvillette has overseen many trials where the defendant broke the law but still had a sympathetic reason to do so - like a person who killed in self defense or someone who stole to survive. Unfortunately, I don't think there is any canon material that explores this (as far as I know - hopefully I am wrong), but I think a non-yandere Neuvillette would not let his judgement be completely clouded by the defendant's motives. They still broke the law so off to Meropide they go, but he knows when to be lenient and understanding about it.

Back to yandere Neuvillette, this trial puts him between a rock and a hard place. This defendant did the exact same thing Neuvillette did to you, he understands their motives very well. If this is a post-Archon quest Fontaine then he has complete control over the defendant's fate. Should he judge this defendant fairly, as he had with millions of ever? If he sends the defendant to Meropide, then doesn't this mean Neuvillette is guilty in the eyes of the law as well? Deep down, does he secretly think he is above the law? That his darling's well being is more important than any legislation?

But if he declares the defendant not guilty then what will this mean for the future of Fontaine? Other criminals may see this and realize that doing things for "love" is a morally sound motive to the fair Iudex. Crime, especially kidnapping related ones, might increase! The people would question why the Chief Justice declared someone not guilty when they CLEARLY committed a heinous crime. Victims of similar crimes in Fontaine might not see Neuvillette has a pillar of justice, but of someone who undermines it (a harsh realization that you had to go through when he kidnapped you).

I imagine that whatever Neuvillette's decision is, he's a little shaken up after the trial. He goes home and seeks your (unwilling) comfort, pulling you into his arms for an embrace, even if you protest and try to slip away. He treats you a little differently afterwards; maybe he relaxes on the rules and regulations he enforced on you and gives you a bit more freedom, or maybe he doubles down on his decision to keep you and gets more frustrated when you fight back.

This made me so happy! TY for sending! 😊 I love to talk about this kind of stuff. I wish I got to do it more. I'm placing this under a cut, with warnings just to be safe.

Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

Neuvillette's grey area. It's my favorite thing about him.

Here's what makes him fun. He knows how to work the law(s) to his advantage. We see that with the traveler in 4.1. Neuvillette "invents" charges for the traveler to be sent to Meropide. He does so by getting them to commit a petty crime in the form of eating Furina's discarded cake. The traveler is unaware of said crime until they're sent to the actual fortress. Only then do they realize that Neuvillette pulled a harmless fast one on them. Later, we see him do it again when he goes behind Furina's back for the sake of the nation. I'm sure he felt horrible about it and tried to apologize afterwards, but he still went through with it because there was a greater good that needed to be fulfilled.

Same kind of principle applies here. Your safety is everything to him. Up until he finds you, he believes you to be in mortal danger. I imagine the moment of you just walking out all fine was a bit anticlimactic for him, but he would definitely take that over the alternative.

Through the power of his office, Neuvillette tricks the reader into coming with him vs taking them by force. The confinement portion gets a little stickier in terms of the laws. Neuvillette's reasons for taking you are sound. Those same reasons carry through to him keeping you. He was worried. He was concerned. As one of the leaders of Fontaine, he's merely performing his duty in protecting you. He can't guarantee your safety from the perceived threat if you go home. No, it's better if you stay with him until the threat passes, which could be never btw. Just because the serial k*ller has been caught, doesn't mean there aren't others who would seek to do you harm. The mafia/cartels or even the fatui are still lurking. All it would take is one report that lists potential targets with a description that vaguely matches yours and he's set with his excuse.

Just as an aside, in my mind, Neuvillette carries some built in immunity. He has a sterling reputation. It’s not fully mentioned in the story, but even if he were accused of a crime, who would believe that person? He’s the Chief Justice of Fontaine. Someone who is purposefully written above reproach in the eyes of the population. He’s not infallible, but I feel like it would take a ton of convincing for anyone to believe Neuvillette had broken the law. Then there’s the matter of who judges him? Neuvillette is the judge. Who judges the judge in a nation with no archon?

In terms of the poor soul that has found their way before him, Neuvillette would 100% find that individual guilty regardless of his actions. Laws are laws and Neuvillette's main purpose in the story is uphold those laws. Where it gets iffy is how that person is sentenced. What is the appropriate level of justice for the crime? One could argue that the reader has already extracted a specific level of justice from Neuvillette based on how they treat him. How he feels about the trial afterwards is an interesting debate. Where Neuvillette and you start vs where you end in the series are two very different places. Since we’re talking specifically about the post-archon quest relationship between the two, I’m not sure how shaken he would be. The relationship is in a very different place from where the first story picks up. I can see him visiting his past feelings on the subject and briefly questioning specific things, but in the end it doesn’t matter to him based on how the series ends.  

Still, for the purpose of this though, I can see him going home and bringing you close. How willing you want to be is up to you. 😊

[baked-potatoes-rule]

My perspective on Shauna Shipman's feral side.

Shauna Shipman has impulse control issues.

And I know some people say they love her precisely because she's fucked up and there are no excuses about her being "a bad person" and a "freak."

I, for one, really think that waters her down.

And yes, I'm aware it's cool to "love fucked up women that are edgy and 'insane'", but back to the point I want to make;

Shauna has no control over her emotions. Period.

She does two things. She either:

1.suppresses them, trying to always seem collected and cater to other people's needs.

or

2.she turns into a loose canon in no time and things usually get ugly

I'll skip over the parts where she indulges in promiscuity. For her, it is usually a primal act where she finally takes control and leaves all inhibitions aside. People who struggle with emotional impulse control often end up commuting adultery(no shade or shaming people), because they need an escape and a safer way to blow some steam off.

If we look into the cluster B personality disorders (people who study/have studied psychology, please back me up or correct me if I'm stating false information), have emotional impulse control issues. Promiscuity and cheating on one's partner can often be a result of untreated stuff. And I'll just leave this one at that.

What interests me more, is the zero fucks Shauna gives when she gets into fight or flight mode OR, the amount of emotional pain she has accumulates is so much, that she literally has to spill blood. She has absolutely no sense for self preservation.

The mini van shenanigans! Who goes out of their way to endanger their life for their shitty mini van?And who deliberately tracks it down and threatens to kill the guy that won't give it back.

But it wasn't about the mini van and it wasn't for Callie's baby toy. It is the fact that Shauna refuses to let someone make her feel weak and threatened. We're talking about huge childhood unresolved trauma and so much pain and suffering.

When she held the car shop guy at gunpoint, telling him what it was like to peel the skin of someone, and how she wasn't shaking because she was afraid to shoot...But because she actually really wanted to do it, sealed it for me.

When you're driven over the edge and you already cannot regulate your emotions, you simply do not care what happens the moment you let go. (Her punching Misty, beating Lottie to pulp, biting Van.)

I think Shauna spent her entire life trying to survive.

Trying to survive her inability to speak up and be her own person.

Trying to survive the wilderness.

Trying to survive after losing Jackie.

Trying to survive after losing the baby.

After cutting up Javi's corpse.

And God knows what else our eyes will witness until the show is over.

Shauna hasn't stopped hurting.

When Jeff told her she was out of control after her and Callie were questioned at the police station, her face and reaction spoke volumes. She's scared of that side of hers, because she knows that it can, and it will destroy everything around her. But then again, part of her can't help it because that is how she's learned to survive in crisis. By letting the beast loose.

Her self destruction is, in a way cathartic.

[merlincmgirl]

Exhibition - Boil x FReader - NSFW

Summary: It was highly against regulations, not that you and Boil care as he sneaks you into his barracks late at night. All you have to do is keep quiet. Easy, right?

Characters: Boil, Cody, 212th troopers, Waxer

Pairing: Boil x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,602

Warnings: exhibition, fingering, oral (female receiving), PinV sex, fluff and smut, dom Boil, possessive Boil, dirty talk, masturbation (other troopers), aftercare, sneaking around. I think that's everything, if I've missed anything, please let me know.

Author's Note: Okay, when I started writing this, it seemed unable to stop. So enjoy :)

Atiniir - Take it

The barracks were in darkness when Boil led you back through the winding corridors of the barracks on the Negotiator after you had met him in one of your usual hiding spots. There wasn’t many places on the Venator class that allowed for hook-ups and secret rendezvous, and even less that wasn’t taken by another couple that inhabited the ship. So usually, if a new one was found, it was by word of mouth that more and more vode would use them. Hence, why you were currently sneaking into Boil’s barracks because most – if not all – of the hiding places were currently occupied.

You had the feeling that this war was going to be the cause of more and more relationships and hook ups the longer it progressed. The fear of time being cut short and the intense emotions that war brought up in people meant that it was becoming more often that you walked in on someone. The most momentous occasion had been walking in on General Kenobi and Commander Cody making out in the frigate hanger. That had been an awkward experience that everyone agreed not to mention ever again, and Boil had been quick to drag you away, giggling at what had happened.

“What if someone’s awake?” you asked, as Boil tugged you along towards the bunks he shared with his squad. How would you explain you suddenly appearing in their room during their sleep cycle?

“I checked before I left, they were all asleep. Stop worrying” Boil assured, rolling his eyes before he came to a stop. “Just stay quiet for a sec” he murmured, pressing the button to open the door and all but shoving you in so he could close the door quickly behind him.

Standing as still as a statue, you didn’t dare move a muscle as you waited to see if anyone moved or made a noise. What if the door opening had awoken them? It was just about pitch black inside of the room, small lights dotted the perimeter of the room, casting a low light that just about lit the way to the refresher on the other side of the room. A hand laid on the small of your back made you jump, and a low chuckle was heard behind you.

“Come on Mesh’la, Hotshot is out tonight himself and Waxer is covering for Wooley. We should have the bunk to ourselves” Boil murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.

Thank the stars that all the beds were bolted to the wall and ceiling. It would stop any shaking you hoped. As Boil led you over to his bed, you were surprised to see someone asleep on the bed above his. From the sight of his bald head, you could just about make out Waxer. Turning to your trooper, you motioned to Waxer and crossed your arms.

“Guess he didn’t swap shifts in the end. We’ll have to be very quiet mesh’la, think you can do that?” he teased, grinning against your neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his front.

“I can just fine! But if we get caught, I’m blaming you!” you hissed back, receiving nothing but another huff of breath against your neck as Boil guided you up onto his bed. “Or… or we call that favour in from Kenobi and- a-and Cody” you stuttered, as Boil’s large, warm hands slid down your sides and tugged on the hem of your shirt.

“Off” he ordered, helping you pull your regulation shirt off your body and down your arms. “I want to see your perfect tits” he groaned, throwing your shirt away somewhere.

You hoped you’d be able to find it in the dark before you had to sneak back to your rooms.

Boil didn’t waste any time in reaching for you, his hands gripping your breasts and giving them a light squeeze. He leant forward, pressing a few gentle kisses to your chest before he gave you a sharp nip. Hearing you gasp, he couldn’t help but run a hand over your thigh soothingly as he licked a soothing stripe over the mark he had made. Nuzzling into your chest, you were sure that he would leave a few beard burns that were going to be difficult to explain away if anyone saw.

“Keep quiet.”

It was the only warning that you got before Boil’s warm, talented mouth encased your nipple. His other hand came to play with the other, rolling it in clever, torturous touches. You barely had time to slam a hand over your mouth before you moaned, rocking your hips up into his stomach. A dark chuckle vibrated around your nub, as Boil sucked on it harshly. Gripping his hair, you tugged, trying to get him to move to a different angle but he refused to move, making sure that he marked you up good and proper.

Closing your eyes, you kept your hand pressed firmly over your mouth, swallowing back the moans and gasps that were desperate to escape as Boil switched his attention to your other breast. The sharp tug of your nipple and the cosy warmth of his mouth was a shocking contrast and you arched your chest up to feel more.

Boil chuckled around his mouthful, playing with your breasts and admiring the way they moved under his hands. How with each squeeze and touch your hips began to shift underneath him, like you were impatient for more. Grazing his teeth over your stiff peak, he pulled himself off you, unable to not admire the way you looked gorgeous underneath him.

Curling his hands into his black regulation top, he threw it behind him, not caring where it landed. He’d be reprimanded in the morning for sure, but at the moment, he had more important things to focus on. Climbing up your body, he covered you with his own, pulling your hand away from your mouth so he could press a teasing kiss to your lips.

Sighing, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the kiss as he slid his tongue over yours. His moustache tickled against your lip, and you couldn’t wait until you felt it run all over your body. The friction burn would feel incredible against your uniform. You wouldn’t be able to forget just what had been done to cause it. Feeling the heat rise in you, you couldn’t help but pull away, leaving a gentle nip to the trooper’s bottom lip. Boil’s groan rumbled from his chest, and you grinned against his lips when you felt it in your own.

“Be quiet baby, the others will hear you” Boil whispered, pressing kisses down your throat as he worked his way down your body.

“You’re the one that’s still talking!” you retorted, biting your lip to hold in a gasp as he pressed a kiss to the valley of your breasts before slipping further down. The blankets bunched around his shoulders before he tugged them over him, hiding him under the covers from anyone who glanced over.

You spread your legs further for him to make room for him, to cocoon him between your thighs. Calloused fingers ran along your waistline before they were replaced with Boil’s mouth, his tongue swiping and licking at your skin before pulling it into his mouth, determined to suck a bruise onto your skin.

A rustle of material and the sound of movement made you freeze, and you glanced over in the dark to see a vod had turned over in their sleep. Letting out a sigh of relief, you relaxed back into the pillows, sinking into the way that Boil massaged your tense thighs. Maker, you hoped that they all stayed asleep, it had been too long since you had Boil’s mouth on you.

Sensing that you had settled back down, Boil hooked his fingers underneath your trousers and pants and tugged them down your legs, shuffling a little to have enough room to get them off.

“Fuck! You look incredible!” Boil hissed, unable to turn away from you as he dropped your clothes over the edge of the bunk. The sight of you spread out on his bunk, naked and ready for him would occupy his thoughts for a while whenever he was on campaign. Just the sight of you was enough to make his cock twitch hard in his blacks.

“Boil!” you smirked, pushing yourself up to press a kiss to the scar over his right pec. “Are you going to do something about it or not?” you challenged, wiggling your hips.

Boil groaned, unable to turn down a challenge as he pushed you down onto the bed, one large hand covering your chest as he settled himself back between your legs. Throwing them over his wide shoulders, he enjoyed the little squeak that you let out at being stretched open for him. He could smell just how wet and aroused you were, and he wasted no time in capturing your wet, glistening folds into his mouth and sucking hard.

His tongue flicked up your folds, collecting as much slick as he could before he wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves there until you were letting out a strangled gasp of pleasure. Withdrawing from your nub, he pressed kisses down to your opening, his moustache tickling the sensitive skin. He parted your folds with his fingers, groaning into you at the feel of how wet you were against his lips. Boil’s talented tongue circled your entrance before pulling away to suck a mark on your thigh.

“Boil!” you hissed, annoyed at his teasing. You felt the scrape of his teeth against your thigh before a sharp nip was delivered. Instantly your hands flew to your mouth to cover the small moan that you let out. There would be a bruise there tomorrow, no doubt. It would be felt with every step as your thighs slid against one another. The bastard was probably counting on it.

Working a hand down your body and to the curls on his head, you gave them a sharp tug, reminding him to get on with it.

“Impatient” he murmured against your soft skin before returning back to feast on your core. He worked his lips along your entrance, probing it slightly with his tongue before pulling away. He was enjoying teasing you too much. The trooper loved how you were pulling on his hair, trying to guide him to where you wanted him, but he couldn’t help but resist. After all, the more worked up you were getting, the more you would gush on his tongue.

“Swear Boil, if you don’t fucking fuck me with your tongue, I’m going to- Kriff!” you hissed, all manner of threats ready to spill out but Boil chose that moment to finally push his tongue into y our quivering heat. Cursing, your hips bucked up into his face, wanting to keep him as close as possible to you. It felt so good as he licked into you, flicking your walls with his talented tongue as he held your thighs tight around his head.

Boil growled happily as he licked and mouthed at your soaked opening, spreading the slick further across his face as he pushed further into you.

Sighing happily, you closed your eyes, losing yourself to the feel of Boil eating you out. The noise the was making had you blushing, it sounded like he was having his last meal, slurping and groaning against your wet heat. His large, calloused hands slid up your hips, up your sides until they reached your breasts. He cupped them in both hands, squeezing and pressing them together. Your hips bucked up into his mouth, gasping at the dual sensation of him playing with your tits while he was devouring your pussy.

“Fuck sake! Whoever it is keep it down! Some of us are trying to sleep” a disgruntled voice called from in the darkness. You gasped, freezing as your legs tightened around Boil’s ears at being caught.

“It’s Boil! He’s got his lady friend over” another voice answered, and you knew that one was Waxer. The voice coming up from beneath Boil’s bunk and unable to hide his glee at catching his favourite brother. “He dropped her underwear right on my arm!” Waxer announced proudly.

You gasped, kicking at Boil for his mistake. That had probably woken up Waxer and he had been listening to you getting eaten out by Boil.

“Well I for one was enjoying listening to her!”

“You’re not sleeping in the bunk next to them!”

“Well cover your ears and let the rest of us enjoy it!”

“Ow! Shut up di’kuts or you’ll be hearing my fist slam into your face!” Boil growled out, wincing at the kick he had received in his back.

The arguing between his brothers settled down and you couldn’t help but stare down at Boil, unsure of what to do now. Most, if not all, of the barrack was now wide awake, and listening to you as Boil rubbed soothing circles on your side as he hovered over you.

“What do you say, cyare? Want to give my brothers a show while I make you cum over and over again?” he suggested, keeping his voice light with no expectation in it what so ever.

If you decided that no, you didn’t want this, then that would be it. Boil would either shut all of this down or take you elsewhere. He wouldn’t let you feel intentionally embarrassed and uncomfortable. But the thought of his fellow troopers, his brothers, all listening to the way that Boil made you feel good. All of them hearing the sounds that wanted desperately to escape. Maybe some of them would even rub one off to the thought of you and Boil going at it in the barracks under the cover of darkness. It was an enticing thought and you couldn’t help but squeeze Boil’s arms at the feel of other people listening in and trying to catch a glimpse of you in Boil’s bunk.

Heat flaring in your stomach, you gave him a small nod but he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. Knowing what he wanted, you gave a small huff of irritation at having to say the words out loud. “Yes, I want that” you confirmed, dragging your nails lightly down his arms to his wrist.

“Good girl” he praised, voice quiet and only for you.

It seemed that now Boil had an audience, he was even more determined to show off and get you making the loudest noises that you could. He licked and prodded at your entrance, sucking on it slightly to collect as much slick as he could. The moan against you had a cry falling from your lips, and you heard several appreciated moans in return.

Pulling away slightly, Boil pressed one finger to your slit before sliding it in. He cursed at how hot you felt around his finger, how your walls gripped onto him tightly as they adjusted to the feel of him inside of you. He slid his tongue beside his finger, opening you up for him and still tasting your delicious juices as they poured from you.

“Fuck! Oh kriff!” you cried, as his nose brushed against your clit. You were rocking your hips against his face, hair pulling him closer and closer to you. In the back of your mind you realised that you should probably pull him away, to let him up for air, but Boil didn’t seem bothered. He wanted to get lose in your taste, to become pussy drunk on just the way you covered his tongue and the way you sounded as he gave you pleasure.

Entering a second finger on his next thrust into you, Boil managed to scissor them, stretching you open even more for him. He used his tongue to flick in between his digits, revelling in the loud moan you let out at that. He could hear his brothers were enjoying it too, as sounds of muffled groans and curses filled the air. Giving your slit another curl of his tongue, he pulled his mouth away to trace his lips up to your clit, keeping the touch light and gentle.

“Boil! More!” you whined, bucking up into his mouth and writhing as he curled those two fingers inside of you. On every thrust in, he made sure to brush against the soft, spongy feel of your front wall. Heat rushed through you, and you were barely aware of the gasps and cries that were leaving you.

“Don’t be cruel Boil! Give the girl what she wants!” a voice called from the barracks.

“Yes! Please!” you groaned, writhing beneath him before letting out a high pitched cry at the feel of his hot mouth closing around your clit. His lips pursed, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth before lightly circling it with his tongue.

“Oh she likes that! Keep at it, vod!”

The commentary was making you feel even more effected than you normally would. You could feel the heat rising in you, feel the coil inside of you getting tighter and tighter, close to snapping with every brush of his tongue and thrust of his fingers. It did nothing but encourage Boil more, and he pressed a third finger into you now, the added stimulation enough to have you clutching at the bed sheets.

Boil doubled down, sucking and teasing your clit even more, fingers twisting and twirling inside of you even more as he increased the pace of his hand. He was determined to get you screaming his name, have his brothers know who exactly could make you cum like this.

“Oh kriff! Kriff Boil! Don’t stop!” you cried, tugging at his hair as you rocked down onto his talented fingers. The wave of pleasure was beginning to wash over you and you knew it wouldn’t take long before you finally found release. Boil was just having fun keeping you just on the edge, just so his brothers could really hear who was making you feel this good, who exactly you belonged to.

Boil growled at the suggestion, the hand not fucking into you rested on your lower stomach, just above your pubic bone. With a devastating thrust and a hard suck of his mouth, he pressed down and towards your core.

The effect was immediate, and you were cumming so hard that you could have sworn your vision went white. Your toes curled and your fists clenched into the sheets as you felt waves and waves of pleasure wash over you. Boil’s name echoed around the room as you shook beneath him, whining at the way he continued to feast on your slit, gathering as much of it as he could into his mouth as you rode out your orgasm.

As your breathing returned to somewhat normal, Boil pulled away, climbing up your body to hover over you once more.

“Fuck, she sounds amazing when she cums!”

“And Boil expected her to keep quiet!” Waxer’s teasing voice floated up to you.

Ignoring his brothers, Boil cupped your face and nuzzled his nose against yours. “You okay, mesh’la?” he asked, feeling the way your cheek was heated underneath his palm.

“Hmm, I’m good. Really good” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him down for a kiss. Boil grunted slightly, but sank into you, melding his lips against your own.

He propped himself up on his elbow by your head, keeping you pressed close together but taking his full weight off you. “Still want to continue or shall I tell my vods they can all go kriff themselves?” he offered, keeping his voice low so it was just between the two of you.

“Yeah, I want this. I want you Boil, want to feel you inside of me, filling me” you grinned, leaning up to place a sly kiss at the corner of his lips.

Boil groaned, pressing a hand against the bulge that was pressed against your hip. “Minx!” he accused, following after your mouth but you were too quick, teasing him just like he teased you.

Sitting up onto his hunches, he pushed the black regulated bottoms down his hips and off his long legs with a bit of manoeuvring. He leaned over the side of the bunk and threw them directly into Waxer’s face.

“EW! BOIL! What the kriff? I don’t want your stinking blacks!” Waxer complained, throwing them across the room as soon as he realised what they were.

Giggling, you couldn’t help but lean up, sliding gentle, caressing fingers up and down Boil’s shaft just to tease him more. He was hot and heavy against you and you knew he would fill you just right, stretch you out and make you feel amazing on his cock.

Boil’s hips rocked into your hand, biting his lip to muffle his own moans at the feel of your hand around him. Boil was slightly larger than average length and of a good girth that had you feeling him for days afterwards. He really had to stretch you out to take him. But it seemed that he had had enough of your careful touches, the way your fingers glided up his length in barely there touches that only made him harder and ready to finally sink into you. He batted your hand away with an annoyed grunt, watching in the dimness as you laid back on his bunk.

“Please, Boil! Need to feel you stretching me open” you moaned, knowing just how it would affect not only Boil but the rest of the vode that was listening too. Indeed as soon as you had muttered those words, there was several groans of lust as well as a few muffled curses from around the barracks.

“Hurry up and fuck her Boil before someone else does it for you!” a voice snapped.

“Shut the fuck up, Cronk, if you know what’s good for you!” Boil growled, shuffling in between your legs and rubbing at your spread thighs. He notched the head of his cock against your slit before rocking forward, allowing his cock to part your folds and run along your clit.

You moaned, white hot pleasure bursting through you at that. Clenching around nothing, you reached for Boil’s hand, glad to find it in the somewhat darkness before Boil repeated the motion. Hissing in annoyance, you reached between you and guided his cock inside of you as he rocked into you with a strong steady thrust. Both you and Boil let out a muffled moan at the feel of him sinking into you for the first time.

Letting out a soft mewl, you clutched at Boil’s shoulders, trying to steady yourself against the feeling of him splitting you open. He was panting into your neck, hands squeezing tightly onto your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises later. Sliding your hands up his sweat slicked back, you ran your fingers through his curls, bringing both you and him further together. Even though you were surrounded by his brothers, your focus was only on Boil.

With a shaky breath, Boil pressed a gentle kiss to the point where your neck met your shoulders before pushing himself up. “You ready, mesh’la?” he asked, running his hands up and down the meat of your thighs, giving them a squeeze every so often.

Cupping his cheek, you couldn’t help but send him an excited grin. “Of course I’m ready!” you teased, dragging your thumb over his sharp cheek bone.

Boil let out a huff in amusement before he was lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his waist as he slowly dragged his cock out of your tight opening. His eyes stayed locked onto where you were joined together, unable to help as he let out a small groan at how good you looked taking him.

The drag of him pressed against all those spots inside of you that had you mewling, biting your lip at the sensation. When just the tip was left in, you tried to buck your hips, getting impatient at him teasing you like this. But as soon as you went to move, Boil slammed back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs. The sound you let out was guttural, and you had no control over the volume as it echoed around the barracks.

The clone trooper grunted, beginning a teasing pace of slowly withdrawing from you before thrusting back into you hard. He loved all the punched out noises that he was drawing from you, sunk into the feeling of your tight, wet heat clamping around him, trying to keep him inside of you with every thrust. “Mesh’la” he breathed in awe, leaning over you and pressing a messy kiss to your lips.

“Boil!” you gasped, panting against his mouth as he rocked you further up the bed. You slammed your hands out above your head, the cool metal doing nothing to calm the heated ardour between you. Locking your legs around his waist, you dug your feet into the small of his back, wanting more, wanting him closer to you.

“Taking me so well – kriff! You feel so good, sweetheart” he hissed out, ignoring everything else around him. It was only you in this moment. You was the only thing that mattered to him.

“S-so do you” you managed to get out, as another of his thrusts had you clenching around him, a burst of pleasure flaring at the way he brushed against your clit. It felt exquisite, every controlled roll of his hips had him pressing along your walls, the stretch making sure he hit every one.

“FUCK!” you cried, as he took one of your legs and hooked it over his arm, spreading you wider for him. As he sunk deeper, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms tight around him.

“Stars, she sounds incredible!”

“That’s it mesh’la, open up for me. Atiniir, you’re so beautiful” Boil growled, rhythm increasing as he became lost in the feel of you tightening around him, your walls fluttering with every press inside of you.

Groaning, you leaned up to nip at his lip, receiving a guttural groan from him that sent heat rushing through you. Fuck, he was making you feel so good, how would you ever be able to top this.

“They’re touching themselves to the thought of fucking you, mesh’la. Bet they’re wishing it was them that’s between your gorgeous thighs and fucking into your sweet, wet hole” Boil breathed, voice low and deep and full of lust into your ear.

You shivered, just the thought of the vode touching themselves and bringing themselves to completion because of the sounds you were making and how well Boil was fucking you into the mattress. It had the added bonus of you clenching around Boil, more slick leaking around his cock.

“Oh you like that, huh? Dirty girl” he hissed, hips slamming into you and causing you to dig your nails into his shoulders. “Bet you like knowing that they can imagine all they want, but you’re my girl. I don’t share” Boil groaned, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your neck in juxtaposition to the way his cock was pounding into you.

“Yes! Yes! Yours, just yours!” you cried, tugging at his hair as you rolled your hips up to meet his thrust. The coil inside of you was tightening and tightening, you were so close.

“Kriff, sweetheart!” Boil hissed out at the feel of his hair getting pulled, pleasure shooting down his spine and making his hips falter in their rhythm. He could feel how close you were, especially when his pubic bone brushed against your clit.

“BOIL! Please!” you begged, writhing beneath him as much as you could with how he was holding you. Fuck, you just wanted to cum, you wanted to feel him pulse inside of you, shooting his load into your quivering channel. Fuck, you just wanted Boil.

“Boil’s gonna break her at this rate!”

“Nah, she can take it! Kriff! Oh! She’s a good girl” another one replied.

Letting out a whine, you turned your head, spotting a trooper in the next bunk to you looking at you, his hands moving furiously underneath his blankets.

Just the sight of seeing the other troopers touching themselves to you had you letting out a loud moan and you squeezed your eyes shut.

However, Boil gripped your jaw, guiding you back to face him. “Look at me. I’m the one fucking you, mesh’la” Boil growled, hips slamming into yours roughly.

With bleary eyes, you looked up at him, seeing the lust and determination to make sure you felt amazing. He didn’t have to worry about that, you felt like the only thing keeping you on this bed was Boil and his impressive cock.

Gritting his teeth as he felt his balls rise and his own release getting ever closer, he took your hand and guided it between your joined bodies. “Touch yourself for me, mesh’la. Want to see you cum on my cock and your fingers” Boil demanded, brow furrowing as the feel of your fingers against him with every thrust pushed him closer and closer towards the edge.

You wasted no time in touching your clit just how you liked. The added stimulation had you letting out a soft cry, eyes squeezing shut as your release got ever closer. With every brush of your fingers, you tightened around Boil even more.

“Fuck, feels- feels like – like you’re strangling me!” he stuttered, voice breaking as he drove his cock into you, hitting that spot that had you collapsing around him.

“BOIL!” you wailed, as wave after wave of pleasure hit you, flung over the edge. With the feel and sounds of the troopers around you, listening to you and jerking themselves off, Boil’s cock driving into you and hitting those spots inside of you that made you feel amazing and the feel of your fingers against your bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help but fall into your release.

Boil grunted, your name spilling from his lips as he followed you over the edge, shooting his load into your fluttering heat, hissing as your walls drained him of all that he had.

He managed to unhook your leg from his arm before he collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you down. Pressing his forehead against your temple, he breathed in the smell of the both of you together and sex. It was amazing, and if he wasn’t so exhausted, he’d want to go again. As it was, his cock gave a valiant twitch that pulled a hitched gasp from you, still oversensitive from your release and the fucking he had given you.

Closing your eyes, you ran your fingers up and down Boil’s back, kissing his cheek and just enjoying being with him. Your breath was slowly returning to normal when you felt him nuzzle against you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he smiled into your cheek.

It was only when Waxer came up to the bed that you remembered that you were still surrounded by the vode. Gasping, you clutched onto Boil tighter, hoping he covered your body from his brother’s eyes.

Waxer averted his gaze but handed over a canteen of water and some wet cloths. “Here, thought you might need this” he offered, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground.

“Oh, thank you” you murmured, flushing at the kind gesture. Even though you had been the one fucking while him and his brothers listened in.

“Thanks vod. Sorry for waking you” Boil apologised, sending him a wry grin. He took the supplies off Waxer and passed them over to you.

“Yeah, like it was a real hardship” Waxer rolled his eyes, before clapping his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But I’ve got to get my beauty sleep. Goodnight, lovebirds” he bid, before getting back into his own bunk.

From all around you, you could hear troopers either cleaning themselves up or settling back into bed. Taking a sip of water from the canteen, you wondered how you would get out of here without disturbing them further.

“Spread your legs a little, mesh’la” Boil muttered, gently cleaning you up as your releases trickled from you. With great care, he made sure the warm water soothed your aching muscles and got everything off you before throwing them over to the laundry chute with a well aimed throw – even in the dark.

“Guess I should be going” you stated, passing him the canteen to take a drink of. You reached for the blanket, hoping to use it to cover yourself while you tried to find your clothes.

However the hand on your elbow stopped you. Boil looked at you softly in the dim light, hand gliding down until his fingers entwined with yours. “Stay. Sleep here tonight. With me” he asked, and you could hear the vulnerability in his voice, all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite yet.

Feeling your heart clench at his words, you wanted nothing more than to wrap him in your arms and promise that you would stay. For however long he wanted you to. But you couldn’t. Not yet. But you could stay with him tonight, sleep in the barracks with him and share this intimate moment with him where you could both just be vulnerable together.

“I’d love to.”

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Do you think that Color would s/h post-VOID?

Perhaps not in the form of like, cutting. But given his sensory sensitivities and physical fragility, and the common thought that pain is grounding for him (if not beautiful, considering the HC of him seeing pain as color), he could actively self harm via causing or allowing himself physical overwhelm, stress, and pain; allowing himself to be touched or manhandled even when it’s painful and too much, even if it makes him feel bad.

There’s the possibility of unsafe sex with strangers, if not also the possibility of drinking, if they’re one night stands.

Binge eating—especially when he’s still severely malnourished and recovering from decades of whatever form of starvation monster bodies/souls deal with—eating to the point of disgust, shame, overwhelm, and yet feeling unable to stop until he physically can’t eat anything more.

And eating too fast, too much, after periods of starvation can cause shock and death in human bodies. Which is why people who have been through starvation have to be slowly introduced back into food and closely monitored.

Color is sensitive in a lot of ways. Emotionally, physically, sensory. For him, self harm could be exposing himself to more than he can handle at all or at that point in time; either physically, emotionally, or mentally. This can be very distressing and exhausting for anyone, let alone a touch starved, sensory deprived of two decades, hypersensitive autistic person.

He could allow others to harm him, even unknowingly or unintentionally, but not speaking up or stopping it when it becomes too much, or deliberately seeking out or putting himself into dangerous situations with dangerous people—such as knowing he’s being followed, and deliberately walking somewhere darker and out of range of any possible help, knowing that anyone following him late at night probably doesn’t have good intentions.

There could also be some painful stims Color has—like scratching his skull or his arms, when hes overwhelmed, feeling a certain way, and needing to regulate his emotions.

There’s possibly more ways he could self harm, but there’s just a few. If he ever does cut himself, he’d probably feel compelled to heal these specific wounds—perhaps this is a part of him he doesn’t want anyone to remember.

There’s also the fact that some people can and do hurt themselves during meltdowns, or panic attacks. This one probably happened a lot immediately post Void, when he was in a hospital/care facility.

Even just the existence of lights and all the moving, talking, breathing people would’ve all been to much for someone coming freshly out of what amounted to two decades of near complete sensory deprivation and solitary confinement.

He probably would’ve try to fight back and resist anyone coming near him if he was physically capable of doing so in any meaningful capacity—and doing so would’ve also meant straining a body no longer prepared to handle that much movement and activity. I doubt he had much physical energy for awhile.

[louloulemons-posts]

Celestial Love

Steve Harrington x drunk!reader

Summary : Just Steve looking after his drunk partner.

Word Count : 1k

Warnings : Not proofread, once again written in the middle of the night, talks of alcohol and being drunk, steve taking care of reader, pure fluff, reader wears makeup but she/her pronouns aren’t used, y/n used a few times, just steve being a good boyfriend.

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It was a summer, there were parties happening all the time. You didn’t go to many, but as your friends, and boyfriend were going you decided to tag along.

It had been fun, you didn’t have to worry about highschool anymore. And huge celebrations were in order as one of your best friends, Eddie had graduated. Third time lucky, you’d told him.

However, you were now feeling more than just a buzz from the alcohol. After a game of truth or dare, and many many shots you had wandered away from your friends.

Your alcohol hazed mind needed go and see the stars apparently. Steve, your boyfriend, has barely left your side all night, but he needed to run to the bathroom. You found your time to slip away.

There was a cool, crisp breeze. The Autumn wind slowly blowing in, during the later days of August. The sky was clear, stars shining brightly and a crescent moon sat silently, looking down at you.

“Wow,” you sighed to yourself, perching on a chair. Letting your head drop back against the seat, you smiled up at the sparkling sky. It was beautiful.

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Walking back into the party, Steve rejoined your group. He quickly realised someone was missing. His favourite person. He looked at Eddie, “Hey where’s Y/N?” he asked the curly haired boy.

“They were just,” Eddies words were cut off in confusion, “They were right next to me!” Steve instantly went into panic, anything could have happened to you.

“How the hell could you lose them? I was gone for 2 minutes!” he exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked.

“Y/N. Have you seen them?” The metalhead questioned.

Robin hiccuped, she was a lightweight, “T-they um … said something about needing to see the stars,” she slurred. Steve set off straight away, knowing exactly where you were.

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You sat silently just looking up. In complete awe, until you heard you name. “Jesus baby, gave me a heart attack. Why’d you wonder off?”

“Stevie!” You squealed standing up, wrapping your arms around your boyfriends neck. “Look!” You extended your arm to the sky, swinging your head back, “‘t’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah baby it’s beautiful.” He wasn’t looking at the sky, he was looking at you. “We should get home don’t you think?”

“Why?” you cocked your head, almost like an inquisitive puppy dog. “Well I think bed sounds really nice. Don’t you think, we can get cosy and cuddle up.”

You hummed and leaned into him, “Sounds great Stevie.” He pecked the top of your head, soft lips touching your hair. “Let’s get going then.”

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After saying goodbye to your friends and finally coaxing you into the car after you complained you wouldn’t be able to see the stars. You were finally home.

Stumbling as you pushed yourself out of the car, Steve caught your waist. Letting out a drunken cackle as you wobbled. “Careful Sweet one.”

Helping you into the house, you suddenly had a burst of energy. Singing Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears loudly. “Something happens and I’m head over heels,” you sang off key.

“Come on baby, let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” Steve led you to the bathroom closest to his room. “I never find out til I’m head over heels,” you sung at a more regulated level now.

“Guess what?” you said to Steve.

“What baby?”

“I’m head over heels,” it was a matter of fact statement. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. Head over heels for you~”

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“I’m head over heels for you too.”You let out a gasp as if it was something you didn’t know.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Wow.”

“I know crazy right. Now can you hop up on the counter, need to clean your makeup off.”

He helped you get on the side next to the sink and pulled out a packet of cotton pads and a makeup remover he’d seen you use many times before. He had a habit of leaning against the bathroom door, just watching you.

“Close you eyes for me baby.” You complied with ease, feeling the cold pad touch your eyes, making you shiver. Letting out a giggle, Steve apologised quietly. “‘t’s okay Stevie.”

Soon enough he’d cleaned your entire face off, making sure not to rub too hard. “What do you normally use after this?”

“Can just use the moisturiser tonight, don’t wanna do all the steps.”

He picked up a small pink tub, unscrewing the lid. Taking small dollops and placing them on different parts of your face. He rubbed them in carefully, you hummed, almost purring.

“Feel nice?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you replied, opening your eyes to meet his pretty brown ones. Putting your face products away he led you to the bedroom.

You lay on the bed, letting out a sigh as he went to his draws. He passed you a pair of shorts your favourite tee of his. “Can you put these on whilst I get you some water?”

“M’kay.” You took the soft material in your hands, pulling off your own clothes and underwear. Replacing them with Steve own, just after you pulled down the shirt he appeared. “Feeling comfy?”

“So comfy.”

“Good I’m glad. Can you take these for me? Don’t want you to have a poorly head in the morning.” Handing you two pills you popped them into your mouth, accepting the water with a thanking smile.

“Can we cuddle now?”

“I’ve just gotta get my pyjamas on, you get into bed.”

You did as he said, climbing under the covers, snuggling down. They smelt of Steve, his woody cologne, faint smell of hairspray and other products he used.

Soon enough he’d joined you, “Hey there,” he smiled, kissing your forehead. “Hello.”

“Feeling sleepy?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his arms to you, “Come here.”

Laying your head on his chest, legs tangling with each other, and arms wrapped around lightly. “Goodnight baby,” he spoke, panting with your hair lightly. “Night Stevie.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” you mumbled, sleep already taking over. He huffed a laugh, kissing your head fondly.

“I love you more than you love the moon and stars. Love you more than the universe.”

Turning the light down to a dim setting in case you woke up and were confused, Steve closed his own eyes, following you to dreamland.

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Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍