#long jump facility

[arielluva]

grief is such a weird emotion bc i can be fine most of the time even if it think about it, but then sometimes thinking about it digs it up all over again

[lass-us-slay]

Lois feels her throat close up, feeling a growing lump she cant force down. And can’t help but stare at the boy. And her body feels like it’s unable to even move, frozen in place because-

God that’s a child, just a little boy tied up like he… he’s some experimental animal, like he’s not even human.

And for a moment she just stands there, until the boy opens his eyes. And oh god those eyes, those eyes look so tired, and scared. Like he’s seen some horrible monsters that plan on eating him, and to be fair… maybe it’s not so far from the truth.

Those piercing icy blue eyes that hold so much fear (fear a child- a boy no less- should not be holding) is what makes her come to her senses.

And distantly she can see more resemblance between this boy in this… cell… and her baby boys best friend.

Like being snapped from a trance Lois comes back to reality. And further steps into the room, closing the door behind her (because so god help her she’s not going to get caught, not when there’s a CHILD (whose mind you, maybe not much older Jon) is being help captive).

She can tell the boy is staring intently at her movements, trying to discern if she’s like the rest of the people here.

And before she even starts talking, she clicks on her recorder. After what feels like forever she swallows the lump in her throat that thought it could get comfortable her throat.

Not today, or any day lump!

“..Hello, I’m- I’m Lois Lane with… god kid what…” Fair to say Lois lost her voice as quickly as she got it.

Ugh this isn’t you Lois! Focus, this kid needs you. She internally scolded herself, as the kid continued to stare at her. God did he even have enough strength to speak back from how thin and brittle he looks..?

With a deep breath Lois shoved away her own problems, she could work on it without the kids life in danger at this very moment.

“Can you speak..?” She asked walking over to the cell that held him like an animal unworthy of human care.

As she was about to touch the cell keypad she fell short. Unable to continue with the action as she heard a small, weak and hoarse voice. It made her heart break a little at how weak it sounded.

“Don’t… to-ch-…” The boy sounded out, taking a moment to clear his throat.

“Is’ not… go-na end well..” he continued, moving to sit up from his laying down position on the floor.

Lois could see his hair stick to his face and neck from how sweaty he looked. He looked so tired from the simple action of sitting up. More than how he looked before.

“Why not- I’m not leaving you here.” She stated with a ‘no argument tone’ that Jon always commented on.

“They’r not gonna.. give me’ up so easy…” He spoke back, Lois wanted to retort that. Say that she could get him out but…

She knew she couldn’t, this is a government funded facility. And she broke into it. She may be stubborn, but she she’s not foolish.

“I’ll find you a way out, I promise. So just tell me anything and everything you can think of about this- GIW. Their purpose, who they are, anything”

She almost pleaded as she stepped away from the cell with clenched fists. Barely being able to not look away from his icy winter eyes, which reminded her of Bruce’s eyes.

The boy, for his part just nodded weakly. Having moved to lean against the calls glass wall.

“M’ names Danny… Daniel Fen…Fenton..” he stared, Lois for her part. Started taking pictures of the room, and… Danny himself.

“M’ from… Amity, Amity Pa-k-“ he took a moment to clear his throat.

“Amity… park.. Illinois.. uh.. GIW is’- .. means, Ghost. Inves-tigation- Ward.”

“Ghost? Aren’t those superstitions?” She instinctively asked.

As the boy explained roughly about how ghosts were technically ecto beings. Lois opened up a drawer with, which lucky for her held some important information.

Taking pictures of those documents which were mostly about the boy -Danny, who looked so much like her Jon’s best friend but with Bruce’s eyes- it made her heart stutter.

They’d already had his internal workings down on paper… they had- god it made her wanna puke and feel nauseous… it’s wasn’t until she heard the next words from Danny that made her freeze

“They uh- … the last I remember of th- the outside.. was… March..?” Danny, the poor boy got out from his sore, haggard throat.

It had to hold onto the drawer for support… it’s July.

The GIW had had him for 5 months.

Her breath shuddered as she forcibly got her composure back, she couldn’t waver now. The boy will freak if he finds out.

“…Ho-w.. long..?” The poor boy asked. It made Lois purse her lips to stop herself from indicating just how much time had passed. Good thing her back was turned on him.

“Not.. not too long.” She had a feeling she didn’t convince him from his silence.

Straightening herself she put the files back. She got her evidence. With the files back in place she looked back at the boy, so similar to Jon. Her precious baby boy.

Only to find Danny back on the floor, no longer leaning on the glass wall of the cell. There was green sorta gas’s filling it now, shit did she trigger it-

“Kid—“

“S’ kay’ ma’am… their’ cmin’ back…” He managed, looking up much more tiredly at Lois now.

“Kid you with me?!” She scurried to his side, the solid thick glass separating the two of them. If only she had Clark’s strength, just this once.

“Go… their’ cmin’ back… please’ just-.. don’t get caught…” Danny looked straight into Loises eyes. As drowsy as he was, he made sure not to slur his last 3 words together.

All Lois could do was nod, and silently promise herself, and the kid that she was going to do everything she could to get him out. And destroy the GIW.

Looking around quickly she found a little body hole behind a the large mass of drawers and crates towards the back.

Luckily was still able to somewhat see the kids cell from her position. And hastily pull up her phone to record. With the brightness all the way down of course, she doesn’t want to get caught.

Not after find out out what they’d been doing with a fucking child.

Several men in white came in, all of them holding either guns or what looks to be tasers, with two of them having a pole on hand. Lois couldn’t help but think is those were even necessary… he’s a child

And seeing them talk to him like he’s an animal, even going so far as to calling ‘him’ and ‘it’. It made her blood boil.

But not as much as when they tased and beat him when he tried to move away from, or fight back at them. She couldn’t help the small flinch at his muffled grunts and slight whimpers in pain as he took the beating.

She caught the one of them saying why he was acting up now… god Danny was doing that on purpose… for her. To add more to what she has.

And as much as she appreciates it, she wishes he didn’t do that… he’s a child, he shouldn’t have had to do that.

After a 1 minute and 24 seconds (according to the recording) Danny finally gave out. She couldn’t properly see him but she could tell he was heaving hard, trying to catch his breath. The guards with the poles moved and-

And she felt pure rage at how they forcibly moved him with the poles attached to his collar. Keeping him a distance from themselves as they moved him, like a feral dog on the streets.

But it was the fact that Danny was barely making an effort to fight back, and being dragged around carelessly and cruelly by his neck was what got to her.

But she forced down the drive to go up to them and fight them herself. Because again, they’re the government. The only good that’ll do is just for her anger. It’s not gonna help Danny.

It’s not gonna help the poor boy that looks so much like her boy, Jon’s best friend.

It’s not gonna help Danny whose being treated like a feral animal by these people (Can she even consider them people from how they are treating a child?).

So she bites her tongue, waits until they leave.

And begins her search of the facility.

With her phone recording and her recorder having been turned on since she fist spoke with the boy.

Lois Lane, the best reporter and investigator of the Daily Planet. Makes her way around the facility, fitting into the white clad sorry excuse of people, with a uniform she found in one of the boxes.

———

Much later, as the morning rays of dawn shed light upon Metropolis’s waking buildings.

A certain woman with black shoulder length hair, and clad in a white suit exits a building near the outskirts of Metroplis.

Her hands are clenched in tight fists as she walks out of the facility’s grounds. As she walks towards the City to where she last parked her car, she brings up her phone once more.

Having recorded all she needed within it, she calls a certain man of steel.

“Hey Lois, where are you?” A man’s voice spoke after not even the second ring.

“I’m coming come right now, but I need you to get ready. This may need a certain man of steel.” She responded back, not even acknowledging his question. For realistically he already hears where she is right now.

“Understood-“ as Clark was about to continued Lois cut him off.

“We need all hands on deck, especially Batman.” Lois could feel Clark tense from this far away as she continued her way back to the street she left her car at.

“I see, I’ll let him know. Your safe thought right?” He asked, that lovable goose, oh how he brought a small, painful smile to her face.

“Yes I’m safe, is Jon okay..?” She suppressed a wince at how her voice cracked towards the end. The image of the broken and beaten boy coming it the forefront of her mind.

“Yes of course… is he somehow involved?” Lois almost lost her footing at the idea. And the tense voice of Clark just amplified the fact that- the kid.

Danny had no one… she saw the little note on the files, on how they’ve been ‘brainwashed’ and were forced to be ‘put down’.

Danny had no one to care, and it broke her heart to think of something like that happening to her boy, to her little Jon.

“Never.” She answered firmly. No way, over her dead body.

“We’ll talk move when I get back.” And with that she ended the call. Having neared her car she reaffirmed her resolve to absolutely crush the GIW for what they had done to Danny.

She’ll make sure they are sorry for doing all they did to him. She has all the evidence.

All she needs now is time to shut them down.

Time that she doesn’t have.

Time that Danny, doesn’t have.

"This better get on the front page" Lois mutters under her breath. She's currently hiding in a crate that's being transported into a secretive "government" facility that calls themselves the GIW. No official data has been released as to what that acronym stands for. A new facility of theirs opened up in Metropolis and Lois is determined to find out what this organization is doing behind closed doors. From the rumors she's heard it sounds like it's Project Stargate level of crazy. This might get her another Pulitzer Prize.

Lois feels the truck holding her, and many many pallets of lead lined crates, pull to a stop. After that it's a blur of muffled words spoken by GIW employees as they unload the truck. Her crate gets picked up by a forklift and moved somewhere deep into the facility. Perfect.

After ten agonizing minutes, the forklift stops and lowers the crate into an unknown room and drives away.

Lois waits.

She has a thermal reader to detect if anyone is inside the room with her that (thank you Bruce) works through two inches of steel and lead.

The only thing she saw that was noticeable was an oddly large cold spot in an adjacent room.

Well it's now or never.

Lois moves cautiously, slowly opening the lid of the crate from underneath just enough to crawl herself through and then slowly put the lid back, careful to not make a sound.

She turns away from the crate and goes to investigate that cold spot.

Past a door, through a short hallway, and inside a high security cell, Lois saw the source of the temperature anomaly.

It's a boy. A boy no older than her son… A boy who was emaciated, collared, handcuffed, and covered in gauze.

A boy who looked near identical to her son's best friend, Damian.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Let's talk about zoo animal welfare for a second...

(And I want to preface this by saying I have a 4 year Bachelor degree in Animal Science (focusing in welfare and behaviour with a major in Canine and Equine Science) before I got sidetracked into zoo animals and did 3 internships working with wild canids, ungulates and marine mammals - this involved both hands on behaviour modification/desenitisation as well as hands off behavioural observation and welfare study. I worked for 2 years as a marine mammal specialist and worked specifically in facilities to improve husbandry, behavioural training and welfare practises.

I also worked in a facility in the Asia Pacific, working to improve welfare standards for bottlenose dolphins and continued to work with cetacean welfare researchers after this. I also did a course in zoo management, husbandry and welfare and this involved working in an accredited zoo facility learning things like exhibit design, behaviour management and husbandry with multiple species.)

So a few points to say about zoo animal welfare when discussing zoo standards and practises:

The average person does not have the expertise to do behaviour observation and welfare evaluation in zoo animals - that's why when the general public visits a zoo and says "the animal looks sad" it's worth being skeptical of that claim. But it doesn't mean a gut feeling about a zoo's quality can be completely invalid. Just that it might be worth researching further or seeking more information.

However, with experience, it is possible to analyse behaviour in the context of welfare. And context to that behaviour is always important (for example, Moo Deng showing stress related behaviour towards the specific context of being touched or followed around by her keeper - very much an indication of poor handling practises)

Poor animal husbandry and welfare is not limited to specific countries or regions, however it can be more normalised and accepted under the influnce of cultures and laws. Or even just the culture of the zoo itself such as the "this is the way we've always done it" places.

Being an accredited zoo is a start to good welfare, but it doesn't make any sort of welfare concern obsolete. And accreditation is supposed to ensure that welfare concerns are addressed but because they are mostly run as a volunteer based organisation, they often don't have resources to check into every concern (unless it's a government funded organisation)

A zoo contributing to conservation research is great, but not if it is at the expense of the animals' welfare - welfare should always be prioritised, with research and conservation efforts to follow.

Welfare is a state that is in flux. So a negative welfare state can move into positive welfare state under different influences.

There are multiple factors that influence zoo animal welfare: enclosure/habitat, expression of natural behaviour, guest interaction, diet, enrichment, water quality, hygeine ect. It'll rarely just be one factor, though it does depend how salient that factor is.

Just because a keeper or management of a zoo have been there for a long time, doesn't mean they can't be criticised - it is possible to be still using outdated practises and believing in methodologies and management practises that need updating - that's the whole point of continued education

Having limited resources can often impact welfare. Giving a facility the resources they need to improve is a good start to improving welfare.

Even if an animal is being handled in an inappropriate way for a short time, that doesn't mean that can't have long term implications for welfare eg. if every time your dog jumped on you when you got home and you smacked him in the face once before going on with your day, that doesn't mean that your dog won't learn negative associations with your arrival just because it was one time.

Best practise husbandry of zoo animals involves:

Use of positive reinforcement based voluntary husbandry and health care

All interaction based on choice and voluntary interaction that is reinforced with primary reinforcement such as food

Mostly hands off approaches for the species that require them (ungulates, large primates, large carnivores)

Relatively stable social groups with aggression only in specific situations/contexts that are normal for the species

Back areas for animals to rest outside of public view

Species appropriate habitats to meet species specific behaviour requirements

Five freedoms of welfare being met but goes above and beyond the bare minimum

Poor zoo animal husbandry involves animals:

Being forced into anything such as presentations, education programs, medical procedures/gating

Any use of physical punishment such as chasing, slapping, pushing or poking - negative reinforcement such as bull hooks are also fairly outdated in handling species like elephants

Being excessively handled, chased and touched/restrained for no reason (eg. for social media videos)

Showing signs of avoidance and aggression constantly towards their keepers

Have constant conflict happening in their social groups

Are living in enclosures that are not suitable for their specific specific needs - size is only one factor in this. Substrate, habitat design, water quality ect. are also things to consider.

Are too close to the public/at risk from the public

Have no areas to retreat from the public/rest away from potential stressors

Have no enrichment program/no daily enrichment

Those are all flags that there could be some poor welfare happening and that a zoo is not prioritising welfare

Okay there's the ramble of the day done. Feel free to ask questions for further clarification if needed.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

At five thirty in the morning, you send Sirius a text. 

Be on time, and there’s a caramel latte in your future. If you’re late I’m giving it to Marcello. 

Marcello is the guy who comes in early every morning to resurface the ice. You actually ordered a drink for him, too, but Sirius doesn’t need to know that. 

The morning air is cool and refreshing, sweeping across your cheeks in the self-made breeze of your brisk steps. You can only have one hand in your pocket with the other holding the drink carrier, but you don’t mind the bite of cold on your fingers. You’ve always loved the sharp, clean feel of winter weather. Though Sirius complains this time of year about leaving practice just to encounter yet more cold outside, the chilly air has always made you feel alive, invigorated. It wakes you up as you walk to the rink. 

Marcello leaves the staff door open for you every morning so that you can practice early. He’s still out on the Zamboni, so you leave his drink on the front desk where he’ll see it. You know you’re not the first person to the rink, but it surprises you that you’re not the second. 

It surprises you even more to find your new coach in the off-ice room. 

Remus is lying on the floor, one knee bent and the other ankle crossed over it in a stretch you recognize. His eyes are closed and his expression pinched. His chest rises and falls with deep, measured breaths. 

“Hi.” 

You try to announce your presence softly, but Remus' eyes fly open like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. You find yourself taking a step back as though to avoid frightening him. 

“Sorry,” you say automatically, and automatically, Sirius’ For what, doll? sounds in your head like an overplayed song. You set your shoulders back and walk over to Remus, crouching to set his drink beside him on the floor. You’ve wagered your bets on a plain tea; he seems like the no-nonsense sort. “I didn’t expect anyone else here this early, but this is for you.” 

“Thanks.” Remus grunts quietly as he sits up, and you pretend you don’t hear. He takes a tentative sip from his cup. You deduce that you’ve wagered correctly when his eyes close blissfully. “I can go if you want the room to stretch.” 

“That’s alright. Plenty of room for both of us,” you say awkwardly. 

But as soon as you set your foot up on the ballet bar, you second-guess yourself. Is it difficult for him, watching you do things he can no longer do himself? You knew about Remus’ injury—everyone does—but seeing his face creased in pain doing such a simple stretch is another thing entirely. 

You watch him covertly as you bend over your leg, feeling the pleasant strain in your muscles, but Remus’ expression doesn’t change. He only stands, taking his ankle in one hand and wrapping the other around the bar as he stretches his quads. 

Remus has long fingers, you’ve noticed. Pianist’s fingers. They make you think of every routine of his you’ve seen a million times, arms and hands always outstretched to emphasize the facile grace of his movements. He was art in motion, in his day. Now you’re not sure what he is. Still lovely, but something else. 

“I wanted to apologize.” 

Remus’ voice breaks into your reverie so gently that at first you think you’ve imagined it. You look up at him, bemused, and his gaze is steady on yours. It’s that skater’s poise. Quiet, resolute. 

“I didn’t mean to shout at you yesterday,” he says. “I was frustrated because I feel like you really could get past that jump with just a tiny adjustment—” his face tenses as some of that frustration seeps back into his voice now, but Remus quells it “—but I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Sirius was right, I wasn’t telling you in a way that was helpful.” 

“It’s okay.” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to, but the air in the room feels thick and awkward. You’re not used to needing to have these conversations with people on your team. You, Sirius, and your coach used to be a unit. There was no need for shouting matches and make-ups. You had years of history together; you knew how to handle each other. You miss that ease terribly now. 

“What I should have said,” Remus goes on, “is that I’ve noticed you hesitating before a lot of higher difficulty jumps. You’ll be about to go into it, and then you second-guess yourself and under-rotate. That doesn’t work on the ice.” 

You drop your gaze, nodding. “I know,” you say as you swap legs on the bar. “I’ll try to stop.” 

“We’ll work on it.” Remus’ voice softens, and you glance up to find a sheepish sort of kindness in his eyes. One corner of his mouth lifts tentatively. “And I’ll work on giving better feedback the first time around.” 

You return his smile, a heavy load in your chest lifting just slightly. It feels like the return of your cautious optimism from before yesterday’s practice, like flirting with the possibility of everything being all right after all. Maybe you can salvage the season after all. 

Sirius practically stomps into the room, dark circles under both eyes and looking like he hates the world and everyone in it. Remus’ almost-smile evaporates. 

“Here you are.” You pass Sirius his coffee magnanimously. “Thank you for being on time.” 

He takes a long sip. Once he’s finished, he says gravely, “This can’t continue.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” you promise as Remus lets his foot drop and steps away from the bar to make room for Sirius. 

“Ten minutes of stretching,” your coach says gruffly. You feel your lips purse dissatisfiedly; you take this to mean that although he’s apologized to you, he’s not over his tiff with Sirius from the day before. Remus turns from the room. “I’ll see you out there.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You manage to get through practice without bloodshed. Remus is short and businesslike, but while his pointers don’t leave much room for conversation he does take the time to make sure you understand him and he praises you when you improve. Sirius doesn’t spare many words for your new coach, though you know him saying little is likely an improvement over what he’d have to say if he did speak up. Still, he’s not exactly thorough in making sure Remus doesn’t see the smirks and derisive looks he sends your way every time your coach’s voice reaches you across the ice. The other boy pretends not to notice. 

It doesn’t escape you either that Remus has far less critiques for Sirius than for you. Sirius is more likely to get ahead of himself so that he falls out of sync with you, whereas you’re more likely to fall in general. 

You didn’t used to be like this. Just a handful of weeks ago you and Sirius were an equal match, but recent events have planted an anxiety in you that makes you bail out of your risker jumps and sabotages your routine. Remus is right; you’re hesitant. Sirius throws himself into every move, full-bodied and artful, but you just can’t do the same. Until you can catch up and get back to where you were, you’re a liability. 

You land most of your jumps, fall on more than usual, and by the time practice wraps up you know you’ll be bruised all over. If Remus is frustrated with you again, he’s better at hiding it. He only instructs you to work on whatever mental block is hindering you, promises to see you both tomorrow, and goes. 

Then Sirius can’t contain himself any longer. 

“God, what a prick,” he fumes as he puts guards on his skates. He starts undoing his laces, nails cut short for the season but still painted a shimmery black. “I hate that stupid line he gets between his eyebrows right before he lays into us. He’s like a sixty-year-old schoolteacher stuck in a twenty-something body.” 

You look down to hide a smile. “He was nicer today, though. That’s something.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, so was I. Did you lay into him, too?” 

“Didn’t have to,” you say complacently. “He apologized himself. You know, like adults do.” 

“Don’t be daft. He’s not taking the high road, he just doesn’t want to lose his job.” 

You turn to give Sirius an exasperated look, only he’s looking back at you with a similar expression. 

You know Sirius thinks you’re being too trusting of your new coach. He only wants to protect you, both of you, but something he’s never been able to grasp is that optimism doesn’t have to be blind. You can be wary of Remus, can have that same desire to protect the team you and Sirius have built together, and at the same time be hopeful that he really will be the thing you need. You’re desperate to make this work for the both of you. You’re a pair in repair, and though it was your former coach that broke you, if there’s a chance that Remus could fix things you’re ready to welcome him with open arms. 

Peter was Sirius’ friend before he was yours. He fell into coaching you both almost by accident, it felt so natural. Both you and Sirius had coaches throughout your childhoods, but it was nice to have someone around your own age, who viewed skating through the same lens as you did and could talk to you on a more personal level. Peter was your friend in a way your other coaches hadn’t been. That made his betrayal sting all the worse. 

There had been a hearing, when Peter’s texts came out. The International Skating Union had gotten involved. He’d been sharing things—tips, secrets, videos of your entire routine from start to finish—with another team. It felt odd, reading about it in the news. Almost invasive. It felt like something you should be discussing back at Sirius’, the three of you sat in your usual places around his living room, hashing it out the way you always did. But you weren’t a unit anymore. 

Sirius didn’t want another coach at all after that. You could keep each other in check, he said, and realistically anyone you hired would know all about your recent disaster with Peter. Your names were attached to one of the largest figure skating scandals the community had had in years. You saw the logic in your partner’s reluctance, but you still thought you needed an outside perspective to tell you when you both were going wrong. You needed a real coach. Then, you’d thought of Remus. 

You wish you could say it was Remus’ illustrious figure skating career that drew you to him. He was the golden boy of the sport for nearly a decade, shooting up into stardom at an unprecedented age. He earned enough medals to likely break whatever shelf his family tried to put them on, and he took home gold for Britain at just seventeen. But truthfully, it was his isolation that appealed to you. 

Remus Lupin left the figure skating community entirely after his injury. He’d returned to his hometown in Wales, reportedly to be with his family but more likely to heal—physically and mentally, from the hip dislocation that cost him Worlds and then the rest of his career. By all accounts, he would have been the last person to follow your hearing or any of the ensuing gossip everyone else you spoke to seemed to take as gospel. You had to fight tooth and nail to get Sirius to let you hire Remus, and even still he’s resistant to the addition to your team. But it’s in Sirius’ nature to expect people to hurt him; you have to be the opposite to compensate. 

“He said you were right,” you say lightly. 

Sirius blinks. “Pardon?” 

You shrug, feigning insouciance. “I don’t think it’s likely he’ll ever say it to your face, but this morning Remus told me that you were right, and he does need to communicate his feedback better. He seemed better about it today, right? I think it’s sweet that he’s trying.” 

Sirius scowls, standing while you finish packing up. “He’s kissing your ass because he knows you were the one who wanted him. He doesn’t give a shit about us.” 

“I didn’t mention anything,” you reply. “And he may not, but he definitely gives a shit about skating. I walked in on him stretching in the off-ice room this morning. It was…sad.” A small part of you feels wrong for sharing this, even with Sirius; it felt like a private moment you’d intruded on, although Remus had been stretching in a public place. “You can tell he really misses it, you know?” 

Sirius is quiet for a beat, and when you look over he’s sucking his teeth. Peering at you in that way of his, like he’s got you all figured out. 

“You should have a heart-to-heart with him about it,” he says blankly. “He seems like the sort of bloke who really enjoys a pity party.” 

“Prick.” You stand, bumping your shoulder into his roughly. Sirius wraps an arm around them to bind you to his side, walking you towards the exit. “We’re stopping for donuts on our way home. You owe me after I bought your coffee.” 

“Oi, bribery’s no good if I have to pay it back. And what would your new favorite coach say about us eating those during the season?” 

“The same as any coach; nothing, because we’re not gonna tell him.”

[artilite]

fuck you *lethal companies your in stars and time*

(long) exposition under cut (spoilers for ISAT + lethal company logs)

This au takes place around the time of sigurd's logs/before them (i haven't decided if Sigurd's crew exists here or not yet)!

Siffrin was someone who used to live on the Golden Planet before it got eaten. They may not remember anything beyond being found in an escape pod, but they're still paralyzed by fear when getting close to the selling window. He's always first in the facilities, making jumps, braving traps, and heading as deep as he can for scrap.

Mirabelle and Isabeau are the medic and fighter respectively, who both came from the same moon colony. They were both pressured into taking jobs by a work-based society, and applied for the company under the impression that it was a short, high-paying internship with nebulous risks.

Odile is their resident ship manager. She keeps a watchful eye over everyone and relays information about monsters, scrap, etc. In absolutely dire situations, she may come help with scrap. Despite claiming to be a first-timer, her badge says Leader??

Nille and Bonnie ended up with the crew after taking a chance to run away from their parents. Seeing a high-paying job that provided everything and would take them far away sounded too good to pass up. Nille lied about Bonnie's age to take them with her. After seeing the reality of this job, though, she regrets not finding another way out. Bonnie is permanently on ship-duty; they mainly type in whatever numbers Odile tells them. Nille is also a fighter, though she prefers the weighty stop sign as opposed to Isabeau's shovel.

Loop, after hundreds upon thousands of quotas, dying every possible death, learning everything they could- even the real identity of The Company- realizes there was one thing they've never done before. They've never died to The Company. Desperate for a way out, and haunted by the whispers and screams beyond the wall, they give themselves up. Maybe that would finally satisfy the monster- to have devoured every last piece of the Golden Planet. Maybe their crew could finally rest easy that way. Well, they didn't loop back. But through the dark and damp, there's static on the walkie talkie. Loop picks up, and hears their own voice just beyond the wall.

(Loop's design is the most different by far, since instead of consuming a star, they themselves are slowly getting digested. They're inspired by the visual of red crying faces from the logs :D)

[r-is-typing]

changes | s.r

summary: in which spencer gets overwhelmed, taking it out on reader

requested?: yes! requested by @adrienneleclerc

pairing: post-prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

category: angst with a fluff ending

content warnings: spencer being mean, talks of reid in prison

Three months. Three months had gone by since Spencer Reid was released from Millburn Correctional Facility due to Cat Adams and Lindsey Vaughn framing him for the murder of Nadie Ramos.

Since his release, Spencer had went through a very obvious change. He wasn't as talkative to his teammates except for discussing work, he was more agressive and harsh compared to his normal softness and gentle nature. What had changed the most was his relationship with her. Since his release, Y/N had tried to be there as much as she could.

She would make his coffee every morning, placing it on the counter in a travel mug she had given him as a Christmas gift a few years prior. She would iron his button-ups and work pants, she would make him breakfast on the days where he didn't leave in the middle of the night.

Despite Y/N's efforts in making Spencer feel somewhat normal considering what the man had gone through, it wasn't enough. She could tell, but what she didn't know was how to fix it.

The build up was slow. It started with conveniently forgetting the travel mug on their kitchen counter to spending hours ‘working’ in his office, even though she knew he wasn’t. Then, spending the night elsewhere despite knowing, thanks to one Penelope Garcia, that they had been home from a case for who knows how long, to today.

She didn’t know how she didn’t see it coming. Spencer’s team had just gotten back from a case, where they had been in Georgia for a week. Penelope had sent her a message, telling the woman that the jet had landed and that Spencer would most likely be home soon, but that the case was rough.

Y/N decided in that moment to make him his favorite meal, coffee just the way he liked, and putting on one of the Stark Trek’s for them to watch.

She sat on their couch folding the warm laundry that she had just pulled out of the dryer when she heard the sound of keys jingling and the doorknob twisting.

Her eyes looked up to meet Spencer and she stood to her feet. “Hi, handsome.” She spoke lovingly but softly. She takes note of how his eyes don’t meet her, only a simple nod greets her as he enters the dimly light apartment.

“I put some clean pajamas and your towel on the bathroom counter in case you wanted to shower. I tidied up your office a bit, I made the bed, and I’m just folding laundry. I have dinner ready whenever you’re hun-“

Spencer let out a groan, interrupting her. “Can you just stop?” Y/N froze, her hands holding onto his gray Comme des Garçons sweater that had a red heart on the left side.

“Wha-“ “Just shut up for one second!”

She barely had time to breathe before Spencer started shouting again. “I mean, seriously. I just got back from work and you’re down my throat about- about nothing!” He throws his arms up in the air for effect.

“I-I don’t need this, you, smothering me all the time. I get home, I want to relax and read or maybe lie down, but no. You’re jumping down my throat, wanting attention, or, or whatever you’re wanting.”

Spencer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. One of his hands went up, aggressively ripping his tie open and throwing it down on-top of the coffee table in the living room.

Y/N felt a burning sensation in her eyes. Tears, she thought. She sighs, wiping her tears, awaiting the next thing Spencer is going to say. What other harsh things are going to come her way.

“Do you realize that since I’ve been released from a place I shouldn’t have even been in, I haven’t had a moment of silence?”

Spencer stares down at her in a way he’s never looked at her before. Y/N could only assume, thanks to the tears clouding her eyes, that he hated her.

“I come back from literal prison and you haven’t given me a moment to just breathe!” He angrily runs his hands through his hair. “For once, I’m just asking you to be silent.”

“No, no. Actually, I’m telling you. Be quiet and leave me alone.” The words Y/N never thought she would hear slipped from his mouth.

Y/N stood to her feet, shuffling quickly to their shared bedroom. Spencer heard the slam of the door and the click of the lock, and he just sighed.

Hours went by and Y/N was in their bed, face buried in the comforter. Her tears had soaked everything from the pillowcase to her cheeks, and even through her shirt. Y/N eyed the bedside table.

2:05am

Y/N sighed, rolling over and staring at the wall, even though she couldn’t see a thing. She heard light shuffling which she could only assume was Spencer.

Down the hall, he stood from the couch, glancing into the kitchen and at the microwave to determine the time. Spencer rubbed the sleep from his eyes, even though he had probably slept give or take about fourty-five minutes.

Spencer cursed to himself, remembering why he was on the couch in the first place.

Remembering what he had said to her. His eidetic memory being a blessing and a curse in the moment because he remembered the look on her face when he yelled. He remembered how she cowered. The eyes that would crease with happiness because of her love for him staring at him in a mix of fear and sadness burned in his memory.

Spencer stood to his feet, shuffling quickly but quietly to the shut bedroom door. He reached up and grabbed the universal key for all the locks in the apartment from the door frame.

Twisting the key, he unlocked the door, opening it to a dark room. The only light was from the alarm clock in the bedside table. Spencer could see Y/N's silhouette laying in the dark under their comforter.

"Sweetheart?" He called out, no response.

He walked through the door, closing it quietly behind him. Spencer navigated to the bed in the dark, pulling down his side of the blanket and sliding in to bed.

"I know you're awake." He says, she hums sleepily.

Spencer sighs, looking to the side where she was, his eyes practically staring holes into her back. "I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have said those things." Y/N hums in a sleepy agreement.

"Everything has changed since I came back," he started. "but that's not on you. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You were being perfect and trying to help me adjust to life back home, and I took you for granted."

Y/N rolls over, facing him with half-lidded eyes. "You really hurt my feelings, Spencer." She spoke softly, afraid that if she was any louder, they'd both be scared. Spencer goes to cradle her head, but waits until she signals an 'okay'. With his large hands on either side of her face, he looks at her.

"I know, baby, and I'm so so sorry." Spencer kisses the crown of her head. "I'll spend a lifetime making it up to you." Y/N hums, curling into his side. She opens her eyes barely to look at him.

"You shouldn't have to go through this alone, okay? You're right, things have changed, but that doesn't mean you have to be alone, Spence. You're not alone anymore. I'm your family and I'm always going to be here for you."

Spencer stares at her with a lovesick smile. "I'm so lucky." He mumbled, kissing her head again. The two get into their normal positions in bed before falling asleep. Spencer was lucky to have her, as she was lucky to have Spencer.

He knew that with her, things would be okay.

r is typing...

thank you so much for the request, and i hope it's what you wanted! i'm working on other requests as well, but feel free to send in more as my requests are open!

i'm also trying new formatting for my posts (new dividers, text coloring, etc) so let me know your thoughts!

as usual, here are the important links!

masterlist & prompt list

request & guidelines

r is signing off...

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 12

James “Bucky” Barnes + Drool/Spit

This is winter soldier Bucky, so imagine he’s wearing that half face mask he wears in the movie. Hes wearing a mouth guard under it, google says that’s what it’s called. Im also taking canon, and throwing it in the toilet for this.

No outright smut in this, cuz it felt a lil weird to add it, as Bucky kinda sees the reader as a very nice and comforting handler. Readers an Avenger 🗣️

2024 kinktober masterlist

Maybe dressing up as a hydra agent wasn’t your… best idea. But hindsight was twenty-twenty. Steves friend was locked up in a hydra facility near where you had just been for a mission, and you knew he was planning a whole thing to get him out. You also knew that it would be a shitshow if it went his way, did he really think it would work just not telling people? It was a good thing Steve was hot, because sometimes his head was full of dirt.

You hadn’t honestly thought it would work, alright? You just assumed you could sneak in, maybe get some info from their tech, see where they kept the winter solider, and get out of there. The documents had said he would be frozen down, so of course you almost shit yourself when he was wide awake and staring at, the same way a starving dog looks at a steak.

So maybe you tucked him under your arm and just ran outta there. Okay, it wasn’t that comedic. You just used your best “hydra bastard” accent and lingo, and somehow got the winder solider, Bucky? Was that what Steve called him? To follow you out. He seemed almost willing, which didn’t make a lot of sense, since well. You were dressed up as a hydra agent.

You just hadn’t counted for the fact that he would see you as his new handler. This was what you were thinking about as you were sitting on the couch in one of your safe houses. One you had bought, not shield or Stark. You loved Tony, you did, there was just something nice about an apartment that wasn’t bugged from hell and back.

Looking down at the winder soldier- you should start calling him Bucky. At Bucky kneeling by your feet. The moment you got home you changed into something more comfortable, just some sweats and an old t-shirt you stole from an ex who’d been a huge baseball nerd.

“so, uh… Buck..y? what do you wanna like, do” you awkwardly said, scratching at the stubble on your chin from the uneasy tension you felt in the air. Feeling you nuzzle against your knee almost made you jump right out the seat. The yell was choked down before it became a reality as you looked down, frows furrowed in confusion as he just seemed to… nuzzle you.

Hesitantly you reached a hand down, approaching him with the caution one would a feral dog on the street. His pale eyes were kinda creepy, with all that eyeblack smudged around them like that, and how they just laser focused on every little movement you did. Bucky’s hair was oily and uncomfortable as you ran a hand through it. Couldn’t really blame the guy though, could you. you couldn’t imagine hydra was the nicest people to work under.

Bucky seemed to arch into the touch when he realized you weren’t trying to hit him, a choked raspy noise leaving him as his eyes almost rolled all the way back. Hadn’t Steve said hydra had this guy for, like, 70 years? Then you guessed it wasn’t weird for him to ache for any kind of human touch. Youd seen Tony after he was brought back from the cave he was kept in. hed been so touchy but also flinched away from everything. And that was just 3 months, you couldn’t imagine what this guy had been through.

You hadn’t thought about how you were rubbing Buckys head as you mulled over your thoughts, your second hand reaching down to rub his ear and rub a thumb across his cheek, right above that mask of his. You also hadn’t noticed the way his eyes seemed to droop, pupils blowing wide as he leant all his weight against your leg, or how something wet was seeping into your sweats.

It took a while for you to finally come back to yourself, having gone on some long tangent in your head about trauma and how to deal with this guy before you could bring him back to the tower. Looking down you had wanted to apologize, only to see how Bucky looked like he was in heaven, slumped against your knee and eyes barely open a crack as he melted under your hands. The big spot of drool on your leg made you realize how long you had been sitting like this.

“Fuck, uh. Sorry dude, didn’t mean to space out like that” you chuckled a bit dryly, finally pulling your hands back, your heart giving a lurch as he let out a raspy noise. There wasn’t much voice behind it, but it felt like one of those scarred fighting dogs trying to whine. It was… kinda cute in its own way, even if it came from the winter solider of all people.

“That things probably real uncomfortable, huh?” you mumble, eyes landing on that mask of his. With little though behind it, you reach down and carefully search for the release mechanism. It took longer than intended, with Bucky trying to nuzzle into your hands whenever they came close. God this guy was touch starved, hopefully the team would know what to do.

A soft amused huff passed through your lips as you finally got the mask of him, strings of drool hanging from his parted lips against the inside of the material. “Drooly boy, aren’t you” you joked, only for Bucky to let out the faintest of whimpers as he tried to nuzzle against you again.

As he panted with parted lips, you could spot what looked like some kind of cover on his teeth. Had hydra tried to silence him in another way? Was that why he didn’t talk, or was it all trauma? You hadn’t thought about your actions much before you found yourself carefully pulling on his jaw, Bucky leaning his head along as he simply let you do as you pleased.

Bucky let out a louder pleased noise as your fingers slid into his mouth, his tongue rubbing insistently against your fingers as if he was exploring. With a shaky exhale you carefully moved your fingers around, trying to grab onto what was covering his upper teeth. The entire time Bucky seemed more interesting in licking at and sucking your fingers. The movements were too messy to be hydra trained, at least that could help a little on the guilt it made you feel.

Spit was rolling down his chin, Bucky not even seeming to think about swallowing it. With a little struggle, you finally got whatever was covering his teeth off, Bucky trying to follow your fingers as you pulled away, finally realizing that it was a mouth guard. Thick strings of drool hung from the mouth guard and Bucky’s lips and pink tongue, making you shudder.

There was no way you were gonna go down that road, not with how messed up this guy was. There was also that whole thing that he might think you are his handler, so that was something you would explore. Instead you put the mouth guard to the side with his mask, and used your sleeve to wipe all the spit and drool of his face, mumbling soft scoldings at him as Bucky tried to lick you again.

“Lets just go get you cleaned up, alright?” you finally sigh after having to pull your hands to yourself, after he tried to catch them in his mouth again. Bucky seemed more than happy to follow you as you lead him into the bathroom, starting to take his outfit off before you even said anything.

Instinctively you wanted to scold him for just doing that, but seeing him step into the empty bathtub and look at you with those softer, but still blank eyes, made your chest ache just a little more. The shower took a while, with you having to scrub his hair multiple times. You caught him drooling during the entire process, as if he didn’t have full control of his bodily functions. You also saw him get hard, his cock pink and twitching, oozing its own fluids from what must be the first pleasurable touches in years.

You didn’t do anything about it though, instead helping him dry off and wiping his chin as he kissed softly at your palm, like his own way of saying thanks. “You’re welcome. Come on, I’ll get you something to wear” you mumble out, voice softer and more careful as you lead him to your bedroom and find something that’ll fit him.

It was a struggle to get him into bed, the man clearly uncomfortable with how soft it was and unsure of how to lay. Bucky only seem to lay still when you laid down with him, and he only settled after you let him take your fingers into his mouth again.

The action of just sucking and licking put him in a much calmer state, Bucky’s eyes drooping as he melted against the pillow, even as he still stared at you with such intensity. Seeing him fall asleep so easily after everything made it bearable that he was suckling on your fingers and soaking your pillow in drool. You would figure this out, one way or another. Even if it meant letting Bucky drool all over you until you did.

[monstersholygrail]

I am here to ask for more monster fucker scientist nerd, BUT

With a moth hybrid reader (like they lowkey are just mothman but a Luna moth) who can’t talk but is very smart and squeaks likes moths do sometimes

I’m sorry I just rarely see the ‘reader is monster’ kind of thing and I really like weird nerd for some reason

You write so good I love ittt

Ayyye, very cool idea!! And don’t apologize, you’re all good, babe. I like reader!monster and nerds too (and thank you oh my goodness!!)

The Scientist throws the newspaper onto the counter with a scowl on his face. ‘Government Scientist Breaks Out of Facility with Hybrid: Insider Conspiracy?’

The nerve of that guy. Letting his passion and lust warp his brain like that. To ruin an entire government study and all for what? Love. To have a mate. He would never make a mistake like that if he got the chance. Just once chance and they’d all see how brilliant he was!

Bugs were his field of study. Close to Hybrids. If only they had picked him instead he could’ve shown them the benefits and uses to what a bug can produce. His entire home lab is lit up with the evidence of it. Countless vials fill the rows of shelves along his walls. Each and every one of them glowing a lovely neon color.

Suddenly a banging at the glass door that leads to his patio shakes the scientist out of his dark thoughts. Turning around he watches as you, a Moth Hybrid, walks right into the door. Over and over again, your eyes glazed over as you look into the light.

Despite knowing what brought you here, the scientist remains just as curious about you. He gently guides you inside and helps you to focus on him instead of the vials. Next he tries to get you to speak, to explain yourself. He can’t figure out how annoyed to be at your interruption until you do. But when you open your mouth all you do is let out the tiniest little squeaks that grate against his eardrums.

He guesses you said something though as a second later you’re popping out of your seat and scurrying about. Your wings nearly knocking into everything around you in a way that has his heart jumping up into his throat. He watches you with rapt attention as you walk around his lab, mixing things together. He wants to stop you, to tell you you’re messing everything up, but he’s mesmerized by you. The way your green wings shine against the light of the vials.

Eventually you walk over and hand him something. It takes him far longer than he’s willing to admit to realize you had made a breakthrough in his recent hypothesis. He looks between you and the vial in awe, wondering exactly how long you had been watching him.

After such a discovery the scientist felt he couldn’t truly kick you out. You were now a team. And as the months passed in which you two worked together. It became more. He kisses you first thing when he walks into the lab, he asks you your thoughts even though all you can do is squeak in return, and he lets you take lead when you’re onto something he shockingly didn’t notice.

It’s as close to marital bliss as the scientist could ever imagine himself being. And it seems you feel that way too as one day, the both of you working furiously in the lab together, you bring him a vial dull and black. He doesn’t understand but he’s getting quite used to the feeling. You motion between the vial and your belly before touching his. Restoring the motion until it dawns on him.

You want to have babies with him. Correction— you want him to have babies with you. He’d be carrying them. He looks down at the vial, his expression full of contemplation. He would have to take it easy on his work, leaving most of it to you. He’d be growing multiple lives inside his body. He’d be giving up his chance to make a difference in order to do this with you.

He quickly takes the vial and downs it in a single gulp, exhaling shakily. He knows he made the right choice. Because he may be giving up the chance to make a difference but he’d be making a difference in his own life. In yours. And with your arrival he’s learned over time that that’s enough.

A heat slowly overcomes his body and he can feel something inside of him expanding. Making room for the eggs you’ll deposit inside him. The urge to slam you down on the lab counter and fuck you till you breed him seizes control of his actions till he does exactly as the urge demands.

You look so beautiful, glittering amongst the shining lights. Yet you’re the brightest thing he’s ever seen and he’s drawn to you. Always has.

[steddiealltheway]

It’s a cold Wednesday night in January that has Eddie turning the thermostat up and allowing the government supplied heat to fill the trailer. He glances up at the vents and gives them a quick middle finger, wondering if they bugged the place to observe him or make sure he isn’t spreading their secrets.

He doesn’t really care at this point if they’re watching though. They already held him at the hospital for long enough, poking and prodding as if he wasn’t even human. But he didn’t turn into a vampire or some shit because of those damn bats. No. The jagged, ugly scars littering his body served as a lovely reminder that he was ultimately human.

Eddie glances at a nearby mirror and cringes at his face, taking a look at the long scar running down his cheek, jaw, and neck. The Corroded Coffin guys all said it made him look metal, and he would throw in a, “Hell yeah,” before smoothly changing the subject to something that didn’t involve him for once.

He takes a finger and slowly trails it over the pale pink skin, wondering if there will ever be a day he won’t notice it.

“Eddie,” Steve calls out gently from the room down the hall.

Eddie jumps back and glances toward him, hand falling to his side and flexing uncomfortably as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“You okay?”

Eddie smiles and gestures toward the thermostat. “Damn thing wasn’t working for a minute there. You’d think with the amount of hush hush money they were able to pay all of us, they’d be able to give me and Wayne a better trailer.”

But Steve only crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, eyebrows raising gently. It’s not entirely accusatory, but it’s clear that he doesn’t believe a thing Eddie’s saying.

Although they’ve grown close while going through the same treatment and tests in Owen’s new secret facility, it still surprises Eddie how easily Steve can read people. More specifically, how easily he can read him of all people. “Just got lost in thought,” Eddie confesses while making his way back to his room as he sees Steve squint at the lights in the living area.

Steve steps out of the way as Eddie brushes by him and closes the door. He hope it’s enough honesty to end the conversation.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks, ignoring the signals Eddie is giving him.

Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face and climbs back into his bed, quick to pull up the blanket around himself in an attempt to get some much needed warmth while simultaneously covering his scars from Steve. “Stuff.”

Steve rests his hands on his hips for a second and stares, mouth opening and closing for a moment before deciding against whatever he was going to say. Instead, he climbs into the bed with Eddie and joins him under the blanket, keeping enough distance so they’re not touching, but they can still feel each other’s body heat.

Eddie glances over at him, noticing the way the one lamp turned on in the room gives him a nice golden halo. He looks gorgeous and untouchable - exactly how Eddie used to think of him through high school and sometimes even now. The perfect golden boy. But despite the name Eddie gave to him years ago, he can’t ignore the flaws that Steve possesses, yet they somehow make him even more perfect to him. Or maybe just human.

Eddie shakes his head and glances away. He wishes Steve came over to smoke so Eddie could blame the drugs on the way his thoughts race when he’s next to him. Instead, he has to face up to his enormous crush on the perfect golden boy.

“Have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks out of the blue.

Eddie snorts and glances at him, only to laugh harder when he sees the adorable look of confusion on his face.

Steve’s brows furrow but the edges of his lips quirk up. “What?”

Eddie pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to try to hide his wife smile. “Kind of random, don’t you think?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I never said I was great at starting conversations. But I was just thinking about what holiday is next.”

“The worst one,” Eddie complains.

Steve turns toward him. “And why’s that?”

Eddie sighs and let’s himself go on a tangent. “It’s the one day of the year where people feel like they have to do all this shit for their partner, and the rest of the year, they think they can just get by doing the bare minimum. And people are left realizing what it would be like if their ‘other half’ actually put in an effort day to day. And then for all the single people, it’s a day where love is shoved in their face, and they have to feel bad and sometimes disgusted by all the public displays of affection going on around them and… I just hate it all. The stupid chocolates in the red heart boxes and the teddy bears and big heart shaped balloons and roses…”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about Valentine’s Day,” Steve says with a laugh.

“Well, now you do.”

They both sit in the silence for a few moments, Eddie thinking about all the other things he didn’t even touch on about Valentine’s Day that he hates, while Steve is probably taking in everything he just said.

Steve bumps his shoulder and asks, “So, I’m assuming that means you have no plans.”

Eddie laughs. “That’s what you got out of that?”

Steve shrugs and looks away with a smile.

Eddie glances at his clock and notices it’s technically Thursday now, and in these early hours, Steve will usually either silently fall asleep or he’ll lay awake in the silence until one of his thoughts has to make itself known.

Either way, Eddie knows he’ll be up for a few more hours, but he’s never regret the sleep he’s lost since they’ve made this silent arrangement.

The bed shifts, and Eddie follows Steve’s lead, laying down fully and staring at the ceiling, trying his best not to reach out for the hand laying beside his. He wonders if he should add something to the ceiling like some type of mural with stars and whatnot.

He tilts his head to the side, envisioning how it would look in the lamplight since he and Steve refuse to sleep in the dark. Or maybe it’s just Steve and Eddie’s picked up on the habit of leaving the lamp on.

“Do you think you’ll make plans?” Steve asks quietly.

Eddie turns to look at him, at a lost for a moment before realizing he’s still on the Valentine’s Day subject. He smiles sadly, “No.” Steve glances over at him and holds his gaze, expecting more. Eddie sighs and gestures at himself. “I mean, I’m not exactly what people want to bring home to their parents at the moment plus with the,” he gestures to his face and drops his hand quickly, averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

He hopes Steve will let it go and not connect the dots back to earlier.

A silence settles between them, but Steve’s gaze burns into the side of Eddie’s face. Then, he finally asks, “Is that what distracted you earlier?” When Eddie doesn’t answer he continues, “I saw you looking in the mirror, and I know you usually go out of your way to avoid them.”

Eddie wants to question how Steve noticed, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up about something that was just passively rather than intentionally observed. “Yeah,” Eddie states simply.

The bed shifts as Steve turns on his side to fully face him. “And you really think you can’t get a date because of them?”

Eddie sighs and rubs both of his hands over his face. “Steve, who is ever going to love me like this?” He turns and continues, “Privately, yes, someone could maybe get past the scars. But in public? You really think someone is going to be proud to say, ‘Here’s my boyfriend,’ and show off me?”

“Yes,” Steve says instantly as if he has no doubt in the world.

Eddie turns away, trying not to get choked up about it. Because how can he explain to him that while it’s nice that Steve has that confidence in him, Eddie wants Steve to be the one to be proud of him. To want him like that.

“Do you think my scars make me unlovable?” Steve asks.

“No! Jesus, Steve,” Eddie rushes to say and turns to him. He reached out and lays a hand over his side, feeling the way the skin puckers under the thin t-shirt. “These are metal as hell. Hot even. They make you more lovable if anything.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and slowly pulls it off his side to hold it up, the scar on it being presented out to Eddie. “And this doesn’t make you more lovable?”

“Steve…” Eddie protests quietly as Steve pulls his hand close to stare at it.

“The scars you got protecting us. You think those make you less lovable?” Steve asks, pulling his hand close enough that his lips ghost over the skin.

Eddie lets out a breath that sounds like Steve as Steve presses a soft kiss into the tough skin. He stares at Eddie with a worried look in his eyes as he whispers, “Too much?”

Eddie shakes his head, too stunned to get the words out.

Steve intertwines their hands and pulls Eddie’s arm toward him. “These scars,” he says kissing the next one on his forearm, “Are beautiful on you.” He moves on to the scar on his elbow stretching to his bicep, lips trailing against the sensitive unmarked skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “How could anyone hate these?” He asks leaving three soft, lingering kisses before shifting on the bed to hover above Eddie, still holding his hand but now against his stomach so he can press a kiss against his shoulder. “These scars show everyone what you were willing to sacrifice for us.”

As Steve moves to the scar on his neck, Eddie’s head drops back, giving him more access as he groans out, “Steve.”

“These scars,” Steve says, kissing up his neck over and past the scars, “Are exactly,” he murmurs as he kisses past his jaw and peppers kisses up his cheek, “Why I love you,” Steve finishes by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth near where the scar that Eddie traced earlier ends.

Eddie glances up at Steve as he hovers over him, trying to make sense of everything he’s saying until it finally clicks. “You love me?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and squeezes his hand before letting it go so he can lightly caress his cheek. “I have since you decided to be a hero and sacrifice yourself. Which was exactly what I told you not to do by the way.”

“I’ve never been great at following rules,” Eddie breathes out and reaches a hand up to run through Steve hair. “Steve?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you, too,” Eddie confesses.

Steve smiles and asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He pauses before adding, “You know, one time when I was little, I captured a squirrel and it may have attacked me and left a scar on my lip.”

Steve laughs. “Is that so?”

Eddie smiles and nods.

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s lips and he moves his thumb to swipe over his top lip. “You know, I think I see it.”

Eddie debates telling him that it was actually his bottom lip, but instead he just breathes out, “Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a teasing smile.

“Steve.”

Steve keeps smiling as he hums, “Hmm?” When Eddie huffs, Steve fakes surprise with a gasp, “Oh. You want me to find the picture for you!”

Eddie groans, “Steve!”

“Uh huh?”

Eddie huffs and cups his face. “You are infuriating.”

“Is that s-”

Eddie interrupts him by taking matters into his own hands and leaning up to kiss him. He feels Steve smile against his lip before finally kissing him back.

Steve pulls away and breathlessly asks, “So, do you think you’ll have plans for Valentine’s Day now?”

Eddie’s head thumps back on the pillow. “Oh my god.” Steve laughs. “Oh my god!” Eddie says and shoves Steve off of him only to roll over so he hovers above him. “You were trying to ask me out this whole time?”

“No, I just wanted to know your opinion of Valentine’s Day.”

Eddie gives him a light punch to the arm and smiles wide as he stares down at Steve, lying beneath him in the golden lamp light. His perfect golden boy.

“I still hate it by the way. Even if I have plans now,” Eddie comments seriously.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put in the effort year round for you and make sure to keep you away from the public that day,” Steve says running a hand through Eddie’s curls before tracing it down the scar on his cheek in a way he thought no one would be able to do - lovingly.

Eddie leans down and gives Steve a quick peck. “I’ve also got some scars on my hips I might want you to check out.”

Steve laughs loudly and pulls him into a kiss that truly makes Eddie breathless, all while tracing his hand over the scar on his cheek. And for the first time, Eddie learns to love the scars adorning his body.

[reiderwriter]

For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!

A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️

Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).

Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye. 

After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary. 

At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest. 

So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets. 

Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation. 

Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you. 

The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence. 

“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour. 

“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?” 

You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him. 

Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son. 

If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed. 

“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son. 

You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy. 

You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by. 

But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well. 

“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”

Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you  it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.” 

He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side. 

“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.” 

His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features. 

“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare. 

“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.” 

“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.

“Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-” 

“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation. 

You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be. 

Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure. 

“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”

“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?” 

“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.” 

“Pretty…. Mom, please.” 

“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.” 

Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right. 

It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him. 

He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat. 

He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her. 

And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank. 

He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently. 

He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute. 

“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?” 

“Mom!” 

“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.” 

It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls. 

The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you. 

“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again. 

“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange. 

“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-” 

“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”

“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.” 

Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off. 

“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.” 

He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears. 

“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.” 

He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply. 

“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?” 

“Yes.” 

“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?” 

“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-” 

“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.

He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him. 

“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?” 

“You're serious?” 

“I guess…. I guess I am.”

“And you're… you're single.” 

Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face. 

“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”

“Neither do FBI agents.” 

“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?” 

“Definitely.” 

[romanticinlove]

misunderstanding

Summary: When Jude is banned because of his celebration, his anger gets the best of him

word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst

___________________________________

During the game against Slovakia, England was putting up a good fight. When the other team scores, it went unanswered for so long. As you watched the game from the stands, you felt very anxious. Your boyfriend, Jude, was playing and you knew he had a lot of pressure of him during this game. You were wondering how he was dealing with the weight of the game, and you worried for him. When the game clock showed the 90th minute, you could only hope that enough time was added for England to make a comeback. When England finally scored, it was Jude who scored. You jumped up in the stand celebrating along the other fans. You could not have been more proud of your boyfriend. It was only when you looked down at the pitch that you saw how Jude decided to celebrate. You didn't think much of it, other players had done this celebration many times before. Sure, you thought it might've been a bit crude but he was just celebrating, you couldn't blame him. When the game came to a close, you were celebrating, Harry Kane scored a goal in extra time that secured the win for England. When you went down to see Jude, you were so proud of him and could not wait to see him. When he left the locker room, you could see that he was upset about something.

"hey baby, I am so proud of you! You played amazingly tonight, I knew you would be the one to put us ahead" You said and went to kiss his cheek, but he simply turned his head. You were confused and continued "Is everything ok?"

"Can we just go?" Jude said, while he couldn't even look you in the eye. You were a bit hurt because of the way he was acting but decided to leave him cool off before trying to talk to him again. As you drove the both of you home, you would occasionally look over at Jude, who only looked out of the window. You dropped Jude off at the facility where the teams were staying. When he went to leave the car, you tried to talk to him again.

"Ok well I'll call you tonight ok? " You said to him hopeful that he would at least give you something.

"I can't call tonight" he said before opening the door, but before he could get off, you began again.

"That's ok, I'll talk to you later then. I love you"

"You too." Jude said and then he shut the door and walked off. You sat in the car for a couple of minutes, shocked at his behavior. The both of you always said I love you to one another. It sounded so stupid and cheesy, but it did hurt you. You began to drive to the hotel where you were staying. Before, the distance would've killed the both of you, but maybe now it was necessary. You tried to think about every possible thing that could've set him off. When you couldn't think of anything, you tried to brush it off. When you arrived at the hotel, you got ready for bed. Just when you were about to go to bed, you decided to text Jude.

you: Hey Jude, I don't know what happened tonight, but I just wanted to let you know that I am very proud of you, you did great. I love you, please text me back <3

Read at 10:47

When you woke up and saw that he left you on read, you got a bit upset. You genuinely had no idea what happened and you thought maybe it had something to do with you. You decided to try and text his teammate, Trent, and see if maybe he knew something.

You: hey Trent, Do you know what's wrong with Jude???

Trent: did he not tell you?

You: apparently not

trent: Y'know his celebration yesterday? He got a €30,000 fine, and a ban

you: are you serious??

Trent: unfortunately

You were very upset and immediately called Jude.

"Jude why didn't you tell me about the fine and ban??" you said as soon as he answered the phone

"Who told you about that?"

"it doesn't matter, why didn't you?"

"y/n I don't have to tell you every little thing that happens, stuff just happens"

"Not every little thing, but yeah things like that are important, especially when you get disrespectful with me"

"you still haven't answered my question"

"I told you it doesn't matter"

"who did you ask?" Jude said as he began to raise his voice a little. He was met with silence and then he spoke up again. "y/n, who told you about that?"

"I asked one of your teammates"

"Oh so instead of going to me, you go to another guy? How is that right?" Jude said in an accusatory tone. You didn't like what he was implying.

"What are you trying to say right now, you think I would cheat on you?"

"why did you have to go behind my back?"

"You were being cold and unresponsive, I was worried" you said. Jude scoffed not he other end and you began to get teary eyed "we're not accomplishing anything right now, ok. I will call you later when we're both a bit more calm."

"Yeah sure, maybe you can call my teammate and tell him about this" he said before hanging up the phone. You sat indoor hotel room, dumbfounded by this argument. How could he think that about you? You were beyond angry, but you couldn't think about why you were crying right then and there. But maybe he was right, maybe you should've texted Trent, maybe you should've waited for him to be ready. As all of these maybe's went though your head you got a text.

Jude: Honestly, I don't know what to do right now, I need space, I can't be focused on this and the euros, soju please leave me alone right now

you: Jude I will respect you space but please know that I would never do that to you, I promise

Jude: Ok

You: I love you

Read at 12:26

________________________________

a/n: This was my first attempt at angst so pls lmk what you think!!

[joeybsversion]

Girl Dad

Joe Burrow x Reader

Joe takes his daughter to practice

9 days after entering the world, your daughter made her first Bengals practice debut. Since then, she’s spent most of her Sundays there as well. That is truly a right that comes with being the quarterbacks daughter.

Joe was the best dad. Even before she was born her catered to your every need. He continues to jump at her every whim.

“You ready to go, baby girl?” He asks, pulling into the facility parking lot. You had to travel for a work emergency with no notice, leaving Joe in charge for the day. “C’mon.” He pulls her from the car and slung the diaper bag over his shoulder, heading inside.

The sound of loud conversation and even louder music can be heard from the locker room as Joe makes his way down the hallway. Appearing around the corner with the small baby in his arms, everyone gasps. The locker room turned into a silent dead zone.

Usually there’s a strict no girls allowed rule in the locker room, but today the team would make an exception.

“Mama had to leave town, so we’re adding another player to the roster for the day.” Joe jokes with the team.

It was the day after a game so there wouldn’t be much practicing going on. Just watching film, talking about the upcoming game, and going over plays.

“Hi sweetie.” Ja’Marr takes the baby from Joes arms, giving him a chance to tuck the diaper bag into his locker and slip out of his coat.

“She loves her uncle Ja’Marr.” Joe admires his friends playfulness with his daughter.

“But she loves her Uncle Sam more!” Sam interrupted the conversation, taking your daughters tiny hand into his big one and cooing at her.

The guys filtered into the film room, finding a spot to take a seat so they could start the days meetings.

Your daughter was mostly content sitting on Joes lap. He bounced her on his knee and intently watched the screen in front of him. Almost as if she knew what was coming, she let out a loud shriek just as the team rewatched a play of Joe taking a hard hit.

“That’s what I’m saying too.” Joe laughs in response before quickly excusing himself from the room.

The training room was empty with the exception of two. Joe cradled his daughter in his arms, lightly bouncing her as he fed her a bottle. “This is where daddy works out.” He gives her a tour of the room. “So he can stay strong and healthy and take care of you for a long, long time.” He admires the tiny girl in his arms.

Soon enough, she’s drifted off to sleep in his arms. The bottle replaced with a binky which is bouncing up and down as she sucks on it in her sleep and a pink blanket wrapped around her.

Joe makes his way back into the room with the rest of the team. He presses a finger to his lips, motioning for the rest of the team to be quiet.

In that moment, he feels like a true winner, cradling his most prized possession, the best trophy ever, in his arms.

[ckret2]

Chapter 56 of human Bill Cipher probably not about to be the Mystery Shack's prisoner much longer:

Bill and Mabel wrap up their impromptu lesson on the second dimension, while Ford and Dipper wrap up their final preparations for Bill's execution.

Dipper peeked in through the door to the gift shop. When no one acknowledged him, he cautiously meandered across the living room toward Ford, straight between Bill and Mabel without either of them glancing at him; they were too caught up in Bill answering Mabel's question about how to see through walls with the fourth dimension.

When Dipper was nearly out of the room, Bill suddenly focused on him. "Hey stinky, what have you been up to?"

Dipper jumped. "What?"

Mabel laughed. "Yeah! You smell like burning hair."

"You smell like nightmares," Bill corrected.

Ford muttered a curse under his breath. Ford hadn't noticed a smell, but Dipper's soul had fallen into the Nightmare Realm—did its distinctive scent still cling to him? Would Bill realize what it meant? If he did—

Dipper swallowed hard. "I... was... having a nightmare?"

Bill considered that. "Ask a stupid question..." He shrugged and turned back to the grid he'd been adding notes to.

Dipper sighed in relief. He joined Ford in the entryway to watch the lesson in bafflement. Under his breath, he murmured, "Has this been going on a while?"

"At least the last fifteen minutes." That was how long Ford had been watching. He'd learned a couple things about higher dimensional physics even he hadn't known.

"Wait," Mabel said, "Bill, I get it! You don't look through walls, you look over them!"

Bill's face split into a wide grin. "Explain it!"

"It's like, if I was floating above the second dimension, I could just see over all the walls! But Flatworlders don't even know what 'above' is, so they'd think I was looking through the walls somehow! So there's got to be some kind of fourth dimensional place 'above' the third dimension, right?!"

"On the money, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"YES!" She'd run out of facial real estate for stickers, so she slapped it on her headband.

Bill beamed proudly at her. "How come your brother's the one with the straight A's, huh? You could blow him out of the water if you wanted."

Mabel's smile immediately disappeared.

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Oooh." Under his breath, he said, "Mabel hates people saying things like that. I should go rescue her." He crept back into the room. "Hey! Bill!"

Mabel turned toward Dipper. Bill only glanced askance at him. Flatly, he asked, "What."

"Uh..." Dipper skimmed the papers coating the room for anything that he could talk about, and focused on the ringed planet behind the TV. He pointed at it. "Is... that Flatworld?"

Bill shrugged apathetically. "Sure, you can call it that."

"Why are all the countries off the planet?"

"Do you think we lived underground?"

Mabel perked up. "Dipper! The shapes live in outer space! In between their home planet and the planet's rings! They only use the planet for vacations and underground science buildings and stuff."

Dipper asked, "Underground science buildings?"

Bill sighed and turned away from the grid, giving Dipper a look that said I'll give you my attention, but I won't like it. "Research facilities. Like wave pools, particle accelerators, and solar farms. Gigantic equipment like that is more stable anchored in bedrock."

(Ford remembered, suddenly, over thirty years ago, Bill telling him that he ought to dig out a subterranean cavern for the interdimensional portal. "A big machine like this," he'd said, "you want that anchored on all sides by solid rock. It'll be a lot more stable that way." Ford had never dreamed that was a trillion-year-old cultural artifact from a dead civilization.)

Still studying the map, Dipper asked, "How do you tell where your country's borders are if you're just floating in empty space?"

"How do you?"

"We use... rivers, and..."

"And sometimes you just make them up. It's not that complicated."

"Were they all as oppressive as the country in Flatworld?"

Bill gave Dipper a withering look. "This isn't a politics class, kid."

(Ford cast a dubious look at the blood-red letters reading "ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCHISM".)

Dipper scowled, crossed his arms, and looked over the map again. "But, wait—if you were floating in outer space, and you could just... float up and down between your planet's surface and the ring, then why isn't there anything further out than that? What was stopping you from floating all the way to that moon?" He gave Bill a challenging look, as though he'd uncovered a logical fallacy that undermined the whole map.

Bill rolled his open eye. "This is what you get for coming late to class." He pointed his crayon at his star student. "Shooting Star?"

"They did float all the way to the moon!"

Dipper's shoulders dropped. "Oh."

"It was a big extreme sports bragging rights thing," Mabel said. "Like climbing Mount Everest! Except first you have to get through the rings without dying! And it'd take like thirty years to fly there and thirty years to get back!"

"Approximating the human years," Bill said.

"So they couldn't go until they invented cars, because they're fast enough to get through the rings without getting hit and it only takes a year to drive to the moon, but that means you still have to carry enough supplies for two years, and—"

"Hold on," Dipper said. "Cars?"

"Yeah!"

"But there's no ground! They're flying around in the air! They don't have wheels, do they? What makes a car different from a rocket ship?"

"Um..." Mabel looked to Bill for help.

Bill said, "Firepower." He drew a rocket sailing up toward the moon at an angle, its fiery trail cutting through the planet's rings. After a thoughtful pause, Bill added, "I know a guy that used to work at an observatory on the far side of the moon."

Dipper said, "So what happened to your world?"

And there was that hesitance, that guarded look Ford had remembered seeing whenever Bill got too close to teaching Ford enough for him to recognize the danger to his dimension. He turned away from the kids, busying himself with refining the shape of the moon. "Do the math. I'm over a trillion years old! Stars burn out, universes go cold. Your planet will barely last twelve billion years. That's the way planets go."

"Well, if you're so powerful, why didn't you just—I dunno—keep it alive?"

The crayon snapped in Bill's hand.

Mabel gave her brother an irritated look—"Dipper, don't be mean,"—but it turned to a worried look when Bill rounded sharply on them both.

Bill snapped, "Who says I didn't, smart aleck?"

"Wh—I—"

"It is alive, thanks for asking. I made sure of that."

"Then where is it—?"

"Do you think I let you sit in here so you could ask stupid questions?" Bill planted a fist on his hip and pointed toward the door. "All you've done is derail the lesson and bring up stuff we covered three hours ago. Scram, kid."

"What—? But..." Dipper looked to Mabel for help.

Mabel shrugged. Dipper sighed, got up, and trudged out of the living room to join Ford in the entryway, giving him a forlorn look as he did.

Ford muttered, "I used to get kicked out of classes for challenging the teacher, too."

Dipper snorted. "Did he ever kick you out of class?"

Ford thought. "No—but why would he? He needed me to think I was his star student."

Although one time Bill had woken Ford up at two in the morning in the middle of a dream during the portal's construction, because Ford had forgotten some measurements he'd taken in the basement and he hadn't left his notes somewhere one of Bill's eyes could see them. And then, once Ford had retrieved his notes, the irritation of being woken had prevented him from falling back asleep and returning to his Muse.

They'd laughed about it the next night.

"Do you think his world does still exist?" Dipper asked.

Ford shook his head. "The Oracle said he destroyed his dimension himself in his pursuit of power. I trust her more than him."

They stood outside watching as Mabel asked Bill if there was any way for a normal human to see into the fourth dimension without busting their eyeballs. Bill started illustrating a way to grind glass to refract light from several minutes in the future, before abandoning it halfway completed to start explaining to Mabel how regular three-dimensional refraction worked. Ford recognized the unfinished illustration. Bill had included it in his miniature grimoire, too.

Voice low, Ford murmured, "You can't tell your sister we're ready."

Dipper nodded. "She'll be heartbroken."

Ford remembered having the exact same thought that morning. He squeezed Dipper's shoulder. "I suppose I won't be going with her to that concert in Portland tomorrow."

####

"... and that," Bill concluded, "is why the Time Giants banned sixth-dimensional tourism. But by then the damage was done—which is why there's only one survivor left."

Laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, Mabel said, "I'll never see balloons the same way again."

"Nobody ever does." Bill clicked shut his marker and dropped it on Mabel's chest. "So that covers the last fifty billion years of local politics! Did that answer your question?"

Mabel paused. "I don't remember my question."

"Good. I don't either." Bill sat on the floor beside Mabel and crossed his legs. "Anyway, you owe me fifty grand. All the info I gave you today is worth at least a year of college classes on this planet."

"Pssh, yeah right!" She paused. She sat up. "Wait. Really?"

"I might've skipped a few names and dates and formulas—but sure! We covered all the important stuff!" Smugly, he said, "So, still think I think you're dumb?"

Mabel stared at him, and then around the room at all the papers coating the walls, covered in Bill's handwriting. "You did all this just to prove I'm smart?"

"You proved you're smart. I got a captive audience for the afternoon. Quid pro quo!" Bill grinned. "I wasn't kidding earlier! You've got twice the brains of any of the other morons you'll share a classroom with. I'm surprised it's your brother on the honor roll instead of you."

Mabel's smile faded. Oh. "Yeah," she grumbled, pulling her knees to her chest. "You and everyone else." This wasn't much better than Bill thinking she was stupid: now he had expectations for her.

She'd heard it a million times, any time she did anything intelligent. You're so smart too, why aren't your grades better? Why don't you make grades like your brother?

Because Mabel liked art, music, motion, and stories (and usually not even the stories they read in English class); and Dipper liked—or at least was good at—math, science, and history. Because Mabel's brain fuzzed over with TV static when she tried to read a textbook, and the static got louder the more she was forced to reread it to "study"; whereas Dipper could read a chapter once, retain everything that mattered, and then skim it a second time right before a test to remind himself of the important names and dates. Because Mabel's bulb was just as bright as Dipper's, but hers had faulty wiring, making it flicker on and off outside her control; and she could only get it to glow steadily for things her brain was interested in; and she couldn't choose what her brain was interested in; and school wasn't on that list.

But how did she explain that when her parents were disappointed in her C+ test because Dipper came home with an A? When they told her she just needed to apply herself, how did she explain she was already applying herself five times harder than Dipper and still trailing behind him when the whole family knew she had just as much brains as him? It might have been easier if she actually was stupid. At least then they'd know she was doing her best. But she wasn't doing her best.

She got it from everyone. From her parents, day in and day out; from aunts, uncles, and grandparents; from teachers she'd taken by surprise with a particularly passionate essay; sometimes even from friends. Why aren't you making A's like your brother? So why shouldn't she hear it even from Bill Cipher.

Bill leaned back in surprise when Mabel curled in on herself. "What? I'm calling you smart, kid. Most humans like that."

Mabel shook her head, pouting at the floor. "Forget it. It just—it doesn't matter what my stupid grades are, all right?"

He stared at her in bafflement for a moment; and then said, with a tone of growing horror, "Oh. Ohhh. I sound like your dad."

She hated how much he knew about their home lives. She never knew when he was going to reveal he'd combed through one of her most shameful memories. "Just forget it," she repeated. "I just don't make grades like Dipper, okay?"

"Kid, I didn't mean it like that. I..." Bill floundered for a moment. It was weird to see him struggling for words. He leaned forward, cheek in hand, putting himself eye level with Mabel. "You know—I don't think I'm fond of your brother."

That dragged a small laugh out of Mabel. "Really? You hide it so well."

"I know! I'm a real gentleman," he said. "So when I say 'hey, why aren't you getting A's,' I'm not saying you should be more like him, ugh. I just want to watch the alpha twin trounce that little nerd."

She laughed louder. "Bill! Be nice, that's my brother!"

"And you have my eternal sympathy."

"Bill!" She punched his arm. "I don't want to compete with him, though. Even if I try a zillion times harder, I'll never get grades as good as his." She sighed loudly. But Bill was watching her, full attention on her face, expectant, so she continued: "I don't want to be a slightly worse Dipper, I just... want to be a really good Mabel! And—and maybe a really good Mabel is just okay at school. It's fine if I just... graduate with C's and go to some boring local college to get a boring degree for a boring job... while Dipper goes to some... big, fancy stupid technical college... or..." She trailed off, chin in her hands, staring at the carpet.

"Or while he gets private tutoring from some genius with too many PhDs?" Bill said wryly.

Mabel didn't answer, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. "I know he wouldn't have actually left me behind."

Bill grimaced, sucking in a breath between his teeth. "Yeeeah, no, he would have," he said. "Sorry, kid. If it weren't for Weirdmageddon, he'd have taken the apprenticeship."

Mabel's stomach flipped. "Oh."

"So, you're welcome," Bill said.

Mabel socked him again, more seriously.

Bill just laughed. "Hey—if it helps, he woulda been worse off for it! He made the right choice sticking with you."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?" He paused. "Poor choice of words. I'm not lying to you. He'll be better off suffering through a middle-upper-class Californian high school beside you than he ever woulda been hiding in the woods catching gnomes in butterfly nets."

She nodded. That was some comfort. Even if, in another life, apparently Dipper would've ditched her.

Bill gave her one of those long, piercing looks he sometimes did; and then he nudged her. "Hey. Don't worry about school—that's your parents talking, not you. And don't worry about what your brother does. Let him bust his butt at a big stupid technical college! Flunk every class and draw flowers on the SAT bubble sheet! You'll have plenty of your own things going on, and your dumb grades won't matter for any of them—"

Mabel flung her arms around Bill. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey. You're gonna be fine, kid." He leaned his head on Mabel's, one shut eye pressed to the crown of her head. "I—know it's hard. But you'll be fine."

She didn't know how he could know it was hard. He already knew everything, it wasn't like he ever had to worry about grades. But—the fact that he cared (that he cared) meant a lot. "Thank you."

"Buuut, if you ever decide you do want to be an honor roll kid, call me up! I can give you some advice."

Warily, Mabel asked, "Study tips?"

"No way! What a waste of time!" Bill rolled his eyes. "But I can teach you how to cheat."

####

After Ford told Stan and Soos the news about the Dontium, he headed downstairs to fuel up his Quantum Destabilizer. It had been waiting on a worktable in his study for weeks, the corded power adaptor Fiddleford had made plugged in where it usually took fuel, its empty fuel tank laying nearby.

Fiddleford had said the adaptor he'd invented only gave the destabilizer enough power to act like a common laser—not enough to completely destroy matter and energy. It was insufficient for the job at hand. Ford unplugged the power adaptor, carefully coiled it up, and slid it into a storage pocket in the destabilizer's carrying case.

He picked up the fuel tank, retrieved the milk jug of NowUSeeitNowUDontium, and poured it into the tank, eyes never wavering from the jug until every drop had been poured inside and the tank re-sealed. He triple checked the destabilizer's safety before he plugged in the fuel tank. Then he put the destabilizer in the carrying case as well, and shut and latched it.

As he headed toward the door, Ford spied Flatworld laying on his desk—Dipper must have left it downstairs. He picked it up... and then sat down, studying the cover. It showed a square with arms and legs peering through a telescope.

How much did the book really matter? The kids must have cracked open something in Bill's psyche by reading this book, with how talkative he'd been today—Ford suspected he'd learned more about Bill's world in less than thirty seconds of staring at the crayon drawings in the living room than he had in all the years he'd known him. He itched again to start recording revelations in his journal.

Would Bill have been this forthright years ago, if Ford had remembered more about the book then and asked about it? Or was Bill only willing to share so much because the Pines already knew the truth about his cruel intentions and he had nothing more to hide? No, that couldn't be it—just a year ago, long after he'd revealed his plans, Bill had been willing to guardedly confess to Ford that he'd "liberated" his dimension, but nothing more. The only descriptor he'd given of it was "flat." He hadn't even shown Ford an accurate illustration of his home world.

Then was it because he'd died since then—a ghost desperate to share his life story before he dissipated completely? Or was it just because Mabel had asked?

If Bill had been honest when he'd said he wanted to be Ford's friend... then, Ford supposed, it was possible Bill was also sincere in caring for Mabel. No, Ford was sure that was sincere. How many times had he seen Bill lost in thought, staring at the friendship bracelet she'd given him?

Ford idly flipped through Flatworld, choosing a passage at random to read, wondering how much he'd remember.

SQUARE. Most illustrious Sir, I can observe plainly that you are a Circle, though I know not by what magical means you have found an ingress into my dreams. Would your Lordship deign to satisfy the curiosity of one who wishes to know the identity of his esteemed Visitor?

SPHERE. Your question is more difficult than you may realize. To begin with, I am not a Circle, but rather a Sphere, the definition of which I shall explain to you in due time; and you, my humble pupil, if you exercise the full extent of your intellectual and rhetorical capacity, I hope shall be the Square who changes Flatworld. 

SQUARE. Your Lordship both honors and confuses me. I shall strive to be worthy of your high estimation, but I am naught but a mere Quadrilateral and know not how I could contain the potential to achieve such a feat.

SPHERE. I see I have gotten ahead of myself. I shall explain the purpose of my visit. I hope to find in you—as being a man of sense and an accomplished mathematician—a fit prophet to receive the Gospel of Higher and Lower Dimensions, which I am allowed to preach to only one brilliant mind in a century. 

SQUARE. Pardon me, my Lord, if I am speaking blasphemously in my ignorance; but would not a messenger from beyond this Plain who delivers Gospels to Prophets be better described as an Angel?

SPHERE. You may refer to me as an "Angel" if you so wish, as my nature is not so different from the creature you call such. However, I have come not to offer a revelation of the truth of the Higher Dimensions, but to bless you with the inspiration to discover the truth for yourself. In this manner, I am less like unto an Angel than I am to a Muse—

Ford threw the book on the floor.

####

When Ford headed back upstairs, he resolved to tear down all Bill's crayon drawings and throw them away, lest he give into the temptation to waste the rest of Journal 5's pages meticulously cataloguing them.

But when he reached the living room, the walls were bare, with no sign the papers had ever been there aside from some stray crayon marks and a little extra damage to the wallpaper where the tape had peeled up, and a faint smell of smoke.

Ford followed the smell into the kitchen. There was a cast iron skillet on the dark stove, embers and the last few strands of smoke trailing up from it. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, staring out into the night, nursing what looked like the second cider can of the night.

"What's all this?" Ford asked.

Without turning around, Bill said smugly, "I knew you'd be back to try to get those papers."

"Wh—? I was coming to throw them away."

"In the middle of the night?" Bill scoffed. "Please."

Ford frowned at the skillet. Well. Temptation removed, just like he'd wanted. Although a petty part of him was miffed that now Bill thought he'd been coming to rummage through his detritus for secrets about his home world, rather than seeing Ford confidently throw it in the trash. "How did you get the stove on?"

"Oh, is it on?" Bill asked innocently.

Ford double checked. It was not, and the knobs to operate it were still removed. But it radiated heat as though it had been; Bill hadn't just dropped the papers in the skillet and ignited them there. (Which would have been an entirely new concern.) Ford checked the cabinet where they kept the stove knobs—all still there. If he asked Bill how he'd achieved that, he'd probably just profess ignorance.

Fine, Ford had plenty of other questions he wanted to ask. "How long have you been able to levitate objects?"

"You mean like this?" Bill lifted his empty cider can, tapped it twice with his index finger, and left it suspended in midair.

"Yes, like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I can't do that," Bill said.

Ford sighed in frustration. "Was it the eclipse? You said you were—what was it, 'better at floating' than us? Did it... unlock something? Or have you always been able to do this?"

"This is what I used to like about you, Stanford. You're so curious. You come up with the most interesting connections between things. Sometimes connections I'd never thought of! And you keep—asking—questions. Even when nobody answers you." He finished his second can, used both hands to crush it, and left it floating in the air next to the first. "You used to be such a good student."

You used to be such a good teacher, he wanted to shoot back—but that was a lie. Bill had never been a good teacher, he'd just pretended to be one.

He'd been a good teacher to Mabel today.

Why isn't he always a good teacher? Why had he chosen to be a poor facsimile when he could have chosen to be the real deal? Why hadn't he been better? Why hadn't he been better? Why did they always seem to have these conversations in the middle of the night?

"Why are you..." Ford spread his hands helplessly, gesturing at all of Bill, everything he'd ever done—golden god of infinite wisdom, poisoned by lies and cruelty, trapped in a slowly rotting body. "Why are you like this."

Ford wasn't expecting Bill to get out of his seat and round on him so fast. He didn't even see the blow coming before Bill punched him.

Ford seized Bill's wrist and only barely caught himself before he broke it.

Bill didn't even acknowledge Ford's grip. "I'm so sick of you." His voice was hard as iron. "If you ever ask me that again, I'll burn down this shack with all of us inside."

Ford stared at Bill. He let go of his wrist.

Bill silently swept around Ford and out of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry."

Bill's footsteps fell silent. After a moment, he muttered, "Might've overreacted."

Something about the grudging not-apology hit Ford harder than a proper apology ever would have. He remained standing in the kitchen until long after Bill had gone upstairs.

The cans had fallen at some point during Bill's departure. Ford knelt to pick them up. Experimentally, he tapped one twice, and let it go.

It fell to the floor again.

It occurred to him that, depending on what happened tomorrow, those might have been the last words he'd ever say to Bill.

####

Bill shuffled to his sleep spot under the attic window, flopped unsteadily onto the cushions, pulled Journal 4 from its hiding spot, and carefully stuck the gold star Mabel had given him earlier that day to one of its pages.

And then he filled half a page with all the things he should have screamed at Ford.

####

Mabel came into the bedroom, shut the door—it had been patched earlier that day by Soos—and flopped face up on her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she said, "Dipper I know everything now."

Dipper was already under the covers, eyes shut. "About what?"

"Bill."

"What shape was his dad?"

Mabel paused. "I know almost everything about Bill."

"Pfff."

"But I do know his mom was some kind of supermodel or something! He says that's where he got his good looks. I don't know if he's actually good-looking by Flatworld standards, or if he just has really high self-esteem, but if his mom was a model I guess he could have inherited whatever Flatworlders think is good-looking—"

"How do you know he's not lying?"

"Why would he lie about that? I'll never meet his mom."

"To make his family sound cool?"

Uncertainly, Mabel said, "I guess." After a pause, she loud-whispered, "Did you read Flatworld?"

Dipper figured he wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. He pushed his covers down and sat up. "Yeah."

"It was really messed up, huh?"

Dipper thought about it. "I... guess it was, yeah." He hadn't thought about it much earlier—he'd been trying to wrap his head around the math and visualize the fourth dimension, and then his quick tour of the Nightmare Realm had pushed it from his mind completely; but... "The author's really obsessed with dead baby shapes, huh."

"You remember those old 70s cartoons with singing numbers we watched in class to try to teach us multiplication?" Mabel asked. "I was expecting it to be like that but for old timey people. Not about shapes getting executed for having short sides."

"Or squares getting locked in insane asylums for heresy if they tried to say the third dimension existed."

"Or major sexism against lines."

"Yeah, what was that about? Did they really think lines went around stabbing everyone to death just because they're pointy and they could?"

"I don't know, maybe lines really did do that. If I kept being told to shut up because my head was too skinny to hold a brain, I'd stab my husband too."

"I guess that makes sense." Light through the attic's triangular window illuminated the room a deep gray-blue; but as Dipper watched, the room darkened as a cloud covered the moon. It was probably going to rain tomorrow. "And... this is where Bill grew up?"

"Yeah," Mabel said quietly. "Some details are different from the book, he said so. Like he told me colors weren't illegal and peace-cries were just a dumb etiquette thing. But..."

"What about the executions? Or—or triangles being treated like servants by everyone else?"

"I don't know. He didn't want to answer questions like that. He talked about stuff like dance clubs and gardening in space, but he got super mad when I tried to ask about the serious stuff."

"Maybe he got his power as part of some... triangle uprising? And then he went crazy and decided to destroy everything?" Dipper was thinking, again, about the Axolotl's half-remembered prophecy. That maybe Bill was here to help them against some threat even worse than him.

"I can see why he destroyed his dimension," Mabel said.

Dipper winced, "Okay, but—sure, it was bad, but that doesn't mean his entire dimension deserved to die."

"No, of course not," Mabel said quickly. "But like I get it. If all that was going on."

"If it was. Just... how much is different from the book, and how much is true?"

"I don't know."

The room fell silent again.

"Welp," Mabel said brightly, "I've got the rest of summer to get the whole story out of him! Goodnight, Dipper!"

Dipper's stomach flipped with guilt. "Yeah." The rest of summer. Mabel left for Portland in the morning. "Goodnight."

He lay down, pulled his sheet back up, and stared at the ceiling.

Friday, 11:00 p.m.

####

(Next week's chapter is exactly what you think it is. But before we get there, I'm looking forward to hearing what y'all think about this week!)

[randxmthxughts]

Captain Save a Hoe - Tsu'tey x Avatar!Reader

i know, i know, the title...

summary: grumpy tsu’tey having to take care of a clumsy avatar!reader, and eventually warming up to her // tsu'tey being a captain-save-a-hoe for 1.7k words straight

wc: 1.7k

a/n: basically, i didn't know where to go with this, so i'm posting it like a blurb bc you guys told me to. there won't be a continuation to this, i just love grumpy tsu'tey, he's so hot

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Watch your feet,” Tsu’tey throws an angry glance at you, as you stumble through the thick bushes, trying to catch up to him.

Tsu’tey didn’t like dreamwalkers, hell, he almost killed one a few years back, if he hadn’t been stopped. But Tsu’tey especially didn’t like the ones that were awkward and weak in their disguised bodies, asking stupid questions, and constantly getting themselves into trouble. So of course, he was angry when Jake ordered him to keep an eye on you.

“Tsu’tey,” you breathe out, “Please wait for me.”

Despite the strength that your new body possesses, you struggle to keep up with Tsu’tey, feeling like a helpless child in comparison. He walks fast, treating this like another mission that he desperately wants to get over with. Tsu’tey doesn’t really care that Jake welcomed you into the clan for the help you offered. Or that the maps you've made could save the Omaticaya from future attacks by the sky people. What are a few more attacks on him? Tsu’tey relished in destroying the massive flying ships, he could go against them without your help any day. 

From the moment you embarked on your journey to the science facility to retrieve some of your equipment, it seemed like Tsu’tey’s luck had run out. As if for some reason Eywa had cursed him, making his journey with you longer and tiresome.

At first, he resented the idea of sharing his direhorse with you, since you hadn’t learned how to ride one yet. He also hated how you would cling to his middle, whenever he sped up, and restricted his movements. If only you had kept quiet, he could have tolerated you more, but instead, you occasionally tried to pry into his past.

“So, why don’t you have a mate?”

“She was killed by one of your demons.”

“Oh.”

Two hours in, Tsu’tey decided to stop by the river to give his horse a short break. As you crouched down by the water, examining the way it bubbled, Tsu’tey observed you in silence. He thought you were strange-looking, but not like Jake. To him, Jake was ugly. You had something intriguing about your appearance. Pretty, although Tsu’tey had a hard time getting used to it. But the compliment he wanted to grant you was immediately pushed to the back of his mind when he heard your frightened scream. You noticed an arachnoid crawling up your thigh and shrieked out of fear, violently shaking your leg to get it off. Spooked by your sudden outburst, the horse loudly neighed and fled through the air. Tsu’tey quickly jumped to his feet, but when he saw the reason for your shrieks, he felt his blood boil. In your defense, you had heard stories of poisonous arachnids of Pandora and you weren’t taking any chances.

So here you are, trudging along behind, with ears pressed flat against your skull. Tsu’tey had scolded you, blaming your weak spirit for the consequences. Since you were too far from the Hometree, and the horse was long gone, you had to continue the rest of the journey on foot. Which meant more hours spent with you. 

The silence that follows is almost unbearable, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves. What Tsu’tey did not expect was for you to be so slow. He almost gave up on the plan, contemplating going back to the village and fetching another horse. He even entertained the thought of taming a palulukan in case of an attack. In the worst case, he'd end up dead and wouldn’t be forced to care for you for another minute.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the day wears on, and the sun starts to set, casting a warm orange glow on the surroundings, you decide to voice your concern.

“Do you think we’ll make it to the facility by night?”

Tsu’tey throws a glance at you over his shoulder, letting out a bitter chuckle. You grimace at his reaction. 

“Got it,” you bite your lip.

He comes to a stop, and begins scanning the area around him. You wait for further clarification but he ignores you completely, then starts gathering twigs into a small cone.

“We will camp for the night,” he finally says, gesturing at you, “Gather some more, and stay here. I will be back soon.”

You discover that ‘soon’ meant different things to you and Tsu’tey. While you assumed he would be out hunting, the chilly air made you decide to start the fire and keep an eye on it, so it doesn’t die out. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, the warmth radiating from the small fire was making your eyelids droopy. You tried to resist sleep to prove to Tsu’tey that you were capable, but you couldn't hold out much longer, nestling on the ground.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey nudges you awake with a gentle touch, and you catch a whiff of a delicious aroma. As you open your eyes, you see him crouching in front of you, holding a piece of meat wrapped in leaves. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you eagerly take it from his hands and devour it. Tsu’tey can't help but chuckle, as he watches the satisfied grin spread across your face.

“Slow down,” he says softly, motioning for you to take a seat next to him, closer to the fire.

You watch him roast a smaller piece of meat and put it in his mouth. Instead of savoring the taste, Tsu’tey chews on it while continuing cutting up more pieces. You feel a little guilty that he prepares food for the both of you but doesn’t take a moment to enjoy it.

“Can I help?” you ask, moving closer to him.

He doesn’t answer, instead pointing to the knife on your belt. When you take it out, Tsu’tey pierces a piece of meat on the sharp tip, and motions for you to hold it over the fire. You follow his orders, watching the meat slowly cook as the aroma hits your nostrils and your stomach grumbles. 

This must be the first time he sees you do something right. Tsu’tey nods approvingly as he watches you carefully turn the meat over the fire, your knife skillful in your hands. A comfortable silence hangs over you, as you both start eating.

“We will continue our journey early in the morning,” he breaks the silence, “We must move quickly and return back as fast as we can. ‘Don’t want to camp out in the forest for another night, it can be dangerous.”

You only nod, agreeing with his plan. It was rare for him to keep you informed anyway, so you weren’t going to doubt Tsu’tey.

“You don’t trust that I can help, do you?”

“I am not sure,” he admits, “But if Toruk Makto trusts you, I can give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Your prejudice against me is ironic,” you scoff, “Jake was just like me once, before becoming Toruk Makto.”

“Not just like you,” Tsu’tey chuckles, shaking his head, “You are too weak.”

“I am smart,” you argue. 

Tsu’tey hums in agreement. There is some truth to his words, you have shown weakness. Adapting to a completely new environment, getting used to another culture, suddenly being forced into hours of physical activity that you weren’t committed to. At times, it would get too much but the support of the clan was all the validation you needed to stay.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll do anything to help your people,” you face him with new confidence, he hasn’t seen in you yet.

“You betray your own?” Tsu’tey frowns.

“I have no other choice. They are destroying everything because of greed,” you shake your head in disappointment. He nods.

“And your family? You left them too?”

“I don’t have one,” a bitter chuckle escapes from your lips, “They don’t claim me anymore. And I don’t claim them.”

“So they disowned you?”

“Pretty much,” you shrug, “They think that I am betraying them because I want to protect the life on Pandora.”

“It must take great strength to go against your family,” Tsu’tey compliments you.

You shy away from his softened gaze, warm feeling spreading in your chest from the kind words. It was tough to be one of the engineers who worked for RDA and had to betray them. But you couldn’t stand the idea of contributing to the destruction they were causing. It was why you first found Jake and warned him about the impending danger. And it was then when you first felt welcomed by the clan, cared for.

Now, you needed to sneak back into the facility and retrieve the equipment you left to track the future attacks. Tsu’tey was assigned to accompany you since it was dangerous to go alone. Even though most of the team at the facility shared similar opinions and wouldn't stop you, there was still a risk of encountering RDA guards. Getting caught would mean you could never return.

As the night wears on and the fire grows smaller and smaller, you and Tsu’tey continue to talk. You’re surprised by how he opens up to you, and how he doesn’t protest when you tell him about your past. Eventually, you feel your eyes growing heavy and your head nodding off to the side. Tsu’tey notices and stays up to keep an eye on you, making sure you’re safe while you sleep.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When you wake up in the morning, you feel slightly restricted around your middle. You huff slightly, trying to move, as you realize that Tsu’tey is sleeping beside you, with his leg thrown over yours, and his arms wrapped around you. The closeness of his body sends a flush of heat to your cheeks, and you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Tsu’tey,” you nudge him, “Wake up.”

It doesn’t take much to rouse him. You guess that, as a warrior, he was trained to be sensitive to sounds around him. Tsu’tey grunts heavily before blinking a few times, adjusting his eyes to the light. When he realizes how close your face is to his, he almost recoils.

"For someone who seems to hate me, you're very protective," you tease him, patting his arms playfully.

“Mhm, couldn’t risk you rolling into the fire in your sleep,” he grumbles, freeing you from his grasp.

[wyvernest]

tú eres mi vida

( part 1) (next part)

pairing: miguel o'hara x wife!reader

warnings: a lot of fluff, suggestiveness, foreplay?

summary: with the opportunity of a surprise, miguel makes the most of your honeymoon

He walked away from the hammock with you, hanging over his shoulder, ass in the air, making sure to keep a large hand over it, both to conceal you from wandering eyes and to grope at the plump flesh every now and then.

All you're seeing is the beaten path through the shore's sand and the junction between the beach and the hotel's green gardens. He skips the alley leading to your room, your eyes widening in amusement. You know he's good with directions, as long as you're talking about the spider-verse. Otherwise, in the blissful comfort of your honeymoon, you may have caught him further away from the stoic, attentive leader he's gotten used to being.

"Miguel, baby, you missed it. It's that way." you giggle lightly, tapping his lower back, careful enough not to make him feel bad. The last thing you want to do is blow off his mood.

"I know." His tone is confident, teasing. Your chuckles are silenced abruptly at the reply, utter perplexity taking over you. All the places and facilities around the resort flash through your head one by one, none fitting for what you were intending to do. And you haven't discussed love-making in seawater yet, either.

"Where are we going then?" you inquire, after throughout accession of all possibilities.

"Paciencia, cariño. It's a surprise." He reveals, full of pride and excitement, voice lowered and playful. You shiver, gripping into his waist to support your upper body and look around, scanning for said surprise.

He gets to the entrance of the private beach, still not stopping. With a sudden jump, he hops on the pier, your weight secure over his shoulder. You can't deny the wetness gathering in your panties at the thought of how effortlessly he carries you around, showing everyone that you're his, and most importantly, that he's about to make the most of it.

You watch the waves crashing softly against the darkened wood of the pier, clear and cold. You feel the breeze blow up over your bare thighs, shivering. He runs a hand over the exposed skin, up underneath the fabric of your flimsy skirt, stopping shy of the small mound of your cunt. You squirm slightly, needing his touch up higher, but he retracts his wandering hand and tightens his grip over you.

Finally, he reaches the water bungalows. Small huts connected by piers in a web-like distribution. Your eyes fixate on the king-size bed sheltered by wooden walls on all sides, except for the one facing the sea. Open and free, white curtains flowed by the bed frames, carried on the wind's wings like sails on a ship.

His knees hit the bed before he lays you down on the soft, clean, white mattress, his back facing the open view. You shift under his shadow, scurrying back towards the bed frame, watching him crawl over to you, slow and methodical.

He grabs your ankles faster than the time it would’ve taken you to escape and rile him up further, pulling you under him so that he’s straddling your hips, holding you in place. You lift yourself on your elbows, attempting to move your legs out of the cage, gazing up at him.

“What d’you think?” He asks, toying with the elastic of your skirt.

“I’ve never been happier.”

You drop your head back down on the bed, having stopped fighting the impossible hold he’s forced you in, between his muscular thighs. He smiles sweetly, satisfied with himself.

“It’s been almost impossible to find one of these available. But now that I have you here,”, he bends down, an inch away from your face. His hot breath fans your mouth, and you take it all in, the scent of him, the fresh bedding, the sea breeze. Your eyelids fall heavy, and he closes the gap between you, kissing you slowly, unhurriedly, like you have all eternity to spend together in paradise, and you’re just getting started. And maybe that’s exactly what it is.

You taste his lips, strawberry sweet and ever loving, feeling your eyes roll back at the sensation. He cups your face with one hand, holding you from fainting, and you let him lead. You feel his body move against yours, yearning to be closer and closer. His happy trail rubs onto your stomach, skin to skin. Every ridge of his defined abdomen pushes down onto you, chest rising and falling with each breath.

Struggling to keep up with the kiss, you sense his hands drift lower, to your waist, and you flinch ever so slightly, muscle memory kicking in. You mentally pray that he won’t–

And he does. He resumes his earlier attack, tickling you and abusing all the sensitive and funny spots he knows so well.

You scream through the uncontrollable laughter, fragments of his name that he otherwise hears in a different context, but which he adores nonetheless. His grip loosens momentarily, and you slip away like a cobra in desert sand. Before you can manage to get up and make a run for it, he grabs onto your skirt, his talons ripping through the material, leaving you in your shirt and panties. You protest, but he’s quick to drag you back on the bed. He laughs wholeheartedly, pinning you to the white sheets. You’re more than certain that the racket can be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t care less.

In an attempt to shield yourself, you bring your arms to your sides, tears already rolling down your eyes as you’re running out of breath and energy. He stops, and squeezes his thighs around your waist. You’re not leaving.

As he gathers the white sheets, pulling them over you both, you try to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock that’s now resting on your midriff. Or not.

You run your hands up his burly thighs, over his hip bone and up his abdomen, feeling the muscles ripple with his movements. He gives you a knowing look, bringing the sheet over his head, trapping you in a semi-transparent cocoon.

“Who’s gonna see us? The fish?”, you manage to say, feeling the remnants of an explosive giggle kick back in right after you’ve calmed down.

“I’m not taking any chances. There are speedboats.” he mumbles, as he adjusts above you.

“They’re not allowed so close to the-” he cuts off the rest of the sentence, slamming his lips onto your once again, and just like earlier, he has you melting in his arms in no time. It’s almost embarrassing how he manages to surf you through emotions so quickly and effortlessly, but you blame it on the beauty of being utterly and irrevocably in love. His lips move against yours with expert ease and precision, stopping every now and then to breathe, barely breaking away, as your exhales mix together in desperation and fascination.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, basking in the heat of his body radiating down on you. A groan reverberates in his chest at the action, resulting in him moaning in your mouth.

You continue to make out in the cool shade of the bungalow, sheltered from the blazing July sun, and every second you feel like it’s the first time again, butterflies in your stomach, heart about to burst.

When he finally parts from you, chest heaving, eyes half lidded, you feel as if you’ve been cut from a lifeline. He moves to your flushed cheeks, the kisses are open-mouthed and slow.

“Te amo. Tu eres mi alma”, he kisses below your temple, “mi corazón-”, he moves to your jaw and right below it, “-mi vida.”

He licks at your neck, kissing the sensitive skin with insistence, pressing himself closer to you.

“Y siempre lo serás.”

link to part one!

translations:

paciencia - patience

tú eres mi alma - you are my soul

y siempre lo serás - and always will be

a/n: ill do a part 3 i actually love this whole honeymoon idea:) i hope its at the very least a bit original with the bungalow and all that

ALSO if you're a native latin spanish speaker please correct me im here to learn and write him as well as i can<3

+thank you everyone for the AMAZING feedback ive received for the first part!! i really hope you like this one and the next just as much

taglist:

@cooch1ecruncher @nvkdjnvjkd @tsukkie-daisuke @noahspector

(it won't let me tag everyone, sorry if i missed you)

[vanilladove]

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (2/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: smut w/ plot + some dark elements; 18+ only pls!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: smut/nsfw, slight mentions of torture + drugging, manipulation, violence/abuse, unhealthy relationships, infidelity (mutual😋), slightly yandere!delulu!mean! :( nikolai, dubious consent

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: your asylum patient has been taken in for questioning, and you learn a shocking fact. however, after an emergency call, you're left alone with nikolai again. dangerous? yes. but even more, tempting... ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 1 & pt 3 & bonus (bad ending) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 7.1k

His heterochromatic eyes were boring into your soul.

Well, not really. It wasn't like he could see you through the one-way privacy glass of the interrogation room, even though you could still see every expression on your patient's face.

Still clutching his book, you sat next to the security guard on a bench outside the room. You could feel the pit in your stomach get deeper with each minute, anxiously waiting for the boss to arrive.

We were definitely caught. What's going to happen now? To me? To Niko--

"Sorry for the wait. I hope it wasn't too long, dear." You looked up shakily as you heard a familiar sigh from your husband.

You were just about to confess everything then and there until you looked up at his face, which was surprisingly calm and almost...concerned? Your husband reached down to hold your hand, "He didn't hurt you, did he? I can't believe you had to watch over a monster like that. Seriously, who would've known Gogol would put on a whole act. I--" You tuned out his words after that, completely confused. What was he rambling on about? Was Nikolai actually right about the camera blind spot?

Calm down. Just act oblivious.

"Wha-what are you talking about? What's going on?" You questioned, trying not to sound suspicious. Your partner stopped his rant, shooting a quick look at the guard, who raised his eyebrows and got up to leave the leather bench. Your husband took a seat next to you, clasping his hands together and looking down at the floor.

"For five weeks, we've been finding pills randomly in different trash cans throughout the facility. I thought it was an accident at first, but then I remembered that Gogol was admitted five weeks ago, and the pills that were thrown away were the same ones being administered to him."

"So? Was it really necessary to do all this? We've dealt with uncooperative patients before." You glanced back at the glass screen, jumping a bit when you saw Nikolai up against the glass, his hands pressed on the surface and gazing at you intensely. He had an unnerving smile on his face and was waving at you like a child. You shivered lightly, trying not to scream out in shock, causing your husband to look up in your direction.

"Tch. That wasn't all; there was this letter, too." He said, unfolding a piece of paper and handing it to you, roughly turning your head around--away from Nikolai--and hitting the glass with a glare.

You stared at the letter confusedly, looking at the mix of Russian, Ukrainian, and some sort of secret code. "What's this supposed to mean?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Translators couldn't decode it at all. All they made out was that it was addressed to a 'Dos' and mentioned the facility, someone named 'Dove', and 'escaping'". Your eyes widened at that. Nikolai wrote a letter to someone? But when? Who were "Dos" and "Dove"? Wait, was that supposed to be...

Your husband standing up interrupted your thoughts. "Anyways, I'm going to get him to fess up. He's clearly plotting something. Can't trust a global terrorist." He gripped your hand tightly, unlocking the door and dragging you into the interrogation room, several guards trailing in behind you.

Nikolai gazed up excitedly at you once you walked in, only to be held back by several guards and restrained by a strap harness. Upon noticing that, your husband stepped in front of you--a measly attempt at covering you from Nikolai's gaze--and spoke sternly. The jester frowned in response.

"Gogol, do you want to explain why you've been throwing away your prescriptions across the facility?" Nikolai only tilted his head cutely to the side, trying to move to see you.

"My meds? Well, it's quite obvious, actually," he smiled tauntingly, "I don't need them. I'm perfectly sane. Ask your wife if you don't believe me." The boss clenched his fists at that and signaled for the guards to point their guns at Nikolai's head, making him laugh mockingly.

"Fucking freak. You're far from it..." Your husband muttered under his breath, reaching for the letter in his lab coat and unrolling it in front of Nikolai, whose eyes lit up upon seeing it. "We found this in the mailing room. Care to translate it? Who're 'Dos' and 'Dove'? Two of your criminal accomplices? And you mentioned 'escaping'? Hah. You don't really think you could leave one of the world's most secured facilities, do you?"

You cringed at that. You could tell he was trying to intimidate Nikolai, but it clearly wasn't working; the jester only yawned boredly in response.

Sighing, Nikolai answered, "Dos is a dear friend of mine--no, maybe my only one--and Dove..." he paused to stare intensely into your fleeting eyes, "Dove is my lover. I want to escape with her." His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his comment, putting together that "Dove" was you. Making you Kolya's...lover? You blushed at that, not hearing your husband's angry scream or seeing him stomp up to Nikolai and grab his shirt roughly, shaking him and demanding to know the content of the letter.

"Hmmmm....what my letter says? Who knows? I guess I must have wrote it in a frenzy, y'know, because I'm crazy and deranged." Nikolai said, the old dark, unreadable look in his eyes. "Say, can I have lunch first? I'm hungry and can't think straight."

Your husband lost it at that, winding up and punching Nikolai across the face, shocking the guards. Now back to the present, you ran to Nikolai, pulling your spouse back and yelling at him.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing? Losing your cool and punching a patient? Just let it g--"

CRASH!

A sharp pain hit your stomach and lower back as you felt a blow to your front, causing you to collide with a chair behind you. You wheezed from the impact, looking up to see your husband breathing raggedly, his hands coiled into fists, and Nikolai with widened eyes full of concern.

"Dove!" Nikolai yelled out, regretting it instantly when your husband glared at him; the pieces clicking in his head. The security guard from the library rushed to your side, helping you up and guiding you out of the room. You tried to resist, but it was hard with your head throbbing from banging against the chair. All you could hear faintly before being dragged out was your husband threatening Nikolai more for answers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You sat with an ice pack on the bench outside, head still spinning. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you peaked into the glass window. However, before you could look in, a bright, blinding light flashed, followed by a maniacal laugh from…Nikolai?

Electroshock treatment. Were they trying to get a confession out of him?

You could only cover your ears as the laughter got louder, mixed in with his occasional tortuous screams and angry shouts from your husband. Pressing yourself further into the bench and wall, the strong scent of artificial peony attacked your senses, forcing you to look up and meet Lacey's eyes. What was she doing here? Did she just come out of the interrogation room?

"Miss, I have some news for you," You peaked your head out of your arm enclosure, uncovering your ears and looking at her, "You're off for tomorrow. Gogol's been declared a dangerous threat, so he's going to be handed off to the boss and security. You'll be seeing your normal patients again, so please take the time in between off. I'm sure today was traumatizing for you." Lacey held your hand, stroking it like she was trying to console you. You could see the forced pity in her eyes; she was just one of your husband's loyal subordinates, after all. Knowing it was fake, you stood up and slapped her hand away, wobbling from your balance being thrown off.

"Thanks, Lacey. I'll try to relax a little." You turned away before pausing, feeling lightheaded, “You wouldn’t mind walking me to my office, would you? I need to grab my stuff first.” Lacey nodded, throwing your arm around her shoulder and helping you walk unsteadily towards your office. Even though the noises of torture and occasional bright flashes in the background made your stomach churn, and you really just wanted to run back and save Nikolai, you could barely stand up straight in your current state. You were going to process your thoughts, get an ice pack and some painkillers, and wait it out away from the scene.

You couldn’t leave yet. You had to see Nikolai one more time before you left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It had been eight hours since the interrogation room incident. Luckily the painkillers had knocked you out, so you'd just woken up from a peaceful nap on your office couch. Fixing up your hair and appearance, you picked up your phone and squinted from the lighting.

11:47 PM.

Everyone except for security had gone home for the night. You checked your notifications but saw nothing from your husband. No sort of apology, check-in, or questioning to ask you why you weren't home yet. What could you really expect, though? This was the man who'd just hit you at work in front of others. Feeling sick from remembering the day's events, you forced your phone back into your dress pocket and walked out of your office. Moving cautiously to not get caught, you headed towards the white ward.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Scanning your key slowly, you walked into Nikolai's room. There weren't any guards present, likely since they assumed he'd been immobilized from the electroshock treatment--there was no doubt the boss had gone overboard with his torture.

After you quietly shut the door behind you, you made your way to the bed carefully, reaching around in the dark room. Your hand finally found the night lamp on the dresser, reaching around to find the switch. Chills ran down your spine as you felt cold fingers brush against your hand and lead you to it. The dim light turned on and illuminated the figure next to you.

"Dove? You came back for me?"

You almost jumped back after hearing Nikolai's hoarse voice. The warm light enveloped him, the shadows reflecting off the curves of his face and intensifying his gaze. He was sitting up properly, almost like he hadn't been tortured a few hours ago and this was some regular midnight visit. Like he'd been expecting you.

"N-Nikolai...Wha--I--I came to check on you." Nikolai's eyes widened at that, and he blushed with a small smile on his face.

"Ahhhh, that so? Well, I still feel like shit." Nikolai winced in pain as he slowly sank back down into the bed, laying down and turning to the side to face you. The light was fully on him now, and you could see some light bruises on his face from where he'd been punched and roughly handled. The sight made you frown. What a shame his pretty face had been wounded, by your coworkers nonetheless. You knew it wasn't your fault, but you felt like you had to apologize.

You pulled up a stool next to the bed and sat down awkwardly. Nikolai cut you off as you were about to open your mouth, reading your intentions. "Don't say sorry, myla. Besides, this was probably divine punishment for my past actions. Sadists get punished by sadists, I guess? Not that I care much about or regret what I've done". His green eye glowed after he said that, but he quickly perked up after seeing your semi-horrified, semi-concerned face. "It was fun though, really. Nothing I haven't gone through before..." He tried to laugh a bit but quickly cringed again from the soreness.

Instinctively, you reached out but quickly pulled your hand away after remembering why you came in the first place. Reaching into your coat pocket, you pulled out The Overcoat, "I brought your book. So you don't get too bored." You smiled sadly to yourself, "I don't know if we can be seen together much anymore. I though this would help."

Nikolai bitterly laughed at that, the situation sinking in. "You came all this way to give me my book...You're silly, ptashka. I can't even read it." One glance at him confirmed his statement: he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Read it to me," he said huskily, reaching one of his hands out and stroking your cheek, "Stay here and read to me until I fall asleep. Unless you'd rather sleep next to me, hehe~" Nikolai teased, outlining your lips with his thumb. The action caused you to blush.

"N-no--I'll read to you..." you stammered, bringing his hand down to your lap and opening the book. He giggled seeing your flustered reaction and with some of the little strength he had left, he laced his fingers with yours and gazed at you lovingly.

You smiled warmly at him, opening the book and starting, "In the department of -- but it is better not to mention the department. There is nothing more irritable than departs, regiments, courts of justice, and, in a world, every branch of public service. Each individual attached to them nowadays thinks all society insulted in his person..."

You'd gotten twenty pages in before Nikolai finally dozed off; you could tell by the way his grip on your hand slacked up. You closed the book and moved his hand back to the bed slowly, careful not to awaken him. The lamp rays cast a warm glow on Nikolai, softening up his tense features. His fluffy bangs fell across his face, almost making you laugh because of how perfect and prince-like he looked--just like the first time you saw him.

You pulled the covers over him, brushing away his bangs. You remembered the library suddenly and how you owed him a kiss. Now wouldn't be a bad time, would it? Leaning into him, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead, moving down to the bruises on his cheeks and lower jaw. He was still resting peacefully by the time you were close to his lips. You blushed suddenly, feeling nervous. All you could muster was a small, quick peck on his lips before pulling away.

"Goodnight, Kolya." You whispered before getting up from the stool, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was almost 2:00 AM by the time you got home. The day had truly worn you out, both physically and mentally. You were surprised that you and your husband's shared car was still in the parking lot by the time you left. To be honest, you were too tired to be concerned with who he'd gotten a ride with or if he'd actually meant to leave; you were also secretly grateful to not spot his shoes or coat anywhere, meaning he wasn't home and you had the bedroom to yourself.

Groggily making your way to the bathroom, you took a warm shower to clean yourself off, changed into a satin pajama set, and tucked yourself into bed. Your head was still spinning and the pain in the lower half of your body had resumed, making you need painkillers again. You recalled your husband telling you that he kept some in the nightstand dressers. Opening the lower drawer and reaching in, you were hit with the familiar nauseating smell of peony perfume and felt something...thin and silky?

In a confused daze, you peaked over and found a neon green G-string along with a small envelope with red hearts drawn all over it. You dropped the underwear in disgust and felt a pit in your stomach. Already having a strong hunch of what was going on, you opened the note, cringing when you saw a lipstick mark on it:

Same time, same place next week? Never took you for the type of man who could be adventurous and cheat;) Can't blame you, though. Your wife is booooringggggg. ~L ♡

Tears fell down your face as you threw the note back into the drawer and slammed it shut, eliminating the scent of Lacey's perfume. Even though you couldn't be surprised about your husband cheating, it felt like the final blow to a series of disastrous events.

Fatigue creeping up on you, all you could do was pass out from the mix of emotions.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had just finished brunch in the morning when you'd received a call from the asylum. Wanting nothing more than to ignore it and try to enjoy your day off, you waited until the last ring to pick up. After all, it could be an---

"Miss? Please, I know it's your day off, but---I don't know what's going on--please, we need you now...this is the worst--" you recognized the security guard's voice on the other line frantically speaking among shuffling and siren noises in the background.

Concerned, you spoke, "Hello? What's going on over there? Explain it me calmly."

The guard on the line sighed deeply, probably as a way to steady himself, "R-Right. It's Gogol," your eyes perked up at that, "He--God--He's out of control. He's been injuring staff left and right." He paused again, "That psycho has taken out half the squad of armed guards and put ten attendants on stretchers in an hour. That blonde girl got it pretty bad...she's knocked out with a black eye and a concussion."

"What? No way" You said in complete disbelief, trying to process everything.

"Yeah. Anyways, we have him temporarily detained until we can get special forces to come in. If you could get here ASAP to calm him down, we'd need that. Of course, we'd pay you extra, and--" The guard was practically yelling at this point, rambling on as you heard the commotion in the back getting louder. Reality hit you again, forcing you to realize the gravity of the situation. Not to mention, what was up with Nikolai? You couldn't believe he'd dwindled down the asylum's forces right after being tortured, or that he'd suddenly gone on a rampage after being relatively well-behaved and compliant. Even though the last place you wanted to be was work, you obliged.

"I'll be in soon, give me fifteen minutes."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Where is he?" You asked, panting since you were out of breath from running alongside the security guard that called you.

"The bath house. Everything was normal until he was in for his scheduled bath and an attendant was helping him. It was the new girl with blonde hair," He looked back at you to make sure you were still behind him, "She tried to help him undress since he was injured, but he reacted badly and started full on beating her up. She already had a black eye and a concussion by the time the guards got to her."

That was definitely Lacey. You weren't sure how to feel about her situation with the new information that's just come to light, but you quickly shook off the smug grin that you could feel forming on your face and kept running behind the guard.

"After that, some other attendants rushed to help her out, but they weren't spared either. When the guards came in to detain him, he went on a total rampage, even stealing a baton and taser off of a guard and clearing the response team."

You were shocked at that. Of course he was a notoriously cruel and sly criminal, but to think he'd made light work of so many people that easily...

"What's the situation now?"

"Well, several ambulances later, we finally got him under control by tranquilizing him and restraining him with handcuffs, so he should be incapacitated for now. What a monster, doing all that like he wasn't electrocuted yesterday." The guard stopped suddenly, making you almost bump into him. He took his access card out and scanned it. "We're here, miss," he started to open the door before facing you, "I'll be in there with you in case anything bad happens, but just try to keep him under control until backup comes in. Apparently, they're experiencing delays, now of all times..."

You nodded and followed the guard in, looking around the bathing room. Rather than the usual communal showers, a special isolated bath house was reserved for high threat patients. The space itself wasn't too extravagant, with white and black tiled floors and a singular bath tub in the middle of the otherwise large, light-filled room. You walked towards the center and spotted Nikolai inside of the tub, his tall figure peaking out from the edge. His hands were cuffed to the faucet, and he appeared disheveled: hair messy, shirt unbuttoned and in boxers, and knuckles discolored, likely from fighting. His previous bruises did look like they'd lightened up a bit, though.

"Nikolai, it's me." You started, sitting down a few feet away from the tub. You heard a faint groan come from him in response, meaning he was still conscious. The guard stood ten feet away from you, trying to gauge the situation in case your ex-patient tried to attack you. You took a deep breath, "I heard about what you did. I can't--I don't understand it or the meaning of this at all. Why can't you just behave for once? Why do you always have to be so unpredictable and difficult?"

Squinting, he looked up at you sadly, nearly making you blurt out an apology. "Dove...can't hear...close--come closer..." Nikolai muttered weakly, resisting slightly against the cuffs to try and reach out to you. You looked at the guard who gave you a reassuring nod and stepped closer to the tub. You took off your lab coat, suddenly feeling conscious of what you were wearing underneath. You didn't have any time to change before rushing in, so you were just wearing a short pair of biker shorts and a matching tank top--the set you were planning to wear to the workout class you were going to attend on your day off. You felt exposed as you hesitantly made your way into the tub, sitting closer to Nikolai. "Bathe me." He teased, his eyes crinkling up a bit when he felt your presence next to him.

You opened your mouth to respond but got cut off by the beeping of the guard's radio followed by frantic noises. His eyes widened and he looked back at you, “Miss, I’m sorry but there’s been a situation,” you shot him a concerned look, “A mass fight has broken out in the cafeteria…Half of the patients are beating each other and staff up, and the other half are throwing their guts up. We think someone might’ve poisoned or drugged the food.” The guard exhaled frustratedly and was anxiously tapping his foot on the ground, “I hate to say it, but I need to go help suppress the whole commotion. Will you be alright?”

You looked down at Nikolai, who still appeared to be weak and under the tranquilizer’s effects. There was also another shot of tranquilizer on the floor next to the tub—in case of an emergency. You nodded affirmatively, and the guard slowly walked out, the pang of the closed door echoing off the walls. The bath house went silent as you two were left all alone.

The next thing you heard was the sound of breaking metal as a strong--too strong for just being tranquilized--pair of arms wrapped around you. You yelped as Nikolai pulled you into his lap, arms encasing your waist--effectively trapping you--and nuzzled into your chest, the handcuffs landing away on the tiled floor. He muttered something about how you smelled like coffee and vanilla.

"Kol!--" You protested, struggling against Nikolai's strong arms to break free. You couldn't though, slightly scaring you and adding to your overall confusion. Where was this sudden strength coming from? Should you even be surprised?

Nikolai only cruelly laughed at your attempts to escape his hold, pressing you harder against his body until you finally went limp and gave in. "What's wrong, dove? Aren't you happy to see me? You're wearing less clothes this time, too~" He cooed playfully, loosening his grip on you enough to get his face out of your breasts; all of his nuzzling had pulled down your tank top to expose your cleavage.

You blushed and put your hands on his shoulders to gain some distance. "That's not--I--" you couldn't speak straight, not sure where to start and how or if you should even explain the events of last night to Nikolai. "My husband--he--"

"Cheated on you? With the blonde bob girl? Yeah, I know. They always do it in the storage closet." The bluntness in Nikolai's voice shocked you. Had everyone literally known about this but you? Did he and Lacey have to be that obvious? Nikolai started playing with the ends of your tank top, "That's why I beat that annoying harlot up. She was faking nice all day and kept touching me all seductively," he ran his hands up and down your waist, using his fingers to slowly pull up your top and drag down your shorts like he was trying to reenact the scenario.

"H-Hey..." You stammered, blushing at his advances. Nikolai only giggled as he brought your hands up to his face and kissed them.

"I hate girls like that, you know? I only have eyes for you, myla." He stared into your eyes for a minute--unbeknownst to you, waiting for a reciprocated response--before letting go of your hands and sighing disappointedly.

"Quiz time!", Nikolai started, lightly slapping your hips and sitting up straight, startling you, "Will Dove entertain me or stay here while I beat up the boss then escape?"

"What?" You looked confusedly at Nikolai, "Entertain you? What are you talking about?" A pit formed in your stomach; you had a bad feeling about this.

A smirk appeared on Nikolai's face, "Well, you are just here to keep me occupied until backup arrives, aren't you?" He waved his hands at you, "I broke free from my handcuffs, so technically I can leave whenever I want. I know you won't stop me."

His taunt made you sneer, but you knew deep down he was right. It wasn't even about strength, you didn't want to stop him either. "I can't let you leave, though. What do you want?"

"You're really bad at quizzes, ptashka. You're supposed to guess, not ask me." Nikolai leaned back into your chest. "Hmmm...bathe me." He suggested, causing your face to heat up.

"But--" You objected, getting cut off by Nikolai looking towards the exit door and starting to get up. "Wait!" You pushed him back down and glared into his mocking eyes, "I'll do it. Just--just stay here...with me." The last part piqued Nikolai's interest as his attention went back to you and his smug look returned.

You shakily reached for the faucet to turn the water on before Nikolai pulled your hand back. "Not yet, dove. We can't bathe with clothes on. Remove them all first." His warned, dark eyes and an unreadable expression back on his face.

You gulped, "R-right..." His white button-up was already open, so sliding it off Nikolai's broad shoulders was easy. You couldn't peel your eyes off of his toned chest. You couldn't believe that loose uniform and his lanky frame were hiding a perfectly chiseled six pack all this time.

Nikolai laughed seeing you admire him, "Like what you see, pryntsesa? Keep going down, it gets better~" He teased, moving your hands down to the waistband of his boxers. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you pulled them down. Vision flashing, you grabbed a soap bar from the ledge of the tub and turned the faucet on, burying your face into Nikolai's neck and closing your eyes, eliciting a subtle whine from him.

"What's wrong, dove? Too embarrassed to look?" Embarrassed was an understatement. You hadn't been intimate in so long, and now you were getting naked with your ex-patient that you'd been in charge of detaining. You were blushing like it was your first time. Nikolai giggled at your reaction; he was annoyed at first that you'd stopped but was pleased by your flustered state. "Cute. Now look up." He brought your face up to his, but you put your hands on his chest to stop him, hesitating to continue.

"Come on, now. Where's the confidence from when you kissed me? Y'know, while I was sleeping." You froze in place from that, allowing Nikolai to move your hands away and bring you close again. You were still stunned, so he continued, "You didn't know I was awake, did you? If I wasn't under all those drugs, I would've--"

"I'll do it, Nikolai. So please, stop talking..." You whispered out, silencing him with a kiss. Nikolai obliged, kissing you back obsessively and pulling you deeper. You flinched a bit when you felt him tugging off your biker shorts, pressing you near his exposed length. He broke away from the kiss, cheeks lightly pink as he feverishly pulled your tank top off and you complied.

Intimate silence between you, you picked up the soap bar and slowly started lathering up his upper body, sensually gliding your hands over his firm abs. He panted lightly from your touch, still taken aback by your sudden forward gesture. You weren't unscathed either, eyes averted to the bubbly translucent water and a rose hue across your face. "Dove," he started needily, "Wash lower". He took a hold of your hand, letting the soap sink, and moved it down under the sudsy bathwater to his hardened member.

You looked away ashamedly as your fingers slid down and rested at the base. He was big. Were you really going to--

"Dove", his voice was slightly threatening as he grabbed your face with one hand, "Look at me and do it properly." He cupped his other hand over yours and starting lightly stroking up and down, making you even more aware of his length.

"I-I'm embarrassed..." You said, trailing off and struggling to look into his hazy eyes as your movements got weaker. Nikolai's smile turned down after that, and his glare burned into you.

"Why, you've never done this with your husband?" He sheepishly grinned as his hands crept down your sides before stopping, "The one who loves you so much and gave you these love marks?" His face went dark again before squeezing the bruises along your waist, hard enough to make you wince in pain. He only smiled happily from your reaction, kneading into your skin more as he continued, "I would never hurt you like that, dove...Not unless you wanted me to." He moved closer to you and whispered in your ear, "You don't want me to hurt you now, do you? That's why you'll listen to me, right?"

Your eyes burned a bit, tears almost forming as you realized how powerless you were in this situation; he could always kill you. "No..." You quickly shook your head as your hand went under the water again to pump his dick. Nikolai heaved upon feeling your fingers wrapped around him again and pulled you in again for a softer kiss, hands now affectionately caressing your body, trying to comfort you for being a bit too cruel.

He groaned into your mouth after you started stroking at a faster pace, bringing your fingers up to play with his tip as you squeezed tighter on the way down. Your kisses became weaker as you could feel his pre-cum making his shaft more slippery. Nikolai broke away from the kiss, breath hitching as you squeezed his sensitive parts tighter. "S-Shit, dove..." He muttered out, momentarily relaxing his head and shutting his eyes, making you could feel his cock get warmer as more of his arousal came out.

He didn't miss the way your nipples hardened from his desperate panting and was quick to trail kisses from your neck down to below your collarbone while undoing your bra. He got harder seeing your perfect, round tits and took one in his mouth, sucking sweetly while palming the other. His quick action drew a sudden moan from you, and you brought a hand up to run your fingers through his layered hair, latching on for support.

"A-Ahhh~" You were still focused on pleasuring Nikolai and kept massaging his dick as he lapped up your breast, digging his nose into your skin, getting drunk off of your vanilla scent. He opened his glossy eyes to see your rosy, lewd expression.

"So pretty, myla," He released your breast with a 'pop' and groaned under your touch, "Mmmm...there...K-keep stroking there, dove. I'll make you feel good, too." His face was flushed now, light pink dusting his cheeks. He didn't expect his pristine dove to be so...forward and lascivious. Certainly not so skilled with your delicate fingers, either. He felt like rewarding you and used his free hand to bring your body down, so your cunt was aligned with his thigh. He grunted feeling your wetness immediately against his skin.

You hissed after feeling the back and forth friction on your slit, insides clenching around nothing. The heat in your core was only getting more intense, making you only want Nikolai and ignoring all morality. You could tell he was feeling it too by the way he started breathing heavily and leaving hickeys on your neck, panting out your name. The kisses trailed down your collarbone to your tits again as Nikolai drew circles around your nipple with his hot tongue.

Needing more, he pushed you down further onto his thigh and suddenly bit your sensitive bud, causing you to jerk up and tug his hair roughly "K-Kolya! Mmmmm...t-too rough!" His name leaving your pretty lips was enough to send him over the edge as he came into your hand and whimpered loudly.

"F-fuck, fuck, fuck..." He hugged you tightly and kissed your skin as he came down from his high, hot breath on your chest. His eyes were shut tightly. You blushed seeing him all vulnerable like this and kissed them softly, gently brushing the hair sticking to his forehead to the side. When he finally opened them again, you were reminded of your own unfinished arousal.

"A-another round, please, Kolya," You begged him with lust-filled eyes, grinding yourself into his thigh more, "Want you to make me--"

Your needy pleas were cut off by Nikolai's amused giggles as he gazed at you mockingly, "Hmmmm...so my dove needs me now, does she?" He tilted his head innocently, his signature twisted smile gracing his face, "I don't know, though, ptashka. I'm a bit tired and injured, so I can't move much."

You hated it--how he was getting off seeing your pathetic expressions. Even if he was telling the truth, it felt like he was degrading you, like he wasn't the one utterly obsessed with and love-sick over you in the first place. You were still just playing his little game, but it didn't matter. All you needed was him now--inside of you.

You exhaled shakily and moved up again, reluctantly holding onto his shoulders and starting to lower yourself, "You're the worst...teasing me like this..."

"Only because you tempt me too much, myla." Nikolai's hands caressed your face and traced over your pouting lips. His eyes remained dark and daunting; he was testing your limits, testing you. You both gasped as you felt him directly on your pussy, brushing past your clit and threatening to slip in between your folds.

Low moans left your mouth as you took him inside of you. His cock was stretching you out, forcing you to close your eyes to avoid looking down. Inch by inch, you went lower--moving at an agonizingly slow pace, whimpering from the uncomfortable feeling of being slowly filled. You stopped after the stretch started to borderline sting. It was too big--He was definitely way too--

His laughs interrupted you again, "Come on, dove. You're only half way down. Try a little harder, won't you?" Only half way? He had to be jokin--

You choked on your moans as Nikolai forcibly grabbed your hips and pulled you down to the base of his cock, submerging your lower half into the milky warm water. He smirked shamelessly upon feeling your perfectly manicured nails dig into his shoulder blades and kissed along your neck to soothe some of the pain.

"A-Ahh...you're tight, love. I'm bigger than your husband, aren't I?" You mumbled something quietly, too focused on trying to adjust. Nikolai kept going, though, "Yeahhhh, I definitely am. I can tell by how--fuck--good you're s-squeezing me~" His facade started disappearing when he felt the sensation of your pussy's contractions mixed with the scratches on his back . He held his breath as you unclasped the gold necklace--now no more than a satirical collar--and let it fall into the bathwater below you.

"S-Stop talking about him. I don't want to think about that cheater anymore. Just focus on me, p-please, Kolya." Your weak yet assertive pleas made his heart melt a bit as you rode him slowly. The unfamiliar stretch each time you rowed your hips back and forth made you bite your lip slightly. Nikolai only threw his head back and placed his hands lightly on your sides--still insistent on not doing any of the work--greedily enjoying the ride and moaning praise out of his mouth. He looked so pretty like this--like he did in the library: flushed face, disheveled hair, and lust-blown eyes.

Both of your moans got louder and you sped up your pace, grinding your pussy down on his cock harder each time and leaving passionate hickeys on his neck and chest. He ran his fingers through your hair and groaned into your ear, the sight of your plush ass and tits bouncing up and down turning him on even more.

"So perfect for me, angel..." Nikolai pulled your neck in and crashed his lips messily onto yours, muffling your moans with his tongue. You were so cute, thighs trembling from trying to take all of him with no help but desperate to chase your own release. He brought his fingers down to your puffy clit and rubbed small circles around it, occasionally pinching and making you buck your hips momentarily. His satisfied groan quickly turned into another whimper as you squeezed harder around him in response to his teasing. Your movements and kisses got sloppier as the two of you got closer to finishing, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap once you felt every vein on his cock throb inside of you.

Your thoughts were becoming clouded as you chased your own pleasure--something you hadn't prioritized in years. You didn't care anymore about your husband, who was just a good-for-nothing adulterer and abuser, your coworkers who'd stayed silent about his cheating, or your parents who only cared about what they could get out of you. All of them kept you in a cage, their cage that separated you from love, truth, and happiness. But Nikolai was different: he lived his life freely and wanted the same for you; he cared for you like no other--actually desiring you and staying loyal, making you laugh, and knowing how to touch you. Even if he hurt you, the pain always went away shortly. After all, even though he'd caused the commotion at the asylum, he'd protected you by keeping you in the bath house with him. He was doing all of this because he cared about you, right?

Nikolai pulled away from the kiss, leaving a string of saliva between you. He was panting hard and out of breath but gazed adoringly into your eyes again. The circles on your clit got faster, drawing broken moans from you as you started to become numb to all the previous pain. Now that you'd adjusted fully and angled yourself better, you could feel Nikolai in the depths of your pussy hitting your sensitive spot. "Mmmmm--Kolya...you feel...'s good--Ahhh~"

"Y-yeah, pryntsesa? You're close, right?" You nodded vaguely, drunk off of the hedonism you'd been denied for so long. "I love you, dove. So much." Your hazy eyes widened after hearing that, tears of ecstasy prickling your vision. "Come for me, please, pretty girl. Let's do it together."

You came undone from that, your orgasm washing over you and putting you in a state of pure bliss. Nikolai groaned as he felt your warm pussy clench around him, following you and releasing his cum inside. You shuddered from the warmth that contrasted the now cold water you were half-submersed in. Feeling tired and cold, you hugged Nikolai's firm body.

"Love you too, Kolya. I wanna be free with you, forever. Let's run away." You looked up into his eyes, almost shocked to see the dark, unreadable expression and a wicked smile on his face.

"Yeah? That's good to hear~" He captured your lips again, a bit more harshly this time, and kissed you hungrily. You gasped into the kiss as you felt him grab and squeeze your ass and thrust up into your overstimulated sore cunt, going at an unrelenting pace you couldn't handle.

You tried to push him away, but you were too weak and fucked-out, only crying out as you felt him balls-deep inside of you. "Sorry, dove, I want to finish one more time. Will you help me?" He was laughing in between as you moaned incoherently, too spent to keep your eyes open or respond properly.

"I love you...I love you, Kolya..." You could only repeat that as you started to feel the sensation building in your core again, feeling Nikolai's rough thrusts more intensely. You felt some shifting and were about to open your eyes when you felt a sharp prick at the left side of your waist.

"Ah--Ow!" Your eyes flew open from the pain, and you gasped in shock as you saw Nikolai's hand closed around your side, holding the rest of your body still as he injected the spare shot of tranquilizer into you.

Nikolai only looked down regrettably at you as he stroked your hair and kissed your face gently. Your head was spinning and your vision slowly faded to black as the effects kicked in, unable to even process what was going on. The last thing you heard was Nikolai's distorted voice.

"Don't worry, dove, we'll be in a better place soon. Somewhere we'll be free..." You made out a warped giggle, "Dos and Sigma are going to be so jealous of me."

₊‧꒰ა read part 3 here ໒꒱ ‧₊˚