#small and fluffy and full of hissing and biting

[zstartrixxx]

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍’ 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍’ (𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑬𝑨𝑺𝒀!)

ʳᵒʸ ᵍᵒᵒᵈᵉ ˣ ᶠᵉᵐꜝʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: 𝐘𝐄𝐒 | 𝐍𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: [...] "Nuh-uh. Shut up. Let me ride you real nice, but shut up." You smirked, retrieving the discarded bandana and tying it over his mouth like a gag. [...] or To show your unwavering support for this cowboy, you decide to gently demonstrate just why he's the best damn rider in La Belle—hell, in the whole damn territory. 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: so, this request was extra special 'cause i’ve been dying to write roy goode fanfic for ages—he’s yet another one of those fascinating characters from jackie: sweet, shy, even though he’s a goddamn gunslinger, somehow still manages to be a soft, angelic little weirdo doing his own thing—AAAAARGH *bites fingers while kicking feet*. if you haven’t watched GODLESS, let me just say: WATCH IT!!! it’s on netflix, the plot is addictive, the female characters steal the show, and goode is so goddamn perfect it HURTS!!! 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: +18 ADULT CONTENT. a lil' of fluffy and smut: fingering, cowgirl (trad & reverse), dirty talk, kind!roy, kinda a dom!reader. (i'm really bad to tagging, i'm learning how to does this properly ;) 𝐖𝐂: 2.6k for whoever is going to read it, a great read! <3 likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

ROY GOODE PLAYLIST (not yet) | 𝖬𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳

"you say it's big, but you take it! ride cowgirl, but your love ain't free no more, baby." (pyramids, frank ocean)

A thick trail of dust followed the heavy gallop of the black steed. Gripping the brushed leather reins tightly in his hands as he rode hard over the sheepskin-covered saddle, Roy Goode kept his bloodshot, tear-filled eyes fixed on the road ahead—the blood radiating the adrenaline coursing through his body, the tears those of sheer exhaustion. He'd been tracking Griffin for at least two, nearly three weeks now, trying to drive him away from La Belle and its outskirts, terrified the worst might happen: not just the devastation and carnage that always followed his false father, but the imminent danger of you becoming that bastard's target.

Even though you'd learned to shoot and ride better than him, his protective instincts—coupled with the trauma of facing loneliness again in this godless world—compelled him to take the reins of his horse, give you one long farewell kiss, leave a handwritten letter filled with all the affection and vocabulary he'd gleaned from the almanacs and books you'd lent him (tucked beneath your pillow), grab his black-handled pistol, and hunt down his tormentor.

Roy wore a red bandana around his face—a gift from you—covering half of it, the other half hidden beneath his black hat, velvet with a leather strap at its base. Dressed head to toe in black, he carried that mysterious, dangerous aura people judged him for having. He let out a scornful chuckle beneath the fabric, its edges fluttering with his horse's rhythm as its pace began to slow, stopping at the entrance of the small town where, by dusk, most residents had already retreated into their homes.

Winn crossed Roy's path, bringing him to a halt. He gave a nod, his pistols on full display, grinning smugly:

"Goode. Any news on those outlaws? Managed to shoot 'em in the ass yet?"

"All I can say is we're safe for now, Winn..." Roy hissed from behind the bandana, tipping his hat at the young man, who mirrored the gesture before patting his horse.

"Alright, Goode. You did right coming back. Folks've missed you somethin' fierce..." He shot an amused glance toward the schoolhouse you'd taken over after Callie Dunne left for a quieter life away from La Belle's chaos—same as Mary Agnes, who'd packed her bags for New York.

Roy, grinning just as smugly, tried to deflect:

"Bill back yet?"

"Nah... Still holed up at Mrs. Fletcher's ranch," Winn shrugged, stepping back with hands on his narrow waist. "Ain't nobody can tame a lovestruck man's heart, Goode."

"I got my doubts," Roy snorted, nudging his stirrups and making his horse let out an agitated whinny as it trotted ahead, leaving the deputy sheriff eating dust.

Roy stopped near the schoolhouse entrance, where the last of the children were leaving, greeting "Mr. Goode" with excited giggles, thrilled to see him after weeks without a trace. He returned their enthusiasm with touches to his hat brim. Dismounting, he led his horse to the small pen with a makeshift stable he'd built behind the house—just big enough for his horses—and found his gray gelding resting in its corner. He gave it an affectionate pat before heading back to the door, his pulse quickening at the thought of seeing you again. Pausing before the double doors, he could hear soft humming through the wood. He dusted off his shoulders before stepping inside, already removing his hat but leaving the bandana out of habit.

You'd heard the door open and then be locked. Thinking it was a child who'd forgotten something, wondering why he heard her being locked, perhaps by mistake, you walked in with a gentle smile—only to freeze in shock at the sight of the man clad head to toe in black, the crimson bandana the only splash of color on him, staring at you. And just by his gaze, you knew everything he wanted to say. Roy smiled beneath the fabric, opening his arms for an embrace full of passion and longing. You leapt into him, wrapping your legs around his waist, exclaiming:

"Roy! You're finally back! God, I was starting to worry..." You cupped his face, your oceanic eyes searching his up close.

"Missed you like hell, darlin'—" His voice was muffled, making you laugh.

"Let's get this off..." You tugged the bandana down, exposing Goode's perfectly shaped lips, then held his face—the same hand that had just unmasked him—and kissed him tenderly. Roy carried you in his arms, bumping into a table leg, nearly tripping over a stray book on the floor—you both laughed at the clumsiness—before finally collapsing onto the purple velvet sofa. You settled atop his hips, palms flat against his narrow shoulders as Roy let out a long sigh against your lips, tilting his head back against the couch and tossing his hat aside.

"What's wrong, cowboy? How'd the hunt for that bastard go?"

"Went fine... I just—" He hesitated, shyly avoiding your hungry gaze. His large, calloused hands—worn from hard labor—rested on your waist. He smelled pleasantly of soap and fresh breath—likely stopped at an inn to clean up before coming to you, wanting to return presentable.

"You just...?" You encouraged, fingers tracing every detail of his face: the forehead creases beneath his fringe, the strong, upturned nose, the Cupid's bow lips that always made you feel struck by his arrows, the stubble pricking your skin, the warmth in his drained eyes.

"I... shit. I'm just... tired of this life, y'know? This endless chase after murderous outlaws, keepin' up this damn gunslinger legend, never knowin' if I'll make it back to you. It's messin' with my head, darlin'. Bad. Really fucking bad…"

You bit your lower lip, sudden pity swelling at his soft, accented voice—so unlike the man you knew. Adjusting yourself on his lap (your light pink cotton dress bunching around your hips), you cupped his face firmly:

"Roy Goode, you're the baddest sonuvabitch in this territory. Don't you dare feed me that defeated talk."

"It's just... ever since I lost my shot at Griffin and started patrolin' La Belle, promisin' folks freedom... I'm worn out, sweetheart. Real worn out." He closed his eyes again, lips twisting. You sighed, stroking his cheeks before pressing your forehead to his, whispering against his mouth:

"You'll kill that bastard yet. And that ain't a promise—it's fate. But even so, Roy, you're the goddamn best gunslinger in this whole damn town! The best!" You bounced slightly for emphasis, the movement making him groan beneath you. "In all these godless lands! And if there's one thing I can show you right now—besides makin' up for all this missin' you..." Your hands slid down his shoulders, intentions crystal clear in your hungry gaze and wicked smile. "...it's how much this cowboy here needs a good ride. Just to remind you you're this town's goddamn hero."

"Mhmm, that so?" he murmured, leaning into your touch. You grinned, already grinding against him, feeling his cock harden between your thighs.

"Yep. My favorite cowboy to ride." You laughed at your own silliness, earning a rough groan from him.

He was still fully dressed—pistols heavy in their holsters, leather belt digging into your thighs—but you couldn't care less, attacking his lips with desperate kisses, pouring weeks of longing into every movement. Roy matched your intensity, his calloused hands roaming your body with tenderness before sliding under your skirt to grip your thighs. Breaking the kiss, you smiled dopily at him before stripping off his coat, unbuckling his gun belt, and letting it drop with a metallic thud. Roy's eyes widened, and you just giggled:

"Oops!" You kissed him again, unbuttoning his black shirt while grinding against his deliciously hard cock. Roy voiced his need for you, guiding your hips into a slow, deliberate rhythm, letting you feel every inch of him as your wetness soaked through your panties.

"Think we oughta lose the rest of these clothes, hm?" you murmured against his lips. He nodded, both of you laughing at your fumbling—his hands flew to the buttons of your dress, impatiently tugging them free before showering your exposed chest with kisses, cupping your breasts like it was the first time, kneading them greedily, sucking your nipples until you arched into him with a wanton moan.

"L-let's get these off, baby," you stammered, reluctant to pull him away. Laughing, you both managed to undress between messy kisses and clumsy hops—you stepped out of your dress, now naked before him, then knelt to tug off his boots and pants.

Roy was left in only his half-unbuttoned shirt, his cock throbbing and begging for you.

"Goddamn, Roy. You're a sight." You couldn't help yourself, climbing back onto his thighs, positioning yourself over him. His hands found your waist, your eyes locked—and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sank onto him, taking him inch by inch with a long, sweet moan. Roy melted into the couch, watching you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted.

"What?"

"Just thinkin' you're missin' somethin'..." He grinned, reaching for his discarded hat and plopping it onto your head. "There. Now you're ready to ride me proper." He gave your ass a playful smack, making you gasp before bracing your hands on his shirt-covered shoulders. Roy shifted beneath you, finally shrugging off the last of his clothes—but you still felt something was missing.

"Hey, what—?" he started, but you clenched around him, drawing a ragged groan from his throat. You grabbed his black coat, shoving it at him.

"Put this on. No questions. Just obey, cowboy." You laughed at his confused pout. Roy groaned as you deliberately tightened around him while he struggled into the coat—finally dressed, he opened his mouth to complain about the wait, but you silenced him with two fingers against his lips.

"Nuh-uh. Shut up. Let me ride you real nice, but shut up." You smirked, retrieving the discarded bandana and tying it over his mouth like a gag. His expression darkened, but when you gripped the coat's lapels like reins and picked up the pace, he seemed to understand. Relaxing. Letting you take control, setting the rhythm as you rose and fell on his cock, milking him with each movement.

His hands gripped your hips, thrusting up to meet you, sweat beading on both your bodies—Roy panted, his gaze never leaving yours, full of desire. One hand slid to your throat as you threw your head back, lost in the feeling of him filling you completely. He wanted to whisper filth in your ear, but the bandana muffled his growls, drool soaking the fabric as he marveled at how perfectly your pussy fit around him. Slick, sweaty, fucking you hard. Your moans were music to his ears, your body moving in perfect sync, sweat glistening between your breasts, hair sticking to your face... God, Roy Goode was the luckiest man in the territory.

You slowly opened your eyes, his grip on your throat loosening as he focused on your ride. Gently, you tugged the bandana down, brushing your fingers over his lips, smiling lovingly as you slowed to a stop. Foreheads pressed together, sweat-slick and breathless, you kissed him softly. Roy tangled a hand in your hair, tilting your head to kiss your neck, his stubble scratching deliciously:

"Wanna feel you ride me from behind, darlin'..."

"Mmm, sounds so good..." you purred. With some effort, you turned around, his hands guiding you back onto his cock. "C'mon, sit that pretty pussy down on me," he rasped, making your legs tremble.

You resumed riding him, using his thighs for leverage, one of his hands on your waist while the other gripped your neck possessively.

"You're so big, Roy, so good—"

"That's it, ride me just like that..." His voice was wrecked, barely holding back. You bounced so perfectly, your ass slapping against his balls, it was a miracle he hadn't spilled inside you already. Suddenly, he hooked his arms under your knees, lifting you effortlessly (those hard labor muscles paying off) before slamming you back down, fucking into you with deep, punishing strokes. His breath was ragged against your back as he growled:

"Gonna fill you up, darlin'. Gonna put a baby in you. That alright?"

You choked on a moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids as he hammered that sweet spot. Roy laughed darkly, repeating:

"I asked you a question, sweetheart..." He stilled, making you whimper.

"Why'd you stop!?"

"Folks say I ain't no good. Just provin' 'em wrong—" He smirked at your desperate squirming, holding you still with a firm grip. "—if you want me to fuck you proper, answer me: you want me to breed this pretty cunt or not?"

"Yes, goddamnit, Roy, yes!"

Roy smiled beneath you, victorious. He grabbed your other leg again, adjusting himself beneath your body, sliding back into you slowly—in and out, holding himself deep inside you for seconds at a time, drawing whimpers from your lips as you scrambled for purchase with your hands. He repeated the motion once, twice, three times… so many times you lost count.

Then Goode thrust up hard, his own rough groan building as he shuddered beneath you, spilling—hot pulses of cum filling you up. He stayed buried inside you for long seconds, both of you panting, your own climax still coiled tight and throbbing low in your belly. He knew you hadn’t come yet, but that wasn’t a problem.

When he rolled you onto your side, slipping out of you—still half-hard from the thorough fucking he’d given you—he pulled you close, kissing you hungrily, his tongue sliding against yours as he pushed two fingers into you without warning. Just like that. He laughed against your lips at your startled gasp, his hat now tilted sideways on his head, his bandana loose around his neck. His fingers worked into you with the same ruthless precision as his cock had, hitting that same sweet spot until you were squirming, grinding down against his hand, helpless to the pleasure building—and the inevitable orgasm you’d been denied earlier.

When you least expected it, your body locked up, a full-body shudder wracking through you as electric pleasure shot from where he touched you all the way to your fingertips. You cried out, gripping his wrist to push him away, eyes wide, legs trembling uncontrollably.

Trembling, gasping, nails digging into his shoulders as electricity shot through you. Roy looked smug, bringing his fingers to his lips with a satisfied lick.

"Delicious. As always."

"Jerk," you huffed, both of you now tangled together on the sofa, sweaty and spent. His hand traced lazy circles on your back as you nuzzled into his chest, breathing in his scent—musky, natural, oddly comforting.

You glanced up. Roy looked thoughtful.

"And now...?"

"And now what?" you teased. He rolled his eyes, shifting beneath you.

"Now you convinced yet that you're one hell of a cowboy? A hero?"

Roy raised an eyebrow. Outside, night had fallen, La Belle's streets empty—as if the two of you were the only souls left in this lawless world. He pulled you into another searing kiss, murmuring against your lips:

"If this is how you prove I'm a hero... darlin', I'll need convincin' every damn day."

Playful, you could already feel his cock throbbing between your pressed pelvises, casting him a look full of intentions, love, and longing.

Roy raised his arms to the sides in an amused gesture of surrender, commenting:

"I was told earlier today that no one can tame the heart of a man in love..."

"Oh really?" you retorted, your mischievous hands already sliding down his torso toward the hardened length between you. Goode swallowed dryly:

"Yeah..."

"And what did you say?" You paused dangerously close to his cock. Roy made a pleading expression, silently begging you to keep exploring him with your hands. He gazed at you deeply, pupils dilating as they met yours:

"That I seriously doubted it... since mine is completely tamed by you."

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: i have this fanfic to write with him, now i only have a good amount of time to focus on writing with this man, because just like Jackie's other characters, he deserves all the spotlight!

[dmitriene]

cw: dubcon (?), reader is something akin to a hybrid.

simon riley picks up a stray, a small kitten that was balled up in some small, carton box in a narrow alleyway, black fur clumped together with grime and wetness from the rain, seeing the little thing all soaking under cold weather makes him feel a tiny spark of something unfamiliar smoke bitterly behind his ribs, so he picks the stray with him.

he almost gets his eyes clawed out, little claws digging into the skin of his scarred hands and shirt, trying to flee away with skittish hisses and loud mewls, but he still bundles the kitten, hiding the stray behind the thick fabric of his coat, calloused fingers scratching behind small, tightly pressed ears purposefully, making the amount of self protective noises subside to tiny growls.

simon tidies to the thing, washes the soft fur as softly as possible, untangling the thick clumps, making the water turn as black as the color of the fur, before curling the kitten in a big, fluffy towel that soaks all the wetness, carrying it to the kitchen, and the little stray already purring loudly in his hold, curled in the crook of his elbow as he enters the kitchen.

he feeds the stray with chunks of sausages from the fridge, simon doesn't has anything better, yet the little thing swallows it's all down with rumbling purrs and loud chewing sounds, mingling with small possessive growls, afraid someone gonna take it from her, but simon only pats the little thing at the head, before scooping the kitten up once all the sausages gone.

simon wakes up at morning to the small, pointed nails raking against his abdomen like talons, kneading at his skin under the crumpled shirt, his body sweating with warmth knotting beneath his navel, scorching deep in his gut, and when he opens his eyes, trying to lift himself on his elbows, he's greeted by pretty thing bouncing on his cock, thick girth buried deep down in the hot clutches of gooey hole.

his hands move to grip onto your round hips, squeezing at the fat, and your pussy clenches at the sudden movement, the fat tip of his cock jamming against your spongy spot as you bounce up and down, your soft ass plapping onto his thighs that is still covered by his pajama pants, as simon growls, biting at his thin bottom lip as his cock jerks, pale eyelashes fluttering with an urge to roll his eyes back.

simon doesn't knows who you are and how did you get inside, sleep hazed mind trying desperately to comprehend the events, but then there's thin, black tail swishing behind your back, rubbing against his leg and crumpled sheets, tiny ears peeking from your hair, pressed tightly against your skull as you gasp, canting your hips with jerky, rolling movements, and you start to mewl whiny, strained gratitudes.

your movements increasing, turning sloppy, and simon can't do anything but grasp tighter at your hips, helping you to rock down on his throbbing cock, squelching wet at the amount of the oozing slick that coats your puffy, spread folds, wetting his curly pubic hair, as his tip grazes just one more time against your little gooey spot, before you cum, clamping tightly with ripple of your warm walls around his jerking cock, gushing.

simon fills you up, reaching his climax right after yours, making his whole body shudder, as you pump your hole full of his milky cum that spills from your tight, fat pussy, holding him in a vice just right, rumbling purrs that vibrate against his chest, calling him your handler, and as your fluffy tail curls around his thigh, and you rub your face against the crook of his neck, he knows he picked more than just a simple stray kitten.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[msbigredmachine]

Cheat Meal (Roman Reigns)

The OTC is hungry for a whole lot more than just good food.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Based off Roman's TikTok where he complains about his diet😂

Enjoy!

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gif by @romanreigns

He shoves the last tiny piece of broccoli in his mouth and dumps the plate in the sink with a resigned sigh. The ‘breakfast’ will barely register inside his stomach but it’s the price he must pay to be in the shape he’s currently in, the best he’s ever been in. Even if it makes him miserable and slightly cranky until it’s time for his next bland meal in another couple of hours. 

Retreating to his bed at the back of the bus, Roman checks the time as he waits patiently for his wife to return from the diner across the road so they can head on to their next destination. They’re already running behind schedule with a near two-hour drive still to go. More excruciatingly, he’ll have to deal with the smell of greasy, albeit delicious food that he can’t even look at, let alone eat.

Minutes later, the sound of her perennially cheery voice floats through the air, followed by the driver thanking her for her generosity, having bought him his own breakfast. As the bus restarts its journey, the bedroom door slides open, and Roman does a double take. The yoga pants and tank top he swore he saw her exit the bus in has been replaced with one of his old t-shirts. Nothing else. The outline of her nipples betray her lack of brassiere and that fat, juicy ass of hers jiggles with every step she takes as she places a tray full of food on the dressing table, the small bedroom instantly filling with the aroma of a hearty breakfast. 

“Sorry babe, I had to wait a little bit for my milkshake,” Elise explains, piling pancakes onto a porcelain plate. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Baby, this is not how you were dressed when you left,” he points out, soaking her in as he sits up against the headboard. 

Elise giggles and settles down on the edge of the bed next to him. One glance at the contents of her plate - buttermilk pancakes smothered in butter and honey, a couple of sausage links and two thick strips of bacon - has Roman salivating. “That diet is really fucking with your head, babe,” she jokes, as he rolls his eyes. “I’ve changed into something comfier. All the better to eat my comfort food with.”

“Why you ain’t eating in the kitchen, then? You just gotta fucking tempt me, huh?” He’s not sure which one he’s talking about anymore; the food or her appearance. She looks good enough to eat every time, but she looks amazing either dressed down or in next to nothing. Like now.

Of course, nothing at all is his absolute favorite.

“Cuz I wanna share it with you. Sorry but I don’t have your discipline. Just a day on that dry ass, rabbit food ass diet of yours would fuck me up,” Elise gripes. “And don’t get me wrong. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve done with your body. You look carved from damn marble. But you’ve lost hella weight and it’s making your big ears stick out." She pouts. "I kinda miss my thick neck Daddy. There was more of him to climb.”

“You still climb me with zero problems. And I can’t eat this stuff. You know that,” he laments.

“You say that while you eye-fuck my bacon.” She picks up her fork, cuts into a pancake and daintily takes a bite before moaning in delight. The warm fluffiness of the pancake, the rich, sweet honey, the smoothness of the butter, all come together in her mouth, textures and flavors melding together as she chews and swallows. "Mmm, this is soooo good," she gushes.

Roman grits his teeth and growls sullenly, “I hate your ass right now.” 

“You’re making me feel bad.” Carefully balancing the plate in her grasp, she shifts around and straddles him, and he hisses at the way her ample backside seats flush on his crotch. Sure enough, she has no underwear on. “Daddy, have breakfast with me. You need to eat more. A couple of bites won’t hurt.”

Roman sighs heavily, smoothing his hands along her thick thighs that complement the rest of her thick body. “You know damn well I can’t say no to you when you call me Daddy.” It’s not a lie either. Three kids in three years and a closet full of Birkins, Louboutins and many other luxuries are proof of this.

Elise muses over her plate and selects one of the large strawberries topping the pancakes. “Let’s start with something sweet.” She offers it to him, seeing him relax upon realizing it’s something relatively healthy. “Eat,” she instructs.

Roman opens his mouth obediently, closing his eyes as the juice bursts on his tongue, some of it dribbling down his bearded chin. Elise grins as he moans in satisfaction, and she makes him eat the rest, his full lips streaked red from the fruit. Cheekily, she places her own lips on his, tasting the flavor for herself, and smiles triumphantly as he makes a surprised sound but deepens the kiss anyway, cupping the back of her neck to hold her against him.

“Oh, it’s like that?” he asks when she pulls away, light panting punctuating the air between them. His eyes sparkle with lust. “Thought you were only feeding me.”

“I’m multitasking.” Kissing him again, she stabs the fork into another piece of pancake, dipping it in honey and feeding it to him. She loves to do this. It’s her favorite form of intimacy. Her love language, if you will. Taking care of him, pampering him. Her gestures never fail to stir his heart, as well as other parts of his anatomy. “My sweet baby. Feel better? You’re not hungry anymore?” she teases him several bites after.

“Nope. Not for pancakes anyway,” he says. The words are cryptic and shrouded in mystery, that’s until his hand slips between her thighs. At her sharp, indrawn breath, he smiles darkly, flattening his palm so that he firmly cups her sex. “There’s another…delicacy…I wanna feast on.” 

Her husband is insatiable for her. Always has been, and she loves it. Feeling desired and wanted by such a beautiful, high-value man like him does wonders for her self-esteem and their marriage. But after one passionate, bed-rocking round earlier this morning and little food fueling him, she would think his energy is depleted. “Baby, you should rest,” she tries to reason, but he’s adjusting her already, forcing her to put her food away on the nightstand.

“I’ll rest after you come in my mouth,” is his curt, yet loaded answer. And just like that, her resolve is reduced to ashes.

He scoots his big self down the bed until she is seated on his face. Elise barely has time to collect herself when his calloused hands scrape her thighs and clutch her hips to hold her in place. Her body jerks as his tongue finds her folds in record time, lapping greedily. Heat instantly washes over her with a wave of nerves and lust as he works her with that unmatched skill that brings her to surrender. In mere seconds, she is lost in the pleasure, her pussy dripping from a mix of her juices and his saliva, all of it slurped up by his talented tongue.

"Fuck, Roman…” she moans, squirming on his face, her body ablaze. He’s so damn good at this shit, it’s damn near unfair. It feels like her whole pussy is in his mouth as he licks and sucks to his heart's desire. He tightens his arms around her thighs, his massive hands prying her open for further onslaught. The warmth of his breath, the prickle of his beard, his moans against her sensitive flesh has her mind spinning, prompting her to rock her hips in rhythm with his circling tongue, grabbing her breasts through her t-shirt for added stimulation. Her entire being hums with anticipation as her orgasm builds and builds. “Ro, I'm...I…oh fuck, Daddy,” she gasps, unable to string a simple sentence together in the state of bliss she’s in.

But of course, her husband knows exactly what she wants. What she needs. To give it to her, he works harder, incorporating his nose and chin, gliding them back and forth along her wetness, buoyed by the quiver of her thighs as he sends her over the edge. The explosion of her body is of seismic proportions, and Elise slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream, bucking, writhing, whining as pleasure consumes her whole.

She’s still reeling as Roman carefully lifts her off his face and drags her back down. His mouth captures hers with a dizzying urgency, exchanging the sweet tanginess of her arousal. They lick and suck hungrily on each other’s tongues, his hand reaching up to curl around her throat making her pussy spasm with need, so much so that her essence begins to smear the center of his gray sweatpants. Roman looks down at her mess with a proud, arrogant smile, and he lifts his hips just enough to pull the stained pants down his legs and kick them off. He strokes his dick, long, thick and hard, for a few seconds before guiding it inside her.

“Get this dick, baby, c'mon,” he orders, his low, gruff command sending yet another tremble through Elise that he both hears and feels as her breath catches. They moan together as she sinks lower onto him, balancing herself with her hands on his bare, muscular chest. Her hips roll back and forth, grinding on him, keeping him pinned to the sheets while she chases down their collective pleasure. 

He fucking loves it when she’s on top. It allows him a holistic view of the body he's been obsessed with since the day they first met. His big hands roam her front, relieving her of her t-shirt so he can properly idolize her breasts, so plump and pillow-soft as he massages them, gleeful at the way her nipples harden from his touch. He then travels south to grab her ass, enjoying the round, supple cheeks flexing against his palms as she rides him. He grips each one possessively and proceeds to lift her up and down on him, bouncing her on his throbbing erection. 

“Fuuuuck...”

“Nah, you can take it. And not too loud now, we don’t need the driver hearin’ us again, hmm?” Roman taunts, squeezing her left cheek and spanking it hard, earning a yelp from her. His eyes are blown as he studies the expressions on her beautiful face. “My fine ass, sexy ass wife. Climb me like only you can, baby,” he encourages her with soft moans of his own.

Falling forwards, Elise tucks her face into her man’s neck, her breathy kisses warming his skin as she manages to maintain the pace he’s set for her. He’s so deep inside her, nearing her cervix it feels like, the sweet sensations amplified by their chests pressed together, his large hands caressing her with so much love and care and reverence while talking her through it with his deep, husky voice and dirty words. Years together and their lovemaking is still as earth-shattering as their first time, and she appreciates it more than he’ll ever know.

Roman kisses every part of her his mouth can reach, reveling in her increasing moans as he angles his hips, keeping his dick buried in the ocean of her cunt. “Leese, you feel so fuckin’ good…” he groans on her shoulder, licking the butterfly tattoo etched on her skin, “Damn, baby, I could stay inside you like this all day…”

Elise tries to agree with him, but her jaw drops when he bucks up into her without warning, his hands planted on her ass holding her down to take every inch of him. The depth, the intensity and precision of his strokes render her speechless. Her eyes roll back as his lips find her nipples, suckling the swells of her heavy breasts, the wet smacking sounds of his hungry mouth and her gushy pussy sounding around the bedroom. The shit is so good that neither wants it to end, more than content to just remain on the bus and fuck all day long.

"Daddy," she whines, her fingers sliding over the back of his hair, tangling in the long, soft locks as she locks hazy gazes with him. His brows are furrowed, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth; telltale signs that he’s close, just like she is. "Oh baby, I'm gonna come again..." she whimpers.

"Yeah? Is my girl about to nut?" Roman asks, grasping her chin and brushing their lips together. "Gimme that nut, beautiful. Soak Daddy’s dick with your wet ass pussy," he goads her with another kiss, another smack on her backside that makes her ride him harder. Her pupils are dark and dilated with desire, reflecting the passion he’s feeling. He wraps his huge arms around her middle, and pushing up on his heels, he accelerates, fucking her faster, thrusting deeper, until her moans dissolve to broken, breathless cries as she trembles on top of him. Her walls milk his dick greedily and trigger his own release. Roman’s groans and curses fill the room, his body shuddering too as he empties his load, filling her to the brim. 

With a soft whine, Elise melts on her husband’s heaving body, both parties spent but immensely sated. An eternity passes before either move, Elise reaching over Roman’s prone frame to grab a piece of bacon and pop it into his mouth.

“Good? There's more if you want,” she asks, watching him chew on it.

Roman sighs contentedly and rests his head on the pillow. “Mm-hmm. That's another couple added minutes on the treadmill though.”

Elise giggles and snuggles up against her action figure of a husband. “You’ll be fine. And you’re perfect to me already, by the way,” she assures him.

THE END

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

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[spitefulsatanfics]

❝𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝑴𝒚 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖❞

headcanons + novella-style drabbles of the first time they called you by your nickname (and vice versa) by little devil 🥀

pairing: Dean, Sam, and Castiel x She/Her Reader setting: canonverse Supernatural; established relationship; hunter x hunter tone: fluffy, a little flirty, soft and sweet with a touch of banter rating: PG-13 structure: nickname list per pairing + a full drabble for the “first time” moment

🥃 Dean Winchester x Reader

Nicknames Dean Uses for You:

Sweetheart (default setting)

Trouble (used when you're smirking with blood on your lip)

Darlin’ (when he's being soft or sleep-drunk)

Sugar (if he's trying to butter you up)

My girl (when he's proud… or possessive)

Nicknames You Use for Dean:

Hotshot (teasingly, especially when he’s being cocky)

Tiger (ironically, after he gets injured doing something dumb)

Pretty boy (your favorite way to fluster him)

Dean-o (used only when you're making fun of him)

Handsome (your soft, serious one — just for him)

Drabble: “My Girl”

The motel room was chaos. Salt lines smeared, blood drying in handprints on the walls. You were pacing, trying to shake off the adrenaline while Dean stitched up his arm at the table, hissing softly between clenched teeth.

“You didn’t have to throw yourself in front of it, you jackass,” you snapped, still too keyed up to sit down.

Dean didn’t even look up. “Yeah, well, it was going for you, wasn’t it?”

You stopped mid-step, watching the stubborn set of his jaw, the determined pull of his brow. He was angry — not at the monster, not even at the injury. At the idea of you getting hurt.

“You didn’t have to—”

“You’re my girl, Y/N.”

His voice was low. Fierce. Final.

You blinked.

Dean finally looked up, needle paused mid-thread. Realizing what he’d said.

You stared at him. Then walked over and carefully, silently, took the needle from his hand to finish the stitching yourself.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered.

Dean smiled, soft and small. “Yeah. I am.”

📚 Sam Winchester x Reader

Nicknames Sam Uses for You:

Angel (soft, tender moments — you melt every time)

Sunshine (when you’re grumpy or sleepy, ironically)

Smarty-pants (when you get to the lore first)

Love (his rare, whispered favorite)

Babe (his casual go-to)

Nicknames You Use for Sam:

Moose (come on, it's tradition)

Sunflower (when he's warm and golden and doesn’t know it)

Professor (when he’s in research mode)

Bookworm (affectionately teasing)

Sammy (used when you need him to smile)

Drabble: “Sunshine”

The bunker kitchen was dimly lit, your body wrapped in a hoodie three sizes too big as you shuffled in like a cryptid in search of coffee. You hadn’t slept. Or brushed your hair. Or remembered you were sharing space with Sam Winchester, who was now staring at you from the counter with his laptop.

“Wow,” he said, biting back a grin. “Look what the wind dragged in.”

You blinked at him.

“Are you wearing my hoodie?” he asked, eyes dropping to the hem barely grazing your thighs.

You blinked again.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

You flipped him off with the hand not holding your mug.

But you couldn’t stop the smile that curled your lips as you poured your coffee.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered.

Sam grinned and went back to his laptop.

“Yeah. I am.”

👼 Castiel x Reader

Nicknames Cas Uses for You:

Beloved (the one that makes you short-circuit every time)

Little star (used once while stargazing — it stuck)

My light (when you’re hurt or crying)

Y/N (the way he says your name is a nickname in itself)

Dearest (reserved for quiet, sacred moments)

Nicknames You Use for Cas:

Angel face (because duh)

Blue Eyes (he doesn’t understand it, but you love it)

Cas (the only one that feels real and yours)

Heavenly disaster (when he’s clueless and adorable)

Wings (when he’s soft and vulnerable)

Drabble: “Beloved”

You were curled up under an old quilt in the bunker’s library, rain tapping against the windows like some gentle lullaby. A rare moment of peace. Cas had been reading beside you, barely speaking — his presence warm and quiet like a candle on a stormy night.

Your head lolled onto his shoulder.

“You are tired,” he observed softly.

“Mmm.”

He hesitated. Then, carefully, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“You may rest, beloved. I will stay.”

You stilled.

“What… what did you call me?”

Cas looked down, brow furrowing. “Beloved. It is the most accurate word for what you are to me.”

Your heart did a full somersault and a backflip. Probably broke a rib on the way down.

You buried your face into his chest. “You can’t just say that while I’m half-asleep, Cas.”

“I don’t understand. It is true.”

You peeked up at him, cheeks burning. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He smiled, a quiet wonder in his eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “I know.”

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬.

And so did the feelings. 🖤

[sunskisser]

stars & spaghetti | r.b.

a/n: here i go again, not taking a break 😭 i swear i just needed to write this! thank you @lovemenotts for encouraging me to post it 🫶 i love you lily

tw: eating disorder recovery

Regulus knows where to find you, but he also knows better than to act like he was looking for you with two bowls of food in hand.

“Hey.”

You almost jump at the sound of his voice. You turn around from where you’re sitting on the porch, giving him a small smile. “Hi.”

His heart drops a little when he sees your face, with your sunken eyes and tired expression.

“I didn’t realize you were home already. Did you come through the back?”

He hums an affirmative, sitting down next to you on the steps leading out the house.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as you slouch onto the railing on your left, blankly staring out at the road. “How’s your day been?”

Regulus casually twirls his fork into the spaghetti in his bowl before bringing it to his mouth. Maybe he believes he’s being slick, you think, but it’s obvious that he’s got twice his usual serving.

“Today’s been fine, yeah. Just busy. How was work?”

He nods in response, “Good, actually. Mark finally sent me the files I needed to get that huge contract signed, and —” He presses his fork into the pasta again, but this time brings it up to your mouth (hoping you’re too distracted to mind).

His heart drops and how instantly you swerve backwards, almost crashing into the step behind you.

“Reg,” it comes out as a betrayed hiss. You take a shaky exhale before sitting back upright. “I don’t want any; I’ve eaten dinner already.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, I —“

“Then why’s the kitchen completely clean?”

Regulus never takes a harsh tone with you, and he wasn’t going to start now. There’s nothing but quiet, genuine concern in the way he asks. Guilt claws at the back of your throat anyway.

It was one of your worse days; thoughts of excessive calories and not having worked out being all you could think about. You’d stared at yourself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, cursing every flaw of your body and wondering why me.

Without your boyfriend home, it had just felt like there was no reason to fatten yourself.

“Hey,” Regulus mutters, laying his palm facing upwards on your lap. You take it. “You’re getting in your head again.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” He reaches out to gently brush a stray hair away from your face. “But do you think you could try to eat something? Please?”

Your heart stops, and it’s like your mind is reeling back into its hiding spot already. No lies on the tip of your tongue.

“It doesn’t have to be a lot, dove, he continues quietly, rubbing your fingers. “Just a few bites. You need fuel, you know.”

Regulus is looking into your eyes with that silent look now, the one which makes you feel like he’d do just about anything to save you from yourself. You don’t think you could ever say no to him.

And it wasn’t like you’d eaten anything today. You were allowed this, for your boyfriend, right?

“Fine.”

He smiles softy and tugs you closer, stamping a kiss to the side of your forehead and picking up the bowl of pasta from beside him. “So, remember that bouquet I bought you last week?”

He starts to make casual conversation as he feeds you, and you do your best to listen. It goes all the way from those flowers were expensive! to maybe we should get a cat — or a new apartment — but NOT a dog.

The food gets lodged in your throat every now and then, but you force yourself to swallow. The ‘full’ feeling starts to creep up on you like your shadow.

Regulus can sense it. “Okay, but why the hell do you like dogs?”

You decide to indulge him and go off on a tangent about the fluffy beasts, which pulls your mind away from its dark corner. The conversation makes the chore of eating easier.

You’re sure he knows what he’s doing, but you’re going to let him anyway.

Before you know it, you’re laughing so hard you don’t even realize the bowl is empty. He stands up to put it away before you get the chance to think too hard about it.

Regulus sits back down next to you. He starts to tell you about the stars, then, and you listen intently. It’s late, but you wouldn’t know what time it is. Time didn’t exist in your little bubble.

At one point you’ve curled into him the furthest you can. Your eyelids are being pulled down by the weight of fatigue, his comforting presence lulling you closer towards sleep.

He thinks you don’t hear it when he murmurs a soft I’m proud of you. You do.

[liketheletter-l]

31 and donatello plsssss - rem

cursed/turned into an animal

HAD A TON OF FUN WITH THIS ONE HEHEHEHE

no trigger warnings, just obscenely sappy twins

---

“Leo, stop laughing at him.” 

Leo does not stop, because every time he looks at the tiny, fluffy, angry kitten that was his twin brother two minutes ago, he like physically CAN’T handle it. He’s been laughing for those entire two minutes and he’s getting a little lightheaded. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Leo wheezes, tears streaming down his face. 

Raph pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not sorry.”

“I’m not sorry, look at him.” The kitten Donatello skitters backwards on the sofa and hisses at him. Leo opens his hands and makes kissy noises. “C’mere Tello-lello, don’t you want a snuggle?”

Donnie makes a swipe for his face, claws out, but Leo dances backwards with his super fast ninja reflexes. Donnie tries to scratch Leo even when he’s not a cat, so it’s pretty par for the course.

Leo spreads his hands innocently. “Come onnn.”

“Leo,” Raph says, exasperated, probably envisioning Donnie taking Leo's eye out. “You can't tease him the whole time.”

“You have no idea how long I can tease someone,” Leo says haughtily. “But for real. I promise I'm not gonna hurt you, D. Just hoping to help with some data collection.” The data being: are those tiny fluffy ears really as soft as they look? Can we get a cuteness rating on the little toe beans, a standard ten scale, please? 

Leo reaches out a hand for Donnie to sniff, which he bites immediately and mercilessly. OW. Okay. That one's fair. An acceptable sacrifice. Leo scoops the tiny kitten into his arms. Donnie meows angrily at him, high and shrill, probably scared. But Leo is an expert in Donatello and this is no sweat. 

“Look, you’re okay, D.” Leo puts his hand on Donnie’s back, the fragile, shivering thing in his arms. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Promise.” 

Donnie meows again, weaker. Leo’s not a monster. He knows it must be scary to be suddenly so small and so vulnerable. Earlier Donnie was backed into the corner, hissing, in full panic mode. 

Leo tucks Donnie under his chin and hums, trying to convey incredibly warm and soft vibes. The gushy stuff, the sort of embarrassing sappy shit he would N-E-V-E-R say out loud even with a gun to his head, the I would die for you thing and the you’re safe with me I promise thing. Maybe one time when they were eight, Donnie found Leo hiding under his bed during a thunderstorm, and he crawled in there with him and rested his head on Leo’s shoulder, a flashlight and a book with too many big words for Leo to really understand but what he did understand was that his twin was there and he was safe.

“I’ve got you,” Leo says, so softly he has plausible deniability. Donnie brushes against his chin and Leo can feel his little heartbeat slowing under the feather-soft fur. Really really quietly, he starts purring.

[phantobats]

Since Lee has infected me with Jaime x Jason brainrot, I have come back with a small fluffy piece of Jaime patching Jason up:

Jaime had barely settled in for the night when the knock on his door sent a ripple of unease through him. It was Jason—he could tell from the rhythm of the knock—but there was something different about it tonight, softer, almost hesitant. When Jaime opened the door, his heart stuttered.

Jason stood there, battered and bruised, his red helmet clutched under one arm, his leather jacket torn in several places, and his hands bloodied. The normally unbreakable Red Hood looked worn, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion and pain.

“Hey, Blue,” Jason rasped, forcing a smirk despite the clear strain. “Ran into a bit of trouble.”

“¡Dios mío, Jason!” Jaime’s voice trembled with concern as he closed the distance between them, his arms instinctively wrapping around Jason’s waist to steady him. “What happened? You look—” His voice caught in his throat as he took in the full extent of Jason’s injuries. “You look like you went through hell.”

Jason’s attempt at a grin faltered, replaced by a weary shrug. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, cariño. Just another night in Gotham.”

Jaime’s brow furrowed as he helped Jason inside, the warmth of the apartment quickly replacing the cold Gotham night. “No más excusas, amor. You’re letting me take care of this. Come on.” His voice held a softness that Jason could never resist, even when he was stubborn enough to pretend he didn’t need help.

Guiding Jason towards the bathroom, Jaime kept an arm securely around his waist. The weight of Jason’s injuries seemed heavier than usual tonight, like it wasn’t just his body that was battered, but something deeper. As they reached the bright light of the bathroom, the full extent of Jason’s bruises and cuts became heartbreakingly clear—dark purple swelling beneath his ribs, a fresh gash across his eyebrow, and more scars forming from what must have been a brutal patrol.

Jaime turned on the faucet, letting warm water flow into the tub, its soft hiss filling the room. “Sit down, por favor. You’re a mess, and I’m not letting you get away without a proper bath.” His voice was gentle but resolute, a mixture of worry and tenderness threaded through every word. As Jason sat on the edge of the tub, Jaime kneeled beside him, unfastening the buckles of his torn jacket and peeling it away from his body with care.

Jason winced as the leather slid off his bruised shoulders, but he stayed quiet, watching Jaime with an unreadable expression. “You don’t have to do all this,” he muttered, though the usual bite in his words was softened by something warmer. “I’m not that fragile.”

Jaime’s hands paused, his eyes meeting Jason’s with a softness that made Jason’s breath hitch. “You may not be fragile, but you’re mine. And I worry about you, corazón,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over Jason’s jaw before turning back to the task at hand. “I can’t just stand by when you come to me looking like this.”

The warm water continued to rise, filling the room with the scent of lavender, an oil Jaime had poured in despite knowing Jason would poke fun at it later. As the tub filled, Jaime helped Jason ease out of the rest of his suit, his movements tender and deliberate, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds.

“Lavender?” Jason arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “Really, Blue?”

Jaime chuckled softly, his fingers brushing lightly over a particularly dark bruise. “Sí. You need it. It’ll help you relax. Besides,” he added, a playful lilt in his voice, “I like when you smell nice.”

A genuine smile tugged at Jason’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You spoil me, you know that?”

Jaime dipped a cloth into the warm water, wringing it out before gently running it over Jason’s bruised skin. “Alguien tiene que hacerlo. You won’t take care of yourself,” he said softly, though the playful reprimand was laced with affection. His touch was featherlight, wiping away the grime and blood of the night with care, as though he could somehow wash away all of Jason’s pain.

Jason closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back, letting the warmth of the bath and the comfort of Jaime’s touch soothe him. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled under his breath, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the air like a whisper of something fragile.

“Shh,” Jaime responded, his fingers threading through Jason’s damp hair, massaging his scalp with soft, rhythmic strokes. “Don’t say that. Eres mi vida, Jason. You deserve every bit of care I give you.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Jason’s temple. “You’ve been fighting for so long, but you don’t have to fight me, ¿entiendes?”

Jason’s hand found Jaime’s, his thumb brushing over the knuckles as his heart swelled with a quiet ache he didn’t know how to put into words. “I’m trying,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I just… I’m not used to this.”

Jaime’s smile was soft, almost sad, as he continued tending to the bruises on Jason’s chest, his hands moving with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before. “You don’t have to be used to it yet. Just let me take care of you.”

As Jaime worked, Jason felt the weight of the night gradually lift from his chest. The bruises and cuts still stung, but they felt lighter now, as though Jaime’s touch had smoothed over the edges of his pain. His body relaxed under the soothing warmth of the water, the scent of lavender wrapping around him like a cocoon.

“You know,” Jason said quietly after a few moments, his voice softened by the drowsy comfort of the bath, “I always thought I didn’t need this—someone to patch me up, someone who worries.” He opened his eyes, looking at Jaime with a rare vulnerability. “But you… you make it hard not to want it.”

Jaime’s heart fluttered at the words, his chest tightening with a mixture of love and tenderness. He leaned forward, cupping Jason’s cheek in his hand as he pressed a kiss to his lips—gentle, slow, and full of quiet promises. “That’s because you do need it, Jay. And I’m here.”

Jason’s eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping his lips as he melted into the kiss, his hand resting on Jaime’s, grounding himself in the warmth of his touch. “Lucky me, huh?” he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got the best guy looking out for me.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jaime teased softly, brushing his thumb over Jason’s cheekbone before pulling back slightly. “But next time, try not to make me worry so much, yeah?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and soft as it reverberated through his chest. “I’ll try, bebé. No promises, but I’ll try.”

Satisfied with that, Jaime helped him out of the tub, wrapping him in a towel before guiding him to bed. As Jason sank into the mattress, Jaime slipped in beside him, curling into his side, his head resting on Jason’s chest. Jason’s arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close as his thumb idly stroked Jaime’s back.

“Te quiero, Jaime,” Jason whispered into the quiet, his voice filled with a rare, unguarded warmth.

Jaime smiled against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to Jason’s skin. “Te quiero también, Jay. Now rest, mi amor. You’re safe.”

And as the night settled around them, Jason let himself finally believe it—safe, in Jaime’s arms, where the world and its weight couldn’t touch him.

[yutxsgf]

I deeply love to imagine Bakugou as the grumpiest person walking on the earth when he grows up and pursues his heroic dream. But every grump needs his sunshine gf that's terrible at something.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

"It's done!"

An ash-blonde tuft of hair peeked out from the kitchen doorframe before moving out from behind the wall with his softened scowl.

You glanced over your shoulder behind you at the tall male, smiling softly as you beamed him a loving gaze.

"Gonna pass me one or keep smilin' at me?"

He crossed his arms, a faint smile making its way on his lips before he began striding towards your bent figure as you took your homemade cookies out of the oven.

"Can't I do both?" You hummed before hissing when you accidentally touched the hot pan with your non-mittened hand.

His eyes barely widened before he quickly made his way over to you, looming over you as he stood behind you with your wrist in his overly large hand. "Idiot." He mumbled before rubbing your hand with his calloused fingers.

You huffed, rolling your eyes before pointing down at the cookies on the pan.

You were pretty adamant on learning how to bake. Why? Because you were absolutely ass at it. But that never stopped Bakugou from encouraging you and supporting each and every one of your pastries. But of course, since you weren't the best at baking, you can only guess how they'd come out.

"They look great, honey." He mumbled, kissing your cheek before taking a dark obsidian black, supposedly chocolate chip cookie.

You smiled brightly at your boyfriend as he took a hearty bite out of your cookie, your happiness never deterring as he kept a straight face.

That was all that mattered.

"So.. how are they..?" You whispered, turning around to face him as you craned your neck up.

He hummed in thought before throwing the rest of the cookie in his mouth and sticking his thumb up with approval.

He swallowed, clearing his throat before pointing behind you at the cookies, "Gonna give 'em to the group, that okay?"

"Of course!" You smiled, "Can I come? I wanna see their reactions and take some tips."

"'Course baby, go get dressed." And with a light tap on your behind, you were off to your shared bedroom with a small skip in your step.

"What are those." Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, pointing a slim finger at the cookies in a small zip lock baggy.

"My cookies." You replied before Bakugou could, glancing up at the charcoal in your boyfriend's hands.

The group froze before simultaneously nodding together. You took nothing of it, but Bakugou did as he sent a deathly glare to each of them.

"Go on, pick one." Bakugou grumbled, keeping his stone cold glare as he carefully opened the bag and spread it large enough for their hands to fit through.

Sero and Kaminari gulped, clearing their throat before reluctantly taking the so-called cookie from the baggy. Ashido, Kirishima, and Jirou following soon after.

"Hey, babe, can you go get us some water over there?" Bakugou asked quietly, pointing to the water dispenser near the corner of his unnecessarily large office.

You happily obligated, nodding before shuffling over to the dispenser with your fluffy winter boots.

"One negative thing, 'n I'm slitting all of your goddamn throats."

"Yes, sir." Kaminari and Sero saluted foolishly as the rest froze, seemingly lost in thought as they stared at your cookie. wondering how in the world did it get that bad.

You quickly came back with both arms full of plastic cups filled with water. Bakugou was quick to set the cookies down on his desk and grab all the waters from your grasp.

When you smiled expectedly at them, they all glanced at each other before sighing and taking a reluctantly large bite.

"They're– They're um.." "They're awesome!" Kirishima finished for Kaminari, nudging his arm behind their bodies before gulping down his bite.

You happily squealed, jumping up and down before hugging your boyfriend at his neck.

And then, he smiled.

"Say a thing, and I'll kill you."

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

{ This is my little gift for you all! I had to do something! So i wipped this up toot sweet!!! I hope you all have a good Holiday Season!!!! }

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

Eddie's not sure why he lied. Told the party, Hopper and Joyce, and Steve, that he couldn't stay for Christmas. He'd gotten everyone gifts. Brought them all to the house. Steve had rushed out the door when Eddie was struggling to grab them all, like he'd been watching out the window for Eddie to arrive or something.

Steve's warm smile and laugh as he steadied Eddie on the sidewalk, and unloaded several boxes into his own arms, had made Eddie's stomach all swishy. But he'd walked through the door, into the, very loud, house. He'd seen everyone. All of them shouting hello's and asking for presents and telling him where to put things and what they were eating and what time.

Eddie's chest felt tight. He didn't know why. He hadn't even smiled at any of them, except maybe Steve, he couldn't remember. But he'd set the gifts down, cleared his throat and the words had tumbled out of his mouth.

"Sadly gremlins. I cannot stay. Wayne just got home from his shift at work. They finally let them have a Christmas off. And I promised we'd do a nice quiet Christmas, just the two of us." And he unceremoniously ran for the door, the disappointed sounds of the house full of his friends following him as he ran, his heart pounding. He thought he might have heard Steve tell him to wait, but he couldn't. He ducked out the door, nearly slipped on the ice on the stairs and booked it down the sidewalk before scrambling into his van.

Steve was standing on the pourch when he chanced a glance that way as he was backing out, his arms wrapped around himself to fend off the cold. He raised his hand, waving at Eddie as he drove away.

He could feel the tears coming before he managed to get back to the trailer park. His vision swimming. He wiped at his face and slowed down a bit. It had started snowing again, big fluffy flakes falling down. He pulled up to the trailer, it's windows dark, the way he'd left it after Wayne had gone to work, and he'd headed out to Hopper and Joyce's house.

He slammed the van door and stood standing in the falling snow, looking at the empty trailer, tears falling down his cheeks.

"You're so fucking stupid." He hissed at himself, turned, kicked his tire several times and yelled before stomping up the steps and ducking inside.

He kicks his shoes off, yanks his clothes off, struggles into his pajama pants and his ratty comfy old Dio shirt and crawls into bed. He hadn't turned on one light in the trailer. Preferred to do his self loathing in the dark.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, crying into his pillow, listening to the wind and the light patter of chunky snowflakes hitting his window. But he barely hears the knock. He sniffles, lifts his head, waits.

Two knocks. Gentle but insistent.

His chest tightens but he tosses his blanket off and pads slowly to the door. His hand reaching out as two more knocks hit the door. He bites his lip and turns the small lock, pulls the door open to find exactly who he knew he'd find.

"Steve." His name. That's all he can manage right now. He's so tired.

"Hey." Steve responds, looking up at Eddie from the second step of his porch. There are snowflakes in his hair and his eyes are bright as he looks at Eddie, he's got a look on his face Eddie can't decipher right now.

"Are you okay?" Steve ask, blurts really, his hands shoving into his pockets, shoulders bunching around his neck. And oh. Nervous. Steve is nervous.

"I'm fine Steve. Just-" he sighs, deeply, covers his face with his hands and groans.

"You don't seem fine. And- and Wayne's clearly not here. And you just ran, man. What- what's wrong?" Steve had stepped up the last step, moved toward Eddie. Eddie missed his hands reaching out and dropping back down. But he didn't miss Steve pressing into his space. He could feel the warmth of Steve's chest against his arm, tears welling in his eyes again.

"I don't know." He whispers into his hands, before dropping them and looking at Steve, finally, his face wet.

"Hey. It's okay. Let's- can we go inside, you're gonna freeze." Steve's hands land on his shoulders, in comfort, and question, and guide him inside when Eddie nods.

Steve kicks his wet shoes off and grabs the blanket from the back of the couch. He wraps it around Eddie and then sits them both on the couch, their knees gently pressed together. His hands soothing over Eddie's arms. The comfort just makes Eddie feel like crying more. He shivers, fights the urge to  push Steve's hands away.

"Tell me what's going on in your head Ed's." Steve says, his voice quiet and soft.

"It was just... too much." Eddie shrugs, doesn't look up at Steve, just stares into his lap. He hears Steve sigh.

"I get that. Everyone in one place is definitely a lot." Steve moves his hands down, curls his fingers over Eddie's hands.

"I've never had that." Eddie admits, looks up at Steve then, finds his eyes wide and open and waiting.

"It was always me and my mom. Or me and Wayne. Sometimes my dad but he always disappeared at some point and no one really missed him." Eddie shrugged. Steve nodded, squeezed his hands.

"I don't know why I lied I'm sorry." Eddie's throat feels tight again, his voice tilting into a whine.

"Hey it's okay. You don't have to be sorry. It's okay. Come here." Steve grabs Eddie, pulls him agaisnt his chest. It's awkard, the angle, but it feels safe. Steve always makes him feel safe. Eddie takes a few deep breaths, breathing in Steve, his face smooshed against his deep red sweater.

"Did everyone like their gifts?" Eddie asks, he feels Steve laugh and then he's leaning back, letting Eddie sit up to look at him.

"What makes you think they opened them?" Steve gives him a look. Eddie gives him one right back that makes him laugh again.

"Yeah they loved them. Mike tried to touch Erica's without asking and she smacked him. She's gonna be busy painting those for awhile." He smiled at the memory.

"Oh. And you made Nancy cry. She didn't even know you knew Barb. Where'd you even get that picture?" Steve asked, smiling. Eddie sighed.

"I didn't know her super well. She was in my theater class two years in a row though. We did a skit together. A Shakespeare thing. Our teacher said her calm manner was the only one in class that could offset my manic energy." Eddie laughed, remembering how Barb had smiled at him when their teacher had said that.

"She was always nice to me. Even when people called me a devil worshiper. She never cared, or believed that, I don't think." Eddie shook his head.

"Anyway, one of the girls in stagecrew took the picture, it was during rehearsals. We were just goofin off." He shrugged again. Steve reached out, took his hand.

"She loved it Ed's. It was perfect. You uh, you're quite the gift giver." Steve says, a small smile creeping over his features.

"I like giving gifts." Eddie says, keeps his eyes on their hands as Steve's thumb moves over his skin, gentle and warm.

"Did you-" Eddie clears his throat.

"Did you open yours?" He asks, his teeth digging into his lip. Steve mirrors him, and then drops his head, looks up at Eddie through his bangs.

"Yeah. How long did it take you to make it?" He asks, his fingers twitching agaisnt Eddie's.

"Not as long as you'd think probably. Finding the right patches took the longest." He shrugged again, aiming for nonchalance.

"Mhm. And you left room for more. You'll have to sew them on for me if I find some. I don't know how to do that." Steve ducks his head again, trying to get Eddie to look at him.

"I could teach you how. It's not hard really, once you figure it out." Eddie looks up then, giving Steve a reassuring smile.

"Mhm. That could be nice." He squeezes Eddie's hand again and guilt shoots through Eddie. He scrunches his face as Steve looks at him.

"What? What's that face for?" Steve laughs.

"I finished your vest months ago." He blurts, his hands starting to shake in Steve's grasp.

"Oh." Is all Steve says, because he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why that's a problem. Or a secret. Or whatever it is. But now that Eddie's said it, he can't not tell him why. Can't stop his mouth from telling Steve the things he's shouldn't tell him.

"I was afraid to give it to you." He says, Steve tilts his head to the side, looking like a fucking lost puppy with those fucking eyes of his.

"Why?" He finally asks when Eddie just stares at him.

"Because. I knew if you saw it. You'd know." Eddie says, his shoulders drooping.

"Know what?" Steve asks, Eddie's feels his hands clench, just barely. Eddie sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again.

"How I feel about you." Eddie says, in a sort of rush, and then his mouth really gets going.

"So ya know I figured, Christmas. That would solve it. I could give it to you at Christmas, when everyone gives gifts, that's a normal, friendly thing, to do. And I figured ya know, in a crowd, that it would be less... intimate? And maybe it wouldn't feel, so much... like what it so fucking clearly is. But I ruined that too. Cuz I fucking ran. And I didn't even get to see you open it." His hands flail out of Steve's grasp, and he stands, starts pacing.

"And maybe that's for the best. That I didn't see it. That might have made it worse. Seeing your gut reaction, not a reaction after the fact, that you had time to rehearse. Cuz if you actually hated it. And I saw that. God that would have been embarrassing. Here's me just fucking, declaring my love for you on a fucking peice of painstakingly perfected fabric and then there you would have been, opening it in front of everyone! Oh my god why did I think this was a good idea? This was so stupid. I'm a fucking idiot what the fuck was I- whoa what are you-" Eddie's words die in the air as Steve grabs him and yanks him to his chest, his fingers curled into Eddie's shirt, their chests pressed together firmly.

"Stop. Talking." Steve says, his mouth a crooked line as he smirks at Eddie.

"What?" Eddie asks, brows furrowed. Steve closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"You're ridiculous." He huffs, opens his eyes.

"I didn't hate it. Eddie. I'd never hate anything you made for me. But especially not that. I loved it." He breathes, leaning closer, just a fraction, Eddie can feel his breath ghosting over his skin. Steve's face hardens from the fond look into something more serious. He licks his lips. Takes a breath.

"I love you." He says, his hands uncurling and pressing flat against Eddie's chest, surly he can feel Eddie's heart pounding. Eddie nods.

"I love you too. Like a lot. Like it hurts sometimes how much. Does that make sense?" His face scrunches, Steve presses closer, slowly closing the small distance between.

"It makes perfect sense to me." He whispers agaisnt Eddie's lips, and kisses him. He hums into Eddie's mouth when Eddie gasps and scrambles for purchase on Steve's back.

Steve pulls back and brushes his nose against Eddie's. Resting his forehead against his as they breathe in each others air.

"Come back to the party. You can stay in your jammies." Steve whispers between then, giving Eddie's hips a squeeze. He squirms, further into Steve's grip.

"My jim jams." Eddie whispers, almost laughing.

"Mhm. Wanna spend Christmas with you. Was kinda really looking forward to it." Steve is still whispering. Eddie pulls back, shocked, for some reason.

"Really?" He asks. Steve bites his lip and nods.

"Yeah. Of course. Plus," he dips forward, presses a chaste kiss to Eddie's lips, because he can now.

"You've got gifts to open Mister." Steve smiles at him, tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"Aww really. Gifts for lil ol me?" Eddie teases, but he feels his chest grow warm.

"Yeah. And if the party gets too much just tell me, and me and Rob and Nance will yell at everyone to shut the hell up." Steve shrugs, kisses Eddie's cheek.

"Yeah. Yeah okay. I'll get my coat." Eddie nods, untangling himself from Steve. Steve lets him go, but smacks Eddie's ass as he's walking away. Eddie yelps, jumps, and rubs at his butt as he walks down the hall.

Steve drives them back, carefully in the still falling snow. Eddie's sure Hawkins has never been so beautiful as it is right now. Eddie sitting in Steve's car, quiet Christmas music playing through the speakers as Steve takes them back to a house full of people who love him, and missed him, and want him there. Eddie watches the snow fall, tightens his fingers where they're laced with Steve's, and decides maybe Christmas isn't so bad after all.

[bahrtofane]

after pleading and much excitement on kylians’ end, you finally bite the bullet and take him with you to your hometown of algiers. 

kylian x algerian!reader

word count : 1.3K+

watch it: fluffy fluff fluff, mild over thinking and angst if u rly rly dig deep for it 

luv my country fr fr

—--

theres a small dent on the wall from where you banged your elbow so hard you swore you broke it. you were around 10. it's been years, and the little spot still stands. you never forget to run your thumb over the ridges, the cool wall warming under your touch.

It's been years, but the wall holds the memory, a mirror of you. each flick of your thumb ignites the scene inside your head over and over, you swear you can feel your elbow sting. you remember the way you hissed sharply and called for your mom, who came scuring from the hallway. and how your cousins all lined up to see the damage and soon teased you for being a baby. screeching at the 'crater' you left in the wall. your aunt snapped a picture of the comotion while she laughed hysterically, hand on her hip, head tossed back while the rest of the family filled in to check out the commotion. 

you were given a wet towel to keep in your elbow till the swelling went down. and the teasing never stopped, in fact you're bound to have it happen at any second. your cousins called you bulldozer for years, some still do. that's even your contact name in a few of their phones. 

it's so silly how such a little moment from so many years ago carries on. wasn't even your funniest moment in full honesty. you have much better ones. 

it's been years, and it remains one of your many contributions to your grandmother's little flat. cozy and quaint in the center of algiers. today you bring a new addition, kylian.

you joked about taking him once, just a passing comment while you showed him pictures from your last trip. he hummed, latching onto the idea like an excited puppy to a chew toy. bothering you with itineraries (as if you need one in your hometown?), your texts are a wall of flight screen shots at this point. and of course bombarding you with questions every second he got the chance. 

"should i pack light?"

"what cities will you take me to?"

"do you think i'll need to bring a lot of security?"

in truth, you were hesitant to bring him along.

 going back home is a feeling you can never get enough of. from the moment you step off the airplane and the familiar smell of your country hits your face, to your first dip into the mediterranean, a homemade meal, singing out of cars in the dead of night while you race through the city. 

bringing him is an intimate ordeal. your country is your first love, first home. she raised you in a sense. 

she is a part of him, the same as she is of you. but having him in your grandmother's home? introducing him to your very lively extended family? you don't know about that.

you were worried about your sanity as much as his. you know the questions will be never ending. he's your fiance now after all, wedding in the works. this is only going to add to the disaster that is wedding planning. you know you're going to have to squeeze in promises of inviting your 2nd cousins aunts cats neighbors gardener. 

and how could you forget, he's kylian. kylian mbappe. there's no way you're bringing him to the heart of algiers and going to be free to roam the streets as you please.

you know you'll never be able to do so on your own again once the media puts two and two together. good by freedom. it's easy in resorts or fancy hotels. everything can be arranged. but not here. 

you and kylian value your privacy dearly. french media has barely ever gotten a proper look at your face and you intend to keep it that way. but you don't think you can get away with that here. you want to show him real places that hold history and the people. not just fancy villas on the coast that cost more than you want to think about. 

he pleaded with you anyway, even after you voiced your concerns. "i have an agent and security for a reason. just take me and the rest will come easy. don't even worry."

you frowned, "it'll be in the summer, when everyone else and their mother is going."

"i just want to see it you know, authentically. i want to experience just a part of what you did growing up." he confessed, shy. 

and so you caved. and here he is. leaning against that same wall you rammed into all those years ago, fanning his face with a pile of notebook paper he found lying around after a long day of unpacking the gifts you bought for your family. 

he's had a long day of posing for pictures and videos, all of which you rolled your eyes at. it's nearing sunset, and you press your forehead against the familiar cool wall of one of the living rooms. it's going to be where you sleep for the next 2 weeks or so. 

the couches convert to beds and you get to play the age-old game of war with the mosquitoes that torment you. you haven't told kylian yet. he needs to be ambushed in the middle of the night for the full authentic experience. ha ha ha. 

you look back to where kylian is sat on the couch perpendicular to yours, hes given up on the fanning. hand under his thighs while he watches what he can of the balcony. you can see the sea from here. in all its beauty. the gentle wind it brings flutters the curtains while you hum. 

tomorrow he meets the rest of your family and you can't help the butterflies that pool in your stomach at the thought. your fiance, meeting the rest of what makes this house a home. you can't wait. for now though, all you want to do is nap.

you get up from your couch, sliding on your socks to press up against his side. even if its pushing near broiling temperatures. he doesn't complain, only bringing his hands to cup your face gently, giving your nose a peck. 

"its so beautiful here, " he sighs, "thank you for bringing me."

you hum into his lips, giving them a firm kiss, "you're welcome my love. i'll show you around tomorrow. it's time for my post flight nap."

he gives you a lazy smile, "yes please i was waiting for you to bring it up. it's past my nap time." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and throw one of the couches throw pillows against his chest. he manages to grab it, hurling it back at you. and while you're distracted he curls his hands against your side, tickling you till you yelp and thrash in his hold, back pressed against the couch while you gasp in between laughter. 

he finally lets you go and collapses on top of you, kissing any skin he can reach.

"okay get off, it's too hot for that." you groan.

he at least listens to that, peeling himself off you and retreating to the far end of the couch while you set up yours for what you know is going to be top 5 naps of your life, easy. 

against the gentle breeze and city sounds, you're lulled to sleep. in your vision you see kylian getting ready to do the same, reaching over to press one sound kiss on your forehead before settling down into his little bubble. 

you could do this forever you think. you're glad he came.

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.23

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Angst, violence no gore

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The fresh water was warm and comforting.

Cleaning off five days of intense mating was already a laborious process, but now you had to avoid the hot water from aggravating your fresh bite wound.

You hadn’t smeared bacta on it yet, as you had requested to shower first despite Crosshair’s objections.

You hissed as the water began to wash away the dried blood patches gathered in your collarbones. You gently used a washcloth to massage away the grime, feeling satisfied when the water was no longer running red.

You continued washing the rest of your body until you were certain you were squeaky clean.

With your hair wrapped in a fluffy towel and a second towel around your middle, you scampered over to the big counter and mirror to grab the tube of bacta gel. Taking a small amount on your finger, you smeared it into the wound, feeling it start to tingle instantly as the skin knit back together.

Sensing a presence behind you, you looked up into the mirror to see Crosshair standing there, watching you tend to your wound. You smiled at him through the mirror, but he didn’t return the look. Instead, he seemed to be suppressing his true feelings, but you could sense the mortification through the bond. You felt your mood drop instantly.

He might not be saying it out loud, but you were beginning to think he didn’t want you… the sensation cut deep in your belly with anxiety.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he turned on his heel, leaving you alone to dress.

“Cross…” You sighed, tossing the towels aside to find a pair of clothes. Riffling through the pile of white sweaters and loose pants, you grabbed something and pulled on the underwear before yanking the sweater over your head. By the time you left the bathroom, your mate was nowhere to be seen.

You growled, wringing out your wet hair before heading for the door.

When you stepped out into the hall, you looked around for any sign of his direction.

Luckily, your neighbors seemed to understand your look of confusion and all jutted their chins in the direction he had taken off. With a silent nod of thanks, you took off down the hallway, charging after your elusive mate.

Grim gave you a tiny nod from his post at the base entrance, along with Bolts, who seemed a little shell-shocked himself. It was then that you looked around and realized a disturbing truth.

The entire base had been bombed.

All around you, alphas and omegas brandished fresh mating marks. With a sideways glance, you realized Bolts had been involved in this drug-induced sex craze as well. You trotted over to him and pointed to his neck. “You okay there, trooper?”

He looked up with an almost fawn-like gaze. “I don’t even understand what just happened.”

“Same thing that happened on Kashyyyk,” Grim replied. “Synthetic Rut Aid.”

“The whole base was drugged?” You asked the sniper. He nodded in confirmation. “Hit four days after seeing you. It was madness around here for a while. Too many fights. Medbay is full of injured.”

You cringed. “I thought it was just us.”

“Ahh,” Grim nodded. “That’s why Crosshair was in a mood.”

You huffed. “Yeah.”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Ask me again after I talk to my mate.” It felt weird saying the last part.

“Well, it isn’t anyone’s fault.” Stunner walked up and inserted himself into the conversation, icing a black eye. “That stuff makes alphas lose their minds.”

“Seems like the admiral wanted pups as soon as possible,” Grim grumbled.

Anxiety suddenly swirled in your chest. You put a hand on the smooth wall, trying to calm your breathing.

The idea of pups—oh my gods. You silently prayed that Cross hadn’t gotten you pregnant now that your suppressors had been dissolved.

You hoped the Force would have mercy and not give you a pup in this awful place.

“Hey, you okay?” Grim asked, watching you try to calm down.

You shook your head. “I-I just need to find Cross.”

“He went to the range,” Stunner said, nodding in that direction.

You swallowed thickly. “Thank you.”

Without another word, you took off towards the training facility. You approached the training facility, taking a turn down the stairs before crossing the mats.

Crosshair’s new civilian stormtrooper garrison was in the middle of their combat training but stopped upon seeing your white-clad figure appear in the doorway. The first one you noticed was Wren. She immediately stood up, facing you directly. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun as sweat cascaded down her neck.

You stared her down, making the alpha bristle. It seemed her ego was still bruised from the scar you left on her backside, and the fact that you were an omega only added to her frustration.

The others stepped out of the way, parting so you could pass and enter the shooting range. Two guards remained out front, but upon seeing your fresh mark and collar, they too stepped aside to allow you to pass.

The blast door swished open, and you stepped inside to find your mate alone in one of the shooting stalls.

“I want to be alone, Y/N,” he said without turning around. Of course, you were the only one brave enough to disturb the disgruntled alpha.

“We weren’t the only ones,” you said as the blast doors whooshed closed behind you.

He didn’t answer.

“The entire base was hit with the rutting drug.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You sighed. “Cross.”

You shuffled next to him as he raised the weapon, aiming it down the range. He unloaded on the target at an impossible distance away. Even after all this time, it was still impressive to you. He reloaded, pushed the clip back into the gun, and raised it again.

“It wasn’t either of our faults,” you tried to reason, but he lowered the weapon and looked at you sideways.

“You didn’t want this!” he snapped. “Your instincts did! I was supposed to be stronger! I’m supposed to protect you!” He shook his head, gripping his weapon. “Even from yourself… and now we’ve done something permanent that we can’t undo! This is a mistake, Y/N!”

You looked at him, seeing the self-hatred roll off him like a bad stench. His words hurt. You weren’t going to lie.

You shuffled on your feet. “I know we never talked about it, b-but… I—”

He looked at you with a raised brow, clearly annoyed with your nervous stuttering.

You took a deep breath and looked at him squarely. “I wanted you to do it.” You crossed your arms. “I wanted you to do it a long time ago. I wanted it after you all saved me from Mimban.” With a shake of your head, you turned to face the door to leave. “You have no reason to feel guilty. But I do.” You looked at him over your shoulder. “It’s obvious you don’t want this…” Clearly, the post-mating high had worn off; all you could feel through the bond was disgust.

Crosshair probably concluded that this was a mistake while you were in the shower.

He may have feelings for you, but it wasn’t enough to justify a mating bond.

You were overwhelmed with guilt, knowing he was probably going to hate you for binding the two of you together for eternity.

You walked outside, knowing he wasn’t going to follow you. You waited for the blast doors to shut before allowing the tears to fall silently.

Ignoring the stares from his squad members, you walked past them and made your way back to your apartment.

When you entered the common space, you noticed Wolffe leaning against the corridor wall, chatting with his men. They were obviously waiting for you to return but trying to play it off as casual.

Not really in the mood to talk to them, you tried to pass them with a weak smile, but Wolffe snagged your arm and pulled you over to them.

“Not so fast, little one,” he said with a smirk.

You huffed, wiping away the trails of moisture left by your tears. The others looked at you with sympathy. 

“I just want to be alone, Commander,” you said weakly, trying to prevent yourself from breaking down in front of them, but it was getting harder by the second.

“No, you need your pack,” he said, mussing your hair.

You sniffled, letting Stunner fix the wild strands a bit.

“What happened?” Bolts asked, snuggling his mate. He must have gotten over the initial shock by now and embraced the little Togruta. She looked just like Ahsoka and nearly made you start sobbing.

You took a deep breath, trying to fight back the emotion. “Crosshair says it was a mistake.” You touched your bandaged neck. “I know he didn’t want this. He… he didn’t do it the first time. I-I don’t know why I begged him to do it this time!” Now the tears were flowing freely, and Wolffe yanked you into his chest as you sobbed, “He wasn’t going to until the drug hit, and then I don’t know, I couldn’t help myself! I bit him, and then he bit me. I-I… kriff.” You let Wolffe rub your back, trying to comfort you.

You whimpered, “I just want Hunter… I want Hunter to make it all better!” You were dying for your other mate’s comfort. You wanted to be held and cared for, and it was eating you alive. You couldn’t even remember what they smelled like, which made you wail.

“Shhh,” Wolffe cooed. “You’re okay. I know…”

“I want my pack!” you cried.

Wolffe and the others casually opened the door to their dorm and dragged you inside so you could speak freely.

“I miss Rex, and Fives, and Kix, and Dogma, and Tup! And ahh kriff, I miss Jesse and Echo! I’ve missed Hardcase for so kriffing long and haven’t even been able to grieve him. Echo died and then came back to life! I miss my best friend, Ahsoka, and for kriff's sake, I miss Anakin!” You would have slumped to your knees if it weren’t for Wolffe and Stunner holding you up. You shook like a leaf as the gravity of this entire messed-up situation hit you. EVERYONE was GONE.

You lifted your head, eyes red-rimmed. “I don’t have anyone but the Batch. My family is all gone. I joined the war effort to get off Coruscant, and then I had a family again. They were taken from me… again.” You shook your head. “I can’t lose Crosshair. I can’t lose anyone anymore… but he doesn’t want me, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Y/N, you know that’s not true,” Wolffe said, shaking his head. “Crosshair tore apart the entire known universe searching for you.”

“Nearly this base too,” Stunner added.

You wailed harder, making the 104th boys cringe. Okay, maybe they didn’t know how to comfort omegas very well.

“Well, the Commander already offered you a spot in our ranks. You’ll always have a pack with us, Y/N,” Grim said, stepping forward and giving your head a little pat.

You sniffled, perking up. “Thank you.”

“The offer still stands. Just let me know, pretty girl,” Wolffe said, smiling and smoothing down your hair.

“Get your hands off my mate!”

Crosshair’s silvery voice boomed throughout the dorm.

You all spun around to find Crosshair storming inside with his signature scowl. Wolffe let you go, and you stood on wobbly legs, wiping your tear-stained cheeks as he approached. You were unsure if this was going to turn into another brawl.

Without a word, he wrapped his hand around your arm and guided you out of the 104th’s bunks.

“Cross…” you sighed.

“Just give me a second,” he pleaded, continuing to lead you back to your apartment.

You huffed and let him. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, guiding you back over to your messy nest. The combined scent of your mating was still strong among the textiles, making you shiver. He took your hands in his in a surprisingly sweet gesture and walked backward until he could climb back into the pile of blankets. He dragged you down with him and pulled you on top of him with a huff.

You braced yourself against his strong chest and looked down into his piercing gaze.

“You know I’m bad at words,” he said deadpan, “…and feelings.”

You nodded.

“Those words weren’t a true reflection of how I feel about you and about this,” he explained. You watched as he searched for the right words. “I-I was scared.”

Well, that’s not what you thought he was going to say… the mighty Crosshair, scared? You raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted you for so long. I pictured it a million times. It’s always been you, Y/N. You’ve overtaken every thought, every moment of my day. Even on the battlefield, I couldn’t wait to get back to you. Every damn mission, I would have taken on an entire garrison alone just to be with you again. Wrecker wasn’t the only one getting injured to get your attention.” He chuckled. “Your touch haunts me. Even if it was just to feel you stitch me back up… You made our squad a pack. You were the last piece we all needed. What I needed. I was scared that you would resent me.” He intertwined your fingers and brought them in front of the two of you. “I’m not Hunter… I’m not like my brothers. I never thought you’d want a mate like me, and when I saw what I did, I had never felt so much guilt in my entire life—”

He raised a finger to wipe away a tear that managed to escape your blinking eyes. You leaned forward and shushed him with a kiss. He was reluctant at first but then gave in and softened at your touch. When you pulled away, you gently stroked the side of his face where his tattoo lay.

“Never assume anything with me, mate,” you said, quirking the side of your mouth up. “I love you, Crosshair.” His eyes lit up, and his entire demeanor softened. You smiled, feeling the true conviction being sent through the bond.

You continued, “I don’t want anyone else besides you, Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker. You’re my pack. You’re my family, and I’m tired of losing family. I want to be free. I want to live somewhere green where we can all grow old. I want our pups to have a good, safe life. I want you… scars and all.”

The sniper was floored. 

His entire existence had been defined by being just a number with a singular purpose. Up until this moment, he had only dabbled in the world of the nat-borns. But looking at you now, with your sparkling eyes above him, he knew he too wanted more. He wanted the life you spoke of. He was finally ready to be more than just a soldier.

That's when he knew it was the right moment. “I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled from ear to ear. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so lonely. You felt loved, and you could sense the belonging in the bond as your heart soared. Collapsing on top of your mate, you both wrapped your arms around each other in a vice grip, holding one another close. It was something you both needed dearly.

“I can feel you through the bond,” he said, stroking your hair.

“What do you feel?” you whispered, massaging his scalp.

“…belonging,” he sighed, almost in relief. “Home.”

“Home,” you nodded in agreement.

---

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you didn’t care. Neither of you left that very comfortable spot in the nest, just enjoying each other’s presence.

Then you felt Crosshair shift under you. He rolled you both over so he could spoon you from behind, tugging you into his front and securing you with a strong arm. You nuzzled into him, enjoying the warmth on your back as you settled into the covers.

You broke the silence. “I wanted you to do it on Mimban.”

He chuckled. “And I thought it was just your heat making you act up.”

You smiled. “No. I liked the way you took charge and took care of me. I love your brothers, but they’re too cautious sometimes, even for their own good. I liked seeing that part of you. You’re a good alpha.”

He chuckled deeply, making the two of you vibrate. “They were too scared to hurt you, mesh’la.”

“It seems like forever ago.” You looked across the room at the setting sun over the lake.

“Mimban?” he asked.

“All of it,” you replied. “The war, the Republic…” and everyone.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing a soothing palm over your belly. You purred into the touch, feeling soothed.

Then, when his hand traveled a little further down, it was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on you. He sat up, sensing your alarm.

He was about to speak when you rolled over to look at him. Your hands went to your belly, and your brows furrowed in worry. “D-do you think… do you think I’m pregnant?”

That was the first and only time you had been intimate without any protection. You had nearly forgotten about it, too absorbed in the whirlwind of the past day.

He shook his head. “No,” he said silently, placing a finger over his lips. “I sure hope so, baby.” His tone betrayed the look in his eyes. You were being monitored. You had almost slipped up. Kark.

He gave you the hand signal used during the war to tell you to “proceed with caution.”

You nodded and responded with the signal for “understood.”

He nodded and gestured toward the bathroom. “A pup of our own, yeah?”

You both got up and trotted into the bathroom, where Crosshair turned on the shower water along with the sinks. You both crowded into the furthest corner.

“You don’t remember?” he asked in a low whisper.

You shook your head, not understanding what he was asking.

“On the first day of your heat, I gave you a syringe of contraceptive.” He thumbed the spot on your arm, making you narrow your eyes.

“I d-don’t remember,” you replied.

“I knew what Tarkin wanted. He wanted you pupped after your heat. I knew I had to do something,” he explained.

“So I’m not pregnant?” you asked, subconsciously touching your belly.

He shook his head. “No, you’re protected.”

You were relieved, but then a tinge of sadness hit you. You couldn’t help but place a hesitant hand on your stomach. Crosshair noticed your movement immediately. He placed his hands on your shoulders before kneeling down in front of you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I know how afraid you are of Tarkin taking our pup.” He put a hand on your belly, unable to help himself.

You felt your insides flutter at the firm warmth his sturdy hand provided.

You shook your head, trying to focus. “B-but… how?” You were trying to make sense of it all.

“I had help,” he whispered, thumbing the fabric over your belly. It seemed something about the topic of pups had awakened something in the sniper. He was fixated on your belly with uncanny focus.

You watched him, trying to think of who it could possibly be. Now that he mentioned it, you remembered him telling you about how he had gotten his chip removed. Along with the 104th, there had to be someone on the inside helping the clones. Someone who hated the Empire as much as the rest of you did.

Crosshair’s attention was suddenly snapped to the side. He stood abruptly and turned off the shower faucet.

A shallow rumble vibrated through the floors, shaking the apartment. You perked up, holding onto Crosshair’s arm. He waited for just a moment before ordering you to put on your shoes.

“What’s going on?” you asked, following him through the apartment until you were both standing in the living room. He looked outside at the inky black horizon overlooking the Nabooian lake.

There was a moment of eerie silence before a second loud bang shook the room violently. Crosshair grabbed onto you protectively as the crystal chandelier overhead jingled.

The blast door suddenly opened, and Bolts came running inside with an urgent expression. “The 99s are here. It’s happening.”

Your world came to a standstill for a second. Your mates… they found you… they’re here.

“C’mon,” Crosshair urged you out of your thoughts. You gripped his hand tightly as he followed after Bolts.

The residential sector was beginning to emerge from their rooms. The three of you hustled down the hallway, ignoring everyone’s curious glances. But you noticed it didn’t take long for the clones to fall back into their training instincts. They seemed to sense the danger as if it were a sixth sense.

Approaching the main corridor, you could hear the sound of blaster fire and screaming. The smell of plasma charges filled your nose as you got closer.

“Cross,” you whimpered, squeezing his hand a little tighter. He squeezed you back, giving you a bit of comfort before being thrown back into your GAR training.

“She’s over here!” A familiar voice made the hair stand up on your neck.

“Hunter,” you breathed.

“Hunter!” Crosshair yelled into the chaos. He knew his brother could hear him and that he’d be tracking the two of you.

From behind you, red blaster fire shot from your right as a battalion of stormtroopers emerged from the dust of the explosion, separating you from Hunter’s voice. From the left, a massive hole was blown into the side of the building, with men in unmarked plastoid armor flooding in. They returned fire with blue blaster bolts.

“Commander!” One of the stormtroopers ran up to Crosshair. “Rebels have infiltrated the base!” He handed Crosshair an extra blaster. “We have to stop them befo—”

Crosshair didn’t waste another second before blasting the trooper into the room behind him.

“Get as many weapons as possible. We need to find Hunter!” Crosshair told Bolts. “Where is Wolffe?”

Bolts shook his head. “Not sure, sir.”

“Well, there’s no way he doesn’t know what’s happening. I need to get her—”

A detonator went off, sending everyone in the vicinity flying backward in a plume of fire and shrapnel. The air was violently punched from your lungs as you felt yourself skidding along the white polished floors. 

You forced yourself to breathe with a heave. The ringing in your ears was nearly unbearable as you tried your hardest to regain your senses. 

“Kark.” You wheezed, forcing yourself to roll over onto all fours. You took another painful breath before looking up, trying to find Crosshair’s silver hair in the chaos. All around you was fire and smoke, but there was no sign of Cross. 

“I found the Ori’sol!” A muffled voice called out over the crackling of loose electrical wires. 

“She’s alive!” a woman’s voice followed, “Where is the Commander?” 

Suddenly, you were lifted off the ground by strong hands and into the arms of a strange Stormtrooper. A second trooper arrived, placing a flimsy oxygen mask over your face before jogging alongside the first trooper, getting further and further from the blast. 

“Cross!” You cried out, feeling your voice struggle to keep up. 

“Don’t worry, Ori’sol, we’ll find the Commander,” the medic said, trying to soothe you, but you weren’t feeling any calmer. In fact, the further these troopers carried you from the action, the more worried you became. You tried to scream, but you couldn’t seem to find your voice. They just didn’t understand. 

You pushed against the white plastoid armor, trying to get away, but the trooper held you tighter to prevent your squirming. Their jog came to a stop when they reached the medical sector. 

“Quickly, trooper, in here,” a frustratingly calm voice ordered. You turned your head to see a tall white alien, Nala Se, as the two troopers carried you inside the medical clinic. 

“They’re invading the entire base. We have to go back to help the others,” the medic told Nala Se. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the Ori’sol is alright,” she replied, guiding them to set you down on the medical table. The troopers hurried back outside into the chaos, leaving you alone with Nala Se. 

“Quick, Y/N,” she urged, removing the oxygen mask and handing you a data drive. 

You looked at her, confused. 

“That contains all the information about the clone troopers and your DNA replicants. I already informed your mate that I had your samples destroyed. Take this. It will help you and your mates.” 

You shook your head. “What?” 

“The secrets of cloning belonged to my people for thousands of years. Kamino is gone, and I will not let the Empire obtain such knowledge. They’ve unleashed enough terror on the galaxy.” 

You stared at her, dumbfounded. “You… you’re the helper?” 

She blinked at you. 

“You gave Cross the birth control?” 

She nodded. 

“You removed all the inhibitor chips?” 

She nodded. 

“Why?” 

She blinked. “The Empire is holding someone important to me hostage. I had to help them or they’d hurt her. But I did what I could to help the troopers. What Tarkin desires is unnatural.” 

You took a deep breath. “Then we need to go now.” 

“I cannot,” she sighed. 

“Why not?” 

“I can’t leave,” she said, turning back around. “I’ll make sure everything is destroyed here. You go find your mate, leave, and help the troopers.” 

You took the drive and clenched it tightly. With one last nod, you turned to leave the medical clinic. 

Leaving Nala Se behind, you ran down the corridor, jumping over debris and destruction. 

“Crosshair! Hunter!” You called out as you neared the battle zone. 

“Tiny!” You heard a familiar voice and spun around. 

Wolffe and Grim trotted up to you in their dirtied pajamas, both clutching stolen weapons. 

“Wolffe!” You ran over to them. 

“Where’s your mate?” he snarled, firing into the smoke to provide cover for both of you. 

“I got separated in the blast!” You showed him the data drive in your fist. “I have to get this out.” 

“What is it?” Grim asked, looking down the hallway and shooting a few stormtroopers in the back. 

“I don’t know. Nala Se said it would help you all and that it contains my cloning information.” 

“We need to find another way out of here. We’re not going to get through that door with all this heat,” Wolffe said. 

“I heard Hunter earlier, but the blaster fire separated us,” you said, clutching the drive. 

“Oh, your boys are here, alright,” Grim laughed. “Big guy blasted a hole through the front door.” 

Wrecker. 

“Rex is here too,” Wolffe said. “Brought the whole damn infantry.” 

Rex came? Wow, your message did get to them. You were suddenly filled with relief. You knew your boys would get you out of here. 

“We have to go find them!” you said, just as another bomb went off somewhere else in the base. 

“Residential is just up ahead. We could get back to the bunks, find who’s there, and then make a plan to get out of here,” Wolffe said. 

“Is that an order, Commander?” Grim asked, firing into the troopers. 

“Yes,” Wolffe decided. 

You both nodded and followed behind the Gen 1 clone. The smoke seemed much less frightening with two skilled soldiers leading the way. They expertly navigated through the chaos, guiding you in the right direction. Turning left, they entered the vacant residential hall. 

You couldn’t remember a time in the GAR when you were in direct line of fire. The only time you recalled was in Jabba the Hutt’s palace, and it was nothing like this. Two groups of trained soldiers on both sides, though it was becoming clear that the clone troopers were far superior. 

The three of you turned down the eerie, dark hallways with flashing emergency lights, seeing the lake through the large panoramic window. Outside, there was fire, smoke, and blaster fire in the tree line. It was an absolute siege. The sky was lined with TIE fighters and old repurposed Republic fighter jets like the ones Anakin and Obi-Wan used to fly.

The outside was glowing with blaster lights. 

“Move, trooper! They couldn’t have gone far,” a Reg’s voice echoed through the halls, causing Wolffe and Grim to halt and wait to see who was approaching.

Through the fog emerged Bolts, Stunner, a frightened group of omegas, and Crosshair.

“Y/N!” he called, rushing to you. He had shrapnel scratches all over his face but was otherwise uninjured. You sighed with relief and tucked into his chest.

“I couldn’t find you after the blast,” you said.

“We have to get her out of here,” Wolffe said. “She has important data that we need to get to Rex.”

Crosshair gave you a suspicious look, but you responded with a hand signal indicating you’d explain later.

“We can’t get through the main entrance,” Grim pointed out. “It’s too hot.”

“There is no other exit,” Bolts shook his head. “Unless Crosshair knows something we don’t.”

Crosshair shook his head. “They were careful to only give me information that couldn’t be used against them. I don’t know another exit that doesn’t drop us right into the center of the hive.”

A tense moment of silence followed, broken only by the blaring security alarms. Stunner pointed beyond your head. “There.”

You all looked at him.

“We can jump,” he said.

You whipped around, looking at the inky black lake below.

“We don’t know what’s down there!” you squeaked.

“It’s our only option, or we’ll be trapped here while Tarkin calls for backup,” Stunner reasoned. “It will only be a matter of time before the entire Imperial army is here.”

“What about Hunter and the others?” You looked up at Crosshair.

He remained silent, trying to evaluate all possible scenarios, none of which he liked.

“We don’t have much time,” Wolffe said, looking down at you. “It’s now or never.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Crosshair cut you off. “Let’s go.”

He raised his weapon and used the buttstock of the blaster to strike the glass. A small crack formed as the glass vibrated; it was reinforced.

The other clones grabbed their rifles to help. On a count of three, they all brought down their weapons, sending spiderweb cracks across the window.

“Back up!” Crosshair ordered. Everyone retreated as he raised his weapon and fired two plasma bolts, shattering the entire window. Aggressive winds pushed through the new opening, making you shiver. The wind whistled through the base, rushing past the hallways.

“Kark me,” you muttered, looking over the edge at the nearly four-story drop below. “Why do I keep ending up in situations where I have to swim?”

You heard Wolffe chuckle. “We gotcha, kid. No worries.”

“No worries?” you squeaked.

“C’mon, don’t think about it or you’ll freak yourself out,” Crosshair said, slinging his rifle around his body and tightening it, preparing to jump.

“Who’s first?” Bolts asked, looking a bit uncertain.

“Me and the lieutenant,” Wolffe said, glancing at Stunner, who nodded. They both stepped as far back as the hallway would allow. “We’ll let you know when we reach the bottom. Jump as far out as you can!”

Bolts gave Stunner a nod of confidence before they ran and launched themselves from the ledge. You and Crosshair watched as they plummeted into the darkness. You barely registered a white splash as they landed before looking up at your mate, unsure if you could do this. He sent calming energy through the bond, and you shivered.

“Look at me,” he said, placing his hand on your cheek. “Do that thing you did back on the transport.”

“What thing?” you whined.

“When you took over our skills,” he said.

“I’ve only done it in life-or-death situations!” you half-yelled.

He shrugged and looked around. “I think this would fall into that category.”

You huffed and closed your eyes. “I don’t know how it works!”

“Well, we don’t have much time,” he said, dragging you to the back wall as panic set in. 

“Crosshair, I really don’t think—”

He suddenly grabbed your hand, and it felt like being submerged in cold water again. You took a deep breath, feeling his calm settle over you. You were no longer afraid. In fact, you knew exactly how hard you’d have to push off the ledge and the form you’d need to make to ensure the water didn’t hurt on impact. You even had a basic understanding of water and swimming. Crosshair had been doing it his whole life on Kamino.

“Let’s go,” you breathed, focusing.

He gave you a nod and held tightly onto your hand.

“We’ll be right behind you!” Bolts and Grim prepared to jump as well. The other omegas in the corner watched with bated breath as you and Crosshair took off into a sprint, gaining as much speed as you could before using your back legs to push off the ledge with everything you had.

Flinging yourself into the darkness below, you watched as the water’s surface approached rapidly. Before you hit the water, you released Crosshair, crossed your arms over your chest, and made yourself as streamlined as possible. The moment your feet hit the water, you slid in, enveloped in icy cold.

Using Crosshair’s knowledge of swimming, you held your breath and began kicking upward, using your arms as leverage. The darkness made it hard to see the surface, but you kicked and kicked until you finally broke through.

With a deep breath, you blinked your eyes and looked around, seeing Crosshair swimming over to you. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” you replied, glancing up and realizing just how massive the base really was.

“We gotta keep moving! Wolffe is over there!” Crosshair pointed to the shoreline, where Wolffe and Stunner were dragging themselves out of the water.

You used your arms to steer and paddled alongside your mate, trying your best to keep breathing deeply despite the freezing water beating against you.

Behind you, you heard Bolts scream, followed by a loud splash and the shrill shriek of the omegas coming close behind.

You kept your eyes trained on Crosshair’s silvery hair as he paddled to shore and stood up to help you climb the large rocks leading to the empty beach.

“Do you know where we are?” Wolffe asked your mate as you wrung out your hair.

You bent down to help pull the other omegas from the water.

“Looks like it’s the south side of the compound,” Crosshair said, looking around to get his bearings. “I only entered and exited from the north side. But since the window we jumped from was in the lower residential area, that means we’re south.”

“How do we get to Rex and the 99s?” Stunner asked, shaking the water from his blaster and checking for damage.

“We gotta hike,” Wolffe said, looking at the mountain ahead.

“Are we even going to make it?” you said. “It’s too far. They’re never going to get us before the Imperial army arrives!”

Crosshair started to laugh.

You turned to face him, confused, as did everyone else.

He continued to laugh hysterically, making you start to freak out slightly.

Then he stopped and yelled, “Fuck!” The forest around you fell completely silent.

You all remained silent, watching your mate lose his composure.

“We’re going to be stranded here!” he continued, his silvery voice filled with rage. “The fucking Empire is going to find us, and everything Hunter and Rex did will have been for nothing! There’s no escape from these bastards! T-They’re everywhere…”

You shook your head and turned away, letting him continue his rant while you wandered down the beach.

Wolffe was going to follow you, but Grim stopped him with an outstretched arm. They watched you silently as you stepped into the darkness.

You continued forward, feeling the quiet surround you despite the bombings and shootings happening in the background. You walked down the beach, closing your eyes and following the faint feeling blossoming inside your chest. You could sense it, like a tapping on your sternum. Focusing deeply, you nurtured the sensation, feeling it expand until you realized who it was.

Opening your eyes, you took a deep breath, feeling the connection snap into place as if Hunter was able to see through your eyes. You couldn’t hear him, but you could feel his presence all around you.

“Hunter!” you breathed out.

Moments later, you felt the earth rumble as bright lights appeared above the mountain crest. A repurposed relic-era cargo vessel descended onto the beach.

You stood up, raising an arm to block out the bright lights as the ship opened its cargo hold.

“Are you Y/N?!” a Reg’s voice shouted from the deck.

“Yes!” you screamed back.

“Sergeant Hunter sent us!” he said. “Get in!”

You spun around, looking at the group. “C’mon!” You waved them over before heading for the cargo hatch.

“How did she do that?” Bolts asked, flabbergasted.

Crosshair leapt inside, extending his hand to help the others load in.

Once everyone was safely inside, you turned to the unfamiliar regs standing in the cargo hold.

“Sergeant, we have her and CT-9904. We’ll meet you back at base for a reunion at 0300 hours,” the Reg said, giving you and Crosshair a kind smile.

You felt Crosshair wrap his arms around you, and you turned to face him, resting your wet head against his damp chest and hearing his calming heartbeat.

“We did it,” he said, resting his chin on your head. You hummed, finally beginning to feel relief you hadn’t felt in a standard month.

“So who are you guys?” a Reg asked, wearing civilian clothing.

“Wolffe stepped forward. ‘104th, omegas being held captive, a 99 and his mate,’” he introduced everyone. “You?”

“212th Attack Battalion,” he replied. “Rex got us out not long ago. We’ve been working with him ever since.”

You perked up.

“General Kenobi’s battalion?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Commander Cody?” you asked, feeling hopeful.

“Alive and well, miss,” he smiled.

You sighed with relief.

“What’s your name?” Crosshair asked.

“Wooley.”

“Wait.” You released Crosshair to face him. “I know you.”

He looked you up and down skeptically before leaning back against the wall with a raised brow. “Medic on Ryloth. You ran with the 501st boys.”

“Yeah, you’re the field medic, right?” you asked.

He nodded. “Good memory, nat.”

You smiled.

Wolffe interrupted, “Not to ruin the reunion, but where are we going?”

Wooley nodded. “Rex has a base where he brings clones he rescues from the Empire. It’s invisible to the Imps, so we’re meeting back there once he picks up as many brothers as he can.”

“There’s more?” you asked.

“Ma’am, Captain Rex saved thousands of us,” Wooley said proudly. “And with your intel, hopefully every clone at that base.”

Holy kark.

You hadn’t realized the size of this operation. You thought only your mates would have shown with Rex in tow, but he managed to assemble an entire army to storm that base—all because of your information and a well-timed dirty chase through the woods. You stifled a laugh.

Lightly thumbing the holodrive in your hand, you looked to Crosshair, knowing that the weight of the Empire was finally beginning to lift from your shoulders.

He returned a similar look. He may be stoic, but you could see the hope in his eyes.

You were finally going to be free…

Comment if you know where they're taking Pip haha

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

@booksandtitts-blog

@subbing-for-clones

[copper9chronicler]

a little somthing I wrote, based on ideas/headcannons by @sicksucculentz and @rainofdauwuand0w0

“Tame” doesn’t mean “domestic” [part 1/2-[

The doctor visits were meant to be a two part thing- but I might add a third part, that explains why the doctor switches from Zavier to Melody lol- [let’s just say, Zavier likes to lie in order to get control-]

[this was meant to be silly/kinda fluffy lol- BUT IT GOT LORE HEAVY- and kinda angsty ngl- TwT]

[-If you saw any spelling mistakes, no you didn’t- TwT-]

[this got kinda long lol- 👀]

{———————\{P.O.V}/————————} ~~~~~~~~~~~~Uzi~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{———————\{P.O.V}/————————}

Uzi never really expected to end up with a boyfriend like N, but she did, and despite literally being built to kill those like her-

He was probably the gentlest drone she’d interacted with in a long time, he could hurt her at a moments notice, but he held her gently, shielding her, accepting her as she was.

Which was great, considering she hadn’t figured out the fucking Eldritch horror shit fully yet, and she literally did not have enough control to remain in a “normal” drone form for more then half a day-

And then there was a matter of how fiercely the Disassembly Drones resisted any sort of medical attention-

She loved N, she did- but both him and V were pain in the asses to drag to the clinic, even if, after all the battle shit that went on, and V’s still healing mysterious wounds that she’d shown up at the bunker with not even a month ago, they definitely still needed regular check ups-

And today was supposed to be one such day-

“Uzi, you awake?-“ 

Uzi startled slightly at the voice, yawning softly, before hissing and retreating briefly as someone turned on the light, the many coils of the centipede like lower half to her eldritch body writhing around a little as she moved.

“In case you forgot, it’s the murder bots check up day, so nix the buggy bits and get yourself a pair of legs Missy, so you can actually drag him to the clinic without either injuring yourself or scaring half the bunker shitless!” Nori huffed, skittering over and almost casually hopping onto one of Uzi’s hands as she looked up at her daughter.

“In the minute mom……. Please don’t tell me he knows-“ Uzi mumbled, unable to yelp a yawn as she spoke.

She didn’t like to yawn much or open her mouth wildly much if she could help it, the jagged, sharp teeth built for crushing and tearing were bad enough, the fucking mandibles she had while in her eldritch form were worse, and she didn’t exactly like to remind most drones that she could very easily kill then with just a bite.

She was already a respected but feared outcast, she didn’t need to venture out onto even thinner ice.

“Fine. Just be up within the hour, he’s getting antsy, that murder weapon of a tail of his keeps twitching rapidly” Nori grumbled, jumping back off of Uzi’s hand and skittering out of her room.

Uzi allowed herself a full blown yawn, stretching like a cat as best as she could, before forcing her centipede like half to melt and reform into a perfectly normal set of legs-

Unfortunately for her, the mandibles remained in her mouth this time, and her wings and tail were stubbornly out, most likely in her systems last ditch efforts to stabilize her “normal” form.

Uzi did her best to ignore it as she got dressed, keeping her wings tight to her back and hidden under her jacket, and purposefully putting claw caps on the claws of the wing-fingers.

She paused briefly to examine her hands, pressing lightly on a finger and watching the small claw slide out of its slit, like a cat’s, before it sheathed itself as she let go.

She sighed softly, before leaving her room, smiling at N as she spotted him waited in the living room for her.

“Uzi!” N exclaimed, darting up to her like he hadn’t seen her at all this week, when he’d literally seen her just last night.

“Hey N” Uzi said with a soft huff, subconsciously leaning into his hands a little as he cupped her face, before she added “ready to go?”.

“Yep! Where are we going?” N asked as Uzi started for the door and exited her family’s dorm, quickly making her way down one of the bunkers halls.

“It’s a surprise N- oh, that reminds me, I meant to tell you about-“ Uzi started, quickly going on a little rant about the latest issue with the stupid drones of her school, making sure to keep talking and keep N distracted, so he wouldn’t realize where they were going and run off.

N did realize though, too late, when he spotted the clinics sign.

He immediately stopped, going shock still, tail beginning to slowly lash in agitation as he moved to back away.

“N……. No, you need this checkup- I know you don’t like it, but we need to make sure no issues developed with your core-“ Uzi said slowly, before she risked summoning the tentacles from her back and using them to help herself drag N into the clinic.

N caterwauled and trilled loudly, but he didn’t thrash too hard or attempt to jerk away, most likely because he didn’t want to risk damaging Uzi.

The doctor, Dr. Zavier, was a bit of an ass normally, but he claimed he was the only one who would “treat” N, so Uzi was unfortunately stuck with him.

“Alright, muzzle him and wrap him in the blanket, then I’ll get the restraints down, so he doesn’t run about” Dr. Zavier said almost boredly, shoving a heavy duty muzzle into Uzi’s hands.

She bristled, of course she did, but she did as asked, whispering soft reassurances to N, who looked terrified out of his mind.

The roughness of these visits, plus the forced restraints, probably didn’t help N any, but it was what had to happen, even if Uzi hated it.

She’d been restrained before, and even if she could control herself, if Zavier had to look her over, he made her wear a muzzle too, just because she could kill if given the opportunity and chance.

N wouldn’t stop trilling, the loud and anxious sound vibrating from his chest non stop, even as Uzi took time to run one hand through his hair and whisper reassurances as she helped hold the blanket down around him with her other hand.

“And that is all, everything is in order, now begone” Dr. Zavier snapped, undoing the restraints and roughly yanking the muzzle off of N’s face.

N yelped as his nose was scraped, and he immediately bolted off of the table, attempting to hide behind Uzi like a scared dog, every last one of his eyes eyeing Zavier.

“It’s okay N, c’mon, let’s go-“ Uzi said, carefully leading N out of the doctors office, even while knowing she’d have to deal with his stressed zoomies when they got home.

Still, it was better than him having stressed zoomies at the doctor’s office, and tearing up the walls and furniture like last time.

Uzi hoped she never needed a true, full blown check up, if Dr. Zavier was the only one willing to treat Disassembly Drones and Solver Drones, and he was already so cautious and rude with her when it was only her needing a very minor health check…..

Well, she didn’t trust him not to try anything.

She wouldn’t put it past the asshole.

{———————\{P.O.V}/————————} ~~~~~~~~~~~~Lizzy~~~~~~~~~~~~

{———————\{P.O.V}/————————}

Lizzy woke to a text on her phone, and she blearily opened it, checking her contact with Uzi

‘DarkXWolf17: N’s check up is done. V’s scheduled for one today too, isn’t she?-‘

Shit-

‘Live-Fashion-AndLike,Love: oh- great-, guess I’m scruffing her and running there, I didn’t expect- ugh, I didn’t expect to sleep in so late, but I was, like, low-key stressed last night, plus V got the zoomies at three A.M, again.’

Lizzy responded, before getting off her bed after she sent the message.

It was easy to get ready, while normally Lizzy would put in the effort necessary for looking good, V was feral as could be when it came to avoiding getting prodded and poked by Dr. Zavier, and Lizzy didn’t want to ruin another shirt, so she didn’t put as much effort as she wanted too into getting ready, just for now.

Lizzy quickly slipped out of her room and started down the hall, as she knew V would be in the rafters above the living room, due to the Disassembler being mildly Claustrophobic, not that she’d admit it.

Lizzy paused by the front door of her family’s dorm, and looked up at the photos on the wall.

Arranged in order from newest to oldest, the newest one showed Teacher, Lizzy and Rebecca after Rebecca was officially adopted.

The next photo showed Rebecca mid testing out her wheelchair for the first time, Lizzy jokingly chasing after her.

Then there was a photo of Lizzy being hugged by her dad, taken on Lizzy’s thirteenth birthday.

The second to last photo was off Teacher holding a baby Lizzy, the fluff necked pink visor displayed tiny terror looking nothing like the elegant teenager Lizzy was now.

The last photo was of Lizzy’s dad, an amber haired female drone with an orange visor display and black streaks in her hair, and the black silhouette of a human, all standing together, Teacher giving the camera his classic blank stare, while the female drone grinned wickedly at the camera and the human’s arm stretched out as he held the camera up.

Teacher had said they’d been his partners, when Lizzy asked who they were, and apparently the female drone was her biological mother, although she’d never met her, and V always acted so strange whenever she saw the photo.

Lizzy shook her head to clear it, before she walked slowly into the living room, listening for any signs of V.

“Lizzy, what’s up?” V asked, dropping down in front of Lizzy, clearly sensing the hidden tension, before the Disassembler paused as it hit her.

Lizzy let her eyes roam over V’s body, studying the still slowly healing gashes, the two broken lights in the crest, the splint/temporary prosthetic of a stick that was tied to her leg while it regenerated, the stumpy and still regrowing tail.

V had been in a lot worse shape when she returned to the bunker a month ago, bleeding all over the place, limp in Doll’s hold as she hauled the half dead Disassembly Drone into the bunker.

“Lizzy…….. no- Stop it- bad- bad Worker Drone-“ V warned, going to back up a step, only for Lizzy to lunge forward and scruff her before she could truly get away.

V caterwauled as the synthetic fur around her neck was gripped, the fluffy ruff acting as a pretty good scruff as Lizzy dragged her forward and wrapped her in a blanket from the couch, before lifting her up with a grunt, keeping a hold on her scruff so she stayed limp.

Lizzy quickly carried her over to the clinic, keeping a tight grip on the squirming Disassembler as she cursed and wriggled, trying to get free and avoid her fate.

However, an unexpected issue occurred when Lizzy serviced at the clinic and reached the front desk, protesting friend in her arms.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Zavier is out for the day. If you want, Dr. Melody can see you instead” the receptionist said, and Lizzy paused before nodding.

Melody…… Thad’s adopted older sister, who’d originally supposedly been a child drone created to test the consequences of child labor on.

Supposedly after the core collapse Thad’s dads, Malley and Oakley, had adopted the then eight year old girl, originally assuming that unfortunately Melody would never have any siblings, before research done by the team led by Mikall revealed that same sex drones could reproduce together just fine, and thus, Thad and Chad had been born, with their little sister Maddy following only a couple years later.

Lizzy hadn’t been aware Melody had been training to become a doctor, but admittedly, she trusted the gentle and kind woman far more than she trusted the abrasive personalitied Dr. Zavier.

“Ms. V? Oh! Hi Lizzy! Girl, I haven’t seen you in weeks! You used to stop by the dorm with Thad aallll the time girl, how you been?-“ Melody said, spotting Lizzy and immediately pulling her into an affectionate hug, the heterochromia style eyes of the adult drones visor as unusual yet familiar as always.

“Here, come into the examination room- I was told to use restraints and a muzzle, but I don’t think that’s necessary, that’s just more stress, and stress is what’s causing her to lash out” Melody said calmly as she let go and led Lizzy into one of the examination rooms and had her heave V onto the table.

“Now, just hold her still while I check her injuries- if she’s generally okay with eating even when stressed, if you have a snack for her or something it might be a good idea to give her it. Instincts are powerful things, but they can be somewhat tamed” Melody added, already beginning to carefully and very gently examine the stump of V’s tail.

Lizzy took a small box out of her bag, she normally kept it for distracting V in murderous emergencies, but if it would help now…..

Lizzy casually grabbed a battery out and snapped it in half, before handing half to V.

V paused to almost aggressively snap at the battery half, her agitated snarling dying down into catlike grumbling, before starting back up again as soon as she finished the chunk of battery. 

V’s constant catlike grumbling was admittedly pretty funny, she certainly wasn’t happy with Melody poking her, but she didn’t try to lash out if she was preoccupied with food.

“Alright, everything’s healing nicely, seems to be going faster than Zavier’s notes from last time noted, so her regeneration is getting back up to speed. If you have any issues, just call me if you need me girl, I’m here for you” Melody said warmly, hugging Lizzy again, before letting her go.

“I will, probably will keep coming to you, because, like, Zavier sucks ass-“ Lizzy snarked, picking up the still blanket burritoed V as she did so.

“I know right?- I swear he’s abusing his power or something, like, so many doctors here are interested in being doctors for V and N and Uzi, but Zavier keeps making sure they don’t have any opportunities! It’s nuts!” Melody huffed, her green and orange eyes growing a bit darker in color as she mentioned Zavier’s issues.

“Yikes! Well, I’ll let the purple asshole gremlin know you’re willing, god forbid N learns to lash out like V because Zavier pokes him wrong! See ya girl!” Lizzy called, waving goodbye to Melody as she exited the clinic.

Melody and Thad truly were siblings despite their lack of related code, the two were such friendly and lovable sweethearts-

They both got along even with seemingly aloof or rude drones like Lizzy-

{———————\{P.O.V}/————————} ~~~~~~~~~~~~Khan~~~~~~~~~~~~

{———————\{P.O.V}/————————}

Khan carefully looked down the sight of the gun he held, scanning the area by the landing pod.

Khan wouldn’t have been out here normally, but he was an experienced shot, and he didn’t trust the younger drones not to mess something up or hit the wrong spot.

“Sir?-“ one of his team questioned, but Khan shut them up with a look, before returning his attention to the snowy landscape.

There, a flicker of movement, damaged wings dragging a little as their owner let the currently useless appendages dangle. 

Khan pulled the trigger.

The sedation USB dart lodged in J’s neck, like planned.

The Disassembly Drone shrieked and clawed at her neck, but didn’t go down.

Khan fired again.

J’s movements grew more sluggish as the Anesthetic Program began to take hold.

Khan fired once more.

J went down, hitting the snow.

“Move in! Quickly! We only have so much time before it wears off!” Khan called, already sliding down the hall and quickly making his way over to J.

He swiftly tied a blanket around her crest, to help kept her calm, before he moved to pin her arms as the medical team went in.

He guessed the Disassemblers regeneration was fucked up currently for some reason, if her bent feathers, destroyed ion thruster, and the nasty slash across the glass of her visor were any indicator.

“All clear! Wounded, but her wings seem to be healing!” One young drone, a young man by the name of Ajax, called, adjusting his turtleneck as he spoke.

Khan nodded and released J, taking a couple steps back, watching as Ajax and another drone dragged over a large oil canister, and left it nearby for the Disassembly Drone to find when she woke up.

Khan had a feeling a downed drone like her was a slowly dying drone, none of her body build was really suited for ground combat and hunting, and her literally burning hot body had only confirmed that.

Khan nodded to his team, before quickly making his way over to the truck they’d driven here, so he could return back to the bunker, and to his family, it was movie night after all, and he had a feeling Nori would be pissed if he missed it-

Not that he would willingly miss spending time with his family, mind you-

[hbyrde36]

Midsummer Nights (AKA Summer Camp Fic)

Ch 1 <-

WC: 3665 | R: Explicit (eventually) | Ch 2/15 | AO3

Chapter 2

“You look like shit,” Robin said, sitting down across from Steve at their usual table in the dining hall, letting the tray she held slam down on the tabletop a little bit harder than necessary.

Steve winced, the loud sound making his head throb painfully. If he didn't know better he’d think he was hungover. “Thanks.”

“I know how much you value honesty.” She shrugged and pushed one end of the tray towards him so they could share, eating a few bites of egg before passing him the fork, trading it for a piece of buttered toast.

No wonder people thought they were a couple. 

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he said between mouthfuls of the fluffy scramble. Camp food had never been this good when they were kids, but ever since Hopper found Alexei, mealtimes had actually become something to look forward to.

“First day jitters?” She asked.

“Yeah… and–uh, we had that late arrival?”

“Right, Hopper said. Oh no, did the guy come in all rude and loud in the middle of the night?”

“No, nothing like that. I was still awake anyway. He’s just so—” Steve heaved a sigh, the love-sick tone of it giving him away as easily as if he’d said the words aloud. He pushed his end of the tray aside, laying his head down on the sticky surface of the table. 

“Seriously, Steven?” Robin leaned in to hiss quietly. “Are you telling me you have a crush on this guy already?”

“You didn’t see him,” he whined.

“Neither did you!”

He raised back up with a huff. She just didn’t get it. “Sure it was dark, but I saw enough. Trust me. Long hair, tattoos, piercings.”

He’d seen a little not in the dark too. 

The second Steve woke up this morning his eyes had fallen once again on the other boy still fast asleep in his own bunk. Half his face was covered by the corner of his quilt, but the sunlight peeking in through the cabin’s small windows fell on the other half, shining on the darkest of dark brown curls, and revealing the long sweep of eyelashes resting on his cheeks. 

Robin swiveled in her seat, looking frantically around the hall. 

“Don’t bother, he’s not here yet,” Steve mumbled, miserably.

She pouted, digging back into their communal plate. 

“He plays guitar, Rob—guitar! Or, I assume he does since he brought one with him all the way from England.” Steve stared off into the middle distance, fantasizing about ringed hands flying across a fretboard. “Imagine what he can do with his fingers.”

Robin wrinkled her nose, frowning. “You have always been a slut for a British accent, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.”

Suddenly, the double doors at the center of the dining hall burst open, and whether he’d intended to make a spectacle of himself or not, there he was on full display. 

The boy.

The one Steve had fallen head over heels for without sharing so much as a hello, without the other boy even knowing Steve existed, with all attention on him while he slunk inside with bleary eyes, frowning as he made his way slowly to the food line.

Though it was late June and sweltering outside, the stranger wore a pair of long black jeans, their slightly oversized hems hanging loosely around a pair of black combat boots. His shirt at least was short sleeved, but also black and emblazoned with the fading name of some band Steve had never heard of. 

Drool pooled in Steve’s mouth.

Honestly the whole look was really doing it for him, he sort-of had a thing for alt guys, but the poor dude was going to melt in this heat if he kept dressing like that.

Steve was abruptly brought back down to earth as something small, wet, and a little bit squishy pinged him in the cheek. The blueberry projectile bounced off his face, landing smack in the middle of the remainder of their scrambled eggs.

He cut Robin, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty, a sidelong glare. “What was that for!” 

“You’re staring!” She whisper-shouted.

“Everyone is staring!”

“Not like they want to eat him! The rest of us are simply observing. Like watching a bear at the zoo… If that bear had his ears gauged and wore a wallet chain.”

Steve picked one of the small cartons of milk off their tray, sipping from it to stop himself from saying exactly what he’d like to do with that wallet chain. All the better to wind his hand around and reel his crush in for a kiss with, as far as he was concerned.

Robin looked back over her shoulder to take another peek at the dark-haired boy.

“And black nail polish.”

Steve snorted a laugh, a bit of milk dribbling out of his nose in the process.

Robin lost it, her cackling laughter mixing with his own to echo loudly through the metal building, drawing all eyes to them—including the object of Steve’s affection.

Shit.

The newcomer’s head whipped around in their direction, a scowl already painting his features as he and Steve locked eyes for a heart stopping moment.

Steve dropped the other boy’s gaze quickly and threw a hand over his own mouth, reaching across the table to swat Robin on the shoulder and get her to shut up too.

“What?” she asked, turning around and making an obvious show out of it. 

Steve wanted to crawl under the table and hide. He risked another glance and—yup! Mr. tall, dark, and hot-as-fuck was still staring daggers at the two of them. 

“Oof.” She spun back, grimacing.

Steve groaned. “He probably thinks we were laughing at him now.”

“Nah,” she waved a hand in an unconvincing show of casual confidence. “I bet that’s just his face.”

“Do you have any friends other than me?” Steve asked. 

Because sometimes… sometimes he wondered.

“No comment.”

As they finished their breakfast Steve kept his eyes firmly on his own table, afraid that if he tried to keep tabs on his new crush he’d get caught staring again. By the time he and Robin were done eating and he got up to deposit their last bits of food and the plastic flatware in the trash, he’d almost convinced himself that she was right. Not that the boy he liked always wore a perpetual look of irritation, but that his sour mood likely had nothing to do with them. 

It was hot out, it was early, and the guy had to be exhausted after a long day of travel and too little sleep.

Too distracted with his thoughts, Steve didn’t hear the footsteps or the jingle of chains approaching. He added the now empty tray to the pile to be washed, turning to head back to his table without looking and accidentally shoulder checked someone coming up behind him.

Hard.

“Oi!” The dark-haired boy cried out, stumbling back with flailing arms.

Steve reached out automatically to steady him, gripping his slender waist. “Sorry!” 

The boy made a face, shaking off the touch as he reared back. “Bellend,” he spat under his breath, walking away before Steve could say another word. 

Mortified, and surely red in the face, Steve shuffled back to his seat.

“Smooooth,” Robin said, drawing the word out.

“Shut up.”

She reached across the table to pat his hand, half comforting, half patronizing. “What did he say to you, anyway?”

“He called me a bell end?” Steve said, a little unsure. He’d heard a decent amount of slang from other countries before, but clearly not enough. “I don’t know what it means but I'm pretty sure it wasn’t good.”

“I think he–” Robin snapped her mouth shut, sealing her lips tight but laughter bubbled up in her throat and inevitably spilled out anyway. “Basically, he called you a dickhead.”

“Great,” Steve grunted, “even insulting me he sounded hot. I’m so pathetic.”

“What else is new?”

A sudden shrill, ear-piercing tone cut through the air, the feedback from Hopper’s ancient microphone threatening to burst all their eardrums as he switched it on, giving it three quick taps to test if it was working. 

“Good morning!” The older man bellowed, mouth too close to the mic, as usual.

There were a few quiet, half hearted returns of his sentiment from some of the older staff, while the rest only sat in silence. 

“I said… good morning!” Hopper tried again, obnoxiously. 

This time everyone, even Steve and Robin, gave an enthusiastic response, if only to move the announcement process along.

“That’s more like it. I want to take a moment to welcome all of you, new and returning staff alike, to the start of pre-camp 1999! As always, the owners and I are looking forward to making this summer even better than the last, and that starts with all of you. I’ve gone ahead and broken you into groups of two. When I call your name please see my wife, Joyce—” Hopper pointed down one end of the room, raising his voice as though it wasn’t already booming through the large speakers situated on either side of the hall. “Wave your hand, honey, so they can find you.”

The small woman—who’d been Steve’s surrogate mother every summer for as long as he could remember—stood, beaming as she raised her palm up high.

“She’ll give you and your partner your assignments for the day. Lunch will be grab and go, so just wander back in here whenever you feel like you need a break and remember to drink plenty of water!”

Steve and Robin shared a glance, letting out matching sighs of relief, sure that Hopper would pair them together.

However, the feeling was short-lived. 

After only a handful of other pairs were called, Hopper shouted, “Buckley! McNulty!”

Son of a bitch.

“Who’s that?” Steve asked, annoyed, watching an unfamiliar redhead a few tables away rise, wiggling her fingers in Robin’s direction before trotting over to where Joyce sat.

“That’s Vickie, she’s new,” Robin swallowed audibly, turning to him with wide eyes. “Oh my god, Steve, I can’t believe he’s doing this to us! She’s so pretty, how do I even talk to her?”

“Oh how the tables have turned,” Steve teased. “Karma! That's what you get for making fun of me all morning.”

No sooner had Robin got up and walked away, subtly giving him the finger behind her back, when Hopper called out the next two partners.

“Harrington! Munson!”

Unease crawled up Steve’s throat. 

Another unfamiliar name. With the smallest shred of hope he thought back to meeting Argyle the day before. Had he said his last name?

Steve didn’t think so, and one look around the room confirmed his fears. 

A head of thick, dark, wild curls was already making its way towards Joyce.

Great. 

Steve got up, rushing behind the other boy, catching up just as Joyce was rounding her table, standing on tip-toe to throw her arms around his shoulders.

“Oh honey, it’s so good to see you!” She pulled back, looking Steve up and down like a proud parent who’s just realized how much you’ve grown. “I’m sorry about separating you and Robin, but we thought it’d be better to pair new folks with those who were more familiar with the camp.” She stepped away, grinning as she looked between him and the other boy—Munson—who’d temporarily lost his scowl in favor of a polite, if tight-lipped, smile. 

“You and Mr. Munson here, are gonna take on the boathouse and waterfront area today.” Joyce went on after consulting her clipboard. “There's a checklist on the wall just inside the door of the building.”

Munson tipped his head in a nod before walking off towards the bathrooms.

Joyce met Steve’s eye with a raised brow. “He’s a quiet one.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed absently, still watching the other boy’s back move away with half an eye. 

“Good thing he’s got you,” Joyce said, with a wink. “I'm sure you’ll do your best to make him feel welcome.” 

After he finished helping to wipe down tables, Steve found Munson already out by the boathouse, easy enough for even a newbie to locate, being the only building near the lake and dock. He had his eyes closed, kicked back and lounging on an upturned canoe smoking a cigarette, face tilted up to the sun. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Like a scene from a music video, it was as if this guy was ripped right out of Steve’s dreams and made real. For once he was thankful for the heat. He could blame his sudden sweat and red cheeks on that.

In an effort not to startle Munson and have yet another embarrassing encounter before they’d even exchanged first names, Steve made sure to drag his feet a little through the dirt and stone as he got close.

When that elicited no reaction, he cleared his throat, stopping near the end of the canoe, casting a shadow over Munson’s spot.

The stunning figure pursed his plush lips, blowing out a long plume of smoke right in Steve’s face, and finally cracked one eye open, squinting up at him. 

“I–um, y-you can’t smoke on campus once the kids are here,” Steve stammered.

Oh god, why was that the first thing he said?

Munson rolled his eyes, sliding off the side of the boat to stand, pinching the end of his cigarette between his fingers to put it out before slipping it into his pocket. “Got it, boss.”

“Um, S-Steve? I-I mean, I'm Steve.”

Aaand, he continued to sound like an idiot. 

Awesome. 

Steve managed to resist the urge to smack himself in the forehead, but only just.

After a long pause the other boy raised a single pierced eyebrow. "Call me Eddie."

“Eddie.” Steve nodded dumbly as he slowly backed away. “There’s… checklist. I’ll just—” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the big roll up door that would open the boathouse, and finally managed to tear his eyes away from Eddie, turning to open it up.

The list of tasks was expected enough. Less expected was how much of a disaster he’d become.

Steve skimmed the paper over as he took it and the clipboard off the wall, taking a few deep, calming breaths before walking back out to face Eddie again, and promptly choked on his own air.

Eddie had pulled a small object from his pocket, and with a casual flick of his wrist, a blade appeared in his hand. He bent down, setting it against his inner thigh, carefully slicing through the thick denim all the way around. He tore the last few inches by hand before repeating the process on his other side. 

The reveal of long pale legs had Steve practically hyperventilating, a situation not helped in the slightest when Eddie proceeded to set the blade to his shirt sleeves next. 

Steve must have made a sound or something, because Eddie glanced up as he finished cutting his homemade tank top to go with his new shorts, finally noticing him standing there. 

Eddie’s lip curled in a sneer. “What you looking at?”

For a second Steve could only stand and stare openly, his brain completely offline. He’d already seen the ink decorating Eddie’s forearms—a swarm of bats and some creepy puppet guy—but now he could also see an unusual dragon on the boy’s upper arm, and with the sleeves of his shirt now cut out and wide, Steve got a peek of even more artwork on his chest.

“I-I w-wasn’t… I mean, y-you—you’re…” Steve sputtered as his brain booted back up slowly.  

“Whatever, mate,” Eddie said, pointing his pocket knife in Steve’s direction before flicking it closed and slipping it from sight. “And before you talk to me like I'm a bloody moron again, I know kids and knives don’t mix.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, running a hand over the back of his neck. He dropped his eyes back down to the list. Maybe if he focused on the task at hand, he could stop digging this fucking hole for himself.

First order of business was to drag the rest of the boats and kayaks outside, check them over for wear and tear and stack them on their racks. 

They moved around each other in silence, only interacting when they had to work together to move the two longest canoes. When that was done and it was time to place the chairs out to the sandy shore of the lake, Eddie was dripping sweat and obviously struggling, but seemingly refused to ask for or suggest a break.

Steve had them sort the lifejackets next instead, something they could do sitting in the shade with two ice cold bottles of water. 

More than once Steve opened his mouth to say something in conversation, anything to break the building, palpable tension, but each time he cringed, remembering how badly he flubbed things so far, and thought better of it. A wise move considering that every time he forgot to rein himself in, and accidentally stared at the other boy a little too long he’d earn a new dirty look.

They took a late lunch, only sitting down long enough to inhale a few sandwiches each before returning to work. 

Soon enough the day was nearing its end, and the only things left to do were take stock of the fishing equipment, and swim out from the dock to place the buoys and rope floats for the season, demarking the swimming area from the rest of the lake.

“My trunks are up at the cabin…” Eddie trailed off, the most words he’d spoken at once since they started. 

“I’ve got it,” Steve offered, shedding his cargo shorts to show his swimsuit hiding underneath. “I don’t mind, if you’d rather check the rods and tackle.”

Eddie looked away quickly, clearing his throat as he did an about-face. He waved a hand over his shoulder, which Steve took to mean he’d accepted the division of labor.

The lake was cool and refreshing after so long in the sun, and Steve felt his mood lift for the first time all day, even welcoming the tickle of pondweed on his feet while he treaded water, carefully tying the ropes out where they belonged. He took his time swimming back in, reveling in the feel of water gliding over his skin until he reached the doc where Eddie’s black-clad form was already waiting. 

Steve wondered how long the other boy had been watching him. 

They were done for the day, Eddie could have just left, but instead he leaned out over the edge, reaching a hand down to help Steve out of the water. Though the ladder was only feet away, he took it, the skin of his palm tingling at the contact.

“Thanks,” Steve breathed, lips parted.

The second he was safely on the dock Eddie let go, clenching his fist at his side as he spun and walked away without a word.

Steve watched his retreating figure make its way up the hill to the road that led to the cabins, and couldn’t help thinking, this was going to be one long summer. 

”He hates me,” Steve bemoaned, for the umpteenth time, while he and Robin stomped through the thick undergrowth, searching for the path that would lead them through the woods along the edge of camp property to the not-so-secret clearing where counselors got together to party after sundown. 

They’d find the spot one way or another. Steve could already see the flickering light of the bonfire in the distance and hear the sound of music drifting through the trees, tinny and staticky from the blown speakers of Jonathan’s old boombox.

“Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” Robin asked. “You said he pulled you out of the water, that doesn’t sound like someone who hates you.” 

Steve shook his head, not that she could see him in the dark. They’d have to remember to bring a flashlight next time.

“Maybe he’ll be here tonight,” she said. “You could offer him one of your disgusting lukewarm beers and bury the hatchet once and for all.”

Steve harrumphed, hugging the six pack of rattling bottles to his chest. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just another stupid crush that’ll go nowhere, anyway. Let’s face it, I'm destined to get my heart broken by straight boys for the rest of my life.”

Robin stifled a giggle.

“What now,” he groaned.

“You think Eddie… is straight?” She asked in a horrible, and frankly offensive, English accent. 

Steve could only hope she never did it in front of the boy in question. 

“You don’t?” He asked.

“He’s some flavor of gay, I'd put money on it,” She said emphatically. “Whether he actually knows that about himself yet or not? Remains to be seen.”

“How do you do tha—ow!” A sharp sting had Steve sucking air through his teeth, slapping at his neck to ward off mosquitos. “How do you read people like that?” 

“Well, in this case, uh… I have eyeballs?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn’t convinced she was right but he couldn’t deny that her assessment had awakened a small spark of hope in him. Even if she was wrong, or if Eddie just simply didn’t like him like that, it couldn't hurt to keep trying to make friends.

Right?

Unfortunately, when they finally entered the clearing and Steve took a look at the faces gathered around the fire, Eddie was nowhere to be found. He spent the next two hours sharing half a tree stump with Robin and getting drunk about it.

When he eventually stumbled back to his cabin for the night, he found Eddie still fully dressed, snoring loudly, face down and completely passed out on top of his covers. 

Adorable. 

Steve kicked off his shoes and followed suit, only pulling off his shirt before falling onto his own still made-up bunk. 

It was too warm for blankets anyway.

Chapter 3

Thanks as always to the lovely @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson

[astraymetronome]

What do you think would happen between sam & tommy if one of them shrunk and found the other ?

Well, in the situation Tommy shrunk and was found by Sam I'm pretty sure he'd just be pretty protective. Because of how some people are, the stuff under the cut is gonna be me talking about g/t with vore. Everything above the cut is just your normal g/t stuff, though the normal stuff does work with the vore stuff!

I'm kind of going off of the Awesamdad Au by Grimmijaggers on YT for some of this idea. •~•

Sam

Sam would definitely go into a Creeper mindset. He'd probably scoop Tommy up and hide him in his inventory or maybe tuck him away in a pocket, close to his heart.

They would both probably fight a lot, I know it's really out of character, but I think it fits. I'll explain in Tommy's sections.

In the situation Tommy is permanently small, Sam would probably get into the habit of holding him like a kitten. Kinda of scruffing him or holding him using something on his mask to just keep Tommy in his sight and somewhere easily accessible.

Sam would be a very soft giant, constantly worried about the small person with him and checking them over as often as he could. In the event they're hurt, Dream showing up, he would probably be harsh and growl to try and scare them away. I know Sam is, canonically, a bit selfish, and I'm not faulting the man for feeling like a victim, but he'd not be good at fighting. Just a head cannon, since he's so worried over needs and such.

He probably takes his mask off around Tommy, letting the teen see his face and stuff. He probably chitters and chirps to ground him when he's panicking or something, it was definitely a big help when the shrinking first happened-

Tommy

He would definitely burst into laughter at first. He's too much of a menace to take someone shrinking seriously. I know this contradicts my Trapped Dream Au but different situations >:(

I'd probably have raccoon!Tommy for this if I ever make it an au. So Tommy would totally hide Sam in his den and do his best to keep him comfortable. His instincts would either register him as a member of his nursery or a kit he needs to protect.

If anyone was to try and hurt Sam, he would definitely go feral, spitting, hissing and biting until he can either get away or scare the threat away. He is very protective of tiny Sam and will make sure anyone and everyone knows.

Tommy definitely chitters and chirps at Sam when he's being stubborn or something. He'd treat him like a child despite knowing full well he's an adult. I think, in a way, it would be a sense of pride for him. Feeling like he's in control, even if it is inherently bad and unhealthy.

On the fluffy side of things, he would definitely hold Sam with or cover him with his tail when he wants attention or to give some comfort. He'd end up being a good pillar for Sam to rely on when he needed someone or was having a bad shrink day? I don't know how to describe it but I think you get the idea.

Okie- noms from here folks!

Sam

Using the logic that he's a creeper, Sam would probably be pretty protective over small Tommy. Like, he'd be borderline possessive. Tommy would definitely curl up with cats to keep Sam from storing him when he's in trouble. Unorthodox but effective at keeping from time outs.

Sam would so be a very careful pred, he'd not want to hurt Tommy and probably hold his breath whenever they did noms, because his exhales hold thick smoke and heavy carbon. Think of it like his lungs are a working explosion, constantly burning the oxygen he pulls in to make the smoke and stuff he needs? It's weird but cool in my opinion.

Tommy definitely makes smoker jokes and constantly mocks Sam in a smoker voice. It's often the reason he gets nommed because he won't stop insisting Sam smokes 3 packs a day when he needs to be quiet.

At first, Tommy was very scared, like he would scream his lungs out and claw at Sam's storage until he was let out: levels of fear. Now he just squirms and will randomly be loud to scare Sam into thinking he's back when they first started doing this. Aka protective creeper go brrr.

Sam has a colored green storage and Tommy is constantly put off by it like- 'it shouldn't be that color!' and Sam just constantly reminds him that he's barely human and isn't gonna have human insides. Tommy still thinks he needs to fix it. He can't.

Tommy

Tommy took probably five minutes after Sam shrunk before he shoved him in his mouth because: instincts. Let me have this. He is the raccoon child for a reason.

Sam so freaked out and probably gave Tommy plenty of indigestion- probably let off an accidental explosion or two due to his panic. Let's just say Tommy had a scar in his stomach lining that Sam hasn't mentioned. Tommy finds out after having swallowed another shrunk person, probably Tubbo or Ranboo.

He loves teasing Sam, nipping and biting him all the time because it's his love language. Aka he wants to show Sam he cares and does it the only way he really knows- violence and noms. Noms too.

Using raccoons as reference, Tommy soaks Sam in water before he noms him, like Sam knows what's gonna happen when he's being held and Tommy pulls out a water bottle and a bowl.

Tommy spends the entire time Sam is in his storage, or stomach I haven't decided it should have the same conditions as Trapped Dream Au, purring and chittering to himself. He will poke and prod Sam until he's squirming around and stuff because he absolutely loves having the sensation!

If anyone has any other ideas or head cannons for this, send them as asks! I'd love to talk about this more ^^

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Thirteen: Soup, Suffering, and Suds

It started, of course, with Luffy.

One second, lunch was peaceful. Sanji had outdone himself with a gorgeous bowl of spicy seafood soup, everyone was seated and not yelling, and even you were behaving—for once—curled on the floor beside the table, lazily swiping bites from Usopp’s plate when he wasn’t looking.

Then Luffy got excited.

“GIANT OCTOPUS ARM!!” he shouted, flinging the entire pot into the air as he stood up.

You didn’t even have time to react before it happened.

SPLASH.

Hot, fish-smelling, vegetable-loaded soup rained down over your head, shoulders, and down your back like some cursed broth baptism.

Silence.

A drip of soup slid off your chin.

Your ears flattened slowly.

Luffy blinked. “...Oops?”

“I’LL KILL YOU,” you screamed, immediately trying to launch yourself over the table while tomato slices slid down your fur.

Zoro caught you mid-pounce by the scruff of your shirt, expression completely unimpressed. “Calm down, soup gremlin.”

“I SMELL LIKE A MEAL!”

Chopper was already panicking. “DON’T LICK YOURSELF, YOU’LL GET SPICY!”

Too late.

You had already hunkered down in a corner and started aggressively licking soup out of your own fur, gagging intermittently but committing to the bit anyway.

“This is fine,” you muttered between licks. “This is what rock bottom smells like.”

Nami pinched the bridge of her nose. “Get her cleaned before she gets food poisoning.”

Sanji approached carefully, towel in hand and a look of utter long-suffering on his face.

“Okay, furball. That’s enough tongue.”

You hissed. “I have a system.”

“You smell like sadness and paprika.”

He sighed and gently tossed the towel over your head, scooping you up by your underarms.

You flailed once before going limp like a soggy kitten. “This is undignified.”

“This is necessary.”

He guided you down to the bathroom, steam curling from the open door.

You hesitated.

Brows furrowed. Ears twitching. Tail very still.

“…What is this?” you asked.

Sanji blinked. “What do you mean? It’s a shower.”

You tilted your head. “Shower what?”

He paused.

“…Don’t tell me you’ve never used one.”

You looked mildly offended. “I bathe. In the rain. In rivers. I roll.”

He groaned. “That’s not hygiene, that’s instinct.”

“Nature’s loofah.”

“I am going to cry.”

Eventually, after several failed attempts where you either curled in the corner or tried to bite the faucet, Sanji muttered a defeated “Screw it” and rolled up his sleeves.

“Alright. Sit. I’m giving you a damn bath.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“You clearly need guidance.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You just wanna touch the fluff.”

“I’m pretending you’re a wet cat with a voice. That’s how I’m surviving this.”

You let him.

You sat in the tub while he gently worked warm water through your fur, mumbling about knots and soup stains and “how does fish get behind your ear like this.”

You didn’t squirm. Not much. You did hiss when the water got too hot, and he apologized under his breath like it was your fault he was now giving a full bath to a woman-shaped gremlin cat.

“Okay, rinse,” he said.

You immediately tried to shake like a dog.

“DON’T—!”

Too late.

By the end of it, you were fluffy, clean, wrapped in a towel, and sitting on the bathroom bench with steam curling off your ears.

“…Thank you,” you mumbled.

Sanji, now drenched and traumatized, gave a small wave and turned to leave.

You added, very quietly, “…You’re good at that.”

He paused.

Then, without looking back, muttered, “...Don’t get used to it.”

You smiled faintly to yourself.

“I already did.”

------

It happened somewhere between the bath incident and the second time you stole one of Sanji’s spare knives just to “feel its balance” and then “accidentally” returned it covered in cookie dough.

You and Sanji? You were best friends now.

Not that either of you said it out loud.

But the signs were obvious:

You hung out in the kitchen a lot more (even when he was yelling).

He stopped kicking you out for licking the frosting.

You occasionally asked before stealing ingredients.

And he sometimes called you “furball” in a tone that wasn’t entirely insult.

So when the crew docked at a bustling merchant island, it wasn’t a surprise that you and Sanji disappeared together.

What was a surprise was that your arms were full of stolen herbs and spices by the time you got back.

“You are completely deranged,” Sanji whispered as you ducked into the alley beside him, a bundle of rare saffron poking out of your shirt and something that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon tucked under your arm.

“They left the crate open,” you argued, ears flicking smugly. “That’s basically consent.”

“That’s a crime.”

“I said basically.”

He hissed through his teeth, looking like he wanted to scold you harder but couldn’t stop the small grin spreading across his face.

“You realize if Nami finds out, we’re both dead.”

“She’ll find out when dinner’s exceptional.”

Sanji snorted and took the stolen goods from your arms, gently inspecting them with the kind of reverence usually reserved for holy artifacts.

“…You actually grabbed the good stuff,” he muttered. “This is high-grade. Where did you even—”

You grinned, fanged and smug. “I have ways.”

He didn’t ask. Just gave a long sigh and shook his head, but he wasn’t mad.

Not even a little.

Back on the Sunny, you perched on the kitchen counter, tail swinging, watching as Sanji prepared dinner with all the contraband you’d helped “liberate.”

“I boosted your budget,” you said proudly.

“You violated multiple laws,” he muttered, stirring a pot with the kind of passion that could only come from petty theft and paprika.

“You’re welcome.”

He glanced at you, eyes gleaming. “You’re lucky you’re a friend.”

You blinked. Then grinned. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.”

Dinner that night was unreal.

Nami did raise an eyebrow at the quality of the spices, but Sanji deflected like a champ.

Zoro said nothing but ate more than usual. Robin smiled into her tea. Chopper said it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Luffy tried to marry the soup.

And you? You sat next to Sanji, smug and warm, both of you pretending you hadn’t committed at least four minor felonies that afternoon.

“Hey,” he said later, washing dishes while you dried. “Next time, warn me before you run off with a whole vendor’s stock.”

“Next time, bring a bigger coat,” you replied.

He laughed.

“Deal.”

[thinkingotherwise]

I'm back with more cat shenanigans

Cat in the Hideaway part 2

Cidolfus Telamon x reader

First part here

The world around you moved as you were held by Cid. He carried you around proudly with a smirk ever so present on his face. His fingers brushed your fur. He kneed your fluffy belly and cheeks much to your opposing and pushing against his hand with your little paws. "Oh, come on (Y/n), let me spoil you like that. It's not every day I can do it." His voice irritated you when it had this specific, joyful tone. You would have walked far away from him, hiding somewhere so he wouldn't find you, even if it was against what Tarja decided. You really would, but whenever you took a few steps away from him you were swept off your feet and pressed into his chest. You huffed meowing annoyed but soon you stopped because of the feeling of his fingers rubbing your ears and under your chin. You wondered how it was possible that a few brushes in certain spots could make you so pliant in a matter of minutes, even seconds.

The one moment when you kept your anger and no amount of cuddling would solve it was when he put on a ribbon around your neck. You weren't sure where he got it from but the next moment he held you lying between his legs on your back to make it more difficult for you to run off, as he slowly put the silk ribbon around you and tied it into little bow chuckling to himself. Your tails twitched showing how annoyed you were. "It suits you kitty." He said, brushing your cheeks and neck over the bow. You quickly turned to him and bit his finger, your paws quickly attaching to his hand as you bit at it and scratched. He hissed once or twice but overall the room was filled with his laughter. Your body twisted as you squirmed all over his lap trying to take the ribbon off. Paws pushing against your cheeks and back of your head to untie it or grab it somehow. 'Cid, I hate you!' You yowled when you still couldn't take it off. Your small body slumped down in exhaustion. When he tried to touch your fur you swatted your paws at his fingers. "Come on, (Y/n), the ribbon suits you so well." You turned to your belly and faced away from him showing him your little butt and flicking tail. You gave him a silent treatment trying not to give him any attention, hoping he'd leave you alone. "(Y/n)." His voice echoed, stretching the end of your name. You felt a prodding pain near your butt as he poked you. Your paws curled inside trying to keep your feeling intact and still neglect him. The only part of your little cat body that showed how you truly felt was your tail, swinging rapidly from one side to another.

After some time, that he gave you to cool down he decided it was the perfect time for some food. CId stood up, grabbed you by your belly, and picked you up. Your claws dug into the couch and clenched at it, as you didn't want to go with him. Still salty about the ribbon thing. He pulled you up once more and seeing as you didn't let go he grabbed the ends of the small blanket lying on the couch and quickly rose you making the small pouch from it with you inside.

You heard his snort as you squirmed trying to get out, scratching at the blanket and biting it. You felt like a sack of potatoes as he stepped through the Hideaway to the bar to get some dinner for the both of you. The dominant placed the blanket on the table as soon as he took place and asked Kenneth, the kitchen head for a full meal and a little more in a separate bowl. Finally, he opened the blanket and smiled to himself as he observed your cautious self slowly emerging from within the darkness it provided. "Well, hello there. Still mad?" He asked and extended his hand to you but you only hissed at him. His chuckles conitnued on and you wondered how come he was so merry and smiley when you were in cat form. Your eyes caught the sight of the wine goblet he received and how close to the edge of the table it was. You didn't need more than a few seconds to make a plan and bring it in action as you quickly jumped towards the large cup and bumped into it sending it flying into him.

The liquid splashed onto his clothes and he quickly grabbed it trying to preserve the wine and keep it from dirtying his pants even more. "(Y/n)." He sighed in defeat as he placed the goblet back on the table and looked at you. You happily sat watching his distress, your tail moving joyfully behind you. You meowed twice in approval of what you did before moving back to the middle of the table and once agian turning your back on him.

Doing so prevented you from seeing that in retaliation, he switched the water he got for you with alcohol. He placed the little bowl next to a plate where some food was prepared for you and he pushed the dishes towards you. "You got your revenge, right? So go on eat." Your nose crinkled as you smelt the food and you couldn't help turning languidly. You moved to the plate and sniffed the food before taking a bite. The moment you recognized your favourite dish you devoured the rest within minutes. Cid watched as you gobbled it down and placed a little more from his plate onto yours.

His gaze followed your form as you drank from the bowl between your bites. He finished his dish just before you and you meowed happily licking around your mouth. "Are you full or do you want more food?" Cid asked knowing it was your favourite and you would gladly ask for more but you were stuffed. You shook your head and somehow it made you more dizzy than you anticipated. You became hazy and stumbled around as you tried to take some steps. It was the alcohol you drank, having such a strong effect on you because of your small form, and so you walked swaying on your feet. You tried to move toward Cid to scold him but you came closer to the edge of the table and as you stumbled almost falling he caught you. "Are you drunk kitty?" He teased bringing you back to the middle of the table. He collected the dishes into one pile and moved it to the side. Your little legs were weak and so you plopped down tired and lightheaded.

Cid leaned chin on his arm, his other hand moving to brush along your back. His fingers moved against your fur, stirring your cat instinct and causing purrs to escape you. The warmth of his hand and soft touches were pleasantly appreciated, even if you were annoyed by him. Your irritation quickly melted and he grinned at how pliant you were once again. You twisted onto your back showing him your belly and his hand immediately moved to stroke your fluffy stomach. The caresses made you a little sleepy considering you were also tipsy.

Noticing your slow blinks, Cid rested on his forearm, bringing his face closer to yours. As you stretched your paws, you brushed against his stubble, feeling its prickly texture against your pads. He cooed softly, attempting to plant playful kisses on your paws, but you nudged his chin away. You were oblivious to the looks others gave you as you slowly closed your eyes for a little nap that should help you sober up.