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ghouljams · 29 days ago

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Sin Summer (Price) Rating: E Words: 6.2k Tags: Price x f!reader, Under communicated Kink, Dom!Price, sub!Reader, Spanking, rope bondage, Captain kink, forced orgasms, edging, improvised gags, vibrators, pussy inspections, drooling, boot licking, floor licking, breath play, nipple play, slapping, unconventional interrogations, knife play, squirting, sub drop Summary: You finally meet the Captain, and get a taste of why you'd been kept secret so long. <part 6 ao3

Ghost is sound asleep when you wake up. Fuck you’re starving. You didn’t realize you’d fucked through dinner until you were drifting off to sleep, but now you’re positively famished. You don’t know how Ghost is sleeping through it, big guy like him probably eats the army out of house and home. Doesn’t matter, you suppose, you need a snack. You know there’s a kitchen sort of thing in the rec room, Johnny pointed it out when he and Ghost were showing you around. You doubt anyone will notice food missing, and they’ll just blame it on a recruit if they do.

You nod to yourself, plan settled, and begin the process of extricating yourself from Ghost’s arms. You nearly fall out of bed just trying to untangle your legs from his. You’re forced to offer a quiet “need to pee” when all your struggling wakes him. He grabs a pillow and slips back into slumber with a grumble of something; you give yourself a thumbs up for not eating shit trying to get up.

You check that the hall is clear before heading towards the rec room. Ghost told you no one was likely to bother you, or really be in this section of the barracks, but it still made you a little nervous thinking you could get caught. As much as you enjoyed Gaz’s lesson in knocking, you’re not sure you want a recruit trying something similar. Best to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied with your surveillance, you make your way down the hall.

The tile sticks to your bare feet, making your footsteps echo through the empty hall. It’s also: super cold. You should have worn socks. You’re regretting your choice in sleepwear. Honestly Ghost is a fucking radiator, the man puts out heat like it’s his fucking job, so you’ve been forced into shorts and a tanktop to avoid overheating. Now, however, you realize the British special forces must be trying to ice out any night time guests. This place is cold as hell. You miss your giant radiator.

You stop in front of the little galley kitchen, arms wrapped around your torso to keep warm, and take stock of your options. You could try the cabinets, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find anything on your first try, and too much rummaging around might alert someone. Fridge it is. You crouch down and tug the door open, scanning the populated shelves until you land on a box of fruit cups. Perfect. You grab a random cup, close the fridge, and find yourself in the all too familiar position of being on your knees in front of a strange man.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on around my base sweetheart?” He asks, tipping his head. The heady scent of tobacco lingers around him, his body filling the entrance to the galley kitchen. He’s got a neatly trimmed beard, and an air of authority that you think you should probably find more intimidating than you do sexy. You peel open your fruit cup and try not to slurp the juice from it too loud. Daddy vibes. Oh shit this is mandarin orange, sweet.

“-Havin’ a pretty thing comin’ and goin’ as she pleases-” he’s still talking, “-this isn’t a hotel-”

“Or a brothel,” you finish for him, fishing out an orange slice from the little plastic cup and dropping it into your mouth. You suck the juice from your fingers with a pop. The man hums, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Need you to fill out a few things,” He tells you finally. Your eyes drop to his crotch. The way he stands… you bet it’s heavy. Yeah, you can think of a few things he could fill out too.

“Like what?” You ask, fishing for another orange slice.

“Visitor logs, NDAs, might even send you to medical for a work-up.” You can feel his eyes roaming over you, watching you lick sugar water off your fingers. You hum, considering his request.

“Or what?” You grin, “You’ll punish me?”

That earns you a long silence. The man’s jaw working through the glint in his eyes as you finish your snack on your knees. At least he’s kind enough to reach up and turn the overhead bulb on, momentarily blinding you when you tip your head back for another orange slice. Better looking with some light on him. He’s big like Ghost, and you’ve never been one to turn down dark hair. You wonder if the thick hair on his arms is any indication of what he’s got under his shirt. You take the last dredges of sugar water like a shot, and push back onto your heels to stand.

The man’s hand catches your arm, and takes the little plastic cup from you, leaning to toss it into the trash. His face is impassable, unreadable, but his fingers are warm and firm. They hold you in place with no care for resistance.

“Ghost may tolerate brats,” He rumbles, his voice low and dark, it slips through you like a shiver and settles warmly between your legs, “but I don’t.”

Brat? Well, it's not exactly new but most men would probably call you charming or funny. They wouldn't spin you around and lean you bodily over the counter. Which actually-

"Hey!" You yelp, feeling his hand against the waistband of your sleep shorts. The calluses on his palm make you shudder as they brush over your skin. He hums, a deep throaty thing that seems too pleased to stay in his chest. Somehow it makes you clench, makes your hips twitch as he slips his hand lower.

"Girl like you," He reasons, "must know her colors." The unspoken understanding that shivers through you makes you drop your head. "So where am I sweetheart?" You can almost hear his smile. Can reason that he's taking in the change in your posture as proof of your deviance.

"Green," You breathe. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, brush just under the elastic, teasing your skin with short touches before retreating. The push-pull of feeling leaves your mind racing to catch up, to make sense of the situation. You're in the kitchen still, aren't you? And there are people on base, people that might walk in on you, right?

"How long have you been here, love?" He asks, his voice low. He leans over you, lets you have a taste of his weight as he settles a big hand next to your head.

"Few days," You murmur, "Ghost and Johnny-"

"Got one of my sergeants too, eh?"

"Both of them," You sigh, feeling his hand grip your ass, "Sir." You add on, eager to see how he responds. A man that knows his colors, you reason, probably likes to keep his authority around pretty things like you.

"Garrick too?" He doesn't seem surprised. There's a quick movement from his hand, the callused skin scraping against your softer skin before he's ripping your shorts down. The hand beside your head pushes hard and fast against your shoulders to keep you down when you attempt to regain some of your modesty. The deep chuckle you earn is almost worth the way his finger traces over the sharpie drawing still sticking to your ass. "There she is." The man confirms.

He spends a long moment just tracing the shapes, waiting on you to start squirming. It's intolerable, standing with your ass out while this man holds you down. Even worse knowing that your pussy is starting to drip at the inspection.

"When'd 'e fuck ya?" The man asks.

"Um," You try to think, "This afternoon."

His hand comes down hard on your bare ass. Pain shoots through you, sharp and stinging. His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your yelp almost as quickly as it leaves your mouth. You take a sharp breath, and feel a second spank land right on top of the first. Heat presses against your eyes, your skin burns, your pussy throbs.

"Though you knew your manners sweetheart," The man says, his patronizing tone edged with a predatory delight, "What happened to 'Sir'?" You can't speak around the hand holding your lips closed, his fingers slipped under your chin to hold your jaw shut, his thumb teasing against your nose. You wonder if he intends to cut off your air. His hand smooths over the sting on your ass, fleeting comfort before it raises again. "Maybe you'd prefer something else." He reasons, his hand coming down hard in punctuation. "Tried Sir-" spank "-could be Master-" spank "-but a pretty thing like you-" the last spank hits you hard and he yanks your head back with the hand over your mouth, “-always wanted one o’ you ta call me Captain.”

You whimper behind his hand, the title and the pain sending a wave of humiliated heat through you. Your pussy clenches, tingling with warmth at the lingering sting as his hand slides soft over your stinging cheek. There's something absolutely perverse in the silence, in the wetness that sticks to your lashes and threatens to fall over his fingers, in the way his fingers trace over the swell of your ass. He kneads and squeezes at the soft flesh, pulling it apart to get a better look at your holes. If you lean forwards a little more, push your hips up a little higher, for him, well, who could blame you? Especially when the movement draws such a deep relishing hum from him.

"There you go," it's shameful what the growl in his voice does to you, "know exactly what to do, don't you?" His fingers slip between your legs, sliding between your slick folds to drag back up and circle your ass. Up and down, up and down, each hole teased until your hips are shaking with the effort of keeping still. "Such a good girl presentin' your holes like the bitch in heat you are." He clicks his tongue, admonishing, and heat flushes through you. It drenches you, makes you clench just as his fingers are skimming over your cunt. That draws a low chuckle from him, and a twitch of pressure, not quite pressing into you, before he's trailing back up your ass."Too bad ya gotta take your punishment first."

As if the fresh sting of his hand didn't remind you. You choke on the sob you let out, and find yourself unable to draw in the next breath as his thumb pinches your nose. Your eyes go wide, and you flinch away from the next strike of his hand. Your brain mixing the pain and pleasure and fear into some sick concoction that numbs the tips of your fingers. Your ass hurts, the water on your lashes finally breaks free to tumble down your cheeks as your chest constricts and burns for air.

Your ears ring, your fingers scramble against his wrist, you dig your nails in and he strikes you twice for it. If he expected you to keep track of how many spanks you were given you sure as shit can’t now. You were too focused on the way the heat traveled between your legs, the way your vision was going fuzzy at the edges, and the way you (against all odds) were pushing back into him.

His hand leaves your mouth just as your head lolls forwards, slipping to cradle your forehead and stop you from banging it against the cabinet as he lowers it to the counter. It's not just your vision that's fuzzy as you suck in air, your head is too. Cottony, your thoughts stick to each other like flies caught in spider silk, you're too tangled in the soft fuzzy feeling to register the way he twists you at the waist, angling your hips to bring his hand down hard on your other cheek. You flinch, our already battered cheek burns with the tingling memory of his hand, as he works through whatever arbitrary number he's set. Somehow it hurts worse building up that ladder a second time.

The sharp sting of his hand, the rough drag of his calluses over your soft skin, the building heat that drowns out your other thoughts, you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing. His skin against yours cracks so loudly in the small kitchen, ricochets off the cabinets and rings in your ears. You wiggle your hips a little, rocking towards the counter, pushing your body further against it. Are you trying to escape, or trying to arch your back more? You're not sure. It's good, the pain bleeds into warmth that sweeps over your skin, but it still stings.

The man smooths his hand over your ass, working out some of the sting. Finished, you think. "Come on then," His voice is lower, more throaty, "let's see those manners."

"Thank you Captain." You mumble into your arms. Just saying it aloud makes you feel hot, but you like the noise it pulls from the man behind you. Something rumbling and pleased, that makes warmth throb over your cunt. Or maybe that's from the way his ringers rub against your slit. Thick and dexterous. You can feel them sliding between your folds, parting your slick heat to expose your hole to the cool kitchen air. One of his fingers pushes inside of you, sinks in to the base, before pulling out and pushing a second in beside it.

He leans over you, covers your back with the warmth of his broad chest. His fingers pump in and out of your hole as his beard scratches your neck. You wonder if he's trying to test his leverage or if it's just to make sure you know how outgunned you are. You squirm under him, try to, at least. Your hips make a valiant effort to wiggle even as he twists and thrusts his fingers. Like Ghost he has a knack for hitting exactly where he needs to, working you up with quick jabs against that spongy spot inside of you. Heat courses through you, tightening like a spring almost as quickly as it starts. You can't squirt in the kitchen, you can't, you can't, you can't.

You shake your head, find yourself stuck between his fingers and the counter, nowhere to run and nothing to do but make it harder for him to hit the right spot. He pins your hips with his own, holds you in place and keeps you there with his weight alone. He picks up the pace, forces his way past the way your pussy clenches and wraps his hand over your mouth a second time when you wail on his fingers. You feel the sudden give in your pelvis, the sudden rush of warmth like a snap. Your core releases, orgasm squirting from you and slicking your thighs. It aches, like wringing a towel out. Slick gushes from you and you hear it drop onto the floor like a bell tolling.

The man's fingers pull from your cunt, and the hand around your mouth slides to grip the hair at the back of your head. You're pulled up off the counter, and just as quickly as your legs shake at the effort of keeping you up you're dropped onto the tile floor. You can feel the puddle under you, see the shine of it.

"Look at the mess you made," He clicks his tongue, "clean it up."

"You already spanked me," You whine, maybe you are a brat. The hand in your hair forces your face towards the floor. You know exactly what he wants from you.

"Got a week's worth of punishments pup, so hop to."

Your breath ekes through you, shuddering into your lungs as you tentatively stick your tongue out and drag it over the tile. It's cold from the night air, and the grout rolls against your tongue strangely, but you lick it. The man's hand doesn't leave your hair, doesn't give you a second to think about raising from the bent position. Your knees hurt, your neck hurts, but at least the floor doesn't taste too dirty. Perks of a military base you suppose. You pull your tongue through the puddle your squirt left, and find a leather boot shoved under your mouth as well.

The taste of it makes your stomach squeeze, clean polished leather mixing with the watery slick. You back off his boot to lick at the puddle, feeling the pressure on your head as he crouches down, watching you intently. You drag your tongue back to his boot, flick your eyes up to him. The shadow he casts over you seems to swallow you, darkness weighing down his gaze as it scrapes over you, the air pressure making your movements feel sluggish. You trace the laces on his boot with your tongue, feel the cold metal rivets, the canvas scratch, seeking out the barest hint of dirt. If you can't clean up after yourself, maybe you can clean up after his day.

He moves your head back to the tile, doesn't say anything when your eyes drift close, your tongue lapping at the spare drops of your orgasm still shining in the overhead light. Your head feels fuzzy, compressed, too heavy to lift yourself. You don't even make a sound when his grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you up to look at you. You hold your tongue out for him, let him check your work in the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your covered tits.

"How about you an' I take a little walk?" He asks, voice as smooth as smoke. He doesn't wait for an answer, just nods your head for you and drags you to your feet. His hand slips from your hair to hold the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being put on a leash.

The name plate next to the door he opens says "Cpt. John Price." You'd pay more attention to it, maybe even make a remark on it, if you didn't stumble over your own feet trying to follow his quick, dragging, pace. He tosses you into the room, and you have to catch yourself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling to your knees again. There's a wooden chair on either side of you, crisp slotted backs that wrap around to the arm rests, God you hate these chairs.

"Pick one," John tells you, you give him a look that you mean to be sassy but you're sure comes off as confused, "Five, four, three-" You look between the chairs as panic washes over you, sitting quickly as he hits "-one." You let out a breath, your ass fucking hurts. You'd give anything not to be sitting right now, the pain throbs through you with each shift of your hips. "Good girl," John hums, his hand is in your hair again, forcing you to lean back in the chair with a hard tug, forcing your head back to look at him. "Stay." He tells you, as if you could go anywhere else.

He walks around you, around his desk, to a closet door. You try not to move too much, but your eyes stay trained on him even as he leaves your periphery. You just want some... assurance, some knowledge of what's to come. You feel off balance, out of control, unsure what to expect. He comes back with rope, and you nearly lunge from the chair. One big hand presses to your chest and pushes you back into the chair.

"Now, now," He chastises, "I’m not gonna hurt you, just need to make sure you're not gonna run off back to my lieutenant," You try to get up again, feel the quick loop of rope around one of your arms to keep you down, "wouldn't want him takin' your punishment, would you?"

You very much would. You don't even know what your punishment is. You're not tugged so deep down that you can't put up a bit of a fight but that doesn't mean-

"Color?"

Right. You sag back into the chair, a gentleness in the way John ties your arms to the chair suddenly striking his every movement, careful to avoid nerves and pinch points- "Green," you reply without thinking.

"Told ya," He grumbles, tightening the rope and looping it around your back to catch the other arm, "not gonna hurt you,” He pauses, and shakes his head with a chuckle, “least not permanently."

That does enough to settle your stomach that you can tip your head back and close your eyes. You try to measure your breathing as he ties your other arm to the chair, finding your comfortable position and easing yourself back down into that soft headspace. You’re actually a little surprised that this guy has jute rope in his office, but you’re not exactly up to date on standard military equipment. You wonder if he has a gun. Probably.

Nothing permanent. That’s reassuring.

It doesn’t stop the way your try to keep your legs squeezed together when you feel his hand on your knee. You open your eyes at the mirthful huff he lets out. It thrills you, sends a shiver down your spine, to see him grab your knees and wrench them apart. You keep them spread for him, flashing him a smile when he glances at you. He shakes his head and wraps a length of rope around your calf.

One knot is followed by another and another, circling a ladder down your shin and keeping your leg held against the leg of the chair. Your other leg is given the same treatment. It’s rather pretty when he’s done, neat and technical but pretty. You’re-

Ok you may have been a little too into the way he was manhandling you to fully realize he was tying you to the chair. Like, you knew he was doing it but now that it’s done you’re realizing that you are fully tied to this chair. Trapped and not given any indication of what’s going to happen to you next.

The Captain tugs down the neckline of your tank top, fishing your tits out to rest over the stretched hem. It feels more naked than if he’d simply stripped your shirt off. Your nipples pebble in the chill of the room, and his thumb rubs over one. You try to ignore the way his rough hands groping your tits makes your pussy clench. It’s objectifying, his grip punishing as he squeezes your tit in one massive paw and moves to the other, rough calloused skin dragging against delicate flesh like he’s trying to check which he prefers. You tip your head to watch him pinch your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pulling his hand back just enough to deliver a quick, harsh, slap to your breast.

You bite your lip at the dull pain, the shiver of something lascivious making you arch into the sharp touch. He does it again with a hum. The shock of it loses some of it’s sting when you can see it coming, so you tip your head back and close your eyes. The chuckle he lets out is pure mirth, low and vibrating over your skin before you feel the sharp slap of his hand again.

“Can see why my boys brought you back to base,” The Captain squeezes your breast hard, and your fingers curl tight around the armrest you’re tied to, “and why they worked so hard to keep you outta sight.” You open your eyes to look up at him and try to keep your breath from hitching when he hits your other breast. “Didn’t want me breakin’ their new toy.”

“Breaking?” It’s half a question, half a confirmation of what he’d said. Your mind swims with possibilities. If this didn’t count as breaking, what did? If hitting you wasn’t good enough, what was?

He grabs your face, squeezes your cheeks with rough fingers and shakes your head. “Manners sweet’eart.” He lets go only to slap you across the face, hard enough to shock you but- but you don’t think it’ll leave a mark. It’s practiced, controlled. He hits your cheek again, just barely lighter than the first time. Then he’s got your face in his hand again “You don’t want me havin’ to put you through basic, do you?”

Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes struggle to focus on his, you blink to try and clear them with little luck.

“No Captain,” You mumble when he shakes you again.

“You be a good girl while I finish setting up, yeah?” He hums.

You blink up at the Captain and nod. He offers you a mirthful huff, and straightens to turn back to his closet. You hadn’t realized he’d had to bend over to put himself in your field of vision. But the more you thought about it the more you realized how wholly he’d encompassed it. You hadn’t been able to look anywhere but him, and he’d held you in place to make sure your attention stayed exactly where it needed to.

He pockets something, you catch a glint of metal and it’s gone. More ropes follow. Deep black cording wrapped in tight bundles that fill his heavy palm. You’re not sure what else he could possibly tie down. Until you spot the wand in his other hand.

You tug desperately at your bindings, trying to get free, or at least put up a good fight. Maybe if he hadn’t already tied your legs down you would, but in your current state the best you get is trying to arch your hips away from the head of the wand as he nestles it against your cunt. The Captain loops the rope around one thigh, then the other, tying the wand in place as you try to get away. He knots and double knots, braiding the ropes together into taut strands that you have no hope of squirming away from.

“No, no, please-” You beg “-don’t I’ll be good.” The Captain clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” He pulls the rope tight and you feel your clit bump against the head of the wand even through your shorts, “it’s an interrogation.” Your eyes snap to him as he turns the vibrations on.

“Wha-” Your hips itch against the vibrations, your cunt already primed and wanting from everything else he’s done to you. Your eyes flutter, at the feeling of the wand tickling your clit. It’s almost dull. Dimmed is a good word for it. The feeling is dimmed, something you have to focus on to enjoy. The Captain watches your reaction, and clicks it up another level.

That you feel. The quick pulse of the vibrations rub your shorts against your clit in a way that’s almost pleasurable. It’s enough to make you want to grind your hips forward at least. Another click, another level higher, and your fingers flex tight on the arms of your chair prison. You’ll get rug burn on your clit if you stay on this level too long, but it’s good even through the uncomfortable rub of your shorts.

A third click, but the vibrator doesn’t change. You glance at the Captain’s hands in time to watch him upend a bottle of lube over your shorts, drizzling the slick substance between your legs and over the head of the want. It soaks the cotton of your shorts immediately, sticking the fabric to your cunt. It eases the feeling of rub burn, but only so much as it forces you to contend with the wet stretch of cotton against your already wet cunt. It’s not pleasant.

“What?” The Captain asks, taking note of the way your nose scrunches, “not comfortable?” You nod. “You want me to make it better?” It’s patronizing, warning, the sort of devil’s bargain that makes you think agreeing would be worse than putting up with your current situation. But you’re nothing if not willing to play along, and also, you fucking hate being uncomfortable.

“Yes please,” You whine, he raises a brow and you tack on a sickly sweet, “Captain.”

“Alright,” He agrees, “How’d you meet Ghost?”

You give him a look of complete confusion. “Tinder?” You offer. What is happening? Wait, did he say interrogation? He slaps your breast hard, hard enough you jerk and let out half a yelp before you can bite your lip to keep quiet.

“How’d you meet Ghost?”

“Tinder, Captain.” You correct, trying to keep your breathing even, the sting of his palm still radiates over your skin, biting warm into your flesh and tingling.

“And he brought you home to meet Soap.”

It’s not a question, but it is wrong.

“I met Johnny in Glasgow.”

“You make it a habit of fucking special service members?”

“Only recently.” You joke. It’s the wrong answer because he slaps your face this time. Your head spins, and coupled with the vibrations against your clit the radiating pain makes your cunt clench. You wish he’d hit your tit again. At least that let you think clearly.

Although you suppose thinking clearly is relative at this point.

“Didn’t know he was army,” You mumble, trying to blink some of the stars from your vision, “thought he was just some slut, Captain.”

The Captain snorts, and you see the flick of a knife opening in his hand.

“He is.” He jokes, bending to settle the tip of the knife against the seam of your shorts. He presses the tip against the wet fabric and you hold your breath. It feels so dull and so pointed at the same time. Dangerously hidden behind the damp cotton and yet just a hair away from slicing right through. The Captain looks up to meet your gaze. “Who’re you workin’ for?”

There’s an evenness to his tone that leaves no room for argument, that tells you he already knows the answer without you telling him. You doubt a man like him leaves anything up to chance, the same way you doubt he wouldn’t have killed you on the spot if he thought there was any way you could be a threat to him and his men.

“I’m unemployed, Captain.” You tell him, an embarrassed wobble in your voice.

“Good girl.” The praise pulses through you, but it’s the knife you feel. The single press and slice of his blade cutting through the seam of your shorts and splitting them open, leaving your drenched skin exposed to the cool air of his office. You shiver, careful not to push against the intense vibrations from the wand when the flat edge of his knife is sliding over your cunt.

“Now, I have to write these muppets up for hidin’ you away, so you’re going to sit here-” he taps the chair with his knife and you nod, as if you could go anywhere, “-and tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them the last week.” He tips your head back with the tip of the knife, his eyes flashing and his smile all teeth, “In detail.”

There’s something about having to go through every sexual encounter you’ve had in the least week that works you up. Or maybe it’s the vibrator. It’s probably the vibrator. That doesn’t mean having a man behind a desk ask you in detail how Ghost ate you out, or Gaz fingered your ass doesn’t make your cheeks heat up. In fact going through the finer details and having to find a way to describe how it felt having your ass, your throat, your cunt, stretched around the (frankly impressive) cocks that made up the Captain’s task force would’ve made you wet even if you weren’t contending with the mind numbing rub of the wand against your clit.

And you do mean mind numbing. Every time you go to think of one of the mens’ next move, the Captain clicks the intensity up or down and your brain goes blank. You shudder and buck your hips against the head of the wand, trying to find a way to rub your needy clit against it harder, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have you at the edge faster than fingers can get you. You writhe and shiver and try to hold your hips up only for the Captain to turn the intensity all the way down and leave you whining.

Goosebumps prickle over your heated skin. Your clit throbs, overworked and underserved at the same time. Your cunt pulses and tingles on the next edge. You’re getting closer to coming every time he cranks the vibrator back up. Closer to coming with each detail. Running your tongue up and down Johnny’s cock. Feeling Gaz press the vibrator into your cunt. Ghost licking into your mouth like he wants to taste what you had for lunch. Fingers pinching your clit, rubbing you, dipping into your cunt and searching out all of your soft spots. You’ve never had so much sex in your life, at least not good sex, and it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken you yet.

You babble about fucking Ghost for too long, your lips moving as you drool your praise for his cock, for the way he touches you, how gentle his is, how his calloused hands seem to care even when he pushes your head down his cock. The Captain keeps flicking the levels up and down, up and down, fucking you in a rhythm better suit for a cock.

Christ you feel so empty. Your cunt spasming and trying to clamp down on nothing but empty space. You’re actually starting to get close to tears. It hurts. The constant refrain of need hurts.

The Captain taps his pen against the paper and stands. You brace yourself as he moves closer. He kneels, and tugs a loop on either ankle. Your legs are suddenly, blissfully, freed.

Only to be caught by the Captain’s hands and pushed up towards your chest. You glance at where his cock strains against his fatigues. There’s a damp spot on one side that makes your heart swell with barely contained pride. The vibrator moves with your legs, changing position to press down onto your clit, right off center. You don’t care, not when he’s unzipping his pants and tugging a heavy cock free. No, the only thing you care about is how quickly that thing can get inside of you.

“Did good,” The Captain tells you, “good girls deserve a reward.”

You preen, doing your best to keep your legs up as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter for a man, the same way you don’t think it’s ever been so easy for one to press into you. The hand at the base of his cock grips tight, wiggling his tip inside you. It makes you mewl, feeling that horrible emptiness finally being filled.

He has to bend his legs to push into you, meet you where he’s tied you, but once he does, he fills you in a single gut punching thrust.

You suck in a breath as your back arches into his hold. His hand finds the back of your knee again and presses you down, folding you in half. He grinds his cock into you, hitting something deep and aching that makes you see stars. He pulls out, and presses your legs together, forcing the vibrator back into position as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You’re sure the scream you let out must wake the whole barrack, but you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when he sends you hurtling over an edge he’s kept you at for hours. The only thing you care about is the shockwave of pleasure that hits you deep in your stomach and courses through you. You shake under his grasp, your thighs vibrating as your muscles spasm and release, your clit throbbing and your cunt clenching tight around the cock still fucking into you.

Fuck he’s still fucking you, still got you pinned between his cock and the vibrator.

You’re shoved back over the edge with a whine, your stomach clenching hard as you squirt on his cock, all of your muscles tightening and releasing so quickly you barely have time to register your first orgasm before your second is crashing into you.

The Captain isn’t far behind you, his cock twitching and spilling its hot load into your cunt only to have it dragged out, white and frothy, by his cock. God. You wonder how long it’s been since this man had someone to unload in with how long it takes him to slow his thrusts. You squeeze around him just to hear him groan low in his chest.

Your pussy feels raw when he finally pulls you, the vibrator rubbing like sandpaper against your clit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” The Captain offers.

Something pathetic noses its way to the front of your mind as you stare at him. You can feel the pout that forms, just like you can feel the pleased smile he gives you.

“I want Ghost.” You pout.

“Course you do.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

#cod x reader #x reader #captain price #captain john price #captain johnathan price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price mw2 #john price x reader #john price cod #john price mw2 #price x reader #price cod #price mw2 #f!reader #sin summer

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vixstarria · 1 year ago

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My Fanfiction Master List

All fics can also be found on my AO3.

The following have accidentally turned into a series, although each can be read as a standalone.

Mostly Astarion x female Tav / reader, with appearances from other companions.

To summarise: a take on Astarion's relationship progression with a hectic, unhinged bardlock Tav. Mostly humour and banter, fluff with light angst. And then there's the smut.

Ongoing series

Bloodbang Chronicles - post-game continuation of my bardlock series (see below), Astarion x f!OC - Astarion and Asmodea are running a cabaret. Shit goes down, hilarity ensues. The horrors persist, but so do they.

Masterlist | chapter 1 of 12 (so far) - start here

One-shot series:

Fluff etc

In chronological order, as they would take place in-game:

Where my nice, simple plan fell apart - scenes of Astarion x Tav relationship progression in Act 1 generally

Another Gift - Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion, reflections on vampirism / Astarion's past

Mark me as yours (Astarion POV) - takes place the morning after 'Missionary with the lights off' (filed below under smut) - a day of pining in camp in the life of Astarion

Down by the river (alternating POV) - 18+, takes place immediately after 'Mark me as yours' - Astarion and Tav spend a night by the river, away from camp

Something real (Astarion POV) - An evening in camp, Astarion and Tav are finally alone

Are you mine? (Astaion POV) - just flirty pillow talk and comfort

Gentle Warding Bond - short & sweet, Astarion finds the "true love's caress" and "true love's embrace" rings in the Shadow-Cursed lands and makes a decision

Admit that you love me - Act 2, Gale fucks around and finds out, Lae'zel becomes poetic and Astarion most certainly does not tell you that he loves you

Confession (Astarion POV) - title self-explanatory, love confession, tooth-rotting sweetness

The Morning After - short fic, follow-up to 'Confession', morning in camp - banter, humour, etc

Intimacy - Astarion's struggle with sex and intimacy, includes some fairly softcore smut

Communication - It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next

A night at the inn (part 1) - the gang gets a chance to let loose for a while. Humour, banter, and a lead-up to something smutty to come [Parts 2 & 3 under smut]

Smut

Also part of series.

Missionary with the lights off - Uh. Some really mindblowing sex here. No, really. Porn with plot, fluff to smut

Seeing stars - Astarion is jealous. What's more, he's eager to prove that no one could possibly compete with him.

A remedy for sleeplessness - porn no plot, Tav can't sleep and Astarion takes matters into his own hands

What do you want to do with it? - porn no plot, dirty talk, 'use your words', oral sex (male receiving) (kinda)

A night at the inn (part 2) - porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV and more

A night at the inn (part 3) - continuation of porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

Sweat - porn with plot. Astarion, Halsin and Tav become a triad after the fall of the Netherbrain. This is a story of how it begins, progresses, and eventually ends. [Most recently posted oneshot]

The Sheath of Frontiers - Wyll's never been with a man. Astarion and Tav decide this must be rectified. (and yes that was an anal pun)

Challenges, shorts and misc

2024 Kinktober masterlist - a ficlet following a different prompt for each day of October 2024

'Erotic Misadventures' - my entry for the BG3 April Foolishness challenge: 'write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts'. Reader beware.

Apples - Very important questions are asked and answered about vampires, their warped sense of taste, and pussy

Untitled - Ask reply HC, Astarion accidentally attacks Tav during a nightmare

A cut - Tav accidentally cuts themselves, and Astarion scampers over like a cat to a can of tuna

Untitled - Ask reply, bonus scene following Seeing Stars - jealous giddy Astarion enacts revenge on Wyll after his failed awkward dance seduction attempt

'Gentle Warding Bond' should rightfully be here also, but it's too relevant to the 'plot' if you can call it that

Other / not my Tav

I thought I lost you - Written for a Valentine's Day exchange for astarioffsimpmain - Astarion x plus-sized Tav / Reader - angst with happy ending, mild smut

The Witching Hour - Written for an autumn / Halloween exchange for tragedybunny, Astarion x Sera - light angst, hurt/comfort

Asmodea - my OC bardlock headcanons etc

(the lady in all the above fics)

Commission - Asmodea and Astarion in Bloodbang Chronicles

Commission - Asmodea and Astarion post-game

Gifted art from Valentine's Day exchange

Gifted art from Halloween exchange

Some screenshots, also here and here

Asmodea x Astarion kinky NSFW alphabet

OC Questionnaire

OC more in-depth questionnaire

Another 'get to know your Tav' post

OC songs and outfits

Why my Tav fell for Astarion

Why Astarion fell for my Tav

OC (i.e. Asmodea's, not mine) MBTI results for shits and giggles

Wow the tumblr search function really sucks, can't find jack shit through it. Anyway.

P.S. I am a whore for comments, and nothing sparks joy and feeds further inspiration quite like a simple "HHHNNNNNG ASFKJAGJLKSJF" in comments or reblog tags. And no fic is too old to receive comments on - they are ALWAYS a joy.

P.P.S Feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to be added to a taglist. :) And if so, do let me know if there are any categories you would prefer to be excluded from.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion fanfiction #pinned post #I give you my soul #You can give me your HHHNNNNNG ASFKJAGJLKSJF

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genshinluvr · 2 years ago

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Pictures of a Shining Star

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Nanook's sudden disappearance has left you feeling sad. To cheer you up, and without your knowledge, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, Caelus, March, and Himeko decided to get you a phone! March appoints herself as your unofficial official photographer and decides to take pictures of the littlest things for you and sends them your (and the men's) way.

Note: This took me a while to post because I was distracted by HSR. I made a new HSR account and was finishing up the quest in Belobog. So, yeah, that's why it took me a while to continue, finish, and post this fic 💀 This fic is longer than the first two fics I posted in the HSR series, so I hope you all enjoy this fic 🥹 After posting this fic on Tumblr and AO3, I'm heading to bed. I'll make and post the mini-fic for the Isekai Genshin series when I wake up because I've been lacking sleep. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Kind of starts off depressing in the beginning

Word Count: 9.7k

You expect to see Nanook when you wake up in the abyss, but unfortunately, you do not see the tall figure that once towered over you when you woke up in the void. The same tall figure you first met in the state of unconsciousness when you first arrived at the Xianzhou Luofu not long ago. This was the fifth time you didn’t see Nanook in your dreams, and the last time you talked to Nanook felt like ages ago.

Now, here you are, sitting at the table in the Astral Express, shoving a spoon full of cereal into your mouth before munching it glumly. From a distance, March, Himeko, Dan Heng, Mr. Yang, and Caelus look at you worriedly. If the others had to be honest, you look like shit. You have bags under your eyes, your hair is unkempt— you did wake up from your sleep not long ago and didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas or brush your hair before leaving your room— and you look very upset.

Himeko clears her throat. “Does anyone want to speak to [Y/N]? They look upset. Did something happen?” asks Himeko, looking at the four people beside her.

March sighs, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “Ever since [Y/N] regained their memories, they’ve been a little bit off. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of communication with the Aeon or if it was because they’re not in their universe,” March replies before letting out another sad sigh.

Dan Heng opens his mouth to comment, but a porcelain bowl scraping and squeaking across the table cuts him off. You push the bowl to the side, laying your head on the table and closing your eyes. You weren’t sure why the lack of Nanook was hurting you. Perhaps it’s because Nanook was the first…. Person (being?)…. You met in this universe.

That, and because Nanook told you that the both of you will meet face-to-face soon, only to disappear without a trace. Gosh, you want to be mad at Nanook, but you can’t get yourself to be upset. Plus, you have another can of worms to deal with, and that is learning how to survive in another universe without accidentally getting yourself killed.

Footsteps approach your table, and the chair in front of you slides out from underneath the table. You open your eyes and turn to see Mr. Yang sitting across from you. You blink at the older man before sitting up, running your fingers through your unkempt hair. Mr. Yang leans in his seat and clears his throat, sliding the chair closer to the table.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asks Mr. Yang, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

You shake your head, resting your chin on the table. “Not really. I’m afraid that if I talk about it, I’ll start crying,” you mumble, letting yourself stare off into space.

You and Mr. Yang sat in silence. Dan Heng, March, and Caelus slowly make their way toward the table where you and Mr. Yang are sitting. March sits beside you, while Dan Heng and Caelus sit beside Mr. Yang.

March rests her chin on the table before pressing her cheek on the cool tabletop. “How are you feeling, [Y/N]? You woke up late today,” says March, poking your cheek lightly with her manicured nails.

You hum, closing your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Too many things were occupying my mind, and it kept me up most of the night,” you reply.

March gives you a sympathetic smile. “Oh, cheer up, [Y/N]! We got something that’ll cheer you up!” says March, looking at the three men sitting before you and her. The three men stare at March blankly, making the girl laugh nervously. “I saaaaid, ‘We got something that’ll cheer you up!’”

Again, the three men continue to give March a blank stare. You look between March and the three men sitting before you, confused about what’s supposed to happen. March lets out an exasperated groan, throwing her head back out of frustration. In the distance, Himeko is giggling in the corner with Pom-Pom beside her, shaking his head with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Were we supposed to do something?” Dan Heng asks, raising an eyebrow at March.

March nods rapidly. “Yes! When I said that we have something that’ll cheer [Y/N] up, that was supposed to be your cue!” March exclaims, throwing her hands in the air before rubbing her throbbing temples with a frustrated sigh.

Caelus laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, we weren’t informed of this so-called cue of yours,” Caelus interjects, puckering his lips while staring at the fuming pink-haired girl in front of him.

You reach for your bowl of cereal to slurp the milk, but March unintentionally smacks it out of your hand, sending the bowl in the air before it shatters into a huge mess. You, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, March, and Caelus stare at the mess on the glossy tile floor. Pom-Pom waddles to your table, glaring at the pink-haired girl.

“You made a mess!” exclaims Pom-Pom, crossing his arms over his chest with a small growl. “Do you know I work tirelessly to make sure the Astral Express is in tip-top shape!?”

March laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry, Pom-Pom! I-I didn’t mean to smack the bowl from [Y/N]’s hands!” March apologizes.

You get up from your seat, grab a napkin from the table and begin cleaning up the mess. Pom-Pom grumbles under his breath before waddling off. While you’re cleaning up the mess, March is giving the three men an earful while making sure you didn’t hear the conversation. While you’re wiping up the mess, someone walks up to you, stopping in front of the shattered bowl. You look up to see Caelus, who kneels in front of you and holds a box out to you. You stare at the box before grabbing it from Caelus’ hand.

“What’s this? You guys didn’t need to get me anything,” you murmur, unwrapping the box while Caelus watches you with eagle eyes.

Caelus clears his throat. “We got it for you because it’s the best way to communicate with each other while we’re far away. In case you’re on the Astral Express and we’re at Belobog or the Xianzhou Luofu, you can reach out to any of us,” replies Caelus.

Your heart sinks into your chest. “Oh, no. You guys got me a phone?” You ask, looking at Caelus and the other three with disbelief.

It’s not like you were opposed to getting a phone, but you didn’t think they would buy you a phone themselves. Especially since they bought it without your knowledge. You hand the box back to Caelus before picking up the broken pieces of the bowl, placing them on the napkin, and tossing them away into the trash. You grab a broom and begin sweeping the tiny pieces into the dustpan.

Dan Heng looks at you quizzically. “Did you not want us to get you a phone? If we didn’t get you one, how would we be able to contact you while we’re far away or end up getting separated?” Dan Heng asks.

“Plus, when we go Trailblazing together, you can make new memories with us! I volunteer to be your photographer!” March says proudly, raising her hands in the air with a big smile.

You stroke your chin, staring at the ground. “New memories, huh?” You murmur. “I’m not opposed to making new memories with you guys.”

March perks up and cheers loudly before bouncing over to you and throwing her arms around your shoulders with glee. You snort and wrap your arm around her, making sure not to drop the broom on the ground. After cleaning the mess on the floor, March dragged you to the nearest chair and had you set your phone up while Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang hung around in case you needed any assistance with setting up your phone.

“Oooh! You know what we should do after [Y/N] officially sets their phone up?” March asks, clapping her hands with excitement.

Mr. Yang stares at March, raising his eyebrows at the pink-haired girl. “And what is that?” asks Mr. Yang.

“We should take pictures! Lots and lots of ‘em!” exclaims March. “And as [Y/N]’s unofficial official photographer, I will be the one to take all of the pictures!”

Once your phone is officially set up, March begins passing your phone around so other people can start saving their phone numbers into your phone before adding your number to their phone. Once your phone returns to you, you put your phone in your pocket, but March stops you.

She holds her hand out in front of you. “Ah, ah, ah! Don’t put your phone away just yet, [Y/N]! We still need to take pictures! I am not letting you walk around without a background for your home and lock screen!” says March, propping her other hand on her hips.

You stare at the girl in front of you. “We can do that after I’m done getting ready? I don’t want to look like a mess in the pictures,” you say.

“Pfft! It’s okay! It’s not like the photos are leaving your phone anyway!” March says.

You shake your head. “Still, I want to look decent,” you mumble.

Realization hits March a few seconds later, and her eyes light up. A smile stretches across her face, giving you a knowing look. You stare at March, heat rushing to your cheeks. You’re hoping no one aside from March notices your change of demeanor. Plus, if March is going to be your unofficial official photographer, you might as well try to look your best in the photos, right? Especially when other people will end up in the pictures soon.

March pretends to let out an exasperated sigh, slumping forward. “Alright, alright! As a professional and your unofficial official photographer, I cannot have you look terrible in your pictures. You may go get ready and freshen up for the pictures…. As long as you give me your phone before getting ready!” says March, holding her hand out.

You shrug your shoulders and hand your phone over to March without questioning her. You walk to your room to get ready for the day after multiple delays before breakfast. After getting ready for the day, you return to where the others are waiting for you, only to see March take a selfie with Dan Heng, Caelus, Mr. Yang, and Himeko. March looks up from your phone, and she beams at you with excitement.

“You’re back! And don’t you look cute! Trying to impress a certain someone?” March teases, poking you when you stand beside her.

You huff and look away from March, snatching your phone from her hands. “How many pictures did you take on my phone while I was away?” You ask, scrolling through your gallery.

March giggles, swaying to the side while watching you search for your gallery. The way you’re scrolling through your phone and searching for the gallery reminds her of Mr. Yang. She wonders if you know how to change profile pictures, unlike Mr. Yang. Poor guy couldn't figure it out and tried to message Caelus about it, only for Caelus to be no help at all. After two minutes of searching for the gallery, you finally found it. Once you clicked the gallery app, your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

“Two hundred?! How are there almost two hundred pictures in the gallery already, March?!” You screeched, turning to look at March incredulously.

March holds her hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, hey! Taking pictures wasn’t the only thing I did, alright? I also added you to our group chat!” March says, clicking through your phone and showing you the group chat she added you to.

The Astral Express Family. That’s cute.

March claps her hands. “Okay! Now that [Y/N] is finished with cutesy-ing up for a special someone, let's take pictures now!” March announces.

“Oh? Who’re you ‘cutesy-ing’ up for, [Y/N]?” asks Mr. Yang, approaching you with Dan Heng and Caelus at his side.

Your eyes widen, and you squeak, “Uh! Me? Cutesy-ing up for someone? I’m not cutesy-ing up for anyone, Mr. Yang! I just want to look decent in the pictures in case someone,” you look at March with a glare, “sends the pictures around!”

Mr. Yang raises his eyebrows at your response, a faint smirk appearing on his face as he gazes at you with amusement. You feel your face heat up as you press your lips into a thin line before nudging March’s side. March snickers and guides you to the front of the three men before standing beside you. Himeko stands beside March, and the six of you take a group selfie. The following picture was of you, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus. Then the next was of you, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang.

This went on for a while, and the next thing you know, as you had expected, March has you send the pictures to the Astral Express Family group chat for everyone to save on their phones. You didn’t think March was going to have you send the images to the group chat, but boy, you’re glad you decided to, and you quote from March, cutesy up for the photos. You sure as hell did not want any of them to have an awful picture of you on their phones. You’re okay with sending the photos to each person individually if they wish to have the images. Still, March suggested sending it through the group chat to save some time.

While in the midst of sending the last ten photos to the group chat, March skips up to you and loops her arms around yours, diverting your attention from your phone.

“So! Are you ready to go to Belobog? Gepard and Sampo kept pestering Caelus about wanting to see you,” says March, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a teasing smile. “Right, Caelus?” March asks, leaning to the side to look at the silver-haired male.

Caelus approaches you and March with Mr. Yang and Dan Heng at his side. “I wouldn’t say that. Both Gepard and Sampo talked about wanting to hang out with us again before we go to the Xianzhou Luofu. I think it’d be nice to hang out with the two of them before we visit the Xianzhou Luofu,” says Caelus.

You blink at Caelus, March, Mr. Yang, and Dan Heng. “Wait, we’re stopping by the Xianzhou Luofu today after we stop by Belobog?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

Mr. Yang looks at the time before sighing. “That is if we have time. Who knows how long we will be at Belobog,” replies Mr. Yang.

Everyone walks to the Parlor Car and begins taking their seats after Pom-Pom announces the Astral Express is taking off soon. You sit on the couch beside March and close your eyes, resting your head on the back cushions, bracing yourself for take off. You still weren’t used to the feeling of the Astral Express traversing through space, and it sometimes made you feel nauseous and dizzy.

You poke March’s arm to grab her attention. March looks up from her phone and scoots close when you gesture for her to come closer. “I’m going to take a nap. Can you wake me up when we arrive at Jarilo-VI or Belobog?”

March nods before looking back at her phone. You close your eyes and relax against the cushions. Your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly drift to sleep. When you open your eyes, you’re back in the abyss. The stars glimmer around you, and the void is silent. It’s so quiet that if you were to listen closely, you would’ve been able to hear your heart beating against your chest.

“You’re here,” says a familiar voice.

You turn your head and see Nanook towering over you. Nanook gazes at you with glowing gold eyes as you take a step closer. You weren’t sure if Nanook was okay with you getting any closer, but since you didn’t see any negative reaction, you stopped in front of Nanook’s towering form.

You give Nanook a smile. “I should be the one to say that. After all, you’re the one that completely disappeared after that incident,” you say, sitting on the ground. “Where did you go? Were you upset with me by any chance?” You ask, hugging your knees to your chest.

Nanook hums, refusing to look away from you. “That, I cannot answer. But what I can tell you is that we will be face-to-face in person very soon. I apologize if I made you worried. That was never my intention,” says Nanook, smiling at you.

You pucker your lips before turning around, having your back face Nanook’s direction. Nanook blinks at you quizzically, staring at your back while you stare into the void. Nanook’s lips twitch, trying to fight back a smile that’s forming. Even though Nanook has known you for a short amount of time, Nanook can tell that you’re sulking.

Nanook pokes you. “Are you upset with me? You’re not upset with me, are you?” asks Nanook, poking your back for the second time.

You huff in response, letting yourself fall over on your side, still hugging your knees to your chest. Nanook lets out an amused laugh before gently sliding his hands underneath your body and lifting you. Nanook stares at you while you continue to have your back facing his direction. Nanook sighs and caresses your hair while you continue to sulk in silence.

Nanook looks down at you, his face a few feet from your body. “If I made you upset and worried, I apologize. Will you forgive me?” Nanook murmurs.

Nanook hears a faint sigh coming from you. You roll over to face the towering silver-white-haired figure before you, staring at him while lying in the palm of his hands. You and Nanook stare at each other without saying a word. You weren’t mad at Nanook.

But you were worried to the point where you’d try to take as many naps as you could just so you could see the Aeon, making sure you could still communicate with each other. Each time you don’t see Nanook, you can’t help but feel discouraged. And since there wasn’t a way for you to communicate with Nanook outside of your dreams, and Nanook is the one that can make it happen, you feel helpless.

After all, Nanook is the first being you talked to, and Nanook did bring you into this universe. You and many people around you have no idea how the Aeon was able to take you away from your world and plop you into their universe without warning. You grab Nanook’s finger and hug them to your chest.

“I’m not mad at you. You did, however, make me worry about you. I thought I did something to upset you, causing you to ignore me for weeks!” You say, frowning at the Aeon before you.

Nanook blinks at you. “Little one, I wasn’t ignoring you for weeks,” replies Nanook, a smile gracing those gorgeous features.

“Well, to me, it felt like weeks! I….” you trailed off with a sharp intake of breath. “I was hoping to see you after you disappeared all of a sudden, but I couldn’t reach out to you. There wasn’t another way for me to talk to you.”

Nanook strokes your cheek, frowning. “I really do apologize for disappearing out of the blue. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel this way. Can you forgive me, little one?” asks Nanook, brushing your hair from your face.

You wanted to play hard to get, but you can’t. Not when Nanook is giving you what looks like puppy dog eyes. You sit up and nod slowly. A wide smile appears on Nanook’s face. You press your lips into a thin line when you see Nanook’s smile. Nanook puts you on the ground suddenly, disappearing before your sight.

You blink, getting up from the ground, and begin searching around the void for the Aeon. Oh gosh, why did Nanook disappear out of nowhere like last time? Last time Nanook looked upset, but before Nanook put you on the ground, he was smiling. While you are occupied with searching for Nanook, you feel a tap on your shoulders. You turn to see Nanook standing behind you, no longer the once towering figure above you.

Before you can scold him for disappearing so suddenly, Nanook grabs you by your wrist, pulls you to his chest, and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. You close your eyes and relax in Nanook’s arms, wrapping your arms around his waist. Despite the open wounds on Nanook’s body and gold blood flowing from the wounds like water, you let Nanook hug you tightly against his chest.

“It feels nice to have you in my arms,” you hear Nanook whisper, feeling Nanook press a kiss on your forehead.

You close your eyes, relaxing in Nanook’s arms. It really does feel nice to be in Nanook’s arms. Being in Nanook’s arms is so comfortable compared to sleeping on your bed. The world around you slowly becomes dark, and before you know it, you wake up to someone shaking you awake. You groan and try to swat the hand away, hoping it’ll make the person stop shaking you.

You hear an obnoxious laugh. “Oh, wow, Gumdrop! You really are a heavy sleeper like what March said,” the person laughs.

Sampo.

“Come on, Gumdrop! I know you can hear me! If you had those foxian ears, it would’ve been twitching right now because you love the sound of my voice, don’tcha, Gumdrop?” Sampo asks teasingly.

You feel, you presume, Sampo brushes your hair away from your face before caressing your face with his large hands. You hear someone let out an annoyed sigh. You weren’t sure who it was exactly, but it was either Dan Heng, Gepard, or Mr. Yang.

“Your failed flirting tactic isn’t going to wake [Y/N] up from their slumber,” Dan Heng mutters.

You can hear the irritation in his voice as Sampo continues to caress your face and stroke your cheek with his thumb. You want to continue to sleep. You’re so tired, and your limbs feel like lead. You hear a faint click.

“Why are you taking a picture of them sleeping in your arms, Sampo? It’s a little creepy for you to do that,” Gepard mutters.

You hear Sampo let out a scandalous gasp. “What? It’s not creepy! [Y/N] looks so cute when they’re sleeping! How can you not want to take a picture of their cute face when they’re sleeping?” Sampo asks.

March makes a ‘meh’ sound before drawing out a sigh. “Gepard’s right on this one, Sampo. As [Y/N]’s unofficial official photographer, even I wouldn’t do something like this,” says March.

You grumble in response and slowly open your eyes. As your eyes gradually adjust to the light around you, you see Sampo grinning down at you through your blurry vision. You bring your hand up to your eyes, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You look around to see people circling around you, watching you regain consciousness.

Gepard gives you a tiny smile. “You’re awake. You were sleeping for a while,” comments Gepard, sweeping your hair away from your face when the wind blows it onto your face.

You adjust yourself to sit up in Sampo’s arms, stretching your arms while Sampo wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling up against you. While you’re trying to force yourself to be awake, the others around you are glaring daggers at Sampo. Mr. Yang subtly smacks Sampo’s arms from your waist while glaring at the merchant.

Gepard holds his hands out for you to take. You smile at Gepard and grab ahold of his hand before standing up. Sampo pouts and crosses his arms over his chest when you get off of his lap. Still feeling exhausted and disoriented from your nap, you rub your eyes with your knuckles really hard.

Gepard grabs your hand to stop you from rubbing your eyes any longer. You stare at Gepard sleepily before looking around. You’re in Belobog now, and somehow you didn’t wake up to the sound of bustling crowds or to the feeling of someone picking you up and carrying you out of the Astral Express. You turn to look at March, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang.

“How did I end up here? I thought you guys were going to wake me up before we got off the Astral Express,” you say, running your hands through your hair.

The crisp air of Belobog sends chills down your spine, making you visibly shiver while rubbing your arms. The brisk air nipping at your skin, causing goosebumps to prick on your arms. Noticing your slight discomfort with the temperature of Belobog, Mr. Yang takes his coat off before draping it over your shoulders. You’re immediately engulfed in warmth, making you sigh with contentment.

You smiled at the brown-haired man and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the stoic man. Mr. Yang nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. At that moment, you hear a faint click of a camera but ignore it. You feel the cold nip at your nose and cheeks, making you press your cold hand against your face. Everyone around you seems unbothered by the chilly air of Belobog while you are shivering in your shoes and Mr. Yang’s coat.

Gepard crosses his arms over his chest and gestures to Sampo. “When the Astral Express landed on Belobog, Sampo entered the Express to greet all of you. You were sleeping on the couch in the Astral Express, and March 7th was trying to wake you up. Of course, you didn’t wake up, and Sampo volunteered to carry you,” replies Gepard.

You turn to look at March, who waddles up to you before linking her arms around yours. You yawn and nod, not questioning why they didn’t leave you on the Astral Express if you weren’t waking up. March nudges you lightly to get your attention. You look at March, blinking at the pink-haired girl owlishly.

March leans to whisper into your ears. “While you were asleep, I put Sampo and Gepard’s number into your phone while they added you to their contacts list. Was that okay?” asks March.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine with me! As long as you didn’t take any unflattering pictures of me while I was napping,” you reply.

March stares at you with wide eyes before looking away sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck with a nervous laugh. You narrow your eyes at March’s strange behavior. You unloop your arms from March’s arm, crossing your arms over your chest while staring her down.

March puffs her cheeks and points at the others around you two. “I’m not the only one that took unflattering pictures of you, you know! They did it too! In fact, Sampo was the first person to do it!” March exclaims, sticking her nose in the air with a loud huff.

You sigh and run your hands through your hair. There are too many people to scold, and you’re too hungry to scold anyone individually. Your phone chimes, and you look at your phone to see a new text message from Sampo. It was a picture of you knocked out in his arms while he was smiling widely at the camera. You groan internally, covering your face with your hand. You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you can’t tell if it is from the cold or if it’s from embarrassment.

Sampo struts over to you and throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you to his side. “I think you look adorable when you’re asleep, Gumdrop! I hope you don’t mind that I made it my home screen background,” says Sampo, patting your head.

Well, at least in this world, you’re someone’s phone background. You smile at Sampo and shake your head. “I don’t mind it as long as it’s not an embarrassing picture of me,” you reply.

“Are we going to do something, or are we going to stand around all day and do nothing in Belobog?” asks Dan Heng, raising his eyebrows at Sampo and Gepard.

Gepard clears his throat, nodding. “Ah, yes, right. Please, follow me as I show you around the Administrative District,” says Gepard, gesturing to you all to follow him while casting a glance in your and Sampo’s direction.

The tour around the Administrative District would have been even better if it wasn’t for the cold. While there are heaters around the area, it’s not enough for you to warm up, and not even Mr. Yang’s coat can keep you warm from the bitter cold. It could be worse. At least it’s not in some mountain surrounded by five feet of snow.

The flower shop, from a distance, grabs your attention. It looks inviting and very warm. Oh, you bet the flower shop is nice and warm on the inside compared to the outside. Without looking away from the flower shop, you grab the nearest person’s arm and tug on their shirt sleeve, pointing at the flower shop.

“Can we go into the flower shop?” You ask, continuing to tug on the sleeves.

The person hums. “Do you want to look at the flowers?” asks Caelus, gazing down at you and then at the flower shop.

You blink at Caelus and slowly nod. “Yeah! I also want to go in there because it’s really cold, and my hands are freezing,” you reply, pressing your cold hands against Caelus’ warm cheeks.

Caelus flinches and grabs your hands while you’re trying to get warm by pressing yourself against his side. Caelus chuckles and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your hands with his to create heat for your freezing hands. You shiver, pouting while sniffling dramatically. Caelus stifles his laugh, shaking his head.

While you were pouting and huddling close to Caelus, letting him rub your hands together to create heat, March pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the two of you. Caelus walks over to the men with you waddling beside him, your hands remaining in his grasp.

“Hey, so [Y/N] wants to go into the flower shop to warm up. Is that okay?” asks Caelus, continuing to rub his hands with yours.

Mr. Yang nods. “That’s fine with us. Is my coat not keeping them warm enough?” asks Mr. Yang as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You stare at Mr. Yang with your mouth agape. The man isn’t wearing the coat he gave you, and yet he’s not freezing or shivering like you. Heck, you don’t even see a single goosebump on this man’s arm! Then again, he’s wearing a long sleeve shirt, so you technically can’t tell if he’s cold or not.

You press yourself against Caelus’ side. “Are you not cold, Mr. Yang?” You ask.

Mr. Yang shakes his head. “No, I’m not cold. Maybe you’re not used to the weather here,” Mr. Yang answers.

After getting confirmation that you can go into the flower shop, you pull your hands out from Caelus’ grasp before jogging to the flower shop without hesitation. Caelus sighs, tucking his hands in his pockets before following after you. March skips up to Caelus happily, showing him her phone. Caelus pauses in his steps and presses his lips into a thin line.

“Can you send that to me?” Caelus asks shyly.

March grins at Caelus, wiggling her eyebrows at the silver-haired man before nodding. “Sure! Would you like for me to send it in the group chat or just to you?”

Before Caelus can reply, Sampo, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Gepard walk up to them. Caelus clears his throat, signaling to March that they’ll continue the conversation another time. March sighs and rolls her eyes, walking up the steps of the small flower shop. When everyone walks into the Eversummer Florist, the first thing they see is you taking pictures of the flowers while Vaska is explaining to you what each flower symbolizes.

“So! Has anyone ever bought you flowers, dear customer?” asks Vaska, gazing at you curiously.

You blush and tuck your hair behind your ear. How do you explain to Vaska that no one has ever bought you flowers, whether as a gift or in general? The sound of the bell chiming alerts you and Vaska of new customers, only for you to realize it’s your friends and not random customers.

You clear your throat. “Oh, uh, no! No one has ever bought me flowers before, Vaska. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to look around!” You say.

Vaska smiles and nods, walking away to other customers that call her over for assistance. You sigh in relief and take Mr. Yang’s coat off, handing it to the brown-haired man while looking around the flower shop.

Sampo grabs your hand and presses a kiss on your knuckles. “May I be the first person to buy you flowers? A person as beautiful as you deserves to be spoiled with the prettiest and most vibrant flowers to exist in Belobog,” says Sampo, winking at you.

Dan Heng raises his eyebrows at Sampo. “Are you sure you’ll be able to buy every flower in the flower shop for [Y/N]?”

Gepard hums, crossing his arms over his chest while looking around the flower shop. “Flowers can be expensive depending on what type of flower you want and how you want them to be arranged,” Gepard interjects.

March raises her eyebrows at the Captain of the Silvermane Guards, propping her hands on her hips while leaning on one leg. “And how do you know that, Gepard?” March questions, tapping her foot on the ground while waiting for the blond man to reply.

Gepard goes quiet and looks at March sheepishly. If you were to look closely, you could see a faint blush on Gepard’s cheek. Gepard clears his throat, looking away from the pink-haired girl before continuing to admire the flowers in the flower shop. You chuckle and nudge March while she gives you a devious smile, wiggling her eyebrows at you teasingly. You roll your eyes and walk to the other side of the flower shop, admiring the beautiful flowers while taking occasional pictures of them.

A specific flower captures your attention. You let out an audible gasp in awe, admiring the beautiful flower. You’re contemplating buying yourself a flower to put in your room back on the Astral Express. You look at the Ball Peonies in front of you, admiring their beauty and color. Gosh, it’s so pretty! How can you not buy one for yourself? You lean down, searching for the price of the flower.

After what felt like ten minutes, you finally found the price tag. You reach for the label, flip it over and let out a choked gasp, dropping the price tag and letting it dangle. You know that flowers can get expensive, but not that expensive! Noticing your shock from afar, Vaska walks up to you and gazes at the Ball Peonies.

Vaska giggles and adjusts the flower. “The Ball Peonies are very expensive, but not as expensive as the Marquis! The Marquis is our most expensive flower,” says Vaska.

You give Vaska a fake smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “The Ball Peonies are beautiful! Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to buy these. Maybe in another lifetime,” you joke.

Vaska chuckles and walks away, shaking her head. You sigh for the umpteenth time and walk to another flower before pulling your phone out to scroll through your gallery. You begin sorting your pictures, putting them in different files. While you’re occupied with putting the group pictures in appropriate files, your phone chimes.

‘3 Attachments from March (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ’

You click on the notifications, waiting for the messages to load. Someone taps on your shoulders. You turn your phone off and turn around, only to see Gepard standing before you with Ball Peony in his hands, his cheeks and the tip of his ears crimson red. Your eyes widen, gazing at the blond man speechlessly.

Gepard clears his throat and looks away from you before holding the Ball Peony out toward you. “I saw you looking at the Ball Peony. I also saw how shocked and disappointed you were when you saw the price of it, and I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” says Gepard.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, making your face feel warm. “Gepard, you didn’t have to get me the Ball Peony. They’re expensive,” you whisper, gazing at the ground.

Gepard looks at you. You didn’t see the soft look Gepard had on his face while smiling at you shyly. Gepard clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter to me that they’re expensive. I wanted to see you happy, and…” Gepard trails off, “I wanted to be the first one to buy you flowers.”

Your face is aflame as you grab the flowers from Gepard’s hands, admiring the Ball Peony. You look up at Gepard, smiling widely before throwing your arms around Gepard’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. Caught off guard by your actions, Gepard stumbles back slightly while wrapping his arms around your waist with wide eyes. If Gepard’s face isn't red already, it’s probably almost as red as Himeko’s hair. March squeals softly, pulling her phone out while snapping multiple pictures of you and Gepard hugging from different angles.

Sampo huffs and looks away, flicking his bangs from his eyes. “I wanted to be the first one to buy [Y/N] flowers, but Mister Captain of the Silvermane Guards had to be the first one to do it!” Sampo grouses, his face pinching up with annoyance.

You pull away from the hug and thank Gepard shyly. Gepard smiles and brushes the stray hair away from your face. Your phone begins chiming over and over, ruining the sweet moment between you and Gepard. You give Gepard an apologetic smile before pulling your phone out from your pockets to see a ton of attachments from March.

You raise your eyebrows and look in March’s direction. March looks at you with a wide smile while holding her phone behind her back, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet while feigning innocence.

Dan Heng clears his throat. “So, now that you’re warmed up. Do you want to continue the tour around the Administrative District, or do you want to return to the Astral Express?” asks Dan Heng, approaching you and Gepard.

You hum, tapping on your chin with one hand. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle the cold. People here are used to the weather, but I’m not. I would like to return to the Astral Express, but I feel bad for wanting to leave so soon,” you say, looking over at Gepard and Sampo.

Sampo smiles at you and props his hands on Gepard’s shoulders. Gepard’s smile falters for a split second before giving Sampo a fake smile, brushing the merchant’s arm off his shoulders. Sampo clears his throat and adjusts himself.

Sampo ruffles your hair with a big smile. “Oh, come on! Don’t be sad now, Gumdrop! I know you’re going to miss the amazing Sampo Koski, but no need to worry! I, and maybe the Captain of the Silvermane Guard, will be accompanying you on the Astral Express heading to, uh, what’s that ship called again?” Sampo looks at Dan Heng, Caelus, Mr. Yang, and March with a questioning look.

Mr. Yang sighs, closing his eyes. “We’re heading to the Xianzhou Luofu next. General Jing Yuan wanted us to stop by and visit,” Mr. Yang answers, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge.

You nod, holding the Ball Peony close to your chest. The trip from Jarilo-V to the Xianzhou Luofu is going to take a while, and that means you can take a nap! But knowing March, she will try to find a way for you not to take a nap. According to her, you take too many naps. You dread leaving the flower shop because you’re going to get cold again, and you refuse to borrow anyone’s jacket because you feel bad if they let you borrow their jacket.

After what felt like ages, you all arrive at the Astral Express. Instead of borrowing someone’s jacket like last time, Dan Heng lets you share jackets with him. Of course, March took a picture of that and sent it to you and Dan Heng separately instead of sending the photo through the group chat.

You sigh in relief, stretching your arms in the air. The first thing you’re going to do is get a vase for the Ball Peony. After that, you go to your room and take a nap. Well, sneak off to take a nap because March is going to find a way to stop you from napping.

You scurry to find a vase for your Ball Peony, leaving the others in the Parlor Car. You end up finding the prettiest iridescent vase for the Ball Peony. You fill the vase with water and stick the Ball Peony into the vase, wondering if the Ball Peony is going to survive in a train that’s traversing through space.

You walk to the Passenger Cabin, holding the vase carefully, making sure not to spill any water. You weren’t sure where you were going to put the flowers, but you were debating on putting them close to the window or on your nightstand beside your bed. You opted for the nightstand and set it down in the center before plopping down on your bed and pulling your phone out to look at the messages March sent to you throughout the day in Belobog.

You save all of the pictures to your phone, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly succumb to sleep. Your phone falls from your hands and lies beside you as you drift to sleep. You weren’t sure how long you fell asleep, but you’re rudely awoken by the sound of your phone buzzing uncontrollably and your bedroom door slamming open.

“Why did you burst into [Y/N]’s room like that? You know they were sleeping,” you hear Dan Heng scold someone.

You rub your eyes, tempted to go back to sleep.

March huffs loudly. “Oh, no, you don’t! Get up! We arrived at the Xianzhou Luofu! General Jing Yuan and the others are waiting for us at the entrance!” says March.

March walks up to your bed and yanks your blanket off your body. You groan, stretching in your bed while reaching around for your phone. You look at your phone to see three messages from three unknown numbers.

The first message reads, “Hello, [Y/N]. This is Jing Yuan! In case you’re wondering how I got your number, March informed me, Luocha, and Blade that you have a new phone. She gave us your number. I’m looking forward to seeing you soon!”

The second message is from, you’re assuming, Luocha. “Hello, [Y/N]! I hope you’ve been doing well since the last time we saw each other. March informed me that you got a phone, and Caelus sent me your phone number! If you ever need anything, please let me know, and I’ll try my best to help you. Also, this is Luocha.”

And finally, the last text you received on your phone is from Blade. “This is Blade. Are you still talking to the Aeon?” That was the only message Blade sent to you.

You blink at the message on your phone before unlocking it. You quickly type out a reply to all three men before getting off your bed, running your hands through your hair. You shove your phone into your pocket before following March and Dan Heng out of your bedroom.

You step out of the Astral Express, yawning for the umpteenth time within the span of five minutes. March nudges you, giving you a worried look. You shake your head as if telling her not to worry about it. After all, it’s not like it’s out of the ordinary for you to feel tired. You did arrive in their universe from another world. You’re still adjusting to everything. Plus, it’s not like there’s a timezone since you’re constantly going to different planets and fleets.

“And there they are,” Mr. Yang says, smiling at you, March, and Dan Heng.

Caelus snickers and looks at Dan Heng and March with an eyebrow raised. “Was it really that hard to wake [Y/N] up from their sleep?” asks Caelus, propping his hands on his waist.

March and Dan Heng glare at Caelus while you walk to the nearest bench on the Xianzhou Luofu and plop on it. Luocha sits beside you. You lay your head on Luocha’s shoulders, closing your eyes.

Luocha smiles and caresses your hair. “Did you not sleep well while on your way to the Xianzhou Luofu?” asks Luocha.

You shake your head. “I haven’t been sleeping well recently. I’m not sure if it’s because my body is trying to adjust to the constant change of environment or if it’s because….” you trailed off, opening your eyes.

Luocha peeks down at you, looking at you worriedly. “Because what?” Luocha murmurs.

You sit up and pull your phone out, mindlessly rubbing your thumb against the smooth screen. “I don’t know if I want to say it. I’m hoping it’s not true, but who knows,” you shrug your shoulders.

You have a theory that your lack of sleep could come from your and Nanook’s ways of communication. Nanook speaks to you in your dreams, and you’re very well aware that you’re dreaming. But are you really asleep when Nanook communicates with you through your dreams? Or is your physical body unconscious, but the mind isn’t?

Luocha leans back and gazes at you with his gorgeous green eyes. To Luocha, you do look visibly exhausted. If he were to look closely, you have bags under your eyes, and the little sparkle in your eyes is dim, almost nonexistent.

“It’s because of that Aeon, isn’t it?” asks Blade as he approaches you with Jing Yuan beside him.

You blink at Blade owlishly. It’s possible that it’s because of your communication with Nanook, but you didn’t want to make assumptions. Plus, prior to March and Dan Heng waking you up from your slumber, you didn’t see Nanook. In fact, you didn’t have a dream, nor were you in the very same void whenever you and Nanook communicated.

Blade chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to answer my question. I have a feeling that your loss of sleep is due to your interaction with Nanook,” says Blade.

As much as you want to agree with Blade, you feel guilty for placing the blame for your lack of sleep on Nanook. All Nanook wanted to do was to see you and speak to you through your dreams because there was no way for Nanook to be there with you physically. Yet. Is it even possible for Nanook to be there with you physically outside of your dreams? Nanook is massive and covers the sun and sky.

You let out a long yawn and cover your mouth.

Someone chuckles. “Aw, it seems like the little one is tired. Aren’t you adorable?” the voice coos into your ears.

You stop mid-yawn and look around, searching for the source of the voice. Luocha, Blade, and Jing Yuan look at you worriedly as you whip your head around to look for the voice of the person.

“[Y/N]? Are you alright?” asks Jing Yuan, kneeling before you. “You look startled.”

You stop looking around. You clear your throat, nodding before resting your head on Luocha’s shoulders, sighing. You realize the voice is coming from inside of your head and that it’s most likely Nanook. If the voice inside your head is Nanook, you’re going to be speaking to the Aeon about it when you’re asleep. Nanook can’t pop in and out of your mind so suddenly without scaring you like that.

“So, March has given you guys my number. She didn’t inform me about it, but I did wake up to a series of text messages other than March slamming my bedroom door open,” you chuckle.

Luocha stands up from the bench and squats in front of you, gesturing for you to get on his back. You blink at the blond man before getting on his back, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Luocha stands straight and adjusts you on his back before walking over to where the others are standing, with Blade and Jing Yuan walking beside him. You tighten your grip around Luocha’s neck and rest your head on his shoulders, closing your eyes.

“I was going to say that I was hoping our texting you didn’t disturb your slumber, but you already told us that you woke up to your phone chiming,” Luocha sighs, tightening his grip on your thighs.

You hum, snuggling against Luocha’s back. “It’s fine, really. I would rather wake up to text messages from you guys than March storming into my bedroom to wake me up. She said I take way too many naps,” you chuckle.

“I can hold your phone for you if you’d like. I worry you might drop your phone while holding onto Luocha,” Jing Yuan comments, reaching for your phone. “We wouldn’t want you to break your new phone, now, would we?” Jing Yuan asks, raising his eyebrows at you while poking your cheek.

You hand Jing Yuan your phone, continuing to hold onto the blond man. Blade peeks at your phone and takes it from Jing Yuan’s hands, tapping on the screen to see a group picture of you and the Astral Express crew smiling at the camera. It’s a cute picture. But when Blade unlocked your phone (your password was predictable), a picture of you with Sampo and Gepard was the background for your home screen.

“Who took these pictures?” asks Blade, holding your phone up to your face.

You squint and look at the home screen background. “March took the pictures! She’s my unofficial official photographer.”

Blade hums and begins scrolling through your gallery, narrowing his eyes at each photo that wasn’t a group picture. Most pictures look candid, while others look like it was taken without your knowledge. Especially the images of you sleeping in the indigo-haired man’s arms. Your phone buzzes, and a notification appears at the top of the screen.

‘1 Attachment from March (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ’

Blade clicks on the notification without thinking, and it takes him to the messages between you and March. The attachment was a picture of you getting a piggyback ride from Luocha. The photo was taken a few seconds ago. Blade looks up from your phone and makes eye contact with the pink-haired girl. March’s eyes widen, and she gives Blade a sheepish smile, hiding her phone behind her back while trying to act casual. Blade hands the phone back to Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan huffs with amusement. “If you don’t mind, would you perhaps take pictures with us as well? I see you’ve been taking pictures with your traveling companions and friends from places you stop by,” says Jing Yuan.

You nod. “Of course we can! We can find a good place to take a picture. We need to let the others know about it first. After all, March is my unofficial official photographer!” you reply.

When you, Luocha, Blade, and Jing Yuan approach the group, the others give you a questioning look while March has her hands crossed over her chest while staring at you. You give March a sheepish look and wave at her from behind Luocha. Mr. Yang walks up to you and hands you an Immortal’s Delight, causing you to perk up and grab the drink from his hands after saying ‘thank you.’

Luocha squats down, and you get off his back, sipping on the sugary drink. You’re really hoping the drink will keep you up for a little bit before returning to the Astral Express and calling it a day. You tapped March’s shoulders and informed her about wanting to take pictures with Jing Yuan, Blade, and Luocha. You and March were trying to think of places to take photos with the help of Dan Heng and Caelus giving suggestions. Sampo and Gepard walk up to Blade, Luocha, and Jing Yuan, eyeing the three men from head to toe. Blade raises his eyebrows, sizing the two men up.

Blade points at Sampo. “What’s your association with [Y/N]?” Blade asks. “You seem quite close with [Y/N]. Do they mean anything to you by any chance?”

Jing Yuan laughs and pats Blade’s shoulders before giving Sampo and Gepard an apologetic smile. “I apologize for Blade suddenly interrogating you about your association with [Y/N]. While we have met a few times, we’re curious about your relationship with [Y/N],” says Jing Yuan. “Well, Blade is more direct about it. As you can see.”

Gepard and Sampo look at one another, staring at the three men in silence. Were they supposed to tell the three strange men their association with you? If those three men (specifically Blade) are curious about it, they will talk to you about it.

Luocha interjects, getting between the four tense men. “Gentlemen! Let’s save this conversation for later, shall we? I believe [Y/N] has picked out a place for the pictures,” says Luocha, laughing nervously while gesturing over in your direction. Luocha turns to look at Gepard and Sampo, bowing to the two men. “I apologize if they’re causing any hostile environment. I hope we can all get along.”

Jing Yuan blinks at Luocha, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not the one that’s creating a hostile environment. I believe it’s this one over here,” Jing Yuan says, gesturing toward Blade.

You and your traveling companions walk to where the five men are standing. In your hands, you’re holding two more Immortal’s Delight. The men raise their eyebrows at you while Sampo points at the sugary drinks in your hands.

“Picture time! We have decided to take a picture in this one area of Central Starskiff Haven! Close to where they sell Immortals Delight!” You say, waving the drinks around before taking a sip from one of the cups.

Blade stares at you and then at the cup in your hands. “You’re not going to buy any more of those drinks, are you?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You pursed your lips and slowly walked away. “I can’t promise you anything! If you want to start blaming someone, blame someone that introduced me to Immortals Delight,” you said.

Upon arriving at the Central Starskriff Haven, you, Blade, Jing Yuan, and Luocha stand beside each other in front of the railing. Well, Luocha, Jing Yuan, and Blade are standing beside each other while you stand in front of the three men. March begins taking many pictures of you and the three men on your phone.

In the middle of the photo shoot (is it even a photoshoot?), Blade takes your Immortal’s Delight and begins drinking it. You turn to look at Blade with your mouth agape. The dark-haired man looks away from you and continues slurping the sugary drink without care. Your face pinches up with irritation before chasing Blade around Luocha and Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan and Luocha chuckle and try to get the two of you to stop before causing any more issues.

“This is perfect! It captures their dynamic perfectly!” March says, continuing to snap many pictures of what’s happening.

Jing Yuan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Blade, give [Y/N] back their drink. It’s rude to drink something that doesn’t belong to you,” Jing Yuan chides.

“Yeah, Blade! Don’t be a jerk and give me back my drink!” You say, glaring at the dark-haired man and stopping in your tracks, placing your hands on your knees and panting. “If you make me chase for that drink, I will make you pay for it.”

“Oh? And how are you going to make me pay for it exactly?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You hold your hand out in front of you. Blade stares at you before holding your hand. You stare at your hands in Blade’s grasp. You drop his hands and huff. Luocha chuckles, giving Blade a teasing smile.

“It seems like you don’t understand what [Y/N] is implying. They want you to give them credit for the Immortal’s Delight, not you holding their hand,” Luocha interjects. “One drink costs about 3600 credits per drink. It is a bit pricey for one drink.”

Blade stares at Luocha with disbelief before handing you back your Immortal’s Delight. Your eyes light up, and you stick your tongue out at Blade before turning to look at your traveling companions standing across from you. You nearly drop your drink when you realize how many people had their phones out.

“Don’t mind us! We’re making sure we get good angles!” says March, holding both your and her phone up while continuing to take pictures of you and the three men.

Unbeknownst to you, the men before you took many pictures of you chasing the Stellaron Hunter. They made sure not to include the three men in the pictures because they were focused on capturing the moments when your eyes light up when Blade returns your drink. Who knew that the brightest star in the universe has tiny specks of stars in their eyes when they’re happy.

Note: This fic is almost 10k words, and I'm surprised because I didn't think I could type this much with little to no sleep 💀 Since my finals are in three days, I will be posting mini-fics for the Genshin series and for the HSR series! I also realized that I had forgotten about Luka. Hopefully, I can post him in the next upcoming fic. Since I don't know much about him, I'll have to wing it. Also, if there are any errors, that is because I did type the fic half-asleep and while sleep-deprived 🥲 Taglist should be coming soon after finals week! Also, please look at an important note regarding posting works that are "inspired" by the fics I have posted [Important Notice]! To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

#Honkai Star Rail x reader #Honkai Star Rail imagine #Honkai Star rail fanfiction #Honkai Star Rail fanfic #HSR x reader #HSR imagine #HSR fanfiction #HSR fanfic #Dan Heng x reader #Gepard Landau x reader #Sampo Koski x reader #Welt Yang x reader #Blade x reader #Jing Yuan x reader #Luocha x reader #Caelus x reader #Nanook x reader #genshinluvr

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mayajadewrites · 7 months ago

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could've been you - shouta aizawa, keigo takami

✦ synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: angst hehe

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie

chapter nine

Your heart starts to race.

The space where Keigo once was is now empty. His duffle bag - gone. You stand up so quick you almost fall over.

You check your phone. No text.

2:45 AM.

You press his contact and call 1, 2, 3, then 10 times.

No answer.

Tears well up in your eyes as you accept this fate - that Keigo snuck out. Left you.

You tried climbing back into bed but you can't sleep.

You put your softed robe on and pad to Aizawa's door. It's late, sure, but he's probably awake.

And you still don't have his number so this is how you communicate.

You knock on the door as quietly as you can, careful not to wake up anyone else on your floor.

After a few knocks, the door opens.

Aizawa rubs his eye before finally looking at you. He can tell you've been crying.

"What happened?" He grabbed you by your shoulders and brought you into his place.

You didn't answer - you couldn't. How could you explain that you just let a man fuck you and he left?

"Please talk to me." Aizawa's voice was soft now as he set next to you on the couch.

"Keigo left." You sniffle.

"Left? Left to where? What do you mean?"

"We had sex, fell asleep and then he left. He didn't leave a note or anything! I called, no answer."

Aizawa's eyebrows almost reached the top of his forehead. "He didn't say goodbye? No explanation?"

"No. His bag is gone. He's gone."

Shouta's face was full of anger. You observed his body language - he was tense.

But then he held you. No words were exchanged. His body heat was against yours as his body mended into yours.

His hair was pulled back into a low bun - your favorite. He pulled you on top of him so your back was on his chest.

You took a deep breath as his arms tightened around you, almost like a weighted blanket. He kissed the top of your head as your eyes started to feel heavy.

"I'm sorry, Shouta." You murmured as your eyes began to close.

"For what?" His calloused hand caressed the soft skin on your cheek.

You mouth parted as a quiet snore left your lips.

When you woke up the next morning, you were in a bed.

Not your bed.

Your face is buried in a large, soft pillow with a dark gray pillowcase. The blankets are shades of gray and black, the fabric so soft against your skin.

You heard the sizzling of oil in a pan, along with soft music playing through the apartment.

"Good morning." You emerged from the bedroom, watching Shouta cook breakfast. "Hope I didn't wake you."

He was shirtless, his hair up again, flipping a pancake with a spatula.

You shook your head as you yawned, padding towards the kitchen. Shouta half-smiled as you approached him. He wanted to kiss you so bad. He wanted to take you on the counter, pulling your hair as he watched your ass cheeks jiggle against his cock.

"You didn't." You looked down at your robe that you were still wearing. "I'm gonna grab clothes from my place quick, I don't want to wear this robe anymore."

"You can wear something of mine." Shouta walked to his room, opening a drawer with crewnecks folded perfectly, then another drawer with sweatpants.

He handed you the clothing, your nose instantly recognizing the scent of Shouta.

"I'll leave you to it." He turned around and went back to cooking.

As you changed into his clothes you couldn't help but notice the feeling in your stomach. Butterflies fluttering.

A feeling you haven't really felt with Keigo. Especially with the shit he pulled.

Speaking of Keigo, you checked your phone to see if he text you.

You had 40 missed calls from him, 55 texts.

Why even bother reading them? He left you with no communication. It takes 4 seconds to say goodbye.

You make Shouta's bed for him, laying the pillows nicely along the headboard. You left your phone on his nightstand to join him in the kitchen.

Shouta served you your breakfast with an iced coffee - he remembered from when you were observing his class how you liked it.

"Thank you." You dug your fork into your pancakes, letting the sweet taste hit your tongue. "I didn't take you for a cook, Eraser."

"I'm full of surprises." He smirked, his half lidded eyes finding yours.

You heard a hand banging on a door a couple doors down from Shouta.

Your room.

Both you and Shouta walk to the door, him opening it as his body rested against your back.

And there you saw a peek of red feathers.

"Leave." You stepped out of the doorway. "You took all your stuff already, so you're free to go."

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you, that was a mistake. I-"

"She said to leave." Shouta emerged from the doorway, standing behind you again. "You didn't have the decency to say goodbye, it's embarrassing that you even try to show your face here again."

"I was on call, there was an attack, I had to-"

"All of which I would have understood if you used your words and told me. You may be a grown man but you act like a child." You press your back to Shouta's muscular chest for comfort. "Only an absolute asshole fucks someone and dips in the middle of the night. That will be the last time you're ever inside of me." You turned on your heel to walk back into Shouta's place.

"Baby bird, I-"

"She was pretty clear on what she wanted. If I see you here again, you will have hell to pay."

After a few minutes, Keigo left. You heard his heavy footsteps walk out of the building, then he took flight into the air. You watched from the window, but he didn't look back.

"Stupid fucking bird." Shouta sucked his teeth as he took a sip of his coffee. "You're gonna stay with me today. He's probably gonna try to come back later."

You didn't bother to argue. "Okay."

It really bothered Shouta that Keigo left you at such a vulnerable time. It's scary giving yourself to someone and then they leave. It fucks with the psyche.

"You know, I never got your number." You looked at Shouta as he cleaned the kitchen.

"Because you told me I was never getting yours."

"Well, I changed my mind." You crossed your awms over your chest.

"Hm, what makes you think I want your number?"

"Come on, Eraser." You grab his muscular arm, wrapping both of your arms around it. "You know you can't resist me."

"Tch." He rolled his eyes, but still smiled. "You just like my place more than yours."

"It's cozy, unlike you. You have these hard muscles that are terrible to lay on." You looked up at him with your doe, Disney princess eyes.

"They're good for other things." He smirked as he picked you up by your waist, sitting you on the counter.

You can't help but smile as he cages your hips with his forearms, his chocolate eyes boring into yours.

"You're cute from up here." You tuck a piece of his hair behind your ear.

"You're cute in my clothes." Shouta's thumb traced circles on your plush thigh. "Your ass looks way better in them than mine does."

You playfully slap his arm, hooking your ankles together to pull him closer to you.

The feeling of Shouta being so close to you makes your stomach flip with a mixture of butterflies and anxiety.

It was so easy to kiss Keigo, but you're more excited when you're around Shouta.

You were expecting him to go in for a kiss, but instead he rubbed his nose on yours, interlacing his fingers around your ass.

It was an intimate moment. No pressure, no fear of him leaving.

Your memories with Shouta begin to flood your mind, how he betrayed you. How he didn't listen to you. How he assisted in putting you in a coma.

Can the past truly stay in the past? Can you look beyond what was done?

You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, letting your body fall into him.

You will try.

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calicomarie11 · 2 months ago

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Tommy is a dumbass, but Buck loves him anyways.

Just because it seems warranted on tonight of all nights, I'm sharing a bit of my current WIP. This was all written before tonight's episode, so it doesn't match up with canon.

Subject to change before it gets posted to AO3 because I'm trying this crazy thing where I actually write the whole fic before I start posting chapters.

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

Tommy threw the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder and wearily trudged up the front steps of his house, ready to sleep and wallow for the next two days until it was time to go back on shift.

He went to unlock his front door and paused as the handle turned easily in his hand. He wasn’t the type to forget to lock up and it didn’t look like the door had been forced. He cautiously pushed the door open and eased into the house. He set down his bag carefully and grabbed the baseball bat he kept propped next to the door. (Look, his neighborhood was safe enough, but this was LA and weird shit happened all the time.)

Gripping the baseball bat tightly, Tommy made his way down the front hallway, ear cocked for the noise of intruders. As he approached the living room, the sounds of a baseball game on the tv got louder.

“Goddamit, he was safe,” a familiar voice shouted, and Tommy eased up his grip on the bat. He set it down as he walked into his living room and spotted Eddie stretched out on his couch, a bottle of his beer in hand as he watched the Rangers losing to the Cubs.

“Diaz,” he said, “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Kinard,” Eddie snarked back in return. “Just stopping by to see if you were going senile in your old age. See, my best friend, Buck, you remember him? Came to my house with a hilarious story about you trying to dump him. Given the fact I had to drag you past that jewelry store when you started staring at engagement rings in the window the last time we went out to catch a movie, I find it a little hard to believe.” Eddie took long drink of his beer as he cocked an eyebrow at Tommy.

Tommy huffed and stalked out of the room to go to the kitchen. If he’s going to do this, he’s at least going to have a beer. He yanked open the door of his fridge with a little too much force, knocking a few magnets loose and sending a handful of pictures to drift to the floor. He grabs a beer and sets in on the counter before bending down to pick up the photos.

Evan and him in a beach selfie, a shot of Tommy and Evan on either side of Christopher from the first time Tommy tagged along to the zoo, a photo of the 118 in their Halloween Fest finery and a shot of Tommy swinging Jee around in Bobby and Athena’s backyard. He stacks them neatly and places them next to his beer on the counter.

He wants to put them back up, where they belong. But they don’t really belong there now that he told Evan goodbye. He picks up the stack again and opens the junk drawer. He closes the drawer again and then sets the pile face down to be dealt with later. He grabs his beer and heads back to his living room and his ex-boyfriend’s best friend.

Eddie is still shouting at the tv when he returns. He waits until Tommy sits down next to him to pout, “Where’s my beer?”

“You invited yourself, you can get your own damn beer,” Tommy growls. He makes a point of relaxing back into the couch and keeps his eyes trained on the tv. “How’d you get in anyways?” Tommy would have remembered giving Eddie a key.

“Switched keys with Buck.”

Tommy turns to look at Eddie, confused. “Then how did Evan drive home?”

“Man, other then the key for your house and one for Maddie’s place, 99% of our keys are the same. I have the spare for the Jeep and he has the spare for the truck in case one of us gets locked out.”

Tommy shakes his head at this new revelation. “Anyone ever tell you how weirdly codependent you two are?”

“We are not codependent, we are practical and efficient,” Eddie said in an affronted tone.“Besides, where’s your spare key for the truck?” he asked, his smirk communicating that he already knew the answer.

“With Evan,” Tommy confirmed. “Which means you currently have it. You should give me those keys before you leave.”

“Nope. You’re going to have to talk to Buck if you want your keys back,” Eddie said.

“We could trade, Buck’s house key for mine?” Tommy tried.

“No deal. If Buck doesn’t want you to have a key, he’ll ask for it back. Besides, half of LA has keys to Buck’s place at this point.”

“What?” Tommy said, surprise in his voice.

“Well, dude gets hurt so often and usually doesn’t have a partner to help out so everybody pitches in. Off the top of my head there’s me, Maddie, Bobby, Hen, Chim, Albert, Ravi, May, Chris of course, Carla, and there’s a spare at the firehouse on the master key ring. Oh, and the neighbors across the hall have a key.”

“Why would the neighbors need a key?”

“Buck locked himself out one time taking out the trash on the super’s night off so he asked Rose and Ethel to keep a key just in case. Worked out, because they don’t mind watering his plants when he’s in the hospital for more then a few days.”

“Rose and Ethel? Does he live across the hall from septuagenarians?”

Eddie huffed, “Worse, trust fund babies. But they’re harmless. I’m surprised you haven’t met them yet.”

“Wait, does one of them have a septum piercing and the other one has pink hair?”

“Ironically, Rose is the one with the piercing. Anyways, stop trying to distract me and answer the damn question. What the hell, Kinard?” Eddie speared him with a piercing stare.

“I could kick you out,” Tommy said under his breath, although apparently not quiet enough.

“You could try,” Eddie scoffed.

Tommy side-eyed Eddie. He knew he could take the slighter man, but he also knew he didn’t want to. He wasn’t quite ready to give up on the friendships he’d made or rekindled through his connection to Evan. Sure, Eddie was acting in his role as Evan’s best friend right now, but they had their own relationship.

“Why are you here?” Tommy asked, frustration evident. He hadn’t expected that Eddie would want anything to do with him after he had broken up with Evan and he’d tried to make his peace with that.

“My friend is being a dumbass, where else would I be? Seriously, man, what’s going on?” Eddie asked, and Tommy wants to talk about it, but he can’t trust it will stay between them.

That was always the problem with his friendship with Eddie, it included Evan. He got that they were a package deal, and when he and Evan were good that wasn’t a problem. But now, he couldn’t just unload on Eddie and not expect it to get back to Evan.

“I’m not talking to you about this. I get that you want to help, but this is between me and Evan.” He tried to resist asking, but the curiosity won out. “What did he tell you?”

“Just that you blindsided him and started talking about taking some time apart, that he needed to get out there and explore his “sexuality” and how you didn’t want to hold him back. At least, that’s what I could make out before he doom spiraled and started dissecting the past month to figure out what he had done wrong.” Eddie narrowed his eyes at him. “You know he was expecting you to ask him to move in at that dinner, right?”

And Tommy can see how Evan might have come to that conclusion when he’d asked him over. They’d been together 8 months and Evan spent more nights at Tommy’s then at his own loft. Evan bought groceries and brought them to his house so he could try out new recipes and he’d started hinting about how the backyard was big enough for a dog and Tommy had realized that half the laundry he’d folded last week had belonged to Evan.

And he could see it, his future with Evan. A shared home, a supportive group of family and friends, hosting Thanksgiving because Evan really wants to deep fry a turkey and no one will let him try it at their homes. Marriage and kids and pets and joy. An end to the search, an end to being alone, the beginning of the rest of his life.

And he panicked. Because 8 months ago Evan thought he was straight, he’d never kissed a man other then Tommy and one day he was going to wake up and realize that he settled for the first guy to make a move on him. And then he’d resent Tommy and it would be the beginning of the end.

So instead of asking Evan to move in, he’d sent him away. At least, he’d tried to.

He’d stumbled through a standard break up speech, the kind of thing he’d heard dozens of times during his life. It’s not you, it’s me. This is moving too fast. I think we should take some time apart, explore our options.

And Evan had frowned at him, his brow furrowed as if Tommy was speaking a foreign language. He’d stuttered out a “Wh-what the fuck are you talking about?”midway through Tommy’s speech and then as Tommy kept trying to make him understand he’d started laughing. He’d actually patted the back of Tommy’s hand and said simply “No.”

It had stopped Tommy in his tracks. “No? You can’t refuse a breakup, Evan,” Tommy had said.

“Sure I can. I’m going to go and let you have your ‘time apart’ but this is not finished between us, Kinard.” And then he’d left and apparently headed straight for Eddie.

“Earth to Kinard,” Eddie snarked at him. “You want to spill what’s going through that fat head of yours? Because I, for one, can’t believe you are fumbling this. And I thought Buck was the idiot in your relationship.”

Tommy felt a growl in his chest at the insult to Evan, no matter how lovingly offered. Evan was not an idiot, he was brilliant. He was smart and funny and warm and so open and he was going to destroy him when he left. So Tommy left first.

“Eddie, I mean this with love, but leave it the fuck alone. You can stay if you want, catch the rest of the game but I am not talking about this with you.”

Eddie shrugged, “All right, bro. Just be prepared for your man to go full Buck on you.” He chuckled as he toasted Tommy with the dregs of his beer. He got up to grab another from the kitchen.

“I don’t know what that means,” Tommy yelled after him. “What does that even mean?” he muttered under his breath.

#bucktommy #tevan #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #911 on abc #wip #Tommy Kinard has relationship trauma

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wolfjackle-creates · 11 months ago

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Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday! So last week, we had a tie between Bring Me Home and Answer My Call. The tie breaker didn't come in until Monday after I'd already finished the entire Bring Me Home chapter and half the Answer My Call one.

So y'all will be getting two fic upates today then I'm going to sleep. I'm tired after a full day of work with a call out. XP

If you want a say in next week's update, vote in the poll!

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3 (user locked), Tumblr

Chapter 2: Part 1

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

After the performances—an odd mix where the main band yielded the stage to a poet or an accordionist when they needed a break—Jazz and Todd continued to mingle.

Jazz waited until about fifteen minutes had passed before reaching into her bag to search for her phone. “Todd!” she cried.

“Jazz? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone! Shit, what time is it?”

Todd pulled out his. “Eleven fifty. Did you have it when we arrived?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t checked it. Where could it have gone?”

One of the other attendees broke into the conversation. “Lost your phone? What does it look like? We can help you look.” She was a woman in her forties or fifties. Next to her was another woman who nodded her agreement.

“Thank you, that’d be great.” It didn’t take much effort to bring tears to her eyes—all she had to do was remember that Danny was still missing. “It’s a Samsung in an unfortunately standard black case. The lock screen has picture of and my brother. My name’s Jazz, by the way. And this is Todd.”

“I’m Mel and this is my wife Jayden. I’m sure we’ll find your phone soon enough.” Then, in a voice loud enough to cut through the chatter, “Oi! Anyone see an unattended phone lying around? Jazz here misplaced hers?”

Even Mel, though, had to admit defeat after half an hour of searching through the entire apartment yielded nothing.

Jazz sat down on the floor and let herself cry. “And by now we’ve missed the last train. I’m sorry, Todd. What a disaster.”

“Hey, no. None of that, now. Tonight’s been a blast. This sucks for sure, but I can get us an uber or something—”

“How far are you kids going?” asked Jayden.

“Too far,” cried Jazz. “I live out of the city. Parked at Alewife and took the red line in.”

Jayden winced. “Well, we parked nearby. Is there somewhere close we can drive you?”

Jazz blinked up at them. “You’d do that?” She turned to Todd. “I just want to go to sleep. Is there a motel nearby we could stay at?”

Todd pulled out his phone and searched. “Looks like there’s a Holiday inn just down the street or a La Quinta that’s a little cheaper just a bit further out.” He smiled ruefully at the women who’d been helping them. “If you could get us to either place, we’d be more than grateful.”

One of the residents, an older man named Rob, took a seat next to them. “Hey, kiddo. What’s your email? We can contact you if anyone finds it.”

Jazz smiled at him gratefully and gave it. If it wasn’t so necessary, she’d feel bad for lying to and worrying all these people. But they were in so much danger. To the women, she said, “Would the La Quinta be too far out of the way? If I end up having to get a new phone, I’d like to save as much money as possible. Thank God I still have my wallet.”

“Sweetie, it’s totally fine,” assured Mel. “We’d take you all the way home if we didn’t live on the opposite side of the city.”

“Thank you, but that’s really okay. I just want to go to bed and worry about it tomorrow.”

“Come on, dear.” Mel reached out a hand to help Jazz up. “Let’s get you cleaned up then we’ll be on our way.”

Jazz thanked Rob for his help before Mel led her towards the bathroom with an arm around her shoulder.

Less than forty minutes later, Todd and Jazz were alone in a hotel room together. She pulled the blinds shut and finally let herself relax.

When she turned back to the room, Todd was looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “Want to explain to me what all of”—he threw out his hands—“that was about?”

Jazz glared back at him. “You didn’t tell me you died! Damn it, if I’d known in advance—!” she cut herself off and took a deep breath. “Never mind. What’s done is done.”

Todd was deadly still. “How do you know that?”

Jazz threw her hands in the air. “It’s obvious to anyone who knows how to tell. Including the Guys in White who I told you are dangerous to ghosts and liminals! I had plans for what I’d say when they found us, but those won’t work if you’re dead!”

“Wait.” Todd held up his hands. “You’re saying I can be persecuted under those Anti-Ecto acts?”

“Yes! You’re more ghostly than me, and I am watched every minute of every day.”

Todd narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment before asking, “Have you heard of Lazarus Water or had any dealings with the League of Assassins?”

“No! I have no idea what you’re talking about. Quit changing the subject. My brother is the only thing that matters and you and Red Robin promised to help me find him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Jason’s eyes flashed green, and Jazz glared right back at him. “The League of Assassins are the ones who brought me back to life with Lazarus Water. I need to know if you and your brother are mixed up with them because that would change our approach. If it’s a rogue government agency, that’s one thing. If it’s also the league, we’ve got a whole set of other problems.”

Jazz sat down heavily on one of the bed. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t— It’s been a long few months. After a long few years.”

Todd sat down across from her and nodded for her to continue. “Tell me what happened.”

“It started three years ago. My parents, they’re ghost hunters. Been building weapons to detect and hunt ghosts since before I was born. But three years ago is when they finally finished their life’s work: the ghost portal. Only it didn’t work at first. Then my brother Danny and his friends decided to be stupid. They went to check it out. I wasn’t there and the three of them don’t talk about it, but something happened down there that day.

“My brother died and the portal was working. Only, he didn’t die all the way. He became half-ghost, half-human. And that would have been bad enough, but with the portal open, ghosts came through from the Infinite Realms, sometimes called the Ghost Zone by humans. Some were benign, but many of them came to cause problems or hurt people. Danny stopped them.”

Todd held up a hand to stop her. “Your brother became a supehero? How didn’t the Justice League hear about this? How old was he?”

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know about the Justice League. It could be that no one ever contacted them. It could be they didn’t believe us. And it could be that no one cared. Danny felt responsible though, since it was his fault the portal turned on. And he was the only one with the ability to stop the ghosts, so…” She held up her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture.

Todd closed his eyes and let out a careful breath. “I can guarantee you the JL didn’t know about your town. A fourteen-year-old would never have been left alone to monitor an interdimensional portal if we had.”

Jazz had no idea what she thought of that. Danny had done it all alone. So finding out he could have had help? She shook her head. What-ifs were a waste of time. “Well, he did. But the government didn’t like that a ghost was the main defense against ghosts. So the Ghost Investigation Ward, more commonly called the Guys in White or GIW was formed. At first, they were as incompetent as any other ghost hunter. But they didn’t stay that way.”

“What happened to your brother, Jazz?” asked Todd.

-----

Sorry to end it there. But it's the right length and I need to go to bed. XP

Hope you enjoy!

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

Not much to say about this one. When I went to the event at this location, my friend and I very nearly missed the last train. It was pulling into the station as we entered. If we'd been 2 or 3 minutes later, we would've been stranded so far from my car, I don't even want to know what that uber or cab would've cost.

Luckily Jazz and Jason had a few good Samaritans nearby.

Next up: We learn more about what happened to Danny!

#dpxdc #answer my call #wrong number au #jazz fenton #jason todd #eventual anger management ship #emotions are running high #and jazz is Stressed™️#but they can finally talk #and be safe about it

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katsukikisses · 4 months ago

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birds of a feather: chapter three [hawks x reader]

chapter summary: sixth grade is a year of changes. you and keigo learn a few things about yourselves as you prepare to enter junior high.

also, by popular demand (aka 6 people), i have made a playlist for birds of a feather. it's a wip so if you guys have any songs you think would suit this fic then please leave a comment or send in an ask with the song name, and i will add it!

chapter tags: childhood friends trope; alternating povs; feelings realizations; discussion of japanese honorific speech. this is a helpful article on the intricacies of honorifics if you are interested.

cw: obligatory mean girl steal-ur-man character; socioeconomic differences?; toomie not showing up for keigo's graduation

prefer to read on ao3? here!

prev. chapter | table of contents | next chapter

“When we were younger, We didn't know how it would be, We were the dumb, the wild, the free." — Conan Gray, Little League

“Hey, Keigo-kun, what are you wearing to the graduation ceremony?”

“I bet he’ll be wearing a hakama, since he’s traditional like that. Aren’t you, Keigo-kun?”

“At least tell us what color, Keigo-kun! Maybe we’ll match.”

That last comment was enough to stir you from your nap. With immense effort, you lifted your head from its comfortable position on your desk and sat up straight. A bleary glance at the clock told you that there were only a few minutes left before class started, causing you to sigh—no point in going back to sleep, now.

Vengefully, you turned towards the commotion that had awoken you, and, unsurprisingly, found your best friend at the center of it. Keigo sat at his desk at the far end of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of girls. They leaned against the windowsills and surrounding desks, getting as close as possible without overstepping boundaries. The boldest of the group, a girl named Miyake Aito, was perched on Keigo’s desk, legs swinging beneath her. When you heard her giggle at the other girls’ teasing, you realized that she’d been the one to inquire about matching outfits. Unbidden, a frown spread across your face.

“I’m not sure yet, Miyake-san” Keigo was saying, smiling amiably. “I don’t want to be the only one in traditional wear.”

The girls were quick to assure him that No, there will definitely be others, and began to complain about how guys didn’t want to wear hakamas anymore. Keigo listened to them politely, nodding at the appropriate times, but subtly attempted to peer around their bodies. You realized, belatedly, that he was searching for you. How did he even know I’d woken up? Sometimes, it was like he had a sixth sense for all things YN-related.

Keigo's golden eyes finally found yours and narrowed at your sleep-addled appearance. You stuck your tongue out at him in return. For a moment, the two of you remained in your little bubble, silently communicating across the room.

Aito quickly picked up on the blonde's distraction, though, and followed his line of sight. When she realized he was looking at you, she began waving at you excitedly.

“LN-chan!” she grinned at you. “You’re finally up! Come join us.”

The other girls agreed, enthusiastically beckoning you over. Face heating up at the attention (and at the mention of your mid-morning nap), you rose from your seat and made your way over. You stopped at the edge of the group, but Aito reached out and pulled you to her side. Her long, wavy hair, which she wore over her shoulder, tickled your bare arm.

“Um, what’s up?” you asked, attempting to sound casual. You’d never really spoken to Aito or her friends, so the sudden proximity was a little startling.

“We’re trying to get Keigo to wear a hakama for the graduation ceremony,” Aito pouted, as if his refusal aggrieved her personally. “Help us convince him, LN-chan!”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d be any help,” you said, looking down at the boy in question. Keigo still had that demure smile on his face, but the subtle twitches of his lips betrayed his amusement. “He’s a real free spirit.”

Aito laughed, tightening her hold around you. “But YN-chan, a hakama would totally suit him, right? Given his whole traditional thing.”

A few of the girls around you hummed in agreement. You looked questioningly at her.

“His traditional thing?”

“You know, the way he uses san for everyone, and how he never calls anyone by their first name. Like, I’m Miyake-san,” Aito gestured to herself, and then to the other girls. “And she’s Nonaka-san, and she’s Kudo-san…”

And then she faced you, tilting her head curiously. “And even though you guys are close, he still calls you LN-san, doesn’t he?”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, meeting Keigo’s eye once more. Aito didn’t need to know that, outside of school, you were just YN and Keigo to each other. You’d dubbed him “Keigo-kun” practically the first time you spoke, and shortly thereafter dropped the honorific entirely. The blonde, on the other hand, took much longer to disregard formalities, and for the first six months of your friendship he exclusively addressed you as LN-san. The only exception was when your parents were around, in which case you became LN-chan and they were the sans. It took the three of you a year of insisting that he call you YN, and they oba-san and oji-san, for him to finally do so.

At school, though, Keigo still referred to you as LN-san. You didn't quite understand why until his mom overheard him call you by your given name a few months ago. Her expression had twisted into one of deep displeasure—not quite disappointment, or any other emotion one might show when their child didn’t behave. It was more like…fear.

She’d yelled at Keigo, then, and made him apologize to you. You know better than that, she’d admonished him, We don’t talk to others like that. You remember frantically insisting he get up from his bow, alarmed and close to tears yourself. Somehow, you couldn’t help but feel that the whole thing was all your fault.

(Many months later, you worked up the courage to ask Keigo about it—why he was so proper all the time and why his mom yelled at him. Why it was okay for you to call him Keigo but not okay for him to call you YN.

He’d simply replied, “Because I’m a hybrid.”)

Shaking the memory from your mind, you realized you’d zoned out while Aito continued talking. She didn’t look happy with your noncommittal answer, and had let go of your arm in favor of turning back towards Keigo.

“Well, if you won’t wear a hakama to be traditional,” she sighed, twirling a stray lock of hair around her finger. “Then you should at least do it for LN-chan. She’d love to see you in traditional wear.”

At this, the other girls snickered. Your face heated—you were sure you were being laughed at, but you just didn’t know for what.

Keigo raised his eyebrows impassively. “I don’t know what you mean, Miyake-san.”

Aito leaned towards him. From her position on his desk, she could look directly down at him. “I think,” she giggled, “we all know what I mean.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then,” he returned coolly.

A conspiratorial grin spread across Aito’s face. She had really nice teeth, you noticed offhandedly. While other kids’ mouths were still shackled in metal and rubber bands, her’s was already blindingly white and straight.

“I mean,” Aito began, “We all know that LN-chan—”

She was cut off by the ring of the school bell, signaling the end of the period. Students immediately began taking their seats, and the teacher walked in, frowning when she saw your group gathered by the window.

“Miyake-san, it’s quite rude to sit on someone else’s desk,” she chided, “Everyone, please return your seats. Goodness, you all are about to enter junior high, and you still can’t be ready for class on time.”

Aito slid off the desk, mumbling an apology to your teacher and Keigo. The other girls hurriedly returned to their desks, and you began heading back to your side of the classroom. You were stopped, however, by a hand wrapping around your wrist. You looked back to see Aito at your arm, that same smile on her face. She tugged on you lightly, learning over to whisper in your ear.

“We all know,” she giggled, “that you like Keigo-kun.”

“What about this one, YN? The blue is very pretty.”

“No, I already wear blue on my uniform everyday.”

“Okay, then how about this one? You can’t go wrong with black.”

“No, it’s too somber. What am I, going to a funeral?”

“Alright, then, what about a two piece—”

“No!” you jumped up, shoving away the skirt your mom was dangling in front of your face. “Two pieces are for little kids—I’m literally entering junior high!”

“Right,” your mom said, “So…you’re a little kid.”

Groaning, you sank back into the plush changing room chair. Across from you, your mother exasperatedly flopped down in her own chair. The mall was blessedly empty today; otherwise, shoppers would’ve gotten a front-row seat to LN Akemi having a breakdown over formalwear.

“Why are you making this so difficult,” your mother wailed, half-heartedly flinging a blouse at you. It landed a few feet short of your chair, on a different shirt you’d rejected. “You usually love shopping with me.”

That was true—shopping with your mother was one of the rare times where the two of you weren’t bickering and actually got along. No, for a few peaceful hours every weekend, you were united by gossip, cute clothes, and her credit card.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I guess I’m just nervous about graduation.”

Your mother pushed herself up one her elbows and peered at you. “I thought you said it was just a ‘lame event’ that you ‘didn’t care about.”

You winced at your harsh words being thrown back at you. “Well, that was before…”

“Before what?”

“Umm,” you said intelligently, “Before I realized how important this milestone actually is?”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you. You averted your gaze.

Truth be told, it was still just a lame event that you didn’t care about. An elementary school graduation was not a great cause for celebration, in your opinion, especially since everyone would be heading to the same junior high. Still, considering recent developments, you wanted to put some effort into your outfit…

At the thought of the incident, you groaned again and shoved your face into your hands. It’d been the source of all your agony this past week, rendering you incapable of enjoying a simple shopping trip with your mom. Ever since Aiko had put that stupid thought into your head—

We all know that you like Keigo-kun.

Well, of course you liked Keigo, you huffed internally—he was your best friend! Ever since that fateful stormy afternoon in the second grade, the two of you had been inseparable. You hung out everyday, either watching lame superhero shows at your place or playing video games based on said lame superhero shows at his. You shared every thought with him (even the stupid ones, like when you thought Algeria was in South America) and he was the first person you turned to when you needed support. You enjoyed his company better than anyone else in the universe, and when you thought of your future you couldn’t imagine it without him. So yes, you did like Keigo, because all best friends liked each other.

But, you knew that wasn’t what Aito meant. She meant that you like-liked him, in the way that many of the kids in your class had begun to: holding hands at recess, bumping shoulders on the walk home. Calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Like-liked, in the way that best friends totally shouldn’t like each other.

So did you?

You dragged your hands down your face, choosing to ignore your own question. Peeking through your fingers, you saw that your mom had left her chair to go back to shopping. She was shifting through the racks of dresses, her wedding ring glinting noticeably as she moved. The sight of it made you think about your parents’ own marriage. They liked—no, loved—each other, didn’t they?

You tried to think if they did any of the things the couples in your class did, but came up empty. Your father didn’t like to hold your mother’s hand because he claimed it was always “unbearably sweaty”, and you think your mother would push your father into the street if he tried to bump shoulders with her. You couldn’t even remember the last time they called each other by “husband” and “wife”, preferring more intimate nicknames like “the old ball and chain” and “my trophy husband”.

But…they showed that they liked each other in other ways. Your dad always fixed your mom a cup of coffee in the morning, no matter how late he was for his own job, because she claimed he was the only one who could make it right; and your mother never complained when she had to pick your father up from the bar, merely laughing about how he couldn’t hold his liquor. They always made time to watch “their” show together, and seemed to be in a constant competition of who could complete more of the others’ chores. So maybe it wasn’t the type of like you were used to seeing among your classmates—but it was undeniably there.

And what about Keigo, a small, insistent voice in your head brought up, Do you see yourself “liking” him?

You furrowed your brow, imagining the two of you in your parents’ positions. Him making you a cup of coffee, you wrangling his tipsy form into the car. Watching old Endeavor re-runs and doing chores together in a sage-colored house. And, in the way that you parents often did, leaning over to press your lips to his—

“Okay, you cannot find anything wrong with this one,” your mother dropped a dress on your lap, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hoped she didn’t notice the way you flushed. “It’s not blue, or black, or a two-piece, or anything else you might possibly have an issue with. At least try it on.”

Not wanting to get into another argument, you reluctantly agreed, figuring it would be no different than the others. But once you had the dress on, you couldn’t help but agree with your mother—there was nothing you could find wrong with it. It was cut from a soft, ruby-red fabric, billowing elegantly at your waist and stopping just below the knees. It struck the perfect balance between the elementary-school-innocence you were leaving behind and the mature junior high student you were about to become.

Akemi watched you scrutinize the dress in the changing room mirror, flinging the folds this way and that—but she knew you were already sold. She’d known it the moment she spotted the dress, because it was the exact same shade of red as a certain hybrid’s feathers.

Stifling a smirk, she opened her wallet. You could be so predictable sometimes.

“Psst, Keigo.”

The blonde ignored the whisper, valiantly focusing on the principal’s speech. When he didn’t respond, he felt your finger begin to prod him in the back.

“Keigo! I know you can hear me.”

The prodding intensified. After a few moments, Keigo couldn’t take it anymore. Subtly angling his head to look behind him, he flashed you an annoyed look.

“What?” he hissed. The two of you, alongside all the other sixth graders, were currently gathered in the school auditorium for the graduation ceremony. The students were lined up in neat rows across the stage while the principal gave a speech at the podium. With her back to the students, she remained unaware of any impropriety, but the teachers and parents in the audience had a perfect view of their actions. Plus, with Keigo standing in the front row and you in the back, it was much harder for him to get away with talking.

“Isn’t this so boring?” you grinned at him. Keigo could feel his eye twitching—you risked getting in trouble to tell him that? He ignored you, turning back to the principal, but a hand in his suit jacket yanked him back.

“I said I’m bored!” you whispered indignantly. “Entertain me!”

Keigo sighed. A glance at the audience told him that no teachers were watching him, and the principal was still droning on with her speech. Subtly, he shuffled backward until he dropped out of his row and squeezed into yours. The boy who'd previously been standing by you looked peeved by the intrusion, but Keigo couldn’t be bothered with apologizing.

“What can I do to cure your boredom, m’lady,” Keigo deadpanned.

You clapped your hands gleefully. “Well, first, let’s decide on where we want to eat after this. My parents want to go to that seafood restaurant—you know, the one on Main Street? But it’s been so popular recently, I feel like we’ll definitely see classmates who are also celebrating…”

Keigo zoned out as you described the horror of running into someone you’d just bid goodbye to. He typically loved listening to you ramble, but right now he was finding it immensely difficult to focus. Every word you spoke was enunciated with a dramatic fling of your hands, causing your dress to flutter mesmerizingly. His eyes tracked the fabric’s movements obsessively; for some reason, seeing you in red made Keigo feel all warm and gooey inside.

“…so that’s what I’m thinking. Does that sound good?”

He blinked as he realized you’d concluded your story, dinner plans interjected somewhere in there.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, hoping he didn’t just accidentally commit to a Michelin-star restaurant. He knew your family liked to dine at the finer places in Fukuoka, having been invited to many such outings before, but his mom would kill him if he ever accepted. It’s bad enough that I let them feed you every day, she bemoaned often, The least we could do is let them think we have inexpensive taste. With today being his graduation, though, and the fact that she couldn't be there to celebrate him herself, she had made an exception.

Reminded of his mom's absence, Keigo wistfully turned towards the audience. He knew, logically, that she couldn’t dictate her work schedule; yet, selfishly, he wished she was here to see him graduate.

“I’m sorry that your mom couldn’t come to this,” you said softly, noticing his sullen gaze. Keigo merely hummed in response—he’d long stopped being shocked by your mind-reading capabilities. Sometimes, he thought you were a hybrid in disguise; there was no other explanation for how you could pick up the smallest shifts in his mood and know the perfect thing to say each time.

The principal was nearing the end of her speech now, if the generic verses about changing the world and shooting for the stars were any indication. Keigo grew restless as she droned on, eager to shed his formal wear; his suit jacket was uncomfortably small and scratchy, and the wing-slits darned into the back were constricting painfully around his feathers. He always thought the worst part about having wings was the fact that he couldn’t loan clothes—holes had to be put in anything he wore. As a result, his mom usually sprung for thinner shirts and sweaters, made from materials that were easy to sew through. His only option this time, it appeared, was a kids-size tuxedo.

Keigo stifled a laugh as he remembered Miyake's reaction to his cheap, ill-fitting suit. The girl had been chatting excitedly with her friends when she spotted him, her expression immediately twisting into one of deep distaste. She’d quickly exchanged it for a cute pout, though.

“Keigo-kun,” she admonished, “I thought we agreed you’d wear a hakama!”

We did nothing of that sort, he wanted to say, but merely smiled placatingly at her instead. “What, do I look that bad in this suit?”

An eager chorus of Nos and Of course nots! rang back at him from Miyake’s friends. The girl herself still looked miffed, tugging unhappily on the sleeves of her red kimono. Keigo could tell that it was expensive from the detailed embroidery and silk skirts, and he wondered what it would be like to wear something that well-made.

“I wanted to match with you, though…” Miyake looked up shyly at him through her eyelashes. He held back a snort, and was thankfully saved from answering by the arrival of their teacher. He didn’t even know how he could get out of that one…

Cheering from the audience drew Keigo out of his memories, and he belatedly realized that the principal had concluded her speech. His classmates were laughing excitedly, and you were shaking his arm like a madwoman.

“We did it!” you screamed, “We graduated!”

Keigo laughed—where was the girl who insisted graduation was lame just last week? Still, your enthusiasm was infectious, and he couldn’t help but smile as you jumped up and down in joy.

For the second time that day, Keigo could feel his heart beating erratically. He really should get that checked out.

Next Chapter (coming soon!)

author's note: i told y'all that things were heating up 🤭 i hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter-- please feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments :) i can't wait to see our beloved YN and keigo in junior high!

in case y'all missed it: fic playlist!

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credince--writes · 6 months ago

Text

Deep In Those Woods- Chapter 9

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6- Chapter 7- Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N: lil treat for everyone since it's been so long since i posted this fic

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756 @brain-has-left @vinithechocolatevampire

All it had taken was the muzzle of a handgun stuffed into the poor fed’ saps mouth- gagging on the metal pushed to the back of his throat (before he pulled the trigger)- for Keegan to acquire the necessary materials (a donor radio) to repair his radio (Merrick was pissed).

Not only did he get a reaming that had to of ranked at least in the top four of his current reaming tally- he’d counted a least twenty-five times Merrick had broken some kind of communication guideline. But at the same time- who was going to complain? They were doing the dirty work- Merrick could cuss Russ out over the radio until the batteries died and he doubted any brass would give a shit as long as the papers came across their desk marked as a success.

He’d conveyed over to the Ghosts that regardless of his time spent there no, he was not injured (a blatant lie)- ‘just about as banged up as usual, sir.’, the objective hadn’t been reached yet (it had gotten more complicated, and it didn’t help he’d been down for… he really didn’t know how long. Asking would give it away.), and there was a surprising amount of federation presence in this valley (which signaled exactly what they were worried about).

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was Merrick calling his bluff. He’s used to getting away with it-

“You’ve been on a path of self-destruction since he died, Russ.” “I don’t need your fuckin’ pity, Merrick.”

“I need to know you aren’t a liability in the field.”

“When have I ever been? Just give me the file.”

Merrick paused, that twitch of the vein in his neck he’d always had when anyone managed to raise his blood pressure ten points. “Don’t make me regret this Russ.”

He didn’t linger on the fact that this was probably exactly what he was worried about regretting. That much so that when he’d watched Kick no so subtly kick Hesh and Logan out of the back of his bush plane and into the landing zone he’d nearly contemplated slinking back into the woods and just not coming out. But that damned dog would find him- he was sure of it.

He didn’t though.

Logans arms wrapped around him, pulling him forward and into a tight hug. “I’m so pissed at you right now-”

Keegan's ribs groaned in response, the air leaving his lungs in a wheeze and letting out a strained, quiet “Ow.”

His arms immediately retracted, scanning him up and down for visible wounds. Hesh lingering in the back, scanning the treeline with Riley at his side. He quirks a brow, glancing over at him. “You good?”

“Nothing a few hundred hours of sleep won't fix. You both didn’t need to come out-” And babysit me, you fucking pricks went unsaid. He turned, marching his way back on track- he's fulfilled the list of items that needed to be carried out before returning to you.

Soft hands, kind eyes.

Soup.

His stomach grumbled, much to his dismay.

“Where’rya headed? Towns the other way.” Logan piped up after twenty minutes of navigating the forest in silence.

“Not headed to town. Headed up the valley.” His reply was blunt- and had he been in any sort of a better mood he’d had filtered his words to come out less like a baseball bat to the teeth.

“I think what we’re getting at is where.” Hesh bluntly replied- matching Keegans tone. Glancing back behind him to make silent conversation via eye contact with Logan.

It was going to be one of those hikes, wasn’t it.

Sure a shit hope not.

“Base of operations. Unless you want to be sleepin’ in the woods for the next month. Shut your trap and get a move on.” Keegan had been reasonably bitchy, withdrawn into himself. It really hadn’t been that long since they’d buried Ajax. There was a far away look in his eyes more times than not, a certain glaze that hadn’t gone away. Either outright ignoring Logan most days, locking himself in his room.

Merrick had grabbed Logans shoulder, pulling him back from knocking on Keegans door not to long before he’d been sent off to these woods.

“It’s not the right time.” He’d offered.

Give him time to mourn, in his own way.

He’d wanted to bite back- like we were given time to mourn? Like we were able to shut ourselves out?

He didn’t.

“How far?” Hesh asked.

“Keeping low? Two day hike.”

One and a half days, then.

---

A lot of people don’t realize just how quiet the forest is at night. The lack of sound out in the sticks- when the birds have gone to sleep, when the bugs and frogs aren’t nearby. The occasional hum of a mosquito just to add a whining hum into the silence.

“Be a doll and check these for me, would you?” Keegan mused to no one in particular- pulling his vest off and pulling his shirt up and over his shoulders and into his lap. “Infection check.”

At least a bit of his baseline humor returning- “Anything for you, honey.” Logan joked back. Crossing the two steps over to him and kneeling down. Both he and Hesh shared a glance at the remnants of black and purple bruises splayed out across his ribs, back onto his shoulder. “What happened?” Tentatively pulling the bandage back to see a deep, angry gash next to his shoulder blade. “And who patched you up- you can’t reach back here, let alone patch yourself up.”

Hesh knew the bruises looked worse than they were- or at least hoped. Neither were strangers just to how much of a pain rib injuries could be- let alone lingering ones not treated properly.

“I had brunch with the locals. And the bandage fairy, kid, who else?”

“Seriously-” Hesh but into the conversation- frustration rising up in his throat.

“A Civ. Pulled me out of a ditch and licked my wounds.” He grumbled, as if the admission of it was like waving a white flag in failure- admitting that he did need help.

“I’m doing the op alone. I don’t need backup.” He tossed the folder back onto the briefing table. “That’s final.”

“Must’ve been pretty bad to down you.” Logan offered, trying to lighten the tension of the conversation.

Keegan's silence was answer enough. A silent admission- neither would press him on it. They both knew better. It was better to let it lie, for the time being.

----

One thing they can’t turn off as soldiers, especially after time spent in no mans land- is the light sleep. It’d saved their asses many times before, he’d agree. Fully alert, glancing to see Logan & Hesh, eyes open and on the same page as him.

Gunshots-

One thing you can’t hide, with the silence of the forest, it the piercing sound of gunshots. Even far away-

Rifle, most definitely. Multiple shots- rapid succession in a varying frequency. Not someone holding down the trigger of a full auto rifle. Multiple separate hands pulling triggers.

“Seven.” Logan spoke, hushed down and slipped into the role of soldier.

There are probably a number of times Keegan would be able to count on his hand that he’d truly felt dread. Fear creep into his hindbrain and claw at the back of his throat as his time as a Ghost.

“We need to move now.” Keegan all but croaked out, tone evening at the end and assuming the role of Sergeant, and nothing else. All three were up and moving in step, silence. No fire to put out- the light and smoke are too risky in their situation.

They both heard fear in his tone as they quickly, guns drawn, ran toward the sound of the gunshots.

Keegan wasn’t going to barge in, middle of the night under the cover of darkness to startle you out of your skin. His grandma taught him better manners than that- better to show up in the morning when he knew you’d be making breakfast and grovel then.

He knew he left on bad terms, but he was sloppy, he realized. The last time he was running in this direction it was away from a group of Federation scouts.

Was this to blame on him? Did he lure them to your home?

Your sanctuary?

Why had they waited so long, had they been stalking in the periphery the entire time he laid there? Were they expecting to find him within your doors- not you, oh God, he stares up to the sky for a moment, eyes narrowing on the bright sliver of moon in the sky.

You’d be in bed- and men would be there.

He shut his spiraling thoughts down, locked them deep within himself in that little box he’d refuse to open. Not now- maybe never.

He’d never forgive himself.

The sound of his breath, the occasional scrape of Riley’s nails against bare roots. The synched footwork of the three men breezing over the landscape and into the clearing he knew. Just above the incline would be your home nestled between the trees. Hidden from eyes for so long.

He saw the flashlight attached to a rifle, along with a corpse casting a bright streak of light into the field. Gunshot wounds would always be one of his least favorite things- the obliteration of flesh with buckshot no matter how often he saw it would always make something curdle in his gut.

Even if there was satisfaction of knowing that it was likely you were the one that pulled the trigger.

Good Girl.

He was broken out into a sprint, passing the corpse without a glance and running into the house through the doorway. Feed crunching broken glass beneath him- the thick, tangy smell of blood hitting his senses- rifle raised.

The house had been ransacked, broken glass and furniture tossed.

He knew Logan had assumed a shadowing position behind him, Hesh not far behind and ensuring no one snuck up on them from behind. Riley an alert presence watching his back.

He peeks from over the beam, a direct line of sight- line of shot to where the blood splatter and corpses piled to your bedroom. Navigating the living area with ease- practiced and knowing that a pile of magazines and books layed around that corner.

He payed no mind to the sound of paper rustling when Logan's foot caught it.

“Kitchens clear.” Logan muttered, moving back in step.

He clears the hallway, knowing not much is laid ahead and signaling Logan ahead as he stops over the bodies and into your room. The gore splattered from what he assumed to be a well placed twelve-gauge shot coated the right side of your wall, covering cabinet to ceiling.

The beds sheets hastily pulled back. Drops of blood misted against the comforter and pillow. The bedside table drawer thrown open, something pulled out from under the bed. You’d tried to run.

“House is clear!” Logan called, footsteps nearing his own from the hallway.

Hesh staged himself in the doorway, a knowing glance to the shattered glass against the wooden flooring. He wouldn’t step in with Riley- there was no need for unnecessary injury. Not with a cleared house and nothing but corpses amongst them.

Keegan was frozen, bile raised in the back of his throat as he stared at the bloodied cotton torn between the two men's hands. Logan's eyes lingered too, a grim, knowing expression washing over his features.

The angle of the shot, he followed through the house, implied you’d gotten to the front door. Implied you’d been able to kill three of them before you disappeared. Whether that of successfully escaping, running into the woods to hide or captured- he tried not to even will that option into existence.

That you’d peaked out from behind the beam, killed the men huddled in your doorway, and ran to escape.

He needed to find you.

Now.

He was moving- brain on autopilot and a vile monster curling over his skin. The cold, calculated and methodical practice of a Ghost meshed with the anguish and rage bubbling up inside him. He’d pulled a shirt from the ground of your bedroom, no blood splattered against the cotton.

He remembered it, you wore it the first day he was cognizant enough to remember you spoon feeding him soup.

“Riley!” Keegan bit out, completely detached. Logan flinched at the bite in his words, the emotion, devoid and removed from the obviously distressed man in front of him. Arm outstretched, passing the shirt to Hesh before marching towards the body laying in the grass to investigate.

“Seek.”

#call of duty #deep in those woods #Keegan russ #Keegan p. Russ #keegan p. russ x reader #keegan russ x reader

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star-wrote · 2 years ago

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nsfw alphabet : daryl dixon

ao3 link

character: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

a/n: recently became obsessed with this man. there aren’t enough nsfw alphabets of him so enjoy :)

(not my gif or character)

A- aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

daryl thinks the aftercare is the best part of it all. it took a while to break down the habit of him just rolling over and falling asleep, but he got there eventually. he holds you and makes sure you're okay, cleaning you up if necessary. he lets you curl up into him, wanting to feel your warm breath on his skin. you listen to each other’s heartbeats, and drift into an exhausted sleep.

B- body part (their favorite part of both of your bodies)

daryl dixon loves every part of you. he doesn’t say that his favorite are your tits or ass, that’s something merle would say, and it just doesn’t sit right with him. instead, he thinks that your eyes are his favorite part of you. he likes that he can communicate with you just through the looks you give each other. he loves that he has to ask you to keep them open and look at him when he's making you feel too good to do so.

your favorite part of daryl are his thighs. big, strong, and sturdy; the perfect seat. his thigh can fit perfectly between your legs, holding your hips with his giant hands. his hands. you suppose that they could also be your favorite.

C- cum (anything to do with it)

since it’s the apocalypse, you and daryl decide that it’s better to be safe and not cum inside you. even though it takes every ounce of his control not to. he opts for pulling out and humming on your stomach instead. but you better prepare for when he finds condoms on a run because he will fuck you like it’s your last time together. which, hey, it could be.

D- dirty secret (self explanatory)

other than wanting to cum inside you, daryl really wants to fuck you alone in the woods, up against a tree. he knows it’s not very practical, especially with the dead walking around. he just can’t help but thinking how hot it would be for you to try and be quiet as not to draw in any walkers.

E- experience (do they know what they’re doing)

most of daryl’s experience came from random drunk hookups that merle pressured him into before the world ended. it involved dramatic moans from the women, and daryl being too stuck in his head to remember anything else. he was open to you teaching him what felt good, and picked up on it fast. as a hunter, he has always been observant, and that doesn’t leave when it comes to your pleasure. he watched every expression, and hears every hitch in your breath to learn what makes you feel good. he asks if you're liking it, which sounds like sinful dirty talk to you.

F- favorite position (self explanatory)

it started out being doggie style, because he just couldn't bear for you to look at him or his scars. but with some gentle begging from you, he decided that he couldn't bear for you to not look at him. missionary is now his favorite, because he can still control the situation, and see the pleasure in your eyes at the same time.

G- goofy (how serious are they)

daryl is obviously very serious when it comes to the outside world, which doesn’t really change when it comes to the bedroom. since you managed to relax him and get him comfortable enough around you to break his walls down, he lets little laughs and smiles come through at your jokes, but not without jokingly telling you to stop.

H- hair grooming habits (how much hair do they have down there)

it is the apocalypse, so grooming isn’t necessarily the most important. the carpet matches the drapes. plus he doesn’t expect you to shave, so why should he? in fact, when you did shave one time, he freaked out and begged you to never do it again(unless you wanted to of course), which warranted a sigh of relief from you. he says that only bitches eat shaved pussy.

I- intimacy (romantic or rough/dirty)

it was always hard for daryl to bring out his romantic side, but he tries so hard for you. he grunts out praises and a little “love ya s’much” when he cums, letting you know that you’re the only one on his mind.

J- jack off (how often do they masturbate)

literally never. it isn’t very convenient, and he never really has a high sex drive. when he does get turned on, it’s because you’re right there. no point in taking care of it himself when you're in front of him.

K- kinks (self explanatory)

daryl never got a chance to explore his kinky side before the apocalypse since most of his experience was with women who he didn’t trust or love. when he started to trust you in the bedroom(or where the apocalypse allows), you both started to experiment with what you are into.

-size kink: he loves when you look so small compared to him

-daddy kink: this one felt weird to him at first since you were younger than him, but he couldn’t help the twitch in his dick when you called him that while you were cumming (it is definitely used more after that)

L- location (where they like to get it on)

anywhere that is safe and gives you time to explore each others bodies is his favorite. still, the idea of fucking you in the woods sounds hot to him...

M- motivation (what turns them on)

anytime he sees you taking down walkers, or just overall being badass, he gets a little turned on. also when you look at him with your big doe eyes, he has to control himself from taking you in front of everyone.

N- no (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

daryl isn't into hurting you in any way, especially because of what he went through in his childhood. he sees it as somehow becoming like his father, and that is something that he hates. so big no on hurting you, even if he does think you're pretty when you cry.

O- oral (do they prefer receiving or giving)

one of daryl’s favorite sights is you on your knees for him, with tears streaming down your face as you try and fit all of him in your mouth. however, that sight can't compare to how you look when he’s between your thighs. he thinks he must've died and gone to heaven when he sees your breasts rising and falling with each deep breath. the little tugs on his hair and the praise from your lips makes him decide that he loves going down on you more than anything.

P- pace (do they prefer fast or slow)

when he’s had a long day or just wants to get some anger out, he wants to go fast and rough. usually he goes slow and deep, just to feel all of you for as long as he can.

Q- quickie (do they like them)

quickies have become a must in some cases, especially if you don't have much time because you're on a run, or you have to get a round in before the group wakes up. he always makes sure to make every time you're together special, no matter how short.

R- risk (do they like to try new things)

he’s never been a risky guy, but if you suggested something to try, he would consider. as long as he knows you're safe, he is down for anything.

S- stamina (how many times and how long each round)

even though he’s older than you, his stamina is immaculate. even if he’s tired, he knows how to make you cum enough to tire you out.

T- toys (do they like using them)

since most things gathered on runs get checked, toys aren't really a priority. if you’re with him on a run, you two might find one and use it, but you don't dare bring it home with you. daryl likes to pleasure you by himself anyway.

U- unfair (how often do they tease)

such a tease. when he’s feeling especially cocky, he likes to have complete control over you, which includes controlling your orgasm. he will edge you for what feels like an eternity, just because he loves hearing your pretty voice beg all pathetically.

V- volume (how loud are they)

he adapted to being very quiet because most of the time you were together were around the group, or outside where walkers could hear. his grunts, moans, and dirty talk start coming through when the group finds safety, or when you are on runs in a safer place. he definitely starts going on runs with you just to fuck you and hear your moans.

W- wild card (anything random)

daryl had never been one for talking, but when his dick is deep inside your wet pussy, he can’t help but spout the dirty thoughts that come to his mind. whether it’s praise, degradation, or the occasional swear, he knows it works you up from how you whimper and clench around him.

X- x-ray (what’s going on down there)

long and thick, a couple of prominent veins, and a slight upward curve. this man walks like he has a big dick.

Y- yearning (sex-drive level)

very very low before he met you, but now he wants to fuck you every night if able.

Z- zzz (how fast do they fall asleep)

maybe it was his body adapting to living on the run, or never getting good sleep as a kid, but daryl takes ages to fall asleep. having your body next to him helps, and he starts to feel safe enough to let his guard down and sleep. however, he does wrap a protective arm around you just in case <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon twd #twd #daryl dixon hot #daryl dixon x reader

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 months ago

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For Eternity, Chapter 11 of 13 (Alastor x angel!Wife!OC)

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult Chapter Warnings: none, really

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord. And my friend runs a Hazbin Fic Community

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Isabel slowly surfaced from a deep sleep. It felt like she had slept deep enough to dream an entire lifetime. At times, the dream was more like a nightmare, hands grabbing, pulling, and pushing her into places and things. Other times, it terrified her with promises of darkness hidden in the man she loved. Hope and love were what she remembered most as the soft sounds of the bayou in the morning sang in her ears as she nuzzled closer to her husband.

She didn’t know what day of the week it was but if Alastor was still in bed and they were sleeping in, he must not have had to work this morning. It was a rare indulgence, a lazy morning in bed. Breakfast needed making, wood needed chopping, scripts needed revising, but all of that could wait until later. What’s a little longer in bed?

Alastor’s chest rose and fell under her hand. She needed to open her eyes, climb out of bed, get dressed and make the coffee but she simply couldn’t. Instead, she just pressed her naked body tighter to his, feeling his slacks against her legs. She ran her leg up his, feeling his belt buckle above her knee as she tried to squirm closer to the man she loved. She would gladly try to worm her way under his skin if it meant she could be closer still.

Why did he have his slacks on still if she was naked? It wasn’t uncommon for him to dress again after intimacy, if she had coaxed him into shedding all his clothes in the first place, but never in slacks with a belt.

“Al?” her voice was groggy with sleep as she battled her eyelids to open.

“Not yet, ma chérie.” Alastor turned onto his side, wrapping his arms tighter around her and hooking his leg over the one she had over his, tangling them together. “It has been ages since I’ve slept.”

Finally, she convinced her eyes to slit open and with the simple action, reality flooded back to her. The bedroom had the same feel to it as their bedroom in life, but it was distinctly lacking in her touches. Not that he hadn’t tried. There were things, little trinkets or books that he wouldn’t have otherwise picked if not for her memory.

Sitting on the floor next to the bed was the shadow man. Isabel flinched away from it as it looked up from the pocket watch in its hands. He waved at her, blowing a kiss before returning to stroking the front face of what she realized was the same watch she had sent with Charlie what felt like forever ago.

A knock on the door sent the shadow dissolving, the watch landing on the floor with a soft thump.

“Alastor?” Charlie’s voice called through the heavy wood door.

A deep sigh slipped from Alastor as his eyes open as the bubble of their solitude burst with what they could have sworn was an audible pop. Isabel watched as he sent his microphone toward the door with a flick of his wrist. When he spoke, it broadcasted the sound with his radio overlay, making it sound as if he was much closer to the door than he was.

“How can I be of assistance?”

It made it sound like he was closer to the door and not laying in bed with his wife. Isabel wondered for a moment if he was ashamed. After all these years, decades, was he ashamed to have a woman in his bed again? The thought made the corners of her mouth pull down.

Alastor hooked her chin with a claw tipped finger and tilted her head up. His neck shouldn’t have been able to allow him to lean down as it did, but he kissed her lips softly without having her move more than slightly off his chest.

“Why the frown?” He asked, his voice as naked as she was and coming from only his lips.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered as Charlie called through the door.

“I just wanted to check on Isabel,”

“We’ll be down shortly,” Alastor called with his microphone amplified voice before returning to her with his voice alone. “We do not lie to each other,” He rethought the statement as soon as it had left his lips. He had lied plenty over the years in order to protect her from the truth of what he was. “You do not lie to me.”

“Are you ashamed of me?” Isabel forced the words from her mouth. “Angel Dust and everyone seemed surprised that I existed at all.”

He hummed in thought for a moment before answering, “I believe Rosie is the only one I’d told of our marriage. Even then, I spoke little of you. That’s certainly true. Not because of shame. I did not wish for any here to touch the memory of you.”

It was a lie to a degree, yet another on the mountain he had kept to protect her opinion of him and the foundation of their marriage. Alastor knew that, but he wouldn’t ever put words to how much he had tried to forget her. That is what he felt shame for, little though that ember was.

She didn’t need to know that. It didn’t matter now. That was when all he thought he could ever have was her memory. It was different now.

Everyone at the hotel had been eager to learn about Heaven. Isabel had felt bad, giving the unvarnished truth about Heaven in all the imperfections she had witnessed. It had been good, mostly good at least. She highlighted how, for most people, it was great. It was safe for most people.

Just as she had learned that hellborn could be good and bad, she explained that the heaven-born angels could be shades of the same. There was, of course, none who swung to the extreme of evil or bad behaviors simply because of the lack of options to do so or exposure to the concepts, but some within thing heavenly realm were less than pure of heart and soul.

Charlie seemed to be the most invested in the things Isabel had to say. When a knock on the door interrupted Isabel’s stories, she audibly groaned as she got up from the couch.

Isabel tensed next to Alastor as Charlie neared the door. She felt safe and comfortable, to a degree, within the walls of the hotel because Alastor trusted these people. Whomever was at the door was an unknown.

“Hello, Daughter of The Morning Star.”

“Hi, Charlie!”

Those were two voices Isabel had never thought she’d hear again. On reflex, she stood to offer the seraphim the respect that their station made them entitled to.

“Isa?” Alastor rose next to her, hand gliding around her waist.

“They’re two of the seraphim,” Isabel stepped closer to Alastor as she spoke, not knowing why the high angels were there. Was she going to be formally banished? Would they rip her wings from her back for having the nerve to turn her back on the heavenly appointment she had received?

“May we come inside?” Sarah asked in the doorway. “We bring word from the divine. We bring no aggression or desire for battle this day.”

“It’s good news!” Emily grabbed Charlie’s hands as she stepped aside to let them inside.

Vaggie was visibly tense, gripping her spear in hand as Charlie led the two high angles through the hotel lobby that seemed to function as a living room. Was anyone ever going to tell Charlie how hotel spaces were typically used?

“Isabel!” Emily locked eyes on the angel she hadn’t been able to make happy in all the time she had been in Heaven.

Alastor held his arm out in front of his wife, blocking Emily from closing in closer than he felt was acceptable. If he had to, he would rip the angel limb from limb to protect Isabel.

“Oh!” Emily fluttered to a sharp stop in front of the red microphone tipped cane. She looked between Isabel and the tall man with an unnaturally sharp smile that was shielding her. “Is this him? The husband you’d been waiting for?”

“Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure, indeed.” He swept his free hand in front of him, bowing slightly at the waist while maintaining the blocking arm’s position. “I must thank you for your attempts at watching over my darling wife. You needn’t have come to inform her of her banishment personally. A message would have been more than sufficient.”

“What?” Emily’s always eager eyes grew wider somehow. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“You’re not?” Isabel wrapped her fingers around Alastor’s arm, letting the feel of him ground her.

“Red looks good on you!” Emily was always quick to distract. “Can I see your dress?”

Alastor looked to Isabel and when she nods, he let his arm fall though every muscle in his body was tensed and ready to lash out. Taking her hand in his, he lead her into a spin. The dress he had created for her out of nothing but his power flared out around her legs.

For how scared Isabel was, she couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from her lips as he caught her with an arm around her waist, dipping her slightly before righting her again.

“It looks so good on you!” Emily clapped, looking back at Sarah for a moment. “Doesn’t it?”

“What?” The elder seraphin glanced at Isabel, held to Alastor’s chest with an arm around her waist.

“Happyness,” Emily’s eager smile softened as she looked at something she had worried she would never see, Isabel’s soul happy. “I tried for so long to find a way to bring you joy, but you were right. All you needed was to see him again.”

“Emily, we’re not here for a social call. We have business to attend to, and then we will take our leave.”

Emily rolled her eyes at the elder’s words, mouthing ‘kill joy’ to Isabel and Alastor before turning and rejoining her elder sister. While Sarah was less fun and more work, she was right. They were there for a reason, and Emily couldn’t wait to share it.

“Which one of you is Anthony?” Sarah held her chin high, emphasizing her considerable height that matched or even towered above many within the hotel.

“Ah, I am?” Angel Dust pointed to himself. “Ain’t no one calls me that though, toots. It’s Angel Dust here.”

“You are Anthony,” Sarah’s eyebrow arched as her eyes ran up and down the rather scandalously exposed body of the lean man.

“What do you want with me?” He crossed a pair of arms and leaned against the bar, using another arm to support his weight in the absence of anything to lean his back against.

“The divine has judged your soul,” Sarah started, only to get cut off with snark and sass.

“Yeah, I fuckin know- that’s kinda why I’m down here, like this.” He pointed to himself with the thumb of the last unoccupied hand.

Isabel couldn’t help but smile at the way he shamelessly, fearlessly, even sassed the high angel. Few in Heaven would ever have had the gall to speak to Sarah in such a way. Adam was one of the few exceptions and even he was sent cowering at a sharp look.

“No!” Emily was vibrating with excitement. “You’ve been rejudged!”

“What?” what the dominate word muttered throughout the room while Angel Dust glanced at Husk. There was something there between the two men that Isabel couldn’t put her finger on. Maybe they themselves didn’t fully know yet, either.

“It worked, Charlie!” Emily had taken the lead, speaking over Sarah as she clasped the tall demoness' hands in hers without any fear. “Your hotel worked again- he’s been judged redeemed!”

“We’ve come to bring what belongs within Heaven’s Gates back.” Sarah said.

Alastor’s hand twitched tighter around her waist. A possessive rumble Isabel couldn’t explain was just under his calm breathing.

She told herself they were only talking about Angel Dust. It was Anthony they were here for. She had made her choice. There were no options. She didn’t get a do over. She didn’t get to consider a different path. It didn’t matter.

“Come along, you two,” Sarah said, opening her arm in invitation.

Tag List: @preciousbabypeter, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @bufaunfu

#hazbin alastor x oc #hazbin hotel alastor x oc #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor x oc #alastor x original character #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

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ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter two

ain't no rest for the wicked series

two: trouble will find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 6.9k

summary: After weeks of nothing, you finally hear from Tess and Joel again.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, face slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, shower sex

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Weeks go by, and nothing weird happens. You can’t say you aren’t disappointed, but they didn’t say it was going to be a repeat thing. They definitely implied it, sure, but you could be cool about it.

So you had the best orgasms of your life with two of the most unhinged people you’ve ever met. Who needs hinges, anyway? And why do people say unhinged?

Wait, does it mean open? Like they’re unhinged because they have no door? Because, in that case, they’re two of the most hinged people you’ve ever met.

God, you miss when you could ask Google. Or Yahoo. Or Jeeves. Man, the internet was so cool. You bet your fucking Neopets are dead.

By the time you circle back and decide that you’re pretty sure unhinged does not mean open, you’ve autopiloted home.

You turn the key until it clicks and push open the door to your flat. At first glance, there’s no explanation for the way the world seems tilted just so.

Except for the little folded scrap of paper on your shitty rusted table. When you pick it up, something garishly yellow flutters to the ground.

It’s unmistakably a sunflower petal. It’s winter. Where the fuck—

No. Nope. You do not want to follow that thought; you want to let it fuck right off.

You rub the petal between your fingers. It’s so sinfully soft, there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s real.

The paper just says “tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow what? Tomorrow when?

When you open your cabinet to grab a can of soup, the first can you pick up rattles. It also doesn’t have a lid, so. There’s that.

You groan out loud. If you don’t look and just put it back, will it disappear into the other dimension from where it came?

In the end, you peek anyway, and yep. Sunflower seeds. Baked and salted, from the smell.

The implications are unsettling. In their minds, are you cannibalizing yourself at their whim? Are you consuming yourself in a pursuit of pleasure?

Are you really fucking overthinking it?

Tomorrow. For cripes sake. There’s no way you sleep tonight.

Except once you’ve had your soup and nibbled away at most of the sunflower seeds, your full belly lures you into the quiet of the night.

You’re nearly as jittery at work as you were the first time. Granted, you’re a little less afraid of them and more anxiously excited, but the thought of them sends your leg bouncing.

Your chair squeaks the whole time.

“Hey Sam,” you say as casually as possible to your deskmate.

“What?” He says warily.

“Do you know where I could get a horseshoe?”

“A… what?”

“A horseshoe, you know, like horses wear.”

“A singular horseshoe? Do I even want to ask why?”

“Yeah, just one. And no, probably not? Let’s say I’m just really into country chic decor right now.”

Sam turns back away from you.

Typical.

You’re getting ready to leave when you realize you don’t actually remember their address. You’re pretty sure you could find the right building since you walked yourself home, but there’s an uncomfortably large margin of error.

Also, the stupid note didn’t give a time. Should you go home first? Maybe they’ve broken in again to leave a little clue?

You’re saved from figuring it out when you find Joel in exactly the same place as before. You don’t startle this time—you’d peeked around the corner on purpose.

“Hi,” you say, fingers wrapping around your backpack straps.

“Hi.” It’s brusque and he’s scowling, doesn’t even look at you.

“I-I could have walked over. I don’t wanna inconvenience—“

“You’re not. I don’t want you walkin’ by yourself.”

“Ok.” You kind of wish Tess was there. You like Joel fine, but she’s at least a little more talkative. Even if everything out of her mouth throws you off center.

Actually, this is probably fine. Maybe you’ll still have your wits about you when you get there.

He keeps a little distance ahead. Not enough to lose you in the crowd but enough that it almost looks like you aren’t following him. Like he doesn’t want to be seen with you.

You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s fine. People might think he was cheating on Tess, you get it.

Whatever the fuck they were doing with you was certainly not cheating.

Tess is already in the kitchen when you get there. Joel hovers in the living room until you head in, like he thinks maybe you’ll snoop through the apartment if he doesn’t keep watch.

You’re not that stupid. That’s a fucking death wish.

She’s cleaning a pan. Joel grumbles at her about leaving it for him, and she rolls her eyes while he pulls out your chair.

You remember this, at least, and manage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Tess dries her hands and sits down across from you. “Hey, sunflower. You miss us?”

You burn up immediately, wishing it were literal. It’s like she knows you’ve had fingers stuffed up your cunt every night, remembering how they felt. How you buried your face in the pillow and wished it was the soft folds of her.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry, we missed you too. We’ll show you how much later.”

Joel sets hot plates down in front of you both, followed by glasses of water, before he takes his own seat.

You wonder if this is a special production or if they’re letting you see their natural domesticity.

If you thought dinner last time was a delicacy, nothing could have prepared you for this.

The slab of meat is unmistakably pork and rests on a bed of baked apple slices beside yellow squash and pale zucchini rounds.

You look up from your plate with wide eyes.

“Best not to ask,” Joel says.

You nod. This time, you go slow, savoring each bite. It can’t be real, you think. It can’t really be yours.

But they let you eat everything on your plate. No one snatches it away or scolds you for touching something you don’t deserve. Tess seems downright pleased when you set your fork down for the last time.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finally blurt.

Tess quirks an eyebrow. “Thought we made ourselves clear last time. When you’re here, you’re ours.”

“And we take care of what’s ours,” Joel says. When you snap your head to look at him, his eyes are dark and narrowed. Like he’s angry at the insinuation that they wouldn’t.

“O-okay,” you say, fixing your gaze back on your plate.

He stands up and clears the dishes, piling them in the sink.

Tess takes you by the hand and leads you out of the room. You expect her to stop at the couch again, but she takes you into what must be their shared bedroom.

Joel shuts the door behind him when he comes in. The room is warm and dark, the winter sun having retreated for the day already.

They don’t give you a moment to work yourself up. Tess is already kissing you as she walks you back to the bed. Instead of pushing you into it like you expect, she tugs you to a stop when your knees run into the mattress.

Her mouth moves down your neck as she easily discards your clothes. You shrink a little, and she tugs on your hair, forcing your head back so you look her in the eye.

“No being shy, now,” she warns. “S’ours to look at anyway.”

She peels your arms away from where they had instinctually folded across your breasts. Moving to one side, she smirks at Joel.

“Look at your little pet, baby. Ain’t she pretty?”

His hand brushes the curve of your breast, barely making contact but drawing a shiver from you anyway. “Sure is. A real sight for sore eyes.” His thumb finds your nipple, and you moan, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pinches it, smirking when you gasp.

“You look like you got a plan,” he says to Tess.

“You want two cunts to fuck today, baby?” She says.

You can almost see the switch flip in his brain. “Yes, please, ma’am,” he says.

She presses a much chaster kiss to your lips before patting the mattress. “Hop up, sunflower. On your back, head right here.”

Once you’re situated, she tucks a pillow under your head and climbs on top of you, settling her cunt right where you need it. When you try to touch her, though, Joel stops you, catching your wrists.

“Keep ‘em by your sides, or I’ll tie ‘em down.”

Tess laughs, dragging a finger through your folds. “I think she wants you to, baby.”

He crouches down by your head. “S’that so?”

You look at him from where you’re trying to reach Tess with your mouth, but she’s lifted her hips just a little too high. You whine.

“Yes, sir.”

His grin is otherworldly, all sharp teeth and shadow. “Attagirl,” he says, patting your cheek.

His hands are gentle but competent as he binds each wrist to the bed, stretched out to the posts of the footboard. Tess sits on your face while he works, letting you overstimulate yourself between her wet cunt and his control.

Once you’re secure, she leans forward and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling a gasp that deepens into a drawn-out moan as she continues.

You whine when she lifts her hips back up just too far for you to lick inside her. Joel grabs your hair and holds you in place, dipping his cock into your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet for her, sunflower.”

You try your very hardest to give him the sloppiest blowjob you can while being held still.

When he pulls out, he presses his balls to your mouth, and you respond with soft licks as he notches his tip at the slick entrance of Tess’s cunt.

“Lick her,” he grunts, resisting the urge to plunge in all the way.

You’re on fire. This has to be, hands down, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done, but he props the pillow up more so you don’t have to strain your neck when you lick down his cock to where he’s splitting her open.

She moans into your pussy.

He holds you there, with your tongue flat against where he pushes in deeper. When he’s buried, you flick your tongue to his balls and back.

“Suck them,” he pants, and you obey, stretching your mouth around him.

He starts to thrust gently, not wanting to jostle himself against your teeth, but he loses patience eventually and yanks you off to shove you to her clit.

You’re squirming as she works you over, three fingers deep, stretching you to get you ready for Joel. You suck and lick at her clit as she cums, meaning to lick her through it and keep going for another.

But Joel tugs you back to lick where she leaks around him.

You’re glad he tied you down. It’s all so much, almost too much, and you don’t think you could have held still. The rope’s embrace holds the last shred of your sanity.

At some point, you started whimpering against them, pleading as best you can without pulling your mouth away.

“Aw, you wanna cum?” she mocks with an affected simper.

“No,” Joel grunts, his hips snapping hard against her. “Only way she's coming tonight is on my cock.”

You sob a little bit, and she pulls back to slap your aching clit. Your hips buck, and you nearly lose the fight.

“Oh, she fuckin’ loved that, baby,” she tells him.

“‘Course she did, she’s a fuckin’ slut for us.” He says.

You moan. You think you should probably care that they’re talking about you like this. Actually, you do care. You care a lot. It’s so fucking hot.

“You’re just our little whore, sunflower?” he says.

You nod minutely with Tess’s clit pinched between your lips, and she cums again, her slick rubbing on your face with each stroke of his dick.

“Alright,” she says, tapping his hand where it grips her hip.

He pulls out and unties your wrists. Tess lets you keep lapping at her for a minute, but when you’re free, she slides off you and sprawls, languid and satisfied.

He gives you a light slap on the cheek. “Trade places.”

You sit up and lay on your stomach to the side to let Tess move to where you had been. But first, she rolls to face you and pulls you in for a deep, slow kiss.

You go to tangle your fingers in her hair, but she catches your wrist, rubbing her thumb over the ridges left behind.

“That’s enough,” Joel growls, yanking you by the ankle.

Tess laughs. “Don’t wanna be left out, baby?”

“Wanna get my fuckin’ dick back in one of ya,” he says.

She gets situated with her head down at the end of the bed and tugs at you to climb over her. You waste no time diving back into her cunt until Joel smacks you hard on the ass.

“Did I tell you to start up?”

“No, sir,” you say, voice breaking a little with desperation and a little shame.

He slaps the other side of your ass for good measure. Unlike the way he eased into Tess, he doesn’t wait to push into you.

You’re so grateful for Tess stretching you out before. His cock feels impossible. You cry out into her bush.

Your wriggle, and she holds you still with a powerful grip on your hips, licking at your clit while he shoves forward.

“That’s right. Shit,” he slaps your ass again when you squirm. “Hold still and fucking take it, girl.”

Your cries are muffled, but you’re not protesting. It’s just so fucking much.

Tess distracts you from the sting and pinch of him by gently biting your clit, which hurts a hell of a lot more but also makes you a hell of a lot wetter, ultimately easing his passage. Enough so that he slams the rest of the way in.

Your mind whites out when he starts pounding into you. Tess shifts to lick at where you’re broken open on him, and your fists tighten in the sheets.

“Please,” you whine, breaking away from her cunt only long enough to beg.

“What d’you think, baby? She been good enough for you tonight?”

He rubs his hand over the side of your thigh and hums. You hold your breath. You’re pretty sure he’s just teasing you, but it’s a fucking struggle not to cum.

“Yeah, she’s been a real good girl,” he says. “Go on, sunflower, cum on my fucking cock.”

It hurts. It hurts where you clamp down around him. It hurts where Tess is relentless against your clit. But it’s maybe the hardest you’ve ever come—you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

When the world filters back in around you, you’re laying with your head on her, giving pathetic little kitten licks to her clit. Joel’s fucking you down into her, and when he sees that you’re semi-present, he shoves your head back into her folds.

“Again,” he snarls, and your body listens. Spasms. Falls apart again.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him begging Tess and desperately asking where he’s allowed to come. Whatever they decide, he pulls out abruptly. She slips out from under you and yanks you onto your back, swinging a leg over your hip to grind against you.

You reach for her with limp arms, and she finally, finally lets you cup her breasts as Joel tugs his aching cock and warm cum splatters across your face, tits, and arms.

You don’t even hear him walk away, but he comes back a minute later with a warm, damp towel to find you scooping some of his cum into your mouth. He groans, cock twitching.

“You gotta stop that, sunflower, or I’m gonna need that mouth again.”

You look up at him with wide eyes and part your lips.

He fists his cock and looks at Tess. She’s dozing off already but nods. He cleans her first, gently wiping away incidental splatter and residue of her own pleasure from her thighs.

You wait patiently with your mouth open and he rewards you by easing gently into your throat. He’s fully hard again now.

He fills your throat easier at this angle. Well, easier for him.

“Breathe,” he says, gripping the back of your head. “That’s it, sunflower, just breathe. You’re takin’ it so well.”

He helps himself to handfuls of your breasts, rubbing and tugging at your nipples while he chases his second orgasm.

“Cum with me. Show me what a fuckin’ cumslut you are,” he grunts between thrusts.

Tess leans over close to you. “Don’t swallow, sunflower.”

He pulls out a little right as he cums to let it pool in your mouth. It’s a fucking struggle as you let your own orgasm roll over you. When he pulls out, Tess pulls you in for a kiss and shares in his spend.

Again, the fucking filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You’re not sure how you managed it, but you’re not going to voice a single damn doubt, not going to risk whatever this is.

He finally cleans you off and putters around the room, tossing the towel in a hamper and tugging his clothes back on.

“I’m followin’ her home,” he murmurs to Tess while you’re in the bathroom.

She sits up. “What happened?”

“Tell ya more when I get back. But her place is too close to the boundary, and I caught a little tip-off when I was waiting to pick her up.”

Tess frowns but by the time you come out, dressed and refreshed, they’re lounging on the bed.

“C’mere,” Tess says before you can speak or move for the door. She tugs you down to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” you say automatically. You’re not actually sure. Everything’s a little fuzzy; the world wrapped in a cotton ball. You may or may not be shaking a little.

“You sure you’re okay to get home safe?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are heavy, though, and the way her nails are tracing swirls up and down your arm is making you woozy.

You must have dozed a little because Joel’s coming back in the room and you didn’t know he ever left.

He hands you a mug of tea and sets a plate on the bed beside you.

“Gotta eat something. Y’look like ya might faint on your way,” he says at your crinkled face.

You sip from the tea and close your eyes as the warmth and sweetness crawl through you. “Thank you,” you say.

Tess has you leaning against her still, and you stay that way while you eat the sandwich Joel made. As it dwindles, your awareness of the situation grows stiff and uncomfortable.

You sit up. “Thank you, but um. I better get going.” You’re only a little dizzy when you stand up.

Joel takes the dishes out of your hands. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yep,” you lie. “So, um. Have a good night.” It feels stilted, after what you’ve all just shared, but what else do you say to your two-time hookups? You skedaddle before it can get weirder.

You would have said yes this time, you think, if he had offered to walk you home again.

It’s only a week later when there’s a knock at your door.

There’s never a knock at your door. No one visits; there’s no one to visit.

You stare at the door for a minute, sitting on your bed eating room-temperature peas out of a can with your only spoon. The noise had startled you, and now you’re going to have to launch a search and rescue mission.

It knocks again. Well. Not it, you suppose, not the door. Whoever is on the other side.

You stand up, spoon hanging from your mouth, and open it with the chain still latched.

“Y’ain’t even gonna ask who it is?” Joel snaps.

You shut it and remove the chain, opening it all the way to reveal his scowl.

“Hi,” you say through clenched teeth where they hold onto the spoon. You’ve got one hand on the door and the other on your can of peas.

“You don’t even have a peephole. What’re you doing, just opening the door for strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.” You’ve stuck the spoon into the remaining peas so you can speak clearly.

“You didn’t know it was me.”

You step back to let him in, eyeing him as he steps through the doorway.

He narrows his eyes at you. “What? I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No,” you say, not at all suspiciously, and cringe internally when your eyes can’t help but dart up and then back to him.

He turns and looks above the door where you’ve nailed a blue plastic horseshoe. Despite his apprehension, Sam had actually found one—leftover from some children’s game.

Though now you were wondering if it was less about the horseshoe shape and more about the properties of a ferried shoe. Maybe intent? Maybe the metal? Maybe it had to have been worn by a horse? You had never really listened to your grandmama. She was just a crazy old lady.

Or at least, you thought she was. But now there are mushroom zombies, so. Who knows.

Joel looks back at you with an eyebrow raised. “Doing some decorating?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, trying not to feel embarrassed. Then you remember that Joel being here is the weird part of this situation. You refuse to feel weirder than that.

“So, um,” you start.

He steps closer and tucks his fingers under your chin, thumb brushing over your cheek. It’s impressive how little it takes now for your brain to shut up.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Y’said that already, sunflower.” He takes the can from you and sets it on the counter.

“Right,” you say, feeling a little ensnared by his gaze. “You have really pretty eyes.”

To your surprise, he blushes a little. His eyes go wide and his lips part. Instead of a response, he hides his reaction by kissing you so you’re too close to see the pink of his cheeks.

He turns you so he can press you against the door, licking into your mouth and pressing a thigh between your legs. It turns hungry very quickly, and you moan, spurring him on to slide his hands up your shirt.

“Not that I—“ you try, but he doesn’t let up. “Ah—hang on,” you turn your face.

He takes it as an invitation to nip and suck on your neck. You’re still distracted, but at least you can attempt to string together a sentence.

“Not that I mind,” a gasp draws out the words, “but why-yyy are you here?”

“Wanted your advice on interior design,” he says, jerking his head to the horseshoe, “but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh, shut up,” you try to say, but he’s latched back on to the sensitive area near your shoulder that has you abandoning your train of thought.

“Need you,” he says against your skin before he breaks away to tug your shirt over your head.

You can’t argue with that. Well, you could, but why would you want to when he’s got his hands and mouth on your breasts?

He grabs and pins your wrists above your head in one hand. The other pinches at whichever nipple isn’t currently in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp.

He smirks around his mouthful before biting down so you cry out. His fingers find the seam of your leggings, stroking over to feel you squirm.

“Please,” you whimper.

He slaps your breast. “You wanna try that again?”

“Please, sir.”

“Down.”

You sink to your knees, but he doesn’t pull his cock out right away. Instead, he cups your cheek in his hand, watching closely as your eyes flutter shut and you lean against his hand.

“You still okay with all this?” he says, immovable gruffness betrayed by a hint of genuine concern.

You nod against his hand.

He draws his hand back, and a whine from you. It’s cut off by a sharp, but clearly restrained, slap. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, sir.” It caught you off guard, but you find you like the faint sting and heat of it.

“Yeah? Even that?”

He seems serious, no hint of a smirk or glint to his eye, so you pause to consider.

“I liked it,” you decide. “Felt nice. Made me want to please you.”

Now he grins and slaps you again. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you gasp.

The heat spreads through you, and your mouth falls open, eyes following his hand as it drags away from your face to grasp his length through his pants.

“See what you’ve done?” He grips your chin tight with his other hand. “Gonna take care of that for me?”

“Please, sir.”

He pops the button open on his jeans and drags the zipper down unbearably slowly. You whine, and his fingers dig into your jaw.

“Be good,” he says. He draws his cock out and gives himself a few strokes just an inch from your mouth.

You look up at him and stick your tongue out. You want to whine, but you’re afraid if you’re not good, he’ll just fuck his hand.

He releases your chin. “Go on,” he says.

You kiss the sticky tip, licking the residue from your lips before taking his cock into your mouth. You moan in tandem, and his hand finds purchase on the back of your head.

“This place is kind of a shithole,” he says, looking around your tiny cube of a home.

“Gee, tha—“

He doesn’t let you finish, shoving you back down on his cock.

He fucks into you for a while, enjoying the way you moan around him when his dick bruises the back of your throat.

When he yanks you back suddenly, you gasp for air but try to get your mouth back around him.

“No, stop,” he says. “I don’t wanna cum yet. Want your cunt.”

You whine, and he almost caves, looking at the pure hunger with which you’re regarding his swollen, angry cock.

“I said no,” he says instead, jerking your head a little.

“Sorry, sir,” you say with a sigh.

He looks over your shoulder. “Y’ain’t even got a fuckin’ bed.”

You follow his gaze to your perfectly fine mattress. “I do so!”

“That ain’t a bed, sunflower. That’s a mattress with no box or frame.”

“Wait, hang on, haven’t you been here already?”

“Nah, that was Tess who stopped by.”

“That’s a funny way to say broke in.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You complainin’?”

You look up at the horseshoe for a moment. “Nah, I guess not.”

He looks at it, too, and back to you. “I don’t wanna know. You got a shower?”

“You hate my bed that much?”

“No, I’ve been shovelin’ ash all day. M’not gonna fuck you like this, just need to rinse off.” He should have gone home first, he knows, but going back to an empty apartment just compounds his anxiety. He took a hard labor job on purpose, hoping it would distract him from the tightness in his chest.

It’s not that he doesn’t know Tess can handle herself. He just hates it when she goes alone for a deal.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. Before you move the towel away from the bathroom door, you stomp hard a couple of times and then wait a moment before opening it.

He decides not to ask.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging you by the hand into the tiny bathroom. At least you have a combination tub, so it won’t be too tight of a squeeze.

You start the shower for him and dig around in the cabinet for a clean towel. He reaches past you and grabs another.

“Wh—I got you one,” you protest.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ in with me?”

Oh. “Oh,” you say. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“But do you want to?” he asks, suddenly very close, backing you up against the sink. His hand lingers at the side of your throat.

“Uh-huh,” you nod.

“Then get in,” he says, tugging you away from the counter and giving a smack to your ass.

You yelp and strip down as he does the same. But he stops halfway through shucking off his pants after looking at the tile where his shirt landed.

“Do you eat in here?”

“What? No.”

“There are crumbs all over the floor.”

“Oh, those’re for Estella and Georgie.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Probably not.” You pause. “On second thought, you should. They’re mice. Please don’t hurt them.”

“Estella and Georgie are mice.”

“Yeah.”

“From outside.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. His exasperation does not, you’d like to point out, stop him from stepping into the shower behind you.

His body cages you in, wrapping himself around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder for a moment while his hands dance down each rib and over your stomach. They slide back up to your breasts, crossed to hold you against his chest while he gropes you.

You arch a little, as much as you can in his iron grip, and revel in the press of his hard cock against your ass. He groans when you roll your hips against it. You whine when he releases you, and he swats at your thigh.

“Let me get clean,” he scolds. “That was the whole point of this.”

Still, he can’t resist lathering your tits with his soapy hands and drinking the moans from your lips.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” you whine.

His fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze just so, sending sparks down your spine.

“I thought you were gonna be my good little girl,” he growls in your ear.

You whimper, involuntarily grinding back against him. “I want to. Please, I want to be—”

“What? Say it, baby.”

“I wanna be good,” you say.

His hand tightens until you squeak a little. “No, no, baby. Say, ‘I want to be your good little girl, sir.’”

You’re burning up. You can’t even blame the shower, because even the hottest water you get isn’t that hot. You whisper it back.

He eases up on your throat. “Can’t hear ya. Speak up.”

“I want to be your good little girl!” you blurt. “Um. Sir.”

He chuckles, dark and low, and the breath sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Yeah? You want to be my good girl and take my cock?” His hand slides down, almost where you need it, but he stops short of parting your lips, the tip of his finger brushing gently.

“Please,” you whine.

His middle finger dips in just enough to graze your clit. “I don’t think you want it bad enough.”

You grind back against him; a frustrated sob lodged in your throat. It slips free when he rubs a slow, gentle circle. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

You cry out when he pulls his hand away, but it’s only so he can push you up against the wall, hand between your shoulder blades to bend you forward. You brace yourself on the chilly cheap plastic.

He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock against your slippery cunt. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like you really want to get fucked.”

“But I’m so wet,” you protest.

“We’re in the shower, sunflower, ‘course you’re wet.”

You’re rapidly losing your grip on your sanity and also the wall, so you reach back and grab his hips, shoving yourself onto his cock. You’re not stretched enough to take it all, not even with your momentum, but the fat head of him pushes into you.

You and Joel gasp in unison, his hands tightening where they hold you, fingernails digging in. You moan, bringing your hands back to the wall as he pushes forward, voice breaking into a keen as he splits you.

He groans and grinds in deeper. “What a greedy fucking slut,” he says, having regained his senses. “Couldn’t wait, huh? You need it that bad?”

“Uh-huh,” you pant between thrusts.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stops. He holds still, buried balls-deep.

“No,” you sob.

“What?” He cracks a hand across your ass, grinning when you moan. “You want it that bad? Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You do. You rock yourself on it, trying to chase your pleasure on him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, to which you sputter a protest. You’d been careful so far not to get it wet.

“You got something to say?” He spanks you again. “Spit it out.”

But you’ve already forgotten about your hair, because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to get the angle right. Your orgasm lies far out of reach.

You whine instead. “Please fuck me.”

“What’s the matter? You’re the one who helped yourself to my cock. Now ya don’t know what to do with it?”

You think you might actually cry. No, yep, tears are stinging in the corners of your eyes. You look back at him over your shoulder and hope you look pathetic enough for him to take mercy.

“Aw, baby, look at you,” he croons. “Shouldn’t have been so greedy, huh?”

“M’sorry,” you say. “M’sorry, sir, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You better,” he says, and then finally, finally shoves roughly into you.

The pace he sets meticulously takes you apart. His cock batters at you, his tight grip on your body unrelenting as he takes and takes and takes.

“So much better now, huh?” he says.

“Yes—oh fuck, s-so much. Thank you, sir.”

“Attagirl,” he moans. “Touch yourself, baby.”

You’re quick to obey, longing for his thick, calloused fingers.

But he knows that already. “See? Ya just can’t do it right yourself. Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You’re nodding before he’s done talking. He wrenches your hand away and reaches down to pinch your clit.

“Now,” he growls. It’s a good thing, too, because you were already starting to fall apart.

He fucks you through it, and another, and another. Between the contrast of the warm water and cold wall, the brutal slap of his hips against your ass, and the dizzying pleasure, you feel fuzzy around the edges.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans. “Kneel.”

He steps back just enough to let you turn and drop to your knees. The water ricochets off his back as he plunges into your waiting mouth, and you swallow him down.

When he eases out, you’re soaked from the spray.

“Think we need to clean up again?” you say.

“Nah, why bother? I ain’t done with you yet.”

“What?” you gasp.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Dry off and go lay on that sad little thing you call a bed for me, alright?”

It’s actually easier for him this way, he tells you with a smirk. “Ain’t gotta worry about my knees.” He’s lowered himself to the floor, with your ass perched on the end of the mattress.

Practically lounging, he’s spread your thighs to carve a space for himself, holding you as he takes his sweet time. For a goddamn eternity, all he does is kiss and bite your thighs, with the occasional soft lick to your folds. But he doesn’t dip in, doesn’t seek out your pleasure.

No, it’s very clear that this is for him. Which is not to say he doesn’t want you to feel good; he very much does. But tonight, he has the luxury of time and a comfortable angle to do whatever the fuck he wants.

You’re shaking, legs trembling, when his tongue finally nudges inside, just a quick flit of his tongue into your cunt before he drags it up to your clit.

“Please,” you sob, much like you have been. But this time, it’s different. He can tell from the way you’re squirming and clenching down.

“Give it to me,” he growls into you, and sucks at your clit until you come.

It feels like hours. There’s no way it can be, really, but he works you over again and again until you can’t take it anymore. You’re crying, real tears sliding down the sides of your face, and your hips move of their own accord in an attempt to escape.

He doesn’t let you out of it that easy. His hand comes down against your cunt before you realize he let go of your leg. And fuck, it feels good, but also, you might be dying?

“Can’t, I can’t,” you whine.

“You sure? I think you got one more in ya.”

“Fuck,” you sob.

He eases up a little, fucking you with his tongue while his fingers rub gently around your clit. When you cum, you have to bite your fist not to scream. He holds you down with a strong arm across your hips as you buck and struggle.

But he backs off as soon as you’re coming down. “Attagirl, that’s it. So good for me,” he murmurs, climbing up onto the mattress beside you.

He rolls you over into his arms and kisses your forehead, nose, and lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I wanted.”

You’re limp. You think maybe he’s one of those vampires. What did they call them? Energy vampires? Or are you thinking of some kind of demon?

Anyway, you think he drained your life force out of your cunt. You can’t keep your eyes open, and your limbs are heavy. You’re sleepin’ with the fishes, you think, and giggle a little.

“You okay?” he says.

“Mhm, m’just so sleepy,” you mumble. Even your lips feel too heavy to move.

“I gotcha, sunflower; you can sleep.” He kisses your forehead again and tugs your comforter up around you both.

There’s a knock on your door for the second time in twelve hours. That’s more than the last twelve months.

You startle awake and yank the sheet up to your neck, but relax a little when you see Joel. He’s already hefted himself up and approached the door.

The knock comes again, but this time you notice there’s a pattern to it.

“Who is it?” he says anyway.

“Just me,” Tess says.

Joel unlatches the locks and lets her in.

“Thought I might find you here,” she says, low and quiet.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah, but I need your help with some cleanup. How’s she?”

“Good,” you whisper.

Tess does a double take. “Thought you were sleeping, sunflower.”

“Was, but people keep banging my door down today.” You yawn and for some reason, reach your arms up.

She obliges your sleepy plea, coming close enough to bend down and kiss you. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. But something falls in your spine, something sad and heavy and taboo.

“I gotta go back out. Meet me downstairs,” she says to Joel, who’s getting his filthy clothes back on. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Be a good girl and go back to sleep.”

You hum your agreement and lay back down against your pillow.

Joel crouches down by the mattress. “Sorry, sunflower, we gotta get goin’,” he says, giving your cheek a brief caress.

The disappointment is there and gone so fast, he thinks maybe he imagined it. Maybe he just wanted to see it.

But it was real, much to your displeasure. You didn’t want them to think you were getting greedy, that you felt any entitlement to their time.

“Okay.”

“Need ya to lock up behind us.”

“Just turn the thingy before you close the door,” you mumble, trying to spare your poor feet the pain of the frigid floor.

The look he levels you is nothing short of furious. “You tryin’ to be funny?”

“No?”

“That flimsy little joke ain’t gonna protect you. Your hinges are too weak; anyone could kick that in. At least the deadbolt and chain would buy you a minute.”

“It’s cold,” you whine. But you know he’s right. After all, Tess got in and out without causing any damage. Hang on, though. What was that about weak hinges?

Does that make you… unhinged? You laugh out loud at your joke. Your daddy always said it was a good thing you thought you were funny, ‘cause no one else would.

He ignores it and yanks the blanket off you.

“Hey!”

“You can have it back when you get up.”

“Mean.”

“You think this is mean? I’m fixin’ to put you over my knee and change your little attitude.”

Your eyes go wide, and there’s a tell-tale heart(beat) buried beneath your panties. “You wouldn’t.”

“You damn well know I would.”

You swallow hard around the sudden ache in your throat where his cock should be.

You get up and shuffle over to him. “Alright, quit yer bitchin’. I’m here, and I will lock all the locks.”

He wraps the blanket around your shoulders. “Good girl,” he says and presses a brief kiss to your forehead. Before you even register it, he’s gone, door clacking shut behind him.

You lock all the locks and climb back in bed, but sleep doesn’t find you again.

next chapter

*title from "Trouble is a Friend" by Lenka

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #tess servopoulos x reader x joel miller #tess x reader #tess x joel #joel miller x tess servopoulos #joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x you #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopolous x joel miller x you #tlou smut #tlou fics #the last of us fics #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #fic: ain't no rest for the wicked

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